“Are they going to send anything hard at us? I mean, those half-demon flesh golems would have put up a better fight than this.”
“I don’t think they’re sending anything at us,” Wayne said after an instant of thought. “These zombies and skeletons seem to be lying around. Probably have been for a while.”
“If we get through this place and don’t come across any necromancers or Nel, I’ll knock the building down. And then I’ll knock Ylva’s cell block down.”
“Ylva seemed to think they would be here.”
Genoa turned her head with a glare even as Wayne sent a fireball over her shoulder. Only through his quick thinking did it swerve around her face to hit the zombie coming through a door.
“Ylva,” Genoa spat, “isn’t even here. She’s off gallivanting with the nuns, thinking that a single demon can keep them at bay.”
“She did it before.”
“What?”
“Last spring, I inadvertently invited her to drinks at a bar.”
“Inadvertently?”
Wayne rolled his neck. “I meant to invite only Foster, but she showed up as well. Some nuns showed up with presumably hostile intentions. Foster fled as fast as he could and I wasn’t too keen on being caught in a demon’s presence.
“Ylva sat there, drinking her drink without a care in the world. She mentioned that they wouldn’t be able to touch her.”
“Sounds fishy,” Genoa said, turning back on Wayne.
“Yeah, well, demons. What are you going to do?”
Genoa gave a snort as she rounded on a door. “This is the floor, right?”
“Unless someone moved the signs around.” Wayne tapped a finger against the floor marker.
“They won’t still be here.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain. They cannot teleport, your husband is watching the exits that Zoe won’t pass by, and they didn’t head up to the roof.”
“If they are here, they’re idiots. If I knew that I was after me, I’d have jumped out a window. They have a better chance of surviving the fall than–”
The door exploded outwards.
Genoa took the full brunt of the impact and was carried down to the next landing.
Wayne managed to maneuver such that he only got clipped in the arm. He processed through the pain as fast as he could. It would probably need medical attention, but he would live for now.
Standing in the doorway was a stitched up human. One fist about the size of his head hung down by his knees. He had an arm to match.
His other fist was already raised and headed towards Wayne.
Selecting a spell, Wayne created a concussive blast just in front of the man’s chest. He sent a stream of fire before the pinpoint of magic had a chance to expand.
Meaty chunks exploded back down the hotel hallway, painting the off-white walls with dark blood.
He waited for a moment for any follow-up surprises before shouting out, “Genoa?”
“I’m fine.”
The response came through clenched teeth. He could tell without even turning his head.
She walked up beside him, cracking her knuckles and neck. “Looks like this might be a better stress relief than I thought.”
“These must be the demon-golems?” Wayne said as two more stitched up monstrosities wandered into his flame’s light.
“Let’s see if they’re any better than the ones from the other week.”
Genoa kicked off the ground running. Metal trailed after her, forming spears in the air at her back.
The spears exploded into flames as Wayne coated them in a magical napalm. Just in time for Genoa to pierce every limb of one of the golems.
Wayne flared the napalm, incinerating the creature in an instant.
The sole remaining golem in sight lashed out with whip-like appendages. Genoa spun and dodged.
In a move that made Wayne wonder if she hadn’t somehow enhanced her reflexes as he had, Genoa grappled one of the whips and yanked.
It stumbled. The golem went off-balance just long enough for Genoa to step in and drive her focus through its forehead.
“Got any more?” she shouted. “Come on! These pathetic wretches cannot stop me!”
Nothing but silence answered her.
Well, Wayne thought with a sigh, silence and every door in the hallway being opened or broken down.
Wayne took a step back, making sure there weren’t more golems flooding up the stairs behind them. Genoa stepped forwards. The smile she wore would give him far more nightmares than any of the creatures around.
“You just had to open your big mouth, didn’t you.”
— — —
Des moved down the hallway, chasing after her father.
He wasn’t moving very fast–not as fast as Des might be moving had she learned that there was a contingent of nuns prepared to take them down–but with the recent ‘remodeling’ to her legs, Des had to move quick to stay at his back.
They walked into a room and stopped.
Their guest sat strapped in a chair. Almost all the eyes had been removed from one of her arms. Empty flaps of skin cried red tears.
“Some of your former compatriots have arrived, my dear.”
Her two normal eyes went wide, though she couldn’t speak with the bindings holding her jaw shut.
Something Des could empathize with.
“Oh don’t you worry,” her father said as he dug a finger into their guest’s arm, “thanks to our experiments, I am quite confident in my ability to keep them from using most of their abilities. My minions are well shielded against the unfortunate effects of their lightning. You are perfectly–”
The lights blackened with a heavy click. Only the ambient light from the window kept the room from becoming pitch black.
Sawyer stopped talking and glanced up at the ceiling light for a moment. He danced around their guest’s seat to the window.
“Huh,” he said. “It appears we have guests that did not make a reservation. Come Des, this hotel still has some vacancy. We will strive to serve.”
He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Des to scramble after him.
They walked down the hallway, passing straight by the staircase without a second glance.
“The elevators will be out. But that’s what magic is for.”
They made a sharp turn to where the elevators were. Her father stopped just in front of the door, almost causing Des to run into him. It took her a moment to realize that he was staring up the elevator shaft. The doors were already open.
Des glanced up with a frown on her face.
Eight red lights hung in the darkness above them.
Not lights.
Eyes.
Chapter 012
Abominations this, sacrifice for the people that. Does Brother Maynard never tire of hearing himself speak?
Standing at attention while listening to speeches about the glory of a combat death in the service of fellow men was possibly one of the most tedious things Ali had ever experienced.
Especially when, despite the necromancer being present, their primary goal was the hunting of one of their own. The rogue augur Nel Stirling would surely be comforted by the false sorrow projected by Brother Maynard in having to terminate her.
“Go, my sisters, and do your best endeavors.”
It took real willpower not to roll her eyes. As it was, Ali still glanced up to the overcast night sky and let out a small sigh through her nose.
There hadn’t been any big speeches prior to assaulting Ylva’s compound. No time.
Apparently, there was time now.
Ali much preferred it without. The speeches might have been intended to motivate, but they had the opposite effect. Brother Maynard had to know how it sent her fellow sisters’ hearts into their boots. There were only so many times one could hear about the heroes of the grave before adopting a fatalistic outlook.