Moon Angel Page 9

“Oh, joy.”

  “No, Sam. There will be no joy tonight. There will be suffering of the highest order.”

  ***

  I threw open the door, shouldering away some of the wood that came tumbling down. Grunting, I held the doorway open as Tammy ducked under me and out into the hallway.

  Wind thundered through the opening, and I turned back, looking up into the sky through the broken window and the damaged wood around it—and saw black shapes high above, circling against the stars and half-moon. I could have been a deep sea diver looking up at the silhouettes of great white sharks. Except these shapes sported massive wings—and were as black as night. One by one, they peeled off and shot down.

  “Go!” I shouted to Tammy. “Downstairs! Hurry!”

  ***

  “It was made with the devil’s agreement.”

  I blinked, staring at the glowing sword. “The one sword that could kill the devil was made with his agreement?”

  “It was. In fact, he helped forge it.”

  “But why?” I asked.

  “Even he saw the desirability of exiting his life, Sam. The problem being, of course—”

  I felt like I knew the answer to this one and jumped in: “He can’t be killed.”

  “Indeed, Sam. There was no known way to end his life. But he knew, and helped forge this sword. I suspect he regrets doing so.”

  I marveled again at it in my hand. The blade glowed ever so slightly. I could feel the heat coming off it. “Dare I ask what it’s made out of?”

  “The finest metals, Sam. But it is not the composition of the sword that can end the devil’s life.”

  “Then what?”

  “It is the intent behind it. The agreement of it. The devil understands few humans or mortals could find the sword. Indeed, it was given to me to safeguard, to be given only to one who is—”

  “Worthy?” I jumped in.

  Azrael smiled. “Determined enough to find me.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Whatever. I’ve got this,” I said, holding up the sword. “Can it kill his demons too?”

  “It can end all of his creations, Sam.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Now, shall we practice?”

  “With you?” I asked.

  “No, Sam. I am not a fighter. There is another. A great warrior in his own right. I believe you’ve heard of him?”

  ***

  An explosion shook the house.

  My knees buckled as I ran, and I knew another demon had burst through the walls like a kamikaze fighter pilot—minus the plane, and minus the suicidal intent—but using its body to smash through the house.

  Holding Tammy’s hand, we had just reached the top of the stairs when Kingsley appeared at the mountain of debris. “Sam! Are you all right?”

  I nodded, picked up my daughter and threw her over a shoulder. She barely protested when I leaped over the banister and plummeted twenty feet to the polished floor of the wide-open foyer below. I landed on my feet as vampires are wont to do.

  “What’s happening, Sam?” shouted Kingsley, ducking, as something exploded above us. It sounded as if the roof had been torn free.

  Now, a black shape burst through the square glass above Kingsley’s front double doors—and obliterated most of the door too. I was not very surprised to see the three-headed devil dog, Cerberus, its heads all snapping and growling. The fire in their eyes blazed, black smoke billowed from their nostrils.

  Kingsley turned to me. “Take everyone down below, to my cell. They’ll be safe there. Go!”

  And with that, my boyfriend of many years contorted his head and dropped to all fours—and burst from his sweats and tank top. I pulled my daughter away before she got a look at Kingsley’s own full moon. I took her hand, running and ducking as furious growls erupted seemingly everywhere at once.

  I had barely reached the hallway when Franklin appeared, looking ferocious and pissed. He spied the activity behind us, nodded at me once, then dashed forward. Behind him dashed nearly all the other Lichtenstein monsters. I turned back to see monsters, a giant wolf and a three-headed hellhound in a battle to end all battles. I watched one of the heads pick up one of the Lichtenstein monsters, and cleanly bite him in two.

  I pulled Tammy along and reached the family room. There were Allison and Anthony. She had her hands around his shoulders. To my amazement, my son didn’t look frightened.

  “Sam! What’s happening?” asked Allison.

  “Demons,” said Tammy. “And the devil isn’t far behind.”

