He’d probably be dead if he wasn’t who he is. He’s breathing raggedly but steadily, and he’s already propping himself up on an elbow.
“You should have kept going,” he says in a wet voice.
“You’re welcome.” I put a hand under his arm and help him stand. Not because he should be standing right now, but because he will anyway and I might as well make sure he doesn’t fall.
“Gault?” he asks.
I look over. Gault is stirring already, his body healing the catastrophic damage.
“He’ll be fine in five minutes,” I say. “Damn it.”
He starts checking out Nariko, peering into her eyes. I take a look, too, and that’s when it happens.
A rock the size of a golf ball rifles across the room, taking Hollett in the shoulder and sending him sprawling. A second on, half a heartbeat later, takes Nariko in the thigh. She drops with a cry of pain, landing next to Hollett as the rocks start to fly.
Kenta Gamagori, an uncharacteristic look of ferocity on his normally timid face, is using the gauntlet to rip chunks of stone out of the very wall and fire them at us. Hollett rolls over on top of Nariko, protecting her body with his own, while I try to run aside and return fire. I only get one round off before a flat shard of rock catches me in my gun hand, knocking the Springfield away. I run.
A rock the size of an orange flashes past my face. I recoil instinctively, and when I do another one catches me in the ribs. I stumble, coughing in agony. As I stumble another one catches me in between the shoulder blades, driving me forward, face first into the same wall that Gault hit but maybe five yards away from him. I turn away from the wall and a chunk the size of a plate hits me in the chest, driving me back against the wall.
This rock, though, doesn’t fall. It stays on my chest, pinning me to the wall like a butterfly on a board. I use all the strength I can call on to push myself away, and for a second it works, then another rock hits me in the shoulder and pushes me back against the flat surface.
They come in a hailstorm, rocks as big as a softball and as small as a dime. They hit me with horrible force, but he’s controlling them enough so that no bones break. They pile deeper and deeper, burying me vertically against the wall. The last rock slams into place right in my stomach, leaving me coughing and sucking wind. The rest of the airborne avalanche keeps me rigid against the wall, so even though I want desperately to double over I’m locked into place and have to settle for retching into my mouth.
Calvin takes the moment to check on Nariko and Hollett. Both of them are out of the fight for the moment – Nariko’s clasping her leg in both hands, Hollett is lying unmoving on the ground, surrounded by the stones that must have beaten the shit out of him while he protected her. Calvin barks out a harsh laugh, seeing me helplessly imprisoned.
“What are you waiting for?” he yells at Kenta. “Bring him here!”
“I can’t,” Kenta snaps back. “If I let go of the rocks he’ll be free to move again.”
“Use the rocks to drag him over.”
“I don’t have that kind of control, not over that many rocks at once.”
“Fine. Kill him, then. We’ll dump his body right on top of it.”
“No,” Celeste interjects. “We don’t know if his immunity will survive his death. It might dissipate with his life.”
“We have to get him to touch the seal.”
“No, we don’t,” she corrects. She walks over to me, that feral light in her eyes shining brighter by the second. “You tried to pull him over by his clothes, but that didn’t work. Why do you suppose that is?”
“I do not know. He must project some of his immunity around him.”
“No, it’s much simpler than that.” She stops half a foot away from me, almost kissing range, her face level with mine. I can smell faint traces of mint on her soft breath. “His sweat, the oils from his skin. They’ve soaked into his clothes. Not enough to render your magic completely null, but enough to hamper it to the point of uselessness.”
“So what?” Calvin says. He’s tripoding, hands on knees while he tries to slow his breathing down. He’s not used to a fight, not even one as brief as this one was.
“So, we don’t need his body,” Celeste says. “This should do the trick just fine.”
With that she cups her right hand on the side of my forehead and swipes it across, scooping off a wet palm full of sweat. Entombed as I am, I can’t even jerk my head away from her touch. Quick as a fox, she bounds across the cave to the great stone seal, crouches next to it, and wipes her hand across the rune-carved surface.
