Strays

by Remy Wilkins

  Pinwheel shook his head. “It is too late. The horde is above us now and help is too far away.”

  “But Lucasta—.”

  Pinwheel’s eyes sharpened and his lips snarled. The breath of his words was shredded against his daggered teeth. “She is through with fighting. Did you not see her? And Ray is a fool. The world is lost. I am a fool, and I am lost.” He turned, his shoulders fell.

  Rodney remained silent. He could hear a howling high above the house, a distant scream from the sky with devils filled.

  “I am a stray from demons and abandoned by heaven. I am nothing, and to nothing I will return. I would rather die fighting Murkpockets than be tormented by the coming Hell on earth.”

  He took another step before Rodney grabbed his hand. “You’re not alone in this. I’m going with you.” As he spoke his voice wavered, but stayed the course of his words. “I’m in the same situation, and I’m not leaving you.”

  Pinwheel raised their hands, clenched, and shook them. “Let us send Murkpockets to the fire.”

  They climbed the stairs, careful not to slip in the crimson sludge. They reached the second floor and saw that ichor had been sprayed and spread across every surface here as well. It rained from the ceiling like water from a dank cave. They heard a scuffle above them, from the observatory.

  They exchanged glances and silent nods as Pinwheel advanced to the spiral staircase and ascended. Ichor dripped from the stairs and floor above. Rodney followed, clinging to his glowing bat.

  Pinwheel reached the trap door, pushed it open, and let it fall back. Ichor flowed down on them both. They climbed into the room to see that it was empty and a huge hole had been torn into the roof and wall.

  “Where is—” Before Rodney could finish, a spindly arm reached down from above and grabbed him by the shirt collar. He screamed as he was lifted through the roof and found himself face to face with Murkpockets, who was stained and sticky with ichor.

  “Hello, foolish adam.”

  From below Pinwheel screamed and shot through the rift in the roof. His claws out and his teeth flashed.

  Murkpockets caught him mid-leap with a twisted claw in Pinwheel’s gut. There was the wet pop of flesh tearing and ichor gushed out of his side. The little demon doubled over and bled at the foot of his former commander.

  “Nice of the stray to donate his gore to the cruentation of the army of darkness.”

  Rodney, still clutched by Murkpockets, swung the bat in an arc aimed at the demon’s head, but the demon caught it with his free hand.

  The bat sizzled in the demon’s hand as the honey ate through his skin. He wrenched the bat from Rodney and dropped it to the roof. It clattered and fell down the three levels of the house, roof to roof to earth. The sound of it hitting the ground was lost among the swirl of wind and the distant howling from the pillar of demons.

  “Murkpockets is no mere tempter. Your weapons are weak.” He set Rodney down and turned his attention to Pinwheel, setting his foot on him. “Little lost demon, what do you say to this?” Murkpockets held his hands up to the swirling maelstrom. “You chose the wrong side. In a few moments, the gathering from all corners will be complete, and they will rush through this house and enter the world, where nothing will be held back from their hand.”

  Pinwheel writhed in pain. Rodney looked up at the cloud of demons. It was a throbbing mass that blocked off the sun. The day was smothered under a gray blanket, and the wind ravaged the trees.

  Murkpockets sneered and nudged Pinwheel off the roof. Rodney heard the thump and scramble as Pinwheel clung to the roof below to keep from falling all the way down. Murkpockets focused on Rodney. Rodney shivered and tried to step back, but there was something behind him.

  He looked down and saw a huge demon carcass, ripped open and hollowed out. Rodney jumped and nearly fell off the roof entirely. He felt dizzy and crouched until he regained his balance.

  Murkpockets scoffed. “Itchpot, a loathsome diabolos that Murkpockets reviled. His gore was saved for last. En-ki Ab-zu gives the envy to Murkpockets and sent this weakling to the gnashing.”

  Rodney looked off the edge. It was well over ten feet down to the next level where Pinwheel writhed. He could jump from one roof to the next to escape, but one slip up and he could tumble forty feet to the ground.

  Murkpockets continued. “Little dirtbag, have you heard? Murkpockets has a new name.” His grin shivered and slumped into a snarl. “Murkpockets the Architect and Ba’al Zebub.”

