Vesik 3 winters demon, p.11
Vesik 3 Winter's Demon, page 11
“Last time I was here, this is where the river was,” Mike said as he paused beside two stone columns. Each was only a few feet high and topped with a stone sphere, gray and weatherworn.
I glanced back at the house. “That’s insane. Why would someone build so close to the river?”
“Only a riverboat captain would be so bold,” Mike said as he led the way down a short incline into a stand of trees. “I hear he researched the highest flood markers and then built the mansion just a little higher.”
“Gutsy.” I followed behind the demon, his bare arms exposed to the cold, as I tried to watch my footing and keep an eye on our surroundings at the same time. At one time it may have been the river, but now we were in a thick stand of trees and the river was a whisper over another rise.
“Why isn’t the river still in the same place?” I asked.
“Man, and his inability to leave nature alone,” Mike said. “I don’t know, I think it was the Army Corps or some such thing. I don’t remember why.”
We passed through the trees and skirted the incline beside the river. The quiet rush of the water in the winter air was calming. I took a deep breath and watched the river wash along the banks and swallow the falling snow. The fields across the water were flat and even, and I guessed it was a farm. As I looked into the distance, I shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold.
“The First Battle of Boonville was over there,” Mike said as he pointed across the river. Right at the area I was staring at.
“Bad?” I asked.
“In my experience, war is never good,” he said. “In this case though, not too bad. I believe less than a hundred men died.”
I focused my Sight and looked again. A familiar gray and black mask settled over the world, bringing the dead to bear. Only a few men were left standing here. Soul fragments in Union uniforms and clusters of Confederate dead in the distance. None of them were looking at us, but they were all looking at something. Off to the west.
“Can you see them?” I asked.
“Yes,” Mike said. “I don’t have the benefit of hiding them from my vision. I always see them, always see the ley lines.”
“They’re looking at something.”
Mike cursed and pulled me to my knees, his voice falling to a whisper. “We move slow, back into the trees. They focus on necromancers. If they’re not looking at you, they’re probably looking at Philip’s men.”
“Or Philip himself.”
“Let us hope that is not the case.”
I nodded in agreement as I pushed a branch to the side.
“It will be easier to catch a servant than their master. Come, faster.” Mike pushed ahead and began a quick trot in a low crouch. I followed him, surprised how easily we slipped through the close-knit branches. Mike found paths in seconds that would have taken me a minute of searching to break through the dense weave of branches in the dormant underbrush.
“Mike, stop,” I hissed.
He froze and looked back at me. “What?”
“Across the river. Black cloak on the higher bank.”
His eyes trailed across the river. “I see it. Whoever it is, they aren’t looking this way.”
I could barely see the black cloak ripple in the breeze, but Mike could see which way it was facing? “Okay, eagle eye.”
He flashed a small smile and moved forward. I followed.
“If he’s a lookout, we might get lucky,” Mike said. “They’ll have to fly, or cross the bridge. I’m gambling on the bridge.”
Moving out without the others may not have been the brightest idea, but if it gave us a chance to catch one of Philip’s men unaware, I was all for it. Sam and Zola would be on watch if anything went bad.
Mike accelerated his pace, and I followed suit. We came to the edge of the trees, closing in on the industrial silos and heavy equipment. The bridge was on the other side, but we didn’t need to go that far. Volund was talking to another necromancer beside one of the huge cylinders. His cloak was pulled tight with a series of ropes crisscrossing his chest and waist. Steam rose from his head and his face was scrunched, like someone had smacked him with a two-by-four.
The other necromancer nodded and Volund said something I couldn’t make out at such a distance. He pulled his hood up and walked away, leaving the unknown man alone. The straggler leaned against the silo and a shaky hand pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Sam used to smoke those, and I’m glad she’d quit young, not like it really mattered anymore, though.
“I was never one for guard duty,” Mike said, “but I must admit this has been entertaining.”
