by Jake Bible
“They’ll see us,” Coins said. “We may have wanted to do this during the day when the headlights weren’t so obvious.”
“I think any vehicle moving on the road would be obvious,” Hannah said.
“True,” Coins agreed.
He gripped his sub-machine gun with one hand and the edge of the window with the other, still staring out into the night.
Tom stayed seated where he was, watching only Desiree.
15
IN THE CAB, ELISA gripped the steering wheel so hard that she lost feeling in the tips of her fingers and in both thumbs.
“Relax,” Scythia said. She pointed a talon at her head. “Eagles have even better vision than donkeys. If there are possessed out there, I’ll see them.”
“During the day, maybe,” Geffe said. “But donkey vision at night is some of the best.”
“We’ll see,” Scythia replied.
“It’s not a contest,” Elisa said. “Keep your eyes open, okay? Give me a heads-up if you see movement. I want to know which side and how big. The more time I have to swerve, the better.”
Two sets of headlights blinked on at full power half a mile farther down the road.
“What the hell?” Elisa said. “Wait, how? Possessed fry cars. They can’t drive.”
“Maybe they ain’t possessed,” Geffe says. “Might be more collaborators.”
“Why?” Elisa snarled, pressing her foot down on the accelerator. “Do they think the demons won’t eat their souls?”
“That is not how it works,” Scythia said. “But, no, they must not.”
The side mirrors lit up and Elisa glanced quickly at hers then the passenger-side one.
“At least two more cars behind us,” Elisa said. “They’re going to try to box us in. Not gonna happen.”
Geffe gripped the handle in the passenger’s side door. “Uh, Elisa? Are you speeding up?”
“Yeah,” Elisa replied, pressing the pedal even harder until the truck made a surging lurch and the engine whined to a dangerous pitch. “You know how much this thing weighs? We’ll win, they’ll lose.”
“Oh, hell in a handbasket,” Geffe said.
“Damn right,” Elisa said.
16
THE SURGE OF speed nearly sent Coins falling to the floor, but he held on to the open window’s edge and glanced back over his shoulder while Morty gripped a bench to keep from collapsing against the bed.
“Something is up,” Coins said.
“Let me see,” Morty said. “Move over.”
“Go open your own,” Coins exclaimed.
Morty grumbled, but did open his own window, sticking his head out as far as his shoulders would allow.
“What are those lights? Headlights?” Morty asked. He ducked back inside and looked at Coins. “You seeing that?”
“Yep,” Coins said. “Lights in front of us and lights in back.”
“Lights in front?” Hannah asked. “Then why are we speeding up?”
“That’s a very good question,” Morty said. “I have a bad feeling Elisa is taking a stand.”
“Don’t you need to stop moving to take a stand?” Coins said. “Should someone tell her that?”
“Collaborators,” Highlander said as he checked Desiree’s bandages, making sure the sutures held. “There’re always more assholes. Always more. Assholes, assholes everywhere.”
“Cannot deny that,” Tom said. “But pay attention to Desiree, not the collaborators.”
Morty ducked back inside. “Collaborators.”
“Yes, we have already deduced that is who they are,” Tom said. “The possessed cannot drive cars.”
“But what about RPGs?” Morty asked. The others looked at him. “RPGs? Rocket-propelled grenades? Like the ones back at the cathedral.”
“Oh,” Tom said. “Yes. An RPG was fired at the dragon as he was assisting myself and Geffe.”
“RPGs are wired,” Morty said. “They take electronic tech to launch and have electronic tech inside them. One of the possessed vessels couldn’t have fired those back at the sanctuary.”
“Collaborators at the cathedral,” Hannah said, sounding so tired. “Hidden in with the possessed.”
Morty was about to say something more, but all conversation was cut off as a bullet came ripping through the back door of the box truck. Tom wrapped himself around Desiree as Morty turned his back, spreading his wings as far as he could, blocking the slugs from hitting anyone on the bed. After a couple of seconds, the gunfire stopped.
“Hold on,” Coins yelled. “We’re on the cars in front!”
His head whipped from looking forward to looking back as a car raced by on his side. Morty looked over at the window opposite and saw headlights rush past that side.
“Now they’re all in back,” Morty said.
They heard the sound of brakes squealing, followed by engines being gunned. Then more gunfire started. The truck shuddered then swerved to the right. Hard. The distinct sound of rubber slapping the road was heard. The truck straightened out, but there was an obvious tilt to its ride.
“The tires,” Hannah said. “They’re shooting at the tires.”
“Not anymore,” Morty said and walked his way back to the bullet-riddled rear door. “Coins? Gonna need some assistance.”
“Gladly, bub,” Coins replied.
“You two, get down,” Morty said, pointing at Hannah then Highlander.
“I need to watch my patient,” Highlander protested.
“I’m going to open this door here,” Morty said. “If you don’t get down, you’ll be watching a bullet head straight for your eye.”
Tom stabilized Desiree on the bed as much as he could, then crouched over her, his stone body a protective shield.
