Devil's Punch cs-4 Read online

  I must not falter. I must end this. For my people. My city.

  The man I love.

  Just when I thought blackness would overtake me, the battle ended. There remained only my three monsters and an endless corpse pile. The burning would take days without magickal assistance.

  Only one more step. Almost there.

  “Find magick for me,” I whispered to my mount. “Strong magick.”

  It stood to reason that the joint casting the Saremon had performed left a powerful trail. The Gorder was blind, but it had other senses. This might not work—

  Then it fixed. A shudder ran along its awful length and it leveled two buildings, taking the most direct path. Its speed left the Swordwraith howling with rage, but the wailer kept pace above us, broad wings flapping lazily.

  The Saremon mages heard us coming. They scrambled from their hiding place like rats, and once they moved, the Vortex snapped back into place, a swirling maelstrom of unthinkable power. There were twelve of them, fleeing before me in desperate terror. The wailer stunned them, unable to kill through their magickal protections, and I rode them down. My Gorder swallowed two in a delighted dip of its head, while the others trembled and begged. Their words fell like stones on my ears.

  I slew them all.

  Afterward, I ordered the wailer and the Swordwraith to fight to the death.

  Their destruction eased my mental burden and kept me conscious, barely, as the Gorder carried me through the ruined city. As dawn broke, casting golden light over the shattered buildings, sorrow weighed on me. Though I’d slaughtered monsters and killed a number of Saremon, I hadn’t seen Oz anywhere.

  Which meant he was still out there. Plotting.

  He must own a particular madness, one such that he didn’t care what he destroyed if it wasn’t his. If I can’t possess it, then no one will. It was a brand of evil that troubled even me, who had once killed lovers as a precaution. I trembled with weariness. Nothing left to give. But at least I’d kept my word, protected the city to the best of my ability. We’d rebuild. Hunt down Oz and his few remaining rebels.

  So tired.

  “What am I going to do with you?” I whispered to the Gorder.

  There could be no return to its life outside the walls, but the city was no place for such a huge beast. It had given up its home and hoard for me when I called, fought bravely, and I had no suitable reward. The monster whirred in its throat, delighted with my attention. It destroyed three more half-burned homes on the way back to the palace, and I closed my eyes against the dizziness. It got harder to stay on its shoulders, harder to keep the darkness at bay.

  At last the crenellated walls rose in the distance before me, dark stone shining with silver streaks in the morning sun. It seemed quiet, despite the bodies piled outside. Citizens had thrown themselves at the walls in hope of finding sanctuary, but I was the only one who could have let them in; they’d fried on my protections. That was when I noticed the awful truth: No shimmering field prevented our entry.

  At some point in the night, the wards had fallen.

  The Running Game

  The gates stood wide open. Not broken. As if someone had unbolted them from the inside. They were broad enough for me to pass through, riding, so I nudged the Gorder forward. The giant lizard-worm proceeded with caution, its blind face turning constantly toward a threat I couldn’t see.

  I sensed it, though. Currents of distant magick warned of imminent danger. With my last burst of energy, I opened to the astral and saw smears of old spells all over the ether. In the courtyard, bodies lay everywhere, but the fighting wasn’t over. I charged into the melee—or rather, the Gorder did. These invaders had to be Xaraz; they reflected all demon castes and abilities, and only a handful of defenders remained, most bloody beyond belief, faces blackened with dirt.

  The Saremon must have promised the Xaraz amnesty. They fought as if they had nothing to lose. Two Hazo went down the Gorder’s throat, but an Imaron slid under its guard. It slapped long-fingered hands onto the monster’s belly and began the drain. A shudder went through the enormous creature. Dying, I thought.

  I had no magick left. As the Gorder shook, I vaulted down. My knees nearly buckled, and my head spun. I ran at the Imaron with only my athame, not because I thought I could defeat it in single combat, but because I couldn’t surrender. My one advantage was that the Gorder would recover if the demon broke physical contact, which meant it had to fight me one-handed.

