Moran still stood in the middle of the demon’s nest. Behind him, I glimpsed the Baphomet Orb on a table, and figured it was what he was protecting. The demon had no problem ranging afield from its lair, nor did the minions, unfortunately.
Sorren was cut and bleeding in a dozen places, but he came back again and again and Moran’s damaged immortality was no match for Sorren’s vampire speed. Moran blocked the attack with a force curtain of black mist. Lucinda sent a blast of white light from her staff, straining against the mist until the curtain vanished, giving Sorren another opening to swing his blade and slash Moran across the ribs.
Teag came up behind Lucinda and placed one hand on her shoulder while he worked to loosen another knot in the circle loom he wore at his waist. I could practically see the energy flow from Teag into Lucinda, see her gain strength like water to a wilted plant. She murmured thanks, and Teag swung back to me, just in time to face a new threat.
More of the akvenon minions were heading our way. Bo’s ghost lunged at them, and with each new wave of attackers, that worked once or twice. I sent a blast of fire from Alard’s walking stick, but these minions scuttled fast enough that the worst of the blast missed them.
“A little help over here!” I yelled to Teag.
Teag held his staff in the crook of his arm, reached in his pocket and withdrew a tangled mat of colored threads. He stretched it between his fingers, and thrust his hand out toward the closest minion.
The akvenon tumbled over as if caught in an invisible net, its clawed feet scrabbling to get free. The mat of threads in Teag’s hand crumbled into dust.
The walking stick’s magic was taking a toll on me, so I shoved it through my belt and grabbed Secona’s whorl in my left hand as my right hand closed around the ring. I focused on the ring and drew power from the jet bracelet, willing the images of power imprinted on the whorl to spring to life. Long-ago magic from long-forgotten battles sprang to my hand, flooding outward in a cascade of brilliant white light that bowled the akvenon over and flung them back to slam against one of the thin metal walls.
Mirov had replaced his Sig with long silver throwing shivs. He and the demon rounded on each other, both bleeding from more wounds than I could count, both a little shaky on their feet, and both utterly intent on destruction. A deep gash ran from Mirov’s left eyebrow to his chin, and a slash to his right thigh left him limping.
Chuck looked worse for the wear as well. I wasn’t sure what he still had left of the weapons he’d grabbed from his bag of tricks, and I didn’t know how much longer he could last.
Chuck dove toward the demon, this time with a bigger version of the EMF disruptor I had seen the night we had fought the minions at the store. He gave the demon a good jolt, enough to distract him while Mirov sent two of the silver shivs spinning toward the demon.
One lodged in the demon’s throat, and another struck him in the belly. Both sank deep into the demon’s body, and the monster roared and twisted, its red eyes slitted in pain and rage.
Teag secured the head wrap more tightly and gripped his fight staff as we braced for a new onslaught of akvenon. Four more minions came at us this time, and the shadow men pressed forward, coming at us from all directions.
Teag and I were fighting back to back. He had been able to use his threads to force-net two of the minions, but that didn’t stop the shadow men. He put his hand on my shoulder and loosed another hemp knot. It kept me on my feet, but I wouldn’t be able to take much more of this. I knew the head wrap held some of the power of the Loa Ogoun, a fierce warrior, and I figured Teag was in need of some otherworldly support right about now, too. Teag let go of me and drew his short sword. Staff in one hand, blade in another, Teag’s Eskrima training was getting good workout.
Moran seemed to be throwing everything he had left at Sorren and Lucinda. I had enough on my plate with the minions and shadow men, but the magic they were trading back and forth lit up the inside of the old warehouse like the Fourth of July. Sorren’s sword was red with Moran’s blood, and I could see dark vampire blood on Moran’s blade. It was a toss-up on who could stay on his feet longer.
“Incoming!” Teag shouted, as the minions ran at us. Teag had expended all his magic except for the protection of the embroidered flat scarf and his blades. I hoped it would be enough, because I was almost out of tricks myself. While the magic in the walking stick and the spoon-athame and the whorl wasn’t really my own, summoning the energy to use my gift to touch the memory of that power drained me more than I’d realized.
Bo kept barking, trying to keep the shadow men at bay. One of the minions skittered in fast and launched itself at Teag. Teag used his staff as a lever to leap up and land a kick to the minion, sending it flying into the darkness across the room. The other minion came at me, knocking me to the ground. I screamed as its claws slashed into my shoulder, and on instinct, my hand came up, and blasted it with the whorl’s white-hot power at point-blank range.
The akvenon squealed and hissed like a crab on a hot griddle as its thick-scaled skin peeled away and its rancid flesh began to burn. I gagged on the stench and got my feet up, slamming into the minion and hurling it as far away from me as I could.
One of the shadow men caught Teag just as he got his feet under him, and grabbed at his shirt, shredding it down the back. Teag whirled, striking with his staff, but the pole went right through the shadow man. Swearing under his breath, Teag backed away as the shadow man’s long fingers sank deep into his left arm, raising deep cuts that welled bright with blood.
“Get back!” I shouted, and Teag dropped and rolled as I got off a shot with the bright force of the athame.
It pushed the shadow man back, but more were coming, and I as I struggled to my feet, I despaired of making it out alive.
Dozens of shadow men rushed toward us, and I knew I was going to die. But just as they were about to reach for us, a cold, damp tide of fog rolled in, rising between us and the shadow men, and in that mist I saw the faces of the men Moran had murdered for his demon. Jimmy Redshoes, Kevin Harvey, Fred Kenner, Russ Landrieu, and his crew and the nameless vagrants whose murders no one had noticed.
They rose like a wall between us and the shadow men, shoulder to shoulder, surrounding us, holding the worst at bay – for now.
Sorren looked almost as bad as when we had been attacked at the warehouse. His hair hung lank around his face, he had the pallor of a corpse and he was bleeding in more places than I could count. He seemed to be baiting Moran to come at him, diving back and forth, tempting Moran to venture further out from his place in the middle of the demon’s nest.
Mirov, too, seemed to be drawing the demon to him with a sudden round of frantic attacks. Chuck bellowed a Rebel Yell and leaped onto the demon’s back, bringing a military-issue bush knife down with all his might. Chuck struck again and again at the demon’s spine as Mirov slashed and thrust with his sword.
Chuck was covered with black ichor and his own blood, but I could see the determination in his face.
He leaned forward and slashed his blade across the demon’s throat as Mirov lunged, sinking his sword deep and drawing it down in a move that would have eviscerated any living creature.
Moran loosed a blast of white light at Sorren, and I realized as Sorren screamed and fell back, skin blistering and charring, that it was simple daylight conjured as magic that might be our undoing.