I didn’t get to see what happened next, because four akvenon minions skittered from the darkness, snapping their teeth. They came at Teag and me with high-pitched shrieks that echoed deafeningly from the metal and brick. Teag gripped his sparring staff and fell into a defensive stance. He didn’t wait for the minion to come any closer. He gave a war cry and ran at it, his staff moving almost too fast to see, landing blow after blow while remaining out of the minion’s reach. He pivoted on one foot, sending the second akvenon slamming against the wall with a Capoeira kick.
I leveled Alard’s walking stick at the two akvenon coming at me, and drew a deep breath, clenching my fist over the focus ring as I slid my hand along the smooth wood. Fire blasted from the tip, temporarily blinding me with my night vision goggles. The akvenon screamed as the flames engulfed them, blackening their scaly hides, and they fell back, but I knew one shot was not enough to stop them for good.
The orb had disappeared from Moran’s hand, replaced by a wicked-looking sword in his right and an old-school wand in his left. I looked again, and realized his athame was the preserved severed front paw of a black cat. This guy was seriously mental.
Lucinda struck first with a streak of white light from her shaman’s staff. Moran blocked it with his wand-arm. He spoke a word of power and angled the cat’s leg athame at her, sending back a blast of power that sent a wind through the corridor, raising a storm of dust that stung our eyes and made it hard to breathe.
Lucinda brought her staff down to the ground with a thump, and Moran’s power reversed itself, roaring back at him and snuffing out the candles on the alter. Sorren charged in, using his strength and immortal speed to get inside Moran’s guard as he battled Lucinda.
Lucinda chanted louder. I heard banging and scratching from the depths of the old building, and overhead, it sounded as if the building were being whipped by gusts of wind that whistled through the roof.
Fear shivered down my back, and I drew a deep breath. I let one hand touch the amber whorl in my pocket. I felt Bo’s presence more strongly than I had since his passing, and his ghost took shape, standing guard beside me.
Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is, Grandma Sarah used to say, and for good measure I caught a faint whiff of cinnamon sugar. I took courage from the vision, knowing she was watching out for me, sensing her magic in the spoon-athame inside my sleeve.
I saw two glowing red eyes appear out of nowhere, right before a shadow figure lurched toward me, arms outstretched.
Several things happened all at once. I heard the snarl of an angry dog and the snap of teeth as Bo’s ghost launched itself at the attacker with all the fury of a rabid Rottweiler. I lashed out with my right hand, palm out, as if to push the shadow man away, and felt my grandmother’s magic fill me, moving down my arm and through my skin in a burst of golden light that left my palm and struck the shadow figure in the chest. The attacker was no match for Bo and my grandmother, and the apparition winked out.
One down, more to go. Defeating one shadow man did not make the others give up. They came at me like a wave, and darkness enfolded me, smothering and confining. I was so cold that I was shivering, and the shrieks and cries of the long-dead echoed in my ears. Shadow hands tore at my clothing and grabbed at my hair. I could hear Teag fighting through the shadows to make his way toward me.
Bo snarled and lunged, and the white light flared once more from my right hand, but this time, the shadows had regrouped and while some fell back, others dared to inch closer.
Teag’s hand came down on my shoulder, and I felt him anchor me, dampening the fear and cold, sending me energy. I tightened my grip on the spindle whorl in my hand, feeling the cool, ancient amber against my skin. Cold white fire streamed from my outstretched hand, and in my mind I pictured Secona, seer to the Vikings, in all her power. The shadow men shrank back, dissolving into mist as the white fire punched through them. This time, they vanished, but I figured they weren’t gone for good.
Mirov and Chuck had their hands full with the demon.
Mirov’s dark jacket and shirt had been torn away from his shoulder, and a bloody gash ran from shoulder to collar bone. Chuck also had taken a swipe from the demon’s claws, which had cut into his scalp, matting his hair and collar with fresh blood.
The demon was trying to keep both Mirov and Chuck in its sight, and they were making that difficult.
Chuck had abandoned his stun gun stick. He had his Glock in one hand and a strange glowing ball in the other.
