“What are you doing?” Lily asked. If I hadn’t known better I would have thought I heard a tremor of fear in her voice.
I ignored her and wrapped ghostly hands around the flowing blackness.
“Stop it!” She stumbled backwards.
My hands plunged into the Demon’s power and pulled. My vision exploded, stars dancing before me as my Sight opened of its own accord. In the barest of moments I caught a glimpse of the infernal realm. Lakes of lava roared through mountain ranges. Scorched, dead land stretched on to infinity, and millions upon millions of demons fought each other for possession of the nothingness that encompassed everything. And above it all, a creature, a monster that directed everything, devoured everything…
I came crashing back to myself an eternity later, disoriented and seated on the pavement, unaware of how I had gotten there.
Lily came to stand in front of me, her eyes aglow with something I couldn’t read. “Did you think you could get into my mind? What were you trying to do?”
“I thought that would be obvious to you since you are the all-knowing Duke and I’m just the lowly mortal. I’m using you as bait.” I smiled at her serenely and got to my feet, glad that it was asphalt under me and not lava.
“You knew I would push you out.”
“And the only way you could do that is by using magic. Jon, get ready.”
Jon moved further off to my left, towards the side alley where his car was parked. I grabbed Lily by the arm and pulled her behind me. Jon and I kept the invisible circle between our two positions. Drawing my gun and flicking off the safety, I looked up and down the street. Groups of people milled about, and for an agonizing minute I thought that I had failed to grab the Demon’s attention. Even a small amount of Lily’s power should have been like a flare to it, but nothing was happening. And then I saw the first person look up. His gray skin and small black horns marked him as a Daniji demon, one of the thirteen tribes. Being from the infernal realm made the tribes particularly sensitive to their old master’s dark magic. Soon another person looked up, and then another. Within seconds everyone had turned their faces skyward as iron-gray clouds swirled from nowhere to take up residence directly over us. People began running every which way except, I noticed, towards Jon’s store. They could sense the dark power building and looking for its target.
A midnight gloom descended on the street as if a blanket had been pulled across the sky, and with it came dozens of ravens, their caws cutting through the rising wind. On that wind was the odor of sulfur, heavy and acrid.
On the sidewalk across the street dead leaves and gravel swirled in a vortex, rising and falling and gaining speed. The miniature cyclone gained width and height until it was as wide and tall as a house. At the center a man appeared, and the debris fell back to the earth. He walked forward sniffing the air, his double-barreled shotgun hanging negligently at his side. My gun tracked him as he moved, the grip slick with my sweat.
“Rashonteif,” the man growled, bringing up his gun and aiming it at me.
“Hello Nathilog,” Lily said from behind me.
The door to Jon’s shop exploded open and Simon ran out in a blur of motion, firing as he went. Following his lead, I fired from my two-handed stance and achieved the same amount of accuracy as Simon did while running at vampire speed. Nathilog was taken by surprise, stumbling to a stop in the street as the bullets plowed into him and gouged pieces from his body. It proved only a momentary inconvenience however, as every wound we inflicted sealed itself moments later. Neither the silver, nor the blessed salt water did anything to him while in possession of a body. The shotgun came up. Simon pulled up short of him and dove to the side just as both barrels crashed, a vicious swath of fire pouring from them and seeming to follow Simon.
My gun clicked on empty. “Feel free to jump in anytime,” I growled at Lily. Now that she had no reason to hide she could use her magic, except of course to hurt a human, which Nathilog just happened to be wearing at the moment. I slapped in the new clip and ran towards Simon who was dodging the flames that had resolved themselves into twin snakes, snapping and hissing at him as he backpedaled. It reminded me eerily of the tattoo on my stomach.
