For Heaven's Eyes Only sh-5

by Simon R. Green

  But while I was preoccupied with that, the demon dog swung its wounded head against me, lifting me up off my feet and pinning me against the corridor wall. I hung there, feet dangling helplessly in midair, my arms trapped at my sides by the great weight of its bulk. The corridor wall cracked beneath me, ruptured by so many tons of pressure. My armour still protected me, but I couldn’t break free. All the demon dog had to do was hold me there until the Satanists got out of the locked room, and then . . .

  Molly and Isabella popped up out of nowhere, glowing blades in their hands, and hit the demon dog from both sides at once. Their witch knives sank deep into the dog’s throat. Blood spurted thickly, steaming on the air, and Molly and Isabella moved quickly back to avoid it, without removing their knives. They forced the blades deeper in, and then jerked them across the dog’s throat until they met in the middle. The dog tried to howl, but they’d cut its voice out. Dark blood gushed across the floor, and the pressure on me began to weaken. Suddenly all the strength went out of it, and the demon dog collapsed. Molly and Isabella stepped back, regarding the dog warily. I pushed the body away from me. It didn’t react. It was panting harshly now, and the flames had gone out in its eye. It took one last snap at me, for spite’s sake, and then it stopped breathing.

  Right on the edge of my hearing I heard a despairing scream as the possessing demon was forced out of the dead dog and sent plummeting back into Hell to face its punishment for having dared fail.

  The dog lay still, nothing but a great slab of muscle now, dead and empty. Molly glared at it.

  “Bad dog.”

  I armoured down and stretched tiredly. Fighting the dog had taken a lot out of me. The armour has the strength, but I still have to operate it. Isabella scowled at me.

  “Typical Drood. Had to armour up, didn’t you? That much strange matter has set off every alarm in the place!”

  “Big dog,” I said a bit plaintively. “What was I supposed to do, let it use me as a chew toy? Hit it on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper? And I don’t hear any alarms.”

  Molly snapped her fingers, and I could hear all of Lightbringer House’s secret alarms going off at once. Bells, sirens, flashing lights, the works. And in the background, an endless inhuman howl that had nothing to do with any alarm system.

  “I think we woke something up,” said Molly. “And I don’t think we should stick around to find out what.”

  “Yeah,” Isabella said reluctantly. “I can always come back again.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” I said.

  “And satisfaction brought her back!” snapped Isabella. “Now how are we going to get out of here before that boardroom door finally gives way and lets loose a whole crowd of angry Satanists?”

  “No problem,” said Molly. “Eddie has the Merlin Glass. We can step through it, out of this building and into Drood Hall, and then shut the Glass down before anyone can follow us. They won’t even know where we’ve gone.”

  I already had the Merlin Glass out, and was shaking it up to full size. Isabella glowered at it jealously.

  “The Merlin Glass? How the hell did you get your hands on that, Drood? I’ve been looking for the Glass for years. . . . Trust the Droods to keep all the best toys for themselves. You have to let me examine it!”

  “Maybe later,” I said. “If you’re good.”

  “You want a slap?” said Isabella.

  “Hands off the boyfriend, Iz,” said Molly.

  But I was concerned over a new problem. No matter what I tried, the Merlin Glass stubbornly refused to show me anything other than my own reflection. I tried shaking it back to its original size, and then shaking it hard, on general principle, but it remained just a looking glass. I finally said something harsh but justified, and put the Glass away again.

  “Houston, we have a problem,” I said heavily. “It would appear this building has put up some really heavy-duty shields, now that the alarms have gone off, and the Glass can’t access the world outside. We’re not going to be able to leave that way, after all.”

  “It’s been that kind of a day,” Molly said wistfully.

  “Terrific,” said Isabella. “You’re a bloody jinx, you know that, Drood?”

