And scored.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t deep enough. Blood spurted, but not in the quantities needed to fell the huge creature. He did succeed in angering it, though. Another bellow of white-hot rage spewed from its mouth, and its tail whipped around like the tip of a pinned snake. The oozing spike pierced the metal table Brian had been standing on only moments before, then flicked left and drove through Carlos’s shield. The young Gatherer’s shield must have already been weakened, because the spike went right through his arm.
Carlos said nothing—didn’t even flinch—but Emily screamed. Although the young Gatherer immediately strove to free himself of the oozing spike, time was not on his side. The martial’s tail flung him into the air, and as he sailed off the barbed tip, he narrowly missed taking out the historic clock tower, landing somewhere out of view.
Fearing the worst, Brian gave a furious roar and kicked off a chair to spring at the martial’s neck again, intending to deal the killing blow.
But he’d remained in one spot too long.
The blue smoke had seeped through his shield and curled around his thigh. Midswing, Brian hesitated, suddenly unable to make his body do his bidding. Frustrated, he watched his blade hit its target, but only at half speed. He struggled against the will-sap, gritting his teeth and trying desperately to keep fighting. But his efforts were fruitless—he dropped to the ground with a low growl, weak limbed and helpless. The demon’s tail, now dripping with Carlos’s blood, whipped toward him, the spike targeted directly at his chest.
This time, Sekhmet demanded an unbearable prize for her support: the memory of Lena’s first kiss with Brian. It was almost as if the goddess guessed his importance.
But as painful as the bargain was to make, the price was a fair one—the powers granted to her by the Egyptian goddess allowed her to save Brian’s life. The shimmering bow returned to her hand, the inexhaustible leather quiver to her back. With a gifted aim, she fired an arrow at the spike of the martial’s tail, blasting the gory appendage even as it whipped through the air at a blurring speed.
The fleshy stump still hit Brian in the chest, knocking him back a good twenty yards, but the blow did little more than break a rib or two. And it freed Brian of the sapping blue smoke.
Of course, her active participation drew the thrall demons’ attention and they pelted her with a flurry of missiles. Without a sword to parry their fireballs, Lena could only hope her shield could withstand the blistering siege. She kept firing.
The Gatherers, though bold and competent, were overwhelmed.
The thralls’ offensive focus might have narrowed to her, but their back-to-back stance and linked mental powers provided them with a panoramic view of the entire battlefield. They effortlessly provided aerial support to the martial demons’ ground attack, raining fireballs on their opponents with strategic and devastating impact.
Few of the Gatherers escaped injury. Even with the mage’s supplemental shielding and occasional mystical strikes, Atheborne and Bale both sustained multiple burns. MacGregor was favoring his right leg, a surprisingly minor impairment, considering he had only magic and regular human strength at his disposal. Magnus, the blond warrior from Prussia, had fallen to one knee, and Hill was desperately trying to beat off his attacker, despite a bleeding chest wound. Only Murdoch looked relatively unscathed. Judging by the snarl of rage on his face, the ruthless fury in his eyes, and the raw power in his sword arm, the huge Scot had slipped into full berserker mode.
Fortunately, he was in a section of the courtyard free of other Gatherers, and the chances of him harming colleagues in his mindless rage were small.
Each arrow Lena shot at the martial demons caused them to stumble, but the defense level of their thick red hides was high and no single wound proved enough to flatten them.
When the angels arrived, Lena nearly rejoiced.
Michael and Uriel descended in a storm of blue lightning, each accompanied by a squad of warrior angels. Glowing with heavenly brightness and righteous rage, they rapidly spread out and bombarded the martial demons with bolts of raw energy from all sides. One of the three monstrosities dropped to its knees, roaring in pain, and another stumbled back, falling into the glass of the nearby storefront.
But Lena’s euphoria was short-lived.
No sooner had the angels appeared than Maleficus extended his hand and began to chant. Although the words were unintelligible, they also rang with a familiar, deadly intent. The demon was reciting the spell that tapped into the Shattered Halo. The weapon that had neutralized Uriel in Cairo.
Would it have the same effect on all the angels?
She prayed not.
On her left side, Brian rejoined the battle, now fully recovered from the debilitating effects of the blue smoke. He leapt and sliced and thrust in a merciless siege against the thralls, his goal clear—to once again part Maleficus from the shard. Uriel, too, understood the significance of the chant and aimed his white magic at the thralls, exhorting his celestial colleagues to do the same.
The opportunity was there, and Lena took it. She swung her bow left and aimed at Malencus’s outstretched hand.
But just as her bowstring propelled the arrow into the air, the thralls began to spin inside their powerful shield. It was an obvious effort to protect Maleficus, and it worked. Lena’s arrow pierced the protection ward and struck a target, but it was Heather who took the blow, not Maleficus.
The girl staggered.
Had the arrow struck higher, Lena’s regret would have known no bounds. As it was, she reeled with horror at the sight of Heather’s arm lit up like a torch. Fortunately, the thralls continued to spin and flames were soon smothered by their rapid movements. But the scorched sleeve was a grim reminder of how dangerous a game she and the Gatherers played. One false move and every effort she’d made to save Heather, every sacrifice she’d made these past six months would be for naught.
