Hellforged (34 page)

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Authors: Nancy Holzner

Tags: #Fantasy, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #General, #Demonology

BOOK: Hellforged
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Uffern was stiflingly hot, as though invisible fires burned all around, consuming all the oxygen. The landscape was even more gloomy and desolate than it looked to human eyes, like a dirty veil had been pulled across the scene. I stretched out my senses, searching for Pryce. Mab was right; he’d beaten us here. Cysgod’s sulfur-and-brimstone stench hung in the air. From deep inside the mine came the muffled sound of frantic cawing, the Morfran trapped in the slate. But I couldn’t find Pryce.
I pulled my senses back—or tried to. Nothing changed. The filth, the stink, the heat, and sounds of the demon plane persisted. It was like being trapped in a dream where you try to shut your eyes to some horror but can’t stop seeing it.
I held my breath to block the smell. I closed my eyes and covered my ears, willing myself to return to the Ordinary. It did no good; I remained in Uffern. Panic rising, I tried again, yanking at my senses, trying to reel them in. It wasn’t working. Somewhere, demonic laughter cackled. I pulled harder.
With an almost audible
pop
, the world snapped back into focus. My ears rang, and it took my eyes a minute to adjust.
I sat on the gravel beside the demolished gate. Kane’s hand gripped my shoulder, and Mab studied me like a doctor inspecting X-rays for a hidden hairline fracture.
“What happened, child?”
I stood, wiping sweat from my forehead. “I checked the demon plane for Pryce. I couldn’t locate him, and I … um, kind of got stuck.”
“What do you mean, ‘stuck’?”
“You know how opening and closing to the demon plane is kind of like raising and lowering a window shade? The shade wouldn’t lower. I had to tug really hard to get it down.”
Mab turned to Kane. “Could you please leave us for a moment? I must speak to my niece privately.”
From the way Kane’s face fell, it was clear he thought Mab disliked him. He glanced at me, and I nodded. “Of course,” he said, all graciousness, and went back to the Land Rover.
When he was out of earshot, Mab grasped my arm. “Be careful. Here, you must resist the demon plane. We’re standing in a place of legend, near the spot where Hellions were born.”
“You mean Ceridwen, Avagddu, the cauldron?” No wonder the demon plane felt creepier than usual here.
She nodded, her expression grave. “This is a place of power for the Destroyer.”
“The Destroyer’s
here
?” If Difethwr fought on Pryce’s side, there was no way we could win. Not without the Sword of Saint Michael. We were dead, all of us.
“No. You sent the Destroyer to Hell, and there it must stay until you call it forth. But your bond … It troubles me. I’m not sure what might happen if you open to the demon plane again.”
“How am I supposed to fight demons if I can’t enter the demon plane?”
“You won’t be fighting demons. We’re here to stop Pryce from releasing the Morfran, and he must do the ritual in his human form. Focus on Pryce.”
I nodded. Cysgod would shadow Pryce, as always, but if Pryce had to maintain his human form to do his dirty work, Cysgod would be restricted to Uffern, unable to materialize in the Ordinary.
“Now, about Mr. Kane.” Mab jutted her chin toward the Land Rover. “Can he hold his own in a fight?”
I knew why she was asking. Kane was tall and muscular, but with his tailored suits and expensive haircut, he didn’t look like a fighter. For the three days of the full moon, he became a ravenous wolf-monster. For the rest of the month, he was a cultivated sophisticate who loved art and wine and believed passionately in justice. If a full moon had been rising, I’d tell Mab,
Sure, no problem, Kane could take on half a dozen Pryces all by himself.
But we were several days past the full moon, which meant Kane’s beast was waning, too.
At the Land Rover, Kane was stowing his suitcase. He’d changed into jeans and a heavy gray sweatshirt. He looked good but strange; he almost never wore casual clothes. A pang hit me. I didn’t want him to get hurt.
Mab cleared her throat, waiting for me to answer her question.
“I don’t know, Mab. Once he helped me pull a vampire and a zombie off a human, but I’ve never seen him fight.”
“He’s a lone wolf?”
I nodded.
“All right,” she said decisively. “I think he’ll do.”
“No, wait.” Suddenly I wished with all my heart that Kane was at Maenllyd, safely holed up in the blue bedroom. “Why do we need him? You and I have trained for this. We know what we’re up against. Kane doesn’t. He just got off a plane, for God’s sake.”
