Death's Apprentice: A Grimm City Novel (21 page)

*   *   *

The young witch called Anna stood against the window of the Devil’s office. What she saw below sent the cold blood racing through her veins.

In the garden square, all Hell was breaking loose—literally.

She watched as a four-armed demon, short-bladed cuirasses in each fist, carved up a human figure, jabbing and slashing with the weapons. The process was a model of predatory efficiency: in a few seconds, there was nothing but a dismembered carcass at a screaming woman’s feet. The witch slowly nodded, enraptured by the sight.

Behind her, Anna could hear the stampede of feet in the office’s lobby, as the terrified supplicants scrabbled and clawed for the exit. Perhaps those human fools thought that the vibrations hammering the building were those of an earthquake, and they would be safer beyond the shivering walls. The thought of what would greet them outside brought a crazed smile to her face.

Glints of light played across the window as she gazed down. Those were from the staffs and burning blades striking at the branches of the peach tree in the center of the garden, the demons’ wrath mounting with the futility of their attack. Each blow left the tree unharmed, a lightning flash hurtling the assailant onto his back, cursing.

At the top of the surrounding towers, the winged demons had flown up and stationed themselves, crouching and leaning forward to scan the chaos below and search for prey. To the young witch looking up at them they seemed like gargoyles come to life.

As she watched, one unfolded its wings and vaulted out into the night sky. It swooped through a wide parabola between the other towers, its talons seizing at last upon the concrete ledge immediately before the witch’s gaze. The creature had the slavering snout of a jackal, eyes inflamed with hunger and cruelty as it peered through the window at her.

The glass burst into razor-edged shards, flying into Anna’s face and across the span of the office, as the demon thrust its claws toward her. She was already bleeding before she landed on her back. The tips of the demon’s yellow fangs imbedded themselves in her throat—

But only for a moment. The demon drew back, cringing from the starlike emblem tattooed on the back of Anna’s neck, revealed when her dark hair had been swept aside.

“Yes…” She wiped the tiny drops of blood from under her chin as she knelt before the demon. “We belong … to the same master…”

With a shriek of frustrated hunger, the demon spun away from the witch and launched itself out the shattered window and into the night sky.

*   *   *

Hank and Blake stood back-to-back, surrounded by carnage.

“Maybe we should run for it—” Hank held Ren-Lei tighter against himself. “Just get her away from here—”

“No.” The soldier’s grimy overcoat was spattered with fresh blood. “These bastards will come right after us, no matter where we go. They catch us someplace where we can’t maneuver, they’ll rip us to shreds.”

“Then we gotta stay here and fight.” Hank lowered his head, peering across the garden square. “They haven’t spotted us yet—but they will any second now.”

Blake nodded toward the infant in the other man’s arms. “What’re you going to do about her?”

“I don’t know.” He looked at the tangled undergrowth behind them. “I can’t just hide her somewhere. Even if they don’t spot her, she could still get trampled in the fight.” He held the baby out toward Blake. “Here—hold her for a second. I got an idea.”

Ren-Lei began crying as soon as Blake had her in his hand. Careful to keep the coat’s blackened sleeves away from the squalling infant, he watched as Hank ripped off his shirt, then tore it into one long rag. He drew the cloth around his shoulders, knotting an improvised sling at his bared chest. “Put her in there,” he ordered Blake, “and make sure it’s tight.”

Blake tied the loose ends around the other man’s waist and shoulder. The baby’s tiny form was now snugged motionless against Hank’s chest. She whimpered at her confines for a moment, before her eyes opened, gazing up at the giant with complete trust.

“You just take it easy.” He tucked his chin down so he could look at her. “We’ll get this sorted out—”

As Ren-Lei smiled and made soft cooing sounds, Hank saw a bright spark reflected in her dark eyes. The spark grew swiftly larger at the same time as he heard a shrill, ululating cry from the sky above. He looked up and saw a horrific visage, eyes widened with lethal delight, vipers writhing in its mouth. Clawed fists swung one blade of a double-ended spear toward Hank’s skull, flames licking up from its blades. The demon’s power dive was so rapid, there was time only to shield Ren-Lei; he crouched over, bent spine toward the creature.

