Demon Squad 7: Exit Wounds (20 page)

“The archangel Uriel is with Michael, as well, so perhaps he can stop Azrael before too much damage is done.” He didn’t sound hopeful.

Longinus’ powers having been mine I couldn’t muster much confidence in that happening, either. I’d only begun to tap the magic I’d inherited and Heaven feared me, if Duke Forcalor could be believed.
I
was dangerous. Azrael would know how to access every ounce of power in my hijacked body and make it work to his advantage. He’d be unstoppable.

“I hope so,” I said, wanting none of my concerns to bleed out onto the wizard. He had enough shit to worry about. “Let’s go back inside.”

Rahim gave a shallow nod and returned to the hidey-hole, pulling the door open and returning inside.

I followed after in a haze. It was good to have some news from home, but it really hadn’t changed the complexion of what we were facing. The hope of a jailbreak was slim to none, but maybe there was some way to use what we’d learned. I stared off toward the invisible mountains for a moment as a thought hit me, pausing before dropping down into the hideout.

Maybe we were doing exactly what we needed to already.

The shimmering portals headed toward the volcanic gate, it stood to reason we’d get more opportunities to chit chat with Michael and the others. It’d be easier, as well, seeing how we’d be climbing up the mountain and getting closer.

Closer to the dragons and whatever else waited up there, too.

I pushed that aside and sealed the door behind me. We were still lost in an ocean of shit but we’d found a toilet paper life preserver. Now if only we could hold on a little longer.

I dropped into the hideout to see that everyone but Rahim and Katon were asleep. Not trusting Shaw, I waited there at the ladder for a while, watching her. After a bit, I had to admit I saw nothing that made me think she was faking it. And trust me, I know all about
faking
having been married to Veronica.

Rahim and Katon quietly whispering near the mesh window-thing, I decided to find out what the wight had been up to. I waited another few seconds to be sure no one spotted me, and then entered the alcove as quietly as I could. Ilfaar was huddled in the far corner, his arms hung at his side as he slumped in exhausted sleep. And while the room was dark, my vampire eyeballs allowed me the first clear look at the wound in his gut. It was filled with dark, crusted blood alongside the ooze of a magical discharge, but it didn’t look anywhere near as bad as I first believed. A closer look only confirmed that. He’d been injured by magic of some kind, and was certainly suffering since he couldn’t heal, but he’d looked on the verge of death’s door since we stumbled across him. If that was true, it sure wasn’t this particular wound that was taking him there.

Ilfaar stirred, likely sensing my presence, and his eyes popped open. He drew in a startled breath and his hands came alive—well, what was left of them. The stump darted back into position at his gut while the other whipped in front of my face, the last of his wriggling fingers attempting to obscure my view. Before the latter did its job, I spotted a glimmer of something that shone in his wound; something out of place there. It was gone an instant later.

“What is it?” he asked, wary hesitation in his voice, like I’d caught him whacking off under the blankets.

“Just checking on you.” I answered with a grin. “You looked a little out of it. Wanted to be sure our exit strategy hadn’t slipped away in the night.”

He forced a grin. “No, I’m slightly more resilient than that, have no fear.”

“Still, you might want to get that checked out.” I pointed at his stomach, his lumpy wrist pressed so hard against his stomach that he was leeching the color from his skin.

“I’ll survive, I assure you.” There was no hiding the agitation he clearly tried to cover up. After dealing with Lucifer my entire life, I knew a liar when I saw one.

“All right, I’ll leave you be then.” I stood up, nodding as I started off. Then I stopped, glancing over my shoulder at the angel. “You’re not, uh, missing anything, are you?”

His eyes widened for just a flash before he got them under control, his stump twitching against his torso. “I’ve nothing to miss, friend. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” I smiled. “It’ll be daylight soon, so you’d best start getting ready. We’ve got some miles ahead of us,” I said, and then left him to his paranoia. It tasted like
awesome
.

He shuffled about in his alcove as I went over and sat down beside Karra, my hand going to her belly to feel the swell of our child beneath her shirt. She sighed in her sleep, the sound tugging at my conscience. I needed to get them home somehow, and Ilfaar had a piece of that puzzle. Though I wasn’t quite up to speed on all the particulars yet, I was starting to see how the game was being played by everyone else. And if I’d learned anything from my father about winning, it was this:

I needed to cheat.

