yourself you’re not a punk. After that, you can take your beatings and whatever else comes and you can hold your head up.”
Oberon nodded. “I believe it is the same at court.”
“Yeah, but there’s less dancing in prison.” I raised my arms, with the walking stick in one hand and the other out stretched to the sky. I tapped juice from the street until my body burned with it and then I reached out with my mind and opened my familiar’s veins, taking all he could give, as well.
I stepped forward to the edge of the building and pointed the walking stick at the Fomoiri hero. “Friends have all things in common,” I said, and a torrent of magic rushed out of me and coursed over and through him. It was a simple friendship charm, one of the first spells you learn as a kid to make your way through life a little easier than it is for other people. It was a simple spell, but it was backed with a lot of juice. A combat spell with that much magic behind it might have seriously wounded or even killed the Fomoiri.
One down, and then we’d just have six more fire giants and the rest of the demonic army to deal with.
The Fomoiri hero lifted his ax, a wicked implement more than ten feet long, and then he froze. He stood up straight, almost at attention, and stared at me as the sidhe warriors rained blows and lethal glamour upon him.
I pointed at another of the fire giants who spun a spiked ball and chain around his head before whipping it down upon the glowing, multicolored shield Amy Chen raised to defend herself. There was a blinding flash as the ball impacted the shield. Amy fell to her knees and the shield began to burn, orange flame devouring the colorful light until it dimmed and then extinguished.
“Kill,” I said. If I’d known the demon’s name, I might have been able to issue more elaborate orders. On the other hand, that might have just gotten me in trouble.
The Fomoiri hero turned and brought his ax down on the knobby skull of Amy’s adversary. The blade cleaved through the giant’s head and bit deeply into its torso. Fire and darkness billowed out of the terrible wound, and the demon collapsed into a pool of smoking tar that began to disintegrate and blow away on the driving wind.
“Kill,” I said, pointing to another demon. The Fomoiri spun the ax in his hands and buried the blade in the back of a giant that had grabbed Terrence in one massive, gnarled fist and was lifting him toward its fiery maw. The demon collapsed and disintegrated, and Terrence tumbled free, rolling to his feet and immediately spinning attack spells that tore into a giant that was hammering at Adan’s defenses with a huge, two-handed hammer.
“How long can you keep this up?” Oberon asked. “Perhaps I can go for coffee.”
As if summoned by his words, a trio of crawlers scuttled over the edge of the building and leaped at us. They slammed into our protective circle and began clawing and tearing at it, struggling to squirm through the magic that held them at bay.
“Nice job,” I said, gritting my teeth against the burn of the juice racing through me. “Maybe you can keep these guys off me so I don’t get defriended by the fucking Balrog, here.”
Oberon grinned and leaped forward, out of the circle, his silver sword spinning and thrusting at the attacking crawler demons. His sword didn’t have much more of an immediate effect on them than my bullets had. Their inky, black flesh quivered and oozed around the blade, but golden light danced in the furrows and puckered holes the blade left in its wake. The faceless demons screamed and scrambled away, only to regroup and scuttle toward the fairy king from three directions. Oberon blurred and his sword was a glowing, silver tracer in the air. Black tar spattered the rooftop as the crawlers fell beneath the blade.
Oberon’s laughter carried on the wind. “They’ll have to send better than these pathetic creatures if they wish to bring low the Lord of the Shining Host,” he shouted. I winced.
The thing that crawled onto the roof was like a giant centipede, which wouldn’t have been so bad except that it was formed from the bodies of human children, one torso extending from the shoulders of the one before in a long, repulsive, fleshy chain. The chubby little arms served as the demon’s legs, and they scrabbled furiously against the asphalt as the creature undulated across the rooftop. The demon’s cherubic head was topped with golden curls, but the face was torn open and something insectile protruded from the torn, bloody mask.
“Discretion is the better part of keeping your fucking mouth shut, King.”
