Terry stormed into the room and froze upon seeing Armen held captive. His eyes took a quick sweep of the room before he focused on the center of attention.
“Oh, good knight,” Sariel said, his voice slithering past her ear. “Come to save your maiden, or those who gave you life? I shall let you have the choice.” Sariel ran his demon-flesh fingers across Armen’s wounded cheek. She shrieked and fought against him, the excruciating burn inescapable.
Terry took in more of the scene, calculating his next move. Armen hoped it wouldn’t be a stupid one.
His gaze shifted to Sariel’s fire-lit eyes. “How about you let them all go, and I won’t send you back to Hell?”
Armen blinked in surprise as Sariel laughed. Stupid, it is.
Terry studied him, how he held Armen. “If I banish you, you can’t come back.”
Armen shook her head subtly as Sariel’s haunting laughter filled the room. “I can come and go as I please, princely knight. But you are more than welcome to attempt it.”
Sean groaned. Terry held the Bible in his bandaged left hand and raised it in front of him.
“I banish thee, Sariel, back to the—”
With a quick jerk of Sariel’s head, the book burst into flames. Terry dropped it and slapped his hand against his jeans to extinguish the bandage. He growled and eyed Sariel menacingly, stepping on the burning book to squelch the flames. Sariel snaked his tail across the hardwood and whipped it around, knocking Terry off his feet before Armen’s warning could leave her throat. The scepter clunked to the floor and Terry landed on his mother’s side of the bed. When he rose, the anguish pouring from his eyes upon realizing his mother no longer lived choked off the oxygen to Armen’s lungs.
“Mom,” he whispered, reaching out tentatively. He withdrew without touching her. Anger filled his eyes, and he got to his feet and picked up the cylinder.
Sariel laughed again. “Oh, I so enjoy playing with the humans, Azel,” he whispered in her ear. “Tell me you enjoyed it as well.” Armen shook her head. “Liar.”
“Reversal,” Sean mumbled. “Grigori o’ the . . . South Tower.”
“That is correct, Wrangler, she was once Grigori,” Sariel said with a fang-filled grin. “How sweet, Azel, he knows who you are.”
“He should,” she gritted through her clamped jaw.
“Enchantments . . . resolver,” Sean whispered.
Sariel gasped with delight. He grabbed her face and turned her to him. “Is he the one who brought you to flesh, my sweet?”
Armen closed her eyes. Sean didn’t bring her to flesh, per se, but he was the reason she wasn’t a demon any longer.
“Oh, he is. What joy!”
Sean shrieked as Sariel whipped him with his tail.
“You shall be punished, Wrangler, for taking my sweet Azel from me.”
“Leave them be, Sariel, please,” Armen begged, her voice shattered. “He didn’t make me flesh. No human has such power.”
Terry slowly edged around the corner of the bed, his demon weapon in his right hand, thumb searching the metal shaft furiously as Sariel spoke to her. Sariel didn’t notice Terry’s presence, or just plain ignored him. If Sariel just wanted to take her, she could allow it, and then kick his ass once they were equally matched on the other side again. She would willingly die to stop Sariel’s massacre.
Sariel looked at Armen curiously, a wicked grin stretching across his scale-covered face. “Do you think if you sacrifice yourself this time, you shall return Home?”
A tear fell down Armen’s right cheek and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I can never go Home. You know that.”
“‘Tis nae . . . true.” Sean forced the words from his throat.
“That is correct, Azel,” Sariel said softly. “You cannot go Home.”
Armen agreed as Sean shook his head. He struggled with the bindings on his hands. Sariel had done well with the spell, a binding of physical and metaphysical means. It was not rope that held him, but a fleshy creature that constricted every time Sean attempted to loosen it. Armen couldn’t recall the creature’s name.
“Armen?” The metal in Terry’s hands clicked. Twelve-inch blades shot out at both ends. “Tin can, my ass.”