Mirov’s Sig boomed again at close range, a shot that would have torn a hole through a mortal’s chest.
The bullet struck the demon in the head, tearing into its thick hide, sending a spray of black, stinking ichor that splattered Mirov and Chuck. The demon staggered.
Chuck lobbed the orb in his hand. It shattered as it hit the demon’s back and exploded, opening the skin of the demon’s back, sending the demon reeling toward Mirov, who held his sword leveled for the killing blow.
The demon careened into Mirov, whose blade sank hilt-deep into the monster’s chest. For good measure, he fired another shot from the Sig, point blank. Chuck hit the demon from behind with a silvery, studded orb thrown with his full strength. The studded orb burst into a screeching flare of energy, and the demon shrieked in response, flailing in anger and pain. I bet they were part of Mirov’s arsenal, something he’d shared with Chuck, because I didn’t think silver nitride bound with magic was in the Black Ops pack of dirty tricks.
Mirov was still too close, without time to get clear of the demon’s powerful talons. The claws raked him across the face and chest, but he emptied the rest of his clip into the demon, blowing away much of its face.
Chuck shot the creature in the back, putting a bullet through the spot where a heart should have been.
When he’d emptied his gun, Chuck shoved it into his belt and threw another of the studded silver bombs, something I bet was like the EMF jammer he had used on the minions.
Moran was looking worse for the wear, but so was Sorren. I wondered if using his magic before he was back to full strength cost Moran, because with every volley of magical power, his disfigurement grew worse. He was much more withered than the first time I had seen him, but his eyes blazed with hatred and his mouth was set in a grim take-no-prisoners expression. I knew that he and Sorren intended to battle this to the death.
Moran still stood in the middle of the demon’s nest. Behind him, I glimpsed the Baphomet Orb on a table, and figured it was what he was protecting. The demon had no problem ranging afield from its lair, nor did the minions, unfortunately.
Sorren was cut and bleeding in a dozen places, but he came back again and again and Moran’s damaged immortality was no match for Sorren’s vampire speed. Moran blocked the attack with a force curtain of black mist. Lucinda sent a blast of white light from her staff, straining against the mist until the curtain vanished, giving Sorren another opening to swing his blade and slash Moran across the ribs.
Teag came up behind Lucinda and placed one hand on her shoulder while he worked to loosen another knot in the circle loom he wore at his waist. I could practically see the energy flow from Teag into Lucinda, see her gain strength like water to a wilted plant. She murmured thanks, and Teag swung back to me, just in time to face a new threat.
More of the akvenon minions were heading our way. Bo’s ghost lunged at them, and with each new wave of attackers, that worked once or twice. I sent a blast of fire from Alard’s walking stick, but these minions scuttled fast enough that the worst of the blast missed them.
“A little help over here!” I yelled to Teag.
Teag held his staff in the crook of his arm, reached in his pocket and withdrew a tangled mat of colored threads. He stretched it between his fingers, and thrust his hand out toward the closest minion.
The akvenon tumbled over as if caught in an invisible net, its clawed feet scrabbling to get free. The mat of threads in Teag’s hand crumbled into dust.
The walking
stick’s magic was taking a toll on me, so I shoved it through my belt and grabbed Secona’s whorl in my left hand as my right hand closed around the ring. I focused on the ring and drew power from the jet bracelet, willing the images of power imprinted on the whorl to spring to life. Long-ago magic from long-forgotten battles sprang to my hand, flooding outward in a cascade of brilliant white light that bowled the akvenon over and flung them back to slam against one of the thin metal walls.
Mirov had replaced his Sig with long silver throwing shivs. He and the demon rounded on each other, both bleeding from more wounds than I could count, both a little shaky on their feet, and both utterly intent on destruction. A deep gash ran from Mirov’s left eyebrow to his chin, and a slash to his right thigh left him limping.
Chuck looked worse for the wear as well. I wasn’t sure what he still had left of the weapons he’d grabbed from his bag of tricks, and I didn’t know how much longer he could last.
