They Rend: A Nyxia White Story (The Nyxia White Stories Book 2)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “We have not feasted like this in some time,” it said. “Thank you, Darkin. You will be remembered.”

  “No need, really,” I said. “In fact I’d prefer it if you forgot you ever met me.”

  “We do not forget,” it said. “You will be remembered, Darkin.”

  I didn’t know if that was a threat or a promise, so I decided to let it go and focus on the immediate issue. If they were done, why was it still here?

  “Are you saying you guys are full?” I asked. “Is that even possible?”

  “Full?” it asked, then growled with another shake of its head, splattering more blood on the walls. “I am tasked with keeping guard to the lower levels.”

  “Won’t they just get out some other way?”

  “There are no other exits below us. The tunnels under this structure point to one location…this door.”

  I mentally reviewed the plans Gryn had provided. The Minoras was right. This was the only way down that didn’t involve massive amounts of destructive power.

  I turned to look at the massive steel door that led downstairs to the tunnels. Having only one way in or out was either poor planning or a deliberate choice.

  It made for easy control.

  The door was a chokepoint. If anyone or anything below was trying to get out, it would only take a small force to hold down this door. One exit was easy to watch, guard, or destroy if needed, containing everything downstairs in the tunnels.

  “One way in and one way out?” I asked. “That doesn’t sound too smart.”

  “The area below was meant to trap my kind. Yours too,” it said. “Tonight, it will be the sorcerers’ end—more of my kind are coming to the feast you provided.”

  I wasn’t enjoying getting the credit for demon night at the all-you-can-eat OSA Sorcerer Buffet. Things like that had a way of getting around, and I had enough enemies to deal with.

  “Don’t mention it, really,” I said. “My friend is down there somewhere. I need to get him, before you and the crew go on your ballistic demon shredfest.”

  “I was to instruct you to act with haste Death comes to this place tonight; all within this structure will feel our fangs and claws. None will be spared before the rising of the sun.”

  “None?”

  It raked the floor with its claws, throwing up sparks along the concrete surface as it bared its fangs in what could only be the creepiest smile a demon could manage.

  “None,” it said. “Tonight, everything within these walls dies.”

  “Shit,” I said, reaching for the door. “Thanks for the heads up. How soon before your demon pack returns?”

  “Soon,” it said. “Do not waste time.”

  “Thanks for the accurate timeframe there,” I said, mostly to myself. No sense in picking a fight with a Minoras, even if it was just a guard dragondog. “Hope to never see you again.”

  I took the stairs fast. Demons weren’t exactly known for their accuracy when it came to time. They were beings of millennia—what was an hour or two to them? I walked down a few corridors, when I realized the tunnels beneath the building were set up like a maze.

  They had mimicked the labyrinth at the Seven HQ, using the confusing configuration of corridors to make it nearly impossible for anyone or anything to escape. I pulled up my mental map of the plans I had studied and looked for the corridor that led to the largest space.

  Rending a Demon Lord was not a subtle affair. The sorcerer in question—I guessed Quinton in this case—would need room, a wide space to draw an enormous circle large enough to harness massive amounts of power—enough power to rend a demon like Acheron. I mentally pinpointed the room that made the most sense and started heading that way.

  A few times I saw doors that led to small rooms. Inside these rooms, I could see operating tables, complete with straps and chains attached. Some of the rooms still had fresh blood on the floor or a half-dissected demon corpse strapped to a table.

  Every so often I could sense OSA Agents in some of the rooms and corridors, but most of them were in hiding or heading away from me. If any of them had fled downstairs from the upstairs massacre, they had a rough night ahead of them.

  These tunnels were a dead end…literally.

  If I recalled the plans correctly, the Minoras was right: there really was no exit down here. These tunnels were devised as a containment and experimentation areas. That was Order code for torture and death. It dawned on me that this property was probably an OSA black site. A place where people and creatures—creatures like me— disappeared after being subjected to horrific treatment.

