I reeled at his words, feeling terribly exposed. “So you’ll give me the power to get through this fight.”
“As agreed.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “You’ve got a deal.”
Passing up the opportunity to gloat, Alastor nodded and stepped toward me, extending his clawed hand. I gingerly reached out and shook, confirming the bargain. Alastor’s grin widened rapidly and he jerked me forward in an abrupt motion.
Unbalanced, I toppled into the Fallen, his claw digging into my back to either side of my spine. I screamed in pained as I met Alastor’s sadistic gaze. I tried to remind myself that I was experiencing an illusion, that it was only my patron infusing me with more of his power. My rationale failed to make it less terrifying.
I shut my eyes against the pain and when I opened them, I was back in my body. Berith rounded the line of flames and casually approached. Searing energy spread through my body in seconds and I noticed an immediate change as the scalding wave of infernal power crashed over me. It was like when Alastor had possessed me, but not quite the same.
The pain became tolerable—no less intense, just less of a concern. I felt the power burning inside me as though I’d swallowed a dozen live coals. My muscles contorted and my bones slid back into place, though they didn’t truly heal—the muted pain caused by each breath left no doubt about the limits of Alastor’s ability to stitch me back together. I was living on borrowed time.
The ocean of power began to ebb away from me. My patron restored me to a barely functional state in mere seconds and allowed me to ignore the debilitating fatigue and pain I felt. A sensation of fire raced through my body just beneath the skin, banishing any lingering torpor. Suddenly, I wanted to get up and fight. I wanted to kill Berith.
My lips twisted into a sneer as I rose from the dusty ground. I lifted my gun and shot, aiming for the large creature’s knee. The bark of my Glock deafened me. The flash of the muzzle fire stung my eyes. The recoil threatened to jar my freshly set bones loose.
I endured all that agony and the bullets failed to penetrate Berith’s chitinous hide. I felt like laughing and crying. I had no weapons that could harm the demon. I’d used every trick I knew. I doubted the Voice would work and I needed to inflict pain before I could amplify it. The only thing that worked was hellfire and without a source of fire—
Berith stalked toward me and I squeezed the trigger a few more times, allowing my left hand to hover just over the muzzle. The trio of bullets missed the wide target as the Exiled nightmare advanced on me, but I had what I needed. In my hand, I held a crimson wisp of hellfire gathered from the brief bursts of flame produced by each gunshot.
I wasn’t done yet.
Chapter Thirty-Three
My fear waned as the echoes of Alastor’s power coursed through me. Motes of dust swirled about stinging my eyes, nose, and throat. Berith stalked toward me with supreme confidence.
A quick throw sent the pitifully tiny ball of hellfire wide of the Exiled, but the demon’s reaction saved my life. Berith stopped to reconsider me. My apparent lack of injury must have confused it. I had become a threat to the walking nightmare once again.
I found myself reveling in the fear my power evoked in such a being. Small, weak, pathetic me could land a lucky blow with a bit of hellfire and kill the beast. I was sure the pain lancing up from the raw wound of its tail played some part in its hesitance.
I switched my gun hands so my right hand controlled the next pitch. Aiming carefully, I fired at Berith’s head, hoping to strike the demon in one of its many eyes. Shooting five times, I finally grabbed onto enough of the fleeting flame to conjure more hellfire. Berith ducked swiftly, causing most of my shots to miss outright, the rest ricocheting off boney ridges on its brow and forehead.
I realized I only had four bullets left and the dismay helped level my head against the drunken haze of Alastor’s leftover power. The modest amount of hellfire floating above my palm became all the more important. I focused my own power on growing it into something that could actually kill Berith.
As I worked, I realized that the euphoric feeling was fading. My power burned like a furnace in my chest, but I knew I wouldn’t last long in that state. Unlike my patron, my abilities had limits. Would they work right up until I dropped dead?
I desperately wanted the feeling of strength and vigor to remain, but I couldn’t keep it going. Not if I wanted to live. I loathed myself for it and hoped that the junkie reaction would pass. Pulling the power out of my body, I focused it into the crimson orb floating above my palm.
