Harsh Gods

by Michelle Belanger

  A manic surge of relief helped me drive Terhuziel from my mind.

  Halley was still fighting. Her mind hadn’t yet fallen.

  There’s time—there’s still a little time.

  It was both prayer and revelation.

  “You can’t break her!” I shouted defiantly into the air. “And you can’t break me!” I drew the twin daggers from their makeshift sheaths, bellowing my Name to kindle my power. It was so much easier than calling the weapons from pure spirit. Light blazed forth, licking up and down the curved blades.

  I threw my head back, laughing hysterically as I slashed my way from the Shadowside. I spilled into the flesh-and-blood world in a torrent of fire and steel. My point of entry put me directly behind one of Terhuziel’s goons, leaning over the wall, firing inexpertly at someone on the steps below.

  He paused to reload his rifle. It was a single-shot. Break action.

  Bad luck for him.

  I didn’t look to see who he was trying to shoot. I just lunged forward and let the blades do their work. Their power sang upon the air, a ringing counterpoint to Terhuziel’s cries of frustration.

  51

  The first guy went down in a welter of blood and gore. He was dead before he could even scream, but more of Terhuziel’s mind-fucked hit squad still guarded the platform. I counted three.

  Blades trailing blue fire, I moved with swift muscle-memory. With sure and practiced motions I slit the throat of a woman who carried a cheap hunting rifle like the kind sold at Wal-Mart. It discharged over the ramparts and clattered to the frozen ground below. She died while still blinking away the arterial spray from the guy next to her.

  The woman got out a gurgling cry before jerking out of my grasp to dramatically pitch over the edge of the platform. Her fatal swan dive seemed incredibly slow, blood jetting from her severed carotid to stream like a scarlet banner in the frigid air alongside her.

  Time snapped back to its regular pacing when the woman’s body folded around a metal railing set into the stairs far below. The impact tore the structure from its moorings. Her blood painted the snow.

  I’ve done this before.

  It wasn’t a memory—it was a sick realization, and the moment I stopped the slaughter long enough to consider it, I lost some of my easy momentum.

  Terhuziel’s mind surged into mine.

  YOU WILL DIE, ANAKIM!!!

  The remaining two minions jumped at the call of their master. The first was a rangy guy with bushy rust-colored hair and a beard to match. In his black-and-red checked flannel, he looked like a lumberjack—or a hairy checkerboard. His companion was shorter but half again as broad, with powerful shoulders and a deep chest. He was dressed like he’d been plucked from some arctic expedition, complete with parka and ski mask.

  Checkerboard fired wildly with his rifle, clearly unused to its kick. His single shot arced into the sky, well over my head. He fumbled to reload the thing, patting down his pockets frantically before breaking it open to get at the chamber. He dropped the slug. While he scrambled, Ski Mask aimed more carefully. He had a shotgun—single barrel, still cheap as fuck, but definitely not something I wanted pointed at my head.

  No time, and no cover—I was just lucky these guys had been set up for range.

  Arcing forks of lightning reflected in my blades as I streaked forward in a crouch. Ski Mask struggled to get a bead on me as I zigged left, then right, faster-than-human quick. Each time he readjusted, he hesitated half a second too long. That was no good for me—I needed him to waste the shot. With the weapon empty, I’d be on top of him before he could even break it open to reload.

  For a breathless second, I froze. It left me wide open—and that was the plan. The world narrowed to the surge of my pulse and the matte-black barrel of the gun. Ski Mask’s mouth split into a rictus grin, finally sure he had me. Finger twitched on trigger. Before the motion was completed, I threw myself to the ground, hitting the icy stones hard with one shoulder as I tucked and rolled.

  A hail of pellets sang over me, tearing stone chips from the far wall. The blast of the shotgun punctuated the desperate fury of Terhuziel’s storm.

  Before Ski Mask could even dig for his ammo, I slammed into him, knocking the gun to the ground. With a sweep of my boot, I sent it skittering in the direction of the pellet-scarred stones. Ski Mask stumbled backwards, narrowly avoiding my blades. Beside us, Checkerboard bellowed unintelligibly. He’d never managed to reload. I couldn’t vouch for the state of his brain before Terhuziel sank his hooks in it, but the man had all the reasoning powers of someone lobotomized with a rusty screwdriver. Wildly, he swung his useless rifle at me and I smacked it from his hands.

