Specter Rising (Brimstone Network Trilogy) (9 page)

They had made a kind of stretcher to carry her, and were ready to move at once.

“Is there anything I can do?” Bram asked the two armored warriors.

They stood waiting for Lita, who was still gathering up the last of their belongings.

“No,” said one of the stoic soldiers.

“She is our responsibility,” said the other.

“They’ll take care of her, Abraham,” Lita said, hefting a large pack upon her shoulder.

“Let me,” he said, relieving her of some of the burden. She allowed him to carry one of the packs while she carried another.

They started toward one of the larger exits at a very quick pace.

“You didn’t answer me before,” Bram said, adjusting the pack of supplies on his shoulder for better comfort. “Are you being hunted by someone who doesn’t want to give up the old ways?”

“Yes, by Barnabas,” she said. “He is one of the Specter army’s greatest soldiers. It was he who wanted to lead an invasion to your earth when the barrier between our two worlds was breached.”

“He also tried to have me killed,” Bram added.

“You were to die as our mother was supposed to,” Lita said. “But we are made of sterner stuff.”

The soldiers carrying the queen upon the stretcher moved ahead of them, heading down the twisting passage toward a faint, distant light.

Bram again gazed at the woman, whom he did not know but who had been responsible for giving him life, as she passed, feeling a strange protectiveness emerge.

“What did he do to her?” Bram asked.

Lita looked at him as they walked.

“Barnabas—what did he do to make her like that?”

“Poison,” Lita answered. “A poison not found upon the Specter world. Likely Barnabas had it brought over from one of the foul worlds that he is in contact with, and that has helped him achieve his madness. Try as our loyal physicians did, it does not appear to have an antidote here.”

They walked in silence, both of them staring at the two Specter warriors and the burden that they carried up ahead.

“Without a cure, I’m afraid she is going to die.”

The words came before Bram could give them much thought. They came from his heart, charged with raw, powerful emotion.

“No,” he said with complete conviction. “She isn’t going to die.”

I won’t let her.

7.
O
NE OF HIS KIDNEYS HAD HAD DEALINGS WITH THE
Fthaggua before.

It was a distant memory, and not all that clear, but Mr. Stitch, made from the body parts of the finest Brimstone agents who had died in battle, knew that he didn’t care for the demon race in the least, and doubted that this journey to their homeworld was going to change his opinion much.

Bogey’s rift crackled and sparked as the passage from the Brimstone Network’s headquarters to Fthaggua opened.

The demons had done a good job of protecting their defenses. Powerful magickal barriers had been erected to keep spells very much like Bogey’s rift from their world,
but the Brimstone Network had better magick users.

The spells of Fthaggua sorcerers collapsed as if a rock had been hurled through a plate-glass window, allowing Stitch to step directly into what he believed to be the Fthaggua leader’s throne room.

His kidney twitched with the memory of this place. Its original owner had died here on a mission, and Stitch was more than happy to oblige it a little bit of payback if the need arose.

It seemed that he was interrupting lunch as he stepped from the quickly collapsing passage, a body bag slung over one of his broad shoulders.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Fthaggua leader bellowed, looking up from a bowl of what appeared to be giant maggots in some sort of a heavy cream sauce.

Delicious.

“Greetings, Fthaggua leader,” Stitch said, bowing ever so slightly, hoping that the translation spell placed upon him earlier would work. By the look on the demon’s horrific face, he could see that it was. “I bid you welcome from the Brimstone Network.”

He watched the eyes of the demon grow wider with the mention of the Network, and for good reason. It was
a Fthaggua that had entered his home and made an attempt on his friend’s life.

Stitch was surprised the creature hadn’t tried to bolt from the room.

“You are not welcome here,” the leader scowled, dipping its hand into the bowl of squirming life and bringing a handful to his waiting mouth.

“I am aware of that,” Stitch said, moving a bit closer to the ornate throne upon which the Fthaggua leader sat.

“Come no closer!” the demon bellowed, maggots squirming at the corners of its horrible mouth.

