“Obviously,” Terry mumbled and made his way to the back door. He stopped before opening it. “Okay, we need a plan here.”
“There is no planning when it comes to him.”
Terry looked her sternly in the eye. “You are not going to try to sacrifice yourself again.” When she didn’t respond, he squeezed her arm. “I mean it, Armen.”
“All right,” she said.
“Armen,” he said, his tone fatherly, as if He spoke to her.
“I said all right!” Was he kidding? After what’d happened up there, she wasn’t about to attempt that again. Damn Sariel and his way with words; she’d almost fallen for it. “Even I’m not immune to his words.”
“You’d better mean it,” he said, and turned the doorknob. “Otherwise, you can just stay right here with Brian!”
She sneered.
“Me?” Brian said. “Why can’t I go in?”
Terry eyed his captain. “Because you can’t see a damn thing and that makes you a liability.” He pushed the door open and peered inside. “Go around front, Brian, and don’t let anyone else in the house.” Brian pushed through the door to head to the front of the house, pausing as Terry turned back to Greg. “Tell me what you saw in the alley.”
Greg nodded slowly. “I guess that makes me a liability too. I’m going. Be careful.” He moved through the kitchen past Brian and headed for the living room.
“Well?” Terry asked Brian.
Brian put the bullets on the island counter. “She says silver bullets will harm them.” He nodded in Armen’s direction. “You know, just in case.”
“Thanks.”
Brian leaned close to Terry, his face stern, and voice matching it. “You’d best come back from this shit.”
“I’d like that as well, Captain.”
Brian gave him a short nod and headed for the front door.
Once the door closed, Terry turned to Armen. “It’s just you and me, sweetie.”
She shook her head. “Oh, I never should have called you that.”
His brow arched. “Honey bear?”
“Shut up.”
Terry looked at her more seriously, knowledge of the things he’d seen in his lifetime returning in his eyes, along with his cop sense. “How do I kill him?”
“You need the scepter.”
“Push it through his chest, take off his head? What exactly do I need it for?”
“Either of those will work.”
Terry slid the cane back together and handed it back to her. “Take this back. You’ll need it.” When she shook her head, he practically pushed it into her hands. “I’d feel much better if you had a weapon.”
She took the cane without another word.
He withdrew his weapon. “Silver, huh?” He pressed the release and slid the magazine out, emptied it, and refilled it with the silver bullets. Once finished, he armed the chamber with a silver round. Then he led her through the kitchen and stopped in front of the office to check the room before entering. Once cleared, they carefully headed inside.
They both stared at the bookcase with its hidden passage. Armen felt the cold seep into her pores. Sariel was definitely nearby.
“After all of this is settled, I’m buying you that little black dress and taking you to dinner, whether or not you like it.”
“If we make it through this, I won’t argue with you.”
He chuckled. “Now that would be a switch, you not arguing with me.”
“Frightening thought, isn’t it?”
Terry peered down the small stairwell. The light was out. “Let there be light,” he whispered, but nothing happened. “Shit.”
Armen suddenly shivered, and Terry looked down at her.
“Well, we know he’s here, now don’t we, Miss Shiver?”
“What I want to know is how in the hell he got back in the house.”
“Yeah, I sent him away, didn’t I? And banned him from reentering,” Terry said, contemplating the thought. “My dad’s been up to something.”
“Do you think this was all a trap?”
Terry searched for something to light the stairwell. “I don’t know. My mom—” He reached for a candle. “If it was his doing, I doubt he intended to get us involved.”
”You can’t get any more cliché than walking down a dark stairwell with a damn candle.”
“Well, I didn’t wear my utility belt with the flashlight.” He looked around the shelf. “And of course, I have nothing to light the damn thing with so the point is moot.”
“Give me that.” She took the candle from his hand and blew a breath across the wick. A flame flickered to life.
Terry blinked twice. “That’s interesting.”
“Enchantments, hello?” she replied and handed the candle back to him.
