“Are you sure?”
“It should prove fun,” Heinrich said as he put the pickax over one shoulder. He gave her a battered grin. “What is the worst that could happen?”
And people say I’m crazy. Faye took him by the arm.
Her Power was burning hot. Though she’d jumped far and often over the last few hours, she seemed to be getting stronger and stronger as the night went on. Her greatest limitation right now was her physical body, which was completely exhausted. One mistake because she was not thinking clearly would get her, and even worse, anybody she was carrying, killed. Her magic was feeling nearly as strong as it had been aboard the Tokugawa and she had no idea why, but she was thankful for it. Even then, it was taking her a couple of shorter hops to get back to the demon. She had a passenger and it was getting further away. By herself, she figured she should be able to make the return trip in one jump.
They landed near the Washington Monument. It was scored with several deep claw marks. A biplane had crashed on its side nearby. The area was in complete pandemonium. There were hundreds of people present, some running away, some stumbling about injured, others trying to help. Fires were burning everywhere. The demon was busy tearing apart the big museum on the north side of the lawn while it ignored the flock of biplanes that were taking turns swooping down to shoot at it. The monster had to be a hundred feet tall now.
“Still want to do this?” she asked Heinrich.
“I do. But before you put me on that thing, I just want to say again that I am very sorry for that time that I shot you in the heart.”
“Oh, Heinrich. Don’t go talking like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re saying goodbyes.”
“Why would I do that?” This smile was a sad one. “Of course I’m not, Faye. Let’s go.”
Despite Traveling onto a moving target, her head map had no trouble keeping up with the mad thrashings of the gigantic beast. The spot that she picked was in what seemed like a forest of spines, each one several feet long, a foot in diameter, and ending in a brutal point. It was like being in a stinky living forest. Heinrich let go of her, balanced himself against a spine, lifted the pickax overhead, and embedded it deep into the monster’s flesh. Smoke boiled out of the puncture. The whole world tilted. Heinrich grabbed onto a spine and held on for dear life. Faye Traveled out of there just as the demon tried to scrape the new interloper off against the marble facade of the museum.
She landed a hundred feet away and watched as the demon smashed its way through the building. Heinrich must have Faded through the debris; he reappeared, swinging the pickax again and taunting the demon in German. A flashbulb popped as a nearby reporter took a photograph. Faye figured that guy was even crazier than Heinrich. Everybody with any sense was running. At least the knights had magic, so they had some excuse for sticking it out.
Back on the Virginia side, she had to pause to catch her breath. Her Power was still growing and it was making her a bit giddy. She caught Mr. Browning in the process of telling Mr. Bryce that his Powers were “unsuitable” for their situation, and forbidding him from going. His tone was rather stern and as Bryce sulked away, Mr. Browning turned to face her. Apparently he was next. “But you’re—”
“Old. Yes. Now get a move on, young lady.”
She took him to the front of the Capitol and deposited him next to where the Army was gathering. There were only a handful of small vehicles there, but from the engine noise more were coming. They had been prepared to disperse marchers, not for a situation like this. The evacuating crowd was dense, surging past the soldiers that were trying to get ready to stage a last-ditch defense. The protestors had abandoned all of their antimagic signs and banners. Faye knew she shouldn’t have hated them so much for being here, but she did.
The Summoned was disengaging itself from the museum, which meant that Heinrich was probably gone. It moved into the middle of the open space, placed two of its hands on the ground, lowered its head, and breathed fire down the mall. It wasn’t close enough to burn the protestors yet, but Faye could feel the temperature rise dramatically.
One of the military men was standing on the roof of a truck, giving orders and waving his arms as other vehicles arrived. Faye didn’t know the difference between the various ranks, but this fellow had the fanciest hat and the most embroidery on his sleeves, so that probably made him the boss. He was shouting that they were going to hold this position or else.
Faye, having gotten a pretty good idea of what this particular Summoned was capable of, figured that it was going to end up being or else.
