Die and Stay Dead (39 page)

Gabrielle reluctantly lowered her hands. The green flames faded away.

Isaac regarded the creatures with narrowed eyes. “Demons,” he said.

“
Lesser
demons, of course,” Bergeron replied. “The kind you don’t need the Codex Goetia to summon. Just some blood, powdered bone, and the right incantations. I’ve gotten a lot better at summoning and binding demons over the years. I learned the hard way how important that is.”

I looked down at the withered leg he’d shown us in Westchester.

An old injury that never quite healed right.

Damn. What a fool I’d been. He’d been right under our noses all along.

“You’re Erickson Arkwright,” I said.

The old man smiled. “It’s been a long time since anyone called me that. The last time I used that name I was hiding half-dead beneath a pile of my friends’ body parts. Waiting until it was safe to come out again. Dragging myself through their blood and entrails to the door.”

He was getting worked up as he spoke, his anger growing. He started coughing, but brought it under control quickly. Specks of blood dotted his lower lip. When he spoke again, his tone was calm and even.

“Forgive me. As you can see, not all the damage was external. I have a collapsed lung, and kidneys that no longer function properly. What was done to me, what I lived through, was grueling. An unimaginable hell. After enduring that, a new name was a blessing, a chance to put the horror behind me. Even a name as bland as Clarence Bergeron. But then, the real Clarence Bergeron was quite bland himself. Killing him and assuming his identity felt like doing the world a favor.”

I had no doubt he was telling the truth. And yet, how
could
he be Erickson Arkwright? I couldn’t see the connection between this sick, old man with a bum leg and the nimble, black-clad killer who’d attacked us with the Thracian Gauntlet. Had Arkwright used a spell to give himself such acrobatic use of his legs again? I couldn’t think of any other explanation. But if that was the case, why wasn’t he using the spell now? Why bother with the cane?

LaValle and Francisco stood stoically beside their boss, jaws tight, ready to start throwing bullets on his orders. It seemed more likely that one of them had donned the black sweats and Thracian Gauntlet, not Arkwright himself.

Arkwright had purchased the gauntlet at the Ghost Market auction, then faked its theft from his mansion so he could use it to murder Yrouel without suspicion falling back on him. That much was clear. What wasn’t clear was where the gauntlet was now. Why threaten us with pistols and a small army of lesser demons when he had such a powerful, deadly weapon in his arsenal?

“Why all the games at the Ghost Market, Arkwright?” Bethany asked. “Bidding on the Thracian Gauntlet under two different names? Why create a fake bidding war?”

Arkwright raised his eyebrows, surprised. Evidently, he hadn’t expected us to know anything about that. “I see you’ve been poking your nose where it doesn’t belong. The two identities were a necessary obfuscation in case anyone started to ask questions. Who would even look at Clarence Bergeron when Cargwirth Kroneski was a far more likely suspect, what with his name being such a simple anagram.”

“But you were
seen
at the auction,” I said. “How did you bid over the phone, too? You couldn’t be in two places at once.”

Arkwright arched a smug eyebrow. “Enough talk. I want the Codex Goetia. I won’t ask again.”

“I told you,” Isaac said. “That’s not going to happen.”

In unison, the demons took a single, threatening step toward us. Their hands went to the hilts of their swords.

“I assure you ‘lesser demon’ is just an academic classification,” Arkwright said. “They are quite formidable, and quite deadly. I will not hesitate to use them to take the Codex from you if I have to.”

“You want it?” Isaac asked, slipping it back inside his duster. “Come and get it.”

Arkwright glared at him. Then he called to the demons, “Kill them. Leave their bodies in the lake.”

The demons ran down the stairs toward us, drawing curved, scimitarlike swords from their scabbards. They outnumbered us by at least ten to one. I didn’t like those odds. Throw in a madman and his two thugs, each armed with a gun, and I liked them even less. But we’d been through too much to let this lunatic walk away with the Codex Goetia now.

I pulled my Bersa from its holster and started shooting. My bullets chewed into demon flesh. None of them even slowed down. I shot again, this time aiming for the spot between the nearest demon’s black, buglike eyes. The bullet lodged in its head, but it kept coming. Damn, these things were hard to put down. The demon got close enough to swing its sword at my head. I shot a third time. My bullet went into the fleshy meat of its left eye, exploding it in a burst of gelatinous goo. The demon dropped like a sack of bricks.

