But time was running out. He could feel Death above him, radiating the cold aura of darkness he had known in the fraction of a second when his pupils had shrunk to pinpricks and his soul had passed into the light. A hateful, empty sensation he remembered from the horrible nights in the frigid basements where he had bedded down in straw with the leaking pipes and scuttling insects, praying the Swarm would not descend upon him while he tried in vain to sleep. Even back then, Phoenix had known it would come down to the two of them, their undeniable attraction drawing them together, opposite magnetic poles, into the final confrontation that would determine no less than the fate of the world.
Missy screamed his name from a dozen stories below. Her pain echoed all around him in the black confines, summoning his mind back to the moment like an ice pick through his ears. The sound of her suffering cut him worse than Death’s claws.
He had no idea how many levels had passed, only that he was nearing the end of his heavenward ascent. The inevitability that spurred him toward the roof was undeniable, growing infinitely stronger now with every labored step.
An open door passed to his right as he rounded another landing, issuing a vile mixture of the organic scents of death. Rotting and tanned flesh. Spilled blood given over to decay. The dust of pulverized bone. Festering remains and aging feces. Such corruption struck him in the gut with enough force to steal his breath, triggering the revelation that he was dealing with an evil beyond his no longer limited comprehension.
He was afraid.
The last stretch of stairs passed in a blur of darkness, in which his thoughts became a convoluted slideshow of images racing past at a million miles an hour, yet he savored the sights and memories. The final mental picture before he slammed into the freezing steel door and thrust his hips into the horizontal release bar was of a raven-haired beauty sitting on the bank of a lake, the sun behind her highlighting her form with a penumbra of fire, her legs dangling into the crystalline water.
The door exploded outward and he stumbled onto the roof, the tarred surface molten beneath his feet. He blinked back the glare of the sun and rubbed his eyes until he could finally see. The blue sky stretched to the horizon and beyond in every direction, a fathomless ocean of air.
Phoenix stopped in the middle of the roof. The wind whistled across bare girders and broken machinery and pipes, whipping his blood-crusted bangs into his face.
Directly ahead, perched at the edge of the world like a gargoyle, looking down, was the ebon figure of his nightmares, its back to him.
“For they have sown the wind,” Death rasped, “and they shall reap the whirlwind.” Phoenix watched as the creature turned to face him, his eyes locking onto blood-red orbs that at first registered surprise, but quickly metamorphosed into the fires of hell.
The crimson dewlap extended from beneath Death’s chin like spurting carotids, trilling as he stretched out his arms and hissed up into the heavens with the sound of thunder.
IV
“PLEASE…LEAVE NOW,” WERE THE LAST WORDS PHOENIX HAD SAID TO HER. No I love you or a moment of affection. Maybe then she would have suspected what was coming next, which was probably why he had simply run away, leaving her standing there unable to understand what was transpiring. He had looked so weak, so frail. She had been about to wrap her arms around him to help him stand when he had bolted. It was surreal. She had just seen him return to life. Her only thoughts had been of holding him in her arms and never again letting him go.
And just like that he had been gone, a distant figure dashing away from them with his shadow stretching along the pavement behind. They had stood there—all of them—dumbfounded and in shock, before her body had grasped what her mind couldn’t, and she was racing after him, sobbing, watching helplessly as he disappeared into the dark maw of the tower.
The ground had felt as though it had turned to tar, sucking her feet down, causing her to move in slow motion, the distance insurmountable. She had heard footsteps behind her, in time with the tapping of her pulse in her temples, but she’d been unable to look away from the doorway for fear that when she returned her gaze, the opening would have grown farther away or vanished altogether. She hadn’t seen the iron cross or the mounds of rubble pass, the courtyard falling away behind as she stepped out of the daylight and into the darkness.
