by Tim Lebbon
Liz kept thinking about the ghost standing behind that woman at the bus stop. She had not wanted to see it, but she had, and she was not grateful to Jim Sugg for that experience. Not grateful at all.
"We're about a mile away now," the pilot said in their headphones.
Hellboy nudged Liz. "You OK?"
She nodded, then smiled at him for added reassurance. His expression said that he could read her smile so well. OK? Yeah, sure, apart from the fact that she'd just seen a ghost, they were hanging above a city in a machine that should never fly, approaching what could become the most momentous and important battle this country had ever seen. Yeah, fine, just dandy.
"They're only animals," Hellboy said.
"Say that to the people melted into the tarmac at Heathrow."
"Liz, they're only animals. I shot those dragons, and they didn't rise again."
"You didn't see the phoenix."
"Animal. Not understood as real anymore, but it's a creature. It's not something from beyond death, a demon or a monster conjured up by Rasputin. We're dealing with animals that've been brought back from a place they should have been left. We've fought their like before, but only singly. They've never ganged up on us before. And they were in the Memory for a reason: they'd had their time. Their influence on this world was over, apart from appearing in stories and movies and tucked away in the backs of people's minds at night. Dreams, that's what they should have been, because dreams are important. But Blake has brought them back and made them mad, given them his own agenda. And that's what we've got to keep in mind. The supernatural in this is balanced by the science he used. He's a scientist who knows magic. The bringing back, that was magic. The things we're about to see, all science."
Liz looked up at her big red friend and smiled. "You out of breath now?"
"Huh?"
"I think that's the most I've ever heard you say in one go."
Hellboy frowned. "I'm nervous."
"Scared?"
He shrugged. "It's a living."
The helicopter started to dip and turn, slanting sun moving across the cabin, and then the pilot swore.
"What is it?" Jim asked.
"Something ... "
Hellboy clicked open his harness. "Let's take a look."
Liz followed him, holding on to his belt as he swung the sliding side door of the Lynx wide open.
"Oh hell, oh Jesus, oh what in the name of ... ?" the pilot mumbled. He had brought the helicopter to a halt, hovering, paused just as his heart must have paused at the sight below.
"Too late," Hellboy said.
Below them, London Docklands was spread out like slabs of shattered glass: spits of land, spreads of water, docks and canals, islands and quays. Buildings rose like shards, their windows catching the sun and glittering at the sky. Roads and railways snaked between buildings and waterways. And things were moving down there. At first Liz thought they were boats, but they were moving too quickly and erratically. When she looked closer she realized that they were flying things, dipping and diving, climbing and hovering. And between them buzzed smaller, less able shapes, some spitting fire, others exploding, spiralling down to splash into water or erupt into fire on land or buildings far below.
"Dogfight," Hellboy said.
Liz could hardly believe what she was seeing. Even after the past few days, the sight of this battle over London was beyond belief. And that was exactly why the dragons and griffins and other flying things were winning.
West of the battle, perhaps a mile distant, the Anderson Hotel thrust up from the ground, an edifice of steel and glass. As yet untouched, it was being buzzed by several army helicopters, and three jets roared overhead as if to lay claim to the building. They were too far away to make out activity on the ground, but the hotel was built on a long spit of land, and on either side the water was lined white with the wakes of fast boats. Ours or theirs? Liz thought. Metal and wood or bone and flesh?
"It's really happening," Jim said. "Jesus, it's really happening."
"History in the making," Hellboy said. "Look. On the river."
The Thames curved away to the east, passing below the helicopter. Leaning forward slightly and looking down, Liz could see the wakes of several large boats as they powered upriver. Shapes parted from the boats as they moved, some splashing into the water, others taking to the air and breaking left and right. One of the vessels slowed and nudged against a timber jetty, and dark shapes swarmed ashore, splitting up and disappearing along roads, between buildings, under covered ways.
"Is that more of them?" Liz said. "I cant make out."
