Chapter 12
The air distorted before Dagna and Drathar reappeared. It was an impressive glamour. One that had fooled everyone here. Dagna moved away from the hospital and Eve didn’t waste time.
She hurled her hellfire and it caught Dagna clean across the shoulder.
Not a full body engulfing blast, not the kind of strike that would have set the parking lot on fire. This was a surgical hit, a concentrated ribbon of flame that wrapped around Dagna’s robe and sank through the warding like it had teeth.
Dagna jerked back with a gasp, the first real crack in her smug mask. The smell that followed was wrong. Not burnt fabric. Not hair. Something older, something that made my stomach knot.
Dagna’s eyes flashed with rage. Drathar’s head turned toward Eve, interest transforming into irritation.
“Enough,” Drathar said, voice low.
Dagna’s hand snapped out, fingers curling, and the shield air shuddered. A ripple of darkness swarmed between us for half a heartbeat, just long enough to blur the edges of the parking lot.
When the ripple cleared, Dagna was already retreating, clutching her shoulder. Drathar moved with her, not hurried, but purposeful, as if he had decided the fun portion of the evening was complete.
Eve took one step after them, hellfire flaring again.
Faith grabbed her sleeve. “Let them go.”
Eve’s head snapped toward her, eyes bright with fury. “She is bleeding.”
Faith’s voice stayed hard. “Good. Let her bleed somewhere else. We have a hospital full of people who need us.”
The conflict played across Eve’s face. She wanted to pursue. She wanted victory. She wanted Dagna on the ground, not slipping into shadows with a demon escort.
But she also understood math.
The undead were still accumulating.
Drathar had proved he could reanimate what we killed by driving spirits into the shells. Every corpse we dropped without dealing with the spirit force risked becoming a poltergeist-powered weapon.
Eve’s shoulders rose and fell once.
Her hands closed into fists. “Fine.”
The parking lot filled with movement again. Undead, some barely intact, others dismembered and cracked, all of them jerking with that wrong dark energy. They did not stumble like traditional corpses. They surged like puppets in a storm.
Nishi’s hunters held a line near the hospital entrance, blades and batons keeping the undead from reaching the doors. Delia was still inside working through witnesses, and the last thing we needed was a second wave breaking into an already terrified building.
Whatever Dagna had built here was stubborn. It clung to the area like oil, refusing to be scrubbed away.
Nishi moved beside me, eyes scanning the undead mass. “We can keep burning them,” she said, voice clipped, “but is there another way? A better place to destroy them.”
I understood what she meant. Fire worked, but fire was messy.
We had already dragged spirit-driven corpses through half the parking lot.
Each time we broke them, the spirit force snapped hard and ugly.
It felt like tearing fabric. It left residue.
It risked leaving the kind of poltergeist problem that lingered.
Nishi did not want to create a town full of angry spirits.
Neither did I.
Cal’s wings shifted as he stepped closer, stone shoulders broad under the floodlights. The bond with the egg pulled at my ribs, steady and demanding, but my focus stayed on the undead.
Cal’s voice carried that deep resonance again. “The volcano is still the best option we have.”
Faith shot him a look. “You keep saying volcano like we are going to drop them into lava.”
Cal’s gaze flicked to her, patient despite the chaos. “It is dormant. It is a crater. The heat is contained, and the walls are steep. We can isolate them there until we find a permanent solution.”
Tegan’s face tightened. “Containment is good. But what about the spirits.”
Cal’s jaw set. “Spirits need anchors. A crater with constant heat and no easy exits is a poor anchor point. They will burn out faster. And if they do not, they are trapped.”
Nishi nodded slowly, calculating. “Better than the hospital parking lot.”
Faith raised her weapon and fired, staggering an undead that lunged too close. “Fine. We do the crater.”
Greyson’s mouth tightened. “We can keep the portal open, but it will drain me. I can hold it for bursts.”
Cal nodded once. “Then we work in waves.”
Eve’s hellfire ignited a small cluster near the center, targeted and controlled. The undead dropped and stayed down, spirit force snapping and dissipating in the heat.
“Move them,” Eve snapped, voice heavy with urgency. “Before they build again.”
Nishi called to her hunters, quick commands, and the line shifted. Hunters began herding undead toward the portal, pushing and redirecting instead of killing when possible.
Cal looked at me. “Can you hold them?”
I swallowed, the bond tugging at my ribs like a reminder of my limits. “Yes.”
He studied my face as if he could see the drain behind my eyes. “Do not push too far.”
“I do not have the luxury of being delicate,” I said.
Cal’s expression tightened. “You do, because if you fall, the egg suffers.”
I forced a breath, then stepped forward.
Necromancy was the wrong tool for this kind of undead. Healing was my lifeline to the egg. But I did not need death magic to stop movement.
I had force.
I lifted both hands and pushed energy outward, forming a pressure wall between the hunters and the undead swarm.
The nearest corpses hit it and jerked. They clawed at the invisible barrier, jaws snapping. Their eyes flickered with spirit-driven agitation.
I tightened my grip on the pressure field and narrowed it, compressing their movement, holding them in place long enough for Cal to move.
Cal launched forward, wings beating once, then again. He did not grab gently. He grabbed like a creature designed to carry heavy loads over cliffs.
He seized an undead by the back of its gown and lifted it off the ground in one clean motion.
