Summon Toren (Archangels Creed #3) (25 page)

Toren followed the example and inhaled deeply through his nose, drawing in the beast's scent. A heavy layer of musk infused with the smell of carrion nearly hid the sulfurous odor that warned of demonic influence.

Damn. Whatever stood on the other side of that door was definitely a threat. Probably a big one.

Time to move before it multiplied.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Judging from the smell, the thing on the other side of the shed door was probably one of what the others had nicknamed monkey men, like the one he and Samantha had encountered torturing the steer. The memory of that thing shaped the next few seconds. Facing a few of them in combat didn't concern him overly much. The after action reports he'd seen from the others detailing hundreds, even thousands, of the creatures definitely gave him pause.

A stir in his spirit alerted him to Peggy’s presence. Relief swept through him. He’d never actually needed her assistance in battle, but she'd save him time, effort and skin on numerous occasions. At the moment, he deeply welcomed her presence to help him keep Samantha safe. He couldn’t be too careful with her.

Toren's armor sprang to the surface as his body geared up for battle. His leather duster, reaching to mid-calf, morphed into a coat of mercury chain mail, the cloth flowing like mirrored liquid. In his right hand, a heavy spear materialized sporting a point so long and fine it was better classified a blade. The gun occupying his left hand resembled a giant revolver, the cylinder as big around as a basketball. Modeled after the M32 multiple grenade launcher, the weapon took massive fist-sized bullets loaded with compressed spiritual power that would blast just about anything back to hell.

The thing sniffing at the door was still there, occasionally poking at the door with a cautious finger or grunting. So far it must be alone and unsure what occupied the shed. Otherwise, it would have taken the door down and attacked already.

He moved to kick the door open before it summoned more of its kind, but a glance at Samantha gave him pause. With the clothing and her slim figure and short hair, she would have easily passed for a young male gunfighter from the Old West. Jeans, hat and boots with roweled spurs looked perfectly at home with the matched six-shooters on her hips. He couldn’t help be impressed with how quickly she’d managed to use her instincts and power. He wasn’t at all sure what she was capable of but the choices she'd made said she wasn’t sure either and limited her options because of it. Staying within her comfort zone for her first battle showed good instincts for tactical strategy.

Noticing his gaze on her, she shrugged as if to say
It’s all I could do
.

He leaned close and projected his feelings at her. Would she be able to read them? “
I’m happy if you're happy. Just as long you don't forget you're a woman. My woman."

She narrowed her gaze at him and mouthed, “I know I’m your woman!” Then smiled proudly about it.

He nibbled at the delicate lobe, thrilled with the little shiver that ran through her. "Ready?"

Samantha nodded and drew her pistols and took a deep breath.

Toren hefted the M32 into firing position, lifted the spear, and reared back on one foot to kick the door outward.

The door splintered and flew out and the beast on the other side gave a shrill cry of shock. The surprise only lasted a whisper of a second, though, and it came back snarling.

Toren slipped the blade of his spear between the creature's ribs to puncture its heart. The creature exploded in a flash of light and smoke just as its twin skidded into reach.

The newcomer flew at Toren with claws and teeth bared.

No time to raise the spear or the M32, he braced for impact.

Instead of hitting his chest, the thing dropped to the ground at his feet, still twitching while the sound of revolver fire faded. Toren turned in time to see smoke wafting from the barrel of one of Samantha's guns. Judging by the size hole in its chest and the way the skin sizzled at the wound’s edges, she was packing some serious spiritual firepower in her little antique looking weapons. Nice.

With a nod of gratitude, Toren sprinted for the house.

** ** **

Sam stayed close on Toren's heels but before they made five of the hundred yards to the house, dozens of the monkey things appeared. Some dove from behind cover and others seemed to materialize from thin air. All of them were terrifying, huge mouths full of vicious-looking teeth ready to rip and tear flesh. Well, she had every intention of keeping all of her skin, and Toren's, in one piece.

He came to a sudden halt and she nearly ran over him. A quick glance around him showed a tight knot of the creatures blocking the path forward
en masse
.

She took a slow turn, searching for a way out. Even as she looked, the things seemed to multiply just at the outer limit of her peripheral vision.

"We're surrounded." She kept her voice to a whisper, counting on Toren to hear and hoping the creatures didn't understand English.

"Motherfuck!” The rage in his voice startled her. Without looking at her, he muttered harshly, “Listen to me. I want you to use your new sight. If one should get to you, locate the
spinal cord and
think
of a weapon to sever it. Do you understand me.” It was a gritted command more than a question.

“Well-what about my guns?”

“No! The spinal cord is too small a target and it'll be moving. Please, just
do
as I say.”

His terror seeped into her blood and made her panic. “Can’t you-you do that pin cushion trick?” Her voice sounded shrill as black fur and huge teeth closed in like a noose.

“The auction is too close to here and that's a bigger power surge than flashing,” he whispered, seeming breathless before he even started. “Stay close and do
not
move away from me, no matter what. And I love you."

"You lead and I'll follow,” she hissed back, “and quit talking like you’re saying goodbye, you’re freaking me
hell
out!”

"Yes ma'am." Crouching for action, he muttered, "Let’s go." The huge pistol, so big she would have had to work to lift it, disappeared and was replaced by a shimmering metal Grim Reaper sickle, the handle roughly eight foot, and the wicked hooked blade nearly as long as Sam was tall.

Toren spun into motion just before her, whirling and slashing with the sickle. Blood and tissue literally
rained
around him. The deaths were swift and complete, only the whistling whir of the blade accompanied the gurgled slurping and ferocious snarls of the prey fighting to get to the slayer.

Sam used the full range of her spiritual vision, but Toren glowed so bright, she had to shield his body with a hand to be able to see clearly.

