Mars Rising (Domeworld Saga Book 1)

by John Corwin

  Sticks's nostrils flared. He knelt and rolled a silver coin across the floor. Sparks flashed as it intersected the lines of one pattern with a body inside it, but it continued its journey all the way across the room. He rolled several more coins. Electricity arced each time one touched a pattern with a body in it except for the design in the center.

  "Me either," George said. "But I think I read about something like this happening several centuries ago."

  I narrowed my eyes at Sticks. "How do you hear what he's saying?"

  "He said he hasn't seen anything like this." George watched as the last coin reached the other side of the room. "The runes are defused."

  "It's a demonicus." Tyler hissed a breath through his teeth. "During my time in Haedaemos, I heard whispers about such a thing, but thought it was impossible to pull off something so complex."

  George stepped over the outer line and walked to the nearest body. He knelt and put a hand to the neck. "This man is still alive."

  I touched the fallen man. His skin was warm and I felt a pulse, but my insides felt as if someone had vacuumed them out. I didn't sense things about normal people, or if I did, I'd simply grown so accustomed to the sensation I no longer recognized it for something out of the ordinary. This man seemed normal except for the strange empty pit he evoked in my stomach.

  Tyler crouched next to a woman. "This one's alive too."

  I walked over and touched her. Once again, I felt a gaping void.

  Mr. Sticks motioned me over to a young woman in a short skirt and knee-high boots. Her attire was far more stylish than the others'. I touched her. Her skin felt like fabric, but emitted no warmth. Her irregular pulse throbbed against my fingers. Despite the psychic heat in the room, her aura felt cold. Seconds after I touched her, I felt the squirming presence of her vampirism and nearly jerked my hand away.

  Vampires unsettled me. Unlike the vampires of myth, I'd learned that the real ones still lived and breathed. I was about to release her when I sensed something else even deeper beneath the curse, which bound her to a life of drinking blood.

  She, too, felt empty. I suddenly recognized the missing element. "I've glimpsed something." I rose on shaky knees. Tyler flashed to my side and steadied me. This time, I felt no shame requiring assistance.

  George looked concerned. "What is it, Miss Glass?"

  "These people aren't alive. Only their bodies are."

  Sticks grimaced.

  "Exactly," Tyler said, as if the man had spoken. "Their souls are gone."

  I noticed employee badges clipped to the shirts of the men. The woman wore one at the waist of her skirt. "These people worked here." I pointed to the young woman. She looked my age, though with vampires, appearances meant little when it came to years. "She is—was—a vampire. I can still feel the aura, but her soul is gone too."

  "So this was a front for the vampires." George put a finger to his chin. "It's common practice to hire noms. Vampires can tolerate sunlight to a certain degree, but they are, by nature, nocturnal." He looked at the girl. "She was probably a new convert and, as such, had low social status."

  "Whatever you say." Tyler's lips attempted a smile, but faltered. It was obvious whatever had happened here bothered him a lot more than he was letting on.

  "Explain this demonicus," George said.

  "I don't know much." Tyler ambled toward the center of the room and the bound bodies. "I'm sure you're familiar with the nine circles of Hell."

  "I've heard of them, yes." George followed him. "There is a great deal of myth about Haedaemos, but very little in the way of fact."

  "There are actually thirteen circles." Tyler grabbed the leg of one of the bound bodies and unceremoniously dragged it to the side. He looked curiously at the man in the center of the bodies. "Hmm, he's got a white robe on."

  "So I noticed," George said.

  Sticks's gaze hardened as he watched, but he made no move to stop Tyler from moving the bodies. I decided to go check the corpses for auras while Tyler explained.

  "Is there a significance to thirteen?" George asked.

  Tyler pointed to the pattern in the center of the large diagram where the complex pattern connected to a series of circles with a black one at the very center. "It's all about power. The outer circles are the lesser demons, the masses. The very center represents the most powerful demons."

  "Didn't you say your father was one of the powerful ones?" I asked.

  "He'd like to think he's the strongest." Tyler chuckled.