  A quiet part of me wanted to warn the OSA Agents, to let them know hell was going to make a house call. The louder, stronger part of me said…fuck them. They persecuted and killed countless creatures with no provocation or justification, aside from their victims being different…being other.

  They deserved what was coming to them tonight…with interest.

  After a few more turns, I found the room I figured would serve best as the rending space. It was spacious enough to draw a large circle, but removed from the main network of tunnels. If I were going to destroy a Demon Lord, I would do it in this room.

  I stood still at the entrance, adjusted my vision to the lower light and peered in. The darkened room was a large square with an upper level balcony overlooking the main area. It reminded me of an operating theater. Before stepping in, I checked the threshold to make sure it was sigil-free.

  The last thing I needed was to get blasted by defensive sigils that rendered me unconscious or paralyzed. Quinton seemed like the type to use them, but the door was clear. Whatever nasty surprise he had left for me, I hadn’t found it yet. There was a good chance the demons crashing his rending party had upset his plans.

  As I stepped in farther, I saw the large Saint Andrews cross in the center of an enormous circle of sigils. Someone had been busy. I barely recognized any of the sigils in the circle, but I was familiar with the energy I sensed in the center of the circle.

  X marked the spot, as I saw my friend bound to the wooden cross, with glowing bands of sigil-inscribed metal around his wrists and ankles.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” Acheron said from the cross. “You do realize this is a trap?”

  “Obviously,” I said, looking around at the empty room. “It doesn’t get more blatant than putting you on a cross in the center of what I can only guess is a rending circle?”

  “Correct, complete with sigils to enhance my agony during the process,” Acheron added. “It’s good to see people take pride in their work. Even if the work is designed to destroy me.”

  “Can it?”

  “Quite,” Acheron nodded. “This is an ancient circle, not used in several centuries. Frankly, I thought it had been lost to time. Its construction is beyond any of the sorcerers I have encountered during my brief, but painful stay. This is an impressive display of skill.”

  “This whole setup is cliché, if you ask me,” I said. “It’s obvious and amateurish.”

  “Yet, here you are, springing the trap,” Acheron answered. “Why are you here? It’s not me they want, it’s you.”

  “Me?” I asked, confused. “What would a bunch of third-rate wannabe sorcerers with an acute death wish want with me?”

  “Must be for that wonderful demeanor of yours,” Acheron said and coughed. “Apologies, this circle has had some deleterious effects on my recuperative abilities.”

  I stepped closer, but stayed outside of the circle. Acheron looked like he had been used as a punching bag by an angry troll.

  “Those fuckers,” I said, seething, and made to enter the circle. “Who did this to you?”

  “Do not step into the circle, Nyx,” Acheron said. “It’s a trap.”

  “I’m not a demon.”

  “That’s what they’re counting on—your thinking you’re immune. Kindly stay outside the circle.”

  “Who did this?” I said, looking around. “Where are they?”

  �
��There were quite a few of them here earlier,” Acheron said. “Then there was some commotion. Many of them fled. I’m sure they’ll return…you should leave now while you can.”

  “Not without you,” I said. “I came here to rescue you, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Forget me,” Acheron said. “I’m a lost cause. Even if you could get past the circle, which you can’t, I’m bound to this cross”—he tugged at the metal bands across his wrists—“with sigils even I can’t break. Believe me, I tried.”

  I turned away from Acheron when I felt the energy signature on the upper level.

  “I know you’re there,” I said. “Why not come down so we can talk about this?”

  “I underestimated you twice,” Quinton said. “I won't do so again. How did you turn the Minoras?”

  “Turn them?” I asked, then laughed. “I didn’t have to turn them. They were all too happy to feast on your stupid sorcerer asses.”

  “Impossible,” Quinton answered. “I summoned them with the explicit purpose of destroying you.”

  “You used a free-cast,” I said. “That was your first mistake.”

  “A free-cast?” Acheron said. “With a Minoras? That sounds foolhardy.”

