Teeth grabbed my ankle. Stars of pain exploded in my vision as I heard a sickening crunch. I slashed the hounds that held me, but they wouldn’t let go. My flesh tore, and the wounds burned, burned, burned. I couldn’t move.
The crouching hound leapt.
I brought up my sword.
Midway through its jump, the hound grunted. Its legs flailed as it twisted. My blade scored its side. The hound landed heavily and lay as if stunned. I hacked at the hounds that held me, stabbing over and over, until one let go, then the other. Acid ate at my ripped skin, and I feared my ankle was broken, but my bronze had left the hellhounds in even worse shape. They’d collapsed on their sides. Smoke poured from their wounds, and their bodies deflated. Neither tried to get up.
I spun to finish off the other hound, the one who’d leapt at my throat. The creature had regained its feet and stood, shaking off its fall. I lifted my sword to extinguish the crimson fire in those hellish eyes.
“Stop!” Something burst from my chest and buzzed straight to my ear. “Not that one!” Butterfly shouted. “Look at the blood.”
Bright red drops fell from the hound’s coat and splatted on the ground.
Red blood. Not black. This wasn’t a true hellhound.
“Kane?”
A furious screech erupted from my right. The hound went rigid. An earsplitting yowl emerged from its clenched jaws. It fell to the ground.
“I commanded you to kill her!” the Night Hag shrieked.
The hellhound—Kane—writhed in agony. Flames shot from his ears and nose. They consumed his body, crisping his fur and contorting his limbs.
I started toward him, but pain sliced through my ankle. It wouldn’t hold me. I kept going, half dragging, half hopping. Whatever I had to do to reach him.
Another hound charged me from the left. I drove my blade deep into its body. A thick, choking cloud of burning sulfur obscured my vision.
“Kane!” I shouted.
His answer was a growl.
“Obey me, hound!”
At her words, a nightmare vision thrust itself through the smoke: a massive hellhound, his lips drawn back over sharp, gleaming fangs, his entire body in flames. Pain blinded his eyes to everything but its target—my throat. He growled again, ears back. His muscles twitched as he prepared to attack.
I couldn’t raise my sword. I would not hurt Kane.
Butterfly spoke. “You totally owe me.” The black insect shot into the air. Kane sprang, and the Eidolon dive-bombed the attacking hound. It flew straight into his jaws.
The jaws snapped shut.
The force of Kane’s leap propelled him into me, knocking me backward. He stood with his paws on my shoulders, his jaws working as he chewed. Acid drool poured over me, dotted with fragments of black wings.
Kane stopped chewing. He looked at me and growled. He lowered his head, sniffing. I looked into his eyes, red and flaming and totally alien from the cool gray ones I knew so well. I searched them for some sign, any sign, of Kane.
For maybe ten seconds, we looked at each other. The hound cocked his head.
“Enough!” shouted the hag. “You have failed me, you pathetic cur. Pack—rip her apart!”
From all sides hellhounds lunged at us. Kane snarled and crouched, then got his fangs into the throat of one. A shake of his head tore the throat wide open. Black blood spurted. The hound gasped and fell.
I scrambled to my feet. Kane paced before me, hackles raised. Only two hellhounds remained in fighting shape. They circled, making low, guttural sounds.
The standoff didn’t last. A stream of fire blasted into Kane, somersaulting him across the field.
His agonized howl stabbed through my heart as it escalated to a scream. I slashed at the hounds that tried to block my way and, ignoring the pain in my ankle, ran toward him. A hound grabbed my calf from behind. I fell. I lay on my front, my arms up to protect my head and neck.
Teeth tore into my arm and pulled. I stabbed blindly. A yelp sounded, and the teeth let go, only to grab my shoulder. The hound shook, shredding my flesh into hamburger.
“Hounds!” A hunting horn blast split the night wide open. My attackers paused. “Leave her. Come!”
Hoofs galloped away. The hounds abandoned me where I lay and ran after them, baying.
Cautiously, I sat up. Two of the fallen hounds had risen and now staggered toward left field, where Mallt-y-Nos spurred her steed.
A few yards ahead of me, a fire died to embers.