  And then we all looked round sharply. From somewhere not nearly far enough off came the sound of a great many raised and furious voices, heading our way at speed. The Satanists had finally got out of the boardroom. I looked quickly round the corridor. No turnings, no windows anywhere, and the corridor ended some twenty feet on in a blank wall. The other way was blocked by several tons of dead demon dog, frustrating us even in death. The sound of the oncoming mob was a lot closer. I looked at Molly and Isabella.

  “I am open to suggestions.”

  “I can’t teleport us out,” said Molly. “Not past these shields. Iz?”

  “Took everything I had getting in here,” said Isabella. “I was expecting to stroll out unrecognised.”

  “How high up are we?” I said. “How far is it to the lobby and the main exit?”

  “We’re on the twenty-second floor,” said Isabella. “One elevator at our end of the hall, and a stairway.”

  “Really don’t like the idea of being trapped in an elevator,” I said. “And the stairway is bound to be guarded.” I looked thoughtfully at the end wall. It didn’t look that tough. “I could punch through that wall, grab the pair of you and jump. . . . I’d survive the fall, and if you stuck close enough to the armour, it should protect you as well.”

  “Have you actually tried this before?” said Isabella.

  “Not as such, no.”

  “Then I am not trusting my life to a should,” Isabella said firmly.

  “We’ll take the elevator,” I said.

  “Witches and sisters first,” said Molly.

  We headed quickly for the end of the corridor. The shouts and howls were dangerously close behind us, but I didn’t look back. It wouldn’t help, and I didn’t want to be distracted. And then bullet holes exploded in the walls to either side of us, and I immediately armoured up again and fell back a little, so I could stand between the witches and the bullets. I did try to do it subtly, for their pride’s sake. I was pretty sure Molly wouldn’t allow herself to be taken out by some mere bullet, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I don’t, where Molly’s concerned, no matter how mad she gets afterwards. Some things are nonnegotiable. It’s a guy thing.

  We got to the elevator, and Isabella hit the call button with her knuckle. (Old burglar’s trick: using the knuckle instead of a finger, so you don’t leave fingerprints.) I turned and looked back. Beyond the body of the demon dog the corridor was full of angry people with flushed red faces and snarling mouths. A dozen or so had guns, though luckily the bulk of the dead dog was protecting us from a straightforward attack. They had to shoot round the massive bulk, and they weren’t very good at it. But some had already reached the body and were trying to force their way past it, snapping off shots as they did. I stood facing them, trying to be as wide as possible. Half a dozen men and one woman opened fire on me from almost point-blank range, blasting away indiscriminately. I stood firm and my armour absorbed every bullet that hit me, soaking up the impact and sucking them in. The Satanists kept firing, but I could tell they were impressed. There’s something very off-putting and downright intimidating about an enemy who stands there and lets you shoot him. Especially when he’s staring back at you with a featureless metal mask that doesn’t even have any eyeholes.

  But the Satanists kept firing, and I couldn’t move or even back away to get to the elevator without leaving Molly and Isabella vulnerable to a lucky shot. Bloody bullets can go anywhere in a firefight. Especially in a confined space like this. And then, as so often happens during extended firefights, they all ran out of bullets. The guns fell silent, and the Satanists stopped and looked dumbly at their empty weapons. One actually shook his gun, as though that might help. Such things never happen on television. People behind them yelled for them to get back out of the way
and let someone else have a go. Presumably they had more guns, with bullets. I risked a look back over my shoulder.

  “Is that elevator here yet?”

  “Something’s wrong with it!” snapped Isabella. “I’ve hit the call button till it’s started whimpering, but the floor lights aren’t working and the door won’t open.”

  “Buy me some time, Molly,” I said.

  Molly stepped forward to stand beside me, snapped her fingers sharply and the Satanists closest to us suddenly disappeared, replaced by a dozen very surprised-looking toads. Really ugly, warty toads. The next-nearest Satanists fell back, ducking into doorways to give themselves cover.

  Isabella sniffed loudly. “Toads. I thought you’d outgrown that, Molly.”

