Death's Apprentice: A Grimm City Novel (28 page)

It’s true,
thought the priest.
It has happened. That for which we have waited—

He realized what he had to do. He turned and rushed back into the church. Within seconds, he was in the little chamber at the base of the steeple, where the bell rope dangled. The space was choked thick with dust and cobwebs, undisturbed for decades. That was how many years it had been since the great iron bell had been rung. He grasped the heavy rope with both hands and pulled. Above him, a joyous noise clanged out—

And others. He could hear them outside the church as he pulled the rope over and over again. All across the city, bells were ringing. Flocks of pigeons scattered from every church steeple, roused from their nests by the hammering sway of the bells bursting from their soft chains of neglect. Other hands pulled the ropes that had gone untouched for so long; other hearts leapt upward as his did, hearing the brazen chorus set the air shimmering through the city’s streets.

The sun had risen far enough to send a shaft of light between the city’s towers. With the rope still in his hands, he could see the carved stone font bathed by the dawn angling beneath the eave of the church’s roof. The statue of the archangel Michael above the font seemed unsoiled and beautiful now, as though the night’s driving rain had somehow cleansed it, as no storm ever had before.

The priest let go of the bell rope and walked back out the church’s front door. He leaned toward the statue, raising one hand to touch it. As the other bells continued ringing, he saw something he had never noticed before; a look of triumph seemed to play upon the archangel’s face. He drove the double-bladed weapon through the serpent writhing at his feet, as if he were already celebrating this triumph over mankind’s fallen enemy.

*   *   *

The bells summoned the dead.

Sunlight flooded the city’s streets. In the garden square, the dead rose to their feet.

“What’s happening?” Hank cradled the helmet with the baby inside against his chest, and watched as on all sides, the battered and broken corpses stood upright, their pallid faces turning to the sky.

He and Blake looked up as well. Above them, the last trailing remnants of the storm clouds streamed down into the tree. The black hole at the sky’s center began to grow smaller, as though it were consuming itself.

“It’s over,” said Nathaniel. He stood quietly nearby, head still lowered. The mingled pealing of the church bells had brought his eyes open, and he had turned his head to one side, listening to them. Now he gazed across the garden square, at the standing dead. “We won.”

“Yeah…” Blake held the torn, filthy overcoat together with one hand as he brought his gaze down. “This army’s mustering out.”

The sun had risen high enough to shine past the dark shape of the Devil’s office tower, bathing the garden square bright and warm. For only a moment, the faces of the dead army were turned toward its radiance. Then, as the sun’s rays touched them, each corpse burst into a fine white dust, scattering upon the breeze.

Hank looked back up. The sky was completely open and unclouded now. He could feel the tension unlocking in his bones, fatigue seeping through every fiber of his muscles. Glancing over at Blake, he could see the same slow tide moving through the dreadlocked wraith. He had seen Blake dart through the sky like black lightning, faster than his eye could catch, cutting down every foe that had reared before him. Now Blake looked earthbound, caught again by gravity. Merely human once more …

“Feeling okay?” he asked quietly.

Blake looked over at him. A second passed, then a corner of the soldier’s mouth lifted in a weary smile. “Better than usual…”

There were other dead in the square. The sunlight fell upon the lifeless demons, their slashed and hacked carcasses piled in mounds, greasy smoke spiraling from their bloodless wounds. They evaporated in sulphurous explosions when the sun hit them, blue flames shooting from their scaly flesh.

As Hank watched them disappear, he saw their broken, dented armor begin to glow hotter, too, as though the magnesium were about to ignite.

“The helmet!” At the last second, he grabbed hold of the demonic helmet strapped to his chest, yanked it loose, and threw it aside before it could burn Ren-Lei.

At their feet, the abandoned helmet suddenly burst into blue flames, as did all the other demonic weapons cast across the battleground. Blake looked across the garden, watching as the wickedly curved blades and razor-sharp spear points consumed themselves, the flames curling into the sky like cobalt serpents, before disappearing from the mortal world for good.

Bit by bit, every vestige of evil vanished from the garden. Except for one. The Devil’s body still hung from the trunk of the peach tree, the double-bladed spear transfixing his symbol-inscribed chest.

