Galefire III : Tether War

by Kenny Soward

  Lonnie raised up, calling for Crash and Ingrid and wishing they a few rifles just in case, despite Torri not wanting them to have them. Crash and Ingrid came through the creaking front door and stepped onto the porch. Crash was already expecting trouble. He rolled his shoulders and clenched his fists, eyes probing the edges of the woods. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure. A tremor. Out that way.” Lonnie nodded toward the garden.

  “Where is the witch?”

  “No clue,” he said, hopping off the porch and pulling his handgun.“Find a weapon. I want to check it out.”

  Crash stopped at a log-splitting stump with an ax still embedded in it. He pulled it out of the wood and hefted it. “I’ve got all I need right here.”

  “And all we need.” Elsa raised her right hand, black nails extending into two and a half inch claws, and hissed in the general direction of the garden.

  They made their way to the Rowan Tree, the vibrations coming steadier now, the definite feel of a disturbance in the air. They passed beneath the Rowan’s boughs and into the herb garden, then between the rows of nut and fruit trees, the scents of wildflowers stirring all around them now.

  They froze as a deep lowing noise shook the forest.

  “That sounds big,” Crash said, taking a couple of practice swings with the ax.

  “Yeah.” Lonnie pushed ahead to the edge of the garden.

  His tried to pierce the forest depths, but the foliage and underbrush was too thick he couldn’t see more than ten feet in.

  The sounds of a struggle reached their ears. Something big crashed toward them, then stopped. They heard the sudden, violent sounds of foliage ripping to pieces, trees bending and cracking. The snarls of something, some things. Grunts and the yip of a dog followed by the overwhelming scent of sulfur rolling up the hill and causing Lonnie’s nose to wrinkle.

  “Demon,” Ingrid said, almost crying the word.

  “Demon?”

  “Yes. I’m sure of it. We dealt with them in Hell many times. I know what a demon smells like.”

  “But how…?” And then Lonnie remembered his sister, and his gut twisted that they’d let her wander off. “Never mind. I think I know how it got here.”

  The trees churned and spun, ripped downward and away, something big clearing a path for itself.

  And then it tore through, out into the open, and glared at them across the fifty yards to where they stood at the garden’s edge. It raised itself upright on corded legs, as tall as a small sapling, char-black skin with tendrils of steam rolling off it. Two, foot-long horns stood up on its head, curved forward and slightly back like a ram.

  The corners of its mouth drooped and then fell open, roaring at them with blind fury. It came forward, claws digging into the dirt where its powerfully curved haunches pressed them. The thing reminded Lonnie of several animals at once. A goat thing, a fabled faun, and a ram all thrown together.

  Trailing it were what Lonnie assumed were some of Torri’s guardians. Four or five long-legged wolves with steel gray fur, bigger than any dog he’d ever seen. Nipping at the thing’s heels, one dashing in and chomping on the demon’s leg just as the invader drew close to the edge of the garden, the wolf shaking its shaggy head back and forth as if it could actually harm the thing. With an almost casual backward slash of its clawed hand, the demon sent the wolf sprawling into the dirt, partially disemboweled, tongue lolling with its final breaths.

  “Spread out!” Lonnie shouted.

  Lonnie and Elsa move around to the demon’s left flank, Crash and Ingrid to its right. Lonnie fired as he sidestepped, the special rounds Bess had given him ripping into the thing’s skin. The demon stopped, pale-lantern eyes tracking Lonnie as its skin bubbled from the impacts. For a moment, he thought it would come after him but, instead, it turned its attention back to Torri’s garden.

  Its brows furrowed when it spotted the Rowan tree.

  It made a noise like a train braking hard, a squeal that shimmied up Lonnie’s spine, and then it was past them, tearing through Torri’s garden.

  Lonnie exchanged a look with Crash. “What the fuck is it doing?”

  Crash shrugged. “I don’t know, man.”

  The wolves paid them no mind when they went past, too intent on stopping the demon. There was one old wolf with shaggy, matted fur and a busted fang that lingered behind, fixing Lonnie with its one good eye. Its look was feral, savage, but there was something else there, too. It raised its snout in an almost pleading gesture, and Lonnie sensed the wolves would not complain if the gang helped.