“You want me to paralyze him?” I said as my hand shifted up my staff. “Or just take a cheap shot?”
“Oh no,” Mike said. “Leave him to me.”
The demon reached vampiric speeds as he leapt out of the woods. By the time the necromancer realized something was coming, he didn’t have a chance. His cigarette and lighter were falling to the ground as he fumbled for something in his cloak. Mike swung an elbow and the man’s head snapped back, his body falling into a heap. Mike hoisted the limp form over his shoulder and jogged back to the tree line as though he was carrying a light sack of potatoes.
“Let’s move,” I said. “Zola’s going to want to have a chat with him. For that matter, I’d like to have a chat with him.” I matched Mike’s pace and we jogged toward Rivercene.
“I have noticed something,” Mike said.
“What’s that?” The cold started to burn my lungs as our pace increased to a run.
“It seems your chats end with dead people.”
“Only people I don’t like,” I said between breaths.
Mike laughed. “That doesn’t bode well for this man.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Zola and Sam squatted on either side of the unconscious man. His hair was short and sandy, the left side of his face already blossoming into a red, swollen bruise. Zola turned his head to the left, and then back to the right.
“He’s alive, but you broke some bones.”
Mike shrugged. “Gives you something to work with.”
Zola let out a dark chuckle and wiped a snowflake from her eyebrow. Her gray cloak was beginning to darken where the snow was melting.
“He knows where Mom is?” Sam asked.
“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “We won’t know until he’s awake.”
“I want to kill him.” My sister leaned down and her fangs flicked out. Her voice fell to a dark place. “I will kill him.”
“Not yet,” Mike said, as if there was no question Sam would eventually kill him.
The man’s eyelids flickered.
“Do it,” Zola said.
I nodded and set the edge of my staff in the faint circle we’d carved around him, my fingers wrapped around the smooth gray Magrassnetto inlays. “Orbis Tego.”
The man’s eyes snapped open as his body was completely cut off from the ley lines, his necromancy confined to a simple circle shield. His dark eyes flicked from me, and then to Sam before they finally settled on Zola. The sheer terror that took root in those eyes told me he knew who she was.
“Killing me now?” he asked, blood weeping through his closed teeth as he struggled not to move his broken jaw.
“You should be so lucky,” Zola said as she placed her hand on Mike’s shoulder. “This is a demon of the ancient circle.”
The man almost whimpered.
“But he would not dare cross the vampire beside you. Understand this, you kidnapped her mother.”
“Oh god,” the man whispered as he began to hyperventilate. Blood ran from the corners of his mouth.
“Tell us what we want to know,” Mike said. “Where is the woman you took?”
“I didn’t!” the man said. He winced, and almost reached up to touch his swelling jaw. “I didn’t take her!” He was getting harder to understand.
“You didn’t stop them,” Sam whispered. “They came into our home. They tried to kill me. Tried to kill our parents.” Her eyes glazed over into black pits. “Drop the shield, brother mine.”
The man’s eyes locked on me and his whisper was almost a cry. “Vesik? Oh, god help me. God help me!” I couldn’t tell if his muffled scream was from the pain, or his increased understanding of his situation.
I let the shield fall. Sam ripped the pinky off his left hand and lanced the severed digit with her fangs.
It took a second for the man to realize what had happened, for his body to tell him pieces were missing, and then he screamed. Blood flowed from his shattered jaw, and the scream rose in pitch. Some part of me, some small part, felt a pang of sympathy for the bastard. The rest of me knew he wouldn’t suffer long.
Sam spat the finger onto the ground, a thin line of blood leaking down her chin. “You’re tasty.”
“Where’s our mother?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you! I don’t know!”
“That’s two different answers,” I said as I held his gaze. His beady eyes reminded me of Philip, reminded me of the man who took our mother. “Sam.”
Two more fingers came off. The slurping sounds were enough to churn my stomach, and the thin arterial spray didn’t help.
