Demon Mistress

Page 36

I was right on Delilah’s heels. Kitten was a damned good fighter, but she wasn’t much of a match for this creature. But she surprised me. She launched herself from a running start, flipped head over heels through the air, and as she landed, found herself close enough to take a good, long swipe at the Karsetii.
“Lysanthra!” she called out, and her blade hummed and began to glow. I skidded to a halt. Maybe I hadn’t been imagining things. Maybe the blade had some form of magic locked within it that I hadn’t seen before. Camille had been trying without any luck to get her own silver blade to wake up, but Delilah had apparently nurtured hers into quite a handy friend.
The silver took on a reddish sheen as steam wafted off of it. What the hell? That was weird. As Delilah plunged it into the demon, raking it down the Karsetii’s side, the steam took on form and substance, looking for all the world like a winged sprite. But there, the resemblance to the willowy forest creatures ended, and the sprite opened its mouth to show huge, misty teeth and fastened itself like an eel to the demon.
“Holy hell,” Camille said. She’d helped Morio to his feet, and they, too, were staring at the unfolding scene. “What the fuck is that?”
“You got me,” I said, then shook myself out of my surprise. The demon was wailing now, so loud that it hurt my ears, but she was still aiming for Roz, who was running like a bat out of hell—or an incubus on the run from an irate father, I thought cheerfully as I sped up and managed a spin-kick right in the place Delilah had wounded it. The sprite—or whatever it was—was no longer visible, but the wound hadn’t closed and, in fact, it appeared to be growing wider. Whatever the dagger had done to the Karsetii was having an impact.
Rozurial whipped around and yelled, “Stand back!”
I dropped to the side; he didn’t have to tell me twice, especially when I knew he was carrying firebombs. As I rolled and came up in a crouch, covering my head, sure enough, an explosion rocked the area, knocking me forward a good three yards.
Twisting, I saw the Karsetii shift directions. She was headed my way now, and her eyes had taken on the gleam of a wounded wild predator. Most of her tentacles were either scorched or had been blown to smithereens. Whatever Roz put in those little goodies of his worked wonders.
I scrambled to my feet and took off. Crazed demons were nothing to mess with, and though I thought I could land another blow on her, it was about time for Camille to do her thing with the horn. Or at least I hoped she was ready. I was about to suggest that she get her butt in gear when I tripped over some protrusion coming from the ground.
The astral plane was rife with rocks and odd twisted trees and so forth, so much that newcomers often mistook them for their counterparts on the physical plane. But here, the doppelgangers were often actual creatures—or at least sentient in a way that the originals weren’t. Whatever I’d tripped over scuttled away in the boiling mist that covered the ground.
Oh shit. I glanced over my shoulder. The Karsetii was gaining on me fast. The hive mother appeared to be stronger when she was wounded—at least she was more aggressive—and I struggled to my feet and headed out at a dead run again. But her tentacles reached me first—the two that were still intact, that is. They caught hold of me and lifted me up. I glanced at a third one that was sniffing me out, hovering all too near my head.
Then, as if she hadn’t found anything to her liking, the tentacle dropped away, and I felt myself being whipped through the air. Before I knew what was happening, she’d launched me to the side. The world went spinning around me as I careened head over heels toward the rising mist. I was going to hit and hit hard. Thank the gods I was a vampire. A broken bone would heal, a busted artery wouldn’t do much in the way of damage. Just so long as I didn’t land heart-first on a jutting piece of wood or in the middle of a bonfire, I should be okay.
As the ground wheeled up to meet me, I found myself facedown in the mist, landing with a harsh thump. Thank the gods again. There was nothing beneath me but the astral landscape, sans tree roots, rocks, or boughs. But the landing jarred me so much I could barely move. I winced, pushing myself up to a seated position. Nothing broken. Nothing seriously wrong. Not even the wind knocked out of me, since I didn’t breathe. The shock of hitting hard had stunned me, but as I shook it off and stood up, I was ready to jump back into the fray.
