by Andy Hyland
‘How about I give you this,’ I said, drawing an old British sovereign from my pocket – strange enough to get his attention – and flicking it up in the air, letting it flip over and over and over and over. And as his eyes followed it, my fingers moved in a circling pattern, casting the mesmer. Mild and temporary, but fast, and it’ll get the job done.
He stood idle as we rushed by, his mind away with the fairies, trying to grasp what it was he was about to do, and why he might ever have thought it important. ‘Think you’ve earned him a gruesome death?’ Becky asked seriously. ‘These guys may follow through. Out of spite.’
‘We’ll deal with it later if we have time.’ I sounded callous, but honestly, if you stop to think everything through, you never get anything done. We stood at the staircase. ‘Up or down?’
‘Like you need to ask.’
We passed by the stairs and headed out back through an ornate oak door. ‘Duck,’ Becky hissed and we crouched down beside a table. We were in some sort of ball room, chandelier overhead, dressed out for a formal dinner. Round tables, impeccably presented and laid with long flowing covers, dotted the room. Becky pointed, and I stuck my head round the edge carefully. Two of the guys we were following. Long coats over suits. Faces slightly too large for their heads, the mouths too wide, the eyes too high. Good effort, but no cigar. Big. I couldn’t see any guns, but they were brandishing long knives, practically machetes. They stared across the room, bored but too alert for my liking.
‘Options?’ I asked. Dodging between the tables might have worked if we had a distraction. For a second I thought about bringing down a chandelier and going all Phantom of the Opera on them, but that much noise would bring backup.
Becky was thinking the same way, and shaking her head as she went through plans one by one. ‘Damn,’ she muttered. ‘Gonna have to rush them. Get something ready. You’ve got the one on the left.’
I peeked again. They were leaning up against the doorway. Something basic and quick, then. Got it. I nodded at Becky, and she mouthed the count to three. On three, we ran.
I drew my hand back, called on the air, and threw it forward again, palm flat towards the target. A small, concentrated stream of hurricane-force wind flew towards the demon I targeted. As it hit him square in the face, his neck snapped back and smacked hard against the doorframe.
Beck went large. Her demon flew into the air, somersaulted, and came back down hard and fast onto his head. The snap of the thick neck echoed across the room. ‘Show off,’ I grinned.
‘Job done. Tragically it’s probably not enough to finish him off. He’ll heal and be up in a few hours.’
‘We’ll be long gone. And for the record, I’ve got maybe two small casts left in me. Any more than that and you’ll need to carry me out of here.’ It was no joke. Push yourself even slightly too far, chance one cast too many, and you could be out for days, or worse. Do that in hostile territory and you put yourself and everyone you’re with in mortal danger.
Becky nodded. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve been keeping a special something in reserve. I guarantee we’re getting out of here alive.’ I gave her a questioning look, but she smiled and went through the door.
‘See, they have a whole ballroom, and where do we end up going? Down to the basement. Seriously, why do the ones we go up against never have any style?’ A circling flight of stairs ran down in front of us. Nothing as grand as the staircase in the lobby - these were for staff. We were heading down to the maintenance and utility areas. ‘This is overkill. They clear out a whole hotel, put the fear of hell into the guy on duty, and then hole up as far down as they can get.’
‘It’s not overkill,’ I countered. ‘It’s a base of operations. Someone put some serious planning into this. We’ve stumbled right into the middle of something big.
‘Honey, we’ve been knee deep in that something all day. We just have no idea what. Let’s get some answers.’ She flicked her hands and I felt the air change around me. ‘Stealth,’ she whispered, as we went down. ‘Won’t last long, and if all those demons start looking for us at once it’ll crack under the pressure. Still, it’s something.’
The concrete-walled corridor ahead of us went forward about thirty meters before turning left. Along its length were swing doors Every five meters or so. I raised my eyebrows. Becky shrugged. I led the way, slowly, listening carefully as we moved.
