Spellbound (55 page)

It seemed like the spell had been round, and that meant that it had also devoured untold tons of dirt from below. Sullivan had absolutely no idea how deep the river was, but he figured that the Potomac had just gotten one heck of a deep spot. It was now very early morning, so hopefully there hadn’t been anybody out boating . . .

It took a surprisingly short time for the hole to fill in. Despite the muddy color and the turbulent waves, a few minutes later it was almost as if it had never been there at all.

“What’s going to happen when all the people that were already scared of magic find out that an eighty-acre island, walking distance from Washington, D.C., just magically disappeared?”

“I do not know the answer to that, Mr. Sullivan,” Browning said, “but the possibilities terrify me.”

Sullivan had no response to that. By trying to fix things, had they just made them a whole lot worse? In stopping Carr’s schemes, had they given their enemies even better ammunition to use against Actives?

Faye appeared at Sullivan’s arm. “Francis is going to be okay. Jane’s the best. She said that he needs to rest because he’s missing so much blood, but he should be better in no time. He got shot while defusing a bomb that was supposed to blow up the White House.”

“That’s not what happened, my dear,” Browning corrected. “He told me so himself.”

Faye didn’t care. She seemed to prefer her version where Francis was extra heroic. “He’s so brave.”

“Yep,” Sullivan agreed. “That sounds like Francis all right.”

Two biplanes flew down the river and the spotlights of the aircraft carrier
Lexington
could be seen sweeping down over the city. There would probably be hell to pay tomorrow, but for better or worse, this mission was complete. Dan would interrogate Carr before they turned him over to Hoover. Maybe combined with the testimony of the other prisoners, they might be able to clear themselves. They wouldn’t know the aftermath until the sun rose anyway. It was time to call it a night.

Suddenly, Faye jerked. Sullivan turned to see her weird eyes darting back and forth rapidly. She was normally twitchy, but this was abnormal even for her. “What is it?”

“Something’s wrong . . . bad wrong. In my head map. I can see . . . something . . . It’s in the river. In the hole. Oh no. He’s alive. He’s getting bigger! He must have gotten out of the sucking thing somehow. He was too strong to get sucked away! He’s growing. He’s climbing out!”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

The girl was absolutely terrified. “The god of demons is coming.”

Death had come for him, but he’d found a way out. It was a great deal. All he had to do was sell his soul.

Crow.
It was his only name now. He couldn’t remember the one he’d been born with. Those memories wouldn’t come to him. For almost a hundred years he’d lived a life of debauchery and murder. He had no morals, no sense of right or wrong, no conscience. He lived by the sword and figured he’d die by the sword. That hadn’t scared him back then, but that’s because he’d been young and stupid. When the magic had come to him, he became a lot more valuable, a lot more deadly, and even less compassionate . . . as if that was possible.

He’d sold his demons to the highest bidder. He’d performed sickening tasks and never asked why, as long as the money was good. As he got older, he knew that his time was coming, and unlike when he was young, the thought of dying terrified him. He could get glimpses of the plane the Summoned came from, and he’d developed an intense fear that if there was life after death, that’s all there was in store for him. Floating in a haze, to be dragged in at some alien Summoner’s whim, only to be cast back into the darkness when the Summoner was done. Crow couldn’t bear the thought.

Money could buy Healers, but not even a Healer could make you immortal. As his body broke down, the specter of mortality had hung over him. As he’d aged, his body had become a prison. The Coordinator had given him a way out with the possibility of using his Power to use new bodies. It had been liberating to have a strong body again, but even then the solutions were only temporary.

The Traveler had shot his real body full of holes. There was nothing left to go back to. The part of him that was still inside the greatest of all demons was all that was left. When that link was severed, his life would be over.

It does not have to be that way. Set me free, human. Become one with me. Together, we will own this world. This world must fear me. I cannot tolerate being unknown. Their fear will make me strong.

Crow knew that he would not die, but he would be consumed by the demon, and that was almost scarier than the thought of dying. While they struggled, the Traveler had dropped them into the darkness. The great one latched onto the edge of this reality and barely managed to hold on.