“Aim for their eyes!” I shouted.

The others attacked the demons with magic. Isaac sent out crackling, electrical blasts. Gabrielle flew into the air and unleashed her shock waves, knocking handfuls of demons off their feet. Bethany pulled a small, bladeless sword hilt from her cargo vest. When she gripped it in her fist, a blade of fire burst out of it.

The demons came at us in a relentless wave, so many of them that I couldn’t see Arkwright and his thugs anymore. I dropped more of them, but for each demon I shot it seemed like there were three more ready to take its place. How many of these damn things were there? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that there were more of them than bullets in my gun. As if on cue, the gun started clicking, its magazine empty. Shit. I’d only killed five of them. Barely a drop in the bucket.

Demons swarmed over Isaac, pulling him to the ground and tearing his duster open. One of them pulled the Codex from the inside pocket and scrabbled away. I ran after it and tackled it. The Codex slipped out of its grasp. The demon struggled, but I kicked it aside and threw myself on top of the Codex.

I heard the sound of guns being cocked. I looked up. Arkwright, LaValle, and Francisco stood over me, their guns trained on me.

“Give me the Codex Goetia,” Arkwright said.

I stayed on top of it, preventing them from taking it.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Arkwright said. “If you don’t hand it over, we’ll just shoot you dead and take it from you anyway.”

“Try it,” I said. “Stay real close and see what happens.”

LaValle’s boot struck me in the face, knocking me off the Codex. Arkwright put his pistol away, freeing his hand to pick it up. I scrambled to my knees and grabbed the other end of it. Arkwright held on. He locked eyes with me and smiled.

“I recognized you the moment I saw you, you know,” he said. “How could I not, after everything we’ve been through together?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know me?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet? Why the sarcophagi only open for you? Not for me or anyone else, just for you?”

“Tell me,” I insisted. “Tell me why.”

He sighed. He looked almost sad as he yanked the Codex out of my hand. “Such a pity. You had so much potential.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I got to my feet, but LaValle and Francisco aimed their guns at me, warning me to stay back. Arkwright tucked his cane under one arm. He reached into his right coat pocket and pulled out the fragment that had been stolen from us outside the library. He brought the big and small pieces of the Codex together. As before, a bright light crackled in the space between them. They jumped toward each other, snapping seamlessly into a single object, a perfect circle. The Codex Goetia was whole again. Gleaming in the rain, the overlapping geometric designs on its face appeared as concentric shapes now, each smaller than the last as they approached the center—a circle, then a heptagon, then a seven-pointed star, then a smaller heptagon, and finally, at the very center of the Codex, a miniature five-pointed star. Etched all around and inside these shapes were the names of the greater demons.

All nine hundred and ninety-nine of them, in Erickson Arkwright’s hands.

He put the Codex in his coat’s interior pocket. “Look around you,” he said, gesturing at his army of lesser demons. “Look at what I did
without
the Codex. Imagine what I could do
with
it.”

I glared at him. “You can’t do this, Arkwright. We won’t let you.”

He leaned his weight on his cane again and smiled. “I told you the name Trent doesn’t suit you, didn’t I? Of course, I’m not the only one who recognized you. There was another. Not to worry.” He leaned close and dropped his voice to a poisonous whisper. “I’ll make sure your secret stays just between us.”

My chest squeezed tight. Jordana—the son of a bitch was threatening Jordana! My hands clenched into fists.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” I said.

“I doubt that,” he said.

Arkwright turned and walked away, his cane tapping the brick pavement of the plaza with each step. LaValle and Francisco followed him, walking backward with their guns still trained on me.

The bastard was getting away. If I let him, Jordana was as good as dead. I couldn’t let that happen. I grabbed a fallen demon’s sword off the ground and ran after him.