  "Your father is in the center?" George asked.

  Tyler shook his head. "No, that's the Abyss."

  "The Abyss?" he glanced at Sticks, but the other man shook his head.

  "Abyssal demons are the most powerful, but they're also confined to an eternal prison." Tyler scuffed a shoe over the black circle. "There are rumors the Abyssals were once gods, tricked into creating their own prison."

  "There are no gods," George said matter-of-factly. "Only demons and mortals."

  A slow, condescending smile spread across Tyler's lips. "George, I'd like to politely point out that you don't know what in the hell you're talking about." He shivered. "Even during my short life I've seen enough to know there's far more to Earth than Eden and Haedaemos. We just haven't found it yet."

  Mr. Sticks actually nodded.

  George didn't seem to take any offense whatsoever. "Perhaps we should pray we never have to find out. I'm not certain we're equipped to handle anything more than the norm—vampires, Arcanes, lycans, and Daemos."

  "Daemos?" Tyler perked with interest. "I always wondered how Baal made them."

  "Baal?" I recognized that name from my religious upbringing. "Does he actually exist?"

  Tyler managed a wry grin. "Yes, my father the Grand Overlord of Haedaemos."

  My mouth dropped open. "Oh, dear. I'm not sure how I'll explain that one to my parents."

  A commotion behind us drew our attention. A group of Custodians entered the room and stopped cold at the sight of the demonicus.

  "Give us a few moments," George said. "We're still investigating."

  "What is this?" asked a short stocky man. "Are these demon summoning runes?"

  "Yes, Carswell."

  "Sir, protocol dictates we immediately sterilize this room and contact Exorcists."

  "I'm well aware of protocol, Carswell, but this is a special case."

  The man opened his mouth.

  "Carswell, I ordered you to give us a few moments," George said, his voice still every bit as amicable as usual. "If you can't do anything productive in the meantime, perhaps you'd like to go outside and enjoy the spring weather."

  Carswell pressed a hand to his chest. "Yes, sir." He turned to his team. "Continue your sweeps outside."

  Moments later, the room was empty except for the four of us.

  I touched each of the bodies. All wore employee badges, two were vampires, and not a one of them still had a soul. I determined the same thing about the other bodies in the room and relayed the information to George Walker.

  "In all my years, I've seen only a couple of cases of missing souls, and those were because of an incubus named Vaedaemos." Geroge cut the rope binding the bodies together. "Daemos can devour souls, but from what I've heard, the victim must agree to it."

  Tyler frowned. "That's true for demons too." He shook his head. "It can't be compelled. A person has to truly give up their soul." He ran a hand through his thick hair.

  "What about possession?" I asked.

  "Those rules are a little easier to work around." Tyler folded his arms. "People who don't care for their bodies typically open themselves up to possession. Sometimes you can tempt your way in."

  I repressed a grimace. During our vacation time, Tyler had refused to talk much about his past. What he'd told me before had been couched in generalities, but I knew he'd been a very bad boy.

  "I wonder why only one person in the middle had a white robe," Tyler said. "Maybe he was part of a cult."

&nbs
p; "Tell me more about this demonicus," George said.

  Tyler opened his mouth to speak when the doors at the rear of the warehouse opened and Carswell and his group entered. The moment they stepped across the threshold, sparks flashed across the back wall like a lit fuse, racing all the way to the back right corner of the room. The floor there began to bubble like tar.

  "We tripped a ward!" Carswell shouted.

  "That was a demon ward," Tyler said. His eyes widened. "I hope to God your people can fight."

  "Weapons free," George called.

  Carswell and his people drew silver swords and formed a line just as something crawled from the inky mass on the floor.

  I gasped as the creature stepped into the light. With at least a dozen legs coated in shiny black chitin, it stood as tall as a Great Dane. Each leg bristled with spiky fur and terminated in pointy spikes that clinked with every step. The monster unleashed a screech that nearly sent my skin crawling off my body.

  "Oh, shit." Tyler backed away. "That's a crawler."

