The demon was screaming inside of its head, furious and confused at the treatment. Crow tried to force it back, but it was much harder that time, and he started to panic. What would happen if the demon took over while he was still inside? No. Focus. Get back! Luckily, the demon retreated before Crow’s Power.
The waves of gravity kept on crashing. The Heavy couldn’t possibly keep up that level of Power for long, and the second it let off, Crow would kill them all. Sullivan was wobbling. He’d been hit hard earlier and was feeling the injury now. Crow could sense the gravity weakening, and he managed to take a step forward.
Another Grimnoir rushed to Sullivan’s side and laid a glowing hand on him. Sullivan stood a little straighter and the pressure coming down on Crow increased. The Grimnoir had a Healer!
“On my mark, cut your Power!” The Jap was back. His shirt was hanging open and several deep lacerations were dripping blood, but a few of the Imperium kanji spells were visible on his skin, burning bright. The Jap hoisted the ink-soaked club as he gathered all of this awful Brute magic for a single shot. He closed his eyes and waited as the magic forces built until Crow could see the Power.
“NO!” Crow and the Summoned shrieked at the same time.
The Brute opened his eyes. “Now.” He bellowed as he swung, the steel club moving through the air with an inhuman speed. The crushing gravities fell away and Crow could move, but only for an instant before the impact.
Crow’s torso exploded into a black mist.
There was no brain inside the Summoned’s form, its intelligence was spread throughout the entire being. Crow’s consciousness was ripped into multiple pieces, but for a brief moment he could still see through the demon’s eyes as the horned head went flipping through the air. Then the Summoned’s connection to this world was broken and its spirit was sent hurtling back into the ether from which it had come.
Several miles away, Crow slammed back into his real body, pieces at a time. It was like a brilliant, jagged shaft of lightning drove through his skull and twisted. Crow screamed and convulsed, as he fell from his chair to lay twitching on the floor.
Crow was delirious from pain, but it was almost as if some of the savagery of the demon had returned with him. He wanted to kill these Grimnoir. He needed to taste their blood and snap their bones. His Power was burnt and scattered. It would take a minute to gather up enough to Summon again, but he’d destroy them if it was the last thing he did.
Desperate and delusional, Crow reached out for the greatest Summoned he had ever discovered.
The smoke gradually cleared. The forest was on fire; everybody had been splattered with burning demon bits, but Crow was gone.
Sullivan thanked the new Healer and pushed him away. Crow had pulverized him, but Dianatkhah had got him stabilized enough for the spells carved on Sullivan’s chest to handle the rest. “I’m fine. Save your Power for somebody who needs it more.” Toru was looking rough. He too had kanji engraved on him, and they were emitting heat and light as they pulled in Power to keep him alive. Crow had tagged him good, and the Iron Guard’s chest looked like somebody had slashed him with a pair of butcher knives. “Fix him,” Sullivan said, gesturing at Toru.
To his credit, Dianatkhah only hesitated for a second before moving over to put his hands on the Iron Guard. They might not like him, nor trust him, but Toru had just proved that he was mighty useful in a fight.
Diamond came running up. At some point one lens of his glasses had been cracked. “The compound’s burning. I sent Simmons and Mottl forward to secure the breach.”
“Good.” Sullivan did a quick head count. The rest of the knights were present. Ian wasn’t looking so good, but that was probably from the drain of having one of his Summoned destroyed rather than from any physical injuries. With the Dymaxion down, the tables had just turned in their favor. Dan Garrett had found Sullivan’s BAR and tossed it over. Sullivan caught the massive gun in one hand. “Let’s go.”
The knights moved forward. Sullivan paused long enough to pick up one bent half of Toru’s spiked club. He’d broken the solid steel bar against the demon. The one piece in Sullivan’s hand weighed twenty pounds. He held it up to show the Iron Guard. “Nice shot.”
The Iron Guard gave him a small nod. He seemed a little misty-eyed. “That was my favorite tetsubo. They will pay for that. Come. Let us kill these dogs.”
The broken chunk of steel landed in the puddle with a splash. Sullivan turned toward the burning compound. He figured that if the OCI knew what was good for them, they’d surrender now.
Francis had been dragged, kicking and fighting, up the stairs, down a corridor, to where someone else had pulled a burlap sack over his head, and then he’d been carried outside. He could tell it was outside because it was colder, stunk of smoke, and the gunfire was louder. There’d been some shouting between the OCI men to not wait for Heinrich, and then he was tossed onto something that, from the rocking and the sound of the water, could only be a small boat. An outboard motor had started, and then they were heading across the river. Francis didn’t even know which direction they were going.
He had struggled against the cords on his wrist, but an OCI man sitting right across from him had growled at him to stop. They probably didn’t want any rope burns to show up during the autopsy. Francis had tried to be more discreet when he went back to struggling. That had earned him a smack over the top of his head. “I got a. 38 on you. Try anything stupid and I’ll gut-shoot you and roll you over the side.”
They’d been on the river for only a few seconds when a horrendous noise came from behind. Francis could even see the flash of light through the rough fibers of the hood. The boat rocked wildly as somebody fell against the motor.
“What was that?”
“Headquarters blew up! Look out.”
There were slaps and splashes as debris fell out of the sky. Francis unconsciously scrunched lower against the wooden seat.
“Hell. That had to have taken out the big Dymaxion. We should head back.”
Francis hurried and checked his Power, but there was still nothing.
“Proceed with the plan. They’ve still got the portable units, same as I’d-”
Crack!
This explosion was much closer-so close in fact that the impact knocked Francis off his seat and pelted him with stinging bits. The boat shuddered and lurched. Cold water came washing over the side. Francis felt a moment of terrible panic about going in the water with his hands tied behind him, but the boat stayed upright.
His ears were ringing, but somewhere behind that he could hear screaming; then there was a loud splash as that man fell overboard.
“What the hell!” There was creaking and banging as the men tried to take cover. “Where’d that come from? Are we under fire?”
“No. Griffin’s chest just popped! What was that?”
“I don’t know. What are you waiting for?” the man closest to Francis shouted. “Get us out of here!”
“Shouldn’t we pull him out?”
“Water that red? He’s dead. Go already!” The motor roared and they were moving, bouncing against the current.
Fuller had said that when that spell hit them, the Dymaxions would blow up. Francis checked again, and almost couldn’t believe it. His magic was back. Yes! Buckminster Fuller, whatever Ray paid you wasn’t nearly enough.
First things first. He was sick of being tied up. Francis focused on the cords around his wrist. He didn’t even need to see them. Being a Mover was like having a bunch of invisible extra hands, and he could feel the shape of the knot in his mind. It had been tied fast, simple and sloppy. Francis started picking it apart. A few seconds later the ropes fell away.