Legacy of the Demon (18 page)

I spent the next hour working on the reports for General Starr and had just hit “send” when my phone rang. No number I recognized, but I was used to that. “This is A.C. Gillian.”

“I need you.”

My heart skipped a beat. Mzatal, his voice like cold steel. In the background, I heard shouts and screams.

“Where?”

“Siberia. Ust-Ilimsk. Helori will—” The line went dead.

That was all I needed to know. “Jill! I'm going to Siberia! Ust-Ilimsk. How cold is it there right now?” I ran for the closet, pulled out my rucksack and quickly checked weapons and ammo. I'd learned from hard experience to always have a bag packed and ready to go with necessary items for a variety of scenarios: flashlight, first aid kit, crowd control devices, toiletries, clean underwear and socks, and even a small packet of coffee.

“Off the top of my head, I'd say it's really, really cold.” Jill stepped out of the dining room, already busy pulling info up on her phone. “Okay, got it. Temp is minus twelve. Ugh. Strip down while I grab your cold weather gear.” She sprinted to my room while I groaned. “How long before the helicopter gets here?”

“No chopper,” I said as I shucked off my jeans and t-shirt. “The demahnk Helori is coming to get me.” At least, I assumed that's what Mzatal was going to say. “Crap. I'll have to send him back here to pick up Pellini.” I'd be handicapped without him there to shape the arcane for me. “Isn't Ust-Ilimsk somewhere near the 1908 Tunguska event?”

“About two hundred miles south of it” she called out from
the bedroom. “But it looks like that's the closest population center of any decent size.” She returned with a bundle under one arm and her eyes still on her phone. “Oh, wait, that minus twelve is Celsius.” She tossed me silk thermals and dumped a clean DIRT uniform at my feet. “It's ten Fahrenheit.”

“Above zero?” I shimmied into the thermals then yanked on the fatigues.

“Yep, but they're thirteen hours ahead, so it's full night. And it's snowing. I'll get Pellini's gear together. He should be back in about ten minutes. Wear the insulated boots and change your socks. I pulled out the good wool ones for you.”

I obeyed then looked up to see her holding my tactical vest in one hand and my super-sleek mega-insulated coat in the other. “Gloves and balaclava are in the bottom zipped pockets,” she told me. “Headlamp and light sticks in the arm pockets.”

“Thanks. You're my hero.”

“How bad is it?”

I shook my head as I shrugged into the vest and strapped on my weapons. “Dunno. I heard people yelling and screaming, but all Mzatal said was ‘I need you.'”

She winced. “I'd make a snarky joke about that, but if it's so bad he needs your help . . .”

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly.” I took the coat and slung the rucksack over one shoulder. “I'm heading to the nexus to familiarize myself with the area. Hopefully Helori will meet me there.”

“Stay safe,” she ordered.

“Always, ma'am.” I gave her a quick hug then dashed out the back.

Rhyzkahl glanced my way as I ran across the yard and leaped onto the slab. He wisely remained silent while I dropped the rucksack and coat at my feet and called up the flows. He knew by now that if I was geared up, shit was going down somewhere, and I was in absolutely zero mood to play games.

Thankfully, the day was still mild, saving me from instantly passing out from heatstroke in the thermal clothing. I found the flows for Ust-Ilimsk, Siberia, “plugged in,” then closed my eyes and let the culture and language of the region seep in, like water filling a sponge. I was getting to be an old hand at this kind of download. It wasn't my first time learning Russian—though my previous trip had been to Moscow in late August, with temps in
the seventies and a rift in Red Square—but right now I was more interested in gaining a superficial knowledge of the city layout and a familiarity with the region.

A change in air pressure prompted me to open my eyes. Helori stood beside me in his human form—tall, lean, and lithe, with a multi-ethnic look that allowed him to blend in anywhere. At first glance he appeared as calm and collected as ever, but his eyes, typically so full of life, were dull and bloodshot. He looked weary and harried, I realized with a twinge of dismay. Though I was only up to “somewhat conversational” in my super-speedy Russian course, I swallowed back a request for a few more minutes. I had enough to get by.

