by E. A. Copen
We shuffled from one train to the next in silence like the rest of them. The more changes we went through, the more crowded the trains became until we got off in Manhattan. Most passengers would go on, getting as close as they could to Central Park before disembarking. Several stations in midtown were apparently closed due to parade preparations, so they’d go on foot, herded by police and signs.
Our ideal stop would’ve been on 57th, but that station was closed, so we wound up going all the way to 59th Street, putting us about half a kilometer from our destination. We came up from the subway station onto a street lined with luxury fashion and beauty shops. Throngs of people crowded the sidewalk at the crossing, waiting for the light to change. Breath pooled in a white halo above their heads. Laughter cut through the cold air, sharp and stilted, falling into a sudden stop as the light changed and people surged forward.
Khaleda and I crossed the other way, moving away from the crowd.
I stopped on the other side of the street to light one last cigarette. Once I went into the apartment building, there’d be no more, not unless I was lucky enough to walk away from this one. Khaleda waited, eyes, scanning the street and all the faces that passed us by.
My lighter made a cold metallic click as I flipped the top closed. “You know, you don’t have to go.”
She looked at me like I was a moron. “If I don’t, Noelle will cut you into tiny pieces.”
“She might still do that anyway. Point is, there’s still time for you to get clear of this. You could go back to New Orleans. Someone there would help you.”
Her fingers brushed the oversized knives hidden by the hem of her shirt. “She made it personal when she killed Victis. He belonged to me. Besides, her form is sloppy. She lets her ego and temper trump technique. It’s an insult to women blade fighters everywhere.”
“Right.” I pocketed the lighter, and we started down the street again.
The Park Avenue apartment building was a dizzying structure of ninety-three stories. Unlike most high-rise apartment buildings, this one was a small, universally square structure, like they’d just stacked a bunch of cubes. Most buildings of that size had to be wider at the bottom than the top to prevent swaying in the high winds. This one seemed to just be reinforced on the inside. Every six floors, two floors sat empty and open, allowing the wind to pass through. I supposed that was one way to do it. I saw the building as a testament to modern New York itself: cramped, stubbornly defiant, and smugly materialistic. It was the perfect place for me to face Danny. I hoped I was right about him being there.
As if it were some sort of sign, a black car pulled up on the street. The passenger door opened and Decimus stepped out, still wearing August Jessup’s face. He adjusted the collar of his coat and came to meet us.
“Here to make sure I follow through on our deal?” I dropped the cigarette butt and ground my shoe into it.
He pressed his thin lips together and wrinkled his nose. “Contrary to what you may believe, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Josiah.”
Khaleda crossed her arms and shrugged. “That’s what I keep telling him, but he doesn’t listen.”
Decimus frowned at her. “You must be Khaleda Morningstar. I didn’t know the two of you would be here. I assumed you’d already failed when Monahan’s apartment building came down. I was hoping one of the two unidentified bodies was yours, Josiah. Seems God isn’t done with you yet.”
“If ya didn’t know we’d be here, why’re you here?”
His eyes trailed up the building toward the top floor.
I grimaced. “Hell, Deci. Tell me you didn’t send a whole squad up after him.”
“Last radio cut out four minutes ago.”
Of course, they had. I’d assumed they’d be smarter about it, but then I’d forgotten I was talking to a lower angel. Common soldiers acted according to pre-set rules of engagement and if-then principles. If you knew where the enemy was, and the clock is ticking, then eliminate him with a holy death squad. Never mind that Danny likely leaked his location on purpose.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing Khaleda and pulling her toward the entrance. “This moron likely gave Danny the sacrifice he needed. We’ve got to get to him before he can finish the spell!”
The door flew open when we were just short of reaching it. One of Danny’s private security goons leveled a sub-machine gun at us and opened fire. Screams erupted on the street behind us. There was nowhere to go, nothing to duck behind, and I didn’t have time to put together any kind of spell to stop bullets. We were fucked until Decimus pushed us aside and squatted behind a glowing, curved shield that came out of nowhere. It was big enough to shield him from head to foot, just like one of those old Roman shields. Guess all the Latin wasn’t just for show then.