Suddenly the door in front of us slammed open, shattering the silence. I froze, holding my breath and hoping desperately that whatever cloaking spell Becky had cast would hold up at such short range. My hopes dived when a squat, pale and hairless form leapt out, using six gangly limbs for movement and balance. Two rotting stumps sat at the back – two of its legs had been hacked off, probably as punishment for a failure. The baby-like face, folds of flesh dropping over large saucer-shaped eyes, had a pronounced snout. Dark saliva dropped steadily onto the floor as it gazed around, sniffing. Jorogumo. Low intelligence but great senses. Used for security and as hunting dogs on the plains of the Fades. I glanced back at Becky, who was biting her lip, looking anything but confident. Her hands were darting together, pulling the folds of a cast together in a way that I didn’t recognize. At this distance, and assuming there were more of these around, it would be a blast and run affair.
With a final snort, the gumo turned away and scuttled down the corridor, long talons clattering on the floor. We waited until it was out of sight, then moved to the door it had come from. There was no window, so we could be walking straight into the line of sight of a small army. Still, what’s life without a few risks?
I pushed the door open gently. We were in luck. It led to a short passage that turned to the right. A set of steel stairs led up to a raised gangway. Better view from up there, I reasoned, and hopefully less chance of running into anything. We stepped up slowly, only too aware of the metallic ring of our shoes. ‘Go on, move,’ Becky urged. Fine for her to say – I was the one on the front line. We crept up further, her pushing me in the small of the back when I didn’t move fast enough. Eventually we got to the top. A few meters along, we got a clear look at things. ‘Would you look at that,’ Becky whispered. ‘It’s like someone built an amphitheater for washing machines.’
She wasn’t far wrong. Our gangway stood about five meters above floor level, but the centre of the large room – at least as big as the ballroom upstairs – had been dropped down even further. The appliances – washers, dryers, you name it – had once been neatly arranged in rows, but were now shoved against the wall over to our right, creating a makeshift stage. We were far too exposed for my liking – crouching now behind a sheet of rusted metal that leant against the railing, but all attention in the room was focused elsewhere.
A solitary figure prowled along the stage, seven feet tall and wiry, shoulders thrown back and head jutted forward. He wore an expensive black suit. Badly. Some demons take human form for convenience but still move and hold themselves like they were undisguised. This makes them easy to spot, but they’re usually so far up the chain of command that nobody’s going to risk pointing it out to them.
‘I’ll be damned,’ muttered Becky. ‘What’s he doing here? He hasn’t crossed over for, what, seven years?’
The figure was unmistakably Sitri. The same guy who’d sent the brat pack to kill me at Benny’s earlier. The thick, slick-backed hair, the line of the jaw, you could see it anywhere. His eyes were the colour of dying embers, grey with bursts of red. Sitri, the former Lord of Sixty Legions in the deeps. Years ago I’d been getting drunk at Benny’s with a minor Yashogh demon (don’t ask why – long story) and he’d laughed his way through the whole tale: how the great Lords of hell heard about Sitri’s planned power play and kicked his ass all the way to the fringes of the Fades. A few months later, I threw that little piece of information back into his face, in front of his generals. He slaughtered them to stop them spreading the word, and vowed death and eternal suffering upon my putrid soul (his words), as I escaped by the skin of my teeth.
Now, with only a fragment of his former power, he led a borders clan called the K’Tai. They grabbed what power and misery they could: human trafficking and slavery, drugs, that kind of thing. Taking over a hotel basement for a clandestine operation wasn’t their style, and Sitri didn’t cross to our plane without a damn good reason.
His pacing was agitated, impatient. Below him, on the main floor were, at a quick count, about fifty demons. Some of them were still rigidly holding their human form. Others had let their disguises slip. The suits were still there but now their heads had crested brows, their jaws protruding, razor sharp teeth, and long tongues that flicked about nervously.
‘So,’ Sitri said slowly, spitting out each word. ‘So. I send twenty of you to do a relatively simple job,’ he paused, ‘and eight come back. Eight. I don’t know what disgusts me more: your pathetic inadequacy, or the fact that you ran back like mewing pshags.’