“Pellini will be back in about five. Can you come back for him?” I pulled on the coat and rucksack then took the hand he held out for me. It trembled ever so faintly in mine.

“Only your presence is needed,” he said with a smile.

I gave his hand a light squeeze and pushed down the flutter of nerves. “Got that covered.”

The nexus and my back yard blinked out. Demahnk travel was usually as effortless as stepping from one room to another, but this was a way rougher ride. My stomach did a couple of unpleasant flip-flops during the heartbeat or so it took for the world to reappear.

I flinched as noise assaulted my eardrums. Screams of fear and pain, shouts and sirens, the crackle and snap of flames, and an earsplitting roar from a holy shit massive reyza.

Helori disappeared, leaving me in the middle of a snow-covered four-lane street. Fifty yards away, a rift spanned from curb to curb, casting malevolent patterns of orange and magenta and red onto the dull grey buildings that stretched along both sides of the roadway. At the edge of the rift, Lord Elofir worked complex weaves of potency as arcane flames leaped around him. And a dozen feet beyond the rift, Mzatal wielded both essence blades in a pitched battle with the gigantic scar-covered reyza. A Jontari. No doubt about it.

I broke into a run toward them, yanking on gloves and balaclava and cursing the ice and snow that made footing treacherous. Dark patches dotted the street, and it took me a moment to realize they marked where demons had been killed—the snow melting beneath the discorporeation and then refreezing. The bitter cold air seared my lungs, but I was pleased to note distant
barricades and flashing lights forming a half mile perimeter around the incursion. The local first responders seemed to be on the ball, which would make my life easier. Even better, I noted that Elofir and Mzatal were drawing potency directly from the rift. Not only did that explain how Mzatal was able to maintain a fight against such a powerful demon, but it meant I didn't have to worry about either lord depleting their reserves and collapsing.

Coils of rakkuhr wound lazily atop the snow and flowed around abandoned cars. Around the rift, the gouts of magenta and red lowered, like a gas burner turned from high to medium. Elofir sent out an intricate web of green potency to further contain the wild energies, at the same time keeping one eye on Mzatal and the demon. I suspected he wouldn't involve himself in the fight unless the situation turned absolutely critical. He had a reputation for non-violence, and even his aura radiated gentleness that spoke of a deep reluctance to do harm.

The reyza deflected a lightning bolt then snapped his wings out, buffeting Mzatal with great strokes of what had to be damn near a hundred-foot wingspan.
Holy Christmas.
And here I'd thought the demon at the Piggly Wiggly was big. This one looked to be at least two stories tall—well over twice the size of Gestamar.

Maybe that can be our new measurement system
, I thought with a touch of hysteria.
Yes, General, the class 1A demon was a 2.4 on the Gestamar scale.

Teeth bared, Mzatal braced himself with a wide stance and sent an arcing strike into the reyza's midsection. The demon grunted and staggered a step but the flicker of arcane shielding told me he hadn't taken any real damage. Mzatal slashed out with power to shred the shielding, but the reyza reacted with blinding speed to deflect the attack. His tail whipped around, and my heart spasmed in dread as it caught Mzatal solidly in the chest and sent him flying a good fifty feet, over the sidewalk and into a scraggly stand of trees.

My feet skidded on a killed-demon ice patch, and only the wild flailing of my arms saved me from falling on my ass. When I looked up again, Mzatal was climbing to his feet with slow, murderous purpose. Snow clung to him, hissing into steam as he straightened. Behind him, the trees burst into flame. Holy fucking shit, he was primed for dealing out a world of hurt. But it meant nothing if he couldn't get past the shields.
And I can't
shape the sigils for a shield buster unless I'm on or near the nexus.
The brand spanking new super-shikvihr loop on my nexus was supposed to give me a boost when I was away from home, but I was on the other side of the friggin' world. How the hell was I supposed to help Mzatal?

Adrenaline slammed through me as a child screamed somewhere to my left. I whirled, shocked to see a half dozen people huddled beneath a walkway, among them a wide-eyed man with a frightened little girl in his arms. So much for the local police making my life easier. “
Evacuate the area means evacuate the area
,” I grumbled to myself as I jogged toward them. None of them looked hurt, but they might not stay that way unless I got them to a safe place. And soon.