But there were more demons between us. Lots more. I swung the sword as I pressed forward, knocking aside their flashing blades and cutting into their flesh when I could. But it was like swimming against the current. I barely moved more than a few feet forward. In the distance, Arkwright, LaValle, and Francisco walked into the arcade beneath Bethesda Terrace. I pushed and chopped my way through the demons. I wasn’t going to stop until Arkwright was dead. I would kill him with my bare hands if I had to. I would kill him even if it meant never knowing how he knew me, or what he knew about me. It was the only way to keep Jordana safe.

A demon’s sword struck my arm, slicing through my coat and sleeve and into my skin. I kicked the demon away and kept running. I blocked another sword coming at me and shouldered a demon out of my way. I felt a sword bite into my leg. I fell to one knee on the hard, wet bricks. I pushed myself back up and kept limping forward. I couldn’t let Arkwright get away.

I was almost at the arcade. Through the archways, I saw Arkwright and his men stop. He reached into his pocket for something.

My back erupted with sudden, burning pain. A demon had slashed me from behind. I could feel the hot blood drooling down my back from the wound. I forced myself to keep moving forward. I limped into the arcade.

“Arkwright!” I yelled.

He turned, surprised to see me. LaValle and Francisco pointed their guns at me. I braced myself for the bullets. I didn’t care how many times they shot me, I wasn’t going down until Arkwright was dead.

But they didn’t shoot. Instead, a demon stepped in front of me. I’d been so focused on Arkwright I hadn’t even heard it come up on me. It swung its sword in a quick arc, slashing open my stomach. I dropped my sword and fell to my knees. I clutched my reddening shirt, trying to keep my insides from spilling out.

“If you hurt her…” I snarled at Arkwright.

He pulled an object out of his pocket and threw it onto the floor. It burst on impact, and a hole appeared in the air above it, flickering and blue. A portal spell. Damn it, I couldn’t let him get away. I couldn’t.

With a smug grin, Arkwright stepped into the portal, followed by his men. They disappeared into the light, and the portal closed.

I looked up at the demon standing over me.

It drove its sword right through my heart.

Twenty-Nine

I came gasping back to life on top of the dead demon’s withered corpse. My fingers were sore from having grabbed hold of the demon as I died and refusing to let go. It had done the trick. The thing inside me stole the demon’s life force to bring me back. Good riddance. That guy was an asshole.

I stood up. My shirt, pants, and trench coat were torn and spattered with blood, but as usual my wounds were completely healed. Not even so much as a scar. It was strange how fine I felt. I was used to more of a shock when I came back. I was used to feeling groggy, confused, and not knowing where I was. But this time was different. I felt charged. Energized the way I imagined people felt after a good night’s sleep. Maybe after thirteen deaths I was finally getting the hang of this resurrection thing. Or maybe it was because I’d stolen the life force of a creature from another dimension. But it wasn’t a good idea to look a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever the reason, the demon’s life force agreed with me. I left it at that.

Out on the plaza, Bethany, Gabrielle, and Isaac congregated by Bethesda Fountain. They were stacking dead demon bodies, so many that they were forced to make several different piles. With a wave of his hand, Isaac set them on fire. The pyres worked quickly, reducing the dead demons to ash in seconds. The wind took care of the rest, dispersing the ashes across the lake and into the forest beyond. The Parks Department owed us a big thank-you for the cleanup. Not that they would ever know.

I walked over to them. Bethany saw me first, her eyes going wide at the sight of my torn, bloodstained clothes.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’ve had worse deaths.” I turned to Isaac. “Arkwright threatened Jordana. She needs protection. That’s where I’ll be.”

I turned around and started walking. The three of them hurried after me.

“Wait,” Isaac said. “We need a plan.”

“How’s this for a plan?” I suggested. “I keep Jordana alive while the rest of you find Arkwright and put him in the fucking ground.”

Gabrielle grabbed my arm. “Trent, don’t. If they’re going to go after Arkwright, they’ll need you. Let me get Jordana. I can bring her back to Citadel. She’ll be safe there. I’ll call as soon as I have her.”

“Forget it,” I said. “It’s my fault she’s in danger. She was just a consultant until I brought her deeper into this mess. I put her right in Arkwright’s crosshairs by getting involved with her.”

“Damn it, Trent, she’s my friend, too,” Gabrielle insisted. “I can help. I have the power to protect her, and I can reach her a hell of a lot faster than you can.”