Mike leaned down to the bloody stumps. “Can’t have you bleed to death.” He cupped his hand and a bloody orange flame burst into existence, consuming the necromancer’s hand down to the wrist. “There now, all better.”
The screams of agony cut off into hiccups of shock.
“Where?” Zola said as she laid her cane against the man’s eye. “Ah’m not nearly so kind as my students.” The promise in her voice sent shivers down my spine.
“Chesterfield, Chesterfield Mall.”
“Is Ezekiel here?” Zola asked.
“We do not speak his name!” he said as his eyes rolled wildly from one side to the other.
“When is Philip coming?”
“I don’t know.” I could barely understand him now. Between the blood and his broken jaw, it was like he had a mouthful of marbles. “I don’t know.”
“It will be soon,” Zola said as she lifted her cane. “He’ll know we have you. We’re done here.”
Sam grabbed his head and bit into his throat in the blink of an eye. He flailed uselessly for a few seconds and then Sam ripped his throat out in one vicious strike. She bent his neck back further and drank again from the gaping maw.
I watched his aura fade into a flowing, black-and-white ribbon. It no longer pulsed and shifted like a living aura. It traveled around his body in the slow rhythm of the dead. A white mist formed from the snow behind the corpse, and a moment later Carter stood beside the dead man. Carter reached out and grabbed the aura. The entire ribbon exploded in golden light and the necromancer’s ghost was suddenly standing in the werewolf’s grip.
“No! What is this?” The ghost was screaming, utterly hysterical. “No! You already killed me!”
Carter’s lips peeled back. “You hurt our family. Those under the protection of our pack. I’m here to escort you to hell. Mike,” he said with a nod to the demon.
The demon’s hand stuttered and seized in a complex series of movements before a sickly orange flame leapt from his palm and swelled into a pillar of fire. When the flames died, the ghosts were gone. Mike’s arm lowered slowly as he heaved a series of deep breaths.
My aura felt heavy, dirty, like some great filth had crawled across it and nothing would ever wash it clean again. An acrid stench hung in the air. “What was that?” I asked.
“Hellfire,” Zola said. “A portal for some, a death sentence for others.”
I shivered, just a little, before I changed the topic. “Chesterfield Mall,” I said. Nothing good had happened there for me in the recent past. I had fond childhood memories of time spent in the arcades and food court when I wasn’t training with Zola, but now all those memories were tainted by Vicky.
The murdered child. The rising Guardian. The unstoppable harrower.
I ground my teeth together.
“We need to get to that mall,” Sam said as she wiped her mouth on the dead necromancer’s cloak.
“We can’t leave yet,” I said.
“What?” Sam stood up. “Are you crazy? We know where she is!”
“The boy is right,” Zola said. “We need you here to protect the Blessing. A battle comes soon. It’s finally time Philip met his doom.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “That’s … it’s not going to be easy.”
“It should never be easy to kill someone you once loved.” Zola rapped her cane on the dead man’s head. “Strap this one up on the tree stump,” she said as she pointed to a massive y-shaped stump. “Let Philip and his cult know we’re ready.”
“I’ll do it,” Mike said as he pulled a length of rope from between the porch railing supports. He dragged the body by the ankle to the old stump. I watched him for a bit, tying a limb up and securing it with one hand before he moved on to the next.
“Why was there rope on the porch?” I asked, but the thought left me as I watched Mike work. “Looks like you’ve done that before.”
Mike glanced up, but said nothing.
“Cheery thought,” Sam said. Her face was pulled into a scowl. She wasn’t happy about waiting to get Mom. I wasn’t happy about it either, but I didn’t want to get everyone killed by leaving. That would punch a hole in the defenses at Rivercene. A big hole.
“Bloody hell,” I said.
Zola looked away from Mike and up at me. “What?”
“Do you think Philip planted him? Tried to get some of us to leave and chase after Mom?”
“It would be a strong ploy.” Her gnarled fingers wrapped tightly around her cane and squeezed. “It seems possible.”
