Read The Demon Beside Me Online
Authors: Christopher Nelson
Magic flared and I felt my aching muscles ease. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you the strength to go on.”
“But what about you?”
She grinned, even as she sagged back against Death. “You have to give it back when you’re done. That’s your motivation.”
“Wonderful.” I turned back to Victor and lifted the sword. The blade felt weightless and my steps were light. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but it would last long enough. “Come on, Victor. Time to finish this.”
“Couldn’t do it on your own, could you?”
I rolled my eyes. “And how many swords have you borrowed now?”
He snarled and came for me. I could almost see the exact track his weapon would take and I placed my sword directly in its path as he swung. Shards sprayed once again. Before he could even ask, another sword flipped through the air. I intercepted it with a flick of my wrist.
The fight blurred. I couldn’t even tell what was happening, just that swords were bursting all around me. The ground crunched and scratched under our feet. Shards of angelic steel sprayed both the spectators and us. Gray smoke rose to the height of our knees as angelic steel burned. Purity oozed from scratches on his face and I knew that something was dripping from the wounds on my own face, but I wasn’t sure whether it was blood or ichor.
Victor’s expression shifted from anger to rage to fear and back over and over. I didn’t know if that was real or if it was just what I was feeling myself. At some point, I realized that I was screaming every time I shattered one of his weapons. At some point, I had transformed into my fully demonic form. At some point, he ran out of weapons and the tip of my blade was at his throat. My throat was raw and my chest was heaving, but my enemy was at my mercy, and I had no mercy to give.
“Enough!” The roar of command was strong enough that I took a step back. The Seraph who had originally spoken to me stood up. “Archangel Victor, can you not defeat this demon? Is our trust in you so sadly misplaced?”
“I cannot defeat him with these weapons,” Victor confessed. “I humbly request a boon.”
The Seraph held his hand out. From the air he drew his own sword, shining white and silver, bright enough to make me want to shade my eyes. With a flip of his wrist, he extended the sword toward Victor. “Take this holy blade, Archangel, and bring justice if you are able.”
Victor turned back to me. He flicked the sword in a blazing salute, then guarded. “Come on, demon. Let’s see you break this one.”
I stepped forward, extending the tip of my blade. “Why don’t we test that theory?” Victor nodded and extended the tip of his blade as well. The tips touched and for one brief moment, nothing happened.
Then his blade exploded.
“It appears that you are overmatched,” I said as he dropped to his knees with a crunch. “Do you yield?”
“He may not yield,” the Seraph said. “His life is forfeit. Take it, demon.”
I shook my head. “While I would like nothing better than to kill him for what he’s done, I’m not going to kill him at your word. Not only that, but he isn’t mine to kill.”
“Do you dare defy me?”
“Of course I do,” I snapped. “That’s the entire point of me being here, dumbass.”
The Seraph’s head jerked back as if I had slapped him. I ignored his bluster and walked over to the pole that held Caleb up. His hands were cuffed and stretched up over his head, the cuffs attached to the very top of the pole. His left arm was lumpy and swollen. Every bone broken, as I recalled. “So, I owe you one,” I said.
“For what?”
“For whatever.” I took careful aim and jabbed the tip of the sword into his bindings. He sagged down to his knees and coughed. “So, in exchange, I give you Victor.”
He grunted and stretched his right arm out, his sword snapping into his hand. “I take it that I’m the last angel here with a sword.”
“No,” I said. “Most of your high-and-mighty types have them, but I think they’re afraid I’ll break their toys too. It’s sort of sad that one halfblood has a quorum of your ruling caste running scared right now.”
Caleb gave me a grim smile. “I think it’s more that sword than anything else.”
“Don’t ruin my delusions.”
He chuckled and walked toward Victor, steel crunching under his feet. Victor looked up at him as Caleb aimed the point of his sword at his throat. “Going to kill me now, Caleb? Just as you would kill our people?”
“No,” Caleb said. “Just you.”
“Stop this, Caleb DeMarco!” The Seraph stepped forward. “If you kill him, we shall cast you out!”
“What makes you think you have the authority to order me to stop?” Caleb turned his head, ever so slightly, and the Seraph stopped in his tracks. “Do you not remember who I am, Seraph? I am the ranking survivor of the 37th Independent Choir. Our autonomy has never been revoked.”
