The Spawn of Lilith

by Dana Fredsti

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I slammed the door shut behind me. I knew it wouldn’t stop those things if they decided to come after me, but I’d take even the illusion of safety right about now.

  Hesitating briefly, I shoved open the door leading to the front offices and the lobby. I wanted to check the outside view from the lobby on the off-chance the Davea’s influence had a cut-off point and there might be a safe way to escape.

  The fluorescent strip lighting on the ceiling still illuminated the hallway, but the lobby area was dark ahead of me. Keeping my knife at the ready, I reached the lobby and twisted my hand around the doorframe to flip the switches. When the lights came on, I was careful to stay away from any furniture that could cast a shadow.

  I ran to the door, locked from the inside with a simple deadbolt. There was a rolling metal security gate drawn shut in front of it, and iron bars protected the windows.

  My heart fell. The view of the parking lot was the same ebony nothingness I’d seen through the elephant doors. No traffic, no buildings, no people.

  Just death.

  A hissing sound from Herman’s office made me whirl around. The door was ajar cracked about a foot. A soft light glowed from inside. Approaching slowly, I took a cautious sniff for the telltale putrescence of the Davea. The only thing apparent was the scent of freshly ground coffee beans.

  I stuck my head inside. Herman leaned up against the table that held his Breville espresso machine, looking as if he could barely stand on his own. Even so, he made a cappuccino, humming softly as he did.

  “Herman?”

  I spoke gently, not wanting to startle him.

  He jumped anyway, spilling frothed milk over the side of his cup. Then he saw me and gave a bright smile that was more of a death’s head grimace.

  “Lee,” he said with genuine warmth. “Did you need something? May I offer you an espresso or cappuccino?”

  Oh, man. Despite what he had seen, Herman seemed totally unaware of what was going on in his studio—living in his own little world where a perfectly brewed coffee made everything better. He must be worse than we thought.

  “I’ll take a raincheck on the coffee,” I said as calmly as possible given the fact I had blood splashed all over me and he didn’t appear to notice. “We need to call the police and our cell phones aren’t getting any signal. Can I use your phone?”

  “Normally that’d be fine, but—” He pointed across the room, where the landline phone lay in pieces. “I can’t remember how it happened, but I don’t think it’s going to work too well.”

  My heart sank.

  “You’re probably right about that,” I said evenly, even though I wanted to scream in frustration. “How about we join the rest of the cast and crew in the soundstage, then? We should probably all stick together.”

  The two of us made our way back to the big hallway, Herman calmly sipping his cappuccino. He didn’t seem to notice the smell or the mess as we passed by Makeup, nor did he comment on the fact I had my knife out and kept swiveling my head back and forth as I kept an eye out for more Davea.

  We made it to the soundstage unmolested, though, to find everyone huddled around the two tables. Breanna and Dan immediately hurried to Herman’s side. He smiled at them, unconcerned. Breanna looked at me and I gave a little shrug as if to say, “Hell if I know.”

  Eden and Kyra ran over to me, followed by Connor. “Don’t you do that again!” Eden exclaimed, giving me a fierce hug.

  “I had to try my phone,” I said. “And I got ahold of Sean and managed to tell him a little of what was going on before the line went dead. He’s not dumb. He’ll call the police.”

  “That’s something,” Connor said.

  “I also checked the lobby exit.”

  “And?” Kyra looked at me hopefully.

  I shook my head. “It’s a no go. We can’t go outside until the sun comes up or until the police arrive.”

  Of course, we couldn’t be sure that the unnatural darkness would recede when the sun rose. And if the police arrived before then, they might be slaughtered as soon as they stepped foot on the parking lot.

  A whiff of dead flesh and old sewage wafted through the air. I looked up into the rafters above and saw things forming in the gloom. Pulsing in and out like jellyfish before slowly coalescing.

  Heading our way, they avoided the pools of light cast by the few bulbs burning above, skirting the edges of illumination like pedestrians avoiding mud puddles. There was light where we huddled, yes, but there were also too many shadows.