“Can you give me the winning Lotto numbers?” He took the first step inside the doorway.
“It doesn’t work that way, sorry.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Shush.” She pointed down the stairs, and then put her fingers to her head, mimicking horns, and made an evil face.
Terry stifled his laughter. “You’re weird,” he mouthed. “But I L-word you anyway.”
She wrinkled her nose in a mock growl. “Don’t say that.” she mouthed in return.
Terry shook his head and walked slowly down the stairs, never more than a step ahead of Armen as he guided her. At the base of the stairs, two wooden doors stood before them. The one to the left led to Sean’s apothecary. Neither had a clue where the other led. Armen trembled violently again and clamped her mouth shut to stop her teeth from chattering. Sariel was near. Terry handed her the candle, held his hand up with three fingers, and pointed to the doorknob.
Armen licked her fingers and pinched the wick, extinguishing the flame, then set the candle on the floor by the wall. Her vision altered once more. Terry was searching in the darkness for her. She took his free hand and guided it to the doorknob, then tapped his hand three times.
Terry opened the door.
Red smoke filtered through a space already filled with grunting, feet scraping in calculated steps across the stone floor, a blade slicing through the air, and a soft demonic cackle. A draft from above pushed past them and through the door, clearing the smoke. Sean and Sariel were locked in battle in the center of a large stone room.
“What the hell?” Terry glanced around the room, awestruck.
Neither entity acknowledged them.
Terry seemed more stunned by the revelation of a hidden dungeon beneath his parents’ home than he was by finding his father battling a demon.
Armen thought it looked like something that belonged in the bowels of an old castle rather than in the basement of a fine old Arcadia home. Not enthralled by the room’s ominous feel, she pushed past Terry to study the scene.
“Your dad has him trapped in the circle,” she whispered.
Terry moved quietly next to her and leaned over. “What circle?”
She pointed out several lines drawn on the stone floor. “That circle.”
“That’s a pentagram.”
“It’s a circle used to summon. Could be a smart move.”
He frowned. “How?”
“The demon can’t leave the circle unless it is opened.”
“Then why didn’t he do that before?”
Sean ducked under Sariel’s claws and twirled the blade into Sariel’s abdomen. The silver cut into the demon, hissing as it slid across his flesh, but it was not enough to bring down the beast.
“Maybe he didn’t have time before.” She winced when Sariel knocked Sean to the floor. Terry took another step forward and she stopped him. “No. You can’t break the circle.”
Sean jumped to his feet and held the scepter before him.
“I am not burying two parents today!”
His shouts caught the demon’s interest, as well as his father’s.
“Terry, ya eeejit, gettae,” Sean said sternly, his deep Scottish dialect decimating the English language.
Sariel’s deep laughter echoed through the room, and Armen froze.
“Come to play again, my sweet?” Sariel walked to the edge of the circle, keeping a close eye on Sean. He tested the circle’s edge with his hand. His fingertips sizzled, sending sparks flying, and he swiftly retracted them. “Not fair, Wrangler. Come now, play nice.” He sliced through the air with his hand when he turned, and Sean ducked and rolled to the other side of the circle.
“As if you would ever play nice,” Armen said.
Sariel thrashed the severed end of his tail at the edge, sending flickering flames and sparks across an invisible wall of protection.
Armen shivered uncontrollably.
He peered over his shoulder and grinned. “Come, my sweet, I shall warm you again.”
“Only in death,” she replied.
“Of course,” Sariel purred. “Something I thought I had achieved with you earlier.” He grinned, showing several pointy teeth. “Well done.”
She withheld the urge to react to the rare compliment.
Sean lunged forward, attempting to stab Sariel in the chest, but the demon moved out of the way.
“Stay back, son!” He swung the blade around, catching Sariel on the arm. Once again, the demon’s flesh sizzled when the silver sliced into him. The deep cut didn’t slow him, however.