  “Let’s go.”

  The gang followed the nipping wolves as the demon smashed everything within reach, but remained focused on the Rowan.

  “How do we take down somethin’ like that?” Crash bent this way and that, experimentally swinging the ax as he jogged, testing various angles of attack.

  “No fucking clue.”

  “We’ll harass,” Elsa said, brows furrowed into slits, shoulder blades pressing through the tears in her shirt where they exploded in a flash of leathery wings. “The rest is up to you.”

  Ingrid followed suit, and the two launched upward with a flex of their arms and shoulders, their wings beating at the air.

  The demon had taken up a squatting position at the Rowan tree, and was now tearing at some of the branches with its maw, swatting at any wolves who got too close.

  When its claws only scarred the Rowan’s bark, it changed tactics and gripped the base of the tree, pulling and growling from deep in its chest as its sinewy muscles strained.

  There came a squeal of wood. Roots being pulled upward from the dirt. A tremor shook the ground, as if the Rowan was trying to hold on, trying desperately to keep itself embedded.

  “It’s trying to pull Torri’s tree out.”

  “Yes. Looks that way.”

  Lonnie shook his head. He couldn’t explain the why of it, but he was positive it could only mean bad things. Not just for Torri, but for all of them. “We can’t let it, man. We have to attack now.”

  Lonnie swept his left hand over his right, building his power.

  Crash sprinted past “I’ll take a crack.”

  The big man raised the ax and swung it at the demon’s back. At first, Lonnie didn’t think a plain ax would work against a creature such as this, but the blade buried itself along the demon’s spine with a deep thunk.

  The thing roared and half-spun, dragging Crash with him as he held on to his weapon. Swinging back the other way, it glanced the big man with a backhand, knocking him to the ground.

  Crash crawled away dazed, but still held the ax.

  And then the whorchals were there, flashes of darkness through the treetops, spinning and spiraling dangerously, recklessly, turning just in the nick of time to slide by and slash at the demon’s face with flesh rending noises.

  The beast roared and reeled, one hand grasping its face while the other swiped at the annoying whorchals.

  Lonnie rush up to the demon and swung at the demon’s kneecap, releasing his energy with a crack of bone and joint where his fist struck.

  The demon collapsed to the side, swiping at Lonnie in a glancing blow that sent him sprawling on his back. The demon crawled after him as he scrambled back in blind terror.

  One set of claws missed him and raked the ground.

  The other caught him, a single black nail piercing right through Lonnie’s leg to pin him to the dirt. It was like a lance of lightning through his leg and back, and Lonnie cried out and

  He swept his hands together then punched in wild fury at the knuckle, shattering the bone and causing the demon to lurch back and rip its claw free.

  Head swimming with agony, Lonnie could only watch from his elbows as Crash was knocked away yet again, this time a brutal blow that sent the man and his ax flying through the garden and into a stand of honeysuckle supported by some makeshift latticework.

  Ingrid flew in, sweeping upward in another distracting maneuver.

  Elsa l
anded softly beside the thing, glancing over her shoulder to flash Lonnie a wicked smile. Her skin was torn to pieces from twirling amongst the boughs and bushes, hair tangled with twigs and leaves.

  Lonnie half-grinned back, allowing the insanity of the moment to wash over him.

  Out of nowhere, Jedi charged in with Crash’s ax held awkwardly high. At first Lonnie thought he was going to attack the demon, but he brought the blade down Elsa’s neck with a deep thunk.

  Blood shot from the wound like a grape being squished between someone’s fingers.

  The weight of the blow sent Elsa to her knees, and her wings shuddered and wilted.

  Jedi pulled the ax free with a wet, sucking sound, dropping the whorchal face first into the dirt.

  Jedi raised the ax to strike again, but was caught by the demon’s limp leg as it tried to turn and catch Ingrid flying by. The blow sent Jedi staggering away.

  Lonnie was stunned, his eyes wide as he stared at Elsa’s limp body. It seemed unbelievable, impossible. But there she was, motionless in the dirt. He hadn’t expected to feel an inkling of the same love he felt for Selix, yet his chest tightened all the way to his throat and strangled off a ragged cry. Elsa had been been a jaded creature, foul and cold at times. Yet, she’d tried to be more than that, too. She and her sister had beaten incredible odds to become survivors in a world bent on killing them from the start.