There was one larger green vehicle with tracks on the back and wheels on the front. It wasn’t quite a tank, but it was certainly no tractor, and it did have some sort of big gun on top. A soldier was standing behind it, wrestling with the gun, seemingly unfamiliar with how to operate it.
Mr. Browning saw the soldier having a hard time, so he pushed his way to the back of the tracked vehicle. Another frightened soldier tried to stop him. “What’re you doing, you old coot? You need to scram.”
“That boy has no idea how to use that.” He gestured at the gun. “I do. Let me up there.”
“How would you know?”
“That’s a Browning 30mm auto-cannon. I know because I designed the blasted thing! Now stand aside!” That caught the first solider flat-footed long enough for Mr. Browning to climb up the ladder. Exasperated, he pushed the other soldier out of the way. “What are you doing? It isn’t that complicated.” He pulled a big lever back and opened the tray on top. “Faye, get Dan. See if he’s learned anything from the Coordinator about how to banish this creature.” He slammed the tray down, worked the charging handle back and forth, took up the spade grips and pulled the trigger. The auto-cannon belched a column of flame over the heads of the evacuating masses. The recoil shook the vehicle and the muzzle blast made Mr. Browning’s long coat flap behind him.
There was a chain of small explosions across the demon’s chest. Chunks of plate were knocked off and fell to crush some of the screaming marchers below. Browning stopped shooting long enough to yell at her, “Fly, Faye!” Then he returned to blasting the demon.
“Mr. Garrett!” Faye hit the Virginia side running. Her ears were ringing from the cannon. “Where’s Dan?”
“Over here,” Dan Garrett shouted back. He came around the side of the abandoned house carrying a fat leather book. “Get me to Sullivan, quick.”
That she could certainly do, provided Mr. Sullivan was still alive. It took her two hops to get her head map close enough to find their Heavy. Not surprisingly, he was running along the Mall, between the craters created by monstrous footsteps, trying to catch up with the demon, which was now a few hundred yards ahead of them.
“Jake!” Mr. Garrett shouted, before he fell, dizzy, into the mud. Some folks just didn’t have the constitution to Travel well. “Over here!”
Sullivan slid to a halt, turned, and ran back to them. The Heavy looked like death warmed over. He was almost unrecognizable beneath the coating of dirt and blood. “What’ve you got?”
Dan had used a chunk of newspaper as a bookmark. He flipped the book open to show a complicated spell. “The Coordinator said this was the only antidemon spell he knew of in here. He’d learned it as insurance in case Crow ever got out of hand.”
The demon leapt high into the air to swing at a biplane. The landing shook the whole city and knocked most of them off their feet. “I’d say he’s out of hand now!” Faye exclaimed.
The demon had missed the biplane, and it was buzzing their way. Both mouths opened wide after it, revealing a swirling red light emanating from deep within the monster’s core. Sullivan bellowed, “Get down!”
The demon’s fiery breath streaked their way in a blazing wall of hot death. Faye’s mind was moving quickly, running complex calculations on instinct—the weight of her companions, the approach speed of the jet of flame, the distance her head map told her that she’d have to move al
l of them to be safe . . . In a tenth of a second she understood that she would only be able to move one of her friends in time and none of the other injured stragglers trapped beneath the fire.
But she was saved from having to choose at the last instant. The fire broke before them, rushing upward and away. It was a miracle they weren’t consumed. The air was unbearably hot, and Faye was forced to cover her face as the heat threatened to suck the moisture from her eyes.
Whisper stood some distance behind Sullivan, both palms open, as if she was shoving the fire away with her bare hands. Her hair was whipping wildly around her and her eyes were glowing with unnatural light. “Find your own tricks.” With a snarl of rage, Whisper pushed back, and the vast fire arced up and back, curled in on itself, forming into a huge cloud, which then raced back to strike the demon. It roared in confusion as it was engulfed. “Fire belongs to me!”
Whisper fell to her knees. The heat broke, leaving all of them dehydrated and red. Faye got up and ran to her. “You’re alive!”
