Spellbound: Book II of the Grimnoir Chronicles

We’ve got a great show for you tonight. We’ve got dancing. We’ve got singing. We’ve got magic like you wouldn’t believe. Displays of super strength, deadly stunts, risking life and limb, all for your enjoyment. We have got it all. Ladies and gentlemen, you ain’t seen nothing yet!

—Al Jolson,

Sinbad’s Vaudeville Theater, 1911

USS Lexington

Over Washington D.C.

The airship had sounded the alert as soon as the electrical anomaly had been spotted at the abandoned Peace Ray facility just west of the city. The crew of the aircraft carrier Lexington had reacted like a well oiled machine. They’d dropped two of their complement of sixteen Curtiss Raptors to investigate within five minutes of the first alarm, and then they’d waited.

The radio call that came in next had been simply unbelievable.

“A giant monster came out of the river?” The captain had just been roused from his bunk and it was taking him a moment to digest the news. “And it’s heading for the Lincoln Memorial?”

“Yes, captain,” confirmed the radioman. It sounded insane, but that was the word.

“Is this some kind of joke, Lieutenant Heinlein?”

“No, sir. It appears to be some sort of creature, like something a Summoner would have, only bigger.”

Tensions had been high ever since the assassination attempt, but nobody had expected that there would actually be anything for the Navy’s most advanced airship to do over the capitol other than be a sign of strength and stability to the people. They’d been wrong.

“Damned wizards. Ought to hang the lot of them . . . Bring us around to engage with the main guns and drop the fighters.”

Washington D.C.

Sullivan’s boots hit the pavement hard. Faye always seemed to like appearing a little above the ground for safety’s sake, and a lot above it when she was carrying somebody with her. Travelling was terribly disorienting, so it took him a moment to regain his bearings. He had no idea how the girl was able to do it so quickly and always keep herself pointed in the right direction. The reflecting pool was in front of them. They were near the Roosevelt Memorial. The Washington Monument rose in the distance to their left. To the right was the Lincoln Memorial, and standing next to it was one big ass demon.

The police were shooting futilely at the demon. An awful roar filled the air and the ground shook as it assaulted the memorial. Each footfall was like thunder and the police had no choice but to scatter. It wrapped three of its arms around one of the Greek columns and tore it from the building. The pillar broke in half and the monster flung the first piece at a passing biplane. It missed, but the massive chunk of stone flew off to crash in the distance.

“Holy shit . . .” Sullivan trailed off. He prided himself on always being cool in a fight, but this was overwhelming, even for him. It was a whole lot scarier being on the same side of the river as this thing. “Either I’m bad at estimating size or it’s still growing.”

“It’s sucking in the air around it and turning it into Summoned smoke. When it gets thick enough it turns that into ink and it stretches its body even bigger,” Faye explained. He did not know how she could see that. It had to be that head map of hers that she was always talking about. “Want me to take you back?” Faye asked, terrified herself.

“Tempting, but naw. I got this.”

Faye nodded and then she was gone.

The Roosevelt Memorial was at his back. The familiar bronze of Teddy on his rearing stallion rose behind the trees, rifle lifted overhead in a dramatic pose that had never actually occurred during the Great War, since there hadn’t been much use for horses in the trenches. Many of the anti-magic marchers had camped in the open space east of the Roosevelt Monument, and they were running for their lives now. He couldn’t rightly blame them, since the demon was still scooping up people and stuffing its face, not even bothering to chew. It was a demon, living on alien essence and magic, it couldn’t possibly need the nourishment. It seemed to be eating them out of spite.

Most of the figures around the Lincoln Memorial were running away, but one had somehow managed to climb onto the creatures back, and was moving between the spines, swinging what could only have been a sword. That had to be Toru. Maybe he’d climbed up its leg. Maybe he’d jumped from the top of the Memorial onto its back, but it didn’t matter, since the demon jerked violently and slapped at its back with one claw. It was like the motion a man might make when stung by a wasp. The Iron Guard was knocked off and fell into the trees.

Sullivan steeled himself. He had absolutely no idea how to hurt this thing. His Power had already been used hard during the night’s events, but even at full strength he wouldn’t have been able to squish something that big. There was no time to dwell on it, though, since the demon was heading his way. Four glowing eyes tilted as its head swelled, like it was testing the air, and somehow Sullivan understood that it sensed the thousands of defenseless lives trapped in the open to the east. The marchers would just be waking up and fleeing now. The demon saw the illuminated glow of the Washington Monument and bellowed a challenge at it.

He fired the BAR without consciously thinking about it. The bullets did nothing. Sullivan pointed it right at the creature’s eyes, but those were vast empty pools of fire. It didn’t so much as twitch as it got closer. Reloading, hand a blur between gun and vest, Sullivan tried it again. The second magazine was as useless as the first. The demon was closer now, and it was like trying to stand during an earthquake. Stumbling, he turned and ran for the cover of the Roosevelt Memorial. He dove behind a concrete flowerbed as one of the demon’s huge feet kicked the iron bars of the perimeter fence overhead.

