Angel Souls and Devil Hearts

by Christopher Golden

  She landed only a foot away from Pa-Bil-Sag, who was slower than the other two, and even as the obese creature moved to attack her, she saw Courage struggling out of the corner of her eye, fighting to keep out of Azag-Thoth’s path, fighting to get inside the long reach of Alhazred’s talons. Silver flashed, and Meaghan heard Alhazred shriek as one of its arms was sliced off at the joint. And she could hear Courage loudly shouting yet another spell.

  Pa-Bil-Sag leered at her, the tentacles in its mouth whisking out and one actually latching on and tearing a chunk of flesh from her face before she grabbed a handful of them, searing them with the silver of her hands. She barely felt the pain of the silver herself now, but the demon surely did. Meaghan hadn’t been aware how far those tentacles could reach, but now she was more careful. She feinted to one side, then thrust to the other, trying to get behind Pa-Bil-Sag . . . and it worked.

  Ducking down, Meaghan put all her strength into one 2-handed slash of her sword, low to the ground, and was rewarded with a piercing shriek. Like rotten melons, PaBil-Sag’s huge scrotal eyes burst as the silver blade passed through them, spraying steaming ichor into the air. Totally blind now, the beast fumbled to turn toward Meaghan lashing out. But she was no longer there. She stayed behind the demon-lord now, slashing at its back and neck.

  “Tirrama shaluti Sha Kashshapti Sha Ruchi ye,” John Courage yelled, beginning the spell that Meaghan hoped would send the demon-lords back to Hell. “Shupu yi arkhish . . .”

  “Enough with your words, Nazarene!” Beelzebub boomed, then sloughed off the half dozen or so warriors who still opposed it and, grinning, moved in on John Courage, the Stranger, unopposed. It was clear the two would meet in battle at last, and Meaghan feared for John’s life.

  But what was it the demon-lord had called him?

  No! That’s impossible, Meaghan thought. He can’t really be . . .

  And then she had latched herself onto Lord Pa-Bil-Sag’s back and dug all of her sharp silver fingers into its chest, searching for the hearts she knew were there, searching for the way to kill the thing. Her mind was reeling with the implications of what she’d heard. Only feet away from her, John Courage was bloody and battered, fighting a losing battle against Alhazred and Azag-Thoth, as Beelzebub stomped ever closer, and now leaned down toward them.

  And then a thrashing, hacking sound filled the air—not a human sound, not a living sound, but a sound of Earth, a tenuous grip on reality. It was the sound of helicopter rotors, and gunfire.

  Four UN Security Force choppers crested the tops of the buildings at the north end of the plaza. They had no markings, but Meaghan was certain of their identity just the same. Which meant that, regardless of his misgivings, Commander Roberto Jimenez must have seen or heard what was happening here and ordered his evacuation team to assist. And here they were.

  And then Meaghan realized that assist might not be the right word, as the choppers fired everything they had at everything and everyone in the plaza. Automatic-weapons fire strafed the cobblestones all around them, and even as Meaghan felt several bullets rip through her flesh, she watched as Cody, John Courage and the demons were also hit. As she fell under Pa-Bil-Sag, she prayed, truly prayed, that the human fools would put their hatred aside and unload on the most obvious target, the biggest.

  And they did.

  Simultaneously, more than likely at Jimenez’s order, all four choppers launched two missiles right at Lord Beelzebub’s chest. Even as Meaghan was rolling on top of Pa-Bil-Sag, as her hands locked on the demon-lord’s two hearts crushing them in her silver grasp, poisoning the demon’s vital organs, the missiles hit home. Beelzebub had a smile on its face, but when the missiles exploded on contact, they blew it right off, even as they blew a hole eight feet across in the center of its chest.

  It fell backward, across the ruins of the Salzburg Cathedral, and screamed as the back of its open wound landed on the holy ground. An arc of green flame shot after the choppers as they receded into the distance, toward the fortress, but it did not reach far enough.

  Beneath Meaghan, Pa-Bil-Sag was dead. Beelzebub was already moving, struggling to rise after the blow it had been dealt. That was inevitable. Conventional weapons could hurt the demon-lord, but not kill it. Meaghan didn’t know if even silver could kill it, but they would have to find out. Meanwhile Courage was still trying to defend himself against the other two demon-lords, and Meaghan rushed to his aid.