  “Never mess with a classic,” said Molly. “And never argue with success. People will risk bullets, but show them a bunch of their friends suddenly catching flies with their tongues, and suddenly everyone’s very happy for someone else to go first. Eddie, I think we’ve waited long enough for that elevator. You get the doors open, while Isabella and I show these Devil-worshipping shit-stains what happens when you get the Metcalf sisters mad at you. Iz, you in the mood to do something awful and downright distressing?”

  “Always,” said Isabella.

  I expected them to smite the Satanists hip and thigh with destructive spells and really messy magics, but instead Molly and Isabella strode down the corridor side by side, walked straight through the dead dog as though they were ghosts and then threw themselves at the nearest Satanists. Basically, the witches beat the shit out of the poor sods, their small fists flying with appalling speed and precision. Blood flew, bones broke and the air was full of horrid sounds as the Metcalf sisters knocked the Satanists down with much malice aforethought and trampled them underfoot. The Satanists had braced themselves for a magical attack, but two fistfighting young witches were a bit too close and personal. Molly and Isabella pressed forward, laughing harshly in the face of the demoralised enemy.

  Behind my golden mask I had to grin. Never get a Metcalf sister mad at you.

  Some of the Satanists remembered they had guns, and opened fire again. Molly and Isabella stood their ground, whipping their hands back and forth in mystical patterns, and bullets turned into flowers and fluttered to the floor. Some Satanists ditched their handguns for automatic weapons, but it didn’t make any difference. Just meant more flowers. Still, while it was good to know Molly and Isabella could defend themselves, I also knew they couldn’t keep it up for long.

  I’d started to give my full attention to the closed elevator doors when the building’s main security systems finally kicked in. Great sliding panels opened in the corridor walls, and I had to blink a few times. I would have sworn they weren’t there a moment before. Really large gun barrels emerged from gun emplacements inside the walls, and turned quickly to orient themselves on Molly and Isabella. I ran forward and put myself between the gun barrels and the witches just as the guns opened fire.

  The bullets pounded away at me, targeting my head and chest and gut, and while my armour easily absorbed the bullets, the sheer intensity of the fire meant I daren’t move, for fear of exposing Molly and Isabella. This was serious weaponry, pumping out bullets in a steady stream. They chewed up the walls behind me on both sides, blasting jagged holes in the doors and blowing them off their hinges. Some hit the dog’s body and blew the dark flesh apart in a series of explosions. Meat confetti blew everywhere, and dark liquids splashed up and down the corridor. The smell was appalling, as the bullets blew away muscles to reach the organs within.

  Wave after wave of bullets slammed into me and were absorbed, doing no damage. I was starting to feel a bit cocky, a bit Is that all you’ve got? when the gun barrels suddenly fell silent and retreated into the walls. To be immediately replaced by even bigger new guns, firing explosive flechettes at thousands of rounds a second. The dead dog blew up, blown to fragments in a moment. I stood my ground, bracing myself and leaning slightly forward into the solid stream of bullets, my armour sucking up the bullets with continued enthusiasm. When I was sure my armour could handle that much concentrated punishment, I advanced slowly forward into the pounding fire, grabbed each gun barrel in turn and ripped them right out of their emplacements. I tied the last few in knots, to make a point, before throwing them on the floor. Suddenly it was very quiet in the corridor. Followed by a wild round of applause from behind me, and a wolf whistle from Molly.

  Another panel slid open in the wall beside me. A gun barrel started to roll out. I grabbed it and forced it back inside. The gun emplacement exploded, flames and black smoke belching out into the corridor. None of which troubled me inside my armour. Back down at the other end of the corridor, the Satanists were all bunched together, maintaining a safe distance from Molly and Isabella and me. They’d given up on guns. Something in their faces seemed to suggest that they felt that what I was doing was somehow unfair. I shouldn’t have been able to shrug off their no doubt very expensive weaponry.

