Demon Mistress (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #6)

Demon Mistress (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #6) Page 34

He waved a hand, and all the other members of Dante’s Hellions fell to the floor, facedown. What the . . . ? They acted like he was some sort of god.

Oh shit. Was he? Was he a demon they’d managed to summon before we could stop them? But though demonic energy clung to his aura like a rodeo rider on a bucking bronco, it wasn’t emanating from him.

As he approached, we formed a battle line. Camille glanced at me and tried to say something, but no words emerged; no sounds filtered through the passageway at all.

And then the figure let his robe fall open, and I saw that it was a carbon copy of Harold, only older. Harold’s father? No, too young. Maybe an uncle? He was geeky looking, but the brilliant fire that flashed in his eyes told me he was far from stupid, far from safe. The slow hand of death enveloped his aura like the cloak he wore around his shoulders. Necromancer —he was their death mage. And he was adept but careless. The energy rode him, rather than the other way around.

And then Camille pointed, and I followed her gesture. Around his neck hung a pendant. A gem of swirling blues sat centered in the silver filigree: a diamond-faceted, round cabochon of aquamarine. The energy that spilled from the gem made me want to sink to my knees. And then I knew what Camille knew, what Delilah was realizing. He was wearing a spirit seal. Our enemy possessed the fifth spirit seal, and he was aiming directly for us.

CHAPTER 25

I backed up, wondering if he knew what the spirit seal was. Was he in league with Shadow Wing? He closed in on us, his gaze dancing from Camille to Morio. He must sense the death magic that they’d been working with. Oh shit, if he thought they were a threat—and they were—he might target them first. I raced over toward Camille, intending to jump between her and the necromancer, when he waved his hand, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t run anymore.

I dropped to the floor, hitting hard on my knees. If I’d been alive, I probably would have shattered a kneecap. As it was, if there was any breakage, it would heal up by tomorrow. As I struggled to pull myself to my feet, I realized that some magical force was holding me down. I pushed against the energy, but it wouldn’t let me up.

A glance at the others told me that Camille and Delilah were also caught by the spell. Rozurial was pushing against it, slowly trying to make his way forward. Vanzir had disappeared. Had the spell killed him? Morio had turned back into his human form and—like Roz—was struggling to move at about half speed.

And the man who was holding us down headed directly for Camille. Shit. Double shit. A look of fear raced through her eyes. Morio managed to slog forward a couple steps, but then, at a wave from the necromancer’s hand, he landed on his knees, too. Roz was still moving, though. One excruciatingly slow step at a time.

The man walked through the haze of magic without missing a beat. He put one hand on Camille’s wrist, then lifted his other hand and brought it down across her face. Hard. She gasped—or would have if she could have made a sound—and her head fell forward. He tossed her over his shoulder, turned, and headed toward the stairwell.

As I watched him go, a haze of anger and thirst welled up, and I felt my fangs descend. He was a dead man, but not before I made sure he felt every single step toward oblivion.

Roz continued to crawl forward, pulling himself toward the stairs an inch at a time. Delilah and Morio were struggling but still frozen. All the members of Dante’s Hellions were also paralyzed.

A moment later, the energy began to lift. At least for Roz, Delilah, Morio, and me. The rest of the Dante’s Hellions were still down for the count. As I struggled to my feet, I heard Camille scream.

Morio reared up, fighting off the residual effects of the spell, as he shifted back into demonic form—all eight feet of his incredibly scary, beautiful self. He lunged toward the stairs just as Roz broke out of his slow-mo struggle. Morio bumped into Roz and almost knocked him down the stairs but managed to catch the incubus before he went tumbling headfirst.

Delilah and I raced forward, pounding on the heels of the men. As we entered the amphitheater, I skidded to a halt. The Demon Gate, which had been forming when I first caught sight of it, now glowed with a manic raven-black energy. A swirl of stars shot through the inky blackness, and then I saw one star growing larger, heading our way.

“Fuck! Something’s coming through the gate!” I glanced around, frantic to find Camille. There she was—on the altar stone next to the elf. The necromancer had slapped her in a set of iron cuffs. She was moaning as the sizzle of smoke drifted up from her skin. Oh yeah, he was dead.