“Do it,” Tom snarled. “Make them go away.”
“That’s the plan,” Morty said.
He lifted the door and opened fire with his .50 cal. Despite his size and strength, the huge rifle still managed to jolt him back so his aim was off and the shots went wild.
“Take a knee and get control,” Coins said as he moved to the door, braced his feet, and opened fire with his Thompson.
He swiveled back and forth at the hips, strafing the cars that followed right behind the truck. They were two abreast and the car on the right drifted close to the car on the left before it took a hard left turn right off the road, crashing into a large oak that had probably stood for over a hundred years. Not anymore.
The .50 cal barked again and the left headlight of the lead car was obliterated, quickly followed by the right. Morty laughed then kept firing, sending rounds directly into the engine block of what looked like an old county sheriff’s cruiser.
Coins took it from there and sprayed bullets into the now-visible windshield. Shadows jolted and danced inside, then the car swerved back and forth until it was perpendicular with the road. One of the cars behind it clipped the trunk, sending it spinning 360 degrees before it came to a stop, the second car behind it barely missing a collision with the front.
As Morty took aim at the last two cars, the truck took a sharp left onto a narrow, dirt road. He was thrown against the wall and almost sent falling to the cracked asphalt outside.
“We’re close,” Coins shouted as he somehow maintained his balance and continued firing at the cars.
The collaborators fired back. Coins jolted and shivered as a hundred slugs slammed into his stone body. He stumbled and fell on his ass, but kept the Thompson firing, taking out the headlights of the car on the left.
“Son of a bitch,” Morty said as he struggled to get to his knees and steady the .50 cal.
He managed to achieve a semblance of stability, but it wasn’t easy on the rutted, gravel road, which bounced them violently every few seconds. Elisa had barely s
lowed down, taking the road as fast as if it was made of pavement.
At more gunfire from the cars, Morty focused on the flashing muzzles, ignoring the pinging of bullets off his chest and head. They were more like annoying gnats than dangerous projectiles. He fired twice and the gunfire stopped, replaced by a gaping hole in the passenger half of the car’s windshield.
Coins ejected the empty drum from his Thompson and slapped in a fresh one. He emptied that as well before the left car veered off into a stand of pines, causing half the trees to collapse over the smoking hood.
“One more to go,” Coins said.
“I got it,” Morty said. He fired and fired, stopping only when the magazine was empty and the rifle clicked dry. “There.”
The last car stuttered to a stop, its engine catching fire and flames shooting out from under the hood. The truck sped on and the incapacitated vehicle was quickly lost from sight.
“Someone could still be alive,” Coins said. “Should we go back and take care of them?”
“No time; besides, they were waiting for us. Someone knows something,” Morty said. He reloaded the .50 cal and slung it across his back. He glanced over at Coins and frowned. “If they sent those after us, then what are they sending at the cathedral?”
“What?” Coins asked. “Why would they even try? The cathedral has the barrier around it.”
“But for only as long as Roan’s power holds,” Morty said. “Artus is alive, but of no help. All he’s doing is focusing Roan’s energy so that it stays stable.”
“All it would take is a large enough attack to break that stability,” Coins said.
“I should go back,” Morty said.
“No,” Tom barked. “Your duty is here. What we need to accomplish is more important than the cathedral.”
“If we succeed, then this affects the entire world, remember?” Coins asked.
“Our aim is to destroy the demons and eject them from all of the possessed,” Tom said. “To end Hell’s reign on Earth.”
“It could save millions, Morty,” Coins said. “Possessed all across the earth will be set free.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll help save millions,” Morty said. “I stay.”
“You stay,” Tom said. He lifted his damaged arm. “My ego appreciates it.”
Morty laughed, but cut it short as a moan from the bed caught everyone’s attention. Eyes, stone and flesh, shifted to see Highlander halfway collapsed, his hands gripping his thigh.
“Highlander?” Hannah asked. “Were you shot?”
“Yes,” Highlander said. “I need help.”
Morty rushed to him, doing more bouncing off the truck’s walls than walking, but he reached Highlander in a blink. The young man had both hands pressed to a spot on the inside of his right thigh. Morty frowned.
“What happens if you let go?” Morty asked.
“I could die,” Highlander said. “I think it nicked an artery.”
“Are you going to bleed out?” Morty asked.
“No. Maybe. Probably not right away,” Highlander said through gritted teeth. “I need you to put some pressure right above the wound. Can you do that?”
“I can do that,” Morty said. Highlander screeched as Morty gripped his thigh. “Hannah? Hand him his medical bag. He’s going to have to close this up fast.”
“In here?” Hannah asked. “Oh, my Lord . . .”
“You can do this,” Morty said to Highlander. “It’s only a nick.”
“I can do this,” Highlander replied as Hannah gave him his medical kit. “It’s only a nick.”
17
ROAN WATCHED AS the crushing waves of possessed eased off then parted directly down the middle. Three figures came walking up as if they were taking an evening stroll and accidentally happened upon a mob of demon-filled humans. Despite their human forms, Roan recognized them instantly. One was impossible to mistake.
