To Dance With the Devil (Page 48)

Very cool.

“I don’t know how long it will work. They’re tapping into a node, and that’s going to disrupt any magic in the area.”

Rob scowled. Chris sighed. “Nothing is ever easy with you, is it?”

Emma appeared in the doorway next to me. Her expression was distant, as if she were watching a movie inside her head. Then again, she probably was. I had no doubt her clairvoyant abilities were putting on quite a show. “We need holy water—lots of it.”

Chris sighed again and unfastened his seat belt. He shoved roughly past Emma and me, moving steadily despite the jouncing ride and the wind coming in through the open cargo door. Squatting, he opened a cabinet beneath the seats where Emma and I should have been sitting and started drawing out weaponry, a full-auto Uzi with ammo, pistols, and finally two odd-looking pieces of equipment that I’d never seen before. They looked a bit like flame throwers, but the tanks were marked with a cross and labeled HOLY WATER. They were obviously meant to be worn strapped on the back.

I grabbed one and put it on, grunting with effort. It was much heavier than I’d expected from its size.

Chris said, “They’ve been spelled. The tank holds four times as much as it should. I have no idea how they’ll hold up around the node.”

There was only one way to find out.

He passed me a belt laden with hand grenades marked with a bright gold cross. He had holy hand grenades. I found myself grinning. “Tell me these are from Antioch.”

“Not funny, Graves.”

“Two minutes,” Rob called over his shoulder. “We’re going in hot. It’s ugly down there.”

Emma started to reach for the second tank, but Chris shook his head. “No way. You’re strong, but you’re not strong enough. And Dawna would murder me if I let you both get killed. I’m in enough trouble already. You’re staying here.” As he said it, he hefted the second tank, slipping his arms through the straps.

“My husband is down there,” Emma retorted, but Chris just shook his head.

Her husband? I didn’t say anything—there was no time for it—but if I lived through this, I’d be asking Emma some very pointed questions. I went to the door. Despite the long drop to the ground and the gusting winds, I was determined to see what we were in for. I was trying to take advantage of our position to get a sense of what was happening.

It was eerily familiar. Everything was laid out just as the Wedjeti stones had shown Dottie and me.

The two circles of power were less than a mile apart. To the west, I saw a smaller force in the middle of a ring surrounded by two parallel walls of sandbags. The first wall served as cover for the troops and vehicles. The inner wall protected the mages. From above, I couldn’t make out their identities; all four wore shapeless gray, hooded robes. The magic they wielded was colorful enough to compensate; it glowed a beautiful sapphire blue, creating a blinding glare.

Our fighting force—fifty men and women—was arrayed in a full circle between the sandbag walls. I couldn’t see individuals, but I knew Bubba and Talia were down there.

I turned to the east and my stomach dropped. The circle of power there was huge, glowing a vivid ruby red. Only three mages stood. The fourth—it had to have been Connor Finn—lay still on the ground. I hoped he was dead and that he had died painfully. Even with Connor gone, the enemy’s magic glowed brighter than ours, and by that light I could see a force easily four times the size of ours moving inexorably westward like a single entity. As I watched, there was a flash and a missile flew into the western encampment.

I heard the deafening roar of the explosion, saw bodies blown to bits.

I didn’t throw up. But I wanted to.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on my siren telepathy, sending out a message to everyone I could reach in our encampment. This is Celia Graves. We’re in the chopper between you and the enemy. Hold your fire.

Emma came up beside me. She was wearing the Uzi. With calm determination she wrapped her arm in a strap by the open door. “Half of them are spawn. They’re not even trying to look human. The holy water will injure them enough that the bullets can kill them. Go for a wide arc. I’ll be shooting behind where you spray.”

I turned to look at her face as the chopper began its descent. This grim woman wasn’t the Emma I knew. Then again, I shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d been tormented by a demon once and she was fighting for the lives of people she loved. I nodded as the chopper’s stealth spell failed and the sound of the engines returned with a deafening roar.

Chris tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see that he’d clipped two lines of black rope to a bar just inside the door. He was handing me gloves like the ones he was already wearing. I pulled them on as Rob prepared to fly us into the center of the melee, a no-man’s-land between the two forces.

I thought of the death stone, lying alone in the center of my hospital bed, and shouted, “Wait! Not here.” I grabbed Chris’s arm before he could throw cables out the open door.