“For the moment,” Whisper responded weakly. “What manner of beast is this?”
“It’s an old god from the Summoned’s world. It’s real bitter and wants to eat everybody on our planet . . .”
The demon had shrugged off the flames and was once again heading toward the Capitol. Explosions were rippling continuously across the creature as more military guns joined in. Some of those were coming from the mortar shells that Lance was tossing over the ruined museum. The searchlights could be seen beaming down from the aircraft carrier that had been patrolling over the city. It was maneuvering against the wind to use its main guns as well. A mass of panicked humanity was still in front of the monster, though, and it was doubtful anything would be able to save those people in time.
Sullivan took the spell book from Dan and started analyzing the page, dark eyes flying back and forth rapidly. The main writing looked like gibberish to Faye. Tightly packed notes had been scribbled in the margins, and luckily those were in English. “Yeah, I should be able to draw this . . . What’s it do?”
“It’s a shield of some kind. Summoned can’t get in, no matter how hard they try.”
Sullivan studied the demon for a moment. “Faye, get us in front of that thing.”
She took Sullivan first, dropping him off near where she’d left Mr. Browning, who was busy ordering young soldiers to hand up more heavy cans of ammunition. Since Mr. Sullivan was so unnaturally heavy, nearly twice what he looked like, she had to be extra careful when she picked a spot. Several soldiers and marchers leapt out of the way as Sullivan suddenly came barreling through them. Normally the sudden magical appearance of a mud-covered Heavy would have startled them more, but he was nothing compared to the spectacle of the oncoming god of demons. Sullivan had already opened up the book and was looking for a spot to work by the time she’d gone back for Whisper and Mr. Garrett.
Even with Mr. Garrett’s pudginess, the two of them together weighed less than Sullivan, so she took the both of them in one hop. She realized as she touched down that she probably wasn’t doing them any favors, since they had been on the west side of an eastbound demon, and now she’d dumped them right into the shadow of its next target.
“Dan! How big a shield does it make?” Sullivan asked as soon as they’d arrived.
“The more Power the creator puts into it, the bigger it should be.”
“Shit . . .” Sullivan muttered.
Faye knew right away what was wrong. Mr. Sullivan was by far the best of them at making spells. He just had an artist’s knack for it. However, he’d already burned his Power hard and there was no way he’d had time to recuperate. If you pushed too hard you risked killing yourself. The others hadn’t made that connection yet, but Sullivan caught her looking at him, and he just shook his head. He was going to do it anyway.
“I’ve got plenty of Power!” Faye exclaimed.
Sullivan held up the open book. “Could you bind this?” It was terribly complex. She was still struggling with the most basic communication spells, and there wasn’t normally a giant demon coming to kill her if she messed those up. Her hesitancy was obvious. “Didn’t think so. This one’s on me.”
Near them, a tank fired its main gun. The shock wave sent her reeling. Sullivan just hunched his shoulders and walked ahead of the line of military vehicles. Hundreds of soldiers had arrived, and they were going to hold this line or die trying. He picked an open spot of sidewalk and knelt down. People were still fleeing past, but the bodies parted around him like waves against a rock. Mr. Sullivan took a knife from his belt, used it to slice open the tip of one fingertip, and began to write on the sidewalk with his own blood.
The demon was charging toward them. There would be only one chance to get it right.
“Jake, what’re you doing?” Mr. Browning shouted.
“If this works, don’t leave the circle,” Sullivan responded.
“I see . . . Would it be all right if my bullets leave the circle?”
Sullivan drew another line. “I don’t see why not.” Browning went back to shooting.
A hand landed on Faye’s arm and pulled her around hard. It was Whisper. Her eyes were wide, terrified. “Listen to me. There is something I must tell you. It is about who you are.”
Faye didn’t understand. She turned back around. The demon was closing fast. “Can’t it wait?”
“No! Listen to me, Faye. Remember what we spoke about before?”
