Heroes

by David Leadbeater

  Felicia was in her marvelous wolf form, elegant and graceful, snarling death in the most stylish body. She leapt and ducked and twisted in the air. She ripped out throats and split skulls. She was the animal wildness to Belinda’s human ferocity and the two complemented each other perfectly. I added my power to their assault, and we paved the way forward for over 100 Marines.

  I took a short breather. Natalie leaned on my shoulder. We took stock of the battle.

  “Not far to Vegas,” she said.

  “I hope the southern army’s doing this well,” I said.

  There was no way to tell. Only the commanders would know. We did have a communications system, but it remained silent.

  I gathered my strength and re-joined the last battle.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  Lysette lay prone among the dunes, watching. Ceriden had directed their military Hummer here after they’d mown the field for several minutes. The King of the Vampire World had a rendezvous to keep.

  He lay alongside her now, with Lucy and Milo close by, and 3000 other vampires, all clad in black cloaks with cowls. They stood out as a dark stain against the desert, but they were hidden by the dunes. Hidden from the sight of everything but the winged ones.

  Which were fully engaged in the battle.

  Ceriden waited. Lysette shifted in the sand, looking back over the ranks. This army made up most of the world’s remaining vampires – all those they’d saved from Vienna and Europe, and everyone they could call from America and Mexico. They were a hard-faced, steely-eyed lot, she thought. They were focused and they would give everything today.

  Lysette could feel Lucy’s power growing. It was unnerving, being beside the young girl she’d tried to save back at Strahovski’s castle and then agreed that Ethan should bite after the plane crash. Lucy had been an elemental before the vampiric change. They had no idea what she was now.

  Lysette turned to her. “Hey,” she said. “Some of those fuckers have poison for blood.”

  Lucy nodded. “It’s okay, I know what happened to Eliza. We’re using knives now too.”

  “Tonight,” Lysette said. “We’ll celebrate together.”

  “I’ll be there,” Lucy said. “I’ll meet you at Mandalay Bay.”

  Lysette smiled and nodded, struck by the poignancy of that statement. They’d identified through Kinkade that Mandalay Bay was the only hotel where the residents of hell hadn’t set up. It was infestation free, so to speak. All the potential survivors who might be separated from their colleagues in battle had said something similar: If you’re alive, meet me at Mandalay Bay. I’ll see you at Mandalay Bay. If they won today the place would resound to a worldwide celebration.

  Ceriden put down the radio he was listening to. It was time. He raised a gloved hand, turned it into a fist and then dropped it. Three thousand vampires leapt to their feet and ran across the dunes, coming at the demon horde from the south-eastern flank, looking to delve a great hole in its eastern side. They were fast, so fast they overtook Lysette, who was protected by Milo and Ceriden and her personal bevy of Glocks that someone who used to be in the British SAS and his blond wife had given her.

  It seemed everyone that mattered, anywhere in the world, was in this battle.

  The lead vampires, twelve ranks wide, sliced into the side of the demon army; slashing, crushing and gouging. Lysette heard a noise like two thunderclaps as the armies clashed and then screaming. The black vampire tide washed over the demons, almost meeting the human army at its center where a maelstrom of battle whirled.

  Lysette ran past dead and dying demons. She reached down to pull vampires to their feet, some wounded, some just dazed after that monumental meeting of bone and flesh. Ceriden slaughtered downed demons to left and right. Milo was at her side, keeping watch and finishing the enemy off whenever he could.

  Ahead, Lysette saw Lucy running with the army. She kept her eyes and mind on the girl, deeply protective even though she knew the difference in their capabilities.

  Perhaps because of it.

  Lucy flung water and air strikes, drowning and destroying demons where they stood. She smashed them down into suddenly pliable earth and then made it close up around their struggling bodies. And Lysette saw her throw two fireballs.

  That’s different.

  Lucy’s power had augmented, twisted, altered immeasurably. Who knew what she might be capable of?

