The air changes as the demon wolf gathers magical Field energy. Then it releases a breath of fire towards me. I roll away — damn fire breathing wolves. I jog in a circle around it, spraying it with forty more rounds, emptying my second mag, until its physical husk dies with a wail. There is now a demon wolf's dead body dissolving into a yellowy brown puddle where it once stood. I've killed its physical shell but its spiritual essence, an apparition made up of purple and black energy, leaves the demon wolf carcass, and flies back into the barn.
The two other wolves run out of the barn, and they've grown a foot since I last saw them. Anyone can kill a conjured demon's physical manifestation, but the spirit immediately seeks the next shell to occupy. The spirit I freed absorbed itself into its two wolf brothers, increasing their strength and size.
The demon wolves charge at me.
I reload the AK. Then I start spraying five round burst to each wolf to try to slow them down. In between shooting spurts I am running (or at least trying to run) a big circle around the perimeter of the barn.
I'm using angles to gain a step or two, but they're fast, and I am injured. They're gaining on me — three steps to my one. I'm hobbling. My flex-wrapped legs are burning, sending pain signals up my spine with every step. The bandages around my torso are squeezing my lungs every time I twist around to shoot at my pursuers. I empty another clip, press the release button, load another mag, and keep shooting.
Inside the barn, sounds of carnage ring out, accompanied by Marchosias' frustrated grunts. I hope Astraea holds on to her sword. As long as The Destroying Angel is with her, she will never tire. Her muscles will never ache, and she will never die.
God, I wish I was the Bearer right now, and the sword was mine. My legs are quitting on me. I'm losing my wind, having to gasp for more air as I keep firing back at the two demon wolves chasing me. I'm going to have to stand my ground. I'm trying to get to that fire exit in the back of the barn Lev was talking about, but I don't think I'm going to make it. The wolves are about twenty feet behind me, and every time I turn my torso to shoot them, they stumble a little but not enough to stop gaining on me.
I empty the first AK and sling it over my right shoulder. Then I unsling the second assault rifle from my left shoulder and fire with it. I hobble a few more feet, but I can't go on anymore. My legs are wobbling and weak. I grit my teeth against the pain as I unload silver on the two wolves — first one then the other.
Sparks of purple lighting fly. I think all I'm doing is making them angrier. Now they're padding towards me, as I walk back, firing. One is circling to my right, and the other to my left. They continue to close in while I step back. They know they have their prey cornered.
My rifle clicks empty. I drop the AK to the ground and unholster my pistols. I fire all thirty-four, nine-millimeter rounds. Seventeen to each wolf. Their physical forms show signs of wear and tear. Parts of their black fur with tongues of flame are dripping off. The purple-black energy that surrounds them is thicker, making them look more obscured than before we began our chase.
Brass shell casings litter the ground around me. The sweetly stinging smell of gunpowder is thick, and the night air is hazy with gunsmoke. The demon wolves have me surrounded. Their low growl is drowning out the nocturnal country noises.
Then there is a loud crash as a tractor plow flies out of the side of the barn, sending splinters of broken wood into the night. There is a tractor-plow-sized hole in the barn wall forty feet away from me. If I can get inside the barn and to Astraea, we may have a chance. I can guide her, as best I could. I can help her. And she can help me. We can banish Marchosias and her pets here and now.
The two wolves both lunge at me with open maws. But my reflexes aren't as slow as they think. I've carried a longsword for half a century. Being able to unsheathe and cut swiftly has become second nature to me. That's exactly what I do. As soon as they make their move, my hand moves to the hilt of my silvered katana. I unsheathe and give them both a horizontal cut across their snouts in one, smooth, quick movement. They snarl and move back. I two-hand my sword and hold it out in a long guard. The hilt is level with my navel, but held out with slightly bent elbows. The silvered tip of my blade keeps their snouts four feet away from me.
The distance allows me some room to circle towards the gaping hole in the barn. The two wolves eye me like they're trying to figure out how to bite my face off. That's when they both gather energy from The Field.
Oh no.
