by Jana Oliver
She finally found Harper; he was hemmed in by a pair of Threes. Crazed with the smell of blood, they tore at anything that came near, even each other. That gave Riley an idea.
She crept to where her messenger bag had fallen. After looping it over her shoulder, she reached inside and her fingers closed around the only ammunition she possessed—a sub sandwich she’d planned to eat at the graveyard.
Harper slammed a Holy Water sphere into one of the demons. It didn’t even react.
“Goddammit,” the master swore. The fiends moved closer, knowing they had him.
“Harper?” she called. “Get ready to run!”
“Get out of here, Brat!” he shouted.
She did a high overhand pitch that sent the plastic-bagged sandwich between the two fiends. It hit the floor and they fell on it like junkyard dogs, slashing and clawing at each other. One began to tear into the sandwich. Enraged, the other demon attacked it. A battle ensued, the fiends were too interested in gutting each other than human prey.
“Come on!” she shouted, scooping up Harper’s heavy duffel, the wide strap digging deep into her shoulder. The master trapper cautiously backed away from the fray and joined her.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded, eyes still on the squabbling Threes.
“Demon psychology.” If it’s thrown at them, it had to be food.
Harper seemed to accept that. “Where’s Saint?”
“Outside,” she shouted back. Or at least she prayed that was the case.
Harper motioned for his trapper’s bag. He dug inside and armed himself with a steel pipe. It made her think of Beck.
Squinting, she tried to see though the falling curtain of snow, but there was no way she could find him.
Beck will be okay. He has to be.
Following Harper’s lead, they made their way toward the closest wall, hoping to find an exit. Riley began to see the bodies. Chunks were missing, ropy entrails gaping from wide holes. Her stomach roiled at the stench of fresh blood, and she fought the urge to vomit.
A Pyro-Fiend ran in front of them, cackling as it laid down a trail of fire. Harper stomped on the flames with his heavy boots as they continued to edge forward. Panicked shouts rose as one of the lights crashed to the floor, sending a spray of glass in all directions. Riley realized she could see farther now as the snow globes exhausted themselves. Smoke billowed from the stage curtains as greedy flames inched higher into the building’s superstructure.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t see her dad or Beck.
“Girl!” Harper growled. “Get him up!”
Riley found Jackson hunched in agony, his left arm burned to the elbow. She helped him up, seeing the panic in his eyes.
“Collins. They got him,” he moaned. Riley couldn’t bear to look at his wounds, but the smell of burnt flesh attacked her nose with every breath. She nearly gagged.
“Where’s Simon?”
“Outside,” Jackson wheezed.
The flood of relief nearly took Riley to her knees.
“Keep moving. We’re almost there,” Harper said, more to the injured man than to her. “We stay in here and we’re done for.”
* * *
Beck heard the growl and found a Three in full stalk mode. He’d know it anywhere. It was one he’d tried to trap with Paul. The one Riley had captured. Its eyes blazed a strange yellow, but the rest of it was like he remembered.
Someone had set it free.
“Trappperrr…” it snarled. A sphere shattered against its back. It twitched for a moment, but kept coming. Beck struck it with his pipe and it fell to the ground, then trotted off in search of a less-aggressive meal.
Beck found Morton by his side.
“The Holy Water’s not slowing them down,” the man said, breathing heavily. “Riley was right.”
“Shit,” Beck spat. He wiped a line of sweat off his brow.
“Yeah, I hear you.” Morton set off toward a demon that was slashing through a table to get to a trapper.
Beck heard a shout and turned toward one of the exits. Through the billowing smoke he saw Riley. Harper and Jackson were with her.
“Thank God,” he said. “Get her out of here.”
The old trapper pushed open the door, checked to ensure there was nothing lurking outside, then gestured for Riley to leave. She ignored the master, looking back into the building, searching for someone. Then her eyes found him.
Beck gave her a salute. “Go!” he shouted.
She shook her head, waving for him to come with them.