Lena lifted the bow and sighted again, but she couldn’t find the courage to loose another arrow.
Sadly, neither Uriel’s magic nor Brian’s aggressive sword attack was able to derail the Shattered Halo spell. Just as the angels unleashed the whole of their divine powers on the thralls, Maleficus completed his chant and opened his hand.
Blinding black light shot from his palm in all directions, and the warrior angels crumpled into moaning heaps.
Every last one.
And Lena’s heart fell with them.
19
Carlos stood in the parking lot—head down, shoulders hunched, defeated. He looked so little like the swaggering, self-assured teen Emily knew and loved that she actually stopped short of touching him, even though his arm still dripped blood and her instincts clamored at her to comfort him.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Why aren’t you fighting? Lachlan and Brian need you.”
“Because I won’t be any help.”
His voice was strangely hoarse, and Em circled around, trying to peer through his hair at his face. “Of course you will. You’re totally awesome.” Knowing he needed something from her, but not certain what, she added, “One stab by a demon isn’t enough to drop you; I know that much.”
“No,” he agreed with a short laugh. “It’ll take more than that.”
“So come on,” she said, coaxing. “Let’s go back.”
When he didn’t immediately respond, she touched his sleeve. And pulled back sharply with a yelp. “Oh my God, you’re burning up.”
“Yeah.” He lifted his head. “That pretty much nails it. ”
Em swallowed. His brown eyes were completely gone, replaced by brilliant red orbs that radiated a strange combination of heat and intelligence. After all she’d been through in the last year, red eyes weren’t enough to shock her. But knowing what they represented sent a nervous shiver up her spine.
“You’re a demon,” she said softly.
“I don’t know what I am.” He closed his eyes. “You should never have brought me back, Em. You should have l
eft me there.”
She shook her head. Impossible.
“Does this mean you suddenly want to help Satan get the coins?” she asked, hesitant. “That you need to fight for the other side now?”
His shoulders stiffened. “No.”
“Then what does it mean?”
“I don’t know,” he said angrily. “But, God help me, this heat is unbearable. It’s eating me up inside. And the rage ... I can’t control it, Em. I just want to blow something up.”
“Then come back with me.” She reached out and fingered his wavy black hair. “I know some bad guys in need of a good explosion.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
He opened his eyes again, staring at her with those burning eyes. “I told you: I can’t control it.”
“You’re holding it in right now,” she pointed out.
“Only because you’re here,” he said softly. “It won’t last.”
“It doesn’t need to. The demons are kicking our asses, Carlos. Go send a few of them back to hell.”
He looked at her for a long moment. Then he sighed.
“Okay. For you, I’ll do it.”
Thanks in part to the dissolve spell Stefan kept slinging at the triplets, Brian broke through their shield several satisfying times. The fine edge of his sword scored victories against their arms, chests, and legs, and effectively slowed their spinning.
The only problem was, despite his every effort not to, some of the cuts struck Heather’s body. Each one felt like a blow against Lena. Each one reminded him that he was not solely attacking demons; he was killing a young girl. Each one soured his mouth and imbued him with remorse.
How was he expected to defeat the thralls when they hid behind innocent humans?
“Stefan,” he roared, furious with himself and with the world at large. “For God’s sake, do something.”
But the answer didn’t come from Stefan.
It came from Carlos.
The young Gatherer strode around the corner of the clock tower and into the center of the battle, oblivious to the waves of heat shot at him from the martial demons, absorbing fireballs and lava bombs without flinching. He crossed his hands over his chest, pulsed with visible power, and then without further ado, everything exploded in a searing flash of white-hot light.
It was like nothing Brian had ever felt before.
The heat wave tossed him into the air like a feather on a breeze, snatching the oxygen from his lungs with a scorching rasp. He landed on his back with a heavy grunt, unable to see anything but bright red spots for almost a minute, and feeling nothing but relief over being alive. Then he remembered Lena. And the coins.
And he surged to his feet.
He was lying on the pavement over one hundred yards away from where he’d been. A blackened crater the size of a swimming pool had replaced the small courtyard, and the tip of the clock tower was now a charred ruin.
Brian jogged back.
Three fried martial demons littered the crater, and a couple of scorched bodies lay heaped at Carlos’s feet: Maleficus’s big tank of a host and another man. Not Heather, thank heaven. And not Lena.
One of the two bodies groaned, still alive. Shocked, Brian realized it was a very burned MacGregor. He scrambled to reach his friend. “Christ. Are you okay?”
It was a stupid question. An umbrella pole had pierced MacGregor’s shoulder, pinning him to the pavement, and he was bleeding profusely. The canvas of the umbrella had been seared clean away by the blast—its momentary protection perhaps the reason MacGregor was still alive.
“No,” MacGregor admitted through clenched teeth.
“Bale?” Brian glanced around.
“I’m here.” The black man shook off the splintered remnants of a designer-sunglasses booth and stood up. Murdoch sat on his ass about ten feet farther back, a little pale and shaky. Several white-suited angels, looking less than pristine, were also getting to their feet. Everyone had taken a wicked beating and was exhausted from the heavy use of magic.
