Die and Stay Dead

by Nicholas Kaufmann

  “Hold them off!” Isaac said, forcing the words out from between clenched teeth. His face glistened with sweat. “I need more time!”

  “I’m out of bullets,” I said.

  “Here, take this.” Bethany threw me the hilt of the fire sword. As soon as I caught it, the blade of fire sprang out of it.

  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “Buy me a beer,” she said.

  She pulled a charm from her vest. This one was a small, metal bracelet that she clamped around her wrist. A long, sharp blade sprang out of it, extending past her fist to the length of a sword.

  Gabrielle flew into the air and started knocking lesser demons off their feet with shock waves.

  Philip watched her in awe, his mouth hanging open. “Whoa. Gabrielle can fly now?”

  “You missed some stuff,” I said. “If we survive this, I’ll fill you in.”

  Gabrielle was doing a good job keeping the demons busy, but there were too many for her to handle on her own. They began slipping past her, running directly for Isaac, determined to stop him from closing the rift. Bethany, Philip, and I intercepted them. The fire sword was lighter than I expected. I could swing it faster and with greater precision than a metal sword. When the first demon reached me, I cleaved its head in two, right down the center. Remarkably, the demon stayed upright and kept fighting, the two halves of its head bobbing on either side of its neck. I parried its blade with mine, relieved that the fire sword was solid enough to use defensively. Then I jabbed it into one of the demon’s eyes. The eye ruptured and bubbled from the heat. The demon dropped dead.

  One down, only an entire army to go.

  I didn’t waste time aiming for anything but the demons’ eyes. In the chaos of the fight, I caught glimpses of Bethany stabbing demons through the eyes, too, her gore-soaked bracelet-sword lancing straight through the backs of their heads. Philip fought them with his bare hands, tearing the eyes out of their heads. Above us, Gabrielle continued her shock wave attacks, keeping the demons off-balance. And all the while, Isaac continued bombarding the doorway in the sky with his spell. The rift dimmed again. The pillar of red light flickered and grew fainter, then stronger again. I heard Isaac cry out.

  “It’s too much!” he shouted.

  I ran to him. Gabrielle flew past me overhead and landed beside Isaac before I got there.

  “Let me help,” Gabrielle said. “I have magic. Tell me what to do.”

  “No,” he said. His face was completely coated in sweat. It poured off his forehead and dripped from his chin. “Go. The others need your help.”

  “Isaac—”

  “It’s too dangerous,” he interrupted, grimacing with pain. “Using this much magic could—could trigger the infection inside you. Go, damn it!”

  Gabrielle looked at me, but there was nothing I could do to change Isaac’s mind. Reluctantly, she flew into the air again.

  “You, too,” Isaac growled at me. “Go!”

  I didn’t want to leave him, but there was no point in arguing. I returned to the battle, but I was distracted by my concern for Isaac. A demon got around my defenses and struck me in the face with the hilt of its sword. I fell backward, tasting blood on my tongue. The fire sword fell out of my hand, its blade extinguishing instantly. The demon knelt over me, pinning my arms to the floor with its bony knees. It lifted its sword over its head, the point aimed straight down at my heart.

  But the demon didn’t get a chance to strike. Its left eye popped in an explosion of goo as the tip of Bethany’s sword burst from its socket. More of the disgusting goo dribbled down on me as I tried to squirm out from under the demon. Bethany pulled her sword back out of the demon’s head. It fell on top of me. I groaned in disgust and pushed the body away. There was demon eyeball goo all over my face, neck, and chest. I’d ruined Isaac’s shirt, too. Maybe that was my true power: ruining shirts.

  I stood up, wiping the goo off my face and trying to shake it off my hands. “Not enough showers in the world,” I muttered.

  “You’re welcome,” Bethany said.

  “I had it under control,” I said. “I was lulling the demon into a false sense of security.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Right. Now that’s two beers you owe me.”

  “It’s a date,” I said.

  She grinned and ran back into the fray. I watched her stab one demon through the eye while kicking another away from her. She pulled her sword free and dispatched the second demon before it could rush her again.

  Sometimes Bethany took my breath away.

  No, scratch that. Not sometimes. All the time.