His eyes met Harper’s. The old trapper gave him a nod and shoved the girl outside over her protests. No matter what he thought of the old man, he owed him.
As long as Riley’s safe nothin’ else matters.
His heart singing of war and payback, Beck waded into the battle.
* * *
Chaos had set up camp in the parking lot. Wounded trappers sprawled on the asphalt, moaning, bleeding, and dying. Riley kept hunting until she found Simon. Someone’s coat was jammed behind his head, and Stewart was bending over him, using a sweatshirt to stanch the blood pouring from his abdomen. Her boyfriend was unnaturally pale, his hands quaking as lips barely moved in prayer.
Another trapper knelt to take over for Stewart. He’d stripped off his shirt and applied it as a compress. It was immediately saturated with blood.
In the distance she heard the high wail of sirens, lots of them.
“We need ta get the lad out of here,” Stewart said. “First ambulance, ya hear?” The other trapper nodded.
More men gathered around them.
“We’re too close to the fire,” Harper said.
“Aye. Come on ya lot, we need ta move the wounded now. This buildin’s comin’ down, and we dunna want ta be near her when she does.”
A cold laugh floated across the parking lot, audible even above the fire’s roar. Riley had heard it before—in the library.
No.
“Five!” someone shouted, and there was the sound of running feet as trappers scattered.
Stewart gestured. “Move ’em, now!” Men struggled to pick up the wounded, helping those who could still hobble across the street toward the park.
Harper turned toward her, his face sweaty and scar pulled tight. “Go with them, Brat. If it breaks through, get to hallowed ground.”
He didn’t understand. The Five was after her. She felt it call to her, offering her the ultimate boon: If she gave herself up, no one else need die.
Riley knelt and kissed Simon’s ashen cheek, though she knew Harper and the others saw her. It didn’t matter now.
“You stay alive, no matter what,” she whispered. Simon’s eyes weren’t focusing, and she wasn’t even sure he’d heard her.
With one last look at the boy who meant so much to her, Riley turned and headed toward her father’s killer.
THIRTY-SIX
Frantic, Beck tried to fight his way through the flames to reach Morton. Threes had cornered him and he was screaming, begging for help. Beck managed to reach one of the fiends and bust its skull, but the remaining demons gleefully tore his fellow trapper apart and fell on his body for the feast.
“Sweet Jesus,” Beck shouted, but it was drowned out as a low rumble filled the hall. He broke more demon skulls, but there seemed no end of them. They began to hunt him like a pack of lions does a cornered gazelle.
The final flakes of snow turned black, sucked upward in the rush of air feeding the burning roof. Beck bolted for the closest exit, jumping over dismembered corpses and the tangle of furniture.
The door was padlocked.
“Oh hell!” he swore. No wonder none of the others had left this way. He jammed the steel pipe between the lock and hasp, and tried to pry them apart. Behind him he heard snarls as the Threes closed in. It was only a matter of time before one jumped him and he’d be dead.
Slamming his weight against the pipe, he heard the chain snap. As he flung open the door, a steady bree
ze blew against his face. He sucked in the clear air and ran for it.
* * *
Riley found the Geo-Fiend hovering above the parking lot next to the remains of a dented Volvo. The demon was more than seven feet tall, its deep ebony skin pulled tight like a wetsuit across a massive chest that any weightlifter would envy. Thick, corded muscles twined around its bullish neck. The face was like the maw of a volcano, glittering ruby fire seething inside the mouth and the eyes. Its horns reminded her of a steer, jutting out of the side of its head and then tapering to sharp points above the crown.
Oh my God.
“Get away from it!” Harper commanded, coming up behind her. He grabbed her arm, shoving her behind him.
At odds with its bulk, the demon made a delicate motion with its hand. A second later a sharp gust of wind slammed against them, blowing Riley into a nearby car. The door handle bashed into her hip. She slid to the ground, whimpering through the pain. There was a sharp cry behind her. Harper lay on the ground clasping his chest. In his hand was a grounding sphere. Somehow he’d kept it from being smashed.
