by Kyoko M
I angled my face towards Avriel, lowering my voice. “Thoughts?”
He shook his head, his expression harsh. “Something is not right. Why would he confront us with ghosts and not hellhounds or his minions? They are spirits. Harmless.”
I scanned the man and woman in black. The man was six feet tall and had a husky build over a bulky frame. The woman was barely five feet tall and sported a pageboy haircut. They weren’t demons, I knew that much, but they still had energy signatures. It wasn’t until I saw their wrists that I understood what was about to happen.
“The bracelets,” I whispered as a chill threaded through my insides.
Avriel looked at me then. “What?”
“I know what they are. They’re necromancers. Those aren’t ghosts. They’re poltergeists. Hostile poltergeists.”
Avriel gulped. “Oh, my.”
Belial called out to us again. “I am afraid your time is up, my dear.”
He snapped his fingers. The man and woman both lifted an arm each, their red-and-black bracelets twinkling in the afternoon sun. Then the poltergeists began walking towards us with deadly intent.
God, I hate being right.
“Cheese it!” I shouted, and Avriel slammed the car in reverse. The tires screeched as the car launched itself backwards in a straight line, putting at least a good ten or fifteen feet between us and the oncoming poltergeists. We had only seconds to get some distance.
Unfortunately, Belial was also on the move. He extended a long leg, revved the chainsaw once, and then simply disappeared. To the untrained eye, it would look like he’d gone invisible, but he hadn’t. He was running so fast that I literally couldn’t catch sight of him.
The car made it about fifty feet from the ghosts when I heard Belial’s chainsaw tear through another tree behind us. Once more, Avriel hit the brakes. The tree smashed into the road a scant foot from the trunk of the car.
“Recalculating,” said the Garmin. No shit.
I fished my phone out of my pocket, speed-dialing my husband as I struggled out of my seatbelt. The car wouldn’t provide much protection. We’d be trapped and helpless. Time for a tactical retreat.
“Follow me!” Avriel said over his shoulder, and then he sprinted into the wintry forest surrounding us. I followed him, glancing over my shoulder to see Belial dropping his chainsaw and going for the Hendrickson knife. He caught my gaze before I disappeared into the tree line and blew me a kiss, his voice joyous and mocking.
“How I have dreamt of hunting you, my pet. You are too kind to allow that dream to come true.”
I ran harder, hopping over fallen tree limbs, slipping down the mud-drenched hills, trying my best to keep up with Avriel’s long strides. Thankfully, Michael picked up.
“We’re in a bit of trouble here,” I gasped into the phone, running parallel to Avriel through the thicket. “Belial’s on our tail and he brought a couple of necromancers.”
“He what?” Michael snarled. “How in God’s name did he even find them?”
“I read something in Andrew’s journal once. Said there’s an ancient cult that still practices raising dead spirits.”
“How many spirits?”
“Six.”
“Where are you?”
“About an hour out from the city. We’re in the forest, trying to put some distance between us. I think we’re heading for higher ground.”
“Good. Find a vantage point and try to stay hidden. We’ll back you up. What do you have on you for weaponry?”
“The Glock, my rosary, and some holy water, but that’s only going to get us so far. The poltergeists have to be exorcised and laid to rest; otherwise they’ll tear us to pieces. I know a few incantations to temporarily incapacitate them, but that’s all. What if we pop the necros?”
“Not good enough. They’ve got cursed relics of damned souls. The only way to stop them is to destroy the bracelets with holy fire. A lightning strike should do the trick.”
“Wait, why can’t you force them to cross over like that killer ghost kid, Jacob?”
“The necromancers are tampering with the way their spirits are tied to the mortal world. I can’t undo it that way. Don’t worry. We’ll be there soon. Be careful.”
“Siempre,” I said, and then hung up just as Avriel and I reached the base of a cliff. We both skidded to a stop, propping ourselves up against the craggy face of the rocks. The area had ice clustered around the base of the shrubbery, but it wasn’t all over the ground. We wouldn’t leave obvious footprints so we had just enough time to strategize.
