Hellforged (31 page)

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Authors: Nancy Holzner

Tags: #Fantasy, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #General, #Demonology

BOOK: Hellforged
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Seltzer might take care of ghosts, but it wasn’t going to put out a burning pub. I had to get out of here.
I grabbed a bar towel and held it over my nose and mouth. Keeping low, I felt my way out from behind the bar. As I crawled cautiously into the room, the steam was rapidly thinning. In a moment I could see that the flames had extinguished. All of them. Only the usual fire in the big fireplace still burned. The energy from Lil’s fireballs had died with her.
Mr. Cadogan would be unhappy that I’d obliterated his prize tourist attraction. Maybe it’d be some consolation that I’d stopped her from burning down the pub.
Where
was
Mr. Cadogan? And what about Jenkins and the farmer? I waved the towel, trying to clear the steam faster. The room didn’t feel right—still no colors. I stood in a black-and-white photo, that stuffed-with-cotton feeling pressing my ears. I was caught in Lil’s world, with no clue how to return to mine.
I inspected the puddle of melted ghost. Getting rid of Lil had extinguished the fires—would getting rid of her remains put everything back to normal? Short of finding a bucket and scrub brush, I had no idea how to clean up ghost goop. I’d just about decided to start looking for a bucket when a bubble formed in the puddle. It grew, then burst.
Glub.
Another bubble followed, then two more—
glub, glub
. Soon the puddle was boiling. A beam of light shot upward and the goo rose up in a column, higher and higher until it touched the ceiling.
I ran back behind the bar and got the sprayer ready. If Lil could rematerialize, I’d keep knocking her out with water until I’d knocked her out of existence for good.
The column took shape. It didn’t look like Lil. It didn’t look like anything that had ever been human. Not even in the eighteenth century.
The creature was over seven feet tall, with scales and a flat, horned head. Its neck was like a tree trunk, and muscles bulged in its arms, legs, and massive chest. Black bat wings sprouted and stretched out to an eight-foot span. The creature’s spiked tail thumped the floor, shuddering the room. This was no ghost. This was a demon.
Suddenly, the nozzle in my hand didn’t seem like such a great weapon.
The demon shook itself, then looked at me and roared. Fire flared behind its eyes and in its open mouth. Moving way too fast for something that big, it leapt at me.
I went for Mab’s bronze knife. It wasn’t in its sheath.
Shit.
I’d drawn the knife when the room went weird, then lost it when I was dodging fireballs. It could be anywhere.
The demon landed on the bar with a bone-jarring thud. Its long, forked tongue flicked out, shimmering with flames. It drew back a taloned foot and kicked me in the chest.
I flew backward, smashing into a row of bottles and landing on a heap of broken glass. Shards stabbed into my back. More glass and rivers of liquor rained down on me. The demon jumped from the bar and lifted its foot to stomp me. I grabbed its ankle and yanked, making the demon pitch forward onto its knees. I scooted past it and got to my feet. I needed to find the bronze knife. I didn’t go more than two steps before something heavy hit me in the back. I went down, twisting as I fell, so the object the demon had thrown—the cash register—didn’t land on me. Pound coins and pennies rolled around my head like planets in a crazy orbit. I managed to get to my hands and knees and scurried around the bar before the thing could try again to stomp me.
I was halfway to my feet when the demon backhanded me across the room. My head cracked against the fireplace mantel and I fell awkwardly, inches from the flames, knocking over one of the heavy andirons. I groaned and pulled the andiron out from under me. It was bronze. A blunt instrument wouldn’t kill the demon, but a
bronze
blunt instrument might slow it down long enough for me to find my knife.
The floor shook as the demon landed behind me. I sat up and smashed the andiron into its shin. Smoke erupted where the bronze made contact with the demon’s scales, and the creature howled and clutched its leg. I brought down the andiron as hard as I could on its other foot. The demon toppled over.
Before it hit the floor, I was on my feet, racing through the room, knocking over tables and chairs as I searched for my knife. I’d hurt the demon, but it wouldn’t be down for long. The bronze had to pierce its hide to do any real damage.
I spotted the dagger six feet away, under a table. I ran over and grabbed for it, but the demon got there first, swiping with its tail and knocking the knife out of my reach. At the touch of bronze, smoke puffed from the tail and the demon screeched. The knife skittered across the room and landed in the fire. I ran to the fireplace and tried to snatch it, burning my hand in the attempt. I couldn’t hold the hot metal. And the demon was right behind me.
I swung the other andiron, connecting with the demon’s gut. The creature grunted but stayed put. It grabbed the andiron with both hands and wrenched it away from me. Clouds of sulfurous smoke poured from its hands, but it held on. The andiron swooshed toward my head. I ducked and ran behind the demon. The force of the swing sent it off balance, and I shoved it with both hands. It tottered and fell on its face.
It was up in seconds, throwing the andiron at me with the force of a runaway locomotive. I ducked again. The andiron crashed through a back window. Beside the window, shining like the answer to a prayer, was what I needed: a junky old military rifle. With a bayonet. A bronze one.