“A delegation,” Roan said. “Have you come to surrender, Duke Haborym? Or you, Gaap? Perhaps you have come to find reason, Valac. You have always been the more rational of your kind.”
“I could say the same for you, Roan of Cardiff,” Valac said and bowed as the three demons reached the barrier shield.
Valac was wearing a well-dressed man, perhaps in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair neatly trimmed and a goatee that would have been more appropriate on a 1950s beatnik. Roan guessed the body had belonged to a university professor. There were plenty to choose from in the area.
Gaap inhabited the body of a teenage school girl complete with plaid skirt and white blouse. The blouse was drenched in blood and the skirt was torn up the side, easily showing that he/she/it wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He gave Roan a wink and a wave.
Haborym had three faces, as always. What the rest of the body looked like didn’t matter so much.
“What can I do for you?” Roan asked.
“Drop your magic?” Gaap asked and laughed. “That would be super.”
“I will politely decline that request,” Roan said.
“Of course you will,” Valac said. “I doubt my colleague expected you to comply.”
“State your business or leave,” Roan said.
“Well, we will not be leaving,” Valac said. “That leaves the stating of our business.” He cleared his throat and stroked his goatee. “I would like to make you an offer. Let down the protective barrier without a fight and we will, of course, allow your wards to live.”
“I expected you would,” Roan said. “You need their bodies.”
“I’m not finished,” Valac said, holding up a hand. “We will also allow you and your kind to leave unharmed. If you stop this useless stalemate, then all gargoyles and grotesques will be spared.”
“I doubt that is true,” Roan said.
“Roan, you know me,” Valac said. “I give true answers to honest questions.”
“I did not ask you a question,” Roan said.
Valac smiled. “Then do so.”
“Are your offers true?” Roan asked.
“They are,” Valac replied.
“Let me split them open with my firebrands,” Haborym snarled as the flaming weapons appeared in his hands. “We do not make deals with accursed gargoyles!”
“I’ll handle this, Duke,” Valac said.
“Yes, he’ll handle it.” Gaap snickered. He lifted his skirt and thrust the vessel’s privates at Roan. “Then later maybe dragon boy can handle this. A little stone fun in this vessel’s hot sn—”
“Gaap, you are not helping,” Valac said. He sighed and rubbed his face. “Roan, I’m tired. I’ll put it out there. I am exhausted from this siege and from the entire war. Your cathedral is the only holdout left. All I have to do is check this off the to-do list, and I get to go on vacation for a very long while. Please, I beg of you, help a demon out.”
“You have to be joking with me,” Roan said. “In what reality would you think that plea would work?”
“The reality where we have one of these,” Valac said and held his hand high in the air.
Roan felt foolish. He had been so focused on the demons who faced him that he hadn’t realized that the gap in the possessed horde had never closed behind them. A wide avenue of open ground still existed, and at the far end of that avenue were suddenly headlights. And the roaring of a large engine.
“What is that? A truck?” Roan asked “But you cannot operate vehicles like that.”
“Me? No, I cannot,” Valac said. “Neither can my colleagues. But, any human can. We may have kept a few from being taken as vessels for just such an occasion as this. How do you think we took New York? Gaap here has been busy transporting those few cooperative folks to this backwoods location for a few days now. The woman behind that wheel can and will drive that truck up across t
hese grounds and directly into the entrance of your cathedral, more than likely running directly over you.”
“The barrier will hold,” Roan said, but there was doubt in his voice.
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Valac said and shrugged. “If it was simply a matter of a vehicular collision. I do believe, though, that you are dreadfully low on energy.” He sniffed the air. “Your magic is weak, and your anchor hiding inside, the supposed-to-be-dead Artus, can offer you no assistance. But, even still, you could probably handle the truck head-on.”
Roan let loose with a quick gout of flame. Valac jumped back, as did Gaap. Haborym stood in place and waved his firebrands over his vessel, absorbing the flames instantly.
“The problem for you, Roan of Cardiff, is that the truck is pulling a full trailer,” Valac said. “What is it filled with?”
“Explosives,” Gaap cried out and laughed.
“Precisely,” Valac said. “The collision will weaken you, the explosion will defeat you. If your wards are lucky, perhaps half of the cathedral will be left standing.”
“I doubt it,” Gaap cackled.
“Give me your answer now,” Valac said. “Will you accept our terms and drop your barrier?”
“My answer is no, Valac,” Roan stated. “But I suppose you knew it would be.”
“I suppose I did,” Valac said. He raised his arm again and let it fall. “Then that is that.”
The truck revved then began rolling forward, gaining speed quickly.
“Olivia,” Roan called. “Antoine!”
“We heard it all,” Olivia said as she moved from the shadows of the cathedral’s doorway and out onto the steps behind Roan. “This will not happen.”
“Oh, but it will,” Valac said. “You cannot stop this.”
“You will die as well,” Roan said.
“Only these current vessels,” Valac replied. “We will find new vessels.”
