Devil's Punch cs-4

by Ann Aguirre

  Pretty, Pretty Pain

  The fireball slammed the floor in front of us and I dove backward. None of Ninlil’s reflexes now, just my own clumsiness. I did have the echo of spells she’d cast, however, and I brought the power to bear. It wasn’t enough to drive all the enemies out of the castle, but maybe, just maybe, I could defeat the ones trying to stop us from reaching the portal room.

  The magick buzzed in my head, but I felt no pain. I sent the spell out my fingertips and dropped the confusion on them. Three of them shook it off, as their shields were stronger; these were among the best the Saremon had to offer. It wouldn’t be that simple, unfortunately. And before the ones I’d caught could launch spells at each other, their companions slapped them with a cleansing charm.

  Shit, they were ready for us. They’d been studying my methods.

  “Oz is waiting for you,” one taunted me. “You’ll never survive this.”

  “Neither will you,” I answered.

  Before the Saremon finished casting, Chance, Shannon, and Greydusk closed to melee. She didn’t have her radio, but unlike me, she showed no hesitation about physical conflict. Her swordwork looked strong to my inexperienced eyes; it was certainly better than the mages were used to, and the Saremon found it difficult to focus on casting while fending off physical blows. She skewered one as Chance set fire to another. The mage ran, slapping at his burning robes; then his fear became screams of agony as his flesh melted in the magickal fire that could not be extinguished until all fuel was consumed.

  Greydusk drained a third, hopefully taking all his energy along with his knowledge. I wasn’t clear on how that worked without Ninlil whispering advice, but she wasn’t talking. That left three, even odds. A tall horned Saremon mage prepared a spell, but Shannon hacked off his fingers before he could complete the gesture. His cry interrupted the effect, and Chance finished him.

  The sounds of battle alerted more enemies. Footfalls pounded in our direction and I spun. Combat might not be my forte, but I did have assets. Quickly, I pricked my fingers and used my athame to draw a rune behind us; then I fed power to it until a shimmering wall sprang into being. The Hazo, drawn by our battle with the Saremon, slammed into it en masse, which would’ve been funny if I wasn’t so worried.

  “You’ll have to take the long way around,” I yelled.

  I spun in time to see Greydusk eviscerate a fifth with a Swordwraith’s natural weapon. The partial transformation impressed me, but there was no time to admire my companion’s skill. Only one Saremon remained; she tried to run, but Shannon took her from behind with a slash across her hamstring. The demoness went down.

  “Don’t kill me,” she begged. “I was only following orders. I can help you.”

  “At the first sign of trouble, she’ll turn,” Greydusk said.

  I knew he was right. But maybe I could get some information first. So I did something dreadful to this cowering female; I gave her hope.

  “Possibly,” I allowed.

  “I’m Oz’s right hand.” It was clearly an empty boast.

  I pretended to believe her. “Are you? Prove it. What’s his true name?”

  The Saremon female laughed with a touch of hysteria. “Nobody knows that, except Oz’s mother, and he killed her two centuries ago to keep her from talking.”

  “Nice,” Chance muttered.

  “So far you’re not telling me anything worth the risk of letting you go,” I pointed out. “I don’t want excuses. Dazzle me.”

  Her brow furrowed. “He plans to kill you and take the throne himself, now that you’ve opened the castle. He’ll restore order in the city and everyone will be so grateful, they won’t care if he has royal blood. He thinks power is enough.”

  “That’s probably true,” Greydusk said.

  Shannon shrugged. “So? That’s not news. And I don’t see how it helps us.”

  I gazed down at the wounded Saremon on the floor. She wrapped her arms around her knees, drawing them to her chest as if they could protect her. Her horns were tiny, barely there amid the tangled mass of her black hair. I wondered if that meant she was young, and then I cut the thread of that thought. I couldn’t feel sorry for her. In my place, she would’ve killed me by now.

  “That’s information we puzzled out on our own. I need to know where Oz is, where he’s left the most troops.”

  “I’m not sure where he is now, but he was upstairs, ransacking your quarters. He’s looking for something that belongs to you.”

