The demon shouted in fury, curses and threats of violence. I was damned. Yes, probably. She hunched over as if she’d been injured, and she dropped her spear to hold her hand tight over her eyes. I was right—she was effectively blind without the protection.
The goggles in my hand were just goggles, made of leather and dark glass, held together with metal rivets and buckles. I wasn’t sure what I had expected. Maybe that they would turn to ash in my hand once separated from their owner.
She didn’t stay incapacitated for long. Pulling another spear from her back, she was again fully armed, and when she turned to me, she had her eyes squeezed shut.
“I can hear you gasping for breath, wolf,” she muttered. “I’ll kill you yet.”
Assured, she came toward me. She could hear my breathing, and the more I tried to keep my adrenaline-fueled breaths quiet, the louder they sounded. If I tried holding my breath entirely, I’d just end up gasping like a gulping fish. When I moved out of her way, no matter how quietly I tried to step, my feet scraped on the stone, and she tilted her head, listening.
“Hey! You!” Enkidu shouted from the other side of the cave, then threw a rock that hit the demon’s thigh. From a few feet away, Sakhmet tossed another, hitting her in the back, and the demon was suddenly on the defensive. They weren’t big rocks, just stones small enough to wrap a hand around and heft. They weren’t going to hurt her. But they definitely caught her attention, and she flinched away from the attack, turning to growl at her attackers. Instinctively, her eyes opened—and she cried out as the faint torchlight struck them, wincing them shut again.
I only caught the briefest glimpse, but they were black as onyx all the way through, hard and gleaming.
Scowling, clearly frustrated, she pulled out a piece of cloth from under her leather armor—undershirt of some kind—ripped off a long length of it, and tied it around her eyes. Blindfolded, she was still scary as hell.
Apt phrasing, there.
“Zora…” I murmured.
Back on her side of the circle, the magician looked like she’d unpacked a New Age shop. Where had she been keeping all those boxes, bags, cords, candlesticks, candles, figurines, and chunks of crystal? She was going to throw everything at the demon.
“I’m trying,” she murmured. She revealed a few more items: crosses, rosaries, the implements of someone preparing to perform an exorcism. Finally, with a decisive nod, she raised her hands and called out, “By the name and power of the Primeumaton, the Tetragrammaton, I curse you! I deprive you of your power, and bind you in the depth of the bottomless pit! Two times I curse you, deprive you of your power, and bind you in the depth of the bottomless pit! Thrice I curse you, deprive you of your power, and bind you in the depth of the bottomless pit!”
The demon tilted her head, listening. Were the chants and curses affecting her? How could you tell if a wizard was doing her spells right? Zora picked up a cross in each hand, and her voice rose to a shout.
“Munde dues virtuti tuae, in the name of the spirit of the world, in the name of God and all His angels, I do abjure thee, I do abjure thee, I do abjure thee! In the name of Cassiel, Sachiel, Samael, Michael and wrapped my arms around my headers power, Anael…”
Pulling out the big guns now, was she? She approached the demon, repeating the curses, as if she really could battle her back with words.
And the demon laughed, which probably wasn’t a good sign. Worse, though, she was still here. Zora might have been doing everything right—and the spell just didn’t work.
Now what?
I smelled blood—whose, and where did it come from? Enkidu—a slash on his thigh, skin flapped open, dripping in streaks down his leg. What had made it, the wood weapon or the silver? I glared until I caught his gaze and shrugged a question. He waved me off. Since he was still upright, maybe he was okay. Next I checked on the magician, trying to figure out how to tell her her exorcism wasn’t working. But she already knew. She sat on the cave floor, her soot-streaked white robes spread around her, one hand on her frizzed blond hair, as if she had a headache.
The demon tsked, shaking her head.
We were at a standoff—the others couldn’t advance because of her weapons, and as long as we didn’t make noise, she couldn’t find us.
Run. Wolf had been tumbling inside me for hours, ready to go as soon as I let her off her leash. I wasn’t ready to do that. But she had the right idea about running. I had a plan. It wasn’t a very good one, but it was the one I had. Trouble was, I couldn’t communicate it to the others with the demon listening. Her hearing was too good. Which left the question: could I somehow pantomime what I was thinking to Enkidu and Sakhmet? Well, I could try.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Hey, you!” I stuck my hands on my hips and tried to act angry, and also coolheaded. Angry wasn’t hard. Avoiding panic, that was tough. I asked, “Do you even have a name?”
She cocked her head, blind, listening.
“Yeah, that’s right, I’m telling you where I am,” I continued. “Go ahead, track me down. But hear me out first, just for a minute.”
While I talked, I caught Sakhmet’s gaze and gestured out the chamber and back up the tunnel. When she furrowed her brow and looked at me questioning, I gestured harder, a quick shooing motion—as softly as I could, while talking to the demon, holding her attention.
Finally, Sakhmet understood. While I was making all the noise, they could get out. They had to understand we weren’t going to kill the demon, or destroy her, or whatever.
