No More Devils: A Visit to Superstition Bay Read online

  It takes a small step forward, keeping the distance between us. When I stop, it stops. What the hell is it doing? It takes all my self control, but I slowly raise my gun hand, which had been dangling by my hip, up to waist level. The kiovore bends it arms at the elbows, its hands flexing like Venus flytraps about to snap shut. I stop my hand, the gun at my belt, and it stops with its hands ready to lash out like a kraken’s tentacles. Its movements are too precise to be random, too measured to be dumb luck. Whatever its offspring are, this is not a mindless predator.

  “Can you understand me?” I ask it softly.

  The round, lamprey mouth twitches but it doesn’t answer. Celeste spoke after her transformation, but none of the others did. If any other one could, though, you’d have to guess that it’d be the first of them. Then again, that’s not the only thing she did that none of the others tried to do.

  “My name is Ian,” I continue. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

  The head dips forward a little, reminding me a little of someone with glasses leaning in to look over the top of the frames. The mouth twitches again, flexing hungrily.

  “Show me that you understand me,” I say, somewhat louder than I’d intended. “Show me that you know.”

  It stands there for another second, then slowly sinks back onto its haunches like a spring being compressed. I don’t know what I was thinking. There’s no intelligence in there above the simplest animal.

  As it coils down I fire. I think the round catches it in the chest, but the explosion is so close I’m flash blind and deafened by the sound of it. I bring the Springfield up in a two-handed grip, blinking away the multicolored spots of light bogging down my vision. Through the haze I see the kiovore on its back a good ten feet away from where it had been a second before, twitching like a beetle that’s been swatted out of the air. It manages to get itself right and I hit it again, the blast sending it flying into the nearest row of seats. It crashes down, dislodging the entire row. It lies there, unmoving.

  I don’t have much time. I run over to it, dropping my phone in my pocket and scrambling for my knife while I’m in there. I pull it out, holster the gun and open the blade as I stand over it. Its head is already moving, arms starting to shudder. I don’t give myself time to think about it, just draw the blade across my left palm in a short, quick slash. As the searing pain hits I’m already kneeling on the kiovore’s chest and forcing my bleeding palm into the needle-filled, grasping parasitic mouth.

  The first drops of blood pour into the mouth and suddenly I’m airborne and breathless. One of its hands smacked into my abdomen like a battering ram. I’m unable to break my fall in any way. I hit the floor like an airplane with no landing gear, tumbling across the floor and crashing into the back of another row of seats. My back hits first but my head’s not far behind, hitting the unforgiving seat back with enough force to shatter my vision into a kaleidoscope of images. I try to stand but the commands don’t reach my body. The world ebbs in and out of focus, but the sight of the kiovore standing and coming in my direction is all too clear.

  I feel its claws clamp down on my shirt front and haul me bodily into the air. I get a good, close look at one black eye, my reflection thrown back at me in a hundred pieces by its endless, minute facets. Its holding me near its mouth, like it’s finding the softest spot to dig in, but instead the world turns upside down as it slings me over its shoulder like a worn-out rug. Everything around me becomes a blur as the kiovore launches into a run, bringing an onset of vertigo that, working together with the blow to the head, tips me down the dark slope of unconsciousness.

  Thirty

  A wrecking ball of a headache drums me out of my slumber. I groan, tamping down the onset of nausea that always follows a good hit to the head. Knocked out twice in two days. That’s a first, even for me.

  Before I even open my eyes I can tell I’m lying belly-down on rock. When I move my head the new ground I cover is cool. Wherever I am, I’ve been here for a bit. I wrench my eyes open.

  I jump a little from the surprise. There’s not much light, just enough to let me see that there’s something less than six inches in front of my face, a broad, flat, dark stretch of what looks like stone. As my focus sharpens, I can see that it’s polished but not exactly flat. There’s something carved into it. I squint.

  Recognition hits and I scramble frantically away from it, rolling twice to get enough space to sit up and crab-walk back even further. I don’t stop until I’ve gone a good ten feet, and when I see what’s on top of it another panicked burst of energy drives me even further. I don’t stop until my back hits the wall.