  Thinking once again about what Beelzebub had called him.

  Nazarene!

  22

  Salzburg, Austria, European Union.

  Wednesday, June 7, 2000, 11:03 A.M.:

  In a city empty of all life save those creatures gathered in the ruins of a beautiful plaza, which had seen near constant battle for hours upon hours, with the shattered dome of a cathedral only yards away, chaos reigned.

  Will Cody picked up a silver sword that had fallen not far from where Peter Octavian lay, and he had much weighing on his mind, on his soul. He tried not to look at Peter’s remains, his sadness at the demon’s violation of his blood-brother nearly overwhelming, the disgust more so. Beelzebub had killed Alexandra, had used Peter, defiled them both. Cody would see the demon-lord dead if he could. But if that were impossible, he was certainly not going to allow it to remain on Earth, to defile his world the way it had done his family.

  Courage and Meaghan had both found swords and were about to join together to face the demon-lords, and Will Cody would go to them, stand at their side to the death. But something held him back, worked at his mind, like a whisper, or some vital bit of information, barely forgotten but crucially so. He could smell the demon. The stench of it was fierce, and he realized that the wind must have shifted. That stink was awful, and he thought of Hell, wondering how Meaghan and Lazarus had dealt with the stench of demons there. And Peter had been there for a thousand years!

  And what of Peter?

  Cody finally looked around to where the remains of his friend, Peter Octavian, had been left behind when Beelzebub had shed his flesh-and-blood disguise. His heart ached as he looked at the gore-covered, barely recognizable form, but not only for Peter. In less than a day, the world they had carefully constructed in the wake of Octavian’s original sacrifice had crumbled around them. Hannibal had betrayed them and had more followers than any of them had imagined.

  They shouldn’t have been surprised, Cody chided himself, for it had been Hannibal who originally organized a volunteer corps of humans who gave their blood and often their lives up for their vampire masters. Hannibal had once had a worldwide network of vampiric and human spies, and they had been foolish to think that the Jihad in Venice had changed any of that. They’d thought Hannibal would want to protect himself within the image of propriety, and he had. But they had overestimated his patience with such politics.

  Mulkerrin had returned and, in the brief battle that ensued, taken thousands of human lives and destroyed hundreds of vampires, many of whom Cody had known. But Mulkerrin had been nothing more than a tool, a ploy to force the vampires, the shadow people of Earth, to search Hell for Peter Octavian, and bring him back . . . to smuggle a demon-lord across the border to Earth. Beelzebub could not be blamed for Hannibal’s actions, but all the murders perpetrated by Mulkerrin might as well have been performed by the demon’s own hand.

  Cody sensed some movement in his peripheral vision and spun, on guard, to his left.

  “Peter,” he hissed, not wanting to call out, and in an instant he was by Octavian’s side. Still covered with blood, a long tear up his back open enough to show a spinal column knitting itself back together, Octavian shivered, his eyes closed tight in a grimace of pain. But he was awake! Aware! Alive!

  Will! Octavian’s mental voice was weak, distant, though he lay at Cody’s feet, but Will knew he would survive. Given time.

  I’m here, Peter, he thought, sending not just the words, but feelings of comfort and reassurance along their mind-link. You’re going to be all right, Brother.

>   And so this had been the whisper in the back of his mind, an open channel of communication with Peter’s lonely and wounded soul. He looked at the torn muscles and skin of Octavian’s back, legs and shoulders, and at his bloody, matted hair. In a few minutes, it might be possible to move him, but for the moment, John and Meaghan would have to fend for themselves. Cody would not abandon his brother again.

  Will? Peter’s thoughts came stronger now, and he was able to turn over slightly, his eyes open, pained, but looking at Cody’s face. Where’s Meaghan?

  At that, Cody looked over to where Meaghan and John were fighting, in close with the demons, and then Beelzebub screamed at Courage and threw off his other attackers, finally able to go directly after his ancient enemy. And Cody knew that they needed him now.