As the morning sun rose higher, its angle shifted, the edge of its radiance sweeping across the garden square. Within a few minutes, the roots at the tree’s base were illuminated, then the trunk below the Devil’s cloven foot; then the light was full upon his lifeless body.

But it didn’t burst into sulphurous flame and vanish like the other demon bodies. The spear, too, remained secure, the burning point of one of its blades deeply imbedded in the trunk.

Blake reached out and touched the weapon. “This one isn’t evil like the rest of them.” His voice was hardly more than a whisper. “You can feel that when you touch it. But I wonder … How did it end up in a demon’s—”

The ragged soldier jumped back. Before him, the arcane symbols on the Devil’s flesh had begun to glow, as though summoned to life by the sun’s touch.

“Nathaniel…”

“I see it…” A sudden fear touched Nathaniel’s heart. As though hypnotized by the burning apparition, he peered toward the fiery symbols as they grew bigger.

Hank brought his hand across Ren-Lei’s face, to guard her from the burning light. “What’s going on?”

The symbols grew even larger and more fiery, slowly revolving on the Devil’s skin like some newly malignant galaxy forming. An involuntary shudder ran through Nathaniel as a partial realization formed inside his mind.

“I screwed up…” He turned to the others, the certainty coming together inside him. “He made the stars. And that was before Death was born.”

Hank glared back at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the sun!” said Nathaniel, pointing up the sky. “It’s a star, too, just like the rest of them. It’s still a part of him. And now … it’s reconnecting—”

In a blinding flash, the symbols on the Devil’s skin exploded, white-hot sparks flying across the garden square. Nathaniel braced himself and threw his good hand forward, sending an arching wave of ice toward the fire to extinguish it. But it did no good. The glistening fragments melted, then evaporated before they hit the ground.

Before Death was born … Before the war in Heaven … The sun is bringing his archangel body back to life …

The earth trembled beneath the men’s feet and the ensuing explosion’s shock wave knocked the three of them to the ground. Peering through the glare leaking through their upraised hands, they could see the city’s towers leaning away from them, an invisible force surging over the buildings, powerful enough to uproot them from their foundations and fling them toppling into the empty streets.

The glaring light increased, ripping apart the Devil’s human shell and casting out Saint Michael’s spear. The symbols remained, floating upon a figure made of magma. The burning form grew larger, the limbs and torso expanding until they towered above the three men. The immense body churned with solar plasma like the surface of the sun.

The reborn Devil opened his eyes again, revealing the same sulphurous blue as before. With a roar that shattered the windows in the remaining buildings, he spread the wings at his back, their span wider than the reach of the peach tree’s branches behind him. The wings’ beating drove a wind strong enough to flatten everything in the space except the tree, still shielded by its own magic, and the Devil’s three opponents, crouching on the ground below him.

Blake jumped up and ran to where the spear had landed. Weaponless since his demon axe had burned away, Hank shielded Ren-Lei with his bare hands. At Hank’s side, Nathaniel held out his good arm, ready to protect them any way he could.

But the reborn Devil didn’t attack.

He glared at them, and at Blake in particular, his new voice rumbling as low as the earthquake that had set the towers trembling at the edge of the square. A string of guttural noises issued from his mouth, more like the clashing of boulders than words. Each syllable seemed weighty as prophecy.

“What did he say?” Blake turned toward Nathaniel. “He said something to me. What?”

The Devil’s words, their meaning and the implacable wrath behind them, had left Nathaniel stunned. “He used the language of magic…” Nathaniel felt the weight of the dread words settle like stones upon his soul. “If I understood him right, we need to get out of here … Now!”

The others heeded his warning. Keeping an eye on their enemy, they backed away for a few yards, then followed Nathaniel’s lead by turning and running as fast as they could toward the streets beyond the garden square.

A shadow swept across them, blotting out the sun as the Devil’s wings beat with greater power, bearing him aloft. At the mouth of the nearest alley, they halted and gazed upward as the fiery entity dwindled to a speck in the unclouded distance.

Suddenly, the blazing point grew larger as the Devil hurtled back down toward the earth that had spurned him.

