Demon's Play

by David McBride

  And there it was, like the bow on a present waiting to be opened. The ghoul’s stitched-together magical core presented itself to me. All I had to do was grab the right thread and yank. That transcendental string was poised between my immaterial fingertips, and I pulled with all the strength I had.

  The gray, melted-looking face twisted in a grimace of confusion, baring its teeth in a hideous smile. Then it dropped face-first onto the ground and didn’t move. The energy melted away from it, evaporating like rain on an Arizona highway at high-noon.

  Darius stood staring at his pet, dumbstruck. “What the hell? I didn’t hear no shot.” He craned his neck, scanning the rooftops for a sniper.

  My arms were still pinned by his. No matter how I squirmed I couldn’t reach the knife in my belt. “Maybe his batteries gave out,” I offered.

  “What’s that supposed to—”

  I leaned forward and swung my head back as hard as I could into Darius’s face. I was rewarded with the soft crunch of a nose and the scoring heat of rotten teeth driving into my scalp. That was going to bleed, and unless I was mistaken he had left one of the offending things in my flesh. Gross.

  His arms loosened enough so that I could push free and turn to face him, pulling my knife free as I went. With the ghoul I hadn’t needed to do anything physical to it to dissolve the spell. With the acolyte’s bracelet though, things were made a bit more difficult because of the physical connection between them and the complexity of the spell. I only had a small window of opportunity to work with as he staggered back clutching his nose.

  With a swift tug, Darius reset his nose. “If I could still feel pain I’d be pissed,” he commented.

  The talisman was too small a target, and he was far too fast, so I made a play for time. Reversing my grip on the knife, I dove in low avoiding a clumsy attempt at a grab. Seizing the filthy collar of his shirt, I pulled him back and stabbed him in the neck. The blade passed through his flesh as if I were slicing a tomato. It stopped at the spinal column causing him to lose some of his functionality. I ground the knife in further and pulled it back towards me till the grinding bone would give no more. He stumbled forward as I pulled it free. I could see the flesh repairing itself already, like sand pouring into a hole and congealing. I had to move fast. I grabbed the limp arm with the bracelet on it, braced it in a joint lock, and slid the knife against the rope. The binding energy fought me as I tried to saw through it. I probed madly for its weak spot, plucking ethereal cords and looking for the discordant note. His arm stiffened and fingers flexed.

  No time left.

  The knife found purchase and split the talisman with a sizzle that reminded me of bacon frying. “What the fuck?” Darius slurred, then went slack and lifeless and I let him join his dog on the ground.

  The snake tattoo burned as dark magic filled the air. I turned to see Christian and his smoke monster staring at me, his eyes ablaze with hatred and the thing’s eyes as empty of emotion as mass. Ben knelt on the ground in front of them gasping for breath as bloody drool fell from his mouth. His staff lay around him, shattered into a hundred pieces. Behind them, Simon was being restrained by the weight of a dozen zombies as they tried to crush him to the pavement.

  “Seize him,” Christian said to the monster.

  It hurtled forward on the wings of a dragon. As it got closer I could make out the hazy features of the thing. It had a man-like body, but was as large as a grizzly bear. Its hands and feet looked like a bird-of-prey’s, as did the hooked beak that was fixed on its too-large head. A crocodilian tale swished lazily in the air behind it.

  I stood frozen, awestruck and horrified as it landed before me and opened its maw to reveal a depthless black inside. With a shriek it disgorged a foul smoke into my face. The snakes writhed and glowed red-hot as they fought the dark power, but in the end it was just too much.

  Dragon wings blotted my view as darkness tumbled down around me.

  33

  “…don’t know how he did it. It’s impossible. Darius can’t be dead. Death isn’t permanent anymore, not with my followers, I saw to that.”

