The Lillim Callina Chronicles: Volumes 1-3

by J. A. Cipriano

  I ground my teeth together in anger as thought occurred to me. “Hmm… I think I might have something that will kill him, but we can’t miss. I only have two shots.”

  “What could you possibly have?” Joshua stared at me, mouth open in disbelief as I walked across the room and pulled up a floorboard.

  Hidden beneath this floorboard was a small safe. I had spent a long time warding and protecting it so nothing could get inside. I pressed my hand to the handle and murmured a few choice words. It opened to reveal an old single-action revolver. I picked it up, spun the chamber, and loaded it with the last two bullets.

  “Where did you get that?” His eyes widened as he watched me stick the gun into my overcoat.

  “None of your business.” My voice was icy even though I hadn’t meant for it to be. What can I say, something about the way Joshua looked at me just rubbed me the wrong way.

  “Is that really it?” he asked finally, not bothering to hide the awe in his voice. “The gun they say was crafted from the Ark of the Covenant?”

  “Yeah, it’s that same gun. The one that had bullets forged from the nails they used to impale Christ. If this thing can’t kill a demon, nothing can.” I smiled. It was time to make that demon pay. Or, you know, die trying.

  28

  As Joshua and I made our way out of my apartment, we found a trail of blood splattered on the sidewalk. I gripped the hilt of Haijiku for support. Just touching the weapon brought me a strange sense of confidence I hadn’t felt when wielding the pure white Shirajirashii, but then again, it was probably just me imagining things.

  Either way, as much as I hate to say it, I was glad to have both it and Joshua alongside me because as we turned the corner, we found devastation spreading out in the wake of the demon’s escape. If I hadn’t just seen the aftermath of a nuclear bomb, I might have argued such a bomb would have been kinder to the surroundings.

  Plumes of violent, black smoke coiled from the destroyed cars littering the street, and glass was sprayed out from the shattered buildings along both sides of the street. To my left, a geyser of water shot into the air from what had once been a fire hydrant.

  I shook my head and hoped my neighbors had insurance against demon attacks. Somehow, I didn’t think it was likely.

  “Shh.” Joshua who put a finger to his mouth. I heard it then, just the tiniest scream, the smallest yelp, and I took off running. The pain in my thigh flared up as I moved, but I called upon my power and buried it beneath a swell of magic.

  As I got closer, the stink of sulfur hung heavy and cloying in the air. Goosebumps rose all over my body. Overhead, the moon sat in the sky, leering at me in a half-hearted taunt. I clenched my good hand and shook my fist at it. Stupid moon.

  “Don’t worry. I’m here now,” Joshua said, casually touching my burned hand with his fingers. Part of me wanted to pull my hand away… but the other part? The other part was glad he was with me. I did not like that other part.

  “I wasn’t worried,” I grumbled, pulling away from him and continuing on.

  As the street forked off, the rank smell of blood and death hung thicker than the smog in the air. I coughed and wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my overcoat. It smelled as though garbage had been left in the sun for days.

  I tried to take a deep breath, as I turned another corner, but it got caught in my throat. The creature in front of me was massive in the way elephants were massive. Tufts of sickly, yellow hair sprouted all over its enormous mottled gray-purple hide. Its face was a mask of slavering teeth and jutting black horns. It turned toward us and howled and the heavens thundered above us.

  Wyrm’s beady, crimson eyes settled on me as he raised one large, distended warty arm and pointed a black talon at me. “Once I kill you, all will look at me and say ‘is that not the one who slaughtered Lillim Callina and Joshua Landers, gods among men?’” Wyrm’s voice shook me. It sounded like a baby screaming.

  My palms began to sweat, and the hairs on the nape of my neck stood at attention. I gripped the shotgun beneath my overcoat hard enough for my knuckles to turn white from the effort. With a deep breath, I pulled my shotgun out and aimed it at the creature. Wyrm threw his head back and chortled.

  “What do you expect to do with that?” it asked, cocking its head like it’d never even seen a shotgun before, which was weird because it looked just like the one Joshua had used on him earlier.

  “Kill you,” I replied, lining up the weapon right between his eyes.

