Exodus, page 26
He crashed against the wall. Books tumbled down over him. He thought the book in his backpack squirmed, but he couldn’t be sure. His senses reeled and for a moment he thought he might pass out. Even with the boosted power of the armor, his arms felt like lead.
Derek was knocked flat and rolled backward. He lost his Firestarter.
The Gremlin scout clambered through the shattered window. A second one followed. The high-pitched hum of the Shockwave the first one carried filled the study.
Struggling to swallow the nausea that swirled up in him, certain that his brain had turned to jelly, Simon pointed the Spike Bolter and fired without aiming, knowing all he had on his side was his quickness. The projectiles ripped bloody furrows in the Gremlin scout’s neck, then tracked up to its huge face and shredded its eyes.
The Gremlin scout roared in rage and staggered back. It fired the Shockwave a second time.
The massive blast hammered Simon back up against the wall again. The true danger of the sonic wave created by the pistol was that it didn’t truly have to be aimed. The blast radiated out from the center of the shooter’s mass and grew stronger as it went.
This time Simon did black out for a moment. He came to almost immediately. The rusty taste of blood trickled through his mouth.
The first Gremlin scout dropped to its knees. Its face hung in gory tatters. Broken bone showed through. It tried to bring the Shockwave up again but pitched forward on its face.
Shoving himself to his feet, letting the armor do most of the work, Simon stood. His hand was empty when he lifted it. The Spike Bolter lay somewhere under the second wave of falling books.
The second Gremlin scout struggled to its feet and gripped the war axe it carried. Some kind of rifle hung over its shoulder. Falling snow eddied in through the broken window behind it.
Simon drew his sword. Derek lay silent and still near the doorway. Simon didn’t know if the Templar was alive or dead.
The Gremlin smiled and growled. Though he didn’t know the words, Simon realized a challenge had been issued.
Simon moved forward. The Gremlin brought the axe around in an abbreviated arc. Reacting instantly, knowing the outcome would be decided in seconds, Simon blocked the haft of the axe with his sword blade. Even with the augmented strength given him by the armor, Simon was barely able to stop the axe.
The demon snarled in a guttural voice.
Twisting, Simon drove a side kick into the demon’s face that snapped its head back. He followed it with two more kicks, not believing the massive creature was still standing when the armor gave him enough strength to kick down a wall.
Unable to bring any true sword skill into play, Simon headbutted the Gremlin in the face and knocked it back a half-step. He thought he almost brained himself in the attempt. But he ripped the sword away from the axe haft, took a step back, pointed the sword before him, and lunged.
The sword slid through the demon’s chest with effort. The sound of splintering bone and ripped scales cracked through Simon’s auditory receptors.
The demon dropped its axe and reached for the sword. Shouting harsh, guttural noises, the creature wrapped its hands around the blade. Incredibly, it halted the sword as Simon locked his boots down and put the armor’s weight behind his effort.
For a moment, fear touched Simon, almost consuming him in its intensity as the demon fought him to a standstill. He pushed the weakness away and concentrated on his father, on his loss, and all the training and faith his father had put into him.
He shoved.
The sword sawed through the Gremlin’s fingers and sank to the hilt. Savagely, Simon twisted the sword hilt and carved through the demon’s flesh.
It died on its feet, mouth open in surprise.
Holding fast to the sword hilt, Simon drew up a leg and put his foot against the demon’s chest. He forced the demon’s body backward at the same time he pulled the sword free.
The Gremlin fell backward through the broken window. Breathing hard but in control, Simon stumbled back over the dead body of the other Gremlin and steadied himself. He caught hold of the window and peered out just in time to see the demon crash down hard enough to crack the sidewalk.
Two other Gremlins started climbing the building’s wall.
Simon turned back to Derek. The other Templar was just getting to his feet. Crossing the room quickly, Simon plucked his Spike Bolter from under a pile of books and leathered it. Then he grabbed Derek’s arm as the Templar found his Firestarter.
