by J E McDonald
“You can’t even stand,” Lucas said, his voice gentle. “How are you going to help? You need to get your strength back.”
It looked like she was going to argue, but Lucas stood, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her toward the police cruiser despite her protests.
Roman’s gaze passed over Ridon and Martinez before he stared up at the spires of the church, his mind scrambling. “We need to get in there.” He clenched his jaw.
“I don’t see how, unless you know of some secret entrance or something.”
He looked toward the rectory. “I might.” Turning away from Martinez, he hesitated. “Moe?” he asked quietly, knowing if the demon was near he would be able to hear him and make his presence known. But he didn’t answer.
Roman swore. Something must have happened to him. It made his chest hurt to think about. Or maybe he was in the catacombs protecting Aubrey. But with Roman’s scar burning like a motherfucker, he had no way of distinguishing Moe’s presence from the other demon.
He ran to his truck and retrieved his toolbox. After tossing his jacket in the truck, he strapped his extra survival knives to his thighs.
When he returned to Martinez, the agent eyed his knives. “Were you ever a Boy Scout?”
“No. Bullets just piss them off.” And the only one wearing a knife was Ridon. He’d never gone into the thick with demons with others by his side, but this time everything was on the line. “Let’s go,” he said without looking back.
Martinez barked for his team to follow. The five of them all rounded the side of the church, heading to the rectory.
Roman tried the doorknob and it opened with a soft click, the door swinging wide.
“I swear I tried this door,” Wiley muttered, disbelief in his voice.
Roman stepped inside, searching for any signs of life.
“We’re not pointing fingers—” Martinez’s words were cut off a second later when the door slammed shut in his face. Bang. “Hey!” Martinez shouted from the other side, a thunk making the door shake like he’d hit it.
Roman yanked on the handle. Like the front door, it wouldn’t budge. “Can’t get it open,” he said loud enough for them to hear.
“We’re trying from this side too,” Martinez replied, his voice muffled. “It’s not moving.”
Aym wanted him to come alone. Fine. Roman straightened his spine and pulled his knives.
“Milone, you wait for us. Backup is already on the way.”
He wouldn’t wait an extra second when Aubrey’s life was in danger. Roman moved away from the door.
“Milone!”
Ignoring the agent’s shouts, he walked through the residence, making as little noise as possible. Turning a corner, he found a nun on the floor and knelt down beside her, feeling for a pulse. It was strong. She’d been knocked out but otherwise seemed unharmed.
Swallowing his unease, he quickly checked on Father Robertson in his room. The priest was in the same condition as the nun, unconscious but breathing.
Returning to the main living area, Roman kept going, past the divide between the rectory and the church. Everything was quiet, quieter than it should be. The usual scents of incense and wood polish were now laced with sulfur. He found two parishioners in the pews, both passed out like the others.
He kept moving to the foyer, tried the doors in case he could let the others inside, but they wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he pushed. Knives in hand, he started down the steps.
The air cooled the deeper he went, the weight of the silence more deafening. He stepped into the catacombs and voices drew him toward Jude’s workroom. His scar continued to rage as his nostrils filled with the ever-increasing scent of demon. Skittering from inside the room had him gripping the handles of his blades tight.
His heart pumped hard in his chest. He knew Aym was already here, knew he’d be face-to-face with his father’s murderer in a moment. But that was secondary to making sure Aubrey and Moe were safe and unharmed.
What did Aym want with Aubrey? If he’d touched one hair on her head—
Roman stopped his thoughts and swallowed. If something had happened to her or Moe, he’d make sure everyone who had a hand in it died a painful death, and he didn’t care if they took him with them.
For the first time in years, he sent up a prayer to those who might help him. He didn’t matter, but he’d make a deal with whoever he needed to in order to keep those he cared about safe.
The door stood slightly ajar, and he pushed it wide with his shoulder. His eyes landed on Moe in the corner. Relief overcame him before he realized his demon was stuck in a trance. Fire demons exerted their influence while crawling all over the place, their claws clicking on the walls and ceiling. Anger surged through him, but he refused to let it overwhelm him.
