Chapter Ten
The demon burst out of the body bag like an evil butterfly, because someone in the hallway had thought it should have big black bat wings.
It was the wings that saved all the medics around the gurney, because the wings were too big for the hallway.
The spikes on the wings caught on the sprinkler heads and got stuck in the drop ceiling.
It gave them time to get out of reach of the huge muscular arms, because the body had to be over seven feet tall, muscled like some cartoon superhero.
It was still wearing the hospital gown except that now the gown strained across the chest and biceps.
It hung down long enough to cover the groin, and I was grateful for that.
The long black horns got stuck in the drop ceiling as the demon tried to stand up and free its wings.
One of the other humans in the hallway had seen Disney’s Fantasia a few too many times, so that the demon was almost as trapped in the small hallway as it had been inside the wards.
It was only a matter of time before the demon figured out how its new body worked.
Once it did that, people would die—if not in this hallway, then in another part of the hospital, so we had to stop it here.
“Demons are your area, Havoc,” Charleston said. It was his way of asking me for a plan. I had seconds to come up with it. No pressure.
The demon’s deep voice matched the massive chest now as it rumbled, “What the fuck? Wings? I didn’t ask for wings.”
It was the demon’s voice, but the word choice, the cadence of it sounded more like Mark Cookson. He was still in there, but now instead of the demon being inside him, he was inside the demon. That was impossible; humans couldn’t possess demons, it just didn’t work in that direction.
“I warned you that the other humans could impact your desire.” That was the demon. They were both still in there—what in Heaven was going on?
“Oh yeah,” demon Mark said, and even at a bass deep enough to make James Earl Jones proud, the two words sounded uncertain and younger than the body that was trying to stand in the hallway.
One minute he was fighting to get the wings and horns out of the ceiling and walls and the next the wings were gone, and the horns had shrunk by a foot so the demon could move its head without getting stuck in the ceiling.
“That’s better,” demon Mark said, and he stood up, careful to keep his head bent low enough so that the points of his horns aimed our way. The hospital gown sleeves started to split as it stalked toward us, swinging arms that made me think things like movie Thor or the Incredible Hulk.
“Proud of you, boy,” the demon said.
The demon’s face grinned, pleased; they were both still in there. It wasn’t possession—it was a partnership. I stopped worrying that it was impossible and started thinking how to use the impossible in our favor.
I drew my gun and aimed at the center of the biggest chest I’d ever aimed at.
“Demons are bulletproof,” Charleston said.
“Illusions are bulletproof, but illusions don’t get caught in the ceiling,” I said.
He nodded and drew his gun to move up beside me and aim down the hallway. “How solid will it be?”
“Unsure.”
“Then watch your backstop, Havoc, we got civilians on the other side of this beastie.”
“Roger that, boss.”
The uniforms unholstered their guns and said, “Where you want us, Lieutenant?”
“You heard me say watch your backstop and the civvies, right?”
“Yes, sir,” both said.
“If Havoc and I empty our guns, then you move forward and fire while we reload; until then stay back, the hallway’s not that big.”
“Bullets don’t work on demons,” the demon said. There was a ceiling tile stuck on the tip of one of its horns.
“You sure about that?” I asked, and pulled the trigger.