Singers were taught how to heal in their sixth measure, but were warned against doing it to themselves. There were too many things that could go wrong and worsen any wound, it really wasn't worth the risk. However, Lyric decided the risk was acceptable in this situation. He watched in satisfaction as the blood flow stopped. The pain turned to a dull throbbing, and the skin around the puncture was turning an ugly gray. He covered it with one of his spare t-shirts and applied pressure, which almost made him pass out from the pain. Grimly he forced himself to deal with other pressing matters.
Turning his focus back to the tie, he examined it closely. The odd discordant speed bump was still there, but the power that lay on the other side was barely a trickle. Cautiously he moved along the tie, seeking Acheron's consciousness. It seemed he kept going much further than usual, and the connection felt muddy. Finally, he became aware of something that resembled a giant black fishing weight of power tangled up in the tie that surged slightly as he approached.
Acheron? He directed his thoughts at the weight.
Hang on to the tie, Lover, I'm trying to make it back.
What's this black thing? Lyric wondered.
A giant pain in the ass, came the reply stop distracting me, I'm working.
Lyric stopped distracting her and sang his soul song, poking at the black mass.
Ouch! Dammit, Lyric, leave it alone! Just concentrate on the tie.
Where are you? Lyric couldn't help asking. Acheron demonstrated the ability to sigh mentally.
I'm on the Verge, the only reason I'm not all the way back in hell is because of our tie. You were stabbed by a banishing blade. You're not a demon, but you're tied to one. So the magic of the blade was activated, but couldn't do anything to you, it came for me instead. Our tie gave me an anchor to stop short of hell. The problem is that damn spell creates a stopper of sorts, to prevent the hellion from coming back through the same channel. It isn't strong enough to seriously damage a soul song tie, but it's strong enough to slow me down and require a stupid amount of effort to return. Now please shut up, sing your song and let me work.
Lyric continued his soul song, but ignored the black weight and instead focused on strengthening his end of the tie. Briefly, he wondered why she didn't just go to Hell and return. After an interminable amount of time, Lyric sensed a presence. Opening his eyes he looked back to see Acheron slowly fade into view.
"Welcome back," he said.
"I'm not back, I'm stuck at the stopper. Unfortunately, the magic in the banishing blade is activated and powered by blood. This means I'm fighting not only against the magic of the blade, but the power in your blood as well. For yours truly that's inconvenient at the least, and downright tragic for both of us if we don't get that wound of yours healed."
"I've stopped the bleeding," Lyric told her. "We're going to find a hospital in Albuquerque to stitch it up. I'll get some antibiotics while I'm there.
Acheron shook her head.
"You can close up the wound but the poison of the magic will still be there."
"I have no idea what to do about that. I don't know of any Singers stationed around here."
"Silly boy," Acheron chuckled tiredly. "soul singers aren't the answer to every woe. There are many supernatural healers, but our best bet is to find a mute. Establish a need for protection. If you can do that, just being in their presence will expel any magic harmful to you."
"Wouldn't that expel you too?"
"No, I mean you no harm. It won't be fun for me, but our tie should protect me just like before. Mutes have a limited function, but their magic within that framework is extremely sophisticated and powerful. Truth is I'd be interested in seeing what happens out of sheer curiosity."
"Why don't you just stop fighting it and let it send you to Hell?"
"Because it's not the same as traveling there myself. This spell will remain on our tie between you and me, always pushing me back. Try swimming in tar with lead boots, that's what it feels like. If I let it push me all the way to Hell I won't be able to come back."
Lyric turned back around, wincing at the pain in his side. Looking at Cadence, he saw she was lovely as ever with the exception of deep purple circles under her eyes.
"If you pull over I'll drive for a while," Lyric offered.
Cadence glanced pointedly at his side and shook her head with a smile.
Lyric rather figured she'd refuse; he looked back at Acheron to see she'd vanished. Frowning, he immediately focused on their tie. He found her presence where she said she was, behind the stopper.
Acheron?
I'm here, Lover, it takes too much effort to project an image from here. Just find that mute, the sooner the better.
* * *
She lifted her weary head. There were twelve more on their way and a blindingly bright spot coming in the front. Swift as thought she raced to the back of the building and met them in the air at the far edge of the property line. She grunted in surprise as she saw the attackers she faced were larger than those who usually laid siege to her hospital. No matter, they would topple like the rest. They attacked her as one. The grounds keeper whose marijuana she kept confiscating was thirty feet below the struggle lighting a joint. She barely had time for an exasperated sigh before battle was joined.
* * *
Sitting in the curb, Marshall shivered, as though grazed by the finger of death. Looking at his freshly lit joint, he flicked it to the asphalt and hurried inside.
* * *
Powerful, but not all-powerful. The guardian wasn’t concerned she would lose. She never lost. Her concern was that none of them made it past her. She didn’t like them in her hospital. Eight of them latched onto her and the other four made for the building. Eyes narrowed in anger, the sword of wrath flamed to life in her hand. The demons fell like wheat as she cut through them. In moments, she was flying through the ash of her attackers to stop the other four.