“Sean, I do wish you’d come out of there,” Armen pleaded, worried. She knew what Sariel was capable of.
“Dad, listen to her. Please.”
Sean continued his attack. Sariel suddenly shifted, taking on his more human form, and stood before them in his black suit.
“Tsk, tsk, Wrangler, you should not have summoned me into your home.” Sariel walked the edge of the circle, his sizzling fingertips trailing along the invisible wall, leaving red sparks behind him. His long black hair caught on a breeze not felt by Armen. “I have more power here now that I have taken your wife.” He leaned forward with the last word and hissed at Sean, eyes ablaze and forked tongue snaking its way out.
Sean roared at him and lunged forward, certainly not heeding the advice he’d given his son upstairs.
A chilling breeze wrapped around Armen. It meant only one thing. “Sean, get out! You need to leave the circle!”
Terry grabbed her arm. “How do you open the circle?”
Armen looked at him like he was crazy. “You can’t, Terry.”
“Bullshit.”
“Sariel will get out.”
“If I don’t open it, my father will die.” Sorrow swept his eyes. “Please, Armen.”
She shook her head. “I can’t . . . .” He pulled her up to face him directly. “It won’t matter anyway.”
“What are you talking about?” But then his eyes shifted; he noticed the shadows moving along the walls. “Shit. What the hell is that?”
“His minions. What do you think chief of tens means? It sure as hell doesn’t mean TEN demons. We’re in big trouble here, Terry.”
He watched the shadows slithering toward the circle where Sean and Sariel still battled. “Are they going to open it?”
Armen nodded.
“Do we need to stop it?” Everything about his voice said he didn’t like that option.
“Not if you want your dad out of there alive.”
“And then we’ll have more than Sariel to fight, right?”
She nodded again. “This may only be a few. If the circle opens, it could be thousands.”
“Shit.” Terry raised his gun.
“Wait until they’re flesh,” she said, hoping he’d listen. “The silver can’t harm them when they’re just shades.”
He sighed heavily. “Oh man, do we need to have that long talk.”
“Kill Sariel and we can have it.” She turned the head of her cane and withdrew its sword. “Oh, and you can’t kill him with the bullets. It has to be the scepter.”
“Of course it does.”
They watched the shadows carefully, waiting for the first one to turn flesh.
“Don’t miss,” she added. “I don’t want to get hit with a ricocheting bullet.”
“I don’t miss, Armen. Watch our backs.” One of the shadows snaked its way over to the circle and began to materialize. He fired when the demon completed the transition. It screeched and fell to the ground, writhing on the floor. Its flesh bubbled and seeped with fluids before it exploded. He turned his face away. “Well, that’s disgusting.”
“Tell me about it,” Armen said. “It gets worse.”
“How could it possibly—” He aimed and fired a round into the next one that materialized. “Jesus.”
A chorus of hisses rose above the clamor of Sean and Sariel fighting.
Armen threw a hand in the air. “Oh fucking hell, why don’t you just shout His name if you want to attract their attention?”
Terry looked bewildered. “What’d I say?”
“Hell, Terry, it may be common for you to use, but it’s a Divine name!”
“What, Jes—”
“DON’T SAY IT AGAIN!” She slashed at the demon materializing before her. “Fuck! Now they know we’re here!”
“Sorry.”
“Shut up and shoot,” she yelled over the echoing screams. A swarm descended upon them. “You’re not going to have enough bullets for this so make them count. Hit the big ones first.”
Armen swung her blade down upon a demon. Terry fired his weapon at the largest ones. The echo of the gunshot reverberated in her ears, and she was certain she would be deaf after this. Déjà vu of the dark, creepy warehouse basement took hold. Armen ran her blade through the minions that were certainly not small, yellow, and cute, taking a head from one, cutting another in two at the waist, and bayonetting a third. Some recognized her and hesitated, making them easier to kill. She relished in it. Oh, to be fighting again! She’d forgotten the feel of it. But it was different now as adrenaline pumped through the veins of her human body.
