Betrayal (The Divine, Book Two)

by Forbes, M. R.

  The demons stopped with their arms still raised above their heads, the confusion obvious in their frozen position. I moved out of their path and caught sight of Izak sitting on the grass, an observer to the battle. When he saw me looking he gave a short wave, then pointed back at the demons.

  Having lost their quarry, the two giants began hammering the ground with abandon, their huge jackhammer arms leaving the earth around them in total devastation. That wasn’t going to work either. I dropped out of stealth mode and rushed forward, leaping up and latching on to one of the monster’s necks.

  They tracked my movements with precision, and I let go just in time to avoid a knockout punch that would have sent me back to New York. Instead, the demon’s fist smashed into his partner, the tremendous force of the blow crunching into the earth and stone, the momentum separating the head from the body. The stricken monster crashed to the ground without a sound, crumbling into a pile of rock and mud as though it had never been animated at all.

  The other demon didn’t seem to notice, and it continued to hunt me, bringing its massive body to bear and moving with a renewed vigor. Izak had gotten to his feet now, and I saw him out of the corner of my eye, bent over and scratching something out in the dirt. He held up his hand palm out, asking me to wait. I rolled away from a heavy strike, and then danced around to the back of the beast. I could see Izak through the demon’s legs as it tried to turn on me, and a moment later had begun waving me towards him.

  I scrambled back between the demon’s legs, running full speed towards the fiend. I caught sight of the runes below me when I passed them over and came to a stop. The demon tried to follow and the runes Izak had made burst into flame, pulling in power from Hell itself and sending it up into the demon in an invisible stream. The monster disassembled at once, bursting forward in a flood of wet mud and stone, coating us in a layer of muck and pelting us with rock. Even before the shower had ceased, Izak grabbed me by the collar of my coat and pointed to three words he had scrawled in the ground.

  Elemental. Witch. Close.

  I looked up towards the terminal, nearly a mile from where we were standing. I focused my Sight and reached out, searching for a Divine signature. It was faint, but it was there. I could never have picked it up with the two elementals so close by, and the witch must have known it. She started moving away from us.

  Witches and warlocks weren’t straight Divine, but rather Turned who had in whatever manner gotten into the higher graces of a more powerful higher demon. On their own, they weren’t much more of a threat then any other mortals who had made a deal with Hell, but once you factored in the imbued trinkets, baubles, and jewelry they were often given in exchange for whatever services had earned them the level up to begin with, they started to become a bit more of a hassle to deal with. My dealings with them had been fairly limited - it wasn’t common for mortals to be able to ingratiate themselves that well with an archdemon, but judging from the fact that this one had created two earth elementals, she was important, and her master was powerful. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had sent her.

  “We need to catch up to her,” I said. There was a good chance she would be headed back to Gervais to announce our arrival. He might know we were coming, but I preferred to keep some element of surprise as to when.

  We both took off towards the terminal at a run. I couldn’t help but glance over at the emergency crews desperately fighting to find survivors in the crumpled up husk of the aircraft’s fuselage. Whatever Gervais was planning, whatever was ‘going down’ to try to trap me, it had already gone too far.

  Our pace was inhumanly fast, and we burst into the baggage loading area and through to a maintenance door in the airport proper before the witch had managed to get too far. I focused, changing our attire so that to the small crowd of people taking early morning flights we looked like French military, our swords appearing as assault rifles strapped to our backs. Not that it mattered much, most of the travelers were either glued to the window, fascinated by the carnage outside, or sitting in a chair expelling their horror with tears.

  I could See her more clearly now. She was still a fair distance ahead, but we were closing the gap in a hurry. She knew we were gaining, and I could hear her shouting from the end of the long corridor. I felt a flare in my soul, and a moment later a naga burst out at us from the men’s room.

