She hung up.
Good luck? I was trying to save her mages!
“So, Digby had history with the Citadel,” I said, still holding my cell.
“Makes sense,” Treth replied. “His crusade can’t just be idealistic. There’s a personal hate in his actions. There are a hundred ways to wreak destruction, but he chooses to harm those who wronged him before.”
“So much for salvation.”
“Humans are complex. Can have many concurrent reasons for doing one thing.”
“You say humans like you aren’t one.”
“I’m not – anymore.”
“You looked human to me.”
Treth paused and didn’t reply.
I needed to get home. To replenish my supplies. To repair and replace the armour that was damaged during my fight with the demon nights before. I was still dressed in the clothes, washed by the hospital, that I’d been wearing that night.
I called a taxi. On the drive, I thought about how I would track Digby down before he tried to kill me again or succeeded in his plan.
Charlotte didn’t have his records. But that didn’t mean no one did. Hope City was a bureaucratic quagmire. A quagmire that may contain the information I needed.
I hated the City Council. I hated governments in general. But I also knew I had a job to do. And if that meant making a deal with something worse than the devil, then so be it.
I phoned Trudie.
“Hey, Kats,” Trudie said, cheerfully. I heard chatter and the clinking of mugs in the background. A café, by the sound of it.
“Is Andy with you?”
Hesitance. “Yes, why?”
“I need something from him. Something urgent.”
A longer pause.
“Does this mean you’re gonna stop being stupid?”
Stupid? I wasn’t being stupid!
“Yes. But I need the help now. A lot of people are in danger. Can you ask Andy to pull some strings with his dad? I need a list of properties owned or connected to a Catholic priest named Joshua Digby.”
“Your parents’ old priest? Why? Actually, don’t tell me.”
I heard her speak, muffled, holding the phone to her chest as she spoke to Andy.
“He says he’ll get the info to you within half an hour.”
I was about to hang up.
“And Kat…make sure you actually forgive him after this.”
“I will. Please say thank you on my behalf.”
“You can do it yourself on campus!”
I hung up.
***
I was pacing my apartment, much to the distress of both Duer and Alex, when I felt the buzz of my cell. I drew it as fast as I would my sword. It had taken Andy longer than he’d said to get the details. Hours. It was fast approaching dusk, and I had already gone over my gear a hundred times.
It was Trudie’s number, but an official looking digital document. A list of addresses connected to Digby, but none registered as his official residence. One address stood out. A property that anyone would find a parish priest owning peculiar. A property near Chapman’s Peak, an expensive nature reserve on the coast of Hope City.
I sent another thank you in response and phoned Conrad. I’d need the lift, but knew I had to do this alone. Backup wouldn’t help me against the demon. Only my slim hope that the demon would again refuse to kill me gave me some measure of comfort.
Hope, or no hope, I had no choice. Digby had tried to kill me. I’d return the favour. I was fair, if nothing else.
Chapter 22.
Showdown
“My demon-fighting days are over,” Conrad said, pulling up his handbreak. We were stopped below Chapman’s Peak, parked by the once often used road. These days, people preferred the safer roads down South-East way. Rockfalls and the djinns that caused them made Chapman’s Peak a scenic, but deadly route.
“Good. I need to do this alone,” I said. My coat seemed to warm at my response. It glowed, faintly.
“Cindy?” Conrad offered.
I shook my head. “She’s not even a match for this demon. And it would take too long to rally enough purifiers. I have a feeling Digby wants to end this tonight. I need to do it now, and by myself.”
Conrad inclined his head with respect.
“I’ll add a photo of you to my wall.”
I snorted. “I’m not dead yet.”
He grinned. “Just in case.”
I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out.
“Hey, Kat,” Conrad called, leaning outside his window. I stopped and looked at him.
“You’re a good hunter.”
I nodded and turned back to the cliff. It was the nicest thing Conrad had ever said to me.
The entrance to Digby’s mountainside property was guarded by an old wire-mesh gate, rusting at the edges. I scaled it easily enough but felt the echo of an ache from my new flesh and recently knitted bone.
“Quietly,” Treth reminded me.
I rolled my eyes. He really didn’t need to do that. I’d been doing this for a long time now. Yet, I still smiled afterwards, if just at the reminder that he was still there.
The gate gave way to a dusty concrete stairway, with fresh foot-tracks. A single pair.
“Our demon friend doesn’t leave tracks,” Treth said.
“Friend, now?”
“Ssshhh. Sneak mode.”
Yeah, yeah, I thought to myself, and scaled the stairs. It had a multitude of turns, twisting up the mountain, until finally reaching what looked to be a construction yard, jutting out of a cliff. Half of the attempt at a mountain villa, overlooking the Atlantic, was outside of the cliff, while the other half must have been carved out of the mountain itself.
Digby must have had some money. How, was a question for another time.
I arrived at the top of the staircase, staying low and watching the windowless holes in the building for lookouts. Demonic or otherwise. I saw nothing. Just the faint outlines of shovels, abandoned bricks and support beams.
I darted across the opening from the top of the staircase to the side of the under-construction villa and rested my back up against the wall. I listened.
