The Stars Never Rise (The Midnight Defenders Book 2)

by Joey Ruff

  I slipped from the car and stalked over to Ape. “I thought you were getting out of here.”

  “I thought you were, too,” he said.

  “What do you make of this?”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Whatever they had on us isn’t nearly as bad as what they have on the…what are those things?”

  “Kittim,” I said. “Cassiday says they’re Aegir’s children.”

  “He’s fighting back. First, the storm. Now, this…”

  “This is just fucking fantastic,” London stammered. “I don’t wanna fucking die with you motherfuckers. No offense, Swyftt.”

  “No one else is dying today,” Cassiday said. He stepped from the car and looked towards the largest gargoyle.

  The mountain, which seemed to be their leader, remained in the circle with us. I recognized it as the one who had thrown Ape’s car into the mall. It stood near London’s truck and looked down into the bed. DeNobb poked his head up and looked around. His eyes were wild and red. He shook.

  Another long, low fog-horn call sounded. It could have just as easily been someone blowing through a conch shell. Just beyond the gargoyles, I could see the row of Kittim, their features shrouded completely beneath their hoods and robes. Their cloaks were the black and green of algae. Behind the first row, there appeared a second. I looked around the circle, saw the same on all sides. As I looked, a third row joined the first two.

  The conch sounded once more, louder and longer. When the horn died away, the front row of Kittim sprang forward. A few of them raised their left hands, and the sleeve of each robe fell away to reveal the white, jagged edge of a dagger. I couldn’t tell if the blades were in their hands or if they were their hands, but the grooved, serrated blades looked like the broken shards of a seashell.

  They clashed into the ring of gargoyles, the blades biting down. The twenty gargoyles were met with nearly three times as many hooded figures. But the line held. There was a brief struggle, and the Kittim were stomped and slashed. Some of the gargoyles seemed to slump a little more, and black juice dripped here or there from the tip of a wing or puddled underfoot.

  “We need a plan,” Ape said. “The ring won’t hold indefinitely. Another attack like that and we’ll have a hole.”

  “Cassiday,” I said. “You know these things better than we fucking do. What are our options?”

  His eyes looked far away, reflecting the violet light as he stared absently at Ape’s sword. He said nothing.

  “Cassiday,” I said.

  Lazily, he looked at me. “The Kittim are soft,” he said. “They are healed in the water and immune to fire, but they pierce easily.”

  I looked at Ape’s sword. “So we hack them apart.” I detached Grace’s shoulder stock that doubled as a machete and slid it free of its leather sleeve. Cassiday pulled his dagger from his belt: the blade was nearly a foot long, saw-toothed near the hilt, and flared like a shark’s fin at the top. A studded guard came down over the knuckles and connected at the pommel.

  The conch sounded again, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then the lines of Kittim parted, revealing eight corridors between them that looked like the threads of a spiderweb or the spokes of a wheel. Nothing appeared, but our questioning gazes met with a chorus of snuffling moans.

  “Swyftt,” DeNobb called in a coarse whisper. I looked up at him. He didn’t say anything, just pointed to the mountainous gargoyle that stood beside him. The gargoyle looked…nervous?

  “Fuck,” Cassiday said, and my gaze drifted back to see the approaching shapes.

  Eight creatures, one in each wheel spoke, stumbled into view. They looked like giant, mutant sealions, each at least as large as a cow. Instead of front flippers, they had hairy legs, like a horse, with cloven hooves, and each leg was as thick as a small tree – it had to be, in order to support the massive, swollen weight. Sleek, dark hair covered their underbellies and wound up around to their heads, thinning out just below where their neck would be, leaving the rest of their bodies slick and smooth. Their faces looked like some kind of deranged, angry mule, and spirals of ram horns curled away from each temple while smaller, straight horns stuck out two inches above each brow. They were slightly varied in size and weight with small differences in color or expression, but whatever they were, they were all the same.

  “Motherfucker,” London said in a tone that implied a certain awe.

  “What…are those?” Ape asked.

  “Capricorns,” Cassiday said. He looked almost afraid. “Forget the knives. Get in the cars.”

