by Stacia Kane
She was vaguely aware of Greyson’s hands on her, of Tera’s voice trying to talk to her or utter some sort of spell, or whatever she was trying to do. It didn’t help. She curled up into a ball as tight as she could, tried to see through half-blind eyes a place to hide, a place to escape to.
And they were coming. Getting closer and closer. She felt the angel’s triumph as the ballroom doors opened. Felt the entire crowd cowed by him, entranced by him, bathed in the kind of ecstasy only felt by lunatics and junkies. Felt the bloodlust they didn’t even recognize. They thought they were on a crusade, and she guessed they were.
To rid the world of demons.
And she was first on their list.
Chapter Thirty
Energy pulsed through her, thicker and darker and sweeter all at once. From Roc. From her demons. Some of the shrieking pain subsided. Somehow she was able to pull herself to her feet. “They’re coming.” She gasped. “They’re leaving the ballroom, they—”
Greyson nodded at Tera. Each of them grabbed one of her hands. “Now,” Greyson said, and Tera’s voice filled the air, filled her ears. The room spun and swirled, and she felt herself turning into something unreal, something she’d only been once before a few days back. The world went blurry, and suddenly she was on the roof, beneath the darkening summer sky, its blue-gray glow still faintly orange at the edges.
And she could think again. “What are we doing up here? Why up here?”
“This is where it will come,” Greyson said again. “This is where we have the best shot at beating it.”
“But why? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“We can ambush it here. More important, it can’t get hold of any more people up here. They’re too far away. And it likes roofs. Angels like open areas. They’re not happy indoors or anywhere with walls. This is going to be the place.”
She didn’t want to argue anymore. Especially not about something like that. He said it, he believed it. It was enough for her.
But there was one thing she could say, and she would. Energy still swirled and strummed inside her, making her feel as if her skin was about to fly off her body. She reached for him, tried to use that contact to calm her, but his hand just sat in hers.
“I didn’t know where you were,” she said. Tera was listening interestedly from a few feet away; Maleficarum, Nick, and Brian wandered around the door leading up from the floor below. Roc still hovered on her shoulder. But she didn’t care who heard. “I thought— I thought maybe it had gotten you. That you were gone.”
“And?” He wasn’t pulling away, but he wasn’t giving her much either. Well, she supposed she couldn’t expect much else.
“I didn’t—”
Shout. Screams. The door burst open, and a flood of humanity poured out onto the roof. Businessmen. Hotel employees. The sad sacks from the reverend’s meeting. The reverend himself, his eyes literally blazing, his mouth open in a roar that sent fear shooting straight up her spine and into her brain.
And above them all rose the angel. Not the non-
descript man she’d seen before, no. Not even the thing that had captured her on the roof. This was a beast, a creature of primordial rage and righteousness. Its eyes flamed, its skin glowed white, blinding white, searing its image into her retinas. In its hand it carried a flaming sword, blue-white flames, vicious and ravenous in her eyes.
Oh God how were they going to beat this how could they possibly beat this thing—
Roc’s fingers dug into her shoulder; Greyson’s into her hand. She heard Brian screaming, saw Nick—in typical Nick fashion—leap into battle with his sword raised and a look of unholy glee on his face.
But she waited. She didn’t know what to do. Attack or hold back? Try to read the humans, see if she could break the hold on them, or would that take up too much energy?
The angel’s flaming sword spun. He caught one of the people, a woman, with his blade; she fell, her shoulder and arm landing several feet away from the rest of her.
That was enough for Megan. She yanked her hand from Greyson’s and stepped back, willing him to stand in front of her, to keep her from being seen just one second longer. She had no idea if this would work or if it would simply make her shine like a beacon, but she did it anyway.
She lowered her shields all the way and pushed her energy out into the crowd.
Oh God. The hold he had on every one of them, the way he subsumed them. They had no conscious thought. They had no free will. It was as if they had no souls.
