To Beat the Devil (The Technomancer Novels Book 1)

by M. K. Gibson

  The surviving troops left behind their dying and wounded in an efficient and hurried retreat. Vidar had slaughtered the majority of them, and while he was chasing down one of the crab-legged hellions to punt it off the edge of the building, the remaining men and hellions used the time to retreat back inside. The massive mutilated-angel-wing gates began to swing closed.

  “The gates!” I yelled and pointed. The warriors, Grimm, and I reached them too late as they slammed shut and the crossbar was slid in place from the inside. Vidar padded around and howled in frustration. I slammed my fist against the doors. The carved wings were made of Hell Steel. Impenetrable.

  “We can’t breach these doors once they are shut,” I said as I examined the otherworldly metal with my telescopic vision, looking for a flaw to exploit.

  “Ideas?” Vali said aloud. A general murmur ran through the warriors.

  Grimm walked with his good arm behind his back, looking the gates over. “Explosives,” he said.

  “Anything short of a nuke won’t scratch inferium,” one of the female warriors said, and a general nodding of the other warriors confirmed the statement.

  “Hmm,” Grimm said as he scratched as the stone wall to which the doors were attached. “Who said anything about blowing the doors?”

  “Nice. Breach the wall. We have already seen that stuff crumbles.” I turned to Vali. “Y’all carrying any high-powered explosives?”

  Vali smiled. “We are Viking gods. Blowing shit up is what we do.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Smell of Blood and Ozone

  “Fire in the hole!” one of the warriors of Midheim yelled, which was followed by a controlled blast that sent debris flying. The warrior had wirelessly ignited the detcord. The flexible primer exploded, which in turn detonated the larger plastic explosive charges set at the four corners of the angel-wing gates. The building rocked as the charges went off. Standard breach detonation causes the occupants to be disoriented and choke from the ashes and smoke.

  Vidar, still in his wolfen form, ran forward and gave the great winged gates a lunging kick at their base. They rocked unsteadily and fell outward, along with the remaining section of wall. Vali bellowed orders over the noise.

  “Grenades!” he commanded, and the warriors of Midheim obeyed. Each man lobbed a variety of grenades into the now open great hall that was Abraxas’s throne room. Flash bang, concussion, fragmentation, thermal, and plasma pulse grenades exploded like popcorn. Screams followed the detonation. Occasionally a random burst of gunfire could be heard from a dying soldier, or a scream from a mortally wounded demon.

  Vali held his arm up, and all the warriors stopped at once. There was no noise coming from the hole in the wall that led to the throne room. Smoke bellowed out with intermittent flame, no doubt from small fires caused by the incendiary grenades. Vali motioned his hand in a circle and then pointed at the opening. A team of ten warriors advanced slowly with weapons raised, creeping into the breach to get eyes on for a sit-rep. As the smoke dissipated, I could see a faint glow coming from the opening.

  On a hunch I switched my vision to infra-red to get a better look. I could barely make out the fires inside, or the rapidly cooling bodies of the dead soldiers and demons. Blocking it out, overpowering it, was a large wall of heat. It was odd. I could not make out what I was seeing.

  “All clear,” called the lead warrior. The remainder of the Midheim forces began moving forward, covering as they entered the threshold to the throne room. I switched my eyes back to normal vision and then zoomed in. The smoke had cleared enough that I could see an empty throne room. The lights were off, but there was still the faint glow. Something wasn’t right. Why was the throne room empty?

  I advanced with the warriors, my pistols out. I came alongside Father Grimm and leaned in. “Feel like a trap to you?”

  “Yes. Something is wrong.”

  “The throne room is empty,” I pointed out as we stepped over the stone rubble and moved into the open hall.

  “Impossible. We know it was occupied. Where could Abraxas and his personal guard have gone?”

  “Out a window?” I said, and Grimm gave me a stern look. “What? We did.”

  “Touché.” Grimm tipped his hat with his good hand. “However, I doubt Abraxas would fit on a ledge.”