  The Capricorns didn’t stop. They neared the front of the line and continued on. Some let out a honking roar, others didn’t, but they each clashed and collided into the ring of gargoyles with shattering force. Maybe I was expecting another conch sound that never came, but when they charged, it caught me by surprise.

  Cassiday leapt into the back of the Chevy and pulled the Browning around and fired. As the first of the Capricorns broke through the wall of gargoyles, fifty-cal rounds hammered straight into its skull, splitting it between the eyes and dropping it with deadly precision and force.

  Another tore through the gargoyles and plodded straight after the mountain. The larger gargoyle turned to meet it head on, grabbing it by the horns and lifting it into the air.

  A third came charging with honking fury towards Ape and London. It was surprisingly fast, given its size and weight, and its back humped as it ran, as its tail forced itself forward in an almost slithering motion.

  London was too busy watching the mountain to see the third. Ape sprang forward, smashing London with his shoulder, knocking him out of the way. He pulled his sword up in front of him and braced the flat of his blade with his other hand and caught the Capricorn on the horns. It continued to charge, and Ape fought against it, but his stance weakened, his footing gave, and he slid backwards slowly.

  London hit the ground and rolled, came up fast with the Judge aimed at Ape and realized what had happened. The Capricorn had Ape pinned against one of the truck tires, thrashing its head and horns against the sword blade. Ape was struggling.

  I moved to help, but a fourth broke through the line on the back side of the truck, and Cassiday had turned his weapon on a fifth. I leapt for the back of the truck, not thinking, not considering my options. I thought of Nadia.

  “DeNobb!” I called.

  The Capricorn hit the back of the truck, rocked it forward. Behind me, Ape cried out, and then the Judge erupted. There was a groan and a whinny, but I wasn’t paying attention. I threw the machete, and it tumbled through the air and stuck into the fourth Capricorn’s neck. It roared in fury, turning its attention on me. Glory was in the back of the Chevy, so I pulled Grace and fired.

  A bolo round sprang towards the Capricorn and caught its legs, tripping it up. It crashed to the ground like a great slug and its momentum carried it forward. I side-stepped as it skidded past, its eyes focusing on me, its jaws snapping angrily.

  I pulled the machete free of its neck, and red blood arched out of the wound like a fountain. Its jaws continued to flap angrily at me as I moved to stand over its face, just out of reach. I tightened my grip on the blade and swung down into its skull. The bone was hard, but it cracked after the second strike, split with the third, and I continued to swing until the jaws stopped flapping.

  “Swyftt!” DeNobb called.

  I looked up at him. I could feel the sticky juice all over the front of me, imagined I looked like a sodding slasher in a grindhouse film.

  DeNobb was in the bed of the truck, kneeling, the Five-seven extended in both trembling hands. Two of the robed Kittim were climbing up the back of the truck and about to step into the bed. Their seashell daggers were brandished like saberteeth.

  “They’re coming for me!” he called.

  He closed his eyes, turned his head down to the side and pulled the trigger. The bullet sparked against the tailgate and flew off somewhere, missing completely.

  Grace lay at my feet. The m
achete dripped in my hand. I threw it. The knife cut through the air like a buzzsaw, bit through the soft flesh of the first figure and into the chest of the second.

  The mountain turned, saw the Kittim teetering on the edge of the truck bed, and swatted them past the broken gargoyle line with a back-hand. It kept hold of the Capricorn in the other, but as it turned away, the Capricorn brought its tail up, and a needle the length of its own body unsheathed itself from the flesh just below its tail. I knew what it was doing at once and ran forward.

  It was too late.

  The spine tore up into the gargoyles stomach, piercing it just under the rib cage and coming out the back under its shoulder blade, just under where its wing was connected.

  Its eyes went wide and white, and the body twisted before it collapsed.

  I took Grace from the ground and came around the back of the truck. On my left, three more of the Kittim were making their way past the gargoyles. Half of the dragons had fallen and the few that remained couldn’t help but let some of the Kittim pass through. They were overwhelmed.