He took a step inside, and his eyes landed on Jude behind the table. The vessel they’d brought him sat in the middle in a circle of light. Roman snarled, vividly imagining throwing his knife into the man’s eyeball. His father’s friend had dragged Aubrey into this. The need to end him made his knives heavy in his hand. Jude’s eyes darted to his left.
Carefully, Roman pushed open the door the rest of the way, revealing a stained glass window broken on the floor. Then his heart stopped.
Aubrey stood there, eyes wide, her breaths coming out short and fast. Her brother stood behind her, his arm wrapped around her middle. He held a knife coated in demon blood in his hand, close to her throat. Aym towered behind them in full armor, his sword on his back.
Roman had never felt such ice-cold rage before. It splintered through his body like shards of a glacier. Hands tight on his weapons, he charged forward with deadly purpose.
Fire demons attacked all at once. Roman slashed and kicked, taking the head of two or three before there were too many on him to fight. His skin burned wherever they touched him. As a pulsating, burning mass, they pinned him down.
Across the room, Aubrey cried out his name. The sound of her desperation made him close his eyes. Fighting his way out wasn’t going to work here, not when she had a knife to her throat. He’d been foolish to even try. His blind rage could have gotten her killed. He had to pull his shit together.
A rage attack wasn’t too different from a panic attack. Both caused a complete loss of his mental faculties. And he had lost it about as much as one could. He began naming things he could see, then smell, then touch. A deadly sort of calm slowly returned to him. Gaze scanning the room, he reassessed the situation, trying to find a way to keep Aubrey and Moe safe. He stopped fighting the demons, relaxing his body into the cold, stone ground.
“Leave off,” he gritted between clenched teeth. Surprisingly, they listened, backing away until he could stand. His knives remained pinned to the floor under their blistered red bodies. His fingers itched to reach for one of the knives on his thighs, but he knew if he did, the demons would be on him again. Roman rose to his full height, a snarl on his face as he stared at Shawn. The psycho looked positively gleeful.
Roman took a step forward. The fire demons immediately blocked him, creating an ever-evolving wall of red bodies. He kept his eyes off Aubrey’s face, knowing he’d charge again if he saw her terror.
The mildly amused expression on Aym’s face created another wave of rage-induced calm. The scaly fucker had taken on human form. Roman remembered his human face as well as his demon one. His eyes went to his hands, noted the severed one—the one his father had sliced off before his death.
“Welcome, child.” Aym’s voice ripped through the room, his demon accent aristocratic and repulsive to Roman’s ears. “Glad you could join us.”
The first time he’d heard that voice had been in his childhood home. The shouts had woken him, and he’d gone to investigate. Once he’d learned more about demons, he’d always wondered how one could have been invited into their home. There was no way his father would have summoned Aym. Jude had to have been the one who did it.
Roman stepped forward. The arm holding Au
brey tightened, and she let out a little squeak. Her chin trembled, her eyes filling with terrified tears.
Anger, pure and calculated, surged through his body. He was going to take all their heads for scaring her.
“That’s close enough.” Aym’s voice came like a whip. The fire demons between them resumed their frenzy, cutting off his path to Aubrey.
“Let her go,” he said, itching for blood. If it weren’t for the writhing mass of demons in front of him, he’d have all three of them dead on the floor.
“I don’t think so, child.” Aym veered to the side, slinking behind Jude, who stared straight ahead. “We have some unfinished business, a debt to settle once and for all. An eye for an eye as the humans like to say.”
The last moments of his dad’s life flashed in front of his eyes. Roman had been so small back then, so weak. His dad had needed his help, and instead he’d stood paralyzed in the presence of the demon general. His wrist screamed at the memory. Aym had grabbed Roman’s arm, intending to take him, and his father had sliced off the demon’s hand. The maneuver had opened him up to attack. Grant Milone hadn’t survived the stab wound to his heart. The only reason Aym had given up his claim on Roman at the time was because he’d left to go lick his wounds after Jude arrived, conveniently too late.