Khaleda cursed and pushed herself up from the ground, drawing her knives. The gunman turned his attention from Decimus to her just in time for one of her knives to slash at him. The first one missed, but the second didn’t. She took his arm just above the wrist, severing muscle, tendon, and bone. The hand remained attached only by a small string of stubborn muscle. Before he could even process what’d happened to him, she twisted one leg around his and took him to the ground, using his own falling momentum to drive the first blade into his chest.
“Clear,” she shouted and sliced through the strap that held the machine gun to the dying man. “Get to the elevator.”
Didn’t have to tell me twice. I ran for it, pushing through the glass doors into a lobby full of frightened people. They huddled behind stone columns, padded chairs, and desks, phones pressed to their ears. “Get out!” I shouted. That shook them from their frozen terror, and they ran screaming from the lobby.
Khaleda sheathed her blades and picked up the gun.
Decimus stormed into the lobby, teeth bared. “So much for handling this covertly. All of New York is about to bear down on this building. I hope you two idiots have a plan!”
Police sirens wailed. Tires screeched as the police cars pulled up to create a barricade. NYPD response time was good today.
I walked to the nearest fire alarm and pulled it. Alarm bells screeched, alerting anyone still left in the building that they should get the hell out. Having civilians streaming out the door would also make the coppers think twice about shooting at us. The elevators behind me hummed to life. Activating the alarm would’ve called them all to the lobby floor.
Khaleda stepped up beside me, gun pointed at the elevator in front of us. “How much do you want to bet one of these comes down with a surprise?”
I cracked my neck. “Hopefully there’s more than one, or it’ll be boring.”
The numbers ticked down. People began to stumble into the lobby from the stairs and stream out the side entrances. Someone screamed at the sight of the body.
Khaleda squeezed a few shots into the marble floor. “Hurry up and get out!”
Didn’t have many stragglers after that.
The elevator doors on all three cars opened at once, but only one had passengers. Two more armed guards. Khaleda opened fire, bullets raining on the two guards in a relentless spray from left to right. The men in the elevators jerked, pushed back by the sheer force of being hit with a barrage of bullets. It blew bloody holes in their bodies, and still, they didn’t go down.
Great. Demons. Killing the meat suit wouldn’t make them go down. That’d take a little something more.
I glanced to Decimus. “You feel like helping or is that against your rules too?”
His magic shield flashed into being in front of him. “God helps those who help themselves, Josiah.”
“Fucking figures.” I rolled up my sleeves.
Khaleda finally stopped firing into the elevator. The demons stumbled forward, sadistic grins painted on their faces. Grins that faded once Khaleda stepped aside, leaving me to deal with them.
“G’day, fuckwits.”
They tried to get their guns up, but their bodies were too riddled with holes to move quickly.
I slapped a hand over each of their faces, covering mouths, noses, and eyes, and summoned the bright blue angel fire that was my birthright. With a blast of willpower and a verbal command, I forced the fire in through every opening under my hands and burned their black souls from the inside out. They screamed, shook, and flailed under my hands, but the power held them tight until it finished its work.
Two empty carcasses toppled to the floor, the eyes and tongues burned out of their heads.
“Jesus,” Khaleda whispered. “This is what you do?”
I turned around to answer her but stopped. Decimus was gone. The door to the stairway snapped closed on the other side of the room, but not before I saw his backside rushing through it. Damn coward.
“Come on.” I kicked the bodies out of the way and stepped into the elevator.
Khaleda followed.
The cars were on lockdown thanks to the impromptu fire drill, but I had an ace up my sleeve. I pulled a burner phone from my pocket, a gift from Reggie, and sent a quick text. Twenty seconds later, the elevator whirred back to life from lockdown. The doors slid closed and the number pad lit up.