  Rodney was too frightened to respond. He could see Pinwheel pull himself into a crouch, trying to stand. He couldn’t help but look northward at the approaching column of demons. He could still see dots and pockets flying across the sky to join the writhing host.

  Murkpockets glanced over his shoulder to see the final members amassing. “Yes, the time is almost here.” Then back to Rodney. “It is time to choose your fate.” He took a step near.

  Rodney edged away, hoping to get Murkpockets’ back to Pinwheel. “What do you mean?”

  “You do not yet have a name.” His voice sizzled and snapped in the cool air. “St. Ray the Traitor, Birthless the Stray—their fates are sealed, their names are given. But you . . . ” His voice trailed off, carried away by the wind.

  “I’m Rodney.”

  “Rodney Who? Rodney What?” Murkpockets spit a thick globule of muck. “Your name won’t last. Your flesh is weak. You will be blown into nothing in minutes. When the mustering is complete, the army of Hell will rush down through this house of honeycombs and take on a rough substance that your earth will tremble and fall before.” Spit and ichor flew from his mouth as he spoke. He seemed to shiver with rage.

  Rodney felt his fire dampen. His arms fell limp to his sides.

  The towering demon took another step toward him, and Rodney edged away. Pinwheel watched from below. He clung to his wounded side, but stood and steadied himself.

  Murkpockets now stood by the fallen Itchpot. He reached down and snatched off the wide head of the dead demon. The remaining ichor oozed down in spinning threads, trebled by wind. He held it out to Rodney. “Take and drink.”

  “What?”

  “Take and drink, you fool. Do you want your name to go on? Drink of this ichor and take on immortality. You will have the strength of demons.”

  “No.”

  “You will survive this Armageddon if you are made immortal. You will be made a son of Hell.”

  Rodney saw Pinwheel nod and widened his stance. “No, I stand with angels.”

  “The side of fools,” the demon snapped, and stepped forward.

  At that moment Pinwheel lunged at Murkpockets. He shot toward him silently. Rodney braced himself, but Murkpockets rotated his shoulders and caught Pinwheel with one hand. He spun and threw him down, down through the roof and two floors of the house. Wood snapped, glass shattered, and the whole house reverberated with the blow.

  “Noooooooo!” Rodney screamed. He fell to his hands and knees and looked down the hole. Pinwheel was crumpled and broken at the bottom. His eyes fluttered and closed.

  “His fate is sealed.”

  Rodney stood and set his face in stone.

  “You have rejected immortality. Now you must beg for the life that you have. Kneel, and Murkpockets will let you live. You will be the last of the adams on earth.”

  “No.”

  “Submit as a conquered foe, or be the first to die.”

  Rodney’s eyes filled with tears as he thought of his mother. He wanted to speak to her, even if it was for the last time. He felt a heavy regret well up for ignoring her before she left. He just wanted to say goodbye.

  Murkpockets knelt over the hole and inhaled deeply, his chest expanding. He exhaled loudly, filling the structure with a thick stream of hairy, black bees. He arched his back and vomited more bees into the house, again and again, until a low thrum
rattled the wood.

  “Ba’al Zebub,” the great demon said. “Lord of Bees.” He smiled, baring his teeth. “It is time now to cast yourself down before me or endure all the terrors of my heart.”

  Rodney looked down the hole through the scree of insects and saw Pinwheel rise. Pinwheel looked up and held his fists up, putting them together and then pulling them apart like he was snapping something. Rodney realized what Pinwheel was going to do as he backed away to get a running start.

  Rodney looked up at Murkpockets. “You’re very proud, aren’t you?”

  Murkpockets sneered, and his eyes widened. “Yes,” he hissed.

  “Do you know what pride comes before?”

  Murkpockets cocked his head quizzically.

  “NOW, PINWHEEL!” Rodney yelled.

  Murkpockets flexed his wings and scanned for the attack. Below them there was a loud crack as Pinwheel threw himself against the central column, and the roof trembled. As the beam snapped the entire house began to sag and crumble. Rodney stumbled away from the center. The second and third floor curled in and fell. He heard a voice cry, “Jump!”

