The Demon Trappers: Foretold (40 page)

Please don’t be one of Sartael’s guys.

The angel observed her coolly, then shook his head as if he’d heard her thoughts. Then he barked something in Hellspeak at the Threes and the Archfiend leading them. The demons’
leader shouted something back and the war was on.

It was no contest as one by one the demons fell under the angel’s blinding white sword. When they were all dead, he remained in position, guarding the mortals, his face solemn. Behind him,
people wept and others were on their knees praying.

‘Thanks,’ she whispered. ‘Whoever you are.’

I am Gusion and I am heeding the call of an old friend.

A cry of rage brought her attention back to Ori and their enemy. They were no longer in the air, but fighting across the wreckage of Demon Central. Her demi-lord was losing the battle, growing
steadily slower with each sword thrust. Sartael, on the other hand, seemed as strong as ever.

The ethereal blade in Riley’s hand vanished, evidence that Ori wasn’t going to last much longer. If he had shared his power with her, could the Archangel pull strength from his
demons?
Of course he can.

It was time to do some good old-fashioned trapping.

When Riley sprinted to where her pack lay on the ground, she found Peter crouched near the makeshift fence.

‘Why are you still here?’ she demanded.

‘Because you are,’ Peter replied, his chin out, defiant.

‘Ah, geez. OK, then you can help me.’

She pointed at a trapping bag that sat a short distance away, though she had no idea who it belonged to. ‘Pull out all the blue spheres. Hurry!’

Digging through the duffel bag, her friend did as she asked while Riley did the same to her pack.

Peter held up two orbs. ‘Now what?’ When Riley told him exactly what he needed to do, he nodded.

A hand extended in their direction. It was attached to Blaze, her hair askew and a dark smudge on her cheek.

‘I’ll help too,’ she said. ‘These things have to be stopped.’

Riley gaped at the actress. ‘This isn’t a TV show.’

‘Duh,’ the actress replied, waggling her fingers now. ‘Hand them over.’

Riley reluctantly dropped the spheres into the woman’s palm. ‘Let’s go kick some demon butt, people.’

Peter sped off, dodged a rampaging Three, then tracked along the temporary fence on the other side of the battlefield. Blaze did the same in the opposite direction. Once they were in place,
Riley gave them the signal.

Spheres hit the ground, broke open and energetic blue lines of magic leaped to the fence. The magic seemed to take a deep breath, then it zipped along the metal, wire by wire.

Now it was Riley’s turn. She sprinted to her sections of the fence, dropping the magical spheres as she went. When all four sides were engaged, the Geo-Fiend would be grounded and Sartael
would be deprived of some of his power.

Or at least that was the plan.

The final run of grounding magic connecting all four sections of the metal together began to pull the demon towards the earth. The Five reacted like they always did, shrieking and trying to rise
higher to avoid contact with the ground.

Hail hammered down and erratic winds buffeted the trappers. When a Three began a run at her, it went down with one sweep of Stewart’s massive claymore. Another died a short time later when
Ayden stepped its way.

Abruptly the grounding magic ended and the fiend began to rise again. It turned its blazing eyes on the two masters, lightning sparking out its claws.

Stewart swung his sword, loosening up his shoulders. He was singing a song in Gaelic, she thought. Harper stood next to him, sweat on his forehead. One by one the trappers lined up, facing down
the Five.

Behind her she could feel Ori fading away, his life force dwindling.

Unexpectedly, Mort stepped in front of the trappers, his hands seething in magic. Next to him was Ozymandias, who seemed to be coaching him on how to handle the incantation. With a bright snap,
the magic shot out of the junior necromancer’s fingers and enveloped the Geo-Fiend. The demon fought against the spell, but slowly the winds dropped and the hail ended.

A shout of joy erupted from the trappers when the Five fell to the ground, its power draining away. It bellowed and struggled as another earth tremor levelled one of the decrepit buildings
nearby.

