by J. P. Rice
“Why does that comment make you mad?” he asked calmly.
“Don’t play stupid.”
“I was merely pointing out a fact,” he said, still calm. “They do hurt sometimes. I could leave your head if you wish.”
My eyes widened. “Then do it.”
“Oh, we know each other well enough by now.” He paced in front of me. “I won’t just walk away without something from you.”
“I’m not springing you on any of my friends,” I told him.
“If you give me three minds to take up residence in, I will leave your mind, no questions asked.”
I sat in silence. The prospect of getting rid of Agramon enticed me.
“Let’s say I can make this happen. How can I summon your physical form?” I asked.
“When you are ready to strike said deal, clap seven times.” He approached me. He set his sweaty palms on top of my hands and leveled his eyes with mine. I smelled liver on his breath. “And don’t try anything foolish either like ambushing me. I am wise to these kinds of tricks. My spirit can kill you from within. If you kill my physical form, my spirit would be none too happy.”
“Your spirit would die without a physical form,” I said.
“Aaahhh, but I have your physical form. Remember?” he asked rhetorically.
“But if you killed me your spirit would die,” I said, staring into the dark abyss of his eyes.
“Very observant.” He removed his hands and took a step back. “That is a price I’d be happy to pay.”
Someone shook me awake. My eyes shot open and I felt sweat covering my whole body.
Cheryl was shaking me. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
I sat up against the wall in our room, and she slid over next to me. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“You kept screaming about how sorry you were and how you didn’t mean to do it.”
“I think it’s just the setting. I’ve been having some weird dreams since we’ve been here.” The truth was that I’d barely slept in the Red Cavern. The lava incident kept me on edge constantly. How could I go to sleep in this place?
I hoped I would drift away for a while tonight. The next morning, I planned to kill a devil.
Chapter 27
My body materialized in St. Louis. I was standing in snow, which was strange for this time of year. Cheryl and Dweezil started to appear in front of me. Bruceras stood waiting for us to start the mission.
It was basically a standoff. Bruceras could complete the “mission” right now by playing the Dagda’s Harp. The devil had made up a story about how he needed to play the Harp in a certain location away from the portal drop off.
As Bruceras checked his bag for the Harp, I dropped to one knee and pretended to tie my bootlaces. Instead, I kept my eye on the devil and sent the signal to the Morrigan to let her know the location. That way, her birds would be in the vicinity when I hid the flute.
We were all dressed in thermal suits under our regular gear. Cheryl and I were in our Steelers winter jackets and jeans. Dweezil sported a leather vest and gray corduroy pants. Bruceras had his leather pants and long black duster covering his undersuit. The devil had the Harp stashed away in a leather carryall that was slung over his shoulder.
Bruceras and Dweezil had shifted into human form. They were still the same size, but Bruceras had shaggy red hair, freckles and blue eyes. Dweezil had a dark complexion, dark eyes and a ragged beard.
“The spot is right through these woods right here,” Bruceras announced, pointing toward a frosty forest.
Of course. We just needed to travel through a forest where no one could see or hear us. Nothing shady about that. Too bad for him that we were onto his plan. Why hadn’t he just accused us of wrongdoing and had us executed in the Red Cavern?
As we headed for the woods, I realized that it would be difficult for the Morrigan’s crows to find the flute in the forest. I let the group move ahead and pretended to tie my bootlaces again. First, I pried open my skin and sent the second signal to Mo. I started counting.
Then, I slid my finger into my boot and plucked out the golden flute. Five seconds had passed, and I dropped it in the snow and got up to rejoin the group. Without warning, Bruceras turned around. He started walking toward the spot where I’d dropped the flute. Oh, fook. What was he doing?
“What’s wrong?” Dweezil asked.
“Just making sure this is the correct location.” He stopped and looked up at the sky, partially obscured by the snowy branches. My heart dropped as he was standing in the exact spot where I had set the flute. All he had to do was look down and we were screwed. Or at least, I was screwed.
