by Kit Colter
The twenty-four hour mark, when the twins were supposed to arrive, came and went. Then the twenty-six hour mark. Twenty-seven hours. Twenty-eight. Still nothing. No call. No knock at the door. Just nothing. She wanted desperately to call Lyle’s house for an update, but the twins had warned her against this, claiming any contact with friends, relative, or acquaintances was liable to lead It—whatever It was—right to her.
At the thirty-two hour mark, Erin called for room service again. She was so hungry at that point that her anxiety wasn’t enough to dull the cramping pain in her stomach. She hung up, walked across the room, and propped one foot on the back of the couch, stretching the muscles in her thigh while she waited. Switched feet, leaned forward over her leg, and gently pulled out the soreness. She stretched her arms over her head, realigning her spine, and assured herself the twins were coming. They had just gotten caught up doing what they tended to do: creating havoc. Probably got arrested. Something like that. They were coming though. They would be here.
There was a knock at the door. Erin walked across the room, slightly rushed by hunger, and glimpsed through the peep hole. Red jacket. Black-brimmed hat. Push-cart. Something in the back of her mind had been hoping to see the twins in the hallway, and she felt a stab of disappointment. Erin was too hungry to feel disappointed for more than a second, and she quickly stuffed the taser into the back of her pants before removing the chair and opening the door.
The man from France—the demon from the Charles de Gaulle airport—stood in the hallway behind the pushcart. Erin almost cried out when she saw his face. Without thinking, she lunged forward onto the cart, ripped out the taser, and jabbed it into the man’s chest.
Pulled the trigger.
The man’s body seized, and every shadow on him—the slivers of shade beneath his cheekbones, jaw, chin—seemed to take flight. Like a startled flock of birds, the shadows came alive and leapt into the air, collided with the ceiling, and swirled sideways down the wall. The demon dropped to the floor, churning there for a moment, and lifted into a human form.
Erin leapt off the cart and stumbled into her room. The demon swirled forward, coiled around Erin’s left leg, and surged over her body like a black shroud. Erin collapsed. Currents of something awful—something like an opposing magnetic force—worked their way into her body. Slithering along the arteries to her core.
Then Erin was on fire. A current of nuclear heat rose inside her chest. Her bones felt hot and incredibly hard, and for an instant, Erin thought it would kill her. Simply rip her apart. Somewhere in all the heat and light, she saw tendrils of spectral light gracefully draping themselves around a skeletal human figure, its cavernous form illuminated from within, its eyes so dark and depthless there could be no end behind them.
Then it was gone. Everything. In an instant.
And Erin was left lying on the hotel floor, watching that swirling black shadow try to pull itself away. Try to spiral out the door. But something was wrong, and after a moment Erin realized the demon was hurt. Dying. Erin pushed to her feet, and the demon writhed wildly across the floor, tumbling out into the hallway. She picked up the taser and followed, stepping over the man’s body, then gasped as a hand encircled her ankle.
He was alive.
Erin looked down the hall, but the demon had disappeared—or died. She glanced back down at the man lying on the floor with a bleeding nose and terror written across his face. She had assumed being possessed would have killed him. But the demon was gone, and the man was still alive.
Erin knelt beside him, feeling a thud in her chest. Shame. Remorse. Relief. She could have hurt him. She could have killed him. She hadn’t even thought about the man who had been possessed. She had just acted.
“Aidez-moi ... s’il vous plait ...” The man’s body trembled as he spoke.
Erin grabbed the man’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Are you hurt?” she asked, hoping he might understand some English. “Injured?”
“Veuillez ne pas me blesser,” he said, holding his hands out in a gesture of surrender.
“Are you alright?” she said, trying to place a steadying hand on his shoulder.
The man stepped aside, avoiding her touch, and continued to speak in French with his hands raised.
Erin frowned at him. She didn’t know what to do. If she took him to the concierge, who might speak French—surely someone in the building did—there was a chance they would take him seriously enough to call the police. And even if he didn’t say she had shocked him with a taser, he would lead the authorities back to her. She didn’t have time for any of it.
Erin kicked the push-cart through the doorway, pointed the taser at the man’s face, and nodded toward the room. He held his hands up even higher and walked backwards through the doorway. Erin pointed at the couch, and he immediately sat down. Then she pulled the door closed, turned the lock, and wedged the chair beneath the door handle.
“I really wish you spoke English,” Erin said, sliding the taser into the back of her pants again. “Then I could explain this situation. Kind of.”
“Veuillez ne pas me blesser. S’il vous plait. S’il vous plait,” he said.
“You said that,” Erin said, shaking her head. She did not want a hostage. She did not want to be a hostage-taker. She didn’t want to sit and stare at this poor, injured guy—who already had an ugly puncture wound in his hand from being stabbed with a fork back in France—and somehow try to keep him frightened enough to stay in the room with her instead of running straight to the police.