Without warning, two massive claws erupted from the ground and clamped themselves round the torso of the Geo-Fiend. It flailed against its captor, its ruby eyes reflecting endless terror.

‘Traitor to the end,’ a voice called out, and then the fiend was dragged deep into the hole, wailing its death cry.

Lucifer had begun his purge of Hell.

Riley . . .

Ori was on his knees now, face white, his chest a mass of blue blood. His faming blade faltered and died.

‘No!’ she shouted, racing towards him.

She skidded to halt and fell to her knees next to him. As she cradled the angel, Beck took a defensive position between them and Sartael, sword at the ready. In his own way, he was granting
Riley time to say goodbye to her first lover.

‘Valiant Light,’ Ori whispered, trying in vain to touch her face, but he could not raise his injured arm high enough.

She became aware of an angel kneeling next to them. It was Gusion, the one who had fought the demons.

‘I am sorry, old friend, but our Prince has not granted you death,’ the angel said.

Ori was murmuring in some archaic language, his face full of pleading. His wounds began to heal and he cried out in anguish. ‘No! Release me! I beg of you!’

Riley’s eyes met Gusion’s.

‘That is a favour I do not have the power to grant, my friend,’ the angel said.

Favour . . .
‘Lucifer,’ Riley called out, not bothering to raise her voice. She knew he could hear her. ‘We had a deal. I did the favour you asked. I freed
Ori.’

Why do you believe that?
the Prince asked in her mind.

‘Because your Magpie told me to free him and he did that because you ordered him to.’ She took a thick gulp of air. ‘Now it’s your turn. I call in my favour, Prince of
Hell. Release your servant and let Ori die. Let him find peace.’

Ori’s eyes widened as he choked hard.

‘Lucifer!’ she called out again. ‘Honour your promise!’

The Prince swore in her mind. Then came the words she hoped to hear:

Your debt has been paid. My servant will die. I hope you’re happy now.

‘Yes,’ she said, without hesitation. ‘I am.’

Ori’s wounds began to bleed again, torrents of blue blood flowing on to her hands and on to her lap. He smiled at her weakly. ‘Thank you.’

Riley’s tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘Find the Light, Ori. Never stop looking. You were never meant to stay in Hell.’

A faint nod.
I release your soul, Riley Anora Blackthorne. Watch the sunrise . . . and think of me.

A soft stream of an unknown language passed Ori’s pale lips with his final breath. A prayer for forgiveness, perhaps?

As Riley held him, she knew that in some way she still loved him. He had shaded the truth on occasion, but he’d never lied to her. He had saved her life and that of Beck’s.

The angel’s body grew fainter until all that remained were the stark patches of blue blood on her hands and arms. She looked up at Gusion and saw a single tear track down his face.

‘He is at peace. I envy him,’ the angel said.

This time Ori was gone forever.

Beck’s foe smirked at him, Sartael’s breath unusually laboured. ‘Step aside, Denver Beck, and I will grant you any wish you choose. The master’s whelp
is not worth your life.’

‘You got nothin’ I want.’

‘I can free your mother’s soul from Hell.’

Beck hesitated, then shook his head. ‘No deal. This ends here, for one or both of us.’

As his foe’s blade came uncomfortably close, Beck reared back. He was tiring, but then, surprisingly, so was his opponent. With his cohort of demons out of commission, both here and in
Hell, Sartael had only his own power to draw upon. Still, that was enough to kill a trapper ten times over.

Sartael’s next blow sent Beck’s sword flying and he retreated, desperate for a weapon. With a shout, Simon tossed him his sword.

‘Thanks!’

He waded back in. ‘What’s with you, angel?’ Beck called out. ‘Figured you’d have levelled the city by now.’

Sartael redoubled his blows, sending waves of pain through to his arm and shoulders. With a prayer on his lips, Beck drove his own sword towards the archangel, but Sartael’s blade struck
him first, slicing deep into his upper left chest.

Beck screamed in agony, his left arm going numb in a heartbeat. He fell backwards, the wound spreading shards of ice along every vein, as if he was being frozen alive.