  Isaac cried out suddenly. I spun around. He was on his knees, his hands still raised over his head as the spell poured out of him. He was soaked with sweat. His entire body trembled with exhaustion. In the sky above, the rift bulged and fought to stay open.

  “I can’t!” Isaac said. “I can’t close it!”

  The spell ended. His arms dropped to his sides, and he collapsed onto the deck. The rift burst back to life above us. The pillar of red light brightened and thickened. The shape within it began to solidify once more.

  I ran to Isaac. He sat up, grimacing in intense pain. He held one hand close to his body, trying to hide it from me.

  “I’m fine, Trent,” he said hoarsely. “I’m fine.”

  “Isaac, let me see your hand,” I said.

  He looked up at me angrily. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “You’re not.” I knelt down beside him. “Show me.”

  Reluctantly, he held out his hand. I drew back in surprise. It wasn’t a hand anymore—at least, not a human hand. It was a twisted, grotesque appendage, halfway between a cockroach’s leg and a bird’s talon. It twitched and writhed at the end of his arm.

  “The doorway was too strong,” he said, staring at his hand in horror. “I had to push myself further than I’ve ever gone. I’ve never tapped into that much magic before. It was too much.” He looked up at me. “It’s the infection, Trent. I’m infected.”

  Thirty-Eight

  “It’s not possible,” I said. “You can’t be infected. You’re a mage. Mages don’t get infected. That’s the rule.”

  Isaac shrugged off his duster. With his good hand, he started rolling up his shirtsleeve. “It’s happened before. Other mages have gotten infected. Some were already predisposed to darkness. Others couldn’t keep the magic inside them under control anymore…” He paused, looking off into the distance. “Crixton knew. He said the magic had planted a dark seed inside me. He could sense it. One infected soul sensing another.”

  “He was crazy,” I pointed out.

  “He was right,” Isaac said.

  He undid his belt and yanked it out of its loops. Using his good hand and his teeth, he wrapped it tightly around his forearm.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  He fastened the belt tight, just below his elbow. He held out his good hand to me. “Give me the fire sword.”

  I shook my head. “Jesus, Isaac—”

  “Now, Trent!”

  His tone told me there wasn’t time to argue. I picked up the fallen hilt and handed it to him. As soon as he gripped it, the fire sword blazed to life. He held it over his infected hand. He gritted his teeth and paused a moment to steel himself.

  “Isaac, wait!” I said.

  “It’s the only way to stop the infection from spreading,” he said.

  “But you’ve stopped infections before,” I insisted. “You did it for Thornton—”

  “There’s no time,” Isaac interrupted. “It’s spreading too fast.”

  He was right. Already the flesh on his wrist and forearm was starting to change, turning squamous, mutating into an extension of the twisted thing where his hand used to be.

  “But the infection can be reversed,” I said. “We’ve seen it!”

  He raised the fire sword. “We don’t know how, and we don’t have time!”

  I flashed on the vision the cloaked man had given me
—an older, haggard-looking Isaac with only one hand—and then he brought the fire sword down. He cried out as it sliced cleanly through his forearm just below the belt’s makeshift tourniquet. The infected flesh fell to the deck with a sickening slap. The fire sword had cauterized the wound at the same time it cut through the flesh, filling the air with the odor of cooked meat. Isaac’s face dripped with sweat. He dropped the fire sword to the floor next to his own amputated appendage. He tried to stand but nearly fell over. I caught him. He leaned against me, his face buried in my chest.

  “No matter what happens,” he murmured. “That’s what I said. No matter the sacrifices we have to make, we don’t—we don’t cede an inch…”

  Philip came sprinting across the flight deck, body-checking demons out of his way. When he reached us, he pulled Isaac out of my grasp and supported the mage himself.

  “I’ve got you, old man. You’re going to be fine,” he said. “Trent, what the hell happened?”

  “The infection,” I said. “It came out of nowhere.”

  “I’m okay, I’m okay,” Isaac repeated.

  His eyes were glazed over, but he fought to stay upright. Any other man would have passed out from shock, but somehow Isaac was managing to stay conscious, forcing himself, drawing on enormous reserves of strength just to keep standing.

  At the ship’s stern, something massive was taking shape inside the pillar of red light. I could make out bits here and there: a thickly muscled arm the size of a tree, the ridged spine of a back, something that looked like a tail.

