Chapter 41
Dominick stood in the doorway of the old antique shop, trying to hold the army of demons at bay. They pressed closer. It wouldn’t take long before they breached the shop, with or without Surgat’s orders.
Two of the little bats came flying in. He fired his pistol, dropping the approaching demon, but when he pulled the trigger again, it clicked.
Empty.
“Frieda!” he shouted, spinning.
She knelt further inside the building, guarding Haatim and watching the backroom entrance of the shop. So far, nothing had tried coming in from that direction, but he didn’t know how long their luck would hold.
She grabbed her pistol from the floor and tossed it at him. That meant he had only the bullets in this gun, two shotgun shells, and then his knife.
Not encouraging.
Deftly, he caught it and spun just as another group of demons charged in. He ducked down and slid the knife out of his boot. One of the bats reached him. Dominick dodged and dove to the side, coming up and stabbing with his blade.
It sank deep into the demon’s chest, and the creature let out a screeching sound before exploding in a puff. The other demons reached just a few steps away. One, a hellhound, looked ugly, and fire wreathed it. The other seemed a spiderlike demon with way too many eyes.
He backpedaled into the shop, dodging a bite from the dog, and then fired into the face of the spider-demon. The bullet struck it in the head just as it leaped at him.
Dominick dove into a roll and came up firing, putting two more bullets into the thing’s head. It collapsed to the ground, slowly disintegrating while still reaching its long ugly arms up at him.
The hellhound rushed through the disintegrating spider, which turned out to be a mistake. The spider legs latched onto it, grabbing hold with a death grip, and pulled it down toward the ooze even as it broke apart.
The hellhound tried to pull free but couldn’t. The head of the spider shot up and latched its mandibles onto the hellhound’s neck. The beast let out a whimper, shaking and trying to pull free, but Dominick watched in horror as they both got dragged back to hell.
So much for loyalty.
He rushed past the ooze, careful not to step too close to it, and checked the door. The other demons stayed back, circling the place but not approaching. With a sigh of relief, he checked his magazine. Four shots left.
Suddenly, another wave of energy erupted from the ground in front of him. It swelled and washed over them like a burst of wind. It knocked him back, and he stumbled, hitting hard against the wall.
“What the hell was that?”
“I think the portal closed,” Frieda said. “Thank God. No more demons can escape.”
“Fat lot of good that will do us.” Dominick laughed, stepping back to the doorway and raising his pistol. “Have you looked at the sky recently? Thousands have come here already.”
“But no more,” Frieda said. “Small victories.”
Dominick sighted in and pulled the trigger, careful with each shot. Each time a demon got too close, he put a bullet in it. However, for each one he dropped, two more appeared in the crowd, watching the building and waiting to attack.
The street no longer shook or vibrated, which made it easier to take down the demons, but once he ran out of ammo, he would need a new plan. He dropped a demon with each shot, but it wouldn’t prove enough. They came too fast, and when enough of them grouped up, they would attempt to come in.
Finally, the pistol clicked. He’d run out of rounds. With the weapon now useless, he dropped it and picked up the shotgun. Two left, and he couldn’t afford to waste them. It would only take a few seconds for the demons to realize he had run out of ammunition, at which point, they would be completely out of time. He backed up into the building to stand next to Frieda and Haatim.
“Ready to fight?” he asked.
“Always.” Frieda stood, grabbed Arthur’s sword, and swung it through the air to loosen her arm.
“Good. Let’s take down as many of these suckers as we can.”
A coughing sound reached Dominick, and he glanced down. Haatim lay on the ground, clutching his throat and letting out a violent hacking noise.
“Hey, it looks like—”
The front glass window of the antique shop burst open, and little shards of glass flew everywhere. Two demons charged in. A hellhound, wreathed in its supernatural fire, came through first, and then another of those annoying stone golems.
“Crap!”
Dominick staggered back, firing and dropping the golem with a headshot. It exploded into a cloud of dust and rubble, and he pumped another round into the chamber.
Shotgun raised, he sighted at the hellhound, but it leaped to the side. He pulled the trigger, but only managed to clip it. With a curse of frustration, he dropped the gun to the ground.
No more rounds.
The dog circled, growling, and prepared to pounce. The shot had slowed it, but it hadn’t fallen out of the fight yet. Dominick drew his blade once more and fell into a fighting stance, standing between it and Frieda. Behind the dog, out on the streets, hundreds of demons had gathered. Emboldened, they approached the broken window.
“Not a great day to die,” Frieda said from behind.
He didn’t turn to look at her, staying focused on the dog. “As good a day as any.”
The hound approached slowly, sizing him up, and hunched to attack. Dominick lunged forward just as the hound pounced, raising his blade and shifting his body to avoid the brunt of the hellhound’s bite. It might get him, but his blade would sink into its chest. Dominick tensed, ready to feel the weight of the hound as it collapsed into him.