One of them spun in the air and hurled darts of hell fire at her face. Her wings came up just in time to shield her. Those were from Trytohn's personal armory. Who were these hellions? No matter, they'd soon be reporting failure. Surging forward, she cut through two of them. Number three hit the brakes and pulled out a whip, while number four sped on.
Furious at how close he was getting to her hospital, the angel drew back her arm to hurl her sword at him. Her wrist burned and her hand went numb as the icy lash of the demon behind her struck. Her lifeless fingers could not hold the sword anymore and it flared out. With a mighty yank, she pulled the demon closer with his own weapon and shattered his skull with her left fist. He spun heavily to the ground and with a swift jerk, she pulled the whip handle from his grasp.
Catching the handle in her good hand, she ignored the sparks the unholy weapon threw out against her skin. Turning back for the last demon, she sent the business end of the whip flying after him. He smoked out and vanished into the building. The whiplash took several bricks out of the wall as it pursued him.
Gritting her teeth, she shot into the building after him. Taking solid form, she was immediately set upon by the brute. Now that he was inside the hospital, she was able to appreciate his sheer mass. His solid state looked like an eight-foot gorilla with a scorpion tail. He tried to sting her repeatedly but she managed to keep her wings in the way so he hit nothing but bones, feathers and membranes. It hurt, but the poison would dissipate from her gray pinions and leave her with nothing more than a headache and some fatigue.
Her right hand was starting to tingle as movement came back, but not fast enough for this fight. The demon had one hand around her neck and the other around her thigh. He was attempting to rip her in half. With a tremendous effort, she punched his arm above the elbow and heard a satisfying crack. Unfortunately he didn’t let go, he just growled and tried to sting her again as he grabbed her left arm with his right leg.
The angel started to feel the weight of the fight and for the first time wondered if she was going to fail in her duty. She blocked sever
al more sting attempts as her muscles strained against his efforts to pull her apart.
Her resolve wavered and she despaired of winning this struggle. Her wings grew slower and weaker and as if in slow motion she watched the demon’s deadly sting come for her left eye, knowing she wouldn’t be able to stop it and this would be the end of her time here.
The sting stopped an inch from her eye. She saw a large hand wrapped around the demon’s tail. The hand was attached to Genesis, one of the giants of heaven and her direct superior. Hope flared again in her chest as she watched Genesis squeeze the tail so hard that the stinger fell uselessly to the floor. The demon shrieked in pain and released her. As she fell to the ground Genesis grabbed the demon by the neck and pulled it up close to his face, ignoring the blows it desperately rained on his head.
“You have no right to be here.” With that, he squeezed and the demon shrieked as its head lost touch with its body. The shriek rang the angel’s head like a bell and took out the power in the entire wing of the hospital. Genesis wiped the ash from his hands and turned to help her to her feet.
“I really don’t like to fight, Aria Gund.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” The cherubim, Aria Gund, guardian of the Rose of Sharon hospital felt ashamed that she had to be rescued, but grateful Genesis was there to do it.
“Someone is on his way here. He’s been poisoned and needs your immediate attention. After you see to him, get some rest. Now, I have a child to greet downstairs and you have a Singer to heal.”
* * *
As they drove into Albuquerque on the I40, Cadence pulled off onto exit 164.
"This isn't the way to our delivery point, do you have something else in mind?" Lyric asked, concern tinting his voice as he noted how exhausted she looked. Wearily she nodded, turning right onto Wyoming Blvd.
A few minutes down the road and Cadence pulled into the parking lot for an ER.
"We don't have time for this right now. The lettuce is blender and Mr. Lomong ate the canoe." Lyric started laughing like a fool, then stopped and looked again at the ER. What did he say? Shaking his head, he tried again. "The magic in the wound is the priority, I can get stitched up later."
Cadence pointed at his shirt, he looked down to see a great deal of fresh blood. Pulling the t-shirt away from the wound, he saw it was a sickly gray color and beginning to smell bad.
"Looks like it's infected by more than magic, eh? I'm going to need some duck billed chopstick, can you syrup chair cozy?" The world swam in a circle. Lyric tried to make sense through the haze clouding his thoughts. He lifted a hand and touched Cadence's face. "You really are very pretty. I like that you can't talk, it makes you mysterious, but in a good way. All the rest of my bananas these days simmer, it's nice to have a lovely wagon that greens me."
Cadence gently pulled Lyric's hand away from her face and set it on his leg. Pulling into the emergency lot, she parked the car and came around to help Lyric get out. The Singer was unsteady on his feet and found he was leaning on Cadence more than he expected.
She got him through the door and immediately a gray haired nurse met them with a wheelchair and took Lyric past triage straight to an empty bed.
It didn't take long to get Lyric shirtless, washed, and covered. The nurse started him on an IV and was barking orders that Lyric found he could not comprehend. Feeling disoriented and slow, Lyric tried to examine the severe looking woman who was obviously in charge, and tried to figure out why she looked familiar. Unconsciously he began to hum, a common tendency when he found himself confused or nerved up. Immediately the nurse clapped a hand over his mouth and hissed.