As the archangel moved closer now, keen to impale him, there were shouts from some of the trappers. None of them would be close enough to save him.

A dirty figure rose, Beck’s sword in her hand and hate in her eyes.

Riley was facing down one of God’s most deadly creations.

‘Stupid child. Bow down to me and I’ll spare you!’ Sartael ordered.

‘Like Beck said, it ends here. Now!’

The archangel closed in for the kill. Without Ori’s protection, he would cut her down like a stalk of ripe wheat.

With one final burst of strength, Beck made it to his feet and took his place next to his woman, though he had no weapon.

‘Lad!’ Stewart called and the master’s sword skidded to a halt near Beck’s boot. It took every ounce of his energy to pick it up and it felt as if it weighed more than he
did. Beck could barely hold it in his right hand, his left almost useless. He forced the numbed fingers round the hilt and clasped his good hand over the top of them.

‘All or nothing,’ Riley said.

‘All or nothin’,’ he repeated, his throat dry and his heart bursting in his chest.

Please, God, give us a chance. Just one chance.

The archangel’s strike was faster than Beck had anticipated. It struck his blade first, then slid off and knocked Riley’s from her grasp. She cried out when the flames came too close
to her face and staggered back, blinded. A quick clip of Sartael’s wing knocked her aside.

‘You son of a bitch!’ Beck shouted, and dived forward in his last desperate bid to kill their enemy. Stewart’s powerful sword drove home deep in the centre of the
archangel’s chest, exactly where Ori had told him to strike. Using all his power, Beck pulled the blade to the right, destroying the Fallen’s heart like a ripe fruit.

The archangel reeled backwards, shocked, as blood pumped from his chest and soaked into his monk’s robe. He reached out with a hand, trying to pull energy from those in Hell who were his
to command. The blood continued to pour, faster now.

Lucifer had cut his lifeline.

‘No! You cannot deny me!’ he cried. His eyes went to Riley and cruel smile formed. ‘Blackthorne’s daughter will serve me just as well.’ His hand went towards Riley
and she began to flail on the ground, crying out in agony as brilliant white light flowed from her to the wounded angel.

A figure stepped between then, cutting the flow of healing energy from its source.

‘Gusion. Why do you do this?’ Sartael demanded. ‘I cannot heal without – ’ He wheezed, each breath tighter now. ‘Why?’

‘As a favour to an old friend who is no more,’ the angel replied. Gusion gestured to Beck, ‘He is yours, mortal. It is between you two now. Whoever is better will
win.’

Sartael swung at Beck, but missed. Beck did not, his slice a perfect union of holy steel and righteous anger. The instant the blade slid laterally across his enemy’s neck, severing it from
the body, the corpse and the head fell into a heap on the dirty tarmac. It immediately ignited into a mass of black, roiling flames, but there was no smoke, no stench of burning flesh, only
absolute destruction. Lucifer’s rival was no more.

Beck had kept his promise to Riley’s angel.

He lost his ability to stand, his strength gone. Arms held him and there was dampness on his cheeks. He wondered if it was raining.

‘Promise me you’ll live,’ Riley begged.

‘I love . . . you.’ It was the best he could do, for there were no promises left.

As Beck slid into utter darkness, fell voices assailed him, carving through his soul like a barbed whip does tender flesh.

Scores of demons called to him, naming his fate.

Angel killer.

Destroyer of Divines.

Hell is your home now

Riley was oblivious to everything but the man in her arms, though her face and eyes burned so badly that tears flooded without restraint. Why wasn’t anyone helping
him?

It seemed like forever before someone touched her arm.

‘Riley?’ Harper said. ‘Let go of Beck so we can treat him.’

She didn’t want to let go, but she did anyway, hearing unusual compassion in her master’s voice. When someone took hold of her hand, she forced her eyes open, even though they felt
as if they’d been bathed in acid. Peter knelt next to her, unharmed.