The corpse flailed, hands clawing at his stone forearm. It snapped its jaw near his wrist.
Cal did not react. He simply carried it.
He flew low, straight toward the portal, then tossed the corpse through with a practiced flick. The undead hit the crater floor on the other side and rolled, still moving, but trapped.
Cal came back immediately.
Another undead slammed against my barrier, and I felt the pressure tremor. The spirit inside it strained, furious at being contained.
My vision dimmed for a beat.
The bond with the egg tugged hard, and warmth leaked from my chest toward the safe across town, as if the baby demanded payment for every second I spent focusing elsewhere.
I gritted my teeth and pushed more energy into the barrier.
Faith moved beside me, weapon up, body angled protectively without admitting that was what she was doing. “You good?”
“Ask me again in five minutes,” I said.
Faith’s mouth twitched. “That is not reassuring.”
Cal returned, grabbed two more undead in quick succession, one in each hand. He carried them like sacks of bad decisions and dumped them through the portal.
Greyson stood near the rune plate, jaw clenched, hands glowing as he held the portal stable. Sweat beaded at his temple despite the cold air.
Tegan crouched near a cluster of vehicles, tracker in hand, searching while we fought. The needle twitched and spun, trying to catch a signal, then going still like it was sulking again.
Nishi moved with her hunters, guiding the remaining undead toward containment. Her face stayed controlled, but her eyes were intense with worry.
Eve burned only what she had to, small bursts that snapped spirit force without letting flame spread. Her face was tight with fury, but she obeyed the constraints. Hospital first. Pride later.
The rhythm became brutal and efficient.
Hold. Grab. Fly. Drop.
Hold. Grab. Fly. Drop.
Each time Cal returned, his wings beat heavier. His leathery form gleamed under the floodlights, and his breaths became more pronounced. Even gargoyles had limits.
My barrier started to tremble at the edges.
The bond with the egg pulled harder, and for a moment I felt a stab of panic from the baby, like an echo of distress. The dark patches on the shell were not spreading, but the pressure remained. It wanted to return the moment I slipped.
I swayed slightly.
Cal noticed immediately, eyes snapping to me. He landed closer, wings folding partly. “Salima.”
“I am fine,” I said, because I was stubborn.
“You are fading,” he repeated, voice low and firm.
Faith shot him a look. “She said she is fine.”
Cal’s gaze stayed on me. “She is lying.”
Faith’s mouth tightened. “That is also true.”
I held the barrier for another ten seconds, long enough for Cal to grab two more undead and throw them through the portal. Then my knees buckled slightly, and I had to drop one hand to my thigh to steady myself.
The barrier wavered.
Nishi’s hunters surged forward to compensate, pushing the nearest undead back with blades and shields. Faith fired, staggering one that tried to slip through.
Cal landed in front of me, blocking the worst of the movement with his own stone body. His wings lifted slightly, creating a physical wall.
His voice dropped, urgent. “Enough.”
Eve shouted at Greyson, “How many left?”
Greyson’s face was pale now. “Only a few. The portal is holding.”
Tegan rose, frustration on her face. “I cannot get a clean trail. The shield is shifting. She moved something.”
Nishi’s gaze snapped toward her. “You are sure.”
Tegan nodded once. “The signal is not anchored here anymore.”
Faith spat a curse. “She moved the relic.”
Eve’s eyes flashed. “Of course she did.”
Cal turned his head toward the dark edge of the parking lot, where the shield space still felt thick. Then he looked back at us, and for a moment the seriousness in his expression cut through everything else.
“I will keep carrying them,” he said. “I will continue until I turn to stone if I have to.”
Not a threat. Not drama. A statement of willingness.
My stomach tightened.
Because I could feel the egg bond tugging, and I could imagine Cal pushing himself into collapse while I drained myself trying to hold the baby safe.
And neither of those outcomes was acceptable.
Cal’s gaze locked on mine. “But we need a break. Dagna likely moved it anyway.”
Faith’s brows drew together. “You are calling this a break.”
Cal’s mouth tightened. “A pause. A regroup. We clear what we can, and then we hunt the relic where it is now, not where it was. I have to head to Scorchwood and transport the undead to the volcano. I’m sure Brutus is hunting them too, but I prefer to get as many as I can to the crater.”
Nishi nodded slowly, practical. “He is right. If the anchor moved, staying here wastes time.”
Eve looked as if she wanted to argue, but then her eyes flicked toward the hospital entrance. Toward the lights. Toward the people inside who were still trying to survive a normal night that had turned into a nightmare.
Her shoulders sagged a fraction. “We finish containment. Then we regroup.”
I pressed a hand to my ribs, feeling the pull of the bond, the quiet insistence of the baby’s life.
My voice came out rough. “We do not let her keep dictating our pace.”
Faith glanced at me. “Then we get smarter.”
Greyson closed his eyes briefly, breathing hard. “And we find a way through her shield without giving her warning.”
Tegan’s jaw clenched. “And we find the relic.”
Cal’s wings lifted again, preparing to take another load, but his eyes stayed on me. Protective. Concerned. Too close in a way my body still did not know how to ignore.
“Stay upright,” he murmured.
“I will,” I said.
It was not a promise I felt confident making.
But it was the only one I could give.
Because the baby was counting on it.
And because somewhere in Ravenholde, Dagna was smiling, sure she had moved the pieces faster than we could chase them.
I intended to prove her wrong.