“But you can return to me,” Sariel told her, his long fingernails hypnotically caressing the side of her face. Another tear made its way down her cheek, and she nodded again as she closed her eyes. “I have missed you so.”
“Armen, no,” Terry growled.
“Armen,” Sean said hoarsely. “He still loves you.”
She opened her eyes and focused on Sean. “How can He?” Her voice filled with sorrow and she nearly choked. “He told us that we would never obtain peace or return Home.”
Sariel chuckled. “He cannot love a demon, Azel. He has tossed us all aside for the love of these humans.”
“She’s not a demon anymore, asshole,” Terry said. “He has not tossed anyone aside.”
“Be that as it may, we no longer hold the Light,” Sariel replied.
“You don’t hold the light for reasons other than what she’s done,” Terry responded. “Let her go!”
Sariel tilted his head and grinned at Terry. “Why, so you can have her? My sweet Azel; would you take her from me?”
“A thousand times, yes.”
Sariel laughed. “Here then, take her.” He pushed Armen toward Terry. She stumbled across the floor, toward the blade’s sharp point. A gasp, followed by a scream. She grasped Terry’s shoulders, her mouth and eyes wide.
Sariel’s hideous cackle traveled around the room.
Terry reached around to catch her. He moved his mouth closer to her ear. “I L-word you.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “Terry,” she whispered, shaking her head.
He winked at her and kissed her forehead. “You worry too much.” He slowly took her to the floor, pulling the scepter away as he did. Once she lay prone, he rose again, fury building in his eyes as he faced Sariel. “You’ve taken two women I love in one day.”
Sariel gave a short nod. “I think that you, good knight, took that last one, but I shall take credit for the first. If it makes you feel better, she put up a good fight.”
“You bastard,” he shouted and lunged at Sariel.
“Son, do nae fight with anger,” Sean choked out as Sariel ducked and turned out of Terry’s path.
Armen heard Sean’s cry of pain again as the creature—what the hell was its name?—tightened, its flesh rough against his skin, cutting, tearing it open. His heavy breathing from the struggle reached her ears, a wheezing she couldn’t remove from her mind, and she feared for his life.
“Oh yes, son, do fight with anger,” Sariel replied, mimicking Sean’s voice when Armen heard the blade slice through the air. Sariel’s tail whipped above her and lashed back out of sight. “I have been waiting for this day, to kill two demon wranglers. What pleasure it shall bring my lord.”
Terry attempted another strike, the blade cutting through the air, displacing molecules, yet not quite reaching its target or she would have heard it slice Sariel’s flesh. “I’m not a wrangler, demon.”
“So you think.” The blade hit the hardwood, chopping Sariel’s tail in two. The flesh sizzled. Sariel roared. Armen felt a smile trying to stretch her lips, but she was still attempting to play dead.
“Silver. Shit!” Terry’s hesitation cost him when Sariel charged. His feet hit the wooden floor hard two feet back from where he’d been, and he lost traction, landing on Armen’s cane. He crashed to the floor on the other side of Armen. The blade struck the floor. “Dad!”
She didn’t know what to do, what she could do to help him, and didn’t understand why he wanted her to play dead in the first place.
He grasped the weapon with both hands and tugged, his muscles rippling even beneath the sweater. Sariel took two steps toward him, stepping over her legs.
She tried not to cringe and move away, fear of his cloven feet cracking bone.
Terry
pushed himself up on one knee and kicked at the demon. Sariel fell back. Terry dropped back to the floor to free the scepter from the wood, not risking a glance at her.
Gaining his footing, he twirled the blades over his head and crouched low as Sariel advanced, stepping over Armen once again. Terry tried to lure him further, and kicked her cane in what looked to be by accident.
Armen knew better. Terry didn’t do anything by accident, and the cane spun toward her. The whip-like crack split the air again and his dad screeched once more.
Sariel stood just out of reach of the blades. Terry lunged forward. Sariel fell back a step, his foot bumping into Armen’s leg. When Terry didn’t advance, the demon glanced at Armen, seeming perplexed.