“I have come only to return what I believe is yours,” Stitch announced as he removed the bag from his shoulder.

The leader squinted its yellow eyes as Stitch unzipped the bag. Reaching inside, he hauled out the burnt and blackened remains of the Fthaggua assassin.

“Am I wrong in assuming that this is yours?” Stitch asked, a cruel smile starting at the corner of his mouth. He tossed the charred remains at the foot of the leader’s throne, the dead Fthaggua assassin breaking into a hundred pieces.

The leader bolted up from his chair, the sudden movement
spilling the bowl of extra-large maggots and sauce onto the floor.

“Guards!” he screamed at the top of his demonic lungs. “To me . . . guards!”

Stitch remained perfectly calm, simply looking about the large chamber.

There were no guards charging into the room at their master’s command. There was only silence, except for the screams of the Fthaggua leader.

“It seems that your security is a bit lax,” the large man said with an ominous chuckle.

Six demon bodies suddenly flew from the outskirts of the grand chamber, landing on the floor behind him.

The leader looked terrified, backing up until his legs struck his throne. He sat down heavily.

“Laying down on the job, so to speak,” Stitch said, moving closer to the leader.

Stitch could sense the others now, sauntering from the darkness of the room: Emily, Bogey, Dez, and the newest addition to their group . . .
What was it she liked to be called? Packman. That was it.

There was something about her, something that had told him she should be a part of this. Stitch
didn’t like to ignore these feelings, as they were usually something to be listened to.

Bogey had transported the others here earlier, and they had done their jobs well.

“You will all suffer for this!” the leader raged, jumping up from his throne. His bare belly began to glow a fiery red. It wouldn’t be long before he exploded, filling the chamber with living fire.

Stitch wasn’t about to let that happen.

The big man moved with incredible speed, reaching out and wrapping his hand tightly around the Fthaggua leader’s throat.

“I’d stop that if I were you,” the patchwork man whispered menacingly, squeezing with all his might.

The leader struggled in his grasp, his yellow eyes rolling back as he fought to remain conscious. Slowly the fiery glow began to fade, and the swelling in the demon’s stomach began to go down.

“That’s it,” Stitch said, plopping the demon’s butt back onto its throne. “No need to blow yourself up on our account.”

“Though I wouldn’t mind seeing it,” Bogey called out from behind him. Stitch was about to turn around and give him a look, but decided,
What’s the use?

The demon’s head lolled as he tried to remain conscious.

“We’re just going ask you a few questions and then we’ll be on our way.”

The demon stared defiantly as the others came to stand beside him.

“Shall we begin?” Stitch asked.

T
hey had made their way into another gigantic chamber.

The smell inside this particular section was even more disgusting than the others, the ground wet and spongy beneath his feet.

“It smells horrible in here,” Bram said, bringing a hand to his mouth as he and Lita continued to follow the soldiers loyal to the queen across the soft, unstable surface.

“What would you expect?” Lita asked offhandedly. “We’re inside his stomach.”

Bram stopped as thought he’d struck a wall. “Inside what?”

Lita turned slightly, not slowing down. “His stomach,” she repeated. “We’re inside Ureichuras the Monstrous’s stomach.”

“Wait a minute . . . we’re inside somebody’s stomach right now?”
Bram asked, not really wanting the question confirmed.

“Yes, now come along. The Shriekhounds are probably already here and attempting to sniff us out. Being inside this decaying corpse actually helps us, but our good fortune won’t last forever.”

Bram moved his pack to his other shoulder, running to catch up with the girl and the others.

“I’m walking around inside a giant dead body,” he said, trying to get used to the concept. “Why am I so surprised?”

“Ureichuras was the last of the species called the Guurand,” Lita started to explain. “The Guurand were at war with the Specter for centuries, but eventually they were all exterminated.”

“And this is the body of the last one to die?” Bram questioned, looking around the vast chamber with a whole new perspective.

She nodded. “Many believed that this was the first indication that the ascension was at hand . . . the discovery of your world and the treaty brought by your father were the next.”