“Michael’s coming for us,” I told him. “But it’s not going to take long for Belial to catch up. The poltergeists too. We need a plan in the meantime.”
“I could create a distraction for the ghosts to lead them off of you. My body may be human, but my soul is bound to the earth because of my punishment. If I am killed, I can obtain a new body in less than a day.”
I shook my head. “Not using you as bait. You’re too valuable. What else you got, egghead?”
He ran a hand through his bright tousled hair. “Malevolent spirits are driven by the commands of the necromancers, but they are simple creatures. They probably have an order to search and destroy. If you suppress your energy, they will be forced to physically track us rather than using their inherent powers.”
“Won’t that make it harder for Michael and the others to find us?”
The redhead winced. “Yes, but it will reduce the threat to just Belial. He is already halfway here. We must at least start there.”
“Okay.”
I shut my eyes and gripped the cross around my neck. It often served as a focal point, and meant I could manipulate my spiritual energy with better accuracy. I shoved my essence deep beneath the mental shields I’d learned to build over time until I was no more than human.
“Done. Let’s haul ass.”
Avriel nodded and we both scaled the cliff in record time. He climbed up first, offering his hand, and I took it. It gave us a good view of the territory below—a long, mostly flat stretch of woods with a faint glimpse of the road. He was right. The ghosts weren’t far off, lumbering towards us with hurried yet stilted steps. No sign of Belial, but that didn’t surprise me. He was a serial killer, in a sense. He wouldn’t be so obvious.
“How long until Belial catches up?”
Avriel tilted his head this way and that. Being a scholar, he knew what to listen for out here. My senses weren’t nearly as sharp, especially not somewhere I’d never been. “Minutes, if that. I believe a protection sigil can shield us.”
I hadn’t used one before, only read about it. The concept was to purify a small section of the ground with a holy symbol so that nothing damned could cross over it, almost like blessing a home. Andrew used to use them in emergencies or situations like this where he needed back up. “That won’t last long. He’s an archdemon. He’ll figure out how to bully his way through it.”
Avriel shot me a frustrated look. “Jordan, we are running out of time. If you would let me lead them off, then—”
I grabbed his jacket, jerking him close. “I watched you die once, Avriel. That was enough. You’re part of Team Amador now. We die together, no arguments. Got it?”
He sighed, still irritated. “Very well. I will start the sigil. The necromancers are also not far off. They need to maintain a certain distance in order to keep the spirits under their control. See if you can separate them while I work. Try to stay within range so I can call you when it’s finished.”
“Got it.”
We ran deeper into the forest, across a small frozen stream, and back up the hillside. Avriel found an old crudely made cave—about fifteen feet across and unfortunately decorated with bear feces—and set up camp.
I hid myself in a thicket of bushes several feet below, kneeling in the freezing cold loam. My breath came out in shallow blasts and I had to concentrate on slowing it so I wouldn’t give away my position. It wasn’t just the ghosts who could gut me
with their bare hands. It wasn’t just the psychotic freaks who thought it was a good idea to pry poor dead souls out of the ground and force them to kill. It was the thought of Belial slinking quietly between the trees with my scent in his nostrils, eager to find me, eager to pin my body against a tree and slip his knife between my ribs.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shoving the mental image aside. I’d be dead if I kept thinking that way. He hadn’t killed me yet, dammit. I was still breathing.
Leaves stirred about five feet from my position. I kept as still as possible, holding my breath, my eyes searching for the source of the sound. I couldn’t react until I knew what or who it was. I still had the silencer on the Glock, but gunshots are never as quiet as they are in the movies. It would expose my hiding place and maybe even Avriel’s. If it was one of the necromancers, I’d have to play it sneaky and incapacitate them. If it was one of the poltergeists, I’d have to lead them off. Dead souls had a habit of converging on one spot, and I wasn’t about to get Avriel killed a second time.