  Lysette drew one of the four Glocks, feeling self-conscious. She didn’t fire for fear of hitting a friend, but she needed protection. Demons were rising all around her, knocked over and left behind by the initial attack, but waves of vampires were still coming, joining the battle. Overhead, winged enemies swooped in. The vampires stood and met them, their supernatural strength giving them the muscle to grab the birds in flight or leap to meet them. Twice, Lysette saw vampires riding the pterodactyl-like birds, forcing them left and right and then straight at the ground. She saw them hit rock amid their own brethren, killing and scattering many. She saw the vampires rise up and walk away. More birds were caught as they swept overhead and were dashed to the ground. Large rocks flew up to meet others, breaking wings and skulls.

  Dead winged demons dive-bombed the battlefield.

  Lysette was at the center of a loose knot of vampires. She walked forward, following the flow of battle. To her left, the human army laid waste to their enemies. Vehicles swept from left to right, covered in demons but fighting on. Soldiers fired their guns and used mobile rocket launchers to thin the enemy. One RPG struck a T-Rex under the chin, snapping its head back the wrong way. It died instantly, falling into another which also went down. Men and demons for yards around lost their footing when the beasts collapsed. Ahead, closer to Vegas, Lysette saw the human army had stalled, faced with bigger, tougher and faster demons. She knew what would soon happen.

  Reinforcements.

  In front of her a demon rose. It was shaken, blinking unsure of its status. Someone had bashed it over the head with a heavy object. Lysette saw blood weeping and a bone sticking out near its right ear.

  “Hey,” she said.

  It focused. She pulled the trigger. The beast went down without a sound.

  Lysette forged ahead.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  To the west another human army attacked.

  They were essentially part of the main group, but held back several minutes so that the demonic host would leave that part of their flank slightly vulnerable. Then, the army would attack. It consisted of two dozen vehicles, of marines and commandos, and of Raychel and her remaining coven of nine witches. Over the last few days they’d called far and wide, but had found few witches willing to help.

  Leah Aldridge was now also part of this group, looking to support both armies from the rear whenever possible. When they attacked she hung back, putting dozens of lines of soldiers between her and the fighting. But she had a radio and a backup, and she knew what was happening in the field.

  She also had a thirty-strong company of Special Forces men assigned to her.

  She never stopped healing. If a soldier wasn’t dead she knelt at his side and flooded his body with new life-force, knitting wounds and bones and every trauma they suffered. She had been born for this. All her life, she’d wanted to help others, but circumstances and events had pushed her into the limelight. The fashion industry was a smorgasbord of delights, and extremely distracting.

  But this was Leah. Kneeling at the side of two soldiers, one hand on each, feeling their agony and washing it away, seeing them rise once more and able to carry on fighting for their world. That was her calling. Her Special Forces soldiers were in awe of her, and followed her every order.

  She ran between the wounded. She watched the witches, seeing what they brought to the battle. She saw their leader, Raychel, the only one without a hood, gather her coven into a circle and start to chant. Immediately the air around them dripped as though it were melting. They expanded that bubble, forcing it through the air and, whenever a flyin
g demon hit it, it got stuck and writhed and then died, its flesh burned through. Leah watched as the bubble expanded and the witches began to rule the skies.

  The demon forces appeared to be forming some symmetry of their own, for a large knot forged a path toward the witches. Leah saw it and so did many others, who moved to intercept. A hard, desperate battle was fought right there, with guns and knives, shields and grenades. Leah was so close she was splashed in the blood of the dead as they died, blood belonging to both armies. Her Special Forces guard emptied their guns into the flow of demons.

  Once, when she looked up, she saw the flow of the army halted as it neared the outskirts of Las Vegas. The bigger, harder demons were back there, and were clearly waiting for a weary aggressive force to reach them before engaging. She saw rows of demons standing on rooftops too and jumped on to the radio.

  “Logan, anyone at the front? I see their generals, directing the battle. They’re standing on the rooftops of four warehouses to your three-o-clock.”

  “How the hell can you see that?” Logan came back. “I’m closer and I can’t see shit.”

  “I think it’s Kinkade. I see through his eyes, but I use my own. If that makes any sense.”