  Other monsters slunk closer. By their ragged clothes and shocking stench, they were all outcast. Noit, Mhizul, Luren, Hazo. There were just too many. Without the Gorder, I had no chance to defend the courtyard. If this Imaron turned into a Gorder once it completed the drain, then it was over. I struck from the side, but even in a weak, starving state, the Imaron knocked me away in a fierce blow. I was too tired. The other Xaraz pressed, encircling me. Tremors rocked my limbs, so powerful I could scarcely keep hold of my knife.

  At least I die on my feet.

  Beside me, the Gorder churred in a mournful dying song and its enormous body fell, crushing a couple of Noit. The Imaron’s skin rippled; that marked a transformation in progress. I should have charged then, but there were too many demons between us. Right then, they seemed to be assessing the threat I presented; if I took a single step, they’d attack.

  It’s finished.

  Then a blade impaled the Imaron from behind. Dark blood bubbled out from the wound as the sword withdrew. When the demon dropped, Shannon stood in a battle crouch. She flashed a grin. “The Hazo taught me a lot of shit while they had me. What did you think I was doing while they held me hostage?”

  I had no reply as she whirled into motion. Chance and Greydusk came close behind, and I swayed as they fought. Better that I didn’t get in the way. Chance slammed a Noit with his frosted gloves, and the demon froze. With his unnatural strength, Greydusk broke it into fleshy demon chunks with an open-handed blow.

  “What happened?” I asked, once they had cleared the courtyard.

  “The Hazo turned. The palace has fallen.”

  That made a horrific kind of sense. Only someone already inside the walls could have corrupted the wards so they failed. “Any idea why?”

  Greydusk sighed. “Zet was Caim’s son.”

  “So while he appreciated the promotion, he also bore a grudge.”

  And so Caim has the last laugh, after all. Cunning bastard.

  “But he’s clever for a Hazo,” Greydusk went on. “From what I can gather, he allied with Oz and they planned a two-pronged attack—”

  “So that while I defended the city, I’d lose the castle.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, my queen.”

  Pain suffused me. “By which you mean, we can’t win.”

  “The entire Hazo caste has aligned with the Saremon, and they held their best mages. The ones who went to Vortex were…expendable.”

  “Is there more bad news?”

  “The Eshur and the Obsir have chosen. Your return created too much chaos. They seem to believe the Saremon are the best chance at restoring order. The Dohan, too, have turned.”

  I nodded, battling complete despair. “What of the other castes?”

  “They are loyal, my queen, but they are not strong enough to stand against the might arrayed against them. They will hide until the battle ends.”

  That’s it, then.

  I turned my exhausted mind toward an exit strategy. “Is the portal room still functional?”

  “I believe so,” Greydusk replied.

  At least I had that much luck remaining. I wished I’d paid more attention to Chance when he was talking about how his luck could affect me. It had seemed like such an unlikely consequence of loving him.

  “Then that’s where we go. Long ago, I had them built in the event of another civil war. We’ll retreat to my mountain fortress and consider our next move.”

  “It will be a difficult run, my queen. The castle is embattled and no route will be safe. We will enco
unter heavy resistance.”

  “There’s no choice.” I held Greydusk’s look and saw he knew this. “If you have any magick in reserve, I can cast, if you’re willing to link with me.”

  “Certainly, my queen.”

  I took his hand and opened the channel. His strength made mine seem puny for the first time. I’d burned through all my resources. Fortunately he had been more conservative and I took him to half before breaking the connection. At least I no longer felt like passing out.

  “I could kill you.” Chance seized my shoulders and kissed me with all the pent-up rage and fear I’d thrust upon him by going out alone. I wrapped myself around him and fell into his desire.

  When I broke away, I said, “I’m so sorry I scared you.”

  My apology made him cant his head. “Corine…?”

  Not surprisingly, he could tell who was ascendant. Ninlil never apologized for doing what she felt she must.

  “Mostly, I think.”

