Extinction (The Divine Book 7)

by M. R. Forbes

  "Landon," Obi said, his voice tense.

  I rolled on the ground to my feet, throwing up my power and creating a wall between him and the shooters, watching as a dozen bullets froze in mid-air before they could slice him in half. I closed my eyes for an instant, reappearing beside him, grabbing him and teleporting again. I dropped him on the wall beside one of the shooters, and he took hold of the mortal and wrenched the gun from his hand.

  "I don't want to kill these people," he said.

  "We don't have a choice right now."

  "Kill her, lose the mind control."

  "I'll do my best."

  He didn't look happy, but he turned on the other slaves and returned fire, bullets knocking them from their perches.

  I teleported again, to where Gervais was desperately trying to defend himself from Srizyl. I was getting more used to the power with every use, finding it easier and quicker every time I jumped.

  The archfiend sent another blast of hellfire at Gervais. He stepped aside, his form changing, his hands elongating into claws. He had already used his own gift to claim power from Randolph Heart's goons and make himself an uber-vampire, and now he used it, leaping at Srizyl and catching her off-guard.

  I used my power to push him away from her, sending him sprawling. I wanted the Divine energy she could provide for myself.

  I threw myself at her, bringing the blade up to strike.

  The Fist appeared beside me. It's arm launched out, hitting me square in the side and sending me tumbling away. I hit the ground and rolled to a stop, pushing myself back to my feet. The Fist vanished again.

  Uriel's blade rested a few feet away. I pulled it back to me and made a quick survey of the battle.

  Gervais was going after Srizyl again, while Obi had managed to clear half of the shooters from the wall, and was pinned down in a firefight with the other half. Where was Zifah?

  I closed my eyes, teleporting across the field, reappearing and looking back to see him materialize where I had just been standing. I had figured as much. I blinked out again, coming back to the world a few feet from Srizyl. She saw me and stopped. I grabbed her by the arm, throwing her aside, bringing the sword around as Gervais pounced. His eyes became saucers, and he rolled his body, landing awkwardly beside me and scrambling to get away. I turned to reach for him, only to sense the Fist as it appeared behind me.

  I kicked backward, feeling my foot connect with the Fist's chest and knock it back. I used the momentum to throw myself forward, wrapping my arms around Srizyl and teleporting again, bringing us up to the top of the hill outside the compound.

  "Diuscrucis," Srizyl said, her expression fearful.

  "Let go of your slaves," I said.

  "What?"

  "Release them. Help me fight the Fist, and I'll let you live."

  She nodded. The shooting stopped a moment later. "Very well."

  I teleported her back to the fray, dropping her in front of Gervais. She put her hand out, hitting him with a blast of hellfire that singed the side of his face. He screamed and rolled away, calling out for Zifah.

  The Fist appeared again, closing in on us. Srizyl turned toward it, sending a gout of hellfire from her hands, which bounced harmlessly off the scriptured metal. Zifah aimed the armor toward her, while I tried to circle around. He broke off the engagement, facing me instead, not worried about the archfiend.

  "She can't hurt me, Landon," the demon said.

  "No," I heard Obi say behind him. "But I can."

  A gloved fist appeared behind the Fist's back, smashing hard into the diminutive hellspawn. The force sent him flying from the weapon's shoulder, screaming as he tumbled through the air, landing on the ground fifty feet away and steaming from the scripture on the blessed gloves. He got to his feet, shaking himself off, his aura growing around him as he reversed the damage. He was the son of Lucifer. He wouldn't be that easy to kill.

  The important part was that we had knocked him away from the Fist, and broken the connection that allowed him to control it.

  "Score one for the home... oof!"

  Obi was thrown backward as the Fist continued to move, spinning and hitting him hard in the gut. He landed with a thud and didn't move again.

  "Son of a bitch," I whispered, seeing him laying there. The Fist readjusted, coming about and marching toward me. I could hear Zifah's laughter at my back.

  "Nice try, Landon," he said. "You almost got me. Riding the Fist is fun, not a necessity."