  Shit shit shit.

  Involuntarily I backed into a C-stand. It held one of Connor’s 1K lights, a hefty thing that looked like a miniature turquoise garbage can. The stand wobbled precariously. Connor and I grabbed it just before it toppled over.

  We looked at each other. He immediately hit the switch. Nothing happened. He stooped to find the power cord, and swore.

  “What?”

  “We were using this to light the front of the Bootes,” he growled. “It had an extension cord.”

  “So move it to a wall outlet!”

  “The nearest one’s over there.” Connor pointed to the wall about twenty feet away. I could barely see the outlet through the gloom.

  “Where the hell is the cord?”

  “I used it this morning,” Kat spoke up, her tone timid. She pointed to the beverage table. “I’ve got the urn and the hot water kettle plugged into it.”

  “We can go without coffee,” I said for the first time in history. “We need that cord now!”

  Half a dozen Davea slithered out of the shadows as I spoke, looking for a dark passage through the light. One melded with the darkness under the craft service table, reaching for Peter.

  “Peter, move!” I shouted.

  He looked over at me, terrified, frozen in place.

  Really? The only time the kid didn’t immediately jump at an order. I ran over even as the shadows grabbed his leg. As I watched, slices appeared in the fabric of his pants, blood spurting out of each one. Peter screamed.

  The shadows hissed and chortled. The sound snakes would make if they could laugh. Ribbons of blackness wrapped around his uninjured leg and pulled. Peter’s scream cut off as something jerked him partway under the table, his head hitting the ground with an ominous crack. I leapt forward, wrapping one arm around his back, looping my hand under his arm just as his body was jerked into the blackness. My hand went with it.

  Icy cold seeped into the tips of my fingers, into my hand and moving up my arm, but I didn’t let go. I didn’t dare, because whatever had a grip on him would surely kill him if I lost this grim game of tug-o-war.

  The thing yanked on Peter’s legs again, nearly pulling him from my grasp.

  “Help me!” I shouted.

  “Lee, here!”

  Someone slapped a Maglite into my free hand, the switch already on. Struggling to keep my hold on Peter’s limp body, I aimed the beam under the table. Something hissed. Cold breath wafted out along with a whiff of putrescence. I choked on the stench. But where the Maglite beam hit, the shadows retreated, then coiled their way around out of reach of the light. The Davea did not want to let go of its prey.

  It hissed again, jerking hard on Peter’s legs.

  I wrapped my fingers in the fabric of his T-shirt and threw myself across his torso, trying to keep the beam aimed under the table while keeping my limbs and body out in the open.

  Despite my best efforts, I was losing the battle.

  Another hard tug, and he went nearly all the way underneath. Something popped inside his arm—probably a bone dislocating. I was glad he wasn’t conscious. Someone grabbed hold of me around the waist, adding their strength to mine.

  “I’ve got you, Lee.”

  Ben.

  Even with his help, though, when the Davea gave another yank my fingers slipped, nearly losing their grip on Peter’s shirt. I had no choice. I dropped the Maglite, letting it clatter to the floor, and grabbed him under both ar
ms. White-hot pain raked along my arms and I screamed, fighting the primal instinct of self-preservation.

  A sudden strip of bright light illuminated the unconscious PA’s face and body, and the entire underside of the table. Connor had the 1K plugged in and turned on. Steam rose from the Davea’s body. It gave an unearthly shriek, wriggling like an insect pinned to a board, and let go of Peter’s legs as it searched for a way to escape the light. Finally it slithered behind a box of plastic forks, vanishing into the thin strip of darkness behind it.

  Ben and I pulled Peter out into the open. His pants were in ribbons, his legs badly clawed, but it looked like the demon that grabbed him had been too busy playing tug-o-war to kill him. If we could get him to a hospital, he stood a chance.

  Connor swiftly knocked open the flaps of the 1K, turning the strip into a full-on flood of bright light, shining straight at the elephant doors, illuminating both tables and the people huddled nearby.