“MacGregor needs a medic. Help him out.”
“I’ll help,” said Stefan, stepping forward. “Healing spells are ineffective on complicated injuries, but I know one that can relieve these burns.”
“I tried to contain it,” said a grim male voice. “I really did. I’m sorry.”
Brian spun around to face Carlos, who was gazing morosely at MacGregor. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Em said you guys were losing.”
Which, strictly speaking, was true. But this? Brian’s gaze raked the devastation, the injured, the empty hole. This was not a solution; it was a nightmare. “Since you mentioned Em, where is she?”
“Here,” piped up Emily, racing toward them. Her face looked freshly pink again, but Brian hoped that was his imagination.
“Maleficus is gone, but has anyone seen Lena or the other two thralls?” Brian asked.
Murdoch fingered the singed remnants of his beard and pointed down the street. “I’m fairly certain the thralls went that way. I expect Lena followed them.”
Yeah, that was a safe bet. She wouldn’t give up Heather without a fight.
Brian surveyed the damage once more. Then he turned to Uriel, who had appeared at his elbow, weary and clearly still feeling the aftereffects of the Shattered Halo spell. “Any way you can help with all this?”
“We’ll see to the bodies,” the archangel offered. “If someone collects this poor fellow’s soul.” He nodded to the unfortunate man who’d housed Maleficus.
“I’ll take care of it,” Murdoch said, crouching beside the ash-covered body. “But we’ll have to be quick to avoid the police.”
“Think the cops will buy the story of a really big lightning strike?”
Murdoch smiled. “Will they have a choice?”
Brian returned the grin.
“Emily,” he said, turning to the girl. “Call your mom and tell her to meet you at the hospital with your stepdad.”
She nodded.
“But I need a favor first. Can you still sense Lena?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you pop me over there, right next to her?”
Emily frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t wonder,” he said. “Just do.”
He got his wish.
Lena halted abruptly in the alley, staring.
The older blond woman had collapsed next to a large white Dumpster, badly injured by the blast. She was still breathing, but since she wasn’t moving, Lena assumed she was no longer possessed.
Heather was hunkered down next to the injured woman, covered head to toe in soot. She paid no attention to Lena. She was too busy sliding a needle into her thin arm. It was a miracle of sorts—after all that had happened, the weakest of the three humans was the only one left standing.
Or, more accurately, sitting.
“Heather?”
The girl looked up. And smiled.
“I thought in the end it would come back to just you and me,” she said.
The faint hope that all the demons had returned to hell vanished.
“Malumos,” Lena guessed. She glanced again at the unconscious older woman. “What happened to Mestitio?”
“I sent him home. He doesn’t have the finesse for a negotiation of this sort,” Malumos replied, a shaky finger on the plunger of the needle.
“I only have seven coins,” she reminded him.
“We’ll take whatever you have,” the demon said.
Lena shook her head. “You made a mistake sending Mestitio back. We’re one-on-one now, and I have the power of Sekhmet behind me.”
“What do you intend to do?” asked Malumos. “Kill us?”
Lena opened her purse and drew out her vial of holy water. “No, just pour this down your throat.”
“I’ll inject the contents of this needle into her arm long before you get close enough to do that,” he sneered. “Not heroin, by the way. Potassium chloride. Once it’s
in the girl’s bloodstream, she’ll have only minutes before her organs start shutting down. It won’t be a pleasant death.”
Lena’s heart flipped in protest. “You wouldn’t do that. If you kill her, you lose your leverage over me.”
Heather’s face twisted. “You think we care about that now? If we don’t return with all thirteen coins as promised, we will be punished in unimaginable ways. The hope that your seven will appease my liege lord is slim, but it is all we cling to.”
Lena’s gaze fell to the hand clasping the needle. As the heroin in her body continued to wane, Heather’s hand trembled. Even if Malumos remained calm, dribbles of poison could well be entering her body with each shudder. It would not be wise to drag this out.
She did not want to give the demon the coins, especially not after the brutality she’d just witnessed in the market. But did she really have a choice?
Her hand wrapped around the Horus amulet.
“Give them to me,” rasped Malumos through Heather’s dry lips. His eyes flared with desperate rage. “Now. Or I’ll pump your granddaughter full of poison and she’ll die before your eyes.”
The moment she began the incantation, he would know. And he would react by killing Heather.
A hot burn of frustration ran through her body. Foiled at every turn. Could nothing go her way, even once? Her hand fell away from the amulet. With a sense of inescapable doom, she reached into her purse for the coins.
The air around them thrummed like a guitar string, and just like that, Brian and Emily appeared at her side—both singed, sooty, but reassuringly alive.
Malumos jerked with surprise.
The plunger of the needle dipped and panic bubbled up inside Lena, raw terror seizing all the strength from her legs. Dizzy with thoughts of caustic poison ripping through Heather’s veins, she sank toward the ground, only one word able to breach her numbed lips.
“No.”
Although completely unprepared for Lena’s collapse, Brian caught her before she hit the ground. He hauled her against his chest, frightened by the icy chill of her arms.
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