I ran over, leapt onto the bench, and pulled the rifle from the wall. The demon hit me from behind. I went flying again, but I hung on to the rifle. When the demon jumped in front of me, its arm drawn back for another blow, I lunged, goring its abdomen. The demon’s hide was tough, but I moved the rifle as much as I could—up and down, side to side—pushing hard and getting the bronze in contact with the maximum amount of demon guts.
The creature batted me away like a fly. I flew across the pub, thudded into the far wall, and crashed to the floor. The demon looked down at the thing sticking into its belly, as if trying to figure out what the object could be. Even from where I lay twenty feet away, I could see the smoke and melting flesh where the bronze had made contact.
It took hold of the rifle. Wincing, it pulled out the bayonet. It shuddered when the point appeared, then threw the weapon on the floor. The demon turned its head back and forth, like it was looking for me, but the fire behind its eyes had dimmed. It took a step, then grabbed at its abdomen and fell to one knee. As I watched, the demon began to shrink. The air around it shimmered as it grew smaller and smaller, until it was no larger than the spark that had started this whole crazy battle.
The demon disappeared.
I half-sat, half-lay against the wall. Any moment now, I’d see if my body still worked well enough to stand up. Yup, any moment. Before I could rouse myself to try, a thunderclap shook the room, and a flash of light blinded me. I blinked, trying to get my vision back so I could face whatever new threat approached. Somehow, I found my feet. I was standing at the back of the room, leaning against the wall beside the phone.
“There she is!” Mr. Cadogan called from the bar. “We was about to send a search party into the ladies’.”
My ears rang from that sonic boom. But Mr. Cadogan’s voice came to me clear and strong. Colors had returned. The dusty velvet drapes hanging by the unbroken back window were the most beautiful shade of red I’d ever seen.
I did a discreet self-check. No blood. No slashes, cuts, or burns. I looked exactly as I did when I walked into the pub. Even the pain was gone.
I smiled at the publican. “I wasn’t gone that long, was I? Just went, um, outside for some air.” I strove to keep my voice light, but I sounded like someone who’d barely survived a battle. Wonder why. I took a couple of steps—I was shaky as hell—and sat down at the table where I’d left my drink. I picked up the glass and downed the perry in three gulps.
“It’s past last call. Jenkins was getting anxious about you.”
Jenkins nodded, peering at me like he knew something strange had happened.
I set the glass down and wiped my mouth. Everything in the pub was exactly as it had been before I’d gotten sucked into that alternate reality. Tables and chairs were upright, arranged as usual. Bottles lined up in their places behind the bar. The bayoneted rifle hung where it always had. The young couple and the farmer were gone, but it was closing time. I surreptitiously checked for my knife. Missing. My heart lurched and I checked the other sheath, but Hellforged was there, strapped into place and jumping in time with my booming pulse.
“Sorry, Jenkins,” I said. “I guess I lost track of the time.” I stood and carried my glass over to the bar. “Thanks for the drink, Mr. Cadogan.”
“Sure you won’t have another? The pub’s closed, but there’s no reason we can’t have a quick tipple amongst friends.”
Jenkins squinted at me, concern showing in his face. “Vicky looks tired,” he said. “I’m a bit knackered myself. We’d best be getting home.”
“Are you sure? I’ve got another ghost story to try out on Vicky. She can tell me whether American tourists would like it.”
“Let’s save it for another day, Mr. Cadogan.” It would be a long, long time before I was ready to hear another story about Spooky Lil. “I’m probably not the best judge, anyway. I don’t believe in ghosts.”
At least, I didn’t think I did.
25
JENKINS WAS QUIET AS WE DROVE HOME, GIVING ME THE opportunity to talk about what had happened, but not pressing, either. I didn’t feel like discussing it. How could I when I wasn’t sure what
had
happened?
Second, a battle in the world between the worlds.
I’d just fought my way through the second test—that was clear. Wherever I’d been tonight, it was like nowhere I’d gone before, in the human or the demon plane. But what had I been fighting? A ghost? A demon? Both?
At Maenllyd, the kitchen was empty. Rose would be home at her cottage at this hour, and Mab had gone to bed. She left out a jar of the anti-dreaming tea on the table. I filled the kettle with water. When it boiled, I spooned two teaspoons of the herbs into a teapot. I reached for the kettle, then stopped and added a third teaspoon of herbs to make sure the mixture would do its thing. I poured hot water into the pot, got a mug, and waited for the tea to brew.
When the tea was ready, I carried the mug up the back stairs to the third floor. I changed into the warm flannel nightgown and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over my lap and sitting back against the pillows, the mug warm in my hands. I drank it all, then scooted down and closed my eyes. As I lay in my narrow bed, feeling warm and safe, I wondered drowsily about the creature—or creatures—I’d battled at the Cross and Crow. Wondered where, exactly, “the world between the worlds” was. Then the gray haze of sleep enclosed me, and I stopped wondering about anything at all.
 