The demon had an overpowering stink to it, like damp ground and ozone. Sullivan crawled forward as another foot landed only twenty feet away, bouncing him across the grass. The foot was shaped like a monkey’s paw, with toes like fingers, each as long as a tall man, with an obsidian nail on the end like a shovel head. The limb was covered with plates like broken asphalt chunks, while the skin beneath was black as oil and appeared slick and moist.

Tracer bullets splashed across the reflecting pool, tore up clumps of dirt, and ripped into the demon. A sleek Curtiss biplane banked away, engine buzzing. The demon roared with a noise that threatened to make his ears bleed. There was a terrible ripping sound as the bronze statue of Teddy Roosevelt and his horse was ripped from its base and hurled after the speeding plane. This time the demon connected, and the statue tore one set of wings off. The Curtiss went spiraling downward in a cloud of wood splinters and aluminum shrapnel.

Sullivan gathered enough Power for a brutal Spike, rose, and concentrated on the nearest foot. He brought gravity down on it, sloppy, but hard and fast as he possibly could. A visible depression appeared in the oily skin and the plates cracked. A cloud of demon smoke spilled forth as the foot jerked into the sky. Summoned oil fell on him like rain. It can be damaged!

Then the massive foot came down right on top of him.

The Power use was instinctive, and he flared it hard, increasing his density as everything went black. He was driven deep into the ground, flat on his back, stomped like a bug.

There was no light. There was no air. No sound. There was dirt in his eyes, filling his ears and mouth. He was buried alive beneath the black oily heel of the demon. His Power was burning hot, dwindling quickly, but he was alive. Alive and crushed beneath the incalculable weight of a god.

This had to be how he’d survived the year before when he’d fallen from a blimp and through a train car. There was no calculation to this magic, only a pure desire to live. Even seconds from death, in a race between what would run out first, his air or his magic, Sullivan’s analytical mind was making notes of this surprising use of his Power. Fascinating.

The wounded foot rose, leaving Sullivan at the bottom of a footprint in the grass. His mass returned to normal and he could move again. His lungs filled with air. Desperate, he scrambled upward, drawing himself out into the night. The demon was moving on. Sullivan had to hurry and strike with whatever he had left.

But before Sullivan could do anything else, the beast spun, tearing one leg through the Memorial. The landscape seemed to curl into a wave of approaching earth. An uprooted tree spun his way and he barely had time to increase his density before impact.

He found himself sailing through the air. Water came rushing up to meet him, but not nearly deep enough to cushion the impact. The splash was far too brief and his shoulder cracked the concrete beneath. Sullivan sat up in the middle of the reflecting pool, gasping and choking.

The injured foot came down, still mangled and bleeding smoke, but the demon just contorted its unnatural body and used one of its spare hands to steady itself. It must not have realized where that attack had come from, or he’d be dead for sure. It knew that something in the area had severely injured it though, and that something had to be eliminated. Both mouths opened wide and emitted a blast of pure fire in an arc the stretched for hundreds of feet. It swept its head across the mall, side to side, immolating everything. Trees exploded into flame. Innocent people were burned to ash. Sullivan ducked back under the life saving water as the fire tore across the pool.

The son of a bitch breathes fire, too? he thought as he hugged the bottom. It was very shallow, and much of his back was still exposed to the intense heat. He rolled quickly to put himself out. This keeps getting worse.

Holding his breath as long as he could, it finally felt as if the worst of the heat had passed. The water was scalding as he sprang up and gasped for breath. The air was filled with smoke. Being crushed had left him dizzy and weak. It took quite some time to get up and collect himself.

Sullivan wiped his eyes and watched as the demon went on to attack the Washington Monument. It covered a football field worth of ground every couple of steps and reached the monolith in no time. Even as big as the demon was, the monument was far taller still, and that just seemed to make it mad. The creature struck it several times, angry that anything else might upstage it, but after clawing away several chunks of stone it seemed to realize that the monument was no threat to its superiority. Instead it scrambled effortlessly up the side of the monument, climbing to a higher vantage point so that it could survey its new kingdom.

A pair of biplanes did a strafing run against the demon. This time it simply turned and engulfed the incoming planes in a stream of fire. One was struck and exploded in midair. The other managed to dodge under the flames, only to cut too close to the monument to be swatted from the sky by one of the demon’s extra arms. It would accept no challenges to its rule.

Sullivan waded across the pool. He had to follow this thing before it was too late. His Healing spells were working like mad. His own Power was battered and weak. He still had his gun, and the only reason it hadn’t been destroyed beneath the demon’s foot was because John Browning had enchanted it with runes of durability, but a rifle was useless against it. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he reached the monster, but he had to try.

The demon’s eyes turned to the east, toward the lights of the Capitol Building and the field of screaming, fleeing humans. It climbed down and lumbered onward.

Faye stepped through space and found herself back on the west side of the river at the Grimnoir staging grounds. “Next!”

