Strays

by Remy Wilkins

  Without a thought, Rodney swung with his bat, striking Murkpockets’s right forearm. There was a sickening crack, but Rodney kept swinging. While the great demon cradled one arm, Rodney switched his grip and swung at the other one. Dust was flying at each blow as the honey-coated bat ate away at the body of the demon. He next took out the knees, causing his opponent to buckle and bow at his feet. He dismantled the demon swing by swing until Murkpockets looked into Rodney’s eyes with cold hate and roared.

  “Go to Hell,” Rodney said. He struck the final blow like he was swinging an ax, bringing down the full weight of Libra on Murkpockets’s head. With a thunderous crack the head of the Architect exploded and the demon fell down dead, fading to dust at the boy’s feet. Rodney brought up his bat to see that it was cracked, splintered at the barrel. He tossed it aside.

  There was a squeak behind him where he’d left Pinwheel. Rodney turned to see the biggest demon he had ever seen. Bigger than Murkpockets by far. He was hairy, with two forked and twisted horns on his head, and his midsection was pimpled with fleshy gnarls and bony thorns, as if he were some monstrous she-wolf.

  The giant demon held Pinwheel like a broken thing. He placed his hand on Pinwheel. Dragging his fingers across his prone form, carving tiny furrows in his flesh. Pinwheel grimaced, but was too weak to move.

  “Put him down!”

  “So, you are Rodney.” The demon’s voice was roaring fire and twisting metal. The tumult of battle was drowned out when he spoke.

  Rodney looked around for his bat. He saw it near the remains of Murkpockets. “Your leader is dead. I killed him.”

  “Leader? Murkpockets was no master of mine.”

  “Who are you?”

  The creature paused before answering. “En-ki Ab-zu.”

  Rodney wasted no time in responding. “Never heard of you.”

  “The earth is mine and all the fullness thereof.”

  “I don’t care. I said, put him down.” Rodney bent down to retrieve his bat, holding it at his leg, barrel down, hiding its damage.

  “Ray is quite the deceiver, a liar like his Lord. You are no boy. You are another headcrusher.”

  Rodney felt hot breath stick to him and sting his skin. He ran a hand across his brow, mopping away the sweat and grime. “You’ll find out what kind of headcrusher I am if you don’t put Pinwheel down.”

  The Old Master sent a long, forked tongue through his teeth. “You care for this stray, the forlorn lump of stink and ichor?”

  “He’s my friend.”

  En-ki Ab-zu spoke without taking his eyes off Rodney. “Will you die for him?”

  “Yes.”

  The Old Master snarled. He placed his hand over Pinwheel’s mouth and gripped his head. There was a muffled cry and Pinwheel’s hands went weakly to the greater demon’s fingers. “Put your weapon down, deceiver.”

  Rodney lifted the bat. He felt the barrel shift where the crack had weakened it, but it stayed erect. It had one more good blow left in it. Maybe.

  There was a tumble of dirt from above and Ray’s voice rang down. “Don’t listen to him, Rod. He’s a snake.”

  En-ki Ab-zu closed his fist tighter around his captive. Pinwheel’s weak struggle ceased.

  “Wait!” Rodney held out a hand. He was out of options, no more stalling, no way to attack him without Pinwheel dying. He tossed the bat away and it tumbled down the pile.

  “No!” Ray howled.

  The Old Master immediately dropped Pinwheel and in a flash he closed the gap between them. His claws closed around Rodney, pushing the air out of his lungs. The Old Master unfurled his wings, digging the claws of his wings into the walls of the pit, and with a mighty heave they shot into the air.

  The Old Master cut through the fray like a branch among leaves. Demons drew back and angels watched as the cruentated demon flew higher into the air.

  Rodney felt the blood rush from his head. The sounds of war receded. He gasped and lost consciousness.

  * * *

  Ray fell back as the Old Master shot out of the pit. Rodney’s arms and legs dangled from the great demon’s fist as he passed through the airborne battle.

  “Lucasta,” he yelled over his shoulder. “We’ve got a problem!” Ray slid down into the crater and scrambled to the place where Pinwheel lay.

