Again I heard that awful chuffing sound, this time from behind. I wheeled to find the other two creatures standing guard just behind us, somehow clearly visible despite the darkness that enveloped us, blanketing the walls and rendering indistinct the ground beneath our feet. Both stood on all fours, their sudden heft supported by arms that now rippled with thick ropes of muscle. One lazily stretched a set of leathery wings, which made a sound like rustling leaves in the darkness. The other's flesh had split the length of its back, revealing two rows of bony protuberances — black as its skin and slick with its vessel's blood — that ran the length of its spine before terminating in a ridge of small horns at the bridge of its nose.
"And you, my dear," the once-bike-messenger said, addressing Kate. "So young, so petite, and yet so very, very dangerous. I've no doubt you'll find your new accommodations… satisfying. But don't fret; I'm certain that once your Collector is dispatched, we four can find the time for a little entertainment before we consign you to your fate. After all, you are such a pretty little girl…"
It was then that the winged one leapt. Maybe it was the rustle of its wingbeat; maybe it was just dumb luck. I guess it doesn't matter what it was that tipped me off, but as the winged demon closed the gap between us, its mouth of misshapen teeth open wide, I drew the gun from my pocket, closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger.
The report was deafening, and even through closed lids, the flash of the barrel was painful in its sudden brightness. The winged demon collapsed to the ground, whimpering like a wounded dog, its head a mess of blood and brain and teeth. I fired again. It shuddered and lay still.
The remaining demons roared in anger, shaking the ground beneath us. Then, as one, they pounced. The bike messenger was fast, I knew, but the horned demon was the closer of the two. I wheeled toward the latter and shot. I was too late, though, too slow — he slapped my arm away, and the bullet zinged off the concrete wall beside me. I heard a howl of pain, and as I tumbled to the ground, I caught a glimpse of the bike messenger lying across the right-hand rail, one clawed hand pressed tight to its ruined ankle. Blood welled red from beneath its fingers, and I felt a surge of savage delight as I realized my shot had not been wasted after all. Then the horned demon was atop me, one crushing hand around my neck, and I saw nothing but the encroaching darkness.
I clawed at the horned demon's arm with my free hand, but its grip was too powerful to break. I swung wildly at his face with my gun hand, and my heart surged as I heard a crunch of bone, a tortured cry. But the beast just slapped the gun away — it clattered useless to the ground, just out of reach. Suddenly, there were two hands on my neck, and the world began to recede.
My reality shuddered for a moment, and clarity returned. I realized it wasn't the world that had shuddered — just the demon atop me. Kate had kicked the thing across the face, and was kicking it still. The horned demon raised its hands to avoid the blows, but she just kept on kicking. Blood sprayed from the creature's mouth, sizzling as it spattered against the third rail. The scent of pennies filled the air.
The demon grabbed her foot and twisted. Kate went down, hard. It was on her in a flash.
The horned demon straddled her chest and buried one clawed hand in her hair, yanking back her head and regarding her carefully. Hatred burned in pitchblack eyes within the ruined meat of its face. A tongue, red-black and forked, extended from the demon's mouth and dragged across Kate's cheek, as one clawed digit traced a line across her neck — playful, taunting. The beast applied a little pressure, and the tender flesh of her throat furrowed, red blood welling in its wake. Kate shook with evident fear, and clenched shut her eyes as she steeled herself for the inevitable. The creature threw his head back and laughed — a full, throaty, baleful laugh that shook the tunnel around us, and sent showers of dust cascading from the rusted pipes above.
The bastard never even saw me coming.
I threw myself at him with everything I had. Considering what he was planning to do to Kate, my everything was a lot. I hit him in a full-on Superman horizontal, wrapping my arms tight around the demon's as the top of my head slammed into its cheekbone. Something in its cheek snapped like tinder, and the fucker went down. Momentum's a bitch, though, and I went down with him. We landed in a heap of bloodied limbs in the center of the tracks — me on top, with the demon kicking and scratching as it struggled to get free.
I pinned its arms above its head, with no thought but to stop it from gouging. Yellow-gray teeth scraped the flesh of my cheek as it snapped its jaw at me. By instinct, I recoiled. The creature seized the moment, shifting its weight and rolling me over. Cold steel dug into my back as it forced me down onto the rail, and again, its hands closed around my neck. I struggled against its grasp, but only for a moment. Then I slackened, and went still.
The creature's grip lessened — just a touch. It was all the opening I needed. I threw myself upward like a sit-up from hell, slapping away its hands and shoving the creature backward with all the strength I could muster. It tumbled backward, extending a hand to steady itself as it fell.
I could've danced a fucking jig.
Its hand connected with the third rail with a satisfying fwap. The creature convulsed as the voltage racked its body and every muscle tried to clench at once. Thick oily smoke snaked skyward, and pooled beneath the tunnel lights. A stench of salt and meat, sickly sweet, filled my nose, and I knew in that moment I'd never again attend a pig roast, no matter how long I walked this Earth.
Something happened to its eyes that I'd rather not describe, and then the beast was still. The liquid darkness of the tunnel faded somewhat, its walls and ceiling now no longer obscured from view. And there was something else, as welclass="underline" a subtle swirling, a shifting of the smoke, which continued to pour off the body but now no longer pooled, instead drifting perceptibly toward the distant light of the station.
"Kate," I said, as I watched the smoke drift past, "we gotta go."
She followed my gaze, and then glanced back the way we'd come, worry clouding her delicate features. "Yeah," she replied, "I think you're right."
I snatched the gun up from the ground and extended Kate a hand. She took it, and we trotted side by side down the tunnel, leaving the husks of the two demons in our wake. But then we paused, spotting the third, the former bike messenger, propped against the tunnel wall ahead, its head thrown back in obvious pain, its brow damp with sweat. It sat, eyes closed, with one knee tight to its chest, and its other leg extended, the latter terminating in a bloody, glistening stump. A few feet away lay a mangled foot, connected only to the leg by a trail of blood. The gunshot, so far as I had seen, hadn't taken off the foot. As I watched the stump pulse and split like some nightmare egg, loosing fresh claws that kneaded the chill, damp air gingerly as if testing it, I realized the demon had removed the ruined appendage itself.
The creature pushed backward with its good leg, and its back slid haltingly up the wall. It stood there a moment, its weight supported by its undamaged foot, the new one scratching tentatively at the concrete floor below, and then it took one lurching step forward, its eyes opening at last.
"I cannot let you pass," said the demon. Once more, the dark enveloped us, radiating outward from the demon, but that darkness was fragile, somehow, barely there — like tissue paper. The creature took another lurching step, wincing as it did. It stood in the center of the tunnel now, the smoke from its fallen comrade now streaming overhead. A sudden breeze ruffled its tattered clothes.
"You're in no shape for this," I said, not unkindly. "Just let us go."
"I fear we've come too far for that."
"I don't believe that's true. You got a name?"