Vesik 3 Winter's Demon (32 page)
It happened so fast, her face serene as she ripped James’s soul away from his body. The Watcher collapsed, the gun tumbling to the grass. A brilliant yellow glow rose up between Zola’s hands as she cried out, the soul throwing itself against her power. Her will would not be denied.
She snapped her left hand forward and a beam of white light severed Philip’s arm below the elbow. He screamed as his escape plan—the hand of glory—fell from his grasp, vanishing into a black pit with his arm as they hit the ground. He fell to his knees, scratching at the earth where the hand of glory had vanished.
“No more,” Zola said, her right arm shaking as the soul began to peel the flesh from her hand. “No more.” She stared at Philip, her gaze unwavering. “Now girl.”
Vicky emerged from the shadow of the cabin behind Zola. She raised her hands to the night sky and her body ignited. A sickly orange wave of fire burst from her feet, licking its way up to her head and trailing towards the stars.
Philip stared at Zola, wide eyed. “It was for you,” he whispered as she brought his world to an end.
“Magnus Ignatto!”
Zola’s scream filled the field, filled the night around us as the soul leapt from her hands, sucked into the ley lines as they siphoned hellfire from Vicky and birthed a wall of death. Zola cried out as the lines burned through her. Flames spiraled into a sphere forty feet wide before they shot forward. The earth screamed as its flesh was scoured away by flame, leaving a wake of ash and superheated rock as the fires bore down on Philip.
By the time the searing image of fire left my vision, Philip Pinkerton was dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
V
icky was on her knees with her head hanging limply. She was taking deep breaths and I could hear her lungs working to draw in oxygen. Lungs that shouldn’t be there.
I frowned and looked away from her, staring instead at my master. “That was hellfire.”
She glanced at me and nodded.
“You used her.” I bit off the words, unable to prevent the anger I felt from seeping into them.
“For this,” Zola said. “For this, yes.”
My fists began to shake as my fingers curled up, forming fists. Would I have done the same in her shoes? I don’t know, but for anyone to hurt Vicky… The things she’d been through … I grimaced and turned away from my master.
I knelt beside the girl. “You okay?”
She nodded weakly and unfolded her legs with great care, sprawling out on the scorched earth. I squeezed her shoulder and she reached up to grab my hand.
“I wanted to help,” she said, her voice just above a whisper between her shuddering breaths. “Don’t be mad at Zola. Don’t be mad.”
I squeezed her hand and bowed my head. “I won’t be, kiddo. You did good.”
She smiled and laid down, curling up against Happy after he trundled up beside her, just an innocent panda bear.
“You,” I said.
He stared at me and blinked.
“You owe me an explanation.”
He blew out a breath and nuzzled Vicky.
I narrowed my eyes. “Later then, furball,” I said with a small smile. I turned back to Zola.
“Ah want …” Zola started to say before she paused to take a deep breath. “Ah want to stay here a while.”
“We need you,” Hugh said as he pushed a branch out of his way at the tree line. Carter and Maggie and the rest of the Ghost Pack were with him. “Take some time, but we need you soon. Gwynn ap Nudd has called the Concilium Belli.”
“What?” Cara asked. “Why has he called a war council? How did you hear of this before me?”
“The king fought beside us in the woods,” Happy said as he shifted a paw beneath Vicky’s head. “Gwynn ap Nudd told us much.”
Hugh nodded. “He was not physically with us, but we could see him, pointing out the enemy’s hiding places.”
“A sending,” Cara said.
“Like Nixie’s water sending?” I asked.
Cara nodded. “Only Glenn can do it without the elements. It is one of the blessings of the Crown.” She looked up, towards Edgar. “And what will the Watchers do?”
“I will consult with them,” he said. “At least, what’s left of them. Ezekiel dealt us a great deal of damage.”
“You are their strongest,” Cara said. “There is no need to hide it here, among friends. If you count us nothing else Edgar, we are your friends now.”
Edgar tipped a hat he was no longer wearing, likely lost in the chaos of battle. “I could do worse.”
“We all could,” Zola said as she gestured at the scorched earth. “This was no small thing.”
