CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The alarm rattled through the town an hour before dawn, sending PKs tumbling from their beds and dashing to the firehouse. Bright Renewal Academy was on fire!
Sergeant Liam Franke was one of the first to answer the call, tall and broad-shouldered in his crisp uniform, directing his squad with masterful calm from his seat on the lead wagon.
Molly shook with relief at the sight of her father, certain he would make everything right despite all that had happened.
He’d been tricked; the whole town had been bespelled.
Her aunt had broken it, though Molly had no idea how or what Hero Viridian had done.
She just knew it to be true, just like she’d known her father would come running if she lit the school on fire.
Barefoot, her uniform not nearly warm enough for the chill autumn air, she’d escaped the cavern like her aunt had ordered her to, but she hadn’t immediately gone to find her father.
Instead, she’d crawled up out of the catacombs and returned to the dormitory, screaming from the top of her lungs the entire time.
The cavern beneath the Academy was going to collapse!
Or worse, the creature Abigail had been summoning was going to break through!
Either way, all the kids in the school were doomed if she didn’t get them out.
The first torch she’d come across had inspired her next move.
Setting fire to the new construction, built atop the old bones of an abandoned building, had given her a bit of trouble, but a thrown oil lamp had helped considerably.
“Fire!” Molly had shrieked as she’d run through the halls, evading adults as best she could, the lack of dorm-room doors working to her advantage for once.
Spurred by terror, the students rose together and pushed for the exits.
The guardians tried their best to beat them back, but smoke and flames were surer encouragement than clubs and whips and they were overwhelmed quickly.
Some of their ranks began unlocking the doors to the outside in a moment of clarity.
Evacuation was the only sensible reaction to fire.
Her job done, Molly stumbled out with her coughing, panic-stricken classmates. She was beyond thankful to catch sight of Rebecca’s auburn hair in the milling crowd. Molly grabbed her by the hand and pulled the girl away from the building.
“Hurry!” she gasped. The distant alarms from town had begun to sound. “We have to get away!”
She couldn’t explain or even begin to articulate the impending danger, but thankfully Rebecca didn’t fight. She ran with Molly, eyes wild with terror and confusion, gripping her hand like a lifeline.
They’d stumbled to a halt near the road.
Wagons raced up it, pulled by heaving draft horses, lanterns lighting their way.
That was when Molly had caught sight of her father and her heart had lodged in her throat.
She wanted to shout to him, but she was too far away and he was moving too quickly.
The thundering horses carried the fire wagons past them, clanking bells and sirens splitting the night.
Men clung to the sides of the wagons dressed in oiled, waterproof fishermen’s jackets the color of dull ivory.
Some were professional firefighters, but most were volunteers from the PK ranks and city tradesmen.
The girls turned to watch the wagons race up the hill to the Academy.
Beside her, Rebecca let out a small, astonished gasp as she caught sight of it, and Molly could hardly blame her.
Fire engulfed the miserable place, eating at the dormitory and the fieldhouse where so much terror and abuse had occurred.
“How?” Rebecca exclaimed. “What happened to the Academy?”
Molly shook her head, her lips pressed tight. She couldn’t admit her part in it, not yet. Right now, it would look like she was a crazed arsonist.
A half demon, disgraced ex-nun arsonist happened to it.
Auntie Hero.
As if the thought of her aunt summoned destruction, the center of the complex of buildings collapsed in a deafening roar, sending flames and sparks skyward.
Molly’s breath snagged in her chest and dread snaked through her belly, leaving her chilled.
Was her aunt still inside? Or had she fought her way free already?
“Stay here,” she told Rebecca, and ran back toward the burning school, her friend calling after her, begging her to stop. Molly ignored her. She had to know!
The firemen had pulled up to the fire in orderly fashion, jumping from the wagons and uncoiling long hoses.
They’d cut through the barbed-wire fence surrounding the Academy and their vehicles were parked on the vast lawn.
The red tanks gleamed in the flickering flames while the draft horses stood stolidly.
Shouted commands and orders laid some organization through the seeming chaos.
Men moved in teams: a pair on the hand operated pumps, three handling the hoses and directing bursts of water toward the conflagration.
More men arrived on horseback, dressed in peacekeeper uniforms. They herded the confused mob of students and guardians away from the buildings.
A few dark figures emerged from the flaming wreckage, stumbling across the lawn, most of them students.
A tall, silver-haired figure was herding them forward towards safety, a slim sword in one hand.
Molly went shaky with relief at the sight of her aunt, clinging on to the side of one of the firewagons lest her knees give out.
“It’s Viridian!” The cry rose from one of the PKs on horseback. He steadied his dancing mount and pointed toward Hero, standing in his stirrups.
“The demon!” cried another man nearby, scrambling for the pistol at his belt. “Goddess save us!”
“Wait!” ordered the man on horseback – Chief Dewey, Molly realized vaguely – but his order came too late. The uniform PK aimed his pistol at the distant figure and fired.
The gunshot seemed deafening. Hero lurched, one shoulder jerking back as the lead ball pierced her. She stumbled and went to her knee, shoving one of the students ahead of her down the hill as she fell.
Molly screamed, but her cry of horror was drowned out by the horrendous cracking of wooden beams and walls as something emerged from the center of the burning complex.