  I wanted to vomit. “Allison, take the kids downstairs—”

  “No way, Mom. I’m helping,” said Anthony, tearing himself free from Allison’s grasp. His speed was uncanny, and he ran past me before I could even scream his name, which I did.

  I turned and ran after him, but stopped when my son plunged through the hallway and out into Kingsley’s open foyer with the vaulted ceiling, because something flashed bright enough to stop me in my tracks, nearly as blinding as Azrael himself. When I blinked, my son was gone, and something massive—and fiery—was in place.

  “He’ll be okay, Mom,” said Tammy, tugging on my shoulder. “Hell, I almost feel sorry for the dog.”

  She was right, of course. I had to believe he would be okay—at least for the next few minutes. Something flashed in the hallway, and I caught sight of a blazing sword. It was followed by a terrible screech and I was certain my son had just mortally wounded the devil dog.

  I turned to Allison. “Take Tammy downstairs, and stay there.” I noted one of the Lichtenstein monsters holding open the door to the cell. Kingsley must have told him to watch over us as well.

  “What about you, Sam?” asked Allison.

  “I’m going to help out up here.”

  “I can help, too!” she said, and her eyes darted over my face. She was scanning my thoughts. No doubt she picked up on what I’d experienced with Azrael—and what I had to do. “Trust me, you are going to need me.”

  “Okay,” I said. I turned to Tammy. “Go with him, young lady. And stay down there until I come for you. You got that?”

  She nodded, and I was relieved to see her eyes were fire-free. She ran to the cellar door, located in a nook just off the kitchen, and headed down with the Lichtenstein monster, who closed the door behind them. She, too, should be safe. At least, for the next few minutes.

  I had just turned back to Allison, determined to check on my son, when something black and massive exploded through the kitchen window.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A flash of light from above, and I watched as another angel descended, his own beautiful wings outstretched, shining, if possible, even brighter than Azrael, whom he landed next to. I watched in amazement as his own wings folded in on themselves and disappeared into, no doubt, another glowing tattoo.

  The angel before me was just as beautiful as Azrael and Ishmael. And, dare I say, even more so?

  “Let me introduce you to the Archangel Michael,” said Azrael. “Our best warrior.”

  Michael nodded, and some of his beautiful brown locks fell forward as well. Before me stood two of the most gorgeous creatures in creation, and I was not hating my life; at least, not in this moment.

  “Hello, Samantha Moon. Shall we begin?” he asked.

  And begin we did. Michael brandished his own glowing sword, and proceeded to put me through the steps of fighting. He taught me basic maneuvers and slightly more advanced ones. Turned out, I was a bit of a natural, even if the sword was awkwardly large for me.

  Although the devil and his spawn didn’t have flesh-and-blood hearts, I was to strike where their hearts would be, in the chest. As we practiced, and as Azrael watched, I would learn that the devil was a Creator in his own right. He and his creations existed mostly in a parallel place created by the devil himself, a world that was overlaid on top of this one. I would learn that the devil and his minions could wink in and out of existence, moving between worlds. I would learn that demons, once let loose,
could strike with real physical force—and would kill with reckless abandon. I would learn the demons would be weaponless, although their long claws were weapon enough.

  Archangel Michael, whose movements were perfect and pure and fast, would put me through my paces, and soon, we were moving together in a choreographed fight, my movements nearly as smooth as his, although not quite. Lucky for me, I was a fast learner.

  Meanwhile, Elizabeth hid in the shadows, even while my own soul rejoiced. This was, I suspected, the closest to heaven I would ever get again.

  ***

  Glass and wood, and even a flying bar stool or two, exploded around me. Oh, and one nasty demon, too.

  I had just dodged a tile from Kingsley’s kitchen counter, when three long black spikes followed just behind them. Spikes that were attached to a black arm, itself appearing out of a long black sleeve. I dove to the side, but not fast enough; its claws dug deep, burning grooves into my back. I cried out, tumbling, as a flash of light appeared somewhere behind me. I had a brief glimpse of the demon itself hurtling back through the opening from which it had come.