  One of the First Fallen’s failed humanoid creations, it was eight feet tall, with the head and torso of a human and the backend of a snake, four muscular, armored arms holding four wicked looking jagged swords, and an almost handsome dark face. It snapped its sharp, poisoned tail towards my chest, but I dropped my legs out and slid along the floor, feeling the swish of air as the appendage passed within centimeters of my face.

  “Izak,” I said. It was all I needed to say. The fiend drew his own blade and pounced, leaving me listening to the ring of steel while I raced ahead.

  There was a much larger crowd gathered outside the terminal, denied entry by the police while they tried to figure out what was happening out on the runway, unable to comprehend the massive battle that had just taken place. I could still sense the witch, but she was moving away faster, much faster. I looked around until I saw one officer helping another back to their feet. She had taken his motorcycle.

  The crowds parted mindlessly around me as I raced after her, in search of a means to keep the pace. When I reached the edge of the throng, I found plenty of police cars and motorcycles lined up in the roadway. I stopped and took a deep breath. I had driven a car once, and a real motorcycle not at all, but I knew which one was faster and more maneuverable. I had played ‘Hang-On’ at Coney Island when I was ten. How different could it be?

  I mounted the bike and tried to ignore the overwhelming number of switches and levers on the console. I found the key and turned it, bringing the bike to life, and then twisted the throttle. The machine started bucking out from under me until I focused, holding it in place until I was ready for it to move. I took another moment to test the clutch a few times, but decided to just put it in high gear and cheat my way through. I held the bike until I was sure I had enough wheel velocity, let go, and did a peel-out Evil Knievel would be proud of, taking off on my rocket.

  The landscape was a blur around me, and I kept the rest of the focus that wasn’t holding me on the bike holding my sense of the witch. I quickly found myself headed north towards Paris, following behind her but beginning to gain once again. As long as she was out of tricks, I would catch up well before we hit the city limits.

  She wasn’t out of tricks. I heard the screeching before I saw them; half a dozen small, bat-like demons with razor beaks and sharp claws. They swooped down on me en masse, buzzing my head and doing their best to knock me off the bike. I could focus on the witch and my stability, but it didn’t leave me any mind-share to do anything non-physical about the creatures. Instead, I used one hand to reach behind my back and wrench the sword through my jacket and swing it out at them.

  The first few slices were wild and ineffective, and my speed diminished as I put more of my energy into staying upright and gaining control of my attacks. The demons circled around me, swooping in to cut open my arms and legs with their claws, screeching in my ears, and trying to tip me off the bike. They almost did when I found myself only inches from an eighteen-wheeler and had to make an impossible left hook around the trailer before I slammed into it. The demons’ amused cackling renewed my focus, and I pushed the sword backwards and through one of the hell spawn, and then swung it in an arc that caught two more.

  That still left three, and my quarry was getting away. I changed tactics, letting the sword fall to the roadway and putting my attention back on the chase. I revved the bike up to full throttle and slipped across to the other side of the road into the oncoming traffic. It worked in the movies, so why not now?

  Traffic was limited so early in the morning, but the oncoming obstacles still proved to be effective at forcing the demons to either drop
away from the bike or get splattered on a windshield. I wound my way around the cars, using their natural tendency to subconsciously avoid me to my benefit. Soon enough I was outpacing the demons, and I was almost close enough to the witch to get her in my physical sight.

  I did get her in my sight as we pulled off of E50 onto Quai de la Rapee, the highway that ran into Paris along the Seine. As I had thought, she was on a police motorcycle of her own, her long brown hair flailing out behind her as we raced along the river. She turned her head to look back at me, and I could see the fear and anger on her face. She reached down into a pouch at her side, and I knew I had to end the chase.

  “Here goes nothing,” I said, focusing my will, pulling at the power being fed through my soul, and leaping off the bike. I propelled myself forward as if I had been shot from a cannon, launching straight towards the witch, wrapping my arms around her as my velocity carried me past. Her bike fell out from under her and went skidding along the roadway, as did mine. A moment later I followed suit, turning myself over to protect her from the impact, wincing in pain when the cement ripped right through my clothes and dug deep into my skin. I tumbled along the ground, fighting to keep my body absorbing all of the impact, feeling bones shattering, ribs breaking. It would heal, but it still hurt.