I took a half-step back. No wonder Bartholomew had been terrified of what Caleb could do. “You may be independent, but you are still a member of the Angelic Choir!”
“But I am not under your orders,” Caleb said. “I serve the Choir as I see fit. In their wisdom, the Seraphim of that era rewarded us with that unique responsibility, to stand against the Choir itself if we deemed it necessary. You were there, Seraph. I remember your face as you watched them declare it before a quorum of all angels. It passed with a near unanimous vote. Do you not remember?”
“Your judgment is suspect! You collaborate with demons! You even call him your friend!” The Seraph pointed down at me.
“Who are you to question my judgment?” Caleb’s tone grew sharp. “You, who set your dog on my trail? You, who plunged our race into an unnecessary war out of fear and greed and hatred? Am I to believe that you are the fool who has brought us to the brink of destruction?” He kicked Victor in the face, sending him sprawling. “Or should I believe that you listened to the vile screed of this archangel, who spat venom and called it justice?”
“Believe what you will, Power.”
Victor scrambled to return to his feet, but Caleb planted a foot on his chest before he could get anywhere. “I believe that you are the cause of our problems, Victor,” he said. “I believe that your whispers and hatred, simply to exact your revenge upon me, have brought us to this point. Even through all of that, I could forgive you. But you cut a man’s throat, in cold blood, just to hurt me. You left his children without a father, you left his wife without a husband, and you left me without one of my dearest friends. For that, Victor, for that and for nothing else, you have earned this.”
I wanted to close my eyes. Instead, I watched as Caleb pushed the tip of his sword into Victor’s throat. The Archangel gagged, his eyes wide with fear, his lips moving soundlessly. His hands reached up to grab at Caleb’s foot. Caleb simply pushed down harder. Purity leaked from Victor’s throat as the blade slid inexorably down through his flesh. When one of his major blood vessels finally gave way, it was almost a relief. Caleb withdrew the sword and watched, expressionless, as Victor’s hands clawed at his own throat in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.
Before long, Victor lay still, purity pooling around him. Caleb’s sword vanished. “And that, Seraphim, is the end of one of our problems.”
“And the other?”
“This foolish war.”
“We are winning!” The Seraph pointed at me. “His race cannot stand against us! Already one of their Houses has fallen entirely. A second will fall today.”
“And you will lose everything,” Caleb said. “Don’t you understand? He holds the sword of Death. At his command, every angel could die.”
I took that as my cue and raised the dark sword in the air. “Again, I demand the surrender of the Angelic Choir, and the immediate cessation of hostilities.”
“One halfbreed demon cannot stop us,” snapped one of the Cherubim, silent up until now. “Not even with that sword he holds.”
“A foolish request!”
“And you stand with that fool, Caleb?”
The calls and scorn echoed across the chamber. As the final echoes died out, I turned and walked back to where Death and Tink stood waiting. “Do whatever it takes to end this,” Tink said quietly. “They won’t listen to any sort of reason.”
“Why should they?” I said. “They are winning, it’s true. The only thing I can do is force them to lose.”
“I stand ready for your command, Gatekeeper,” Death announced in a voice that drowned out all other sounds in the room.
I let all attention focus on us, then drove his sword into the floor at his feet. “Then hear my command, Horseman of Death. My command is as follows. Until the Angelic Choir meets my demands, you are to decimate their adult population. Every minute, slay one in ten of each rank, from their exalted Seraphs to their lowliest Angels.”
“Wait!” Caleb took a step toward me, eyes gone wide. “Zay, what are you doing?”
“I’m doing what needs to be done, Caleb. If winning is all that matters to your people, then I have to force them to lose.”
He shook his head and took another step toward me. “This isn’t right.”
“Neither is what they’ve done to my people.” I looked him in the eye. “They murder our non-combatants. They torture and torment, they slaughter without mercy or moral compunction. You know what they do, Caleb. You’ve seen it done to me.”
“Even so-“
“Even so, they must be stopped.”
I saw him waver. He dropped his gaze. I knew how horrified he was, because I was just as horrified. The only one who seemed to be taking it in stride was Tink. The angels watching us were silent, expressions of fear and disgust and disbelief on all of their faces. “Zay, at least spare the women,” Caleb said at last.