She pushed at them, pushed with everything she had, calling every bit of strength she could possibly get from her Yezer, from the air, from everything else. Wind kicked up around her, stronger and stronger, the thing fighting back. She heard its voice like insects in her soul rising above the screams, braced her feet to keep from falling, and pushed harder.
The angel’s hold—like a membrane, thick and semi-opaque—wavered around them. She caught a few thoughts, a few images, an overwhelming sense of peace and dark joy, the blissed-out happiness of the living, uncaring dead.
Greyson shouted something. She didn’t know what, couldn’t focus on him. His voice was a buzz in her ear, a fly she had to ignore. The membrane was loosening; it wasn’t giving way, but she could feel it, could lift it away from some of the people. If she could set even a few of them free, just a few—
Greyson leaped forward. A scream, loud and feminine—Leora. Megan turned to look for the girl and lost her hold on the membrane.
Damn it. Leora was there, all right, and Greyson was heading for her, but it was too late. Brian already had a hold on her, gripping her by the neck and pulling her back. She would have smiled if she hadn’t been so distracted; Brian wasn’t fighting the angel, but he’d take on anyone else, and clearly Greyson’s heading for Leora had given him someone to focus on. Fine.
She switched her attentions back to the membrane, ignoring the way her hair whipped and stung around her face. It wasn’t as easy this time; she was weaker, had used so much energy already. With a silent, guilty prayer of thanks that there were so many unhappy people in the world, she sent another call out through the invisible strand that connected her to her Yezer.
Energy roared back at her, so strong and thick it almost lifted her off the roof. There was the membrane again, sticky and grotesque. She pulled at it. Felt it weaken at the back—there! A few of them free. Just a few, but—
Something grabbed her from behind and threw her to the ground. Gunnar. Where the hell had he come from, how had—did it matter? No. Because his gun was loaded and cocked right in her face, and she had about two seconds to live.
Roc leaped forward, his spindly fingers clutching at the gun. The move startled Gunnar just enough for Megan to bring her leg up and kick him as hard as she could. Right in the groin. His shocked, pained expression might have been funny if the gun hadn’t gone off.
The bullet hit the roof an inch from her face. Chips of rock and tar flew up at her, opening stinging cuts in her cheek.
Gunnar fell. Megan rolled away. Time to try again, time to—oh no, duh. “Roc, tell them to show themselves. Tell them to fight the angel, tell them—”
Roc shook his head. “They’re gone,” he said. “It chased them away.”
“Then tell them to get the fuck back here!” How ironic was it that the only way she could hope to win was by making these poor people miserable?
Better than letting them die in this hideous state, all things considered.
Roc closed his eyes and shivered, sending the message. Yezer started to appear, blue and red and orange and yellow and green, like bizarre confetti strewn across the roof.
Gunnar got back up, the gun wobbling in one hand, the other pressed between his legs.
Tera shouted something. The gun exploded back at him. His hand disappeared; blood pumped from the end of his sleeve. His scream drowned out her next thoughts.
She felt her demons pushing, trying to get their humans back. Across the roof she saw Grey
son binding Leora’s feet with something, some kind of rope, while Brian held her arms behind her back.
Gunnar smacked her across the face with his good arm.
She fell back, too surprised to scream. Tera started to shout something else, and Gunnar jerked, but Tera’s voice died. Megan managed to glance over and saw her friend sink to the floor.
Dark clouds appeared overhead and burst open with icy, stinging rain.
The angel set his flock loose.
They swarmed the roof, plowing each other down in their haste. Their haste to get to Megan. She craned her neck for one last desperate look through the haze of water and saw Nick, his face grim, swinging his sword like a scythe; in his other hand he held a gun, and the reports blasted across the rooftop and dulled her hearing.
Gunnar grinned. His arms closed around her, gripping her from behind, locking over hers so she couldn’t move. Blood from his stump poured down her back, hotter than the cold rain. As she struggled and kicked at him, her feet sliding on the wet tar of the roof, she saw Maleficarum and Spud fighting their way toward her.