Kane.
I crawled toward his prone body. The odor of scorched fur and charred flesh made me retch, but I kept going. I’m com-
ing, Kane. Just a few more feet. Hang on. I was almost there. Almost . . . And then I looked down at the remains of my lover.
Kane lay curled on his side. Smoke streamed from his body. His fur was gone, his flesh blackened. I wanted to feel for a pulse, but I was afraid my touch would be torture to his burned skin. I put my hand in front of his muzzle. No whisper of breath stirred. Carefully, I probed his neck. Almost too hot to touch, the skin crackled under my fingers. I couldn’t find any sign of life pulsing through his veins.
Kane.
She’d killed him. He’d tried to protect me, and she’d burned the life out of him for it.
Kane.
Gently, I lowered my lips to his face. The stench of burned meat filled my nostrils. I kissed him. My lips lingered on his hot, charred skin. Then I threw back my head and wailed out my pain and fury. Across the field, the hellhounds howled in reply.
I would kill her.
I would make the Night Hag suffer for what she’d done, and then I’d obliterate her from all the worlds.
Now was no time for restraint.
Difethwr had marked me. Now, Difethwr could lend me its power. Kane’s burned body lying before me, I called upon the Destroyer.
“Difethwr!” Rage gave me back the language that grief had turned into an inarticulate howl. “Destroyer! I invoke our bond. Help me crush my enemy!”
I quit trying to control my demon mark. Instead, I unleashed the torrents of my rage and channeled them straight into it. The mark heated, glowed red. A jet of flame flared out from it. My body blazing with hatred, I climbed to my feet.
I pulled the Destroyer’s power into me. The bones of my ankle knit themselves together. I stood tall, strong, ready to take my revenge. I sprinted in the direction the Night Hag had gone. My ankle strengthened and my wounds healed as I ran. My power swelled. The flame brightened, lighting up the stadium like someone had flipped on the floodlights. I kept my focus on the Night Hag. I could destroy her. I could destroy anything. I was the Destroyer.
There is another way.
The voice made me stumble, but I swatted it aside like a pesky gnat. There was only one way, and that was to destroy.
Destroy.
Ahead, I could see a crowd. Who was there, what they wanted, how they got in—I didn’t care. Sounds of fighting reached me. I welcomed them. I would add to their music, composing a symphony of pain and death, building it to a crescendo.
And then I would destroy the symphony. Rip up the score, smash the instruments, slaughter the players.
The Night Hag’s horse stood beside the crowd. The hag gazed skyward, her bow poised. She tracked a white falcon that soared overhead.
Mab?
The falcon dived into the crowd. Crows erupted into the sky. The crowd parted, and I glimpsed Mab in its midst, wielding a flaming sword, her face bloody. She was surrounded by zombies.
So the falcon wasn’t Mab. He was the real falcon, the white falcon of Hellsmoor, my father. The Night Hag would either capture him or kill him.
But not if I killed the hag first.
Help Mab.
The voice in my mind was imperious, not to be denied. Its words flamed with urgency and command. But my demon mark burned hotter. I raised my sword and charged the Night Hag.
My blade sliced into her arm. Her arrow flew in a low arc, missing the falcon.
The Night Hag’s face, a bare skull, spit gobs of fire at me.
Help Mab.
The voice nudged at my mind. I ignored it.
Mallt-y-Nos had nocked another arrow. She aimed at my face.
“Difethwr, help me!” I shouted. “Destroy her!”
There is another way. Let me in.
In an inferno of hellfire, the Destroyer itself appeared on the field. The Hellion was ten feet tall, more. It was massive, magnificent. For several long seconds it regarded me. Then it directed its eyeflames at the Night Hag’s horse. The animal screamed, then fell. Mallt-y-Nos jumped to the ground.
A cry arose from the fighting.
Help Mab.
Of course. I couldn’t kill the Night Hag with a bronze blade. But Difethwr could destroy anything. I’d let the Destroyer do its work. My aunt needed my help.
Mab was surrounded by half a dozen zombies. They reached for her, yelling, desperate to kill. Her flaming sword held them back, but she looked tired. If Mab’s reserves were low, I had what she needed.