  And somewhere in her dark black heart she’d wanted to be there for Lonnie despite her own pain. Their last few moments together had been good ones, and Lonnie would cherish them if he lived through this.

  With a shuddering sigh, Lonnie rolled over, staggered to his knees, and then to his feet. His wounded leg screamed with shredded muscle and bone. He wasn’t sure if he could walk far, but damn if he’d let that little fucker get away. He’d kill Jedi first, and then his sister, if it was the last two things he ever did.

  Lonnie hobbled in a circle, eyes searching the area of destruction. Now, where was that little bastard?

  The demon’s rage filled the forest, the low bellows of a beast whose only reason to live was to tear Torri’s tree from the ground and leave death and destruction in its wake.

  Lonnie staggered away from it, hoping to avoid it’s wrath.

  But then Torri Dowe strode out of the woods to stand at the edge of her garden. Her face was red with anger, eyes squinting and mad. She raised her hands, and a wind kicked up around her, tossing her red hair in a whirlwind. The garden came alive then. An eruption of rustling and waving leaves. It shuddered and shook, and the wolves scattered, howling with what Lonnie took as excitement. What fruit and nut trees remained reached out for the demon, boughs and vines wrapping around its arms and torso, grasses and roots sprouting from the earth to snake around its calves and clawed feet. The forest stretched and rippled and pinned the horror in place.

  The beast raged, trying to break free, but the woods held strong, wrapping tighter.

  Lonnie spotted Jedi running away with the ax, and he tried to hobble after him, but it was no use. He’d never catch up. He made a sweep with his hands and drew upon his power, unsure if he could even hurt the guy from this distance.

  But then one of the baleful wolves leapt into Jedi’s path and lowered its snout, growling and snarling, forcing the traitor back in Lonnie’s direction.

  Lonnie limped toward them, fist raised, and Jedi turned and nearly ran right into him. Startled, Jedi backed up, lifting the ax, quaking with fear.

  Lonnie grinned and stepped in to catch the handle when Jedi brought it down. With his other fist, he punched Jedi so hard in the ribs that several bones cracked. Then he grabbed the punk by the hair and pressed him to his knees, tossing the ax away.

  Jedi cried out, pleading. “What did you expect? Y-you guys k-kept me locked up in that van. Y-you t-tortured me.”

  Lonnie jerked him harder, eliciting another cry. “Did she put you up to this? My fucking sister? Where is she?”

  “I don’t know…I-I…no, I did this on my own. Sh-she didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Maybe not what you did, but you can bet your ass she had something to do with that.” Lonnie pointed at the captured demon wrapped up tight in Torri’s forest, unable to move or otherwise cause trouble for the moment.

  Torri’s storm had abated, but the witch watched Lonnie with a fierce and curious expression.

  Lonnie nodded to her, then drug Jedi back to Elsa’s limp form to force him to see what he’d done.

  The problem with that was that Elsa wasn’t limp at all. She was moving, if only a little. Her fingers twitched, her eyes rolled in their sockets. Lonnie shook his head, staring at the gaping wound in her shoulder and unable to reconcile that she might still be alive.

  “Fucking bitch,” Jedi’s expression deepened, hate and satisfaction twisted into an awful grimace. “She sucked my blood every night. Fucking bitch! You can kill me, or whatever. I’m just glad I got mine in.” Then he spat on the whorchal, who jerked feebly at the insult.

  Lonnie’s anger eclipsed his surprise, and he lifted Jedi by the hair and jabbed him in the throat, silencing him, sort of. Jedi wheezed and choked and coughed, clenching his neck.

  Lonnie thought he caught the hint of a smile on Elsa’s lips, and that gave him some grim satisfaction.

  He shoved Jedi’s face against Elsa’s split shoulder then yanked him up so hard by the hair that his neck snapped with an audible crack.

  Lonnie dropped the corpse and knelt by Elsa. Hands useless against such a horrific wound, he tore his eyes away, searching for someone to help.

  Torri Dowe’s only concern appeared to be the demon. She held her arms up, fingers splayed, walking toward it and chanting in whispers. Wisps of smoke rolled out of her mouth as she spoke, and Lonnie could feel that same tremor he’d felt with Selix back on the Roebling Bridge.

