Piercing the Darkness (72 page)

THIS WAS A
horrendous development! Krioni shot through the roof of the Post Office and met Triskal high above.

“Nothing!” he said.

Triskal wasn’t ready for that report. “Nothing? No letter?”

They could see Bernice getting back into her little car, far too calm and unruffled.

“It didn’t get here,” said Krioni, agitated, frustrated, and thinking fast. “It’s lost . . . It’s misplaced . . . I don’t know! We’d better get word to Nathan and Armoth. If we don’t get the fire started in time, Sally Roe is as good as dead!”

SALLY’S LAST LETTER
to Tom Harris lay open on Claire Johanson’s desk, and Claire was on the telephone.

“The Caravan Motel,” she said. “I think our magic worked after all; this is the first time Roe has ever revealed her whereabouts. Apparently she’ll be there for a while; she’s waiting for Tom Harris to contact her.” The party on the other end was elated. “Well, I’ll breathe easier when we have her, before she writes to anyone else. And I’ll breathe easiest of all when she’s dead.” More elated squawkings from the other end. “Yes, I’m sure Mr. Santinelli will be pleased. Give him our regards.”

Claire hung up, rested her chin on her knuckles, and smiled at Sergeant Harold Mulligan. “Harold, help yourself to a drink.”

NATHAN SHOT THROUGH
the roof of the Post Office near Chicago and flew over the heads of the busy staff, looking this way and that, banking and swooping over the tables, counters, and carts, then ducking under the tables, flying just inches above the linoleum, his sharp eyes scrutinizing every scrap of paper, every piece of junk mail, every—

There! Just under the front counter, facedown, lay the lost letter to Bernice Krueger. It was going to take some special measures to get it to Ashton in time. He grabbed it, arched upward, and looked around the room for the right mailbag to put it in.

Snatch! The letter was gone from his hand! He spun about in time to see a brazen little imp holding the letter in his claws, grinning a toothy grin, hovering on blurred black wings.

“Ooo,” said the demon, “and what have we here?”

Nathan didn’t have time for this. His sword was instantly in his hand.

OOF!
A kick from a black, clawed foot! Another spirit came at him from the side, sword ready!

Nathan dashed the demon’s sword aside with his own, then kicked
the demon back, sending him through the wall of the building.

Another spirit dropped from above; Nathan shot sideways to dodge a plunging sword, then mowed the spirit in half.

Where was that imp? There! Hiding behind the sorting bench!

Two more spirits! They must have heard there was a fight in here. Nathan dove for the first, his sword raised, but the other spirit grabbed his ankle and jerked him backward. His sword cut through space, and that was all. The first demon was ready now with his own sword, laughing and drooling. The ankle-grabber was still pulling, his claws digging in.

Well, use what you have
, Nathan figured. His wings roared with power, pulling him forward. With incredible strength and perfect timing, he swung his leg in a high, sweeping kick, giving the ankle-grabber a thrilling ride until Nathan brought him down with skull-crunching force on his partner. They were out.

There went the imp with the letter! Nathan shot sideways and caught him in the belly. The legs drifted to the floor while the imp dissolved. Nathan caught the letter, made a quick search, then slam-dunked it into the right mailbag. It would go out on the next truck.

As for the demons, Nathan knew there could be trouble—some of them had gotten away with the knowledge of this letter.

IN THE SEALED
conference room at Evans, Santinelli, Farnsworth, and McCutcheon, Santinelli hung up his private line and looked across the table at the anxious Mr. Khull.

“Mr. Khull, I’ve just been given some good news. You’d better gather your choice personnel.”

THAT “GOOD NEWS”
went out through the demonic ranks like a shock wave, and as Destroyer flew up through the roof of the law office building to gather his hordes, he suddenly found he had all the friends and yea-saying lackeys he needed to finish the job, especially the demons from Broken Birch. They were swarming in from every sector of the sky, whooping and hollering, wanting to be a part of this glorious moment.

“I knew it!” he gloated, and with no small measure of relief. “I knew it would work! Our Judas has come through at last, and now Sally Roe will have her Gethsemane! We will take her!” Then he added under his breath, “And I will throw her as a gift into the Strongman’s face!”

The demons were muttering, nodding, and rumbling their approval and admiration of Destroyer’s great wisdom as they came to rest on the roof, hovered overhead, buzzed in tight circles around the building, and even tripped over each other.

This motley, bloodthirsty swarm needed to be brought to order. Destroyer soared into the sky where every gleaming yellow eye could see him, and waved his glowing red sword in wide circles to get their attention. Most of them settled down and listened. The others were too busy hooting, hollering, and sparring.

“Forces!” Destroyer called.

His twelve captains converged immediately.

“We need to weed this garden and select the best! Choose warriors for our mission, and send the rabble to Summit. Let the Strongman put them to work!”

The captains soon had the spirits thoroughly sifted; the best warriors stood ready, swords gleaming. The pranksters, imps, and harassers were ordered to Summit, and left with much grumbling.

Destroyer was satisfied. He addressed the great horde. “We will prepare the way for Broken Birch! Death to the woman!”

“Death to the woman!” they shouted as one, and with an explosion of wings they rushed into the sky.

FROM MILES AWAY,
Tal, Nathan, and Armoth saw the demons rise like a swarm of shrieking, whooping bats over Chicago, heading south. This was an armada of death for Sally Roe, a black cloud of doom.

Tal had received Nathan’s news about Sally’s last letter. “Then it’s going to be a day late. Our fire is delayed, and Sally will soon be in their hands!”

“Can we stop them?” asked Armoth.

Tal shook his head. “Everything is in motion now. We’re committed.”

“We do have warriors posted to monitor everything,” Nathan assured
his captain.

“But Destroyer will take her,” Tal replied, his voice weakened with the pain of it. “And he will do what he wants with her . . .”

MARSHALL NO SOONER
got back from his trip to the Post Office for stamps than he was out again, this time heading for Judy’s Secretarial Service, quite curious and adequately baited by Bernice and her maddening flair for suspense. To hear Bev Cole tell it, the fate of the world depended on Marshall picking up whatever Bernice was going to fax to him.

SALLY ROE REMAINED
in her musty little room at the Caravan Motel, sitting in the only chair, reading from a Gideon Bible.