Raven's Peak (28 page)

And this demon could give that to her.

Deals were dangerous things for demons. They served as contracts for them and weren’t entered into lightly. Which meant that if this demon was promising her Arthur in a deal, then it had faith it could deliver its side of the agreement.

Which made her wonder, what must the knife be worth to the demon if it was willing to pay such a price?

Abigail stood there for a long while, piecing through the possibilities. She was trying to come to terms with the emotions raging inside of her. This was everything she wanted, and the possibility of seeing Arthur again had never been this close. In fact, it was more than she had ever expected, because she’d never really thought she could bring him back alive.

Yet, there was another truth that she couldn’t ignore: if she went through with what the demon was offering, then she would be sacrificing everything Arthur stood for while he was alive. She would be willfully disregarding everything he had taught her. She might be able bring him back like this, but the cost would be too great.

She would find another way.

“Arthur is gone,” she muttered, more to herself than the demon. “And I
will
bring him back. But, if I do this for you, then it won’t matter if I do, because his ideals truly will be gone forever.”

The gun started to shake in her hand as she pushed the demon out of her mind. The demon smiled again, but this time it was filled with rage.

“Like father, like daughter.”

Abigail felt the grip on her mind disappear, but by the time she’d raised the shotgun the demon child was already moving. The gun roared, and the stock kicked painfully into her stomach. Salt pounded into the wall behind the demon in a wide pattern, but none of them hit the moving boy.

The demon dropped low and scrambled to the side, hissing at her. She heard a loud banging sound from her left and ducked just in time to avoid being smashed by a flying cabinet. It soared through the air and blasted through the wall, sending up a cloud of dust.

She stepped forward, pumped the shotgun, and fired another round. This one hit the floor behind the demon as it disappeared around the corner. A table flew out at her, and she barely managed to side-step it.

She pursued the demon and saw it flee out of the offices and into the open space of the factory floor. She pumped another shell into the chamber and stepped into the enormous vaulted chamber behind it.

The vaulted chamber was filled with machinery, conveyer belts, and shipping crates. All of it was off and silent at the moment. Behemoth tables were covered in tools and safety equipment, much of it old and covered in rust.

She heard a scuffing sound from farther in and walked carefully through the open area. There was more ambient light in here than the previous offices, but not enough that she could see comfortably.

The sheer size and emptiness of the chamber had an eerie effect on her. It should have been filled with hundreds of people working and laughing and the sound of equipment humming and grinding, but it all looked dead in the darkness.

She felt her blood pumping and focused on breathing and listening. It was silent in the chamber. Suddenly she heard the rushing sound of air and turned just in time to spot an enormous welding table come flying toward her.

She dove and scrambled to the side, barely getting out of the way before it crashed next to her. It was heavy enough to shake the ground. She sat with her back to an old wooden shelf, panting and staring at the several ton slab of metal that had missed her by only inches.

“You should have agreed to help me,” the child said from somewhere off to her left.

She turned but didn’t see anything except a line of four-meter tall metal shelves. She climbed to her feet and crept in that direction, shotgun ready. She moved to the corner and peeked around.

Nothing. The area was empty.

The factory floor was like a maze, offering endless hiding places for the demon to stay out of her sight. Metal walkways ran overhead, eight meters off the ground and overlooking the entire floor space. She moved cautiously toward a grated staircase, hoping to find a better vantage where she could spot the demon.

“We could have become fast friends,” the demon said, his voice behind her now. “The things I could do for you are incredible.”

A huge shelving unit came flying through the air, but this time she was ready. She stepped out of the way, feeling the ground shake as it landed, and kept moving. The voice echoed in the chamber, so she couldn’t tell exactly where the demon was hiding.

She reached the staircase and climbed up, moving carefully so as not to make much noise. She reached the landing and moved along the grating, trying to spot the boy. After about a minute, she did:

He was about fifteen meters away on the ground floor, walking calmly between the aisles with his hands folded behind his back. A cross-walkway ran over his head, and he didn’t seem to be paying much attention.

Abigail crept along the landing, moving gingerly and careful not to scuff her shoes. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and she fought the urge to brush them away.

“But now I’m going to kill you, and it feels like such a waste,” the boy said. “We could have achieved much together, Abigail.”

She was about ten meters away now, still too far for an effective shot. She took another ginger step forward, and the metal grate made a soft echoing sound. Barely noticeable under normal circumstances, but with how quiet the factory was she might as well have banged her gun against the railing.

The demon turned and looked straight at her, a grin on its face.

“There you are!”

She heard a shuddering sound as a table flew across the chamber toward her walkway. She angled her gun and fired off a desperate shot, spraying pellets of salt down at the demon. Several landed on skin, sizzling where they touched, but the demon barely seemed to notice.

She dodged forward as the table closed in. It smashed heavily against the railing, and the walkway shuddered under the pressure. It didn’t give in, but it did rock on its foundation. Abigail was thrown to her feet and almost fell as it swayed and stabilized.

The boy started laughing, and she heard more rustling noises as the demon called upon its inner nature to telekinetically grab more items to throw at her. Behind it she saw dozens of tables with old tools and machinery spread upon it: saw blades, nails as long as spikes, and countless hammers, wrenches, and miscellaneous tools. They were shaking and vibrating on the table.

“Crap,” she muttered.

The demon raised its hand like a conductor standing in front of his orchestra.

“Now, Abigail, it is time for you to die.”

Abigail dove forward just as the tools started flying off the tables. She ran along the railing, hunched low and trying to keep as much of the grated floor between her and the objects as she could.

She heard metal thudding into the railing and floor around her, bouncing in every direction and flying away.