  Grimm had a point, and I was running out of answers. I looked about the room, and even though it was dark, I could just make out the features. The same dark wood and bone-layered floor, same vaulted ceiling and murals. Same stained glass windows depicting the seven fallen princes. Except—except for the first of the fallen, the sin of Pride, Lucifer. His window wasn’t blacked out. I couldn’t make out all the features of the glass due to the dark, but the window was intact.

  That shouldn’t be there. That was covered in paint, blacked out. I stopped walking, closed my eyes and listened. And it was then that I heard it. The hum of machinery and the sound of heartbeats.

  Lots of heartbeats.

  “Vali, Vidar, shields! Get ’em up now, NOW!”

  “What?” Vali snapped his gaze to me as I waved my arms to get everyone’s attention. “What do you mean?”

  “Portable shields! Now, goddamn it, NOW!”

  The lights of the great hall came on in a sudden flash. The seemingly empty hall was now filled with elite shock troops of demons and humans, all armored in the midnight blue and silver colors of Abraxas. The image generator the archduke’s men were using, the giant wall of heat I had seen, was shut off, and the holographic illusion of an empty hall was now gone. All around us we could see them taking aim with state-of-the-art weapons, while Abraxas sat on his throne.

  “Fire!” the archduke commanded, and the shock troops let loose with volley fire from in front of us and from along balcony positions. We had walked right into the kill box.

  Some of the two-man teams got their portable shields up in time. Many didn’t. I screamed in anger, as did many of the falling warriors. They were dying. A cross fire of shots came so quickly and so suddenly that I couldn’t track it all. I leaped upon the nearest warriors without a shield up and activated my deflector from my tech bracers in the vain hope of saving them.

  “NO!” I heard Grimm bellow. He moved through the blasts with speed and purpose and as he reached the center of us he flung his arms wide and the makeshift sling tore from his ancient cassock. He manifested a small dome of energy around us, solidifying the air into shield. The enemy fire rebounded all across the great hall. Grimm’s eyes were aglow and his jaw set. This would be no massacre as long as he drew breath.

  “Rally!” he ordered to Vali and Vidar, and the gods obeyed. Vidar, in his huge wolf form, pulled his warriors to the center of the dome. Vali had them re-position their shield. We circled our metaphorical wagons and waited for command.

  “Pick your targets and return fire!” Grimm commanded while the surviving warriors looked perplexed.

  “Trust him!” I yelled, and started firing through Grimm’s shield, blasting troopers and demons without discretion. It did not take much to urge the warriors and they too were soon picking off enemies through the shield.

  The sudden returning fire did not stop the archduke’s forces. They continued their assault while Abraxas urged them on. The shield Grimm had created maintained its strength, but only because Grimm’s will made it so. He took the barrage in stride, holding out hope that we could somehow survive.

  Vali fired his bow over and over until he ran out of standard arrows. He then made a small flick with the compound bow I didn’t catch, and the bow collapsed. A hand grip was now visible and he now held a converted crossbow. He loaded bolts and fired with hardly a beat missed.

  Vidar had reverted back to his human form. The big biker god grabbed a .50 cal machine gun from a fallen warrior and sprayed death into the demons. Thanks to Grimm’s shield, we were turning the tide. Abraxas’s troops were forced to move their positions and take cover, overturning banquet tables and deploying their own shield genera
tors. Abraxas himself was forced to exert his power, as he deflected incoming fire through unseen shields.

  In a matter of minutes, the battle was at an impasse. Neither side had an advantage. Grimm had kept the warriors who survived alive, while the Hell forces had dwindled down and taken cover. I estimated another volley of grenades could turn it our way.

  And that is when Abraxas’s reinforcements came. Demon and human soldiers flooded in from every entrance. The reserves from within the citadel had regrouped and made their way to the great hall.

  Abraxas stood from his throne. “Cease fire!” The archduke walked down a few steps and stood alongside his soldiers by his throne. The remaining forces had crept inward and circled us. “Well fought. For a moment, it seemed you had a chance. Your use of the Cyberai was a stroke of brilliance. You ensured they themselves did not take part in this assault. I commend your treachery, but it is now folly. You are outmatched. Your mage cannot hold that shield forever. You have lost over half your forces and your ammunition is no doubt nearly depleted. You will lose, and you will die.”

