5.0 - Light Of The Stygian Orb

by Krista Walsh

She exchanged a glance with Emmett, who stared back at her with overwhelmed astonishment as he shook his head. After a moment, she huffed out a breath. “Fine.”

  Zach relaxed and allowed death to sneak a little closer.

  Beyond the boiler room, shouts bounced along the walls from the hallway upstairs. Then came the sound of glass smashing, screams. He wanted to go to them. He wished his last gesture on this earth could be to help the few people who had ever stepped up to help him.

  But the strength had leached from his arms. He could hardly even feel Dusty where the kitten had curled up beside him, a purring bundle of black fur. A harsh cold settled into his skin, a temperature he experienced so rarely that it came almost as a treat. A new sensation he could explore as he slipped away. He barely even felt it as Denise and Emmett eased him onto his back.

  “Can you move his coat out of the way so I can get a better look at his face?” Denise asked.

  Zach’s shoulder shifted as his leather coat was pulled out from under him. There was a muffled thunk of something heavy hitting the floor.

  “What’s this?” Emmett asked.

  He held something in his hand that Zach couldn’t make out through his blurring vision.

  “It looks like a glass ball or something,” Denise said.

  “It fell out of his pocket. Sorry, man, I didn’t manage to catch it, but it doesn’t look like it broke. Did you want to hold on to it or something? A…personal memento or whatever?”

  The gods-damned orb.

  Zach had forgotten he’d had it in his pocket. He hadn’t felt the emptiness Daphne and Molly had described when it had lit up in their hands, so it had never occurred to him that it might be able to produce the same effect on him.

  His heartbeat faltered as he tried to say something, and a sharp pain cut through his back.

  “We’re losing him,” Denise said.

  Her weight shifted on top of him as the heels of her palms settled in the middle of his chest. His breath seemed to be seeping out of him, his lungs getting smaller. The metallic flavor of blood crept up the back of his throat as he fought to form words.

  “What can I do?” Emmett asked.

  “Give me space,” Denise ordered. “Dammit. Why can’t you people just go to a hospital like everyone else?”

  Emmett backed away from the side of the bed. The farther he moved, the more Zach sensed an elastic stretching between them. No, not between him and the kid — between him and the orb.

  “Farther,” Zach managed to gasp.

  Confused, Emmett backed up another few feet. The elastic kept stretching.

  “All the way,” Zach hissed, the words fading in and out as Denise pressed the tips of her fingers against his throat.

  “You barely have a heartbeat,” she murmured. “I don’t understand what’s —”

  Zach didn’t hear the rest of what she said. As Emmett hit the back wall, whatever connection had grown between Zach and the orb while it hid in his pocket snapped.

  In a rush of energy, Zach’s strength filled his body. His back arched as his insides set to healing every tear, break, and strain. Tickles became an itch, then the itch turned into an agony worse than anything he’d felt before. It ripped him apart even as he was being put back together.

  Humpty Dumpty had nothing on him.

  Vibrations rumbled in his chest as he screamed, but he couldn’t hold back his cries. Every cell in his body had been struck by lightning, urgently darting through him to seal the holes and reduce the swelling. Vaguely he was aware of voices around him, of something pressing him down into the blankets. Of being covered up under layer after layer as his limbs convulsed with shivers.

  Outside the room, the sounds of the fight got louder, closer. Molly and Daphne were being pushed back. It was only a matter of time before they burst into the room. A last stand, with two innocent human civilians caught in the crossfire.

  It wasn’t right.

  This was an otherworldly war, which should have been fought on otherworldly terms. An established time and place that would leave no possibility of human eyes watching and learning that this part of their world existed.

  The rage of injustice burned deep in Zach’s soul, but instead of the red-hot fury he’d become familiar with, this feeling ran white, as though a cube of ice had formed around his core to burn everything it touched.

  Fear cut through him as he realized what was happening. At this moment of near-death, his angel blood had risen to the fore, threatening to sweep away his mind with thoughts of right and wrong, of swift, unrelenting justice.