“Friends,” he said with a shake of his head. “Strange days.”
“Edgar,” I said, my voice quiet. “About James?”
“Ah, yes,” he said as he pursed his lips and snapped his fingers a few times before pulling out his notebook. “James was a fool who got himself killed by the dark necromancer Philip Pinkerton. That’s what I saw.” He looked up from his notebook and glared at each of us in turn. “That’s what you
all
saw.”
Edgar paused and looked at Zola. “Do you want the Cleaners here? I can probably pull one or two, but Ezekiel has taken a toll on the Watchers.”
Zola shook her head and leaned up against Aeros. “See, he’s not so bad.”
“Perhaps,” the Old God said.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Aeros glanced at his arm, where Gurges’s damage was crusted and black. “Yes, it is healing quite well.”
The Piasa Bird hopped up on his shoulders and nested on his head again, making a strange vibrating tone.
“Yes, my friend,” Aeros said, “I am fine.”
The Piasa Bird quieted and began preening its feathers.
Sam snorted a laugh and we all turned to her.
“What?” she said. “You gotta admit it’s kind of funny.”
“The world is a funny place,” Aeros said as he scratched the bird just below the beak.
“That’s for damn sure,” Alan said from a tree stump beside Foster.
The fairy was still staring at Cassie’s armor. I didn’t know what to say to him.
“Something is coming,” Aeros said he looked toward the forest. The mood shifted in our little circle of friends. Eyes widened and hands moved for weapons.
“So, little ones,” a voice whispered as though shouted from a great distance. “You finally threw down the tyrant.”
“Is that …?” Edgar said. “Shit,
shit shit shit.”
“What?” Sam asked. “What is it?”
“Ezekiel,” Zola said.
“Quiet,” the Old Man said as he stepped into the middle of our circle. He closed his eyes and took two deep breaths. A delicate web of yellow light spilled from his eyes and raced across the field in every direction. “He’s not here.”
“What will you do now?” the voice asked. It was close. A shadow shifted beside the Old Man and began to rise like a sheet pulled up by a single hand.
The Old Man growled, his arms bleeding as darkness poured out of his scars, the black pitch of a gravemaker spilling over his forearms. Alan jumped to his feet, but Foster put his arm out, shaking his head.
“You think to stand against me?” Ezekiel’s laughter rolled through the hills around us, shaking the earth. “You think to stand against Anubis?” The shadow took on the lines of his face, cloaked in darkness. “I am a god. I am immortal.”
“We will pay the price to stop you,” Cara said as she drew her sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.
“You have already paid the price,” Ezekiel said. “Falias is fallen.”
“You lie,” Cara said as she stepped toward Ezekiel’s shadowy form. “Falias is one of the four hidden cities of the Fae! You don’t have the power to strike them down!”
He laughed again and raised his arm, the chaff of a gravemaker rushing up to cover it in wicked-looking spikes, a mirror of the Old Man. A taunt.
Cara’s face twisted into rage. “You lie!”
Silence flooded the field and Ezekiel’s shadow turned to face her.
“I have destroyed it utterly. Your king did not raise a finger to save it.”
Cara’s rage stuttered.
Ezekiel’s smile turned smug.
“No, oh no,” she said as her hand covered her mouth. “That’s why he was here. Glenn, gods, what has happened?”
“We finish this now!” the Old Man said.
Ezekiel turned to face him. “You want to finish this Leviticus? Face me on the field once more.”
“Face me now!” the Old Man’s voice rose, verging on a scream.
Ezekiel laughed his papery thin chuckle. “Face my horde, Leviticus. Find me in Gettysburg, we will fight upon the field of dead. As it should be. And then—”
Ezekiel’s shadow was swallowed by a flash of absolute blackness. When the moonlight returned, Gwynn ap Nudd stood in the center of our group.
“I am sorry I could not be here,” he said. “Ezekiel did not lie. We have lost Falias.”
The fairies crumbled. Sam ran over to Foster to hug him as he started to tremble.
“Ward saved many people,” Glenn said. “I did not give him the respect he has proven he deserves.”
