Blood Song

“Look out!” I shouted to Gibson as I dodged between vehicles. I couldn’t see the shooter anymore, but I heard the crack of a shot even over the sound of blaring guitars, and the window just inches behind me shattered. He was good, scary good. I ducked my head and kept running, making myself as much of a moving target as I could, using the vehicles for cover, doing my best to close on the woman and her captive.



A second crack, barely distinguishable from the pyro-technics playing over the sound system, and I heard the thud of a body hitting the ground. Glancing back, I saw a crumpled form in a slowly spreading pool of blood on the pavement a few feet away.



The last words of the anthem trailed off, and the distant roar of jets flying in formation overhead took their place.



Risking a look around the edge of the portable radar dish I was hiding behind, I saw Lydia less than twenty feet from me. Though injured, she was rushing toward the spot where the prince lay on the ground. The door to the van was empty, but its motor was running. Ivan lay collapsed in the open ground between his prince and the van, the vehicle behind where he’d been standing splattered with meat and blood.



I charged, shouting in rage and defiance, throwing myself into the woman with a jarring full-body tackle that sent us sprawling onto the pavement.



She was tough, and good. She rolled with the impact, using my own momentum against me and breaking free. I rolled, too, gaining my feet, taking a defensive posture that put me directly between her and her quarry.



The van was moving, heading for us. She glanced at it and seemed to make a decision. I readied for an attack, but she did something I didn’t expect and couldn’t have prepared for. Reaching inside her jacket, she pulled out a ceramic disk not much bigger than a half-dollar. It looked almost exactly like one of the “boomers” I use, its spell released when the disk is smashed. As the van swung up beside her, the side door open and beckoning, she threw the disk to the ground, shattering it. Her smile, as she turned to jump into the vehicle, was pure predatory malice.



27



At first nothing happened. I didn’t feel any spell. I figured it must have been a dud, so I turned to help the fallen prince. I was hefting him upward when I heard a hiss much like aerosol spraying from a can, followed by soft male laughter that was purely sexual. It was the kind of laughter meant for dark nights spent between silken sheets and just the sound of it tugged at things low in my body. I turned; I couldn’t not.



He was beautiful. Not the twisted, frightening monster of my grandmother’s illustrated Bible but a perfect, heart-wrenchingly beautiful angel, with only the cant of his expression and the red tint in his irises giving any hint of the corruption beneath.



A demon. I knew it, and the knowledge brought with it a fear that dried my mouth to cotton and had me trembling with both terror and desire.



He gave a delicate sniff and laughed again. “Oh, my. A siren. I haven’t tasted siren in far too long. And not a bit of faith to preserve you.” He smiled, taking a slow step forward, and my heart lurched in my chest. “I’m going to enjoy this. I’ll have to come up with a suitable reward for Lydia.”



I couldn’t take my eyes off him, but I could still move my hands. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I fumbled blindly for the switch to turn on my little sensor car, and was rewarded by it coming to screeching, almost deafening life, red light from the alarm showing clearly even through the thick denim fabric.



He scowled, and even that expression was as beautiful as a cloud passing across the sun. “I’m disappointed in you. Do you really want us to be interrupted?”



“Hell, yeah.” I’d meant to sound defiant, but I could barely get a breath of sound past my lips. My hands, though, were still busy. This time I reached into the inside of my jacket, searching for the single-shot water pistol I knew was hidden there. I didn’t have much time. I knew that. His presence was starting to overwhelm my will. I couldn’t hurt him. Even if I’d wanted to. And God help me, I didn’t want to.



He laughed again, and it sighed against my body, bringing a low moan from my lips and an ache to my loins. Where was everybody? There had to be crews in the trucks and vans. Security should be all over this.



“Oh, they’re coming,” he answered my thoughts. “But I’ve slowed time. I want to savor this. Savor you.”



Oh, shit.



I started trembling in earnest, and almost fumbled the little squirt gun I’d been drawing. Still, I managed to hang on to it, pulling it out in a jerky motion, pulling awkwardly at the refill plug with my left hand.



“Stop that!” he snarled, and it wasn’t beautiful. His voice and power lashed out at me, strong enough to make me stumble, spilling drops of the precious holy water onto the ground. But that was okay. I wanted it on the ground. The whole idea was to draw a protective circle around the prince and me. I did just that. As the demon blurred forward across that last bit of distance between us, he slammed hard against an invisible barrier.



