Hellgate London - Exodus Part 29

The little girl screamed and yanked the boy to the side. Simon was surprised she didn't freeze up. He kept firing, staying squared up with the demon and delivering a snap-kick to its face.

The demon flew backward and landed on the ground. Simon kept firing till he was certain the Gremlin was dead. He turned back to the house.

Flames flickered through the windows, greedily consuming the house. The children stood inside the door, backlit by the fire spreading quickly toward the opening, feeding on the oxygen.

"Come on!" Simon yelled.

The little girl yanked the boy into motion and they ran out onto the snow-covered sidewalk. It had evidently started snowing more heavily while they'd been inside because the inches had started to pile up. The Templar had taken up a position on one side of the street. Their weapons blazed in the night, bright greens and whites mixed with ruby and sapphire.

Simon took up a position on the other side of the street. The woman lay unconscious over his shoulder. The two children stood at his legs. For the first time he realized how far it was back to the Sloane Street tube station.

Lights suddenly flared to life in a nearby alley. A van sped out onto the street, skidding across the new-fallen snow and aiming straight at Simon. It fishtailed for a moment and struck an overturned compact car, setting the vehicle spinning like a turtle.

Vision enhanced by the HUD, Simon saw the frightened man behind the wheel. He looked like he was in his sixties, bundled up tight against the inclement weather. The man locked his brakes and attempted to bring the van to a stop.

Knowing the vehicle wasn't going to be able to halt on the snow, Simon locked his boots down and leaned forward with a hand out. He hoped he didn't destroy the vehicle.

The front of the van collapsed several inches with a sharpcrunch. The spikes on Simon's boots raked foot-long tears across the pavement. But the van stopped.

The man leaned across the pa.s.senger seat and threw the door open. "Get her inside!"

Simon pulled the cargo door open and placed the woman inside. He helped the two children inside as well.

"Where am I supposed to take them?" the man asked.

The question caught Simon off-guard. He hadn't been thinking that far ahead. "Sloane Street tube station."

Weapons fire blasted wrecked cars and buses. Mortar fell from damaged buildings.

The man nodded. "Hurry. When these things find somebody out in the open, they don't give up the scent."

Another blast opened a crater in the street only a few feet away. "Go," Simon ordered.

The van sped away, careening between wrecks.

Crouching down, Simon pointed the Spike Bolter at a Blood Angel skimming along the street in pursuit of the van. Locked on, Simon squeezed the trigger and rode out the recoil, hoping that the barrels didn't melt down.

The palladium spikes tracked the Blood Angel, slamming into the buildings behind it for a moment, then quickly overtaking it and ripping into the demon. Perforations opened in the wide-spread wings. Other rounds from other Templar weapons drenched it in flames and blew it to pieces. Flaming chunks mixed with the falling snow and plopped onto the street.

The Templar had managed an uneven skirmish line, but they were holding their own against the demons.

Three Templar lay dead in the street. One of them had been torn to bits and the other was in flames.

One of the Templar fired a Constrictor pistol at an attacking Blood Angel. A tangled net of palladium alloy wire unfurled in the air, boosted by the SqueezFast memoryware programmed into the metal.

The net flared wide, then wrapped around the Blood Angel as tightly as a lover. The memoryware cranked even tighter, pulling the demon's wings against its body. The creature dropped from the sky, screaming shrilly. It thudded against one of the nearby buildings and thudded to a stop against an overturned MGB.

Simon leaped the car and landed on the pavement. He shoved the Spike Bolter forward from less than a yard away, aiming point-blank at the thing's face. It howled at him in caustic denial. Rage, not fear, twisted its features. A clawed hand sliced through the palladium strands of memoryware that bound it. Arcane energy flared purple as the spell woven into the net repulsed the demon's efforts.

Squeezing the trigger, Simon aimed at the center of the Blood Angel's chest and rode the recoil up to the bottom of its chin. The spikes blew the creature's chest apart. Gore spattered his faceplate.

"Down, Simon!" Derek shouted.

Reacting automatically, Simon dropped facedown and hugged the street. A wave of fire blew over his head and ignited a large section of the nearby building and the street.

"Move!"

Simon pushed up one-handed and stayed low. Inside the armor he moved effortlessly. He almost smiled, knowing that the fear and anxiety that had plagued him for the last few days had pa.s.sed. He was in his element, right where he belonged.

He fired the Spike Bolter at the wave of Gremlins that darted out from the shadows less than thirty feet away. Laser and electrical shocks from the demons slammed into him in a wild display of energy and color. His armor's defenses dropped, but he knew that running wasn't an option. They'd only leave their flank open to attack.

This was where the Templar had determined to live, fighting foes face-to-face over inches of ground, holding a line where evil and darkness stopped. Simon's heart sang and he knew he was riding an adrenaline high like none he'd ever before experienced.

Freeing his sword, seeing that the other Templar were doing the same thing, preparing to engage the surviving Gremlins, Simon holstered the Spike Bolter, took a two-handed grip on the sword, and charged. He met the first demon with a powerful downward swipe, letting the sword's weight add to the blow.

