Forsaken (7 page)

I caught a Magpie in our apartment! Score one for me!

Riley waited, but there was no response. Probably busy trapping that Three. When she finally shut down the computer a couple of hours later, there was still no reply.

“You go, Dad! Movie night, here we come.”

SIX

Whistling “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” louder than was necessary, Beck waited in the middle of Alabama Street as night settled in for keeps. The steel pipe stuck in the back of his jeans was uncomfortable, but he left it in place. If they were lucky it wouldn’t be there much longer. To his right, Paul was hidden behind a dumpster, armed and waiting for their prey.

Beck had to admit that Five Points was one of his favorite trapping locations. “Demon Central,” as the trappers called it, perfect for Grade Three fiends. Threes loved the tangled warren of gutted buildings, seemingly bottomless holes, busted concrete, and overflowing dumpsters. Those few buildings still intact had metal gates over every window and door to keep Hell’s evil outside. It was the only part of the city that had much metal left. It was too dangerous to try to scavenge down here, though some folks tried. All of them regretted it.

Any exposed concrete sported long claw marks starting at four feet up, the way Threes marked their territory. That and stinking piles of demon crap acidic enough to melt asphalt. At least the cold weather had cut the stench a notch.

Beck was summoning their prey on a couple of levels. Threes detested Christmas music and couldn’t resist rabbit entrails, especially if they were a bit ripe. They had one-track minds: If something moved, they ate it. If it didn’t move, they ate it anyway just to be safe. While on the hunt, which was pretty much once it got dark, they ripped apart anything that got in their way. They’d grown so ferocious that most trappers had a buddy along as backup.

Beck caught movement near one of the countless holes that littered the street. It was a skulking rat, probably the only one within a square mile. That was a side benefit of a Three infestation: The rat and pigeon population dropped dramatically.

Even though he was growing impatient, Beck forced himself to hold his position. Pulling off his Braves cap, he smoothed his hair. It was getting shaggy by his standards, but he didn’t have the time for a haircut. The last two girlfriends had liked the look. Not that they hung around long, but there was always another one giving him the eye.

As Beck waited he swore he could feel the ground settling all around him. Built on top of what used to be street-level Atlanta in the nineteenth century, this part of town had been sinking for the last decade. Holes developed over the old steam vaults. Then the holes got bigger. And bigger. The last cave-in had been near the Five Points MARTA Station. With the city bankrupt, the holes kept enlarging. Only the demons found that a blessing.

Beck shifted his eyes sideways toward the battle-scarred dumpster fifteen feet away. Even in the dim glow of a single streetlight he could see the serene expression Paul wore when on the hunt. How he managed that, Beck never understood. It was probably why his partner had outlived his encounter with an Archfiend.

I sure as hell won’t.

There was a sound near one of the holes as a Three climbed out of whatever lay below.

“Demon at one o’clock,” Beck murmured. Paul nodded, holding his silence.

The beast should have been solid black, but this one had big white splotches like a lethal Holstein cow. Repeated applications of Holy Water did that to a Three, like a bad bleach job. This one had seen a lot of it and was still going strong.

The slavering beast hunkered down next to the bunny bait and gobbled the offering in one gulp. Then it looked up, those laser-red eyes scanning the terrain for the real bait—Beck.

“Trappperrr,” it hissed.

“Deemonn,” Beck hissed back. He waited for it to charge. They always charged, howling and waving those scimitar claws. Instead the thing’s paw closed around a beer bottle, arming itself. That was a new tactic. Usually they leapt on you and kept slicing until they had you on the ground.

“Incomin’!” Beck taunted. He ducked as the bottle flew by him. “Ha! Ya couldn’t hit yer own fat-assed mama with a throw like that!”

“Chew yourrr bones!” the demon cried, waving its furry arms above its head like a demented orangutan.

Beck mirrored the gesture and then sneered. “Yeah, yeah. If yer the best Hell can do, no wonder yer boss got kicked outta Heaven.”

“Name not He!” the demon shouted, cringing.

That was a sore point for those who were on Lucifer’s leash: They didn’t like to be reminded. Beck got an idea.

