Demon Squad 7: Exit Wounds Page 10

  “Up there!” a shrill voice cried out, slicing through my awkward non-nausea before I’d even stopped looking at the carrion. Barely balanced on the sharp points of the wall, my gaze snapped to the shouter.

  A milling sea of milky eyeballs stared back from what must have been sixty or more green faces. I recognized one in particular. Mia.

  “Not so bold now, are you, meat?” she yelled, waving her hand in the direction of the crowd. “Get them!”

  Just as I’d pictured, a pulley system was rigged to the gate, interwoven vines providing the leverage. Green people tugged and the slab of heavy wood jumped and started upward. I hated being right.

  “Run, Frank!”

  I sure didn’t need Captain Obvious’ advice to go fumbling asshole over elbows down the wall while the pissed off horde of greenies waited impatiently to storm through the creaking gate. I hit the ground at a full sprint, barely feeling the impact, though I was suddenly reminded of the Battle of Little Big Horn.

  We were so gonna get Custered.

  Twelve

  (Scarlett)

  The dread fiends roared as they advanced, trails of froth about their mouths like rabid dogs, snapping and snarling. I counted twenty. Brutal, savage creatures, the sub-demons have been the shock troops of Lucifer’s army ever since he was cast from Heaven. Fearless and utterly without morality, they made efficient killing machines, storming the field until they won or were put down, never breaking. Had I been alone, I would have chosen retreat over an uncomfortable slaughter at their hands, but with Uriel at my side I stood my ground. Despite their numbers, we held the advantage of an archangel.

  The animals drew close, and I reached out to meet them, impaling one through his snout. Revulsion stirred my stomach as the wretched odor of it hit me, though admittedly, I was more disturbed by Everto having to touch such foulness than I was to smell it. The sword would need a dire cleaning after the fight. I yanked it free at an angle, cleaving nearly half of the fiend’s head off in its wake. The creature stumbled and fell into the path of the others, but I didn’t let that slow me. Another met death when I punctured its eye with a pop. It shrieked and went stiff mid-scream as steel struck brain, the fiend toppling to the side inert.

  That was when Uriel stepped in. Unlike Metatron, who’d repelled the assault upon Eden by turning all of the combined powers of the angels against the invaders, Uriel had no such link to the Choir or the powers of God’s throne to channel it. He did his job more directly.

  Flames burst to life as his blade ignited, a sudden, cloying heat stealing the moisture from the air. He said nothing as he slid past me. His words would be dust in the fury of his attack. The dread fiends kept coming and paid for their aggression.

  The two closest lost the tops of their heads with a single swipe. Uriel’s blade cleaved through skull and flesh, freeing the gray slabs of their primitive brains. They slopped wetly to the asphalt as the stink of charred meat replaced the sour scent of the fiends. Uriel wasted no time dispatching the others, leaving me to snipe the last remaining few that dared to flank the archangel. Bodies fell without fanfare, limbs and heads missing, torsos exposed and oozing. The fight was over in less than a minute.

  “Hardly a challenge.”

  Uriel stared at the place where Azrael had disappeared. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  His answer confused me. “Then why bother?”

  “Because the Angel of Death is hiding something,” he answered with a slight grin.

  I stared where Uriel did, trying to see what he had, trying to determine what had brought him to that conclusion. “Because he ran?”

  “Partly, yes,” Uriel nodded, “but more because he bothered to confront us at all.”

  His rationale did nothing to ease my confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “Longinus’ magic seeps from Azrael’s stolen pores. I could feel it gnawing at my skin as he made a show of it, assuring us he was as much a threat as we had been told to expect. But still—”

  “He used none of it,” I finished, beginning to pick apart the pieces of Uriel’s puzzle. “He unleashed dread fiends rather than fight his own battle, a battle where he should have held the advantage.”

  “Exactly. “ Uriel turned to Rachelle who hovered within the confines of a ghostly portal at our backs. “Did you not tell us Azrael stood on the field while you and your companions waged war against him?”