Once again, I felt cold, heavy, and alone. The pain returned, but it was the dull ache of old injuries instead of the hot agony of fresh ones. The temporary use of Alastor’s power—the Aspect—had done enough to keep me on my feet.
Wary of the hellfire I held, Berith circled slowly, ripping metal frames out of the concrete whenever they hindered it. The many eyes searched for a weakness like some fiendish predator. Its body language telegraphed the decision to attack. Abruptly, it grabbed a hunk of warped metal and flung it at me.
I sprinted to my left to avoid being struck, but Berith rushed me. It closed the distance in seconds, its legs powerful enough to accelerate the huge body into rapid motion. A freight train of claws and teeth dripping with acidic spittle barreled toward me.
Luckily, the demon moved gracelessly without a tail to balance its massive torso. I dove at an angle to its charge, absorbing most of the impact with the concrete floor by rolling. Every muscle in my body protested, but the lack of sharp pain told me that the diabolic power had patched me up enough to hold together.
Two clawed hands narrowly missed me and the demon’s momentum carried it out of reach in an instant. Berith did a scrambling roll of its own, twisting to face me as it regained its feet. I ran for one of the factory’s support columns, hoping to use it for cover. Maybe I’d get a lucky shot if I had a little protection.
The Exiled demon dropped onto fours of its limbs for better control of its movement. Its claws dug into the concrete as it rushed after me, gouging furrows. Seeing what it did to the stainless steel conveyor frames, I suddenly doubted the column would provide much of a barrier. Backing away while keeping the pillar of rebar and cement between us, I turned to my right and ran, cradling the hellfire orb.
I just needed a chance to use my weapon. I needed to limit Berith’s movement, but I had no idea how. It wasn’t like I could back it into a corner. The damned thing moved too quickly now that it was using four limbs for movement instead of two.
Without line of sight on me, Berith sprinted right up to the column. It picked up a gnarled piece of metal and whipped around the obstruction, flinging the improvised weapon toward where I had just stood. As I ran, I saw that the pillar blocked its view and I kept it that way as I moved.
How can it dodge what it couldn’t see?
I had the demon out of position for a moment and I took full advantage. I threw the hellish orb with as much speed and precision as I could muster, hand extended like a major league pitcher. The globe of hellfire whizzed through the dusty air.
The demon reacted wickedly fast, snatching the vile napalm with the middle of its three left arms. Ruthlessly, it jerked the hand away from the main body and tore it off in a flash of ebony claws and a spatter of dark blood. No doubt, hesitation, or fear of pain slowed it.
Crimson fire consumed the creature’s hand and forearm as they fell to the ground. Berith stalked around the severed limb, giving it a wide berth. The demon’s hatred rolled over my mind, a psychic stench like corpses festering in humid heat. I staggered back a step, overcome by the mental attack. My vision twisted and warped as I fought a potent combination of nausea and vertigo.
A week ago, I would have collapsed into a fetal position from such an attack. Thanks to the screwed up summoning with Ipos, I was able to withstand the assault and recalled how to settle my turbulent psyche. As a result, the attack on my sanity fell short.
Still trem
bling, it proved difficult to keep my gun in my hand, but I needed those bullets if I hoped to conjure anymore hellfire. The demon tensed as I regained my bearings, but opted not to spring at me despite the failure of its psychic assault.
Instead, Berith breathed in deeply and hissed, a burbling spray of steaming bile erupting from its horrid maw. On pure reflex, I spun and jumped behind the tangled metal frame Berith had thrown moments ago, but stray droplets spattered against my back. I’d seen Aliens and I was sure I didn’t want anything like that on me.
I dropped my gun and peeled off my coat as quickly as humanly possible. By the time it hit the ground, my last coat was little more than tatters fuming with acrid smoke. Reactionary panic subsiding for a moment, I looked for my Glock.
Instead I found Berith stalking toward me warily. I shuffled back several steps and become aware of the back wall of the factory. I’d run around in almost a complete circle. Taking a few rapid paces, the demon backed me up against the cold concrete blocks.