They wouldn’t reach her in time. They couldn’t, because the angel had seen her, and it was coming.
Its hollow black-fire eyes were trained on her. Its lips stretched into a grin, a grin she couldn’t bear to see. It was red and white, too bright to exist, there on top of the building, and her demon heart shrieked and writhed inside her.
She struggled harder. Fought harder. It didn’t work. She tore her gaze away from the angel’s eyes and saw Greyson running toward her, waylaid by the reverend. He punched the preacher in the mouth and kept going, but the swarms of humanity were too strong, the rain and wind too thick.
At least too thick for him to get to her fast enough. Because the angel’s hand was above her, strong and pale and glowing, and she watched it descend like a fly watching the swatter fall.
With all her might, with everything she had, she pushed against him. Turned her energy into a weapon as she had the other night and drove it into him.
That same blinding flash of light. That same power driving into her, making her scream. She waited for the sucking feeling, the sense of him weakening, fading—
It didn’t come. The angel’s laughter echoed loud and horrible above her. Screams echoed around her, all of the people, every one of them, screaming. Falling to the ground in agony, water splashing as they fell. Their thoughts, their images, flashing through her mind at an unbelievable pace, too much for her to handle; even the additional powers she’d gained back at Christmas weren’t enough. Their memories, their feelings, burning into her, their agony tearing through her body. He was connected to them, and she was killing them.
Somewhere in the tiny part of herself that could still think, she knew she had to break the connection. Had to free them somehow so she could focus on him.
She pulled back. That was a mistake. The second she pulled her energy from him, his shot into her, wrapping around her heart and squeezing. She was choking. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t fight him off. Gunnar’s grip on her remained tight; she felt it as if through layers of cotton. Her body was leaving her control, she was fading . . . her vision went black around the edges.
Fingertips like feathers touched her arm. Power flowed into her, enough for her to see again, at least.
Nick. Oh, thank God, it was Nick, and he touched her with one hand while his other swung back and knocked Gunnar down.
She fell with him. Good. Good because it gave her a second’s respite from the angel’s touch. She started to roll away, grasping for Nick, tugging desperately at the cord connecting her to her Yezer but not getting much back. Not enough. She needed more, needed to get more. Needed everything she could get.
The angel grabbed her, yanked her back. Its hands burned her skin, and she screamed, reaching for Nick.
The angel’s arms fell away. Greyson was there. He’d jumped onto the thing’s back. Smoke rose from his skin; flames erupted around the angel, untouched by the rain.
It laughed. Threw back its head and laughed, a beautiful, terrible laugh that made her want to cower on the ground with her hands over her ears. The people screamed again too, screamed louder, until she thought for sure the entire city could hear them.
Nick was still there, holding her back, because she tried to attack and fight, to pull the angel away from Greyson. It was smiling too brightly, Greyson’s face was going too pale, for her to believe any good was being accomplished.
She had to do something. She had to end this now. Right now. She wasn’t powerful enough to beat the thing, not when it had whatever it was taking from all those people; her demons fed on misery and sadness, but it was feeding off humanity itself, if what she’d felt was correct, and it was far more powerful than she was to begin with. She suspected she’d only managed to beat it the other night because she’d surprised it, if that had been a defeat and not simply a strategic retreat.
She needed more power. Greyson would die if she didn’t get it. Nick, Tera, Maleficarum and Spud and Brian . . . all these people would die if she didn’t get it.
“Roc!” The scream tore from her mouth, disappeared in the cacophony around them. She called for him psychically, saw him appear, and grabbed his bony fingers with her own. She didn’t have the words to tell him what she needed, but he knew. She saw it in his eyes.
The scene before her slowed down. She saw every detail, saw Greyson getting paler and paler, his flames growing smaller. Saw Tera getting up and shouting, felt her spell brush past. It knocked Greyson off the angel’s back. Knocked the angel to the side and down.