  I pulled Grace up towards them, but the Browning barked and laid them low before I could get my shot off. They splattered to wet drops – more water, it seemed, than meat.

  I came round to see the mountain. If it wasn’t dead, it was dying. I moved around it, saw the tail of the Capricorn disappear around the front of the truck. I heard London scream, heard the explosion of judgment, and then Ape cried out.

  I moved quickly to the front. London was lying against the tire, holding his side. He was bleeding from the corner of his mouth, the Judge clutched in his hand.

  Ape stood nearby, his sword in hand. One Capricorn lay at his feet, gutted up the belly. Jumbly, wet shit like the inside of a pumpkin was tumbling onto the ground. The other Capricorn was advancing on him. It barked in challenge, threw itself forward, reared back onto its tail and did a bicycle motion in the air with its legs. Ape ducked back to avoid the hooves and sliced the air, severed a leg at the joint.

  As it came down, its legs now uneven, it collapsed to one side, but without missing a beat, it swung around with its tail, the long, black barb like the thorn on a rose bush taking Ape in the right thigh, piercing straight through the meat.

  I fired.

  Grace clicked. Empty.

  I popped the chamber, fished in my pocket. I had no shells. I could feel my heart beating too fast, couldn’t think fast enough.

  The barb pulled free of Ape’s leg, and Ape staggered to the side, blind-sided by the blow, dizzy from the pain.

  I threw Grace to the ground in frustration, looked around.

  The Judge.

  I wrestled it from London’s hand, popped the barrel. Two shells left.

  Ape screamed, grabbed his side. The second strike didn’t stick. Ape dodged at the last second, took a glancing blow, still deep, but a cut as though from a bowie knife. Not pierced. Not Ape-kabob.

  I brought the Judge up, found the Capricorn guilty, and pulled the trigger.

  Huge hunks of flesh tore from its back in a spray of red. It spun toward me, aiming its barb at me, and pulled back for a strike.

  Ape grabbed at it from behind, took a ram horn in each hand and wrenched its head back and up.

  I aimed at its tail, pulled the trigger, blew the tail off in a squishy mess, severing the barb from its body. Red pooled quickly as the tail fell, and then the tail began to flail and blood sprinkled in jets like a loose firehose in a cartoon.

  Ape grunted loudly. His face went red from the strain as he jerked to the side, and the Capricorn’s head twisted with the kind of pop that would make a chiropractor cringe. He dropped the body, nodded to me.

  He didn’t even get a chance to catch his breath.

  Tentacles wrapped around his arms and neck as two Kittim appeared from behind. I could only watch as their white, seashell daggers fell into his chest and tore meaty hunks.

  41

  I ran forward, screaming.

  Blood was pumping so loudly in my ears that even London’s idling engine was lost. Everything went red.

  I dropped the Judge and fell on the Kittim, grabbing each by the face and tackling them to the ground. A blade pierced my side, and I grabbed the Kittim at the wrist, pulled the blade free and jabbed it into the other again and again.

  One hand held tightly to the wrist that held the knife, the other squeezed harder against his jaw, felt his face soft and sticky beneath my touch, felt my hand burning as it touched his skin.

  Images flashed through my head that I didn’t understand. I saw ocean depths, giant crabs, and a face I recognized.

  The vision faded just as quickly, and I twisted the Kittim’s wrist around and stabbed him repeatedly in the chest with his own jagged blade until he popped like a water balloon.

  I staggered to my feet, looked around and saw Ape. Kneeling over him, I took his hand. I felt the warmth on his chest. He looked at me through strained eyes. “Hold on,” I said. “You fucking hold on, do you hear me? I’m gonna make this right. We’re not done here, you bloody…”

  My vision blurred, and I started to beat against his chest.

  Someone grabbed me from behind, and Cassiday’s voice said into my ear. “Stop, Swyftt. Pull yourself together. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

  His words didn’t really register, and I kicked and fought against him, but his hold was supreme, unyielding. He threw me back against the ground, straddled me, and smacked me across the face.