She’d just dropped Lance Talon off behind one of the museums. He had insisted on taking the Stokes mortar from the back of his truck. Between Lance, the mortar, and its shells, it had been quite a bit of weight, and it had forced her to make a couple of quick hops to get him in place. Before that had been Diamond armed with one of those Goddard rocket launchers. She’d stuck around long enough to watch him shoot one of the explosive rockets into the demon’s back, but their only reward on impact had been a puff of smoke. It had flicked off the Iron Guard, stepped on Mr. Sullivan, and was swatting down fighter planes like hornets. She was beginning to fear that nothing they could do could hurt this thing.

The knights had actually formed a line like they were waiting for a turn on a Ferris wheel. Heinrich stepped up next. He hadn’t been Mended yet, but he had one of Mr. Sullivan’s Healing spells carved on him so he was hanging in there, and he’d found a pickax in the tool shed. “Drop me right on its head.”

“Are you sure?”

“It should prove fun,” Heinrich said as he put the pickax over one shoulder. He gave her a battered grin. “What is the worst that could happen?”

And people say I’m crazy. Faye took him by the arm.

Her Power was burning hot. Though she’d jumped far and often over the last few hours, she seemed to be getting stronger and stronger as the night went on. Her greatest limitation right now was her physical body, which was completely exhausted. One mistake because she was not thinking clearly would get her, and even worse, anybody she was carrying, killed. Her magic was feeling nearly as strong as it had been aboard the Tokugawa and she had no idea why, but she was thankful for it. Even then, it was taking her a couple of shorter hops to get back to the demon. She had a passenger and it was getting further away. By herself, she figured she should be able to make the return trip in one jump.

They landed near the Washington Monument. It was scored with several deep claw marks. A biplane had crashed on its side nearby. The area was in complete pandemonium. There were hundreds of people present, some running away, some stumbling about injured, others trying to help. Fires were burning everywhere. The demon was busy tearing apart the big museum on the north side of the lawn while it ignored the flock of biplanes that were taking turns swooping down to shoot at it. The monster had to be a hundred feet tall now.

“Still want to do this?” she asked Heinrich.

“I do. But before you put me on that thing I just want to say again that I am very sorry for that time that I shot you in the heart.”

“Oh, Heinrich. Don’t go talking like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re saying goodbyes.”

“Why would I do that?” This smile was a sad one. “Of course I’m not, Faye. Let’s go.”

Despite Travelling onto a moving target, her head map had no trouble keeping up with the mad thrashings of the gigantic beast. The spot that she picked was in what seemed like a forest of spines, each one several feet long, a foot in diameter, and ending in a brutal point. It was like being in a stinky living forest. Heinrich let go of her, balanced himself against a spine, lifted the pickax overhead, and embedded it deep into the monster’s flesh. Smoke boiled out of the puncture. The whole world tilted. Heinrich grabbed onto a spine and held on for dear life. Faye Travelled out of there just as the demon tried to scrape the new interloper off against the marble facade of the museum.

She landed a hundred feet away and watched as the demon smashed its way through the building. Heinrich must have Faded through the debris, as he reappeared, swinging the pickax again and taunting the demon in German. A flash bulb popped as a nearby reporter took a photograph. Faye figured that guy was even crazier than Heinrich. Everybody with any sense was running. At least the knights had magic, so they had some excuse for sticking it out.

Back on the Virginia side, she had to pause to catch her breath. Her Power was still growing and it was making her a bit giddy. She caught Mr. Browning in the process of telling Mr. Bryce that his Powers were unsuitable for their situation, and forbidding him from going. His tone was rather stern and as Bryce sulked away, Mr. Browning turned to face her. Apparently he was next. “But you’re—”

“Old. Yes. Now get a move on, young lady.”

She took him to the front of the capitol and deposited him next to the where the Army was gathering. There were only a handful of small vehicles there, but from the engine noise more were coming. They had been prepared to disperse marchers, not anything like this. The evacuating crowd was dense, surging past the soldiers that were trying to get ready to stage a last ditch defense. The protestors had abandoned all of their anti-magic signs and banners. Faye knew she shouldn’t have hated them so much for being here, but she did.

The Summoned was disengaging itself from the museum, which meant that Heinrich was probably gone. It moved into the middle of the open space, placed two of its hands on the ground, lowered its head, and breathed fire down the mall. It wasn’t close enough to burn them yet, but Faye could feel the temperature rise dramatically.

One of the military men was standing on the roof of a truck, giving orders and waving his arms as other vehicles arrived. Faye didn’t know the difference between the various ranks, but this fellow had the fanciest hat and the most embroidery on his sleeves, so that probably made him the boss. He was shouting that they were going to hold this position or else.

Faye, having gotten a pretty good idea of what this particular Summoned was capable of, figured that it was going to end up being or else.

There was one larger green vehicle with tracks on the back and wheels on the front. It wasn’t quite a tank, but it was certainly no tractor, and it did have some sort of big gun on top. A soldier was standing behind it, wrestling with the gun, seemingly unfamiliar with how to operate it.

Mr. Browning saw the soldier having a hard time, so he pushed his way to the back of the tracked vehicle. Another frightened soldier tried to stop him. “What’re you doing, you old coot? You need to scram.”

