Dead Harvest

inches behind, my thigh twingeing with every step despite the doctor's numbing agent. The lights of the next station were lost in the gentle curve of the tunnel. It could be fifty yards from where we stood; it could be five hundred. I told myself it didn't matter where it was – we just had to keep running. But of course it mattered. That train wasn't going to block their way forever. They'd find their way around it, or through it if need be. And when they did, they'd be coming for us. If we didn't reach the next platform before they broke through, we'd be trapped in this concrete tube with a horde of pissedoff demons. If that happened, I didn't like our odds.

  Kate let out a yelp, and tumbled to the ground. Something squeaked angrily in the darkness. A pair of beady rodent eyes looked up from where she'd just stood, and then disappeared into the gloom. I dropped to a knee, panting, beside her.

  'You all right?' I asked. Though I spoke at just above a whisper, my voice echoed through the tunnel, advertising our position to anyone – or anything – that cared to listen. I could only hope the constant clatter of distant trains was enough to drown out my words before they reached the ears of our pursuers.

  'I stepped on something,' Kate replied. 'Something alive.' She twisted one arm out away from her, examining her elbow. A scrape the size of a silver dollar glistened black under the dim overhead lights.

  'Rat,' I said. 'He's gone now, though.' I nodded to her right, where, beneath a thin protective canopy, the third rail stretched the length of the track, just inches from where she lay. It looked so harmless, so unremarkable, that you couldn't help but doubt the countless admonitions you hear growing up in the city not to touch it. But still, there it sat – a challenge, a dare, a trap for the unwary. As Kate spotted it, she recoiled.

  'That thing's got enough juice in it to animate a train,' I said. 'I suspect it's got the opposite effect on a person. Be careful getting up.'

  I extended a hand, and she took it. With a little more trouble than I'd expected, I hauled her to her feet, doubling over afterward and sucking air as waves of nausea radiated outward from the stab wound in my leg and turned my insides into knots.

  'Jesus, Sam, are you OK?'

  'Yeah,' I said, straightening. 'Just popped a stitch is all. C'mon, we gotta get moving.'

  She looked doubtful. I couldn't blame her – I didn't much believe me myself. But staying here wasn't really an option. So instead she slung an arm around my waist, and we set out down the tunnel, straddling the dead left- hand rail of the track, staying as far away from the third rail as we could manage.

  We'd only gone ten paces when we heard it: a shriek of rending metal, a crash of shattered glass. A horrid slavering filled the tunnel, and one by one behind us, the overhead lights flickered and died. The darkness marched forward, step by step, as light after light gave up the ghost, and what remained was more than a mere absence of light: the darkness was pulsing, malevolent, alive. There was no mistaking what that darkness contained; it was the black fire of pure torment, of a being forever occluded from the nourishing light of grace, and in the face of it, all hope of escape withered and died.

  They were here.

  Without a word, Kate and I released each other from our awkward embrace, and took off down the tunnel at a dead sprint. Blind panic coursed through my borrowed frame. It made me strong. It made me fast. It didn't make me fast enough.

  There were three of them, the bike messenger in the lead, followed by two others. In all my time walking this Earth, I'd never seen a demon so thoroughly warp its host as these three had theirs – nothing human of them remained. The clothes of the bike messenger hung in tatters around his now-massive frame. He galloped just ahead of the darkness on all fours, his flesh as black as the fire that raged in his eyes, as black as the Depths from which he had sprung. In the naming of things, humans have never been so wrong as when they called the brown-skinned 'black' – for brown skin is full of warmth, of life, and this creature, black as pitch, was anything but. Its skin glistened and rippled as muscles pushed beyond the breaking point heaved and flexed like the haunches of a prized steed. Gristly streaks of red where the skin had split in deference to the form it now contained marred every swollen joint and twisted limb. Bloodied fingers, more claw now than digit, tore at the ground, propelling the beast forward, while the joints of its hind legs now bent backward, folding under the creature in an awkward, inhuman motion, and then extending in leap after bounding leap. I'm amazed I managed to keep my feet, so transfixed was I with the view over my shoulder. But keep my feet I did, and as I tore my eyes from the horrible visage behind me, I saw something that caused my heart to leap: a glimmer of light maybe a hundred yards ahead, the next station on the line. If we could just make it, just shake these beasts for long enough to disappear into the crowd…

  But it may as well have been a hundred miles. Hot breath prickled at my neck as the liquid darkness engulfed us, and by instinct I pitched forward, snagging Kate on the way down and dragging her to the ground. The one-time bike messenger sailed overhead, one clawed hand swiping diagonally across where I had just stood. But the demon just passed through empty space, and the creature tumbled to the ground, rolling twice before finding its feet. It stood hunched in the center of the tracks, facing us, its chest heaving with every labored breath. A corona of light, pointed like the rays of a star, splayed out around the beast as its massive form eclipsed the light of the station beyond. The creature made a terrible chuffing sound. I suppressed a shiver as I realized that it was laughing.

  'You have fought well, Collector,' the demon said. 'You have done yourself proud. But you have also caused us a great deal of trouble. I'm afraid you shall receive no mercy this day. Your death will be a slow and painful one.'

  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