Demon Possessed (29 page)

“Oh, I assure you it is. In fact, I thought it was her alone from the beginning. It wasn’t until Justine was killed that I realized it was Gunnar as well.”

“But why—”

“She didn’t exactly want you in the picture, Meg,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure Gunnar was using her to get closer to you. Who knows what he promised her, but it must have been good.”

“But her father. She wouldn’t have plotted against her own father?”

“She probably didn’t even know what he had in mind. She’s not the brightest child. I don’t think she bothered to give much thought to anything else, as long as he was willing to give her a way to get rid of you.” His mouth twisted. “Not every woman thinks marrying a Gretneg is a horrible fate.”

“That’s not—” she started, but the words were torn from her mouth when a blast of energy poured into her, through her, sending her to the floor in a vibrating heap. Her arms, her legs, were no longer under her control. Neither were her thoughts. She felt them all, felt above them that same horrible blinding white light she’d felt on the roof, the same light that had nearly destroyed her in Elizabeth Reid’s room.

She was vaguely aware of Greyson’s hands on her, of Tera’s voice trying to talk to her or utter some sort of spell, or whatever she was trying to do. It didn’t help. She curled up into a ball as tight as she could, tried to see through half-blind eyes a place to hide, a place to escape to.

And they were coming. Getting closer and closer. She felt the angel’s triumph as the ballroom doors opened. Felt the entire crowd cowed by him, entranced by him, bathed in the kind of ecstasy only felt by lunatics and junkies. Felt the bloodlust they didn’t even recognize. They thought they were on a crusade, and she guessed they were.

To rid the world of demons.

And she was first on their list.

Chapter Thirty

Energy pulsed through her, thicker and darker and sweeter all at once. From Roc. From her demons. Some of the shrieking pain subsided. Somehow she was able to pull herself to her feet. “They’re coming.” She gasped. “They’re leaving the ballroom, they—”

Greyson nodded at Tera. Each of them grabbed one of her hands. “Now,” Greyson said, and Tera’s voice filled the air, filled her ears. The room spun and swirled, and she felt herself turning into something unreal, something she’d only been once before a few days back. The world went blurry, and suddenly she was on the roof, beneath the darkening summer sky, its blue-gray glow still faintly orange at the edges.

And she could think again. “What are we doing up here? Why up here?”

“This is where it will come,” Greyson said again. “This is where we have the best shot at beating it.”

“But why? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“We can ambush it here. More important, it can’t get hold of any more people up here. They’re too far away. And it likes roofs. Angels like open areas. They’re not happy indoors or anywhere with walls. This is going to be the place.”

She didn’t want to argue anymore. Especially not about something like that. He said it, he believed it. It was enough for her.

But there was one thing she could say, and she would. Energy still swirled and strummed inside her, making her feel as if her skin was about to fly off her body. She reached for him, tried to use that contact to calm her, but his hand just sat in hers.

“I didn’t know where you were,” she said. Tera was listening interestedly from a few feet away; Maleficarum, Nick, and Brian wandered around the door leading up from the floor below. Roc still hovered on her shoulder. But she didn’t care who heard. “I thought— I thought maybe it had gotten you. That you were gone.”

“And?” He wasn’t pulling away, but he wasn’t giving her much either. Well, she supposed she couldn’t expect much else.

“I didn’t—”

Shout. Screams. The door burst open, and a flood of humanity poured out onto the roof. Businessmen. Hotel employees. The sad sacks from the reverend’s meeting. The reverend himself, his eyes literally blazing, his mouth open in a roar that sent fear shooting straight up her spine and into her brain.

And above them all rose the angel. Not the non-

descript man she’d seen before, no. Not even the thing that had captured her on the roof. This was a beast, a creature of primordial rage and righteousness. Its eyes flamed, its skin glowed white, blinding white, searing its image into her retinas. In its hand it carried a flaming sword, blue-white flames, vicious and ravenous in her eyes.