I was close enough to make out the gray ponytail hanging over the biker’s shoulder when the gun turned on me. A glimpse of brown teeth was the last thing I saw before the flash took away my night vision. My shield tattoo flared to life, an iridescent blue field that sparked at the touch of the projectiles. But unlike normal bullets these kept swarming like angry hornets, small sparks that danced along the edges of my shield and tried to find a way in. I ignored the small stings in my chest that the sparks created and fired point-blank at his head. The bullet passed harmlessly through my shield, punched through his left eye, and exploded out of the back. The sparks ceased their swarming and the fire snakes dissolved, but Nathilog wasn’t dead. It had broken his concentration and nothing more. His face reformed as if someone had hit the rewind button on a video and he swept his ponytail back to free it of the blood that had soaked it.
I heard Lily say, “Get him, Bear.”
She threw her teddy bear forward. It tumbled gracelessly through the air and began bulging and ripping. The arms and legs fell off, the seams along the side burst, and its head popped free, though it was still attached by some strange black appendage. Arachnid-like legs sprouted from the sides and it landed on them in a fluid motion. The bear-head blinked crimson eyes and snarled, its mouth a deranged assortment of needle-like fangs in its cotton-stuffed maw.
It was the most disturbing thing I had seen all week.
With unnatural grace, it lunged forward and grappled with the possessed man. The tiny head clamped its jaws on his shoulders, and one of its spindly legs impaled one of Nathilog’s. He dropped his shotgun so he had both hands free to wrestle the arachnid that was now the size of a dog.
“Simon,” I yelled. “We need to get him forward.”
He nodded understanding and raced forward, kicking the shotgun away as he went. Grabbing the biker by the vest, he hauled both of them into the lot. The frenzied attack of the spider didn’t spare him for his troubles as razor-tipped legs slashed furiously at whatever was within reach. One caught Simon high in the bicep and he was forced to relinquish his hold, dropping them both short of the circle.
With a roar, Nathilog ripped the spider free of him and tossed it to the side. It skittered along the ground, its many legs scrabbling for purchase. He turned to regard Simon who was slowly getting to his feet next to him. A kick sent Simon flying through the air like a rag doll. I grabbed up the Demon’s shotgun, aimed it at him, and pulled the trigger. The resounding click of firing pins finding empty chambers filled my ears.
“It’s just a tool,” Nathilog said with a smirk. “I am the magic.” With that he waved a hand at me and a pulse of energy swept over me, crashing through my tattoo wards and tossing me end-over-end onto the sidewalk. Fire lanced through my side and across the back of my head as I bounced and rolled to a stop. The world tilted alarmingly as I went to sit up. From my place on the ground I watched him make the same lazy wave of his hand at Simon and giant coils of vine sprung through the concrete around him, engulfing him in seconds. The spider sprang back at him, but he was ready this time. With no visible effort, he stopped the spider in mid leap, its legs swinging wildly in the air. Nathilog held his palm out to it as if he were telling it to stop. A storm of blue flashes whipped out from him, stabbing the tiny bear body dozens of times, severing two of the legs from which gouts of yellow fluid poured, and piercing one of the crimson eyes. The creature cried out in agony as Nathilog walked over, grabbed it by its long throat, crushed it, and tossed the twitching body back onto the ground.
It landed right in the circle.
A moan of despair escaped me as I got to my feet and watched the limp body shatter the veil and activate the circle. White shimmering magic swirled to life in a wasted effort. Nathilog laughed, deep and rumbling.
“A captur
e circle? And a finely crafted one by the looks of it.” He turned from me to Lily. “Too bad it was a wasted effort, Rashonteif.” He pulled a small jar from his pocket and walked towards Lily.
Seeing that the Demon no longer considered me a threat, I sprinted past him and grabbed Lily by the arm. I started pushing her backwards towards the streetlight while keeping my eye on the advancing Nathilog. My gun was trained on him, but we both new that was an empty threat. On the other side of the lot, a shadow separated itself from the side of the building and hurried over to Simon’s vine-encased form. Sparks danced from the end of Jon’s wand as he attempted to cut Simon free.
I kept pushing Lily back, keeping Nathilog’s eyes on me and away from Jon while getting us closer to the light. “Stop!” I yelled, pulling Lily in front of me.