  It skittered toward Carswell's team.

  "A very descriptive name," I said in a dry tone. "What, precisely, does it do besides crawl and turn my knees to jelly?"

  "Scuttles, shrieks, and devours souls."

  "Can we squash it?" I asked.

  "I have a better suggestion." Tyler cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Run!"

  "Hold your ground!" Carswell commanded his people. "Prepare to engage with lancers."

  The creature closed to within several yards of the Custodians.

  Carswell swung forward his arm. "Fire!"

  Silver darts whistled through the air and pinged off the crawler's armor.

  "You can't kill that thing with darts and swords," Tyler said. "Its armor is too tough."

  Sticks removed two short rods from within his suit and raced toward the monster. He leapt, brandished the rods in each hand, and flicked them. They extended to thick staffs, each one with a curving blade at the end. The crawler shrieked and pounced. Sticks whirled his staffs and somehow knocked the creature aside in mid-air.

  The crawler's claws scraped across the concrete like nails on a chalkboard, drawing sparks and making the hairs on my head stand on end. Sticks was on the creature almost immediately, staffs blurring, chitin flying as he hacked away at the tough armor.

  "He's not going to win," Tyler said.

  "Is there anything we can do?" George asked.

  Tyler bit his lip. "Crawlers have a soft spot we might be able to exploit, but it'll be tricky."

  "Just tell me what to do," George said.

  "No." Tyler shook his head. "Let me try." He stepped toward the battle.

  I grabbed his arm. "Are you crazy? You don't even have a weapon."

  "If this works, I won't need one." He patted my hand. "I'll be fine."

  Before I could argue with him, he easily slipped out of my grasp and raced toward Sticks and the crawler.

  Unable to simply sit back and watch, I followed.

  George moved swiftly to block my path. "Miss Glass, perhaps you should remain here."

  "Out of my way." I glared at him.

  "Mr. Rock possesses superhuman reflexes, which may preserve his life." He raised an eyebrow. "What if you get in the way and cause him to hesitate at a critical moment?"

  I hadn't thought about that. From the way the crawler leapt back and forth like a giant jumping spider, it was likely I would get pounced if I went anywhere near it. "Fine."

  "Don't worry. I have Arcanes on the way to help."

  "Those are the witches and wizards?" I asked.

  He returned a grim smile. "Something like that."

  Tyler yelled instructions to Sticks. "Let me lure it away. I'll let it think it has me. When it goes to feed, it'll open its armor and shoot a tube at me. That's when I need you to strike, okay?"

  Sticks batted aside a needle-sharp crawler leg, spun, and sliced through the appendage where he'd weakened the chitin. Sweat trickled down his forehead. He glanced at Tyler and nodded.

  Tyler shouted and waved at the crawler. Sensing easier prey, it leapt toward him. Rather than fight it, Tyler backed away slowly, like a cornered animal.

  I could barely stand to watch. I felt powerless. Hopeless. The man I loved was about to be devoured by a creature of Hell and I had no way of helping him short of discovering a flamethrower.

  Tyler tripped and fell backward. The crawler lunged. I screamed.

  He rolled side-to-side as the crawler's barbed feet tried to pin him to the ground. The shape of a human face writhed beneath the creature's armor where a spider's head might be. The face stretched into a smile. The chitin split open and a glistening black tube the size of my arm shot toward Tyler's head.

  His hands flashed out and caught the protuberance. A round mouth lined with teeth snapped in his face. Tyler squeezed. The face within the monster shrieked in pain. Its front legs stabbed at Tyler. He narrowly dodged the thrusts.

  "Now would be a good time, Sticks!" he shouted. Tyler clenched his teeth and squeezed the tube.

  The crawler shuddered and screamed in pain.

  Sticks flipped over the monster. His eyes locked onto the tender spot and followed up with a lightning thrust. The blade on his staff plunged deep into the opening. The face beneath the crawler's chitin unleashed a deafening shriek. Sticks braced his feet and drove the staff even deeper into the demon.