  The Fist vanished.

  I felt my teeth lock together in anger, and I threw myself at the small demon, desperate to stick him to the end of Uriel's sword. He jumped back in fear at my approach, pulling one of his needles and throwing it at me. I batted it aside easily, closing the gap between us in seconds.

  The Fist reappeared in front of me. I slammed headlong into it with enough force to lift it up and back, knocking it over Zifah and landing on the other side. It grabbed me by the shoulders, the swords on its wrists extending and sticking into both sides of my chest, leaving me hanging from it.

  Zifah climbed up beneath me, sticking his face in mine. "Sorry about your friend. Thanks for the sword."

  He reached for my hand, dangling at my side and holding the blade.

  I didn't say anything. I closed my eyes and teleported away, coming to rest on my hands and knees beside Obi.

  "Diuscrucis," Srizyl said, rushing to us. "You can't leave me here with them."

  "You're right," I said, looking up at her and raising Uriel's sword. "You have something I need."

  She shrunk back in fear, her hands coming up to shoot hellfire at me. I threw my power out, pushing her hands aside, spreading her open so I could plant the blade in her gut. In my anger, I barely noticed the pain.

  She turned to ash as I put my hand on Obi's shoulder and willed us both away.

  Forty

  I didn't go back to Mexico. That would have been stupid. Obi was hurt, and there was nothing I could do to save him. My power to heal didn't extend to others. Not anymore.

  Instead, I came into existence at New York Presbyterian Hospital, right in the middle of the lobby. I quickly hid Uriel's blade back beneath my coat, and then called out for help at the same time I removed Obi's gloves from his hands. A nurse rushed over a moment later, oblivious to the fact that I had just appeared out of nowhere.

  "What happened?" she asked, at the same time she motioned for help.

  "He got hit by a car," I said. It was close enough to the truth. The Fist had a similar amount of force.

  She looked back at him. "Detective Sampson?" she said, recognizing him. She looked at me again. "You found him like this?"

  "No. I was with him. I'm a friend of his. Must have been a drunk or something, came around the corner and slammed right into him. He didn't even slow down."

  "Did you get a plate?"

  "Yeah, right. I carried him here as fast as I could. We were only a couple of blocks away."

  "You shouldn't have moved him."

  The orderlies brought a gurney. A doctor knelt next to him and checked him from the ground. "Let's get him loaded up and stabilized. He's alive but unconscious."

  I felt a bit of relief at the fact that he was still alive. A seraph could heal him once he was stable.

  "We'll take it from here," the nurse said. "Can you fill out some paperwork for us?"

  "I can't. I have to run."

  She moved to protest, but I closed my eyes and teleported away, coming to rest on the steps of St. Patrick's. I paused there for a moment, leaning over, my body exhausted. Increased power or not, I was using a lot of it in a hurry. I needed to slow down. I stumbled on the steps, coming to rest and putting my hands up to my face.

  "Damn it," I shouted into them, muffling my scream.

  Not only had Obi gotten hurt, but Zifah had shown his control of the Fist to be greater than I had realized. Worse, I still couldn't hurt the damn thing, and I needed to at least slow it down in order to reach the little asshole. The fai
led attempt left me angry and frustrated and more than a little overwhelmed. Sarah had beaten me. Zifah had beaten me. I was getting tired of losing.

  I rubbed at my face, feeling weary. Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe things had already gone so far that they were beyond my ability to stop. Maybe I was more problem than solution.

  I turned back to look at the Cathedral. Josette said God was on my side. I certainly hadn't been feeling it while I got my ass kicked. Unless that was what she meant? I laughed at the thought. Was the Man Upstairs enjoying watching me make a fool of myself?

  I got to my feet and headed up the steps and into the building. I felt a chill as soon as I entered, a reaction I had never experienced before. A moment later, my entire body began to tingle, every nerve ending reacting to something I couldn't see or sense. As I walked down the aisle, it seemed as if my steps were growing lighter and more energetic, my tired body and soul lifted and held by an unseen hand.