I had no gun, no magic tricks up my sleeve, and no way out. With the cinderblock wall behind me, my utter defeat settled and a feeling of tranquility passed through me. I’d given the best fight I could. And if anybody disagreed, they could come visit me in Hell to give me an ear full. I doubted anyone would take me up on that.
“Alright Berith. You win,” I said, resigned to my fate. “I’ve got no more fire. I’m out of juice. So, what’s it going to be? Melt my face off with acid? Tear me to shreds with what’s left of your claws?”
I was stalling. Resigned or not, I wasn’t about to rush anything. Talking seemed like a better alternative than simply surrendering. If I could just get the thing to gloat for a minute, I might be able to figure out an escape. At least, I’d be able to catch my breath and run.
The demon reared up and hissed, saying nothing.
So much for that plan.
A movement from across the floor caught my eye, but as I looked to track it, I saw nothing. Instead, I heard a sharp metallic skittering sound and felt something bump my shoe. Risking a glance, I saw my battered and grungy Zippo where it had slid to a stop at my feet. Baffled, I looked up to see who or what had joined me on the factory floor.
“L-leave him alone!” cried Regina, her voice quavering.
Stepping out from behind a large metal housing for now-defunct machinery, she held her silver Hamsa up, its chain intertwined around her fingers. I could tell that it took every bit of courage the woman had to face Berith. She couldn’t even keep her arm steady.
A confusing mix of emotion washed over me. I was angry that she had thrown away her chance to get away, but grateful down to my core that I wasn’t alone. I fiercely admired her courage, knowing the mind-numbing horror such creatures evoked, though all I wanted her to do was run.
She began a prayer in what I assumed was Hebrew and I could sense the divine power of a true believer. I winced and look away, raising a hand to block my sight of the symbol though it emitted no visible light. It wasn’t as intense as what Mendoza pumped out, like a spotlight compared to a bonfire.
The demon growled and whipped its head around. Regina stuttered and stepped back, the power of her meager divine aura faltering. The creature advanced and she began once again. Berith cringed but didn’t stop.
Taking advantage of the opportunity Regina had given me, I stooped and snatched up the Zippo. Striking it twice produced a flame that I coaxed into an orb of hellfire. As I ran toward Berith, I realized that it would be my last chance. I had to make it count.
Regina continued her prayer, backing away through the conveyor frames. The behemoth demon tore them out of the way as if they weighed nothing and weren’t bolted to the floor. The timid woman cried out with each crashing stroke, her prayer coming out in sobs.
She might not have been able to hurt Berith, but she sure as hell distracted it. The demon howled in irritation and didn’t hear my heavy footsteps as I approached. Though it went against every one of my instincts, I had to be close for the impromptu plan to work.
Maybe the shadows obscured me or maybe Regina intentionally kept her full attention fixed on the menacing demon advancing on her, but she didn’t so much as glance at me as I crept up behind Berith. Maybe she realized that would give me away and get me killed. I couldn’t imagine how terrified she must have been. At least I’d seen a few monsters before.
Stifling the distracting concerns, I concentrated on stoking the flame in my hand and getting closer. Fueled by my fervent desire to kill Berith, the fledgling hellfire wisp swelled into an orb slightly bigger than a grapefruit. Winding up like I did in my baseball-playing days, I pitched the globe of scarlet fire. The hellfire struck Berith at the base of the neck. It was a killing blow, but there was no telling what the Exiled would do as it burned. I got the bastard. It was only a matter of time now.
Regina was still in danger. I easily recalled how the shadow drake had dealt me a terrible blow in its own death throes. Berith was a towering monster moving toward someone who’d trusted me and risked her life for me.
I made a bad decision.
Berith roared in pain as I leapt onto its back and, on instinct, I shouted with as much of the Voice as I could manage, “Don’t turn your back on me, demon!”
Wrapping my arms around Berith’s waist, I sat on the stump of its tail and hooked my heels under it. Concentrating all the energy I had left into the last of my abilities, I amplified the pain wrought by my hellfire. Then I gritted my teeth and hung on as crimson fire spread down the demon’s back and over its multiple sets of shoulders.
