Hellion_The Counterfeit City

by Jenna Lyn Wright

  He crouches down, the glowing tip of the cigar casting his face in a devilish glow. “You’re going to have to do better than that, child, or I’m going to be adding your name to the list of graves I’m digging tonight.”

  Kira’s claws dig into my ankle and she drags me back toward her. As I’m pulled, I flip onto my back and swipe at her with my claws. Kira flinches, letting go, and I pop up and swing around, wrapping an arm around her waist and using the momentum to fling her to the ground.

  Before she can recover I’m on top of her and we’re rolling, rolling, rolling until we crash into one of the shelves. Its contents clink and rattle above us.

  I drag myself to my feet, breathing hard. Blood seeps from the cuts on my knuckles and trickles down my face. Kira stands, but she’s wobbly and favoring one leg. One of her eyes is swollen shut.

  Her cold rage is no match for my fiery fury.

  I run at her, shoulder lowered, and hit her so hard that her head snaps back and her teeth clack. From somewhere behind us, Baron claps with glee.

  Kira drops and I descend upon her, flipping her onto her stomach. I grab her hair and lift her head back.

  Hot tears sting my eyes as I pull the dagger, my dagger, tipped with poison and carrying every ounce of my hatred and rage, from its sheath. “You tell Lucifer I’ll see him soon.” I drag the blade across her throat, and Kira goes still. “Nico coated the blade with the same poison you used on me, but I asked him to add a little something extra, especially for you. Enjoy.”

  I collapse back off of her and drag myself away as she begins to convulse and smoke and desiccate, rotting from the inside out before she’s truly dead.

  There is agony in her eyes.

  Good.

  18

  It had taken Kira nearly five minutes to die. She had rotted slowly, her skin crackling and smoking and her body collapsing in on itself until she was nothing but a pile of ash at my feet. I had savored every second of her pain.

  “A fight that fierce can only be about revenge,” Baron says, and I turn to find that he’s left his perch on the crate and now stands over the photo of the bungalow that Kira stole from me the night she killed me. The night she killed David.

  “How does it feel?” he says, stooping down to pluck the picture from the ground. “Not as good as you thought it would, right?”

  I limp toward him, wincing as I stoop to pick up the diamond dagger along the way. If I’d been human the beating I just took might’ve killed me. Lilah only chose the best to work for her, and Kira was brilliant with brutality.

  As I get closer to him, though, I’m surprised to feel my sore muscles start to loosen and the pain in my limbs start to ebb. This increase healing speed is incredible. If I’d had it when I was alive, I’d have been nearly unstoppable.

  “It’s a moment of triumph that changes nothing,” he continues.

  “Not true,” I say, and the split in my lip pulls apart and warm blood trickles down my chin. “A few minutes ago, Kira was alive. That’s changed.”

  “As alive as any of us can be,” he says and waves his hand in a so-so motion.

  “And now she’s not,” I finish, and hold out my hand. “She stole that from me. I’d like it back.”

  Baron waves the photo back and forth like he’s developing a Polaroid. “What’d she do to you to get you so riled up?”

  “She killed me,” I say.

  “What else?”

  “That’s not enough?”

  “A fighter like you, you’re used to dancing with death. Probably got real comfortable with the idea of your time being up. Your death wouldn’t matter that much to you,” he says. “Someone else’s though…”

  “My fiancé,” I admit, and the word cuts me like a blade.

  “Ah,” he says, taking a puff from his cigar, “love hurts more than most things, and to lose that love…” Baron shakes his head and shivers at the thought. He holds out the photo and I snatch it from his fingers before he has a chance to change his mind.

  “I’m guessing this isn’t the only thing you need from ol’ Baron.”

  “I came for the Dagger of the Fallen.”

  “You and everyone else.” He waves toward the doors and the dead Counterfeits strewn outside on the lawn. “I feel like the belle of the ball tonight, with all these visitors coming to see me.”

  “You have graves to dig,” I say, sounding needier and sharper than I’d like, “and I have a debt to pay.”