Something hit him from behind, but it wasn’t the scything edge of the demon’s spear. He fell hard onto his shoulder, still holding the baby to his chest in the sling. At the periphery of his sight, he glimpsed a grime-encrusted figure vaulting above him, one of Blake’s hands on his shoulder, the other swinging a shovel that had been left behind by one of the people who had been working in the garden. Sparks shot from the magnesium-forged blade as the shovel connected with it. The shaft of the tool snapped, the shovel’s blade hitting the ground yards away. Blake used the splintered shaft for another parrying blow, which sent the spear pinwheeling out of the demon’s grasp. Blake’s leap carried him high above the demon and, as though it were the point of a lightning bolt, the wooden shaft darted hard between the demon’s eyes, driving it stumbling backward, arms flailing.

The demon regained its balance as Blake landed lithely upon his toes with one hand outstretched. Vipers hissed as the demon swept up its spear and swung around one of its fiery blades; it missed Blake’s chest by an inch as he darted to one side, the weapon’s daggerlike point piercing the wooden shaft. Before the demon could wrest the spear free, Blake snapped the fingertips of his other hand into its throat. The quick impact was enough to bring steaming blood vomiting around the snakeheads; their jeweled eyes went dull, scale-covered bodies dangling limp as Blake jumped back, letting the demon drop at his feet.

Bent over to catch his breath, Blake watched as Hank got to his feet and went over to the corpse. “What the hell are you doing?” Black smoke had started billowing up from the demon’s fatal wounds. Hank reached through the fumes to undo the strap of the demon’s helmet. “What do you want that for?”

“Got another idea…” Fanning the smoke away from Ren-Lei, Hank stepped back with the armor piece. “This kid’s going to be as safe as possible.” He placed the helmet over the baby like a magnesium turtle shell, running the strap under the linen sling and drawing it tight to hold it in place. “There—now she’s a
tank
.”

“Get ready—” Blake straightened up. “Here come that sonuvabitch’s buddies.”

A chorus of guttural shouts struck their ears as four demons charged toward them. The one in front brandished a flaming axe in each of its three arms. Hank ducked under the weapons like a boxer, then spun around with a horizontal kick, impaling the lead demon on the heel of his boot so hard that its bowels exploded and the severed ends of its spine tore through its back. He yanked his foot back, and two of the other demons went sprawling over their leader’s still-quivering corpse. As it fell, Hank caught a pair of axes from its lifeless hands. A downward swipe split one horned head into equal halves, while an uppercut slashed through the third demon’s neck. He pivoted, ready to dispatch the last of the group, only to see that Blake had already run it through with the spear’s fiery blade.

Blake tugged the weapon free and stared down at its bloodied length. “Hold on…” He studied the spear’s intricately worked shaft. “I’ve seen this thing somewhere before … He was holding one just like it … The statue in the church…” Amazement sounded in Blake’s voice as he held the double-bladed weapon up before his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Hank stood back-to-back with the soldier as more demons encircled them. Still gripping both axes, Hank glanced away from the assembling horde, looking over his shoulder at his blood-encrusted ally. “What statue?”

“I think … this is
his
weapon!” The flames leapt higher from the blades at either end of the spear as Blake cried out. “The spear that Michael fought the Devil with, when he threw him out of Heaven. Somehow … it’s found its way to me!”

17.

Nathaniel lay amidst the fires of Hell. From beyond its limits, he could hear the Devil shouting furiously at him.

“You idiot!” The Devil’s voice snarled with rage. “Did you think a simple trick like that would stop me from getting what I want?”

I don’t know,
thought Nathaniel. It didn’t seem to matter now.

He placed his palms on the rock at his sides and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Enough of his powers still remained to cool the jagged stones. But that still left him trapped in Hell.

When the Devil had thrown him through the gap in the chamber’s wall, he’d landed in a small space between the flaming pits, with their gouts of molten magma leaping up toward craggy ceilings writhing with fire, then falling back with a splash of sizzling white sparks. Waves of heat rolled over him, shimmering his vision, as though he had been on the surface of the sun—yet he wasn’t consumed, reduced to a flake of black ash.
He’s not done with me
—that dreadful realization formed solid at the center of his slowly reassembling thoughts.
There’s more to come
.