“We’ll ask him, shall we?” She spun on her heel and marched toward the Land Rover.
Great. Kane would never agree to sit around and twiddle his thumbs while my aunt and I went into the mine to face Pryce.
I caught up with Mab, who was already speaking with Kane. I barged between them. “Kane,” I said, “wait out here with Jenkins, okay? You’re tired, you’ve had a long trip. It’s not fair to push you into the middle of our fight.”
Kane scowled, like I knew he would. “I’m fine. I slept on the plane. And nobody’s pushing me. When have you ever seen me back down from a fight?”
“Pryce will be armed, and you’re not a swordsman. What are you going to do in there?” I gestured toward the mine. “File a motion?”
His gray eyes darkened. Good. I knew how to rile him. If I got him angry enough, maybe he’d storm off—preferably far, far away from the mine.
Mab stepped forward. “Victory, there’s no time for an argument. Mr. Kane wishes to join us, and I agree he could prove useful. End of conversation.”
I glared at both of them. I never expected to keep Kane out of the mine, not really, but I had to try. And now I’d lost the equilibrium I’d worked to achieve. I was so far off my center it was amazing I could stand up straight.
“All right.” I threw up my hands. “Let’s do this.”
Mab handed out supplies. She gave us each a miner’s headlamp and a flashlight for backup. She also gave Kane two bronze-bladed knives. I clipped the flashlight to my belt and put on my headlamp, adjusting the straps so they were secure but not too tight. I flicked the switch a couple of times, testing it. A spot of light appeared and disappeared on the stones that tumbled down the hillside.
“Now,” said Mab, “here’s how we’ll proceed. Jenkins, you’ll remain here with the car. You know what Pryce looks like?”
Jenkins nodded. “I’ve run across him once or twice at the Cross and Crow.”
“Good. If Pryce emerges from the mine, whether in human or demon form, do not challenge him. Let him go. If one of us fails to follow him within ten minutes, drive to the village and summon assistance.”
“Ten minutes. Got it.”
She turned to Kane and me. “Our objective is to prevent Pryce from releasing the Morfran imprisoned in the slate here. The main Morfran deposit is in a cavern two levels down, and that’s what Pryce is after. Getting there will be treacherous. The passageways slope quite steeply; they’re narrow and filled with loose rock and debris. Watch out for sudden drop-offs. Watch out for water, as well. There’s an underground river, and I don’t know how it may have changed course since I was last here. Parts of the mine may be flooded.”
Kane nodded, looking like the star quarterback on a college football team taking instructions from his coach.
“As I said to Jenkins,” Mab continued, “Pryce may appear as a human”—she briefly described him to Kane—“or, if threatened, he may take his demon form. To release the Morfran, however, he must be in human form. I believe that’s how we’ll encounter him here.”
Kane nodded again.
Got it, Coach.
“Should Pryce manage to free any Morfran, I will perform the ritual that returns it to the slate. In that case, your job is to distract Pryce so I can work. He’ll be carrying an oaken staff; get it away from him if you can. Without the oak, he cannot free the Morfran. But at any rate, you must keep him busy. Wound either arm; it will weaken his ability to do the releasing spell. Drive him from the cavern. If you can, kill him.”
Kane’s face paled. Could he kill Pryce—or anyone? As a wolf, he ran down the deer that stocked his werewolf retreat. But take a person’s life? I didn’t know.
Mab appraised him. “Mr. Kane, you say you wish to go into that mine with us. Good. But if you do, you must be prepared to kill Pryce. He looks human, but he’s of demonic stock. He’s killed many times, gladly and without pity. Even knowing that, you may be reluctant to end his life. Perhaps you’ll understand his nature better if I supply the details Victory left out of her account of her dealings with her ‘cousin.’ ”
“No, don’t—”
She talked over me. “In the short time Vicky has been in Wales, Pryce has beaten her severely and twice attempted to kill her. He’ll certainly try again, most likely today. If she survives, he intends to force her to bear his children.”
Her words had their desired effect. Kane bristled, his eyes glowing with a dangerous light. No longer the handsome college quarterback, he growled, a low, deadly, terrifying sound.
“Mab, stop.” If she made him any angrier, he’d get reckless—a sure way to get hurt. “I don’t need protecting. I can take care of myself.”
And I could.
Third, Victory falls.
Except maybe not this time.
 
