Haunted Moon

Page 24

As Roz did his best to fend off the would-be sacrificial offerings, a vibrating hum began to fill the air. The noise started like a faint ringing in my ears, quickly increasing in volume as the egg began to rock. I dropped to my knees, holding my hands over my ears. Delilah was doing the same. The piercing wail was unrelenting, but still the supplicants attempted to get to the egg. Roz was doing his best to stop them, ignoring the sirenlike shriek.
Morio yelled something at me, but I couldn’t hear him between covering my ears and the wail of the egg. He pointed to a spot high on the silver orb, and I squinted; the pale sun was glaring in my eyes. But then, as a cloud passed between the light and us, what he was looking at became clear.
Fuck. Narrow veins began to appear, the cracks slowly rippling across the egg, like a spiderweb or an intricate mosaic. A glowing violet light began to shimmer from the hair-width fractures, and in my gut, I knew it was the energy of the Netherworld peering out. The energy of the spirit demons.
My stomach knotted. The thing was about to hatch. I tried to stand, but the noise drove me down again. Roz, Morio, Shade, and Vanzir were all on their feet—it must have been just Delilah and I who were affected.
“Please, Moon Mother, let it hold off until the others get here. We need all the help we can get,” I whispered, unable to hear myself but praying still the same. I couldn’t use her magic in this battle, but maybe—just maybe—she’d send us a little luck, a little boost.
And then the sirens fell silent, and—disconcerted—I pushed to my feet, Delilah doing the same. We gathered up our blades and turned to face the egg. The cracks had nearly covered the surface now, and the violet veins of light were shining through them, but so far, they hadn’t gotten any wider. I had no idea whether it was like a chicken’s egg—were the spirit demons pushing against the inner walls of the shell? Would they emerge one by one, or in a huge, writhing mass? And how many were in a nest, anyway?
So many questions, and unfortunately, we were poised to find out the answers. The hard way. I glanced at the others, uncertain.
“Should we rush it now, while they’re still inside? Smoky, Trillian, and Shamas are on their way. Should we wait for them? I don’t know what to do!” Frantic, I turned to Vanzir. “You know the most about them—what do we do?”
He looked just as terrified as I felt. “They’ll go for the magic users first. I’d say for you and Morio to get the hell out of here, but you wouldn’t be able to run fast enough. A nest contains dozens of the demons—but they won’t be at full strength yet. They’ll be fast and they’ll be ravenous, even though Gulakah has been sending them food.”
“When should we attack?”
Shade interrupted. “Not till they come out. If we break the shell now, they’ll all pour out at once. If we’re lucky, then they’ll only be able to come out a few at a time. I don’t know for sure, but I say we don’t give them any help.” He gazed up at the sky. “Pray for more clouds—there are a few but not enough for me to slip into shadow. I may not be able to attack them with my magic, but I could use it to navigate.”
Finally! Something I could manage!
“Hold on.” I sheathed my dagger and raised my arms to the sky. I couldn’t call the lightning to fight, but I could gather the clouds. The sky was overcast enough now for me to summon them.
I inhaled deeply, pulling in the scent of rain on the horizon. A storm was on the way, and I could bring it faster. Not strong enough to give us a deluge, but a bank of nimbostratus clouds was near enough to summon. They were low-level and dark and filled with enough precipitation to spur on moderate showers. I quickly unzipped the pocket and pulled the horn back out, thrusting it into the air.
“Master of Winds, Lord of the Depths, hear me. Bring the storm, bring the rain, bring the cloud cover, not to attack but to help camouflage and protect!”
As I spoke, a loud crack of thunder rumbled in on the currents as the clouds began to move, shifting rapidly, piling up as if we were watching a time-elapsed film. The wind picked up, whipping my hair, the faint taste of rain caught in the gusts. I laughed—the sheer joy of the elements washing through me, cleansing my fear.
Replacing the horn in my pocket, I zipped it up and turned to Shade. “Will that be enough?”
He gave me a sultry smile. “You’re the best,” he said, and vanished into the sudden glut of shadows that spread across the lawn.