She held herself perfectly still, watching him through slit eyes.
“Dad, you still with me?”
“Aye. Tell Him to get this beast out of here.”
Sariel turned back to Terry and laughed. “He shall not help you.”
“We’ll see about that.” He raised the blades horizontally before him. “By the power of God, I cast you from this home, demon. You are not welcome here!” The metal glowed white.
Armen grabbed her cane, pulled it apart, and swung its blade at the demon’s legs as she sat up.
Sariel screamed and twitched before backhanding her, sending her several feet behind him.
“Now and forevermore, your entrance to this home is blocked.”
Armen found herself praying for Terry’s safety as she tried to sit up again. She looked up to find Terry barreling down on a shrinking Sariel. The red glow in the room faded. Sariel hissed his discontent in his final moments. She flashed a smile, waiting for Terry to finish. Now she recognized the weapon in his hand, the scepter. It had belonged to her Father.
“The one I taught you, son,” Sean said.
“Per solem et lunam et stellas, mare malum miseris ad infernum.” Terry bellowed the final part of his chants. Sariel shrieked, cringing into a ball on the floor.
“Vale, Dæmon,” he shouted. Sariel disappeared in a cloud of red smoke.
Armen sat frozen, shocked by her sudden epiphany: Terry didn’t give goodbyes to the living, but it sure as hell worked wonders on demons.
When the light from the scepter dimmed, Terry jumped over to Armen, touched her face briefly where Sariel had struck, and moved toward his parents after she gave a nod. He climbed onto the bed and knelt before his father, cutting through the bindings that tied his hands and legs and wrapped around his waist. They slithered away, screeching.
“Dad?”
Sean gave a silent nod. “Your mither.” He rubbed his wrists and turned to her.
Terry looked at his mom. “Dad . . . .” A tremor of emotion cracked his voice. He shook his head, indicating his mother’s fate.
Sean stared at his wife. “Lucille?” He shook her gently, tears welling in his eyes. “Lucille . . . .” The name came soft as a whisper across his lips and he closed his eyes.
Armen felt completely out of place, as she always had since she became flesh. She didn’t belong in this world, and she didn’t belong during their time of grieving, either. She turned to leave.
“Armen,” Sean said.
She stopped, looking back at him. Terry craned his head around.
“Yes?”
He cleared his throat. “What ye did . . . before an’ now . . . thank you.”
Armen nodded silently and turned to leave the two grieving men behind. She stepped into the hall, out of sight but not out of earshot in case something else happened and she was needed. Although, after seeing Terry wield his father’s scepter, she realized they might not need her help.
In the short time she’d known Terry, she’d never imagined that the reason the word goodbye never passed his lips was because of its power to vanquish. She’d never met a human who held such power.
“Dad,” she heard Terry sob. Her heart ached. She’d never once called her Father by such a name. But then, they weren’t that close.
“I’m all right, son,” his dad replied through his own sobs. “I’m okay, but let’s pray for your mither.”
“Medical attention, Terry,” Armen said from the doorway as gently as possible and turned toward the stairs. While she had once been Grigori, meaning she could pass for human and intermingle with them, she’d always had trouble with emotion. There was something about it she couldn’t quite grasp, even now that she was human. She wore their flesh, could feel the emotions, but she didn’t understand them and didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin. Most people she met thought she was a bitch, and that suited her just fine. She wasn’t here to make friends. To be honest, she didn’t know what her purpose was—why she had died as a demon and been reborn as a human. Until recently, she hadn’t really considered it. She had just accepted this fate as she had the last one.
“Armen,” Terry called to her. She stopped and went back to the bedroom. “Could you help me, please?” His voice was torn, and she felt a deep sorrow welling up from depths unknown to her for millennia.
“I was going to bring them up,” she replied. “I think it would be best that your father not move just yet.”
“She’s right, son,” Sean said. He looked at Armen with tears in his eyes. “Go get ‘em, please.” His shirt was soaked with blood at its ragged ends. Luckily, the creature’s thorns hadn’t gone as deep as Armen knew they could.
