by Brom
“What? What d’you mean?”
“I mean, I hear there’s a fight a-brewing and I don’t think it’s a real good idea to be standing right out in the open when it starts. Did you see all the muskets them boys is carrying?”
The two guards exchanged anxious looks.
“Shit,” Gavin continued. “I don’t know about you two, but I didn’t sign up for no demon fighting. Least not an entire army of them anyhow. Matter of fact, I’m starting to think it might not be such a bad idea to get the heck out of Dodge altogether.”
“You thinking about leaving?”
Gavin shrugged and headed away.
“What d’ we do?” Bill asked the other guard.
“I didn’t sign up for this sorta shit either.”
“We can’t just leave.”
Apparently the man felt otherwise and headed away, disappearing into the ruins, and a moment later, Bill followed suit.
As soon as they left Mary pushed one of the silver stars into Yevabog’s mouth, then slid over and started working to free Veles from the chains and sackcloth around his head, neck, and mouth.
The god-blood’s effect was immediate on Yevabog. The ghostly forms of her arms bloomed, shimmering as they took form and solidified. Chet’s own hands formed as well. He grabbed for the knife but his hands were still numb and it slid through his grasp. He tried again, slower, got a grip, and scooted over to where Mary was struggling with the chain about Veles’s mouth. Chet pressed the blade against the metal, a gentle sawing motion. The knife cut right through and the chain fell away.
Mary pushed a star into Veles’s mangled mouth, crumbling the star in order to get it down the god’s mutilated throat.
Veles’s eyes blazed to life.
Chet’s hands regained their feeling and grip. He took the knife to the lock and had the door open in a few seconds. He hopped down, stepping over to the second wagon, the one housing the Red Lady, grabbed hold of the lock.
“What are you doing?” someone called.
Chet turned, saw a Defender walking rapidly toward him with a musket aimed at his head.
CHAPTER 83
The Colonel and Carlos followed Gar toward the line of demons.
“Look at the bastards,” the Colonel growled. “A whole slew of ’em, parading in here like they own the goddamn place.” The man’s blood was up; it was in his voice and on his face. Carlos knew it took a lot to set him off, but also knew that once you did, he didn’t tend to back down and that’s what had him worried. “I thought they couldn’t come here,” the Colonel continued. “Not like this, not a whole army of ’em.”
“They can’t. It’s forbidden.”
“Well, someone sure as shit forgot to tell this ugly cur.”
“Listen to me, Colonel,” Carlos said. “We don’t know what’s going on yet. You’re going to have to keep yourself in check. You hear me? This is not the time or place for a confrontation.”
“They shouldn’t be here. That’s all I know.”
“But they are here. And in case you haven’t noticed, they got us outmanned and outgunned.”
The Colonel spat. “Son of a whore. Sure like to know how this happened.”
“Just let me do the talking. You have to promise me you’ll let me do the talking.”
The Colonel didn’t answer, just kept stomping forward.
Gar halted before the line. The forward ranks parted and a figure on a massive war steed sauntered forward escorted by six guards. The guards were huge brutes, as tall as the steed, looking as though they could easily tear a soul asunder with just their bare hands. They glared at Carlos and the Colonel as flame drizzled from their snouts, sizzling as it hit the sand.
Carlos waited for the lord to dismount, but he remained seated, looking down upon them from his steed. Unlike Lord Kashaol, this figure was tall and straight, an androgynous face with high, prominent cheekbones, pale skin, and pink lips and eyes. Two great horns curved out from a jagged triangular headpiece. But what was most odd was that the creature’s head and hands were not attached to its body, but floated in place as though by unseen bones. The lord was dressed for battle, wearing serrated armor plate atop chain mail—the mail looking more like the scales of some giant lizard than metal, and the plate craggy as though grown from the ground.
“Lord Beelbeth,” Gar said. “These are the souls of which I spoke.” He gestured to each man in turn. “Carlos. And this one here, the Colonel . . . the leader of the troops.”
Lord Beelbeth stared at them, obviously waiting for something.
“Excuse their manners, my Lord.” Gar turned toward the men. “It is customary to bow when introduced to his Lordship.”