The gunshots stopped with a click of the hammer.
“I’m out,” Terry yelled and ducked when a demon swiped at him with its claw. “Armen!”
Only a few to go. “Duck!” She turned on the heel of her good leg and brought the silver blade over Terry’s head, taking off the head of the demon about to attack him. “Reload.”
Terry fumbled for the box he’d stuffed in his pocket and scooped up a handful of bullets. He released the magazine and quickly popped the bullets in as Armen fought off demon after demon surrounding them. He punched the magazine back into place, pulled the slide back, and released it.
“I’m good,” he said and aimed at a rather large beast approaching him. He fired once, twice, three times before it fell to the floor shrieking in agony.
Armen cut through the last minion and froze when the chilled wind swept through the room. Sean screamed, and when she spun around, she saw him fly through the air and land about twenty feet away. The circle had been breached. The scepter rolled to the wall. Neither moved.
“Terry,” she whispered.
He slowly stood, trembling, his father’s motionless body too far away to be able to check him.
“Get the scepter,” she said softly.
Terry raised his gun, ignoring her. Armen turned her head, closing her eyes.
A giggle unbefitting a human drifted toward them on the pungent air. Armen opened her eyes; Sariel approached slowly, a red glow surrounding his human form.
“Azel, tell your knight his little silver bullets shall not work on me.” He cleared the edge of the circle and continued on. “And that he does not have enough to destroy my legions.”
Armen tugged on Terry’s arm. “He’s right. He has tens of thousands more. You need to get the scepter. I’m not quick enough right now.”
Terry still ignored her and kept his aim on Sariel.
“Emotion is such a curious aspect of the human species,” Sariel continued, still walking forward at a leisurely pace. “I must say that after all of these years, it still intrigues me. Would you not agr
ee, Azel?”
“Personally, I never understood it,” she replied, hoping to distract him. Terry stood perfectly still. She’d had enough of being ignored and whacked him on the back. “TERRY!”
A shot fired and hit Sariel in the chest. The demon only laughed. He placed a finger where the bullet entered. “A remarkable sensation.” He reached inside his chest with his thumb and forefinger to retrieve the bullet, pulled it out, and held it up to view the slug closely. Smoke rose from his fingertips, the silver scorching his flesh.
“The scepter,” Armen whispered to Terry and pushed him. He stumbled a couple of steps and turned his head to her. She growled at him.
The giggle sounded again. “Oh, do not anger my sweet Azel, good knight.” Sariel still inspected the bullet he held between his fingers. “She does tend to bite, but then, that was always one of her endearing qualities.”
“At least I don’t claw and scratch.”
Sariel dropped his head back in a laugh. “But you most certainly enjoyed it, Azel.”
Terry frowned. “What’s he talking about?”
“Now is not the time, Terry.” She tipped her head toward the scepter.
“Have you figured out what she likes yet, good knight? She is a tricky one.”
Terry growled. “No, I think it is,” he said sternly as he turned back to Armen.
Sariel laughed. “It would seem I am not the only beast in the room.”
“Can it, freak-show,” Terry shouted and pointed the Glock at him again.
Sariel’s mouth popped open in mock surprise, and he held his hands up as if to show he held no tricks up his sleeves, no hidden cards.
Armen knew better.
She drew in a deep breath to compose herself before she lost control. “Terry, do what we need to do and we can talk about everything later,” she said surprisingly calm. The day’s events were catching up to him; his face twitched.
Armen took a step forward. “Terry, sweetie,” she cooed, capturing his attention. He turned his head in her direction again. “Do what you need to do. Get the scepter and do it. Focus, Terry.”
“Dad,” he whispered.
Sariel stood with his hands still in the air. Armen wondered just what in the hell he was up to. His eyes shifted to meet hers.
Dusk of Death: an Armen Leza, Demon Hunter novel (Armageddon Trilogy Book 1) Page 10