I opened my mouth, about to accede to that request, but stopped before the words would come out. Death’s warning echoed in my head. I had already shown too much mercy today. I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Caleb.”
His head snapped up, but before he could say anything further, I turned away from him. “As I commanded, Horseman. Begin.” I dropped my voice and whispered, “But spare my friend.”
Death nodded and his eyes glittered. Silver streaks burned down his bony cheeks and his sword burned with a dark flame that seared my eyes. A pale horse drove through the wall of the chamber. Its mane burned with a cold light and its tail seemed to whip through the air as a scythe. Death leaped up astride the horse, which reared, then raised his sword high.
He vanished. Angels dropped. There was no ceremony, no vision of Death, no chance to beg for mercy. At least a dozen of the spectators simply fell to the ground, eyes still open, no wounds, no trauma, simply dead.
Caleb fell to his knees. Two of the Seraphim collapsed behind him. “What have you done, Zay?” he asked, his voice thick. “This is monstrous.”
“I’m sorry, Caleb.” I took a step toward him, but my knees refused to hold me up any longer. I sat down hard. “Shit. I wish I didn’t have to do this.”
“You didn’t have to!”
“Then tell me how else I could stop it!” I pointed at the Seraph, who was kneeling next to one of his fallen compatriots. “How in the world do you think I could convince them to stop winning a war they’ve been dying to win for the past five hundred years? They’re winning! They’re slaughtering my people, they’re slaughtering innocents just because they’re demons! What was I supposed to do?”
Caleb bowed his head. “You could have showed mercy.”
“I can’t!”
“You could have!”
“Thirty seconds remain until the next culling,” Death whispered in my ear.
“I ask for the third time,” I said, raising my voice. “I ask for the surrender of the Angelic Choir and the end to this damned war! We didn’t want it, but by Lucifer’s hairy testicles, I will damn sure make sure it ends!”
The Seraph rose and his wings spread wide from his shoulders. “You murderer!”
“Fuck you!” I shouted back. “Fuck you and your entire murderous contemptible race! Haven’t you heard a thing I’ve said? You’re murdering my people just because of what they are! Now it’s not right when it’s coming back on you? Fuck you! Get over yourself! If you want to end this, then stop this war!”
“You can’t force these demands on us!”
“Guess again, Seraph. They’re forced. Even if you kill me right now, your people are going to die until you surrender.”
“Take the terms,” Caleb urged.
“Ten seconds,” Death whispered.
“Take them now, you prideful son of a bitch!” I shouted.
“I will not bow to the demands of a halfbreed hellspawn! Burn forever!” The Seraph shouted, then wavered, then dropped. He wasn’t the only one.
“This is ridiculous!” I stomped across the chamber, past Caleb, up to where the remaining Seraphim and Cherubim sat. I grabbed one by the collar and pulled him face to face with me. “Will you speak for your people?”
The Seraph gibbered and I pushed him aside. Another one met my eyes for an instant. I grabbed him and forced him to his feet. “What about you? Will you save your people, or are you a coward as well?”
“I can’t!”
I tossed him back into his chair and stalked onwards. Not one of them tried to attack me, even though they all had their swords available. The leadership of the Choir was more than happy to send their people to die, more than happy to order the mass murder of their enemies, but once the fight came to them, they broke. I had to find one who would stand up.
Bartholomew’s eyes met mine. I curled my lip. “You’re a coward, Barty,” I snapped. “But maybe you’re the least cowardly of the bunch. You want to be the one who saves the remnants of your people from death?”
“Thirty seconds,” Death whispered.
The Cherub looked from side to side. “I’m not a Seraph.”
“Do you think they’re in any shape to argue the point? Consider it a field promotion and a coup.”
He eyed me with raw hatred. “What are your terms, demon?”
“You stop the war. You stand down all of your forces. You release all prisoners. You make necessary reparations. You give back whatever’s been taken.”
“And? What’s in it for us?”
“Other than not having your entire adult population dead?” I reached for the chain around my neck and pulled it up to reveal the key I had worn for months. “I offer you this. Heaven will be returned to your control, once everything else has been done to my satisfaction.”