As the clouds continued to build, I realized that I’d called more than a simple storm. Something big was going on up there. But there was no time to worry about it now—because as Smoky, Trillian, and Shamas came racing up the street, the egg began to shatter—shards of pale gray shell falling every which way. A host of shadowy creatures began to rush out, nebulous but visible, and they descended on us with a fury. I raised my silver blade. The fight had come to us, and we were sorely outnumbered.
Chapter 12
The rush of spirit demons was an eerie sight against the backdrop of darkening sky. We watched as a fountain of light shot up, sparking with the violet flames of the Netherworld and, flying out of that fountain, the nebulous forms of the spirit demons.
We’d never actually fought any of the creatures, though I wondered how much worse than the bhouts could they be, but that question was answered all too quickly as one landed in front of me.
While it was ethereal, I could see its face and body, and the hollow sockets were filled with glowing fire—burning brilliant orange. The body itself was vaguely bipedal, resembling a human though not of human descent. But where the heart would have been was a hole of swirling mist, and out of that hole, feelers emerged—thin tentacles that reminded me of Vanzir’s neon feeding tubes. They were silent as they writhed toward me, and I dodged as one of them swiped toward my head. It missed me by inches.
Holy hell! The things were fast, and there were so many of them it was hard to estimate the horde we were fighting. I slashed at the one in front of me. It was close enough to touch, and I managed to score a direct hit. It screamed as the silver bit into its side and launched itself at me again. Again I ducked and countered, and again, I managed to hit. The second time, the spirit demon vanished in a whiff of flame.
I killed it? That had to be a joke! But then I realized that we were dealing with newly hatched creatures and, demon or not, they were still vulnerable. Once they began to feed now that they were outside, they’d become much more dangerous.
Roz’s voice echoed over the fray. “No! Damn it to fucking hell!”
I darted his way—I’d been close to him anyway. The path cleared just long enough for me to see a group of the spirit demons diving for the FBH witches and the Fae. They were doing nothing to protect themselves—lambs to the slaughter in their magical possession. Roz was butchering the demons right and left, but still they came.
Several of the women were dead—rather than vanishing, as they had into the egg, they looked like they were riddled with bullet holes. The carnage spread out across the lot. I rushed in to help him try to protect the rest, but a glance at the egg told me we were fighting the clock.
Spirit demons were still pouring out. There was no way we could kill them all before they feasted. And the demons who were draining the magic and life force from the witches were stronger. Their bodies became more solid; they looked bigger and tougher.
What the hell were we going to do?
But there wasn’t time to dwell on questions. Another spirit demon—still searching for food—came at me, and one of its feelers hit my arm. An electric shock raced through me as the thing sought to latch hold. It was then that I saw a round row of needle-sharp teeth in the end of the tube—a lot like a lamprey’s mouth.
“Oh hell no you don’t!” I pulled away before it could sink its teeth into me and whirled around, slicing through the feeler with my dagger. It did not flinch, did not scream, merely came at me again. The silence and grace of its movement was almost more frightening than the creature itself—everything was done in a hush, the movements barely perceptible except to the eye.
I tried to anticipate the spirit demon’s action, whirling to match its advance. The first time, I lucked out and managed to slice through another feeler. The second time, I miscalculated and it slammed two of its tentacles against me and one managed to grab hold. The teeth dug in and I screamed, trying to shake it off. Maneuvering a blade so close to my skin was difficult, but I had to get the thing off me, and everybody else was caught up in their own battles.
Using the dagger, I began prying at it, digging into my arm with the tip, trying to break the suction of the spirit demon. It was holding fast, so I gritted my teeth and slid the blade into my skin, just under the top layer—I kept the dagger extremely sharp—and then shoved it beneath where the feeler had hold. With a sharp jab, I turned it upward and shoved, ripping through my flesh, but managed to aim right into the mouth.
The spirit demon jerked the tentacle away, again in silence, and as I yanked my dagger away and aimed for the other feeler, it pulled off me. I was bleeding and it hurt, but I’d hurt a lot worse before. Angry, more than anything, I slashed at the demon and my dagger met its mark, plunging directly into the creature’s core where the heart should have been—into the swirling vortex from where its tendrils emerged.