  The voice drifted to me through a fog of confusion, as if the speaker was in an adjacent room at an apartment with walls that were way too thin. My memory came back to me in a rush and I struggled not to gasp at the revelation that I was still alive. When that smoke monster had come at me and engulfed me in its magic I thought for sure that I was a goner, but here I was laid out on my side, my face half in a puddle and my arms tied behind my back with what felt like zip-ties. I’ve had them used on me before, so the sensation was, if not welcome, familiar. My heart thundered as I listened to Christian rant. I kept my eyes closed and listened.

  “But he is dead,” a man said. His words were slurred and I realized that this was the acolyte that Christian had used to talk to us. I had shot him in the face, tearing away part of his jaw. Apparently his healing abilities weren’t up to par with his friends. It took a lot of effort to suppress a grin. “We should kill him now. He’s too dangerous to be kept alive if he could destroy Darius.”

  “He is a mystery,” Christian said distractedly. “But we can’t kill him. The Master wants him alive, so he will stay that way. Besides, I may be able to wrestle the answers from him after this is over. He could help me understand what imperfections are left in my designs. You and Caleb and Zachary are my messengers, and if Darius could be destroyed then I need to make sure it can’t happen to the rest of you.”

  “The Master doesn’t have to know that we killed him. We could tell Him that it was an accident. He was killed in the confusion.”

  “Are you that stupid, Charles?” Christian chuckled. “The Master knows all.”

  In my mind’s eye I pictured dozens of crows circling the rising pillars of smoke, serving as eyes for Nathilog. Just thinking of that name made my blood burn. My thoughts turned to Jon and Juliet and what might have happened to them. And it was because of me. If I needed another reason to survive this encounter it was so that I could settle the score with him.

  “We could drag him into one of these storage containers and—”

  “Silence!” Christian screeched. “I will hear no more blasphemy from you, Charles! To defy the Master is to defy me, do you understand?”

  Shocked silence.

  Christian continued his voice low and somehow more dangerous for it. “The next time I hear you question me I will finish what this one started and remove your jaw and that bloated worm you call a tongue. And this time it won’t grow back.”

  I heard a tiny splash, and when Charles next spoke it was from much closer to my level. He was kneeling. “Of course, my lord. I meant no disrespect. I just thought—”

  “That’s your problem, Charles. Too much thinking. I fear I may have given you four too much free will. Perhaps I’ll need to correct that later.” I thought I heard Charles whimper as Christian gathered his thoughts. “For now, though, you can make up for your impertinence by simply watching him while I get what we came here for. It won’t take too long. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “W-what if he wakes up?” Charles asked breathlessly. He sounded scared and I wasn’t sure that all of that fear was inspired by Christian.

  “He’s already awake,” Christian replied. “Isn’t that right, psychic?” He put heavy sarcasm on the last word, as if he thought I was a fraud.

  The jig was up, so I blinked my eyes to clear the water from them and looked up at him. We were in a small area enclosed on three sides by stacked cargo containers. No one else was around except for Christian and the acolyte. Christian looked like a giant from my vantage point. Charles took time from abasing himself at Christian’s feet to look at me with clouded eyes. The colored sigils tattooed on Christian’s arms and face and the maroon coat he wore looked absurdly bright against his pallid features. His eyes were dark and sunken and filled with a malign intelligence that was only partly his own. The rest, I knew, was the corruption of the Demon. It had hollowed him out and rem
ade him into this twisted thing before me, this self-styled lord of the dead. My Second Sight snapped open and showed him to me, the enchantment on him letting me see the man beneath the magic. That was all it would allow me to see. He looked pathetic; an emaciated husk whose flesh looked like it was just pulled over a skeleton. He reminded me of Larry when he went without his specialty blood for too long. The look of prolonged starvation, of death by degrees.

  I felt a headache coming on, so I shut down my Sight and waited. My arms were aching from being twisted behind me forcefully, and my face hurt from when—I assumed—I had fallen to the ground, unconscious.

