Gorgon

by Chloe Garner

  Down.

  Always down, if you’re choosing.

  She found a stairway and started down it, drawing Lahn again out of nervous energy and the inability to keep her in her sheath any longer. Lahn was angry; the magic here was thick and dark, and Lahn reacted to it like a firework.

  There was a door at the bottom of the stairs, locked, but Samantha had little trouble tickling it open with a palm to the door.

  There were benefits to having lived with a man against whom no door lock worked.

  When someone had used magic to lock a door, it took magic - or considerable force - to open it. She would have had a harder time going through a padlock.

  The basement was dank and dusty, and the floor didn’t show any prints. She pulled a flashlight out of her bag and turned it on, scanning the room and listening hard. The HVAC equipment sounded like it was down here, predictably, and it made typically New York noises, grouching and bellowing as it worked at keeping the building warm.

  She couldn’t see anything out of place, but the locked door suggested she was on the right path.

  The next door was deadbolted, but there were tracks in the dust going through it and coming back. Benjamin hadn’t been particularly concerned with leaving a trail, she guessed, putting her eye down to look at the door lock.

  Something crashed into the door over her head, and she spun, finding a man of substantial build running toward her.

  He glitched and she rolled across the floor sideways, avoiding the knife that slit through the air where she’d been.

  Demon.

  Definitely a demon.

  Sam wouldn’t be able to see here.

  She had no one covering her back.

  She was completely and entirely on her own, but she was this good. She was.

  And she needed to get Isobel out. Now.

  She bent time hard, even as she slid to a stop and started back up, pulling Lahn around in front of her and listening for anything that would tell her that there was a demon behind her.

  Normally, a demon would have a hard time simply glitching behind her and stabbing her, but she was in a space where she knew they were here. She knew she’d put herself at risk, and she’d put herself here, anyway. It changed the balance of things, and put more of her natural, human defenses against demons at risk. Some of them would still work, but many of them would not, and there was no way to know which were which until they worked, or failed.

  She needed to be as fast as she’d ever been in her life.

  And clever.

  Fortunately, she’d had a bad week, and she was over-compensating with clever.

  She slid her spare hand into her bag, time easing past like glass frames, dropping a knee to the floor as a second blade cut the air over her head. Lahn found the new demon over-committed and off balance, unprepared for the angel blade, and a shower of ash came down on top of her.

  She dropped the first of her prepared vials on the floor, the contents already supercharged from the magic atmosphere, and it exploded with a flash of yellow light. Dust plastered itself against the walls, and the demon stood, one arm over his head, frozen.

  It wouldn’t last forever, but boy had it been worth it. She approached the demon and looked him in the eye. He blinked at her, still surprised.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I can do that.”

  She stabbed him in the stomach, reaching out to catch his knife as it fell to the floor and taking one brief, time-bent glance at it.

  Demon-made, of middling to high quality. If it was engraved, the engravings had been folded in when it had been made. She found a coarse cloth and folded it around the blade, dropping it into her bag. She quickly found the knife the other demon had been carrying, giving it the same treatment.

  The door hadn’t held up well under the explosion, and she kicked it with her heel a couple more times to bend it far enough that the dead bolt didn’t reach the frame any more, then forced it open against bent hinges and continued on.

  Expensive overkill, but boy had it made her feel better to do it.

  It was a magic she’d guessed at, trying something new, and no one was going to be happy that she could do it. They’d come up with a counter magic that would inoculate them, soon enough, but the element of surprise had it, for now.

  She found herself in a small office space, cluttered with yellow papers and also long-unused. Benjamin’s footprints on the floor went to a wall and disappeared.

  Awesome.

  She went and probed the wall with her fingers.

  It was cement block, just like the section next to it.

  She looked for a camera, but didn’t find one. It was unlikely they’d use electronics to monitor the room, but she wouldn’t rule anything out.

  They knew she was out here.

  And she knew that this was how they’d gotten Benjamin in and out of the room.

  Or Isobel, she realized. But not both. There was only one set of tracks going in and out. She tried to remember how big Isobel’s feet were, measuring the tracks against her own feet, but she couldn’t be sure whose they were.

  Until she realized the obvious: they left.

  She really was losing it.

  Isobel had gone in through another route.

  She started building a blueprint in her head, trying to mark out each wall in the space she’d already been in. There was an open space in this building. There was no way a designer had put it there without a door. She just had to find it.

  And blast her way in.

  She felt for any clues at how they’d gotten Benjamin through here, but nothing came to her. The wall didn’t vibrate with energy like there was a strong magic there; she didn’t think she was seeing a wall where there was none. She closed her eyes, listening, and ducked again, swerving to the side and spinning to find a grinning demon in the small room with her.

  “Renouch,” he said. “I’ve been hoping to meet you.”

  He put the gun away and she glanced quickly at the hole in the cement block. Definitely real, unless the illusion was a genius craft.

  “Hi,” she answered. “Who are you?”

  “Just a fan,” he said. “You have quite a following. But I supposed you don’t even know that, do you?”