  Gasping, my back burning, I turned to see Allison slumped against the wall, her hand outstretched, a deep cut over her eye. One of the tiles, I suspected, had hit her. Her hand dropped down. Allie was out.

  Pain lancing through my back, I had just started clawing my way back to her when the demon reappeared at the entrance, screeching like a banshee. And, for all I knew, it was a banshee.

  I moved away from Allison, keeping the freaky bastard focused on me.

  The devil had made a doozy. The thing before me was hooded, but the hood was also a part of it, too. Its head shifted and jerked, like a bird’s head—but unlike a bird’s head, his appeared both flat and three-dimensional simultaneously. The demon—if that was what this was—towered over me, just missing Kingsley’s twelve-foot ceilings. Its body, like its head, formed and reformed before me. Sometimes I saw through it, too. Other times, it was the blackest black I’d ever seen. It seemed, if anything, composed of living smoke. Most telling were the eyes. Leaping, crackling twin flames. Real flames, too. Not the flames I saw behind Tammy’s eyes earlier. No, these suckers were burning with a fury, trailing smoke, and leaping out from its face like pilot lights gone amok. The two strange-looking spikes rising above its back were, I knew, its folded-in wings.

  I continued moving away from Allison and—thank God—it locked onto me, not my defenseless friend.

  It turned, shifted, tracking me—and our little “sizing each other up” party was over. It lunged forward, swiping both claws. I ducked, spun, rolled, and ended up under the little kitchen nook table where Kingsley and I had sat and drank—and watched it get cleaved into thirds by claws that just missed my face. I crab-crawled backward, and found myself pinned against the china cabinet at one end of the kitchen. Three clawed spikes came at my face and there was nowhere to duck or roll toward. My attacker could have been the Wolverine himself, minus the wife-beater tank top, muscles and yummy sideburns. Oh, and minus the laws of physics, too. It moved effortlessly, instantly, and I suspected it was somehow both in this world and another, simultaneously. It was the only way to explain its herky-jerky, mind-bending movements. Now, its claws were before me, slashing, trying to take my head off. I ducked instinctively—everything I did was instinctive. There was no planning, no calculating, not when something was this fast. Glass shattered over me. I was pretty sure my head was where it should be.

  I was pinned, which was a terrible place to be, and as its hand rose for another swipe at me, I did the only thing I could think of...

  ***

  I summoned the single flame, and saw within it the open space directly behind the demon.

  I felt myself rush toward it just as air passed over me. Correction, not over me—directly where my head had been. I stumbled, blinked, and nearly lost my balance. I reached down for the secret pouch I had been given by Azrael. I missed it at first attempt—the damn thing was invisible, after all. The demon spun, poison flinging from its claws. Or maybe it was my own blood.

  It swiped again, seemingly faster than before. I ducked as the claws whizzed over me, then pulled back as they came back from the other direction. My own movements were supernaturally fast. They had to be. At the least, I was getting used to the demon’s speed.

  That was, until the other hand seemingly came out of nowhere, and raked through my neck and shoulder and sent me spinning to the ground, crying out louder than I wanted to admit. But damn, those claws hurt.

  The demon obviously saw an opportunity and hurled himself at me recklessly. What it didn’t see was that my left hand had found the hidden pouch and withdrawn a long, black sword. The Devil Killer. Or, in this case, the demon killer.

  Or so I hoped.

  I just brought the obsidian blade up as the demon descended down. I was surprised at how easily the sword slid into its chest, with seemingly no resistance at all. And I was most certainly surprised to discover that, in a puff of black, swirling smoke, the demon disappeared altogether. Hell, the sole indication that a demon had been here was the unholy mess of the place, and the burning wounds covering my body. The breakfast nook was demolished beyond recognition. A gaping hole was in the wall where the sliding glass door had been.