“Oh, yes…” The Devil easily discerned what he was thinking. The clubfooted figure stood before the wall’s opening. “There’s so much more for you to learn.” The scowl on the Devil’s face twisted harder. “You can’t beat me with Time, you fool. I was there when Time was
created
. It was my own stars and sun that made Time possible, by creating the first night and day. I am not subject to its laws, like humans are. Time is in me, not outside.”

Nathaniel tried not to listen.
Pull yourself together,
he commanded. He concentrated on gathering what little remained of his strength, so he would be able to stand and fight again—

It was already too late. He was unable to move from the spot; all he could do was watch, gaze uplifted, as the Devil stepped through the opening into Hell, and strode toward him, the misshapen foot striking heavier than the other.

The Devil reached down and gathered Nathaniel up by the front of his singed leather jacket. Holding him in midair, the Devil brought his cruelly smiling face close to his, then tossed him farther into Hell’s confines.

Nathaniel landed sprawling in one of the pits, the impact enough to pulverize the flaming bones of the sinners whose prison it had been. He rolled over onto his knees, the white shards crackling under his hands.

“Hurt me all you like, it still won’t save you—” Against the roar of the fiery winds, Nathaniel heard his own voice as he looked up at the Devil. Blood hissed into red steam as it trickled down his face. “Your reign is over,” he gasped aloud. “No matter what you do to me—”

“Why? Because of the prophecy?” The Devil sneered down at him, his eyes aflame. “In case you hadn’t noticed, apprentice, that fairy tale is over. There is no prophecy anymore. It’s dead.”

“I’m not talking about the prophecy—” Nathaniel left one hand against the rocks, pressing the other against the ache in his ribs. “I’m talking about what I’ve seen with my own eyes.” Behind him, the scattered bone fragments slowly began to reassemble into human form, so the eternal torment of the charred sinners could resume.

“Seen?” A frown formed on the Devil’s face. “Seen where?”

“On the Chart of Deaths,” said Nathaniel. “I didn’t know what the symbols meant at first, but I do now. The smaller ones, they’re your demons. All marked down for annihilation. And the large one in the middle … that one’s
you
.”

“Enough!” The Devil’s rage still seethed as he looked down at Nathaniel. “I fear no scrap of paper from your master’s closet—no matter how many symbols rise up in its ink. The only ones who are going to die today are you and your friends. Or have you forgotten that you still need an army to bring about my downfall? But you have no army. The human crowd holding its vigil up there is already being slaughtered. And as far as I can see, there is no other army.”

Nathaniel looked into the flames above him. He was able to sense those human deaths as well. His master would be up there, too, he realized. Collecting the souls from that slaughter.

How do I stop it?
The words weighed dismally inside his mind.
I saw the scroll … I know how it should end … But without an army, how can I make it happen?

“I don’t know…” Nathaniel struggled to his feet, swaying unsteadily. “How you’ll die … but you’ll be defeated. Even if I have to do it myself.”

“Yourself?” The Devil laughed. “With what, your bare hands?” He sneered at him. “Forget it, boy. Whatever power you have is fading in these flames.”

“But not my will,” said Nathaniel. “And as long as I have that, I can still resist you.”

The Devil shook his head. “But the problem is that you
don’t
have your will. Not anymore.” He pointed to Nathaniel’s heart. “Your willpower became mine the moment you crossed over the threshold of my realm.”

The Devil spoke no more. He crouched down, then leapt across the space between them, his straining hands outstretched like a tiger’s claws. His force struck Nathaniel’s shoulders and bore him helpless to the ground. In a moment, he was flat on his back, the Devil kneeling on top of him.

“It’s useless to struggle—” The Devil’s hand moved down to Nathaniel’s chest, then clenched into a fist, as though seizing upon something deep within him. He managed to raise his head, and saw the Devil drawing out a vaporous substance, glimmering as if studded with points of diamonds. The Devil lifted the vapor, displaying it before Nathaniel’s eyes. He felt emptier than ever before, like his body had been hollowed of its organs. “This is your willpower. All of it. But not for long…”

The Devil stood up, sneering as he regarded the translucent substance in his hand.