Page 75 of Vanish Into Light

It wasn’t fear, but anticipation that tightened her belly. Just like old times.

She drew a second knife, as she turned, and a crush of bodies filled the doorway.

~*~

Lance cursed himself for not having been more aware that a threat was approaching – but to his credit, neither Morgan nor Beck had detected it either, until it was too late.

Some comfort that was.

They poured through the open double doors, nearly trampling one another, bringing in the smell of doused campfires and brimstone, eyes glowing the vivid red of hot coals.

Hellspawn and demons weren’t the same, Beck had said, and no, no they weren’t. Here, there were no horns or tails, no grins and winks and fangs. These were humans – human shells, conduits – housing the pure, raw essence of hell, and all the power that entailed.

Every hair on his body stood to attention. He lifted his gun, and fired a shot – watched blood fountain from a forehead – and his skin crawled. He knew then, unquestionably, that Beck was not, had never been, could never be a demon, because his presence didn’t feelwrongthe way this noxious aura did, as hell conduits rolled toward them in a hissing, growling, clawing wave.

In the slow-motion gaps between feverish heartbeats, Lance saw Tris and Gallo draw their guns; heard thecrack-crack-crackof rapid shots. Saw the candlelight flicker off the honed blades of Rose’s knives as she ducked low and struck at a knee, at a thigh.

Beck’s wings spread, and his tail lashed out.

Then there was a conduit leaping into Lance’s sightline, and that was all he could focus on.

He fired. A face exploded, at close range; blood and viscera sprayed hot across his eyes, gumming them shut; he tasted iron, and it burned. He scrubbed his sleeve across his face, trying to see, spitting the heat off his tongue – and hands grabbed his shirt. In front, from behind; fabric ripped. Hands grabbed his throat, and he was dragged down into chaos.

~*~

Rose had worn her spiked choker and cuffs for the op, and conduit skin smoked and burned when they tried to take hold of her. One grabbed at her throat, and drew back, hissing, eyes blazing crimson before she drove a knife through its windpipe. Blood spurted – the taste of hot ash as it sprayed across her lips – and the conduit fell back, choking, bleeding out, too wounded to fight…but that wouldn’t last. It would heal, and heal quickly, and be back up again for another round – and it had plenty of friends to take its place.

She ducked, and whirled; sliced an Achilles, opened another throat, a belly. Every strike hit flesh. A hand grabbed her ankle, and she wrenched away with a quick move; spun and knifed a conduit up through the soft underside of its chin, the blow juddering up her arm when the blade skipped off bone.

She heard the snap of Beck’s wings, the whip-crack as his tail sang through the air, slicing, stabbing, killing. There was the meaty sound of bodies colliding, and Lance grunted, and cursed. There were no more gunshots: the quarters were too tight and they were swarmed besides. Everywhere she turned, there was another too-warm body, another grabbing pair of hands, another gleaming, awful rictus of a smile and a set of glowing red eyes. She expected jeering, taunting, even a curse or a scream as she sliced, and sliced, and sliced again. But they were silent, save the most basic, nonverbal sounds. They closed in on her like animals, a pack of wolves converging on prey, and it was more terrifying than any human-on-human, or even human-on-conduit fight she’d ever been a part of.

A swipe caught her in the solar plexus, and the air went out of her. She choked, and dropped, just managed to dodge another blow, and laid a conduit’s arm open to the bone, hot, ash-tasting blood spattering her face.

“Beck!” A hand gripped her belt from behind and she couldn’t spin away. “What are these things?” she shouted. There was so much noise: the shuffle and slap of too many bodies. How many were there? Hundreds?

There was a thump, several thumps, and an ugly, wet noise followed by the snap of his tail whipping. “Low levels!” he shouted back, voice only a little strained. She couldn’t see him, him or Lance, and she wanted to, desperately, as she sliced a hand that reached toward her, only for it to be replaced by another. “They’re no better than dogs, but they get the job done.”

“What job?” Lance called, and then devolved into harsh cursing.

“They’re” – flap of wings – “just doing” – snap of tail – “what they’re master” –splat– “told them to.”

Rose’s braid was gripped from behind, and her head wrenched around. “Ah!” She lost her grip on the knife in her left hand, and when she tried to recover it, was held up by firm pressure on her scalp. “Shit!”

The demon who had hold of her turned her, and beyond its awful, snarling face, she glimpsed an unexpected flare of blue light.Morgan.

The angel conduit wasn’t fighting, but stood at the edge of the table, where the silver was laid out, hands hovering over the gleaming array, pulsing with blue-white light. Her eyes were screwed shut, pale hair shivering around her face as she trembled. Something was happening on the table, the silver shimmering, blurring – but Rose was dragged backward, and conduits closed in around her, filling her entire field of vision. She stabbed out with her right hand, and a conduit clamped onto her forearm, above the cuff.

Is this it?she wondered, pulse throbbing like a trapped bird, panic gripping her stomach so tight she thought she’d be sick.Is this how it ends?

A roar like a tiger’s ripped through the room; she felt it beneath the soles of her boots. The conduits holding her froze; red eyes rolled toward the sound.

“That’s enough!” Beck thundered, voice mostly growl. He roared again, and the harsh clap of his wings sounded again, and again.

A few of the conduits holding her let go, so they could turn, and look, just as she did, as Beck lifted up into the air, hovering six feet off the ground, the gusts from his wing flaps like the wind kicked off of helo rotors. His eyes blazed gold; he bared his fangs andsnarled.

“Michael!” he bellowed. “End this!”

Michael?

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