“Or what?” the biker inquired. “You’ll fire more useless metal at me?” The jar in his hands began to glow.
“I’ll kill her.”
“You’ll what?” Lily and Nathilog asked simultaneously.
I put the gun to Lily’s temple and wrapped my free arm around her chest. She went very still. My heart plummeted into my shoes as the full realization of what I was doing hit me. Just a little further, I told myself. “If I kill her body, Rashonteif will escape back to your realm, so I think you should just stay right where you are.”
The biker smiled. “You won’t do it.” He took a step forward.
“I will,” I insisted, backing up a step. “Stop moving!” Just a little farther, I urged him silently.
“So, you wish to bargain, Inquisitor? What will you trade the Duke for?” As he talked he slid a foot forward, trying to be subtle while distracting me. “I could simply offer to spare you and your friends, but I’m feeling generous tonight. I haven’t had a fight like this in millennia and I think I’ll reward you for your efforts.” Another slide-step forward. “Perhaps you want wealth, or maybe women? Your own harem? No, no, too common. I know what you really want.” He smiled at me, as if seeing a long-lost friend. “Power. Enough to change the world.”
“Like you gave Christian?”
His smile grew, and the circling ravens overhead called out as if they recognized the name, but he said nothing. And almost as if I had willed it, he took the final step forward.
“Now, Jon!”
“Illuminatos!”
The streetlight at my back suddenly flared to life spilling hazy orange light across the ground. Nathilog was at the center of it, the black chalk circle drawn on the bulb projected onto the ground around him. He stared at it in open-mouthed disbelief, turning fully in place looking for an escape.
“Impossible,” he muttered. The jar ceased glowing and he dropped it to the ground where it smashed into shards that glittered in the amber light. He ran a rough hand along the barrier. The white energy rippled at his touch but didn’t break.
Releasing Lily and nudging her off to the side, I holstered my pistol and held my arms in front of me, palms up. Jon saw the signal and aimed his wand at me. With a whispered word the wooden box with its dark red finish and ornate carvings was transported from its place inside Jon’s shop into my waiting hands.
“Recognize this?” I asked him, and opened the box. The webbing inside pulled taught. “It’s a spirit catcher. They’re kind of like dream catchers, but instead of trapping nightmares they trap evil spirits. Neat, huh?”
“Wait,” Nathilog sputtered. “Just wait. We can still come to an agreement. Now you’re in a better position to bargain, right?”
“I’m not looking for a deal.” Reciting the words that I had memorized from the book, I said, “A caelo usque ad centrum!”
The biker doubled over and began convulsing. His eyes clouded over in a black fog as he stared at the box that would be his new prison. A cloud of purple-red mist seething with dark energy flew out of the man’s pores and smashed through the circle, a high-pitched keening sounding out around us as it did so, and was absorbed into the webbing of the box. Colors shot through the strands like fireworks. I shut the lid, pulled the key from my pocket, and locked it.
Jon came over to me, looking ten years older than he had fifteen minutes ago. He pointed the wand at the box, muttered his words, and it disappeared. If his aim was true it would reappear in his safe room in back, sitting atop a stone pillar that had once held the Book of Names. I patted him on the shoulder and told him to get inside. He nodded and walked off, weariness evident in every step he took.
“What did you do with my master?” the biker bellowed. He had regained consciousness and was busy beating his fists against the barrier. “Bring him back!”
The street light went out once Jon was out of sight, breaking the projected circle, and the madman made a dash at me. I ducked a couple of clumsy blows, pulled my pistol, and struck him in the face with the butt of it. There was a satisfying crack as metal struck bone and he collapsed to the ground in a heap.