  For now, she seemed content in its binding, but Lonnie had no idea what she’d do with it now.

  Crash stumbled out of the honeysuckle mess holding his ribs. He gave Lonnie a nod, but when he saw the wounded whorchal on the ground, his gaze fell.

  There was a flutter of wings, and Ingrid swooped in, pulled up with a flutter, and landed lightly on her feet. When she saw her sister, her face grew concerned, fingers touching her bottom lip in shock. Her wings furled slowly, folding smaller and smaller until they were just two slips of shoulder blades that slid back into place. Ingrid knelt next to Lonnie and pressed her fingers around Elsa’s wound, inspecting it as if she could close it up.

  She regarded Jedi where he sat crumpled next to Lonnie. Her lip curled. “I hope it hurt.”

  Lonnie looked away. “I’m sorry, Ingrid. I…”

  “Sorry for what, Lons?”

  “I’m sorry because Elsa is dying. And it’s my fucking fault. I should have known the little shit was going to try something. I should have been ready for it.”

  Ingrid smiled knowingly, then addressed Crash. “Go inside and bring some blankets.”

  Crash nodded and went to fetch them while Ingrid continued working at the wounds. “She’s not dying, Lons.”

  Lonnie’s face clouded with confusion. “What?”

  Ingrid gestured for Lonnie to look closer. “See, her veins are already sealing up, conserving precious blood.”

  Lonnie noticed that the bleeding had indeed slowed to a mere trickle. “How?

  “A whorchal isn’t like a human, not even like a prince of Hell. We’re not connected the same way. Her heart is fine.” Ingrid rapped her knuckles on her own sternum. “We have a two inch plate of bone covering it, front and back. Even a high powered bullet has a tough time getting through. And to kill us quick, you have to get the heart. That is very much like the legend of romantic vampires. Well, the heart part, anyway. Not the bone plate. What I’m saying is that it will take a lot more than a chop in the neck to kill her. No, our Elsa is still very much alive.” Ingrid glanced down at her sister, a pained look crossing her face. “Probably hurts a lot though. Yes, a wh
ole lot. Now, go see to that demon, Lons. We’ll take care of Elsa.”

  Lonnie nodded his understanding. He gave Elsa’s hand a parting touch, then stood and hobbled to where Torri was dealing with the trapped demon.

  It cringed in its bonds, white, lantern-sized eyes following Torri as she walked slowly around it, still speaking her incantations, raising her hands and calling forth the powers of the hills. The wolves looked on, a pack of them now, eyes glowing red and yellow in the day’s dimming light. They licked at each others’ wounds, some of them. Others bayed at the loss of their pack mates who had died in the fight. Lonnie saw other things at the edge of the trees. Strangely-shaped creatures, shadows flitting through the underbrush.

  Lonnie approached. “Hey, need some help?”

  “Naw,” she said. “I got this. But just in case, be ready to blast it with whatever you got.”

  “All right.”

  Torri turned her attention back to the beast. “You’re bound now, demon. I got you good and tight. I’ll offer you an easy way to go if you tell me who it was sent you. If you just speak the name.”

  The edges of the demon’s lips turned downward in an eternally baleful expression. Its lips parted. Words came out in a high pitched tin. “Torri Dowe, you cunting daughter of the woods. You cursed bitch.”

  “Shhhh,” Torri commanded it, and the bindings pulled tighter, four inch thorns erupting all down the vines and boughs, piercing the demon’s charred flesh and causing it to wail.

  Lonnie stuck his fingers in his ears until it was over.

  “Now, let’s try this again. Someone sent you. Who was it? And let me tell you somethin’, I got all night. Nowhere I need to be. Torturing demons is better than shooting basketball down at the church lot.”

  “You’ll set me free?”

  “I’ll allow you to return to where you came from with as little fuss as possible. I guarantee you that.”

  A faint smile tugged at the demon’s lips, and its words drifted through the air in a soft whisper. “Azarahhhhh.”

  Torri nodded, her expression falling. “I figured. Very well, demon. I’ll stick to my word. By my power and the power of all these hills, I give you leave. Go back to Hell where you belong.”