Good Intentions 3: Personal Demons (52 page)

Some tall and dark shape swept out of the doorway behind Leon. He staggered forward with his eyes shut tight. The hand holding his wand came to his forehead. Molly’s agony fell away as if someone had flipped a switch, though her body still throbbed with the after-effects. She vaguely made out the dark-haired woman behind Leon reaching out to him with both hands. Her fingers twisted and bent in an arcane gesture as he growled in pain.

Molly couldn’t cast a spell now. Her mind still ached from whatever Leon had done to her. She had to finish this on a mixture of adrenaline, rage, and the weapon she found at her feet. Thankfully, Onyx held Leon in check with her magic long enough for Molly to get her fingers in place. The only shot he got off went straight into the floor.

Molly drove her brass knuckles into Leon’s cheek with all the power she could put behind a punch. The impact hurt her, too, reminding her there was a right way and a wrong way to use the weapon. With Leon up against the wall opposite the apartment doorway, Molly put slightly more effort into using them correctly. She pounded Leon with one hammering blow after another until he collapsed, and then fell to her knees beside him so she could keep pounding.

He didn’t move. Blood flowed from wounds she’d left across his scalp and his face. Molly hit him again just to be sure, but she saw no reaction.

The lingering pain from Leon’s spell subsided, putting the buckshot wounds to her arm and shoulder back to the top of her list of personal problems. She’d gladly take a wounded limb over a dead girlfriend any day.

Onyx put her hand on Molly’s shoulder. “You okay?” she asked, clearly every bit as drained as the other witch.

The redhead nodded. Sniffed. Felt a tear roll down her cheek. “They killed Elizabeth.”

“Yeah.”

“They killed her and we never knew.”

“We got ‘em, though,” Onyx assured her. “Most of ‘em. We’ll get whoever’s left, too. Later.”

Molly looked up. Onyx offered a weary, loving smile in return. A smear of blood marred one cheek, to say nothing of how much of it matted her hair and soaked her torn clothes. None of it mattered. Not as long as she was still alive.

“Thought I lost you,” the redhead managed.

“I’m still here. You guys got to me in time. All I had to do was keep conjuring blood into myself.”

“Is the fight over?”

“I can’t tell. A bunch of demons flew out of that office across the street and started beating up the demons we were fighting. Lorelei flew out of there, too. I think she went after Alex and Rachel. Everyone else is okay except Jason. He’s still hanging on. Needs your help.”

“Right,” grunted Molly. She forced herself up again. “Jason.”

Onyx tilted her head toward the hallway junction. “Did you take out that other bad guy with a pun?”

“Huh?”

“’
Leave
?’ And then you blew him away? Did you say ‘leave,’ or did you say ‘leaf?’”

The corners of Molly’s mouth twitched. She opened her mouth to answer, but hesitated when Onyx narrowed her eyes and added, “Or are you only about to say it was planned because I just pointed it out to you?”

“…maybe?”

“I love you, Molly.”

“I love you, Onyx.”

“C’mon. Jason needs your help. He’s getting whiny.”

“He got shot in the chest,” Molly pointed out.

“Yeah, I know. One bullet. I got all my insides clawed up but nobody heard me crying about it. Guys are such babies.”

“I bet we didn’t hear it ‘cause you were on the other side of the street.”

“Oh whatever.”

“I got shot, too. Look at my arm. I’ve got holes all over my sleeve.”

“And you’re still gonna wear that shirt, too, aren’t you?”

“Damn right I am.”

The arm wrapped under his shoulders threatened to crush every bone in his chest. Alex knew Sammael could do it, too. To make it all the more galling, Alex had to hang on to his enemy and hope he didn’t let go. They quickly passed through the unnatural fog bank encircling his home, presenting Alex with a good look at the other rooftops of downtown Seattle.

As painful as dangerous as a shattered ribcage might be, the fall from this height would definitely be fatal.

“What’s wrong, Alex?” taunted Sammael. “No more urge to fight? Perhaps you’re hoping we can talk this out now?”

Alex didn’t reply. He looked down at the streets below, noting the way Sammael weaved between the towers and kept clear of the rooftops. His captor never took them close enough to anywhere Alex might jump and hope to survive. Sammael’s broad black wings stretched and beat as he climbed a little higher. Alex even felt the bony top arc of one wing bump against his head.

He wrapped his left arm around Sammael’s neck, but that didn’t last. The other man grabbed his wrist and pulled it back, squeezing and twisting painfully. Nothing suggested it required any significant effort. “None of that now,” said Sammael, enjoying the younger man’s growl of pain.

Alex flailed with his other hand, grabbing onto Sammael’s belt at the small of his back in case that might do any good. Muscles all up and down his captor’s back flexed with every beat of those black wings. Wrestling with Alex took no effort at all, yet carrying him into the air was not the same sort of task. Apparently Rachel hadn’t exaggerated about the difficulty of lifting a mortal into the skies.

Cold night air whistled past. Sammael wheeled around. His wing kept awkwardly bumping against Alex as he flew.

Rachel’s wings usually faded through everything whenever Alex could see them. Lorelei’s were a little different, but still followed the same pattern. He could only touch them if Lorelei allowed it. Then again, it wasn’t like she used them much.