Erin uncovered her order—which appeared to be dumpling—and spooned half into a wine glass. Then she took the bowl and set it on the coffee table in front of the man. She held up the fork and spoon, waiting for him to choose, and finally gave him the spoon as a safety precaution. She sat down in the chair wedged under the door handle, ate the dumplings out of her wine glass, and drank the soup. When Erin finished, she wondered about what had just happened. She didn’t understand the taser gun well enough to know if it was supposed to kill Primary demons. Whatever type of demon that was, it hadn’t died right away. It had come after her. Had tried to possess her. And then something bizarre had happened. That awful heat. The image of that skeletal, white creature. Erin couldn’t understand what, exactly, had happened, but she had the distinct impression that whatever it was had nearly killed the Frenchman’s demon. She didn’t want to wonder about it. There were too many questions already. Too many variables she couldn’t understand. Instead, she tried to think of what to do to make the situation less horrible, stared at her hostage, and wished like hell the twins would show up.
Chapter 19
Two hours later, Erin placed the tower of chocolates in front of the Frenchman. He hadn’t eaten his soup. He had done nothing other than stare at her and occasionally say things in French she couldn’t understand, but she needed something to do because her back was getting sore from sitting so long. He looked at the chocolates, then pointed at the door.
Erin shook her head. She thought he would probably make an escape attempt soon. The shock was probably wearing off, and he would soon realize he was bigger and stronger than she was—that tasers were mostly nonlethal—and he would put all his strength into making it out the door. Erin was just starting to wonder if she should try to lock him in the bathroom when the room phone rang. She pointed the taser at the man, as if she could shoot him with it, and answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“They’re coming for you.” It was Derek. “We can’t make it. There’s some serious shit going down. Find somewhere to hide and keep your head down.”
“Derek, what’s—”
“You’ve gotta hide now, Erin. They’re going to kill you.”
Erin heard him hang up, yet she kept the phone to her ear, fighting the realization of what this meant. Very slowly, she hung up the phone. Hide? She was in Austria for God’s sake. How was she supposed to hide when she couldn’t even read the street signs? Couldn’t speak the langua
ge?
She looked at her hostage. “Well, it looks like you get the room. Just for tonight. I think check out is at noon.”
He frowned and pointed at the door.
Erin shook her head. “I’m leaving,” she said, pointing to herself, then at the door.
The man stood up.
Erin shook her head again. “I—me—I am leaving.” She tapped her chest and pointed at the door. “You stay here.” She pointed at the bed, then thought better of it and pointed at the first thing in sight, the tower of gold foil chocolates. “And, uh, eat chocolate.”
“Au revoir?” he said.
Erin nodded. “Yes. Si. I mean oui. Au revoir.” She gave him a smile—she didn’t know what else to do—placed a hundred euros on the counter, then grabbed her suitcase and walked out the door. Erin quickly made her way down to the street and started walking. She tried to read the signs and stay focused rather than marveling at the incredible architecture, the Christmas decorations, the sculptures, art work, and sweet smelling aromas drifting from cafes and street side vendors. She didn’t know what she was looking for. What did a place to hide, in Austria, look like? Should she find a new hotel? Should she leave Vienna and go to a new city? Where was the nearest city? Should she, realistically, get back on a plane at the airport and fly to England, where at least she could speak the language? Could she fly back to the U.S. safely, if whoever was after her was headed here, to Austria?
Half an hour later, Erin found a grocery store and wandered inside. She purchased anything she thought might come in handy to someone on the run: duct tape, a flashlight, a pocketknife, a stocking cap, and a thick pair of wool socks. Then she locked herself into the bathroom, took a long look in the mirror, and tried to think her way through this. She had to make a decision. She could get on a plane and go back to the U.S., potentially walking right into whatever or whoever Derek said was trying to kill her. She could get back on a plane and go to England, since hiding out would be easier in a country where she knew the language. She could find a place to hide in Vienna and hope the twins came before she ran out of euros.
Or she could do what she came here to do.
She could go to the mountain, to the monastery, and find out why this was all happening. What the demons wanted from her. Why the woman in white, the twins’ boss, wanted her dead. Why monsters were crawling out of the woodwork to get to her, to get something from her. Coach had called it the Nine. Whatever that was, she didn’t have it. But she couldn’t prove she didn’t have it until she knew what it was.
Erin took a slow breath, testing the pain in her side as she let her lungs expand, and gave her reflection a determined look.
“You can do this,” she said.
Then she swung her pack over her shoulder and opened the bathroom door. The store clerk, a tall, red-haired woman wearing stripes, was standing outside the door, apparently about to knock.
“Do you speak English?” Erin asked.
“Some,” the woman said. “You cannot be in there any longer.”
“Okay,” Erin said.
The woman leaned to one side, looking into the restroom, then looked at Erin.
“What’s the best way to get to Salzburg?” Erin asked.
“Zugfahrt. Train is best way. Come. I show you.” She ushered Erin out of the store—which Erin guessed was her goal—flagged down a taxi, and spoke with the driver for a moment. “See. He will take you to Hauptbahnhof. To train.” She nodded encouragingly at Erin, who climbed into the taxi.
The ride was much shorter than Erin had expected. She paid the driver and thanked him, then entered the train station, which was much more like an airport than she had imagined, and bought a train ticket to Salzburg. Then she found the most secluded seat available, and refused to second guess her decision. The twins would find her eventually. They would come—as soon as they could. Until then, she was on her own, and she had too many enemies on her trail to sit and wait. She needed answers, and she needed them now.