Twenty

(Scarlett)

A golden gleam streaked through the sky above Old Town, turning sharply to come down just yards from where we stood.

“I presume your summons has something to do with our newly resurfaced Angel of Death?” Raguel asked in his graveled voice as he met the gaze of Uriel with a conspiratorial wink.

The guardian of Azrael’s mystical energies, given to him for safekeeping after the failure of the war on Eden, Raguel stank of death yet still gleamed with holy power. So much so that it wafted off him in almost violent waves that set my skin to dancing beneath its touch. The angel made no effort to rein his essence in.

He was a conundrum of mystical misrepresentation. Dressed in his customary bronze armor, battered with age, he was one of the few archangels who did not exude a sense of the Father’s Godliness or causal reserve. Raguel was simply himself.

Long gray hair sat tied in a messy tail behind his head, pulling his craggy face tight so that his flicker of an amused smile looked more pained than pleasurable. His narrow blue eyes glimmered with frost, though I knew that to be his nature and not some condemnation as to Uriel’s call.

“It does indeed, brother.” Uriel grinned. “And we could use your help.”

“If you’re looking for insight into that murderer’s head, you’ve come to the wrong source.” Raguel came over, surveying each of us in turn, giving only a sharp nod of acknowledgement as his eyes passed over me. “I might well have inherited his energies, but I am hardly on speaking terms with the bitter remnant of his soul that resides within me.”

“Nothing so grand, I admit.”

I watched as Raguel puzzled over Uriel’s words, realization dawning across his features. “Am I to be the hook or the worm, brother?”

“I would say worm for the moment, though I’m certain we’ll need an extra cudgel to bring in our catch.”

Raguel smiled, and there was no sense of falseness to it. “I knew when you had Forcalor pass along your strange missive that I was in for some excitement.” He straightened his sword belt before continuing. “Perhaps we should begin this little expedition before Metatron finds the need to go looking for me.”

Uriel let out a low chuckle. “Fortunately for us, we only needed you to grace the Earth with your glorious presence for our foe to come to us.” The archangel cast a furtive gaze to our backs, motioning subtly with his chin.

I let my senses loose as his words sank in. The shimmer of an opening gate a short distance away crackled in my minds eyes for a moment before fading beneath the constant flux of Raguel’s energies.

“Gate,” Rachelle called out, turning toward it, pausing halfway. “And another. We’ve got incoming.”

Uriel only nodded. “You, Miss Knight, and you, Mister Li, might find it best to remain over there,” he pointed off toward a narrow, closed off alley a short distance away, “while our erstwhile enemy flanks us.”

“Shit,” Michael cursed and grabbed for Rachelle’s arm, leading her off to the alley as the first of Azrael’s minions made their presence known at our backs. The second force appeared a moment later, placing us between them both.

“Lycanthropes,” Raguel said, shifting his gaze from one group to the other. “It seems Azrael has retained his allies despite his incarceration.”

“He’s had time to rally them since Triggaltheron freed his consciousness.” Uriel drew his sword, letting its flames simmer as the weres approached.

My chest tightened at seeing what Azrael had sent against us, yet once more I had to wonder why he acted through intermediaries rather than do his own dirty work. Neither of the lycan forces seemed to care why they were pressed into action, only that they were. They advanced with glee stretched across their toothy maws, a swagger to their movement. All in all, I estimated there were fifty of the creatures, a liberal assortment of werewolves and hybrids, though most were on the smaller side of the creature spectrum, which struck me as odd. I had seen Azrael command armies of bears and lions, so why were we beset upon by wolves and dogs?

“Why would…?” I started, but Uriel raised a hand for silence.

“Let on nothing of what you might suspect, sister,” He answered. “Focus your efforts on Azrael’s spawn and leave the questions until after.”

There was a command in his voice, yet also a warning. Something lingered in the air he had not deigned to tell me, but I knew well enough not to press. At least not then.

“Take the rear, Raguel, and Scarlett and I shall deal with the fore.”