Carlos felt a sinking feeling, a growing certainty that this creature wasn’t here seeking an alliance, but only to stake its claim. Carlos made a slight bow; the Colonel did not.
The demons continued to spread out, encircling the ruins. Carlos could see he’d miscalculated their number; there were even more than he’d first thought.
“What’s all this about?” the Colonel asked.
“You will not address the Lord unless spoken to,” Gar hissed.
Lord Beelbeth raised a hand. “We will not bother with formalities today, Gar.” The demon lord’s voice was loud and deep, crackling like a worn out horn. “I am here to welcome these men into my service.” He managed a ghost of a smile. “I smell your fear, gentlemen, but I assure you it is unwarranted. Nothing has changed . . . only now you serve me, instead of the traitor Kashaol.”
“Serve?” the Colonel said. “We don’t serve anyone. We’re free men. That’s what this whole campaign’s been about.”
The demon’s smile faded. “These are my lands now.” He spoke with a tone of absolute authority, the vaporous aura of flame atop his head flaring when he spoke, sending small sparks fluttering skyward. “Any who wish to remain . . . serve me.”
“What?” the Colonel said, shaking his head. “No, that’s not how this is gonna go.”
Lord Beelbeth’s eyes flared; Carlos actually felt their heat and grabbed the Colonel, tugged him aside, pressing into the man’s face. “Stop it!” he hissed. “He’s about to turn us both into ash. Now stop it.”
The Colonel glared at Carlos, then the demon lord, then turned and headed back toward the ruins.
Ah, shit, Carlos thought, desperately wanting time to consider his options, needing to find out what his options even were. “Forgive the Colonel’s outburst, but . . . I hope you understand that this is all a bit of a turn. I mean . . . things were different with Lord Kashaol. The deal was supposed to—”
“Bring her to me.”
“What?”
“The Red Lady. I would see her. Bring her here . . . to my feet.”
Carlos nodded. That would certainly buy him some time, a chance to flee if need be. “Okay . . . yeah, sure . . . I’ll have the men pull her round.” The demons, all their eyes, those burning eyes were on him. “Please excuse me.” Carlos bowed, then bowed again as he back away. He turned, double-timing it to catch up with the Colonel.
“Did you hear what he said?” the Colonel asked. “Serve him? Well I for one will die before bending a knee to that bastard. Let me tell you.”
Carlos nodded along, thought, Yeah, that just might do the trick. Thinking how the Colonel had about worn out his usefulness anyhow. He wondered if there was a way he could play this to his advantage, actually turn the Colonel over, make a show of it. Claim he was planning to attack or some such.
They walked back into the ruins, passing through the ranks of men, questions coming from every direction. The men wanted to know what was going on, what the plan was; their nervous, fearful eyes locked on the ever-spreading line of demons.
“Dammit, Carlos,” the Colonel spat. “I knew these demons would lead to trouble. Goddamn knew it.”
“Is that so?” Carlos shot back. “Strange, I don’t recall having to twist—” Carlos spotted Gavin leading two horses away from the line. �
�Well, look there. It appears your most stalwart soldier is running away.” And despite the demons at his door, Carlos found himself taking the deepest satisfaction in pointing this out. “Why, I believe he’s deserting you, Colonel.”
The Colonel halted in his tracks but his eyes weren’t on Gavin: they were on the man lying on the ground in front of the wagons, his head a smoldering mass. The wagon was empty, the door open.
Veles walked around the side of the wagon, staring at them, the golden corona hovering behind his great antlers so bright they had to shield their eyes. He wore a smile, a most terrible smile.
“No!” Carlos cried, fumbling for his revolver. “Oh, no!”
Veles rubbed his fingers together and the Colonel let out a horrific scream as his head burst into flames. Carlos’s head began to heat up, to smolder, then burn. He let out his own scream, turned, and fled.
CHAPTER 84
Chet cut through the last chain and yanked the pail from the Red Lady’s face. Her lids were half-open on lifeless eyes. He felt certain she was dead, but as men all around them began to go up in flames, as their shouting and screaming grew, the faintest glow came into her eyes.