Within minutes, the train had left the city behind. The countryside sliding by the window was otherworldly. More than anything—the foreign signs, the sound of German, the food—it was the scenery made her feel far, far from home. Snow covered mountains rising into the sky, into the cloud cover and beyond. Thousands of trees covered in ice and layer upon layer of fluffy snowflakes. Glistening white landscapes—canyons, valleys, towering, silvery mountain peaks. After growing up in the desert heat of Las Cruces and moving to Phoenix—even hotter, drier, and browner still—nothing could seem more alien than Austria in winter. Erin had never seen so much snow in her life.
When the sun went down, the countryside shimmered in the moonlight. Erin watched it fly by, mesmerized, and tried not to worry about what would happen next, what might meet her at the train station, who or what she needed to be on the lookout for—other than the half dozen enemies she already knew about.
* * *
Two and half hours later, the train reached Salzburg. Erin made her way through the various stops of the colossal train station, finally reaching the curb, and took a moment to gaze at the snow covered mountains arching into the horizon. The cold made her face feel stiff and her eyes water. The gleaming whiteness of the landscape became a prism of light through her tears.
A sense of unreality washed over Erin, and she felt the hair on her neck stand on end.
She shook herself, just slightly, then waved down a taxi. After sliding into the back seat and closing the door, she leaned forward.
“Is there a hotel in Hallstatt?” she asked.
“Oh, American?” he said, turning to glance at her.
Erin nodded.
“Yes. Two hotels in Hallstatt.”
“Can you take me there?” Erin asked.
“Sixty euros.”
“Okay.”
The driver nodded, then pulled away from the curb and onto the slush filled street.
Erin leaned back, settling against the slick vinyl seat, and pretended to sleep. She didn’t know if he would try to talk to her or not, but she felt dangerously close to losing her nerve, and she didn’t want her confidence shaken by questions she couldn’t answer. So, she kept her eyes half shut and remained silent for the hour long drive, watching as the road led higher and higher into the icy wilderness.
Finally, the driver craned around in his seat and said: “American. We are here.”
Erin paid him, thanked him, and climbed out of the taxi. The cold wrapped around her body as she swung her backpack over one shoulder and gazed around the street. Almost all the lights were off except the building in front of her, which appeared to be a small inn. A sign in the window read Gasthof Hallstatt. Erin glanced down the road, watching the taxi’s tail lights disappear around a corner. The snow reflected the moonlight so powerfully it barely seemed dark outside. Erin turned around and scanned her surroundings, but everything was piled so thick with snow that it all looked the same—sloping, glistening white lumps with the occasional appearance of a chimney or the ridge of a rooftop.
Erin felt something odd beneath her right foot. A slight shift. Then wetness.
She looked down and saw water slithering past her shoes. Saw the snow melting beneath her. Around her. All of it coursing into a stream that led to a human silhouette no more than twenty feet away. The snow around the figure had melted completely, exposing the sidewalk beneath. The figure stepped forward, out of the shadows, revealing the body of a nude man. He was tall, broad shouldered, with a swimmer’s build and short black hair.
The eaves of the inn burst into flame overhead.
The man took another step forward.
Erin ran.
It wasn’t a decision. Her body just went. Spun around—while her mind was still searching for answers—and ran so fast she couldn’t process where she was going.
She dashed past a tall white church and down a flight of wide stone steps. Down another. Leaping three steps at a time. Down another flight. Slipped on the ice at the bottom and
tumbled into an enormous stone courtyard. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a blaze of fire arch across the side of the building, swirl across the road, and plunge into the courtyard.
Erin had time to take two more steps before a blast of heat sent her careening into a snow mound. She didn’t leap to her feet. Instead, she pulled off her backpack, ripped it open, and grabbed the taser.
A searing hand plunged into the snow, knotted into her jacket collar, and pulled Erin to her feet. With the demon’s fist burning through her jacket, into her neck and chest, Erin found herself staring into a set of eyes that radiated heat and an almost imperceptible luminescence— like the dying glow of firelight.
The demon looked at her—looked into her—and the snow in the courtyard melted away into a streaming surge of water that pooled around the demon’s feet. Erin tightened her grip on the taser. She only had one shot at this.
Then she saw something strange, behind the demon, standing thirty feet above on a frost-wreathed ledge. The figure took several swift strides across the rooftop, then leapt into the air, sailing across the darkened sky and slamming into something in midair. There were three rapid gunshots, a roaring crack, and a shower of sparks exploded above. Then the black figure dropped out of the darkness, pulling something down from the sky with it.
Blood splattered across Erin’s face. It was incredibly hot, scorching her skin. She saw an object projecting from the demon’s chest just in time to realize it was the torn end of a power cable. Then her body was seized by electricity as the current poured through the demon, through its arm, its hand, and into her neck. Erin’s muscles froze as the excruciating crush of electricity tore through her body. The dark figure lunged forward, grabbed the demon’s arm, and ripped it off at the shoulder with such force that both Erin and the severed limb were catapulted across the courtyard.