She had screamed for him, but there had been no answer. Her vision had abandoned her as she passed through the diminishing gray zone and out of the sunlight’s reach into the lobby. Debris had been strewn everywhere, grasping for her feet and ankles as she stumbled blindly ahead. She remembered pausing to listen for Phoenix’s tread in the cavernous lobby, but had only heard the pounding footsteps behind her, slowing as they passed from cement onto the inner tiles. They had called for her, but she had been too out of breath to answer and wary to make any kind of sound that might have masked a clue as to where Phoenix had gone.
What followed had been a seamless journey into blackness, marred only by the repetitive crunch of broken tile and concrete underfoot, stretching on for what had felt like hours. Trying to run with her arms stretched out in front of her, falling, skinning her hands and knees and fighting back to her feet only to run and fall again until she had finally heard the hollow echo of movement in the stairwell ahead.
Now, here she was, pounding stair after stair, using her arms to tug on the railing to aid her failing legs. Blood streamed down her shins from the wounds on her knees, aggravated by the repeated flexion and extension, her ragged breaths coming in shrieking gasps.
Bang!
She stopped and leaned over the railing, craning her neck to try to see up into the impenetrable darkness. Had that been a gunshot? A faint hint of light diffused through the swirling motes high above. It faded…faded until the shadows reclaimed their realm with the soft click of a closing door.
“Phoenix!” she screamed, climbing again with renewed vigor. The slant of light couldn’t have been more than ten floors up, an eternity of stairs, but at least the distance had revealed itself. She had heard him crash through a door, and the light must have been the outside world.
The roof.
Phoenix had gone out onto the roof, where she was sure evil waited for him, surrounded on all four sides by the sheer face of the tower and a bone-shattering fall.
Her footsteps echoed in the concrete chute like a stampede. She was beyond exhausted, tapping into reserves she never knew she had. Yet still progress was maddeningly slow. She attuned her ears to the slightest sound beneath her cumbersome thumping, expecting at any moment to hear agonized screams from above.
A smell like the floor of a slaughterhouse assailed her, a greasy entity that crawled over her skin and burrowed into her sinuses, before she reached the penthouse level and passed the open doorway to hell.
The others shouted for her from several stories down, but she couldn’t waste the breath to answer them. Her chest had tightened exponentially, a constrictive band of dyspnea coiling around her throat and chest. Sweat dampened her hair and stung her eyes.
She rounded the final landing and hurtled toward the thin, intermittent line of light reaching beneath the door to the roof. Without a thought as to what might be on the other side, she hit the lever and thrust the door outward.
“No!” Phoenix screamed from where he was sprawled on his back a dozen yards ahead. His eyes widened with fear. He reached for her, his arm marbled with glimmering blood, and struggled to rise.
All she could think was to run to him, oblivious to the shadow that stepped out from behind the stairwell door and the cold breath on the back of her neck. Her shirt snagged on something behind her, tightening across her thorax and neck, impeding her progress.
“Phoen—!” she cried. His name abruptly ended in a whistle.
A black object passed out of sight from the corner of her vision, angled up from beneath her chin. Whatever held her from behind released her and she staggered forward. Icicles prodded her neck. Her chest was suddenly hot and wet.
>
Missy tried to scream for him again, but no voice came. Instead, the whistling noise faded into a gurgle of fluid.
Phoenix shoved himself up from the ground and threw himself at her.
Missy’s eyes fell to the ground, where blood splashed back up at her as though dumped from buckets. Her hands rose to her neck, closing around parallel gouges, her middle finger sinking deep enough to feel cartilage.
Phoenix was still too far away to keep her from falling. A spurt of blood arced across the rooftop between them.
She collapsed into darkness, his anguished scream trailing her into oblivion.
V
PHOENIX WAS CERTAIN HIS HEART STOPPED BEATING WHEN HIS STARE locked on that of the Beast. Power emanated from the black-scaled Death like radiation from an isotope. Rage. Hatred. And still there was a controlled calmness in his expression and posture that affirmed Death’s unfaltering confidence, not doubting that he would butcher Phoenix every bit as easily as he had scant hours before.
