The Lily Harper 8 Book Boxed Set

by HP Mallory

  She appeared puzzled at hearing the stookie angel’s nickname for her and faced me in question. “Dinnae look at me, lass,” I said with a shrug. “The walloper’s got a moniker fer ev’rybody.”

  I opened the door a little wider, checking on the landscape outside. We still remained the only people in the vicinity which was just as well.

  From behind me, I heard Jeanne say, “I have to admit I envy your skill with the blade, Tallis.”

  Without looking at her, I asked, “If Ah were willin’ tae teach ye, would ye be willin’ tae learn?”

  “Yes, but there is only so much you can do.”

  “Knowin’ how it’s done beats not knowin’, Jeannie-gurl,” the angel said with a shrug.

  I sighed and shook me head. “The stookie angel’s got a point. ‘twould nae take verra long tae teach ye the basics.”

  After an extended stretch of silence, Jeanne answered me. “Very well, but in the meantime, I beg you both to stay close to my side.”

  The angel scoffed. “As if we’d leave ya! I mean, as if I’d leave ya. Tido there’s a little anti-sociable an’ he’s moody as fuck.”

  “Language,” Jeanne reprimanded him.

  The fool angel shrugged. “Hey, you can take the thug outta…” and then he appeared confused as to what he was trying to say and quieted, thank the gods above.

  Jeanne looked at the ground as though all her hopes had just melted there. “If only I knew where Tangent was…”

  The name made my eyes widen as surprise echoed through me. “This Tangent… would he happen tae have a wireless, by any chance?”

  Jeanne widened her eyes and appeared confused. “A wireless?”

  “Sorry, lass, people nowadays refer tae it as a ‘radio’.”

  “But how did you—?”

  “An’ this Tangent calls ye Sapphire, aye?” I continued, eyeing her with interest. Now I understood the nature of me vision.

  “Yo, slow down, Conan,” the angel said, holding up his hands in a supplicating gesture. “Where’d ya suddenly manage tae harvest all this insta-knowledge? You some sorta psychic you ain’t never told me about?”

  Jeanne never took her eyes from mine. “It is as you say. Tangent is among my boon companions in the recent past. We were separated by the Malebranche just before Cauchon captured me.”

  The stookie angel started tapping his chin, appearing to be in deep thought. “You know all our futures or what, Tido?” he continued, eyeing me with a narrowed and suspicious gaze.

  I ignored the bloody bampot.

  “An’ ye were a valued prize sooch that those bastards chased ye straight to Cauchon?” I asked her.

  She nodded slowly. “Oui, but how did you know that?”

  “It’s like super obvious,” the angel interrupted. Jeanne turned to face him. He tapped his index finger next to his right eye. “As an angel, I got an eye fer auras… an’ I ain’t never seen one like yers before. So it like just follows that you’re somethin’ pretty special.” He glanced up at me. “Even Tido here figured it out.” He grew quiet and studied me again. “But that’s ‘cause he got some sort of brain power he ain’t told no one about yet.”

  “Whit exactly makes her aura different, stookie angel?” I asked, deciding to ignore the rest of his ridiculous commentary.

  He shrugged. “I dunno. It’s just different.” When he saw my expression, he blew his lips at me. “Look, Tido, if ya want more details, better talk to an archangel. All I can tell ya is this: anybody with her aura gots no busy-ness bein’ down here with or without us, yo.”

  Yet Jeanne, otherwise known as Joan Of Arc, had been here for centuries, long before AE’s foul-up involving that damned Y2K virus or bug or whatever they termed it. Hmmm… very interesting.

  The angel crossed his arms and gave me an untrusting expression. “Since we’re comparifying our psychic muscles, maybe ya can tell us how ta find this Tan-rant an’ his merry pals.”

  “Aye! Radio! That is, if’n we can git one, we might be able tae contact him.”

  Jeanne stared at me in utter awe. “What higher power guides you that would grace you with such insight?”

  I frowned at her. “Ah am driven by nae higher power, lass.”

  “But how…” she began.