  It’s the ley seal, and from my seated point of view I’m almost at eye level with the blood-hued horror sprawled out on top of it, watching me with eyes like bottomless pits. The kiovore brought me back to its lair beneath Parkman Gems, dropped me on the floor next to the cap on the fount of Superstition Bay’s power and curled up on top of it, looking for all the world like a housecat relaxing on the sofa.

  Jesus, did I touch the seal when it dropped me down? Did a hand brush against it on my way to the floor, did my head rest against it when the monster released my unconscious body? It wouldn’t take much to do irreparable damage to the town’s ecosystem. Just a damp swipe of my sweat cracked it yesterday. If I actually made physical contact with the granite disk whatever containing spells are worked into it would have shattered, spilling who knows how much raw magic out into the town. Did that happen already?

  The cave is illuminated by Calvin’s lantern, though I’m sure Lisa turned it off before we left yesterday. Did the kiovore turn the light on? Why? I’m certain it’s not to its own benefit.

  Did it do it for me?

  The light allows me to see the small puddle, black with red traces, a foot or so away from the seal. My blood, from where I used the knife on my hand. With that memory comes the pain from the injured palm, though a quick check shows me that the bleeding has, for the moment, stopped. The fact that there’s no blood on or near the seal is at least a little bit reassuring, almost as much as the fact that the cave still exists at all. Celeste was pretty sure that the release wouldn’t happen in an explosive way, but I’ve got a bit more experience with large-scale magic and I’m not as willing as she was to take that kind of gamble.

  I slide up the stone wall until I’m fully upright and circle slowly to the right, towards the stairs keeping both eyes on the lounging kiovore. It’s sprawled out on the seal like it’s a feather mattress, half on its side, legs folded at the knees and its cheek resting on the carved stone while its wiry black braid spills over half of its face, almost completely obscuring its vile, fanged leech mouth. It hasn’t reacted to my presence yet, but as far as I’m concerned these things don’t sleep. No, it’s awake and aware and watching me intently with those lidless black eyes.

  Why did it bring me here? It could have killed me back at the school, or it could have just gone on its way without going to the trouble of kidnapping me.

  My watch survived the encounter at the school. It tells me it’s a few minutes before six. I’ve been out for about forty minutes. God knows what’s been going on in the town. Have the rest of the kiovores swarmed Gault’s impromptu fortress, and if so have the walls held? Have any of the other Grey in the town fallen prey and are swelling the kiovores ranks? And what of the Aegis? Did they get their perimeter in place, and if so, is it working?

  I need those answers, and I need to call in reinforcements, assuming Hollett and Kenta made it away from the school uneaten. I reach for my phone only to find it gone. The Springfield is secure in its holster and my knife must still be lying back on the auditorium floor, but my phone’s gone. It must have fallen out of my pocket either during the brief fight or the trip here.

  Or, and this is a sober thought, did the kiovore take it out and drop it somewhere on purpose? With this thing, it’s one question after another and answers are in short supply.

  I weigh my options. I don’t have
many, so it doesn’t take long. I can’t risk going near that seal, so I need to get the kiovore off it somehow. I slide the Springfield from its holster. I used two rounds back at the school. The magazine holds thirteen and I always leave one in the chamber, so I’ve got twelve rounds left. I consider trying to shoot it off of there, but I can’t take that risk. If the explosion cracks the seal I could end up kissing Krakatoa. I take a hesitant step towards it, keeping my bloody hand behind my back. No need to spook it.

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to come over here for a bit,” I ask quietly. Its silence seems to be eternal.

  “Why’d you bring me here?” I go on. “You can’t feed off me. Why didn’t you just leave me there?”

  Its head moves a scant inch, disturbing the braid. More of the mouth shows through.

  “For that matter, why didn’t you kill me? I’ve seen what your kids do to humans who get between them and their food. Why am I still alive? What is it you want?”

  With feline grace the kiovore rises to a crouch, but there’s no tension in its posture. It’s not coiled for a leap. It’s simply looking at me. It steps off the seal, rising to its full height as it does so. By the time it reaches me, a mere two steps later, it’s looking down at me from less than the length of one of its arms. I want to shoot it, but the seal is still behind it. All I’d accomplish by shooting now is blowing it back onto the one place I don’t want it.