Apparently Sammael’s wings had to exist in this state if he wanted to carry Alex high above the city—or, at the moment, above the I-5 and its constant flow of vehicles driven by mortal witnesses.

“If it’s all the same to you, I have no final words,” said Sammael. “I only thought to get you away from that mess down below in case Lorelei is there. She’ll get over your death, but there’s no reason she has to see it happen.” Sammael shifted his grip, snatching hold of Alex at the waist for a throw.

Alex wrapped both arms around Sammael’s black wings in a violent, merciless hug. A sharp cry of pain and shock from his captor rewarded his efforts. The wind shifted instantly. Alex felt his stomach rush up into his throat as they fell.

Sammael shoved Alex away in a sudden panic. His great strength only worsened the damage Alex did to his wings as he flung the young man off. Bones popped out of joint. Long black feathers came loose in hands that refused to let go.

Alex plummeted through the sky. Sammael fell right along with him.

Streaming lights along the freeway grew closer and closer with terrifying speed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alex hoped this might take Sammael down at least for a while. Maybe it would give Lorelei and Rachel time to find some way to beat him once and for all. Mostly, his brain was overcome with the helpless terror of imminent death.

He could hear the noise from the I-5. Northbound traffic moved at a decent clip for a Sunday evening. Vehicles even enjoyed a little space between one another for once. Alex made out the shapes of cars, SUVs, and semis, and even a Metro bus before he heard a loud, urgent curse. He knew that voice.

His fall ended with a sudden impact of white feathers and profanity. “Fuck fuck
fuck
I told you this was hard!” Rachel shouted with her arms wrapped around his waist. Her wings beat fiercely to keep them both aloft and halt her trajectory. Alex dangled upside down in her embrace, his eyes turned back to the freeway where he’d almost died.

Sammael flashed through street lights and low beams as he struck the unforgiving concrete of the I-5. He bounced up a couple feet, tumbling across two lanes. Drivers swerved left and right to avoid him, but none of them came to a stop.

None except the bus, and even that happened too late for Sammael. He lifted his dazed and bloody head from the pavement in time to see the panicked eyes of the bus driver and the passengers closest to the front before it hit. With cars to either side, the driver had no chance to swerve until his newest passenger was caught under the wheels.

A ripple of crashes, grating metal, and squealing brakes followed. “No no fuck no,” Rachel groaned. She wheeled around over the freeway, turning Alex around to hang from his arms. Cars stacked up behind the bus, several of them crunched up together “People are hurt, I’ve gotta go help the other guardians!”

“Go! Drop me off and go,” Alex replied.

“Can’t go too low or they’ll see,” she explained. Rachel released him over the stopped bus.

He saw her fade out almost instantly overhead, flying straight at a pair of crumpled cars before she vanished. Horns blared all around, mixed with panicked screams and angry shouts. Every lane ground to a halt. Northbound I-5 would be tied up for a while.

Alex looked down over the side of the bus, wondering if it was too high to jump safely. The SUV kissing the back end of the bus provided a decent half-step to the ground. The airbag filling its windshield provided the added bonus of nobody seeing him drop down onto the hood. Only as his feet met the pavement did the absurdity of his worries about a safe jump sink in, along with one other surprising thought:
Holy shit, I’m still alive
.

Passengers streamed out of the bus. Ordinary men and women spread all around into the wreckage, some with their cell phone cameras up and others with more compassionate concerns in mind. “Hey man,” said one of them as he reached out to Alex, “are you alright?”

“What? Oh, I’m okay,” he replied. Given the state of his clothes, he couldn’t blame anyone who took him for the victim of a car accident. “I’m looking for people who need help.”

Black feathers lay strewn around the front tire of the bus. Blood stained the tire tracks along the last few feet of the vehicle’s path. Alex crouched low, hoping to find Sammael’s body under the bus, but nothing so reassuring awaited him there.

Strong hands grabbed Alex from behind. “Mortal worm!” someone shouted, swinging him against a nearby car. Alex cracked the passenger window with his shoulder as he hit, but stayed on his feet. He didn’t recover quickly enough to dodge Sammael’s wild right hook against his cheek, nor could he block the foot that came up into his gut.

Nothing remained of Sammael’s clothes but blood-stained tatters. Much the same could be said for his skin. Sammael stood before Alex as a collection of road rash and worse, yet he fought on. His fist still hurt against the younger man’s temple.

“She’s mine!” Sammael raged as he fought. “She’ll always be mine!”

Alex sidestepped the next punch. Sammael’s fist crashed straight through the car’s side window. The fallen angel winced and growled in pain, but Alex didn’t hear it over the sound of the shocked audience.

People are watching
, he remembered.
That’s why he hasn’t pulverized me already.

He knew an opportunity when he had one. Alex launched a right cross into Sammael’s face before the other man got himself free. He followed through with blow after blow, pummeling his bloody attacker halfway to the ground. “She doesn’t belong to anyone, asshole!” Alex shot back before delivering a punishing stomp to his enemy’s head.

“Yo, dude, I think you got him,” someone yelled.