“Are you all right?” Simon asked.
“Yes.” Derek sounded winded and disoriented. He stared at the dead Gremlin. “Where is the other one? There were two.”
“Gone. Let’s go. Others are coming.” Simon pulled on his arm and got him moving. Fear drove him. He didn’t want to be caught. But he wasn’t afraid of dying. He’d accepted his death would come sooner than later. He just didn’t want to lose.
Simon pulled Derek down the stairs, bumping into the wall as the other Templar slammed against him again and again, losing his footing several times. He slid his sword over his back again and held the Spike Bolter.
As he turned the last corner that put him out into the second-floor hallway, Simon switched to thermographic display and peered through the walls. Three yellow and red shadows showed in the darkness.
Holding up on the stairs, Simon put the Spike Bolter away and yanked a grenade from his vest. It contained a high explosive made from Greek Fire that burned with a nuclear intensity.
“This is Simon,” he said. “Is anyone on the second floor?”
“No. We got outside once we spotted the demons. Do you need help?”
“Negative. I just wanted to make sure you were clear.” Simon pulled the arming ring, then flipped the grenade into the second-story hallway.
The red and yellow shadows shifted in reaction to the noise the grenade made as it hit the floor. If any of them recognized the explosive for what it was, they didn’t have time to do anything about it.
The grenade blew up with a deafening report the armor almost blocked out. The floor vibrated beneath Simon’s feet and smoke roiled from the room.
Drawing the Spike Bolter, Simon turned the corner. He pointed the pistol in front of him and yanked Derek into motion.
Greek Fire covered the walls and the floor. The house wasn’t going to survive the night. As close as the buildings were, Simon felt certain that most of the block would burn by morning. He felt bad about that, but it couldn’t be helped.
Another Gremlin emerged from one of the rooms. It carried a strange pistol Simon couldn’t identify. Blocky and metallic, the sidearm looked ungainly. Crimson lights flared along the dulled steel-gray finish. The demon fired at once.
Several dozen incandescent flashes streaked from the pistol and slammed against Simon’s armor. Most of the bursts bounced and ricocheted from the armor, deflected from the palladium alloy or the protective spells, though Simon wasn’t sure which. But his defenses dropped quickly.
He pulled the Spike Bolter up and fired. The Greek Fire coiled up his armored legs, setting off a new set of warnings on his HUD display. More flaming liquid hung from the ceiling and the walls. Some of it dripped down onto Simon and obscured his view for a split second before it slid away.
Behind Simon, Derek was shifting, taking his weight back as he aimed his Firestarter. Streams of fire covered the demon and caused horrific burns immediately. It wiped frantically at the fire.
Weakened by the fire, the ceiling started to buckle. Simon knew it was going to come down. Even the armor might not stand against the maelstrom of fire.
Simon aimed point-blank at the demon and ran toward it, firing the whole way. The palladium needles tore through the Gremlin’s flesh and staggered it. As he closed on the monster, Simon lowered a shoulder and caught the demon in the side, propelling it over the second-floor banister.
The demon fell only a short distance, probably not even enough to notice if it had been healthy. But it wasn’t healthy. It kicked and tried to get to its feet but couldn’t manage the action.
Simon ran down steps that hadn’t been built with four-hundred-pound Templar in mind. The steps split and crunched underfoot, leaving pitfalls for Derek.
Instead of taking the stairs, though, Derek simply leaped over the side and made the jump easily. He touched down on a three-point landing and shoved himself back up.
“Come on!” Derek roared.
Simon ran, following close at the other Templar’s heels. Just as Derek passed through the doorway, the foyer closet opened and a little girl poked her head out. She wore a frightened expression.
Astonished, Simon recognized the little girl from the photographs of the writer and his family. She was the daughter.
She’s still here. The knowledge twisted sickeningly through Simon’s stomach. He knew children were caught in the battle with the demons and everything they were doing in London, but he hadn’t invaded the houses of any of those.