The passage was beginning to narrow, and Bram
didn’t even want to think about where they would be walking next.

“This ascension,” he asked, trying to distract himself from the obvious. “What does it mean?”

Lita became very serious, gazing ahead at the loyal servants who bore the burden of her mother, the queen.

“The Specter have always been a violent race,” she said, her voice tinged with shame. “As a people, we believed that this was our purpose: to conquer any and all that we encountered for the good of our kind. Our magick users continuously worked at breaking down the countless barriers that separated our world from what we believed was ours to conquer. But there were ancient teachings that spoke of a new age for the Specter—a time when we would give up our warrior ways and usher in a new age of peace.”

Bram lost his footing, almost falling into the soft muck that coated the floor of the passage. Lita’s hands were quick, catching him before he could go down.

“Thanks,” Bram said, a little embarrassed. “Wouldn’t want to land in that.” He looked down, wrinkling his nose in distaste. The smell was still really horrible.

“Our mother wanted to believe in those ancient prophecies,” Lita said, letting go of his arm.
“Seeing them as a path to enlightenment. But others saw them as a path to weakness.”

“Barnabas,” Bram said.

“One of many, but the most powerful of the bunch,” she said. “His beliefs were that the Specter were not strong enough—that their next stage in evolution should make them the most dangerous force in all reality, and from what we have been told, he has found some sort of secret weapon to help him achieve this goal.”

“What kind of a weapon?” Bram asked.

“We’re not sure,” Lita said. “All we know is that it was powerful enough to turn my mother’s army against her, and to cause her to hide in the corpse of a giant like some carrion-eating . . .”

His sister’s anger was defused by sight of the soldiers ahead, stopping suddenly, gazing around the passage in which they now stood.

Bram remained silent, peering through the darkness, searching for signs that they had been found.

The Shriekhounds attacked en masse; exploding through the rotting, membranous walls of the dead giant’s digestive tract.

“Back!” Lita cried, directing the soldiers and their
most precious package.

She drew a sword, standing her ground as the screaming creatures galloped toward her.

“Do you have another one of those?” Bram asked, taking a stand behind her.

“Half-breed,” a voice called to him.

Bram turned just in time to catch a sword as it was tossed his way.

“Don’t cut yourself in half,” one of the soldiers said, taking his stance in front of the queen’s unconscious form with his brethren.

“I’ll try not to embarrass you too badly,” he said to the warrior.

Bram bent his body forward, hefting the sword in one hand, getting used to its weight. Not long ago, Stitch had demanded that he practice his swordplay, the two of them sparring whenever the opportunity arose, between averting world-endangering calamities, of course.

At this moment, he was glad his friend had insisted.

The Shriekhounds came to a stop, their blind faces moving around as they sniffed the air. It was as if they smelled something else in the air other than their prey.

“What do you think that’s all about?” Bram asked his sister.

“Not sure,” she said, eyes fixed to the pack of monsters
before her. “Maybe they’re checking to see if there are more of us.”

“I can think of a couple of guys back home we could really use about now,” he said, making reference to his Network friends.

“But they’re not here, Brother,” Lita said, a steely resolve in her voice. “So it looks like it is totally up to us.”

“Looks that way,” Bram answered.

He was thinking of attacking first, but Lita beat him to it.

She let out a horrible scream, something that would have made him think twice about facing her in battle.

Inspired by the battle cry, he did the same, but it didn’t have quite the ferociousness that hers did. He was going to have to work on that.

The Shriekhounds were at first startled, jumping away from them as they attacked. But it wasn’t long before the monsters returned the favor, their clawed hands and feet reaching out for flesh to tear from bones.

“Don’t let them pass!” Lita cried, swinging the blade with devastating efficiency. “Remember, we are the first line of defense between these foul beasts and the queen.”

Bram was impressed. He had been trained for combat by some of the finest warriors on the planet, and from what he was witnessing it appeared that his half sister had had similar training.

The Shriekhounds were very animal like, stumbling and tripping over themselves to get to him and Lita in their bloodlust.