"If not, they're soldiers with wings and aqualungs," Hellboy said. He leaned out farther, hanging on to the heavy winch that hung above the door. "Oh crap, that's not all."
"What?" Liz continued looking down at the river. Two of the boats were still traveling, the others having moored and disgorged whatever strange cargo they carried. The streets down there must be swarming with the things already, though the only movement she could make out was cars screeching to a halt, crashing into lampposts, and people fleeing their vehicles as they saw ... something. "What, HB?"
"Look," he said. "Under the river."
The shapes had been too large for her to notice without being shown. She had assumed that the shadings and coloring of the water were a result of silt beneath the surface, plant growth, the angle at which the sun hit the water and reflected from surrounding buildings. But the shapes were moving ... and silt did not do that.
"They're huge," she said.
"What are they?" Jim was lying on the floor of the Lynx, head out over the edge. He looked up, and his eyes were more haunted than ever. "What are they throwing at us now?"
"Kraken," Hellboy said. "Sea serpents. Things with tentacles. Damn, why does it always have to be tentacles?"
The shapes crept upriver, shadows beneath the water that changed in size and shape as they moved. One of them passed under a large motor cruiser, and the boat flipped up onto its side and broke in half. Something gray rose from the water, glinting oily in the sun, curled around the broken boat, and pulled the bow down beneath the disturbed surface. It passed on, leaving shapes splashing in the river behind it.
"Jim, are you in touch with anyone inside that hotel?" Liz asked.
"Not directly, but I can patch messages direct to the American embassy. They've got people inside."
"Do it. Tell them to get everyone down into the basement, if they can."
"If there is a basement," Hellboy said. "That things built right next to the river."
"There is a basement," Jim said. "That's where I spent some time when the thing was being built."
"Then they need to get down there," Liz said. "We can hope the army and police on the ground will realize that. Easier to defend, especially against those flying things."
"What the hell are the kraken going to do when they get there?" Hellboy said.
"The hotel's right next to the water," Liz said. "My guess is that they'll try to bring it down."
Jim started talking into his satellite phone, and Hellboy and Liz watched events unfolding below. There was a terrible sense of inevitability about the whole scene. The flying creatures circled the hotel, darting in now and then to take on a helicopter, dodge fire from the hotel itself, and veer away again, skimming the rooftops of surrounding buildings and battling the snipers positioned there. The things that walked — Liz could not identify them from this high up, and she was grateful for small mercies — approached the hotel, darting from cover to cover, and fresh firefights broke out south and east of the Anderson. Explosions erupted between buildings, gushing flame and smoke at the sky. Bodies fell in the streets, mutilated by things with long bodies and many legs.
Closer to the hotel there was a larger explosion as a helicopter went down. Something was wrapped around it as it fell, a creature being whipped and torn to shreds by the rotor blades. It crashed on a walkway beside the hotel, and both creature and aircraft were engulfed
in flames. The smoke rose high, staining the sky.
Liz could see men running back and forth across the roof of the hotel. Machine guns spewed bullets into the sky, but they seemed to be firing wild. A dragon flew directly up the side of the building, tail smashing windows and scoring a scar in the edifice, and when it reached the roof it hung on to the parapet and poured flames at the men. Some ran, others were caught, thrashing briefly until the fire scorched them into stillness.
"They've patched me through to an SAS sergeant in the hotel," Jim said. "Seems the minister of defense has suddenly realized there's a problem, and as we're on the scene — "
"We won't be for long," Hellboy said.
"What do you mean?" Jim asked.
"They're all coming upriver," Liz said, "which means we'll be going downriver. There's not much we can do here, other than relay what we know to that SAS guy. We have to find Blake."
"What good will that do now that he's released these things on us?" Jim asked. For the first time Liz heard a note of panic in his voice.
"Stop him, and maybe we stop this," Liz said. "Hellboy?"