  One problem down.

  Unless Terhuziel could magically reload their guns while the two dodged my blades, the weapons were useful only as clubs.

  Roaring like a wounded bull, Checkerboard struck out wildly with a haymaker, while the stumpy one tried to get my legs out from under me. I dodged the first but ran afoul of the second, spinning a little as I fought to shove him away and remain standing.

  Terhuziel stepped up his game, wrapping power around his soldiers till the speed of their reflexes was a match for my own. Their eyes blazed with borrowed light, and an answering flicker began building around their hands. I lashed out, laying open Checkerboard’s forearm to the bone, but he just kept fighting. Blood speckled the snow, so dark, it looked black. The man’s slack features registered no pain.

  Ski Mask still had a few synapses firing, but not many. He danced back from my assault, diving for Checkerboard’s abandoned rifle. He let Checkerboard take a few more hits, tracking my motions with eyes half obscured behind the cold-weather mask.

  As he dug through his pockets for ammo, I closed on him again. None of his shotgun shells fit. Wielding the rifle like a truncated staff, he deflected my flurry of blades.

  “You think I’m going to give you time to shoot me?”

  In answer, Ski Mask lunged forward, swinging the butt of the rifle in an arc toward my head. I caught the blow on the top of my forearm, pivoting my wrist so the bunched muscles took the brunt of the force. Jabbing forward with my left-hand blade, I went for his belly, but he pulled his torso back just far enough so all I tagged was the parka. Down feathers fluttered on the air, drifting slowly to mingle with the snow.

  Too late I realized Ski Mask was herding me toward Checkerboard. The storm above us intensified, peals of thunder punctuating the desperation of our fight. The lumberjack wannabe flanked me, a nimbus of electric power crackling around his outstretched hand.

  He sought to wrap that hand around me, little jolts dancing painfully between us. Whatever juice Terhuziel was pouring through them required an element of physical contact. Every instinct clamored for me to avoid it at all costs.

  Checkerboard’s sparking fingers brushed the leather of my jacket. My whole arm jerked like he’d tased me, and I almost lost my grip on the dagger.

  Not good.

  He threw all his weight into a grapple, slamming forward to wrap his arms around me. I sidestepped his first pass, but he pivoted immediately at my back. Ski Mask came at me again with the rifle and in deflecting that blow, I spun straight into the other guy.

  Checkerboard seized me from behind, closing his arms in an odious bear hug. The initial contact released a stunning jolt of electricity, and he lofted me a foot off the ground. My legs and arms twitched spastically. Both wrists were pinned at my sides, which made my blades next to useless. I thrashed against him, kicking for any purchase. None of my muscles wanted to work right. Ozone prickled the back of my throat.

  Ski Mask danced a manic jig.

  “Rumble, heavens,” he cried. “Split the sky. Call the power, make him die!” He spewed ugly laughter as I struggled, revealing a mouth bereft of all but three blackened teeth. Raising the rifle like a triumphant standard, he stumbled back from his buddy. The tang of the ozone intensified until I could taste nothing else.

  Too close to my ear, Chec
kerboard grunted his own supplications to the storm god, spittle and beard hair slick against my cheek. The clouds above us contracted, cascades of lightning whipping through their depths.

  With desperate strength, I bucked in Checkerboard’s grip, twisting my whole body until I smashed the back of my head into his face. He staggered with the impact and I kicked away just as a bolt of lightning hammered down from the heavens. It lanced straight through the top of Checkerboard’s head. Shrilling like a teakettle through his teeth, he somehow managed to direct it.

  Heavenly fire leapt in a deadly arc, seeking me.

  The bearded man jigged and twitched as the Thunderer’s rough blessing flowed through him. Triumph and terror both filled his eyes. I didn’t even know if I could block something like that, just brought my blades up with a startled shout.

  Fire and electricity clashed in a blinding display.

