by Amy Sumida
For a brief moment, I worried that they were there to attack us, but if that had been the case, Sam wouldn't have bothered to address me.
“You're going to help us?” I asked with lifted brows.
“The Demos Family has gone too far,” Dantor—a statuesque woman with skin so dark that it was nearly onyx—declared with her hand on her sword. “No matter what your grievance is, you don't take out your anger on innocents.”
“And you certainly don't interrupt Bazaar business,” Shango sneered through his red and white face paint. “This is unacceptable”
“Glad to have you with us,” Cer said crisply. “We're moving out in four teams. Join whichever you like, but we need to go now.”
“We're coming too,” Farik, one of the dwarves who sold ferch from a cart, stepped out of an alley with a few others.
The dwarves hefted hammers over their shoulders and joined one of the groups. As they did, other beneathers stepped out of their shops, some shifted into menacing forms and others gathering their magic. They joined our ranks without a word, faces set in fierce lines.
I nodded at them, not all that surprised. People unite over the strangest, most trivial things; a sports team, a college, a movie. It doesn't matter why you connect, only that you do. Connection is everything. Connection is life. Survival. And the connection between bazaar beneathers isn't at all trivial; it's sacred. We might argue with each other and cling to our cultures but when the Bazaar was threatened, it didn't matter what race you were, we were in this together. This place is ours; this way of life is important to us, and no one was going to take that away.
We split up and moved out. My group had Gage, Slate, Cerberus, Samedi, Shango, Yemanja, the Gargoyles, an assortment of soldiers from our blended army, and a selection of Bazaar beneathers. With every step, the bazaar beneathers with us gained confidence and determination and maybe a bit of righteousness. Sharp eyes searched every alley and corner as magic tingled through the air and fists tightened on weapons.
When we came upon another pack of satyrs running amok, we barely paused. We barreled down the empty street—shouting, screeching, and roaring—and the satyrs went still, gaping at us, hands gone loose and falling away from the victims. Those victims—a couple of thunderbirds—rallied as we closed in. Bloody mouths sneering into grins, they lifted their golden-brown wings and buffeted the satyrs with feathers and fists and fury, sending them stumbling straight into our welcoming arms.
Bursts of magic, slamming fists, chomping teeth, slashing claws, and slicing blades; everything blurred together. It was over in moments but the Polaroid images of the fight collected in my mind. The edge of a curved kukri blade glinting with a flash of acid-green naga magic. Clouds of sulfurous smoke billowing around Shango as eerie laughter echoed through it. Rocks rumbling as a hellhound howled. The scent of burnt fur searing my nose and heat flushing my cheeks. I panted and spun as I searched the lane for more satyrs. I could hear them approaching; gunfire and goat hooves.
Sure enough, a massive group of Demos thugs gathered at the opposite end of our lane. They had caught the tail end of our fight. Too late to save their friends, much too late, and that made them even madder. Gunfire lit muzzles and resounded off high walls. Our people started to go down. Blood sprayed across ancient stone. Magic streamed back and satyrs started to scream as they fell too but there was so many of them. I knew we'd lose a lot of brave people before we won this fight.
“Kyanite,” I growled.
On it!
The furious slam of drums and cymbals pummeled through the street until evening out into an empowering beat. Everyone paused at the startling arrival of my music. I used that hesitation to make my way to the front of our regiment where I shouted the lyrics at the satyrs like missiles. Pat Benatar's “Invincible” felt like a battle-cry. Like a banner to rally our troops behind. Darkness had come to the Bazaar and the beneathers there had cowered from it but now, I was reminding them of who they were. Of the fact that they didn't need to hide. The Demos Family was strong in numbers only and that was something that could easily be overcome if we united against them.
Magic blasted out of me and a shimmering haze fell over our people. Bullets struck and pinged off my musical ward. Our side cheered and shoved their fists into the air triumphantly while our assailants stumbled. Startled satyr eyes skittered around the street. Bazaar residents were pouring out of their homes and shops, my song rallying them to stand up to their enemies while it simultaneously coated them in an invincible shield. With a roaring cry, we rushed the satrys as our reinforcements closed in behind them to cut off their escape.
Immune to their paltry weapons and bolstered by my magic, our forces took down the Demos satyrs with ease. I sang on through the bloodshed and past our victory. This wasn't over yet. I could still hear shots ringing through the Bazaar, still feel the pound of hooves vibrating through the stone. After a quick look to make sure we were ready, I stepped forward and led our group toward the sound of battle.
We gathered even more people as we went until I had a horde several hundred feet long trailing behind me. When the song came to an end, I started it all over again. There were too many of them for me to protect so I focused on the front line, making us a magical shield-wall.
We reached the center of the Bazaar, our meeting point, but we were the first ones there so we kept going. Like a tidal wave, we surged through the streets, our forces spreading out to clear every nook and cranny as we marched. I belted out the lyrics as I streamed fire and light through my hands and my motley army steamrolled everything in our path.
