I surfaced by Madison, knowing her by her scent.
The demon bound my way, face twisted in mounting fury.
I crossed back, safe from the demon. Color returned with regular gravity. Sounds crashed over me: the women of ISIS chanting, and close by—thrashing bodies with white masks screamed, whimpered, and groaned.
Madison spun to face me. Her white mask had bonded to her face, moving fluidly with her facial muscles like a second skin. She growled like a wolf, amber eyes hungry, piercing. Her sharp, pointy teeth snapped at my face as if she were going to eat me. She only missed because I threw myself backward.
I bumped a woman in a red robe with a white swan mask that had also become animated. Fran’s scent. She grunted, opened her beak and hissed at me in irritation, then shifted to a kind of bark, flapping her arms wildly to scare me off.
I heard Blaire’s voice cut across the chanting, “She’s over there! Bring her back.”
One woman tore off her white goblin mask. It was Ms. Griffin. As Knife Girl ran bare-faced past her, Ms. Griffin slammed the enchanted mask over the guard’s face. She dropped the handgun she’d been carrying and clawed at the mask. The guard soon grinned like a goblin, scampering about mindlessly with a maniacal chuckle, then abruptly leaping toward the tables with the snackage.
Spying me, Ms. Griffin called out, “Grace, get out of here. Now!”
I had already stumbled through the victims of the masks, reaching the next layer, the chanting women in jeweled gowns and ornate—non-cursed—masks. Several of these broke off chanting, trying to grab me. They hastily recoiled as I flailed about with the knife. I didn’t try to hurt anyone, but then again I didn’t try to miss either. They’d be safe as long as they kept their paws to themselves.
My target was the side door I’d come through. Van Helsing and Virgil had to be close by. They wouldn’t have let the gals infiltrate the party without backup. I didn’t know what had stopped the guys from barging in already—all gung-ho, bristling with weapons—but I was going to kick their asses into gear. We had Armageddon to stop.
Someone jumped me from behind. Their arms wrapped around my own and my chest. One of the witches kicked my hand. Owww! I dropped the knife and staggered as more bodies wrapped me up. I started to fall. Damn, I’d forgotten one of Shaun’s most important lessons: Don’t focus, see everything at once. Let your awareness be like moonlight, filling the space around you.
Then the bodies on top of me were wrenched away, flung casually by someone very strong. It was Joshua in were-liger form, a towering, gold furred giant with pale white stripes. He had a huge mane, golden eyes, and a roar that shook the building. He and Cassie cleared a space around me. She was equally foreboding despite a black body stocking that hugged her lithe form, leaving little to the imagination. Guns, knives, and stun grenades were strapped on everywhere, and her face displayed the savage fury of a mother fox fighting for her young. Joshua was scarier, taking bites out of the witches, clawing them, snapping limbs like rotted branches. He tossed the bewitched white-masks back from the action so they could surf the crowd as if this were a rock concert.
Knife Girl, in the white mask, leaped on Joshua’s back. The were-liger wrenched her free, clubbed her to the floor with a fuzzy fist, and punted her across the room. A witch in a teal green gown and a lime and purple feathered mask ran at Cassie, and was met with a kick to the face. The fancy mask went flying over the crowd. The attacker fell backward and didn’t move.
I noticed Cassie was favoring her side. The black cloth and underlying skin was torn and bloody. “You’re hurt!” I shouted with concern against the chaotic babble surrounding us.
“I managed to get Joshua in with me past the protective hexes on the building, but I had to cross over to do it, and there seems to be a rather pissed-off demon hanging around. Josh pulled it off me before it did more than this.” She touched her wounded side.
I looked at Joshua. “Is he hurt too?”
“He was, but weres heal even faster than demons. Listen, we’ll catch up later. You get out that door. We’ll deal with this.” They fought witches and enchanted interlopers, as we backed to the door. Joshua drew a flurry of gunshots that only seemed to make him madder.
My gaze returned to Cassie’s wound, and I saw her in memory as well; wounded the same way, leaving me in a borrowed crib, abandoning me for my own good.