  “None at all.” Logan signed off with a quick: “Cheers.”

  Leah walked toward the witches, seeing one of them stumble, hit by the side of a spear. She ran to the reeling woman.

  “Wait, I got you.”

  She touched the wound, saw blue eyes and dark hair beneath the hood and heard a whispered thanks. Raychel nodded at Leah and threw her hands back up at the sky, totally invested in saving the world.

  Leah shut her mind to the tremendous noise of battle. She stored the terrible slaughter in a compartment she hoped never to open. She embraced only those elements of the battle which she could affect.

  Kinkade nudged her again. Far ahead, rising above the tops of the warehouses, a creature flew up into the sky. It was huge, a hierarchy demon. Kinkade whispered that it was Astaroth and that their enemy had been keeping it for when they needed it most.

  Now it flew over the battlefield, breathing fire down onto ranks of men that could not escape it. It came in great flaming surges and tore up the battlefield, leaving it burning. Leah grimaced for the fates of the soldiers out there. RPGs struck it, making it shudder, but it came through the explosions screeching and then roaring in fury. Bullets bounced off its scaly hide. One of its wings was slightly damaged by a missile but the injury barely slowed the enormous dragon-like demon.

  Leah’s heart pounded when Astaroth flew toward them, his massive wings beating regularly at the sky. He ascended and then dipped his neck, opening dripping jaws filled with rows and rows of ragged fangs.

  Astaroth attacked.

  The witches were directly under his plunge. On Raychel’s command they retracted their bubble to focus on the hierarchy demon, placing it in his path. It struck the thick air and faltered, it bellowed in anger, but then with four massive beats of its wings it broke through.

  Fire surged from between its jaws.

  The witches scattered. Leah dived away. Soldiers to left and right of the flames calmly knelt and maintained their fire. Astaroth shrieked, struck in the eyes and the mouth, but came on. Leah struggled to her knees. She saw two witches aflame and another batting out smoke. Two were running away. Astaroth’s plunge took him nearer the ground.

  But in his way stood Raychel.

  Her arms waved frantically. Leah could see her lips working. She leapt to her feet, knowing her services would soon be needed. Raychel worked a last-second spell, backed by only two members of her coven.

  Astaroth was diving at full speed.

  Leah guessed the spell muddied the demon’s perception of the ground, for Astaroth struck the earth only ten feet in front of Raychel. His body folded, his neck doubling over. He hit and he rolled, straight on top of Raychel.

  Leah dashed to the scene. The demon was still alive, although its skull was fractured and bloody, its eyes blind, its sides punctured through with broken ribs, and its front feet broken. It struggled and it lashed with tail and tongue. Its teeth snapped.

  Soldiers leapt bravely atop it, firing their weapons point blank into its wounds. One man stuck a grenade launcher in its mouth and pulled the trigger. The explosion rocked the area.

  Leah saw an arm reaching out from under the demon’s flank and ran to it. Her Special Forces men were attuned to her needs and moved in to lift the heavy beast. Leah and two others pulled Raychel clear.

  She looked up for one moment to check if Astaroth was dead. Men clambered all over the body and now demons were climbing up too, fighting the men atop the dying hierarchy demon’s dragon-like body. It was utter madness, the craziness and carnage of war. Leah glanced down into Raychel’s eyes.

  “Thank you,” the witch said. “Tell my . . . tell my . . .”

  Then she died.

  Leah gasped, placed a hand on Raychel’s chest and poured every ounce of healing power into her. But the body had become a husk. There was no host remaining to receive the healing. Leah pounded the ground in frustration and anguish.

  A demon fell at her side, snarling. She leapt away. A soldier sank a military knife through its neck before reaching out to Leah.

  “Let’s get you back.”

  “The other witches need me . . .”

  “We’ll bring them to you. Now, move.”

  Leah backed away from the lifeless corpse of Astaroth and Raychel’s dead body. If the witches could rally, they would still be six strong, but without their most powerful acolyte. Leah called for them and pulled them together. She healed the burns of those that were on fire and turned them to watch the battle for one long minute.

