The Stars Never Rise (The Midnight Defenders Book 2)

by Joey Ruff

  Gremlins, both male and female, dropped to the ground like battle-action GI Joe dolls. The hands of the female homunculillies began to glow red or green almost immediately and colored energy discs flew like lasers from a bad science fiction movie. The little males developed a quick, severe case of acne and began producing tiny specks like fleas that leapt and hopped over the gargoyles.

  A large, red gargoyle caught DeNobb across the chest with a glancing blow, throwing him against the ticket booth. As the gargoyle advanced, it took a bullet to the back of the head, shook, and fell to dust.

  Between the tiny assailants and the fifty caliber rounds, the gargoyles didn’t know what hit them. London stared at the mounted cannon in awe, but when he realized that the gargoyles were dropping quickly, he brought the Judge up and fired a few rounds of his own.

  In a matter of minutes, the area was swept clean. London, Ape and I stood on one side of the hall, and Cassiday, his car, and the gorgon sat on the other side. Between us sat Nadia and DeNobb, both collapsed. For a moment, the three or four gremlins that remained wandered idly amidst the cremated remains and then fell over.

  DeNobb began to stir as I ran to Nadia and dropped at my knees beside her. I lifted her shoulders, and her head rolled limply from one side to the other. My heart quickened.

  Ape knelt beside me and felt for her pulse. I held my breath.

  “She’s fine,” he said. “It took a lot for her to hold them off like she did. There’s no telling how long she was able…”

  “Felt like fucking forever,” DeNobb said, his hand going to the back of his head. His eyes were a little cross. “Why are these things after me?”

  “You think this whole mess was about you?” I asked.

  “Wasn’t it?” He examined the splotches of blood on his chest, finding no open wounds.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, kid.”

  “They targeted you,” Ape said. “But only because you were in the area.”

  Cassiday stepped forward. “Swyftt. Good thing we found you when we did.”

  I lowered Nadia and stood to face him. London appeared at my side. “Lucky us,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Scouting for my team,” he said. “We were out hunting for the hive, got a later start than we’d intended. We didn’t get far before the storm hit. Tots took a pretty serious wound. I left half my team to get him back to the Song.”

  “Where’s Victor?”

  “Took a squad north.”

  “Who’d you have with you?”

  “Kent, Travis, Ishtan, and Thornton.” He looked back at the gorgon who stepped from the Chevy and then back at me. “They’re lost.”

  The blonde gorgon approached. He wore a solemn countenance. “Kent could still be out there,” the bouncer said.

  “Timmon’s distraught over his brother,” Cassiday said.

  “Who were the others?” I asked.

  “A goblin and two dwarves. They fought bravely.”

  “Bitchin guns,” London said, ignoring the conversation and looking past Cassiday to the car.

  “What…happened here?” DeNobb asked, brushing a fine coating of white ash from his shoulder.

  Cassiday turned to him with a grin and held up a bullet casing as big as a cigar. “Armor-piercing incendiary rounds.”

  “Incendiary rounds are used to ignite the gas tanks in enemy vehicles,” London said. “Gargoyles are more sensitive to fire so…”

  “So they disintegrate like vampires in a movie?” DeNobb said.

  I shrugged. “Basically.”

  “Cool.”

  Ape stood with Nadia in his arms. “Jono,” he said. “We need to get out of here. The place is still on fire.”

  I turned around to see black smoke billowing low through the hallway behind us.

  I nodded. “We need another car.”

  “I’ve got my truck,” London said.

  “Good.” I turned to Ape. “I’m going after Aegir.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “Where?” Cassiday asked.

  “The hive was south of the city,” Ape said. “The gargoyles are going north.”

  “The other night, when I nearly hit the fucker, I was north of the city.”

  Cassiday nodded. “So, north. You can ride with me.”

  “What does it look like out there?”

  “Lot of fog. Parking lot was pretty empty when we rolled in.”

  “Good,” Ape said. “The mall’s clearing out. The alarms have been going off for, what? Five minutes? Fire department should be arriving soon.”