The front section of the demon rose up, baby arms waving, and the bug head made a wet chittering sound. The entire length of the creature’s body convulsed and black fluid sprayed from the insectoid mouth. The fluid vaporized when it struck my protective circle, giving off an oily black smoke, but Oberon was covered in it from head to toe.
The king screamed and fell to his knees. His sword clattered to the rooftop as he clawed at the black fluid that sizzled on the exposed skin of his face. It ate away at the flesh and I could see bone glistening underneath.
“Oh, fuck me,” I said. “Hold the charm on the giant as long as you can, Mr. Clean.” I hefted the walking stick in my hand and stepped out of the circle. I dropped a spell on the king to kill the hostile magic, and then I turned to the demon. I extended the juju stick and poured juice into it.
“Vi Victa Vis!” I shouted, and the demon swayed and nearly toppled onto its side as the force magic impacted the aesthetic travesty it called its head. It screamed, its voice that of a child in the throes of a tantrum, and it spat black fluid at me. I triggered my magical shield, and there was a flash of sapphire light as the acidic spittle vaporized against it.
This proved to be my one and only sucker punch, because the next few spells I threw its way rolled off it like rainwater from the Lincoln’s hood after a good waxing. Flesh tore as insectile jaws extended farther from the human mask and snapped at me.
“Okay,” I said, “we’ll do an old-school beat-down.” I triggered my jump spell and leaped over the demon, twisting in the air and smashing the walking stick’s silver pommel down on the golden curls. The juice I channeled through it flashed with the impact, and it tore through the thin veil of skin and bone to burn the demon flesh beneath.
I landed in a crouch on the other side of the monster.
It reeled from the blow and then steadied itself. Its head whipped around and I heard that wet, chittering sound again. I hit my jump spell and leaped away as the black, acidic fluid sprayed across the rooftop.
“All movements go too far,” I said, but I didn’t cast the telekinesis spell at the demon. I tore the large air- conditioning unit loose from the roof and hurled it at the creature. It tried to evade the improvised projectile, but its midsection was smashed and pinned against the asphalt by the heavy machinery. I poured juice into the telekine sis spell, pressing down on the air conditioner with all the strength I could muster. I heard tiny bones snapping and the dry, brittle sound of chitin giving way.
I raced to the back of the building to where a second story extended above the lower roofline. I spun my jump spell and leaped up, and immediately spotted another air-conditioning unit identical to the first. “All movements go too far!” I shouted, and wrenched the machinery from its moorings. I lifted it high and sent it tumbling through the air until it was poised over the demon, and then I hammered it down on the thing’s head. There was a tremendous crash and black fluid squirted from beneath the crumpled metal.
The demon’s loathsome body wriggled and twitched, and I was all out of air conditioners. I jumped down to the lower roof and ran to the edge of the building. I spun the telekinesis spell again and picked up a VW Beetle parallel parked in front of the post. I lifted it into the air, flipped it around so the car roof was facing down, and then slammed it onto the demon’s writhing body. Then I lifted the car and did it again and again, until the VW was little more than a crumpled ball of metal and the demon had been reduced to black paste on the rooftop.
I ran over to Oberon and knelt beside him. Acid burns marred his beautiful, porcelain skin and one eye was a puckered ruin of angry, red flesh. “Oh, Jesus,” I whispered.
“King, I can’t heal this. I can give you some juice to numb the pain.”
“Help me up,” he rasped. “I am not dead, and thus I am not beaten.” He extended his hand and I took it, pulling him to his feet. He touched his face gingerly. “How does it look?”
“How does it feel?”
“Like someone dunked my head in Hell’s toilet, and flushed.”
“Looks about like it feels, then. Don’t worry, you’re still prettier than any man needs to be.” It was a lie-even the fairy king couldn’t make acid burns look good.
“Let’s finish this, Domino,” Oberon said.
I nodded. We turned and walked together to the edge of the building and looked out across the field. The better part of the battle was already finished. Mr. Clean had held the charm on my giant friend long enough for him