  The demon laughed, and power exploded from him, tearing up the asphalt all around him and flinging it in every direction. Cars overturned in a screech of rubber before crashing down with a shriek of broken glass.

  I took a quick step back and gulped down the rising sea of fear in my throat. When Wyrm had first entered our world, it had been far weaker than it was now, and that was just a few hours ago. Now I was injured.

  Sure, Joshua had used a few spells to speed up the healing process, but I still wasn’t up to being fighting fit. Just a few minutes of exertion would pretty much cause my body to burn out. Still, I had my gun, and it could kill this demon. All I had to do was get off one clean shot.

  I gulped down my fear and plastered a confident smile on my face before glancing at Joshua. Wyrm laughed and with a flick of his wrist, skeletons burst from the corpses littering the surrounding area. They stood, lifting themselves like zombies rising from the grave and began to howl. The sound whipped by me, reminding me of the wind whistling through the leafless trees of a graveyard.

  Wyrm lashed out at me, and I barely managed to block its claws with the barrel of my shotgun. My feet skidded backward through the ash, and I fired the gun into its torso. Wyrm flung his hand out. The buckshot stopped in midair, hovered there for a second like a swarm of bees. It shot back at me.

  “No!” Joshua grabbed me by the scruff of my collar and jerked me out of the buckshot’s path.

  I crashed into the ground and pain exploded through my burned hand. I gritted my teeth as I struggled not to cry out while blinking away the stars dancing across my vision.

  “A weapon like that is much too slow to ever hurt me.” Wyrm’s lips curled devilishly, and the skeletons broke out into staccato laughter as he spun to bring his massive tail down upon me. “You can never hope to defeat me with sheer physical strength alone!”

  I stepped forward, barely dodging the attack. As his tail split the asphalt next to me, I forced all of my pain into the palms of my hands and threw it into the very center of Wyrm’s back. A crack resounded through the air, echoing into the crowds of slavering skeletons that watched with empty eye sockets.

  The thick chitin covering Wyrm’s body exploded outward in a burst of blood and flame. Instead of shrieking, the demon began to laugh. With an absent swat, he sent me flying backward. I crashed into the ground with a cry of pain as the laughter of the skeletons drowned out all other sound.

  “Time to go back to Hell demon.” Emerald light glimmered around Joshua’s outstretched hand as he spoke. Huge rocks of burning magic appeared in the sky above us and began to slam mercilessly into the creature, pounding the once hilly area into a ragged, glassy crater.

  Despite the onslaught of magic, the laughter remained, growing ever more hideous and abrasive with each passing moment. Joshua pointed the barrels of his guns at the smoking crater. It was as though he fully expected his foe to emerge unhurt, yet was afraid to burst into the realm of smoke to find out for sure.

  A form began to move in the crater. I could scarcely believe the sight before me as the body within the cloud of debris picked itself up and took a step from the dust. Half of its face was curled into a disgusting snarl. The other half had been peeled back to reveal the bone beneath. Blood oozed from what flesh remained attached to its bony frame.

  “I won’t lie to you, Joshua.” The demon raised its arms high. “That stung.”

  Wyrm spun, producing a spear made from solid bone and flinging it at Joshua in one single motion. The deadly weap
on smacked into Joshua’s chest in an explosion of black smoke and pinned him against the remnants of a car. Joshua wheezed once as smoke trickled from his mouth and very slowly his guns fell from his hands and hit the ground.

  “I forgot that one bleeds smoke. It’s so much less satisfying than hot, slick blood.” Wyrm turned to me and his half-skeletal face twisted into a grin. “Somehow, I think killing you will be more satisfying.”

  “Joshua!” The cry burst from my lips as he slumped lifelessly against the car.

  Something broke inside me. My vision blurred as I leapt forward, slamming my bandaged fist into the demon’s face. Pain shot through my hand, white-hot, but Wyrm stood there, looking at me as though I’d hit him with a feather.