“Leave this place,” Phoenix said, surprised by the firmness of his voice despite his trembling body. “You have fulfilled your destiny. Now go back from whence you came.”
The words startled Phoenix. They had emerged from his mouth, but their origin eluded him. A tingling sensation thrummed through him as though he were a conduit for a power far greater than his.
Death snarled, gnashing his multiple rows of razor-honed teeth.
“This world is mine now,” he said, his voice the grumble of a landslide breaking free. He clattered his claws together eagerly in anticipation of what he knew was to come.
Phoenix had to be quick. It was only matter of time before Missy reached the roof and exposed his vulnerability.
“Let me speak to my brother,” Phoenix said.
The Beast laughed; the hideous sound of coughing through blood-filled lungs.
“No humanity remains. The vessel fulfilled the prophecy. Its body is now mine alone.”
Had there been the hint of an accent in his words?
Phoenix smiled.
Infuriated, Death strode forward, back hunched, the cape of scales beneath his chin shivering. The boy had found his way back from the grave, but that wouldn’t stop him from sending the child right back. Phoenix was flesh and blood, the liability of mankind, and was no more frightening than a lamb. Only this time, Death was going to relish every second of the kill. No one would rob him of the satisfaction. Not now. Not when the moment to seize his reign had finally arrived. His ascension was at hand.
Phoenix closed his eyes and lowered his head, summoning every ounce of his strength. He raised his arms to his sides, electricity coursing through his arteries like power lines.
Death crouched, legs bent, muscles flexed, hands pressed to the tarred roof, waiting for the boy to lift his chin and expose his throat, waiting to hurl himself at his adversary. A coiled spring preparing to launch.
“Your time on earth is over,” Phoenix said, his voice filled with the hollow resonance of cannon fire. His eyelids snapped open and his pink irises glowed against a murky white background before vanishing within, as though his eyes were glass orbs filled with clouds.
Death hissed and sprung at the boy, arms reaching striking position, lining up with those emerging eyes he knew all too well. He would not abide His interference. This was Death’s realm now. And no one, not even the Lord himself, would abolish him from it. His blood boiled, his rage driving him to frenzy. His eyes focused on the boy’s, on the Presence staring through them. He wanted to see the look of pain, the silent flash of fear and celestial indignation that would register before the opened neck poured out his life.
Slashing with his right arm first and then his left, he felt the forgiving flesh open for his nails, felt the warmth and wetness, but not where he had intended. Without a flinch to betray his intentions, the boy had glided to the side just enough to offer his shoulder rather than his neck. Claws met with bone, angering Death beyond comprehension. His right hand passed through the meat, showering the rooftop with a violent spray of blood, but by the time his left hand hit its mark, he knew exactly what to do. Curling his fingers into the socket, latching around the girdle of bones inside, Death held on and used his momentum to yank the boy from his feet. Landing again in a crouch, the child hanging from his grasp like a rag doll, Death spun in a circle and hurled Phoenix away toward the other side of the roof, loosening his grip just enough to allow his claws to tear straight down through the fleshy biceps as he released him.
Phoenix cried out before the air exploded from his abruptly compressed lungs, silencing him, sending him skidding backwards along the rugged tarred surface. The base of his skull bounced several times before he abandoned his inertia, gasping for breath and staring up into the sky. His back was skinned nearly to the bone and he could barely make his fingers twitch through the ferocious pain in his arm. He tried to sit up, but the agony pinned him to the ground.
“Phoenix!” Missy called from far way, muffled by the steel door.
Her voice lent Phoenix the strength to raise his head. Death looked him directly in the eyes and read the expression on Phoenix’s face.
Death’s wide mouth spread into an evil grin.
No! Phoenix screamed inside his head, unable to fill his lungs. Please, God. Not Missy!