She was too exposed on the railing and needed to get back to the ground. She ducked low, scrambled to the edge, and leaped off the walkway. She landed with a thud on top of a metal shelf and dove immediately the three meters to the ground, tucking into a roll.

The demon laughed as the hail of tools and small objects smashed into everything. It was a violent cacophony, hurting her ears. Occasionally something would ricochet off other objects and collide with her, knocking her off balance, but she was able to hide behind modest cover and avoid the brunt of the attack.

She kept moving, staying low behind the shelving and machinery. A sudden burst of heat on her left side right above her hip told her she’d been hit, but she forced herself to keep moving until she could find some better cover.

The assault continued, larger objects now as the demon ran out of small tools. An endless barrage, it seemed, and the demon kept laughing through it all. A table flew through the air, narrowly missing her, and then she was able to duck out of sight and catch her breath.

She checked her side and saw a screw sticking out if it. Maybe four inches long, it had pierced through her flesh and gone almost an inch into her abdomen.

The barrage died down, leaving the area in total silence. Everything was wrecked around her with broken equipment scatted haphazardly. The railing was hanging sideways above her, teetering and rocking, and part of it had broken off and collapsed to the ground.

Abigail folded the collar of her shirt into a bunch and stuck it between her teeth. She bit down then yanked the screw out. It hurt where the serrated edges caught her flesh, and she couldn’t contain a groan. She dropped the screw onto the floor and checked the wound. It was seeping blood, but hadn’t done much damage.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” she heard the boy call, voice high-pitched and squeaky. “You can’t hide forever!”

The barrage came again, and Abigail gritted her teeth and prayed.

Haatim heard an enormous din as he reached the factory floor. Everything was wrecked, and things were flying through the air and crashing into tables and equipment. He couldn’t see much in the cavernous chamber, but he could hear a young boy laughing.

He saw a hail of items flying through the air, bouncing and thudding as they went.

He gulped.

Heavy thing, any one of which could rip through his body and end his life in only seconds. And there were hundreds of them, everything from hammers to saws to a hailstorm of nails that might as well have been bullets. They were being aimed at something on the other side of the chamber from Haatim, and he guessed that was where Abigail was hiding.

This is too much,
he realized, standing in the doorway and watching the attack in awe.
This is insanity.

Why did he think he could help in a situation like this? This was sheer brutality on a scale he’d never even dreamed of. What could he possibly do to help Abigail survive something like this?

He was terrified just watching it; terrified that the demon would notice him hiding near the entrance of the factory and decide to kill him next.

It isn’t too late to leave
, he thought. He still had time to slip out before the attack came. He could get out of the city, and he still had the car. There was no way Abigail would be able to deal with something like this, even with his help, and there was no sense in just staying here to die.

But there was another voice in Haatim’s mind telling him that he shouldn’t back down. He should have faith and press on.

Haatim hesitated in the doorway, struggling between the two conflicting ideas. How could he have faith after his sister had died so horribly? He had been so angry when his sister died, blaming God for her death.

He was angry because God hadn’t done anything to save her. Yet, it was his father who refused to seek clinical trials and treatments for her, putting her life in God’s hands.

Haatim blamed himself. He felt like it was his fault because he hadn’t pushed back. He hadn’t fought against his father’s decision and searched out treatments that might have saved her life.

He hadn’t been angry with God, he realized. He’d been angry with himself.

And he knew he couldn’t live with himself if he allowed Abigail to die here as well. The demon might kill him, but inaction definitely would. Haatim didn’t have a lot of faith in himself, but he did have faith that he was doing the right thing.

He forced his hands to stop shaking and then walked onto the factory floor. Somehow, he knew everything would be OK.

Abigail crawled, staying low to the ground alongside the machinery. She still had her shotgun and had two shells left.

She was leaving a trail of blood behind her on the floor, but she didn’t have time to really close the wound just yet.

“Where
are
you?” the demon said in a singsong voice, and then laughed. “I don’t have all day!”

Abigail popped up behind a box and raised her shotgun. The boy was about three meters in front of her, facing the opposite direction.

She squeezed the trigger just as the demon turned to face her. It side-stepped avoiding the brunt of her shot, but couldn’t avoid the spread.

It was a grazing hit, most of salt going wide of her target, but enough hit him in the shoulder to throw him back several steps. It seared where it touched and should have weakened the demon inside, but if it had any effect she didn’t notice it.

“There you are!”

Abigail scrambled as the demon threw more tools and metal equipment at her. She ducked and dove forward, narrowly avoiding a shipping crate hurtling toward her head.

She pumped her last shell into the chamber, ducked around the corner, and prepared to fire.

The demon was gone.

She spun, realizing her mistake, but it was too late. The demon was already behind her, eyes glowing red. It extended a hand at her, grasping her in its telekinetic grip. She felt her body lifted into the air, the gun falling limp from her grasp. She fought back mentally, struggling to free herself from its hold, but it was like punching a brick wall.

“Arthur was a fool, and you are no better,” the demon said. The squeaky tenor of the boy was still there, but there was the undercurrent of a guttural voice there as well. “I will bring my master back, and he will ravish this world.”

“No…” Abigail muttered. “You…”

She could barely breathe; the pressure was so great. She felt like something was wrapped around her chest and tightening, trying to crush her like an empty can.

“Witness my victory,” the boy proclaimed. She felt her body lowered to the ground, knees folded into a kneeling position. “All will bow before me.”

“You are a coward,” another voice interrupted from behind the demon. The boy froze, hand still hovering in the air, and spun slowly to see who had spoken:

Abigail saw Haatim step out from behind a pile of broken machinery thirty meters away.

“No…” Abigail groaned. She tried to tell Haatim to run away, but she couldn’t draw in enough air.