The wolves suck in a breath, filling their lungs up with fire, and blow out two huge streams of it right at me. I try to roll away, but I can’t avoid their breath. My legs are on fire, from my feet up to under my knees. I roll in the dirt, trying to put out the flames engulfing my thermal suit. I maintain a grip on my katana as I squirm around, kicking up dust. Then comes the white-hot pain of wolf teeth sinking into my right shoulder.
I let out a scream. The demon wolf's teeth are still burning hot from its infernal fire breath. The bitten area numbs, as necrotic poison seeps into my bloodstream. The wolf shakes its head wildly, trying to tear my arm off at the shoulder. It's flipping me around like a rag doll, and I am doing all I can to hold onto my sword. My collarbone shatters under the crushing force of the wolf's demonic jaws.
I'm about to pass out from the pain. Too much stimulus and the brain wants to shut the body down to preserve the necessities, and nothing else. My eyes flutter; my vision is hazy. That's when more teeth sink into my left quadriceps. The second demon wolf's teeth pierce through the flex-wrap bandages around my leg. It too tries to rip my flesh from my body, but the flex-wrapping is preventing it from doing so. I'm like a chew toy two dogs are fighting over, being pulled in opposite directions, screaming all the while.
Then, over my screams of pain and horror, sounds the explosive RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT of an AR-15 assault rifle. Purple lightning flashes in front of my hazy vision.
The pressure is relieved from my right shoulder, as the demon wolf's burning hot teeth slide out of my flesh, taking some of my pulverized collar bone with it.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
More lightning. More sparks. The wolf that's munching on my left leg lets go of me as well. The wolves howl from pain. Then I catch a glimpse of a silver-chromatic glimmer as the wolf that was chomping on my shoulder gurgles a dying whimper.
I twist on the ground so that I am on my belly, and look up. Astraea is standing there, the blade of the Destroying Angel running through the top of the demon wolf's head, and out the bottom of its jaw. Then she takes the sword out of the dead wolf head, the swirling patterns on the Damascus steel blade still glowing silver. The demon wolf's spirit is banished, and its physical shell drops dead, bits of it dissolving into a yellowy brown ooze on the ground.
I look up at her.
"Lev," I say to Astraea, my voice hollow and weak. "Go get Lev."
"Lev?" she asks.
Of course, Lev was the one shooting. Who else could it be? AR-15s, AKs, and other gas powered rifles are damned near impossible to find nowadays. So chances are Lev came back with my car, saw me getting eaten alive by wolves, landed, took out a rifle from the cache I have in the trunk, and started shooting.
"Where is he?" asks Astraea.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Astraea and I both look to the sound of gunfire coming from fifty feet behind us. The other wolf is bounding away towards Lev.
"Okay, I'll get him," Astraea says.
Astraea takes off in a run. Then comes the sound of air being sucked out, followed by a near deafening whip crack. The tail of a long black whip coils around Astraea's neck as she is mid-stride. The whip goes taut, and Astraea falls on her ass, gagging. Running up and down the whip are veins of red magma. The veins glow bright, and Astraea's neck sizzles and smokes, filling the air with the scent of burning flesh and the sound of her pained screams. Marchosias is dragging Astraea across the dirt. Astraea drops her sword, and with both hands tries to loosen the whip's grasp around he
r neck.
"I've got you now, sister," Marchosias says. "How rude of you not to finish treating with me."
"Astraea!" I scream.
Marchosias flashes me a smile. Her hair made of billowing flame lights her pale, gray, and flawless skin. Astraea's face turns purple. Her neck and hands are burning. Without the healing energy of her sword, her flesh is free to burn. She looks to me with pleading eyes, trying to say 'Help!' but she can't breathe. As Astraea passes out, the veins of red magma along the whip fade and all that's left is black leather.
I try getting to her, but all I can manage is a one-armed, one-legged, worm crawl in the dirt. My right arm is useless, and my left thigh is pulsating from the pain. Necrotic poison is spreading from the bitten areas, killing muscle tissue. I drop my katana and pick up The Destroying Angel. I have to get her sword to her. She's going to die without it.