The palladium alloy sword blazed bright blue with the arcane energy his father had helped him weave into it. The blade slid through the demon flesh, cutting his foe in halves. Before the Gremlin could fall to pieces, Simon stepped around it and engaged another. The demon thrust a spear at Simon's face.

The sharp point skidded across the smooth surface of his faceplate, but the impact was enough to stagger him and nearly drive him to his knees. Then he dropped below the line of the spear and threw his shoulder into the demon's midriff, straining to lift it from its feet.

Torn free of the pavement, the demon went back and down. It landed flat on its back, the breath knocked from it. Dropping with his knees on its shoulders, Simon pinned the demon to the ground, then reversed his sword and thrust the point through the center of its head. The sword didn't stop until it met the pavement on the other side of its skull. Simon twisted ruthlessly and exploded the skull. Beneath him, the Gremlin bucked out its life.

Spotting a dropped Constrictor only inches from the outstretched hand of a Templar who was dead or unconscious, Simon dove for the weapon, sc.r.a.ped it up in his left hand, and rolled to his knees.

Derek battled two Gremlins, managing to put up a lightning-fast defense to parry the sword and axe his opponents wielded. Despite his skill, though, Derek was being forced back.

Taking quick aim, Simon fired the Constrictor at the nearest Gremlin. The net sprang out and wrapped around the Gremlin, cutting into its flesh and binding it.

The demon stumbled and started to fall. Derek caught it in one hand and used it for a shield. He performed a quick parry on one side of the bound demon, then whirled around it and slashed at the other demon. The sword blade met the demon's neck cleanly, taking its head off before it knew he'd even changed places.

"Thanks," Derek said.

"No problem," Simon replied. He dodged an attacking Blood Angel, then turned to fire the Constrictor. Before he could squeeze the trigger, the demon turned her head and screamed at him. The crimson runes carved into her skin glowed brightly as she threw out a hand.

Simon thought he saw a vague shimmering in the air before him, but before he could move an incredible force battered him, lifting him from his feet and throwing him backward forty or more feet. He hit the ground and rolled as he'd been taught, immediately coming to his feet and moving sideways to cover. The Blood Angel pursued, flapping its wings and powering toward him.

Aiming the Constrictor, Simon fired twice. The first net missed the target and spread out in a metal rectangle against the black sky before disappearing. The second wrapped and trapped the Blood Angel, but not before the runes in her skin glowed again. Another wave of force hammered Simon backward. "Defense critical," the calm voice advised him.

Standing, slightly disoriented, Simon looked for the Blood Angel and spotted her lying in the street sixty feet away. He took out a grenade and armed it, then tossed it at her. She tried to roll away, but the grenade went off and enveloped her in flame, killing her in shrieking agony.

There were a few other skirmishes, but when they were done not a Gremlin remained alive in the street. They'd lost five men, not counting Bruce.

No one spoke after Derek gave the order for them to gather their dead and leave. Simon helped pick up one of the dead men, settling him across his shoulders. Then they ran back to the Sloane Street tube station.

Thirty-Three.

What you have is extraordinary." The woman trailed her fingers along Warren's left arm, delicately pulling at the small scales with her fingernails. The effect and her voice were almost sensual.

A p.r.i.c.kling sensation crawled under the scales, then spread along Warren's arm and concentrated at the back of his scalp. He wanted to pull his limb back from the woman's grasp, but he didn't. Tulane had told him that Naomi was the most sensitive and skilled among the Cabalists there in the caves.

She was perhaps a couple years older than him, he guessed. Surely no more than four. She would have been pretty if not for all the tattoos and piercings that adorned her flesh. There was also the matter of the two short, curved horns that thrust up from her forehead and made her look positively wicked. She was pet.i.te and full-figured, dressed in a low-cut black blouse, black leather pants, and calf-high boots with silver chains.

It was a look, Kelli would have said sarcastically. If Kelli was still in a sarcastic frame of mind. Instead, Kelli sat across the room on the floor and obediently waited for Warren.

Warren felt bad about Kelli's behavior. Even though she'd been mean-spirited and-at times-cruel to him, he hadn't known how much effect he'd had on her life until these past few hours. Before that he'd been too sick, in too much pain, to notice.

Still he felt more afraid of being alone in the midst of strangers than guilty about his control over her. So he continued to wish her to sit and wait for him.

"I don't think it's extraordinary," Warren replied.

The woman looked up at him, then over to Tulane, who stood nearby. They were in another room, this one filled with old books in dozens of languages. Plastic cases contained different herbs and powders.

"That's because you haven't been properly trained to appreciate what you have," the woman said. She continued to stroke his arm as if it were some kind of pet.

The p.r.i.c.kling increased intensity.

Naomi looked into Warren's eyes. "You know the demon that did this to you, don't you?"

That caught Tulane's interest. Neither of them had mentioned Merihim's name to the woman. Warren was too surprised to speak.