  “You were lucky to have Joshua there to defeat me before. Few have ever done so, but to truly defeat me is impossible,” Wyrm snarled. He grabbed me around the throat and lifted me into the air. “I’m… I’m starting to feel elated. I can feel the happiness flow through me as your life is being extinguished, Lillim Callina. You are giving me great pleasure this day.” Wyrm’s voice was a soft coo in my ear as he squeezed my throat harder. “And to think, once you are dead we can relive this pleasure in Hell, day after day, until the end of eternity.”

  “Joshua…” My vision began to fade as my left hand searched frantically beneath my overcoat. Metal found my hand, and I tried to draw my revolver, but it was so very heavy. “Joshua… please… Please don’t be dead. Joshua… please…” My hand fell to my side as I slumped forward. Everything was filling with inky blackness as my lungs struggled, burning for air.

  I felt Joshua’s warmth wrapping around me. I felt his hand close over mine, closing my fingers over the gun, placing it against the creature’s chest. I felt the recoil of the blast rip through my hand as I pulled the trigger.

  The sound of crashing thunder exploded across the horizon. The thunder grew to a crescendo. Wyrm dropped me and staggered backward. I slumped to the ground, gasping mouthfuls of air down my ravaged throat.

  Wyrm fell to his knees screaming in agony. The skeletons surrounding me dropped lifelessly to the ground as rain began to fall. Lightning flashed overhead as I pointed the gun at Wyrm and fired the last bullet into the demon’s skull. He twitched once, flopping backward as his body began to dissolve.

  Instantly, the rain stopped, and the sky lightened. The moon still hung there in a bemused sort of way as if to tell me not to be too happy. I looked down at my hand. I was no longer holding my gun. I was holding a piece of carved wood. The same one Joshua had been carving earlier. What the hell? How was that possible?

  My jaw dropped, and my eyes darted to the spot where Joshua had been pinned to the car. His corpse wasn’t there nor was the bony spike that had impaled him. The street looked perfectly normal. Everything looked normal. There was no trace of the smoking ruin I had been standing in moments before. My clothing and skin were free of ash. I grabbed my hurt thigh and was stunned by the complete absence of pain. What was going on?

  I shut my eyes and tried my best to stop my head from pounding, and as I calmed down, I realized what had happened. In the past, I had seen Joshua use his power, and I knew all the signs. His illusions were nearly perfect. The only thing that ever gave them away was a very slight shimmer around the edges. It was so faint, you wouldn’t see it unless you were looking for it.

  Maybe because Wyrm had been involved, I hadn’t been paying enough attention, but that was no excuse. Not that it mattered. As I thought back, I realized the truth. Joshua had used his power over illusions to make up the entire thing with Bob, Logan, and Wyrm. No wonder the other demons called him things like Loki and trickster.

  “Damn you, Joshua!” I screamed. He’d been after my special gun the entire time. I wasn’t sure how he had even known I possessed it, but I should have protected such a valuable weapon a bit more. At the first thought of Wyrm, I’d grabbed the most powerful thing in existence and... He knew exactly what I’d do. He knew me well… but not that well.

  I turned and stared at the moon looming over me, huge and massive. For the moment, I was glad I had something to focus on other than Joshua’s betrayal and my missing gun. Because if I thought about it for even one more second, thought about how he had purposely used Caleb’s image to frighten me, I was going to kill him. I would throw Joshua from the top of Mount Olympus, and I would suck the marrow from his bones. My wrath would be a hell of brambles and fire.

  I would… I would…

  I broke then. I’m not proud to say it, but I did. I fell to my knees in the middle of the street pawing, gasping for breath. I screamed and cried and howled. Gut wrenching pain tore me up and left me raw. The only reason Joshua had wanted to find me was to use me for his own agenda. Was that why Warthor had kidnapped Mattoc? If Mattoc had been with me, he would have seen through the illusion…

  Hell, if Warthor hadn’t locked down my ethereal sight, I’d have seen through the illusion. Had that been the start of everything? Had Joshua merely been playing along to Warthor’s tune? If he was… did that make it okay? No, no it didn’t.

  I knew Joshua didn’t want me, but deep down inside there was always hope... My heart broke, and it crushed me down until I was nothing but a raw nub of hurt. But I had to stand. I had to draw the hot sticky pain into myself and push it down to the depths of my toes. After all, I was a girl, and in the world I lived in, a girl couldn’t break. Not now, not ever.

