Forgiven (25 page)

‘Which way?’ the captain asked in a lowered voice.

‘Left,’ Beck replied, more on gut instinct than anything. That would take them towards the front of the building. If they didn’t encounter a demon along the way, they’d head back towards the exit.

The terrain didn’t look any different than the floor below: piles of broken furniture. A desk calendar. A photo of someone’s family. A smashed coffee cup.

Riley stuck close to him instead of the others. That he hadn’t expected: Beck figured she’d feel safer with the hunters and their guns. When she stepped on something and nearly lost her balance, he caught her arm and she righted herself. There was a murmured thank you. Despite the cold, he could see a thin trickle of sweat thread its way down the side of her face.

Harper is pushin’ her too hard. She’s not ready for this.
But when was any trapper truly ready to go out on their own? What if she faced this kind of situation down the line and didn’t know how to handle it?

At a faint sound, Beck halted, raising his hand to signal to the others to hold their places. Snuffing. Growls. The sound of something moving around in the next room. He tapped his ear a couple of times and then pointed. The captain nodded.

Cautiously they inched forward, working around the rubble. They had fanned out as well, Müller and Corsini on his left, the captain on his right.

He was missing someone. Looking over his shoulder he found Riley with her back to him, staring at the far door.

‘Girl?’ he whispered.

She mimicked his hand signals perfectly – tapping her ear and then pointing to the other room.

Ah, hell.

One demon ahead, one behind. They were caught in the middle.

Riley wiped away the sweat on her forehead with a sleeve, panic percolating through her veins. There weren’t that many demons and she had four guys with her, all pros. The hunters had guns with special bullets so this wasn’t at all like the Tabernacle.

Riley gasped instinctively as the doorway in front of her filled with a hairy slavering demon. It was one of the mature Grade Threes with a double row of teeth. Its muscles rippled under rank black fur, eyes glowing like two high-intensity lasers.

Demon voices rose, howling like Hell’s wolves.

‘We got more than two of these things,’ Beck said.

‘Agreed,’ Salvatore replied. ‘Retreat to the stairs. We’re in close quarters, so be careful with your fire, gentlemen.’ The captain cued his radio. ‘Team Angelus, this is Team Gabriel. We have made contact with multiple Hellspawn and need immediate back-up.’ He sounded so in control, as if they weren’t boxed in by ravenous demons.

Amundson’s voice came back immediately. ‘Roger, Team Gabriel. Where are you in the structure?’

‘Third floor. We’ll be moving down one floor and then towards the west exit.’

There were more laser eyes now, glinting in the semi-darkness.

‘Roger,’ Amundson replied crisply. ‘Team Angelus estimates arrival in ten minutes.’

An eternity when you were in a building full of hungry demons.

‘Push the junk in front of ya, slow ’em down,’ Beck suggested. Riley nodded and carefully replaced the Holy Water sphere in her backpack, then began to retreat, each step in slow motion as she kept her attention on the threats in front of her. Any debris in her way she shoved between her and the fiends: busted plywood, broken chairs and Lord knows what. Müller was at her side now, covering her with his weapon.

Thanks, Harper. I so needed this experience.

The two groups made the stairs at the same time. Beck headed down to the second floor, but had gone only a few steps before he thundered back up. ‘We got more below us.’

A howling chorus sprang up, like an ancient demonic battle cry, as a solid mass of furry bodies surged forward out of the darkness. Muzzle flashes lit the room. Riley cringed at the noise of gunfire, her nose rebelling at the sickening odour of demon. A few feet to her left a Three took a bullet in the chest, pitching forward on to the floor. Another joined it a moment later. Then another.

It was slow going on the stairs: the handrails were gone and Riley had to feel her way up using the dusty wall as support. Her heart beat so rapidly she felt dizzy: a panic attack would be fatal now.

She issued a warning cry as a Three launched itself down the stairs towards them, its teeth glistening in the cap lights. Beck married his steel pipe with its skull and it tumbled by them, sending up a cloud of choking dust.

‘Keep movin’!’ he urged.

The captain’s radio spewed words. ‘Nine minutes ETA for the back-up team,’ he called out, jettisoning a magazine from the gun and then ramming a full one home. ‘We need to find a defensive position, buy ourselves some time.’

‘The roof,’ Beck said. ‘It’s the best chance we got.’

Despite the snarling pack on their heels, there were no more demons as they climbed. Right before they reached the fifth floor, Müller asked permission to try to hold the things at bay while the others made their way to the roof.

‘We stay together,’ was the curt reply from his superior.

‘But, sir—’

‘No! We will not repeat Barcelona’s mistakes,’ Salvatore countered.

Barcelona?
Maybe the hunters weren’t as infallible as Riley had thought.

When they reached the top floor, Beck hunted for the door to the roof. He shoved furniture around, his cap light swinging wildly as he searched.

What if he can’t find it?

‘Got it!’ he called out. Riley nearly wept with relief.

From there on the stairs became narrower, then curved to the right. A door stood in their way at the very top. Beck looked back over his shoulder, his face glistening with sweat and his breathing ragged. She knew what he was thinking: what was on that roof? More Threes? Or something worse lying in wait?

Corsini pushed past her and joined Beck. ‘We go up together,’ he said. ‘Captain’s orders.’ He offered her fellow trapper a pistol. This time Beck didn’t refuse the offer.

‘Here,’ he said, handing her the steel pipe. ‘Ya know how to take ’em down.’

