For Heaven's Eyes Only

by Simon R. Green

  It came straight at me like a runaway train, lifting its ugly head to howl its fury: a terrible, primitive sound, all hate and rage and spite for everything that lived. A disturbingly human sound, rather than anything animal, because a demon dog only looks like a dog. I armoured up, the golden strange matter covering me from head to toe in a moment. And like that I felt stronger, faster, sharper, like coming fully awake after dozing all day. I never feel more alive than when I’m wearing the family armour, boosted far beyond human limitations, to defend Humanity from all the things that threaten us. But even as I moved forward to face the demon dog, I wasn’t actually sure any of that would be enough to stop several tons of advancing demon dog.

  They’re not real, not natural. They’re physical constructs: made, not born, in special labs, created to be strong enough to hold and contain a demon out of Hell. A muscular machine possessed by a demon, trained to go for the soul. Fortunately, the shape itself limits what a demon can do. Because they’re possessing a dog’s shape, they’re limited by the natural laws of this world to take on the nature of a dog. Which means they’re vicious as hell, but not terribly bright. They fight and attack like an animal, with no thought of strategy.

  Still bloody strong and hideously powerful, though.

  So I ran straight at the demon dog and punched it right in its ugly face. My golden fist sank deep into its night-dark forehead, piercing the flesh and cracking the heavy bone beneath. The demon dog howled with pain and shock, skidding to a halt as it pushed me ahead of it. Molly and Isabella scattered to get out of its way, pressing their backs against the corridor walls we as passed them. I held my balance till we both came to a halt, and then ripped my armoured hand out of its head. Dark, steaming blood ran down the demon dog’s face, briefly catching fire as it passed over the flaring eyes. It growled deep in its chest and swung its head back and forth, throwing the blood off. Where the dark blood hit the walls, the surface blistered and bubbled. The wound was already healing, the dark flesh knitting back together.

  And while the dog was busy thinking about that, I extended my right hand into a razor-edged golden blade and jammed it into the dog’s flaring left eye. The flames snapped out as the eyeball exploded, drenching the front of my armour in stinking gore, which ran quickly down to pool on the corridor floor and eat holes in the carpet. The demon dog jerked its head back, howling miserably, shaking its great head back and forth as though it could shake off the pain that filled its simple mind. I stood poised, waiting for my chance, and then lunged forward and sank my golden blade deep in its remaining eye. The demon dog reared up, slamming its head and shoulders against the ceiling and lifting me right off my feet. I clung to the dog’s head with my other hand and pulled my blade out. Long strings of dripping musculature clung to my sword, and I flicked them away as I jumped back from the demon dog.

  The dog surged forward again, and I backed quickly away from it. Even blind, it could still smell where I was. The flat, brutal face slammed into me like a runaway car, the force of the impact lifting me up off my feet and carrying me before it. I forced myself down until my golden feet made contact with the floor again, and then I dug them in, gradually forcing the dog to a halt. My feet left deep grooves in the wooden floor, but it still took all my armour’s strength to hold off the demon dog as it forced its way forward. I punched the demon dog’s head again and again, the sound of rending flesh and splintering bone horribly loud in the corridor. Stinking dark blood drenched my armour, only to fall helplessly away, unable to affect the golden strange matter. But the wounds I made kept healing, and an eye suddenly rose up to fill the empty left socket, and caught fire. The demon dog could see again.

  It still couldn’t force me backwards, large as it was; it had no room to manoeuvre in the corridor. It flexed its great neck muscles and threw me backwards. I travelled several feet before I landed, and braced myself, but the dog stayed where it was, regarding me ominously with its one flaring eye. It was growling constantly now, like a never-ending roll of thunder. It charged forward, moving impossibly quickly, and its huge jaws closed with vicious strength on my chest and left shoulder. They closed like a steel press, bringing incredible pressure to bear; but it couldn’t breach my armour. Huge teeth broke and shattered as the jaws tried to break through. The demon dog whipped its head back and forth, flailing me around like a rat, and all I could do was hang on desperately with both hands, golden fingers sunk deep into its dark flesh. The massive jaws clamped down, but my armour held. There aren’t many things that can pierce Drood armour, and a demon dog’s teeth don’t even come close, I was relieved to discover.

  The jaws opened to try another bite, and I jumped backwards, using the armoured strength in my legs to put a reasonable distance between me and the dog. It surged forward again, mouth gaping wide. I waited till the last moment, and then thrust my hand into the open mouth, grabbed its tongue, and tore the writhing thing out by the roots. Blood shot out like a fire hose as the dog dug all four paws in and skidded to a halt. It howled in outrage, the sound half-choked and interrupted by gushing blood, but still deafeningly loud in the confined space. The ripped-out tongue thrashed and squirmed in my hand, and then wrapped itself tightly around my arm. Serrated teeth on the underside of the tongue broke and fell away without even scratching my armour. I crushed the tongue in my hand into a bloody pulp, tore the rest away from my arm and stamped the remainder into a nasty mess under my feet. Some things can gross out even a hardened field agent.

  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.”

  “Curio
sity 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.