“What the hell are these demons searching for? These artefacts, what exactly are they?”
“We don’t know yet,” Cheyne said. “Could be anything. The library is working on it.”
“A lot of good that’ll do us now.”
“You’re a fighter, Cleaver. A boxer. Just go with the flow.”
I took in the scene as we approached. A sinkhole had opened in front of a warehouse that sold sports apparel. The hole was wide, probably twenty feet in diameter. Cars teetered on the edge and, as we pulled up, I saw a red Oldsmobile lose the friction battle and fall, crashing out of sight. Earth and rocks spattered up from inside the hole, shooting high into the sky and we heard a screech that made the hairs on my arms stand on end.
Belinda jumped out, head down. “Let’s do this.”
I followed in a hurry. The balmy weather gave me a false sense of security. Nothing bad ever happened when it was this syrupy warm, did it? I heard sirens on the wind. I saw Johnny drifting toward me as we neared the edge.
I looked down.
And got my first real look at a hierarchy demon.
The man stared up at us, dressed all in black and wearing a well-cut suit and designer tie. He stood knee deep in filth, in rubble, in human detritus. Bodies lay broken or squirming at his feet. His fists were clenched, his mouth twisted into a content smile. My stomach turned, but it was the eyes that held us all, the fire-pit stare that held us, mesmerized us, and tried to drag us all straight down to hell.
Asmodeus was dressed like a banker, a politician. If you’d seen him walking along any high street you wouldn’t have given him a second glance. It was only when his mouth opened and I saw the flicking forked tongue and the rows of sharp teeth, the blood on his lips like smears of wine, that I could tell the difference. Then an unearthly shriek split my hypnotic state apart and I almost slipped over the edge of the hole.
Cheyne and Giles waved their instructions. “Logan. Trevochet! Get it together. We have people alive down there. Tanya, wait at the edge with Belinda. If the demon gets up here it could go hand-to-hand. Ceriden, Jade, with us!”
They leaped into the hole, straight at Asmodeus. Lysette screamed after Giles. He was no supernatural creature, just a man, but one with a huge set of cojones, going after this demon head on. Cleaver jumped into the fray too, probably assuming they’d just missed him out. I watched as our people slid and slithered down the incline, dislodging rubble along the way, and saw Asmodeus grin.
I glanced sideways at Johnny. “You ready?”
“Sure am.”
I focused. I knew Lucy and Ethan were behind me, relatively protected, but the niggling fear still made my skin crawl. I shook it off, feeling a sudden warmth in my chest. The power was building. Down below, Jade the elf struck at Asmodeus, a blow that would have shattered a brick wall. The demon caught it on one arm, seemingly surprised when the arm flopped down against its own chest. The bones had broken. The demon tried to waggle the appendage, but little happened. The look of surprise changed to amusement.
“Weak, pathetic garbage.” It growled.
The demon’s voice was gravelly, deeper than anything I’d ever heard. It made me shudder. But the thing was still smiling, swinging its one good arm at Jade and managing to knock her off balance into the side wall. Then it swung around and faced Ceriden. The tall vampire flew at it, striking at chest level, forcing it back and over the tops of still-moving bodies. It grabbed a handhold in the pit wall, swung Ceriden around and sent him sprawling. Cheyne was half a dozen steps away, her lips moving, her fingers waving in errant patterns like a child scrawling on a chalkboard.
The ground underneath the demon became a wave. The thing pitched forward, landing face first. Cheyne looked like she was performing another spell that, by the pushing motions of her hands, might even bind it to the ground. My own power was pumped and ready to join with Johnny’s, but we held off, giving Cheyne the chance to end this quickly.
We should have known better. The suited figure feigned a struggle then, when Cheyne started to push forward, rose quickly. A power wave shot out from its body, felling everything inside and traveling vertically up the sides of the pit. I felt it pass me by and shoot up into the balmy night.
Giles shouted, “Stop him!”