Morio and Roz headed down the stairs. I took a shortcut, leaping over the rail to land in a low crouch near the foot of the altar.

“Let her go. Now.” I stood, staring at the necromancer, who laughed.

“You want the girl? Or you want the elf? You can only rescue one at a time, and by that time, Shadow Wing will have feasted on the other, and the sacrifice will be complete.”

Shadow Wing? No—he couldn’t be coming through the gate! Not the Lord of the Subterranean Realms.

“You’re insane—he’ll kill us all!” I realized I was screaming at him, blind panic welling up. We were all dust motes compared to the demon lord. He’d bring his army through the gate and rip the world apart.

Morio didn’t bother saying a word. The next thing I knew, he was standing next to the necromancer and, with the full force of his power, backhanded the man in a swipe that should have broken the neck of any other FBH. But nothing happened. The man reeled back, quickly catching his footing. He turned to Morio, a dark look clouding his face.

“You are a nuisance.” He raised one hand and began muttering something in Latin. At that moment, Vanzir appeared from behind one of the terraced shelves and tackled him, taking him to the ground.

I leapt forward and grabbed the iron cuffs holding my sister captive. I could bend them. My hands would sizzle, but because I was a vampire, I’d heal, where she would sustain permanent damage if she touched them too long. Pure steel wasn’t as much of a problem. Cast and wrought iron were torture.

Camille was trying not to cry, but I saw the welts rising on her skin as I pried the cuffs apart and set her free.

Vanzir was wrestling with the necromancer. He managed to land a sound blow on the man’s nose, and the guy suddenly went limp. I tossed Vanzir a grin.

“I love you for that!” I yelled as I freed Camille and pulled her to her feet.

“I’m holding you to that,” he shouted back.

I turned to free the elf, but at that moment a loud noise from the Demon Gate stopped me. I didn’t want to look, but I had to. If Shadow Wing was coming through, we’d better pray for backup, because the world was doomed.

As the shooting star hurled through the gate, Camille leapt to her feet, despite the pain on her face. Morio raced to her side, and Roz to mine. Vanzir yanked the spirit seal off the necromancer’s neck and tossed it to Camille, who shoved it down her bra and drew out the unicorn horn. Delilah shifted, taking her black panther form, and I wondered if the Autumn Lord would be here, fighting with us, too.

“Put out a call for Smoky,” I yelled to Camille.

She nodded, closing her eyes. The magical bond that joined her together with Morio and Smoky would allow her to reach him, to send a message that she was in trouble, that she needed him.

I cracked my knuckles, waiting. Sounds from the hallway told me that the vanguard of the Hellions had finally shaken off the spell, and they were either running away or pressing against the bay window. Boy, were they in for a shock. If it was Shadow Wing, they’d be the appetizer in his first meal of a million.

Steeling myself, I wondered if this was the end. Delilah rubbed up against me, and Camille pulled in on my other side. I wrapped my arm around her waist.

“Can we win? If it’s him?” I whispered.

She shook her head. “No. Not with just us. Not unless we have help. Not unless . . . not unless the gods are on our side. Hey,” she swallowed a lump in her throat and turned to lift my chin so I was looking into her eyes. “We’ve had a good run. We’ve fought long. We’ve fought hard. Father’s proud of us. And if we have to go down, why not go down fighting the biggest badass around?”

And then a thunderous crash sounded in the amphitheater, and the gate split wide open. We stared into the abyss, waiting.

The inky void cracked like Humpty’s egg, and in a wash of blinding light that wasn’t really light but rather energy, the mother Karsetii slid through. She was huge and fully healed, and I could feel her terrible hunger from the energy that coiled around her.

But none of that mattered.

She might be huge and healed and hungry, but she wasn’t Shadow Wing, and that was our saving grace.

A noise behind us startled me. Damn. The necromancer was up and awake again. Vanzir lunged at him, but this time he was ready and sidestepped the dream chaser.

“Great and mighty Shadow Wing, accept my offering! I bring you a sacrifice. I bring you the shining soul of one of the elves.” He lunged past me, his dagger raised as he aimed for the elf’s heart.

