On the Edge (The Edge #1)(82)
Author: Ilona Andrews

Only one road led out of East Laporte. With the vehicles gone, getting into the Broken would be nearly impossible. They were a full four miles from the boundary. Rose surveyed the people around her: six in all, including Buckwell and Thad.

"We go to Wood House," Buckwell said calmly. "Keep your machetes ready, and stay together."

They followed him, circling the lake to the right.

Two shapes tore out of the woods, running at full power. Declan and William, heading straight for them.

"Change of plans," Declan ground out when they neared. "Casshorn’s outsmarted us. His reserves are coming up."

"We can’t fight them in the open. Too many." William’s eyes glowed amber.

"We need a defensible position," Declan said. "Do you have a jail?"

Buckwell stared at him like he was crazy.

"A town hall?" Declan asked.

"No," she shook her head.

"Gods, what do you have?" William growled.

"A church!" Rose said. "We have a church!"

William glanced at Declan, who shrugged. "I’ve seen it. It’s not much, but it will have to do. Lead the way."

They dashed down the street past the tiny convenience store owned by Thad’s uncle, past the meth heads’ mansion, down to the hill, and into the church. They rammed the doors open and burst inside. George Farrel appeared from behind the pulpit, his shotgun at the ready. His gaze fixed on Declan. His eyes sparked with crazy light.

"Get ye from the house of God, defiler!" Farrel jerked his shotgun up.

William leaped past them and punched him off his feet. Farrel hit the floor and didn’t rise.

"Bolt the door. Stack the pews at the sides!" Declan ordered. "We need a narrow path so they can only come to us a few at a time."

Rose grasped the nearest pew. At the other end, Leanne strained, and together they flipped it on to the next pew. In minutes the nine of them piled the benches in two heaps at the sides of the church, leaving a narrow strip of open space between themselves and the entrance.

A thud shook the door. Rose jerked. Leanne backed away, past her, to the pulpit and Buckwell. Declan and William took a step forward in unison. Declan had his two swords out. William held a knife.

"Rose, step back," Declan said.

She remained where she was, directly behind the two of them.

Another thud crashed against the door.

"You have no flash left," Declan said.

"I have more than they do," she said quietly.

He glanced over her to the six people at the pulpit gathered into a tight clump, and turned away.

The doors flew open with a sound of thunder. Beyond them a gory sunset splashed across the sky, yellow and red, the sun a molten coin of gold on the horizon. Hounds slunk into the church, moving one by one, hesitantly, slowly. A man in a dark robe followed them, nearly black against the setting sun, as if cut out of darkness. He advanced at an odd gait, bobbing up and down, as if unsure how to walk upright. The hood of his robe hid his face. He stopped in the doorway and spoke, his voice carrying with unnatural clarity through the building.

Casshorn surveyed the church. "Such a humble, quaint building, this house of the murdered god. I find it oddly fitting that our struggle comes to its end here. It is said that gods inhabit the churches built in their name. So once you have nourished me, I shall raze this structure to the ground, and from the ashes I shall forge the house of a new god. A house befitting me. For you see, I have come to know what I am. I have become a god." He craned his neck. "Perhaps I shall even hear his cries as he flees from the wreck of his house. After all, he is a god of pity and compassion. He should know how to mourn."

"You finally lost what pitiful grip you had on this reality, I see," Declan said, his voice dripping contempt. "You’re not a god. You’re a spoiled child, just as you always have been. You simply stopped all pretenses at adulthood."

"A child that had seen clear through your trap. It was a good plan for a small mind like yours, Declan. It had only one small flaw. For you see, they had sent a man to me, and before I dined on his magic and body, he told me everything I wanted to know and so much more. I knew their capabilities, and I anticipated their curse, and I had given them the means to cast it, delivered by you. The Universe is clear to me. It has unfurled like a flower before the brightness of my being. You’ve done well, but you cannot kill a god, Declan."

"We’ll see," Declan said.

Casshorn turned to William. "My son. Have you finally chosen your side, then?"

"There was never any choice about it." William shook, snarling. Sweat broke out on his forehead. His eyes had gone deranged.

Casshorn’s voice gained a kindly tone. "I will grant you this one boon, my son, for you are my only heir. Kill Declan, and I will let you run."

William grinned. His face set into a pale mask, his grin an ugly baring of teeth. He barely looked human. "I served seven years with him in the unit where you lasted a mere fifteen minutes. Had you managed to stay in instead of piss ing on yourself and running like a dog with your tail between your legs, you’d understand. If I owe anyone a crumb of loyalty, it would be him. Not you. It’s good that you decided to be a god, because I’m about to go to a place that suffers none."

"Then it is decided." Casshorn raised his arms. "You have no priest to give you your last rites, but do not fear. For I give you your absolution and my communion. I forgive you your past sins, and I shall welcome you into my fold by partaking of your body and power."

"Get on with it," Declan said.

Casshorn tore off his cloak. His body was no longer human. His limbs were long and tightly muscled, his digits grotesquely large and clawed. His skin had become purple and yellow hide. Spikes thrust through his spine, rising in a crest above his hunched shoulders. His face had lost all humanity. His eyes glowed gray. A second pair of eye slits, narrow and shunted, shone on his cheeks. He opened his mouth and showed them a forest of bloodred fangs.

Behind Rose, someone retched.

Declan spun his sword in his hand.

Casshorn reared back and emitted a sharp hoarse screech.

Hounds streamed from behind him in twin currents.

With an inhuman snarl, William ripped into them. His face turned demonic. Bodies flew, and silver sprayed. They piled on him, and he cut them down faster than she could see. A psychotic high-strung sound full of mad joy rang through the carnage, and Rose realized William was laughing.

Tendrils of dark magic rose from Casshorn: black veined with polluting streaks of purple and yellow. He clawed at the air. The dark magic streamed to Declan. Declan’s eyes turned white. A wave of flash erupted from him. The two crashed together: the brilliant white against the diseased purplish glow. Immense pressure slapped Rose, nearly taking her off her feet.