  I looked at Cassiday. “We ready?”

  He nodded. “Put the girl in the car. No sense carrying her the whole way. Once we get you to the truck we’ll go separate ways.”

  Ape moved to the car and laid Nadia in the passenger seat.

  London climbed into the back. “I’ll man the Browning.”

  I looked at DeNobb. “Get in.”

  “No way.”

  “I’m not saying it again. You sit in the backseat. When we get to the truck, you ride with Nadia and Ape. It’s too dangerous where I’m going.”

  “They’ll come after me. She won’t be safe.”

  He looked at her, and I saw something soft and raw in his eyes. Bollocks.

  “You stood up for her,” I said. My hand went to his shoulder. “If something happens, I want you there for her again, you fucking understand?”

  He stared at me for a moment and then nodded. “Ya…yeah.”

  “Good,” I said. “Now get your arse in the car.” He climbed over the side and sat next to London.

  The gunsmith looked at him with a wry grin. “Motherfucker, that was some nasty ass shit you did back there.”

  “Uh, thanks,” he said.

  “DeNobb,” I said. He turned to me, and I offered my last Five-seven.

  His eyes went wide. “I don’t know how to fire this!”

  “Take the gun,” I said.

  “I…fine.” He took it.

  “London will show you how it shoots.”

  Cassiday climbed in behind the wheel, and Ape and I hopped onto the trunk, facing backward, our feet resting on the scuffed, chrome bumper. We grabbed on to the fins and braced against the spare tire on the back.

  Timmon walked beside the car as Cassiday put her into gear and hit the gas so hard it fishtailed.

  We broke from the mall and were immediately swallowed by the fog. The night air was cold as it whispered past us and smelled like winter. London shouted something, and the car jagged to the right, dipped from the elevated walk onto the parking lot with a bounce and sped on.

  Cassiday hollered, “Look out.” He hit the horn with two quick beeps, and London opened up with the Browning and the kind of laughter reserved for cruel children with magnifying glasses on a sunny day.

  I felt the change in the wind – an almost warm calming in the chill, rampant air – as three massive gargoyles swept past: one over top of us and another at either side. All of them were fat, swelled like prized hogs. Their tails navigated the current, slithering back and forth like thick, slimy eels. Their claws were out hungrily before them. Their eyes shone with a deep, rouge light.

  Just like that, they were gone, swallowed in thick, white, cottony billows of cloud.

  For a moment, Timmon kept pace a few yards from the bumper, covered in enough fog to make him look faded and vintage, washed a few too many times with the wrong detergent. He wore a grim, determined look on his face, his eyes hidden behind the little round shades he wore. As gargoyles approached him, he batted them to the sides.

  I heard the whine of the engine as it accelerated under the quick, marching-drum beat of the Browning. Cassiday was going fast – much too fast for a parking lot under normal conditions, too fast for any road in this kind of fog. The gorgon faded completely in our wake.

  Hands and claws and talons reached out at us from the fog. Red eyes watched us and rows of fangs hissed. I fired off a few rounds, never rea
lly knowing if I hit anything. Ape swung his sword as they got too close. Talons raked across the metal side of the Chevy with a banshee’s wail.

  Cassiday spun the wheel with a whoop and the back end skidded out too far and swept back as we came around the curb by the food court.

  Something smacked against the side of the tire, made the car flounder, the wheel jerk. I was nearly tossed from the car.

  He straightened the car. I shot a gargoyle in the face with a spray of buckshot and caught another with a flare.

  Cassiday shouted, “Hold on!”

  He spun the wheel and the car did a one-eighty and came to rest beside a grey pick-up with elevated suspension and tires nearly as tall as my shoulders. I knew instantly that the truck belonged to London, who whined as he realized he’d have to give up the Browning. As he stepped away from the gun, the sudden silence made me feel like I’d just gone deaf.

  “Alright,” Cassiday said. “Let’s move quick. I don’t like sitting still.”

  DeNobb looked around. “Fucking, Bigfoot. You never said you drove a monster truck.”