  Silence hung in the air. Only the hum of the shield generators and the breathing of desperate men and women was heard. Vali looked at me, as did Vidar, as if they expected me to respond.

  “What?”

  “This is about the time you normally have something to say, usually snarky and generally anti-authoritative,” Grimm rasped. Holding the shield for that long had driven him to the brink. He was exhausted and ready to drop. Only sheer will and true stubborn grit held him up.

  I looked around at the carnage, at the fallen warriors. I took in the sight of the dead. Midheim had come to my aid and I had led them to their deaths. Their souls would wander the world, now with no place to go. The weight of it hit me in that moment.

  “I’m not your leader,” I whispered, turning my eyes down. Vali frowned, but Vidar walked over to me, grabbed me by my shirt, and smacked me in the mouth. He whispered harshly in my ear:

  “Right now, you are. These men didn’t die for nothing. They fought for you as you fought for them. Either we win, or we lose. But you will lead.”

  Vidar released me. My face stung from the blow, but my heart hurt the most. He was right. I needed to pull my head out of my ass. I needed more time for the rest of my plan to work. I needed to drag this out as long as possible.

  “Touching,” I heard Abraxas’s deep voice rumble, and his men chuckled. I swear, it was like a bad action movie, where the villain’s henchmen laughed at every stupid joke while saying, “Good one, boss.”

  A few of the dukes and lords from the previous night had joined Abraxas on the dais of his throne. Nearly all nobility from the Central Duchies. Well, if there was one thing I was good at, it was pissing off people in power.

  Then, my internal communicator received a message. I tilted my head to the side as I heard it. I replayed it to make sure I heard it correctly. And then I smiled. It wasn’t the message I was waiting on, but it would do. Oh, but it would do nicely.

  “Hey Abby, fuck you!” I yelled as I walked to the front of the shield. I holstered my pistols and crossed my arms. I had no idea what I was going to do or say. I was definitely winging it. But I would be damned if I was going to show them any fear or weakness. If the communication was accurate, then I just needed to stall him a few moments longer.

  Archduke Abraxas, high lord and favored demonic son, walked slowly but with purpose toward me. The throne room’s great hall was utterly silent. Warriors and soldiers on both sides held their fire, but anxiety built in their eyes. The fading adrenaline made their fingers twitchy and their eyes nervous. The room was but one spark away from an explosion. And still, Abraxas continued walking toward me. The soldiers stepped aside for his passing, and the clack clack clack of his armored boots echoed throughout the chamber.

  Abraxas stopped just a few feet from the shield and looked down at me, while his wings spread wide, then wrapped themselves around him like a cloak. The high lord smiled and leaned in close toward Grimm’s shield and tapped it twice with his gauntleted finger. His expression was almost human. He seemed pleased with the barrier.

  “Do you know how long I have existed, little smuggler? How long in the depths of Hell I have tortured and mutilated braver men than you?”

  “Do you know that you are a walking cliché?” I asked the demon. “Seriously, you’re going to pontificate? Now?”

  Abraxas smiled. It was not pleasant. “Boy, you have no fear of your betters. That is unwise. You meat bags are just chattel. Slaves and servants. And when your mage there grows too weary to hold that shield, I am going to take personal delight in rending you alive. It will last a very long time. You have taken my supply away for now. But it will be replenished soon.”

  I knew he meant the souls, and the lives of the people in the machines. But he wasn’t saying it too loudly. His nobles might know, but I doubt his troops needed to hear they could be turned into his next meal.

  “Abby, I have been alive for some time myself,” I said, and I waved my hand for Abraxas to come closer. The cocky demon prick actually did. He was almost level with me.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “I wanted you to know that when this shield comes down, I want you to try really hard to take me down. Because it is going to be that much sweeter when I jam my foot down your goat fucking throat,” I said in a near snarl as I gave Abraxas two middle fingers to punctuate the point. I was seething. I realized quickly that this was not pomp and bluster. I wanted to fight this assclown. For the people he had hurt. For the people he’d forced me to kill to spare them continued pain and torture.