  The angel impatiently snapped his fingers and I was grateful to him. “Umm, gittin' back ta the radio…”

  Jeanne’s eyes snapped into clear focus. “The camp from which I fled had such a device. I remember having to turn the dial to 381.4 to speak to Tangent.” She winced. “That is to say, someone who knows how to control such a frequency. I have no knowledge or skill, I admit.”

  The stookie angel threw his head back until he was staring at the ceiling and released a world-weary sigh. “An’ since Tido ain’t good fer anythin’ but skinnin’ dead animals an’ killin’ demons, I guess that leaves only me.”

  I gave him a dubious look. “Ye know how tae operate one o’ them wireless contraptions?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it’s totally dead tech but I can wing it.”

  I opened the door after checking the path was clear and stepped outside. Once I was certain we were still alone, I waved to the others to join me. “Think ye can git us back tae that camp ye mentioned, Jeanne?”

  She looked in the direction of the rubble from whence we’d come. “Perhaps… although I cannot guarantee it.”

  “Remember, people, we’re nowheresville without that radio,” the angel said.

  I grunted at him. “Ah doubt any camp that has sooch a machine will be that hard tae find.”

  Jeanne started forward and I followed. As I did, I heard the angel muttering, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

  “…and myself who in this torment do partake with them…”

  - Dante’s Inferno

  ELEVEN

  LILY

  When I heard shouting, I knew something was wrong.

  Judging by the look on his face, so did Manfred.

  The stairs leading off the rooftop were miraculously intact and we took them two at a time until we reached the last stairwell that was less intact. Glancing down, beyond the broken steps, I noticed we were still a couple of floors up, and way too far to jump without breaking one or more bones.

  I looked around, searching for another way of reaching the ground, when I spotted a window. Beside the window was a high pile of rubble. Granted, the rubble would hardly be solid but it might still be enough to give us the boost we needed to get into the window.

  “Go,” I whispered to Manfred and motioned to the window. He glanced at it before nodding and then started for the pile. Following Manfred, I ran towards the pile of rubble and found myself sinking into it once or twice before I was able to grab the window sill and hoist myself inside.

  Once we jumped down from the window and landed on the floor, the Red Baron pointed me forward and took the lead. That suited me just fine. I still had his pistol, which I aimed at his back just to make it known he was still my prisoner. My other hand stayed by my sword, just in case Manfred tried anything. I was more secure with my sword than I was with a gun.

  Despite the circumstances of our meeting, I actually wanted to trust the Red Baron. I was starting to appreciate his honor and his dignity. But my suspicions that he could be leading me into a trap kept gnawing at me. I was sure I could take him where my sword was concerned because I didn’t imagine he knew much swordsplay and by now, I was pretty much a mavon. And I also had Donnchadh to rely on—no one could triumph against Donnchadh.

  However, Manfred was just one person and dealing with him if he decided to make a break for it would be very different to facing off against a whole army.

  The only thing stopping me from binding the captain again or ditching him altogether was that neither of us had any other choice in this situation. We were stuck in the middle of hostile territory, with little to nothing to protect ourselves. The odds were pretty good that either side might kill us just because they could. For the ti
me being, all we had was each other, for better or worse.

  The shouts coming from around the corner of the half-demolished building in front of us definitely counted as “worse.”

  I detected some distressed cries beneath the shouts, followed by the sound of gravel being trod upon by clumsy feet. Manfred flattened himself against the corner of the building and looked like he was trying to evade a prison spotlight. I did the same, keeping my gun aimed at his side and well out of his reach. I glanced up, looking for anything in the air that could possibly spot us. The only flying monsters I knew about were the Furies but I seriously doubted they were the only flying abominations in the Underground City.

  My prisoner made a sudden break from the corner of the building, bolting across the demolished street. I was about to bemoan trusting him so stupidly when I realized he was simply shifting his position. He glanced back at me and held up his palm, motioning for me to stay where I was.