  Later, I could indulge this pain. I could let it tear me asunder, but right now I had to suck it up and find Warthor.

  29

  Rain came down in shimmering sheets that painted the hills into a dreary, gloomy scrawl. At the end of the street stood a tall house with a whitewashed sign that, at some point, might have contained vibrant lettering. Now, however, it was reduced to faded, unreadable calligraphy.

  For many years the house on the hill had been a stopping point for wayward travelers. It existed in between all realms. This house was a crossroads. From here, any place could be reached, even those hidden deep within the nether. Even Warthor Ein’s.

  The house on the hill was governed by a simple rule. Any creature, regardless of origin, was unable to commit violence within. Those that tried would answer to the one man who ran the house on the hill. He was said to see into a person’s very soul, and sometimes, even into the past lives of that soul.

  As I approached the black, wrought-iron gate in the center of the crumbling, sixteen-foot high brick fence that surrounded the house, I shuddered. Instead of protecting the home, it seemed as though the gate was waiting for the perfect time to reach out and swallow the entire place, chimney and all. A man in an ankle-length yellow raincoat sat next to the gate. He furrowed his gray brow when he saw me and fidgeted with a dirty, black key.

  “Are you coming to see the master?” the man yelled over the howling wind.

  “Yes, I have urgent business with him.” My voice was surprisingly colder than I’d meant it to be. It betrayed no emotion, but instead acted more like a dam holding back a frightening crescendo.

  “Yes, yes… we get many people like yourself, anxious for a place to stay and all, but please, won’t you oblige me with some information? It won’t take but a moment of your time,” the man asked with consideration in his dull gray eyes.

  I tilted my head while placing my good hand against one of the bars and shaking. “Open the door. Please.”

  “Oh, if you insist, but do be careful, the master is entertaining some guests.” The doorman shot me a weak smile, and I nodded. As I did, he visibly relaxed and pressed a button to his left.

  The massive gate creaked open on its rusty hinges, allowing me to pass into the depths of the yard. Dirty crags of crabgrass shot up between cracks in the dark stone that made up the pathway to the house.

  Two shimmering obsidian statues stood with poised bayonets on either side of the granite doorframe. In the center of the door was the head of an enormous lion, and in the very center of its roaring mouth
was a knocker. I reached up and took hold of the lion’s tongue, slick with the night’s rain. I slammed it against its base.

  There was a loud creak, a sort of odd shuffle, and the door opened, scratching its bottom against the ground and screeching loudly as it did so. Two old men with time-ravaged bodies stared at me blankly from inside.

  “The master is not expecting you,” they said in unison. I ignored them and walked past them into the hallway. The door screeched shut behind me as I followed the long hallway forward.

  Jovial sounds filled my ears as I progressed down the picture-lined hallway toward the party. Faces of old men stared down on me, their eyes following me ominously.

  The parlor was filled to the brim with tables ablaze with lavish, stained-glass lamps. The windows were hung with gaudy purple curtains on top of even gaudier golden poles. Several crude animal heads and creepy porcelain statues decorated the walls.

  The most peculiar things, however, were the brightly-colored plastic bouquets that sat fixed in the center of the tables, as though intended to perk up the morose decor of the room.

  Seated by a fireplace was a lone man with his back to the rest of the guests. From the way he gripped the chair’s creaking wooden frame it seemed as though he would be much happier once everyone left. The rest of the crowd was almost faceless, moving in between and through each other as they helped themselves to the different dishes sitting on each table.

  I stepped into the room and made my way through the crowd, parting them easily enough. When I reached the fireplace, I caught sight of the man. He had long silver hair that fell to the middle of his back in a wave while the front was spiked into a large hook that curled over his left eye, shielding most of it from view.

  The entire left side of his face was mottled and burned as though someone had doused him in acid. The rest of his body was concealed from view beneath a silver cloak with shiny obsidian buttons. He turned toward me, and a shiver wracked my body. His remaining eye was like a burning torch as he looked up and pointed one twitching finger at my chest.