Her bloodstone.
“Mab!” My aunt’s head snapped toward me. I raised the pendant. “I’ll throw it to you!”
I pulled. But the chain wouldn’t lift over my head.
No. You may not.
As Mab watched me, two zombies charged her, knocking her down. The entire crowd swarmed on top of her.
“Mab!”
The falcon zoomed down from the sky. Its talons tore into the topmost zombie, and a flock of Morfran shot into the sky. The falcon gave chase.
One zombie down. But there were too many others for Mab to handle.
I yanked at the pendant. It stayed put as though glued to my neck.
Let me in. I can save her.
“I’ll save her!” I shouted, not knowing whom I addressed.
Let me in. I will aid your friends and crush your enemies.
Who spoke? The Destroyer? A sharp yelp drew itself out into a long howl of pain, and I turned to see one of the Night Hag’s remaining hounds on its back, its stiff legs beating the air, as it rolled in flames that streamed from the Hellion’s eyes and hands. No, Difethwr was otherwise engaged. Its voice was not the one filling my head.
Then whose?
“Who are you?” I said aloud.
There’s no time. Let me in—now. Or Mab will die.
That did it. A bad idea? Probably. But I had no time to ponder the consequences.
“All right! I . . . I let you in.” Whoever the hell you are.
Mab’s pendant grew suddenly, unbearably hot in my hand. Before I could open my fingers to drop it, the bloodstone exploded into a million fragments.
My hand. Oh, God, my hand!
The explosion had blasted it clean off—I was sure of it. Below my elbow was nothing but pain. I couldn’t see through the blood and grit in my eyes.
The pain turned into a buzzing that raced up my arm and spread through my body. It was energy, but an energy stronger and more vital than I’d ever felt. I had the sensation of being borne high in the air, yet my feet remained on the ground. I could feel electric wires of power shoot through my soles and draw energy from the earth’s core. Energy that raised me, expanded me.
I flexed my electrified fingers. Good. They were still there. I wiped my eyes and looked at my hand. Glowing with golden light, it sparkled all the way up to the elbow, like I’d plunged it into a vat of glitter.
For the first time in ten years, I couldn’t see the Destroyer’s mark on my skin. The glitter covered it entirely.
“Victory!”
Mab’s half-strangled cry seemed to come from far below me. When I looked toward the sound, I saw with a double perspective—from my own height and at a bird’s-eye view of fifteen or twenty feet in the air. I shook my head to clear it, but the double perspective remained.
No time to worry about that. I had to save Mab.
A pile of zombies pinned her down. The reek of Morfran, hot and hungry and sulfurous, curled in my nostrils. Enraged, unappeasable cawing jarred my ears. If I could wrest out the Morfran, the zombies would lose their drive to kill.
And without knowing how I knew, I realized I could do it.
I stretched my hands—both glowing, one glittering—toward the zombies. I clenched both hands into fists, as though grasping handfuls of sand. Then, flinging my arms skyward, I opened my hands and shouted, “Ewch nawr!”
Go now. Why had the words come out in Welsh?
The sky blackened with crows. The white falcon shot like a meteor into their midst. From my higher perspective, I could see the excited, hungry gleam in his eyes.
On the ground, the zombies rolled away from Mab and staggered to their feet. Dazed, they wandered randomly or simply stood and stared.
Mab lay on her back. She was bleeding and bruised, but she was alive.
“Are you all—?” A fireball slammed into my chest. The ball was huge and dense, packed with intense energy. It should have killed me. It didn’t even make me stagger. My own energy field embraced the fireball, absorbed it. The light around me glowed brighter. My upper perspective soared higher.
Below, Pryce stood scowling between two zombies. A second fireball shimmered in his hands. “So it’s you after all,” he said and hurled the fireball at my face.
I wanted to duck, but my body refused. Instead, my hands raised themselves and caught the fireball. The energy ruptured into sparks that raced up my arms and fizzed through my body.
I was a pillar of fire, a column of lightning. My power reached for the sky.
