Deadly Rising

by Jeri Westerson

  Doc was looking at me earnestly. “Have you considered…calling Mr. Dark?”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “He could…”

  “I said no.”

  He raised his hands in surrender.

  “I’ll need some ingredients,” said Jolene. “Kylie has some, but I don’t know if we can find the rest. I have powdered moonstone,” she said, digging into her backpack…which she must have gotten from Mary Poppins because everything was in there. “But I’m a little shy on luna moth wings. I don’t like dealing in animal parts.”

  “My dad has a butterfly collection,” said Nick thoughtfully. “But if he ever found out I took them…”

  “I don’t want you getting into any trouble, Nick,” said Doc. “I know you and your pop have a tough enough relationship as it is. But it seems to me there’s a fine collection at the library.”

  “So…stealing from the library is better?” said Nick.

  “I’ll go. You help the ladies get the spell started.”

  I went to the hall tree and grabbed my coat. “Look, I’ve taken enough time already. I’ve got to get over there. Who knows what they’re doing to Seraphina.”

  Nick was startled. “It’s gonna take at least half an hour for Doc to get to the library and back.”

  I took in all their desperate faces. Jolene had already set up a brass bowl in the middle of the pentagram and was mashing my herbs in a glass mortar.

  “How would it look if I delayed too long?”

  “Give me a five-minute head start,” said Doc. He rushed out the door. His Rambler roared to life and kicked up a spray of gravel as he peeled out.

  I grabbed the Booke and sat with it in my lap, watching the clock. Jolene stopped by me and put a cotton bag in my hand. “Salt. You might need it.”

  “Thanks.” I stuffed it into my coat pocket.

  Nick and Jolene seemed to work double time, getting the spell ready to go while waiting for that one ingredient. It wasn’t long before they, too, were sitting around the hearth, tapping their fingers and squirming impatiently in their seats.

  The clock ticked. I kept flicking the lock on the Booke open and closed, the lock only I seemed to be able to tap.

  Six minutes had passed. It was time to go. I stood.

  “Aren’t you going to take your crossbow?” asked Nick, coming with me to the door.

  Maybe that was a good idea. I raised my hand and there she came. I gripped it tight for a moment before lowering it to my thigh.

  Nick shook his head in admiration. “That is wicked cool.”

  “Come soon, okay?”

  I threw the Booke and the crossbow into the passenger seat and started up the car.

  Driving to Hansen Mills in the dark was getting old. But with worry of the kelpie behind me, I was remarkably lighter, surer of myself. And sustained by my anger more than anything else.

  It concerned me that Shabiri was so adamant about getting the Booke. And it wasn’t just about controlling Erasmus, if she even could. It was more about the Enochian sentiments from my grandfather’s notebook that the Booke was more than it appeared to be. That it was a key that could lock the Hell Gate for good. But I wasn’t all that stupid—I knew keys could open doors as well. What was her plan? And who was the one holding the puppet strings? Was it Ruth Russell? But I hadn’t seen anything implicating her in my incredibly hurried visit to her house. Only that sigil or mandala on her front porch. But that was for protection more than anything else. That’s what Nick had said, anyway.

  What about Baphomet? I had sent him back to wherever with a well-placed arrow, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t return. If the Booke was a gateway or a key to a larger gateway, he could get a foot…or hoof…in the door. Maybe he already had. Maybe Shabiri was helping him. Seemed we needed to do a lot more research on Goat Guy. If I made it out of there unscathed.

  I made the now familiar run up the road to Hansen Mills and took the turn to Doug’s place. But it wasn’t until I rounded the curve on the long driveway to the mobile home and the barn that I saw the sheriff’s SUV. Shit. Ed had talked to Jeff and left in a hurry to talk to his brother. And he was obviously still here.

  Nothing I could do about it now. Maybe Ed could help.

  I pulled the car in front of the barn. Lights spilled out from under the doors. I got out and slammed the door since stealth seemed to have gone out the window. With the Booke under one arm and the crossbow in the other, I stalked up to the barn doors. Before I could open them, Miss Catsuit opened them for me.