  “I’ve never considered myself popular,” she said, working her way out from behind the desk and watching him carefully. The gun was hard to dodge. He’d given himself away the first time, but he probably wouldn’t miss a second time.

  He grinned wider.

  “It’s almost a shame to waste you, here. We’ve done so much to keep you out, to have you not even get to see it…” He tipped his head to the side. “I’d be disappointed. But that’s just me. They don’t seem to be that interested in you.”

  “How did you get him through there?” Samantha asked. “It’s impressive work.”

  “It is,” the demon said. “It really is.”

  “You going to tell me about it?” she asked. He shook his head.

  “No. I’m going to stab you in the eye with a pin.”

  She frowned, confused, and held Lahn at her natural rest point.

  “No you aren’t,” she said.

  “No,” the demon said. “No, you’re right. That’s what they’re doing to the woman.”

  “Open it,” Samantha said. “Open it and flee.”

  “And miss the fun?” the demon asked. “Nah.”

  “Your loss,” Samantha said, trying not to grind her teeth. “I’m not going to be very forgiving, when this is all over.”

  “You’re not going to be very alive, when this is all over,” the demon answered.

  “Really?” Samantha asked. “All this time, and you still hinge a plan on killing me?”

  “You’re all alone,” the demon said. “Stretched too thin. We’ve been watching.”

  He ducked as she pulled her hand gun and fired at him, clicking his tongue.

  “I’m faster than you, Renouch. And no, our plan doesn’t hinge on anything to do with you
,” he said. “If it were even mine. I’m just here for the show. And maybe,” he said, firing three more rounds that she only narrowly dodged. He was playing with her. “Maybe to have a little bit of fun, while it’s here.”

  She shook her head, rubbing her arm where the bullet had burned it.

  “This is a mistake.”

  “Nah,” he said, shooting at her again. She returned the shot and he glitched, reappearing two feet to one side.

  “You’re fun,” he said. “But you aren’t up for this.”

  “I’ve never been stronger,” she said. “Open the wall.”

  “That may be true, but… Look around you, Renouch. You’d never have come to a place like this by yourself, before.”

  “Who are you?” Samantha asked, mentally sorting through her bag. He was clearly powerful. The smug ones always were. She wasn’t sure what would work on him.

  “You’ve lost touch,” he answered, pulling a pin from his arm. “Maybe I will put a pin in your eye. No one would mind.”

  “It’s right here,” Samantha said, holding up Lahn a fraction higher. He laughed and glitched. She swept right, just playing the odds, feeling the breath of air as the demon attacked her from the left and reacting with just a fraction more speed than it actually took to get clear. She continued her sweep, but he was gone.

  He pierced the skin of her arm just above the elbow and she spun, dropping away and nearly getting a piece of him, but again he glitched away with a cackle.

  She should have called Carter.

  She knew he was busy, that whatever he had Sam doing was important, but she needed the backup.

  How did he do this on his own?

  How did any of them?

  Argo had Lange, and purportedly Ian had a young protégé who was coming along nicely, but Mitch, Bane, and Spake all worked alone.

  How did they not get killed?

  The pin hit her ribs, and this time she did manage to get a touch with Lahn, but it wasn’t enough. He was playing with her. She shot at him, keeping him moving, collecting herself.

  She’d finished Cassie on her own. She’d been prepared, certainly, but this joke of a demon hardly held a candle to the demon Samantha had ultimately stashed away in Nuri’s vaults.

  She was letting him get too close. Letting him keep his composure and come at her in his own time.

  She cursed him in angeltongue, and he tipped his head back, laughing.

  “That won’t work on me, Renouch. I can’t hear angeltongue.”

  He glitched again, but she was quick enough this time, touching him again. He didn’t glitch away, though, and he got the pin in her neck, just beside her spine, before he glitched back away.

  She wondered if Lange had been nearby. If he would even come.

  Two more stabs.

  Any time he wanted to, he could pull out a proper blade and end her. And it didn’t appear there was anything she could do about it.

  And then a blonde woman, taller than the joker by at least four inches and built like an Amazon, appeared behind him, stabbing him in the neck with a long triangular blade. His face briefly registered surprise, then he ashed.

  “I remember you,” Samantha said, still on guard.

  “You should,” the woman said, voice honey. “I was trying to kill you, not long ago.”

  “Right. You ran the troop of angel hunters.” Samantha looked at the pile of ash on the floor. “Why?”

  “I’m picking a side,” the woman said, putting away her knife.

  “I’m not looking for another bound demon,” Samantha said.

  “I’m not volunteering,” the woman said.

  “Then you aren’t on my side,” Samantha answered. “Not that I’m not grateful.”

  “I would have thought you would understand the power of aligned interests,” the woman said.

  “How are we aligned?” Samantha asked.

  “Let’s get you out of here, and we can see,” the woman said.

  “I’m not leaving,” Samantha said.

  “I know that voice,” Lange called. “Sam, you down here?”

  “Lange,” she answered, eyes still on the blonde demon.

  He opened the door and looked around.