  “Oh, no,” he says, chuckling, “you don’t come at Baron like that. You have no idea who you’re talking to, child.” He takes a long drag on the cigar, and the bright end paints his face in a warm, devilish glow and sets his eyes sparkling. “Awfully demanding for a baby demon, aren’t you? Spend a few decades wandering Counterfeit City and then come back to me with your attitude adjusted.” It occurs to me that I may not have had my last fight for the night, and I tighten my grip on the diamond dagger in my hand.

  Brakes squeal and pebbles skitter as a vehicle comes to a screeching halt just outside the doors to the mausoleum.

  Runner appears in the doorway. “We’ve gotta go. Now.” He takes a good look at me and frowns. “You look absolutely terrible.”

  “Mister Runner Six,” Baron says, pointing the cigar at him, “been a long time.”

  “’Fraid it’s gonna be a bit longer ’til our next proper catch-up.” Runner crosses the threshold. He’s a live wire, and he bounces on his toes as he waves me toward him. “I mean it. We’ve got demons.”

  “More demons?” Baron huffs. “Haven’t I had enough demons tonight?”

  “I can’t leave here without that Dagger,” I say, and I work hard to keep my voice steady. This means everything, and if Baron won’t help me… “Without it, I’m as good as dead. You might as well kill me where I stand.”

  “Gray, you don’t wanna offer that option to Baron,” Runner says.

  Baron runs a finger up and down his lapel. “Your desperation is music to my ears, demon. Lucky for you, I’d rather bargain that fight. I give this to you, you’ll owe me.”

  Behind me, Runner coughs as if he’s choking on Baron’s words. I take it to mean that this is going to be a bad deal, but I don’t have a better option.

  “You understand what that means?” Baron asks, and judging from his tone, it means quite a bit. I can figure out the logistics later, though. Right now, he’s offering me a chance at everything I need.

  “I understand, Baron.”

  He opens his jacket with a flourish and pulls out the Dagger of the Fallen.

  I had expected… more.

  It’s glassy obsidian from hilt to tip. Wickedly sharp, judging by the way the candlelight flickers and glints off of the blade, and there’s some sort of slashing symbol carved into its handle. It vaguely resembles the brand on my wrist. From what I can tell, there’s nothing that sets it apart from any of the other weapons that I got from Nicodemus earlier tonight.

  Then I take it from Baron, and I understand.

  A sly grin spreads across his face because he knows. He knows that the Dagger feels heavy and warm in my hands, and my nerve endings are singing and sizzling and I want to wrap my hand around the hilt and drive the blade into him, and Runner, and every single person that has the misfortune to step in front of me tonight.

  “It’s something, yeah? You take care with that tonight, then.” He blows a ring of smoke at me. “You’re tough, but are you strong?”

  The words catch in my throat, but I manage to choke them up and I spit out, “Strong as I need to be.”

  At that, he laughs, and it bubbles up from the tips of his toes and spills out through his skeleton smile.

  “Go. Now.” Runner snags my arm, and I flip the Dagger in my hand, yank him to me, and put the blade at his throat. His eyes go wide and he lets me go, putting his hands up in surrender. “Or whenever you’re ready.”

  Two centimeters closer and I could draw blood from his artery. I stare at the spot where the blade meets h
is skin and it takes every ounce of willpower in my body to pull the blade back. Baron’s cackle rings in my ears, and shame washes over me as I register the look of horror on Runner’s face. “I’m sorry,” I mumble and sheath the blade against my thigh. Once the weapon isn’t touching my skin, my mind clears of the murderous haze and the urge to slice everyone fades.

  I stride toward the door. After a moment’s hesitation to get his bearings, I hear Runner coming after me. “They were right on my heels, Gray, they might even be here by now…”

  He trails off because it’s not might be here.

  They are here.

  At least a dozen demons are waiting just outside Baron’s chambers. In the faint light that flickers out through the doorway, I can see the glint of their blades and the hatred in their eyes.

