Rafe’s brow lifted. “You went dark fast. I thought we’d ease into it. Maybe ask about lottery numbers first or something.”
“More fire,” Maxine blurted. She gripped the ends of her auburn curls and pulled. “The earth is scorched. Complete devastation.”
I stiffened. “Are you reliving New Hope?” I asked.
She lunged forward and gripped my arm, almost knocking over the crystal ball in the process. “The future is bleak. So many needless deaths.” Her anguished expression was in sharp contrast to the upbeat music.
“Can you see who’s fighting?” Rafe asked.
“Fire and brimstone,” she wailed. “The earth splits and the sky bleeds feathers.”
“Feathers?” I murmured. I glanced instinctively at Rafe’s wings. I didn’t love the idea of bleeding feathers.
“Can you see who’s responsible for New Hope?” Rafe pressed.
I elbowed him. “Not Jeopardy,” I hissed.
Maxine tilted her head back and released a scream that seemed to emanate from the very depths of her soul. Then her head snapped back to its original position and she blinked.
The basement door opened, followed by a rush of footsteps. “Aunt Max, would you mind keeping the noise down? We’re trying to study.”
Maxine recovered her normal voice. “Sorry, Logan. It was an unexpected vision.”
“Dude, those are the worst,” he said, and fled back upstairs.
I sat there, reeling from the vision. Fire. Brimstone. Feathers. Blood. It sounded like another nightmare in the making.
Maxine smoothed her curls as she attempted to regain her composure and flashed a winning smile. “Well, that wasn’t brilliant news now, was it?”
Chapter Nine
Rafe and I returned to New Hope from the fraternity house to search for more evidence and discuss Madam Maxine’s vision in private. No need to put the fear of the gods into her. The poor woman had suffered enough already.
“It doesn’t mean it will come true,” Rafe said. “Visions are notoriously fickle. Even more so than prophecies.”
“She was unsettled by it,” I said. “I get the sense that visions this intense are unusual for her.” Which likely meant something serious was triggering them.
Rafe skimmed a pebble across the river. “I worry there are dark days ahead.”
“Like a war between the Nether and Dominion?”
“It seems more plausible by the day,” he said.
“Unless the sky delivers chickens to the hungry after an earthquake, there’s no good interpretation of that vision, is there?”
He managed a smile. “Your optimism is endearing.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the decimated town. “Nothing about this is endearing. It’s horrifying.”
“Stars above, you weren’t exaggerating,” a familiar voice said.
I turned in time to see Elder Sam landing behind us. “Are you checking up on me? You know you’re going to have stop doing this after I graduate because then it’s just creepy.”
Elder Sam held up his hands. “I’m not checking up on you, I promise. I know the town and thought I might be able to help.” He gazed at the rushing river, appearing to become lost in thought.
“I didn’t realize you’d been here before,” I said.
“Several times,” he said, “but it was years ago.” He didn’t elaborate.
“I think I’ll fly to the New Jersey side and see if anything noteworthy washed up over there,” Rafe said. “If you want to canvas Mechanic Street and New Street, we can meet back here when we’re finished.”
Elder Sam hovered above the ground. “I’ll check out the far end of Main Street, beyond the shops.”
“Good luck,” I said. I watched Rafe fly across the river, thinking of the people who’d seen their loved ones for the last time—how arbitrary it all seemed. On one side of the river, life continued as usual. Where I stood, life had ended for over two thousand people in the blink of an eye. Rafe disappeared from view and I started to turn toward New Street. The water rippled as a blast of air pushed its way through town. Leaves drifted from the branches and glided across the surface of the river. If I kept my focus right here, I could ignore the devastation behind me and pretend the town was still thriving.
Except for the silence.
There was no getting past that. Even the quietest of towns had the occasional bark of a dog or hum of an engine. New Hope was noiseless, except for the sound of scattering leaves. I was at a loss as to what to search for in the rubble. Some of the shops had been filled with items for sale. How could I determine which object I found, if any, was relevant to the attack?
