Forgiven (39 page)

‘We’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way,’ Ayden explained. She let the cape drop to reveal a leather jerkin layered over a white shirt. Black jeans tucked into knee-high boots. She positioned the flat edge of her sword on her shoulder, looking more like a warrior than a witch. ‘You know how to fight, summoner?’

‘Not with a blade.’ Mort delicately removed his hat, rose to his feet and seconds later his hands went blue from the wrists to the tips of his fingers as magic surged around them like writhing electric eels.

‘Show off.’ Ayden carefully touched a finger to the edge of her blade, blooding it. It ignited and brilliant gold ran down the length of the steel.

‘Look who’s talking,’ the necro chided.

‘Riley, there’s a knife in my bag,’ Ayden said. ‘You’ll be OK inside the circle unless I’m . . . disabled. I think you should arm yourself in case that happens.’

That’s a good idea.
Riley found the blade tucked inside a sheath marked with runes. It dawned on her what they were about to do. ‘You can’t go out there! They’ll kill you.’

‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Mort said. ‘We need to find Ozymandias. He’s here somewhere. I can feel him.’

Riley certainly hadn’t, not with all the magic flying around.

‘There,’ Ayden said, pointing. ‘See the shimmering near the statue of Niobe? That’s a protective circle. Bet he’s inside.’

Mort murmured something in Latin, then shot a bolt of blue out from the ends of his fingers. The distant shimmer turned transparent revealing their enemy. Though his eyes were closed as he worked his spell, Ozymandias’s sigil glowed brilliantly in the early morning light.

‘How’d he get here without us seeing him?’ Riley asked, rising to her feet.

‘He’s got a lot of power and loves to use it.’ Mort loosened up his shoulders. ‘Well, witch, are you up for a visit to the dark lord’s lair?’

‘Why not?’ Ayden said. ‘I’m getting damned tired of being stuck inside this bubble. Let’s go hack stuff up.’

Mort turned and looked out at the mass of demons. ‘By heaven, there are so many of them,’ he murmured.

Riley followed his gaze. Threes were everywhere. Pyro-Fiends were leaping around the headstones, setting fire to leaves as they passed, creating an effective smoke screen. There were taller figures as well – Grade Four demons – but these didn’t look like the ‘whisper in your ear, soul stealing type’. These had blades and armour.

‘Demons don’t use swords,’ Riley complained. ‘Doesn’t anyone follow the rules any more?’

‘It’s total war,’ Ayden replied. ‘Remember the big one you’re supposed to stop?’

Don’t remind me.

‘Shall we?’ the witch asked, gesturing towards the magical boundary that separated being safe from being dead.

‘Ladies first,’ Mort replied.

Ayden laughed and crossed the circle, followed by her magical counterpart. The protective barrier quickly reformed behind them. Once they were outside, Threes immediately targeted them. One leaped at the summoner and a second later it squealed and turned into a bright blue flame and then a black ash cloud. Ayden dispatched one with her sword, which seemed to burn demon flesh like acid.

There would be no way for them to bust open Ozymandias’s protective circle. He was too powerful.

They’re throwing their lives away.

Through the smoke and haze she saw something tall rise above the other Hellspawn. The Geo-Fiend was nearly seven feet tall and its head resembled a bull’s. When it opened its mouth, ruby red flames roared inside its maw. Another joined it, causing the lesser demons to scatter like frightened puppies. These had to be traitors from Hell, come to aid Sartael in his quest for Lucifer’s throne.

Her heart nearly stopped when the Geo-Fiends stepped aside, bowing. There were only two beings that would frighten a Five: an Archfiend or a Fallen.

This wasn’t an angel, more the love child of a demented goblin and an ancient vampire. Unrelenting evil, her father had said as he described such a creature. He hadn’t exaggerated.

Riley never could stand the burning red eyes of the lesser demons, but these gleamed like they reflected the centre of Hell itself. Shorter than the Geo-Fiends, the Archfiend stood about six and a half feet, its body a blend of rigid muscles, sinews and claws. There were no feathers on its wings and you could clearly see the veins. Its four fangs were like a vampire’s, long and white. The domed skull housed three pairs of eyes set deep into the bone. Nearly nude except for a loincloth, it toted a sword that blazed ebony fire.

Riley clicked on the radio. ‘There’s an Archfiend!’ she called out. No response. Panicking, she cried, ‘Did you hear me?’

‘Where?’ Salvatore came back, along with the sound of clashing steel.

‘Near the Bell Tower.’
Not just one.
‘There’s
three
of them!’

The lead Archfiend gestured upward and one of its companions took to the air with a clap of wings. It veered towards the top of the Bell Tower. The sentry didn’t see it coming and though Riley screamed to warn him, he couldn’t hear her over the sounds of battle. The fiend clutched at the soldier with its talons, dragging him away from his perch. As his body plummeted to the ground, the demon gave a shriek of triumph.

‘Why isn’t Heaven helping us?’ she cried out. Even if it meant Armageddon, they couldn’t let all these people die.

‘Team Demon. What can you see?’ Salvatore called out.

‘You lost the guy in the Bell Tower. And something’s in the air. Something . . . Ohmigod . . .’

The figure descending from the clouds had grey wings and was clothed in a black robe with a simple rope belt tied at its middle, like a monk might wear.

‘There’s a Fallen here now,’ she said.

‘Is it the Prince?’ the hunter demanded.

‘No.’ As the newcomer’s feet touched the ground, the demons raised their voices in adulation. In the midst of the cacophony was a name: Sartael.