Serve me, human. Death is cold and silent. You do not wish to die. Give me what I want and I will save us both from this fate. You will be perfected in me. Serve, and live forever.

The darkness stretched on into infinity, and so did Crow’s fear. He gave in.

Freedom.

Crow’s soul began to unravel, and as the nothingness consumed him, he begged for mercy, screaming that the demon had promised him eternal life.

I lied.

And Crow was no more.

Faye watched in horror as the god of demons came out of the river.

The cascade of bubbles was visible clear from the other shore. It erupted from the water on the Washington side, rising from the river like a new island, dark and glistening, bristling with spines and bony plates. It was crouched near the shore, partially submerged, but even then, it was taller than any of the homes along the river. It slithered downstream, jutting bones and horrible angles breaking the surface, then it turned toward the city. First came one hand, as big as an automobile. It hit the ground, and the monster pulled itself out of the water.

It was
huge
.

Of course they couldn’t hear the screaming of the witnesses from such a distance, but Faye could only imagine.

It was hard to see details in the dark from half a mile away. It was vaguely man-shaped, but wrong: four arms, two legs—all bending with extra joints—creaking and clacking as animated earth ripped from the river bed and filled with demonic smoke meshed together into the semblance of a body. It had taken on the color of the void it had torn itself from, with skin an empty black that seemed hungry to absorb the light. It stood, spread its arms wide, and roared at the city, nearly as loud as the crashing of the temporary waterfall from a few minutes before. Despite its vast size, it was quick, and it lurched over to where the bridge was still burning. A police car was tossed through the air and another was kicked into the river.

Faye rubbed her eyes. It was incomprehensible. Nothing alive could be that big without squishing itself under its own weight. Except Summoned weren’t really alive like we thought of living, now were they? How could it even move? She didn’t know that either, but it was over there tossing police cars like baseballs. Despite what some folks said, she knew she wasn’t crazy. This thing was real. She just couldn’t wrap her brain around it, and her brain was extra good at wrapping around strange concepts.

Sullivan spoke up first. “I’d say seventy feet tall.” As usual, he seemed calm, and Faye was surprised just how much that helped her stay calm.

All the other knights were shocked, standing there with their mouths open as they watched the spectacle across the Potomac. John Browning turned to their Summoner. “Your estimate, Mr. Wright?”

“There’s nothing like that out there. That thing can’t exist.”

“Apparently it can. Is size always proportionate to the difficulty in banishing a Summoned?”

“As far as I’m aware, yes.”

“So, how difficult will it be to defeat such a beast?” Browning snapped. Ian mumbled an inaudible response. “Spit it out, man.”

“It would be impossible. The bigger they are, the more smoke they hold, and the harder they are to hurt. That thing? Christ . . . I don’t know. If you killed its Summoner, it would weaken it; eventually it would just fall apart and dissipate on its own.”

“I already killed him,” Faye said. “Except Crow’s different. What would happen if the Summoner couldn’t die, like if he was stuck inside his own monster?”

Ian was clearly in over his head. “I’ve got absolutely no idea.”

“What can we do then?”

“Let the Army handle it,” Ian answered sheepishly.

Faye knew that the Army was in the city already. They’d been called up just in case the antimagic marchers turned into rioters, though Mr. Sullivan said they were keeping a low profile because of how awful they’d looked last year when they’d dispatched the Bonus March. She really doubted that the Army would be ready for anything like this.

Gunfire echoed across the river as the police shot at the monster, but it didn’t show any reaction. The knights were silent as they watched the demon attack the homes along the river. It just ripped through houses like they were made of paper. It was nearly three times as tall as the two-story homes along the riverfront. It hadn’t turned so they could see its face yet, but it paused and crouched for a moment, hands moving from the ground to what she could only assume was its mouth. It repeated that process several times, snatching things up from the torn apart houses as it went. “What’s it doing?”

“Oh, dear Lord,” Jane whispered. “It’s
eating
people.”

