Hellforged

fell to the floor.

Lil hovered over the bar, molding energy into another ball. I squirted seltzer at it. The fireball fizzled in her hands. Some of the water sprayed Lil, sending puffs of steam from her body. The ghost screamed and batted at the wet spots. Her ectoplasm—or whatever it was—ran like blood where the seltzer hit her, and I remembered hearing somewhere that ghosts can’t cross water. Now I knew why.

The water trapped Lil against the ceiling. I gave her a good soaking, moving the stream from her head downward, across her shoulders, along her arms and torso, and down both legs all the way to her toes. Stinking steam filled the room as Lil dissolved in midair, falling like rain into a puddle on the floor. I couldn’t see my hand in front of me. The pub reeked with a gag-inducing bouquet of rotting flesh, wet ashes, and sulfur.

Seltzer might take care of ghosts, but it wasn’t going to put out a burning pub. I had to get out of here.

I grabbed a bar towel and held it over my nose and mouth. Keeping low, I felt my way out from behind the bar. As I crawled cautiously into the room, the steam was rapidly thinning. In a moment I could see that the flames had extinguished. All of them. Only the usual fire in the big fireplace still burned. The energy from Lil’s fireballs had died with her.

Mr. Cadogan would be unhappy that I’d obliterated his prize tourist attraction. Maybe it’d be some consolation that I’d stopped her from burning down the pub.

Where was Mr. Cadogan? And what about Jenkins and the farmer? I waved the towel, trying to clear the steam faster. The room didn’t feel right—still no colors. I stood in a black-and-white photo, that stuffed-with-cotton feeling pressing my ears. I was caught in Lil’s world, with no clue how to return to mine.

I inspected the puddle of melted ghost. Getting rid of Lil had extinguished the fires—would getting rid of her remains put everything back to normal? Short of finding a bucket and scrub brush, I had no idea how to clean up ghost goop. I’d just about decided to start looking for a bucket when a bubble formed in the puddle. It grew, then burst. Glub. Another bubble followed, then two more—glub, glub. Soon the puddle was boiling. A beam of light shot upward and the goo rose up in a column, higher and higher until it touched the ceiling.

I ran back behind the bar and got the sprayer ready. If Lil could rematerialize, I’d keep knocking her out with water until I’d knocked her out of existence for good.

The column took shape. It didn’t look like Lil. It didn’t look like anything that had ever been human. Not even in the eighteenth century.

The creature was over seven feet tall, with scales and a flat, horned head. Its neck was like a tree trunk, and muscles bulged in its arms, legs, and massive chest. Black bat wings sprouted and stretched out to an eight-foot span. The creature’s spiked tail thumped the floor, shuddering the room. This was no ghost. This was a demon.

Suddenly, the nozzle in my hand didn’t seem like such a great weapon.

The demon shook itself, then looked at me and roared. Fire flared behind its eyes and in its open mouth. Moving way too fast for something that big, it leapt at me.

I went for Mab’s bronze knife. It wasn’t in its sheath. Shit. I’d drawn the knife when the room went weird, then lost it when I was dodging fireballs. It could be anywhere.

The demon landed on the bar with a bone-jarring thud. Its long, forked tongue flicked out, shimmering with flames. It drew back a taloned foot and kicked me in the chest.

I flew backward, smashing into a row of bottles and landing on a heap of broken glass. Shards stabbed into my back. More glass and rivers of liquor rained down on me. The demon jumped from the bar and lifted its foot to stomp me. I grabbed its ankle and yanked, making the demon pitch forward onto its knees. I scooted past it and got to my feet. I needed to find the bronze knife. I didn’t go more than two steps before something heavy hit me in the back. I went down, twisting as I fell, so the object the demon had thrown—the cash register—didn’t land on me. Pound coins and pennies rolled around my head like planets in a crazy orbit. I managed to get to my hands and knees and scurried around the bar before the thing could try again to stomp me.