  "Twist it like a blender," Tyler yelled. "Churn its insides like a frozen margarita!"

  Sticks moved the staff back and forth like a rower. The other Custodians came up behind the monster and began hacking at its legs. With a final shudder, the crawler collapsed. Tyler rolled free at the last minute, hopped to his feet, and brushed off his hands.

  "Anyone have hand sanitizer?" he asked, his wolfish grin back in place.

  Carswell took something from a pouch on his belt and sprayed it into my boyfriend's outstretched hands.

  "Thanks, man." Tyler rubbed his hands together.

  I launched myself at him and squeezed him in a fierce hug. "You crazy asshole!" I backed away and pounded his chest with my fists. "What were you thinking?"

  He gripped my wrists and held me at bay. "Obviously, I was thinking about a nice cold drink with the margarita comment." Tyler pecked a kiss on my nose. "You're kind of cute when you're mad, Em."

  I blew out a breath. "You're lucky I don't have superhuman strength, or I'd bend you over my knee this minute." I suddenly remembered we weren't alone and felt heat creeping up my face. Thankfully, most of the others were preoccupied looking at the dead crawler.

  Sticks turned around and gave Tyler a nod.

  "I agree, Mr. Sticks." George looked at the dead crawler and shook his head. "Mr. Rock is no ordinary demon." He tilted his head slightly. "How did you know about the creature's weakness?"

  "One of my former acquaintances told me about it," Tyler replied.

  "Another demon?"

  "Yeah." Tyler's voice lost its excited edge. "There are some people who summon demons and make them fight. He was unfortunate enough to be one of their favorite summons."

  "Demonic gladiator matches?" George looked mildly surprised. "I've never heard of such a thing."

  "They're more popular than you might think." Tyler shrugged. "You just have to pray your name never ends up in a demonomicon."

  "That brings me back to my original question about the demonicus," George said. "What purpose does it serve?"

  "The demonomicon is a directory of all known demon names. I heard about it from my former acquaintances. Each demon name is associated with a pattern." Tyler pointed to the different patterns on the floor. "The smaller patterns are lesser demons." He wrinkled his nose. "If they knew my pattern, it would be about that size."

  "I'm sure you have a very large pattern," I mumbled.

  George cast me a questioning look, but said nothing.

  Tyler flashed me a smile, and I abruptly remembered everyone here except me probably had supernatural
hearing. My face went hot, but I kept my head up and pretended not to care.

  Tyler returned to the patterns, this time pointing out the large one in the middle. "The bigger and more complex the pattern, the more powerful the demon." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm no expert, but the size and complexity of this pattern means someone summoned a demon of epic proportions." He pointed to the soulless bodies. "And it ate all their souls for breakfast."

  ###

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  Enjoyed this book? Try the Overworld Arcanum Series. Here's a sample from Conrad Edison and the Living Curse.

  Conrad Edison Chapter 1

  I wondered if this would be the day my parents died.

  Their fate loomed, a black cloud on the horizon. I had no love for these people, but death was too awful even for them.

  I couldn't remember my real parents, and there seemed little difference between this set of adults ordering me about and the others before them. The only thing they all had in common was they'd either died or suffered another terrible fate on or around my birthday. It was nearly that time of year again, so I reckoned if anything was going to happen, it would be soon.

  "We need some bloody eggs, Edward!" Mrs. Cullen glared at her husband. Her small brown eyes narrowed to slits. "That's far more important than you running down to the pub for a pint with the boys."

  "I'll get your bloody eggs on the way back." Mr. Cullen, as usual, wasn't swayed by his wife's argument.

  I sat in the back seat of the car and watched the two bicker back and forth about when to get the eggs and what other necessities were more important than Mr. Cullen's desire to drink himself into a stupor as he did whenever possible. It was more entertaining than counting the cows we passed in the countryside on our way into town, and more pleasurable than wondering what fate awaited these two. It was also the only thing keeping my mind off the nauseating motion sickness I got when riding in cars.