  I was so busy looking for more sliding panels in the walls, I was completely caught by surprise when trapdoors started dropping suddenly open the whole length of the corridor. Great squares of flooring fell away, silently and without warning, and apparently at random. I braced myself, legs akimbo, and looked quickly to Molly and Isabella.

  I shouldn’t have worried. Several trapdoors opened beneath the two witches as they strolled unconcernedly back to join me; but Molly and Isabella walked right over the open spaces as though they weren’t even there, tripping lightly across the deep drops without even looking down. Isabella sniffed loudly as she rejoined me by the elevator doors.

  “Trapdoors? What is this, amateur night?”

  “Right,” said Molly. “I mean, please. That’s one of the first tricks I learned.”

  “Can you walk on water, too?” I said, honestly curious.

  Molly laughed. “Hell, sweetie, I can tap-dance on swimming pools! For a while, that was my favourite party piece.”

  “A great improvement over the old one,” said Isabella. “And a lot less trouble cleaning up after. You always were a show-off. She was the same as a girl, Drood. She and her precious unicorn.”

  I had to look at Molly. “You rode a unicorn?”

  She grinned briefly. “Not for long.”

  I looked back up the corridor. It seemed safest. The satanic business types had regrouped, many of them now carrying really big guns, and what looked like grenade launchers and flamethrowers. The only reason they hadn’t already come after us was that they were too busy arguing among themselves as to who should have the honour of approaching us first. Everyone seemed very keen to give that honour to someone else. It’s nice to feel appreciated. Some bright spark produced a grenade, pulled the pin and lobbed it along the floor towards us. The trapdoors immediately snapped shut, one after another, to help the grenade along its way. I waited till it had almost reached us, to be sporting, and then bent over, picked the grenade up and held it to my chest with both hands. The grenade went off, and my armour absorbed all of the blast and most of the smoke. I looked back up the corridor and waved cheerfully to the one who’d lobbed the grenade; and he actually stamped his foot in frustration, turned away and had to be comforted by the other Satanists. I don’t think they’d encountered Drood armour before. Certainly, it wasn’t doing their self-confidence any good. Several looked like they wanted to burst into tears.

  “Stop showing off and open the elevator doors!” said Isabella.

  “No sense of fun,” said Molly. “She was the same as a girl. She and her enchanted motorbike.”

  I turned back to the elevator doors and considered them thoughtfully. And while I was doing that, a horrifically bright light flared up in the corridor: a fierce, incandescent and definitely unnatural glare brighter than the sun. Almost bright enough to overpower my armoured mask, which had to cloak my vision in darkness for a few moments to protect my eyes. Molly and Isabella cried out in shock and clung to ea
ch other, momentarily blinded. And while we were all disoriented, new panels slid open in the corridor walls, revealing dark, concealed places full of things very like trapdoor spiders.

  Large, hairy things the size of cats, with far too many legs and eyes, and snapping fanged mouths. They came swarming out of the walls, poison dripping from their mouths, eager to get at us while we were still helpless. But my mask was already back to normal. I moved quickly forward to block their way, and they swarmed all over me, clinging to my armour with their sticky legs, trying to force their fangs through the strange matter. I shuddered and squirmed inside my armour. I’ve never liked spiders. I made myself stand still till they were all over me, surging and pushing and pressing their deadly mouths against the outside of my mask; and then I seized them in my golden hands, crushing their pulpy bodies and tearing them away from my face. I slapped at them, and they fell away dead. Some dropped off and tried to run, and I stamped them all underfoot. When I finished, I was breathing hard, and my heart was going like a trip-hammer. Never liked spiders. I looked at the openings in the walls, and they all slid swiftly shut. Molly and Isabella blinked gingerly around themselves as their vision cleared.

  “What the hell just happened?” sad Isabella. “What’s all this mess on the floor? And what is that dripping from your hands, Drood?”

  “Trust me,” I said. “You really don’t want to know.”