  “What?” I almost shout. Frustration is building inside me. “Talk to me, you son of a bitch! I know you’re not like the other ones. There’s something going on in that fucking weird-ass head of yours. What is it? What’s going on here? What the hell do you want?”

  If it’s offended by my language it doesn’t show. With a slow, languid motion it raises its right claw, curling its elbow and wrist so that the bony digits rest on its own chest. It stays there for a moment, then, with equal slowness, extends its arm. It comes to rest on my own chest, the hand just barely denting the material of my shirt. I can feel the cold from its touch on my skin. After a moment it withdraws its hand, letting it rest at its side again.

  “I don’t get it,” I say.

  For the first time I see something akin to emotion. Its shoulders sloop forward in obvious frustration. There’s definitely something in its head besides animal instincts, and it can’t figure out how to express it. Or maybe it’s doing fine and I’m too dense to understand. It straightens out, then reaches out towards me again.

  One second it’s there, the next it’s flying violently to my left. It hits the wall where I did, hard enough to crack the stone plate. A new light shines from the stairs, and I can see Hollett and Kenta jumping down from the steps into the chamber. Kenta’s gauntlet completes its follow-through from sweeping the kiovore away from me.

  “Now, Ian!” Hollett screams.

  “No, goddamn it,” I shout, but it’s too late. The kiovore is a twilight blur as it leaps for them, but this time they’re ready. Kenta holds his hand up, palm outwards in the classic ‘stop’ gesture, and the kiovore acts like it hit a brick wall at speed, crumpling against an invisible barrier. Then Kenta squeezes and slams it to the floor in a flyswatting motion. He tries to hold it down, but the kiovore is more powerful than he is. It forces its way to its feet through Kenta’s pressure and charges again.

  Hollett steps in between them, stabbing with his thorn wand. Sparks fly from the kiovore’s face and torso, but it’s not enough by half. Luckily for them their brief fight has drawn the kiovore slightly to my left.

  I raise my gun, sight the kiovore’s skinny, blood-red back and fire. The explosion throws it violently forward, almost into the cave’s far wall. It plants its feet, only a yard away from Hollett and Kenta, and stares back at me. The face is, as always, as neutral as stone, but its body has the curled energy of a predator again. Whatever it was that I was talking to a moment ago is gone. It leaps at me, swinging wildly at me with its claws.

  I have half a second to see Kenta throw a hard right cross with his gauntlet and the kiovore crashes past me like it’s been bounced off a train’s cowcatcher. As it does one of its flailing arms hits me hard on the shoulder and I reel backwards, hopelessly off balance. As I stagger around trying to get my feet under me I feel the hard impact on my heels and realize with horror where I was standing when I was hit.

  I have just a moment to look over my shoulder and see the granite seal as I tumble towards it.

  Time slows to a snail’s crawl as panic opens the gates of adrenaline. There’s nothing I can do, no way to twist myself away from it. It’s too big and I’m too close and I’m completely out of control. I’m about to let a tsunami of magic loose on thousands of unsuspecting people and that it’ll all be my fault.

  Then I’m hit broadside by a full-power body tackle, a shoulder crushing into my rib cage with a force beyond belief, and I’ve been punched by an adult gargoyle. I fly away from the seal, hitting the stone floor in every bad way, not rolling as much as flailing to a stop but not until every soft part of my body rattles across the rock at least two times. Groaning, I crane my neck to see Hollett snapping to his feet, not even dusting himself off.

  “Get up,” says the man who might have just saved the town, then he’s moving towards the kiovore, slashing his wand in a tight X pattern.

  I roll away from the seal and to my feet, meaning to follow Hollett, but before I’m upright the kiovore surprises him. Instead of shying away from his attacks, the monster instead leaps forward, grabs Hollett by the shoulders and slings him away like a garbage man with a Hefty bag. Hollett spins through the air until he flies leg first into a wall. He crashes to the floor with an agonized cry. I try to rush to his aid but before I can the kiovore’s right in front of me, claws flexing murderously as it reaches for me.