“Get back!” Nathaniel pushed against the others’ shoulders. “He’s going to hit!”

So great was the speed of the Devil’s cometlike descent that the words were barely out of Nathaniel’s mouth before their enemy’s massive body, formed of raging solar plasma and pure enmity, struck the ground, just as it had when he had first been cast from Heaven. The impact tore the garden to dust and splintered rock, jetting upward like a volcano’s plume, and exposing a gaping chasm beneath.

The Devil’s immense form dove headfirst into the jagged opening. Fire leapt from its depths as a seismic wave sent the ground heaving apart. Leaves trembled around the peach tree’s golden fruit as its roots tore free from the earth. More fissures opened around it, the rocks at their edges crumbling away as the tree toppled into the chasm. Only a gaping hole remained where the garden had filled the space before the tower. The foundations of the Devil’s office tower were revealed, lit by the magma streaming beneath two enormous magnesium doors, twenty floors beneath the earth’s surface.

Hank backed away from the alley’s mouth, shielding the infant’s face from the choking dust that filled the air. Blake remained standing where he was, gazing in tight-lipped fury at the scene before him.

“What the hell did he say to me?” The soldier turned his angry gaze at Nathaniel.

“It was a challenge…,” explained Nathaniel. “Aimed directly at you. He said that if you want the other half of your soul back, you should follow him down to Hell and try to take it from him. He told me to tell you that he’ll be waiting for you in the hellfire … for as long as it takes.”

Blake turned away, looking back toward the gaping fissures that had torn apart the garden and the city’s streets. He nodded slowly. “I understand,” he said. “The sonuvabitch wants a rematch.”

27.

With the spear in hand, Blake stood at the edge of the chasm, gazing down. The magma below burned as hot as the weapon’s double blades. A familiar voice spoke behind him.

“If you’re heading down there, I’m going with you.”

He turned and saw Hank, with the infant cradled in his arms.

“Thanks for the offer…” He looked at Ren-Lei, cooing and gurgling. “But I think you’ve got other things to take care of now. I’ll have to handle this one without you.”

“Blake’s right…” Nathaniel joined the other two men before the chasm, stepping through the dissipating dust and smoke. “The most important thing right now is to get Ren-Lei back to her mother. And after that, I think you should stick around and watch their backs for a while, in case there are still any demons around that we’ve missed.”

Hank mulled it over, and nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I didn’t bring her through all of this for nothing. And her mother’s desperate to see her, I know.” He paused, feeling awkward. “So … if you’re sure you don’t need me…”

Blake held out his filthy hand to say good-bye. “Stay safe, friend. It’s been an honor fighting with you.” He smiled up into the giant’s face. “If you ever need my help, just ask.”

Hank gripped Blake’s hand so tight he almost broke it. “When I see you again, buddy, I want to see you wearing something different, okay? No offense, but right now, you look like an old carpet that’s been dragged through a slaughterhouse.”

Nathaniel shook Hank’s hand, too. Then he stroked the top of Ren-Lei’s head to wish her all the best. “Take care, big fella. I’ll be in touch.”

With a final nod, Hank turned away. But after only a couple of steps, he halted and turned back. “Hey, kid. All that stuff that the Devil said about Ren-Lei’s life … You don’t think there was any truth in it, do you?”

Nathaniel shook his head. “Honestly? I don’t. The Devil didn’t have enough power left to curse Ren-Lei or any of us.”

“Yeah…,” Hank said thoughtfully. “That’s what I thought, too.”

He said no more, but slowly turned away again. Blake and Nathaniel watched him go.

Hank had almost reached the edge of the garden square when he heard a voice calling his name. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Ling running toward him. Behind her was one of the service doors of the office tower, which she had managed to shove open against the weight of the rubble piled against it.

An unfamiliar, wordless confusion filled his thoughts when she stood at last in front of him. Her gaze caught his for only a moment before she looked down to the bundle in his arms, wrapped in his torn shirt, the strips of cloth smudged with blood and dirt. Tears streamed down Ling’s face as she stood on tiptoe and gently took her baby. Ren-Lei laughed happily, recognizing her mother.