The angel got up. Greyson didn’t.
She saw Malleus and Spud heading toward her. Saw Brian touching people in the crowd, saw him trying to break the connection. Saw him tiring. Saw her Yezer flitting in and out among the crowd, trying to do the same thing, beating their little fists and squirming and fighting. They needed her. All of them.
So she nodded, and Roc began to speak.
Chapter Thirty-one
Roc’s voice started low, growing louder, words in the demon tongue she didn’t understand. Energy flowed through her, the thick, sticky-sweet energy of the Yezer, speeding her demon heart. Speeding both of her hearts.
Nick’s hand clasped hers more tightly. Did he feel it? Did he know? She couldn’t tell, but she hoped he did. And then she knew he did, because his energy pushed into her too, red with lust and black with anger. She opened herself to it. To all of it.
For a moment she floated on it like a dust mote in the sun, dancing lazily, twirling and drifting. Her shields were already down; she willed them to disappear, let the energy flow through her entire body. Let it become magic inside her while Roc’s voice kept going and something wet touched her lips.
Roc’s blood. Just a smudge. And then Roc’s lips, and she started to jerk away when she realized he wasn’t kissing her. He was breathing into her, and that was necessary too, and she flew so high she thought she was scattered in the stars.
Then the pain hit.
Everything went red. Her brain screamed. Her mouth screamed. Every muscle in her body caught fire. Her heart pounded, pounded, pounded; it was all she could hear, faster and faster, her blood rushing through her body and through her brain. That hurt too, her head throbbing, a migraine times a million, and tears fell down her cheeks, and sweat soaked her dress, and blood poured from her nose.
Her muscles snapped and stretched. Her stomach roiled. She threw up, and blood came with it. It hurt so bad, so much worse than she’d ever imagined it would. She didn’t want this anymore and it was too late.
It felt as if her bones were breaking. It felt as if her body was breaking, curling in on itself. Somewhere in there she felt Nick’s hand still in hers and realized she was squeezing it. Her organs rang like bells and that was Tera nearby.
She didn’t know how long it went on, the pain. Deep beneath it something else was happening. A strengthening. A deepening. Her consciousness spread around h
er until she felt every person on the roof, every one of them, as a separate and distinct entity. Felt their connection to the angel. It was like grabbing each string between her teeth and snapping it; she was doing it, she could do it, and it seemed so much easier.
Her legs shook when she tried to stand. They wouldn’t support her. Instead she leaned on Nick, let his strong arms hold her up as she turned again to the angel.
Tera had been holding it off, screaming spells, waving her hands, and shooting what looked absurdly like neon flares at it. She wasn’t beating it, but she was distracting it.
Brian ran through the crowd; large portions of them had stopped screaming, were huddled together on the floor, crying. “What do you need? Megan, what can I do?”
She didn’t reply. Instead she took his hand. His shock transmitted to her; he felt it then. Felt her new power. Knew what she’d done.
Time to worry about that later. Right now—Greyson still hadn’t moved—she had some business to take care of. And if that was an overly dramatic way to think of it, she couldn’t help it.
She drew on his energy as much as she could. Drew on what her Yezer were getting, which was so much more now that the angel’s hold on the crowd had been broken. Took it from Nick.
And thrust it all, flaming, at the angel, as hard as she could.
The impact nearly knocked her over again. It would have, had Nick not been there to hold her.
The angel screamed. It was the kind of scream she never wanted to hear again, the kind that made her want to cry and scream herself. The pain and rage in that sound horrified her.
But feeling the angel’s shock, its misery, feeling its power weaken and rebound into her . . . that elated her.
Maybe it shouldn’t have. It hadn’t been easy to deal with that feeling the first time. But this time? All she had to do was look at the people around them, at Greyson, and anger overshadowed any sense of shame.
It fought her, pushing back. She gritted her teeth. Kept going. Kept shoving at it, sending every bit of anger and rage, every bit of energy, every bit of pain into it.