There is more gunfire behind me, and right after it, Lev screams, "Yeah! I did it! I killed one!"
My mind screams, 'NO!' I increase my crawling pace, but not fast enough. I grunt and groan to a standing position, and attempt a one-legged run.
A spirit of purple and black energy sails over my head. I quicken my one-legged pace and end up falling. My face slams into the ground, dirt getting in my mouth. I look up as the spirit absorbs into Marchosias.
I claw, with one hand, at the ground, trying to pull my body towards Marchosias and my friend who lies inert at the demoness' feet.
"I admire your courage, mortal," Marchosias says to me.
"Fuck you," I say back.
Marchosias tilts her head and laughs. She uncoils the whip from Astraea's neck. Then the whip turns into a ball of flame, before elongating back into her sword with red veins of magma along the blade. She attaches the sword to her hip and picks Astraea up in her arms. They both look like an ungodly recreation of The Pieta. Marchosias walks towards me, slow and graceful.
"Such weak vessels your spirits have," she says. "Yet capable of so much fight. I would be honored to have you creatures as my slaves and subjects. You can keep the sword, mortal. I have what I came for."
I struggle to get up.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Marchosias uses one of her huge, black, feathered wings to shield her and Astraea. The bullets hit her wing and sparks of purple lightning fly. Once Lev's rifle clicks empty, Marchosias uncovers Astraea and herself.
"Prepare for war, human," Marchosias says to me. "I feel I shall see you again on the battlefield."
She spreads her black, feathered wings. I am in awe of her wingspan — almost twenty-five feet from one tip to the other. Then she launches Astraea and herself into the air.
My entire body collapses, defeated. I lie on the ground flat on my belly, the right side of my face squished against the ground. The Destroying Angel is at my side, the placid-looking angel in the heavy circular pommel looking back at me.
"Hey buddy, you okay?" Lev asks.
He flips me over onto my back.
"Lev, look under my thermal,” I say. “Tell me how my shoulder is doing."
Lev does as he's told, and sucks in a pained breath between his teeth.
"Oooh that does not look good, man," Lev says. "Not at all."
"Yeah, I thought so," I say. "I only have a couple of hours, Lev. You need to get me to a hospital before I die."
"Is that true? Are you gonna die, man?" he says. "All right I'll getcha out of here."
He lifts me and puts his right shoulder under my left armpit. He helps me hobble over to my car, which is idling fifty feet away from all the fighting. I look at his youthfully rounded face, the shock of orange hair on his head, his russet five-o-clock shadow, and the cheese puff stains on his thermal — an unexpected hero. I didn't think he had it in him.
"Thanks for coming back for us, Lev."
"Ah, well. I'm going to get canned after they find the barn in pieces," he says. "And I seem to remember you offered me thirty-thousand credits to do a job. I can't very well let a source of income get torn apart by wolves, now can I?"
"Lev, you're good people."
"Thanks. So what now, boss-man?"
I look up at the starry, clear sky. Images of Astraea choking, her neck and hands burning as Marchosias drags her kicking squirming on the ground make my heart sink. I've let her down. Then I look down at the longsword I am holding.
"We need to find her, Lev," I say.
Sixteen
Muscle death is not pleasant. The poison from those demonic wolf bites I suffered is spreading, killing muscle fibers in its wake. The muscle fibers, in turn, release what's inside them into my bloodstream corrupting my body even further. It's as if my flesh is getting gouged by a rake from the inside out.
Lev is helping me to the car. Parts of my body are turning into dead weight along the way, and he's breathing heavy as he loads me into the passenger seat of my T240 Tracker. He straps the seatbelt over me. I am carrying The Destroying Angel with my functioning left arm, and I lay it over my body, the hilt on top of my chest. Then Lev gives me a couple of light taps on my shoulder before closing my door and running around to the driver's side. He's keyed up — adrenaline coursing through his veins from killing his first demon wolf.
"Where'd you learn to shoot?" I ask him as he gets in the car.