  Rodney turned and jumped into the open air as the Honeycomb House sank away into itself. He closed his eyes and fell to the advancing earth.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ON EARTH IS NOT HIS EQUAL

  Ten minutes before, Ray had dragged Otis to the far side of the truck and laid him down. “Rodney, you and Pinwheel stay here with Otis while I check out the house.” He stood and looked around for them.

  “Rodney?” He heard the front door slam shut. He ran back to it and tried the handle. It was locked. He threw his shoulder into it, but the thump shifted his bones. “Rodney! Pinwheel!” Ray called, rubbing his shoulder and grumbling at the solidity of his own carpentry. No one answered.

  He trotted around the house to the back door, but it was locked as well, and as sturdy as the front. He continued around the house, trying windows, but they were sealed with congealed ichor.

  The sky was darkening as the great pillar of demons positioned itself above the Corleonis. “What are they doing?” he asked himself as he stared at the miles high column.

  He made his way back to the truck. Otis was still out cold. “What are they—.” It struck him like a shaft of ice up his spine. “Oh no,” he gasped.

  The house, a matrix of honeycomb to ward off angels, had been transformed into a giant Alvarium by the ichor. All that was missing would be the bees, but any demon Throne class or above would be able to exhale all the bees necessary for cruentation. Ray wondered if there were any way to drive the truck through the door and pull out Rodney and Pinwheel in time. Or maybe he could get Lucasta and she could . . .

  Rodney’s bat struck the earth like a bolt from heaven. Ray jumped in fright and looked up to see where it had come from, but all he could see above the roof of the house was the swirling cloud of demons.

  He ran to pick up the bat, then hustled up the front stairs. He shattered the window next to the front door and pressed the honey-treated bat to the ichor-sludge. It smoldered and melted away the stiff black goo like a blowtorch through metal.

  He made an opening and slowly widened it, working the bat up and down. “I’m coming, Rod!” he yelled. He stuck his top half through and tried to worm inside.

  Then, the walls bubbled and the floor rippled. Black bulbs emerged from every surface and flew into the air. The bees, shaggy and evil-looking, soon filled the space inside. Ray sputtered and guarded his face from the skittering insects.

  He tried getting a foot inside the house when a thunderous crash knocked him backward onto the porch. He forced himself through the window, slipping in the sticky muck, and saw Pinwheel in a crater of wood.

  “Pinwheel!” he called. Bees swarmed. They were thickest farther into the house. Ray couldn’t get any closer. “Pinwheel!” he called again.

  Pinwheel stirred. “Where is Rodney?”

  The former demon looked stunned. There was a long gash in his side that ran thick with his own fluids.

  “Pinwheel, there’s no time. You have to bring down the house. Take down the shaft!”

  Pinwheel struggled to his feet. He nodded and looked up, bringing his fists together. He pulled his fists apart and moved back for a running start. Ray pushed himself through the window again. Bees followed him out.

  He jumped off the porch and stumbled forward as he heard a great crack. The entire frame of the house shifted and groaned as beams and load-bearing walls crumbled and fell—as if they were built to fall.

  Ray looked up and saw Rodney at the edge of the third roof. The house was falling. “Jump!” he cried, and Rodney, fearful and instinctive, jumped.

  Ray’s breath caught in his throat, his heart leapt. Everything seemed to go silent as Rodney hurtled to the ground, the house toppling, the black finger of demons descending.

  Suddenly, there was a streak of light and Ray was thrown into the tall grass. There followed a deafening crack, like thunder. Ray stood up to see his home descend into the pit beneath it, as though swallowed by the earth. Smoke and dust erupted.

  The pillar of demons touched down on the wreckage and scattered. The air was scribbled with demons. Ray cringed amidst the chaos.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned. There stood Lucasta in full angel regalia with Rodney standing beside her.

  “Lucy,” he stammered.

  “Fear not.”

  Another ear-splitting crack seemed to tear the sky in two. Rodney and Ray both ducked and looked around. The sky had erupted with angels, each with four wings and a sword eight feet in length and flaming. The demons with one voice shrieked.