I didn’t let up, driving the blade farther into its core. It struggled, but I threw my weight against it, and with a slow ripple the spirit demon collapsed and vanished.
As soon as it was down, I turned back to the carnage going on with the spellbound members of the Aleksais Psychic Network. Most of them were dead, and we were fighting a bloody and failing battle, just trying to keep the collateral damage as low as we could.
The spirit demons had filled the area, their shadowy figures haunting the lot. I glanced around, panicked. We were too few, and though the others were doing their best, because it took silver weapons to harm them, we couldn’t fight at our best advantage.
But there wasn’t time to focus on the big picture. Another pair of demons came my way. Luckily they were fresh and young. As I backed up, trying to gauge the best way to keep one at bay while I fought the other, the roiling clouds shuddered as a wave of thunder rolled through, rattling the ground. Lightning followed, a fraction of a second afterward—it was right above us, the storm; I’d called it in, perhaps a little too well.
As the afternoon sky shifted, thanks to the rising power of the storm, a jagged shard of lighting crashed to the ground and hit the egg dead-on. Since the lightning itself wasn’t magical, it appeared to do damage rather than help the demons. The remaining shell shattered, sending debris every which way. I was out of reach, but Delilah yelled, and I saw that she had several shards of the orb stuck in her arms. But she yanked them out, tossing them on the ground, and went back to fighting one of the spirit demons.
The smell of ozone trickled through the air, scorching my nose.
I turned back to my own opponents. They were bearing down on me, and I wasn’t sure just how I was going to manage keeping them away.
And then there was a howl from down the street, and the sound of running feet, and before I could react, a group of about twenty-five members of the Supe Community Council came charging in—all big, burly men with silver swords. Bear shifters and werepumas mostly, though I recognized a member of Marion’s coyote shifter clan. They rushed in, sweeping through to help us.
I found myself beside Jonas—a burly hulk of a man—well, werebear—with curly black hair, and a trim, neat goatee. He was an ex–football player, and he looked it. But he was also an ex-Marine, and he fought like it. I had no idea how he’d managed to hide his heritage in the service when the moon went full, but the question vanished as one of the spirit demons launched another attack at me. Jonas shoved me out of the way and lopped the spirit demon in half—right down the center—with a badass silver sword.
It occurred to me that there wouldn’t be any werewolves around—they had a problem with silver just like vampires, but none of the other Weres were allergic to it.
As Jonas finished off my second opponent, I stumbled back, tired from the constant fighting. I was used to battle, but using magic was different from fighting it out hand-to-hand. I was trying to clear my head when Smoky suddenly came rushing past, sweeping me up under one arm. I barely had time to let out a “Huh?” when two more spirit demons descended on the spot where I’d been standing. I hadn’t even noticed them coming.
He pulled me out of the fray, running me across the street. I groaned as he set me down next to another group of perhaps ten Weres. “Watch her. Don’t let her get hurt.” And then he was off.
I turned to find myself staring at Frank Willows, a werewolf who had recently taken on a bigger role in the Supe Community Council. He gave me a slow nod. Frank was an urban farmer and one of the good guys. We bought our pork from him and also some of the blood that Menolly kept around for reserves. Most werewolves didn’t like magic or vampires, and Frank was no exception, but he’d never been anything but polite to Menolly and me, unlike some of the lycanthropes we’d met. We were on friendly terms.
“Frank, what are you doing here? You can’t use silver.” I fretted. He, as well as any other werewolves, wouldn’t be able to defend themselves if the spirit demons crossed the street.
“Plenty of Weres here who can, though. Since Johnson called us up for active duty, and since I’m the leader of the Supe Militia, I felt it was my duty to come. Camille, you need to distance yourself from the battle. It’s not safe for you. Chase said those things eat magic, and you’re…filled with it.”
He was soft-spoken, even though his voice was a little gruff, and his apprehension made me smile. I’d faced, and defeated, worse threats than Frank could imagine. But I didn’t want to bruise his ego, or make him think I wasn’t grateful for his concern.