“Bring Greg,” Terry said, his voice choked with grief.
Armen turned away once more with a nod, recalling seeing a familiar firefighter before entering the home. As fast as she could, she descended the stairwell.
Then sware they all together and bound themselves by mutual imprecations upon it. And they were in all two hundred; who descended in the days of Jared on the summit of Mount Hermon, and they called it Mount Hermon, because they had sworn and bound themselves by mutual imprecations upon it.
“Enoch, you bastard.” When she opened the front door, brilliant sunlight shone in and warmed her, making her flesh tingle, quite the contrary to her descent so long ago. She squinted until her eyes adjusted. All who stood outside the house turned their attention to her. Armen never liked being the center of attention. She spotted the firefighter whom Terry had talked with when her condo burnt down.
“Are you Greg?” He nodded. “Terry needs you. His father’s badly hurt.”
Greg picked up a med box and jogged over to her. “Where are they?”
“Master bedroom,” she replied, letting him go by her and into the foyer.
“What about his mom?” Greg asked when they reached the stairwell.
Armen looked up at the burly man and shook her head. He nodded and climbed the steps silently with her.
“Go left at the top of the stairs. It’s the last set of doors.” Greg jogged up the steps, leaving Armen to climb at a slower pace behind him. Before she could reach the top, the captain walked through the front door with two paramedics. They followed her up, and she pointed the way to the paramedics when they reached her. Brian slowed his pace and walked with her down the hall.
“What happened in there? We heard some pretty horrible things.” Brian kept his voice low so it wouldn’t travel down the empty hallway.
“Is that why you didn’t come in?” There was a hint of satisfaction in her voice.
Brian threw a glare at her, but quickly regained his composure. “It is. Along with the fact that no one else has any damn experience with this shit but the two of you.”
Armen kept her head low. “Do you really want to know what happened, Brian?”
“Yes, actually, I do.”
She stopped halfway to the bedroom’s doors. “A demon, Brian, the same one from last night. It killed Terry’s mom. His dad has multiple lacerations, and that’s just from the visual I got from several feet away.”
“Jesus,” was all Brian could manage to say.
“No, Brian,” she replied. “The man you call Jesus would not have allowed any of this.”
“Not me. Terry.”
“Terry?”
“Yes.”
“Did he kill it?”
“Unfortunately, no. He just sent him away.” She wondered why Terry hadn’t dispatched Sariel with the scepter. It was made of silver, so it should have been able to destroy him.
“Where?”
“I honestly couldn’t tell you.” She walked away, toward the bedroom. Brian followed. Greg was already tending to Sean with Terry hovering nearby. She peered around the corner as Brian stepped inside the room. One of the paramedics examined Terry’s mom. Lucille, Armen reminded herself of her name. I hope you make it Home safely. But an unsettling feeling shredded through her.
Terry turned to look back at Armen again, who stared directly at him. She gave him an uncomfortable smile, and he looked down and turned back to his dad.
“Dad, how did this happen? How’d he get in here?”
Armen wondered the same. Certainly, if he had blessed Terry’s home, he would have blessed his own.
“The devil has his ways, son.”
Armen arched a brow after catching the fine tremor laced in his words. Sean was lying.
“Armen said . . . there’s some sort of chess game in play,” Terry said. “Something to do with Armageddon?”
Sean agreed with a nod and looked directly at Armen. “But it is nae me they’re truly after.”
Terry blinked once, twice, three times before he could form a question. “Who are they after?”
“I’ve sent back hundreds of them over my lifetime, son; I dinnae doubt they want me oot the way. But I believe they want the one who saved me. The one who is the key to their quest.” He stared at Armen before suddenly switching his view to his son. “And the one who uses words as weapons.”
Terry gave Armen a worried look. “Meaning Armen and me.”
Dusk of Death: an Armen Leza, Demon Hunter novel (Armageddon Trilogy Book 1) Page 8