I spared a glance at Mzatal, in time to see him hammer the reyza with a potency strike that knocked the demon on his ass. With a mental cheer for my badass sweetie, I swung my attention to the cluster of people, poised to shout for them to come out and make a dash for the barricade.

My words died in my throat as the reason for the girl's scream moved into sight. A second reyza prowled the raised walkway above. Though not as large as the other, it was still at least as big as the Piggly Wiggly demon.
Only one point five Gestamars,
I thought, pulse quickening
. A mere sprout.
But this mere sprout had the people trapped, and I had zero doubt he intended to do more than scare them.

“Elofir!” I shouted, pulling both of my guns as I ran. “People!”

He jerked his head my way. At the sight of Sprout, he tied off the potency in moves too fast to follow then sprinted toward the huddled people, reaching them the same time I did.

The reyza let out a shriek of fury and launched himself into the air. I jerked my guns up but immediately lowered them, frustration clawing at the sight of the demon's arcane shielding.

Sprout pivoted mid-air and flung a ball of red-orange potency at us. With a sweep of his hand, Elofir raised a shimmering green barrier in time to scatter the blast, but the demon continued to lob volley after volley. Though the barrier held, we were trapped behind it. In the street, falling snow flashed with lightning and potency as Mzatal and the big reyza fought.

“Why is this guy bothering with us when he could be helping his buddy out there?” I shouted at Elofir over the crackling din of the strikes. Not that I wanted a second demon attacking
Mzatal, but at least I wouldn't have to stay and protect these people and could instead help him out. Somehow.

“Demon honor,” Elofir replied through gritted teeth. “Bikturk chooses to engage Mzatal alone.”

Bikturk?
Ha! More like Big Turd
. With Sprout unlikely to abandon his attack to fly off and help Big Turd, taking him out of action became a priority. However, I knew better than to ask pacifist Elofir to zap him. “Can you wrap this asshole up in bindings?”

We flinched at a hard strike that shattered like bloody stars against the barrier. Behind us, the girl whimpered.

Elofir staggered and struggled to reinforce. “His protections are such that I would have to drop this barrier in order to craft effective bindings,” he said. “I would require no more than three heartbeats, but in that time the reyza would have ample opportunity to cause great injury or worse.”

Double shit. I missed my arcane abilities now more than ever. Back at home, it would take me less than a minute to make shield busters. Too bad I was
really
far from home right now.

But did that matter? What if “other side of the world” wasn't too far for the super-shikvihr boost?

Silently chanting
please work please work please work,
I mentally
reached
for my nexus, then jerked in surprise and relief as power leaped into my control. It wasn't as god-like as when I stood upon the nexus—more like what I'd had before my abilities were stripped from me. I could make floaters though, and that was all that mattered.

I dropped to a crouch, hit the mag release on my Glock and thumbed the first five rounds into my palm. According to Idris, metal would only hold a fraction of the charge that the quartz spheres could. That would be a serious problem if I was on my own, but not so much when paired with a demonic lord who only needed a point of entry. “If you can hold this barrier another minute, I'll punch a hole in his shielding.” I hoped.

An almost-smile touched Elofir's face. “That would simplify matters greatly.”

Across the street, Big Turd took flight, landed atop a battered five-story building then rained arcane shrapnel onto Mzatal. I yanked my right glove off with my teeth and concentrated on weaving the sigils to turn the bullets into shield busters.

Sprout let out a roar and dropped to the ground near the curb, lips pulling back from his fangs as he assessed Elofir's barrier.
Between his clawed hands, roiling potency gathered, seething with the red and black of
rakkuhr
.

“Almost done,” I muttered, blowing on my fingers to warm them before sketching the final patterns. In my periphery, I saw Mzatal leap a zigzag course from balcony to balcony, like a parkour god, evading Big Turd's strikes to reach the roof and engage in furious battle.

Sprout let out a piercing war cry and hurled the
rakkuhr
at the barrier. It impacted and spread like a glop of jam then snaked dark tendrils over the barrier's surface.

Elofir hissed through his teeth as he fought to counter the insidious
rakkuhr
. “Ten heartbeats, Kara. No more.”