Hellforged (47 page)
Authors: Nancy Holzner
Tags: #Fantasy, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #General, #Demonology
Daniel appeared. He lifted the gurney’s front end and pulled, freeing the stuck wheel. The gurney started rolling again. Daniel pulled, one EMT pushed, the other walked beside, his gun still trained on the zombie.
Kane, backing away, tripped over a low-lying gravestone and went sprawling. He kept his grip on the zombie. I made a flying leap and landed on top of the two of them. It was like riding a bucking zombie bronco, but together we held him down.
Daniel kept going with the EMT guys. “Lynne’s okay,” he called back over his shoulder, though nobody had asked. “She’s in the ambulance. I told her not to unlock the doors till I came back.” His voice faded as he moved down the path, saying something to the ambulance crew.
As the scent of Norden’s blood grew more distant, the zombie’s struggles lessened. “I’m
hungry
,” he moaned.
hungry
,” he moaned.
“Soon,” I said. We couldn’t let him up until Norden was safely packed into the ambulance and on his way to Mass General.
“Those guys should carry potato chips, not guns.” Kane’s muffled voice emerged from somewhere under the zombie.
“Yeah, but—” Before I could say more, a gong reverberated through the cemetery. For a couple of confused seconds, I thought the concert had started again and the band was launching into another song.
But no music followed.
Shit.
The last time I heard that sound, I was in an abandoned Welsh slate mine.
The last time I heard that sound, I was in an abandoned Welsh slate mine.
Kane cursed. He recognized it, too.
When the second gong rang out, I knew we were in trouble. The dead weren’t exactly dancing anymore—they were stampeding through Boston in a panic—but Pryce was freeing the Morfran I’d trapped.
I whipped my head around, trying to locate the sound’s direction. Daniel and the EMTs had almost reached the ambulance, but I didn’t see Pryce. When the third gong sounded, I watched. A deeper darkness swirled up out of the night.
“There!” I pointed. Kane twisted his head around to see. “Can you handle this zombie while I do the ritual?”
“Yes, but don’t say zom—”
I was already on my feet, unsnapping Hellforged’s sheath. I kept my eyes on the mist. It solidified into a flock of crows that blasted into Norden and the EMTs. The techs took cover as the gurney flipped over. Daniel drew his gun. The crows soared up into the sky.
They circled once, then, sensing the zombie on the ground, dived at him. He screamed. Kane tried to shield the zombie, but the crows passed right through him to get at their prey, gouging out chunks of undead flesh.
“You can’t protect him,” I yelled. “Get Pryce.”
I moved Hellforged in a big circle, pulling the Morfran toward me. Hellforged drew the Morfran like a magnet, dragging crows off the zombie, sucking them toward me in mid-dive.
The zombie’s screams faded to moans. Kane took off at a run toward where the mist had risen. Daniel followed him.
“Pryce has an oak stick or staff,” I shouted after them. “Get it away from him.”
I made the circles smaller. The zombie staggered to his feet. I glanced toward the ambulance. One of the EMTs slammed the back door, then ran around to the passenger side. A second later, the ambulance peeled away, siren blaring.
The gong sounded again.
“Get out of here—
now
!” I yelled at the zombie.
now
!” I yelled at the zombie.
He tilted his head. One eyeball dangled from its socket, where a crow had tried to pluck it out. The second gong reverberated.
“Go!” I screamed, and the zombie ran toward the exit. I’d never seen one move so fast.
I tightened Hellforged’s circles. From across the cemetery came shouting, then a shot. Good. I hoped Daniel had nailed Pryce right through his little black heart. Or did Pryce have a gun, too? My heart lurched, and I felt some Morfran slip away.
Focus, Vicky.
I pulled what Morfran I could back into Hellforged’s orbit.
Focus, Vicky.
I pulled what Morfran I could back into Hellforged’s orbit.
The gong sounded again. Was that number three? It sounded like it came from a different part of the cemetery; maybe Pryce had been forced to start over. But he was obviously still at work, and he could release the Morfran a hell of a lot faster than I could contain it. Another gong—two? I hurried, hurling the Morfran I’d caught into the nearest gravestone. But I made the transfer too soon, and some of the Morfran got away. Blue sparks skittered across the surface of the stone, then swirled up in tendrils of black mist.