  I’m still healing. To take all of them on alone is madness.

  Then I realize that they’re not approaching me. They’re motionless, their eyes fixed on the Dagger of the Fallen strapped to my thigh.

  Playing a hunch, I steel myself, pull the weapon from its sheath, and brandish it at them.

  Each of the demons flinches back as if slapped.

  They are afraid.

  And as I let whatever lives in the Dagger flow through me, I think to myself: they should be.

  19

  One by one, the demon’s fear of Lilah wins out over their fear of the Dagger of the Fallen, and they advance on us.

  “What does the Dagger do, exactly?” Runner whispers.

  “Creates demons, I think. Other stuff too, probably. If Lucifer’s telling the truth, it sliced off his wings, but he didn’t really give me the manual, Runner.”

  He tears his gaze from the oncoming horde to side-eye me. “Well, what if they already are demons?”

  I tighten my grip on the weapon, hand him a spare dagger of my own, and say, “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

  Runner takes the blade and it’s clumsy in his grasp. There’s no way he’s going to be able to truly fight his way out of here. “Just get in the hearse,” I say, “and if they come at you, just run faster.”

  He scrambles toward the vehicle without a word of protest. An approaching demon lunges at him as he flees, mostly on instinct it by the looks of it. Runner swings the dagger out in a clumsy arc and catches nothing but air. The demon growls as he passes but doesn’t give chase. The creature isn’t here for Runner.

  The demon closest to me darts forward, closing the gap between us by half. A slice of silver caps one of his front teeth and it glints in the moonlight. “Give us the Dagger and we’ll kill you quickly.”

  “Pass,” I hiss, and sense something coming up fast behind me, so I duck and spin, bringing the Dagger around in a wide arc and slicing across an attacking demon’s torso.

  The Dagger cuts like nothing I’ve experienced, slicing through the leather of her jacket and the fabric of her clothing as if it were soft butter, but the wound is shallow and won’t slow her down much. I pop back up to standing, ready to strike again.

  Instead, she wobbles to a stop, bringing her hands to her stomach and pulling them away. They’re coated in sticky black blood. The cut begins to smolder, the skin around the wound glowing like embers. She meets eyes with me for one brief second, and then she disintegrates into a million glittering, fiery flakes, floating away on the wind.

  Behind me, movement ceases. Seeing what happened to their compatriot, the demons are back on their heels. I guess nobody’s in a hurry to explode into demon dust.

  So I turn, slowly, and hold the Dagger out at my side. Adrenaline and triumph are coursing through me, boosted by whatever evil is housed in this dagger. “Next?”

  They don’t like that at all.

  With a growl, they come at me en masse, weapons raised and teeth bared.

  One gets a running start and leaps up, landing on my back. I throw all my weight forward, flipping it off and sending it tumbling ahead of me.

  An engine fires to life, and I bring my head up just in time to see Runner plow through that demon and two of his hellish friends with the front of the hearse.

  Pop.

  Pop.

  Pop.

  They fly over the hood, cracking the hearse’s windshield and somersaulting over the back of the vehicle. Their battered, broken bodies are tossed to the ground as the hearse kicks up grass and dirt as it spins back to face the group.

  Runner hits the windshield wipers, smearing black demon blood on the glass. He revs the engine again as two more demons leap at me. The headlights slice across us and I get just enough of a glimpse between their slashing claws and gnashing teeth to bring the Dagger up and into the throat of the one to my front.

  He disintegrates in a flash of fiery light.

  I drive the Dagger back behind me without looking, catching the second across the leg, and it’s the same fate for him.

  I feel invincible with this weapon in my hands. It wants more victims. I want more victims.

  Instead of waiting for the demons to come for me, I race straight into a pack of them. Arm swinging and slicing, I mow them down one by one, the blade reflecting the searing orange light as they explode into ash and nothingness.

  I am not without my wounds, but I don’t feel them. I don’t feel anything but bloodlust. I toss one of the remaining demons off of me, nicking it as I go, and stand over him as he burns away. Warm blood trickles down my face, and I swipe it away with my sleeve.