“Good on ya, Reg,” I said and hit the button for the highest floor on the menu. It wouldn’t take us to the top. We’d have to switch elevators to get that far, and when we did, there’d be trouble waiting for us there too.
Khaleda stopped messing with the gun and glanced over at me. “So you could do that the whole time? Why didn’t you just blast the demons out of Danny’s goons back at his apartment so we could make our escape? Would’ve been better than blowing up half the building.”
I turned on her and held up one finger. “First of all, it wasn’t half the building. It was only about a quarter, a third at most. Second, we were cut off from magic there, remember? And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have. Every time I use that power, I become a blip on the map for the God Squad, and there’re higher-ups that want me dead.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So, it’s not because it would kill the human host too?”
“S’pose that figures into it a little too.”
She laughed and shook her head.
“What’s so damn funny?”
“You, Josiah. You want people to think you’re this big, tough asshole, but inside you’re just a softie. A protector of the innocent and the ignorant. You’re a good person, like it or not.”
I looked away. “I’m no hero. I’m just the idiot who keeps getting stuck cleaning up other people’s messes.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open.
Noelle was waiting for us, her ugly e-cigarette resting between two fingers. She blew out a mouthful of smoke and put it down gently on the lobby table next to her before drawing her two swords. “About time you two showed up. I was starting to think the demons would get to have all the fun.”
She spun the swords and offered one to Khaleda.
“No thanks,” Khaleda spat and shoved the gun at me so she could draw her knives. “I brought my own.”
I swallowed a ball of ice and opened my mouth to object. I should’ve stopped her. No matter how good Khaleda was, she was no match for a Winter Knight. Noelle’s magic would freeze her, and she had no defense against it. I had walked her to her death.
“Khaleda…” I put a hand on her shoulder.
She turned her head to look at me but didn’t back away from Noelle. “Go finish this, Josiah.”
If I stayed to help, Danny could finish his spell. I wouldn’t be able to stop him, and we’d all be dead anyway. There was no choice but to leave her and hope for the best. I felt like I should say something, but the words were caught in my throat.
I stepped out of the elevator and ran.
Noelle sliced her swords through the air after me but found Khaleda’s smaller blades blocking her. The last thing I saw before the next elevator opened was Noelle’s wicked smile.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
KHALEDA
I kicked the bitch back and worked Amihan and Perlas in a perfect single weave, pressing her back before she could fully recover. The small swords in my hands flew, knocking aside a messy lunge. Every time she stepped back, I had to take two steps forward.
Broadswords were made with reach and armor in mind, their wielders trained to make larger movements in circular patterns. Targets were necks, heads, limbs, and joints. Cleave, thrust, stab. These were broadsword words, short, cutting words, the killing power of a broadsword reflected in language.
Dance, deflect, slash. Those were my words, seduction my art. Any exposed body part became a target. Fingers, wrists, eyes, nose. A slice to the back of the leg was as valuable as one to the arm. Two light, dancing steps for every one of hers.
Noelle feigned an attack on the right. I blocked with an upward swing of Amihan and brought Perlas down to block the true attack on the left aimed at my hip. For a moment, we were both wide open but unable to take advantage since our blades were locked against each other. She smiled and stepped in, taking away the leverage I had on both swords in one move. The swords slid behind me, and her leg came up for a kick. I slashed at it, expecting to meet muscle and bone. Instead, the blade glanced off, impacting the hard shell of armor I couldn’t see. Shit, a mistake.
I dropped, ducking away from the swing at my head. She meant to smash the cross guard onto my temple. Her second sword came at me from below, slicing up in an angry arc. It missed only because I balanced on my heels and leaned back. The next chop would come from above. Her feet were right in front of me, a perfect place to stab, but there was no time to mount an offense. If I stayed, she’d cleave me in two. I leaned back further and let my body roll in reverse. The momentum carried my feet up into a kick that impacted her hand just below the elbow. If she hadn’t been wearing armor, she’d be nursing a broken arm. As it was, all I managed was to kick her sword arm away. Her sword struck the wall and bounced back.