I whirled around, looking to see where the demon was now. There—heading toward Camille and Morio. Roz was on her tail, pulling what looked like another firebomb out of his pocket. Delilah was making tracks right behind him, and Vanzir was speeding in from the side. The sound of wings whooshed overhead, and I glanced up in time to see Smoky bearing down on the Karsetii.
Smoky let loose with a fiery blast, scorching along her back, then pulled up sharply and veered to the side. The Karsetii slowed. Not much, but enough to tell he’d hurt her. Roz reached her and tossed one of the firebombs into the wound Delilah had given her, which had split wider still. And that’s when I realized what her blade could do: The wound was continuing to grow; it hadn’t stabilized. That meant that the Karsetii wouldn’t be able to heal up from it right away, even if she managed to suck the life energy off one of us. If we could do enough damage, we could actually kill her.
Camille had the horn out, and she frantically waved me off. I skidded to a halt and began to backtrack, looking for cover. Roz and Delilah split off to the side, and Vanzir joined Morio, flanking Camille’s other side. I could hear her chanting something, but I didn’t stick around to find out what. I had to find cover. Light or fire—it didn’t matter. The horn had proved its ability to magnify power, and I didn’t want to be around when it shifted into high gear.
At that moment, I felt talons clutch around my waist as Smoky swooped down and carefully caught me up in his claws. He flew up and away, with me dangling between his front feet, and I stared at the mist-covered ground as we beat a retreat from Camille and her horn o’ death.
Smoky zeroed in on the ground and dropped me gently into the mist before landing. Within the blink of an eye, he swiftly morphed back into his human shape and opened his coat. I dashed into the offered shelter without a second thought. This was getting to be old hat: my brother-in-law saving my butt from my sister’s wayward powers.
Grinning, I pressed against him. No dirt, no blood on his spotless white clothing, as usual, but he reeked of testosterone and dragon sweat. As he enfolded the long drape of his trench around me, a flare lit up the sky. I could see it even from within the darkness of his coat. There was a screech, and then Smoky whispered, “She got it. My girl got the demon.”
Then he tensed. Oh shit, had the magic backtracked onto her? Camille could kill herself if one of her spells, magnified by the horn, backfired onto her.
As soon as it was safe, he opened his trench coat, and I stumbled out. We both took off at a dead run, but then—blink—he was in dragon form again and snatched me up, carrying me as his wings beat a tattoo toward the smoke that was billowing out from the area where Camille and the demon had been standing.
I watched the ground disappear below me, anxious. Was she okay? Was the demon dead?
As we neared the area where they’d been, smoke rose to meet us, and boy, did it stink. Burnt flesh. Shit. That better be demon flesh, I thought. Smoky spiraled to the ground and let go of me, then shifted back into human form, and we raced through the gray clouds to see what the aftermath of the blast had left behind. Coming in from the sidelines were Delilah and Roz. We joined them and plunged into ground zero.
I heard coughing. A woman coughing.
“Camille? Are you okay?” Delilah was waving her way through the soot-laden air. “Camille?”
“Here, we’re over here,” came a familiar voice, and I relaxed.
“The hell with this,” Smoky said and stepped back. Once again he stood there in dragon form, but this time he beat his wings to a steady cadence, the rush of air clearing the smoke from the area. As it cleared, we saw just what havoc Camille had managed to wreak.
She was sitting there on the ground, looking exhausted, covered in soot, ashes, and some sort of jet-colored goo, which I strongly suspected was demon guts. Morio and Vanzir were crouching next to her and they, too, were slathered with the slime. There was no sign of the demon, at least not anything big enough to worry about. Fist-sized chunks of the Karsetii were scattered everywhere, unmoving, dead to the world.
Camille gazed up at me. “We did it. We killed her.”
“You still have the spirit seal, right?” I asked.
She stuck her hand down her bra and nodded. “Yeah, it’s safe and secure.”
“Then I guess we’re done here. We just need to go back and mop the floor with Dante’s Hellions. And destroy that Demon Gate spell before they summon something else through.” I glanced around. “I guess we should get moving. Anybody sense any speck of life left within the hive mother?”