  He got down on his knees and lifted Pinwheel’s limp body from the rubble. Ray sat him upright and gently slapped his face to wake him. The little former demon had been beat up pretty good over the last few days. Innumerable scrapes and scratches, a broken wing, and a gaping wound in his side.

  Ray ripped off a sleeve from his bee suit and used it as a bandage. The multicolored sleeve looked like a cummerbund on a shaggy tuxedo.

  “Pinwheel, buddy, ya gotta quit napping, man.”

  Pinwheel’s eyes lolled. His pupils circled before juddering and locking onto Ray. “Rodney,” he muttered.

  “Yeah, we’ll get to him, but we need to get you going.” He stood and helped Pinwheel rise to his feet.

  The sounds of battle had fallen off. Ray inspected the sky above them, finding it empty of combatants. There was a far off clatter, but the cries of anguish and anger had ceased. While he was looking, an angel descended into the crater and alighted in front of him.

  The cherub’s armor was scored with blows and bite marks. The sword smoldered like a decanted volcano. A bright hand went to the helmet and pushed up the visor. The cherub diminished in size and its light lessened, and Lucasta stood before them in her human form.

  “Lu!”

  “Where’s Rodney?”

  “We gotta go get him. That big bugger carried him off.” Ray could hear the panic in his own voice.

  Pinwheel made a great effort to stand on his own. “We have to go now, the Old Master is sure to rally the forces of Hell. We have—we . . . ” He slumped back, and Ray put out a hand to steady him.

  Lucasta sheathed her sword. “His army has been routed. We fell upon them like lions.”

  “Then what?” asked Ray. “He’s using Rodney as a hostage? To escape?”

  “Impossible. He knows he can’t escape.”

  Pinwheel grabbed Ray’s wrist. “He wants revenge. That is his only instinct.”

  Ray bit his lip and exchanged a look with Lucasta. “We need to move fast.”

  “The Legions can be organized for a search. We can scour the continent in mere hours.”

  “That is too much time.” Pinwheel said. “We will never make it!” He scrambled to the wall of the crater and began climbing out.

  Ray grabbed him by his good wing. “I know where he’s going.”

  Lucasta reached the same answer. “The Liv-ya-than.”

  “We gotta get to Skeleton Mount.”

  At that moment the ground shook as a second angel touched down. Dust took flight, and debris shook and resettled. The tremors caused Pinwheel to slide back. He turned to face the angel.

  Unlike Lucasta in her angelic form, this angel had six wings—four enormous wings were located on his upper back and two smaller wings at his lower back that he arched forward, the forward feathers curling inward over his feet. Pinwheel had never seen a seraph before, and trembled.

  The seraph raised a finger to Pinwheel. “Birthless the demon, now called Pinwheel,” he paused, making sure Pinwheel was listening.

  Pinwheel saw the seraph was aflame, white fire writhing from his armor and robes. He pressed himself against the dirt wall, cringing but unable to look away.

  The seraph’s voice rumbled. “You will come to me.”

  Ray started to intercede. “Wait, no. We have to—. ” He held his tongue as Lucasta leveled her sword at his throat.

  “Ray,” she said calmly. “Barachiel has spoken.”

  Ray had never seen Lucasta reply with such conviction. He dropped his shoulders and cast his eyes
toward the little creature, who knelt down with a sunken face.

  Barachiel unsheathed his sword and approached Pinwheel.

  Chapter Twenty

  THE BODY THEY MAY KILL

  Rodney awoke, still in the grip of the Old Master, five thousand feet in the air. A cold wind battered his head and limbs. They dropped through the clouds, moisture stinging his eyes. He felt dizzy and sick; their rapid descent made his stomach knot and churn. There was a loud snapping sound that Rodney realized was the demon’s leathery wings unfurling to slow their fall.

  The attempted demonic coup had dragged dark clouds from every direction. The early afternoon sky had stayed gray, clouds knuckling up as if to pound the earth itself.