  We came to a stop a hundred yards ahead of the bikes. I heard the screaming brakes of cars behind us trying to avoid the abandoned motorcycles, coming to a stop and then slowly proceeding past as though such obstacles were ordinary. I held the witch tight while she struggled to break free of my grasp, even though every move from her petite frame was burning agony. Finally, I wrapped my hand around her throat.

  “Stop squirming, or I’ll pop your head like a grape,” I growled.

  She stopped struggling, and instead started to laugh. “Ah, Landon,” she said. “You’re a fool.”

  I saw the glint of metal, and watched her stab herself in the heart with a small blessed dagger. She turned to dust in my broken arms.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I picked myself up, climbing slowly to my feet. My energy was sapped, and it had left me more tired than I remembered being in years. Throwing myself like that hadn’t quite been flying, but it was close enough to wear me down. If the circumstances had been different, I might have been able to savor the moment, because I really needed a bed.

  She had called me a fool, right before she killed herself. What kind of fool? For walking right into a trap? For wasting my energy chasing her down? For leaving Izak behind? I was certain I was a fool, because no matter how much I had tried to make myself not feel, to make myself immune, I was still part human. I could lie to myself and deny it, but in the end it didn’t really make it hurt any less.

  I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I could see the Arc De Triomphe lit up down the road, and even though my knowledge of Paris was limited, I knew the Arc was near the Louvre, and that meant there were bound to be hotels nearby. I spent a little energy to adjust my style to a more respectable pair of dark jeans and tweed jacket, and then reached inside my pocket to check my cell.

  The hardened device had fared well, its rubberized outer shell keeping it intact. I turned it on and opened up Google Maps, and then asked it for the closest hotel. It pointed me at the Mandarin Oriental, north past the Louvre and then hang a right on the Rue de Rivoli. I took a deep breath and started walking.

  Paris was an old city, and I could feel currents of Divine power coursing along the streets like a weird radioactive mist of good and evil. I reached the end of the Place du Carrousel and turned right, my sight feasting on the impressiveness of the neoclassical architecture, my Sight blurred by the thrumming of ancient power. My head was aching, and my eyes were heavy, my soul begging me for a respite amidst the chaos. It was only a few minutes walk before I could make out the sign for the Mandarin, lit up in the night. I never made it.

  I didn’t sense the weres coming, completely missing them in between the cover of the mist and my fatigue. I smelled them too late, and they turned the corner in front of me a dozen strong, shifted into animal form and coming on fast. I reached around to my back for my sword before remembering I had dropped it on the highway, and then crouched in a martial fighting position. I could feel Ulnyx’s power flowing through my soul. I prepared myself to use it.

  The weres pulled up to a stop in front of me, teeth bared but keeping their distance. Behind them, a dark silhouette of a woman made itself known, stepping out of the shadows and framing herself under the streetlights. I couldn’t make out her features, but I did pick up her scent, wafting over to me in the night air. It was familiar; a flowery, earthy smell that some part of me knew. I felt a stirring in my soul, and the world around me grew fuzzy. I dropped to one knee and closed my eyes, trying to shake the oncoming memory.

  I see her from the corner of my eye. Lylyx. I can smell her fear, but also her desire. She’s unsure if I can win this fight, and the trepidation is an aphrodisiac. I share in the excitement, my senses heightened, my heart pounding. She’s unbelievable in her tight doeskin pants and vest, her cleavage heaving beneath it. Her skin is almost as silky as her raven black hair, glistening under a layer of sweat, and it’s enough to distract any man with a taste for perfection in flesh. It’s worse for a were in the heat of battle.

  The claws that rake across my cheek remind me that I’ll only get the spoils if I’m the victor. I growl in anger, ignoring the burning pain and putting my attention back on my opponent. Tiberas, a hulking, scarred, soon to be dead werewolf, the current leader of the Mekong pack, and my brother.