Berith screeched in agony, whirling around with such force that one of my legs slipped loose. I dug fingers into the gaps of chitin along its sides and kept my power coursing into the monster. The cries of pain became wild and mad in their fervor.
I met Regina’s eyes for a brief moment and it seemed to break whatever awe held her in place. She pivoted and ran back the way she’d come, weaving through the shredded remnants of the wreckage left by Berith’s previous rampage. I was sure she’d finally escape since the demon stayed intent on thrashing me. To ensure I had its full attention, I ramped up the intensity of the hellfire as I continued concentrating on increasing the pain.
I’d never used so much power before, nor had I used two abilities at once. Beyond the pain and fear, using my abilities to their fullest felt good in some dark way. Deep down, part of me enjoyed inflicting agony on the demon. I wanted to tell myself it was the pact, but I just didn’t know.
Suddenly, the solid grasp on my power grew slippery and weak. I couldn’t maintain it. Something seized inside me like a mystical cramp. My powers cut out with a sputter and the demon reacted violently, suddenly free of the crippling pain.
Berith shifted its hips and spun. I couldn’t keep a hold and my grip gave out. The blazing demon sent me soaring. Flying through the air, my ankle caught the hard edge of a steel table. I did a midair cartwheel and landed in a heap, the air driven from my lungs.
Gulping for breath, I was sure I’d just re-broken every bone that Alastor had cobbled back together. I looked up at the Exiled as crimson fire raced down the lines of its rubbery flesh linking the chitin plates. The inferno swiftly engulfed Berith. Charcoal-colored blood boiled out of its joints, running down its body like tears of tar only to ignite and spread the hellfire further.
I knew I’d won, but it wouldn’t mean a damn thing if I ended up dead as well. I realized that my best option was to run. I was so very alright with that.
Pushing myself off the ground, I struggled to my feet. Pain as sharp as broken glass shot up my leg as I put weight on my right ankle. My cry of anguish drew Berith’s attention. Five of its eyes had been charred out of its skull, but the remaining three glared at me.
I limped as fast as I could toward the emergency exit opposite the doors Regina had used. Berith staggered after me, picking up speed despite its erratic unwieldy gait. If the steel door was locked from the inside, I was dead. I’d be burned to dea
th by my own hellfire and crushed beneath the hulking corpse of the Exiled.
Desperate urgency vied with crippling pain as I struggled to move faster. I found an awkward stride, quickening it to a gallop that brought tears to my eyes with each impact of heel on cement. Hoarse grunts escaped through my clenched teeth, each one its own world of agony.
I hit the door hard, throwing my upper arm into the metal bar. I nearly passed out as the impact reverberated through my torso. Bits of rust and dirt broke loose and the door opened just wide enough for me to get out. I hopped a few strides before my foot snagged on some piece of detritus and I crashed into the ground.
Dazed and sprawling, I gathered enough of my wits to flop over. I shuffled back on my elbows until my arms gave out. Berith burst through the cinderblock wall, though it cost the creature all its momentum.
You’ve got to be kidding me! I thought raggedly, the pain growing too great to bear.
Fully immolated in hellfire, the demon shambled forward with jerking steps as loosened cinderblocks broke free and fell. A particularly large section struck Berith in the back just above the hips and the demon went down. Shrieking, clawing, and gnashing, it strived toward me with the last of its failing strength.
“Just die, you son of a bitch!” I snarled, unable to muster the strength or wit for anything else. “I won, damn it.”
Berith stretched one of its remaining arms out, but it fell a few inches short of me. The demon shuddered and abruptly collapsed, its body engulfed in hellfire. In a few minutes, nothing would remain but a smoldering tar stain like the one I’d seen at the Lowry dorm.
I breathed out a sigh of relief and laid back, the acrid smell of charred demon heavy in the air. I lost track of time as I stared up at the darkening sky. There were sirens whining, getting closer, but I couldn’t move. I just closed my eyes.
The pain throughout my body prevented me from drifting off, so I remained dimly aware of the paramedics as they found me. One of them lifted one of my eyelids and flashed a light in. It felt like a hot poker. I tried to swat the man’s hands away, but my arms wouldn’t move.
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