His chest tightened. Oh, please let it be a fatal heart attack. Let this mess turn into someone else’s problem.
But, of course it wasn’t. He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them he still saw a plain filled with the fires of all the armies of the dark places. And far on the other side was the tower of Malachi. Which pulsed again as he watched it. And the red line on the horizon grew brighter.
Dawn was coming.
61
Oh, goody. Bat-serpents.
Because he’d just been asking himself how the situation could get worse. And there it was.
Giant bat-serpents writhed over the campfires. Their leathern wings beat toward the van. And mounted on their backs, ogres and orkes and who knows, maybe some goblins. Though goblins generally didn’t enjoy flying.
He wrinkled his nose at the acrid, sulfurous smoke that drifted through the open window beside him.
“Lady Rachel,” he said. He looked up at the rearview mirror. “Is there a plan to get to the tower?”
Rachel didn’t look up. She still straddled the Sapphire Witch, her hands on either side of the Lady Sapphire’s head.
“No,” she said, “But I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”
Oh dear.
The churning acid in his stomach threatened to eat through the walls of his gut, through all his layers of blubber and pour out onto the floor of the van.
Not that he could blame it.
“There are bat-serpents approaching, my lady,” he said. He squinted at the approaching wing. “With battle ready orkes mounted on them.”
“Yes, that does sound bad, doesn’t it?” Rachel said, “You should do something.”
He wanted to slap his head, but his fingers were too tightly clenched on the steering wheel. It would take a crowbar to pry them off. And of course, Rachel had turned his only crowbar into a flaming sword hours ago.
He’d hardly gotten to use that crowbar. It was practically brand new.
“Lady Rachel…” he said.
“Shhhhh, I’m trying to reach her,” Rachel said.
He ground his teeth together. Okay then. On his own against a unsurvivable situation. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been there before.
Sort of.
Never done it at this sort of scale, though. Him against everyone seemed more than a little unfair. He didn’t have enough light energy in his reserves to disrupt the orkes and ogres’ minds with visions of chocolate mountains and candy cane forests.
And expecting physical combat from him was laughable at best. And pathetic to even contemplate.
“I am open to suggestions,” he said.
A glance at the rearview showed his companions looking elsewhere. The flickering green light from the heatless fire that licked over Lady Rachel gave him a clear view of their expressions.
“We are on the wrong side of the gate,” Odom the paladin said.
Hilario refrained from complimenting the paladin on his brilliant observation. Mostly because pointing out the blisteringly obvious wasn’t any more helpful that pointing out rocks were hard and water was wet.
He looked from Odom to Detective Marco, still huddled behind the passenger seat. Marco cradled his pistol in his arms. The bloodwood box containing Queezleyan sat under his leg.
“Detective Marco?” Hilario said.
“I got enough bullets for all of us,” Marco said, “You want me to shoot you now? We’ll make it quick, won’t we?” He stroked the gun’s barrel.
Yeah, dog, we’ll put you to sleep good. Won’t hardly feel a thing.
Hilario shivered.
“No, I don’t think that will help,” he said.
Marco turned a twitching eye to the black angel behind Hilario’s seat.
“You sure?”
“Please don’t shoot anyone,” Hilario said, “Yet.”
Marco mumbled something to his gun. Which mumbled something back to him.
Hilario shook his head. He’d been in the unseen world a long time. Seen a lot of creepy things. Detective Marco’s relationship with his weapon had made their way to the top of the creepy list.
He looked to the unconscious pizza delivery guy, Rodney, in the far back corner. He was supposed to be useful? For what? Ballast?
Except he was supposed to know who murdered Larry. Was that even relevant any more?
Maybe. Larry had to die so that the dark lord’s plan could come to fruition. That person or entity was still out there. Who had told him Rodney the delivery driver was a traitor? The Sapphire Witch? But was it the Sapphire Witch or was it Queezleyan in the puppet?
A bone chilling cry echoed out over the plain. Several of them.
The call of the bat-serpents.
They were almost across the plain. Coming straight at the van. A few more seconds they’d be sweeping up the hill.
What the poopity heck was he going to do?
He looked to the rearview mirror again. Odom and Roger, sat on the corpse of Lord Igidbon.
Roger.
The ogre.
Who used to fly bat-serpents.
“Roger!” Hilario said.
Roger looked up. “Yeses?”
“Bat-serpents. Can you control them?”
Roger’s thick brow came down over his beady eyes. “Ones ats a timeses,” he said, “They’s nots verys smarts. Uses calls ons thems.”
The bat-serpents reached the bottom of the hill. Oh dear there were a lot of them. The beat of their leathern wings was like thunder.
“What kinds of calls?” Hilario said.
“Comes. Goes. Turns. Stuffs likes thats,” Roger said.
“Then for the sake of all that’s holy! Get out there and tell them to go away!” Hilario shouted.
Roger, to his credit, moved fast. The runty ogre bounced to the side door and in a flash, scrambled to the roof.
Warbling cries echoed down the hill.
The flight of Bat-serpents broke off into all directions. Their riders shouted and cursed. A couple fell off. Crunched down on the rocky ground.
He should have felt sorry for them. But he didn’t. They were cannon fodder anyway. Just add them to his list of things