“Of course, but I—”
Whisper was desperate. “You must listen to me. You are the one.”
What?
Faye didn’t have time to think about Whisper’s words. The blood magic design Sullivan was drawing had caught someone’s attention. Several soldiers were running toward the Heavy. “Stop that, wizard!” shouted an officer.
“His kind brought the wrath of God upon us!” screamed one of the marchers. “Kill him!”
It was understandable. A man drawing obviously magical markings with his own blood, with a great big demon nearby, was pretty suspicious-looking. Rifles were raised in Sullivan’s direction. “Back off. I’m busy,” he growled.
“Shoot him!” ordered the terrified officer.
“Stand down!” The voice that came next seemed to drown out the entire world. “You heard the man,” Dan Garrett said, angry magic seething from every word. “Back off.” The soldiers lowered their rifles. The Mouth was pushing so hard that even Faye wanted to surrender, and she was already on his side. “That big fellow is going to save your life.” The Mouth decided to take it up a notch and put his new allies to work. “Protect this man. Fix bayonets and keep these idiots out of his way.”
“Yes, sir!” the soldiers shouted in unison, and formed a protective circle around Sullivan.
“Faye, listen to me,” Whisper pleaded. “I was sent to watch you, even to kill you if necessary.”
But Whisper was her friend. “Kill me?”
“Because you are the Spellbound.”
Faye didn’t know what to say. She recalled Whisper’s strange story, but it didn’t make any sense. “The murderer?”
“You have no idea how much I wanted to simply murder you and be done, at first . . . But I was wrong. The last Spellbound was evil. You are not like him, you are nothing like that grey-eyed monster, but you could become like him. The possibility was there, and that was enough.”
Faye looked away from Whisper. Sullivan had finished the spell from the Coordinator’s book. Now he was concentrating on the small design, binding it to the ground, connecting it to his own Power.
“That was his spell! That was his curse! You inherited it when Jacques killed him. Can’t you feel it? All of that death? Every time someone dies near you, you grow stronger, don’t you?” Whisper had gone crazy. She didn’t know what she was talking about.
Except she was stronger, like before, like when she’d fought against the Chairman.
Where so many had died.
“The Power bonds to us, lives
through us, and when we die, it takes that bit of itself back, larger than before. The Spellbound subverts the order of things. That energy, instead of going back to the Power, it goes to the Spellbound for a time. It isn’t like your regular magic that will regrow. When you use this stolen Power up, it returns home, and that leaves you hungry for more. That’s how the first Spellbound became evil. He needed more and more magic, so he began to take it. That’s how he became a monster, and the same thing will happen to you.”
Faye’s mind had always moved rapidly, and now it was spinning through the implications of Whisper’s words. The first time she’d had a jump in Power had been when Grandpa had died. After stabbing a kanji-bound man in the heart, she’d had enough Power to beat Delilah in a fight. She’d grown stronger again during Mar Pacifica amidst the dying Iron Guards, and then even greater aboard the Tokugawa, and all of that extra Power that she’d been granted had been burned up in one epic Travel, when she’d dragged the entire Tempest a thousand miles through the walls of space. And it had started again with the sudden death of George Bolander. He’d died fighting Crow . . . and Faye had taken his connection to the Power.
Faye was different from other Actives. She’d just never understood how different. It made sense. She was stealing magic when people died. That was horrible. Whisper was right. Only a monster would steal somebody’s magic.
She snapped back to reality. Why had Whisper decided to tell her all this now when there was other important stuff going on? The strain was going to kill Mr. Sullivan. Veins stood out on his neck. Sweat poured down his filthy face. He gathered up every last bit of Power he had and shoved it into that design and then he went back for more. They only had seconds left.
“When a Normal dies, it isn’t much. Just the little connection that was there from when the Power first checked to see if it could bond to them, but with all of those poor people . . .” Whisper trailed off as she looked across the mall. “Are they enough? Could they ever possibly be enough?”
Spellbound: Book II of the Grimnoir Chronicles Page 44