Riley pulled herself up. The demon laughed again, making her blood freeze. Its offer boomed through her mind again like a cannon—her life or it would kill all of them.
Riley knelt next to the man she hated as much as the demon.
“Ribs,” he said through gritted teeth. “Help me up.”
She took the sphere from Harper’s trembling hand.
“What are you doing?” he grunted.
Riley turned and moved toward the demon. Harper shouted for her come back, but she ignored him.
“This is personal,” she said, though she knew he could not hear her.
As she moved closer Beck’s voice was in her mind, telling her how a grounding sphere worked. She let that voice guide her. Riley lobbed the sphere at the Volvo. It smashed, exploded in a brilliant blue flash, and leapt to a nearby car. Then it faltered, unable to find more metal to complete the circuit. The magic faded and died, along with Riley’s only hope.
Amused at her childish bravado, the demon responded with a twisted laugh that struck her like a blow. Did her dad hear that same laugh right before he died?
“Yes,” it hissed.
With a flick of its wrist the ground in front of the Five began to heave and roll toward her like an ocean wave as chunks of black asphalt flew into the air. Then the wave halted. The thing was toying with her.
She took a cautious step back, then another, her knees still knocking.
The fiend grinned, showing her pointed teeth that gleamed in the flames.
“What about the boon? Do we have a deal? My life for the others.” The demon hissed. “Swear it. Swear it on Lucifer’s name!”
At the mention of its master, the demon shrieked into the night, shattering windows and making Riley’s ears roar. She cradled her head as she stumbled backward in panic. The demon wasn’t going to keep its bargain.
The wind began to pick up stray bits of debris from the parking lot, and pieces of gravel and broken glass stung her cheeks. This was how it killed her dad. She blinked her eyes and stumbled backward a few more steps.
Another grounding sphere landed near her, but it failed as well.
“Get back here!” one of the trappers yelled. “We can’t hold it!”
“Like father, like daughter,” the demon cried.
There was a crack and then a thick pop as a hole blew out of the asphalt behind her, spewing debris like a geyser, isolating her from the others. Steam belched from the hole along with a choking stench of mold, brick dust, and tar. Something swirled toward her out of the night—a dust devil. Before she could move, it caught her like a bird in a gale and slung her into the abyss.
Riley screamed and flailed for anything to grab on to. Her hands caught on some broken rebar. When she found a foothold, she levered herself upward so that her chin rested on the asphalt. It dug into her skin, making her jaw ache. Her relief was short lived—another wave came toward her, throwing debris into the air like someone shaking crumbs out of a tablecloth. When the ripple hit she would be gone, tossed deep into the pit.
As the wave approached, Harper shouted for help. There was pop-pop-pop of exploding tarmac. Debris fell like rain.
Riley closed her eyes and prayed.
Something grabbed her arm, and she cried out in surprise as she was winched out of the crater. Landing hard on her butt, Riley stared upward, fearing it would be the demon come to claim her soul.
Ori?
“You lead an interesting life,” the man said, casually lifting her up and tucking her close to him as if he did this sort of rescue every day. He had no weapon she could see. Still, she could feel the coiled power in his muscles.
A roar of fury erupted from the Geo-Fiend, shaking nearby windows and setting off car alarms.
Ori shook his head. “Not yours.”
Despite his warning, the ground wave continued toward them. Riley winced, waiting for the impact, but suddenly it evaporated. The demon roared again, shaking its fists like an angry toddler. In the distance she heard a church bell chime.
“Later, demon. We will meet again.” Ori tugged on her arm. “Time to leave.”
“But—” She looked around for Harper. He was being carried toward the street by a couple of trappers. That only left Beck, but there was no sign of him. The building was fully engulfed in flames now. If he was still in there …
Ori urged her along despite her vehement protests. The Five continued to generate a maelstrom of debris, moving closer to the remaining trappers, followed by demons queuing up for a final attack.
“I have to stay!” she said, pulling against Ori’s grip.