  “It’s not,” London said. “But it’s close as I could get and keep ‘er street legal.” He put a hand on the bed of the truck, one foot on the door of the Chevy, the other on the top of the tire, and he swung himself up into the bed with a quick, practiced sweep of motion.

  Ape and I moved to Nadia, hoisted her up and moved her towards London, who reached down for her. He grabbed her under the arms and hoisted. I turned to DeNobb. “We gonna throw your arse up there like a bitch?”

  “I’m coming,” he said. He stood. The Five-seven was still in his hand, and he slid it into the side pocket of his jacket.

  “Just make sure the safety stays on.”

  “The…safety?” He looked nervous.

  London cast a forlorn look at me. I just shrugged. It wasn’t my fault the kid was gun-illiterate. I’d just fucking met him.

  Once DeNobb was in the bed of the truck, London swung around to the cab and brought the engine to life. The dragon we’d fought a few months ago had a roar like a train whistle. The troll sounded like an avalanche when it was fucking angry. London’s engine was louder than either of them.

  “C’mon, Ape,” I said. “You’re next.”

  He looked at me confused. “I’m going with you.”

  “Like hell. I need you to look after Nadia.”

  “You need me. DeNobb can do that.”

  I stared at him blankly.

  Timmon came bounding out of the fog. He was cut. Blood dripped down the side of his face and there were wet scrapes across his forearms, a tear across his chest. He climbed into the car and manned the gun, aiming up into the fog. The chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck of the gun was only slightly louder than London’s engine.

  “Let’s go!” Cassiday called, and he revved the engine. I climbed into the passenger seat and stared at Ape.

  “Get her to safety!” I shouted.

  He didn’t say anything. He watched silently as we peeled away from the truck, skidding off into the fog, the Browning pumping cigar-sized shells overhead, the floorboard of the backseat filling with hot, spent casings.

  Before he faded from view completely, I saw Ape turn, put a hand on the edge of the truck bed and swing himself up into it without a single ounce of effort. He might’ve been climbing a vine into a banana tree.

  Once he was safely inside, I turned back around. I thought I heard London’s engine belch as the vehicle took motion, but over the static chuck-chuck-chuck of the gun, I couldn’t be sure.

  Plumes of ash and flashes of light puffed around us as Timmon’s targets fell like stars to the pavement. There were almost no cars in the parking lot at this point, and we sped through the lot without hesitation.

  In a matter of seconds, it seemed, we bounced out of the lot and onto the road, and Cassiday turned the wheel and headed north.

  40

  We hadn’t gone a block when Cassiday slowed the car to a crawl. I couldn’t see anything in the fog around us.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “There’s something in the road,” he said.

  “I don’t…”

  Tentacles shot towards us from the fog. There were three of them, translucent white and intertwined like vines. They twirled through the air from no discernible source and caught the barrel of the Browning.

  Timmon opened fire. The tentacles burst with a spew of fluid and puss and retracted into the gloom. As soon as the weapon went silent, more came at us, but this time from either side. Both grabbed hold of the gun, and as Timmon fired again, the tentacles pushed the barrel up, aiming it into the air.

  I pulled Grace and fired at the tentacles on my side of the car. They gushed apart from the buckshot. Cassiday pulled a wicked-looking dagger from his belt and tore through the other.

  “Shit!” Timmon shouted. “They…”

  Another set tore through the fog behind us, wrapped around Timmon’s head, and pulled him from the car. He hit the ground with a loud, painful thud, and was swallowed into the clouds.

  Cassiday swore quietly and put the car into reverse. He stomped the gas pedal, and the tires spun in place before the Chevy actually moved anywhere. Three more sets of tentacles shot out of the gloom before us and narrowly missed the windshield as Cassiday retreated. He swore again.

  I could feel my heart racing in my throat.

  “I was afraid of this,” he said.

  “You expected octopi assassins?”

  “No. The Kittim.”

  “What the fuck are the Kittim?”

  He spun the car around and angled back towards the mall. In the fog beside us, I could just make out the shadowy, slumped form of the gorgon. He rested against the base of a street lamp. His head was missing.