This was Lucifer’s enemy.

And mine.
‘How do you kill a Fallen?’ she asked, her fingers cramped round the knife’s hilt, feeling an anger that transcended everything else.

‘You can’t,’ was the curt reply, and then the radio went silent.

Sartael raised his flaming sword into the air and cried out in a hellish tongue. Riley didn’t need to know the language – it was a call to war.

The Fallen took the field and his first target was Corsini. The hunter’s body flew through the smoke-stained air until it hit a tombstone and crumpled. Sartael stalked forward and stood over the wounded man, laughing at his feeble attempts to crawl away.

With a cry of rage, Captain Salvatore charged forward, mowing down a Three with his blade. Other hunters joined him, as did some of the trappers. Stewart’s sword sang through the air as they tried to carve a path to the fallen man.

Sartael raised his sword and plunged it into Corsini’s chest, pinning the dying man to the soil. The body erupted into flames and burned like a funeral pyre.

‘Oh God, oh God no!’ Riley cried, doubling over, her stomach churning.

‘War! War! War!’ the demons shrieked.

By impaling the hunter on holy ground Sartael had issued a challenge, one that Heaven could not ignore. The Hellspawn knew it too. The earth beneath her rocked as their cries rose.

An Archfiend jumped one of the trappers and the man was dead before he reached the ground. Beck swung wildly at a Three, trying to cut off one of its arms. The instant before he made the sweeping cut, the ground quaked and he fell.

Riley screamed in horror. The Three dove in for the kill, but was beheaded by Müller’s stroke. Next to him was Father Rosetti, his cassock swinging with each thrust of his blade.

Release me or they will all die.

Riley jumped in shock. It was Ori’s voice deep within her mind, though the statue was completely encased in marble. The sun was above the horizon now, bringing him to life in the midst of death.

‘Talk to me angel.’
Make me believe today isn’t the day we all die.

Pledge your soul to me and I will stop Sartael.

Was this the decision her father spoke of? If Ori was able to destroy the rogue Fallen, would that prevent the war?

If Riley didn’t do something, everyone she cared for would be slain and the world would face endless slaughter until Heaven put an end to Sartael’s unholy reign. How many would die before that happened?

Countless millions
. Ori’s voice was stronger in her mind now.

Riley closed her eyes, the stench of blood and the acrid smoke scorching each breath. Across the field, another man cried out as he died.

Sometimes she wished the big questions in life were multiple choice.

Riley gazed up at the statue of her first and only lover, at the angel who had said he’d never lied to her. The same angel that Martha had said was the most honest of the Fallen.

‘What keeps you from siding with Sartael and taking over Hell?’

Nothing.

Was this exactly what Sartael wanted?

‘Where the hell are you, Lucifer?’ she cried. No reply. No way she could use her one wish now. It was up to her.

Riley nearly choked on the irony. Her father had given up his soul to save her. Now she was giving up hers to save others. She glared up at the angel and set out her terms.

Here’s the deal: my soul will be yours, but only yours. You will not give it away to anyone, not even Lucifer himself.
Riley sucked in a hasty breath, her mind reeling with the enormity of what she was about to do.
You will not sell it or trade it. If you die, it returns to me.
Another breath, this one thick with the stench of smoke.

And what we did in the mausoleum? It will never happen again. That’s the deal – if you want my soul, you swear on it. You swear a vow on the Light you were created from. You swear on the Hellish master that you serve. You swear on everything you hold dear.

Silence.

Take it or leave it, angel. I’m not going down easy.
Her hands shook so violently she nearly dropped the knife.

Still no reply. Apparently Ori had just expected her to say ‘yes’.

‘Ah, screw this,’ Riley said, taking a step towards the circle’s boundary, fully intending to join the others. If the angel wasn’t going to help her, she’d do what she could with the knife until something killed her.

I agree to your terms, Riley Anora Blackthorne. I shall hold your soul until the day I am no more, and vow I shall not give it to another. Now free me.

She jolted to a stop. He’d actually agreed.
How do I . . . ?

Your blood will release me from my prison.

Riley stepped through the circle with surprising ease, then ran across the road towards the statue. The tip of Ori’s head glowed gold now as it reacted to the sunrise.

Hurry!

At first no one paid any attention to her. That ended when Sartael took note of where she was headed.

‘Bring her to me!’ he cried. Instantly a Three swerved towards her, but Riley evaded its claws and kept moving. Behind her, it cried out and fell to the ground, writhing.

For an instant she thought it had been one of the hunters helping her out, but when she glanced over her shoulder she freaked. It was an Archfiend, eager to claim her as its own prize. Riley sprinted now, tripping as she fled across the uneven bricks. If she died before reaching the statue, Ori would remain entombed and there would be no chance to stop Sartael.

A clawed wing grabbed at her, nicking her shoulder. She whirled, chest heaving as the demon closed in, clicking its teeth in anticipation. Like the others, a weird aura cloaked it from head to toe, allowing the monster to stand on hallowed ground. Up close it was truly hideous, its seething red eyes slitted like a goat’s. It stank of death and mortal blood.

If only her spell had worked, this thing would be a mound of ashes.

‘Does Lucifer know you’re cheating on him?’ she asked, hoping to distract it as she edged closer to Ori’s statue.

The demon roared in fury. ‘Name not that weakling!’ it cried, its voice like sharp nails on a blackboard. ‘Long have we sought our revenge. Sartael will give us the flesh we crave.’ When it reached out a clawed hand, she threatened it with the blade. It was like waving a penknife at a T-rex.