Before I could start the ritual again, the third gong sounded.
This wasn’t working. I’d have to stop Pryce first, then mop up whatever Morfran he’d released. I stuck Hellforged in my belt and ran toward the mist that rose black against the night.
Ahead, I saw Pryce, drawing back a wooden club to strike a gravestone. Daniel appeared from behind a tree and fired. Pryce dropped the club in mid-swing, grabbing his upper arm. He spun around, growing as he did, changing into his demon form. Daniel’s second shot bounced off Cysgod’s hide. With a snarl and four flaps of its wings, the demon launched itself into the air. Daniel kept firing; sparks marked where each bullet glanced off. The demon landed in front of Daniel. In a move almost too quick to see, it drew back its arm, extended its talons, and struck an overhand blow. Daniel sprang away. The talons plunged deep into the ground.
I drew my sword, calling upon Saint Michael’s aid. When the blade cleared the scabbard, it burst into flame. I ran forward as Cysgod yanked its claws from the earth and advanced. Daniel, backing up, fell. Cysgod bore down on him, each step shaking the ground. The demon was too fast; I wasn’t going to get there in time.
I switched the Sword of Saint Michael to my left hand, pulled out a throwing knife, and hurled it. The blade found its target, lodging deep in the demon’s side. But Cysgod barely paused. It plucked the knife from its flesh and tossed it aside. It kept moving toward Daniel.
A shape flashed out of the darkness, slamming into Cysgod so hard that the demon overstepped Daniel and staggered past him. Kane clung to Cysgod’s back, stabbing at its neck with his bronze blade. Cysgod twisted and shook and flapped its wings; Kane struggled to hang on. The demon reached over its shoulder, plucked Kane off, and tossed him aside. Kane rolled as he hit the ground and was back on his feet at once.
I’d closed the distance, coming up behind Cysgod, and I lunged, aiming to drive my sword into the demon’s back and up into its heart. But it heard me coming. At the last second, Cysgod twisted to the left, and my blade merely slashed its flank.
But the touch of bronze blazing with celestial fire had its effect. Energy flashed out, and Cysgod became Pryce again. Pryce bled in several places: red where Daniel’s bullet had hit his human form, and black where Kane and I had wounded the demon.
Pryce snarled at me, fury snapping in his eyes.
Then, something altered. A feeling in the air, a tremor in the ground—I couldn’t pinpoint
what
, exactly. But the world had changed.
what
, exactly. But the world had changed.
Pryce smiled, and the expression was far more unnerving than his hate-filled glare.
Daniel fired again. In front of Pryce, a spark flared in midair. Pryce stood still, not even flinching. Daniel gasped, and the gun flew from his hand. Kane started forward, but something lifted him into the air and hurled him across the cemetery. He sailed over the gravestones and disappeared. A pain-filled howl, more animal than human, stopped my heart.
Before I could move, the same thing happened to Daniel. Pryce hadn’t budged; he just stared at me with that mocking smile. His black eyes were darker than the deepest pits of Hell.
Cysgod’s power had surged—that was the shift I’d felt. The Morfran had fed, strengthening all demons. I’d interrupted the feeding, so Cysgod wasn’t strong enough to materialize fully alongside Pryce in the Ordinary—Pryce still had to take one form or the other here. But his shadow demon was no longer a mere shadow. It had gained the strength to reach beyond the boundary of the demon plane and act in the human world.
How could I fight this new, more powerful demon? Because Cysgod wasn’t fully materialized, I couldn’t kill it in its current form, half in and half out of Uffern. After Difethwr’s threats and my experiences at the slate mine, nothing would tempt me into the demon plane. But if I could injure Pryce again, he’d be forced back into his demon shape. If I could kill him during the change, I’d kill them both.
I raised the Sword of Saint Michael and charged.
Something grabbed me around the waist and plucked me off the ground, as I’d seen happen to Kane and Daniel. Cysgod was going to throw me, too, keeping me away while Pryce released more Morfran—bringing Cysgod fully into the Ordinary. I struggled, trying to twist free. I slashed with my sword, but the blade sliced through nothing but air. Cysgod could reach into the Ordinary, but I couldn’t fight it here.