  All that raw power drove against my crossed weapons like a freight train, arcs of electricity snapping angrily from hilt to tip. Ski Mask held his rifle-club poised but didn’t go after me—even lobotomized by Terhuziel’s power, he was too smart to make contact while I wrestled a fucking lightning bolt.

  My feet slid by inches as the assault poured forth. Static crackled in waves across my skin. I couldn’t hold this wild power, wasn’t meant to. Even as I thought it, resonant syllables erupted from my throat. With a defiant shout, I managed to turn the electricity from my daggers, hurling the power back to its living lightning rod.

  The punishing bolt rebounded, blinding in its intensity. Snapping arcs looped between the deflected stream and the pillar still lancing from the heavens. The human conduit overloaded with the feedback. Smoke erupted from the top of Checkerboard’s head and he was flung back. He landed to flop like a sock monkey against the far wall. Twin scorch marks marred the stones where he had stood.

  Thunder god. Right.

  I needed to get the hell off the exposed observation deck. Anticipating that reaction, Ski Mask rushed to bodily block the nearest door leading into the tower. He held the rifle across his squat torso, eyes shining like beads of tar through the slits in his mask.

  He was shoved to his knees in the next instant as Dr. Kramer erupted from below. He ran encumbered, curling around the weight of Terhuziel’s battered stone head like a running back with a massive football. Malphael’s dual-voiced bellow resounded from the bottom of the stairwell.

  “You will not escape me, physician! All the Thunderer’s servants die this day.”

  The Gibburim’s footfalls pounded upward in swift pursuit.

  Kramer dodged to the side of the doorway, throwing his back against the wall. Adjusting his grip on the Rephaim’s idol, he scanned the platform, brows knitting as if he expected to find something—and it wasn’t me.

  A moment later, Halley came through the other door on the far side of the tower. Shivering in the bloody tatters of her hospital gown, she clapped her hands to her ears, screaming over and over again.

  “I’m me! You can’t be me! I’m me!”

  Terhuziel’s presence lashed the air.

  YIELD AND MAKE ME WHOLE AGAIN. Crashing peals of thunder punctuated the Rephaim’s demand.

  Kramer and I both charged toward the girl, as Ski Mask scrambled in the snow for the slug dropped by Checkerboard. He couldn’t find it in time and instead darted to block me. Swinging wildly with the rifle butt, he landed a lucky shot across my jaw. Fireworks dazzled my vision and I staggered under the ringing blow. He raised the weapon for another strike.

  Recovering, I feinted with my right. His lunge carried him past me. I lashed out with my left-hand blade. With an arcing twist, I laid his belly open. The rifle clattered from his grip as his guts spilled out, clotted with down from his parka. He sank to his knees, blood staining his fingers as he sought to catch the steaming coils of gray intestines spilling forth.

  Halley ran straight for the edge of the platform, heedless of the snow clinging to her feet. Kramer rushed after her, his handsome features distorted with rage.

  “There’s nowhere to run,” he barked.

  The girl didn’t hesitate as he grabbed for her—just climbed out onto one of the gargoyles and balanced with her bare feet on its icy stone head. The city spread out before her as she teetered precariously over the drop.

  “Halley, no!” I called.

  Her head whipped up at the sound of my voice. The gusting wind blew her hair from her face, freezing tears to her lashes. She held my gaze for a poignant instant.

  “Wingy,” she said.

  I thought she was going to drop right then. Kramer froze as he realized what she threatened to do.

  YOU ARE MY CHOSEN. YOU MUST YIELD.

  Halley shook her head.

  “Die first.”

  “Smart girl,” Malphael crowed. He stood framed by the door at the top of the stairs, one hand loosely cupped around the palm-sized seal. His nose was bloody, maybe broken. A host of little cuts speckled his forehead and cheeks, each seeping red. The friction burn of a seatbelt stood out lividly on his neck.

  None of it slowed him down.

  Halley wobbled when she spotted him, her eyes locked to the form rising behind David Garrett’s head.

  “Halley, get back before you fall,” I called.

  “No,” Malphael said. Fire kindled in his human eyes as he whispered, “Jump.”

  “You fucking leave her alone!”