The demon lifted its head, and they were finally able to see a face straight out of nightmares. There were two eyes on each side of its head, glowing red as the fires of hell. Two long horizontal gashes bleeding smoke bisected the head, one on top of the other, that had to be mouths. It noticed the lights of the Lincoln Memorial, opened both sets of jaws, roared a challenge, and thundered toward the south.

“Knights,” Mr. Browning raised his voice, “we must act. There are tens of thousands of men, women, and children camped on the mall tonight. We must help kill this thing or distract it until they can evacuate.”

“Those ten thousand came here to protest
us
,” Ian snapped. “I don’t think you understand what a Summoned that size should be capable of. Fighting it is suicide!”

Browning ignored him. “Faye, do you have the strength to ferry individuals across?”

She checked. Even with Traveling a motor boat full of people a quarter mile in one hop, her Power felt great, not as strong as it had gotten aboard the
Tokugawa,
but much better than it had been. “Sure thing.”

“Good. Start with the most combat capable first and work your way down. The rest of us with magic not suited for fighting can still fire a gun. Someone tell Dan to interrogate the Coordinator quickly. He may have information that we can use against this thing.” Browning was good at taking charge. “Any other ideas?”

Sullivan tossed his partially finished cigarette in the river. “If you’re on speaking terms with the Almighty, start calling in favors. Take me across first, Faye. Toru, you in?”

The Iron Guard was standing apart and had not yet spoken. “You would die defending those that wish only to destroy you?”

“Among others.”

“You are a fool. Such compassion for the stupid is a waste of righteous Power.”

“Fine. Be a chicken.”

“Never question my courage,” Toru growled. “I did not say I would not slay this demon, only that you are a fool. Of course I will fight.” The sword he’d found was so long that Toru had to pull the scabbard off of his back in order to unsheathe it. “And since I am the strongest, I
demand
the honor of striking first.”

“Knock yourself out.”

Faye walked over and touched the Iron Guard on the shoulder. “Ready?”

He took the sword hilt in both hands.
“Hai!”

She’d take that as a yes. It was tempting to drop the pushy Iron Guard right into one of the demon’s mouths and be done with him, but she reckoned they’d need all the help they could get.

Chapter 22

We’ve got a great show for you tonight. We’ve got dancing. We’ve got singing. We’ve got magic like you wouldn’t believe. Displays of superstrength, deadly stunts, risking life and limb, all for your enjoyment. We have got it all. Ladies and gentlemen, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!

—Al Jolson,

Sinbad’s Vaudeville Theater,
1911

USS
Lexington

Over Washington, D.C.

THE AIRSHIP
HAD SOUNDED
the alert as soon as the electrical anomaly had been spotted at the abandoned Peace Ray facility just west of the city. The crew of the aircraft carrier
Lexington
had reacted like a well-oiled machine. They’d dropped two of their complement of sixteen Curtiss Raptors to investigate within five minutes of the first alarm, and then they’d waited.

The radio call that came in next had been simply unbelievable.

“A giant monster came out of the river?” The captain had just been roused from his bunk and it was taking him a moment to digest the news. “And it’s heading for the Lincoln Memorial?”

“Yes, Captain,” confirmed the radioman. It sounded insane, but that was the word.

“Is this some kind of joke, Lieutenant Heinlein?”

“No, sir. It appears to be some sort of creature, like something a Summoner would have, only bigger.”

Tensions had been high ever since the assassination attempt, but nobody had expected that there would actually be anything for the Navy’s most advanced airship to do over the Capitol other than be a sign of strength and stability to the people. They’d been wrong.

“Damned wizards. Ought to hang the lot of them . . . Bring us around to engage with the main guns and drop the fighters.”

Washington, D.C.

SULLIVAN’S BOOTS
hit the pavement hard. Faye always seemed to like appearing a little above the ground for safety’s sake, and a lot above it when she was carrying somebody with her. Traveling was terribly disorienting, so it took him a moment to regain his bearings. He had no idea how the girl was able to do it so quickly and always keep herself pointed in the right direction. The reflecting pool was in front of them. They were near the Roosevelt Memorial. The Washington Monument rose in the distance to their left. To the right was the Lincoln Memorial, and standing next to it was one big demon.