  “We’re running out of time,” I said.

  “Nightclaw,” Isaac muttered. He slumped against Philip. The vampire held him upright.

  “I’m not leaving your side, old man,” Philip said.

  Isaac shook his head. “Trent’s … not fast enough … has to be you.”

  “I told you, I’m not—”

  “Don’t argue … no time,” Isaac interrupted.

  Reluctantly, Philip passed Isaac to me. While I supported the mage, Philip pulled the black velvet bundle out of his coat. He peeled off the cloth and gripped the dagger in his fist.

  “Look after Isaac,” he told me, poking a finger into my chest. “If anything happens to him, I will hold you personally responsible.”

  “I’ll keep him safe,” I said.

  Then Philip was off and running through the battlefield. He slashed any demons who got too close. Wherever Nightclaw cut them, crooked black veins spread out over their bodies. A second later, they dropped to the floor, dead. I’d seen my share of strange and brutal weapons, but I’d never seen one so coldly efficient. All it took was one cut. No wonder the Guardians had kept its location a secret. Who could be trusted with a weapon like that?

  Isaac leaned his weight against the fighter jet’s fuselage. “You can let go now.”

  I released him. He didn’t fall. How he was staying upright was beyond me. I picked up the fire sword, prepared to defend us both if any demons came. I felt restless, like a coiled viper that wasn’t allowed to strike. I wanted to be out there fighting alongside the others. I knew someone needed to stay and protect Isaac, but hanging back and watching the others put their lives on the line made me feel useless.

  But Gabrielle and Bethany were holding their own for now. They stood atop a pile of bodies, back to back, both of them covered in demon blood and eyeball goo as they continued to fight the horde. Philip battled his way through the crowd until he was through and running freely on the other side. He closed the distance to the churning pillar of light. A hundred feet, seventy-five, fifty—and then a missile of fire seemed to come out of nowhere. It struck him, exploding on impact. Philip was engulfed in flames and blown forcefully off his feet. He was hurled backward several yards, landing between two fighter jets.

  Francisco stepped out of the shadows. He was holding the dragon-painted crossbow from Arkwright’s artifact collection. Shit. I’d lost track of Francisco in the pandemonium. He must have snuck away as soon as Philip showed up, then waited for the right moment to attack.

  This wasn’t good. The shape inside the pillar of light was solidifying. Behemoth was almost here. Gabrielle and Bethany had their hands full with the demons. Philip was down. I turned to Isaac.

  “Go,” he croaked hoarsely. “I’ll be all right. Kill Arkwright. It’s the only way to end this.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. I stuffed the hilt of the fire sword into my pocket and started running. I kept to the shadows, moving unseen along one side of the flight deck. Unfortunately, I was on the ship’s port side, and the island where Arkwright had taken refuge was on the starboard side. Between us was an army of lesser demons. At some point I was going to have to cross the deck in the open.

  As I grew closer, I heard Francisco call to Philip, “I told you we weren’t finished, vampire! It’s time to settle up!”

  Philip stood up between the fighter jets, patting out tiny, smoldering patches of fire on his clothes. He tossed the smoking remains of his coat to the floor. The right half of his shirt, including the sleeve, had been entirely burned away. The skin beneath it was streaked with ash but otherwise appeared unharmed. I knew vampire flesh was a lot stronger than human flesh—I’d seen swords break rather than cut him—but I was still impressed.

  “You’ve got seriously bad timing, asshole,” Philip said.

  Francisco sneered at him. “You humiliated me, vampire. In front of my employer. In front of my partner. I can’t let that stand. You made me look like a bitch.”

  “If the shoe fits,” Philip said.

  Francisco leveled the crossbow at him. The bow pulled back on its own, cocking itself. A fiery bolt materialized within it. Francisco pulled the trigger, and the bolt flew right for Philip. But the vampire was gone before it hit him, striking the empty steel deck instead. The bolt exploded into a pool of flame that spread much too fast for the fire to be anything but magical. It didn’t seem to need any accelerant or fuel.

  I ducked behind a fighter jet for cover. Philip was a blur streaking across the deck toward Francisco. The baby-faced thug panicked, desperately loosing bolt after bolt but missing Philip each time. The bolts lit fires all over the deck and on several of the aircraft. We were lucky their gas tanks had been emptied long ago.