  “Not a Minoras—three of them,” I said, holding up three fingers. “That was your second mistake.”

  “I summoned four Minoras,” Quinton sneered. “Are you blind as well as stupid?”

  “Did you now?” I asked as I kept scanning the upper level. “Maybe you didn’t read the summoning instructions? Seems like you may have miscalculated.”

  “Miscalculated?” Quinton said, his voice rising in pitch. He was getting angry, and judging from the scent I was picking up, fear had started taking hold. Good. “What do you take me for? A rank amateur?”

  “Are you saying one of them wasn’t a Minoras?” Acheron asked quietly. “Did he…did he open a gate?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I’m not the one that summoned a Majoras by accident,” I said, looking at Acheron. “That sounds like something only a rank amateur would do. I mean opening a gate and letting a Majoras in…well, that sorcerer would have to be a real fuck-up. Don’t you think?”

  “A free-cast with a Majoras would be downright suicidal,” Acheron replied. “I truly hope you’re mistaken, for all our sakes. They are nearly impossible to stop, much less kill.”

  “A Majoras?” Quinton said with a low growl as he slowly lost control. “You pathetic liar. You wouldn’t know a Majoras if it sank its fangs into you. I summoned four Minoras.”

  “The sorcerer doth protest too much, methinks,” Acheron said. “Tell me, this creature you saw, about twice the size of a normal Minoras, deep red scales, with flaming eyes?”

  “I’d say that’s an accurate description,” I said, looking up into the balcony. “Said he was coming back—and bringing friends to sorcerer buffet night.”

  “Coming back?” Acheron asked. “Here? With more? Perhaps we should consider making an exit before that happens? No one on the premises is strong enough to deal with three free-cast demons, much less a horde of them.”

  “Quinton the Tool thinks he’s powerful enough,” I answered, pointing up to the balcony. “He thinks he can handle three Minoras, one Majoras, and whatever else they bring. Sounds like a very hungry group of demons.”

  “Lies of desperation,” Quinton answered, but I could hear the undercurrent of fear in his voice now. “OSA Agents will be swarming the premises within the hour.”

  “About that,”—I said, holding up a finger—“did you miss the part where I said they’re inviting more demons to the all-you-can-eat sorcerer buffet? If I were you, I wouldn’t want to stick around to be dessert. Just a suggestion.”

  “You think you’ve won?” Quinton answered, his voice coming from a different location. He was moving. “By sunrise, that circle will rend your demon and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  “I can make sure you’re not alive to see it,” I answered, still trying to pinpoint his location. “Why not come down and make me another offer? One I can’t refuse?”

  I glanced over at Acheron, who shook his head no…telling me not to negotiate.

  If I survived tonight, I was going to start carrying a large gun. Something that held both demonkiller and asshole-sorcerer eradicator rounds.

  “The window on that opportunity has passed,” Quinton answered. “I’m here to make certain your demon dies by sunrise.”

  He had just overshared. I looked down at the circle around Acheron. I felt the energy thrumming around and in it. The circle was dormant but charged. It was waiting for a catalyst, something that had to do with sunlight or energy.

  How would Quinton get sunlight down here into the tunnels? It didn’t make sense—we were several levels under the building. There was no way sunlight could reach us.

  The circle needed activation, and it needed activation by someone strong enough to manipulate the energy required to rend a Demon Lord. Which meant that anyone else that could have done it was probably in pieces upstairs, leaving only Quinton, or else he would have ghosted by now.

  The Majoras’ words came back to me: Deep, dark power, not possessed by the human who opened the gate for me.

  Quinton wasn’t strong enough to summon a Majoras. Hell, he didn’t even have a clue one had piggy-backed into his summons. No, he couldn’t rend Acheron, but maybe he didn’t need to?

  What if the circle was primed and on a timer? Then, it wouldn’t require sunlight, or a massive amount of power, just some kind of activation. Any sorcerer could do it, not necessarily a powerful one, just one willing to take the risk and jumpstart the process.