‘My Lord,’ one of the larger demons said, stepping forward. He had three ridges running back across a scarred and pitted head, and stubs of horns jutted from the back of his skull.
‘That’s Kilmark. General,’ Becky said, whispering into my ear. ‘New guy.’
‘I give him five minutes,’ I whispered back.
Kilmark stepped forward, the crowd parting around him, already sensing how this was going to end. You didn’t interrupt someone like Sitri when they got going. Kilmark knelt, bowing his head and extending his right arm, palm down. ‘We had them surrounded. My men fought bravely, but…my Lord, I have not seen power like that this side of the seventh gate. We were overwhelmed. Gladly would I have lain there rotting for you, spent in your service, but I considered it necessary to bring this report back to you. Only you, Lord, could lead us forward to victory. Surely, now, you will find it fitting to stand with your army as we face your enemies.’
‘Oooh,’ said Becky. I nodded. That was as close to anyone calling Sitri yellow as I’d ever seen.
‘My Lord,’ Kilmark continued. ‘the castings they used. The language. The stench of them. They could only be of the Aleph.’
I looked at Becky. She shrugged.
Sitri stopped pacing and glared at him. ‘You disappoint me. I had such…hopes for you. But now, to disguise your own cowardice, you merely exaggerate the strength of the enemy.’ He paused, then dropped down off the stage and walked slowly to where Kilmark knelt. ‘I see,’ he said, speaking quietly now, but every word could be heard in the utter silence of the room. ‘You would bring discord. You would bring distrust. You would be a usurper of my authority, my power, my eminence.’
‘My Lord, I would never…’
‘I know the signs of such things when I see them. Do you think that I, Sitri, Lord of Sixty Legions, have never faced -’
Kilmark was quick. So quick. His left arm shot out, hand holding a vicious serrated blade. He lunged forward, his body stretched almost horizontal. Unyielding, unstoppable.
Sitri was quicker. A side-step sent Kilmark flying past him, skidding across the floor on his stomach. A stiffened hand chopped down on Kilmark’s wrist, breaking it and disarming him. Then Sitri was standing over him, pulling Kilmark’s head back, bending his spine viciously. With a slow tearing and a gargled shriek, Kilmark’s head slowly ripped away from his neck.
Sitri stood, wide-eyed and jubilant, eyes blazing, holding the head aloft as a trophy. ‘See? See? See?’ he roared. Kilmark’s eyes still rolled, terrified. For a moment they looked straight at me, and his mouth moved, trying to speak, before Sitri swung around, showing the other side of the room the penalty for disobedience.
‘What a psycho,’ Becky hissed. ‘Wanna get out of here?’
‘Oh, I do, I really do.’ I doubted we’d get much more than the name ‘Aleph’ that we’d already been given. We started reversing our steps, reaching the end of the gangway and quietly taking the metal stairs down. We were so close to as perfect a sneak-in and out as there’d ever been. Minus a couple of bodies and a really confused reception guy. But that’s par for the course, right?
I should have known our luck couldn’t hold up. It never does.
We couldn’t see the door to the room from where we were, but we heard it slam open. The Jorogumo ran into view, scattering and sliding as it sprinted as fast as its six legs could carry it. The scream that was coming from its mouth curdled my stomach. Somewhere between a child crying in agony and a fox yelping in the darkness. It didn’t see us, carrying straight on past the steps into the centre of the room.
‘Okay, let’s go to plan B,’ Becky suggested. ‘Leg it.’
We ran together to the bottom of the stairs, skidding as we made the tight turn to double back and get out of this place. Behind us the air erupted into a cacophony of shouts and war cries. I don’t know if they actually understood anything the spider demon was screaming, but apparently they got the basic message. It must have found the unconscious guards upstairs and leaped to remarkably accurate conclusions.
‘I see them!’ said someone as we ducked out of sight.
‘Damn it,’ yelled Becky. ‘Move faster!’