  In reflex, I touched the red jewel at my throat. This was the only thing I’d taken from the Saremon stronghold. Oz must be after my father’s heart. But why? Greydusk offered a shrug, as if he shared my curiosity but didn’t have the answer.

  “Troop movements, then?” I prompted.

  “Oh. Well, the Hazo have been divided up. They were stationed in the throne room, but now he’s got them patrolling. The Xaraz are in the kitchens. I don’t think they were ordered to do that, but they’re scavengers at heart. They’re just looking for stuff to eat and steal. I don’t imagine they’ll fight very hard.”

  Remembering the rabble in the courtyard, I agreed. “And your cohorts?”

  “We have orders to find and slay you.”

  I sensed that was all I’d learn. A nod at Greydusk conveyed my intent, and the Saremon panicked. She fumbled for a spell, any spell, but fear made her clumsy. The Imaron moved on her—and when I gave the order for her execution, I wasn’t the queen of Xibalba. I was only Corine Solomon, making another bad choice for the greater good. Yet when Grey broke the mage’s neck, it didn’t feel good at all.

  “We have Hazo after us,” I said, ignoring the awful weight in my stomach. “I blocked them, but I can only do that two or three more times before I’m done.”

  “Then we’ll be fast.” Chance took my hand.

  Shannon was already moving. “Let’s go. I don’t much care where, but we can’t stand around.”

  Butch yapped in agreement. Mostly he cowered in my purse on the demon’s shoulder, but he agreed we had to put some pep in our step. Then he went back into hiding. I hoped he wasn’t permanently traumatized, but at the moment I was more worried about finding our escape hatch than about my dog’s mental health.

  The Imaron closed his eyes, as if visualizing the castle layout. Too bad Shannon couldn’t get on her netbook and call up Google Maps. The absurd thought put a desperate, exhausted smile on my face. I hadn’t thought of such a thing—a human thing—since we arrived at the palace. With effort, I set it aside. Later, I’d deal with the weirdness of having someone else drive my body around like a smart car.

  “Hurry,” Chance urged.

  Greydusk opened his black eyes and flashed a look that said he wasn’t helping, but he set off nonetheless. Behind us, the shield I’d set flickered and went down. It didn’t have the power or lasting potential of a permanent ward. I could throw blocks in their way—that was all.

  Hope it slows them down long enough.

  The Hazo couldn’t know the castle as well as Greydusk did. Hopefully that would work to our advantage. Shouts echoed through the corridors, most useless and faraway. The next one made me think the warrior caste had closed enough that they might have gotten behind us again. I had to keep them there.

  “I’ll catch up,” I called.

  I didn’t know if they heard me. Doesn’t matter. While the others kept moving, I stopped to drop another block. Another slash to my fingertips for extra power; the other cuts had coagulated, and they burned like hell when I sliced them open again. These scars weren’t like the ones I gained handling charged objects.

  Set, shape, strength. I worked as fast as I could, my heart hammering in my ears, and then I saw ten Hazo thundering down the hall at me. The wall went up just as they charged it. One popped through, a second split in half in a grotesque explosion of guts, neatly sheared by my magical barrier. Demon innards splattered all over me, and I almost puked, except I had bigger problems.

  Namely this giant, enr
aged demon whose pal I just tore in two.

  Its ursine features twisted with rage, the tusks rising and falling with each breath as if anticipating how good I’d taste. “You killed Caim.”

  No disputing that.

  “He accepted my judgment,” I said quietly. “You dishonor his bravery with such betrayal.”

  “Do not speak to me of honor, half-breed filth. You are no true queen, and we will cleanse your stain from this land.”

  While he spoke, I shook with exhaustion and backed up. This confrontation flashed me back to Peru and how helpless I had felt with Caim. Only this demon didn’t have a harness for me to read. And I certainly couldn’t beat the Hazo in hand to hand.

  Its great size telegraphed its attack. I stumbled back another step, intending to run, but my feet slipped in the demon guts, and that mishap saved me. The brute aimed a vicious blow at my head; since I was already falling, I took only part of the hit to my face, hard enough to slam me back five feet into the opposite wall, where the hall bent left. Blood spurted from my nose. If I’d taken the whole force, it would’ve snapped my neck.