  It freezes in place as Kenta jams himself in between me and the monster. He has his wooden pendant in one hand, holding it up in front of the kiovore like a priest fending off a vampire with a cross, which if not ironic is probably a pretty good analogy. Holding it at bay, he glances back over his shoulder at me, his expression as blank as the kiovore’s.

  “The book,” he says in a voice as dry as an Arizona grave.

  “What book?”

  “The one where we found out about the kiovores.”

  I’m completely lost. “What about it?”

  “It was my father’s.”

  “Kenta…”

  “Tell Nariko that I’m sorry,” he says, not taking his eyes off the kiovore. It’s like he’s studying it, committing it to memory. “And tell my father… I’m laying them down.”

  Before I can react he stretches out his gloved hand towards me, looking for all the world like Luke Skywalker using the Force to grab his lightsaber, but instead he Darth Vader’s me and rips my gun out of my hand. He transfers the gun to his left hand, still looking at me, then he rips the pendant from his throat with his gloved hand and hurls it deep into the room. Before it can hit the floor the kiovore is on him. It wraps its arms around his torso in a grotesque hug and clamps its mouth down on his shoulder. Kenta doesn’t scream, though the pain washes over his face like rain on a windshield as the monster begins to feed on him. He’s still looking at me when he raises my gun, sticks it under his chin and pulls the trigger.

  The shot echoes forever, trapped thunder in the chamber, and even as I realize I’ve thrown up a reflexive hand to stop Kenta the kiovore drops his body, staggering like a boxer who’s just taken his final punch, and suddenly it’s clear that Kenta knew more about this than I’d ever suspected.

  The kiovore hadn’t actually killed its victims. It’d let go of both Celeste and Nariko before they’d died. Magic is life, life is magic. Just like the vampires they’d inspired, the kiovores only fed on the living. Feeding on the dead had brought it down.

  The kiovore stumbles drunkenly, arms clutching its abdomen, head thrown back in a spasm of agony. It falls to its hands and knees, torso bucking like it’s trying unsuccessfully to vomit. Its eye
s find me for the last time, and I wish I could read them. Is it scared? Filled with rage? Remorseful? I can’t tell and never will know. A stillness falls over it, and after a second of maintaining balance gravity asserts itself and pulls the lifeless body to the floor.

  I take a couple of breaths, but not many. The adrenaline that’s sparking in my muscles will fade soon, and I have miles to go before I sleep. I force myself to my feet and step over the kiovore’s body. It’s hard to look at Kenta’s, but I owe it to him to say goodbye. Hell, this whole godforsaken town and every stinking Grey who live in it owe him that and more. I walk the short distance over to his crumpled body, kneeling by his feet. An Aegis shell doesn’t do good things to a human body regardless of where it hits, and he’d put it under his chin. I didn’t need to see the result. I lay my right hand on his foot.

  “You stupid bastard,” I snarl at his corpse, feeling the warm trickle of my blood through my clenched left fist. “I had another way.”

  He doesn’t answer me, of course. Not yet. I have a feeling he will the next time I fall asleep. The dead have a habit of doing that, especially when you carry them with you. I turn away from his body to go to Hollett’s aid when a sound comes from behind me, a scrape like one stone being dragged over another. I wheel around.

  The kiovore’s leg is twitching. It’s not dead yet.

  I go over to where it’s laying and use my foot to flip the heavy body onto its back. The twitches are starting to lengthen as life begins to seep back into it. It’s recovering at horrible speed, probably only a minute away from a full recovery.

  Like hell.

  I drop one knee across its chest, pinning the writhing torso with my weight. It’s strong, but it hasn’t recovered its coordination yet and can’t manage to dislodge me. I grab its left hand, isolate its index claw, and before I can brace myself for the pain I slash my left palm fast and deep, reopening and widening the wound. Blood splatters my leg and belly, spraying over the kiovores chest and head. It whips its head away from the poison, trying to get away from it, but I jam my hand into the rapidly gasping mouth, forcing my palm deep.