I was halfway to my feet when the demon backhanded me across the room. My head cracked against the fireplace mantel and I fell awkwardly, inches from the flames, knocking over one of the heavy andirons. I groaned and pulled the andiron out from under me. It was bronze. A blunt instrument wouldn’t kill the demon, but a bronze blunt instrument might slow it down long enough for me to find my knife.

The floor shook as the demon landed behind me. I sat up and smashed the andiron into its shin. Smoke erupted where the bronze made contact with the demon’s scales, and the creature howled and clutched its leg. I brought down the andiron as hard as I could on its other foot. The demon toppled over.

Before it hit the floor, I was on my feet, racing through the room, knocking over tables and chairs as I searched for my knife. I’d hurt the demon, but it wouldn’t be down for long. The bronze had to pierce its hide to do any real damage.

I spotted the dagger six feet away, under a table. I ran over and grabbed for it, but the demon got there first, swiping with its tail and knocking the knife out of my reach. At the touch of bronze, smoke puffed from the tail and the demon screeched. The knife skittered across the room and landed in the fire. I ran to the fireplace and tried to snatch it, burning my hand in the attempt. I couldn’t hold the hot metal. And the demon was right behind me.

I swung the other andiron, connecting with the demon’s gut. The creature grunted but stayed put. It grabbed the andiron with both hands and wrenched it away from me. Clouds of sulfurous smoke poured from its hands, but it held on. The andiron swooshed toward my head. I ducked and ran behind the demon. The force of the swing sent it off balance, and I shoved it with both hands. It tottered and fell on its face.

It was up in seconds, throwing the andiron at me with the force of a runaway locomotive. I ducked again. The andiron crashed through a back window. Beside the window, shining like the answer to a prayer, was what I needed: a junky old military rifle. With a bayonet. A bronze one.

I ran over, leapt onto the bench, and pulled the rifle from the wall. The demon hit me from behind. I went flying again, but I hung on to the rifle. When the demon jumped in front of me, its arm drawn back for another blow, I lunged, goring its abdomen. The demon’s hide was tough, but I moved the rifle as much as I could—up and down, side to side—pushing hard and getting the bronze in contact with the maximum amount of demon guts.

The creature batted me away like a fly. I flew across the pub, thudded into the far wall, and crashed to the floor. The demon looked down at the thing sticking into its belly, as if trying to figure out what the object could be. Even from where I lay twenty feet away, I could see the smoke and melting flesh where the bronze had made contact.

It took hold of the rifle. Wincing, it pulled out the bayonet. It shuddered when the point appeared, then threw the weapon on the floor. The demon turned its head back and forth, like it was looking for me, but the fire behind its eyes had dimmed. It took a step, then grabbed at its abdomen and fell to one knee. As I watched, the demon began to shrink. The air around it shimmered as it grew smaller and smaller, until it was no larger than the spark that had started this whole crazy battle.

The demon disappeared.

I half-sat, half-lay against the wall. Any moment now, I’d see if my body still worked well enough to stand up. Yup, any moment. Before I could rouse myself to try, a thunderclap shook the room, and a flash of light blinded me. I blinked, trying to get my vision back so I could face whatever new threat approached. Somehow, I found my feet. I was standing at the back of the room, leaning against the wall beside the phone.

“There she is!” Mr. Cadogan called from the bar. “We was about to send a search party into the ladies’.”

My ears rang from that sonic boom. But Mr. Cadogan’s voice came to me clear and strong. Colors had returned. The dusty velvet drapes hanging by the unbroken back window were the most beautiful shade of red I’d ever seen.

I did a discreet self-check. No blood. No slashes, cuts, or burns. I looked exactly as I did when I walked into the pub. Even the pain was gone.

I smiled at the publican. “I wasn’t gone that long, was I? Just went, um, outside for some air.” I strove to keep my voice light, but I sounded like someone who’d barely survived a battle. Wonder why. I took a couple of steps—I was shaky as hell—and sat down at the table where I’d left my drink. I picked up the glass and downed the perry in three gulps.

“It’s past last call. Jenkins was getting anxious about you.”

Jenkins nodded, peering at me like he knew something strange had happened.