  Christian turned to the corpse kneeling at his feet. “Get up, Charles.” He obeyed, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on Christian’s feet. “You’re going to watch Mr. Goldman while I get my Book. He shouldn’t be a problem, but if it looks like he’s trying something knock him out. My advice is not to touch him directly, though. He seemed to need physical contact with Darius to kill him. A heavy rock should do, I would think. But under no circumstance are you to kill him. Understand?” Charles nodded feebly. “Good.” He turned his eyes on me. “Well, Inquisitor, it seems like you have been hiding a couple of things from us. Once I get what I came for we can have a nice little chat, just the two of us.”

  “Why do you think your master won’t let you kill me?” I asked with a choked voice.

  Christian shrugged. “Who am I to question my Lord? Personally, I’m hoping He’ll let me keep you as a pet.”

  “Maybe it’s because he thinks I’ll serve him better than you.” I gave him my sickest smile, a look I imagined an inmate at an asylum would give. I wanted to unbalance him, make him doubt his position. With my hands bound behind my back it was the only avenue of attack I could exploit. “Maybe he’s seen what I can do and wants me to lead his followers. He must know I’d be a better choice than a burned-out necromancer.”

  Christian sneered. “As if you could compete with me in any way. You could never match my power, and you are an Inquisitor. You’re the embodiment of what my Master despises: authority, moral righteousness, and human weakness. Most likely He wants to keep you and the others around for some entertainment when He arrives on this plane of existence in His True Form.”

  “The others?” My attempt at undermining his confidence was derailed. “They’re alive? Where are they?”

  His confidence restored, Christian smiled and knelt down to be at eye level with me. “The two vampires and the wizard are alive, at least as much as they usually are,” he chuckled. “Many of the soldiers were not so fortunate I’m afraid. Poor souls. But don’t worry, Inquisitor, I’ve already brought most of them back. They’re my soldiers now, and they will spread the word for me. They will show the world what it will be like to live in a place where death holds no dominion. It will be beautiful.” He looked back at Charles. “Where is my queen? She should be here for this.”

  “We wanted to make sure all the prisoners were secured before she was brought in.”

  “Good thinking,” Christian said happily. “Maybe I won’t lobotomize you after all.”

  “Thank you, lord,” he said, solemnly.

  “Hey Christian,” I said in as confident a voice as I could muster. The training was whispering in my ear, telling me what to say, what would hurt him the most. “When your master puts me in charge, Cassie is going to be my queen.”

  His head whipped back to me, a savage snarl tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were squinted to slits and seemed to hold an inky blackness behind the lids. He stood up quickly, his coat swirling around his feet. A heavy boot flashed out and hit me on the side of the face. Blood filled my mouth and red stars exploded in my vision as my head jolted sideways and I rolled onto my back. As much as I wanted to moan, or vomit, or both, I forced myself to laugh like a madman, as if this were the funniest joke I had ever been a part of. The snakes burned a path across my stomach as power built in the air, and still I laughed.

  “Do your job, Charles,” Christian growled through clenched teeth. “I’m going for a walk.”

  With a fluttering of maroon-dyed leather, he was gone.

  * * *

  Charles was the most skittish dead person I had ever seen. He walked back and forth incessantly, always staying at least ten feet away from me, and never made eye contact. It was as if he were afraid that by just looking into my eyes he would lose whatever it was that was holding him together. His head swiveled quickly to scan the small area between the cargo containers that was my make-shift prison, his eyes landing on me ever-so-briefly and moving on. I decided to press my luck.

  “Hey Chuck,” I said with forced lightness. My throat was burning with thirst and the muddy puddle that was only a few feet from me was beginning to look good. I put it out of my mind and twisted my face in mock concentration. “Or maybe I should call you something else. Charles is not really your name after all.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped. His brisk stride faltered for a moment before he caught himself nearly looking into my eyes and hurried on.