  “And here she is at last,” she said with a sneer a mile wide. “I wondered what kept you.”

  “Had to put on my best party dress,” I muttered, shouldering past her, making sure I bumped her good. I scanned the place. Same junk in every corner, except now there was Seraphina tied to a post, a gag in her mouth, with Bob Willis and Dean Fitch standing over her. She was awake and upright at least and looked pretty mad. That was good. Better than scared.

  That was more than could be said for Ed. I jolted toward him before stopping myself. He was down, lying on his side with some blood on his face, but he was still breathing.

  Doug stood near him, wearing a frown. He didn’t bother with his friendly act.

  “Did you do that to your own brother?”

  He snorted. “Don’t worry. I don’t think he’s got any brain damage. It would be a miracle through that thick skull of his.”

  “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

  “Enough chatter. Is that the book?”

  I held it tightly. Who knew I could be so protective of the thing that had made my life a living hell. But if I handed it over, how much more hell was there in store for me?

  I sure hoped the Wiccans had gotten their moth wings and were on their way. I guessed stalling was in order.

  “So how long were you guys stuck in here? Just as a matter of research.”

  Doug sighed and folded his brawny arms over his chest. “Too long. Till dawn. I mean, my Ordo is great, but spending that many hours with them…Let’s just say they aren’t the best conversationalists.”

  “Like you said, it’s your group. You’re the one who hangs out with them.”

  “What can you do? Sometimes you gotta make friends where you can.”

  “Hey!” said Dean, holding out his hands in a “what the hell?” gesture.

  Doug merely waved him off. “The book,” he said again.

  “Okay. But you’ve got to let Seraphina go.”

  “Oh yeah. No problem.”

  “I’m expected to believe that? Like you let Daniel Parker off the hook?”

  Doug blinked and shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t. You killed him. In some kind of sacrifice. A very dangerous one.”

  “Babe, I just don’t know what you’re telling me, but we didn’t kill anyone. Not yet.”

  “Are you really going to stand there and—”

  “Who’s Daniel Parker?” asked Bob.

  Doug shrugged. Doug could be lying, but I wondered if Bob was that good an actor.

  “The book!” said Doug again, patience thinning.

  I looked down at the thing. “Doug, honest to God, I don’t know what will happen if I try to give it to you.”

  “Let’s just find out, huh?”

  With a bone-weary sigh, I hefted it up in my hand and stretched out my arm.

  “Wait,” said Shabiri behind me. “Where’s Erasmus?”

  The name was like a shock ripping through me. “He’s not here.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Why don’t you call him?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. The honeymoon is over, is it? Once you found out you were today’s blue plate special, the bloom is off the rose, eh?”

  “Something like that,” I grumbled.

  “Call him anyway.”

  I turned
to face her with the nastiest expression I could muster. “No.”

  “I felt you really meant it that time.” She went back to slouching and watching with predatory eyes.

  My arm was getting tired holding out the Booke. “Are you going to take it or what, Doug?”

  He took a step closer. He was trying for indifference, but I could tell he was afraid to touch it. I took a step toward him, and just as I suspected, he stepped back.

  Shabiri scoffed. “Oh, for Baphomet’s sake!” She stalked forward and grabbed it.

  Two things happened at once.

  A flash of light and Shabiri sailed back as if she’d been punched good and hard. And then Doug was flung back in the opposite direction in the same manner. They were both down.

  The Booke hovered between them, slowly turning, with a pulsing glow. I didn’t know if I should grab it, but I figured it knew how to take care of itself.

  Shabiri picked herself up first. She brushed off the straw from her form-fitting leather suit and snarled at the Booke, baring sharp canines. “How did you do that?” she said in a voice dripping with bile.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bob make a move toward me. I swung the crossbow toward him. “Don’t do it.”

  He stopped, casting a glance to Doug, who was finally coming around.