A tingle of panic traced over my body. Then, as abruptly as he had stopped and turned around, the devil whirled and tramped through the snow to rejoin us.
“It’s the right spot,” he grunted as he gestured with his head for us to get moving.
I sighed in relief and shivered at the thought of how our entire plan had almost blown up in our faces. Now the Morrigan could have her crows pick up the flute and give it to Mike Merlino. If things went south with the Harp, at least I’d eliminated Ice Heart. It felt good to stop that murderous asshole.
We trudged into the woods. Frozen leaves and brush sat just beneath the few inches of snow, crunching and snapping underfoot as we went. It was nothing but trees as far as the eye could see, their naked branches crusted in fallen snowflakes.
The shy sun was still hiding behind a gray cloud, its weak rays casting odd shadows on the snowy landscape. Bruceras shifted into demon form in full stride, his body expanding as he kept moving ahead of us.
He really filled out that duster now. Dweezil shifted seamlessly as well, taking his normal wart-infested form. I had to stop myself from following their lead and shifting into my normal body. I thought about a sneak attack right now.
Bruceras seemed to read my mind and slowed down, falling in next to us.
About twenty minutes later, Bruceras broke the tense silence, “There’s a clearing up here where we can take a quick break.”
That was our chance. Dweezil was going to distract Bruceras and I would hit him from behind. I started dipping into my magic and assumed the best way to end his life was to burn him to death. He had so much fire inside him, I was just going to strike the match and watch it combust.
My arms went numb as showtime neared. I focused on my magic, trying to heat up my insides to launch the most powerful attack possible. Usually, I coalesced the flames in my mouth, but I’d already started that action in the pit of my gut. I was going for napalm.
We entered the clearing and Cheryl’s flushed face told me she was nervous. That probably made three of us. The mental and physical exhaustion had taken a serious toll.
Dweezil maneuvered himself so that when Bruceras was facing him, he would have his back to me. The devil’s assistant spoke, his voice almost cracking, “My lord. I have a humble question for you.”
Bruceras turned to him, squaring his shoulders with Dweezil’s. The fire raced up from my belly and stopped in my throat as the flames built up more power. Just a few more seconds and Bruceras would be engulfed in flames. I had to be careful not to light up Dweezil too.
Dweezil opened his mouth to speak as Bruceras drew back a tightened fist. What the fook was going on? I assumed Bruceras was about to threaten his servant. Instead, he unleashed a monstrous punch that landed against the side of Dweezil’s head. His skull collapsed under the pressure of the punch, the jagged edge of his busted cranium cutting into Bruceras’s knuckles.
The shock of the moment knocked the fiery magic out of me. My mind scrambled to reignite the flames but I couldn’t achieve full concentration. The raw brutality had shaken me.
Dweezil collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. Black blood poured from his mangled head, the white snow lapping up the liquid greedily. Bruceras proceeded to stomp on Dweezil, focusing on his already busted skull.
Come on. I only had a few moments to act. But the flames were weak and being uncooperative. What the fook? It had to be because of the lack of sleep, and overusing magic caused rapid aging, depleting my magical power. When Bruceras had broken my concentration, I’d lost my total focus on the magic.
“I trusted you.” Bruceras continued kicking him as spittle flew from his mouth. “I gave you the highest honor to serve me.” He paused and delivered a few more stomps. “And you betrayed me.” He stared down at the dead body. “You deserve worse than death.”
He finished the brutal assault and turned to us. The prospect of my sneak attack had disintegrated.
The speckles of black blood gave his duster an uneven luster as he stepped closer to us. “Thought I could be fooled,” he mumbled and lifted his boot, showing us the sole.
I gasped and my life flashed before my eyes.
Chapter 28
Nestled tightly between the tread of his boot was a tiny flute covered in snow. Bruceras plucked the object from his boot and dusted it off. He opened a zipper on the duster near his elbow and tucked the flute into a pocket. He closed it up and pulled his carrying sack up to his chest.