Hissing in frustrated pain and rage, he began pacing around the edge of the circle. “You shouldn’t have done that, little one. It only bought you a minute or two at best. And when it comes down, I’m going to make you suffer.”



“You’d have done that anyway.” Now that the barrier was up I could think clearly, although that was a mixed blessing. Because while I desperately needed to come up with some sort of a plan, knowing exactly what I was facing had me just about wetting myself in terror.



“Yes,” he admitted, “but I would’ve let you enjoy it. At least at first. Now I’m not feeling so generous.”



I focused, trying to call on my newly discovered talent. I really do need a rescue here. The cavalry, an exorcist, a few militant priests, maybe accompanied by the National Guard?



An exorcist. Oh, crap. I tried to marshal my thoughts, to remember the words Reverend Al had used successfully just last night. I couldn’t do it. I felt the power of my circle starting to fade and flicker. Saw the anticipation in the demon’s eyes as he gathered himself to strike the moment it fell.



Pushing my thoughts as hard as I could, I sent out a mental plea, not knowing who, if anyone, would hear. If there are any telepaths out there, anybody at all who knows the high church exorcism prayer, please, please tell me now.



And in my mind I heard Kevin’s voice, joined by Bruno’s, Matteo’s, and others’, weak but still clear, chanting in perfect unison. I felt a surge of hope, powerful beyond reason. I repeated the words, not even stumbling over the pronunciation.



The demon began to throw himself bodily against the barrier and the force threw me against the opposite side to land in a heap. I grunted and missed one of the words being chanted. I opened my mind to them and felt the words come again—whether by spell or some sort of psychic attachment. My voice was deeper this time when I chanted, a solid alto.



Again the demon attacked and this time I felt searing pain in my cheek as a claw slipped through a break in the circle. The wound began to smoke and burn, as though my skin was on fire. Even the vampire part of me was having a hard time healing a demonic attack. The scent of frying flesh made my stomach roil and my eyes water. He started to hammer at the weak point with a force that could probably shatter brick. I pressed myself as tight against the far side as I could, hoping against hope that this was not a long spell.



I saw a circle of figures began to converge on us across the parking lot. All of them were chanting the same words I was using. Each carried a symbol of their faith that shone with a blindingly pure white light that hurt the eyes. Crosses and stars and crescents and bells, all glowing brighter with each word.



The demon threw back his head, letting out a harsh bellow of pain and frustration that was both sound and more—the power of it washed over me and slammed into the vehicles around us, rocking them on their wheels, shattering windows, and setting off alarms.



The demon let out a scream that caused fire to spray in a wide arc. The priests scattered, their concentration broken by the nearly sentient hellfire that began to chase them across the pavement. He screamed again and I found myself racing around the inside of the barrier, trying to escape the tiny line of fire that chased me, putting out the flaming bits of brimstone that were landing on my hair and clothing. Who knew demons could breathe fire? Either that never came up in class or I played hooky that day. Either way, I was getting an education. I hoped I’d live to share it with El Jefe.



I kept chanting as the demon laughed and began to hammer again at the opening, which was now large enough to fit his muscular arm through. I was running out of options and the spell didn’t seem to be working. Soon all I could do was curl up in a fetal position at the very bottom of the barrier, doing my best to protect Kristoff’s unconscious form, just out of reach of claws that crept closer with each second that passed. I snapped my jaw at the demon when I could between words. My fangs seemed longer than I remembered and actually made him pause. He wasn’t sure what to make of me—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to kill me.



I was so tired. My voice was getting hoarse, cracking over some of the stranger Latin words. The fire was growing, too, licking at my clothing and skin. If I didn’t pass out from pain, I was going to lose my voice. His arm was fully inside now, reaching … pressing … grasping. He caught my hair and yanked me toward the hole. I screamed the next word, knowing it was going to be my last.



“Amen!” The word startled both of us. The demon’s eyes went wide and he froze—his hand clutched around my throat. There was a sudden change in pressure inside the circle … a nauseating, disorienting sucking sensation. My ears popped painfully, and I had to close my eyes to keep my balance. I threw up. The claws burning into my neck spasmed and then the demon screamed again. It was a sound I’d hear in my nightmares, worse than the screams of my sister as she died, worse than anything I’d ever heard. It seemed to last forever, but it was probably only a moment. When it ended, I opened my eyes.



The demon was gone.



Unfortunately, his claws, with no hand attached, were still embedded in my neck and were still on fire.