"It's worth a shot," he said. "He's got to be controlling things somehow, guiding this. As I said, these are animals. Where's their purpose? What's motivating them to destroy a hotel? They're puppets. We need to find the guy who's holding the strings."
Liz nodded. "And cut them. Here, let me talk to the SAS guy." Jim handed her the satellite phone, and she pressed it to her ear, covering her other ear to try to shut out the roar of the rotors. "Sergeant?" she said.
"Smith. Who's this?"
"I'm Liz Sherman from the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense."
"Hey, this must be just your cup of tea." Liz heard some shooting in the background, someone shouting, and then the gunfire was suddenly lessened by the slam of a door. "Excuse me if I talk while I'm on the move."
"No problem. Listen, Sergeant Smith — "
"Just Smith."
"OK, Smith, now listen. You have to get everyone down into the basement or whatever the lowest point is in that building. Understand?"
"I'm approaching the conference hall right now. If I can get anyone to listen I'll do my best. You in a chopper?"
"Yes."
"How does it look?"
Liz paused for a couple of seconds, looked down at the battle. There were more fires now, more explosions, and the sky was fining with smoke.
"That bad, eh?" Smith said.
"It's not good. You don't need me to tell you what's happening, what's assaulting you?"
"I've just been out onto the concourse. Two of my men were killed there by a lion with a man's head, and I emptied a mag into a giant bloody black dog before the damn thing even decided to sit."
"They're in the hotel already?"
"No, we're — " Smith broke off, and Liz held the phone away as the crackle of gunfire came again. "We're holding them off," he said. "So yeah, I've got a rough idea of what's happening. The world's come to us. That sound about right?"
"That's about right. Smith, there's worse to come. You're being harried at the moment, but there are things coming up the river — big things — and they'll be with you any time now."
"How big?"
"Well ... don't bother with machine guns."
"Right. Basement, then."
"We're heading away, but I'll keep the channel open," Liz said. "Good luck."
"Luck's got nothing to do with it." Smith clicked off, and Liz stared at the mouthpiece for a second, thinking she should have said more. But what more was there to say? He was the man on the ground, he was the one facing these things, not just watching from a safe distance.
"We need to go," Hellboy said. "Hey, pilot, follow the river down to the sea. Stay at this height, and keep a look out for ... things."
"Yeah, sure. Things," the pilot said in their headphones. His voice was flat, panic subdued by shock. "And my name's Hicks."
"Hicks, you got any guns in this thing?"
"Usually a door gun, but it's not mounted today."
"Great." Hellboy pulled his pistol, checked that it was loaded, and holstered it again. "Let's go."
The three of them remained at the door as the helicopter turned and headed east, watching the battle recede behind them, seeing a Tornado smash into the hotel, sending burning debris to the ground below. Something rose from the flames, itself blazing, but the fire soon died out as the flesh-and-blood creature from myth and legend spun around for another attack.
"This is bad," Liz said.
"Yeah, its bad." Hellboy turned to face Liz.
That was when the pilot started screaming.
* * *
Motorway approaching London — 1997
ABE SAPIEN SAW THE shape diving out of the sun, flashed his lights, stepped on the gas, closed the distance between him and Abby, saw her glance in her mirror with her eyes open in recognition, pointed up, shouted even though he knew she could not hear him, and by the time she'd understood his message, the giant bird had landed on her car and lifted it clear of the road.
Abe gave chase, amazed. Abby's cars wheels were still spinning — he looked down at his own speedometer and saw that he was doing more than eighty — yet still the bird moved ahead. It followed the course of the road for a few seconds, and Abe instantly saw why. Drivers terrified at the sight of the thing swerved across lanes, crashing into the sides of buses, spinning from the road, and tumbling a dozen times across fields and into ditches, and he had to use every ounce of concentration to negotiate his way through the accidents happening all around him. Someone broad-sided him, and he fought with the wheel, letting the Jeep swerve across two lanes before halting its drift and bringing it back on course. He dodged past a white van shaking from side to side, ducked in front of a little two-seater sports car, then put his foot down and cleared the jam of traffic. At last free of the accident, he looked up, only to see the huge bird — he thought it was a rukh — turn sharply to the left and head off across the countryside.