“Seems likely,” Mike said as he rejoined us. “That man was fodder and Philip damn well knew it. What now? Wake the others?”
Zola shook her head. “Give them another hour to rest. Then we wake Edgar.”
Mike nodded. “Give Vassili and the first watch time to rest while we plan.”
“Yes,” Zola said.
“Zola, why don’t we move our cars over to that cornfield?” I asked as I pointed off to the east. “I think they’ll be less likely to get scratched.”
“Scratched?’ she said with a snort. “If all they got was scratched, Ah would count myself lucky. Let’s go.”
***
We stood outside as evening approached, well fed by another of the innkeeper’s meals and bundled up with gloves, scarves, and coats.
Edgar stared at the man strung up on the ancient tree stump. It was odd to see Edgar in a trench coat in addition to his suit. “I thought I knew all of them, but him I do not recognize. Volund, Zachariah, Jamin, Smith, Cutter, Lensher. Who were you?” he said as he reached toward the body. His hand stopped and he rubbed his fingers together. “Hellfire?”
“Yes,” Mike said. “He had an appointment to keep.”
Edgar sighed. “You risk too much in the open.”
“Come now, Amon,” Zola said. “We are hidden quite well here.”
He looked at Zola and gave her a half-hearted grimace. “Still.”
“I doubt you will be so concerned when they come for your head,” Mike said.
“We shall see,” Edgar said. “You’ve made quite a signpost for them. I rather doubt they’ll try to scout us anymore. It’s more likely their entire group will come at us at once.”
“When?” Foster asked from his perch beside Aideen on my shoulder. The snow was beginning to pick up, leaving a thin layer of white across the grass.
“Twilight or nightfall, if they have a blood mage.” Edgar turned toward the river and tensed. He relaxed a moment later. Apparently whatever had spooked him was gone. “The darker arts of the blood are stronger then.”
“How did you learn anything of the blood magi?” Zola said. “They are more secretive than us.”
“They are more taboo than you,” Cara said from Sam’s pocket. Cassie nodded her agreement beside her.
“Pots and cauldrons,” Edgar said. “We have a blood mage in the Watchers now.”
“Things do change,” Mike said.
Edgar’s sandy face pulled up in a small smile. “Yes, they do at that. Not long ago we would have killed a blood mage on sight.”
“There was a time you’d have done the same to a necromancer,” Zola said.
Edgar looked away, his eyes angled up toward the trees before he nodded. “That was our mistake, my friends. Judging an entire people for the actions of a few was wrong. Even a demon can be a good man if he is so inclined.”
I didn’t miss the smile on Mike’s face.
Edgar. Watcher. Friend? Maybe the world really was ending.
The front door slammed and Dad walked out onto the porch. He hadn’t taken the news well when we told him we knew where Mom was, but weren’t yet going to get her. He’d finally calmed down when he smashed a very expensive vase, scattering the pieces across the hardwood. The innkeeper had muttered something about touchy humans and then vanished down the hallway.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right, Zola. Andi would never forgive me if I left our friends to die.” He adjusted the strap over his shoulder, the whaling gun swinging out past his hip as he turned.
“Do not apologize,” Zola said. “Ah know it doesn’t compare to your own, but this is not an easy decision for any of us.”
“What’s the plan?” Dad asked.
Dominic appeared beside Edgar, a thin trail of snowflakes filling the void he left behind him. “Lord!” he shouted.
“Da?” Vassili said from the edge of the roof.
Dominic nodded.
The white-haired vampire leapt from the top of the three-story mansion and came down hard enough to crack one of the flagstones. He blinked and shifted his foot to the side. “I shall pay for that. I do not wish to anger the innkeeper further.”
Dad’s eyes flicked to the side and he scuffed his shoe through the snow. I stifled a laugh.
“They are coming,” Dominic said. “A large force moves in from the west. At least fifteen necromancers, each controlling several zombies.