Ice crunched enough that I recognized that there were two sets of footfalls. I tipped the barrel of the gun forward, edging one leaf aside. There, about fifteen feet away, were the necromancers.
The woman stood facing me, the hand wearing the bracelet on her hip, close enough that I could get a better look at her. She had a wide forehead and button nose. Small, withered bones hung from the enchanted jewelry—the relics she’d used to raise the ghosts. Her black trench coat gaped and I could see Kevlar underneath, and not the cheap kind. It molded to her chest well and it could definitely stop a .9mm bullet. More good news.
The man knelt before her with his back to me, examining something, maybe searching for footprints. He lifted his head and said something to her in German. His accent was flawless, and so was hers when she replied. Germans obsessed with the occult? Never heard that one before.
Unfortunately, I only knew Castilian Spanish and intermediate Latin so all I could do was watch them and listen out for any words they used with English-roots. At last, my repeated viewings of Inglorious Basterds were coming in handy. In your face, Michael.
“Wo ist der Dämon?” the woman asked.
Aha. Got that one: where is the demon? The man shook his head and replied. The only word I understood in his response was “Mädchen,” which meant “girl.” Probably talking about me.
I gauntleted my right hand with my left one, aiming for the back of the man’s head. I could take them both out and save us at least a bit of trouble. Then again, it would lead Belial straight to me. I weighed my options. Two necromancers dead, one archdemon on my ass. Or I could let them keep going and face him alone. Rock and a hard place, after stepping on a landmine. Time to gamble and hope it didn’t blow up in my face.
My finger slid over the trigger. Then I heard rustling behind my cover. I froze. Please, don’t be the demon.
I tilted my head and caught sight of a shuffling figure, too sloppy to be Belial. A poltergeist. One of the male ones, actually. He wore a cheap brown suit that looked incredibly out of place in a forest. He walked over to the chatting necromancers and stood by them as if compelled, saying nothing.
The woman spared him an annoyed glance and snapped her fingers, gesturing towards the woods. “Gehen Sie finden das Mädchen. Jetzt!”
Something along the lines of “find the girl now.” They were concentrating on me, not Avriel. It was so nice to be popular.
The poltergeist shambled away without hesitating. Again, I took aim as the man stood up, but then three of the other poltergeists wandered past. I lowered the gun, mentally cursing my luck. No way in hell to make the shot and run before they could catch me.
The man turned and marched towards the cave entrance. My heart rate spiked. Avriel. The former angel was no slump—he’d kicked my ass before, and held his own against Belial and Michael as well—but if they found him before he finished the sigil, the ghosts would tear him limb from limb.
I gathered my legs beneath me, preparing to lead them off, but then a terrible cry echoed through the forest. The man and woman’s heads snapped towards the east. They both raced towards the sound and the ghosts followed dutifully.
I swallowed hard and slowed my breathing again. What the hell was that? Had Michael and company arrived? Were they creating a distraction for us? Either way, I needed to move and warn Avriel that they were close.
After checking the area thoroughly, I climbed from behind my hiding spot and headed towards the cave. I took about four steps and then whirled around, throwing a round vial of holy water from my pocket.
Belial caught the orb in his hand, grinning. “My, someone’s hearing has improved.”
I didn’t hesitate. I raised the gun to shoot him, but he jammed the tip of his blade inside the trigger guard and jerked it right out of my hands. I immediately went into a back roll and reached for the dagger in my rear pocket—a six-inch retractable switchblade—and then sprinted into the forest.
I couldn’t outrun him, but I had to stall for time. It wouldn’t take long for the necromancers and the poltergeists to circle back around. I couldn’t take them all at once, and I wouldn’t lead them straight to Avriel.
When I couldn’t run any longer, I threw myself against the trunk of a large oak tree, panting madly and trying to muffle the sound with one hand. My right leg trembled violently underneath me, threatening to buckle. Pain crackled up and down my newly healed ankle in rapid succession.
“I’m surprised at you.” Belial’s voice rang clear through the area, sardonic and undetectable. He was everywhere and nowhere at once. Dammit.