  That sounded more like Quinton the Tool.

  OSA Agents weren’t known for their bravery, especially not the Night Division. They preferred to fight from the shadows. Attacking left when you expected right. They hated direct confrontations and preferred to outmaneuver their targets, blindsiding them.

  Except now, Quinton and his crew had become dinner. If he was tasked with this rending, he would have to stick around and do it himself.

  I needed to remind him how alone he was.

  “Did you get a chance to see all six floors of the building upstairs?” I asked matter-of-factly. “Or did you just see the level you and your minions were hiding on? Those Minoras shredded all of your people, I mean all of them.”

  “Their deaths are on your head, bitch. You did this.”

  “My head?” I asked, looking around. “I don’t recall summoning, not one, but four hungry demons. I seem to recall that being you. Those sorcerer deaths are on you.”

  “There’s no way for you to reach my location,” Quinton answered, his voice echoing from the balcony. “You can stall all you want, but it changes nothing. At sunrise your demon pet dies.”

  At sunrise not sunlight. I was missing the obvious. The circle was on some sort of timer.

  “Demon pet?” Acheron asked indignantly. “I am no one’s pet.”

  I needed to communicate with Acheron, but I didn’t know if it was possible now with the power of the Darkin I had within. I focused on him and searched for the bond we shared. It took some effort, but I managed it.

  Is there any way I can break you out of there?

  None. I’m trapped here due to the bond I share with you. They managed a deviously clever snare. It uses the energy of our bond to keep me affixed to the cross.

  What happens if I break the bond?

  You die. Do not even consider it.

  I’m not the same Otherkin you knew. I’ve changed.

  Turned over a new leaf? Well, good for you. Be that as it may, do not even think of breaking the bond. It will kill both the new and old you.

  I pulled out the small slip of paper Gryn gave me.

  For Emergency Circle Destruction Use Only.

  If this wasn’t an emergency, I didn’t know what was. I examined the indecipherable sigils one last time, and tossed the paper into the c
ircle holding Acheron.

  ELEVEN

  Normal sigils contain an immense amount of power.

  Sigils created by an insanely accomplished sorcerer and imbued with his power, are staggering in the magnitude of energy they can unleash. When those sigils are designed to destroy a circle…the effects are impressive.

  The paper floated over to the center of the circle near Acheron. For a few seconds, nothing happened.

  “Littering, now?” Acheron asked. “What has this world come to?”

  Quinton laughed above me.

  “Did you think you would be able to disrupt that circle with a piece of paper?” he mocked. “You truly are clueless. To think I offered you a position with the Order. What was I thinking? I’m going to enjoy watching you die.”

  That circle, not my circle. Sorcerers had egos only slightly smaller than demons. If Quinton had drawn the circle he would’ve been boasting about his ability the moment I had entered the room.

  A flicker of light caught my attention. It came from the circle and steadily began increasing in brightness. The paper began glowing red and Acheron raised an eyebrow.

  “Those sigils look vaguely like a—” Acheron started.

  The sigils on the paper exploded with red energy. The force of the explosion knocked me across the room. I managed to twist my body and land in a crouch, as a beam of red and black energy shot up from the floor and slowly expanded, destroying the circle.

  “No, no, no,” Quinton yelled. “What have you done?”

  “Destroyed your circle,” I answered. “Shouldn’t be a problem for an expert sorcerer like you to draw another one, right? You should have enough time before sunrise.”

  I was counting on the chance that he wasn’t the one who drew the circle in the first place. He was just here to set it off. With the circle destroyed, Quinton would have to get hands-on. He would have to come down from the shadows and get his hands dirty.

  My preferred style of fighting.

  “You filthy, Otherkin bitch,” he spat. “I’ll kill you myself.”

  “He seems upset,” Acheron noted as the circle of energy expanded further, obliterating the sigils of the circle. “Retreat is the better part of valor here. Get out now, Nyx…while you can.”