“That boy has no idea how to use that,” he gestured at the gun. “I do. Let me up there.”

“How would you know?”

“That’s a Browning 30mm auto-cannon. I know because I designed the blasted thing! Now stand aside!” That caught the first solider flat footed long enough for Mr. Browning to climb up the ladder. Exasperated, he pushed the other soldier out of the way. “What are you doing? It isn’t that complicated.” He pulled a big lever back and opened the tray on top. “Faye, get Dan. See if he’s learned anything from the Coordinator about how to banish this creature.” He slammed the tray down, worked the charging handle back and forth, took up the spade grips and pulled the trigger. The auto-cannon belched a column of flame over the heads of the evacuating masses. The recoil shook the vehicle and the muzzle blast made Mr. Browning’s long coat flap behind him.

There was a chain of small explosions across the demon’s chest. Chunks of plate were knocked off and fell to crush some of the screaming marchers below. Browning stopped shooting long enough to yell at her. “Fly, Faye!” Then he returned to blasting the demon.

“Mr. Garrett!” Faye hit the Virginia side running. Her ears were ringing from the cannon. “Where’s Dan?”

“Over here,” Dan Garrett shouted back. He came around the side of the abandoned house carrying a fat leather book. “Get me to Sullivan, quick.”

That she could certainly do, provided Mr. Sullivan was still alive. It took her two hops to get her head map close enough to find their Heavy. Not surprisingly, he was running along the mall, between the craters created by monstrous footsteps, trying to catch up with the demon, which was now a few hundred yards ahead of them.

“Jake!” Mr. Garrett shouted, before he fell, dizzy into the mud. Some folks just didn’t have the constitution to Travel well. “Over here!”

Sullivan slid to a halt, turned, and ran back to them. The Heavy looked like death warmed over. He was almost unrecognizable beneath the coating of dirt and blood. “What’ve you got?”

Dan had used a chunk of newspaper as a bookmark. He flipped the book open to show a complicated spell. “The Coordinator said this was the only anti-demon spell he knew of in here. He’d learned it as insurance in case Crow ever got out of hand.”

The demon leapt high into the air to swing at a biplane. The landing shook the whole city and knocked most of them off their feet. “I’d say he’s out of hand now!” Faye exclaimed.

The demon had missed the biplane, and it was buzzing their way. Both mouths opened wide after it, revealing a swirling red light emanating from deep within the monster’s core. Sullivan bellowed, “Get down!”

The demon’s fiery breath streaked their way in a blazing wall of hot death. Faye’s mind was moving quickly, running complex calculations on instinct, the weight of her companions, the approach speed of the jet of flame, the distance her head map told her that she’d have to move all of them to be safe . . . In a tenth of a second she understood that she would only be able to move one of her friends in time and none of the other injured stragglers trapped beneath the fire.

But she was saved from having to choose at the last instant. The fire broke before them, rushing upward and away. It was a miracle they weren’t consumed. The air was unbearably hot, and Faye was forced to cover her face as the heat threatened to suck the moisture from her eyes.

Whisper stood some distance behind Sullivan, both palms open, as if she was shoving the fire away with her bare hands. Her hair was whipping wildly around her and her eyes were glowing with unnatural light. “Find your own tricks.” With a snarl of rage, Whisper pushed back, and the vast fire arced up and back, curled in on itself, forming into a huge cloud, which then raced back to strike the demon. It roared in confusion as it was engulfed. “Fire belongs to me!”

Whisper fell to her knees. The heat broke, leaving all of them dehydrated and red. Faye got up and ran to her. “You’re alive!”

“For the moment,” Whisper responded weakly. “What manner of beast is this?”

“It’s an old god from the Summoned’s world. It’s real bitter and wants to eat everybody on our planet . . . Long story.”

The demon had shrugged off the flames and was once again heading toward the Capitol Building. Explosions were rippling continuously across the creature as more military guns joined in. Some of those were coming from the mortar shells that Lance was tossing over the ruined museum. The search lights could be seen beaming down from the aircraft carrier that had been patrolling over the city. It was maneuvering against the wind to use its main guns as well. A mass of panicked humanity was still in front of the monster though, and it was doubtful anything would be able to save those people in time.

Sullivan took the spell book from Dan and started analyzing the page, dark eyes flying back and forth rapidly. The main writing looked like gibberish to her. Tightly packed notes had been scribbled in the margins, and luckily those were in English. “Yeah, I should be able to draw this . . . What’s it do?”

“It’s a shield of some kind. Summoned can’t get in, no matter how hard they try.”

Sullivan studied the demon for a moment. “Faye, get us in front of that thing.”

She took Sullivan first, dropping him off near where she’d left Mr. Browning, who was busy ordering young soldiers to hand up more heavy cans of ammunition. Since Mr. Sullivan was so unnaturally heavy, nearly twice what he looked like, she had to be extra careful when she picked a spot. Several soldiers and marchers leapt out of the way as Sullivan suddenly came barreling through them. Normally the sudden magical appearance of a mud covered Heavy would have startled them more, but he was simply no contest compared to the spectacle of the oncoming god of demons. Sullivan had already opened up the book and was looking for a spot to work by the time she’d gone back for Whisper and Mr. Garrett.