  Peter, I’ve got to go! Will sent desperately along their mind-link. We’ve got to go; the others need our help. Can you walk?

  Need . . . to feed was all Octavian managed, and when Will looked down, he saw that Peter’s eyes were closed again.

  In his human lifetime, Will Cody had always tried to stay on the side of the angels, and he’d known many noble souls. Though he’d lived longer in his current state, he’d known far fewer since becoming a vampire. Peter Octavian was one of the noblest souls he’d ever known. Even before they’d met, it had been Octavian’s goodness, his humanity, and the comfort he had achieved with his vampiric life, that had inspired Will to defy the wisdom of their people and try to hold onto what humanity he had left. And when they finally had met, it was the honesty in Octavian’s lopsided grin that had convinced him to make amends with his blood-family.

  That in mind, it was nothing for Will Cody to bite open his own wrist, weakened as he was, and share his blood with his friend, his brother, Peter Octavian. There was little enough time, and true healing would have to wait, but after only a few moments, Octavian was able to stand.

  And then the choppers rose over the buildings and fired on everyone in the plaza, and Octavian was on the cobblestones again. But this time, Cody was with him. As Will watched the helicopters, he realized that they must be from Jimenez’s team, and therefore Allison must be on board one of them, or away elsewhere with the UNSF. But wherever she was, he knew she must be safe.

  Peter Octavian was reeling. He had suffered for so long that time had seemed to come to a halt. Madness had in truth overtaken him for a period, perhaps a century, but eventually his mind came back from that place of escape, back to the pain. For a thousand years, each time he thought Beelzebub could do nothing worse, nothing more, he had found he was wrong. The final violation had occurred a year ago by Hell’s clock, when the demon itself had entered him, consumed him, possessed him. Like a dream, he had seen everything around him, but had been powerless to control his words or actions. And when Beelzebub shed him in pieces, Peter had hoped he would die there, on the cobblestones.

  But he was old now, and grown powerful under the yoke of the demon. He had never learned magic, but he had become comfortable with his vampiric body, able to control its nearly unlimited potential. Forged in Hell, he’d become an almost unbreakable weapon. Beelzebub had assumed that possessing Octavian, and tearing his body apart upon leaving it, would destroy the vampire. It was not the first time the demon-lord had been wrong.

  Weakened though he was, Peter Octavian vowed that it would not be the last.

  “Let’s move it, Peter. Pick up that sword.” Will Cody pointed to a silver blade that had fallen to the ground.

  Instead, Octavian merely held up his hands to show that he had his own silver weapons. Cody was surprised, but only for a moment. He knew how long Peter had been in Hell, how old a vampire he was now. Still, Peter thought, knowing something and understanding it are vastly different things. To Cody and the others, to Meaghan, Peter had been gone only five years, a heartbeat in the life of a vampire. Peter had lived more than five hundred years before going to Hell, and nearly twice that long in suffering. He was now one of the oldest shadows alive.

  “We’ve missed you, Brother,” Cody said, even as they hurried toward where Meaghan and Courage battled the two remaining demon-lords. Beelzebub was already rising from the ground, the huge hole in its chest large enough to walk through upright.

  Peter smiled.

  “I missed you, too, Will,” he said, but he knew it wasn’t the same. He had fond memories of all of them, but those memories were incomplete. It had been so long ago that much of what their true relationship had been was lost. Peter remembered how he felt about his friends, well enough. But he could not fully recall why. If they survived the day, he was looking forward to learning once again.

  Still weak, he was shoulder to shoulder with his friend Will Cody as they pulled Lord Alhazred off John Courage. The demon-lord’s third eye, in the center of its head, was swollen shut, and one of its long deadly talons had been slashed off, but still it was dangerous. A noxious stench rose from the flames of its skull, and Alhazred struggled in their grip.

  Next to them, Meaghan now leapt to avoid a crushing blow from the tail of Lord Azag-Thoth. The great worm darted in with its wolfen head, missing her throat by a mile and instead tearing at her left breast. Meaghan cried out in pain, and Peter responded.

  “Away from her, worm!” he shouted, digging his hard, sharp silver hands into the serpent’s head and using all his strength to fling it away. Azag-Thoth flopped on the ground fifteen feet from them, but was already rising.

