Hellforged

I nearly dropped Hellforged when he said it. He was right. All around me stood hundreds— hundreds—of slate gravestones. And that meant hundreds of Morfran targets.

“Keep Pryce away,” I said.

Kane nodded, and I went to work.

Quickly, I tightened my circles and pulled in the Morfran. I zeroed in on the nearest gravestone. I transferred the athame from left hand to right, pointed Hellforged, and shouted, “Parhau! Ireos! Mantrigo!” The stone split like it had been struck by lightning. The halves fell away from each other, and smoke spewed out. Overhead, the sky grew half a shade brighter.

I let out a whoop of triumph.

I scanned the cemetery. Rows of crooked gravestones stretched into the darkness; the center obelisk glowed an eerie white. No sign of Pryce lurking among the graves. He was here somewhere—I didn’t doubt that for a second. But Kane would keep him back from me, and there was no way he could steal all the slate from the cemetery.

Success brought strength back into my limbs. I began the ritual again. And then again. And again. Over and over, I pulled in a batch of the Morfran—as big as I could handle—and slammed it into a slate gravestone. I made my way across the grounds, scooping up as much Morfran as I could as fast as I could, stoning it, moving on. Some gravestones split, some fell over, a few just shuddered. But nothing broke my focus on my task. I was aware of sirens, footsteps, voices; none of these pushed through my concentration. Gradually, the drag on my circling arm became less. Degree by degree, the inky darkness lightened. Finally, after what felt like days of effort, I chanted the incantation and made the hurling motion … and nothing happened.

I’d done it. I’d imprisoned the last of the Morfran.

My knees turned to water. I sank to the ground, limp with exhaustion.

But not for long. Behind me, sounds of fighting broke out—grunts, curses, the smack of flesh hitting flesh. Then Kane’s voice shouted, “Don’t shoot, damn it! I’ve got him. Just get that human the hell out of here!”

I fastened Hellforged in its sheath, got up, and ran over to where Kane clasped a struggling zombie around the waist, holding him in the air as he kicked and thrashed. One EMT pointed a gun at them; the other shoved at the gurney holding Norden, but its wheel was stuck and it wouldn’t budge.

Daniel appeared. He lifted the gurney’s front end and pulled, freeing the stuck wheel. The gurney started rolling again. Daniel pulled, one EMT pushed, the other walked beside, his gun still trained on the zombie.

Kane, backing away, tripped over a low-lying gravestone and went sprawling. He kept his grip on the zombie. I made a flying leap and landed on top of the two of them. It was like riding a bucking zombie bronco, but together we held him down.

Daniel kept going with the EMT guys. “Lynne’s okay,” he called back over his shoulder, though nobody had asked. “She’s in the ambulance. I told her not to unlock the doors till I came back.” His voice faded as he moved down the path, saying something to the ambulance crew.

As the scent of Norden’s blood grew more distant, the zombie’s struggles lessened. “I’m hungry,” he moaned.

“Soon,” I said. We couldn’t let him up until Norden was safely packed into the ambulance and on his way to Mass General.

“Those guys should carry potato chips, not guns.” Kane’s muffled voice emerged from somewhere under the zombie.

“Yeah, but—” Before I could say more, a gong reverberated through the cemetery. For a couple of confused seconds, I thought the concert had started again and the band was launching into another song.

But no music followed.

Shit. The last time I heard that sound, I was in an abandoned Welsh slate mine.

Kane cursed. He recognized it, too.

When the second gong rang out, I knew we were in trouble. The dead weren’t exactly dancing anymore— they were stampeding through Boston in a panic—but Pryce was freeing the Morfran I’d trapped.

I whipped my head around, trying to locate the sound’s direction. Daniel and the EMTs had almost reached the ambulance, but I didn’t see Pryce. When the third gong sounded, I watched. A deeper darkness swirled up out of the night.

“There!” I pointed. Kane twisted his head around to see. “Can you handle this zombie while I do the ritual?”

“Yes, but don’t say zom—”

I was already on my feet, unsnapping Hellforged’s sheath. I kept my eyes on the mist. It solidified into a flock of crows that blasted into Norden and the EMTs. The techs took cover as the gurney flipped over. Daniel drew his gun. The crows soared up into the sky.

They circled once, then, sensing the zombie on the ground, dived at him. He screamed. Kane tried to shield the zombie, but the crows passed right through him to get at their prey, gouging out chunks of undead flesh.

“You can’t protect him,” I yelled. “Get Pryce.”

I moved Hellforged in a big circle, pulling the Morfran toward me. Hellforged drew the Morfran like a magnet, dragging crows off the zombie, sucking them toward me in mid-dive.

The zombie’s screams faded to moans. Kane took off at a run toward where the mist had risen. Daniel followed him.

“Pryce has an oak stick or staff,” I shouted after them. “Get it away from him.”

I made the circles smaller. The zombie staggered to his feet. I glanced toward the ambulance. One of the EMTs slammed the back door, then ran around to the passenger side. A second later, the ambulance peeled away, siren blaring.

The gong sounded again.

“Get out of here—now!” I yelled at the zombie.

He tilted his head. One eyeball dangled from its socket, where a crow had tried to pluck it out. The second gong reverberated.

“Go!” I screamed, and the zombie ran toward the exit. I’d never seen one move so fast.

I tightened Hellforged’s circles. From across the cemetery came shouting, then a shot. Good. I hoped Daniel had nailed Pryce right through his little black heart. Or did Pryce have a gun, too? My heart lurched, and I felt some Morfran slip away. Focus, Vicky. I pulled what Morfran I could back into Hellforged’s orbit.

The gong sounded again. Was that number three? It sounded like it came from a different part of the cemetery; maybe Pryce had been forced to start over. But he was obviously still at work, and he could release the Morfran a hell of a lot faster than I could contain it. Another gong—two? I hurried, hurling the Morfran I’d caught into the nearest gravestone. But I made the transfer too soon, and some of the Morfran got away. Blue sparks skittered across the surface of the stone, then swirled up in tendrils of black mist.

Before I could start the ritual again, the third gong sounded.

This wasn’t working. I’d have to stop Pryce first, then mop up whatever Morfran he’d released. I stuck Hellforged in my belt and ran toward the mist that rose black against the night.

Ahead, I saw Pryce, drawing back a wooden club to strike a gravestone. Daniel appeared from behind a tree and fired. Pryce dropped the club in mid-swing, grabbing his upper arm. He spun around, growing as he did, changing into his demon form. Daniel’s second shot bounced off Cysgod’s hide. With a snarl and four flaps of its wings, the demon launched itself into the air. Daniel kept firing; sparks marked where each bullet glanced off. The demon landed in front of Daniel. In a move almost too quick to see, it drew back its arm, extended its talons, and struck an overhand blow. Daniel sprang away. The talons plunged deep into the ground.

I drew my sword, calling upon Saint Michael’s aid. When the blade cleared the scabbard, it burst into flame. I ran forward as Cysgod yanked its claws from the earth and advanced. Daniel, backing up, fell. Cysgod bore down on him, each step shaking the ground. The demon was too fast; I wasn’t going to get there in time.

I switched the Sword of Saint Michael to my left hand, pulled out a throwing knife, and hurled it. The blade found its target, lodging deep in the demon’s side. But Cysgod barely paused. It plucked the knife from its flesh and tossed it aside. It kept moving toward Daniel.