  He tried to push it away. What good would such thoughts do him in a fight to save his friends? But no matter how hard he tried to release the angel to summon the demon, the energy in his body refused to change. The white heat burned through him, healing as it went.

  He curled his hands into fists, his strength returning as the pain in his limbs began to ebb. His thoughts were still too jumbled to make sense of them, but in this moment, that didn’t matter. What mattered was the function of his muscles and the itch between his shoulder blades.

  The blankets were growing too heavy and hot, weighing him down when he needed to be free. He had to move.

  He rolled onto his side. There was a tiny high-pitched noise, and then a small black dot darted across the room. Hands tried to roll him back, but now that he’d come into his power, it took no effort to escape them.

  His feet hit the ground, and the energy from the earth rose up his calves, wrapped around his knees, sank into his thighs. With every passing moment, more white power filled him, and he turned toward the doorway.

  In the corner of his eye, he noticed the inconsequential people kneeling next to his bed.

  Not inconsequential, he told himself. He had to hold on to what he knew to be true.

  The pressure between his shoulder blades burrowed deeper into his muscles, contorting them, stretching them. His mind fought against it, but the power was taking over in spite of him. Beyond the doors, the fight continued. A woman shouted, her voice echoing through the hallways.

  Zach squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t let this destruction continue.

  He balled his fists and hunched his shoulders forward, giving room for his wings to grow. His ribs snapped and healed as new bones extended outward along his spine, long, hollow bones covered with fine skin. The softness of down feathers brushed against his back as they settled into place.

  “Whoa…” Emmett said.

  Zach shot him a glance and his gaze fell on the orb on the floor. Something about the way it caught the light drew him toward it, as though it were calling to him. He grabbed a bloody rag off the crate Molly had used as a chair and picked up the glass, stuffing it into his trouser pocket. His enemies had desired this orb as much as they’d wanted him. Now it was time to get them to confess their reasons.

  He moved toward the door, his steps coming fast and easy, as though all of the weight he carried with him had been lifted.

  Denise and Emmett stepped together to watch him, and his righteous anger turned their way. The desire to deal with them and blind them to what they’d witnessed pressed on his conscience, but he shoved it aside. For now, there were greater crimes to address.

  His wings pressed together as he stepped through the doorway. The fight had reached the stairs. Daphne stood halfway up, while Molly had been pushed back into the boiler room.

  Daphne’s golden magic was firing toward the Lingor demon dancing around her. Molly was closed in too tight to make use of her bow, but she held arrows in both hands, grasping them near the tips so she could drive them into whatever came within reach. Blood was smeared across her face, and a new dark patch had spread over her side.

  Zach absorbed the noise around him, falling deeper into his own silence as his white-hot wrath overcame him. In the back of his mind, he struggled to hold on to himself, scrabbling at the edge of the cliff, dangling over the pure fire. But the weight of it was pulling him down, and he didn’t k
now how much longer he’d be able to keep his grip.

  He stepped forward and raised his left arm, a sword already stretching out from his hand. The blade glowed a brilliant white that forced Daphne to turn her head away. The Lingor demon jumped onto the sorceress’s back and tore her nails across Daphne’s chest, but Daphne barely had a chance to scream before Zach reached them. He drove the sword into the Lingor demon’s side and sliced through. Her torso collapsed on the floor in two pieces.

  Daphne kept her eyes closed and grabbed Molly’s arm, pulling the girl out of the way.

  “What’s happening?” Molly demanded.

  “Keep your head down and face the floor,” Daphne ordered. “You might not see it, but your retinas will burn right out of your head.”

  Zach made no further acknowledgment of them as he climbed the stairs. The maylin hissed and approached him, but Zach swept out his arm and sent it flying into the wall. It landed on the floor with a squelch.

  Borl stood at the top of the stairs, a second Ghurgzic demon lurking beside him. It seemed the mountainous demon had brought reinforcements. Zach didn’t give them time to attack. Sword in hand, he beat his wings to raise himself off the floor and struck down. His blade sliced through the top of Borl’s head. When the other demon threw himself in Zach’s way, Zach spun, and the Ghurgzic demon’s head bounced along the floor, leaving trails of black blood behind him.