“What the fuck!” Chris snarled at me. I flicked the switch to activate my gun, spraying holy water directly at a spot between the two circles, the spot we were flying toward at alarming speed.

The water hit a wall of magic. As we watched, horrified, the concealing veil fell, revealing a thing I could only describe as a monster.

It was strange, a shimmering thing, its appearance so affected by magic that it was hard to focus on it. I could tell it was huge; I got the impression of batlike wings and long tentacles lined with vicious hooks made of bone, but I couldn’t actually see them. I could see the eyes. Its eyes were terrifying, gleaming with intelligence, endless malice, and a terrible hunger. It roared, the sound beating painfully against both my ears and my psyche.

“Shit!” Rob shouted, banking the chopper hard enough that I would’ve fallen out had Chris not grabbed me. We made the turn, but when the thing swiped at us with a hook-lined tentacle, it missed only by inches.

“Where to?” Rob shouted, his voice hoarse. “The magic’s too thick to get near either encampment.”

“Go behind that rise.” I pointed to a clear spot and prayed that I wasn’t being an idiot. We’d be in for a long, hard run, but it was the best we were going to do.

Emma grabbed me by the arm. “That thing is demonic. Has to be. I’m going to call the archbishop and have him send in reinforcements.”

“Rob,” Chris called, “get the chopper as close to the blue encampment as you safely can. But stay alert. Don’t let yourself get overrun.”

Rob gave him a vigorous thumbs-up without bothering to turn around and look at him.

I nodded, and as Chris threw the cables out the open door I looked down, fighting to master my fear.

I was jumping out of a helicopter. Oh, God, I was jumping out of a freaking helicopter. Could I do this? I bit my lip till I tasted blood. In my ear I heard barked orders as our force rallied to repair the hole the missile had created in our defenses.

I grabbed the line and jumped.

Even with the gloves on I felt the burn of the rope, like fire sliding through my hands, as the ground rushed up to meet me. I had to let go about ten feet from the ground, dropping into soft sand, easing some of the impact by bending my knees and allowing myself to fall forward onto my bent arms. I rose into a crouch. As I did, I pulled the nozzle of my water tank around, aiming with my right hand as my left hit the lever to release the water. A plume of water as thick as my wrist arced upward. I made sure to aim high; drops of holy water fell like a hard rain on the front ranks of the attacking army. Most dropped their weapons, screaming as if acid were pouring onto them from above. The ones who didn’t brought weapons to bear on me and on the man beside me. But before a single enemy shot rang out, Chris went to work, mowing them down with blessed bullets before pulling the pin and throwing one of his holy hand grenades.

There were cheers from our side; I could hear them even over the gunfire. As if we’d choreographed it ahead of time, Chris and I started backing carefully away, always adjusting the spray to keep the pressure on them. The footing was awkward, loose sand mostly, but with the occasional rock or cactus that would throw you off balance if you weren’t careful. I could feel the tank on my back getting lighter—much lighter, and much too quickly. I was going to run out of water before we reached safety. The enemy sensed it. I could see them holding back, watching the volume of the arcing water drop, waiting for the moment to rush us, to make us pay for the pain we’d meted out.

The late afternoon sun beat down on me. My skin heated and began to burn. Tears of pain sprang to my eyes. But I kept the water flowing, even as tears blurred my vision so that I could barely see to aim.

“The opening is ten yards back and about forty feet to your right,” Talia said in my ear. “There’s a large rock behind you. Watch your footing.”

I adjusted my steps as the flow of water from the nozzle in my hands sputtered and died. Without hesitation, I dropped the nozzle and started in on my own belt of grenades. The enemy had hung back, but not far enough—they hadn’t counted on my vampire strength. Explosions tore through them, killing God alone knew how many. But not enough. Not nearly enough. We were close now, but Chris and I were both out of grenades. I drew my Colt, switched off the safety, and moved to cover Chris. There were plenty of targets: too damned many targets, many of them bearing hideous acid burns and expressions of unholy rage. They waited, poised to charge, as Chris’s tank sputtered and died.

“Now!” Chris shouted. Turning, he sprinted full out for safety. I was right at his heels, running a snake pattern, seeing the sand puff up as bullets tore into the ground all around me.

Suddenly, directly above me, there was a flare of light, blinding as a welding arc, bright as a magnesium flare. Talia’s voice, strong and clear, spoke the words of the Lord’s Prayer as she held up the symbol of her faith.