STEPPING INTO THE MINE WAS LIKE DIVING INTO AN INKWELL. The darkness, immediate and absolute, swallowed up whatever daylight lingered outside. We turned on our headlamps; spots of light jittered across the stone walls like nervous ghosts.
The tunnel had a damp, mineral, musty smell. Here, it was wide enough for two people to walk beside each other, but the curved ceiling was low. I couldn’t stand up straight, and Kane, walking ahead of me, had to bend at the waist. Huge, half-rotted wooden beams braced the walls and ceiling, some buckling under the weight of the hill. I hoped they’d hold long enough for us to get out.
Iron rails were set into the tunnel’s floor, tracks for wagons that had long ago carried loads of slate. The rusty tracks jutted up from the floor here and there. Old junk never hauled from the mine—broken machinery, rusted tools—littered the path. But the real hazard was loose rock. We were constantly stumbling over the chunks of slate that littered the floor, and in places we had to scramble over heaps of fallen rock.
We wriggled over a large pile—there was a gap of about two feet between the shifting stones and the tunnel’s ceiling—and emerged into a vast cavern. Here, the ceiling stretched up maybe twenty feet; it was hard to judge in the narrow light from my headlamp. The damp smell was stronger. Water trickled somewhere, and puddles shone on the floor.
“The cavern we want is on a lower level.” Mab started across the cavern. “Be careful on the wet slate. It’s slippery.”
I motioned to Kane to follow her. I wasn’t going to let Pryce sneak up behind us and attack him. He paused, like he was having the same thought about me, then turned and followed Mab. She was already way ahead of us.
Half a dozen steps later, Kane stopped so suddenly that I bumped into him. “What the hell—?” He brushed at the back of his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is something on me? It feels like something’s pulling my hair.” He wiggled his shoulders and brushed at his head again.
It must be a demon, something unmaterialized. Kane could sense its presence but not its body.
I drew my dagger and started to open to the demon plane. Then I remembered Mab’s warning and how I’d gotten stuck before. What now? I couldn’t kill the thing, whatever it was, if I couldn’t see it.
But an unmaterialized demon can’t attack, either. Just cause a creepy feeling, like ice-coated cobwebs grazing your skin.
“Keep going,” I said. “As long as it doesn’t materialize—”
The demon chose that moment to take form. It was an imp, a foot tall with slimy green skin. Both clawed hands clutched Kane’s hair. The imp reared back and opened its mouth wide, showing its jagged teeth, preparing to bite a chunk out of Kane’s neck.
“Hold still!” I shouted and stabbed the imp through its throat. The demon collapsed, and I plucked its body from Kane’s shoulders.
“An imp,” I said, showing him the materialized corpse. “Pryce must have conjured them.” I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Mab!” I shouted. “Imps!”
Before the echo faded, a chorus of insane giggles ricocheted around the cavern. We looked up. The ceiling was lit with a strange glow, the light from dozens of pairs of yellow imp eyes. Like bats, they crouched upside down, clinging to the bare rock.
A hailstorm of imps dropped on us.
Three landed on me—on my head, shoulders, and back—and two more bit at my ankles. Imps are easy to kill, just a nick from a bronze blade does the job, but there were dozens of them pinching, pulling, biting, and scratching. I’d kill one, and two more moved in to attack.
The imp on my head stabbed at my face with its claws, trying to gouge my eyes. I slashed its arm, yanked it off me, and flung it away. Kane was getting swarmed worse than I was. Five imps grasped his legs, another scrambled up his back. Two sat on his head, clawing his face, and he had one on each shoulder and another weighing down the arm holding his blade. I nailed that one with a throwing knife, freeing his hand. He pulled an imp off his head and slammed it to the ground. He held it in place with his foot and drove his blade into the center of its chest.

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