  Kramer lunged forward reflexively, then abruptly drew up short. He couldn’t grab Halley without dropping the stone head, and he was clearly loath to do that. Seizing this moment of hesitation, Malphael leapt in a sudden blur. The Gibburim hit Kramer with a flying tackle, connecting with such force I feared shocks of the impact would knock Halley from her perch. The two thrashed across the stones of the observation deck, Kramer curled protectively around Terhuziel’s head as Malphael sought to press the seal home.

  A subtle depression above the statue’s chipped brows suggested where the confining device belonged. Kramer twisted and bit, forcing Malphael to pry him bodily from the Rephaim’s broken idol. Tiring quickly of this, the Gibburim took a great lungful of breath and bellowed inches from Dr. Kramer’s face. Incomprehensible words crashed upon the air with a fury to rival Terhuziel’s thunder.

  The man convulsed in the face of that power, keening with stark and mindless terror. His fingers slipped from the idol, and the battered piece of statue rolled ponderously toward one corner. It fetched up against one of Checkerboard’s singed boots, blind eyes angled heavenward.

  Malphael snapped the helpless doctor’s neck and dove for the severed stone head.

  NO! NO! NO!

  Terhuziel’s panic surged in waves across the platform.

  I rushed for Halley.

  Something caught my ankle. I pitched forward mid-charge, dropping both daggers as my hands went out instinctively to break my fall. The steel clattered ringingly across the stones. Spitting curses, I crashed after them, twisting to free my leg.

  Ski Mask clung to the hem of my jeans with blood-caked fingers. He lay tangled in his own intestines, eyes wild with hatred and pain. I kicked furiously at him, planting my steel toe in the center of his face. The cartilage of his nose gave a satisfying crunch.

  “Fucking die already.”

  I kicked again, and his grip slackened. Picking myself up, I rushed to reclaim my blades. I wiped the daggers on the thighs of my jeans as I went, hastily resheathing them so I could grab Halley.

  “I’m me. He can’t be me,” she breathed in rhythmic repetition. “I’m me. He can’t be me.”

  Malphael knelt directly in my path to Halley. One-handed, he palmed Terhuziel’s head like it was some grisly basketball. Above his mortal shell, the Gibburim clashed in heated battle with the broken Rephaim. Their shouts and imprecations echoed through the Shadowside.

  In the physical world, thunder raged and a hail of lightning dropped from the sky. I danced back with a warning to Halley. The girl yelped and nearly overbalanced. Malph
ael didn’t even flinch.

  Smoldering scorch marks dotted the stones around Garrett in a neat and perfect ring. Nothing aimed for me or Halley. When the rain of fire ended, I edged closer to the girl. A few more feet and I would reach her.

  I willed for her to hang on.

  “Such a desperate waste of power,” Malphael growled. “You’re wide open to me now.” On the other side of reality, Terhuziel shrieked as the Gibburim pinned him with his massive spirit-blade.

  Smoke rising from his lips, Malphael intoned the fallen god’s Name. Rings of roughly scribed sigils leapt with answering fire within the seal. They filled the air with acrid power. The Rephaim decimus loosed a thought-numbing wail.

  BY ALL OUR VOWS, KILL ME THIS TIME, MY BROTHER.

  “I owe you no mercy,” Malphael boomed. “Sentence was passed. You are confined once more to your vessel.” He slammed the seal against Terhuziel’s brow even as the Rephaim shrieked and pleaded. The rings of sigils spun like tumblers in a lock and the clay disk fused to the stone.

  Terhuziel’s voice cut out abruptly. The next instant, the storm ceased.

  I dove for the girl.

  “Halley. Now. Take my hand.”

  Her eyes sought mine, fleetingly. Shivers wracked her thin body, threatening to steal her balance. One foot slipped on the gargoyle’s head.

  I pressed myself against the waist-high wall, stretching out to reach her.

  “Come on,” I urged.

  Behind me, Malphael growled in that eerie, two-toned voice.

  “Everything touched by the Rephaim is tainted.”

  I turned just in time to see him puff his chest with a gulping breath. Glowering at Halley, he loosed his fury in a roar.

  52

  Halley cringed before his onslaught of raw, paralytic power. That motion alone was enough to carry her over the edge.