Resurrection (27 page)

Caught up in the ecstasy of a massive soul transfer, I might not feel the pain being dealt to me, my injuries healing as they were doled out, but I’d be helpless, a devilish punching bag. The magic would be taxed to its fullest as soon as the transfer wore off.

Even with the increase, it’d only delay the inevitable, Daartan still too much a stud for me to take out alone. My only chance was to stay mobile and keep the Knight occupied and away from Karra and her father, all the while, hoping for a miracle.

But you know what they say: wish in one hand, shit in the other. Which one fills up faster? Let’s just say there’s gonna be a shortage of wishes.

That’s when the sodden gray lump inside my head sparked into a semblance of functionality. I didn’t need to go after Daartan to hurt him.

I waited until he was right on top of me, his sword whipping through the air toward my head, before ducking out under his arm. The blade whooshed by, only millimeters from my skull, but it gave me the precious seconds I needed as his momentum carried him past.

Though I had Daartan’s back to me, undefended and vulnerable, it wasn’t him I wanted. Smiling from ear to ear, I raised my guns and let lead fly.

The unsuspecting revenants, piled together nice and snuggly close, broke out in discordant shrieks as my bullets tore into them, their chant disrupted. Just as I thought, their spell having transferred the majority of their powers to Daartan, their reaction to being shot was far from the confident invulnerability shown by their leader.

Obsidian holes, like festering mold, appeared wherever my bullets struck. Spider-web like striations spread out with lightning quickness, a plague upon their ethereal flesh. Several dropped under the first barrage, their already dim lights blinking out. Their corporeal forms turned to wispy dust and dispersed into nothingness, as though they never existed. The rest stumbled about, screeching and grasping at their blackened wounds as they stared at me in disbelief. My second volley was probably just as devastating, though I didn’t get the chance to watch its effects.

As the barest hint of a soul transfer washed over me, the revenants power so diminished as to be negligible, I heard Daartan roar behind me. Before I could determine the best direction to go to avoid him, Katon’s sword bit into the meat of my side.

I’d like to say I took it like a man, gritting my teeth and hopping back up to continue the fight, but I’d be lying.

I screamed like a pig being slaughtered as the blade sunk in, shrill and uncomfortable to hear. It was even worse when he yanked the sword out, my shriek trailing away into a wet gurgle as my vocal cords ruptured.

My eyes went white with pain, sightless, my legs disappearing from beneath me. I went down on my back in a shuddering heap, warm splashes of blood striking my face from the morbid geyser at my side. Daartan hovered over me, his presence like a brick. Though I couldn’t see him, I knew there was death in his eyes.

“You shall pay for your transgressions.” His words battered my face. “I intended to claim Longinus’s body as my own, but now, I must settle for his spirit.”

Through the muddle of pain, my mind
aah’ed
, understanding his motivation at last. It wasn’t much of a consolation, but at least I’d help screw the revenant before I went out. Hardly headstone worthy, but it’d have to do.

“You and the girl-child will never see the resurrection of your unholy lord. I will rend his spirit from this world with his own blade, ending forever the line Anti-Christs. When his essence has become mine, I will send his daughter to join him as you watch, helpless to save her.” He held Katon’s sword out. “Then when I’m done with them, I will peel the flesh from your bones and carve you apart, piece by bloody piece. Your death will last an eternity.”

I thought his speech would too.

Not content just to threaten, he slammed his sword through my shoulder to the hilt. Its blade pierced my back and sunk deep into the tarmac below, pinning me. It felt like ice sliding through, freezing cold and burning at the same time. Compared to the wound in my side, its clean entry was little more than a tickle, my mind already shutting down its sensory receptors. It’d had too much.

Daartan wrapped his frigid hand around my neck and pulled me up against the painful resistance of the blade, leaning in face-to-face. I could feel the frost of his breath, stinging my cheeks. Though still a little hazy, my eyes focused and met his, their yellow swirling so fast as to make me dizzy.