“What about Nixie?” I asked. “Is she safe?”
Glenn nodded. “The other cities are intact. They are in fact untouched. The water witches’ home in the realm of the commoners is intact as well, though I suspect you are indifferent to that.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong there. It would have been damn convenient if Ezekiel had taken out the Queen.
“We face a war on two fronts, and even if we win, two fronts come again,” the king said. “The film of the blood mage and Ashley, the ascended witch, has caught the attention of several governments around the world. Some of them are not as skeptical as we’d hoped. All our people are in danger. Take care of yourselves until the Concilium Belli. Bring the witch. Break the Seals. The choice has been taken from us.”
His image swirled and collapsed and vanished with a clap of thunder.
“Fuck.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Fuck that sounds bad.”
“Damian,” Edgar said. He stayed silent until I turned to look at him.
“Is this about Ashley?” I said, ready for a verbal joust.
Edgar shook his head. “No, it’s not about Ashley. You have to learn to battle the Old Gods.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Ezekiel was always the best of us,” Edgar said as his gaze unfocused. “He was the best of us, until he became the worst.”
“What does that have to do with the Old Gods?” Footsteps whispered through the grass behind me. The Old Man coughed beside me and flashed a wry smile.
“Boy, you have to learn to battle the Old Gods, because we’re going to release them when we kill Ezekiel.”
“What?” I said. “That’s insane!”
“When Glenn said to break the Seals, he meant Ezekiel,” Edgar said quietly. “It won’t be all of the Old Gods. They are only part of the concern. Have you come across the dark-touched in your books? Have you heard of them in any of your research?”
“Yes,” I said. “They’re old vampires, right?”
“You’re not wrong, but there’s more to it than that,” Edgar said. “They are both weaker and stronger than the vampires you know. They can be destroyed by stakes and beheading and sunlight, but at night they are a plague upon the world.”
“Is it even worth killing Ezekiel?” I asked. “It sounds like the consequences of that are going to be less than good.”
“It’s simple,” the Old Man said. “Do you want a damaged world or a destroyed one? I will take damage over destruction any day of my life.”
Edgar nodded. “I don’t know all of the legends. The Society of Flame is formed by the keepers of lore. We should consult with them as well.”
“Hugh knows some of them. Koda’s the only one I know well.”
Cara began to speak, her face tilted toward the starry night. “When the Seal is broken, and the Old Gods roam the earth, the dark-touched will return with them.”
“Go home to your families tonight,” Edgar said. “Enjoy your time with them. One day soon the world we wake up to will no longer be the world we now know.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
I
t was waiting for me the next morning when I walked into the shop. Bubbles and Peanut stood on either side of the counter, growling. In the center of the glass countertop, perched upright with a small book in its gray fingers, was the hand of the dead king. Philip’s hand of glory.
I stared at it like it was a bomb, ready to take out the entire building. But why send it here? Who sent it here? The index finger was stuck between the pages, toward the back of the book. I focused my Sight and didn’t see any malevolent workings or obvious wards. A few symbols were carved into the flesh near the wrist, but they were dormant. The book was old, a couple hundred years at least. There wasn’t a trace of magic on it, and the pages looked brittle because of it. I frowned, lifted the book carefully from the hand, and started to read.
I, Philip Pinkerton, have long been considered the last of my kind. The last son, the sixth son, of the one-time god known as Anubis. Now I fear there is another. My lover’s apprentice.
I read that sentence again and again until the book fell from my grasp and slammed closed on the glass countertop.
Philip’s words rang out through my mind, “Just like me, Vesik. Just like me.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Eric is a former bookseller, guitarist, and comic seller currently living in Saint Louis, Missouri. A lifelong enthusiast of books, music, toys, and games, he discovered a love for the written word after being dragged to the library by his parents at a young age. When he is not writing, you can usually find him reading, gaming, or buried beneath a small avalanche of Transformers. For more about Eric, see
www.daysgonebad.com
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VESIK, THE SERIES
Days Gone Bad
Wolves and the River of Stone
Winter’s Demon
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