  Something flickered in his tiger’s eyes. “Is she…all right?”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t know how I felt, realizing he was worried about the demon who had stolen half my brain. I mean, I knew they’d been together, sometimes without me—and I had seen most of it without being able to influence events—but this was—whatever. I put it aside for later contemplation.

  Shannon yanked on his arm. “No offense, but this isn’t the time to chat with your girlfriend.”

  “She’s right. This way.” Greydusk picked a path across the corpse-strewn stones. “There isn’t much time.”

  “We have to fight to our quarters. I’m not leaving my mother’s grimoires. Or my dog.”

  “I thought you’d say that.” Chance patted his backpack.

  Then I noticed Shannon was already wearing hers. And incongruously, Greydusk carried my purse. Butch popped his head out.

  “How?” I asked as we ran.

  The Imaron explained. “When the wards went down, I suspected betrayal. I knew we had to be ready to move when you returned, so I ran to your rooms and gathered your things.”

  “Since then, we’ve been holding that tower, waiting for you to get back.” Shannon pointed at the far end of the courtyard.

  “We couldn’t defend the palace,” Chance added with the salt of regret.

  “But you saved me. Thank you.”

  Shannon laughed. She seemed happier than she’d been since she walked into the throne room that first time. “I thought Chance would climb out of his skin. Greydusk had to physically restrain him. He wanted to go look for you after the wards went down.”

  “We’re going to talk about that,” Chance said tightly.

  With the protective imperative in place, it must have nearly driven him insane. “I couldn’t take you with me…and I thought you’d be safe here.”

  “The Hazo have established a base in the throne room.” Greydusk cut in. “I’m sure they mean to come root us out of the tower, once they secure the rest of the castle. The Saremon patrol the halls, and there are more Xaraz all over.”

  “What about the Eshur?”

  Greydusk reminded me, “They don’t fight, but the Obsir are present.”

  “Their enforcers.” I nodded to show I was with him, but I didn’t feel as I had. The roles of various castes were murky in my head, and at the moment I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the fall of my kingdom. All the magick she’d channeled had burned the queen out. At the least, she’d gone comatose, leaving me more…myself.

  Unfortunately, Ninlil was the expert here. Not me. It was a blessing that Greydusk remained at my side, as he knew the palace like the back of his hand. The demon skirted the front entrance, instead leading us along the side. We’d try one of the postern doors in the hope it would prove less heavily guarded.

  Outside the door lay more bodies, servants in my livery who had been trying to flee. I’d told them to take shelter inside, where they would be safe. My misplaced confidence had ended in so many deaths. The horror overwhelmed me for a moment and stole my breath.

  “I can try a cloaking spell,” I said softly. “But it will draw most of the power you loaned me. Do you think I should save it for combat?” I glanced at Shannon and Chance, inviting them to consider the question too.

  “Save it,” Chance finally said.

  Greydusk nodded. “We’ll have to fight, and there’s no guarantee that the spell will work. They may have set up motion-detecting runes inside the perimeter.”

  “Shan?”

  “Dude, I have no idea. But I’ve got this cool sword and Grey was nice enough to spar with me to keep me sharp. So, y’know.” She flashed a grin, almost as if she enjoyed the insanity that surrounded us.

  Well, it was a pretty cool sword. I smiled as the demon tried the postern door. Locked. I had strength enough to handle that. Using the spell I’d perfected in the Saremon stronghold, I sent a jolt of magick into the lock mechanism, which snicked open. Greydusk stepped inside first. The palace smelled of charred flesh and burning fibers. They hadn’t spared the servants they found. Misery deluged me.

  I promised safety and I failed them. That sad whisper came from Ninlil, huddled in the back of my head, but she didn’t push. Didn’t try to take over. I was grateful for small mercies.

  “Shoes off,” the demon instructed.

  My boots would ring out on the tiles; they had been designed to make me sound imposing. That ran counter to our aims now. As much as possible, we needed to run undetected. There was no way to avoid fighting entirely, but it made sense to conserve our resources as much as possible. When I pulled off my boots, Chance and Shannon did the same. Greydusk wore no footwear, so soon we were good to go.

