Devil's Punch (Corine Solomon #4)

Devil's Punch (Corine Solomon #4) Page 44

“We have to fight to our quarters. I’m not leaving my mother’s grimoires. Or my dog.”

“I thought you’d say that.” Chance patted his backpack.

Then I noticed Shannon was already wearing hers. And incongruously, Greydusk carried my purse. Butch popped his head out.

“How?” I asked as we ran.

The Imaron explained. “When the wards went down, I suspected betrayal. I knew we had to be ready to move when you returned, so I ran to your rooms and gathered your things.”

“Since then, we’ve been holding that tower, waiting for you to get back.” Shannon pointed at the far end of the courtyard.

“We couldn’t defend the palace,” Chance added with the salt of regret.

“But you saved me. Thank you.”

Shannon laughed. She seemed happier than she’d been since she walked into the throne room that first time. “I thought Chance would climb out of his skin. Greydusk had to physically restrain him. He wanted to go look for you after the wards went down.”

“We’re going to talk about that,” Chance said tightly.

With the protective imperative in place, it must have nearly driven him insane. “I couldn’t take you with me…and I thought you’d be safe here.”

“The Hazo have established a base in the throne room.” Greydusk cut in. “I’m sure they mean to come root us out of the tower, once they secure the rest of the castle. The Saremon patrol the halls, and there are more Xaraz all over.”

“What about the Eshur?”

Greydusk reminded me, “They don’t fight, but the Obsir are present.”

“Their enforcers.” I nodded to show I was with him, but I didn’t feel as I had. The roles of various castes were murky in my head, and at the moment I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the fall of my kingdom. All the magick she’d channeled had burned the queen out. At the least, she’d gone comatose, leaving me more…myself.

Unfortunately, Ninlil was the expert here. Not me. It was a blessing that Greydusk remained at my side, as he knew the palace like the back of his hand. The demon skirted the front entrance, instead leading us along the side. We’d try one of the postern doors in the hope it would prove less heavily guarded.

Outside the door lay more bodies, servants in my livery who had been trying to flee. I’d told them to take shelter inside, where they would be safe. My misplaced confidence had ended in so many deaths. The horror overwhelmed me for a moment and stole my breath.

“I can try a cloaking spell,” I said softly. “But it will draw most of the power you loaned me. Do you think I should save it for combat?” I glanced at Shannon and Chance, inviting them to consider the question too.

“Save it,” Chance finally said.

Greydusk nodded. “We’ll have to fight, and there’s no guarantee that the spell will work. They may have set up motion-detecting runes inside the perimeter.”

“Shan?”

“Dude, I have no idea. But I’ve got this cool sword and Grey was nice enough to spar with me to keep me sharp. So, y’know.” She flashed a grin, almost as if she enjoyed the insanity that surrounded us.

Well, it was a pretty cool sword. I smiled as the demon tried the postern door. Locked. I had strength enough to handle that. Using the spell I’d perfected in the Saremon stronghold, I sent a jolt of magick into the lock mechanism, which snicked open. Greydusk stepped inside first. The palace smelled of charred flesh and burning fibers. They hadn’t spared the servants they found. Misery deluged me.

I promised safety and I failed them. That sad whisper came from Ninlil, huddled in the back of my head, but she didn’t push. Didn’t try to take over. I was grateful for small mercies.

“Shoes off,” the demon instructed.

My boots would ring out on the tiles; they had been designed to make me sound imposing. That ran counter to our aims now. As much as possible, we needed to run undetected. There was no way to avoid fighting entirely, but it made sense to conserve our resources as much as possible. When I pulled off my boots, Chance and Shannon did the same. Greydusk wore no footwear, so soon we were good to go.

“Which way?” Part of me knew, but Ninlil was silent and distant, lost to despair. She had never failed like this before.

Neither had I—on this scale—but I was used to life kicking me in the teeth. My personal soundtrack could be that Chumbawamba song. The chorus rang in my head as I followed Greydusk, who answered by moving forward. Shannon and Chance fell in behind me. I tried to glean more about this mountain fortress, but the Ninlil half of my brain wasn’t talking. It’s probably crumbled to dust and infested with monsters. This silent taunt drew no response.

Fine. I’ll do this without you. Crazy, but I missed her. She had been part of me for so long that her withdrawal left me with a hole inside. Sometimes I’d hated her fiercely, like when she taunted Chance about my loving Kel, but just as my love had become hers, her pain became mine.

“We have one advantage,” Greydusk whispered. “They will not expect you to return and fight your way to the heart of the castle.”

“They probably think she’s gone,” Chance agreed.

“Seeking more allies?” Shannon sounded steady. Fearless, even.

She’d come so far from the scared kid on the bike, desperate to get out of the town that meant to sacrifice her for being different. God, I loved this girl. A trauma like this would’ve destroyed anyone else, but she took it on the chin and rolled with it. Maybe Kilmer had a reason for pride after all. I hoped I got a chance to tell her how amazing she was. A frantic escape didn’t offer the right time for emotional talks.