  The burn of justice ran through Zach’s veins. In his blood, he sensed the balance of the world resetting itself as the beasts who had ignored the otherworld’s rules paid the ultimate sacrifice. Those who did not respect the balance did not deserve to live. There could be no room for exceptions or debate. It was the only way the world could function.

  Part of his mind rebelled against the thoughts swirling through his head, but any objections were washed away in a fresh burst of white heat.

  He landed on the gray tiles and raised his sword between him and the massive demon, who stood with his arms crossed, the wide grin stretched across his scarred face revealing his white, gleaming teeth. He showed no concern that his lieutenants had been taken down and that he was only moments away from joining them.

  “Look who’s come out to play,” he said, stepping closer. “Am I supposed to be afraid of this display? What are you going to do? Lop off my head?”

  “Surrender, Lozak,” Zach said.

  The demon’s name had come to him as though he’d always known it. Some part of him had connected with the others of his kind, the part of the angel brain that kept a tally on all who crossed the line between good and evil. Those who had to be forced back into their place. Through that connection, knowledge of this demon’s crimes poured into Zach’s mind, a ledger of sins and transgressions. Crimes he had been charged with and sentenced for centuries ago — a millennium locked away from the light of the world. Barely half of his sentence had been served, and yet somehow here he was, free to pursue his path of destruction. No more. “You know your life is forfeit.”

  “Yes, oh angelic master,” Lozak said. He stretched his arms out wide and bowed at the waist. “I’ve known from birth that I was not meant for this world.” He raised his head, his grin slier, his mouth growing wider. “I was meant for more.”

  The sound of shredding cloth filled the corridor as scaled black wings ripped out of Lozak’s back. The scales continued over his shoulders and down his chest as the rest of his ruined shirt fell away.

  His shoulders widened, expanding to twice Zach’s size. The scales glinted under the light coming through the windows, shimmering like shale. His hands grew, his fingers elongating, thickening, so when he balled his hands into fists, they were nearly the size of Zach’s head.

  The scales stretched to cover Lozak’s face, skirting around his diamond-sharp eyes and perfect teeth, which sharpened into lethal white points. His eyes flared red, glaring at Zach from behind the rock form he’d become. Far in the back of Zach’s mind came a prickle of fear, but it was distant, clouded by the growing need to destroy this threat to the otherworld.

  “Swing that sword now, daemelus,” Lozak said.

  He threw out his arm and caught Zach on the side of the face. Zach flew across the room and slammed into the boards covering the front windows. The wood cracked and his elbow smashed through, sending a rain of glass over the floor.

  Zealous fury burned deeper in Zach’s veins as he pushed off from the wall and flew back toward Lozak, but the demon anticipated him. He leaped off the floor, his scaly wings catching his weight, and met Zach in mid-air, taking him to the ground. The two of them skidded across the floor, Zach trapped on the bottom. He’d dropped his sword at the impact and was left to grapple with his raw strength.

  White heat stretched his muscles and filled him to the point of a euphoric torment. He raised Lozak off him far enough to squeeze his feet between them, then kicked out, sending the demon flying.

  Zach jumped to his feet. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of the pull and tug of his lower back as his healing wounds tore open, but through the power of his wrath it was barely a twinge.

  Lozak barked a laugh and grabbed Zach’s sword off the floor, then hissed through his teeth as the hilt burned through the scales of his palm. He slammed the blade over his knee, and as the sword snapped, Zach felt it as a physical pain through his soul.

  He wrapped his arms around his stomach to keep himself together. When it passed, he returned Lozak’s smile as another sword stretched out of his arm to fall into his hand.

  Lozak snarled. He braced a clawed foot against the tile and charged toward Zach. Zach raised his blade between them and grounded his stance. He swung his sword down as Lozak collided with him, and the blade lodged in the demon’s shoulder, sticking fast. Zach yanked back on it, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Steam rose around the black blood that dripped to the ground as it ran over Lozak’s chest. The demon raised his fist and brought it down across Zach’s cheek, then swung it at the other, again and again. A constant repetitive blow that shook Zach’s brain and caused his vision to go dark. The white heat within him began to ebb, but he clung to it. He hadn’t come this far only to lose to this disgrace of the otherworld. The balance of the world needed to be set.