“Your heroics have availed you naught. The end has come. Soon your suffering will begin.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

Daartan’s eyes flew wide as the deep tones of Barry White rang out behind him. It was all he had time to do before all hell broke loose.

The searing, red blast of Rahim’s fury cast a crimson glow over everything, its vicious energy slamming into Daartan. The White Knight screamed as he was blown forward, his ghostly flesh alive with magical fire. He came down with a crash, half a football field away, the grass around him going up in flames.

Rahim marched past me, not so much as sparing a glance. He was on a mission. His only objective: hurt Daartan.

Through the murky fog of my thoughts, I knew it wouldn’t work out that way. Even without Daartan’s extra boost of power from his followers, Rahim was playing out of his league. He’d get some good shots in, no doubt about that, but it wouldn’t be enough. He might, however, keep him occupied long enough for the new me to join in.

Unsure exactly as to how I was supposed to take possession of Baalth’s gift, I hoped I could pull it off in time. Difficult to focus, I did my best to push away the agony-numbing miasma that guarded the remnants of my sanity—such as it is. As the clouds drifted back at my mental urging, the pain began to well up, gushing through the cracks, my nerves reawakening to a blistering torment that sparked off like firecrackers buried under my skin.

I fought it off and concentrated on the leaden mass in my stomach. Picturing the sphere I’d swallowed, I imagined myself absorbing it, willing it to crack open and join with my essence.

It was as easy as that.

Less than a heartbeat later, I felt the foreign hardness in my gut soften and melt away. Tingles spread through my body in a rush, phantom itches that couldn’t be scratched. They took a bite out of the agony, then another, and another, until I felt it no longer.

Then suddenly, I was sucked under. Pleasure like I’d never felt before caressed my every nerve, a lifetime of orgasms squeezed into an instant, every molecule of my body experiencing it at once. I lay there twitching, unable to see through the whitewash of rapture, the chaotic world around me a distant memory I wanted no part of.

I don’t know how long I was caught up in it, the ravaging force of the transfer leaving no room for anything but the bliss of its touch, but it seemed to go on forever. Gradually, I began to come down, the whirlpool of sensory overload easing off, my mind settling into a clarity it’d never known.

Suddenly very mindful of my surroundings, I looked to my shoulder and saw the blade no longer protruded from it. It lay on the ground beside me, covered in the dark blood of my now closed wound. My eyes drifted down to my side. It was the same. The eight inch deep gash that had been carved just above my hip was gone, not a trace of it left.

Having only gone through two other soul transfers, both minor in scale, I was amazed by how good I felt, how powerful. Feeling like I could take on the world, I hopped to my feet and looked for Rahim.

He stood before Daartan, a sputtering shield of red held out in front of him as he loosed a mystical blast at the revenant, the air thick with magical resonance. Still burning with flickers of Rahim’s flaming manifestation of power, Daartan absorbed the blow with a howling groan, and lashed out in response.

His glowing fist crashed through Rahim’s shield, slamming into the wizard’s ear. His head snapped to the side and he went down hard, spinning to a crash. His eyes were open, but the lights were way out.

Furious at myself for being too slow to keep Rahim from getting hurt, I reached for Katon’s sword. Even if I couldn’t win, I was gonna make a fight of it.

A strong, bronze hand beat me to it, plucking it from the ground and drawing it out of sight behind me. I froze when I saw the silky purple of the connected sleeve. Slow and careful, I raised my hands and turned around as a wash of mystical energy I hadn’t noticed earlier, resonated clear against my senses.

The steely eyes of Longinus met my trembling gaze. The gray pall, which had colored his skin as he lay on the tarmac was gone, replaced with a deep tan. His face was as smooth as new leather. Though several inches shorter than me, he was built for power, his barrel chest twice that of mine. His arms were easily the size of my head.

He stared at me a moment, his expression neutral, before casting a glance beyond to where Daartan stood. Anger sparked off in his eyes and he reached up and laid a strong hand on my shoulder. I stiffened, expecting violence, but he only moved me to the side so he could step past.