“Let’s see now, what’s his name?” He tapped his forehead in thought. “Yeah, that’s it!” He grinned and then started chanting, “Give me an L. L! Give me a U. U! Give me a C…”

Enraged, the demon sent a volley of beer bottles his way. Only one came close. Beck executed an exaggerated yawn, which only infuriated the fiend further. He could sense Paul’s disapproval from the direction of the dumpster. The master was never happy when his former student showboated, as he called it.

But damn, this is fun.

The telltale scrape of claws across the broken pavement brought Beck back to reality. He kept his eyes on the thing as it scrambled toward him. Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Beck remembered how those claws felt when they’d dug into him. The smell of rancid breath in his face. The click of incisors as they went for his neck.

“Now!” he shouted, brandishing the steel pipe.

A clear globe arced through the air and impacted directly on top of the creature’s head. Glass shattered and Holy Water drenched the fiend’s fur-covered face. The demon began to dance around like it was on fire, swiping at unseen enemies. Then it crumpled.

Paul stepped out from behind the dumpster, studying the monster from a respectful distance, another sphere already in hand.

“Damn, yer good,” Beck said, edging closer. “I can never hit ’em when they’re runnin’ like that.”

“Takes practice. You be careful,” his mentor urged.

“No problem. I learnt my lesson about these things.” Beck gingerly prodded the steel into the side of the demon. It wasn’t breathing. Which meant it was getting ready to strike.

“Heads up!” he shouted. The fiend was on its feet in an instant, moving faster than he’d expected. One of its paws clamped onto the pipe. Beck knew better than to keep hold of it. He’d made that mistake before and been pulled into the other set of claws. He surrendered the pipe, but by that time the demon was already lunging for him, Hellfire eyes glowing. He kicked with his steel-toed boot and caught the thing on the shoulder. As it spun around, one of the claws ripped the hem of his jeans, pulling him off balance. If he hit the ground he was dead.

As it turned, another sphere smashed into the Three’s back full on, causing it to shriek and bat wildly at the soaked fur. Before either trapper could react, it raced toward the closest hole, dove into the darkness, and disappeared.

“Ah, shit!” Beck spat.

Paul joined him, slipping the strap of the duffel bag onto his shoulder, his face radiating disapproval.

“Go on, say it.”

“What’s the point? You never listened when you were an apprentice; you’re not going to now.”

Beck waited him out. There was always more.

Paul shook his head. “You can’t do it straight, can you? Always a hotdog. It’s going to get you dead, Den.”

Beck was used to this lecture. He’d heard it often enough.

“It’s just … never mind.” Skating on the edge made him feel alive, kept things interesting. But he knew better than to try to explain. “The Holy Water hardly touched the thing. It shoulda been out for at least a couple minutes.”

“It’s happening more often now.”

Beck arched an eyebrow. “Any idea why?”

His companion shook his head. “No, but I’m working on that.” Paul studied the alley. “We need to rethink our strategy, at least for this demon.”

Beck reclaimed his pipe. It had four new claw marks on it. “Yeah, big-time.”

They turned and began to walk to the truck, both of them on edge. It reminded Beck of when he was in the Army, out on patrol. Waiting for that first burst of gunfire or a thundering explosion along the roadside. Here it was teeth and claws, but the effect was the same. If a trapper didn’t pay attention, he got injured or he got dead.

“That Five at the library today,” Paul said out of nowhere.

Beck had wondered when that subject would come up.

“Why did it come after
my
daughter?”

“No clue. Anyway ya can keep her from trappin’ for a while?”

“Probably not, but I can restrict her to being with one of us. That’ll keep her safe until we get this sorted out.”

“Better not send her out with me. She’ll feed me to the first Three she sees,” Beck said, trying to lighten the moment.

“She’s not got a crush on you anymore, Den, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh, I know that. Now she just hates me. I don’t know which is worse.” A grunt of agreement came from his partner. “Ya think the Five made itself look like one of the students?”

“That’s my guess. They don’t change forms very often, but it’s possible. As long as it kept its feet from touching the ground, it could work its evil.”

A breeze stirred, kicking up puffs of concrete dust. The hair on Beck’s neck ruffled. He shot a concerned look at his companion.

“Just the wind,” Paul said. “A Five’s not going to mess with two of us.”