  The had been a time when we were close. A time when we were the only survivors of the assault on our pack, when staying together meant staying alive. Even as we had been taken in by the Mekong pack, and gone through the trials to adulthood, that closeness had remained. Maybe we would be close even now, if he had stayed in his place. Instead he had challenged and killed her father to take over the pack, and claimed her as his prize. That was the day he decided this fate. I had always intended to be alpha, and he knew it.

  “You’ve always been a conceited welp,” he says to me, his voice weak and tired.

  His bait is as pathetic as he is. There’s only way one to die as the head of a pack, and I’m enjoying knowing how much it must be rankling him to know he’s going to be giving the entire bunch up to me.

  “And you’ve always been a bitch,” I reply. He comes at me with his claws again, but I’m only paying half as much attention to her as I was before. I catch his swipe in my human hand, notice how much bigger it has grown than the his claw, and then twist, breaking the limb at the wrist.

  I’d waited to long to put an end to him, and to claim my prize as the youngest to ever rise to leader. It had been Lylyx who had asked me to wait, and in my youth I had thought I loved her, so I waited. She was as weak as her father had been, but her body was perfect for breeding. I would exult in taking her, and then I would cast her aside.

  Tiberas backs up a step, casts his eyes to her. I see his weakness in them, his wasteful concern for others when he should only be thinking of himself. It’s the reason he is Tiberas, soon to be dead werewolf, and I am Ulnyx, the youngest, the strongest, the most powerful. I don’t even need my demon form to take this one, and so I kill him as a human, to embarrass him as he has embarrassed himself.

  He sees it coming. His face registers fear, and to my surprise acceptance. I expect him to whine like a bitch in heat, but when I maneuver in and wrap my hands around his neck he looks at me with indignation. Even as the breath drains from him and his eyes begin to bulge he looks at me. I squeeze harder, and he uses his last bit of air to laugh.

  I howl in fury, shift to my were form and rend his flesh from his skeleton even as it begins to turn to dust. The black cloud of his soul rises from him, and I open my mouth to accept it, gaining his strength and power while I continue to molest his physical form. I only stop when there is nothing more to rip, to tear, to destroy. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and
I turn with my claw raised to see Lylyx standing there, a hungry, feral smile on her face. I regain my human form, lift her to me, and put my lips to hers, claiming my first taste. It won’t be the last.

  When I regained myself, she was standing in front of the pack, looking down on me with a mixture of disdain and concern. Lylyx. She didn’t look a day older than she had in the memory, though her sharp business suit was a stark contrast to the revealing deerskins she had sported in her past. How long ago had that been?

  “Ulnyx,” she said in a whisper. I could smell her surprise. “I heard you were killed by the diuscrucis.”

  I hesitated to reply. She thought I was the Great Were, and only the Great Were. In my tired state my link to Purgatory must have been weak enough that her Sight was only reading his power. Had his stirring overpowered Josette too?

  “Lylyx,” I said at last, bringing myself to my feet and pulling on Ulnyx’s power to enhance the illusion of my identity, making sure to match my golden eye to the demon’s. I was grateful to have the were’s memories to guide me. “It’s been a long time.”

  She smiled and stepped forward. “Too long,” she said, reaching up and pulling my head down to hers. Her kiss was strong and sloppy, and I could feel the Great Were’s soul howling at her call. I went along for the ride, not wanting to give anything away. Finally, she broke the kiss and took a step back.

  “So the rumors aren’t true? Nobody’s heard from you in years.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” I asked, trying to say as little about that as possible. “You’re a bit far from home yourself.”

  She smiled and looked at me with big, round eyes, eyes that I could recall from other memories that weren’t so clandestine. Ulnyx had tried to pretend he didn’t love her. I had his soul, I knew the truth. The creature standing in front of me was the only thing the demon cared for other than domination and power.