Chuck dove toward the demon, this time with a bigger version of the EMF disruptor I had seen the night we had fought the minions at the store. He gave the demon a good jolt, enough to distract him while Mirov sent two of the silver shivs spinning toward the demon.
One lodged in the demon’s throat, and another struck him in the belly. Both sank deep into the demon’s body, and the monster roared and twisted, its red eyes slitted in pain and rage.
Teag secured the head wrap more tightly and gripped his fight staff as we braced for a new onslaught of akvenon. Four more minions came at us this time, and the shadow men pressed forward, coming at us from all directions.
Teag and I were fighting back to back. He had been able to use his threads to force-net two of the minions, but that didn’t stop the shadow men. He put his hand on my shoulder and loosed another hemp knot. It kept me on my feet, but I wouldn’t be able to take much more of this. I knew the head wrap held some of the power of the Loa Ogoun, a fierce warrior, and I figured Teag was in need of some otherworldly support right about now, too. Teag let go of me and drew his short sword. Staff in one hand, blade in another, Teag’s Eskrima training was getting good workout.
Moran seemed to be throwing everything he had left at Sorren and Lucinda. I had enough on my plate with the minions and shadow men, but the magic they were trading back and forth lit up the inside of the old warehouse like the Fourth of July. Sorren’s sword was red with Moran’s blood, and I could see dark vampire blood on Moran’s blade. It was a toss-up on who could stay on his feet longer.
“Incoming!” Teag shouted, as the minions ran at us. Teag had expended all his magic except for the protection of the embroidered flat scarf and his blades. I hoped it would be enough, because I was almost out of tricks myself. While the magic in the walking stick and the spoon-athame and the whorl wasn’t really my own, summoning the energy to use my gift to touch the memory of that power drained me more than I’d realized.
Bo kept barking, trying to keep the shadow men at bay. One of the minions skittered in fast and launched itself at Teag. Teag used his staff as a lever to leap up and land a kick to the minion, sending it flying into the darkness across the room. The other minion came at me, knocking me to the ground. I screamed as its claws slashed into my shoulder, and on instinct, my hand came up, and blasted it with the whorl’s white-hot power at point-blank range.
The akvenon squealed and hissed like a crab on a hot griddle as its thick-scaled skin peeled away and its rancid flesh began to burn. I gagged on the stench and got my feet up, slamming into the minion and hurling it as far away from me as I could.
One of the shadow men caught Teag just as he got his feet under him, and grabbed at his shirt, shredding it down the back. Teag whirled, striking with his staff, but the pole went right through the shadow man. Swearing under his breath, Teag backed away as the shadow man’s long fingers sank deep into his left arm, raising deep cuts that welled bright with blood.
“Get back!” I shouted, and Teag dropped and rolled as I got off a shot with the bright force of the athame.
It pushed the shadow man back, but more were coming, and I as I struggled to my feet, I despaired of making it out alive.
Dozens of shadow men rushed toward us, and I knew I was going to die. But just as they were about to reach for us, a cold, damp tide of fog rolled in, rising between us and the shadow men, and in that mist I saw the faces of the men Moran had murdered for his demon. Jimmy Redshoes, Kevin Harvey, Fred Kenner, Russ Landrieu, and his crew and the nameless vagrants whose murders no one had noticed.
They rose like a wall between us and the shadow men, shoulder to shoulder, surrounding us, holding the worst at bay – for now.
Sorren looked almost as bad as when we had been attacked at the warehouse. His hair hung lank around his face, he had the pallor of a corpse and he was bleeding in more places than I could count. He seemed to be baiting Moran to come at him, diving back and forth, tempting Moran to venture further out from his place in the middle of the demon’s nest.
Mirov, too, seemed to be drawing the demon to him with a sudden round of frantic attacks. Chuck bellowed a Rebel Yell and leaped onto the demon’s back, bringing a military-issue bush knife down with all his might. Chuck struck again and again at the demon’s spine as Mirov slashed and thrust with his sword.
Chuck was covered with black ichor and his own blood, but I could see the determination in his face.