The sound of the waves in the distance. The bellow of a ship horn. Seagulls. And, faintly, a voice.
I drew my wakizashi in my right hand and Voidshot in my left. Hopefully, my training with Brett would be enough to fire with my off-hand. It had been enough against Cornelius, at least.
I rounded the building until I found an entrance, and entered the darkness, my coat emitting a faint glow that soon died as I wished it to be so. This coat was becoming more and more useful.
The voice grew louder and clearer as I pressed further through the unfinished building. Abandoned construction gear was left on tarps and by support struts. I was careful not to knock anything over but was struggling to see as the concrete blocked the setting sun.
The building ceased at the rock of the cliff-face, where excavation had stopped, all except for a tunnel, leading down and lit with a string of fluorescent lights.
I kept Voidshot steady and my blade in a defensive stance as I descended. The voice grew louder. Digby. He was shouting at someone at great length about something, but I couldn’t be sure who or what about.
I went further into the mountain.
“Kat!” Treth warned me. He didn’t need to. I smelled the charred flesh of the imp before I saw it. I darted behind the wall, keeping myself as flat as possible, as the demon walked past. It was considering something stuck on its claw and did not notice me. I resisted breathing a sigh of relief as the demon passed and I proceeded, going the way it had come.
There were no doors in the cave complex, but a lot of empty rooms. Some had tarp, unopen paint cans and tools. Was Digby building something? How could he afford all of this? It was like a real evil lair from some old James Bond film.
I heard Digby’s voice again, as I considered the freshly placed tiling of a side-room. I could hear him more clearly now.
&nb
sp; “I need to proceed now…”
A pause. I didn’t hear another voice. A phone call.
“No. The mission is almost blown. The Citadel must know about my plans now. They’ll be searching for the mages.”
Another pause.
“No!” he yelled, outraged. “I’ve come too far for this to be shut down. I need this. We need this! Salvation will come.”
He stopped and didn’t speak again. He, or the other person, must have hung up.
I approached closer to where the voice had come from, dodging a few imps as they patrolled. They looked irritable. No demon liked being enslaved to a mortal. It took a lot of power and duress to keep them shackled. Imps, I had read, were mischievous and malicious. Chaotic evil, if you were to simplify their nature. Having them patrolling a subterranean hallway was not their ideal job.
I rounded a corner and saw a glimpse of natural light. I peeked, and saw the back of Digby, a silhouette looking out onto the setting sun. He had carved this section of the cave overlooking the bay, out onto the dark Atlantic and the setting sun to the west. Two large red demons stood at a distance, flanking the priest. They had goat legs and massive upper bodies, topped by a large jawed head with horns as long as my swords. They carried two-handed blades, currently resting on their shoulders. From the sketches in the demonology books I’d read, they looked like hell spawn. Brutish demons theorised to be constructed from the essence of warfare.
The archdemon himself leant up against a pillar. His black suit was still impeccable. He was hiding his wings again. He let out an exaggerated yawn and began analysing his nails.
Treth did not dare speak. We still couldn’t be sure what the archdemon wanted. He hadn’t killed me yet, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t help Digby kill me now. He was his servant, after all.
To the sides of the lair, I saw two doorways. A faint hum emanated from each. I saw a pale green glow. That type of magical evil green. I’d put money on it that the captured mages were being held captive there. And I’m not the gambling type.
I bit my lip. Only one angle of attack. Digby’s back exposed. Ambush. Two guards. Magic. A third-force – the archdemon – who could destroy me instantly.
Maybe, I was the gambling type. And I was doubling-down on a terrible hand.
I checked Voidshot in my left-hand and swapped it with the blade. I needed to be sharp here. I was ambidextrous, but still favoured my right-hand.
I closed my eyes to focus. Took a quiet breath. Opened my eyes with a new clarity and rounded the corner. The sights lined up. My finger was on the trigger. The hell spawn hadn’t reacted. I pulled the trigger. The bang rang out, causing a harsh ringing in my ears.
Digby didn’t fall. He stood, facing outwards, his hands still clasped behind his back. The bullet hovered an inch from his head. He turned, got out of the way, and clicked his fingers. The bullet shot out towards the sea.
I tried to fire again, but the same force he used before knocked my gun out of my hand. I let the pistol hang loose by my side, still connected to my belt by its silver chain, as I attempted to charge in. Digby let me, before gesturing to the side of the room, sending me spiralling towards the wall.
What did I think would happen? That I’d somehow get the jump on him? That I could kill a sorcerer in his own lair?
Stupid.
“So, the imps failed?” Digby asked rhetorically. “Did someone help you?”
I didn’t respond, even so he only held my arms to the wall.
“No matter. I’ll be here now to ensure you die.”
I felt a pressure on my throat. An immense force. It wasn’t like someone strangling me. It was as if someone was slowly pressing a brick onto my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I felt Treth’s fear. His feeling of shame and impotence at being unable to do anything to help me.
The pressure stopped.
“Actually…no.”
Digby turned to the archdemon, who looked bored, leaning up against the wall. The hell spawn eyed me, blankly. They were awaiting explicit orders. Reluctant guards.
