Demon Squad 7: Exit Wounds

by Tim Marquitz

  “It’s back,” I heard Rachelle shout from the alley, her voice growing as she spoke, the patter of her footsteps echoing loudly while she ran toward us.

  My gaze settled on the shimmering wisp of a portal, wishing it to grow wider and spill forth my friends—Katon most of all, though God forgive me my selfishness—but the gate remained little larger than my fist for all my desire.

  “Can you capture it?” Uriel asked from where he searched through the bodies to ensure they were all dead.

  “If I can only—” Her voice faltered, and she stumbled to a halt. All eyes went to her.

  “What is it?” I shouted. “Are you hurt?”

  Panic seared her expression while she shook her head in frantic denial. “There’s another gate,” she cried. “Behind you!”

  At her shout, I spun about into a wake of brimstone and ire. There was no mistaking its source. The way between worlds cracked open and Hell leaked out. From its center came Azrael—garbed as my cousin—with murder in his eyes.

  Raquel shifted his blade and made to turn, but he was too late.

  Black steel burst from his mouth in an explosion of red. His hands flew to his face, fingers gnarled from pain, eyes wide, but he made no sound save for the wet splat of his life striking the ground at his feet. My stomach roiled at the sight, fear and loss and hate swirling together in the bitter taste of bile. Uriel’s scream set my ears alight.

  Azrael yanked the sword free and whipped it about in a broad arc. It fell with cruel intent, taking Raguel’s head with it. My heart stilled as the archangel’s body slumped, his surprised face seared into my vision as his head rolled to a stop against a nearby curb.

  “Did you think me so weak as to be caught unawares, my brother?” Azrael crowed while shaking the crimson loose of his sword. His smile gleamed. “Now I have reclaimed what is mine.”

  Twenty-Four

  Beyond the half-dead briar stood a narrow entrance carved into the mountainside. Its confines forced us to turn nearly sideways to slip through its serpentine darkness, squeezing us into a single line of squirming bodies with no room to flee or fight. If Judas wanted us dead, this would be the place to do it. He could hack his way through us one at a time until he reached the middle. I suspected the only thing keeping him from it was that Shaw had retained her hold upon Rala, leading the alien ahead of her, close enough to kill her should anyone make a move.

  Just thinking that infuriated me, but there was nothing I could do. Several spaces ahead of them both, with Venai, her massive frame scraping the walls, and Karra between, I had no chance of stopping the wight from passing gas let alone killing Rala. I ground my teeth together at my uselessness and kept on. If Shaw’s posturing got us home in one piece, I could kill her then. If it didn’t work, then I was sadly resolved to the idea that we might well die here in God’s prison resort. If there was any comfort to be had from that thought, at least we’d die as a family, right?

  Yeah, fuck that.

  I peeked through the crack between Rahim’s arm and torso to see Ilfaar stumbling along with a little help from the wizard. His knee was still wounded, but once more he confirmed that he’d made a show of just how wounded he was. Barely a hand on his shoulder, he retained his feet, each step putting weight on that injured leg without it doing more than slowing him down a little. As always, his stump was pinned to his belly. I wanted so badly to reach past the wizard and dig my hand into the angel’s gut to see once and for all what he was hiding, but the Spinal Tap concert that roared to life in my skull stopped me cold.

  I stumbled into the roughhewn wall, my vision a field of whirling snow. Rahim fell into me with a pained gasp, his lone hand clawing at the stone with no hope of arresting his collapse. I caught him more out of instinct than intent, my hands simply in the right place due of the lack of room. He trembled in my arms while the booming echoes in my head beat a slow retreat, a slow-fading thunderstorm splitting the skies between my ears, lightning still crackling about the edges.

  “Why have we stopped?” Judas called out.

  “A stone,” I answered, helping Rahim to his feet, but not daring to let him go. He shook as though he’d been Tased. “He tripped over a stone.”