  I blinked until I could see again, felt the wet on the sides of my face, tasted the salt of my tears.

  Cassiday looked serious, but not angry. “Get it together,” he said. His voice held authority.

  I nodded.

  He climbed off of me, helped me to my feet.

  “We have to get him to the hospital,” I said. “Seattle Children’s Hospital. Dr. Cooper. We have to get him there now.”

  Cassiday stared at me. “This is war,” he said. “Let the dead bury the dead.”

  “He’s not dead, goddammit!” I snapped. I turned away from him, moved to the back of the truck.

  “DeNobb!” Cassiday called.

  DeNobb popped his head up over the bed. He was shaking. “Yeah?”

  “You can drive?”

  “Uh, I…yeah,” he stammered.

  “No,” I said.

  “I’ll take the motherfucker,” London stammered.

  I turned to see the gunsmith staggering forward. He looked uneasy. “Dirty Kory Halfling or not,” he said. “The motherfucker saved my life. He’s okay by me.”

  I nodded.

  “Help me get him in the truck,” London said.

  “No,” Cassiday said. “Take my car. It’s faster.” He moved to the Chevy, hopped into the back, and pulled the Browning from its mount. He crossed to the trunk, opened it, and grabbed a case of belt ammo and a tripod. Then he grabbed his rifle from the passenger side.

  London carried Ape to the car, set him in the passenger seat.

  “Children’s hospital,” I said. “Dr. Cooper. You better drive fucking fast, you hear me?”

  London nodded.

  I looked around and counted six gargoyles. They fought with such ferocity, they could have been sixteen, and they were enough to hold the Kittim at bay. Cassiday must have taken out the other Capricorns with the Browning.

  I turned to see DeNobb standing in the bed of the truck, standing over Nadia. “We have one more,” I told Cassiday, but London had hit the gas, the tires squealed, and the Chevy sped off into the night.

  “Too late,” he said.

  He crossed to the tripod, set it up, and said, “Here.” He set the Browning in place, popped out the spent belt and snapped the first of the new ammo in place. I knelt behind it while he stood behind me with his rifle. I burned through over a hundred rounds in less than a minute, dropped as many of the squidy monks as I could see, but they just kept coming.

  “This is pointless,” I said and let the gun catch its breath.


  “It would help if we knew what they were after,” Cassiday said. “They’re coming for something.”

  “Or someone,” I said. My eyes fell on the truck, and Cassiday followed my gaze.

  “The girl?”

  “The weatherman,” I said. “I should have seen it earlier. It’s all about him. This whole fucking thing. It really is about him.”

  “No,” came a voice from behind us.

  We spun together to see an old man in a robe step from the fog. He had a long, white beard to his waist and a hood up over his head. As he lifted his hands, they were bright, red lobster claws.

  There was a rustling behind us, and the remaining gargoyles turned and charged the old man. There was a whir of wind around us, and the gargoyles took to the updraft and were launched into the air. The fog cleared around us in a column that stretched to the open sky and the myriad of stars.

  I stood and turned to face him. I could feel Cassiday behind my shoulder. “Maybe I couldn’t have known from the ability alone,” I said, “but the whole mollusk comparison was a great tip. I should have been paying better fucking attention. Then there was the whole thing with the daddy issues.”

  Aegir just smiled and shook his head slowly.

  “Swyftt?” DeNobb called. I turned to see him climbing over the side of the truck and down the hubcap of the massive tire. He drew nearer. “What the fuck…? You?”

  “DeNobb,” I said. “Meet your Father.”

  “You were trying to get him back?” Cassiday said. “You must have known where he was. After all this time, why come for him now?”

  Aegir laughed. “You still think this is about the boy?”

  “Who then?” I said.

  “He draws near now,” Aegir said.

  “Who?”

  “Perun,” he said quietly, and his gaze turned to the sky. “Everything I’ve done, was in preparation for what is to come. I used the boy to get close to you, knowing that you would send the message I alone could not. I knew my being in this city would signal him, eventually, but I needed to be sure he would come. The boy was to signal the enemy that I was here. He was a calling card. An invitation.”