“Knight!” His voice rang out like a hammer against an anvil, its force silencing all else on the inauspicious night.

Daartan looked up from Rahim and stared at Longinus, his eyes like miniature suns in the sky of his face. He glanced to where the Anti-Christ had laid until just moments before, then back to Longinus, then back and forth once more. The disbelief written across his face was almost comical.

“There is much we must discuss.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Anti-Christ strolled forward, Katon’s sword in his hand. Crafted from the spear Longinus had used to send Christ packing back to Heaven, it looked at home there, his grip confident upon its hilt.

Seeing him approach, Daartan stumbled back a step, falling to his knees, deep lines etched into the light of his face. He raised his shaking hands to ward Longinus off.

“I do but what God has decreed for me to do.” Gone was the swagger and bluster, the arrogance. In its place was sheer terror. It was easy to corral and lord power over an Anti-Christ when he was dead. It was another thing entirely to do so when he stood before you, the cold steel of his living gaze taking your measure.

Longinus looked to the sky, a subtle smile playing on his lips, before returning his focus to Daartan. “Though I cannot fathom how it is possible, there is no trace of God’s presence in the world. Nor for that matter, is there any of Lucifer. Much must have changed while I slumbered dreamless under your vigilant watch.” He leaned in close, baring his teeth in a fearsome grin. His eyes sparkled with malevolence. “However, there is much that has
not
changed god or no.”

Daartan shuddered as Longinus gestured to Karra. She walked over and stood beside me, a satisfied smile on her face. Though still shrouded in wet red, her wounds were healed. Her eyes were filled with excitement, but she remained quiet, her attention focused on her father.

“You dared lay your hands on my daughter. For that alone, I will have your soul. Were it not for her sacrifice, offering up her blood to speed my return, you would have taken her life.” He set the tip of his blade against Daartan’s trembling throat. “Your audacity has cost you your soul. However, your failure has earned you a swift death.”

As though resigned to his fate, Daartan said nothing, his eyes straight ahead. Not one for empty threats, Longinus set his hand upon the knight’s head, grabbing ahold of his ethereal form, and thrust the blade through his neck.

Daartan gurgled a scream, twitching in the Anti-Christ’s grip, before going silent as the blade was torn to the side, cutting through the left half of his neck in an explosion of brilliance. In a smooth, sweeping motion, Longinus brought the sword back around to finish the job, hacking through what was left of Daartan’s neck.

The knight’s head came free. Longinus raised it up, tendrils of dripping light streaming from its severed base. Like his followers, his glowing flesh dimmed and went dark, blackened decay spreading across its surface, a wildfire of rot. A moment later it felt apart, a hail of dust showering down over Longinus’s flushed face.

He stood still, not even bothering to lower his arm as Daartan’s spirit fled the ashes of its previous form. He closed his eyes tight as the soul transfer washed over him, little hint of it visible on his stoic face. A few moments later, his eyes sprung open. He looked about, taking in the ruin of the field. After a moment, his gaze alighted on the fallen body of Lilith.

With measured paces, he went to her. He dropped to a knee beside Lilith and scooped up her small, bloody hand and placed it inside his before pulling her head into his lap. He looked down at her, his face without expression. Though I couldn’t hear from where I stood, I saw him whispering to her as he gently stroked her hair, smoothing it away from her frozen face.

Dead, her spirit lost in the abyss, Lilith stared up at him in silence, unseeing. It had been her heart that killed him and in the end, it had been her heart that raised him up. Were this any other story, it would have been a happy ending.

Afraid to speak, for fear of incurring Longinus’s wrath, I glanced at Karra. Her eyes never once met mine, locked as they were upon her father. An exhilarated smile creased her face, so deep there were troughs in her cheeks. Against the odds and the will of God, she’d returned him to life. She left a wake of destruction behind her, but she had her father back.