“Tell him that,” Beck said, pointing down the alley.

A Grade Five Geo-Fiend materialized thirty feet in front of them, hovering a foot or so above the road. Beck estimated it was at least seven feet tall; its coal-black face was dominated by curved canines and twin horns that sprouted from the side of its head, curving upward like a bull. It had a massive chest, like an Olympic weightlifter who’d overdone the steroids. Brilliant red eyes glared at them, flickering in the dim light.

This was one of the big boys. Unless they were very careful, it’d turn them into sushi.

“That’s one damned ugly demon,” Beck muttered.

Paul palmed a Holy Water sphere.

“Hey, dumbass,” Beck shouted. “Trash any books today?”

The resulting laugh cut like razor blades. “Blackthorne’s daughter nearly mine.”

Paul’s legendary composure fled. His voice went low, urgent. “Circle around to the truck, Den. I’ll handle this.”

“Kiss my ass, Blackthorne.” It was exactly what he’d said the first time they’d met in history class.

After a worried frown, Paul called out, “Demon, this is your only warning.”

Warning?
Trappers never warned demons.
What’s he doing?

In response, the Geo-Fiend made slight hand movements like it was flicking lint off its clothes. Blue-black clouds began to form, the warm-up to a full meteorological assault. The fiend laughed again, its eyes glowing bright in anticipation.

“So what’s the plan?” Beck asked, his throat turning dry.

“Back up slowly.”

A snarl came from behind them. Beck looked over a shoulder. The Three had returned, drooling and clicking its claws together.

“Not happenin’.”

Paul shook his head. “This is so wrong.”

“Like they care,” Beck said, slowly rotating until his back was against Paul’s, his eyes on the furry omnivore bringing up the rear. “Got another plan?” he asked, testing the weight of the steel pipe in his hand.

“No,” Paul replied. He hurled the sphere, but a full blast of wind hit them a second later, like a summer squall, causing the orb to disintegrate in midair. Stinging rain and hail pelted them as a thunderclap shook the air, making their ears pop. Beck yelped and dropped the steel pipe, cursing as lightning sparked off it. Slowly they were pushed toward the slobbering demon. It held its position, its meal being catered.

Paul dug in his duffel bag and handed a blue grounding sphere to Beck. Then he pulled one out for himself. “You go left,” he ordered. “Count it down.”

Beck took a deep breath, his gut twisting in fear. “Three … two … one!”

He hurled the sphere to his left as Paul slung his in the opposite direction. Glass smashed and the spheres’ contents erupted in a blaze of brilliant blue light. The grounding magic began its run across anything metal, making it look molten. It shot along a section of rusty fence, leapt to the battered dumpster, then to a mangled bicycle. If the two portions met and formed a circle it would ground the Geo-Fiend into the earth. Once grounded the fiend lost its ability to use the forces of nature against them.

The Five hesitated, seeing their plan, and then moved higher into the air. It swept its hands upward creating two new whirlwinds. Pieces of debris sucked into the vortex, like iron filings to a powerful magnet. Nails, shards of glass, slivers of wood, and pieces of brick all whirled in a huge circle.

Beck picked up a broken two-by-four, gritting his teeth as the slivers drove themselves into his scorched palm.

“Eyes!” Paul shouted, smashing a shield sphere to the ground.

Even though his were closed, Beck could see the sheet of white light as it bloomed around them. Once he felt the brightness subside, he pried them open. A white veil hung in the air around him and his friend, a defense against the storm. It wouldn’t last long.

The twin whirlwinds struck hard against the magical wall, debris attacking from every quarter. It sounded like a hail storm against the magical shield. As the storm intensified, ripples of magic, like long blue tentacles, stretched upward to the Geo-Fiend. It fought the grounding, hurling wind, snow, and lightning like a vengeful god.

The white protective shield evaporated. A second later Paul cried out and slammed into Beck, causing the younger trapper to tumble to the ground. Rolling to the side, Beck came to his feet, crouched and ready for battle. Adrenaline pumped through him with every staccato heartbeat. It made his vision clear, each breath deeper. It made him feel alive.

There was a final wail as the weather demon sank into the earth behind them. The grounding spheres had saved their asses. As the wind died there was the patter of urban debris hitting the ground.