be made a liar.
The bear swiped at him with claws of ebony, and he managed to jump back and away, even though he could no longer summon his wings. It was as if the beast could sense something from this adversary, that there might be a chance that this one could be dangerous, and perhaps it should show caution.
It could show all the caution it wanted, but there wasn’t anything that could keep the enraged Remy from his foe now.
His hands were glowing a pulsing orange, and he could see the monster averting its single good eye from the burning light. Remy dodged quickly into the beast’s blind spot and lunged at the foul animal.
The bear was swinging toward him, turning its good eye to the attack when Remy latched on. With all his might he threw his arms around the beast’s thick, muscular neck, shoving his face into the rough, dank-smelling fur. And as the monster began to thrash wildly, Remy pressed his burning hands to the shadow flesh, coaxing the fire within him.
The animal became frantic with pain as its fur and flesh began to burn. Remy continued to hold tight, turning his face away from the noxious smoke.
The shadow beast’s cries were pathetic as it spun madly in a circle, attempting to fling away the one that caused it so much pain, but the angel held fast. A small part of him actually felt sorry for the stupid animal, but another, far stronger part wanted nothing more than to revel in its cries and to see this hellish beast vanquished.
To see his enemy dead.
But the fire was suddenly gone; Remy could feel the divine power falling away and dragging behind it into the abyss any strength that he had left.
The shadow beast flailed madly again and Remy was flung through the darkness, waiting for the inevitable impact, which came with bone-jarring intensity as he landed on his back.
He knew he had to rise, but no matter how hard his brain attempted to communicate this, his limbs and muscles failed to respond. Lying on the ground, Remy cursed himself for his failure.
The starless darkness above him was suddenly eclipsed by something even darker, something that loomed above, glaring down at him with a single, malevolent eye, the top of its shaggy head burning with a smoky orange halo of fire.
It opened its mouth slowly, the light thrown from the flame on its head causing the razor-sharp teeth within its fearsome maw to reflect the light and show him what was about to rend his flesh.
And for what he had been responsible for…for what he had done to Ashley, Remy believed he truly deserved this fate and worse.
Remy braced himself, his fingers digging deep into the solid darkness beneath him.
But the killing strike did not fall, and he found himself looking up at something hard and glinting, protruding from the beast’s thick, muscular neck, something that was quickly pulled away but then driven again into another section of the monster’s upper body.
A spear.
The bear left his field of vision with a bellow of rage. Remy tried to turn his head but was too weak to do so. Something huge and heavy ran across his prone form, trampling him, rolling him across the ground until he came to rest on his stomach. He could see better now, his foe facing off against…
Remy at once recognized the short, hooded shape he’d glimpsed through the back window of Scrimshaw’s vehicle when Remy had first arrived to the shadow realm.
It hadn’t been a trick of the darkness; the figure was real.
And for some reason, it was coming to his aid.
Remy watched through eyes fighting to close as the beast and his small savior battled. Finally, the shadow beast fell to its side, and the hooded warrior plunged his spear into its chest to still its heart and end its misery.
Remy’s eyes grew increasingly heavy as the mysterious figure slowly approached him.
And the angel wondered if the same mercy was about to be shown to him.
Squire hadn’t wanted to get involved, but there was something about this one, something that he recognized from long ago.
He knelt beside the man on the ground. Keeping one hand on his spear, he used the other to feel the prone figure for injuries. Considering what he’d just gone through, he would have imagined worse. Just minor cuts, bumps, and bruises.
Squire looked closely at the man’s face, hoping he’d made a mistake.
But there it was, plain as day. There was no doubt about it; he was one of the good guys.
“Fuck me,” the goblin grumbled, using the spear to pull himself to his feet. He looked around the landscape, squinting through the darkness, spying the wrecked limousine lying twisted upon its side, knowing exactly where it had come from.
“So, what were you doing out there?” he asked, before he was distracted by a faint moan.
He left the good guy’s side to go to the girl, surprised that she was still alive. In rough shape, but still alive.
His pointed ears picked up the sounds of rustling off in the distance as more predators looking for a meal approached, drawn to the scent of death. Part of Squire wanted to say Fuck it and head back to his camp, where he could forget he’d ever come across these two out here.
For a second he actually convinced himself that he could do that, but then he had to admit what a big fucking liar he was. He knew that what he intended to do would stir up all kinds of old memories and emotions-all things that he’d rather not remember.
He’d been a good guy, too, not so long ago, but it hadn’t done him a bit of good. What he and his friends had been up against…what he and the other good guys were fighting…
It ate fucking good guys for breakfast.
He had been lucky to escape with his life.
Squire picked up the girl and slung her over his shoulder with a grunt; then he walked over to the man. He was muttering over and over about the girl and how he had to save her.
“You’re not in any shape to do shit,” the goblin growled. He plunged the spear into the black ground and reached down to take hold of the good guy’s wrist.
He guessed that the guy was probably from some other, alternate world, one that hadn’t fallen to the threat that had claimed his own.
Hasn’t fallen yet, Squire thought as he started to drag the man across the ground. In the end, no matter how many there are, they always fall.
Squire had sensed the opening that had likely brought the good guy here some time ago, but had chosen to ignore it.
Why set himself up for future disappointment? The worlds he’d found on the other side of the shadow were often just like the one he and his friends had fought so hard to protect. Sure, there were differences, but there were similarities, too.
Like the fact that there was always a war of good against evil in various stages of development, and that the worlds always had protectors who believed they would triumph over the seemingly insurmountable obstacles that were set down before them.
Images of the place he had left behind and the number of other worlds that he had stumbled across in the throes of death appeared unwanted inside his skull.
And Squire wondered if he had it in him to see yet another.
He paused for a moment, getting his bearings, before his senses zeroed in on the passage.
Of course I have it in me, he thought, trudging across the shadowscape.
For once upon a time, he had been a good guy, too.
Algernon Stearns knocked lightly on the wooden door as he opened it.
The little girl appeared to be sound asleep, but upon seeing him, her eyes brightened and she smiled.
“Uncle Algernon,” she said happily, pushing herself to sit up.
Stearns went to her bed and sat down beside her. She wrapped her spindly arms around him and, feigning affection, he hugged her back.