How had he outsmarted us? Obviously, Dweezil hadn’t sold us out or he’d still be alive.
The devil dug into his leather bag as I stood there in shocked silence. The fire inside me had disappeared. I didn’t want to go down without a fight, but my options were limited now. Cheryl stood with her mouth hanging open. Our great plan had been obliterated with one punch.
Bruceras produced four thin strips of silver. He began mumbling under his breath, setting a spell on the materials. Silver sparks jumped off the objects and a devious grin formed on the devil’s face.
“Ditch the coats and hold out your arms,” he ordered.
Powerless in the situation, we both followed his directions, then held out our arms. He instructed, “Bare your wrist by pulling up your sleeves.”
We both hiked up the sleeves on our right arms to our elbows. He slapped Cheryl’s wrist with one of the straight pieces of silver and it latched onto her. The bracelet molded around her wrist forming an unbreakable connection.
He hit me next and the cold metal dug uncomfortably into my flesh, grabbing hold of me. Pulses of magic flowed from the bracelet, allowing me to feel its power. Bruceras took the third strip of silver and slapped it onto his left wrist.
He looked over us, and said, “If you get farther than ten feet from me, you will die.”
He held up the fourth piece of silver. “Just a demonstration of what will happen.”
He spun in a one-eighty and threw the silver strand with all his might. It rotated end over end as it sailed toward a snow-covered tree branch. As soon as it cleared ten feet, a silver explosion almost blinded me. I heard the huge branch buckle and then fall to the ground, crashing loudly. At least, I assumed that had happened.
My eyes were still watering from the flash of bright light. When I was able to see again, I noticed a blackened and splintered tree branch scattered across the landscape before me. The circumference where the branch had been attached to the trunk was wider than my head. I got the point of his demonstration and instinctively inched closer to him.
Now we had a new plan. We would be marched to our deaths by a ruthless demon. It was a done deal. Everything except writing the epitaphs had been completed. Why didn’t he just kill us right now? What was he waiting for?
He was probably enjoying this. The sick bastard. He pulled a cellphone out of the inside pocket of his duster and stared at the screen. He squinted in confusion, apparently looking for a saved number. He nodded and held the phone up to his face.
“Sparvero. It’s Bres. Hey, I’m in your neck of the woods and have two fresh ones for you.”
That was why he hadn’t killed us back at the Red Cavern. Just a little human trafficking. Nothing to see here.
“Yeah, they’re still alive. It’s a male and a female.”
He listened for a few seconds and said, “You can torture them, sure. You can do whatever you want once you pay the fee.”
“All right. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
He hung up and put his phone away. As he secured the buttons on his duster, he said, “We need to move.”
Cheryl and I followed close behind. Who was this person he was selling us to? I took stock of the current situation. If I ran, my bracelet would explode and kill me. If I didn’t, Bres would sell us off to someone who planned to torture us.
I knew I couldn’t escape from Bres, but maybe his friend wasn’t as powerful. With limited options, I had no other choice. I had to bide my time until we met up with this Sparvero character. I couldn’t even form a plan until I got a look at the guy.
How had the original plan gone awry already? Right now, I should have had the Harp in my hand. Dweezil should have been heading out into the world to form a life of his own. And Cheryl was going to return to Pittsburgh. Instead, one of us was dead and two more seemed destined to follow.
I hustled through the woods to stay close to Bruceras, who was setting a brisk pace. Mud stained snow flew from the back of his boots, the nasty speckles finding a home on the pantlegs of my jeans. I’d escaped near-death situations before, but this had a different feel to it.
In the other instances, there was a little bit of hope attached to the situations. But there was no getting out of this. The more I thought about it, the more I realized Bruceras wouldn’t just hand us off to some idiot. I’d spit in the face of death one too many times. I knew it would finally catch up with me.