The demon didn’t throw me. Instead, hanging a dozen feet above the ground, I felt a freezing-fiery pressure against my body. The sensation flowed through my skin and seeped into my pores. I shivered and burned, like I was being boiled in ice. The pressure increased, squeezing me. I couldn’t breathe. A fist of ice and rock reached into my chest, grabbed my heart, and, with a violent wrench, turned me inside out.
Cysgod dropped me.
My knees and hips went soft when I hit the ground, and I somersaulted forward. My movements felt slow, like I was deep underwater. Like I was back in the black, endless void. As I struggled to my feet, everything looked smudged and dirty. Terrible sounds invaded my ears—shrieks and screams, insane laughter, the caws and shrieks of ravenous Morfran—and the air was rife with smells of blood, offal, and sulfur.
I was in Uffern. Not just open to it, but
there
. Cysgod had pulled me, body and soul, into the demon plane.
there
. Cysgod had pulled me, body and soul, into the demon plane.
39
PRYCE STOOD IN FRONT OF ME. I COULD SEE BOTH HIS FORMS now: human and demon. The human Pryce waggled his fingers at me and walked to the place where he’d dropped the oak club, taking his time as if he were on an evening stroll. Moving with him, yet staying between us, loomed Cysgod, holding its own flaming sword, which burned with black, shadowy fire.
They’d forced me into Uffern, but here, I could kill them both. First Cysgod, then Pryce.
Pryce retrieved his club as I lunged for his demon half. But the underwater feeling persisted. The foul, oppressive night burdened my shoulders. My sword felt heavy, too heavy to lift, and Cysgod moved out of range before I was halfway to striking.
A rumbling laugh sounded behind me, and flames licked at my back. Difethwr. My demon mark flared, and my right arm dropped, weak and useless, to my side. Okay, I’d fight with my left. But the sword was so heavy, my movements so slow and clumsy, that I nearly dropped it as I changed hands.
“Greetings,
former
daughter of Ceridwen. At last our bond is fulfilled.”
former
daughter of Ceridwen. At last our bond is fulfilled.”
I tried to turn around, but I could barely twist my head, so heavily did the Hellion weigh me down.
“Release me … Hellion … I … command it.” Even speaking required immense effort.
“No.” That single syllable of refusal rang with triumph. “We are part of thee, bound to thee by thine own words. And now we claim that bond.”
Something broke inside me, and I knew there was no escape. I’d been a fool, chasing after purity. Purity was lost to me, and it had been ever since I’d bound this Hellion to myself. No, earlier. Ever since the night it marked me. I could never be pure. I was tainted, corrupted, contaminated. Just like Pryce, I was part demon. I belonged in Hell.
From a goddess two lines diverged, but they are reunited in Victory.
So this was my destiny—bound forever to the Destroyer, subject to the demon I hated more than anything in any world.
I watched, helpless, as Pryce drew back his club and struck a slate gravestone. Black mist wafted upward, solidified, and flew cawing into the night.
Instinctively, I reached for Hellforged, but Difethwr’s arm came forward and plucked the dagger from my belt. “At last,” it said, “the blade we crafted returns to us. We have better uses for it than the crude one thou hast employed.”
Pryce came over and stood before me, the oak club dangling from his hand. Cysgod towered beside him. Pryce looked me over appraisingly, his gaze roaming over my face and body; my heaviness was so great I couldn’t look away. Lips pursed, he leaned forward, and I struggled to turn my head and avoid his kiss.
He spat in my face.
“Teach this bitch a lesson, Cysgod,” he said. “Hurt her as much as you like. But don’t kill her, and don’t injure her womb. She and I have a date later tonight.”
Cysgod’s sword flashed. I couldn’t raise my own in time to deflect the blow. The blade hacked into my arm, a slash of pain and fire that cut to the bone. Black flame burned me, eating at the edges of the wound.
As Pryce watched, Cysgod surged forward in a flurry of slashing cuts. Its sword bit my arms, my chest, my legs, my back, my face. Life-eating flame engulfed me, scorching, burning, consuming my flesh, my spirit. Difethwr’s crushing weight held me in place. Covered with blood, I collapsed to my knees, then fell onto my face. My left hand still grasped the Sword of Saint Michael, but the blade’s flames had died to a weak glow.
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