The shelves around them rattled, and Aym’s red eyes focused on the trembling artifacts. “It appears we’re not alone. No matter. A poltergeist will have no sway over fate.” Some of the shelves shook so hard, the ancient objects tumbled to the stone floor. Roman ignored the clanking of broken earthenware and the look of distress on Jude’s face.
“Why did you do it, Jude?” Roman asked, his voice hoarse with the question he’d always wanted to ask his father’s best friend. Because it all seemed so clear now. Jude had been sick with something life threatening. He’d summoned a demon, and his sickness had gone away. Grant Milone’s death was on Jude’s hands. He’d sold his partner out to save himself.
“Deals made with the devil can’t be broken.” The other man’s gaze was filled with regret. “God knows I’ve tried.” He shook his head. “This was always going to happen, Roman. From the day your dad died, this was always going to happen.”
“You set my dad up. I was a child, so I doubted my own memories—but I knew.”
Jude didn’t deny the statement.
Roman’s attention was diverted when Aym sauntered near Moe.
“Don’t touch him,” Roman ground out, taking a step forward. But the fire demons blocked his path.
“I can do what I like,” Aym said, crouching to hover over Moe. He curved a claw over Moe’s head, scratching him behind his ear. “Have you enjoyed your pet, child? He was my first successful attempt, and what a success. I couldn’t be more pleased by his strength and versatility.” Then, to his minions, “Release your hold on him.”
All at once, Moe snapped out of his trance, his body shaking and his big eyes blinking. When he saw Aym above him, he shrank away, covering his face with his hands, his skin the darkest shade it could go.
“Are you hungry, little one?”
Looking through his fingers, Moe perked up.
“You must be after all this time without a soul to fill your belly. Do you ache with hunger?”
“So hungry, yes,” came Moe’s little voice. “Moe eats so much but is never full. No.”
“No food will ever fill you the way a soul does, because you need to eat the soul along with the flesh.”
“Stay away from him.” Roman took another step forward, and the demons swarmed in front of him, hissing and growling. His fingers twitched against the survival knives strapped to his thighs.
“How about you remove those knives?” Aym snarled. A claw emerged from his finger, long and razor sharp. He tapped Moe’s jugular.
Frustration made a breath come out short, squeezing his lungs. There were too many demons for him to fight. He glanced at Jude, and the other man’s face remained stoic. No help there. He should have known better than to even hope.
Aym’s finger continued to tap over Moe’s jugular, slow and steady with intent. There was no doubt in Roman’s mind that the demon would kill Moe and not think twice about it.
With forced calm, Roman pulled the knives and let them drop to the floor in a clatter.
“Good,” Aym said, his voice almost like a purr and his claw retracting. “Now,” he said to Moe, rotating in front of him so they were face to face. “Would you like to feel full and satisfied, little one? Would you like to know what it feels like to not have hunger gnawing at your insides day and night?”
The little demon nodded, his eyes wide.
“Moe, no.” Roman clenched his empty hands. The horror of what he was witnessing made his knees weak. Aym was going to tempt Moe away from him. He had to stop it.
“Let’s find a delicious human soul for you, little one. Once you have a taste, you’ll never hunger for anything else ever again.” He turned, his face feigning surprise. “Oh, look, there are four humans right here. Which one shall we choose?”
Moe didn’t answer, his hands covering his head. An unhinged laugh erupted from Shawn’s lips. He smothered it at Aym’s sharp glance.
“Come,” Aym said to Moe, patting the surface of Jude’s work table. “Let’s have a look. Let’s fill your hunger.”
Moe looked at Roman, his face full of confusion. Roman shook his head, hoping Moe would understand that this was wrong, needing to believe he’d taught the little demon enough over the past decade for him to make the right choice.
“Come.” This time Aym’s voice cracked through the room.
Moe squeaked, then jumped up on the table.
“Good,” Aym purred, then circled behind Roman. “What about him? A nice introduction to new and savory.”