I couldn’t walk away, not with her hurt. I wasn’t that strong. “I don’t think I can…”
Cassie snarled. “We can’t protect you, deal with this mess, and save your friends; you want to help them—get out!”
THIRTY-NINE
I ran for the door, hot tears on my cheeks. Cassie and Joshua kept the crowd back, but one attacker got through, a woman in a purple velvet gown trimmed with black lace. Adorned with cat ears and whiskers, she wore a mask as green as her emerald eyes, and clutched a little pearl-handled revolver, something an old-time riverboat gambler might have used. Its puny snap of a discharge was almost inaudible as I dodged. Something plinked against my right earring. I felt for the dangle. It was gone.
The shot had just missed my face.
These idiots are supposed to take me alive!
My frustration morphed into fury. I wrenched the gun from her hand and slammed the little thing across her face. She reeled back, leaving a trail of blood in the air that fell as she did. She wasn’t out; I heard her whoof as someone in a white goblin mask bunny-hopped across her stomach.
Then I was outside, past the hex signs that kept the men out—except for Blaire’s boy toy. He must have had a talisman to get in. Too bad I didn’t have a truck-load to pass around. Virgil, Shaun, and Van Helsing waited with black clad combat troops massed behind them. The troops had ski masks that left only fierce eyes showing. Fenn was off to the side with the guy slayers, exchanging sneers. That was all I had time to see as several flashlights were shone in my face. Someone yelled, “Freeze.” And “Hands on your head.”
“How am I supposed to do both?” I compromised by shielding my face until the lights shifted out of my eyes.
Virgil reached sideways and caught the barrel of an assault rifle, directing it upward. “Little lady’s on our side,” he barked. “Don’t put any holes in her.”
Shaun rushed up to me, and my heart fluttered faster.
“What’s going on in there?” he asked.
“A spell got everyone except Ms. Griffin—our guys, they’ve … lost themselves.” It had seemed like some charm prevented the white-masks from turning on ISIS, another spell I wanted to break.
Shaun stared past me, a distant look mixing pain and concern. I turned and glowered at the hex signs on the building. “Virgil! Get me a flame thrower.”
Fenn appeared next to me, and I never heard him coming—the guy was good. “It’s a little early to be burning the place down, don’t you think?”
I turned my glower on him. “The hex signs. If we can burn them off the wall, we may be able to get all you guys in.”
Virgil appeared on my other side, following my stare to the spaced out geometrics painted high on the wall. “The building didn’t come with those?” He didn’t wait for my answer, calling over his shoulder, “Anybody got some napalm?”
There was milling and muttering. No flame thrower was produced. Someone called out, “I’ve got C4.”
“Give it a try,” Virgil said.
A man in black fatigues was lifted by his buddies. Standing on their shoulders, he reached up and stuck a block that looked like white clay on a hex sign. The explosive had a remote detonator wired in. The human pyramid collapsed as everyone got clear. The ordinance guy called out, “Fire in the hole!”
There was a flash, bang, and roil of smoke. The smoke cleared and the hex sign was undamaged.
“The protective spell cancelled the effect,” Shaun said.
Fenn spoke up, “Maybe if we get a really big truck and ram the front door…”
“Same effect, probably,” Virgil said. “We
need crazy, outta-the-box thinking here. Anybody got anything?”
Van Helsing knelt by a gym bag he’d brought. He opened it and hauled out bottles of holy water, a hammer, stakes, two spools of duct tape, and a dozen wooden crosses. “Sometimes, Old School is the only way to go. Someone want to lift me up?”
A squad of soldiers piled up near the door, weapons ready for use, as Van Helsing was lifted to where he could duct tape his crosses over the hex signs. Splashing them with holy water, he prayed in Latin, “Spiritus Dei causam consecrare gloria...” The base of his human pyarmid moved him down the line of hex signs.
I grabbed Fenn’s arm and pulled him close, speaking in a low, intense voice, “I think Jill and Drew are in there.” I didn’t add Maddison and Fran to the list; Van Helsing would take care of them.
His stare absorbed me. “You’re the one I’m concerned with.”