  “I think I’ve sadly underestimated the importance of good lighting,” I said to him.

  Connor managed a strained version of his superior smirk. “Perhaps next time you’ll listen.”

  Ben tapped me on the shoulder. “I don’t want to be a killjoy here,” he said, “but those damn things are still up there.”

  Connor and I looked up. Ben was right. The Davea floated above us in the shadows, circling over our heads like sharks, taking turns swooping downward to see how close they could get to their prey without touching the light. The temperature dropped noticeably whenever one of them dipped near.

  Well, hell.

  “Where are the rest of the lights?” I asked in a low urgent voice.

  “I have a couple of handheld spots and Maglites over there—” Connor jerked his head toward the wall near one of the tables. Too many shadows. “The 2K and the fill spots are still in the ritual chamber.”

  I groaned. “Are there any more stashed someplace else?” Someplace we won’t be instant demon chow?

  “The 5K!” Connor exclaimed. “It was finally delivered yesterday. That beauty can deliver a beam of light twenty-six feet in diameter, from twenty feet away at full flood.”

  This was good.

  “Where is it?”

  “I’m not sure. Most likely in the equipment room.”

  Which was in the back of the soundstage near Jaden’s FX area. In the dark.

  Not so good.

  “Are you sure?”

  “No.”

  I turned to Herman. He was contemplating the dregs of his cappuccino.

  “Herman.”

  Nothing.

  “Herman!” I smacked my hands together in front of his nose. He jumped, finally looking at me.

  “Lee.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “What is it? What do you need? I can make you some coffee if—”

  “No coffee!” A hurt, almost confused look came over his face. I softened my voice and continued. “Herman, we need to know where you put Connor’s 5K spotlight when it was delivered.”

  “His 5K…” Herman opened his eyes wide, then shut them again. “It’s—” He rubbed his temples. “It’s in my office. I meant to have it brought out but I’ve… I’ve been distracted.”

  I turned to Connor. “I can get it.”

  “Are you crazy? It weighs over thirty pounds and—”

  I snorted. “Oh, please. I bench-press ninety on a bad day.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That’s all well and good, but—”

  “Lee.” Ben pointed over to the beverage table, where Kat puttered around on autopilot, picking up stray cups and napkins and tossing them into one of the trash bins.

  “Kat! Get away from there!”

  She looked up, but didn’t budge.

  “Kat! Move now!” My voice cut through the air like the crack of a whip.

  She wasn’t fast enough. A shadowy claw raked her back, slicing through the leather of her bomber jacket with frightening ease. She screamed and stumbled, giving the demon time to grip one of her arms.

  I jumped over a fallen folding chair, then picked it up so I could smash it down on the black and oily claws now wrapped around Kat’s wrist. The Davea emitted an earsplitting shriek—pain and rage combined in the unholy sound.

  Another one swooped down to try and claim the prize. Michael ran over clutching a crowbar, swinging it hard and fast at the Davea’s bulbous head. No effect. The demon turned midair and swiped at Michael’s face. He jerked back just in time. Dropping the crowbar, he scuttled back into the safety of the light.

  Snatching up the crowbar I slammed it against the Davea that was holding Kat until it finally let go, black liquid dribbling onto the floor from its injuries. She was groaning loudly, but at least she’d stopped screaming. Looping an arm around her waist, I half dragged, half threw her into the safety of the light, her blood splashing onto my forearm.

  Ben and Joe took her from me, easing her to the floor as she gasped in pain.

  “I’m going to go get the 5K,” I said.

  “You can’t get it by yourself,” Ben said even as he took off his T-shirt and used it to staunch the flow of blood from Kat’s wounds.

  “Look,” I said, “for whatever reason, it appears I’ve won some crazy fucked-up lotto here ’cause I’m the only one who can actually hurt those things. I can fight them and win. They might even be afraid of me. So out of all of us, I’d say I have the best chance of getting the light and making it back here alive.”