“No!” I jumped, catching him around the waist and tossing him toward the Karsetii. He screamed as the hive mother hovered in front of him, and a clone split off, tendriling its long suckers toward his skull. As the demon child reached for him, the necromancer vanished.

I jerked around, looking for him. Where the hell had he gone? I couldn’t see him anywhere. But then the realization that we had a healthy, hungry demon facing us who was ready for lunch yanked my attention back to the matter at hand. We’d better put her out of business for good, or we’d all be on the menu.

As I turned back to where the Karsetii waited, I could feel it watching us, deliberating. A whistling noise rumbled through the amphitheater and a few whiffs of mist appeared as Smoky stepped out of the Ionyc Sea. He took one look at Camille’s wounds, and his eyes narrowed.

“Who did this?”

Roz was busy unshackling the elf. She’d passed out. There wasn’t much we could do for her right now. “A necromancer—must be one of the Hellions. The Karsetii’s back, and we’re going to have to go after it.”

“Where is he? The wizard?” Smoky was set to kill, I could see that much.

Camille touched his arm. “The demon first, or it might go after Delilah. Please?”

He glanced at the Karsetii, then gently brought her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips. “As you wish, my love.” With a glance at the rest of us, he said, “I can carry three of you over to the astral. Roz, can you and Vanzir manage Delilah?”

Before they could answer, the Karsetii suddenly veered to the right and headed out another door that lead farther into the underground labyrinth.

“Shit! Where the hell is it going?” I took off, racing toward the door. “Come on! We have to keep that thing in sight before it hives off a bunch of clones.” As I pounded through the door, the others followed.

The winding corridor led us in a spiral downward. Whoever had created this labyrinth had certainly spent time and money on it, probably long before the house had any neighbors close enough to wonder what the fuck was going on.

Up ahead, I could barely see the tail end of the Karsetii as it zipped along through the air, like a squid through water, pointy head aimed toward some unknown destination. Along the way I caught sight of several doors leading into what looked like various laboratories. I was beginning to feel like we were in one of the fifties B-grade SF movies Delilah watched during late-night marathons on the SF Fans Channel—Robot Monster, The Island of Dr. Moreau, Beginning of the End, Them!—all the old movies I’d learned to love.

I was running so fast that a sudden corner caught me by surprise, and I skidded, taking the curve too sharply. As I landed face-first against a wall, I realized that the passages were no longer compacted dirt but shored up by stone and brick. I bounced off the wall, shook my head, and sped up.

Ahead, about twenty feet forward, the passage opened out. Head down, I raced through the entrance and found myself in a large chamber that appeared to be carved out of solid stone.

The man-made cavern was so vast I could barely see the other side. Natural stone pillars had been left at strategic spots throughout the chamber, no doubt to act as load-bearing columns. Illuminated by lights strung along the ceiling like many caverns open to the public, the center of the chamber housed what appeared to be an opening into the earth with mist steaming out from it.

Around the chamber, scattered tables sat waiting for use, filled with beakers and Bunsen burners and various jars of one sort or another.

I blinked. We really had stumbled into the mad scientist’s lair. A metal table near the largest research station had several bodies strapped to it. I could tell they were dead, because they were a shade of blue no human should ever be unless they were Picts wearing woad. Electrodes were strapped to various points on one of the bodies; the only body that looked even relatively normal.

The other corpses were in various shades of transformation. An indigo ooze covered one of the bodies—oh shit!

“Viro-mortis slime! The aggressive variety. Be careful,” I called back to the others. The slime was actually a colony of creatures that attacked and absorbed flesh.

Delilah let out a “Gross!” and slowed down.

“Where’s the damned demon? And that wizard?” Smoky stalked around the room, seeking out his prey. Every table he came to he overturned, sending beaker after bottle after jar smashing to the floor. Fumes rose as chemicals sizzled in volatile puddles.

“Better hope none of those goes boom when they touch each other,” I said, but at his glower, I backed off. The necromancer better pray I got to him first. As rough as I planned to be, Smoky’s attack would be far, far worse.