  The two armies fell into each other, claws and teeth, swords and fists. Trees were uprooted and swung or thrown like javelins. It was a horrific clash that extended hundreds of feet above the smoking ruins of the Corleonis.

  Lucasta shouted over the din, “Try to get out of the way. I’m going in.” She stepped back and seemed to grow six feet taller. Four wings flared out from her back, and her hair grew bright and wild like the sun.

  Rodney covered his eyes and drew back. He heard a snort like an ox as Lucasta stamped her foot. Tremors surged through the ground, making him stumble. Next, he heard a roar like a lion and a screech like an eagle, and then the voice of a waterfall.

  “Fear not,” she repeated.

  Rodney watched as Lucasta moved her hand before her blinding face to draw down the visor of a helmet. She shot up into the air.

  Ray caught Rodney’s eyes and said, “Whoa. Intense.” He picked up Otis and began dragging him away from the center of the action.

  Rodney saw his bat and grabbed it. “Where’s Pinwheel?”

  Ray’s face tightened. “We need to get out of here.”

  As if to punctuate Ray’s words, a demon was struck from the air and entered the earth in front of them, passing into it as if a cloud. A moment later the demon raised himself from the ground. He looked at Rodney and screeched. Rodney positioned himself and brought around his bat with as much power as he could muster, but his bat passed through the demon and the force of his swing pulled him off his feet. The demon hissed at him.

  “Easy, Rod. These demons are in the realm of the angels. We can’t get at them.” Ray faced the demon. “Which means you’re in a world of trouble.”

  The demon bared his teeth and spoke through them, “Ray!”

  Ray peered at the demon and recognized him. “Ah, lookit you. Gerald drove you off, eh?”

  “It won’t matter; the world will worsen for him again.” The demon spat and leapt back into the fray raging above them.

  Rodney turned and shouted, “I’m going back for Pinwheel.” Ray called after him, but he was already running to where the house had stood.

  Rodney reached the lip of the hole and looked down, careful of the edge. It was
deep, and Rodney felt dizzy looking into it. There were beams and boards strewn and stabbed into the sides of the pit all the way down. At the base there was a mound of debris where the cavern once was. A portion of roof was near enough for Rodney to drop down on. He slid down the side and picked his way to the bottom of the pit.

  “Pinwheel!” he called. He paused to listen, but he could only hear the sounds of battle above him. Shifting aside some debris, he found a crevice and climbed down, squeezing through ichor-drenched wood. He called again.

  There was a shifting below him and a cough. “Pinwheel!”

  He pushed some boards with his feet and reached into the gap with his bat. Something grabbed it. Rodney set himself and pulled. “Hold on, Pinwheel.”

  Rodney pulled, but the place where he stood shifted, boards cracked and complained. He scrambled back to keep from sliding deeper. A hand emerged and Rodney grabbed it and hauled Pinwheel into his arms.

  “Rodney,” he said weakly.

  “Let’s get you outta here,” he said and lifted him. Rodney climbed out of the rubble. He found a place to lay Pinwheel down and looked over his injuries. He was so covered in ichor that it was hard to discover how much of it was from him and how much from the ruined Alvarium.

  Pinwheel’s eyes fluttered and opened. “What happened?”

  “You did it, Pinwheel. You knocked down the house before the demons could be cruentated. Lucasta showed up with a bunch of angels once the house went down. They’re cleaning up the demons now.”

  Pinwheel’s mouth slivered into a smile. “Least I’ll have plenty of company when I go back to the outer darkness.”

  “No way. You’re sticking with us, buddy. I’m just going to get Ray and we’ll get you out of here.”

  The shingles and splintered boards where Rodney stood trembled and slid. Pain erupted from his foot, causing him to stumble, and Pinwheel fell back. Rodney saw a twisted talon piercing his foot, and, as it corkscrewed back out of his sneaker, the pile bulged and fell away, revealing Murkpockets rising to his full height.

  “You dirt,” he spat. “You will be my food. Truly, Murkpockets will go to the gnashing with you in my teeth.” He lunged for Rodney.