Even with Mr. Garrett’s pudginess, the two of them together weighed less than Sullivan, so she took the both of them in one hop. She realized as she touched down that she probably wasn’t doing them any favors, since they had been on the west side of an eastbound demon, and now she’d dumped them right into the shadow of its next target.

“Dan! How big a shield does it make?” Sullivan asked as soon as they’d arrived.

“The more Power the creator puts into it, the bigger it should be.”

“Shit . . .” Sullivan muttered.

Faye knew right away what was wrong. Mr. Sullivan was by far the best of them at making spells. He just had an artist’s knack for it. However, he’d already burned his Power hard and there was no way he’d had time to recuperate. If you pushed too hard you risked killing yourself. The others hadn’t made that connection yet, but Sullivan caught her looking at him, and he just shook his head. He was going to do it anyway.

“I’ve got plenty of Power!” Faye exclaimed.

Sullivan held up the open book. “Could you bind this?” It was terribly complex. She was still struggling with the most basic communication spells, and there wasn’t normally a giant demon coming to kill her if she messed those up. Her hesitancy was obvious. “Didn’t think so. This one’s on me.”

Near them, a tank fired its main gun. The shockwave sent her reeling. Sullivan just hunched his shoulders and walked ahead of the line of military vehicles. Hundreds of soldiers had arrived, and they were going to hold this line or die trying. He picked an open spot of sidewalk and knelt down. People were still fleeing past, but the bodies parted around him like waves against a rock. Mr. Sullivan took a knife from his belt, used it to slice open the tip of one fingertip, and began to write on the sidewalk with his own blood.

The demon was charging toward them. There would be only one chance to get it right.

“Jake, what’re you doing?” Mr. Browning shouted.

“If this works, don’t leave the circle,” Sullivan responded.

“I see . . . Would it be all right if my bullets leave the circle?”

Sullivan drew another line. “I don’t see why not.” Browning went back to shooting.

A hand landed on Faye’s arm and pulled her around hard. It was Whisper. Her eyes were wide, terrified. “Listen to me. There is something I must tell you. It is about who you are.”

Faye didn’t understand. She turned back around. The demon was closing fast. “Can’t it wait?”

“No! Listen to me, Faye. Remember what we spoke about before?”

“Of course, but I—”

Whisper was desperate. “You must listen to me. You are the one.”

What?

Faye didn’t have time to think about Whisper’s words. The blood magic design Sullivan was drawing had caught someone’s attention. Several soldiers were running toward the Heavy. “Stop that, wizard!” shouted an officer.

“His kind brought the wrath of god upon us!” screamed one of the marchers. “Kill him!”

It was understandable. A man was drawing obviously magical markings with his own blood with a great big demon nearby was pretty suspicious looking. Rifles were raised in Sullivan’s direction. “Back off. I’m busy,” he growled.

“Shoot him!” ordered the terrified officer.

“Stand down!” The voice that came next seemed to drown out the entire world. “You heard the man,” Dan Garrett said, angry magic seething from every word. “Back off.” The soldiers lowered their rifles. The Mouth was pushing so hard, that even Faye wanted to surrender, and she was already on his side. “That big fellow is going to save your life.” The Mouth decided to take it up a notch and put his new allies to work. “Protect this man. Fix bayonets and keep these idiots out of his way.”

“Yes, sir!” the soldiers shouted in unison and formed a protective circle around Sullivan.

“Faye, listen to me,” Whisper pleaded. “I was sent to watch you, even to kill you if necessary.”

But Whisper was her friend. “Kill me?”

“Because you are the Spellbound.”

Faye didn’t know what to say. She recalled Whisper’s strange story, but it didn’t make any sense. “The murderer?”

“You have no idea how much I wanted to simply murder you and be done, at first . . . But I was wrong. The last Spellbound was evil. You are not like him, you are nothing like that grey-eyed monster, but you could become like him. The possibility was there, and that was enough.”

Faye looked away from Whisper. Sullivan had finished the spell from the Coordinator’s book. Now he was concentrating on the small design, binding it to the ground, connecting it to his own Power.

“That was his spell! That was his curse! You inherited it when Jacques killed him. Can’t you feel it? All of that death? Every time someone dies near you, you grow stronger, don’t you?” Whisper had gone crazy. She didn’t know what she was talking about.

Except she was stronger, like before, like when she’d fought against the Chairman.

Where so many had died.

“The Power bonds to us, lives through us, and when we die, it takes that bit of itself back, larger than before. The Spellbound subverts the order of things. That energy, instead of going back to the Power, it goes to the Spellbound for a time. It isn’t like your regular magic that will regrow. When you use this stolen Power up, it returns home, and that leaves you hungry for more. That’s how the first Spellbound became evil. He needed more and more magic, so he began to take it. That’s how he became a monster, and the same thing will happen to you.”