Oh God how were they going to beat this how could they possibly beat this thing—

Roc’s fingers dug into her shoulder; Greyson’s into her hand. She heard Brian screaming, saw Nick—in typical Nick fashion—leap into battle with his sword raised and a look of unholy glee on his face.

But she waited. She didn’t know what to do. Attack or hold back? Try to read the humans, see if she could break the hold on them, or would that take up too much energy?

The angel’s flaming sword spun. He caught one of the people, a woman, with his blade; she fell, her shoulder and arm landing several feet away from the rest of her.

That was enough for Megan. She yanked her hand from Greyson’s and stepped back, willing him to stand in front of her, to keep her from being seen just one second longer. She had no idea if this would work or if it would simply make her shine like a beacon, but she did it anyway.

She lowered her shields all the way and pushed her energy out into the crowd.

Oh God. The hold he had on every one of them, the way he subsumed them. They had no conscious thought. They had no free will. It was as if they had no souls.

She pushed at them, pushed with everything she had, calling every bit of strength she could possibly get from her Yezer, from the air, from everything else. Wind kicked up around her, stronger and stronger, the thing fighting back. She heard its voice like insects in her soul rising above the screams, braced her feet to keep from falling, and pushed harder.

The angel’s hold—like a membrane, thick and semi-opaque—wavered around them. She caught a few thoughts, a few images, an overwhelming sense of peace and dark joy, the blissed-out happiness of the living, uncaring dead.

Greyson shouted something. She didn’t know what, couldn’t focus on him. His voice was a buzz in her ear, a fly she had to ignore. The membrane was loosening; it wasn’t giving way, but she could feel it, could lift it away from some of the people. If she could set even a few of them free, just a few—

Greyson leaped forward. A scream, loud and feminine—Leora. Megan turned to look for the girl and lost her hold on the membrane.

Damn it. Leora was there, all right, and Greyson was heading for her, but it was too late. Brian already had a hold on her, gripping her by the neck and pulling her back. She would have smiled if she hadn’t been so distracted; Brian wasn’t fighting the angel, but he’d take on anyone else, and clearly Greyson’s heading for Leora had given him someone to focus on. Fine.

She switched her attentions back to the membrane, ignoring the way her hair whipped and stung around her face. It wasn’t as easy this time; she was weaker, had used so much energy already. With a silent, guilty prayer of thanks that there were so many unhappy people in the world, she sent another call out through the invisible strand that connected her to her Yezer.

Energy roared back at her, so strong and thick it al most lifted her off the roof. There was the membrane again, sticky and grotesque. She pulled at it. Felt it weaken at the back—there! A few of them free. Just a few, but—

Something grabbed her from behind and threw her to the ground. Gunnar. Where the hell had he come from, how had—did it matter? No. Because his gun was loaded and cocked right in her face, and she had about two seconds to live.

Roc leaped forward, his spindly fingers clutching at the gun. The move startled Gunnar just enough for Megan to bring her leg up and kick him as hard as she could. Right in the groin. His shocked, pained expression might have been funny if the gun hadn’t gone off.

The bullet hit the roof an inch from her face. Chips of rock and tar flew up at her, opening stinging cuts in her cheek.

Gunnar fell. Megan rolled away. Time to try again, time to—oh no, duh. “Roc, tell them to show themselves. Tell them to fight the angel, tell them—”

Roc shook his head. “They’re gone,” he said. “It chased them away.”

“Then tell them to get the fuck back here!” How ironic was it that the only way she could hope to win was by making these poor people miserable?

Better than letting them die in this hideous state, all things considered.

Roc closed his eyes and shivered, sending the message. Yezer started to appear, blue and red and orange and yellow and green, like bizarre confetti strewn across the roof.

Gunnar got back up, the gun wobbling in one hand, the other pressed between his legs.

Tera shouted something. The gun exploded back at him. His hand disappeared; blood pumped from the end of his sleeve. His scream drowned out her next thoughts.

She felt her demons pushing, trying to get their humans back. Across the roof she saw Greyson binding Leora’s feet with something, some kind of rope, while Brian held her arms behind her back.

Gunnar smacked her across the face with his good arm.