  “Yeah, okay fine, so you’re the chosen one,” Ben shot back. “But how the hell do you plan on lugging thirty pounds of 5K and defending yourself at the same time? I go with you, you grab one of those handhelds, keep it on me as best you can, and I’ll carry the light while you keep those fucked-up creepy-crawlies off us.”

  I started to argue, but he was right. If we were going to get the 5K, I needed help.

  “Okay, you’re right. There’s only one problem with your plan.” I looked him up and down. “You’re too damn tall for me to even begin to cover you with a handheld.”

  Ben opened his mouth to argue, but it was his turn to let it go.

  “I’m the smallest one here,” Kyra said. “I should go with you.”

  I looked at her tiny frame. “Can you carry thirty pounds and run?”

  “I think so.” She sounded uncertain.

  I shook my head. “If you’re wrong, it’s your life we’re talking about. I’m not taking that chance.”

  “I—”

  “I will go with you.” Darius pushed his way to the front of the huddle. He patted Kyra on one arm. “It is brave of you, but I can easily carry the light. And while I am not as small as you, I am smaller than the giant here.”

  I nodded. It might work. I smacked the crowbar into the meat of my palm.

  “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I hefted the crowbar in one hand and the Maglite in the other, giving silent thanks that I was used to using both hands for handling weapons and fighting. If not quite ambidextrous, I was damn close.

  Darius had a smaller Maglite and an impromptu weapon of a C-stand arm with a gobo head assembly attached. A solid chunk of metal, the gobo head made a wicked mace, so even if he couldn’t kill a Davea, it might slow it down long enough for me to take it out.

  I looked around at the surviving cast and crew, all of them standing close together in the safe zone of light. I wanted to give some kind of rousing speech to keep their spirits up. Lacking inspiration and speech writers, however, I had to make do.

  “Everyone, be sure you stay in the light. Those things can’t get you if they don’t have a shadow to use as a gateway.”

  “What about this?” Michael gestured to the shadow cast by his arm. “What’s stopping them from coming through any of our shadows?”

  “According to Jaden, they can’t use shadows cast by organic matter. Nothing living.”

  “What does Jaden know about this shit?”

  “He summoned them in the first p
lace. He lost control of them, and they killed him.” That elicited some panicky chatter, which I headed off. “So all of you should be okay if you stay where you are. But if you try to make a run for it…” I let my voice trail off. They’d seen how fast the Davea could manifest and take down prey.

  Eden stepped forward, clutching one of the handheld spots. “I’ll cover you with this as long as I can,” she said, turning it on. I gave her a grateful smile.

  “Stay safe,” Connor called to me, still keeping all of his attention on the 1K.

  Darius went first. I stayed back about ten feet so I could keep him covered with the flashlight’s beam. The problem was, the further back I stayed, the longer it would take me to get to him if anything attacked. I’d have to trust my reflexes and speed.

  The light dipped in sync with my movement. I kept it as steady as I could. Sibilant chuckles and guttural noises whispered and gurgled from the darkened soundstage the further we got from the catering tables. They seem to be everywhere, so I did my best to ignore them. Instead I focused on the man in front of me, staying alert for any movement around him.

  Darius went through the double doors and I followed. One lone fluorescent tube at the far end of the hall was still lit. The other tubes were cracked. Melting icicles on the ceiling dripped water onto the linoleum. The creatures had been busy.

  I saw things out of the corner of my eyes, shadows elongating and then retreating as if playing with us. They kept their distance at first, and the chuckling and hissing became white noise in the background. Then one of them lunged at me as I passed the door to the darkened Makeup department. I dodged, smashing it on the side with the crowbar. It fell to the floor and I hammered on its head until it stopped moving. The light bobbed wildly, but stayed on Darius.

  Steam rose up as the fallen demon did its impersonation of the Wicked Witch of the West, dissolving into the floor even as another one soared down from a darkened corner of the ceiling. I dodged out of the way of its claws with scant inches to spare and yet another Davea attacked, leaving me no time to do anything but fall onto my back, thrusting up with the crowbar as it landed on top of me. The crowbar gutted it and I got showered with yet more noxious black goo.