Hellforged (45 page)

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Authors: Nancy Holzner

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

BOOK: Hellforged
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Tina’s screams shattered the night.
“
Take
it, Norden! I know what I’m doing!”
I prayed that was true.
He grabbed the slate and ran toward the tree.
I closed my eyes and put everything I had into the ritual, drawing in the Morfran energy. I didn’t just circle, I willed the hunger to come to me. With all my strength, I pulled the Morfran in. So Difethwr was my shadow now? Good. The Hellion could help me call the Morfran. I felt a drag as the Morfran flowed into Hellforged’s orbit. Part of me was aware that Tina had stopped screaming, that Norden knelt beside her. But I kept the double focus I’d practiced with Mab: my calm, powerful center and the athame in my hand.
As the Morfran followed Hellforged’s circles, the crow bodies dissolved into energy. I made smaller circles, feeling the Morfran swirl with me. Smaller and smaller. The energy moved closer to the athame’s point. Smaller. A chill crept into my fingers. Then a jolt of ice.
As fast as I could, I passed Hellforged to my right hand. I pointed the athame at the slate and shouted,
“Parhau! Ireos! Mantrigo!”
The Morfran streaked into the slate and knocked it over. It jumped once, twice, then lay still on the ground.
Home sweet home.
Hellforged remained calm. I resheathed it and ran to where the slate lay. Wisps of smoke rose from its surface, but it was freezing cold to the touch. Colder than the night air or the ground it rested on. I stuck the slate in my pocket and hurried to check on Tina. She sat on the ground, clutching Norden and pressing her face into his shirt. Her shoulders heaved. If zombies could cry, she’d be sobbing. He patted her back, tentatively, as if afraid she’d break.
I squatted down beside them. “Tina? Are you okay?”
She pulled back from Norden. Smudges of mascara raccoon-ringed her eyes. “What
was
that?”
“That,” I said, helping her to her feet, “was why I wanted to cancel this concert.”
“Oh.” She brushed herself off and took a shaky step toward her trailer. “Then I’m glad you got rid of it before the show started. It would’ve, like, totally wrecked our dance moves for ‘Grave Robber.’ ”
I wanted to tell her to stop, to get the hell out of here, to run as far away as she could. Pryce wasn’t finished yet. The zombies hadn’t even started dancing, and the few crows I’d slammed into the Home Sweet Home plaque weren’t even a drop in the bucket compared to that sky-choking flock I’d witnessed at the slate mine.
But nothing short of a phase-three Morfran attack would keep Tina off that stage. I knew that. The best I could do was try to protect her and Deadtown’s other zombies—and stop Pryce for good.
Tina climbed the steps to her dressing room, and I followed her. As she went inside, I told her I’d be there in a minute. Then I went to talk to Norden.
“The guy you saw standing by the obelisk, his name’s Pryce Maddox. He’ll probably attack again tonight.” I described him while Norden took notes.
“And you know this guy how?”
“He calls himself my cousin, but—”
“Oh, Jesus. How come I’m not surprised?”
He gave me one of his trademark sneers, but I regarded him levelly. No matter how much I’d love to knock this norm on his ass right now, I needed his cooperation tonight. So he could take his own damn bait and shove it, because I wasn’t touching it. After a minute, he dropped his gaze and pretended to read something on his notepad.
“How’d he disappear like that?” Norden asked, his voice businesslike.
“Pryce is a demi-demon. He can pop in and out of the demon plane at will.”
“Can I shoot him? I mean, will it do anything?”
“Yes, but use bronze bullets, preferably the kind treated with holy water or sacramental wine. Regular bullets can slow him down, but mostly they’ll annoy him.” From the look on Norden’s face, it was clear he wasn’t packing bronze bullets of any kind. “I’ll handle Pryce,” I said. “Is there a way we can stay in contact tonight?”
He looked like my question gave him indigestion, but he said, “I’ll get you a two-way radio.”
“Good. If you see Pryce, tell me.” I patted the Sword of Saint Michael, and Norden nodded.