Pryce angled his head and looked upward, twenty feet above my head but meeting my higher gaze. He backed away. “Difethwr!” he shouted. “Destroy her! Do it now and we’ve won!”
The Hellion stomped toward me, expanding as it came closer. It was ten feet tall, fifteen, twenty. Its steps shook the ground. I mustered the energy that buzzed through me, gathering it, focusing. I held it in my fingertips, ready to shoot.
Difethwr stopped ten feet in front of me. Somehow, I stood eye to eye with the giant demon. I looked directly into the hellfire smoldering behind its eyes and between its open jaws. I summoned more energy. The Destroyer’s hellflames brightened as it gathered its own strength.
This was it. One chance. Do or die.
I’d knock the Destroyer onto its Hellion ass. And then I’d blast that ass into oblivion.
I could do it. I knew. Just like I’d known I could somehow yank the Morfran out of those zombies.
I raised my arms, both of them. The demon mark no longer held me back. I pointed at Difethwr and summoned the energy that would obliterate the Hellion—forever this time.
Pain gripped my right forearm. My demon mark glowed red-hot through the glitter that coated my skin. Fire erupted from the mark, exploding and sparking like a Roman candle.
My arm lost its strength and dropped to my side.
Difethwr’s laughter brightened the flames that burned inside it and over its skin. I stared into the Hellion’s eyes and saw death.
“Get her, you stupid Hellion!” screamed Pryce. “You’re stronger!” Difethwr didn’t budge. Bellowing a battle cry, Pryce raised his sword and ran at me.
Hellflame blazed hotter. Difethwr turned its massive head. Fire streamed from its eyes, knocking Pryce to the ground and pinning him there. The demi-demon screamed and writhed. The Destroyer held him in the flames. It moved toward him. Each step shook the ground. Pryce’s screams escalated, clawing the night air. I wanted to cover my ears against the sound, but my right arm remained obstinately limp.
Within minutes, Pryce fell silent.
The Destroyer bent over Pryce, poked at his torso with a clawed foot. No response. Difethwr straightened to its full height, looking once more into the eyes of my upper perspective.
“Know this,” the Destroyer said. “The shapeshifter is mine.” And with a puff of sulfurous smoke, the Hellion vanished.
37
PRYCE WAS . . . DEAD?
I couldn�
�t believe it. I’d seen his fallen body on the ground before, after he’d infected himself with the zombie virus, but still he’d come back. Now, I mimicked the Destroyer, nudging his body with my foot. No response.
Mab would know. I turned to my aunt, only to find her kneeling before me as she had that day at my apartment.
“Lady,” she said, bowing low and placing a hand on her chest.
I was going to tell her to knock it off, to remind her of her promise. But when I opened my mouth, a voice I didn’t recognize came out.
“You have served me faithfully,” the voice said. “I am well pleased.”
That was not how I talk to my aunt. But I couldn’t articulate the apology I wanted to issue.
“Lady,” Mab said. “If I may be so bold, one who deserves punishment is fleeing.” She flicked her eyes toward the northeast corner of the field.
With my normal vision, I could see nothing in the darkness. With my higher, keener vision, I saw the Night Hag creeping away.
“Mallt-y-Nos!” The voice that issued from my throat had more authority than I’d ever felt in my life. The Night Hag froze. “Tyrd!” the voice commanded. Come. The same word the hag had used to call the falcon.
Slowly, fighting every movement, the Night Hag turned and lurched toward me. For the first time in all my encounters with her, her appearance didn’t change. She was the dried-out corpse of someone who’d died centuries ago: yellow skin, thin and wrinkled, sunken eyes, a few strands of hair still clinging to the scalp. When she was within ten feet of me, she kneeled, looking as though every downward inch cost her a thousand years.
“My lady,” her voice croaked through long-decayed lips.
“You have overstepped your bounds,” I said. Except it wasn’t me. The strange voice continued to speak through me. “On what authority do you hunt one whose time has not come?”
The Night Hag whimpered instead of answering.
“On what authority do you hunt the one chosen by me?”
“I didn’t know.”
“That does not matter. You have abused your power. You will learn how it feels to be abused.”
Hellhound (A Deadtown Novel) Page 32