Faye’s mind had always moved rapidly, and now it was spinning through the implications of Whisper’s words. The first time she’d had a jump in Power had been when Grandpa had died. After stabbing a kanji bound man in the heart she’d had enough Power to beat Delilah in a fight. She’d grown stronger again during Mar Pacifica amidst the dying Iron Guards, and then even greater aboard the Tokugawa, and all of that extra Power that she’d been granted had been burned up in one epic Travel, when she’d dragged the entire Tempest a thousand miles through the walls of space. And it had started again with the sudden death of George Bolander. He’d died fighting Crow . . . and Faye had taken his connection to the Power.

Faye was different from other Actives. She’d just never understood how different. It made sense. She was stealing magic when people died. That was horrible. Whisper was right. Only a monster would steal somebody’s magic.

She snapped back to reality. Why had Whisper decided to tell her all this now when there was other important stuff going on? The strain was going to kill Mr. Sullivan. Veins stood out on his neck. Sweet poured down his filthy face. He gathered up every last bit of Power he had and shoved it into that design and then he went back for more. They only had seconds left.

“When a Normal dies, it isn’t much. Just the little connection that was there from when the Power first checked to see if it could bond to them, but with all of those poor people . . .” Whisper trailed off as she looked across the mall. “Are they enough? Could they ever possibly be enough?”

But Faye didn’t know what to do.

The god of demon’s rampage was almost upon them. Its footfalls were shaking the tanks. Shells were exploding across it with no effect. Soldiers and marchers flinched away, prepared to die.

The air seemed to shimmer around Mr. Sullivan. He lifted one hand, and with a roar, slammed it down into the middle of his spell. The sidewalk cracked. The world seemed to flex in an expanding blue wave out from Mr. Sullivan’s hand. It washed over the soldiers, over the refugees, and over her. The wave passed them by and the world behind seemed to return to normal, except for an electric hum audible just beneath the ringing in her ears.

Mr. Sullivan collapsed, seemingly lifeless, onto the broken sidewalk.

The wall of blue surged outward until it collided with the unnatural bulk of the Summoned. The demon recoiled as if it had driven itself into a mountain. It drew back and crashed into it again. The spell did not budge. Furious mouths opened and the demon hurled fire against the shield. The heat that came through was brutal, but the flames washed over the blue wall, leaving them all in what felt like a hollow dome of fire.

He did it! He’d saved them! Dan went to try and help Mr. Sullivan.

The Lexington had gotten into firing range, and the next shells that struck were the biggest of all, the biggest Faye had ever felt. The demon rocked back under the mighty impacts. Shrapnel whistled through the air and the spell did nothing to stop it. Soldiers and marchers died all around her. A mighty strip of flesh was ripped from the demon’s side and flaming ink poured across the ruined lawn.

Angry at being unable to break through Sullivan’s spell, and finally being challenged by something that could actually injure it, the demon took two mighty steps back, roared at the airship, and—

“Wings?” Faye shouted. “It can’t grow wings!”

The black smoke that was pouring from the thousands of wounds on the Summoned was coalescing into two vast shapes across its back. Sullivan’s sacrifice had been for nothing. The wall had only saved the lives of those assembled in one spot. The god of demons was simply going to continue past them. It would tear the Lexington from the sky, then there would be nothing nearby that could hurt it. It would find a place to hide, maybe in the depths of the ocean, while it grew stronger. Even her head map couldn’t fathom just how big the god of demons would get on this world if given enough time.

The wings became solid.

“Faye!” Whisper said. “Look at me!”

She turned to face the young woman that she’d thought had been her friend. This whole time Whisper had been prepared to take her life, and it seemed that in these final desperate moments, Whisper had decided to fulfill her mission. There was a small black pistol in the French girl’s hand. “What’re you doing, Whisper?”

“All of those Normal deaths aren’t enough for you. It is the connection of a Powerful Active that you need.” She was crying, tears cutting through the soot on her cheeks. “No one else can stop this demon. Only you. You’re this city’s only hope . . .” Whisper seemed to grow more determined. “Promise me you’ll stay good, Faye.”

“I don’t—”

“Promise me!”

“I promise to stay good.”

“You must always. Find a way to kill this beast. There are children here, and they are hiding, scared, in the dark. They need someone to come and save them. When this is over, find Jacques Montand of the elders. He will know how to help you . . . Stay close to me, and do not waste my Power.” Whisper lifted the pistol and put it next to her temple, then thought better of it, and moved the muzzle down against her chest. “I would like to make a pretty corpse at my funeral.”

“No!” Faye reached for her but Whisper pulled the trigger and shot herself in the heart.

Time came shuddering to a violent stop. Faye could see the slide traveling back and forth and the single gleaming brass case spinning out. Whisper’s eyes were wide, earnest, with just a hint of mischief and sadness, but that changed, and for an instant there was only hurt and fear and doubt, and then that too was gone, and so was Whisper.

Time returned to normal.

Whisper’s eyes rolled back into her head and she began to fall.