The other six bodies in the room jump as if someone goosed them with a Taser. Celeste, Calvin, Kenta, Hollett, Nariko, even Gault all react to whatever it is that Celeste has done. Their bodies lock out, limbs extended, heads back, and I can hear their breaths stuttering in their lungs. Then my breath is straining too, as the sheet of rocks under Kenta’s command suddenly compress my body in a single convulsive squeeze.
Gasping, straining for a mouthful of air, I strain my eyes until I can see where Gault, Hollett and Nariko lay sprawled on the cave floor. At first it looks like no help will be found there, since their bodies are shuddering with petite mal spasms, but then I can see Gault’s eyes spring open. He rolls over to all fours, and I can see his muscles beginning to swell even as his face begins to crack and lengthen. He sees me and begins crawling my way, in obvious pain.
As it turns out I don’t need to wait for his help. The seizures last only a handful of seconds, then they fade as quickly as they began. Celeste, Calvin, and Kenta sink to the floor, Calvin on his ass and the other two to hands and knees. When Kenta’s concentration breaks so does my rocky prison, and I spill to the floor among the jagged, unyielding stones. It feels about as good as it sounds, and by the time I rise up from the rubble, shedding rocks like water, I’m bruised and bleeding from a dozen abrasions. Gault staggers to his feet and limps over to me.
“What the hell was that?” he asks.
“Magic. She managed to let out a wave of raw, pure magic.”
“They did it,” he states.
“They only opened it a crack, but yeah, they did it.”
“Does that mean they win?”
The linen-wrapped body twitches. Muscles flex, a slow, ominous rising, the fabric pulsing like a cocoon.
“Yes,” I manage to say.
In a single, horrifically fast motion the thing is on its feet, tattered remnants of cloth falling around it like snow. It’s easily six and a half feet tall, roughly human, but its mottled scarlet body is hard, more carapace than skin. Its torso and limbs are thin, insectile, a vile melding of praying mantis and black widow spider. Wiry black strands start halfway back its oversized head, straggling down its back like steel wool. Its face is also human-ish, but its eyes look polished, as hard as marble and utterly without pupils, and there’s nothing but smooth, unbroken chitinous space where the ears and nose should be. But the most unearthly aspect of its visage is the circular mouth, an inverse, eel-like funnel the size of a cappuccino mug lined with black, glinting needles that leads directly to a muscular throat.
The kiovore peers around the room, taking stock of its surroundings. I look for a glint of sentience, a sign that it is anything other than a monster. I come up empty. Those empty, doll-like eyes make a second circuit of the room, but this time they’re looking at the people. All the magically gifted people. It hasn’t eaten for centuries, and it’s just been awakened into a room full of food. The lamprey mouth in its hard carapace doesn’t have the capacity to smile, but I can tell it’s there anyway.
“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” Gault says.
I have no argument.
Fourteen
The massacre takes only half a minute.
One second. The kiovore, its predatory instincts apparently still sharp after its centuries long sleep, pounces on its easiest target faster than our reflexes can match – the still prone form of Nariko Gamagori. It moves so fast it�
��s like a special effect, a blood-colored smear on the air as it covers the fifteen feet of space in a single, effortless bound. Its head snaps down like a viper’s, latching its horrible mouth to her abdomen and locking down hard. I can see its throat convulsing far faster than it should be if it were just draining her blood, and her skin begins to pale as something more vital than any bodily fluid is torn away from her. The vicious attack jars her out of her semiconscious state and she screams pitifully as the monster goes to work on her.
Three seconds. Kenta is the first to react, his sister’s agonized screams kickstarting his nervous system. He lashes out at the kiovore, his pipe dreams of slaughtering his whole family apparently forgotten. His hand becomes a lumpy fist as he remotely hammers the monster with his gauntlet, adding his own impotent screams to hers. The thing’s body shakes and heaves under Kenta’s attack, but in his panic he doesn’t have a lot of concentration to throw at it. He, and his assault, are worthless.
Five seconds. My Springfield speaks its mind as I unload round after round of silver jacketed .40 caliber rounds into the kiovore’s head and body, the gunshots deafening in the tight stone chamber. The camping lantern is bright enough for me to see that the bullets seem to have no effect. The sudden din does have an effect on Hollett, though, who instinctively rolls away from the fight and comes up shakily to one knee, his thorn wand covering the center of the room as Nariko’s screams sink into a last short, gurgling retch before going silent.