  I couldn’t keep my eye on them and Shabiri, so I grabbed the salt pouch from my coat and made a quick circle for myself.

  Shabiri scowled. “Now that’s not fair.”

  “You’d better watch it,” I said, “or your face is going to get stuck that way.” She scowled on top of her scowl. “Dean,” I directed, barely turning my head, “untie her.”

  “I don’t take orders from you.”

  “Dean,” said Shabiri wearily, “untie her.”

  “I don’t take orders from you either, bitch.”

  She slowly swiveled her head toward him. I couldn’t see what sort of face she made, but Dean’s horrified expression showed exactly just who the bitch was. With trembling hands, he quickly cut the bindings from Seraphina. The first thing Seraphina did was yank the gag from her mouth and heave it to the ground. Then she turned, cocked back her arm, and punched Dean in the face. Down he went.

  Bob lunged toward him but I swiveled my bow in his direction. “I wouldn’t, Bob.”

  He froze when he saw me. My Spidey sense was tingling and I suddenly turned and aimed it at Charise, who was coming at me from behind. “Really?” I said.

  She gave a bitchy sneer.

  “Both of you over by Dean where I can see you.” I urged her with a gesture of the crossbow.

  “Doug,” she whined. “Are you going to let her do this?”

  Doug was just getting up, and none too easily. He dragged his feet through the straw, moving sluggishly.

  Ed moaned, and I glanced toward him, taking my eyes away from Doug for only an instant.

  It was enough. Doug saw his opportunity and scrambled into the hay, snatching up the hidden spear.

  He brandished it in both hands and charged me, spearpoint aimed right at my stomach.

  Someone screamed. For a moment, I thought it might have been me. But it was Charise.

  I stiffened, expecting the sharp pain. I braced for it. There was nowhere for me to go.

  Suddenly I was sideways. Erasmus appeared out of nowhere and shoved me aside. The spear that was meant for me plunged deep through him.

  “No!”

  “You idiot!” shrieked Shabiri.

  Was she yelling at Doug or Erasmus? I couldn’t tell. I didn’t care.

  Doug yanked the spear out. Black goo dripped from it…as well as from the hole in Erasmus’s back.

  I staggered forward. “Oh my God!”

  Erasmus shuffled back. He looked down at the carnage of his chest. A bright light shone from it, the same that I had seen when Baphomet took an arrow to the breast. He fell to one knee. I threw myself to the floor next to him.

  “What did you do?”

  “I…protected you,” he said huskily, coughing. More inky blackness dribbled from his lips.

  “Why did you do that? I didn’t call you.”

  “You should have. You needed my help.”

  “Don’t talk. You’re hurt.”

  “Oh, you think?” said Shabiri. She had her hands at her hips and she was spitting mad.

  Doug held the spear loosely. Even though he had been ready to spear me, now he seemed lost. I guessed this wasn’t the plan.

  I flung myself toward him, trying to hit him with my crossbow. “Doug, you asshole! You idiot!” Firing at him wasn’t personal enough. I wanted to beat him with it. “Were you really trying to kill me? Look what you’ve done!”

  Doug seemed to come back to his senses and dipped the end of the spear in a puddle of Erasmus’s blood. He quickly scrawled some sort of symbol on the floor and began chanting.

  “What are you doing?”

  He ignored me and continued. The barn walls began to clatter and tremble.

  “Dammit, Doug. What the hell are you doing? Haven’t you learned anything?”

  The symbol on the ground began to glow. I turned toward Erasmus, still on the floor, holding his chest. I clutched at him. “What’s happening?”

  “Beelze’s tail.” I was never so happy to hear that stupid curse. “He’s summoning him.”

  “Summoning…who?”

  “Baphomet.”

  Shabiri glowered down at the two of us. This whole game was thrown out of whack for me. I didn’t understand what she wanted, but it didn’t look like this was it.