  Screw the balance. This asshole is mine.

  The thought cut through the purity of Zach’s determination. Another anger rose inside him, this one familiar, as hot as fire. But the white heat didn’t disappear. In the same way that Lozak had barreled into Zach, so these two angers collided, fused, and rose inside him as a red-white mash of power.

  He tried to tighten his grip on his self-control. He couldn’t let himself slip. If he did, he couldn’t be sure of the consequences. His sense of justice, of right and wrong, was only growing with each swing of his sword. If he let go, he could fall too far to drag himself back.

  But if he wanted to win, how could he restrain himself?

  With a breath, he released his hold on his mind and sank deeper into his surging power. It infused his blood, filling him with a burn — hot and cold — that coated his insides and outsides. Red scales burst from the backs of his hands and climbed up his arms to cover his chest. They stretched up his neck and protected his face against Lozak’s heavy strikes. They crept down his legs, giving him the strength to shift his hips and shove Lozak off balance. Pointed horns tore through his brow, crowning his rage.

  A small part of his mind warned him to back down. That he’d slipped too far and wouldn’t be able to save himself. Fury drove that voice to silence.

  Both men found their balance and circled each other, Zach testing his new strength while Lozak eyed him warily, uncertain about this new development.

  Zach tested his wings. The feathers were still there, but they seemed heavier now, as though the skin beneath them had also taken on his scales. Every inch of his body was protected. He held his sword in one hand, the white-hot blade burning brighter than ever. In the other, a whip uncoiled toward the floor, flames flicking o
ut into the room.

  He was fire and ice combined.

  Justice and chaos.

  The scientists who had created him hadn’t failed as they’d believed. They just hadn’t pushed him far enough.

  With a growl that morphed into a warrior’s cry, he charged toward Lozak.

  20

  Molly strained to pick up every detail of the fight, and it tortured her that she didn’t know how Zach was holding up. More than once she’d tried to break free of Daphne’s grip to run in and help, but the sorceress was strong and squeezed her tightly enough around her chest that Molly’s breath came short and quick.

  When the demons had arrived, she’d been afraid to leave Zach’s side. She hadn’t wanted his request for her to kill him to be the last thing she heard from him. She hadn’t wanted to go out and face any demons without him by her side.

  But Daphne couldn’t have held them back alone. They’d hurried upstairs to the corridor in time to catch the demons on their way in, and by the negative space spread out in front of her, Molly had sensed five of them coming up the hallway. Her stomach had dropped into her feet and stayed there. It was the same number as the last group, but these demons took up more room, looming over her and Daphne even from a distance of a few yards. The growls and hisses coming from their direction suggested they had not been very happy to find a welcoming party.

  Daphne hadn’t bothered to attempt any kind of parley. Molly had barely found her bearings before the air had tingled around her and the sorceress released her first spell. From there, the corridor had filled with shrieks and screams, and there was no way to escape except through victory or death.

  In her determination to prove herself, Molly had thrown herself into the fight. She’d released four of her arrows, each one hitting its target, but it hadn’t prevented the demons from pushing her and Daphne back. One of the demons had got its claws into her side, but she’d jumped out of the way before they dug too deep.

  Daphne’s magic prickled through the air around Molly’s head, raising the hair on her arms and setting her blood racing. Although it was the most powerful energy Molly had ever experienced, the demons had continued to force them toward the stairs heading to the boiler room. Molly’s head rang with screams and the smash of glass when Daphne sent one of the demons hurtling through a window, but in the next moment, it was Daphne crying out. For an agonizing second, Molly believed she’d been killed, but before she’d had time to panic, two sickening squelches had hit the floor behind her. Then the sorceress’s hand had circled around her arm and jerked her backward, away from the stairs.