He started toward the cemetery gate, then stopped. The sneer was gone, replaced by a haunted look. “Those crows—or whatever the hell they were. That’s what killed Sykes?”
“Yeah.”
“What the hell is it?”
“It’s called the Morfran. It’s an ancient spirit of hunger that feeds on death.”
“Jesus.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, Vaughn, I’ll give you this: You
are
pretty good at fighting demons.” I half-nodded and went toward Tina’s trailer. Before I’d made it to the door, he added, “For a freak.”
37
KANE ARRIVED AS NORDEN WAS LEAVING. HE’D SEEN THE crows circling and realized what was happening. “Is that it?” he asked. “Did you recapture the Morfran Pryce released?”
“That was barely a preview.” In Wales, Kane had been deep in the mine when the Morfran filled the sky. He hadn’t seen how much Pryce had released. “Pryce is saving the main event for the concert.”
Quickly I brought him up to speed on everything from the time we’d been separated in Reykjavik to Pryce’s disappearance from the cemetery. I didn’t mention the Old Ones—we could sort that part out later. “Pryce was by that obelisk?” Kane asked.
I nodded.
“I’ll see if I can pick up his scent.”
“He exited into the demon plane.” But it was a good idea. Pryce’s human form, with its human senses, couldn’t enjoy being in the demon plane any more than I did. He could be hiding somewhere in the Ordinary, waiting for the concert to start. “If you find him, don’t approach him. Come and get me.” I gave him one of my knives, just in case.
Kane nodded and went toward the obelisk. I hurried up the wooden steps to check on Tina.
Tina’s dressing room was tiny, about the size of a walk-in closet. She sat in front of a light bulb-ringed mirror at a dressing table piled high with cosmetics. A framed photo of a smiling norm family stood half-hidden behind a tissue box.
Tina peered into the mirror and spread a layer of cold cream over her face. She wiped the cream off, removing the smudged mascara and other makeup. She inspected her reflection, turning right, then left. She was lucky; the Morfran hadn’t left a mark on her face. Her fluffy pink bathrobe showed several rips and slashes, but she was in amazingly good shape for a zombie who’d been attacked by the Morfran.
Tina fluffed her hair with her fingers, held it straight out on both sides of her head, and sighed. She gathered her hair in a loose bun and fastened it with an elastic band. “What a mess. I’ll fix my makeup first.” She moved around some bottles and jars on her table. “Can you get my foundation? It’s in my purse on the back of the door.”
I fished out a bottle—the shade was Ghoulish Green—and tossed it to her. She smeared some on her face and blended it with a sponge.
“Can you
believe
I’ve got to do my own hair and makeup?” She pouted into the mirror. “Paul says we have to keep costs down for this concert ’cause it’s free. But when we do the national tour, I’ll get my own stylist.”
“Tina—”
“No.”
She slammed Ghoulish Green down on the table, making the other bottles—and me—jump. “I don’t want to hear it, Vicky. You’re not going to talk me out of going onstage tonight.” She swiveled in her chair to face me. “Whatever attacked me killed those other zombies. I get that, okay? But I don’t want to know what it was. I don’t want to hear it could attack again. So if you’re going to lecture me with shit like that, get out.” She glared at me, her expression an odd mixture of pleading and defiance, like she expected me to walk away and was all set to show how little it mattered to her. Even though it did matter. A lot.
Her costume was flung over the back of a folding chair beside her dressing table. I picked up the dry cleaner’s bag, shook it out, and hung the costume with her purse on the back of the door. I sat on the chair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her cheeks puffed out as she exhaled. She reached for the makeup bottle. “Ghoulish Green is
such
a stupid name. Like anybody who buys makeup wants to be reminded she’s a zombie.”
I raised an eyebrow. “This from Tina Terror?”
She bounced in her chair. “Cool stage name, huh? It goes, like,
perfect
with Monster Paul. All three backup singers have them, but the other two, Ashley and Jennifer, couldn’t find another word that worked with their real names, so they’re Hannah Horror and Polly Panic. But Tina Terror is the best.”