“You usually jump at the chance to try and kill me yourself. Why are you waiting for your husband to arrive? Has something changed, sweet Jordan? Do you have something to live for now that you didn’t before?”
I kept my mouth shut. He was tempting me. Don’t fall for it, Amador.
“Or are you determined to stay alive long enough to save the angels from their imminent defeat? Still guilty from your hand in releasing the Leviathan? I read the report, you know. Fifteen hundred angels died that cold night on All Hallow’s Eve. You did it all for a child, the daughter of an archdemon, their mortal enemy. No wonder the angels think you’ve been working for me.”
I gritted my teeth. Ignore him. He’s lying. He’s always lying.
“How about Michael? Does he think you gave yourself to me? Do you think he is capable of forgiving you? I am offering you a chance to be relieved of your pain, Jordan. You have tasted death once before. It is sweeter than you can imagine. There are worse things than dying in my arms, I promise you.”
A twig snapped to my right. I reacted on instinct alone, lashing out with the knife at about throat level. The blade bounced off the face of a spindly dead woman with curly brown hair and lifeless blue eyes.
She grabbed the lapel of my duster, dragging me towards her with otherworldly strength. I immediately dropped to my knees and dove between her legs, my arms sliding out of the duster. I then turned and stuck out my hand, whispering, “In nomine Dei, increpem te!”
The woman’s body froze in its place, bound by my temporary spell. It would last only a couple of minutes. I stood up and turned to head back towards the cave. Instead, I collided with Belial’s chest. Game over.
He caught my right wrist in one hand and my throat in the other, slamming me against a nearby tree. Pain rippled across the back of my skull and down my neck. He stared at me with a calm look as he squeezed my arm hard enough to nearly break my wrist, wordlessly warning me to drop the knife or he’d do it. I released the switchblade, not wanting to sacrifice the use of my arm for it. Didn’t matter anyway. I’d gambled and lost.
“This could have been so much easier, you know,” Belial murmured, his snake-like eyes fixed on my normal brown ones. “It would have been like falling asleep. Peaceful. Quiet.”
I gripped his arm with my hands on impulse, struggling past my fear in order to speak. “My life has never been peaceful or
quiet. Why would my death be any different?”
He tilted his head, brushing the side of my cheek with his silken hair. “Point taken. Very well. Don’t close your eyes. Grant me the pleasure of seeing you die.”
He unsheathed the Hendrickson knife and angled the tip beneath my left breast. My entire body broke into cold sweat. I could taste my frantic heartbeat on my tongue, in my throat, and knew he could feel it too. His lips inched towards mine—one last kiss before the end.
A thunderous sound echoed through the forest and then the tree trunk exploded. Chunks and slivers of bark rained down on top of our heads, startling the both of us.
Then Myra’s harsh voice filled the clearing.
“Put the knife down or the next bullet goes through you, pretty boy.”
Belial shook his head until the bits of wood all tumbled out and then he pouted, as if he were merely miffed. Only he would react to a death threat in such a nonchalant fashion.
“You are bluffing, madam,” he called back. “If you shoot me, Jordan dies.”
“Not if I shoot you in the leg, asshole. Drop the knife or I drop you.”
He smirked at me. “I like your friend. Is she single?”
I scowled. “One woman at a time there, Bels. You heard the lady. Back off.”
He lowered the Hendrickson and let it hit the ground. Then, in a blur of motion, he reversed our positions—placing his back against the tree trunk, his hand still clutching my throat, pinning my body against the front of his.
“There,” the demon purred—a sound that vibrated all the way up my spine. “Much better. You kill me, you kill her. Are you willing to negotiate, Honey Badger?”
Silence permeated the enclosure. I peered through the clustered treetops, hoping to catch sight of her, but no such luck. Trained professional, after all.
Then, at last, her furious voice returned. “What do you want?”
“The necromancers and their followers will be upon us soon. I will take Jordan back to her little cave and you can sort it out from there. I’d rather not get a hole shot through my perfect face, thank you very much.”