  Then he ducked behind a dilapidated fence that still provided enough cover to hide him. When he reached the building just beyond the fence, he glanced around the corner and jerked his head toward the noises that were coming from inside. He faced me and nodded quickly, encouraging me to join him. I was careful to cling to the shadows as I made my way forward, toward the broken fence and then underneath it.

  Shimmying up the side of the building, I finally got my first glimpse of what was going on. No two ways about it, what I saw was ugly. A middle-aged couple were were in the process of being physically dragged out of a very small, squat building that resembled an oversized brick.

  I had a feeling this was the couple Manfred had been talking about. Well, it now looked like they needed our help more than we needed theirs. The assholes who were forcing them out of the building were a mix of ragtag humans wearing army fatigues and creatures in three-piece suits. The suits resembled worms if worms were bipeds. The skin on the worm boys was frightfully pale and to say they were ugly would have been an understatement.

  Manfred muttered something under his breath in German that didn’t sound nice. I kept my voice down as I responded. “That bad?”

  He peeked around the corner. “Considering we’re looking at a Simoniac detachment, ja, I would say it’s very bad indeed. It almost makes me long for the more ruthless violence from the Spites.”

  I watched the couple who were in the process of being yelled at. “Are those worm things going to kill your friends?”

  His face became a mask of hopelessness. “Eventually… but first, they will slowly torture them for their secrets.”

  His description of the troops made me realize something. “So these guys are the ones rising up against your Malebranche bosses?”

  He nodded. “Even if meine lieben freunde were suspected of disloyalty, the dukes would never dare to treat them so roughly. What they know and can do is far too valuable. The Simoniacs are less… prudent.”

  My uninvited spiritual lodger began to stir. I steeled myself for more trouble. I wasn’t surprised when I discovered Donnchadh’s sole intention was to hand the Simoniacs around the corner an epic ass-whooping. On this subject, Donnchadh and I were allied.

  I glanced around the corner and did a quick headcount. “There are six of these Simoniacs, right?”

  Manfred’s voice sounded a little concerned. “Ja, that was my count… why?”

  I put my hand on the runes around my arm and stood up. “I’m not letting your friends get hauled off to their doom.”

  Manfred stood up and pushed me against the wall. He grabbed my rune-covered arm like it was a live hand grenade, while pinning me to the wall. My breath caught in my throat and I felt my eyes widen as I stared into his.

  “Fraulein Harper, I will not allow you to do this! It’s sheer madness!”

  He was so close to me that we both just stared at each other for a few seconds. I noticed his eyes leaving my own and traveling down to my mouth.

  “You have to trust me, Manfred,” I said in a soft voice.

  He continued to stare at me and I couldn’t read the expression on his face. It was like our close proximity had suddenly sucked the words right out of his head.

  “Manfred,” I said, trying to get his attention.

  He found himself again and had the good sense to release my arm and take a couple of steps back. Deep down, my resident raging spirit’s bottomless wrath was more than pissed. I gestured for the World War I flying ace to get on the other side of me. He took slow, careful steps but did as instructed.

  “Please do not do anything foolish,” he whispered from behind me.

  “Trust me,” I said again.

  I felt his hand circle my upper arm and squeeze it momentarily before he dropped it again. I didn’t allow myself to think about the familiarity of such an action and instead, mentally began the release chant.

  Donnchadh, I free you to take control of my body and destroy the armed men around the corner.

  I felt Donnchadh’s response which was whether he would be able to kill them all, including Manfred’s friends.

  They’re to be left alone, I thought back to him.

  Donnchadh’s anger spiked, which was concerning but we had an agreement all the same. After all, I was allowing him to kill. And seeing as how that was his favorite pastime, he didn’t have much to complain about.

  The release of Donnchadh took place in the space of two seconds. He seized control of me and I felt myself shrinking inside my own body. After a few seconds, I found myself running around the corner. I remotely heard Manfred trying to tell me something but Donnchadh was long past listening. All that mattered now was the enemy in front of us.