The question made Moe cover his head again, his body shaking.
Roman judged his chance of killing Aym with his bare hands. Next to none. Not with Aubrey in jeopardy. Not with so many other demons present. He’d need to wait until the moment was right to take Aym’s head.
Aym clucked his tongue. “Even I wouldn’t ask you to feed on the man who raised you.” He circled around to Jude, who stood still with his jaw clenched, staring at the wall. “This one is a good option. I’m afraid he’s outlived his usefulness.” The demon let out an exaggerated sigh. “Unfortunately, his soul won’t be the tastiest you could have, but a good appetizer for a little one who has never had the privilege.”
He circled around to where Shawn and Aubrey stood. “Or how about this one,” he said, lifting his claw to Aubrey’s face. She shrank away from him.
“Don’t touch her,” Roman roared, charging forward. The fire demons swarmed him, yanking on his clothes, pulling him toward the door.
Aym lowered his hand, but ignored Roman’s outburst by saying, “Her soul is bright and will taste the sweetest. You have a sweet tooth, don’t you little one? All the earth demons I’ve met seem to.” Aym circled around the pair, never touching Aubrey but always looking like he was tempted to do so. “But no, we can’t have her yet. We’ll feast on her together once she opens the vessel. How does that sound, little one?”
Roman’s stomach rolled as he processed what Aym said. Opens the vessel? “No,” he whispered, horror building inside of him.
“Yes,” Aym said, advancing toward him. “So many years I waited for this moment in time. So many times I tried to discern the correct combination to open the vessel, the key. It wasn’t until I heard my own prophesy, the one that told me to seek out Gusion’s words, did I understand who the Orphan needed to be.”
The demon had tortured Gusion to learn of Roman’s prophesy. His eyes whipped to Aubrey, tears running down her cheeks, then to Shawn, then back to Aym. “She’s not the one you need.” He locked his panicked gaze onto Shawn. “You’re the Orphan Karle.”
Shawn shook his head slowly, his eyes amused. “My last name isn’t Karle, and I’m not an orphan.”
Bile climbed up Roman’s t
hroat. As soon as he’d had an out, as soon as he’d been given an explanation to not involve Aubrey, he’d taken it. The relief had been profound, and he hadn’t dug any deeper. He’d thought Aubrey was safe from the prophecy. Now she was at the center of it, and it was all his fault. If he hadn’t searched out Gusion, she wouldn’t have been dragged into this mess.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered the words, but he heard her.
He shook his head once. He’d been manipulated, first by the voice of an angel when he’d almost died months ago, then by Gusion’s own words. Roman could have stopped this instead of setting it all in motion. If he’d understood the prophecy better, he could have taken her away from here, hid her from her brother and Aym, and kept her safe.
Instead, he’d practically delivered her into Aym’s arms.
Aym let out a snicker, then slunk back to Moe at the table. “Who shall it be, little one? Who will be your first taste of satisfaction?” He continued on until he stood behind Jude. “This one makes the most sense, though the flavor will be bitter.”
Jude flinched and made a break for it. He froze mid-step when Aym uttered a word in demon speak, a guttural, hissing sound. “I own you,” Aym said in English, circling around Jude and speaking close to his ear. “You will do as I say.”
Jude’s eyes were wide behind his glasses, the color of his skin blanched white as he struggled against an unseen force.
“Hold still,” the demon hissed, and Jude’s limbs stopped moving. “Come, little one. Have your first taste.” His hand whipped out and grabbed Moe’s wrist.
The little demon shouted in pain, and Roman charged forward. He knew exactly how it felt to be touched by Aym. But the fire demons wouldn’t allow him to move forward. In desperation, he tried to punch through. They flocked around him, making it impossible. Every touch of their clawed hands on him burned, making him hiss in pain. Every step forward, they swelled against him, forcing him back. Frustration welled inside him.
Through the swarm, Roman saw Aym extend Moe’s hand toward Jude’s chest. “Once the soul is depleted, you may have the flesh.”