“Um, sure.” Hated Ghoulish Green, loved Tina Terror. No one ever accused Tina of being consistent.
Someone knocked. I stood, sliding a bronze knife from its sheath. “I’ll get it.”
“Okay.” Tina blinked, inspecting the thick black lines around her eyes, then started shoveling on sparkly silver eye shadow.
“Who is it?” I asked through the door.
“What, you want a knock-knock joke? Open the goddamn door.”
Norden. I put the knife away and pushed the door open. He was holding out the walkie-talkie I expected. What I didn’t expect was to see Daniel standing beside him.
“Hi,” he said, smiling warmly. “Norden said you were here. Welcome back.”
Half a dozen thoughts clamored for my attention. Loudest were
You should’ve called him
and
You’ve gotta tell him you’re back with Kane
.
“Uh,” I said, stepping outside. I closed the door behind me, then took Norden’s walkie-talkie and clipped it to my sword belt, feeling Daniel’s blue-eyed gaze. The weight of it made me fiddle with the walkie-talkie some more. “I, um, didn’t know you liked monster rock.” Once, we’d gone to hear Irish music in a pub in Southie.
He laughed. The sound was warm and easy, and he smiled when I looked at him. “I’m moonlighting for Norden. Word is there might be a demon attack, and I’ve learned enough about demons from you that I thought I could help.” His smile broadened. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
“We’re not dealing with an ordinary demon.” I’d worry about sorting out my personal life later. If I survived tonight. I briefed them on the Morfran, on Pryce, on his shadow demon Cysgod. “Pryce believes letting the Morfran gorge on the zombies will strengthen the demons. He’s trying to erase the boundary between the demon plane and the human world.”
“Oh, is
that
all?” Norden snorted. “And to think I gave up a perfectly good night of sitting home alone, getting plastered, for this.”
“What do you want us to do?” Daniel asked.
“Keep an eye out for Pryce. If you see him, contact me immediately.” I patted the walkie-talkie on my belt. “If the Morfran attacks, make sure I have room to do the ritual.”
Behind me, the door opened, and Tina called, “Vicky! Come help me with my costume.”
“Be right there.”
Norden and Daniel left to patrol the concert—Norden into the cemetery and Daniel toward the gate—and I went back into the dressing room. Tina had squeezed into the sparkly-silver boy shorts and was holding the matching bra against her front. She sported half a dozen slashes and gouges on her arms and torso from the Morfran attack.
“My aunt gave me some salve,” I said, fastening the hooks. “It might help with those wounds.” I doubted the salve would work on a zombie, but it was worth a try.
Tina inspected herself in the mirror. “I don’t know. They make me look, you know, edgier. More
Night of the Living Dead
. I guess they’re okay. You know, for shows and all. Hannah Horror has this big, gross, pus-filled sore here.” She pointed to her right cheek. “I thought I was gonna have to do something like that with makeup. But these look better. Like I clawed my way out of the grave or something.” She grinned at her reflection.
Someone rapped twice on the door. I reached for a knife but relaxed when a woman with spiky magenta hair stuck her pierced face inside. “Tina, they need you now,” she barked and was gone before I’d had a chance to count all her eyebrow rings.
Tina clasped her hands. “This is it,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Wish me luck.”
“Break a leg.” I kissed her cheek and wondered if that saying was just for actors. Whatever, suggesting bodily injury probably wasn’t the best way to wish a zombie good luck.
Tina didn’t care. Her grin was half-excited, half-terrified. I followed her outside. Her silver sequins glinted and gleamed under the lights. She turned left and hurried past the trailers, pausing once to stop and wave. Good thing zombies don’t feel the cold, I thought, watching her go. In an outfit like hers, I’d be chilly on a beach in the middle of August.
A couple of minutes later, Kane returned. “Any sign of Pryce?” I asked.
“I picked up his scent around one of the old Suffolk University buildings, but it was faint, and I lost it again. I don’t think he’s there now.”
Probably Pryce was jumping in and out of the demon plane until it was time to sic the Morfran on the zombies. “Let’s check it out.”

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