  Was this God's work? Uriel's? Josette's?

  Jane appeared from the transept, intercepting me in front of the altar.

  "Landon," she said.

  "I need help," I said. "My friend, Obi."

  "New York Presbyterian?" she replied.

  "How did you know?"

  She looked up in answer. I got the point.

  "Is he going to be okay?"

  "He will be well. A novice has already been dispatched to treat him."

  I let myself relax. At least something was going right.

  "What happened?" she asked.

  "The Fist. I thought Zifah needed to be touching it to control it. I was wrong."

  "How, then?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine. Adam was controlling it with some kind of cybernetic interface. It was part technology, part Divine. But I destroyed it, and I didn't see any kind of control interface on Zifah. He's too small to hide anything like that."

  "How did you break the control the last time?"

  "I cut Adam's arm off. That won't work here. I can't even get close to Zifah without the Fist blocking me, and after Obi managed to slap him, I don't think he'll risk putting himself in the open again." I lowered my head, feeling the weight returning. "I'm losing this one, and I don't see any way not to."

  "How can I help you?"

  "If you sent someone to help Obi, you already have." I looked back at the pews. "If you don't mind, I'm just going to hang out for a little while."

  "To pray?" she asked hopefully.

  "To think," I replied. "I need to figure out what to do next, and everyone I used to lean on for support is gone."

  "Not everyone, Diuscrucis," Jane said, pointing to the crucifix behind the altar. "If you need me, whisper my name. I will hear you."

  "Thank you, Jane," I said.

  "You're welcome."

  She headed off again, leaving me alone. I retreated to the front row of pews, taking a seat on the corner. I glanced up at the crucifix for a moment before leaning back and closing my eyes. Jesus had been absent while I was in Heaven. Why would he do anything for me here?

  No. I was on my own. I couldn't count on Dante for advice. I couldn't look to Obi to monitor SamChan or scour the Darknet for clues. Alyx was still out there, but I was more convinced than ever that getting her involved would be the same thing as getting her killed.

  I needed to solve this one myself.

  I tried to relax, to breathe deep and even, to let my mind go. I needed to forget about the chaos swirling around me and find some measure of focus within the maelstrom. I couldn't do everything at once. I was one person, and could only do one thing at one time.

  Right now, I needed to figure out how to stop the Fist cold so that I could get a solid shot at Zifah and his power. If I could accomplish that, I could move on to dealing with Sarah.

  The hours passed as I retread my memories, from my first encounter with the Fist to the present, searching them for clues. As far as I knew, there was only one way to control the armors remotely. While it was possible Zifah had come up with an interface that was either smaller or completely different than the one Adam had used, the odds that he had altered the Fist itself were slim. The scripture on the armor shielded it from manipulation and making the wrong changes anywhere created the risk of making the entire system brittle. Assuming that was a risk that neither Zifah or Gervais was willing to take, it meant that there had to be a way to send signals of my own to the armor.

  The trick was to figure out how.

  The Fist's creator was dead and gone, but there was one person involved in the project that could potentially shed a little more light on how it worked.

  I got to my feet, abandoning the pew and heading for the exit. Jane met me there.

  "Your friend Obi-wan is on the mend," she said.

  "I'm happy to hear it," I said, making a note to visit him as soon as time allowed. "Thank you for your intervention."

  "Don't thank me," she replied. "Thank the Lord."

  "You'll have to do for now," I said. "I've got work to do."

  Forty-One

  The problem, as I saw it, was that getting my hands on Zifah was currently a catch-22. I couldn't stop the Fist without grabbing the demon, and I couldn't grab the demon without stopping the Fist. Rock, meet hard place.

  The good news, if you could call it that, was that there was once small chance for me to get my hands on a pick and start chiseling away. The bad news was that the pick's name was Adam, and he wasn't exactly my biggest fan at the moment.