  “Is this a stalemate of some kind?” he asked.

  “She just killed the demon that had an edge on me,” Samantha said.

  “Strange,” Lange said.

  “I didn’t expect you to trust me,” the woman said. “But I wanted to introduce myself. I’ll stay with you if you want, but…”

  “If I don’t trust you, I don’t want you here,” Samantha agreed. “Present yourself at the mansion and we’ll talk.”

  The woman nodded and disappeared. Lange raised an eyebrow at Samantha.

  “You needed help?” he asked.

  “Guess so,” she said.

  “You losing your touch?”

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” she said. “You know what’s going on?”

  “Sam sent me,” Lange said. “Told me you were out here on your own, and he didn’t like it.”

  “I lost Isobel,” Samantha said.

  “That’s the angel plaything?” Lange asked.

  “Don’t call her that to her face,” Samantha answered. “She’s down here.”

  “How do you know?” he asked. She pulled the lock of hair out of her pocket and showed it to him before putting it back away.

  “I know she’s in the building, but I can’t get to her. She’s through there.”

  She pointed at the wall.

  “How do you know?” he asked again. She indicated the footprints on the floor.

  “Those ought to be Benjamin’s.”

  “What happened to him?” Lange asked. “I heard it was bad.”

  “He’s dead,” Samantha said. “Carter’s just keeping him alive until he can do it naturally.”

  Lange shuddered.

  “Bad way to go,” he said. She nodded.

  “He isn’t in pain, anymore.”

  Lange nodded.

  “Not unless Carter does his thing.”

  Samantha grimaced. She hoped she’d been emphatic enough, but Carter being Carter, there were never any guarantees.

  “So what’s the agenda?” Lange asked, pulling the pair of Saracen blades he carried and flipping them loosely.

  “I need to get through there,” Samantha said. “They know I’m here. If they haven’t already killed Isobel, they aren’t likely to, but they’re doing everything they can to squeeze her, if she is still alive.”

  Lange put his shoulder to the wall, giving it an exploratory push. He grunted.

  “That’s solid.”

  “I didn’t find any seams,” Samantha said. He looked at it, taking a step back.

  “You look at the ceiling?” he asked.

  Ceiling.

  No.

  She hadn’t looked at the ceiling.

  Lange pushed the desk over against the wall and stood on it, moving one of the foam ceiling tiles out of the way.

  “The wall goes all the way up to the floor above us, but there’s a hole here,” he said, looking down at her with a grin. “Nothing magical about it.”

  He pulled himself up into the ceiling and she dragged herself up after him, feeling outdone.

  “I should have seen it,” she said. Lange was scrambling through the hole ahead of her and he started to say something, when there was a loud hiss.

  Not a demonic hiss, though you had to have the ear for it to know that.

  That was the sound of a snake.

  A big one.

  Lange came rocketing back out of the hole, landing on one of the ceiling tiles and falling through onto the desk below with a thrash.

  “You okay?” Samantha asked quietly, eyes on the wall. Lange groaned.

  “Fine,” he said. “Ow.”

  She pulled the flashlight again, shining it through, but she couldn’t see anything.

  “Where is it?” she asked, finding her gun a
nd stacking the flashlight on top of it, tense.

  “Just on the other side,” Lange said. “I just about put my hand on it.”

  He cursed in hellspeak and pulled himself back up next to her.

  “I don’t see it,” Samantha said. “What did it look like?”

  “Couldn’t tell,” Lange said. “Can’t believe I did that.”

  “Snakes,” Samantha said. He grunted, peering through the hole.

  “I don’t see it, either,” he said.

  “I’ll go,” Samantha said.

  She debated internally for a moment between Lahn and the gun, staying with the gun, finally, because a trigger is a lot easier to pull than a sword, when a snake is coming at you.

  They’re fast.

  She stuck her head through the hole, bending time as she did a quick sweep with the flashlight.

  She didn’t find a snake, but she did see legs.

  She snapped back to point the light at the female figure. Her blood went cold when she found her own face grinning at her.

  “Hello, Samantha,” Cassie said.

  “No,” Samantha said.

  “Who is that?” Lange asked from behind Samantha.

  “No,” Samantha said again, louder. “You can’t be here.”

  Cassie grinned.

  “Oh, but I am,” she answered. “You didn’t expect me to be behind it, did you?”

  “Who is that?” Lange asked again.

  “Cassie,” Samantha said, numb. She didn’t have her knives. It was a special knife that Nuri had given her that she’d used to freeze Cassie, last time.

  The demon was sure to have caught on to how Samantha beat her last time; it wouldn’t work again. And Samantha had only won by stroke of inspiration, last time. She had no idea how she’d win again.

  Cassie knew things.

  Things that needed to stay secret.

  Who had she already told?

  Samantha scrambled through the hole, getting her feet under her as Cassie smirked.

  She heard Lange start to follow her, and there was a hiss.

  “You’re right on it,” Lange yelled. “Move, Sam.”

  Cassie raised an eyebrow, and Samantha frowned.

  Stood slightly straighter.