  “Well, the way I see it you’re not the real McCoy.” I pushed myself into a sitting position and continued our friendly chat. “Charles, the real Charles, died about two months ago in L.A.” I could tell the timeline I had worked out in my head from Simon’s briefing was correct, because the acolyte stopped walking and cocked his head, as if he were wondering how I knew that. “You, my dead friend, are just an imposter.” False joviality positively flowed from me as I beamed at him. “Christian trapped some piece, some miniscule spark of existence in your body and decided to use it as his mouth piece. You are just a shadow in a stolen skin suit, and you know what? You’re no more irreplaceable to Christian than Darius.”

  He walked over to a big red container, bent down, and picked something up. His back was to me, so I couldn’t make out what it was.

  Keep pushing, something from the back of my mind urged.

  “Did you know I’m a psychic, Chuck?” I tried wriggling my hands free to no avail. Those ties were on so tight my fingers were starting to go numb. “I’ve seen your future, friend, and it don’t look so hot.” I couldn’t see the future, but he didn’t need to know that. And I didn’t even need him to believe me, just let the doubt linger.

  Straightening up, Charles laughed, a horribly harsh sound, like a man who had smoked three packs a day for his entire life. “They said you were a psychic, but I know that ain’t true. No para could do what you did, killing Darius like that. I don’t know what the hell you are.” He turned to face me then, a rock in his hand and I wondered if perhaps I had pushed him just a tad too far. If only my shield tattoo hadn’t given out, I inwardly groaned. “The New World is no place for someone like you.”

  I squirmed backward as he approached me with that fist-sized chunk of concrete in his hand. “Careful Irv, you heard Christian: no killing the captive.”

  He shrugged. “He’ll forgive me.”

  It was taking everything I had to keep from shaking, so my voice wasn’t quite as commanding as I would have liked. “Maybe, but what about his master? Demons aren’t known for their conciliatory nature, and from what I hear they only accept apologies in the form of years and years of torture.”

  “His Word will spread with or without me.”

  Great, I thought sourly, I get paired up with the only fanatically loyal corpse on the planet that’s still mobile.

  He raised the rock over his head and his shrouded eyes met mine for what I imagined would be the last time. They were empty and as dead as him. There was no joy, or triumph, or even hate. To him this was just like squishing an annoying bug.

  I glimpsed movement from between the containers behind Charles, but quickly forgot about it as he tensed to deliver the deathblow.

  Too late.

  The rock came swinging down as a blur burst forward aiming to intercept him. I closed my eyes just as my head exploded in searing white-hot pain. Something in the back of my mi
nd made a sound that sounded absurdly like laughter. I felt myself falling backwards, farther, and farther…

  And I kept falling, except now there was no pain. I was free and unencumbered by the restraints. My vision came back to me in a sudden flash, everything coming into glaring focus without me having to consciously open my eyes. I was standing back at the intersection where we had made our stand. It was empty now, except for the burnt-out wreckage of buildings and vehicles, and blood and viscera that was spread like soup across the pavement. When I tried to close my eyes to the sight I realized that I couldn’t. I didn’t actually have eyelids, or physical eyes for that matter. I tried raising a hand in front of my face and waving experimentally, but nothing appeared. I could feel something vaguely familiar, like an echo of my body’s sensations as I moved, but there was nothing there.

  Was this what it felt like to be dead? If so, I was oddly unemotional about the whole thing. It felt almost like the vision-dreams of a possible future the seers talked of, but where those were fuzzy and indistinct like an age-worn photo, this was razor-sharp and happening now. Some gut-deep part of me was whispering that this was not the end, that I still had a job to do. Even death, it seemed, would not relieve me of my responsibilities.

  My phantom-head swung around to face the harbor as I felt some disturbance in the magic there. It was like all my senses were tuned to their highest level now that I had no body to dull the signal. I could feel necromantic energy dance through the air, and whatever I was now decided that that was where I needed to be. I flew through the streets like a bird and passed through the walls of buildings as if they were smoke. In my periphery, I caught a glimpse of Ben and the other survivors being watched over by the two other acolytes and a number of ghouls. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I was on this ride until whatever was pulling me decided to stop.