She fell back, too surprised to scream. Tera started to shout something else, and Gunnar jerked, but Tera’s voice died. Megan managed to glance over and saw her friend sink to the floor.

Dark clouds appeared overhead and burst open with icy, stinging rain.

The angel set his flock loose.

They swarmed the roof, plowing each other down in their haste. Their haste to get to Megan. She craned her neck for one last desperate look through the haze of water and saw Nick, his face grim, swinging his sword like a scythe; in his other hand he held a gun, and the reports blasted across the rooftop and dulled her hearing.

Gunnar grinned. His arms closed around her, gripping her from behind, locking over hers so she couldn’t move. Blood from his stump poured down her back, hotter than the cold rain. As she struggled and kicked at him, her feet sliding on the wet tar of the roof, she saw Maleficarum and Spud fighting their way toward her.

They wouldn’t reach her in time. They couldn’t, because the angel had seen her, and it was coming.

Its hollow black-fire eyes were trained on her. Its lips stretched into a grin, a grin she couldn’t bear to see. It was red and white, too bright to exist, there on top of the building, and her demon heart shrieked and writhed inside her.

She struggled harder. Fought harder. It didn’t work. She tore her gaze away from the angel’s eyes and saw Greyson running toward her, waylaid by the reverend. He punched the preacher in the mouth and kept going, but the swarms of humanity were too strong, the rain and wind too thick.

At least too thick for him to get to her fast enough. Because the angel’s hand was above her, strong and pale and glowing, and she watched it descend like a fly watching the swatter fall.

With all her might, with everything she had, she pushed against him. Turned her energy into a weapon as she had the other night and drove it into him.

That same blinding flash of light. That same power driving into her, making her scream. She waited for the sucking feeling, the sense of him weakening, fading—

It didn’t come. The angel’s laughter echoed loud and horrible above her. Screams echoed around her, all of the people, every one of them, screaming. Falling to the ground in agony, water splashing as they fell. Their thoughts, their images, flashing through her mind at an unbelievable pace, too much for her to handle; even the additional powers she’d gained back at Christmas weren’t enough. Their memories, their feelings, burning into her, their agony tearing through her body. He was connected to them, and she was killing them.

Somewhere in the tiny part of herself that could still think, she knew she had to break the connection. Had to free them somehow so she could focus on him.

She pulled back. That was a mistake. The second she pulled her energy from him, his shot into her, wrapping around her heart and squeezing. She was choking. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t fight him off. Gunnar’s grip on her remained tight; she felt it as if through layers of cotton. Her body was leaving her control, she was fading . . . her vision went black around the edges.

Fingertips like feathers touched her arm. Power flowed into her, enough for her to see again, at least.

Nick. Oh, thank God, it was Nick, and he touched her with one hand while his other swung back and knocked Gunnar down.

She fell with him.
Good.
Good because it gave her a second’s respite from the angel’s touch. She started to roll away, grasping for Nick, tugging desperately at the cord connecting her to her Yezer but not getting much back. Not enough. She needed more, needed to get more. Needed everything she could get.

The angel grabbed her, yanked her back. Its hands burned her skin, and she screamed, reaching for Nick.

The angel’s arms fell away. Greyson was there. He’d jumped onto the thing’s back. Smoke rose from his skin; flames erupted around the angel, untouched by the rain.

It laughed. Threw back its head and laughed, a beautiful, terrible laugh that made her want to cower on the ground with her hands over her ears. The people screamed again too, screamed louder, until she thought for sure the entire city could hear them.

Nick was still there, holding her back, because she tried to attack and fight, to pull the angel away from Greyson. It was smiling too brightly, Greyson’s face was going too pale, for her to believe any good was being accomplished.

She had to do something. She had to end this now. Right now. She wasn’t powerful enough to beat the thing, not when it had whatever it was taking from all those people; her demons fed on misery and sadness, but it was feeding off humanity itself, if what she’d felt was correct, and it was far more powerful than she was to begin with. She suspected she’d only managed to beat it the other night because she’d surprised it, if that had been a defeat and not simply a strategic retreat.