When the hairs on the back of my neck pricked, I assumed it was caused by the sudden wind—until the mist rolled in and I heard the faint sound. A distant train. A voice carried from the neighboring town.
No. It was more ominous than that.
It was a whistle.
My stomach plummeted. Why here? Why now? Whistlers weren’t tasked with protecting humans from demons—that honor went to the nephilim.
Slowly, I shifted toward the direction of the whistle. This time, I wasn’t surprised by his appearance. The Whistler was as unattractive as I remembered from our tussle on the path along the Schuylkill River in the city. He wore the same dull trench coat and well-worn boots and his head was covered by the dark hat with the soft brim and indented crown.
I greeted him with a blinding smile. “What is it about the two of us and rivers, Sturg?”
“Been looking for you, little miss.” He spat on the ground.
I rolled up my sleeves for good measure. “Why? Hoping to get your ass kicked again?”
He flashed his set of crooked and broken teeth. “Not this time. You piqued my interest after our little skirmish. Not every day I leave a fight without a trophy.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but you’re destined for participation points only,” I said.
“Told one of my brothers about you.” He cracked his knuckles. “What it was like to fight you. Decided he wanted to meet you for himself.” He whistled again, loud and shrill. “Demonspawn, meet Moloch.”
Moloch. The Whistler that tried to murder me as an infant. Despite the icy fingers of fear that tickled the back of my neck, I stood tall and unsheathed my sword. “We’ve already met.”
Moloch cut through the mist. He wasn’t terribly dissimilar to his friend in stature. His face, however, bore two distinct scars. I wondered whether Elder Sam had been responsible for them.
“You don’t seem familiar,” Moloch said. “And I doubt a little thing like you could escape me alive.”
“I told you,” Sturg said. “She’s stronger than she looks.”
“If she were that powerful,” Moloch said, “she wouldn’t need all those weapons.”
I raised my sword. “Why don’t you come closer and find out for yourself?”
Moloch folded his arms. “I’d rather watch you and Sturg dance. If you’re good enough, I might cut in.”
“When did that ever matter to you?” I ground out.
Sturg waved a hand and a blast of wind knocked me flat on my back. I managed to keep hold of the sword and attempted to jump back to my feet, but an invisible pressure held me in place.
“Well, this is disappointing,” Moloch said. “Seems like you might’ve been exaggerating, Sturg. I should’ve known it was the drink talking. You never could hold your ale.”
I wrenched myself free and shot into the air. Sturg moved his hands and the water bubbled and rose, beginning to take shape.
“Sorry, no water features this time,” I said. I swooped forward and sliced through the air, catching his wrist. His hand dropped to the ground and he let loose a throaty scream at the sight of the stump.
Fire streaked toward me. It seemed that Moloch had decided to join the dance after all. I turned to gauge his reaction as the fire blew past me with no effect.
“Demonspawn—one,” I said. “Elemental fire—zero.”
&nbs
p; Moloch’s jaw unhinged. “How is that…?”
A heavy boulder knocked me sideways. Sturg loomed over me, blood streaming from his arm. I rolled to the side and reached for my sword. Another gust of wind rushed over me, pinning me to the ground. I managed to flip onto my back with my sword in hand, just as Sturg was lunging for me. The blade cut right through the fleshy part of his stomach. I released the hilt and scrambled backward. Sturg fell forward, further impaling himself.
“That’s unfortunate,” Moloch said. “Hope you got another weapon, sweetie, because you’re gonna need it.”
I retrieved a dagger from inside my boot. “I was taught that success is when preparation meets opportunity.”
Moloch grinned. “Same, girl.” He flicked his finger and I blew backward head over heels. “Word is that this mess was caused by your kind.”
I landed in a crouched position and jerked my chin up in defiance. “What is my kind exactly?”
“Fine, half your kind, not that it matters to me.” He swaggered toward me. “We got ourselves an ancient covenant with the seraphim to wipe you little bastards off the face of the earth.”
“And I’d like to revoke that covenant.” Elder Sam emerged from the mist with his sword drawn. “Hello, Moloch.”