At the Harpy Stretch, the sound of screeching wove its way into my music. We marched around a corner to find the bird-women swooping down with talons outstretched, clawing out satyr eyes while Torin, Declan, and the rest of their group finished the Demos soldiers off. The Harpies weren't about to let a bunch of Shining Ones have all the fun. Not in their stretch.
Then the Trolls arrived.
The Bazaar began to tremble beneath the united fall of troll footsteps as we marched on with our new recruits. I finally ended my song; it had become unnecessary. At this point, all we were doing was chasing down fleeing satyrs. They were running for the Public Portals and Bazaar entrances. Any who tried to leave through Baris' shop would be out of luck, but I was sure some would make it through the portals and the other ways in.
This would make things harder for us at the funeral. The survivors would doubtless go running straight to their bosses and spread the tale of the Bazaar Beneathers and the army who came to help them. The Demos Family would be on high alert tomorrow. So be it. It was worth it to drive the Demos Family out of the Bazaar and, honestly, it had felt damn amazing to lead a multiracial horde of shopkeepers, criminals, prostitutes, and families all united to save their home.
When we converged on the portals, the portal engineers shut them down, trapping the satyrs on Earth. They surrendered, and—shockingly enough—the bazaar mob stood down and showed mercy. Slate's men took the satyrs into custody and immediately transported them to arena cells in his zone. As soon as they were gone, the entire Bazaar cheered. The sound was deafening and doubtless carried into the human bazaar, but no one cared. We were too busy celebrating unity and victory. For the first time ever, the Grand Beneather Bazaar had made a stand against an oppressive force. They had become their own law, their own militia, and had protected the place they loved.
It would be a long time before this day was forgotten. I hoped that it would serve as a warning for any other syndicate who thought they could sweep in and take up where the Demos Family had left off. But if it didn't, I would be back for an encore.
Chapter Forty-Four
The street party that followed our victory engulfed the entire Bazaar. We couldn't stay long, we still needed to get some rest before the funeral, but we couldn't leave immediately either. Not with all of the beneathers who clamored to shake our hands and toast us with alien alcohol. No one seemed to care that my people
and I were responsible for the Demos Family starting this war, to begin with. Word of what happened to the Nymphs and Cats had spread, and not even the meanest bazaar thug was down with raping nymphs or torturing kids.
“I just wanted to say that there are no hard feelings.” It was one of the golems I'd humiliated with Slate. He bounced a harpy girl on his shoulders as he spoke, “You helped us all today, and Golems never forget someone who does them a solid.”
“Thanks. That's good to know.” I smiled politely and moved away.
“Elaria, that was incredible!” Icarus declared as he squished into my path. “The way you united the whole Bazaar! You're a true queen, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Icarus,” I said warmly.
“You ever find that new fire race?”
“Fire race?” I frowned.
“The one I told you about.” Icky frowned back and straightened his suit.
Icky's gelatinous skin oozed under its magical barrier but neither it nor his suit looked the worse for wear. Ironically, Icarus had come through the battle looking cleaner than most of us.
“Oh, right!” I declared. “Yes, we found them. It was only a few people, not an entire race; humans who had stolen magic.”
“Humans!” Icky squealed. “I knew it! Those diabolical bastards. How did they do it?”
“Top secret.” I pulled an invisible zipper over my lips.
“Ah, yes. Of course.” His eyes twinkled.
Icarus is one of Cer's informants and a secret gets his juices flowing. Yeah; that was the wrong choice of words. In any case, he'd likely be hunting down an explanation as soon as I walked away. Poor Icky wouldn't find one though. The only people who knew about the human scientist who turned Phoenix ashes into an immortality elixir were either dead or loyal enough to never speak of it. The Phoenixes had tracked down every assassin Dr. Daniels had hired. They'd all been found guilty of murder and been executed by the Pyre.
“There you are.” Samedi pulled me away from Icarus. “Have a drink with me before you go.”
Sam held out a silver flask, and I eyed it dubiously.
“Oh, now. You wound me.” Samedi held a hand to his heart. “I'd never slip poison into your drink, cherie.”
“I wasn't worried about poison. I just know the shit you like to drink, and I'd rather not put my taste buds through the trauma.”
Samedi chortled as Slate joined us. He took a swig from his flask and then offered it to my gargoyle. Slate looked at me, and I shook my head subtly.
“I'm good, thanks.” Slate waved off the flask.
“We're good, Zone Lord.” Samedi shook Slate's hand. “You came through again.”
“Yes, but this time, you helped, Sam,” Slate said. “It was nice fighting beside you.”
“You too.” Samedi nodded. “Come by and visit again.”
“We will,” I promised and took Slate's hand. “But now, I need to get home and get some sleep. This isn't over yet.”
“I'm proud of you, Elaria,” Sam said sincerely. “You surpassed all of my expectations.”
I chuckled. “Right back atcha, Sam.”
“To the battle yet to come. May you slaughter your enemies swiftly.” Baron Samedi lifted his flask to us and took another long swallow.