Cleaver dived head first. The demon leaped over him. Johnny gripped the arms of his wheelchair as we unleashed our own wave of power, funneling it so that it struck Asmodeus in the chest and knocked him to the ground. He landed atop two writhing bodies, making them cry out. Again, Johnny and I struck—the power growing readily between us—and again Asmodeus wilted. I heard Johnny laugh. Probably not a great idea.
Then Cleaver hit the demon, smashing its already broken arm, and hurling the body over his shoulder. His shotgun appeared in two hands and he lined it up over his bended knee, finger already tightening on the trigger.
“Say bye—”
Asmodeus exploded into action so quickly he defied sight. The movement was so fast; so beyond the physical capabilities of the body he inhabited, it shredded skin. Cleaver hit the floor, shotgun pointed up toward the sky, and Asmodeus barreled into Cheyne. I flung my power in the demon’s direction, striking only the side of the sinkhole and dislodging a large chunk of masonry that fell end over end.
Asmodeus was on his hands and knees, snarling up at us like a trapped, dangerous dog, only a million times more threatening.
Lucy.
I couldn’t help it. Her safety overrode all. I turned slightly, but then something hit me. It was a train or a car, surely not the man in the suit. My chest exploded in agony. I fell backward. Two feet planted themselves near my head and I stared up into dripping jaws and molten eyes.
“As I said,” the demon grated. “weak. Pathetic. Garbage.”
My body shuddered in nightmarish reaction. One of the boots lifted and crashed down. I rolled out of the way just in time. I struggled to my knees. Behind Asmodeus I spotted Lucy. The demon had ignored her, disdainful, not realizing she was an elemental and one of the Chosen. I saw a dancing wall of water split into several flowing funnels as her eyes turned white. I saw Ethan’s fangs elongate at her side.
Then Johnny flew past me.
“No!”
When I say flew, I mean it literally. His wheelchair had somehow been lifted into the air and then propelled at terrible speed into the sky, fast becoming a speck above us. It was as if a bungee cord had pulled it off the ground. Natalie screamed and ran forward. I stared helplessly.
“No.”
My heart skipped. I had a second to wonder if I might somehow save Johnny by calling up a cushion of air, a force-field or some damn thing, but then Lucy unleashed her water bomb and we were all smashed off our feet.
Our companions climbed over the edge of the sinkhole, back into the fray.
I coughed, trying to clear my eyes. The demon still stood, though was hunched over and dripping with water. I saw it send a regretful glance toward the members of Aegis climbing over the edge of the hole and then that terrible smile came back.
From a jacket pocket it produced a tiny box, a kind of trinket box overlaid with thin, red scrawls. It looked ancient. It looked like an artefact.
Damn! We were too late.
“The end draws near,” it hissed. “Prepare yourself.”
It shot away, scrambling on all fours but traveling faster than a car, a nightmare vision of scurrying arms and legs dashing up the middle of the road.
I turned desperately, Asmodeus already forgotten. “Cheyne!” I screamed, pointing at the skies. If anyone could save Johnny now, it would be the witch.
Cheyne looked up, but there was no stopping the bullet that plummeted toward her. Barely one word crossed her lips before Johnny Trevochet’s wheelchair smashed into the ground at intense speed. Steel, plastic and metal blasted away from the point of impact, a blizzard of sharp parts and zipping fragments. I barely managed to lift my arm up before several particles tore into the sleeve of my jacket right in
front of my face. The sharp sting of broken flesh made me wince. Several other objects pierced my jeans, but thankfully none of them drew blood. The crash and reverberation of the wheelchair’s landing blasted our eardrums, but mercifully masked anything else until I heard Natalie Trevochet’s screams split the night apart.
SIX
Ken strode through the acerbic byways of hell, a mismatched group of warring heroes at his back.