Rather than pursue me, Noelle took a step in reverse. “Interesting fighting style. You’re very flexible. I bet the men love you.”
I stood, gripping my blades. “Do you plan on fighting me or fucking me?”
She smirked and spun her blades. “Depends. How do you feel about double penetration?” With a shout, she swung both blades at me as if the two were one.
I caught them with my own. She kicked my leg, and it folded under me. I tried to pull it in, but it locked and refused to obey. Her sword sailed down in a perfectly executed chop that should’ve taken my leg, but I spun Perlas in a wide arc, knocking the blade aside. Icy-cold metal bit into my calf just below the knee, a glancing blow, but no less damaging. Still, she’d over-extended herself. I brought Amihan up on the inside of her elbow where the armor would be weak. I felt Amihan slide against the armor and catch on something, a sharp edge. A joint. With all my strength, I pushed the blade forward into the opening.
Noelle screamed and pulled away, taking Amihan with her. My knife stuck out of the inside of her arm. The fingers of her right hand uncurled and one broadsword clattered to the floor, her fingers twitching uselessly as blood ran down them. I’d severed a tendon, making it impossible for her to hold two weapons.
“You!” she snarled and gripped Amihan’s handle. Rather than pull it out, she infused the weapon with a blast of sub-zero cold and shattered the blade. Even once it was gone, her arm didn’t heal itself. Black veins appeared around the hole, a sure sign of iron still in the wound.
Noelle renewed her attack with her one remaining sword, hammering it down toward my head in an enraged fury, all the icy power of Winter behind it. I blocked it just as I’d done before, except this time I sent flame racing down the blade to meet her ice. The two magics collided in an explosion of metal, fire, and shards of ice.
The sheer force of the explosion knocked me onto my back and sent Noelle flying to dent the elevator doors. I lay in a deaf daze for a moment, trying to remember how to breathe. When I finally did, it wasn’t air that filled my lungs, but an intense icy cold that froze the blood in
my veins.
More cold wrapped around my neck and Noelle jerked me up to my feet. Black spots riddled her once-perfect face, at the center of each a tiny piece of Perlas. Blood streamed from the corners of her eyes and from cuts on her lips.
“Do you think I don’t know who you are?” Noelle snarled as her fingers tightened around my throat. “Lucifer Morningstar’s bitch little girl. You think just because your daddy was King of Hell that you have a right to that title?”
I didn’t want anything to do with Hell ever again, not even if they begged me to come and take his place. But I couldn’t tell her that. I couldn’t breathe. Blackness closed in at the edges of my vision. I clawed at her hands, raking off skin and leaving bloody tracks behind. Still, she held.
Noelle bared her teeth. “You want to know what the funny thing is? I don’t give two fucks who sits on the throne in Hell. You can. Danny can. I don’t care if a two-headed flying pig runs things down there. All I care about is getting what I want. And I want my bloody crown!”
She slammed my back into something hard. It might’ve been a wall, or it could’ve been the floor. I wasn’t coherent enough in the moment to know. My head bounced off whatever it was, and the world swam. Noelle pulled me away and slammed me into it again and again until my insides burned from the impact and bones rattled.
Another hit and whatever it was she’d been slamming me into split open. The room tilted, and suddenly I was on my back looking up at bent elevator doors. I gasped in a breath but couldn’t force it out without choking. Somewhere nearby, Noelle stalked. I could feel the vibrations of her shoes on the floor. Metal scraped against marble.
Noelle returned with the shattered edge of her broadsword in her hand, a piece just barely large enough to fit in her hand. It was still plenty sharp enough for the job. She fell onto me, letting the full force of her body impact my hip. A new lance of pain shot up my spine. Something inside cracked. She pulled herself up to straddle me, breathing hard.