He leaned forward and slashed his blade across the demon’s throat as Mirov lunged, sinking his sword deep and drawing it down in a move that would have eviscerated any living creature.
Moran loosed a blast of white light at Sorren, and I realized as Sorren screamed and fell back, skin blistering and charring, that it was simple daylight conjured as magic that might be our undoing.
Lucinda saw an opening and rushed past Moran, scooping the Baphomet Orb into her arms and dodging back, carving a clear path with an exceptionally strong flare from her staff.
Moran raised his arms to the ceiling. With a sizzle and snap, the overhead lights in the building suddenly pulsed on, with a surge that sent sparks flying from the overloaded lights. Bulbs popped, and the smell of burned wiring filled the air. In the momentary flash, we were blinded, and I knew Moran was moving in for the kill.
I couldn’t see, but I could hear. The minion came at me, clicking and snapping, hurtling through the air.
The ghosts couldn’t stop it, and my eyes hadn’t adjusted yet. I felt Bo’s ghost brush against my left leg, so I dove to the right, clutching the whorl in one hand and the ring in the other for clarity.
The minion’s sharp claws ripped through my left shoulder and I gasped. Blood flowed down my arm, and it hurt like hell. The minion’s feet clattered on the concrete floor, and I heard Bo barking like a hellhound. As my vision slowly returned, I used Bo’s barks to maneuver out of the minion’s way. It meant I dodged the worst of the blows, but not all of them. By the time I could see again, blood was running down my face from a cut on my scalp, my right thigh had a gash that was going to need stitches, and I had only narrowly missed being clawed down the belly.
I thrust out my right hand, shoving the akvenon away and blasting it with magic at the same time, choosing the white-fire of the whorl to do the most damage. It shrieked and writhed, withering from the point-blank hit of magic. Teag’s staff came down hard on its skull, crushing bone, and with a sweep, he kicked it out of the way with a move that should have been in the World Cup.
He swung his staff in an arc, knocking another minion off its feet and slamming down the staff on its back. He had his short sword in his right hand, and as the third akvenon leaped at him, Teag got under it, bringing his blade up and through its belly as I scrambled out of the way. The akvenon screeched, impaled on the ensorcelled blade, and ichor gushed over Teag’s sword. He jerked the blade free and the minion fell to the ground. He swung his staff, batting the writhing body back at the other three approaching akvenon. They fell on their bloodied companion, ripping it to shreds, temporarily forgettin
g us.
Teag gave me a hand up. His hand was warm and slick with blood, and I could see that in the few seconds we had been blinded, the minions had taken a toll on both of us. “Some night out, huh?” he joked. His face was streaked with sweat, blood, and ichor, blackened from the dust that covered everything.
Lucinda stood in the intersection of the corridors, staff upraised, head thrown back. Her body was twitching and bucking as if ridden by an unseen power, and I smelled the scent of pipe smoke, stronger now. It seemed to me that another power overtook Lucinda, and I saw the image of a gnarled old man in a straw hat, leaning on a cane.
Behind Lucinda, it looked as if the rest of the storage building ceased to exist and an infinite well of blackness had opened up, blotting out everything else. Somehow, I knew that this blackness was different from the shadows and darkness that had clutched at me in the unit. This was the darkness between stars, the darkness of the grave and what lay beyond. And in that moment, my limited knowledge of Voudon gave me the name for what I saw.
Papa Legba, Master of the Crossroads, the Loa who held the keys to the afterlife, possessed Lucinda, and it was into his arthritic hands we would send the demon back where it came from.
Moran screamed and pointed his wand at Lucinda, shrieking curses at her. But the power Lucinda had called encircled her, and the harm Moran intended rebounded, striking him full force. He fell back, coughing up gobbets of blood, as began to shake and scream as if he were being shredded from the inside out.
Sorren dove forward and swung with his full vampire might, severing Moran’s head from his body.
Moran’s body continued to buck and twist, grabbing for Sorren blindly, animated by unholy magic.
Deadly Curiosities Page 36