  Perceiving the gun as a weapon, Donnchadh raised it and started shooting wildly. He emptied the whole pistol clip by the time we reached the Simoniacs. One of the bullets grazed one of the humans in the shoulder but startled the rest of them so much, they remained rooted to the spot. Donnchadh threw the pistol at the nearest demon before we hip-tackled it to the ground. Its arm was stuck inside its coat like it was trying to pull out a weapon.

  I laid him out with one rage-powered punch before yanking his arm out. His hand was wrapped around a nasty-looking whip that appeared to be a limp version of a thornbush branch.

  Gunshots were coming our way, and Donnchadh rolled us and the worm demon over. The unlucky demon caught every bullet in his back and Donnchadh yanked the whip out of his hand.

  One down, I thought to myself.

  Apparently, this wasn’t the first time Donnchadh had held a whip. With a flick of my wrist, he lashed out at a human behind us, who was firing an automatic rifle. The human squealed as the whip wrapped its thorns around his aiming arm. Donnchadh pulled on the whip. Instead of drawing the human closer, the whip only managed to shred his arm from the wrist to the elbow, leaving thin, bloody strips of flesh in its wake. The man howled out in pain and collapsed to his knees.

  Another one down. Five to go.

  In a frustrated rage, Donnchadh threw the bullet-riddled body of the first victim at one of the other gunmen, bowling him over with the dead weight. At the same time, he lashed the whip at the other man who was busily shooting at us. The whip embedded its thorns into the man’s skull as he gasped and cried out in pain and horror. But Donnchadh gave no fucks and pulled hard on the whip, driving his newest victim to the ground. The spikes of the whip remained stuck in his head.

  Four remaining.

  Donnchadh threw the whip aside, meanwhile another whip caught my arm. Donnchadh turned my neck to see who the offending party was and one of the worm demons came into view. He was holding the other end of the whip.

  The sharp pain in my elbow and the sight of my blood refueled Donnchadh’s outrage. He grabbed the thorny whip and pulled hard. I was only midly aware of the searing pain in my hand as the thorns sunk into my flesh. Rearing my leg back in order to kick it out again, two more whips caught me around my legs and held me in their grasp, their thorns sinking into my flesh. Meanwhile, the pasty demon began t
o approach slowly.

  Soon he stood right above me and glared down with pure hatred in his expression. He leaned over and looked like he was about to say something when Donnchadh reacted by smashing his face with a head butt. There was no nose to break, so it was comparable to ramming my head into solid rock. But it apparently did the trick because the worm demon immediately gripped his face at the same time that Donnchadh grabbed him by the neck with my free hand and used my head to ram him again.

  Again, I was only faintly aware of the pain. The pasty worm demon fell down in a heap and looked, for all intents and purposes, dead. Or maybe he was just unconscious.

  Three left.

  A third whip entwined my hand that was still tangled in the unconscious demon’s whip. Moving solely on instinct, I reached for my blade. The second my fingers touched the hilt of my sword, I felt Donnchadh suddenly thrown back into his cage. As soon as he vacated my body, my nerve endings started protesting all the injuries I’d sustained.

  Great timing, I thought, gritting my teeth in defiance against the pain that roared through my entire body. Instead, I focused on the task ahead and pulled the blade free.

  I hacked at the whip around my other wrist. My sword cut through the thorny weapon like paper but the other two whips that were wrapped around my legs tugged hard and threw me off-balance. I had no idea who was manning them because I’d thought Donnchadh had taken out everyone who needed it.

  The momentum made me land face-first on the ground. Somehow, I managed to keep a death grip on my blade and spare it from the impact. The whips tugged at my legs again, rapidly dragging me toward my attacker. Noticing a faint shadow over my right shoulder, I raised my blade to stab at it and got the satisfaction and relief of a death gasp as the sharp point sank into soft flesh.

  Two remaining.

  The right whip suddenly went slack, giving me a chance to roll over and confront the other whip-wielder. The worm boy standing over me was clawing at his inside jacket pocket for something, probably another weapon. I sliced the whip off my foot in nanoseconds before plunging my blade straight into his stomach. He nearly fell right on top of me. I barely had time to yank my sword free before doing a quick roll to the right.