"You know his name, don't you?" Naomi repeated. "Merihim," Warren said.

Naomi smiled a little and released his arm. She pushed up from her chair and crossed the small room to the overstocked bookshelf. After a moment's consideration, she chose a thick book with ornate leather covers and returned.

"He is one of the Greater Demons Cabalists have seen in their visions," Naomi said. "One of those who have been Named."

"Named?"Warren repeated.

"Not all of the demons have Names," Naomi said. "Most of them are just things. Powerful things, yes, but they're little more than tools. They have to claim Names for themselves, and they only do that by fighting their way to the top of the hierarchy." She looked at Tulane with some confusion. "He doesn't know about the demons?"

"He hasn't been formally trained," Tulane replied.

Naomi searched Warren with her gaze. "What," she asked, "made you so special in the eyes of a demon like Merihim?"

Warren didn't have an answer and didn't try to give one. "What do you know about Merihim?" Naomi asked.

"He called himself the Bringer of Pestilence."

Naomi nodded and opened the book. She laid it on the table between them. There, on the page, the demon stood revealed in all his dark glory. His blue-green armor shimmered and his green trident gleamed. Dismembered corpses lay in disarray around him.

"He has been to this world before," Naomi said, "but it has been a long time. Back in the Middle Ages, a select few of the demons visited our world, studying it to see what they would encounter here. Merihim brought death and disease to the people in Europe. Thousands, hundreds of thousands, died with him.

Some say that he journeyed with Christopher Columbus to the New World and was responsible for the deaths of so many Native Americans there. The Spaniards claimed that demons were the cause of so many deaths there."

Warren barely remembered the stories of Columbus and his voyages along the New World. He did recall the stories of the deaths, the fact that millions of Native Americans had died as a result of contact with the Europeans. Smallpox and other diseases had ravaged them.

"Some say the Native Americans knew Merihim for what he truly was," Naomi went on. "The Native Americans were more in touch with their world. Some say they see the demons more easily than others. That's where their legends of the Wendigo come from."

Warren knew the Wendigo legend. The Native Americans claimed that evil "spirits" sometimes took over warriors and gave them a taste for human flesh. The cannibals and the spirits were both called Wendigo.

"The Native Americans tried to fight Merihim and bind him. He stayed in that world for over a hundred years before he was finally bound by a group in Roanoke, Virginia. The cost there was high, though.

When they banished him from this world, it was at the cost of every man, woman, and child that had lived in that town."

"What happened to them?" Warren asked.

"It's believed that they were pulled into the demons' world. That sometimes happens even when someone banishes them."

"Banishment isn't the answer," Tulane said. "Control is. We need to find a way to control the demons, then we'll have nothing to fear from them."

Warren gazed at the greenish-black scales that had taken the place of his skin along his left arm. Control wasn't going to be easy. He looked back into Naomi's dark eyes.

"What would Merihim want with someone like me?" he asked.

"He let you live," Naomi said. "I would guess that he wants to claim you for his own." "For what reason?"

Naomi shook her head. "I don't know. But we can attempt to find out. If you're willing. The way will be hard and dangerous."

Warren considered that only for a moment. The p.r.i.c.kling under the scales on his arm and at the back of his head continued. The way was already hard and dangerous. "Okay," he agreed.

Warren lay on his back on a small pad at the center of the room. Naomi was on her hands and knees nearby, drawing intricate symbols on the smooth stone floor with a piece of blue chalk. Yellow-green flames danced atop blue candles that surrounded them.

"Will Merihim know you're there?" Tulane asked. He stood outside the circle Naomi had drawn.

"I will try my best not to let him." Naomi put the chalk back into a wooden case covered with carved symbols.

"But if the demon does know you're there, can he use the connection to come through?"

When Tulane had first heard the idea of spying on the demon, he'd been immediately interested. Now that he'd figured out that Merihim could use that contact as his own, he didn't seem quite so anxious to get on with things. Warren wasn't, either.

Naomi sat with crossed legs, her palms resting on her knees. "You know yourself, Lord Tulane, that we don't understand everything the demons can do. And I've never successfully spied on one as powerful as Merihim."

"You spied on Shulgoth during the invasion after he arrived here. You said it was easier to watch them with your gift while they were here."

"Only because Shulgoth didn't try to stop us from seeing all that he was capable of," Naomi said. "He also remains far beyond our control."

Fear ran rampant through Warren as he lay on the pad. The smell of cooking flesh-his own, that of the Cabalists in the room that night, and his stepfather's own scorched flesh-intermingled in his mind.

"This could be a trap," Warren said before he knew he was going to speak. Tulane stared at him.

"What if Merihim only changed me like this so he could come here?" Warren asked. "What if his target all along was the Cabalist network?"

A heavy silence fell over the room, letting him know that Tulane and Naomi hadn't considered that. "He killed Edith and Jonas effortlessly," Warren said, "and he reclaimed the Eye of Raatalukkyn that night. It's possible that he set me free only so that I would come in contact with more of you."