Death walked in reverse, slinking back into the shadows cast by the steel-girdered cube housing the stairwell until he stood just beside the door.
“No!” Phoenix croaked with what little oxygen finally reached his chest. He raised his shoulders from the ground, fighting through the pain, head throbbing, but too slowly…too slowly. He heard the sound of footsteps pounding up the cement stairs, the clatter of the release bar. “Please…”
His stare sought out Death’s. Those frightening scarlet teardrops had narrowed to triangular slits, his claws hanging at his sides.
“Please,” he whispered. “Not her…you can have me.”
Death bared his gnarled fangs in response. Phoenix searched his eyes for any sign of mercy until the steel slab was flung open to reveal the darkened stairwell, the door hiding Death behind.
“No!” Phoenix screamed with everything he had. Missy’s shadow formed from the darkness. The light passed over her feet and up her body until he could see her face. In that split-second her features ran the gamut of emotions from happiness to surprise to terror.
He pushed himself up and reached for her, screaming inside his head.
Death slipped out from behind the door and stood behind her as Missy ran toward him. Death grabbed her by the back of her shirt.
“Phoen—!” she cried before Death’s black hand reached over her shoulder and glided across her throat. Her neck yawned around parallel mouths of flesh from which streaks of red arched, glistening in the sun’s rays.
She stumbled forward, clutching her throat, blood spurting from between her fingers and pouring down her chest. Her eyes grew wide, latching onto his as the pain finally reached her brain and the grim understanding of what had just happened hit her.
“No!” Phoenix screamed, forcing himself to his knees. He crawled toward her despite the pain and the overwhelming grief that exploded from him in incoherent sobs.
Missy staggered another couple of steps before falling to her knees. She wavered for what felt like an eternity to Phoenix before collapsing forward onto the roof in front of him. Her hands fell from her neck, but didn’t even try to brace her body for impact. Her chin and nose pounded the roof with a crack.
Blood spread from the wound into an expanding puddle.
Phoenix screamed and crawled to her, but before he could reach out to close his hands over the pumping slashes on her neck, what felt like spikes pounded into his back, hooking around his ribs, yanking him away. He raged and fought against the pain, trying desperately to reach Missy. Death’s claws snapped his ribs and tore back out through the flesh, slamming him again onto his back. He stared up into Death’s reptilian mouth, lined with the teeth o
f a great white shark, as it opened wide enough to take off half of his head.
VI
ADAM SPRINTED UP THE STAIRS IN THE LEAD, LEAVING EVELYN AND JILL more than a flight behind. All he heard was pounding footsteps above and below, throbbing inside his skull. The aftereffects of Pestilence’s assault still plagued him.
He prayed that Ray had listened to him and that he and Jake had found someplace safe to hide. At least if the rest of them died in this awful monolith, maybe Ray and Jake would still have some slim hope for survival.
There was a bang like a gunshot from two stories above and sunlight fogged the dusty air above.
“Phoen—” he heard Missy shout over the drum roll of footsteps. Phoenix cried out, his pained voice silenced by the door slamming closed again.
“Wait,” Adam gasped, rounding another landing. His eyes focused through the pitch black on the spot where he had seen the light and he listened for any noise from outside on the roof.
“Missy!” Evelyn screamed from below.
Adam charged up the stairs to the next landing and was smacked in the face by the wretched aroma of a morgue weeks after the coolers failed, so intense he could no longer hold back the revolt in his stomach and patterned the wall with a splatter.
Two more sections of stairs, one more landing, and he would be at the door to the roof. He still couldn’t hear any voices or sounds of struggle to know if the others were still alive up there or if he was sprinting to his demise. He swung around the final platform and the world around him flowed with the sluggishness of a dream. His feet moved of their own accord, his arms faintly highlighted by the line of light beneath the door as they reached ahead of him in preparation of thrusting the release bar. The cold metal brushed his palms, and with the sound of metal slamming against metal, he burst out into the blazing sunlight.
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