  “We must hurry lest the guardians spy my people on the ledge.” There was a hint of something in his voice I couldn’t place. It wasn’t fear, but it was definitely anxiety.

  “I’ve got him. We’re good.” Almost carrying the wizard, I inched forward with Rahim, helping him to get his feet under him before Judas found reason to start thinking.

  He’d never for the life of him imagine what had just happened, but it’d better if he thought we were just some clumsy oafs mucking up his day rather than let the truth out.

  “Michael…” the name was a whisper buried in Rahim’s throat.

  “I know,” I told him, squeezing his shoulder for support. “I felt it.” And then it was gone.

  I’d sent Rahim up into the air with Rala for the exact reason he was nearly KTFO here; because he was far more sensitive to the telepathic touch of Michael Li, DRAC’s most powerful mentalist. I knew if what I’d felt was truly DRAC trying to get through to me, they would have a much easier time with the wizard. And here we were with definitive proof of that. Rahim wobbled as he walked. If his head felt only half as bad as mine did, he was in agony.

  Michael’s psychic scream had cut through the portal that opened above the mountain, and his emotions poured through the link to us. The images had been blurred, a collage of reds and blacks and fury and terror all bound into a telepathic bullet, but there was no mistaking the cause of his distress: Azrael.

  No doubt Katon had felt the psychic blast as well, but he’d handled it better than Rahim or I. Still, the message was clear. Shit was going south back on Earth, and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it.

  Before all that could truly sink in, the darkness of the enclosed tunnel gave way to a dancing brightness and the acrid stink of guttering torches. I wasn’t so sure I appreciated my hyper senses right then, the ash like Pop Rocks on my tongue, but I was sure glad to be out of that tunnel. I wasn’t, however, prepared for what I’d see as the rest of the group filed out at my back.

  The claustrophobic tomb of the tunnel was replaced by a grand cavern that opened up before my eyes, the main chamber swarming with greenies as though they were ants. They gathered around us and stared, coming to watch the freak show and keep us in line. Despite their insistent eyes boring into me, I was focused on the cavern.

  The walls were littered near to the roof with alcoves so the whole place looked as if it were a giant honeycomb. Shadows moved in their depths. Sconces—little more than woven rings nailed into the stone—were moored near almost every individual room. Most were filled with torches that fluttered with orange-red flames, the smoke filtering toward the sloping dome of the roof where it was drawn into a huge, natural chimney. My mind flipped backwards to a memory of seeing the trail of smoke coming from the mountain as I’d rode the dragon. That had been this, I realized, swallowing my frustration at not thinking anything of the random smoke billowing from the mountainside. My shoulders slumped as another thought hit home. The army I’d seen hadn’t been coming our way. It had been racing here, to head us off.

  “What do you think of Castle Tenebrae?” Judas asked, slipping from the tunnel and joining the greenies that had surrounded us.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

  “Whhheeeerreeee’sss Skkkeeelllleeeetttoorrrr?”

  I’d have given the little guy a high five if he had hands.

  Only glancing CB’s way before choosing to ignore him, Judas continued, “I have had nearly two millennia to take what the people before me started and make it our home.”

  “The guardians don’t mind you living in their basement?”

  “Their sole purpose is to keep us within the realm, nothing more. Our location is of no concern to them…at least not yet.” The smile that lit his face was disturbing.
I had no clue what he was planning, but it clearly involved us. That made my undead stomach flutter.

  “We have much to discuss,” he told us before turning to Mia. “Gather our people in the hall. The time is nigh.”

  Her sycophantic compliance made me glance about for the Kool-Aid man or Jim Jones. I had to remember not to drink anything. She ran off, shouting to the people in her weird time-delayed voice, the cavern filling with their excited mutterings and the scrape of feet in motion. Greenies spilled from the alcoves, clambering down the walls like spiders to join the mass below. They all filed out through a raised arch near the back of the chamber. Much quicker than I would have figured, we were left alone with Judas and our spear-laden entourage, the numbers still nowhere near our advantage.