Faye caught her friend. At best, she only had seconds to get Whisper to Jane or the other Healer. “Whisper, don’t die! Don’t die!”

But it was too late. She was already gone.

It wasn’t fair.

Faye knelt there, crying, another dead friend in her arms, in a field filled with smoke, blood, and exploding bombs, under a shimmering dome of magic, beneath the spreading wings of an angry god, as she grew . . . furious.

Had Whisper been right? She’d certainly thought she’d been telling the truth. But why? Why choose Faye? Why did it have to be here? Was Whisper a noble sacrifice or a selfish, deluded, fool? And Faye hated herself for even asking. Was Whisper right? Had her death fed the furnace of Faye’s magic? Fearful, Faye peeked inside.

The connection to the Power had grown. Faye could feel new magic humming through every bit of her body.

Whisper had been right. She was the Spellbound. All this time, she’d thought she was special, but she was just a thief robbing the dead. She was a monster.

And it would take a monster to beat a monster.

The demon roared and leapt into the sky. Powerful wings beat and wind struck them like the edge of a tornado. Faye looked toward it, a great black shape blocking out the sky, as it surged toward the Lexington. She let go of Whisper’s body.

Faye reached the demon in one effortless hop, landing precariously between the spines on its back. It didn’t even notice her. She may as well have been a flea. The air whistled around her. They were climbing fast. Below was the city, people shrinking into flailing dots and tanks looking like toys. A desperate biplane flew past, so close that Faye could see the pilot’s mouth open in astonishment. Above, the searchlights of the aircraft carrier illuminated them. The main gun fired and Faye’s heightened senses actually watched the gigantic shell pass between the massive, flapping wings to explode far below.

Even with all her Power, Faye didn’t know what she could do against this thing. Hot smoke was pouring through thousands of wounds. She knew that she could tear up bits of the creature and Travel them away, but it was so very strong that it would take hours before she could break it down, if that would even work since it seemed to be growing so quickly, absorbing matter from this world to feed its body. And she knew it wasn’t stupid. It would find a way to adapt against her attacks. She needed to destroy the demon quickly or not at all.

Her head map said that the god of demons was a shell. Inside was ink, smoke, and evil. There was no heart to stop, no lungs to pierce, no brain to destroy. They were poking holes in it, but it simply fixed itself and moved on. Faye’s mind was quick, quicker than anyone else that she’d ever met, but she didn’t have time to figure this problem out before the Lexington would be torn from the sky. She needed to buy time.

Faye spied one of the wings and that gave her an idea.

Where the wing intersected with the body, it was only as big around as a stout tree. Traveling directly to the base, Faye picked a hot gash in the unnatural flesh and drove her hand deep inside. It burned. The airship was only a few hundred yards away and the body beneath her seemed to swell as the demon sucked in oxygen, ignited it, and prepared to spray deadly fire across the Lexington. Faye concentrated on the base of the wing, gathered up a harsh burst of magic, and Travelled away with as much mass as she could tear free.

She did not need to go far. Appearing in the air, Faye yanked her injured hand away from the thousands of pounds of unnatural flesh she’d ripped from the demon’s hide. One wing tore away, and surprised, the god began to fall. Fire that had been meant for the airship escaped, boiling out the hole toward her.

Calm, Faye faced the fire. Her head map expanded outward, heedless of the fact she was falling, clothes and hair whipping hard against her frame, and she searched for another weapon. She found what she was looking for one quarter of a second before the flames would have incinerated her.

Faye hit the grass too hard. She’d been in the air just long enough to build up some speed. The truck that Francis had intercepted was parked before her. The back was absolutely packed with barrels of explosives, and it was a very big truck. Behind her, the demon was spiraling toward the ground. Even from here it was making a noise like a broken kite fluttering. Her head map showed her where it was going to hit, how fast it was going to be moving, and she was already running the calculations as she Travelled into the bed of the truck.

There was a single black cord that was tied into a bunch of other black lines, and those were spread to all of the other barrels. It was cannon fuse. There was quite a bit, since the OCI men who were meant to set it weren’t suicidal. She tore most of the fuse away, just leaving a short stub.

Faye pulled her matchbook from her pocket, struck one on a barrel, and held it to the end of the course black line. It caught fire with a sizzle, burning rapidly, sputtering toward the flash point.

Even a mile away, the demon’s landing was so hard that it shook the truck springs. Her head map told her that it had created a crater in the city, but even that wouldn’t be enough to stop it. She needed to release all of the demon’s smoke at once.

The truck was heavy, but she’d done heavier . . . Though that single time had been physically too much, and had knocked her out and nearly killed her. This wasn’t even near that far, but Faye was going to do something very difficult. She was going to Travel inside a demon.

She had no idea if she would be able to make it back out.

Gathering up her magic and placing her palms flat against the truck bed, she took in the entire thing and Traveled into the core of a god.

It was so very dark.

She was floating, not falling, not flying, merely hanging suspended in a void of infinite blackness. Pressure and heat touched her skin and alien feelings touched her mind. Faye let go of the truck, and—

Nothing.