Light of foot, I ran behind Greydusk. He cut through little-used corridors that connected abandoned parts of the castle. Soon I was helplessly lost. If he betrayed me now to save his own life, I had no defense. My stomach tightened with fear; he might be leading us into a trap. No. I don’t believe that. If he was going to do that, he could’ve just summoned the enemy to the courtyard.

For a good while, the coast seemed clear, though shrieks and sounds of combat echoed through the halls. No defenders remained apart from us, so this was just the enemy slaughtering the helpless. Xibalba would suffer with Oz on the throne, for there was no question that was his goal.

The rooms Shannon had decorated with such painstaking care lay in ruins. Wild hands had rent the fabrics and set random fires. No rhyme or reason to it—just destruction for its own sake. Her expression revealed that this hurt her as much as anything had since she first realized she probably wouldn’t see Jesse again.

Wish I could fix everything for you, Shan. But it’s all so fucked up.

Greydusk stopped us once and I pressed up against the wall, listening to my heartbeat. A troop of Hazo tromped past us in the next room and took the adjoining hallway. The Imaron was uncanny in his ability to gauge such things.

“You’re sensing them, aren’t you?”

He inclined his head. “It’s a simple matter to taste eddies in the air.”

“For you, maybe,” Shannon muttered.

Chance asked, “How close are we?”

“Our course has been circuitous,” the demon replied. “I was afraid the direct route would draw too much fire.”

“That’s not an answer,” Chance pointed out.

Weariness drew Greydusk’s voice tight. “Halfway, provided my memory serves. I’ve only gone past the portal room once.”

Belatedly I registered the demon’s uncertainty; he wasn’t positive we were going the right way. It must suck to have so much weight on his shoulders. Maybe I could help…I had been there, long ago, but the details were fuzzy.

Ninlil, can you tell me where we are? Where do we need to go from here?

Silence.

I guessed I was on my own. Poor Greydusk. Poor all of us.

The Imaron scanned, striving to recall our next turn. With somewhat less surety, he led us to the left. This part of the palace hadn’t been restored yet, so there were loose stones and broken tiles. The floor showed long years of neglect.

Good. Maybe they won’t look for us here.

That was a long shot. If I was Oz, I’d search every inch of this place. Fortunately for us, the stronghold was a warren. In the time it took him to cover all that ground, we might get away. Hope fluttered inside my chest, as Greydusk found the connecting corridor.

Our luck couldn’t last, of course. In the next room, we ran into a squad of Saremon—six strong—and as soon as they saw us, they began casting.

Pretty, Pretty Pain

The fireball slammed the floor in front of us and I dove backward. None of Ninlil’s reflexes now, just my own clumsiness. I did have the echo of spells she’d cast, however, and I brought the power to bear. It wasn’t enough to drive all the enemies out of the castle, but maybe, just maybe, I could defeat the ones trying to stop us from reaching the portal room.

The magick buzzed in my head, but I felt no pain. I sent the spell out my fingertips and dropped the confusion on them. Three of them shook it off, as their shields were stronger; these were among the best the Saremon had to offer. It wouldn’t be that simple, unfortunately. And before the ones I’d caught could launch spells at each other, their companions slapped them with a cleansing charm.

Shit, they were ready for us. They’d been studying my methods.

“Oz is waiting for you,” one taunted me. “You’ll never survive this.”

“Neither will you,” I answered.

Before the Saremon finished casting, Chance, Shannon, and Greydusk closed to melee. She didn’t have her radio, but unlike me, she showed no hesitation about physical conflict. Her swordwork looked strong to my inexperienced eyes; it was certainly better than the mages were used to, and the Saremon found it difficult to focus on casting while fending off physical blows. She skewered one as Chance set fire to another. The mage ran, slapping at his burning robes; then his fear became screams of agony as his flesh melted in the magickal fire that could not be extinguished until all fuel was consumed.

Greydusk drained a third, hopefully taking all his energy along with his knowledge. I wasn’t clear on how that worked without Ninlil whispering advice, but she wasn’t talking. That left three, even odds. A tall horned Saremon mage prepared a spell, but Shannon hacked off his fingers before he could complete the gesture. His cry interrupted the effect, and Chance finished him.

The sounds of battle alerted more enemies. Footfalls pounded in our direction and I spun. Combat might not be my forte, but I did have assets. Quickly, I pricked my fingers and used my athame to draw a rune behind us; then I fed power to it until a shimmering wall sprang into being. The Hazo, drawn by our battle with the Saremon, slammed into it en masse, which would’ve been funny if I wasn’t so worried.

“You’ll have to take the long way around,” I yelled.

I spun in time to see Greydusk eviscerate a fifth with a Swordwraith’s natural weapon. The partial transformation impressed me, but there was no time to admire my companion’s skill. Only one Saremon remained; she tried to run, but Shannon took her from behind with a slash across her hamstring. The demoness went down.