Eight seconds. The kiovore raises its face from Nariko’s stomach, gore running down its chin in thick rivulets as the echoes of the screams fade and bullets and pure magical force bounce harmlessly off it. We might as well be throwing cotton candy at it for as much as the fucker notices. Its head snaps around, eyes locking onto Celeste Reese, and even though she’s not directly in the lantern’s light she goes visibly pale when its soulless eyes find hers. She tries to back away from it but her back’s already on the wall.
Twelve seconds. I swear the thing flies across the cave, landing on Celeste like a lover. Its arms and legs wrap around her, pinning her to the stone wall as it clamps its leech-like mouth onto her body with a wet, sucking sound between and just below her breasts. She’s too shocked to even scream, but her eyes go wide with fear and disbelief.
Thirteen seconds. I can’t shoot it from here without risking hitting Celeste, so I start running around to the left. While I do that Hollett begins stabbing the air with his thorn wand. For the first time I see damage being done, as the hard shell of the kiovore’s back begins to crack with each corresponding jab of the wand. A dark ichor wells and drips from the cracks, and small explosions in the cave wall mark where he’s missing the target.
Fourteen seconds. Calvin manages to fumble a vial from a pocket and smashes it against the monster’s head, releasing a light-colored liquid that spatters all over its torso and now we get to see a pissed-off kiovore. It raises its mouth from Celeste’s body and lets her fall, glaring at Calvin the whole time. Before Calvin can move the kiovore’s arm flashes out, smashing into his head with a sickening thud. His body drops, bouncing off the wall like a rag doll before landing in an untidy heap on the floor.
Nineteen seconds. I start firing again but only two rounds leave the gun before it racks back empty. I wish to God I’d brought my whole gun kit with me instead of a single spare magazine. I’d love to have the red, explosive-tipped rounds right about now. I drop the spent magazine and fish out the spare. While I do that the kiovore finally reacts to Hollett’s attack, finding him crouched down with the wand extended, recognizing it as the source of its pain and launching itself at him.
Twenty-two seconds. Just before it lands on Hollett the kiovore is knocked out of the air by a mostly recovered Gault, who hits it with a shoulder block that should earn him a spot on the Saints’ roster. It lands in a wide base on both hands and both feet, body low to the ground like a four-legged spider. Gault springs to his feet with preternatural speed and lands in a wrestler’s crouch, claws ready. I snap the fresh magazine in place and jack a round into the chamber while the monsters glare at each other for a long moment before Kenta makes a fatal mistake.
Twenty-eight seconds. Kenta abandons his attack and rushes over to Nariko’s body, the movement attracting the kiovore’s attention. It lunges at him, almost faster than my eye can follow. Its grasping, claw-like hands catch Kenta by the shoulders, holding him at arm’s length in its unbreakable grip.
Thirty seconds. I’m less than ten feet from them and my view is unobstructed so I pour it on, putting every bullet into the monster’s midsection with just as much result as before. Hollett recovers enough to advance with his wand, scooping up one of Nariko’s knives along the way and flipping it into a commando grip while he closes the distance and Gault springs in from the side, claws flashing.
Thirty-two seconds. The kiovore releases Kenta from its grasp and springs straight up like a fucking Jedi, latching onto the ceiling with two sets of talons and practically running over our heads. Once behind us it drops to the floor in front of the stairs leading up to the gem shop.
“Stop it,” I scream to no one in particular, the stabbing pain in my ears swallowing my words. “Don’t let it get outside!”
Nobody moves. Nobody has a chance to. Within the span of a heartbeat and without a backwards glance the monster leaps onto the stairs and disappears up them.
Thirty-three seconds. It’s all over.
Fifteen
I’ve heard of deafening silence, but up until this moment I’ve never felt it.
After the kiovore rushes out there’s a last, adrenaline-charged moment of indecision. Gault looks up the flight of stairs with savage longing, then he whips his head in my direction. His eyes, normally clear blue, are golden. Wolf eyes, but with a question in them.