  They broke through the cloud covering and he could see a mountain beneath them. They were about a thousand feet above its highest point, but racing closer every moment. Within seconds Rodney could see a lake and the thin, squiggly line of the river that descended from it. He was jolted with fear as he realized they were drawing nearer to a large stone zigzag—the stone snake or, as he now knew, the Leviathan.

  Rodney gathered his thoughts. Pinwheel was seriously injured, maybe dead; the angels were in pitched battle with every demon within a day’s flight of Twin Rivers. How many that made he wasn’t sure. Rodney had no idea how long he was out, but the flight couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, maybe even seconds.

  He knew he didn’t have much time. Even if Ray could gather help before he was killed, how would the angelic force combat a cruentated demon?

  The Old Master thrust down his wings to slow their fall. He flapped with greater and greater strength until they were hovering twelve feet from the stone effigy.

  Rodney was dropped unceremoniously. His feet struck the head of the stone snake and his legs buckled. His right ankle turned as his full weight fell on it. He skidded off the head and fell another six feet into the moist dirt. The wind rushed from his lungs, and he bit his tongue.

  Rodney sucked in air, while the Old Master settled behind him. His ankle and punctured foot throbbed. Both were beginning to swell. He scooted backwards against the mouth of the stone snake as the Old Master turned.

  “Here is where you will die.” The heat from En-ki Ab-zu’s mouth cut through the air, making it stifling.

  “Your army’s been defeated.” Rodney didn’t know this for sure, but it seemed unlikely that the leader would flee the scene of a victory. He gingerly applied pressure to his foot to see if it would bear his weight, but the slightest effort induced flashes of white pain.

  “You are under the misapprehension that Hell wishes to rule this world.” The Old Master placed a hand on the stone snake as if petting it. Then he directed his eyes to Rodney. “You are wrong.”

  He turned and walked to the river a few feet away. “The diaboloi do not want this world for their own; the diaboloi want this world for the fire.”

  Rodney pushed with his good leg, bracing his back against the stone, and rose to his feet. He wobbled but stood firm, careful to keep the weight off his injured ankle.

  “All that will remain of this world will be death and the rebels.” He turned to face Rodney once again. “And the rebels will be kings of this world.”

  “You say that like I’d want to be a king of a burnt world.”

  “Better to rule in ruin than to serve in paradise.”

  “I’ll take the paradise, thank you very much.” Rodney saw the demon flinch at his sarcastic gratitude.

  “Sadly for you, it is not a choice.”

  Rodney thought about making a run for it, but even if he’d had two healthy legs, the idea that he could escape a twelve-foot demon was preposterous.

  En-ki Ab-zu continued, “Behind you is the Liv-ya-than. A greater destructive force has never yet been matched.

  “Ever heard of nukes?”

  “Bombs are a hazy fear, and they kill too quickly. But to be hunted by the Liv-ya-than, to live in the world where the Liv-ya-than roams to and fro across the face of the earth, that is true terror.”

  Rodney snorted, “Too bad it’s trapped in stone.”

  En-ki Ab-zu bared his teeth in a horrifying smile. “No, foolish adam. It is trapped in the physical world—but not yet released. All that is required is blood.” The Old Master curled his talons, flexing his tendons.

  “The plan was destined to succeed. The Name isn’t nearly as shrewd as he thinks. This isn’t the first time he’s been outwitted.”

  “Your plan was to have all of the demons be destroyed? You’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

  “With the activity of the angeloi there could be no release for the Liv-ya-than, but when the straying saint offered his home as a hell away from Hell and the Alvarium Maleficorum as a door into this world, the plan began to fester. Either unleash the army of Hell into the world or create a distraction to release the Liv-ya-than. Whatever the end, Heaven loses its most treasured jewel.” The Old Master opened his mouth, revealing yellow teeth as thin as nails. A tongue flicked out, and his eyes widened while he gauged Rodney’s response.

  Rodney felt a burning lump in his throat. His breath was constricted. It had been hopeless for so long, but now that his adventure was drawing toward its fatal end, he felt a deep yearning for more.

  He put a hand to his head and pushed the hair down. Somewhere in the melee he had lost his cap. His hair was still sticky, mottled with dirt and twigs. His mom would paw and pick at it if she could see him now.