“Where are the fucking cops?” asked another voice.

“Jesus, you’re gonna kill that guy! How is he not already dead?”

Alex put it out of his head. He couldn’t let up. The fall and the bus had taken so much out of his foe, and the growing crowd of mortal witnesses inhibited his supernatural power. For the first time, Alex thought he might have the upper hand. “Sucks being down at our level, doesn’t it?” he grunted while driving another punch up into Sammael’s side.

The fallen angel replied with a nonsensical, furious roar. He tackled Alex against the car, wrestling for any possible edge. Then his hand fell across a possible solution. Sammael jerked the pistol free from its holster under the younger man’s leather jacket and jammed it into Alex’s stomach.

The trigger clicked. Alex slammed his forehead into Sammael’s nose. “It’s all out of bullets, you dumb—” he began, but he didn’t get the words out in time. Not before Sammael turned his attention and the gun on their audience.

“Back off!” he shouted. “Back off or I’ll kill you all!”

“Gun! Shit, he’s got a gun!” blurted all too many voices in the crowd. Suddenly, the fight no longer fascinated or entertained. Faces turned. Bodies ran.

“Aw shit,” Alex grunted. He drove his foot into Sammael’s groin. His bloody opponent stumbled, bringing his face straight into a textbook perfect uppercut. The blows hurt him, but Alex already saw a difference in his strength. Punches and kicks wouldn’t put an immortal down.

Suddenly moving with renewed speed, Sammael shoved Alex back against the car. His hand closed down around Alex’s neck before lifting him up into the air. Alex put his knee into his enemy’s jaw, and then again, each time with less effect.

An arc of flame swept down through Sammael from shoulder to hip. He dropped Alex and howled in pain. Smoke drifted from cauterized flesh across his torso as he dropped to his knees.

Rachel stepped between them. Her sword burned brightly in her hand. “We’ve got this ratfuck loser now, babe,” she said. “Let us take it from here.”

“Us?” came her lover’s choked reply. He glanced left and right, at first seeing nothing but the stopped cars and the bus that made up the battlefield. Rachel’s halo lit up the space, reflecting off of every window and fallen mirror.

In those reflections, Alex saw movement. Reverse silhouettes of men and women gathered in close, each of them framed by broad, white wings. Alex thought he saw glowing and burning swords, too, though he couldn’t look for more than a second or two before the glare became too much.

“Hah,” Sammael coughed. He spat a glob of blood at her feet. “Have you…brought enough…guardians to help this time?”

“Who said anything about other guardians, asshole?”

Alex rolled up onto his hip. A red, feminine hand came into his to pull him to his feet. Lorelei stood beside him with her demonic features fully revealed. He didn’t recognize the dark lines that now decorated her body, but he could never forget her face.

Neither could the fallen angel now struggling against a mountain of injuries just to stand. “Lorelei,” he rasped.

She turned to face him. Alex watched her stride past Rachel. She kept one hand low, holding a curved bit of iron out of plain sight. “You have an explanation for all this?” Lorelei asked as she stepped up to him.

“Yes,” said Sammael. “If you would—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” said Lorelei. Without warning, she plunged the iron spike into his chest.

Sammael threw his head back in the worst scream Alex ever heard. His hands fumbled at the spike driven deep into his heart, but the metal seared his fingers. The line of his flesh already charred by Rachel’s sword began to crumble away. Glowing embers from underneath broke through before drifting off on the breeze. The defiant courage Sammael once showed soon crumbled, too.

“I can’t die,” he gasped. He staggered to one knee. “I cannot…I cannot die!”

Alex stepped past Rachel and Lorelei. “Sure you can. I believe in you,” he said, and stomped hard on Sammael’s chest to knock him onto his back. Much of the fallen angel’s torso scattered across the concrete in glowing embers that quickly turned to ash. The rest of him followed suit, crumbling away into nothing within seconds.

Soon, only the spike remained. Any trace of its unnatural heat vanished. Alex saw only a bit of shaped iron laying in the road amid the ashes. He nudged it with his foot, then tapped it with his fingers before picking it up. “What the hell is this?” he asked as he turned around, but decided not to press his question when he found Lorelei and Rachel in a deep kiss.

His stomach hurt. Several of his teeth felt loose. Blood from either his nose or his lip marred the sleeve of his leather jacket after a tentative wipe. Whatever strength still remained in his muscles had to be a matter of pure adrenaline, which couldn’t last much longer. Beyond all that, Alex grew aware of their surroundings again. Sirens approached from both ends of the freeway. He even heard a helicopter overhead.

None of that made him want to break his lovers up. The only urgency he felt now came with the memory of his arrival and the scene at their apartment. Even that left him with a pang of guilt as he shuffled in closer.

Rachel’s blade was gone. She held Lorelei close, her arms wrapped around the demon while her lover’s red hands ran through her blonde hair. Even when their lips parted, their embrace did not. The angel leaned her forehead against Lorelei’s, releasing a tiny breath of relief.

“I am sorry, love,” said Lorelei. “I saw no other way.”

“No. It’s fine. I trusted you,” the angel replied. “I still trust you.”