Mary leapt up next to Chet. She held one of the stars for the Red Lady to see. “Sekhmet, it’s god-blood, take it.” The sphinx made no response. Mary pressed the star into the sphinx’s mouth.
The Red Lady began to chew.
Mary pushed in another star. “That’s all I have.”
The Red Lady let out a groan and Chet felt a wave, like a blast of air, pulse outward from her body and push through him. He started backing away, when another pulse came, so strong as to distort the air and knock both him and Mary against the bars. He grabbed Mary and together they leapt from the wagon.
The ghostly outlines of the sphinx’s wings and large paws bloomed. She let out a low howl as they gained weight and substance. Fur and feathers sprouted and the large wounds riddling her body closed, disappearing.
The screaming continued as Veles stomped toward the line of men, his arms extended, fingers twirling, setting any who stood before him to flame. He was met by sporadic musket fire, but the rounds only bounced off his fur and the blue aura surrounding him.
Chet caught sight of Yevabog; she’d obtained two knives, and was darting here and there among the souls, cutting them down as she scuttled past, her eyes full of fever. She looked almost gleeful in her fury.
The men began to break and run.
There came a terrific cry, a sound that rang around the ruins and bit into Chet’s very bones. It came from the mouth of the canyon, followed by horns and bells. Howls and shouts roared up and down the line of demons and the horde charged, the ground rumbling beneath their boots and hooves as they headed toward the ruins. At their helm was a tall figure upon a powerful warhorse, its purple cape flapping in the wind. The creature pulled a great sword from its sheath, raised it above its head, and set its sights on Veles. Chet caught the golden glint of the blade, knew it was Heaven forged like his knife.
The Red Lady rolled into a sitting position, hunched over in the narrow confines of the wagon, her wings pressed tightly about her. She snarled and shoved to her feet, thrusting her wings upward, bursting through the planks and busting from the wagon. Mary and Chet ducked down as planks and splinters flew through the air.
And there she stood, the great Red Lady, surveying the fleeing men, the ruins, and finally the attacking horde. They were almost to the walls. The sphinx raised up tall upon her hind legs, her wings spread wide, her great mane gusting like a flame in a gale. Her eyes landed on the warlord and she let out a roar, a roar that shook the very ground.
The mass of demons faltered, toppling and falling over one another as they stumbled and staggered to a halt, all fixed upon the fearsome sphinx towering before them—her emerald eyes ablaze.
And there came a moment, as the Red Lady locked eyes with the warlord across the scattered ruins, when all seemed frozen, when the very air felt ready to ignite.
CHAPTER 85
Carlos stumbled along, struggling to reach Veles’s master wagon, his head smoldering, the smoke and pain blinding him as he fought against the tide of fleeing soldiers.
He found the wagon unguarded and unmanned. He climbed the steps, collapsing into Veles’s chamber. He saw the god-slaying spear, but that wasn’t what he was after, crawling instead over to a chest, yanking it open. He pulled the blunderbuss out from the velvet, dug about until he found the powder and shot. They’d managed to gather enough of the shrapnel from the first blast to create a second shot. Though not as large, he felt sure it would be all he needed to kill Veles. He stuffed the cannon, loaded the shot, and stumbled back down the steps.
The flames were out on his head, but still the burning persisted, his flesh continuing to broil and blister as he searched for Veles. “Fuck!” he screamed, trying not to succumb to the pain. He heard a roar, couldn’t tell from where as his ears were full of crackling cinders. He stepped over burning husks, dodged screaming men—souls fully engulfed in flame—and guessed he must be heading in the right direction.
Another roar, this one he couldn’t miss. He turned, saw the Red Lady far down by the wagons, standing up on her hind legs. She leapt forward, charging out toward the edge of the ruins, toward the demons.
He took a step after her, collapsed, and realized he was too far gone to ever catch her. No, he thought, it’s not her I want. It’s not Veles. It’s him. It’s that little fucker . . . that Chet. And now, sitting there, slowly burning to death, it was all clear, so painfully clear. The boy, just like Gavin had said, was some sort of magic man—a god, a demon. Who knew? What he did know was that each time the kid showed up things went bad. He fucked this up. He’s fucked everything up.