  “Aegir’s children.”

  The Chevy bounced into the parking lot going much faster than was safe in the fog.

  “So we’re heading back towards the gargoyles?”

  “They’re our only chance at this point.”

  Gunfire erupted around us, and I heard the tyrannosaurus roar of London’s truck somewhere nearby.

  I glanced over at the speedometer. We were going almost eighty, and ahead of us, the shrouded lights of the mall towered out of the fog.

  “Take the Browning,” he said.

  I fumbled into the backseat and climbed up the mount to the trigger. My body ached. It hurt like hell to stand, and with the swaying of the car and the speed bumps we took climbing towards ninety, it was nearly impossible.

  Cassiday screamed and swore as he spun the wheel and slammed on the brakes. I’d managed to hold on to the gun and keep standing. As he turned to the left, my gun turned to the right, towards the mall, towards the row of a dozen shrouded figures. They looked like monks in robes, heads bowed, features hidden.

  I pulled the trigger. Four in the middle shook as they were struck, their bodies writhing like jello and tatters fell from them in flakes. As Cassiday accelerated, I gunned down the row, aiming as best I could, and half of the bodies dropped.

  I let off the trigger. Just before they were swallowed by the fog, I watched as the fallen stood back up. A dozen pairs of eyes stared directly at me from under their hoods. Well, not exactly eyes, more like turquoise lights that twinkled like Christmas bulbs. Without warning, their robes opened and masses of tentacles burst towards us, falling just shy of the rear bumper as the car sped away. The things were fast, but the Chevy was faster.

  “Yaaargh!” Cassiday called and spun the car to a halt.

  London’s truck stood like a sentinel, ten feet from our bumper. It was idling loudly, and its high-beams caught a dozen or more of the shrouded monk figures in its glare. Ape stood in front of its wheels, his sword out before him, glowing with violet light. He took a readied stance, didn’t move. His eyes were narrowed, hard, and fixed on the monks. London stood just behind him. He held the Judge at shoulder level in a two-hand grip. They looked like a poster for a buddy-cop movie: L
oud-mouth and the Monkey.

  I didn’t see DeNobb or Nadia, and that worried me just a little.

  “They’re fine,” Cassiday said, as if he knew what I was thinking. “They’re in the bed of the truck.”

  “Can you get them out of here?”

  He didn’t respond.

  Ape and London surged forward, but stopped as a shrill cry tore through the air.

  A mountainous gargoyle loomed out of the fog behind the monks. With a roar, it brandished its talons and sliced down through two of the figures, rending them to ribbons. The others turned on it, and the gargoyle was bathed in the sea-green light of their Christmas eyes.

  They circled around it. Each raised an arm as if it held a weapon of some kind, aimed at the gargoyle, and masses of tentacles shot towards it from every direction. The milky, eel-like appendages latched around the gargoyle’s neck, arms, wings, legs, and face.

  With a sweep of its massive tail, the mountain cast half of the figures away like chaff. It flexed, and the tentacles that held it burst like hoses. The rest fell under the tear of its claws.

  A low, haunting call like a fog horn bellowed behind us, and when I turned, more of the monk figures stepped from the gloom and stood within feet of the Chevy. Their call was answered on either side of us by more.

  “How many are there?” I asked.

  Cassiday said nothing.

  I turned the Browning and started firing. Behind me, London opened up with the Judge, and Ape sprang into motion with his sword, leaving dancing arcs of purple light playing in my peripheral vision.

  The gargoyle roared a high, shrill siren cry, and the wind changed again. Apish hulks dropped from the sky, their bodies bent over, their reptilian heads hanging low, their wings spread wide like sails. There had to have been twenty or more. The gargoyles made a perimeter between us and the Kittim, each spreading out until only the tips of their wings touched each other, making a perfect circle.

  I let the Browning fall from my hands and looked around at the circle. Not thirty minutes ago, the gargoyles had been after us, and now they protected us. I’d been told long ago that dragons protected humankind from the Fallen and their ilk, but I’d never seen it in practice. It was overwhelming.