Vanzir knelt and picked up a large piece of the dripping demon. I tried not to grimace. Somehow, that just seemed so very nasty. He sniffed it, then closed his eyes. After a moment, he tossed it to the ground and shook the slime off.
“No. She’s dead and gone.”
“Hopefully, it will be another two thousand years before another one of those things comes out of hiding,” I said. “Okay, let’s get back to Harold’s house and put a stop to this ever happening again. Even with their necromancer dead, want to make a bet they’d figure out a way to keep the gate open?”
“Either that, or bring in another necromancer. What will seal up a Demon Gate?” Camille asked, looking at Morio.
He frowned. “If we had another necromancer on our side—a skilled one—he could take care of it with no problem. We can probably negate it, since we’ve been working with death magic, but to really put it out of commission, we need someone who can create them in the first place.”
“What do you mean? You mean they might have a chance to recharge it after you guys take it down?” I wasn’t too clear on the mechanics of spellwork in the first place, and I certainly didn’t know much about death magic.
Morio sighed. “Not exactly. When a magician creates a Demon Gate, he isn’t just casting a spell. He’s actually ripping open a doorway to the Subterranean Realms. Or he’s supposed to. In this case, the dingbat they had working with them accidentally opened it to the astral plane instead of the Sub Realms. That’s why he attracted an astral demon. But once that door has been opened, it’s not easy to close. You can’t just turn the spell off. You actually have to be able to force it shut and mend the rips in the etheric plane. We can do a fix on it, but neither Camille nor myself has the strength to close a gate that’s been opened by an adept necromancer.”
“Well, shit. What are we going to do?” Delilah said, standing. She held out her hand and pulled Camille to her feet. Smoky and Rozurial were frowning, and Vanzir just looked pissed.
“I know.” I smiled. “It may take a bit of cajoling, and we may end up having to bargain our way into getting him to do it, but I know who we can ask.”
“Who?” Smoky said. “Camille’s not making any more bargains.”
“Not like the one she struck with you, huh?” I said pointedly, laughing at him. He glowered, but I just shook my head. “Don’t get your smokestacks in a dither. I’m thinking about Wilbur. You know—Wilbur, who owns Martin the ghoul? Our new neighbor? I’ll bet you anything he’s powerful enough to fix this little problem.”
“Of course,” Camille said. “Anybody who can raise a ghoul to the level that Wilbur did with Martin is bound to be able to open—or close—a Demon Gate.”
“So what next?” Rozurial asked. “Do we go get him or—”
I shook my head. “No, we have to stop the Hellions from bringing anything else through first. Then we ask Wilbur to pretty please do his thing. If he wants money, we find a way to pay him money. If he wants a dead body or two for more ghoul friends, we procure him a few corpses. Whatever it takes.”
“Then I guess we have our plan,” Delilah said.
I nodded. “Yeah. We’re about to put Dante’s Hellions out of business for good. Then I suggest we raze their house to the ground and fill the tunnels with concrete.”
Vanzir grinned. “I can do better than that for you,” he said, but he wouldn’t say another word about it as we headed out of the astral, back to Hell House.
CHAPTER 27
We’d left the amphitheater in chaos, and as we stepped off the astral, I saw that things had only gotten worse. The elf, whom we’d left unconscious, was back in her manacles, and the scattered lot of young men in sneakers and jeans had gathered around the altar. Without their robes, they looked far less menacing. Harold was at the head of the altar, and the Demon Gate glowed, wide open behind him. He was chanting something in Latin.
“Trying to call up another big bad?” Camille said, stepping forward. “Don’t even think about it.”
Harold glared at her. “You have our soul stone. Give it back, or we’ll take it by force. It belongs to the High Priest of our order, and he’ll destroy you when he gets back.”
“Your High Priest is lying in the lower laboratories, gutted like a fish,” Smoky said. “I’d advise you not to expect reinforcements.”
“No matter. I’ll take over,” Harold said, barely blinking an eye.
I stared at him, amazed he even had the balls to speak. “Get a clue, dude! Your uncle was just killed, and you don’t even care. We destroyed the demon you summoned. Is it that you delight in being dense, or were you out to lunch when they were handing out brains?”