The Whistler turned and grinned at the sight of the seraph. “How about that? Looks like you’ve gotten yourself a pair of wings since we last met.” Moloch pretended to admire them. “Hope they didn’t hurt getting put on as much as your old ones hurt coming off.”
The seraph shot me a look. “It was worth it.”
I straightened. “You don’t need to defend me this time. I’m not an infant anymore.”
“An infant?” Moloch’s brow furrowed as he looked from Elder Sam to me. “You’re that screaming brat?” He tipped his head back and laughed. “You two are still joined at the hip, huh? Did I miss something? Is she your daughter?”
“Never mind who she is,” Elder Sam said. His entire body was poised and ready to strike.
“I can take care of myself,” I said.
“I know you can,” Elder Sam said. His gaze cemented on the Whistler. “But I owe him.”
Moloch sneered. “The feeling’s mutual.”
I didn’t like this. There was no point in Elder Sam risking his life for the sake of a grudge. I kicked Sturg over and retrieved my sword, wiping the blade clean on the Whistler’s shirt. “We’ll do this together.”
Elder Sam’s sword blazed with blue light.
Moloch rubbed his hands together. “You know that’s the only time in my long life I’ve gotten to fight a seraph?”
“And this will be the last fight you ever have,” Elder Sam said. “The covenant with the Whistlers should’ve been withdrawn long ago.”
“What is it about this one?” Moloch’s eyes flicked to me. “Sure, she’s pretty, but there’s lots of pretty ones. Killed one just the other week with the biggest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Should’ve seen the tears in them.” He spat again. “Pathetic.”
It has big eyes, I’d said when I first met Jiffy in the tunnel under the city. It’s an unwritten rule that you can’t kill anything with big eyes.
“I’d say it’s a waste,” Moloch continued, “but we both know that ain’t true.”
His words cut straight through me. I hurled myself through the air, my sword drawn back to strike. A heavy weight crashed into me and I landed hard on the boulder that had hit me earlier. I heard a crack and cried out as I slid down the side of the rock. Unbearable pain radiated from my back. I’d never suffered a bone-related injury. I wasn’t sure how quickly I could heal it. I whimpered as I reclaimed my sword and tried to drag myself on my stomach back to Elder Sam and Moloch. I couldn’t let the seraph do this alone. Their grunts and groans echoed in the vacant town as they fought. I remained still for a moment and focused on trying to heal myself. There was slightly less pain and a bit more movement. Although I was healing, if it didn’t happen fast, the fight would be over before I could join it.
Droplets of water splashed on me. I staggered to my feet and saw that Elder Sam was trapped in a waterspout. The ends of his wings protruded through the liquid column. Moloch was concentrating so hard on controlling his creation that he failed to notice me.
I launched myself at him and slashed on the way down. He turned aside at the last second, but the blade caught his arm and I watched with satisfaction as drops of blood bloomed on his shirt. The waterspout dissolved and Elder Sam dropped to his knees, choking. I couldn’t let Moloch have another crack at him before he recovered. I sliced the back of the Whistler’s legs and he fell forward.
I scrambled to Elder Sam and dropped my sword. I pumped hard on his chest, trying to remember the right way to revive someone. We did a lot of fighting at the academy, but not a lot of saving. A scream emanated from my core, shaking the walls of the playhouse, the only remaining structure in town. Behind me, Moloch chuckled. The bastard actually laughed. Slowly, I rose to my feet and turned to face him. A lit cigarette dangled from the Whistler’s lips.
“I know these are bad for me, but I figure what the hell? I’m liable to end up dead sooner or later anyway. That’s the nature of the job.”
“Seems to me Whistlers manage to live much longer than they should.” I kept my voice even, despite the deep desire to break his body in two.
“He should’ve let you take care of business, huh? Seems a waste of a loyal mutt.”
“Don’t you dare disrespect him.”
“Pretty sure I did that when I killed him. What harm is an insult or two now?” He tossed the cigarette on the ground, not bothering to stub it out. “I guess it’s you and me now. Just like old times.”
“This is nothing like old times. I was vulnerable then.”