Past abandoned building after abandoned building they walked, winding carefully through the wild foliage and sometimes having to traverse entire derelict structures. Within the crumbling walls were strange skeletons, terrifying skulls and vertebras, all made even more chilling by the presence of shattered glass everywhere—the human touch. An empty elevator shaft. A boiler house. Once, even a battered desk. The group’s mood quickly changed from one of optimism to fear and quiet fatalism as they walked through the cataclysm that had once been a different form of earth.
Miles passed beneath their feet. The somber environment stopped all conversation and Ken was soon left with his own uncharacteristically muted thoughts. Of course, they centered around the petite lycan and her killer body. His mind wandered, and when he noticed Mai the vampire giving him an appraising look the next sixty minutes passed in a blur. Still, when Eliza suggested they stop for the night her words sent a tremor of fear through him.
A small deserted house stood off to the right, all but covered by wild foliage but at least offering a smidgen of comfort. The chance to rest brought another matter to the forefront of Ken’s mind, one that he should have thought of earlier.
“Our food supply ain’t exactly inspiring,” he said, turning out his pockets and finding three crumpled energy bars.
“There are places you can barter for food and water,” Lilith told them. “But not here. There is a grand bazaar on the fifth level and another on the third. If that is all the food you have I would say we need to reach it by tomorrow.”
“We need no food,” Milo said with typical vampiric arrogance. “At least, not for several weeks.”
“I could murder a royal stag,” Felicia breathed hotly, then snapped her gaze to Ken. “Or a stallion.”
The Californian almost blushed. He hadn’t been expecting that. And exactly how did she mean it anyway? Good murder or bad? And did she mean to eat or something else? Bah! Why are there always so many connotations?
The house held no surprises. It was full of debris and dust and slowly being eaten by age. A dreary, forlorn wisp of wind blew through its open windows. The vampires chose a room then turned their backs on the rest. Ken found himself with Lilith and Felicia. They chose the next room and each plonked down with their backs to a corner away from the empty doorframe.
“How did you survive down here?” Ken asked Lilith, knowing that she didn’t want to reveal her past and her problems, but now even more amazed and full of admiration for her. “Especially alone.”
“I moved slowly,” she said. “Careful never to reveal my passing. Always . . . cautious.”
“You sound like me,” Ken began, then stopped as Felicia snorted.
“You!” She guffawed. “You shout your thoughts every minute for all to see!”
Ken glared indignantly. “I so do not!”
Lilith gave him a little smile. “Actually, you do. I’ve never seen anyone undressed by a person’s eyes before and I have to say it’s an odd experience. Especially, I imagine, for the person on the receiving end.”
Ken winced. “I’m off my game,” he muttered. “Comes with the territory, I guess.” He motioned toward the open window and the brown foliage that blew inside with every gust of wind. “Whoa, that’s cold.”
“A subtle change of subject.” Felicia laughed.
“No. Really it’s cold.”
Lilith sighed. “I’m no prude but if you two are gonna do it, can you go do it in another room?”
Ken smiled when Felicia reached around to grab him.
*
Lilith reflected on the assumptions that people of Earth naturally jumped to. They thought she was young, possibly immature, innocent. They were wrong on all accounts. Lilith was twenty two years old. Her father had stolen her from her mother seventeen years ago and she’d escaped his clutches four times. This, the fourth, was the most interesting and promising so far. Every other time the horrendous and amazingly capable demon, Samael, had always managed to track her and bring her back. But this time, he was distracted, due to the terrible events on earth—as she had known he would be.
This time, she’d planned her escape very carefully. Every other time had been mere practice and familiarization. They had revealed the right ways to go and —like practicing a puzzle time after time—each new attempt became easier.
And she would never stop trying.
She’d been five when her father had brought her to this place, the place where he dwelled. He’d begat her of a human mother, of course, and left her to gain a little age on Earth before ripping her away forever. Lilith remembered her mother’s tears, her anguish, and recalled a vow she’d made at the tender age of five.
I will return, Mum. I will come back to you, no matter what.