  “He did,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. It was as hard for her to speak of DRAC’s defeat as it was for me. A cold chill prickled my skin.

  “Did he appear wounded, battered?” Uriel went on without pause. “Had your people harmed him?”

  Rachelle nodded, anger glimmering in her narrow eyes. “He was winning, but we were wearing him down.”

  Uriel met her righteous fury with a sympathetic smile. “And I believe you would have defeated him had the odds only swayed the slightest in your favor.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, unable to hold it in. I’d fought Azrael directly, and though I’d left him with his fair share of wounds, we were clearly fighting a losing battle. Whatever Rachelle had seen, it hadn’t felt like victory.

  “Do you think Longinus would have been so hard pressed to put you in your graves?” he asked me.

  I didn’t even have to think about it. “No,” I had to admit. “He would have flayed our souls for even daring to defy him.” Then why did Azrael struggle?

  Uriel gave me a curt nod as though he knew my thoughts. “I feel that whatever process he used to transfer his soul into Triggaltheron’s flesh failed to some degree or is, perhaps, not yet complete. Or maybe it took its toll on him in transfer.” He gestured to the corpses of the dread fiends. “These were obviously a distraction, all starting with his arrival. Were he truly as fearless as he would have us believe, he would have simply attacked. There was no tactical purpose to the dread fiend assault save to give himself time to retreat.”

  “Had he truly been confident with his power, he might still have used the sub-demons but they would have been cover for his own assault, not for his flight.” Hearing all this spoken aloud filled my heart with hope. “He fled to Hell to prepare or to let his powers manifest fully, I believe.”

  “And it is there where we will find him.”

  “There is no way in,” Rachelle said as she stepped from her portal, leaving it to shimmer, still open at her back. “Frank sealed all the gates to Hell. Even the ones Ab—” she stumbled across the name of the former leader of DRAC, her dead lover, drawing a deep breath and closing her eyes before she could continue. “Even the ones Abraham had created leading from our various headquarters.”

  “Damn it, Frank!” Despite all I’d learned recently, it was still so easy to be angry at my cousin even though I suspected Azrael had instigated that move as well.

  “Calm yourself, Scarlett.” Uriel set a hand on my shoulder. “Charging into Hell serves no one save Azrael. We will find another way to reach him.”

  “How?”

  “Were you to lose everything you held dear, the very essence of what you are taken from you, would you mourn the loss and move on or fight to reclaim it?”

  “Fight, of course.”

  Uriel smiled. “As will Azrael. For all he has stolen from Triggaltheron, it will never be enough to replace what he lost when Metatron revoked his magic, emptying his soul of its magic.” The archangel cast a mischievous glance toward Heaven before meeting my eyes once more. “We need only supply the proper bait and Azrael will come to us.”

  My head swam at his statement, possibilities imagined and then discarded, realization finally bobbing to the surface with an illuminating ripple. “You mean—”

  A wash of mystical energy fell over us then, dimensional realities warping and converging. There was a flicker of green as Uriel and I spun, weapons drawn, to face the threat that had sneaked upon us. It was too soon for Azrael to have grown bold, but I feared the worst.

  There, not but a few
feet from where the Angel of Death had opened a gateway to Hell, hovered an emerald portal the size of a plate. Its edges gleamed with a ghostly shimmer. Uriel started toward it just as its energy ebbed, drawing away from us. Then it was gone.

  “It’s the same one,” I heard Rachelle mutter behind me, my eyes unable to leave Uriel as he searched the empty air for the now missing portal.

  “The same?” I barely realized I’d asked the question, but I knew what she meant before the mystic even replied. “The realm Azrael opened.”

  Rachelle’s confirmation was lost to the storm of my thoughts that roared in my ears. She was right. I’d been so focused on Frank—on Azrael—that I had paid little attention to the portal’s essence, but I knew it then as my senses replayed its touch. It had been the same.

  Rachelle slipped passed me within a cloud of burgeoning magic. Her hands were extended, and she reached for where the portal had lingered, fingers clawing at its energies, searching for a key hole.

