A promise from a demon was about as trustworthy as gas station sushi. We stacked up on the entrance. Trip put his hand on my shoulder to signal he was ready to move. Silver worked better on traditional demons than lead, but cold iron supposedly worked the best. Sadly, I don’t think either of us had packed any iron bullets. So silver would have to do.
It was too quiet. The succubus had stopped talking. Had she heard us approach? Was she going to ambush us? But the longer we waited, the more likely it was the Drekavac would show up. Shit.
Cazador at my shoulder, I turned the corner. The beam from my flashlight filled the room.
Nothing. Where is—
I should have looked up.
The succubus kicked me in the head.
My helmet saved me from getting my skull cracked, but I still went headfirst into the brick wall. There was a crashing of wings. Trip got off a couple of shots, but then he cried out as he got flung across the room. I rolled over, lifted my rifle—only to have the succubus stomp on the muzzle, pinning Cazador to the ground.
She stood over me and, say what you will about demonic mind control, she was smoking hot, in a super deadly, wings and horns and fangs and red eyes, about to rip my face off kind of way. I drew my pistol. She swatted it from my hand.
On the other side of the room, Sonya crawled out from a crack in the wall, saw all the bouncing flashlights as an opportunity, and ran for it. The succubus saw her go.
“I don’t have time for this shit.” Lana promptly balled up one lovely fist and slugged me right in the face.
As Newbies we had been taught that succubi were dangerous because of their seductive powers, but physically they were one of the weakest kinds of extradimensional beings. Apparently this one hadn’t gotten the memo, because she had a right like Evander Holyfield. I saw stars.
Trip was staggering to his feet, so the succubus got off me, took a couple of steps to reach him, and then spin-kicked him so hard that Trip did a flip. Then she went after Sonya.
I lay there for a moment, dizzy. I think she might have broken my nose.
Trip groaned. “That didn’t go as expected.”
“I’m getting really tired of magic kung-fu bitches this week.” I sat up and waited for the room to stop spinning around. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He shakily stood up. “She’s getting away.”
That’s what I liked about Trip. Quitting never even entered his mind. “Let’s go.” I didn’t have time to look for my pistol, but I still had my rifle, and worse come to worse, a knife, and I was in a mood to shank somebody. Trip took a step and then cried out.
“What?”
“My ankle.”
“How bad?”
“Sprained.” He winced as he put weight on it. “Don’t worry. Even hopping on one foot I can keep up with you.”
That was probably true. I hurried after the succubus. It was a dazed wobble of a hurry, but at least I thought we were going in the right direction . . . which, unfortunately, was away from the main building. Once we were away from the elf runes there would be nothing stopping the succubus from magically whisking Sonya and the Ward away.
Gunfire echoed through the tunnels. The Drekavac screeched. A man roared in agony.
“Vatican guys?” Trip shouted.
“Probably.” But I couldn’t tell from what direction that had come from.
There was another Y ahead, but we didn’t have time to wait for a rat. We had to be getting close to the compound’s edge.
“We have to split up,” Trip said.
“You’re hurt.”
“So are you. Pick one.”
There wasn’t any time to hesitate. Shit. I went right. “Be careful.”
“You too.” Trip limped down the left fork.
This stuffy, dark, claustrophobic place got even more unnerving once I was alone. Last time I screwed around down here I’d almost been eaten by some werewolves and had shot Franks by accident. I moved as fast as I could crouched over, because the tunnel got smaller until it was only about five feet tall and wide enough that my shoulders were scraping brick on both sides. That stirred up a dust cloud that made it hard to breathe. I could taste copper and was blowing bloody snot bubbles out of my damaged nose.
The tunnel felt like it was sloping upward though. No. I was sure of it. I was climbing toward the surface. I could smell smoke. There had to be an exit to the compound nearby. There was a light ahead.
Except the light wasn’t the compound, it was a flashlight lying on the ground. The Combat Exorcist was still alive, sitting on the floor, bloody hands pressed against his stomach.
“Gutterres.” I knelt next to him. “What happened?”
“We had to split up. The Drekavac surprised me. That doesn’t happen often.” He coughed and I got hit in the face with bloody droplets. “This last bastard is very quick.”
“How bad are you hit?”
Gutterres moved his hands to show me the puncture wound in his abdomen. It was slowly leaking. “I’ll probably be fine.”
There was blood everywhere. From the angle, it looked like the sword thrust would have pierced his liver. Surely, he had to know that kind of wound was going to be fatal. “I’m sorry.”
“No, really. I’m no Franks, but there are some blessings that are bestowed on those who hold my office. I’ll heal, but not in time to get the stone.”
He might be lying to himself because he was in denial, but I’d seen enough weird, implausible shit in this business that I took his word for it. “I warned you you’d get lost down here.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you still don’t understand how badly we need that Ward.” Gutterres started pulling the gloves off his shaking hands. “Is it true what the rumors say about you, about you having the gift of being able to see