“I summoned you, monster. It is time you fulfil your mission. Kill the hunter,” Digby commanded.
The archdemon looked at me, impassively. No smirk. No sadness.
He looked back at Digby. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
The demon shrugged.
Digby let go of me as he turned his full force on the demon, lifting the creature up and towards the edge of the cliff. The demon hung limply as Digby held him out over the edge. I didn’t know if Digby meant to scare him. A winged demon wasn’t afraid of heights, much less this one.
“You are my servant, demon! You obey me.”
The demon didn’t respond. I used the opportunity to reach into my pocket and retrieve a sachet of demanzite. Its sandy shards scraped my flesh as Digby turned towards me and sent a wave of force, knocking me back into the wall, and the demanzite all over the floor. He held me there.
“If you won’t do it, demon. I will.”
He looked straight at me and held his hand out. I felt a new pain. On my chest. My heart. He was squeezing it.
I held my chest and tried to cry out. I couldn’t.
Tears welled up.
My eyes glazed over.
I felt my organs flag. My arteries clog.
For another time, in such a short time, I was sure I was about to die.
But I was wrong then. And I was wrong now.
The pain stopped.
My vision returned and I saw Digby, facing me, with a hand through his chest. The demon’s hand had impaled him from behind. Even then, no blood had stained his skin or suit. Immaculate, even after such bloody work.
The hell spawn disappeared in a burst of flame as the archdemon lifted Digby up, his head lolling, and dropped him into the sea. I heard the splatter as he hit the rockface on the way, and then the splash as he hit the water.
The demon looked at me, grinned his perfect white teeth, and disappeared.
Chapter 23.
Pride
The Titan mages were alive and well. That is if ‘well’ was being comatose for weeks, hooked up to a combination of mundane and magical life support. It wasn’t my idea of fun to spend weeks in a tank of green magic goo, but at least they hadn’t been conscious for it. Their malnutrition and spark burnout weren’t too severe. Nothing a bout of healing magic and good eating couldn’t remedy.
As I had suspected, the mages were being used to power Digby’s demonic summoning. Digby had only had enough power to summon the archdemon himself. An impressive feat all the same. Usually, sorcerers wouldn’t risk sacrificing their spark to summon demons. Demon summoning was the domain of wizards, who drew their power from the weylines. Digby had spark to spare, however. Not enough, though, as the archdemon had wrestled out of his control and killed him in the end.
The Citadel gave me an extra reward for saving the mages. Including, a life-time pass up the mountain. It was a privilege normally reserved only for the upper echelons of the Titan Cult and Citadel. I’d be sure to use it, despite my bad memories of the place. Table Mountain was that nice a mountain I could forget that it entombed a primordial titan. At least for a little while.
Conrad took me to the healing clinic after my ordeal. I was apparently as pale as a phantom. I slept in the car. I didn’t remember getting into bed.
I caught up on the lectures I missed during my absence in the following days. I did some more mundane, and safer, hunts. I looked into the Necrolord and pondered the wight who had saved me, and his mistress. But, info was sparse, and I could not find anything more on my mysterious saviours. I didn’t even want to think of them as that.
Colin asked me on another date. A movie. While I was still confused over what I really wanted, I knew that I liked Colin. That was more than I could say about most things. While the sci-fi feature film played in the background, I made sure that my hand met his, and couldn’t help but feel satisfaction emanate from Treth, watching o
ver my shoulder.
I made amends with Andy. He had pulled through in the end. I didn’t really trust him, still. There was just something off about him, but I was fine with him dating my best friend now. Without him, I wouldn’t have been able to find Digby, after all.
It was after a lunch with Trudie, Pranish and Andy that I left campus once again feeling that comfortable monotony of university life. It was also then that I reached into my pocket and found a note.
It was written in fine cursive and smelled like tobacco.
“The rock. On the mountain. For questions left unanswered.”
I crumpled the note in one hand and shoved it back into my pocket.
***
My pass let me up the cable car. There were only new faces at the Whiteshield guard post and manning the cars. They looked young. None looked arrogant. They knew what had happened to those who came before them. Bloodstains on the asphalt remained as a sobering reminder.
It had been a while since I had been on top of the mountain. It was windy and smelled like fynbos. I recalled being here at night and shivered. It was much more pleasant during the day.
The black suited demon was where he said I’d find him. He was standing. Looking out over the city, his hands clasped behind his back, facing away. His horns were shorter than I remembered them, only just peaking out above his medium length, wavy black hair.
I approached hesitantly, feeling Treth’s worry. I was sure, however, that if the demon wanted me dead, I’d be dead.
“It’s a beautiful city,” he said, before I could speak.
I looked out. It was nice, but the smog from the slums wasn’t a pleasant sight.
“Even the slums,” he said, as if reading my mind. “Sure, you see them as a rot. And perhaps, they are. But in that rot, among the festering corruption, there are still people. People striving. People living. People doing something…”
He took a deep breath.
“Existence is suffering, Digby said, but it is so much more. It is a perseverance that I so enjoy watching. To observe life, in all its interesting forms. Poverty, prosperity, peace, love and war. It is all a product of the same thing. And all so…fascinating.”
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