She screamed when one of the creatures ran in an arc around him toward their rear. Toren’s wing shot out a dagger, dropping the beast in its tracks. Others followed the first beast and Toren's wings became weapons of mass destruction. A lethal hail of silver daggers sprang outward, each finding multiple targets before returning to its original place. Seemingly recharged, the blades flew again, repeating the entire process countless times.

The creatures groveled, tripped, and fell over one another as they strove to reach Toren. The tide never ebbed, and as they climbed the mountain of their dead brethren, their speed actually increased. Almost as if someone had cranked the switch up to NOW KILL NOW, leaving them powerless to do anything other than continue trying to reach Toren and Sam.

Sam watched, terror making her heart pound heavily. At any second, a monster would break through the protective wall of death Toren created around her. She was right.

Larger than the others, the monkey man launched clear over the dead and dying masses and landed inside the kill zone. Toren roared, a metallic sound that blasted the creature against the heavy log wall of the house with tremendous force. The wall shuddered, but held, and the beast crumpled to the ground.

But another followed the first and then another. And another. Then a dozen. Then an avalanche.

Shit, Toren couldn’t hold that many off. Shit, they were coming!

Sam began searching for spinal cords, trying to single them out amid the swarming sea of body parts, all fully visible. The first one she could distinguish, she imagined crushed and its owner fell to the ground. “Oh fuck,” she gasped in awe.

Swallowing fast, she searched for another and did it again, watching the same thing happen. Practice made perfect and before long, she could drop two every second. Feeling like her eyes were a vehicle to drive and coordinate with her mind, she squealed and danced and squeezed her fists in her monumental effort to make the motionless task go faster.

Another creature broke free, clear of both Toren's efforts and hers. Reacting instinctively, Sam pulled her revolver and shot, hitting the spinal cord on the first try. That was easy! All those countless hours practicing with a six-shooter weren't wasted after all. She began using the firearm exclusively as her weapon, and soon it was as easy as swatting flies. A hell of a lot easier than using her imagination to do it.

When there was an obvious lessening in the numbers coming at them, she began a slow advance toward the creatures. She fired her pistol like a gunfighter, fanning the hammer back with her left hand and letting it drop to fire. Her new angelic speed coupled with the lack of need to pull the trigger for each shot made her gun sound like an automatic weapon.

Soon, no more targets came before her and she turned to search the vicinity. She found Toren watching her with his brows raised, looking down at her gun. "Holy shit."

“What?” She asked, confused inspecting her gun.

He shook his head a second then turned it a little, seeming to listen. The ground began to tremble, as if a massive herd had stampeded. A glance around showed no livestock but the shaking intensified. An earthquake?

The shaking stopped.

A few seconds later, a small group of men rounded the corner of the house and Samantha paused to look closer.

Massive relief rolled over her. Her crew.

Oh shit. They were dead. At least that was what the news said. "Toren?"

"Fuck." He sounded exasperated.

"What…?" She didn't know what to ask. The men's jerky movements confounded reason.

"Reanimated."

"Oh my God." She remembered his explanation of what that meant after their encounter with the one torturing the steer. Her heart wrenched to think her men had made a deal with the devil as they died, with no idea of the sort of eternity they were gaining, imprisoned in nothingness.

Mr. Paul and Jonas weren’t there. A surge of victory ran through her blood. The enemy hadn’t gotten to all of them. Thank God. "How did the demons find them?"

"Someone sold them out. Maybe Joe." Saying nothing more, he turned and strode toward the reanimated men. His wings spread full behind him, sickle at the ready.

Reluctant, Sam moved in behind him, ranging side to side so she could keep a cautious eye on the dead-looking monkey men. She kept her gun in hand ready to blast to hell whatever moved.

Her hackles rose as she noted the beasts' dead open eyes. A sort of colorlessness that reflected milky white with rectangular pupils. As if there were no soul behind them.

Ahead of her, Toren came to a standstill. She followed suit, but made sure to keep her eyes on everything around them, waiting for the slightest movement. A glimpse around Toren made her wish she hadn't looked. The agony on the mens' faces made her look away fast. They appeared aware of what was happening to them but absolutely powerless to do anything about it.

Then Joe strolled easily past the others, smiling, leaving no doubt who had sold the others out. "Sorry
dude
. I guess things didn't work out quite as you expected, huh. Tell ya what. You hand the bitch over and get the hell out of here, and my friend will call off his dogs."

Another man strolled up to stand slightly ahead of Joe. "Well, Josephus, I owe you an apology. When you said he was a badass, I had no idea you'd run into one of these self-righteous,
shiny cloud-boys." He turned brilliant orange eyes on Sam. "And this is the
female
you found so irresistible? You disappoint me, Joe."

Toren grinned. "You have the advantage demon, since I don't have a clue who you are."

The demon scowled. "Fool. You are too new an angel to even have a human to guard over. So new you still resort to weapons and violence. Otherwise you would recognize the demon lord Reftelen."  

Toren chuckled. “It’s you who must be new, fucker. I’m Toren. The Mercury Warrior of the Fifth Universe.” He shrugged a shoulder. “So sorry.”

The way the demon’s aloof expression went poof was nearly comical. And the clear and solid fear that twisted its face told Sam that Toren must be one
bad ass angel.

Not that she needed to be told that.

“There a problem?” Joe asked, looking at the demon on his right.

The demon’s mouth moved but no sound came out.

Toren shook his head and laughed a little. “I didn’t give you permission to speak. Dark Scum.”

“What the—”

Toren pointed at Joe. “You either, you piece of shit.”

“Control your rag dolls before I do,” Toren said. “What?” Toren asked, turning his head. Sam looked around at who he was talking to. “Ugh, whatever. Just don’t play with your food, okay?”