Moloch laughed again. “And you think you’re not vulnerable anymore because you’ve got some mojo? You still have a lot to learn.” He inclined his head toward Elder Sam on the ground. “That seraph made you vulnerable. Hell, you made him vulnerable or he wouldn’t be dead now. That’s what feelings do.”
I rocketed from the ground and flew over him, slashing his face. He howled in pain and twisted to face me as I landed on the other side of him. Blood lined his cheek. He lifted his hand in a fist, prepared to unleash his fury. As I braced myself, his face froze and he tipped forward, falling at my feet. I looked down to see the hilt of a dagger protruding from the back of his neck. I glanced over the dead body to Elder Sam. The seraph was on his stomach, his arm outstretched.
I rushed toward him. “You’re alive!”
He was drenched in either water or sweat, I wasn’t sure which. “I always taught you to carry a spare,” he said. His breathing was labored and shallow.
I half laughed and half cried. “I know and I do.” Two daggers, in fact. “Can you get up? If not, I can fly you back to the spires.”
“I’m not going back to Domus,” he said. The words came slowly. Too slowly.
“Yes, you are,” I commanded. “I’m not leaving you here.”
The seraph winced as he squeezed my hand. “It’s all right, Cassia. I don’t have to worry anymore. Whatever happens, I’m proud of who you’ve become.”
“Be proud tomorrow,” I said. “It’s my birthday, remember?” Then I noticed that the back of his shirt was soaked in blood. His condition was worse than I realized.
“I remember.” A sad smile crossed his lips.
“Rafe can heal you,” I said, my voice cracking. “Let me find him.” Tears streamed down my cheeks. There was no way I was letting this be the end, not after everything he’d sacrificed for me.
“I’m afraid I’m beyond his help. Take care, Cassia,” he said, and his eyelids fluttered closed.
I entered the main spire, numb to the bone. The Elders were gathered in the kitchen, their expressions etched with concern. Elder Bahaira sat at the table, her fingers strangling the handle of the teacup. The vein in her neck looked ready to burst. Her eyes widened when she saw me and she pee
red behind me expectantly.
“Cassia, what happened?” Elder Asago asked. He abandoned his coffee on the counter and came closer to inspect me.
“It’s late,” Elder Bahaira said. “We’ve been worried sick.”
My chin began to tremble and I found that I couldn’t speak.
Elder Alastor gave me a sharp look. “Where’s Elder Sam?”
My words were drowned out by a loud cry and I realized it was coming from me.
Elder Kali gripped my wrist, her nails digging into the skin. “Tell us, Cassia.”
“Moloch,” I said in a hoarse whisper.
“The Whistler?” Elder Bahaira’s anguished face seemed to reflect the way I felt inside.
I nodded. “He’s dead now.”
“Which one?” Elder Asago asked.
“Both,” I replied. I staggered to the nearest chair and collapsed into it.
“Cassia, you’re hurt.” Elder Bahaira’s eyes locked on my wing, stained with blood.
“I’ll heal,” I said. “Elder Sam…I couldn’t.”
“It’s all right, child,” Elder Kali said. She stood behind me and smoothed my hair. “You’re not a god. You don’t perform miracles.”
I shook my head and started to cry again. My head dropped onto the table and there it remained. Unseen hands comforted me, but I wasn’t interested in comfort. I embraced the hurt—let the pain engulf me. Elder Sam was family to me. It was only right to mourn his loss.
“How did the Whistler find you?” Elder Alastor asked, hyperfocused on the details as always.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Sturg said he’d been looking for me since the last time we fought. He brought Moloch with him.”
“Two less Whistlers in the world is fine with me,” Elder Bahaira said. She gulped the remainder of her tea. “You’ve done us all a favor, Cassia. You and Sam.”
“Rafe and I carried Elder Sam back here,” I said. “He’s on the floor in the library. I wasn’t sure where to put him, but I couldn’t leave him there.” Gretel had come running when she spotted us and settled beside the body like a sentinel.
“No, of course not,” Elder Kali said carefully.
Demonspawn Academy: Trial Three Page 8