  “Can you open it?” Uriel asked.

  She grunted but said nothing, determination drawing creases across her pale face, a rare glimpse of her true age distorting her features. The swell of her magic rose and widened, but still she remained silent. It spoke volumes as to her success.

  “Then our time is wasted here.”

  “No!” Rachelle shouted, spinning to face the archangel. “No, I cannot find the seam to peel the wall back, but I can sense its presence.”

  “It’s still there?” I asked.

  “It is. Whatever Azrael did to open it has scarred the dimensional wall, marked it.” She waved her hand where the portal was just moments before. “That’s likely why it opened again. Something—someone—on the other side is exerting pressure on it.”

  DRAC was the first thought to come to mind, and I could see by Rachelle’s expression that she, too, felt as such. The book the alien girl had used to open the portal had been taken with them to the other side. Could it be used to open it once more? My stomach tightened at that, the news little better than hearing a loved one’s plane fell into the ocean and not knowing where. “But how can we retrieve them if we cannot open the portal from this side?”

  “I cannot lift a heavy stone, either, but with leverage, I can send it rolling down a hill.” Rachelle grinned, the gleam of it making her eyes glisten manically.

  “You believe you can hold it open, then,” Uriel asked.

  Rachelle nodded. “Perhaps not indefinitely, but maybe long enough to get a message through to the other side.”

  I shook my head. It all seemed too much. “There are creatures that guard the portal from intrusion. I’ve seen them at work. How will we get past those beasts to deliver our message? Scream through the hole and hope Katon and the others hear us?”

  A willowy smile graced the mystic’s lips. “In a manner of speaking, we can do exactly that.” She closed her eyes, her posture settling into calm. “I need to make a call.”

  Thirteen

  Ever try to run from a ravening horde while lugging a crippled angel? I don’t suggest it. It’s not fun. It’s not fast, either. The only benefit we had was that Katon and I could run like the wind at a burrito convention. Sadly, that only lasted until we hit the woods and reached the rest of the group.

  I shoved Ilfaar into Venai’s arms and put the smack to her ass to get her back to moving. No one else could carry him so easily, and besides, it kept her with her hands full and her brain occupied with something that didn’t involve turning on the rest of us. Shaw snarled at me, but the bloodthirsty shouts of Mia and her green-skinned gang ended any argument. We were running.

  The pink trees flew past us as we pushed on, Katon, Karra, and I holding back a little to protect the rear, but I didn’t imagine any of us actually thought we’d get away. We were too loud, elephants thundering through the woods with nowhere to go. The only hideout we knew of had been pointed out to us by Mia. That’d be the first place she checked if we vanished, but even if that were our destination, we’d never make it. The greenies were catching up.

  I ducked as a spear whistled overhead, its wooden shaft thumping off a nearby tree. Another followed, piercing the soil near Rala’s feet. We weren’t but twenty yards from being Shaka Zulu’d. Phase one!

  That distance was closing fast. I cast one last confirming glance back and realized we needed to do something, and we needed to do it right then. Fortunately, I had an idea…a real one. Sorta.

  I ran up alongside Rala. “Can you change?” She looked at me through wide eyes as though she couldn’t understand me so I just kept pushing. “Can you change into your wyvern form? Answer me.”

  “I-I think so…maybe.”

  It was good enough for government work, horseshoes and hand grenades. I called for everyone to stop, running over and pulling Ilfaar from Venai’s massive arms. She didn’t even bother to resist. The angel hit the ground with a grunt, but there wasn’t time to be polite and apologize. I pointed to Rala. “Throw her.”

  The Nephilim glared at me. “What?”

  I got pretty much the same look from Rala. “Say what?”

  “Whhhhaaaaaaaaaaa…?”

  The greenies closing, I didn’t have time to explain to any of them. I grabbed Rala by her arm, knocked CB and the book aside so they were out of the way, and yanked the alien over to where Venai stood. “Fucking throw her!” I screamed, pointing upward at the canopy. “Now!”

