by Anthony Izzo
“Let him go!” Laura said.
From inside the circle, Engel said, “Would you take his place? Your turn will come soon enough.”
She scrambled to her feet again, intent on stopping the torture, but one of the winged beasts turned. It had an extra eye in its forehead and a pair of horns that curled down around its face. It grabbed her in a bear hug and squeezed.
“Do not kill her, just hold her there.”
If it wasn’t trying to kill her, it disguised it well. Her ribs were pressed inward and she gasped for breath. Mike screamed some more. She smelled the thing’s swampy breath and began to gag. It really was the end. She closed her eyes.
Despite that, there was Light. Coming through her lids, bright Light, the kind that if she looked into it would force her to shut her eyes. She opened them.
There was Light. Coming in the mill door in brilliant white streaks. The demons began to back away. Engel let out a groan of disgust.
She heard the voice but didn’t believe it, “Let them go.”
Sara remembered the final thud-crack she had heard after Engel threw her off the catwalk. There had been a sharp pain in her back, and she looked up and saw him looking down at her. Then things had gone dark.
She couldn’t recall how long they had stayed that way, for part of the time had been erased. Then there had been the Light, dim yellow going to hot white, in front of her eyes, and then she felt warm, and it spread through her like oil through an engine. She opened her eyes and saw the catwalks and pipes. At first she couldn’t move her limbs and had a horrific moment where she thought she had lived but was paralyzed. Then she could move her arms and legs. Soon after that, she sat up, and saw the Everlight fall from her chest.
Taking the stone with her, she left the cast house and wandered across the lot. She had heard the screams coming from the long narrow mill building and she took off running, the Light glowing in her palm with feverish intensity. She reached the mill door and found there was a neat halo of Light around her body, like an aura.
She went inside and saw the others. That was when she screamed to let them go.
Two winged demons immediately took flight. Without even thinking, she raised her arms and two beams the thickness of telephone poles erupted from her fingertips. They blasted the demons, reducing them to so much blackened flesh. The other winged ones came, and she cut them down, leaving Engel.
With a snarl, he charged at her, palms facing her, and something thick and black came at her with terrifying speed, but she put up her hands and a disk of light shielded her, sending his volley ricocheting to the side. It was enough to knock her off balance, and as she stumbled he whipped past her and ran from the mill.
She gave chase, hearing Laura yell, “Sara!” She kept going until she was outside. Engel waited, shirtless, hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“How is this possible?”
“Magic.”
“You’ll die anyway,” he said, and raised his arms. A broadsword with a jagged blade materialized in his hands.
He began to move in. “Come back to me, my children! Now!”
Sara heard footsteps from behind, at the mill door. She took a quick glance and saw Laura in the doorway. “Sara.”
“I can beat him,” she said.
Now she saw fingers of mist, like funnel clouds in reverse, rising from the ground and traveling up into the mist that covered the city. When they joined with the larger mist, it twisted into a cone and shot down, heading toward the steel plant.
She’d been watching the spectacle of the mist and saw Engel at the last second, sword raised over his head. She moved aside as he swung it in a murderous arc and it struck the ground, spitting up concrete chips. She’d been lucky that time.
They circled one another. Stone in hand, she fired a beam, but he blocked it with the sword. They continued to circle, and this time she fired low, but he jumped over the beam. Now she heard something behind her, familiar strangled voices. A quick glance showed a small army of Dark Ones approaching. They stretched out along the fence, perhaps twenty deep, for as far as she could see.
“You see, you can’t win.”
From behind her, she heard another voice. “Finish him! You’re strong.” It was Reverend Frank. The Asian woman stood next to him. They didn’t move to help, which told her this was her fight alone.
The Dark Ones grew closer. Engel charged again, swinging in a horizontal arc. Sara blocked it with a beam. His sword deflected upward.
One of these times he isn’t going to miss.
He came back with a chopping blow, and again she blocked it, the light creating a shower of sparks. She immediately thrust upward, catching him in the shoulder, and he whirled around, shrieking. His back to her, she fired again, hitting him in the lower back. He fell to his knees and she moved in, eyeing the back of his neck, hoping to decapitate.
As she moved in, he remained on his knees, but when she raised her arm to deliver the blast, he spun around, faster than she thought possible, and thrust the sword up and through her middle. He let go of the hilt. She staggered backward. From the mill door, someone gasped.
She looked down and saw the sword jutting from her belly. It was heavy and nearly toppled her.
But there was no pain, and no blood, only a sense of heaviness. She gripped the blade, which felt sharp enough to slice paper, but her hands didn’t bleed. She slowly removed it from her midsection and it fell to the ground with a clatter. The wound closed, her torn skin mending itself.
Engel looked dumbfounded.
She was aware of his army closing in around her.
Engel rose to his feet. “You little bitch.”
Before he could conjure another weapon, she fired a beam. He attempted to block it, a circle of solid darkness forming around his arm, but her shot got past him. This one hit him in the chest and blew him backward. He lay on the ground, skin smoldering.
She fired again, and he twitched. He got to his hands and knees. She blasted him again, and again he fell to the ground.
Now, the Dark Ones around her had stopped. She looked at some of them and for the first time saw looks of fear in their eyes. Good. You’ve caused enough of it yourself.
Engel crawled, skin blackened in places, wisps of smoke rising from him. The air took on a burnt smell.
“Crawl like a snake, that’s it!” she said, and ripped another blast. It caught him in the side of the head, opening up his skull. Thick black glop poured out. He raised his head one final time and screamed, a wail of anguish so terrible it made Sara shudder. Then he lowered his head and was still.
The Dark Ones began to wail. She saw them begin to burn up, bodies hissing, black smoke rising from them. Some fell to their knees. Others thrust spears into their own bellies, throats, and eyes. They were dissolving right before her.
Engel’s body did the same, seeming to spontaneously combust, the skin bubbling and cracking, then turning charcoal black.
In a matter of minutes, all that remained on the ground were piles of ash, and after the last one had succumbed, a fierce wind blew, whipping through Sara’s hair. It seemed to gather up the ashes, blowing them across the lot, then rising higher and higher, taking the remains to the sky, where they were scattered like snowflakes.
Laura ran to Sara. Above her, the ashes of the creatures were scattered until they were seen no more. She reached Sara and hugged her. The girl was crying, as was Laura. “You were dead.”
“I thought so, too.”
Reverend Frank had joined them.
“How?” Laura asked him, wiping tears.
“The stone has the power to resurrect the strongest Guardians. I tried it on a Guardian named McGivens in Routersville, but it didn’t work. Sanborn—the one who originally slew Engel—was resurrected as well.”
Sara said, “Dave never told us that.”
“Charles and I were the only ones who knew. We didn’t want him to fear for Sara’s life any more than he already did.”
Laura gav
e the girl another squeeze. “Let’s check on the others.”
In the mill, Milo was sitting up, shirt off, his pale saggy breasts resting on his belly. “Look at this!”
There was no evidence of the rot caused by the weapons. He put his shirt back on and got to his feet. “Jesus, I actually feel good.”
Laura went to check on Mike. He was not so lucky. Engel and the others had torn off his shirt. Strips of flesh had been cut from his chest. They had tried to skin him and did a pretty good job on his chest. He was unconscious but breathing.
“He’ll need medical care.”
Frank came running inside. “There’s an army convoy on 5. I’ll go flag them down.”
Help was on the way.
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Copyright © 2008 Anthony Izzo
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