But he had invaded this little girl’s home.
She looked at him, her blond hair highlighted by the house burning behind Simon. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her lips trembled. “Help!” she said. “Please help!”
Simon took her by the hand and started to pull, reminding himself to be gentle or he’d rip her arm from the socket.
“No!” The little girl pulled back against him. “I need someone to help my mother.”
Mother! The word cascaded through Simon, leaving sickening greasy tendrils in its wake.
“She’s down there.” The little girl pointed into the closet.
Peering into the closet, Simon saw that a door had been hidden in the floor. The blueprints hadn’t shown anything of a cellar, but that wasn’t unusual. Even though the blueprints were supposed to be on record with the police and fire service in case of building collapse, they weren’t always listed. There had always been a lot of black market dealing and smuggling in London. That had been part of the life’s blood of the poor.
“Simon,” Derek called.
“I’m here.”
“What are you waiting on? That building’s going to come down. Get out of there.”
“I can’t,” Simon said, stepping through the narrow doorway of the closet. It was so tight that he had to force his shoulders through. Wood splintered as he went through. Thankfully the opening in the floor was slightly larger.
Unfortunately, the rickety staircase wasn’t built to support a Templar in full armor.
“Simon,” Derek called again.
“There are people in here. A little girl. Her mother. Maybe more.” There was no way Simon was going to leave them. He couldn’t. He knew his father wouldn’t have left them, and he wasn’t about to.
Thirty-Two
I n the outer room, the third story started falling down in pieces.
As he shoved his head through the doorway in the flood, and the fire that had dripped in from outside, Simon spotted a middle-aged woman and a boy who was younger than the girl. The woman was inert while the little boy held on to her.
Thankfully the room had a low ceiling. Simon stepped on the staircase and it shattered beneath his weight.
“Simon,” Derek said.
Simon approached the woman and the boy, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. The woman lay under a blanket, but her chest rose and fell. Smoke gathered in the room and she coughed.
“I can’t leave them. I’m not going to leave them.” When his father had read him stories about King Arthur and his knights, when they’d discussed the responsibilities of being a Templar, Thomas Cross had always emphasized the salvation of the weak and helpless. The Templar existed, in his mind, to save humanity as much as to battle the demons. Simon knew he couldn’t leave them.
“You’re going to get killed.”
Simon picked up the boy, who started screaming and fighting to be free. Gently as he could, Simon put the boy out of the cellar and into the closet.
“Get him out of here,” Simon told the girl.
Wide-eyed, the little girl stared at him, tears on her cheeks. “My mother—” A fit of coughing stole her voice.
“I’ll get her,” Simon said. “I promise. Go.”
The little girl pulled back from the opening.
Simon grabbed the edges of the opening and ripped it open larger. Returning to the woman, he gathered her easily in his arms and carried her to the opening. He cradled her in his arms and leaped out of the hole.
The jarring woke the woman. She looked up at him with pain-filled eyes. “My children.”
“They’re out,” Simon told her. “We’re all getting out.” He smashed his shoulder into the closet and tore the frame and part of the wall out, then stepped through the cloud of plaster dust and smoke.
The little girl had the boy by the hand. They stood at the open door. A large shape lurched toward them out of the night.
Simon shifted the woman to his shoulder and drew the Spike Bolter. He took aim just as he saw the Gremlin surging from the shadows. Simon ran forward, firing over the heads of the children. The palladium needles ripped into the Gremlin’s head and shoulders.
The little girl screamed and yanked the boy to the side. Simon was surprised she didn’t freeze up. He kept firing, staying squared up with the demon and delivering a snap-kick to its face.
The demon flew backward and landed on the ground. Simon kept firing till he was certain the Gremlin was dead. He turned back to the house.
Flames flickered through the windows, greedily consuming the house. The children stood inside the door, backlit by the fire spreading quickly toward the opening, feeding on the oxygen.