“It’s back to prison for you, jerkweed.” I stowed the pistol and leaned down to roll him onto his stomach. After searching him for weapons and finding none I looked up at Simon. The fight had been hardest on him. The hole in his arm from the spider’s leg was only one of many bloody wounds on him. The vines had cut ragged furrows through his clothes and across his skin. The ones that were visible were healing slowly, crimson weeping from the deeper cuts. “Can you help me get him inside so we can tie him up?” He nodded and bent down to grab an arm. We lifted and my entire left side protested the exertion. Simon grimaced, but didn’t complain.
We had gotten him halfway to the store when Lily ran up in front of us. I was ready to hear all sorts of insults and threats, having used her for a shield, but when she did speak it was the last thing I expected.
“That was marvelously devious, Uncle Frank!” She clapped excitedly. “Positively inspiring!”
27
An hour later—after Simon and I had patched up our wounds and cleaned ourselves up as much as we could, and Jon had lamented over his two shattered windows and partially burned storefront—Simon, Lily, and I drove up to the STS building. Simon had been able to stay in the backseat, his coat draped over him, as the dark clouds overhead finally relented and began spilling their seeds upon the city. Even in the weakened state he was in he could protect himself from the nearly nonexistent amount of sunlight that made its way through, or so he had proclaimed, saying, “I’m not riding in the damned trunk again.” Before we had left, Jon had given him a tonic to drink in order to aid the healing. It wasn’t blood, but it would have to do until he could get his fangs into something.
The place was buzzing with activity. Men and women in black uniforms raced out to their cars, barely sparing the three of us a second glance. Blocking the steps up to the entrance were six guards instead of the usual two. All wore urban riot control gear and had shotguns slung over their backs. Four of them had clear bullet resistant shields held in front of them, the word ‘Police’ emblazoned in blue across them. Unfamiliar faces peered out at us from behind helmets and face-guards. Three cars peeled out of the lot behind us, lights flashing and sirens wailing. Two of the guards reached for their sidearms as we came to a stop in front of them.
“Identification,” one of them barked from behind his shield.
Carefully pulling my jacket open and slowly reaching into the inner pocket, I produced my ID and handed it to him.
“Frank Goldman,” he recited. “Supernatural Enforcement Committee. That your handiwork, Mr. Goldman?” He hooked a thumb to the side pointing to the end of the building where scaffolding had been erected and plastic tarps covered the gaping hole in the exterior.
A wash of heat swept over my face. “Er, not directly,” I said lamely.
“Uh huh,” the man grunted. “What’s your business here?”
“We’re here to see some friends up in the hospital wing. And if the captain’s here we’d like to have a word with him too.”
“Good luck with that. He’s been having one hell of a week.” He ste
pped aside and signaled for the others to do the same.
“Haven’t we all,” I said, and gave Lily a little push to get her moving up the vacated steps.
Glancing up, I saw two men sitting on the roof: a sniper team. One man scanned the area with a pair of binoculars while the other sat looking down on us, a high-powered rifle mounted on a bipod next to him. I squinted into the rain to see that it was Officer Polanski’s pockmarked face leering at us, probably wondering if he would get in trouble for spitting on us as we entered. It was a bad day when they decided that giving Polanski a scoped weapon was a good idea.
Behind me, Simon had stopped. “Santos?” he asked, looking at one of the guards. “Is that you?”
“Yes sir,” the man responded happily, apparently glad to be recognized. “What are you doing up here, Simon?”
“Lending a hand, same as you I suppose?”
“Yeah. When the news broke that the Guard was being activated the brass back home decided to send some extra STS muscle up too. Fifteen of us came up yesterday, and there’s supposed to be another thirty by the end of the week.” He shifted on the steps, uneasy now that his team was giving him mutinous looks through rain-splashed visors. “But if you’re here then who’s watching LA?”
“We’ve got it covered,” Simon said with an easy smile. “It’s Oakland we have to worry about protecting. If this thing gets out of hand where do you think it will spread to next, huh?”
“Hey vampire,” Polanski called down to us. “Aren’t you supposed to be home in bed like all the other good little fangs?” He chortled at his own joke, and I thought I heard one of the guards join in before quickly reining it in.
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