Risen from the depths, a mass of twisting, spidery appendages attached to a fat, sluglike belly, raw and glistening.
A head rose above its misshapen form, wizened and withered, wisps of white hair clinging to its charred scalp.
It was as tall as the trees and roaring with rage.
The Devourer.
One of its impossibly long legs thrust forward, a clawed foot gouging deep into the grass, bringing the beast outside the circle of burning buildings and landing beside her struggling aunt, looking pathetically small next to the massive talons.
Nevertheless, Hero scrambled back, crablike, her sword trailing in one hand, her other arm buckling beneath her.
She managed to pull herself to her knees, but then abruptly sagged back on her heels, her head tipped up toward the approaching fiend.
Inexplicably, she laid her sword on the ground before as if it were an offering.
Head thrown back, her shoulders slumped, she appeared to be waiting, resignation and submission in every line of her body.
The Devourer was quite pathetic, in the end, not much of an eldritch monster after all.
Disrupting the summoning had left it weakened, and only this remnant had managed to squeeze through the quickly diminishing gateway Abigail had provided, a skinny-limbed giant with a protruding belly, no more destructive than your average lord of Pandemonium.
Normally, she could handle something like this in her sleep.
Hell, even Keen could have taken it on his own.
Hero winced as her small chuckle sent searing pain through her shoulder. Damn PK shot her, the bastard. She’d have his badge if she survived this.
She had nothing left. No fight. No strength. All she could do was watch and wait, and hope the PKs stopped the beast once it was finished with her.
The giant demon glared down at her, tusks protruding from its bottom jaw, fiery red eyes even more impressive than her own.
It had to know she was responsible for its diminished state.
She felt some regret that she hadn’t managed to stop it completely; as weak as it was, it could still wreak havoc on Havenside before the ill-prepared PKs managed to bring it down.
It would take more than a few bullets to stop it.
There was a sharp crack and the creature roared. More cracks followed – a barrage of bullets that seemed to accomplish little but make it more enraged. Its other leg lifted, its clawed foot moving in slow motion, hovering above her head as if mocking her.
“Come on!” she screamed at it. Goddess damn the thing. What was it waiting for?
A low boom rattled through it. The creature wavered, its eyes spinning wildly. Then its mouth opened in a wide, startled O .
Its foot came down hard right next to her, shaking the ground, coming close to smashing her flat. Hero stared up at the beast, at its fat stomach jiggling above her – moving strangely, now that she thought about it.
There was another dim boom, and she saw a flash beneath its skin – an explosion somewhere in its fat belly.
“Shit!” she muttered and threw herself to the side, shielding the back of her head with her good arm.
It can’t be. It can’t be!
She risked a peek up at it just as there was another boom and another impact tore the thing open.
Its jiggling gut exploded and its long limbs flew apart with nothing to hold them together.
Hero hunched into a tight ball as hunks of demon flesh and blood rained down upon her, the smell of rot and brimstone nearly suffocating her.
The fall of debris seemed to go on forever, but finally it stopped.
Struggling upright, she swiped at the fluids and charred flesh blinding her.
Against the backdrop of the burning academy, a figure emerged from the ruined corpse, covered in bile and demon innards. Effluvium coated him, slicking his hair to his scalp, making his too-big ears all the more obvious. There was a blunderbuss in his hand, smoke trickling from its muzzle.
“Keen.”
Her partner’s head swung toward her, his face painted with shadows, and he took a staggering step. Another. Hero rose to meet him, a trickle of hot blood oozing from her shoulder. The wound wouldn’t heal until she could get the damnable bullet out.
“DH Keen!” she cried, swaying, even as joy bubbled up inside her, light as air. “Commendable work!”
He stumbled closer, his free hand clamped to his side, just below the protruding hilt of a dagger. “I told you,” he said, his voice ragged and hoarse. “The element of surprise. Works every time.”
A laugh broke from her. Then she went to her knees again on the soft ground. With two more stumbling steps, Keen was beside her.
“Next time,” he said, starting to lower himself to the earth and falling onto his belly instead when his knees gave out. Stretched out prone, he reached out and patted her knee. “You go first.”
This time, Hero’s laugh was soundless. She hadn’t the strength for much more.
“Inspector Viridian!”
She roused at the fierce shout. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, and she felt the ground vibrate through her legs, a thrumming of running feet coming closer.
She could hardly bring herself to give a damn before she and her partner were surrounded by peacekeepers.
Beside her, his hand still settled on her knee, Keen was limp and unconscious, probably from blood loss due to the knife wound, though being swallowed by an ancient demon probably hadn’t helped.
One of the PKs took a knee next to her and lifted her face by the chin, turning it toward him.
“Helen,” Liam said softly. “Can you stand? How can I help?”
She gestured vaguely. “My partner…”
Liam’s expression hardened and he looked back at the others. “Get the medics. Now!”
Immediately, half of them took off at a run, leaving Hero with her brother, alone except for two uncomfortable-looking PKs. She recognized one as the idiot who’d shot her. He was lucky she was about to pass out.
“Mother is not our mother, Liam,” she said woozily, right before slumping over her unconscious partner. Another warm wash of blood soaked through her clothes, but by then she was beyond caring.