Her father, back then, had laughed aloud. He was powerful, dreadful and, like all demons, believed he was invincible. But none of them were. She’d learned that over the last seventeen years. She’d learned much more. Her father visited every week and, garbed in the same visage with which he’d corrupted her mother, sat with her and talked. Eventually, she learned the art of manipulation and began to draw him out. Maybe he could read her intentions, maybe not. It didn’t really matter; he would see it as a sign of corruption. She saw it as an eventual mode of escape. The only way.
After a time, she discovered her father’s intentions. It seemed he intended to corrupt her. She was a demonic experiment . . . a test. How long would it take to turn an innocent human child into a cold, demonic being? Perhaps it was his way of showing love.
But it didn’t matter. Her life, her existence, revolved around escape. She learned to become patient, to become observant, to while away her time listening to the chatter of others, gaining their trust. Many odd creatures visited her or were present when her father took her around the various circles of hell. Some, she even liked. They were too dumb or self-involved to be truly evil.
But not Samael. That demon was the true personification of pure evil, the worst she’d ever met save for her father.
Who was Lucifer. . .the Devil.
When Ken Hamilton and the wolf, Felicia, returned, looking a little hot and bothered, Lilith pondered the question she’d been struggling with for a while now.
Should she tell them her secret?
Trust was a commodity she held high in value. And she’d only just met these people. Some of them were supernatural beings: vampires, werewolves. In fact, there was only one human and he seemed somewhat uncomfortable in their presence despite his new ‘attachment’ to Felicia. Lilith knew that she had to use any means necessary to get back to her mother. Employ every single trick in the book.
She would keep her silence for now. Until she could properly use the revelation to her advantage.
*
Ken was one happy man. Who said an excursion through hell would be without enjoyment? Felicia was an animal—he laughed inwardly at his own little joke—and sure gave as much as she took away from the experience. His back was furrowed but not bloody, his arms sore where she had gripped. Even his ribs ached. The girl was immensely strong. He guessed he was lucky to have survived the experience. Somewhere around the middle he had remembered what the female praying mantis did to the male after sex. The thought had wilted his pleasure somewhat, in more ways than one, but he’d quickly shrugged off the worry and risen once more to the occasion.
Felicia now pranced around as if nothing had happened. Ken found himself wanting to talk, to learn a bit about her, and wondered what the hell he had accidentally ingested. Such thoughts never usually crossed his mind af
ter a quick ugly-bump bout. It was more the opposite, more like raiding her fridge and getting the hell outta there. Figuratively, he thought with an inner smile. And literally.
But this? What was going on with him? The surroundings were the problem, of course. No one liked trekking through this desolate and broken-down world.
Felicia came up behind him, resting her lips against the nape of his neck and sending shudders all the way down to his toes. “Shall we go again? The youngish one is asleep.”
Ken found himself looking at the shattered window with the brown foliage hanging through, the forlorn rustling stinging his ears, at the dim view of the destroyed world beyond.
“Can we just talk?” he asked, shocking himself to the very core.
*
Later that night, Ken awoke to the sound of rustling. His eyes immediately sought Felicia, who was taking her turn on guard. The small lycan was crouched, staring at the open window, shock in her eyes.
“Felicia?”
She waved him to silence. “Look.”
“Oh, I am.” The brown foliage that hung through the gap was moving, creeping toward them, held aloft in the air by something unknown. As he watched, more vines and rustling leaves slipped over the sill, pouring into the room.
Felicia scrambled back. “Are those things alive?”
Ken woke Lilith with a shake. “Hey. You seen this before?”
The three of them stepped toward the door. “Yes.” Lilith nodded. “Anything that once lived or still lives can become animated down here at any time. The dark force is always present. It seems to be pure chance though,” she shrugged, “when it happens.”
“Somehow,” Ken grunted. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
They backed into the hallway. All of a sudden a vine shot forward like a spear, narrowly missing Ken’s face and struck the wall at his back. The Californian blurted out an obscenity and raised his sword.
The Chosen Trilogy Boxset Page 27