  They’re running away. All but four are in retreat. The roar of the engine cuts the night, and the hearse races past me to mow the cowards down. They tumble underneath Runner’s wheels. He screeches to a stop, his white reverse lights flick on, and he backs over them. The demons are ground into the dirt, fully dead now, smoking and collapsing in on themselves.

  One of the remaining demons tries to take me by surprise, coming up behind me with his weapon raised while I’m watching Runner. He’s clumsy and loud, though, and I hit him with a donkey kick in the chest, spinning around to catch him with the Dagger across his cheek as he falls backward.

  The demon’s death lights up the night, and as he burns away I get a glimpse of Baron standing at the threshold to his mausoleum. He has a spade, and he’s leaning on it like a walking stick, watching the show we’re putting on for him with mild amusement.

  Two demons swarm me, one from either side, and they manage to wrestle me to the ground. I manage to get the weapon up and catch one in the hand and the other in the shoulder, and within seconds I’m left alone on the ground amid glittering flakes of Lilah’s former henchmen.

  Dusting myself off as I pull myself up to standing, I realize there’s only one demon left. Old Silver Tooth. He doesn’t play fair, doesn’t wait for me to get my bearings, and he leaps at me, never taking his eyes off the Dagger. He catches it with his boot, knocking it from my hand, and punches me square in the chest with a fist like a sledgehammer.

  I hit the ground hard, getting dirt in my mouth as I gasp for air. Earth wedges under my fingernails as I pull my way toward the Dagger, but it’s just out of my grasp, and the Demon gets his claws into my ankle and drags me backward, even though I kick and twist and writhe.

  He scrambles over the top of me and snatches the Dagger of the Fallen from the ground. His eyes light up, and I know he can feel the energy inside of it coursing through him, making him feel like a death-dealing god.

  His silver tooth glinting in his wide grin, he holds the Dagger up, triumphant.

  He opens his mouth to speak.

  The roar of an engine cuts whatever magnificent speech he was about to give short as Runner takes him out at thirty miles an hour, knocking the Dagger from Silver Tooth’s grasp. The demon’s body bends to fit the grill before being sucked underneath the tires. It rolls out the back as Runner passes, a tumbling mass of broken limbs, and comes to a stop against a tombstone.

  The Dagger spins in the air, stabbing the ground just inches from my face.

  I turn over onto my back, sucking
air into my burning lungs. A car door squeaks and boots hit the ground. Runner races over toward me, his eyes wide at the carnage we have wrought.

  He holds out a hand and I take it, finally feeling my injuries now that I don’t have the Dagger in my hand blotting everything else out. I stand for only a moment before hunching over and grabbing my ribs.

  Baron peels himself away from the door, saunters over, and stabs the spade into the dirt. “You all got me working overtime tonight. What say you get lost?”

  We don’t need to be told twice. I stoop to pull the Dagger from the ground and sheath it. “Thank you, Baron.”

  “Don’t thank me yet…” he’s cut off by the sound of a ringing phone.

  A soft groan emanates from a dark patch of earth, and I see the glint of metal in the moonlight as Silver Tooth raises a cell phone to his ear. Breath rattling, he wheezes, “She has the Dagger.”

  “Shit.”

  In the relative silence of the night, we can all hear, plain as day, a very angry woman yell, “So take it from her!” through the speaker. I would know that voice anywhere. Lilah.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Baron says, and waves us off.

  Runner and I head toward the hearse. “Guess she knows I’m not dead,” I say.

  “Yeah, the fact that she sent a demon army after us kinda tipped me off.” He yanks open the driver’s side door.

  Baron stabs the spade into the dirt next to Silver Tooth’s face, gently slides the phone from the demon’s fingers, holds it to his ear and says, “I do believe you’ll soon have the opportunity to do that yourself,” and ends the call.

  Sneering down at Silver Tooth, he lifts the spade and decapitates the demon with the blade in a moment of sudden, indifferent violence.