Abe steered onto the hard shoulder and slammed on the brakes, leaving a cloud of smoke in the air behind him. He scrambled across the front seats and jumped from the Jeep, staring after the rukh and the car and Abby trapped inside. He had never felt so helpless.
"Now what?" he shouted. "Now what do I do?"
He called Hellboy on his satellite phone, but the ring was not answered. Maybe the big red guy was busy.
Abe jumped back into the Jeep and, lacking any other course of action, headed for London.
* * *
London Docklands — 1997
"COME AROUND AGAIN!" Hellboy screamed. "Don't turn your back on it!" The pilot swerved the helicopter. Hellboy swung from the open door, and his fist crushed metal as he struggled to hold on. He reached the pivot point and swung back in, and the griffin filled his whole field of vision. Someone shouted behind him, but there was no time to turn and look. He raised the pistol and let off three shots, seeing at least one of them find its target. The griffin raised its head in pain, and the rotor blades took a slice of skin and feathers from the top of its head.
It screamed, went into a dive, and disappeared below the helicopter.
"Go up!" Hellboy shouted. The helicopter rose, and he leaned out again, looking below. All he could see were the streets and warehouses around Docklands and the Thames widening as it neared the sea. The griffin was gone. "Left side?" he asked.
"Yeah, its there!" the pilot screamed, and the helicopter dipped suddenly, lifting Hellboy from his feet.
He looked at his right hand where it was fisted in the door jamb. It had crushed straight through the door, and metal was tearing with every twist and turn the pilot performed. He glanced back at Liz and Jim where they sat strapped into their seats. Jim was praying. Liz was trying to light a cigarette, but her finger kept going out in the breeze from the door.
"Liz!" he said. "Can you — "
"Not in this wind. I'll fry us all."
The pilot brought the he
licopter under control again, flattened it out, and Hellboy could see the griffin circling them, maybe fifty feet above. He let go of the door — having to tear his hand away, ripping the metal even more — and ducked briefly back into the cabin.
"Hey, Hicks," Hellboy said. "You're doing great. But there's no way we can outrun this sucker, so I want you to chase it."
"Go after it?" Even through the intercom, Hicks' voice was terrified.
"Take the fight to it, rather than wait for it to knock us from the sky."
"I did not sign on for this," Jim said.
Hicks was silent for a few seconds, the only sound a crackle in their headphones. "OK," he said. "You know, one good slash of these rotors, and he'll be mincemeat."
"Will they withstand that?" Liz said. This time the pilot's silence was his only answer.
Hellboy looked at Liz and shrugged, then hefted his gun and moved to the doorway again. He held on tight while the pilot dipped, then brought the helicopter up in a tight climb, heading straight for the circling griffin. Liz shouted, grabbing hold of her seat, and Jim still had his eyes closed, muttering a prayer or a curse or both. Hellboy looked up at the surprised creature, then lifted his gun and fired at it through the rotors.
The bullet hit home in the griffins stomach.
"Damn!" said Hellboy, surprised. "Bull's-eye!"
"It's coming right at us!" Hicks screamed in their ears, and then the whole aircraft shook, shuddered, spun in the air, the stench of burning suddenly overpowering, metal tearing and scraping, the fuselage buckling and springing the fixed seats away from the wall, a splash of blood spraying past the open door and washing Hellboy's face, a burst of feathers and skin and flesh following, and then the helicopter was falling much faster than it should.
Hellboy struggled to his feet, holstering his pistol and wiping a great swath of sticky blood from his face. He tried to counter the spin of the helicopter, moving toward the steps up into the cockpit, desperate to see what had become of the pilot. If the guy was dead, then so were they.