  “Which way?” Part of me knew, but Ninlil was silent and distant, lost to despair. She had never failed like this before.

  Neither had I—on this scale—but I was used to life kicking me in the teeth. My personal soundtrack could be that Chumbawamba song. The chorus rang in my head as I followed Greydusk, who answered by moving forward. Shannon and Chance fell in behind me. I tried to glean more about this mountain fortress, but the Ninlil half of my brain wasn’t talking. It’s probably crumbled to dust and infested with monsters. This silent taunt drew no response.

  Fine. I’ll do this without you. Crazy, but I missed her. She had been part of me for so long that her withdrawal left me with a hole inside. Sometimes I’d hated her fiercely, like when she taunted Chance about my loving Kel, but just as my love had become hers, her pain became mine.

  “We have one advantage,” Greydusk whispered. “They will not expect you to return and fight your way to the heart of the castle.”

  “They probably think she’s gone,” Chance agreed.

  “Seeking more allies?” Shannon sounded steady. Fearless, even.

  She’d come so far from the scared kid on the bike, desperate to get out of the town that meant to sacrifice her for being different. God, I loved this girl. A trauma like this would’ve destroyed anyone else, but she took it on the chin and rolled with it. Maybe Kilmer had a reason for pride after all. I hoped I got a chance to tell her how amazing she was. A frantic escape didn’t offer the right time for emotional talks.

  Light of foot, I ran behind Greydusk. He cut through little-used corridors that connected abandoned parts of the castle. Soon I was helplessly lost. If he betrayed me now to save his own life, I had no defense. My stomach tightened with fear; he might be leading us into a trap. No. I don’t believe that. If he was going to do that, he could’ve just summoned the enemy to the courtyard.

  For a good while, the coast seemed clear, though shrieks and sounds of combat echoed through the halls. No defenders remained apart from us, so this was just the enemy slaughtering the helpless. Xibalba would suffer with Oz on the throne, for there was no question that was his goal.

  The rooms Shannon had decorated with such painstaking care lay in ruins. Wild hands had rent the fabrics and set random fires. No rhyme or reason to it—just destruction for its own sake. Her
expression revealed that this hurt her as much as anything had since she first realized she probably wouldn’t see Jesse again.

  Wish I could fix everything for you, Shan. But it’s all so fucked up.

  Greydusk stopped us once and I pressed up against the wall, listening to my heartbeat. A troop of Hazo tromped past us in the next room and took the adjoining hallway. The Imaron was uncanny in his ability to gauge such things.

  “You’re sensing them, aren’t you?”

  He inclined his head. “It’s a simple matter to taste eddies in the air.”

  “For you, maybe,” Shannon muttered.

  Chance asked, “How close are we?”

  “Our course has been circuitous,” the demon replied. “I was afraid the direct route would draw too much fire.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Chance pointed out.

  Weariness drew Greydusk’s voice tight. “Halfway, provided my memory serves. I’ve only gone past the portal room once.”

  Belatedly I registered the demon’s uncertainty; he wasn’t positive we were going the right way. It must suck to have so much weight on his shoulders. Maybe I could help…I had been there, long ago, but the details were fuzzy.

  Ninlil, can you tell me where we are? Where do we need to go from here?

  Silence.

  I guessed I was on my own. Poor Greydusk. Poor all of us.

  The Imaron scanned, striving to recall our next turn. With somewhat less surety, he led us to the left. This part of the palace hadn’t been restored yet, so there were loose stones and broken tiles. The floor showed long years of neglect.

  Good. Maybe they won’t look for us here.

  That was a long shot. If I was Oz, I’d search every inch of this place. Fortunately for us, the stronghold was a warren. In the time it took him to cover all that ground, we might get away. Hope fluttered inside my chest, as Greydusk found the connecting corridor.

  Our luck couldn’t last, of course. In the next room, we ran into a squad of Saremon—six strong—and as soon as they saw us, they began casting.