  Judas held a hand out and a greenie passed him the tome. He looked over at Rala, still held closely by Shaw. “This artifact opens the portals, am I correct?”

  Rala nodded. She was a smart kid. If there was a chance to get us home, she was gonna comply with Judas until one of us told her otherwise. She knew the stakes.

  “And you can use its power on command?”

  “She can,” Shaw answered for the alien. “Now tell us what you need so we can be done with it.”

  Judas smirked. “You are a blunt woman, but I can respect that. If your companion can open a portal at will, then all of our preparation over the years will prove fruitful.”

  Shaw was quick to agree, but I wasn’t so sure. While the book had gotten us here, it sure hadn’t gotten us out.

  Ilfaar inched in her direction, and she suddenly seemed to remember something. “You have a way to reach the Sanctuarium Custodes, as your people call it?”

  “I most certainly do, and I’ll lead you there so we might leave this world together, but you must understand my position,” he said. “Your people will be separated amongst my own, each group following a different path to the home of the guardian’s, and I will retain control of the tome. Should there be any attempts to deceive or betray me, I will not hesitate to feed you to the guardians.” His smile was wicked. “I have been here for hundreds of lifetimes, and though I would rather win free of God’s prison this day, I would be willing to remain a short while longer if only to ensure no one else flees this place without me. Do we have an understanding?”

  Sadly, it was the best offer we were gonna get right then. I nodded, as did the others, though I could see by the looks on their faces that the first chance they got to toss Judas overboard, he was gonna be swimming with the sharks.

  “Good. Then come with me while I prepare my people for the task at hand.” He started off toward where the others had gone, the greenies escorting us along behind him, keeping us honest.

  Once through the jagged arch, we entered a room that was about half the size of the living area, though still immense. Carved in a way that made me think they’d done the entire thing by hand, it was easy to see how Judas had spent his time here. The work must have taken forever. Two broad, stone paths led out from either side of the entryway, ending in the bowl of the floor a story or so below. That’s where all the greenies gathered. Their hushed voices echoed through the room, a hushed still washing over them as Judas took to the steps of a dais set between the two paths, its deck rising up the throng so he was front and center, a god among his people. The guards he’d left with us stopped us where we were as Judas raised his hands to the crowd.

  “The blood of your ancestors, your mothers, your fathers, and the strength of your own hands have built this sanctuary, a place free of the terrors of the dark night of God’s cruelty. Your sacrifices will be remembered forever in legend for as long as I have breath to spread the stories.”

  The gathering erupted in a frenzy of shouts and roared approval. Judas let it rage for a few minutes before raising a hand to quell the noise. The greenies fell silent in anticipation.

  “And though Tenebrae might well have become our home, it was not by choice. None of you were sentenced here of your own accord. This prison is not of your making, and today, we will right that wrong.”

  Once more the crowd cheered, filling the makeshift amphitheater with raucous sound.

  “I hope this isn’t the part where he points at us and demands a blood sacrifice,” I said over the crowd. “That would suck.”

  Judas grinned on his pedestal, and sure enough, he gestured toward us.

  Veronica growled at me.

  “Seriously? When am I ever right?” I sure didn’t want to start today.

  “Though our salvation comes in the form of strangers to our world, we have worked toward this goal our entire lives. We will be free once and for all, our choices our own to make. Are you ready for freedom?”

  Despite the cheese factor of his speech, the greenies ate it up. They hooted and hollered and set the ground to vibrating with their shouts and stomping feet, and Judas let them carry on and on. Finally, he called for their attention and the room went quiet once more.

  “Go now, prepare the tunnels and make ready for war. We leave this world tonight!” His people erupted again, their cries mixed with the sudden rush of movement as they hurried about their tasks, whatever they were.