  Adam had a direct hand in the creation of the Fist. He had been the one to hire Matthias and set him to work on the design; more specifically, the technical design of the interface between angel and machine. If there was anyone who knew how to disable it or knew someone who knew how to disable it, it was him.

  Of course, I didn't know where to find Adam, and even once I did, I had no idea how I was going to get him to help me. My understanding was that he and Sarah were currently a thing, and it had been Sarah who instigated the whole relationship. She had convinced the fallen seraph to help her. Through lies? His own volition? That was what I needed to find out. If he was on her side, contacting or otherwise capturing him was going to be a huge risk. If he told her where I was, that was going to be a problem.

  Then again, her killing of Dante was a blessing in disguise for me, and a gross miscalculation on her part. As long as I could use his teleportation skills, I would be a much more difficult catch.

  As if that would help me while the rest of the world burned.

  All of that aside, the bottom line was that I was out of other options. Dante was gone, and Obi had landed in that hospital in payment for his solid friendship. I didn't take that fact lightly, and it was motivation that I needed.

  I left St. Patrick's and started walking along 5th Avenue, absorbing the sights and sounds of the city, my city, as I crossed town. I knew from Alichino that Adam and Sarah had been staying in contact through Yuli, the little messenger demon who had once been Reyzl's pet. I remained surprised he was still kicking around the mortal realm, but in this case, I figured it could work out in my favor. I wasn't on bad terms with the little demon, and once I was able to locate him, I might be able to get him to hook me up with Adam. Considering the nature of a messenger's work, it would probably take a bit of torture or other coercion, but I could be a lot more persuasive than most demons or angels, especially since I wasn't bound by any of their rules or concerns.

  I was almost down to the New York Public Library by the time I had finalized my plan of action in my head. I glanced over at the structure for a moment, doing a quick scan for Divine, noting that the area was uncommonly clear. Sarah had both sides on edge, and they were laying low and waiting to see what was going to happen next. Thanks to the fact that Sarah was one of the few people who would never forget about me, they had probably caught wind through the Nicht Creidem that we weren't on the best of terms at the moment. When two diuscrucis squared off, it was better just to get out of the way.

 
I closed my eyes, blinking out of existence there and back into existence on the flight deck of the U.S.S. Intrepid. It was another landmark that held memories for me, most of them not that great. The damage we had caused there had been long repaired, but I could still see it in my head. I had to push the rising tide of sadness aside and refocus myself. I wasn't here for a walk down trauma lane.

  I made my way from the flight deck to the interior, sweeping the area visually. Yuli could be anywhere in the world right now. He could be sitting on Sarah's lap or meeting with Adam on the other side of the world at the very same time I was moving through his home base. My odds of finding him here were somewhere between slim and none.

  That was okay because I didn't need to find him. I'd learned a lot about messenger demons since I had become Divine. One of the more important things I'd learned was that demons became familiars to a fiend or archfiend by using their true name, some energy, and some runes, and using all of these things to create a token that bound them. I knew that Reyzl had once had control over Yuli's token. Then Rebecca had taken it after she betrayed me and literally stabbed me in the back. I didn't know what happened to it after that, but my assumption was that unless Sarah had found the small bit of the demon's flesh, it was still under Yuli's control and tucked away somewhere.

  Why the Intrepid? I knew for a fact this was where an entire pool of messenger demons were living. I hadn't cared enough at the time to know if Yuli was part of their community.

  I cared now.

  I moved away from the public exhibits, and through an access door marked 'Employees only.' I remained on that track as I navigated the interior of the ship, checking the cracks and crevices for signs of the demons. Pretty soon I was coming across clumps of cat hair, and soon after that larger bunches of fur still attached to flesh. Demons like Yuli were too small and too weak to take on much else.

  I caught sight of the first demon trying to stay hidden between a pair of pipes that ran along the ceiling. He was pressed in pretty tight, holding to the shadows and hoping I would go past. I looked up at him; he looked back at me. When I held his gaze, and he realized who I was, he squeaked softly and tried to back up into the wall even more.