“Come on!” Simon yelled.
The little girl yanked the boy into motion and they ran out onto the snow-covered sidewalk. It had evidently started snowing more heavily while they’d been inside because the inches had started to pile up.
The Templar had taken up a position on one side of the street. Their weapons blazed in the night, bright greens and whites mixed with ruby and sapphire.
Simon took up a position on the other side of the street. The woman lay unconscious over his shoulder. The two children stood at his legs. For the first time he realized how far it was back to the Sloane Street tube station.
Lights suddenly flared to life in a nearby alley. A van sped out onto the street, skidding across the new-fallen snow and aiming straight at Simon. It fishtailed for a moment and struck an overturned compact car, setting the vehicle spinning like a turtle.
Vision enhanced by the HUD, Simon saw the frightened man behind the wheel. He looked like he was in his sixties, bundled up tight against the inclement weather. The man locked his brakes and attempted to bring the van to a stop.
Knowing the vehicle wasn’t going to be able to halt on the snow, Simon locked his boots down and leaned forward with a hand out. He hoped he didn’t destroy the vehicle.
The front of the van collapsed several inches with a sharp crunch. The spikes on Simon’s boots raked foot-long tears across the pavement. But the van stopped.
The man leaned across the passenger seat and threw the door open. “Get her inside!”
Simon pulled the cargo door open and placed the woman inside. He helped the two children inside as well.
“Where am I supposed to take them?” the man asked.
The question caught Simon off-guard. He hadn’t been thinking that far ahead. “Sloane Street tube station.”
Weapons fire blasted wrecked cars and buses. Mortar fell from damaged buildings.
The man nodded. “Hurry. When these things find somebody out in the open, they don’t give up the scent.”
Another blast opened a crater in the street only a few feet away.
“Go,” Simon ordered.
The van sped away, careening between wrecks.
Crouching down, Simon pointed the Spike Bolter at a Blood Angel skimming along the street in pursuit of the van. Locked on, Simon squeezed the trigger and rode out the recoil, hoping that the barrels didn’t melt down.
The palladium spikes tracked the Blood Angel, slamming into the buildings behind it for a moment, then quickly overtaking it and ripping into the demon. Perforations opened in the wide-spread wings. Other rounds from other Templar weapons drenched it in flames and blew it to pieces. Flaming chunks mixed with the falling snow and plopped onto the street.
The Templar had managed an uneven skirmish line, but they were holding their own against the demons. Three Templar lay dead in the street. One of them had been torn to bits and the other was in flames.
One of the Templar fired a Constrictor pistol at an attacking Blood Angel. A tangled net of palladium alloy wire unfurled in the air, boosted by the SqueezFast memoryware programmed into the metal.
The net flared wide, then wrapped around the Blood Angel as tightly as a lover. The memoryware cranked even tighter, pulling the demon’s wings against its body. The creature dropped from the sky, screaming shrilly. It thudded against one of the nearby buildings and thudded to a stop against an overturned MGB.
Simon leaped the car and landed on the pavement. He shoved the Spike Bolter forward from less than a yard away, aiming point-blank at the thing’s face. It howled at him in caustic denial. Rage, not fear, twisted its features. A clawed hand sliced through the palladium strands of memoryware that bound it. Arcane energy flared purple as the spell woven into the net repulsed the demon’s efforts.
Squeezing the trigger, Simon aimed at the center of the Blood Angel’s chest and rode the recoil up to the bottom of its chin. The spikes blew the creature’s chest apart. Gore spattered his faceplate.
“Down, Simon!” Derek shouted.
Reacting automatically, Simon dropped facedown and hugged the street. A wave of fire blew over his head and ignited a large section of the nearby building and the street.
“Move!”
Simon pushed up one-handed and stayed low. Inside the armor he moved effortlessly. He almost smiled, knowing that the fear and anxiety that had plagued him for the last few days had passed. He was in his element, right where he belonged.