  “Erasmus,” I rasped. “I need your help. Are you going to be all right?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been stabbed with the Spear of Mortal freaking Pain before! It’s living up to its name.” He gathered himself, breathing deep, and reached for me. “Help me up.”

  I took his arm and braced him with my legs. He grunted as he put his weight on me and stood unsteadily, still clutching at his chest, black ooze dribbling over his hand. How much blood could he lose?

  Surprisingly, Shabiri tried to take his other arm.

  “Haven’t you done enough,” I spit.

  She stepped back, fingers curled into claws. If Erasmus wasn’t standing between us, I figured those would be gouging my eyes out about now.

  He was breathing heavily in short, jerky breaths. I’d never seen him like that. I’d never seen anyone in that much pain. “We must stop him from conjuring Baphomet,” he rasped.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Shabiri pushed me. Not as hard as she could have, but it still sent me sprawling. I guessed the truce was over. I had forgotten and left my salt circle. Erasmus wobbled and doubled over.

  “You’re not going to stop it, meat girl.”

  “Why’s it so important to you, Shabiri? Are you into goats or something?”

  “Better than humans,” she sneered, glancing disdainfully back at Erasmus.

  Erasmus was barely holding himself up. And for some reason I couldn’t fathom, I wanted to help him.

  But more immediate problems were arising. Like the fact that Goat Guy was making a repeat appearance, climbing up through the floor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The god climbed out of his sigil as if ascending from a hole. His goat head bore tall, spiraling horns, and they emerged first. The fur of his head was black but his eyes—those weird horizontal pupils in them—shone yellow. His torso was bare and that of a man, while his hindquarters were goat, complete with shiny cloven hoofs. And when he finally got out of the sigil, he stood some seven feet tall—not including the horns.

  He made that howl again, neither goat nor man. More like an angry cow being strangled. Not a pleasant sound.

  Terrified, I did the only thing I could think to do; I aimed the crossbow at him.

  His eyes blazed and his muzzl
e snapped toward me, teeth gnashing. With surprising speed, he darted his long arm forward, grabbed my weapon, and whipped it out of my hands.

  “Wha—?” I stood immobile in shock.

  Taking the crossbow in both hands, he snapped it in two, hurling the broken pieces to the ground.

  I gasped. “Oh! I didn’t know you could do that.”

  Erasmus staggered forward. “Run, Kylie!”

  Baphomet wound up his arm and reached for me. I ducked and swerved to the side. But now Erasmus was in his path. I was caught between a no-man’s-land of possible escape in one direction and the destruction of Erasmus in the other. I didn’t have time to ponder it. Baphomet zeroed his creepy eyes on Erasmus, and with a deep growl, grabbed him by both arms and lifted.

  Erasmus yelled and threw his head back. Like he was in agony. Baphomet screamed into his face, blowing his hair back. He was ready to rip him to shreds.

  What do I do? I don’t have anything…

  The crossbow was gone, busted. I’d used my bag of salt, though I doubted that would work against a god. I didn’t have a gun…

  I whipped my head around. I didn’t have a gun, but Ed did. I scrambled toward him and skidded on my knees. He was moaning but still effectively out. I should try to get him out of here. But first, the gun. I grabbed it from its holster, looked for something that might be a safety, and clicked it.

  Smoke surrounded Baphomet now. The sigil glowed under his hooves.

  “Seraphina!” I yelled.

  “Kylie, I’m here!” she called. She was inching her way along the walls toward me.

  I aimed the gun two-handed at Baphomet. “Get Ed out of here. Drag him if you have to.”

  “Kylie, I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “You’ll have to. I know he’s heavy, but you have to try.”

  The last thing I saw over my shoulder was Seraphina dragging Ed by his arms toward the door, and she was doing a pretty good job of it. The Ordo didn’t try to stop her. They were standing around Baphomet, eyes shining with equal parts awe and fear.

  I checked my stance, aimed toward the chest, and fired.

  The kickback knocked me over. Fire erupted from the barrel. The bullet hit Baphomet on the shoulder, winged him.