Merihim spoke in a language that Warren didn’t understand. Instantly flames engulfed Edith, consuming her and leaving only a stain of black soot on the wall.
The demon spoke again, and the smaller demons launched themselves at the Cabalists. Their claws and fangs tore into the flesh of the men and women who had gathered in the room.
The top floor of the building had become a madhouse. Death filled the room with the stench of blood and burned flesh.
Finding himself suddenly free of whatever had held him, Warren ran toward one of the nearest windows. Maybe the demon’s powers had locked all the doors, but if he had to he was willing to throw himself through the window. He thought there was a fire escape below, though.
“Where are you going?” the demon snarled.
Although he knew the demon was talking to him, Warren ignored Merihim and ran for his life. He skirted one of the hound-demons as it disemboweled a man.
At the window, Warren didn’t pause. He threw himself into it, one arm over his face to protect his eyes. He hit the glass and broke through.
Seventeen
E verything became a confusing whirl of action. Then it stopped. Suspended by the demon’s spell, Warren stared down at the snow-covered alley below him. He knew he would probably have died when he hit bottom, but it was preferable to whatever the demon intended.
But that was no longer an option.
Unable to move, he floated back into the room. When he was once more in the room, he looked around and saw that fires had started in several places. Hardly any of the humans remained alive.
The demon stared at Warren. “You’re unusual,” Merihim stated. “Why do you wield so much power?”
Warren thought he was too scared to answer, but he found his mouth opening and heard himself saying, “I don’t know.”
“You humans only had a little power when we first came here,” Merihim said. “You believed—truly believed—in so few things until we showed ourselves.”
When you look into the eyes of evil, Warren thought, it’s not something you easily forget.
The demon laughed. “Do you think I’m evil, human?” he asked.
“Yes,” Warren replied before he could stop himself.
“I’m not evil, I’m powerful.” Merihim held out a hand and set it on fire for a moment. The flames seemed to caress his skin. “Power defines good and evil. The spoils go to the victor. That’s the way it’s always been. It’s not going to be any different this time.” He paused. “But I would know more about you.”
Warren remained silent, gazing into the malevolent eyes. He gathered all his strength, all that energy that he sometimes used to detect lies and influence others. He focused it on the demon, preparing to strike with everything he had.
But he couldn’t help thinking that it would have been better if he’d understood more about what he was attempting to do. Or if he believed he could do it.
The hound-demons gathered at their master’s feet. Upon closer and prolonged exposure, Warren realized the hound-demons were more human than beast-like. Keen intelligence glowed in their lemon-yellow eyes.
“What are you thinking, worm?” Merihim asked.
Knowing he’d never get another chance, floating in the air while under the demon’s spell, Warren unleashed everything inside him at Merihim. The demon was blown backward by the onslaught, staggering back into the silver portal created by the Eye.
As Warren watched, Merihim fell through the portal, pulled by whatever mystic forces were in play there. In the next instant, Warren was released from the demon’s spell and fell to the floor. Immediately, he tried to push himself up, aware that the Eye was closing the portal.
Now all he needed to do was avoid the hound-demons. Some of them were hopping into the portal with their master.
“Human!” Merihim snarled from the other side of the portal. He pointed with his trident.
Flames shot from the tines, leaping out of the portal and slamming into Warren. Bowled over by the swirling mass of fire, Warren smashed through the window behind him and started the eight-story drop.
There was no spell to catch him this time.
As he fell, he was grimly aware that he was going to die. He was afraid to open his mouth to scream, afraid that he’d breathe in the flames that clung to him.
When he hit bottom, he landed in inches of snow. But even that didn’t blunt the force of the landing. His head struck the pavement and everything went black.
Hours later, Warren’s eyes flickered open. Pain filled his world. He realized he wasn’t breathing, so he took a breath. He didn’t know if he’d been breathing before, but he felt the need to now.
Light filled the world. It was daytime. He’d slept—or been unconscious—throughout the night. He breathed again, certain something was broken inside his chest. His head spun and everything turned black again. His last thought was that he surely must be dead now.
Only he awoke again.
The pain was less, but he managed it better. When the broken bones grated inside his chest, he could bear the ripping agony without passing out.
His clothing was sodden from melting snow, proving that his body held heat. Another—if unbelievable—proof that he still yet lived.
He also grew aware of the fact that his feet were bare. Someone had stolen his boots while he was unconscious. Weakly, he cursed whoever did it and hoped the demons got him or her, then Warren had to wonder why the demons hadn’t gotten him.
Moving slowly, he raised his left arm up in front of his face. It was numb. He thought it was from lying in the snow.
Instead he saw that he had probably suffered nerve damage from the intense burns that covered his arm. They were definitely third-degree. Black patches of charcoaled flesh showed bright red blood and pink meat in the cracks.
Grimly, he realized the nerve damage was probably a blessing. Without it he would be in agony. As it was, pain