I contemplated whether the explosion would kill Bruceras too. If I was going to die, I could at least make sure he did too. My scattered mind quickly dismissed that option. His demonstration had proved that the explosion was concentrated.
We’d been showered with shredded scraps of the tree branch, but the actual blast hadn’t touched us. He wouldn’t have set something up that would get him killed too.
Fook.
We came upon another big clearing with a small pond. I noticed a streak of silver just beneath the surface.
In an instant, the water from the pond fountained into the air. Before the liquid showered back down, a bright figure emerged from the pond, his dripping body outlined in a bright silver glow. But it wasn’t sparkly or glittery or in any way pretty. The haggard figure sped toward us, and as it neared, I recognized the man dressed in black. Vlad the Impaler.
Chapter 29
Before Bruceras had a chance to move, the speedy vampire lowered his shoulder and rammed the other devil, knocking him back. Cheryl and I hustled to stay close to Bruceras. Vlad studied us with a confused look on his reconstructed face.
“Run,” he screamed. “Get out of here.”
Cheryl held up her wrist, showing him the bracelet. She yelled, “We can’t. If we get outside of ten feet, our bracelets explode.”
I could only assume that Vlad was paying us back for not taking the buckets of his swampy remains far enough to sever his silver cord. Or he wanted to kill Bruceras for ordering a hasty execution. Whatever the reason, it was the first time I was relieved to see a devil.
Bruceras ran at the much smaller Vlad and threw a slow, looping right hand. Vlad ducked, clearing the attempt easily, and Cheryl and I moved closer. We stood right behind Bruceras, who reached out and gathered in his opponent for a bear hug.
Most people thought that supernatural fights were all about slinging fireballs and lightning or busting out some crazy magic spell. To be fair, most of them were. The rest involved firearms or gritty hand-to-hand combat where things could get really personal.
Vlad groaned as Bruceras tried to squeeze the life out of him. I thought about killing Bruceras from behind and called fire to my hand. The rush started in my midsection, then up into my shoulder and raced down my arm. It worked this time as my hand tingled in anticipation.
Before it materialized in my palm, Vlad broke the hold and Bruceras stumbled backwards, crashing int
o Chery and me.
We fell to the ground, and the Bruceras barely maintained his balance. Vlad moved in quickly and dove at Bruceras with his left arm extended. It looked like a classic clothesline at first, but Vlad hooked his arm around his opponent’s neck. His momentum swung him around behind Bruceras and he cinched a chokehold.
Cheryl and I scrambled on our hands and knees to chase the two brawlers. Bruceras backpedaled unsteadily and fell, slamming Vlad into the ground. Despite the heavy impact of the fall, Vlad maintained his chokehold. Foamy spit fountained up from Bruceras’s mouth as he gagged and fought to break free.
With a sudden jerk of his body, Bruceras rolled onto his side and then made it to his knees. He stood up with Vlad still hanging on for dear life. Bruceras’s bloodshot eyes searched around for an answer and his wobbly legs staggered backward.
Cheryl and I raced after the two devils as Bruceras picked up more speed. Unknowingly, Bruceras rammed Vlad’s back into the trunk of an oak tree. Vlad’s hold was broken and Bruceras took a few steps forward, gasping for air.
His head swiveled from Cheryl and me to Vlad. The latter’s fingers started to glow silver. Bruceras turned his attention to Vlad, who formed two argent batons, each about twelve inches long.
Fooking lightsabers? Okay, this just became much more dangerous. I’d been trying to stay really close to Bruceras because of the unpredictable nature of fights, but I had a feeling the ten-foot limit would be tested soon.
Bruceras crouched down and circled his opponent. I sidestepped, following him from behind. The two men continued sizing each other up. I called fire to my hand again, but before it could take form, Vlad jumped at the other devil, drawing his glowing baton back.
Vlad came down with his charged weapon and struck Bruceras on his wrist. Silver sparks sprang from the impact and a mangled ring fell innocuously into the snow. I looked at my bracelet and the sparkle was gone.