“Go,” I shout. Gault’s legs blur, pumping his body up the steps with inhuman vigor. I wonder what he’s running into, but he’s needed up there. There’s a street full of people up above our heads, many of them potential victims for a magic-eater, and none of them know what just happened in here. If the kiovore finds someone up there who smells like food, he or she’s a sitting duck.
Hollett looks torn. Despite still being in obvious pain from the beating Kenta laid on him the fighter in him wants to chase the monster down right next to the werewolf, but common sense is reminding him how it just kicked our asses. I help him to his decision.
“You, too. Go up there. Find Adam, tell him what happened, and if that thing’s not up there find out where the hell it went. Don’t let Adam send anyone else down here. Do it, now!”
He fights the idea far longer than Gault did, but finally he stows the thorn wand and runs up the steps.
With the battle lost and a moment’s calm settling in, I start to regroup. I look down at my gun to see the slide extended to the rear again. Empty. I release the slide and holster it. The quiet soaks into me, a blessing to my painfully ringing ears. Gunshots in a stone cave aren’t great for the hearing, and my head throbs with the sonic aftereffects. After getting the worst part of a mystically juiced up Shirley Jackson story what just happened the headache seems minor.
I limp carefully over to Nariko’s body. My body feels like it’s covered by a quilt of bruises, so it takes a minute. Kenta is kneeling over her penitently, tears running silently down his nose to fall onto her hair. I’ve got things to say to him, but they have to wait a minute more. I squat down across from him to look more closely.
The front of her shirt is marred by a circular pattern of holes about six inches across the abdomen, just a few inches above her navel. Blood has soaked through, leaving the area a sticky, wet mess. I open her collar at the throat to feel for a pulse, and my fingers find a leather cord next to her skin. I draw it out and find another carved domino, just like Kenta’s only this one is made from a fine, supple blond wood.
She’d never told me she had one. Why? It’s not a family heirloom. The carvings still have distinct edges that time
would have worn smooth. How did she come to get it? What did she think it meant? If it was meant to protect her, as Kenta seemed to think it was, it failed miserably.
I let it lay gently against her body and rest my fingers on her carotid, and to my surprise I find a pulse but it’s thin, thready and intermittent. I say some things to her, small, soft words that she can’t hear and I don’t really believe. She’s taking tiny, agonal breaths, her eyes open but glazing over even as I watch. Her artery gives a final, stuttering shake under skin that has gone waxy and pale, then it falls silent. She’s dead.
I silently ask her for forgiveness, but I have to see. I pull the shirt gently out of her pants and shine my flashlight on her dull, waxy skin. The wounds are the same, concentric circles of pinholes. No flesh was removed, and judging by the way her blood continues to seep out it didn’t take much of that, either. It did what legends said it would. It drained the magic out of her, and it took her life along with it.
I hadn’t known her for more than a couple of hours, but I’d liked Nariko. There was a cold purity to her that I respected, a singlemindedness that I appreciate in someone who’s supposed to be watching my back. Now she’s dead, through no fault of her own.
No. The person at fault is easy to identify tonight, and as much as I’d like to share the blame it’s all mine to take. I close my eyes and breathe in the pleasantly earthy smell of the cave soil, trying to isolate it in my mind from the bitter odor of burnt gunpowder and the copper tang of blood. I put the blame in a mental pocket for later and go check on Celeste Reese.
Long before I reach her body I can see that there’s no hope for her, either. The kiovore feeds quickly, and it doesn’t look like it leaves much behind. She’s gone too, limp as a dead fish. I crouch down next to her and check her neck for a pulse, more out of reflex than anything. I can’t feel anything, but her eyes are still moving. They find me and a spark of recognition flares. It’s only for a second, though. Then her eyelids flutter for a moment before her eyes roll up into her head and all movement stops. She’s as dead as Nariko, but I feel no remorse this time. If there’s anyone at fault tonight besides myself, it’s Celeste Reese and her ridiculously naïve plans for escape and revenge.
No More Devils: A Visit to Superstition Bay Page 13