A PHONE WAS RINGING. BUT THAT COULDN’T BE RIGHT; MAB didn’t have a phone. Plus I was still asleep, and I’d swigged a whole mug of extra-strong tea to make sure I didn’t dream. Therefore, I reasoned in my sleep, a phone couldn’t be ringing.
Still, the phone rang.
I let my attention probe toward the sound. A black-and-olive cloud appeared and thickened into a dense fog. A dream-phone call. But I didn’t know anyone with those colors. I waited, peering through the bruise-colored mist to see who was contacting me. A figure stepped forward. Pryce.
“
Don’t
call me cousin,” I said, before he could speak. “In fact, don’t call me at all.”
I concentrated to bring the fog back. To hang up on him, I only had to summon enough mist to obscure his features. Not as satisfying as slamming a door in his face, but it would do.
“Wait.” He extended his hands and pressed downward, lowering the fog I’d stirred up. “I didn’t call you. You called me.”
I scowled, and lightning flashed a couple of times as thunder rumbled. “That’s a lie.”
“You asked a question, and I know the answer.” He bowed. “I hastened to be of service.”
“Well, how about you hasten to get out of here?”
“Don’t you want to know about tonight’s test? I’m happy to explain all. Difethwr will not trouble you tonight. You have my word.”
I wouldn’t trade a gum wrapper for Pryce’s word, but it would be helpful to know what I’d fought so I’d be prepared if I ever had to face it again. “All right. Explain.”
Pryce snapped his fingers and a chair appeared. A ridiculous-looking chair—all golden curlicues and plush red cushioning, like a throne. Pryce the Demon King.
Hah.
He sat down, crossed his legs, and clasped his knee. “The ‘world between the worlds’ is Limbo.”
“You mean Purgatory?”
“Yes and no. Mostly no. That’s one way the norms have attempted to explain Limbo but, as with most things, they got it wrong.” He sneered. “Limbo is a border region between Uffern and the Ordinary. It is of both but belongs to neither. And so it is the home of things that belong to neither realm.”
“Like ghosts.”
He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Please, cousin, let’s not be superstitious. There’s no such thing as ghosts. But there
are
forms. Bits and pieces of Uffern or the Ordinary that, for whatever reason, can no longer dwell in their original realm. These things seep into Limbo. Generally, they merely exist there. But they can be put to use.”

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