  As it was, I landed hard, ears ringing. The Hazo charged. Instead of beating me to death, as I expected, it lifted me by the throat. Its giant fist tightened, cutting off my oxygen. Fruitlessly, I kicked, but I couldn’t connect. My motions grew jerky, spasmodic, like death throes I had seen in so many other creatures.

  So sorry, I thought. About everything.

  My vision went black-speckled, and the pain seared me from the inside out. I lost consciousness for a few seconds and woke when the pressure eased off my neck. I fell then, and the Hazo roared—because it had a sword sticking out of its thigh. Shannon removed it with a jerk and used the wall to propel herself out of range.

  I lay dazed, unable to process anything for precious seconds. The gulps of air I drew into my tortured lungs felt like the whole world. Beside me, Chance came in low and hard, his strikes lightning fast, a maddening flurry of fire. With each blow, the Hazo moaned its anguish as the flames licked over its hide. The stink of live, burning meat filled my nostrils, and then Shannon sliced it from behind.

  A clever stroke. With its spinal column severed, the Hazo fell. Not dead but dying, and in absolute agony. These weren’t invulnerable like the summoned knight had been. We were on its home ground and it lacked the magickal protection Caim had owned in Peru.

  But there were so many more hunting us. It had taken two on one to bring this Hazo down. Too many more fights like this one, and— No. Best not to consider the worst, even in my head.

  My arms felt like cooked noodles. I tried to push away from the wall, but I couldn’t get up. No strength. Chance lifted me, wanting to shake me, no doubt, but my cheek was so swollen I couldn’t see out of that eye; I looked too pathetic for his wrath. Instead he cradled me against his chest and beckoned to Shannon.

  As he ran, he demanded, “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  My bruised throat felt as though speaking would kill me. I forced the words out anyway in a hoarse rasp. “Slowing them down. Watching our backs.”

  “Yeah? And who had yours?”

  “You and Shan,” I whispered. “Like always.”

  He held any further castigation because Greydusk met us halfway. His sharkish features drew tight with worry. “How badly are you hurt, my queen?”

  “Please don’t call me that. It’s Corine.” Such an effort to push the sounds out. “You should go. Save yourself.”

  The demon shook his head. “You may not be their queen, but you are mine. I will never forsake you.”

  “Tell me it’s not far,” Shannon said. “This is fun and all, but I’d like to make our big exit now.”

  “One more room, I think. Possibly two.” Grey sounded unsure—just what we needed to bolster morale.

  I touched Chance on the shoulder. “I can walk now. My legs are fine.”

  Overstatement. The bite where the Gorder sank its teeth in to save me from falling throbbed like fire. Might be infected, but it wouldn’t help to whine. My face and throat were fucked up beyond all recognition; I turned my head in order to see the left side of the hallway.

  “Are you positive?” Chance asked.

  “Yep.”

  As he set me on my feet, the rest of the Hazo troop found us. Nine of them. Four of us—and a terrified dog. I’d faced some shitty odds in my life, but this—this was something else entirely.

  What spells do I remember? I had a big blank spot in my head. I didn’t remember my mother’s magick. I had relied on Ninlil for so much, gotten comfortable with her natural knowledge, and now I was fucking helpless. Dead weight.

  “Shannon, stay back,” I begged.

  She gave a nervous laugh, holding her sword in a defensive stance. “I’m not charging them. I’m not crazy.”

  “Stall them,” Greydusk said.

  Chance moved in front of us protectively while I cast another ward. My last. This I remembered because I had been drawing runes all the way through our retreat, but I couldn’t recall any other wards to save my life. Maybe this one would.

  The demon’s skin rippled as he shifted; he had fought the shades in Swordwraith form. Hopefully it would prove effective against the Hazo too, who threw themselves repeatedly at the shield, trying to break it down with brute force. They couldn’t circle around; this was the rear part of the palace and there were no other paths. We would pass here, or we would die.

  “Retreat around that corner,” Chance ordered. “It’ll help me focus if you’re not in danger.”