Carlos pushed himself back up to his feet, stumbled down the alley, heading back to the last place he’d seen the boy, back to the animal wagons.
CHAPTER 86
The Red Lady charged through the ruins, trampling any souls unfortunate enough to be in her path. She roared and sprang, a magnificent leap of over fifty yards, coming down like a meteor, smashing into the forward line of demons.
Chet watched, captivated as the sphinx tore into the demons, smashing, stomping, slashing. The feathers of her wings were like sword blades as she spun, cutting them down by the dozens, her tail like a whip, carving out great swaths, sending limbs and bodies flying through the air. Their weapons were useless against her, the blades and musket fire bouncing off her feathers and hide.
Over all the chaos, a voice rang out. “KILL HER!” It was the one atop the great steed, the demon lord. Its voice cut Chet to the bone. “KILL HER!” it shrieked, compelling its soldiers onward. The huge demons closest to it lumbered forward, bearing great axes and mallets. The Red Lady spun on them, slashing, all teeth and claws, and when she did, the demon lord attacked, riding up fast from behind.
“Look out!” Chet screamed even though she was too far to hear. Something warned her though, for at the last moment she spun, but not fast enough.
The demon lord swung its great sword. The angel blade caught her wing, slicing through it, cutting the limb off just above her shoulder.
She snarled and snapped her tail, knocking the lord from its steed. The steed, a fearsome beast in its own right and nearly as large as the Red Lady, leapt upon the sphinx. The Red Lady caught the horse’s head between her huge paws, tugging it down, twisting and tearing its neck from its torso. She pushed past the floundering body and rushed the lord, catching him with a mighty swipe of her paw just as he was getting to his feet, flipping him through the air.
The demon lord crashed into a wall at the edge of the ruins, knocking the wall over and sending stones tumbling in all directions.
“Chet, now. Let’s go!” It was Gavin, coming up from behind the wagons, leading two horses.
The Red Lady charged the lord with a roar, leaping high and coming down upon him with her full might, thrashing and tearing. The ruins blocked his view,
but Chet saw parts of the demon lord go sailing through the air.
Gavin grabbed Chet. “C’mon!”
Chet set eyes on Gavin. “You’re a bastard.”
Gavin appeared taken back, then understanding came to his face. “Chet, I had to bring you in that way. Nothing else would’ve worked. Here.” He handed Chet one of his revolvers. “You can shoot me if you want, or we can go save that little girl of yours.”
Chet looked at the big gun, thought about it, truly thought about putting a bullet in the man’s head, but he didn’t because he knew that Gavin was right, knew they’d both be on their way to Hell right now if he hadn’t brought him in the way he did.
“Fuckers!” came a throat-tearing shriek.
Gavin and Chet turned to see a man, a man whose head was little more than a blackened cinder, stumbling toward them. Chet didn’t recognize him, but he did recognize the big brass scorpion belt buckle. “Carlos!”
Carlos brought the blunderbuss to bear, pointing it right at Chet.
“Down!” Gavin cried, diving into Chet, knocking him from his feet.
There came a concussive blast as the cannon went off. Chet felt heat tear into his legs and back as he hit the ground. He rolled up, squinting through the smoke. Carlos was on his butt, staring at them. “Die, you fuckers! Die!”
Chet still had the revolver clutched in his hand, pointed it at the man’s head, and fired twice. Both shots found their mark, blowing the top of Carlos’s head off.
“See that, Gavin?” Chet shouted. “Now that’s shooting like a Moran!”
Gavin didn’t answer.
“Gavin?” Chet’s grandfather lay on his back, clutching the side of his head. The shrapnel had shredded Gavin’s chest and shoulder, taken off an entire arm, had torn the man wide open. Gavin had caught the bulk of the shot, and Chet understood then and there that he’d done it to save him.
“Oh, Jesus, Gavin.” Chet scooted over to the man, reached for him, hesitated, seeing the wound, the huge gash running along the side of his head. The bone was smashed and small tendrils of silvery smoke seeped from the injury.