  I had to wonder why the greenies were so excited seeing how this had been their home forever. Not a single one of them had ever set foot anywhere else, but I guess it didn’t matter as long as Judas could get us to the top of the mountain. Once we were back on Earth, I could ponder the psychology of mass delusion, but until then, it was just easier to go with the flow than challenge it. If the army of green folks could help us get out of here, I was all for their help. My only real concern was if we actually succeeded. It’s not like we could dump a bunch of aliens on Earth alongside the greatest villain in all biblical history. Couldn’t see folks appreciating that.

  The push of the greenies shoving us back toward the living quarters made that thought slip to the back of my mind. We were committed or we were dead. That made it all a little easier to swallow.

  “This way,” Judas called out to us. “The guardians await.”

  Twenty-Five

  (Scarlett)

  Azrael raised his arms and loosed a triumphant shout that rippled through the stink of Hell he’d unleashed.

  That, however, was all the gloating we allowed. “Now, Rachelle,” I shouted.

  The panicked, fear-stricken expression fell from her face, replaced by one of gritty determination. Duke Forcalor stepped from the alley behind her, setting a hand on her narrow shoulder.

  “What is this?” Azrael asked, the barest sliver of a tremble in his voice.

  “As far as snakes go,” Uriel said, “you are hardly the worst Heaven has dealt with.”

  With a flick of her wrist, she slammed the gate to Hell shut behind the surprised Angel of Death. The drift of brimstone ceased with a hiss, leaving Azrael standing in the street with only the flicker of the emerald portal glistening at his back.

  Shock drawing lines across his features, his eyes nearly leapt to the headless body lying at his feet. The image wavered and blurred, turning from the armored form of the Archangel Raguel to the battered body of one of the werewolves he’d sent against us.

  “You always were too impatient,” the true Raguel told him from where he hovered just a few yards away, the glimmer of his illusion fading. “Should have looked with your senses rather than your eyes, old friend.”

  Azrael’s face soured as it struck him what had happened. There would be no soul transfer to restore his lost powers and there would be no retreat.

  “Let us not forget greedy and predictable,” Uriel added as he advanced.

  “Certainly can’t forget those.” Raguel chuckled, following the lead of Uriel.

  Azrael’s power welled up, and I felt him plucking at the strings of the gate that would return him to Hell, but it remained sealed.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” the duke called out, his own essence wafting off the mystic as she held the dimensional wall closed wit
h his assistance, ensuring it could not be pried open. “This charade has gone on long enough, Azrael. Surrender or we will be forced to end you for all time.”

  The panic on Azrael’s face morphed into rage, his cheeks burning with it. “You think yourselves so smart,” he huffed, barely able to form the words through his clenched teeth. “You think me beat?” His voice cracked as he screeched the last. “I will show you the error of your presumptions!”

  There was a glimmer in his hand as it streaked to his mouth, and it struck me what he intended.

  “No!” I screamed. “He mustn’t drink that!”

  But there would be no stopping him. The vial reached his lips and its crimson contents spilled into his mouth. His eyes rolled back in their sockets, the vial shattering in his tightening grip, shards spilling through his fingers. Raguel crashed into him, wrapping his arms about my cousin’s stolen form, trying to restrain him.

  “He ingested Lucifer’s blood,” I shouted, hoping Raguel might hear me and, through some miracle, take down Azrael before the power of the Devil’s magical blood could empower him as I’d see it do Frank.

  Raguel’s fist smashed against the side of Azrael’s head as he went to draw his sword to drive it through the Angel of Death’s heart, but he never got it free of his scabbard. There was a sharp snap as Azrael grabbed Raguel’s wrist, twisting it backwards and using its leverage to fling the other angel aside.

  Uriel screamed a battle cry and engaged, bringing his flaming sword about with vicious intent. The blade swept past without so much as singeing Azrael’s clothing, the former angel having moved aside with uncanny speed.

  “I’m going to enjoy this,” he promised, driving a punch into Uriel’s face.

  The archangel stumbled and fell, blood gushing from his nose. My limbs froze at seeing it. Never before had Uriel been toppled in any combat, single or at war, but there he was, upon his back, staring up at Azrael through blurred and pained eyes.