You could not think it would be that easy.

The demon’s quiet thoughts hit Faye in the face. Frantic, she tried to escape, but she was trapped, encircled by the demon. Her head map was only a single spark of light in an ocean of smoke.

You are mine.

The cannon fuse ceased to burn. The demon had extinguished the fire.

I will take your Power and make it my own.

She couldn’t even scream, because to do so would mean opening her mouth and breathing in the alien smoke, but Faye was furious. This stupid demon thought it was so clever. Well, she’d show it.

Faye reached deep inside, gathering up all of her Power, and then she pulled harder, gathering up all the Power she’d stolen from the hundreds that had died that night, but rather than throwing it all hard at once like she’d down with the Tempest, she focused it as tight and hard and mean as she could. The spark of her head map grew into a beam, bright and straight as a Tesla ray. It pierced the darkness, and Faye saw her way out.

The demon screeched in agony. How dare you deny me!

But it wasn’t enough to escape. She’d come to win.

Only seconds had passed inside the gullet of the demon. If she stayed here long enough to light another match, which instinct told her wouldn’t work anyway, she would surely die. She needed to do something else and she needed to do it fast.

The blinding beam of her head map pushed outward, toward the Power itself, and she looked and beheld that bit that she’d temporarily stolen, Whisper’s sacrifice. Faye grabbed hold of that bit of Power, pulled it toward her, and . . .

All of the bomb fuses burst to life with a cleansing fire.

Thanks, Whisper.

And Faye stepped into the night.

The god of demons rose from the hole it had made on the Washington Mall, surveyed its new kingdom, and roared defiantly. The impact and the loss of one wing had cost it much precious mass, but it was growing again, and would continue to do so, until it devoured all who dared threaten it.

The sound coming from the demon wasn’t in any language they could comprehend, but Sullivan understood the meaning anyway. Run mortals. Run and hide, because I’m coming for you.

Jake Sullivan was being supported by Dan Garrett on one side and John Browning on the other. Sullivan was so weak he could barely stand. He’d fully expected to die when he’d activated the shield spell. It was only that last spell he’d managed to carve and bind to himself months ago, the one based on the geometry of the Gravity Spiker, that had given him the energy sufficient to fuel the demon shield. But the shield spell was wearing off. They were retreating along with the bedraggled crowd. Soldier, marcher, Active, it didn’t matter, now they were all just trying to get away, same as everyone else. The troops that had arrived to protect the Capitol Building had burned through their meager allotment of ammunition. The Grimnoir were beat, and he had no idea where the others had wound up.

Two familiar figures pushed their way through the mob. Lance Talon was covered in ash and limping worse than usual, while it looked like Iron Guard Toru had been set on fire at some point. His shirt was gone and the Imperium healing kanji were glowing bright on his skin. One advantage of his terrifying appearance was that the evacuees gave him a wide berth. “Status?”

“We lost,” Sullivan muttered.

“We gave the city time to begin an evacuation,” Browning said. “That is worth something.”

Sullivan didn’t care for losing. “We have to think of something else.”

“Anybody seen what Faye’s up to?” Lance asked.

“Why? Do you need her to help you escape?” Toru asked coldly.

“Your Chairman underestimated her once, too. Look where that got him.”

Toru’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

“Faye’s the strongest Active we’ve got left,” Sullivan said. “If I draw that spell again, and she uses her Power on it, maybe we can trap the demon inside for awhile.” It was a desperate idea, but it was all that he could come up with besides running away, and he didn’t like running away anymore than he liked losing.

The roaring and crashing of the demon had been so continuous that its sudden silence froze them all in their tracks. They all turned to look at the now quiet beast. It had stopped, mid rampage through another of the great marble buildings. Struggling human figures were clutched in its hands, and it had been interrupted before it could shove them into its mouths. The four cavernous eyes narrowed. If something so hideously ugly could be said to have an expression, Sullivan would’ve had to guess that it seemed puzzled.

Then it exploded.

The demon seemed to stretch, bulging like an overinflated tire, and then it simply erupted into a million pieces. Animated flesh was sprayed in every direction, much of it dissipating before it hit the ground. Thousands of gallons of demon ink spilled, like a dam had burst, and it rushed across the ruined Mall, washing the stragglers away, collecting in the craters, and pouring down the cracks.

“I think we found Faye . . .” Lance said. “Told you.”

The body was destroyed, its spirit banished. The Mall had been transformed into a scene from Hell. Everything was black, either from ash or ink. A pile of dissolving meat was spread over acres. Burning trees and spotlights from the Lexington provided just enough light to see the carnage. The air was choked with a stinking toxic haze. A thick plume of smoke stretched upward until it disappeared into the night sky.

The mob had stopped, staring in shocked disbelief at the destruction. Then there arose a ragged cheer. It was the sound of thousands, thankful to live another day. Sullivan knew from experience that after the elation passed then there would be the anger and grief over the ones that hadn’t been so lucky.

Dan studied the ragged crowd. He was thinking the same thing. “Let’s get out of here before they recall what brought them here in the first place . . .”