“It will break my heart if they get hurt.” I knew I was using him. I felt bad about that, but I’d feet worse about Jill and Drew getting hurt, or killed.
He nodded curtly. “I’ll take care of them.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll need more than that.”
I nodded. We both understood I’d owe him one.
I looked back to what Van Helsing was doing. The paint around the crosses bubbled and blackened. Runnels dripped down the outer wall.
En masse, the troops surged past me as the first squad made it in. Soon, I was alone except for Van Helsing. The old man picked up his bag and followed everyone else at a leisurely pace, a black hat on his head and a matching leather duster added to his usual black suit and crisp white shirt. I felt easier about all my friends with Van Helsing and Fenn going in.
I went toward the open door. Surely it would be okay for me just to peek. Curiosity was killing me ... but I froze midstep, sniffing the air. I smelled demon just inside. Make that demons. A lot of them. They soured the air, dropping the temperature. I backed away from the door, not wanting to draw them out to me. As it was, I felt sufficated and small, nearly choking on the hate that was their life.
I stiffened. As if thrown from a distance, a weak voice appeared in my head, Grace!
Tukka? My heart skipped a beat. It felt like there wasn’t enough air in the world for me to breathe. I felt numb, like my brain had shut down, but tears were back in my eyes, tears of joy this time. You’re alive … Blaire had told me the truth, damn her.
Grace hurry! Terror edged his thought, the kind of fear you feel when death is near and unwanted.
Where are you? I whirled, looking everywhere for the fu dog. There was neither teal blue hide nor curly mane.
His voice strengthened, jerking me like a leash toward the closed hotel, Here.
Seen peripherally, the frosted grass blurred under my pounding feet as I leaned into my run, keeping nothing in reserve. Any other crisis would have to wait; Tukka weighed heavier than the world in my list of priorities. Yet, above the hotel, I couldn’t help dreading the dull red moon, a black shadow on its face, swallowing it whole. Blaire was waiting for this. Her cronies were only cannon fodder buying her time.
When the moon goes dark, either we’ll have beaten her, or we’ll have Am-Heh to deal with.
Tukka called again, Grace…
I reached the hotel’s side door, wrenched it open so it slammed, and raced down the carpeted hall, sniffing for Tukka’s scent. Finding nothing yet, I took a turn toward the lobby, remembering the sense I’d had earlier of something hidden. I burst into the open, passing the front desk and a pair of elevators. Skidding to a stop, I went goggle-eyed over changes in the lobby. Nothing was being hidden anymore. Indirect lighting showed the regular furniture gone. A body lay on a bier. No sheet and gurney this time, but there was a body: Elita, face white, eyes closed, and chest still. The same circle-and-star pattern with cryptic runes surrounded her bier—teal blue paint had been used.
Tukka lay at the base of the bier, laboring on his side, gasping for breath. His eyes were more white than lavender. He was far from his robust self.
Smiling in delight, hovering in the air above him, was Elita’s ghost.
Something was happening that I couldn’t see. I needed to check this out from the ghost realm. There shouldn’t be any demons around, but I played it safe, feeling the air for unnatural cold, straining for any hint of malevolence. If I acted quickly…
I crossed over—same tingle, gray shift, and bleeding of gravity. My lighter body danced with pale orange flames, but Tukka went gray, losing his teal blue color. A nervous glance assured me no demons were present, so I gave Tukka my full attention.
The conjuring circle was now aglow with teal blue light. Ribbons of life-force, the same color, wafted from Tukka to Elita’s ghost, flushing her monochromatically the same hue. The ghost was drinking Tukka’s life. I had to stop her.
I leaped, crashed into a barrier, and was thrown to the floor. The witches had learned how to tune the things to keep me out. My aura made the carpet solid under me, spreading an orange-ember glow into it. I stared at Tukka. As a rattling breath escaped him, I tore through my memories, searching for anything I could try, no matter how unlikely. There had to be more I could do than to watch Tukka die a second time.
Elita also stared at Tukka, but she spoke to me, “Poor thing, wants to live, but that can’t happen.” She lifted her face. Her eyes were lavender stars. A crooked smile stretched her face, a taunt meant for me. “He’s just too tasty.”