  Shaw must have given Venai a nod I didn’t see because the Nephilim snapped to and snatched the poor little alien up by her waist.

  “Don’t I get a say in—”

  The unspoken answer was, nope, you sure don’t. Veronica raised a hand to stop Venai, but it was too late. Before even the rest of Rala’s complaint could slip free from her lips, she was airborne. She shrieked as the purplish canopy swallowed her whole. Her voice faded in an explosion of leaves and branches.

  “Spread out and find cover,” I ordered, yanking my spear from my Tarzan panties and moving to the relative shelter of a tree trunk.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Frank.” Katon glowered as he took up a defensive position, the rest of the group following suit except for the two gimps who just stayed where they were and muttered complaints.

  “You and me both,” I muttered, earning a glare of nuclear proportion from everyone, including Chatterbox.

  “Gggrrrrreeeeaaaaattttttt. Ggoooonnnaaaa dddiiiieeeee.”

  No opportunity to explain, all I could do was go through with my plan, such as it was. After everyone else was hunkered down, I stepped out from behind the tree while the green folks were barely thirty feet from our soon to be graves. For once I didn’t have an epitaph handy so I decided to just wing it and let someone else figure out what it should say.

  “Raaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  My scream drew them up short. The first of the group stumbled to a panicked halt as if they’d never seen a guy make a final stand in borrowed underwear.

  “Come any closer and you all die,” I told them, summoning my best De Niro. You talking to me?

  The greenies held their ground, splitting their gazes between me and the surrounding forest, clearly wondering what kind of crazy they’d walked into, but the pause didn’t last very long.

  “Don’t let him frighten you.” Mia’s voice rang out loud and clear, a hint of laughter to it. “They’ve only half a dozen fighters, if that, and I suspect,” she continued, pushing her fellow greenies aside to step out front, “given the proper motivation, not even all of them will bother to fight.” Mia glanced pointedly over at Shaw and Venai. She’d seen our interaction in the hole and knew they weren’t part of the team.

  Shaw shrugged, but the twisted smile on her lips told me all I needed to know about whose side she planned to be on: the winner.

  “Surrender now and only a couple of you will get hurt before we take you before our lord.” She smiled at me, and then Karra.

  That shit wasn’t gonna happen. Before she co
uld say anything else, I yanked my arm back and loosed the spear at her.

  Apparently it took a little more skill than I’d managed with it. Mia stepped aside easily as the tumbling shaft smacked the guy behind her with a dull thud. He cursed and shook his hand out where I’d clacked his knuckles. He looked mighty pissed but not very hurt.

  “Fine, then we do this the fun way,” Mia responded. “Take them!”

  “Way to go, Frank,” Veronica snarled from behind a nearby tree trunk. “Why does anyone still trust you to negotiate with women?”

  The greenies didn’t give me time to respond, not that I would have had a good answer. It was kind of a mystery. They barreled forward, spilling between the trees, spears and knives, and swords, and pissy looks leading the way. I smashed the first of them in the face with my fist. It felt good. He stiffened and fell beside me, kindly lending me his weapons. The second and third and fourth were less congenial. Spears and blades zipped by me as I barely managed to pick up their buddy’s knife and sword. I parried a couple with half-assed effort and backed away to put some distance between me and the troll brigade, not that it mattered much. There were just way too many of them for us to stop. They were gonna boot stomp us good if I’d been wrong about the little dragonfly.

  And it seemed I had been. A furtive glance at the quiet canopy did nothing but reinforce my pessimism. The array of sharp objects slicing away bits and pieces of my adopted skin didn’t help much, either. The rest of the group had settled in behind their tree-cover and were doing okay. Venai was smashing skulls while Shaw picked apart the enemy who managed to get inside her reach, a surgeon in an operating theater, but they were only barely holding their ground. Greenies fell this way and that, but even Karra and Katon had their fair share of red lines drawn across their skin. They were giving better than they got, but it wouldn’t be long before the equation shifted the other way. The greenies were starting to spread out and come at our flanks.