She did. She’d killed a Three with a folding chair at the Tabernacle and the pipe was a much better weapon.

Beck clicked off the safety, chambered a round and then used his steel-toed boot to kick open the door. It swung on rusty hinges, screeching like a cat caught under a truck tyre.

He went through first, then Corsini.

Riley took a step up, but Müller caught her arm. ‘Wait please.’

She forced herself to stay put. Her mind began to conjure up the screams, the sound of Beck and Corsini being torn apart. Nothing. Silence behind them as well. The demons had backed off for the moment.

Why is it so quiet?
‘Beck?’ No reply. ‘Beck!’ she shouted.

‘It’s clear!’ he called down.

Thank God.
Riley made sure to hustle. Müller was next. The captain was last, toting a piece of lumber. Once the door was closed, he used the wood to wedge it tight.

‘That’s not going to hold them very long,’ he admitted.

‘How many did ya see?’ Beck asked, scouting along the side of the rooftop.

‘I counted eighteen and I know there were more,’ the captain replied.

‘Why are they like this?’ Corsini demanded. He appeared the most jittery of the hunters, but then he had an unborn child to think of. ‘I thought the trappers were just –’ He caught Beck’s sudden glare and closed his mouth.

‘Makin’ up stories about all those demons workin’ together because we couldn’t cut it? Well, now ya know the truth, hunter.’

And the truth will set you free.
That’d been one of Paul Blackthorne’s favourite sayings. In this case the truth had them on a roof five storeys up with no way of getting down unless they wanted to wade through a sea of ravenous Hellspawn. Somehow she doubted the Threes would take note of Hell’s mark on her palm before they ate her.

Salvatore addressed his radio. ‘Team Angelus, what is your ETA?’

‘Seven minutes,’ came the prompt reply.

‘We are on the roof. Do you copy?’

‘Roger.’

There was a pronounced thump as something threw itself against the door.

‘Here’s as good as any,’ Beck advised from a position near the front of the building. ‘Gives us a clear shot at the door.’

Salvatore agreed. ‘When the teams arrive, they’ll clear out the demons and we’ll make our way down.’

These guys have a plan. There’s more coming to help us. It’ll work out.

They made a defensive position in a corner, where front and side walls met. On the captain’s suggestion Riley placed a line of Holy Water in a large semi-circle approximately fifteen feet from their position. When she ran out part way through the ward, she cannibalized the sphere in her backpack and finished the job. By the time she’d finished, the men were in position, the hunters’ backpacks on the ground in front of them, their extra ammunition laid out, ready to go.

The door took another solid blow.

Beck pulled out his phone and punched in a number. ‘Jackson? We need help here.’ He relayed the situation. ‘Don’t come into the buildin’. It’s ass deep in demons.’ Their fellow trapper must have asked about the hunters. ‘About five minutes out. If ya can give us back-up on the street, that’d be good . . . Yeah . . . Later.’

He never says goodbye.
This might be the one time he wished he had.

Beck had just ended the call when the phone lit up. ‘Hello? . . . Oh, hi there.’ He listened intently, his eyes riveted on the door. ‘Thanks for the tip, dude. I owe ya. What am I doin’? I’m on top of a buildin’ full of Threes. How’s yer day goin’?’

How can you be so calm?
Her knees were knocking so badly she could hardly stand.

Something made her turn, instinct perhaps. A furry muzzle peered over the top of the wall as its owner’s claws dug into the bricks for leverage.
How had the thing got up here?
With immense effort, it heaved itself up right behind Beck. He was still yapping away, no clue he was about to become lunch.

Before it could crawl on to the roof, Riley whacked it with the steel pipe. Teeth flew in all directions, pelting her, then the demon slid out of sight, claws scraping as it lost its hold. There were shouts from below as gravity did its job. When she checked, the body lay sprawled in the street. Bystanders pointed at it, while some took pictures with their cellphones.

Beck said his goodbyes and ended the call. Once he was paying attention again, she pointed downward with the pipe. Peering over the edge of the building, he blinked at the sight, then grinned and gave her a thumbs up. ‘Good job. Remind me not to piss ya off. Ya might think of usin’ that on me sometime.’

‘So tempting,’ she said, shaking her head.
Except I’d aim for your knees. Your head’s too hard.

The wedge on the door cracked and then burst into pieces as it flew open. Demons poured on to the roof. Four, five, more. The hunters opened fire in a volley and their attackers fell. One large demon took a hit between its eyes and crumpled only a few feet from the ward. It twitched, then stop moving, dead.

We’ll be OK. They’ll shoot them and then we’ll get out of here.

The demon corpse twitched again, rising up on its haunches, black blood flowing down its hideous face. Reddish yellow eyes flickered, then grew brighter. Howling in rage, it waved its clawed arms above its head.

‘But you shot it!’ Riley exclaimed. The bullets had papal Holy Water in them. No demon could withstand that. ‘It should be dead.’

Salvatore put another three rounds into the thing. It jerked, but didn’t fall. It couldn’t die because it was already a corpse.

‘Ah, hell. Zombie demons? Give me a freakin’ break!’ Beck yelled.

More of the dead Threes rose now, all with that strange yellow flickering in their eyes.

‘Hold your fire unless they cross the ward,’ Salvatore ordered. ‘Don’t waste the ammunition.’

‘This is an epic fail,’ Beck said, casting a worried glance over the side of the building.

If he’s scared, we’re in big trouble.