  I glanced at Shannon, who nodded. Out of sight, we huddled together. She put an arm around me and I leaned in, shaking. Her heart beat too fast as the shield fell. I could tell it had by the combat noises. Screams, blows, madness. I willed it to be over, for Greydusk and Chance to prevail. I had no magick left, or I would have fought beside them.

  At last Chance called, “Corine!”

  I limped back the way we’d come. Found nine Hazo corpses in a gruesome pile. To my horror, Greydusk lay on his side, blood leaking out of a terrible wound. Shannon sucked in a sharp breath.

  Ignoring my own pain, I knelt beside him. “Let’s get you up.”

  “The portal room lies just beyond those doors.…” He gasped, one long fingered-hand flexing with the pain. “I…fear I will not be able to finish this task.”

  “Bullshit.” Tears prickled in my eyes, and I dashed them away. “Oh, God, Grey, don’t. You said demons don’t have an afterlife. I can’t—”

  “You treated me as a man of honor from the beginning. With you, my queen, I was free. That is worth dying for.”

  And then there were three.

  My Sweetest Downfall

  For long moments, I knelt in guilty silence.

  “There were too many. They’re so fucking big. Strong. I’m fast, but with five Hazo trying to eviscerate me, I just couldn’t dodge them all. I got tired. And he threw himself in front of me.”

  He didn’t need to tell me why. I knew. Because you’re the queen’s consort.

  “He died for you—to please me?” Raw anguish scalded my spirit.

  “To save you from pain.”

  “I should have told him he wasn’t just my minion or whatever. That he was a friend too.”

  Shannon put a hand on my shoulder, and for the first time I noticed that our gifts didn’t spark off each other anymore. We hadn’t touched much since the Hazo gave her back to me, and I couldn’t recall when it started. The sinking in my stomach told me I wasn’t human anymore, but despair had to get in line behind my grief.

  “He knew,” she said softly. “Why do you think he stayed with you, fought so hard? Demons aren’t known for their altruism.”

  No, they weren’t, and the fact that we’d found such a good soul here, of all places, made me wonder about the stories I’d been told. I didn’t know what was true anymore. I wanted to cry but there was no time.

  It didn’t seem right to leave him, but Chance was
correct when he said, “I need both hands free to fight.”

  “Give me another minute.” Laying my hands on Greydusk’s brow, I whispered to him in thanks and affection. Maybe the Imaron had been right; there was nothing left of demons after they died, but I spoke the words for myself.

  Then, with great regret, I picked up my purse—which Greydusk had gone to so much trouble to save for me and checked on Butch; he was terrified but whole—and then slung it over my shoulder. My heart ached as I limped away from Greydusk’s body. His loyalty shouldn’t have meant giving up everything for me, but he wouldn’t want us to die either. I squared my shoulders, pressed the fear down, and led Shannon and Chance toward the final door. Tears stung my eyes; I stepped through, partly blinded by them.

  The room was massive, full of imposing statuary in weird, demonic shapes, molded arches, and a fountain in the center. Along each wall to the right and left there were mirrors twice as tall as a man, not made of glass but of hammered silver. Magickal lights hung around the perimeter in ornate sconces, and I noticed four shadows at the far end that didn’t come from the marble statues.

  Then the spell hit us.

  It tingled in a familiar way, but my bracelet deflected it. Tia’s gift broke into rusted metal shards, falling from my wrist. I recognized the feel of the snare spell and whirled, dashing the tears from my eyes. Oz. From his appearance, times had been hard; his robe was ripped and stained. Unfortunately, he also had a Hazo and a couple of Saremon minions as his honor guard.

  We were so fucked.

  Need two hands free to fight. As one, we dropped our belongings, but I was careful with my purse.

  “Hide,” I ordered the dog.

  Chance and Shannon sprinted for the lesser threats. I guessed they reckoned if they could kill the other mages quickly, it would limit the amount of magick flying around. Oz didn’t waste time. He slammed another spell and ice frosted the place where I’d been standing. I wasn’t anymore. I rolled behind a huge statue, stifling a moan at how it aggravated my injuries. If he couldn’t see me, he couldn’t target me.