Yet, neither hit landed.
Instead, something appeared to the side, materializing and forming in the room between him and the hound. As it did, a fist lashed out and hit the dog, knocking it flying into the wall. Dominick hesitated, having no idea what had just happened.
The thing materialized. A panting and naked man stood there, facing away from him, arm outstretched. He had punched the hellhound.
“What the hell?”
The man turned around. Frieda gasped in shock. Dominick did a double take, amazed when he recognized the man in front of him.
“Arthur?”
He smiled. “Good to be back.”
***
“How did you …? What were you …? What the hell is going on?”
Arthur didn’t get a chance to answer before they heard a loud roar outside. Suddenly, the army of demons came charging in, recognizing Arthur. Their fury seemed to outweigh their discretion, and they didn’t wait for orders anymore.
“Another time,” Arthur said. “Looks like we have work to do.”
Dominick turned to face them, stepping into position just as they approached. He dodged an attack from one of the golems, and then stabbed one of the flying things. Luckily, in the cramped quarters, the flying demons had trouble maneuvering.
One exploded in a puff of smoke, the heat scalding Dominick’s hand.
“Do you guys have any guns? Let me help.”
“No guns,” Dominick called out. “We ran out of ammo.”
“You didn’t bring enough?”
“Apparently not.”
“I swear, I’m gone for a few months, and everything goes to hell.”
Dominick couldn’t help himself; he burst out laughing. “You have no idea.”
“No guns,” Frieda said. “But I do have something better.”
Arthur turned around, and Frieda held out his sword. He took it gingerly, the weight settling into his hand and giving him strength. Dominick could see the look on his face shift to one of confidence when he held the blade aloft.
“It’s been too long.” Arthur turned to face the door and the approaching horde. “Time to get some payback.”
He charged alongside Dominick, swinging his sword and cutting down another bat-like beast. He swiped again, his attack cutting through two of the flying golems in one swing. Both collapsed to the ground, kicking up dust into the air.
“Just like old times?” he asked Dominick, cutting down another demon.
Dominick faced off against another hellhound. “If we had times like these,” he said. “I would have quit long ago.”
Arthur laughed. “Touché.”
They fought in sync, stepping around each other and blocking the front entrance of the shop. Frieda stood behind them, ready to assist if needed and making sure none of the demons made it past the two men to encircle them.
Any demon that came close, Arthur’s sword sliced. It amazed Dominick at how graceful the man looked. He’d only seen him fight a few times, but watching him in action seemed awe-inspiring. The sword moved as an extension of his arm.
They might actually have a chance. That thought didn’t last long, however. Dominick glanced past the approaching demons to the street outside. Larger demons lurked out there, including at least five of the type he had faced in Pennsylvania and a few more that looked even bigger and more horrible. They just waited, watching patiently.
The creatures wanted to wear them down. Their trio fought only the fodder, and killing them had no effect on the main army. Eventually, they would grow weary, and the stronger demons would step in to finish them.
Despite their best efforts, they only delayed the inevitable.
“Where’s Abigail?” Arthur asked during a lull in the fight. He stood panting and looked tired, but for now, they still held up. “I felt her here somewhere but out of my reach.”
Dominick didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t think of anything good to tell Arthur about the situation that wouldn’t cause the man to worry. Instead, he exchanged a glance with Frieda, hoping she might explain. However, she looked just as helpless as he felt.
“Is she okay?” Arthur glanced between the two of them. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“No,” Dominick said, finally. “She’s not all right. She did this.”
***
Frieda felt the strongest conflicting feelings of her life, a mix of hope and sadness, as she watched Arthur and Dominick battle next to the broken window. She had accepted that she would die here, but that came before Arthur had shown up, and now the thought of losing him all over again filled her with dread.
Elated to have him back, just seeing him standing there left her breathless, but knowing that they would all die here like this terrified her. At least, he wouldn’t die in hell, but rather with his sword in his hand.
How had he returned? How had he escaped the clutches of Surgat’s hell? He looked like the Arthur she remembered and even had the same scars on his body that she had traced with her fingertips those many years ago.
Lost in thought, trying to come to terms with the idea that Arthur had come back, she heard a coughing sound behind her. Haatim lay there with his eyes open. He appeared completely disoriented as if he couldn’t get a grasp on his surroundings.
“Haatim.” Frieda bent and grabbed his hand. “Are you okay?”
He blinked. “I don’t know.”
“You look like hell.”
He chuckled, and then coughed. “It hurts to laugh. My head hurts. Everything hurts.”
“Did you find Abigail?” Frieda asked. “Is she still alive?”
After a pause, Haatim nodded. “Yes.”
Frieda let out a sigh. “Thank God.”
Haatim shook his head. “Alive for now.”