  Philip barreled into Francisco without slowing down. The two of them rolled and skidded across the flight deck. They disappeared under the canvas wall of the huge aircraft restoration tent at the foot of the island.

  Now was my chance. I bolted across the flight deck toward the island, already thinking about what to do when I got to vulture’s row at the top. My Plan B.

  I was only halfway across the deck when the aircraft carrier tipped suddenly beneath my feet. The bow lifted into the air above Twelfth Avenue, while the stern sank toward the river’s waterline. The chains holding some of the aircraft in place snapped. Jets and helicopters, some still burning from the crossbow bolts, slid haphazardly across the deck. Some tumbled off the side and splashed into the water below. I dropped to the floor and lay spread-eagled on my stomach, trying to not slide off the ship, too. I glanced over to see if Isaac was okay. The fighter jet was still chained to the deck, though it had slid out of place. Isaac had moved to the railing along the deck’s edge and was holding on for dear life with his good arm.

  The ship leveled out again. The bow came crashing down, splashing into the river and sending an enormous wave across Twelfth Avenue. Cars screeched and honked. Pedestrians screamed in alarm. Damn. The cops would be coming now. Probably EMTs, too. The last thing we needed were more people in the line of fire.

  I got back to my feet and saw Bethany and Gabrielle had recovered their balance, too. They stared past me, openmouthed, to the stern of the ship. The remaining lesser demons had stopped fighting and were staring, too. I heard something breathe at my back. A blast of hot air hit me. Something was behind me. Something whose sudden, extra weight had caused the ship to tip off-balance momentarily. I turned slowly.

/>   The rift still burned brightly in the sky, but the colossal pillar of light was gone. In its place stood a creature that towered seventy feet above me. Thick, ropy muscles flexed beneath an intricately patterned, purple-and-black hide. His bare torso, arms, and bald, horned head were vaguely humanlike, but from the waist down he resembled a centipede. Six rounded, armored segments stretched behind him, each sporting two pointed, articulated legs. He balled his hands into fists, threw back his head, and let out a terrifying, bestial roar.

  The lesser demons gibbered in terror. Ignoring Bethany and Gabrielle, they ran for the stairs, retreating up the island to vulture’s row. They knew a greater demon when they saw one.

  I stared up at Behemoth, brother of Nahash-Dred, Lord of Ruination. I didn’t have Nightclaw. I didn’t have the Codex Goetia. I didn’t know any binding or banishing spells.

  There was no Plan B for this.

  Thirty-Nine

  Behemoth’s eyes were filled with fury. He extended one enormous hand above me, palm down. Suddenly, it was like the world had turned upside down, as if gravity had changed direction. I fell upward off the flight deck toward Behemoth’s hand. Bethany and Gabrielle watched in horror from the deck, unaffected by the shift in gravity. It was only me. Behemoth had trapped me in some kind of a gravity field. I tumbled upward toward his enormous hand. His fingers looked as thick as tree trunks, capable of crushing me to dust. But then Behemoth hesitated. My upward fall stopped. I floated in the air before him like a fly caught in amber. He studied me closely, and a change came over his face. He lowered me back to the flight deck and released me from the gravity field.

  I didn’t understand. I stood rooted in place, not taking my eyes off the towering demon. Behemoth watched me with just as much interest. I’d been given a chance to run, but I didn’t move. It wasn’t just fear that kept me there. It was curiosity. Behemoth had spared me for a reason. I wanted to know why.

  The silence was shattered by Francisco bursting out of the aircraft restoration tent. His clothes were on fire. He ran screaming across the flight deck. Behemoth let loose another deafening roar and extended his hand again. Francisco, caught in a gravity field, was lifted off the deck and into the air. He floated before Behemoth, screaming and burning. Behemoth closed his empty hand into a fist. In the air before him, Francisco’s body crushed in on itself. The flames extinguished instantly. The screams stopped. I heard Francisco’s bones snap as his body compressed down to a small, lumpy object. Then Behemoth released it from the gravity field, and what was left of Francisco fell to the deck in front of me. An unrecognizable mass of bone and tissue, it looked like something that had come out of a car crusher in a junkyard.