  For Theresa.

  “Oh, and one more thing…” I said, letting my words trail off.

  “And what is that, you soon-to-be-begging-for-death fleshbag?”

  In a blur of speed I popped my right tech bracer’s retractable blade and jammed it through Grimm’s one-way force field right into the right eye of the archduke. The demon recoiled in pain as both hands cupped the wet pulp that was his eye.

  “Ricky says hello.”

  The lights in the great hall went out in an unnatural darkness for the span of four deep breaths. What came next was nearly impossible. There was a blinding flash of pure unforgiving white light. Everyone’s eyes adjusted as the brilliant white light receded to a single column of light. The light beamed down through the hall, and all eyes were drawn to it. When it dissipated, two figures were standing there. One was a ten-foot-tall clockwork mech that housed the great Tesla. The coils that bore his name upon his back lit the room in an arcing blue electric glow.

  The other figure that emerged from the bright light was the man known as Mr. Rictus. Ricky stood there in his sunglasses and sleeveless work shirt with a lit cigar and two Indian katar punch daggers. He took a hit off his cigar and then looked down his nose at the demonic forces in the room. For a short man, he seemed a giant when he looked at someone and was duly unimpressed.

  “’Sup fuckers,” Ricky said, his voice laden with contempt. Then Ricky tossed the cigar, smiled his cold venomous smile, and took up a dagger in each hand. “Let’s dance.”

  “Hee hee, da,” T agreed.

  Then the lights went out in the room again. All that could be made out in the next few moments were flashes of blue electricity, the sounds of men and demons dying in agony, and the smell of blood and ozone.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  A Demonic 1970s Porno Jedi

  When I told Grimm about how I met Ricky, about how he slaughtered those demons, I had told the truth. I didn’t hold back what he did. I held back how he did it—with glee. When Ricky saved me from those demons all those years ago, he took delight in the slaughter. It made him happy to kill. It made him happy to slaughter demons. Tonight—well, by comparison, tonight’s slaughter was an orgasm.

  ********

  Shots rang out in dark. The muzzle flash of a weapon, of the plasma discharge, was the only way to tell an enemy position. Well, except for th
e occasional electrocuting volts from T. As the random blasts crisscrossed the room, I turned to Grimm.

  “Hold the shield as long as possible!” I yelled.

  “That is in fact my plan,” he grunted. I switched my eyes to night vision and saw the hell Ricky and T were unleashing in perfect clarity. Ricky moved and never stopped, flowing from one victim to the next. He punctured a human soldier’s kidney from behind with his left blade and blocked a demon attack with his right. A quick pivot spun him around the dying human, flanked the confused demon, and a one-two throat, face stab finished the job.

  Over and over he danced his death kata. Shots never touched him, claws missed their mark. He moved like he was born to the dark and the soldiers of Abraxas were a nuisance who had invaded his home.

  T, on the other hand, was simply a brute. His mech walker waded through the opposition, crushing skulls and spraying blood. The lack of light didn’t stop T. The array of sensors on his rig ensured each swipe or discharge was lethal. When an opponent tried to run away, he would release a charge of electricity and fry the bastard. All six of his arms worked in concert to rend enemies, break bone, and fry the cowardly. All the while I could hear T chuckle through his external speakers.

  I tore my eyes away from the slaughter to check on the warriors. Over half the men who had come there that night died. Good men who had come to my aid would never be seen on this Earth again. Losing soldiers was never easy. And it never should be. The remaining warriors were pretty banged up, but alive. In the darkness I helped them reload weapons and bandage the wounded. I caught the eyes of Vidar and Vali; they were no worse for wear. I helped myself to a few supplies from a dead man’s pack when Vidar gave me a nod of approval. Nice to know they could see in the dark as well.