  I dashed to Allison’s side. She was out cold, the wound from her head still bleeding. I was momentarily distracted by all her blood. But I powered through, took her up in my arms, and over to the massive U-shaped couch. I hoped like hell she was okay, but the screeching coming from the foyer had my attention.

  I set off down the hallway.

  Chapter Twenty

  The foyer was mayhem.

  The devil dog might have thought better about bursting into Kingsley’s home, as the wolf and his monsters were holding their own. Indeed, the half-dozen Lichtenstein monsters veritably swarmed over it. The hellhound, easily as big as a rhino, was missing a partial head. Indeed, the left head had been cleaved in half, but you would never know it. Despite missing half its jaw and one of its burning eyes, it still snapped furiously. I watched it grab hold of Kingsley’s gardener, a huge creation in his own right, and toss him head over ass across the foyer and into a table that had once sported a Ming Dynasty vase that had long since been smashed to smithereens.

  My son was nowhere to be found.

  I was just about to shout his name when something flashed outside. Something massive and burning, and bringing down a flaming sword hard into what I could only assume was another demon. My son had left Kingsley and the monsters with the devil dog to fight the attacking demons. Alone.

  I dashed through the melee, dodging the bodies of two Lichtenstein monsters who had been torn from limb to limb. As I ran, I watched Kingsley leap forward and engage one of the massive heads. A deep gash had opened along his left side. Blood poured free, as did hanging chunks of meat. Three mute Lichtenstein monsters, along with Franklin, hurled themselves at the other dog heads, and as I ran, I saw an opportunity.

  I hopped over a dismembered arm and dove toward the devil dog’s widespread front paws. I rolled to my back and, sliding in a pool of blood, and drove the Devil Killer deep into the creature’s chest. Black blood poured down on me and, as each of the creature’s three heads screeched loud enough to wake the dead—which they just might have done—it disappeared in a puff of oily smoke.

  The three Lichtenstein monsters tumbled down, their quarry having disappeared, and the sudden silence in the foyer was immediately filled by the racket outside. I dashed through the damaged wall...

  And into hell.

  ***

  The Fire Warrior—my son—who stood nearly fifteen feet tall, had been single-handedly holding off the demons. By my count, there were eight in total, although I was also highly aware the bastards could pop in and out of existence, too. How many there truly were, I didn’t know.

  And where the devil was, I didn’t know that, either.

  Nor did I care. Not right now.


  My son, after all, had been taking the brunt of the attack. I watched even now as another demon dive-bombed at him, wings stretched wide, claws extended. I screamed his name, but my son was already moving, jumping and flipping, slashing with his fiery sword, a blow that sent the demon spinning away into the dark of night.

  More demons came, and my son fended them off, a true expert in the sword, unlike me, who had just learned the basics. Then again, I had learned the hell out of the basics, too.

  I also noted that Anthony’s second swipe, an expert arching slash that should have cleaved the next attacking demon diagonally in half, only sent it tumbling over Kingsley’s once-perfectly manicured lawn, tearing deep furrows in it as it went. My son could only fend the demons off. He could not kill them. Just like Kingsley and his monsters—they could only fight the devil dog, not kill it.

  No, that was my job. My new job.

  Samantha Moon, Demon Killer.

  As I ran toward my son, and as he fended off another demon that had managed to rake its claws along the side of his head, an attack that clearly wounded my son, I summoned the single flame.

  But this time, I didn’t see Talos in it—or where I might next jump. No, this time, I saw within it a pair of beautiful black wings.

  ***

  “They are my gift to you,” said Azrael, when the Archangel Michael had disappeared. I was sad to see him go. “Then again, they sort of come with the territory.”

  “As Death’s Shadow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like the sword and secret pouch,” I said.

  “Indeed.”

  “Are mine glowing too?” I asked, pulling open my collar and trying to get a look behind me. I could see nothing. No, wait, there was something... a curved line just under my shoulder blade, but that was all I could see. But there it was. For the first time in my life, I was tatted up. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.