  The Old Master watched emotions boil over Rodney’s face. A pleased smile crept over the great deceiver. Rodney was caught up in a net of love, laid long ago by his mother, then increasingly by the family and friends tangled in his life.

  Hot tears cut paths down Rodney’s grimy cheeks. He balled his fists as a fierce jealousy for the world coursed through his veins. He was about to lose the world, and it stung even though the world would follow him in destruction.

  The Old Master judged the moment ripe for his offer. “But you could be a king of this world. I will take your blood, but the Name isn’t the only one who wields death.” The Old Master drew near and knelt before Rodney. “Death is mine.”

  Rodney stood his ground despite the urge to crinkle like paper on fire. “What are you saying?”

  The Old Master snatched Rodney, holding him about the waist, and shot into the air. Rodney sucked in air and clung to the coarse fingers of the demon. There was a slight smoldering where remnant honey stung.

  The Old Master dragged them two thousand feet into the air and slowly spun so that Rodney could survey the country. The day was dying early. Having seen enough horrors, the sky had piled high the clouds, and the sun had sunk beneath them. Rodney searched for shafts of angels surging from the direction of Ray’s house, but he saw no help.

  “Consider the kingdoms of earth, Rodney. As far as the eye can see and farther can be yours.” His wings went stiff and vertical and they dropped like a bolt to the earth. Before impact, however, the Old Master stretched out his wings bringing them to an abrupt hover and a smooth landing.

  He dropped Rodney much more softly this time, who was able to keep upright, holding his wounded ankle off the ground.

  The Old Master remained in the air to tower over Rodney. His voice became louder, and its heat singed the air. “You can be a prince to this world if you will kneel and worship me.”

  “What do you mean ‘prince’?”

  “Not all adams must die. Worship me, and I will shed your blood to release the Liv-ya-than and raise you up after to be a chief in the army of Hell.”

  “You’ll kill me and raise me up again?”

  “Death is a door, and the key is mine.”

  “What about Ray and Pinwheel?”

  “You may do with them as you please.” The demon waved his hand dismissively.

  “What about my mother?”

 
; The Old Master’s eyes flashed. “An eve?” He managed to hide his sneer. “Yes, you may spare an eve.”

  “What about Lucasta the Angel?”

  “Angeloi will have no place on the last earth.”

  “So if I worship, you’ll let me live and I can spare Ray, Pinwheel, and my mom?”

  “And live forever,” he hissed. “And ride the Liv-ya-than into destruction. And have the entire human race cower beneath your might.” He lowered himself to the ground. “If you just kneel down before me and worship.”

  Rodney searched the sky. It was a gray blankness, a gravestone set over the sky. His voice fell into soft wind. “No.”

  The Old Master’s lip quivered in disdain. “Then you will die and never be more than dirt. Enjoy the rot.”

  Rodney looked up into the eyes of the great demon. Above his head, but just beneath the veil of clouds, Rodney spied a single pinprick of light. It was streaking downward and directly at them. Light curled off the bolt.

  “You’re wrong. Pinwheel is coming for me.”

  “The stray will die as shamefully as you.” En-ki Ab-zu raised back a hand, his claws extended, to strike Rodney down where he stood.

  Rodney threw his hands before his face. The temperature of the air spiked. He could feel his face brighten and he heard a low-pitched whoosh like thrown fire. He didn’t know what was happening, but his instincts told him to move. He dove sideways.

  Peering through his fingers he saw the Lord of Hell turn and the bolt of light pass through his head, incinerating it. The headless trunk of the Old Master fell to its knees and toppled over.

  The bolt traveled into the head of the stone serpent and smashed it, sending fragments everywhere. Rodney felt his skin sting as he was peppered with rock shards.

  “Wow,” was all he could manage as smoke and dust surrounded the area. The head of the stone serpent was crushed, reduced to rubble by the explosion. He stood and approached the smoldering crater.

  In it stood a strange boy about Rodney’s height. He had dark hair but pale skin, and he wore a simple white robe belted with a yellow rope. The boy was bewildered, looking at his hands, turning them over and flexing his fingers.