  “Is it really you?” Meaghan asked, not understanding but happy just the same.

  Peter only nodded, and then he could see confusion, hurt and doubt on Meaghan’s face. He knew what she was thinking. It was the question she had already asked, though with a different tone. Was it really him? And by nodding, by saying yes, was he really being honest? He was Peter Octavian, true, but not the Octavian she’d known. It hurt him to think that she mistrusted him now, but more so that much of what she must have once meant to him was lost forever.

  “Thank you,” Meaghan said uncertainly, and Peter favored her with a lopsided grin that felt familiar to him. Then Meaghan was smiling, and he knew that grin must have been familiar to her as well.

  “A momentary respite!” Beelzebub’s voice boomed then, as it rose, staggering, to its feet. “I feel . . . refreshed!”

  The demon’s sarcasm was not lost on Peter. It was badly injured, much more so than the slowly healing wound would indicate. Over the time he had spent in agony due to this creature’s whim, they had become as intimate as cruel lovers. And now Beelzebub saw that he was still alive.

  “Ah, Octavian lives!” the demon-lord cried. “I am gratefiul to have the pleasure of killing you one final time!”

  And then, weakened though it was, though they both were, Lord Beelzebub was coming for Peter Octavian, for a final confrontation with its plaything.

  “Octavian!” John Courage shouted. “You three must destroy these vile lords. The time has come for me to clash with the architect of this invasion!”

  “But . . .,” Octavian began, then was interrupted by Courage’s voice, in his mind, filling his brain.

  Ah, Peter, you have suffered so, and you would make the demon-lord pay for his sins against you, the Stranger’s voice said, calming, soothing, strengthening Peter even as Azag-Thoth slithered back into the fray and Peter slashed at the worm-lord.

  But you are too weak now, to do what must be done, Courage’s voice said. And my battle with this creature goes back farther even than your own. It can be killed, but there must be sacrifice. You will have to lead them from here, keep our people safe . . . find Hannibal and destroy him, for he has escaped yet again.

  If that is your wish, Peter said in his mind, knowing there could be no argument. And then he saw wings sprout from John Courage’s back, and the Stranger flew up and away, to face Beelzebub alone.

  “Stay back, brothers!” he called as he rose into the air, for some of Charlemagne’s warriors still lived and wished to come to his aid. “Your time is almost
at hand!”

  And when Beelzebub grabbed the Stranger from the air . . . nothing happened. Unlike the warriors of Charlemagne, he did not burn, did not cry out in agony. Instead, his face and arms tumed to silver, and he began to rip and tear the demon’s flesh. Still, it did not look promising.

  Peter could not watch anymore, for with Courage’s departure, only he, Meaghan and Cody were left to battle the two demon-lords who, though severely wounded, continued to fight savagely. Peter’s face was slashed open by the remaining talon of Lord Alhazred, and the demon screamed at him now.

  “You’re not paying attention, Octavian. That’s going to cost your life!”

  Peter’s only reply was a feint and then a slice of his own silver claws across the thing’s leathery chest. Green, malodorous pus squirted from the wound, and Peter knew that the demon was truly wounded. This was its true blood.

  Meaghan couldn’t believe that Peter was alive, that it was really him. Nevertheless, he had been drastically changed by his time in Hell, and she felt the pain of what had been stolen from him. Her happiness at his survival was overshadowed by the pain of Alexandra’s death. Though it had happened, for her, months before, only now, with Alex’s murderer finally revealed and so close, killing so many others of her kind and responsible for so much mayhem, pain and sorrow—only now did the true rage and fury of her pain reach her.

  Whatever she had once felt for Peter was now only the love she had for him as her blood-father. But Alexandra had been her one, true love. She knew that she would never have another like it, never another person like Alex. And when Courage had flown off to confront Beelzebub, she had wanted to follow. But first, they must destroy his little brothers.

  Meaghan and Cody were on either side of Lord Azag-Thoth, its snake-like body whipping back and forth and making it difficult to wound it without receiving an injury in return. But for Meaghan, as she thought of Alex, the time for caution was long since gone.