As if in agreement, I heard chorused screams of pitiless hunger—the demons were coming, drawn by the energy of the circle.
I gathered aura in my hands, watching the hazy flames intensify, and thrust the energy against the floor. The fire-play pierced the unseen wall, dancing over the lines of conjuration. As I torched out a small section, the blue-green pattern flickered and died. Breaking the painted lines broke the spell. I threw myself across the rug to Tukka, falling over him as demon screeching sawed across my nerves. I’d screwed up; breaking the circle had released its energies, bringing a worse threat than a ghost could ever be.
“You can’t have him,” Elita shouted. “He’s mine!”
“Screw you and the nightmare you rode in on.” Hugging Tukka, I bled my aura into him, shifting him into the ghost realm with me. More and more of my aura soaked into him, easing his depletion while we sank into the floor. The air became arctic and foul. The light in the room seemed to tremble and dim as the screams swelled. Tukka was submerged and I was almost there as the streaking shadow shapes of demons overshot us, ripping into Elita.
The demon screams were cut off cleanly. It was her turn to scream, a shrill, razor-edged sound that almost provoked me to pity. But she had tried to eat Tukka. Helpless in the circle, he’d almost died. I couldn’t forgive that.
We were in the upper reaches of the basement, descending through charcoal shadows. Handling Tukka’s bulk wasn’t easy, even in the lighter gravity of the ghost realm. He was a thirsty sponge the size of a Buick, needing all the life I could spare, and I was burning through my aura just keeping him in the ghost world with me when I wasn’t that strong to begin with.
We hit the elevated deck beside the open hatch of the isolation tank. Sprawled together, his head somehow wound up on my stomach, pinning me down like a stepped-on bug. He lay still, open eyes devouring me like I was some impossible dream that had blown in off a winter wind. Well, that was true in way.
I wiggled and dragged myself free, climbing to my feet again. Breaking contact shifted him back to the material world. I followed, crossing back.
“You stay and I’ll get help. You should be all right here. Look” I pulled out chocolate kisses that I’d swiped back at the salon. I piled them in front of Tukka. I still had a candy bar somewhere, but decided to save that for later—if there was a later.
Grace not thinking, Tukka raked the kisses close to his slavering maw, demons won’t eat ghost—need her.
“You want to explain that to me?”
Demo
ns want one thing most—to be out of ghost realm, to have body again.
I knew that. The ghost realm energy makes demons solid, but on this side, they need a living host. I didn’t see the problem since they didn’t have a host. I shrugged. “So?”
So, they come down here in dead body.
“But it’s … dead.”
Tukka lifted his head from the deck, his eyes burning into mine. They use dead body and ghost which is piece of old soul. Tukka’s life make ghost strong, so they put her back in body and demons squeeze in.
I had a weird mental image of a high-octane ghost in the gas tank of a clown car packed with demons, all the hellspawn fighting for the steering wheel. If Tukka was right, the damned things would be zombie-piloting Elita down here soon, looking to tear off our limbs and ripping out our intestines for lunch. Not a pleasant thought.
I held my hand up in front of my face, calling for my cold fire. A few weak petals of flame sprang up in my palm, trembled, and expired. I didn’t have the strength to fight. Or to take us back into the relative safety of the ghost realm. That wasn’t really an answer; if we could cross over, there was nothing to stop a demon from jumping out of the clown car, giving up access to the human world in order to take me and Tukka down.
Our only hope was to get out of here fast, but there was no way I could move quickly hauling Tukka. It wasn’t like I had a forklift—
Grace, go. Tukka be all right.
My brow furrowed as I juggled memories, looking for a spark of inspiration to ignite a little hope.
You can’t fight them. Done enough. Go!
I shook my head. “Not again. Not ever again. I’m done running. I won’t leave you.”
Then … we die together.
FORTY
I threw my cloak over Tukka to warm him, and keep my movements unhindered. The long gown I wore was trouble enough. I loathed the thought of trying to fight in this getup. “I’m going to see if I can find something useful down there.”
Shadow Dancer (Kitsune series) Page 28