"I watched an instructional vid on the way back," Lev answers
"Ah, the internet."
As Lev pushes on the G-drive, the graviton spinners give off a soft whirring noise, and the car rises. I look at Lev. His hands are gripping the controls tight. His knuckles are white, and he is taking deep breaths.
I am not doing well. I am shivering, and there are cold sweat droplets on my forehead. My body temperature is rising as my immune system kicks into overdrive to fight the poison coursing through me.
"You okay, man?" Lev asks me.
I groan a little and wince. The poison is slow and painful. The fever is high and quick.
"I'll be fine," I answer, as I wipe the cold sweat from my forehead with my wrist. "How about you? You gonna be—"
"What the hell, man?!"
Lev’s sudden outburst was surprising but inevitable. It startles my ears and gives me a headache.
"Okay Lev, let's take it easy,” I say. “You're pumped full of adrenaline right now. So let's take a breath and—"
"Take it easy? Take a breath? What the hell are you talking about, man? What is going on? You and Roxx show up at my work, causing a whole bunch of shit where I make my living. And then some freaky wolves and a goddamn giant lady with fire hair shows up! And why do you keep calling her Astraea? Who the hell is Astraea?"
"Okay, calm down a little, and I will tell you," I say.
My voice is slow and soft. I need Lev to go down to my level, but I understand it's difficult for him to do so. I give him a moment to calm down, then I tell him who Astraea is. I tell him that she was an angel who has now, somehow, taken over the body of the woman he once knew to be Roxx.
"Um, what?" he asks.
"God, I don't even know where to begin," I say to him.
"Why don't you start at the beginning, man?"
I let out a whistle. "The beginning may be a little too far."
"I don't care!” he says. “You guys dragged me into this. I need to know."
"Okay, how about this," I say. "How old do you think I am?"
"What?" Lev asks.
It's good to disorient a mind swimming in adrenaline with a question that comes from way out of left-field. It forces the person to take a moment and think. The more moments like those I can make Lev take, the faster he can come down to his normal state.
"Bear with me," I say. "How old do I look?"
He inspects my face and looks me up and down. He's thinking more and evaluating; feeling is taking a back seat to logic.
"I don't know, maybe 25?"
I cough. "Yes! I knew it! 35 my ass!"
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing. Okay, so you think I'm 25?" I say
.
"Yeah."
"What would you say if I told you that I'm 523 years old?" I ask him.
"I'd call you a delusional nut," he says.
"Well, I am that old."
"Well, then you're a delusional nut," he says.
"Lev, with what you saw today, maybe you should change your idea of what's possible and what isn't, and give me the benefit of the doubt."
"Okay fine, man. So you're 523 years old. How is that even possible?" he asks.
"Because of this," I say, then I give the sword on my chest a little pat.
"The sword?"
"Yup."
"How? What does it do?" asks Lev.
"A bunch of stuff," I say. "It can't be destroyed by material or magical means, for one. It banishes demons back to the spiritual plane for another. But most importantly, it heals. No wear and tear from age nor injury."
"Okay, but why isn’t it healing you?" Lev asks.
"It can only heal the one it chose as its Bearer," I answer.
Lev starts laughing. "You're kidding me, right?"
I give him a blank stare.
"Okay fine,” he says. “So the sword heals. But you're not its Bearer, so that means that Astraea is the Bearer?"
"Yes."
"So you're saying without that sword, Astraea or Roxx, or whatever her name is, is going to die?"
"Marchosias won't kill her," I say.
"Why not?" he asks.
"Because if she did, the sword would choose a new Bearer. There would be no point in Marchosias killing her because then she would end up hunting for the new one."
"So what's Marchosias going to do to her?" Lev asks.
My heart sinks with the thought. I imagine the worst.
"Torture?" Lev asks.
"We need to find her, Lev," I say.
"Why would she torture her? What does she want?"
"Marchosias feeds on fear and despair,” I tell him. “She relishes in and enjoys people's suffering."
The Irispire Portal Page 10