“You stay, you die. That’s not happening tonight.”
They’d just reached her car when Ori abruptly halted. Swiveling back toward the fire, he frowned. “Well, well, now there’s a surprise.”
It took time for Riley’s brain to process the scene. The trappers were huddled in a bunch, those still able to fight forming a protective ring around the wounded. But just beyond their ring was another one. It shone pure white, but unlike the circle at the cemetery every pinpoint of brilliance was at least eight feet tall and held a flaming sword.
“Angels,” she cried in amazement. “Omigod, they’re angels!”
* * *
“I’ll be damned,” Beck said, shielding his sooty eyes from the powerful light. The ring of glowing figures stood wing tip to wing tip, forming an ethereal barrier between the demons and the survivors. When a Three got too close, it shrieked and burst into flames like a tiki torch.
With howls of frustration and rage, the demons began to fall back, then one by one they fled into the dark alleys around the burning building. Only the Five was left, and with an unearthly roar it vanished in a swirl of black dust and mist.
A few of the trappers let out throaty cheers. Others gaped at Heaven’s guard dogs.
“Where the hell … were they … when this started?” Harper grumbled, his sweaty face contorted in pain. He was bent over, working for each breath.
“Doesn’t matter,” Beck said, kneeling next to the injured master. “They’re here now, and that’s what counts.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Riley found herself at the gateway to the cemetery. Her car keys were in her hand but she didn’t remember the drive. Ori was gone. Had she come here alone?
Every few seconds another tremor would shake her from head to toe like she had the flu. Digging in the messenger bag she pulled out her bottled water and drained it. She frowned. Where had the bag come from? She didn’t remember picking it up. A quick check proved Beck’s gift was inside her sweater. At least I didn’t lose that.
Her mind was still dazed. How had the demons gotten through the Holy Water?
I should have checked it with the claw. What if I was wrong and it was the counterfeit stuff?
A profound shiver flashed through her.
Where had Ori come from? Doesn’t matter.
He saved my life.
Which left the biggest mystery of all. Was her dad still in his grave? There was only one way to know the truth.
Riley took off at a run down the asphalt path toward the mausoleum, as the bag bumped against her side. She hadn’t gone far before her thigh cramped, forcing her to limp. Her lungs burned with each breath. She coughed deeply and tasted soot in her mouth.
He’s there. I know he’s there.
When she drew close to the mausoleum, she saw the glow of the candles. Riley cried in relief. It was some necro’s sick game.
The circle was different. Bigger. It no longer encompassed the graves, but the entire mausoleum. Martha was in her chair facing west like she wanted a ringside seat to the Tabernacle’s destruction. As always, she was knitting.
When Riley hobbled up the old woman smiled at her, pushing a row of stitches to the end of a needle. “Ah, there you are. I’m sorry about your dad, dear, but sometimes these things happen.”
“Dad?” Riley swung her eyes toward the dark corner that housed her parents’ graves. The ground above her father’s wasn’t a smooth mound anymore.
The grave was wide open.
“No!” she shouted. “No…” The circle of light burst high into the air, reacting to her anger and grief. Riley averted her eyes from the painful brilliance.
“What happened?” she demanded. “How did they get to him? The circle’s still in one piece.”
Martha looked up, her needles moving at lightning speed. “This one is. The first circle was breached, so I recast it.”
“Why bother?” Riley asked, dumbfounded.
Martha paused mid-stitch. “Rod came down with a cold, so they sent another volunteer. He’s fairly new. Unfortunately, he has a phobia about dragons, and that’s exactly what came after him. He said the thing was twenty feet tall, and it shot a wall of flames at him. It was too much for the poor dear. He dove for cover and accidently broke the circle.” Martha finished the stitch and tucked the knitting into her bag. “He’s quite upset,” she added.
“Oh, I bet. Just devastated.” Riley coughed and then glared at the old woman. “Who took my dad? Was it the debt collection people? Give me a name.” So I can tear him apart.