"Don't you dare, Singer." Even through the haze of pain and confusion, Lyric had the presence of mind to be startled. "I'd know a Singer anywhere, you glow different than anyone else, though I've got to say yours is stranger still. Now I'll do my best to get you fixed up, but you keep your mouth shut, clear?"
Lyric nodded silently, his brief span of lucidity quickly slipping away. Soon he was looking at the nurse in wonder, as she sprouted gray, disheveled wings that no one else seemed to notice. Despite her bedraggled and tired appearance, she had a certain vitality about her that set her apart from everyone else in the room. An air of being more "alive" than everyone else. It struck a familiar chord from a half-forgotten dream. She turned back around to inject the contents of a syringe into his IV and Lyric saw her face, though still quite severe her expression could not mask her stunning beauty.
"Are you an angel?" Lyric asked in wonder.
The woman just grunted and turned away as the meds took hold and wrested Lyric past the boundaries of wakefulness, plunging him into peaceful darkness.
* * *
Lyric woke up in a dark room. Looking down he saw his wound was dressed and hardly hurt at all. To his left and wide-awake sat Cadence, watching over him.
"Have I been out long?" Lyric asked.
Cadence held up two fingers.
"Two hours?"
She shook her head.
"Two days?!"
This time she nodded. Panicked, Lyric sat halfway up in the bed ignoring the spasm in his side.
"What about the car?"
Cadence pushed him back down shaking her head, which gave him a sense of déjà vu. She pointed a thumb at herself and mimed holding a steering wheel.
"You delivered it?"
She nodded. Grateful, Lyric closed his eyes and focused on his tie.
Acheron?
Glad to see you're back among the living, came the weak reply. You had some seriously messed up dreams.
I can barely hear you, Lyric thought at her.
I'm saving my strength. This spell isn't a stopper, it's more of a compactor. It's trying to send me down the chute to hell. No pressure, she laughed merrily at her pun, but are you ready to find that mute?
I don't know where to look.
Yes you do, you grew up with one. Think back to something that bothered you enough in your childhood to send you running to your Aunt Bea. Remember exactly how that felt, then go out and start walking, mutes are always within walking distance.
Lyric opened his eyes at a touch on his arm. He looked up at the severe gray haired nurse who cared for him when he came in.
"I'm not sure who you're talking to, though I fear I have an idea, but you need to get out of here." She checked his vitals while talking.
"I'm not talking to anybody," Lyric protested.
"Singers make terrible liars, young man, don't bother. I don't know who or what you are but you're marked with Notation's seal, which means I have to help you regardless of your identity. There are detectives outside waiting for you to wake up so they can question you; I'm assuming we need to get you past them."
"Detectives? Why? What's a notation seal? Who are you? How do you know what I am?"
"Hospital protocol. Anyone who comes into ER with wounds sustained from violence is reported to the authorities. I couldn't do anything about it. Besides, I normally agree with the system. Nevertheless, you must remain free. Notation is the angel charged with transcribing the Score, and he has marked you for protection, though I don't know why. The beacon he put on you is so bright I saw you coming and rushed back to the hospital so I could watch over you. Any of us who've stood in the presence of the Composer will defend you against harm as long as you bear that Mark. Now I've healed you as best as I can. The foxglove and blood loss were causing some hallucinations but were no problem. The infection was nasty and would have killed you within a few days if you didn't get attention. The problem is there's a sickness infecting you that I can't fix. You need to get yourself completely healed."
"You're an angel." Lyric said in wonder.
"Yes, I'm guardian of this hospital. The staff here calls me the gray angel," she almost smiled. "They have no idea."
"I thought guardian angels were huge with flaming swords."
"It’s with my other set of scrubs." She seemed so serious Lyric wondered if she was telling the truth. "Let's f
igure out where you are going to find a healer to handle that ugly bit of business inside you."
"A friend of mine said I need to find a mute." Lyric began dressing. The nurse looked up from the papers she was filling out.
"Who are you?" She demanded.
"My name is Lyric. You said you already know I'm a Singer, what more is there to know?"
"Singers are educated thoroughly and carefully, but mutes aren't part of that education. Very few creatures in creation know about them, how do you?"
"My friend told me about them."
The nurse looked at Cadence.
"Vergers don't know about them either."
"She's not a verger, nor is she the friend I was talking about. What's the problem?"
"Where's your verger?"
"Sick, because of that magical infection you can't see. Will you please tell me where the mute is so I can help her?"
"The biggest protection mutes have is their secrecy and the fact they can't be traced or found. You shouldn't know they exist. Even if I was inclined to tell you I'm not able to, that's part of their protection. I can't even talk about them without feeling guilty of indiscretion. Only the highest ranks of the Composer's court can divulge their secrets. Now here you are talking about mutes, but exhibiting no sense of propriety, blithely demanding a location that, if you were taught about mutes correctly, you would know I can't give you. So who's your friend? My protection does not require my ignorance."
"I think you'll be happier not knowing. If you could get us out of here that'd be splendid."
Demon Singer Page 17