  “Now fight,” she said. “Fight for these men and women, for your loved ones and everything else that you believe in. You won’t get another chance, so let the records say that at the last battle you were there, you were brawling, and that you were brave.”

  Around her, the battle cry went up.

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  Lilith dragged the two men, in chains, through the nightmare streets of Las Vegas.

  As in hell, demons approached and then ignored her. Satan had marked her as his own and no low denizen of the underworld would dare challenge that claim.

  Ken carried the Lionheart blade and Cleaver his shotgun. Lilith’s thinking had been sound. The blade remained the only way to kill Lucifer, but it had to be close. She was returning to her father as the corrupted daughter. And Cleaver’s wraith power was brand new. The Devil hadn’t seen it in action.

  They would make a formidable trio, and her father’s attention would mostly be upon the blade and its wielder, Ken. Lilith tugged at Ken’s and Cleaver’s black manacles, urging them on. The steel restraints enclosed their wrists only and they both had a key. It was a risky move, but worth a try. There were other options too.

  They climbed a set of stairs near a CVS store, then walked across a bridge to the Bellagio. As they crossed Las Vegas Boulevard they slowed, taking it all in. North and south the road stretched, littered by abandoned cars and corpses. Much of it burned. Outlandish shapes capered along the asphalt and the sidewalks, rushing in and out of casinos. Humans hung from street lamps and bridges, from casino façades and billboards. Most still lived. A busload of demons raced to the south, probably to join the battle. Lilith came face to face with a creeping knot of imps but stood proudly, letting them see her face and smell her body. Soon, they parted.

  Lilith resumed walking, Ken at her side, but another shadowy figure stepped out of the darkness ahead. Lilith recognized it. She’d hated it almost her entire life.

  Samael.

  The hateful demon, the King of Hell leered on seeing her. He wore his normal guise; that of a man-size demon with a goat-like face, horns and claws. He carried a spear and a short sword; his body draped in a long black cloak.

  “I promised your father that you would come,” Samael sneered. “I have been w
aiting. You are with us now then? In mind, body and soul?”

  Lilith inclined her head. “I am.”

  Is there any way around this monster?

  “You bring the sword wielder and one other? Who is that?”

  “A friend he was traveling with. He seems capable. I thought Father might like to talk to him too.”

  “Ah, that is good of you. I will take the Lionheart blade now.”

  Lilith balked. “No. I will hand it to my father, and you will not take the credit.”

  Both Ken and Cleaver stepped behind her, fiddling with their chains.

  “You will never get that sword close to the Lord of the Pit.”

  “Does he not trust the daughter he raised? Are you going to say that?”

  Samael, for once, looked wary. “I will keep it for you.”

  “I believe my father will want to see it. Not only that, I believe he will want to see it destroyed. Not handed to a lackey.”

  Samael bristled, aghast at her words. He stalked two steps forward, concentrating on Lilith.

  “What did you call me, girl?”

  Around Lilith’s side came Ken and Cleaver. Ken swing the sword and Cleaver discharged his shotgun. The blast plowed into Samael’s body, driving him back. Blood burst from the wound. Ken brought his sword down in a sharp arc, aiming for the demon’s neck. Samael managed to get an arm up but, even though it was wrapped in chainmail, the blade sliced through half his wrist.

  Samael wailed. His spear fell to the ground. He thrust the shield out, connecting with Cleaver’s shotgun. The gun spun away. Samael rose and smashed the shield into Cleaver’s face; the ex-boxer taking it like a pro, continuing to move forward. Weaponless, he punched Samael in the throat and the temple, then moved in, grabbed the demon by the horns, and twisted.

  “Dude, you’re in my way.” Ken waited with the Lionheart blade.

  Cleaver wrenched the demon’s head to the right and then the left. Samael punched upward, a hammer-like blow that bruised Cleaver’s ribs. He stayed close though, sensing his adversary’s surprise. Samael dropped to his knees, trying to make Cleaver let go, but that put his left hand in range of the shotgun.