“Hell, Sam, I'll drink to that.” I took the flask from Samedi and tossed back a fiery swallow that left me coughing while he laughed uproariously.
Chapter Forty-Five
Blooder intel told us that there would be two hundred sixty-eight satyrs on funeral guard duty. There would also be the catering staff of fifty-six, who we'd try our best to leave unscathed, and then the real family portion of the Demos Family; the satyrs who actually bore the Demos surname. With the deaths of Philip, Peter, and Alexander, the ruling family unit was down to Petra and her nieces and nephews. Then there was the extended family; cousins of the rulers and their children and so on. In total, there were fifty-eight blood relatives who we needed to eliminate.
We were down a battalion of Angels, and I considered calling in Lucifer, but I wasn't ready to face him. Sure, I was better, I'd even go as far as to say that I was damn good, but I was also dreading the conversation we needed to have. The one where he needlessly apologized for having sex with me, and I rightfully apologized for being such a crazy bitch about it. So, no Angels.
However, I had my own army as well as Torin's and Declan's to rely upon, and our soldiers were Shining Ones. In my opinion, Shining Ones trump Angels. So much so, in fact, that we were only taking groups of twenty-five soldiers from each of our kingdoms. In addition to them, we'd have Banning's Gura of thirty-nine Blooders, fifteen Gargoyles from Slate's zone, and a regiment of forty-two Cats. In total, counting my men, Cerberus, and myself, that gave us one hundred seventy-nine soldiers to their three hundred twenty-six. We'd be outnumbered, but they'd be outgunned, and we would have Shining One reinforcements on standby. I was hoping for the element of surprise as well but with three of their crime lords missing and the survivors of the bazaar battle doubtless tattling on us, I was betting that the Demos Family would be ready for us.
We traveled to Valle d'Aosta in the North of Italy, using our stones to arrive at a predetermined meeting site hidden from the Demos property by the curve of a hill and a small forest. Our army broke off into regiments as soon as we arrived, each group gathering around their leaders. I let Darc handle our soldiers as I took a look around.
My mind doesn't bring up images of Alpine peaks when I think of Italy but the Valle d'Aosta region was hilly, lush, and vineyard-strewn with soaring mountains bordering it. The Demos manor didn't have any vineyards but it did have castle-esque architecture and plateaued gardens spotted with Greek statuary. The guests were already milling about in those gardens, snatching glasses of champagne from the trays of passing waiters. They spoke in animated and cliquish groups who eyed each other as if there might be a sudden coup and they were trying to decide which general to back. If they assumed that Alexander and Peter were dead in addition to Philip, I suppose they would be looking for a new Kerata and the obvious choice of Petra would be frowned upon by most, if not all, of the men.
I spotted Petra speaking with a large group, looking sedate and respectable in her mourning dress complete with black lace veil. She didn't display even a hint of crazy, but I knew the woman was diabolically insane, and I assumed that most of her family knew it even better than I. I'd be doing them, and everyone else on Earth, a favor by killing that woman. Of course, I intended to make sure that the rest of the Demos Family was killed as well so I guess it wasn't all that much of a kindness to them.
My men, Cerberus, Jago, and the Terrencal brothers joined me on the hillside to stare down at the reception. Our army waited behind us, but I would make the first strike. I'd chosen a song that would debilitate but not kill because I didn't want to hurt the innocent waitstaff who were just doing their jobs. “Heat Stroke” by Black Math was a perfect choice. A song about winning, about becoming the victor and leaving your competition in the dust. But what I focused on was the chorus. Fire and smoke. Being untouchable while your enemies fell prey to your heat. Those were words I could work with.
The groaning dragging thump of the intro wound down, across the hills to creep over the guests. I rocked subconsciously to the powerful rhythm, letting the music take control of my body as the magic crawled up my throat like a predator. It leapt from my mouth, claws extended as it licked its lips hungrily. The temperature rose as the Sun magnified on the assemblage. People began to sweat. Fan themselves. Then they collapsed, falling over each other into unconscious piles.
Trays and glasses crashed and clattered. Shouts came from inside the house and satyr soldiers ran outside with their rifles lifted, scanning for enemies. Within seconds of emerging, they were down too, and those still within the shadow of an overhang drew back in horror. I waved my arm forward as I continued to sing, and our army crested the hill then went roaring down it. I'd keep up the heat until they reached the garden
s.
The Cats were half-shifted, their clawed hands lifted menacingly as they shrieked in ways that made the skin on the back of my neck crawl. Blooders brandished automatic riffles and broadswords; an odd but effective combination. Shining One knights shot streamers of glittering magic before them, and Gargoyles launched the garden statues into the manor with waves of their hands.
But we were missing the Host, and we'd forgotten that their job hadn't been merely to fortify us. The Angels were supposed to watch the manor and monitor anything the satyrs did. They were supposed to warn us of any changes that had been made to the security of the site. Except I had turned their god away and refused his help. Instead of apologizing and inviting Lucifer back, I had forged on without him and that mistake was going to haunt me.