We slammed through the door and turned left towards the staff staircase. Behind us the thunder of feet had started as the demons gave chase. Further along the corridor two more Jorogumo skittled into sight. They both had the full eight legs and were therefore presumably a bit faster than the other one. Not that I felt like hanging around and timing them.
‘We’re not going to make it, Becks. What have you got?’
She held out a black cube in her palm. ‘Give me some blood.’
‘Seriously?’ No time to argue. Turns out getting blood when you’re heading away from demons is actually more difficult than it sounds. Maybe I’m not one of life’s multi-taskers. I had to slam my knuckles against the wall three times before the skin split. ‘Here,’ I said, holding my hand out as we started to mount the stairs.
‘Malachi! Vermin!’ came the enraged yell from behind us.
‘I reckon Sitri knows you’re here,’ gasped Becky, rubbing the cube against my fist, getting the blood onto it.
‘You think? What now?’
‘Now this,’ she grinned and tossed the cube back over her shoulder. Nothing happened. We continued running.
‘What is it?’
‘A kind of smart bomb. One of a kind. Took me months to make, pouring power into that little sucker every week.’
‘What’s smart about it?’
‘It, uh, it follows you. Run faster. Now!’
The air exploded at the bottom of the staircase, sending heat spiralling up towards us. ‘Move,’ Becky commanded. ‘It’s not going to stop.’
We ran through the door in the ball room as another explosion rocked the staircase, sending what was left of it plummeting downwards into the basement. The two faster Jorogumo made it, bouncing off the walls at speed, as well as two light, fast demons in suits. They’d both cast off their human guise and were leering with delight as they closed in.
‘You made a bomb that follows us?’
Half way across the ball room the third explosion took them both out. Only the Jorogumo remained, screaming like enraged children as they whirled and danced across the tables. We made it through the door to the lobby ahead of them, slamming the door behind us to buy a few seconds.
The reception guy was where we’d left him, dawdling by the front door. ‘Grab him,’ I shouted, and we took an arm each, dragging him forwards. We nearly got stuck in the revolving door – it wasn’t built for three people. Desperation tipped the scales and we fell through as the demons hit the other side, cracking the glass.
‘They’re really going to chase us out into the street?’ I asked as we tumbled down the steps.
‘I think they’re pissed enough to try it,’ Becky replied.
The fourth explosion took out the Jorogumo, the revolving door and the entire reception area, leaving the place a smoking, flaming mess. The force of it threw us back across the street and I landed with my back agains
t a blue Mercedes. I sat there, winded. If anything was still coming, there wasn’t anything more I could do about it.
Becky was laid flat out on the road in front of me, breathless and smiling. ‘Admit it,’ she said between gasps. ‘That was one motherload of badass. I am making more of those babies. Shame it takes so long.’
Someone came running up beside us. I went to wave him away, but it turned out he wasn’t a good Samaritan. He stood there flapping his arms in the middle of the road, while the hotel burned. ‘What have you done to my bloody car?’ he kept asking. I’ll admit I may have slightly dented the door, but everything else – the windows, the ruined paintwork – that all came from the fire and the explosion. Which, come to think of it, was also down to me. Ah well.
‘Becky,’ I said, getting up. ‘We’re out of here.’ Arm-flapping car guy heard this, and completely lost it. ‘Hey,’ I said, and launched an uppercut, which landed perfectly, sent him to sleep, and, importantly, shut him the hell up. I pulled Becky up, and with a quick check over our shoulders to make sure no demons were anywhere close, we slowly jogged off up the road. By the time we heard the sirens we were two blocks away and walking normally, just part of the evening traffic.
We spent the night hiding out on a corner table at a homeless shelter down on 39th. Becky had thrown enough help their way for them not to begrudge her some coffee and a table in the corner. I think we actually looked worse than half the people in there who were genuinely homeless.
‘You okay?’ I asked her. She wasn’t looking good at all.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, running her hand through her hair. ‘Splitting headache. Probably too much, too soon, you know?’
We spent few hours mulling over the night’s events without coming to any conclusions, and went our separate ways when the first light of dawn hit the grey skies.