Raguel unsheathed his sword and bowed with mock intensity. “Most certainly. Nothing like an evening romp with lycanthropes to begin one’s day of disobedience of our master.” He grinned widely. “Come on then, beasties,” he called out as he drifted toward the rear group, making sure the alley where Rachelle and Michael hovered remained behind him. “Let’s make this a party.”

I glanced at Uriel as he, too, advanced. There was nothing impressed upon his features but a stoic expression of stone as he approached the weres with me at his side. My tongue burned with the effort to hold it restrained, but the creatures gave me no more time to contemplate what Uriel had planned that I was unaware of. They came at us with a choir of deafening roars, and all I could do was surrender to the inevitable. Everto Trucido sang as the creatures charged.

Twenty-One

Morning arrived with all the charm of a colonoscopy tech.

“Time to get moving again, people,” Katon called out, rallying the troops, so to speak.

Chatterbox’s answer was to hum the chorus to Dark Angel’s “Death is Certain (Life is Not).” It made me grateful I was the only real metalhead among the group so no one caught the reference since he didn’t actually sing the words. Even Katon, who was a Judas Priest fashion fanatic, missed it. He was way more old school in his musical taste.

I tapped CB on the head as Rala carried him out into the main chamber. “You really have to hum that one? At least sing something positive like “Hell Awaits” or “At Dawn They Sleep.” That last one would be quite welcome.”

He grunted, his version of the shrug, and broke into a burped rendition of “Chemical Warfare,” which was wholly fitting given the state of his breath.

I waved the air clear, but the foul stink of rotten funk reminded me of something. “Anyone up for breakfast?”

“We eat on the way,” Katon handed the fur-wrapped slabs of meat to Venai.

She looked at it with disgust but took it after a nod from Shaw. Whatever the wight held over Venai’s head had to have been a doozy to make the Nephilim so compliant. She was in tits deep with the DSI, that much was clear.

Katon clambered up the ladder and popped the door open, slipping outside while the rest of us waited without speaking. A few moments later he popped his head in and called us out. We followed like zombies, everyone dragging ass, the wear of miles pressing down on us. It’d only get worse as the day wore on.

I glanced over at Ilfaar as he was helped up the ladder. His face was lined with anxiety, and he remained quiet, only letting out the occasional grunt as he was jarred. The red lump of his missing hand pressed hard against his wound, never once leaving it. He glanced up at me as he slithered from the door, and I gave him my most welcoming smile. I’m sure the sharpened gleam of my borrowed eyeteeth conveyed my sincerity.

He turned away without a word as Rahim slipped under his shoulder, and the two started off with Katon. Shaw and Venai went after, the rest of us hanging out behind them. I lagged a little further behind than the rest, claiming to guard the rear, but I was more interested in having a few quiet moments to think.

If Katon’s estimate was correct, we were closing in on the mountains. It was hard to tell from within the colorful forest, little more than a hint of the outside world seeping in through its branches, but I could believe that the ground was growing slightly harder as we traveled on. The soft soil we’d tread for days felt as if it had lost some of its sponginess, our steps a bit easier for not having to shake so much of the black mud from our feet. Or maybe that was all wishful thinking.

Those who needed to eat had while we walked, and the rest of us tried not to look disgusted. Raw, bloody meat was more the breakfast of Neanderthals than champions. All it needed was a cup of tree sap to wash it down. Karra wiped the drippings from her chin with a resigned expression, but we both understood that it was better than having nothing. The baby needed food more than the rest of us. I was glad that at least one of us could make the trip in relative comfort.

Ilfaar glanced back my direction a number of times, but he never lingered long with his looks. He didn’t have to. I hadn’t bothered closing the distance because I wasn’t completely sure of what it was he was hiding. Shaw, however, seemed to have a better idea. She’d settled in behind the crippled pair and had closed the distance some, though not overtly. I might have been imagining it, but it looked as if her hackles were raised. She didn’t move with her usual grace but more as though she were stalking. Her hand clutched to the weapons she collected from the greenies, out and ready to go should she need them. It seemed a bit much since we hadn’t encountered so much as a breeze as we droned on through the woods. Still, she seemed ready to pounce.