Greyson sighed. “I guess we walk.”
Why don’t we just go home was on the tip of Megan’s tongue. She couldn’t think of anything she’d ever wanted to do less than leave the warm interior of the car and go traipsing through the park under the watchful gaze of a town driven half mad by Yezer.
Because they were here. She knew it. Nothing else could account for what was happening. Ktana Leyak was here and so were Megan’s rubendas, and they were having themselves a merry little Christmas indeed.
“Meg.”
“What?” She pulled the blanket more tightly around her, as if trying to save up some extra warmth before they started trekking across the barren park. Not empty, oh no. Things waited in that park that she’d hoped to never see.
Greyson held out his hand. “Come on, bryaela, let’s go get back what’s yours.”
Chapter 25
Malleus took point, while Maleficarum and Spud flanked Greyson and Nick on either side of Megan. Snow stung her bare face and blurred her vision; it trickled down Greyson’s cheeks as water when it melted. They could have been the only people in the world, pioneers heading for the old homestead, but they weren’t. And they weren’t alone.
In all that blinding white she imagined they must stand out like black ants crawling across a wedding cake. It was only a matter of time before someone—or something—found them.
She just hadn’t expected them to come from straight ahead. The shapes moving from the snow looked ordinary, or close to it—just people trying to make their way home by taking a shortcut—until they got close enough to realize that these people weren’t wearing coats, they weren’t bundled up. One woman wore a summery strapless dress that revealed the bones of her left arm showing through holes in her skin. Another woman’s evening gown would have glittered if it hadn’t been dulled with snow. Two men in identical dark suits completed the little group.
Megan didn’t even have a chance to react before they were aflame, falling to the snow, horrible confused sounds escaping their closed mouths. They rolled, leaving dark marks in the dusty white ground where the snow and ice melted from the heat, their arms waving, like insects on their backs. The fire flared higher, blue-white, and the zombies stopped moving entirely. Megan glanced at Nick, who shrugged. “Told you,” he said. “When fire is handy, zombies aren’t—shit!”
Whatever sound the beasts made was lost in the wind, so it seemed to Megan that they flew across the snowy grass, great dark shapes with pinpoints of red where their eyes should be. She froze, her mouth open, unable to move as they drew closer.
Maleficarum sidestepped, giving Nick a clear shot. The gun’s report was muffled by the blanket of white around them, but one of the dogs jerked sideways, a momentary pause before he headed for them again.
Flames burst around them, haloing them as they ran, but again, the hounds barely paused. Megan could see how shaggy they were, how pinkish saliva dripped from their long, sharp fangs even as the fire went out.
Maleficarum leaped, grabbing one of them by the neck and toppling it into the snow. Its yowl of fury pulled an echoing scream from Megan’s throat, a scream that seemed to go on forever. Nick’s sword sliced through the air and down, hitting the back of the second hound with a horrible thunk. The beast fell, snarling, its teeth snapping the air only a foot or so from Megan’s ankles.
Greyson grabbed her and pulled her back from the squirming thing, while Spud picked up the third dog and lifted it above his head, his squat face set in grim concentration. He heaved the dog back toward the road, where it landed with a yelp on the cracked edge of the hole in the pavement.
Maleficarum still shouted, wrestling with the first dog, but as Spud moved to help him an ugly crack sounded, like a twig breaking at the bottom of a well, and the dog subsided. Maleficarum was bloody, his shirt was torn, but he stood up with a broad smile as if he’d just been on a wonderful amusement-park ride.
“Right, ’oo’s next then?”
He and Malleus haw-hawed for a minute over that one, while Megan tried not to scream. This wasn’t fun. This wasn’t a great night out on the town. This was a precursor to her possible death, and she failed to see the chance to hurt some hellbeasts as an upside to that.
They resumed formation and walked on, trudging through the rapidly deepening snow. Over the whistling of the wind gunshots sounded in the distance, but stopped before Megan had a chance to figure out where they were coming from. All the while her skin crawled, prickled with the power around them, itched with the despair that had taken over the town. She could feel people crying in their houses, could almost hear medicine cabinets opening and bottles of pills and packages of razor blades being removed from shelves.
Red lights, festive in the snow, flashed off the windows of the strip mall nearby as an ambulance passed on a side street at the far side of the square, its siren blaring. It shouldn’t have been reassuring, but it was. Somewhere in this place was sanity, somewhere the normal order of life continued.
They’d almost reached the center of the park, where the benches squatted next to a few halfhearted pieces of playground equipment—a wooden swing set, a dented slide, one of those tents made of bars that Megan could never figure out what children were supposed to do with except sit on—when something whispered off to the right.
They all stopped, turning, but it took a moment for Megan’s snow-blind eyes to catch on to what she was seeing.
They slithered up the great elm tree by the fence and swarmed over the white earth, their bodies like oozing black stains. Snakes. Serpents, sliding toward them, moving with a speed Megan couldn’t fathom. It was so cold, it was too cold for them, too cold…
Greyson grabbed her right hand, Nick her left. She saw flames erupt over the spreading mass of snakes but knew it was futile even as they started to run, heading for the far end of the park as fast as they could manage on the icy ground.
Malleus and Spud veered off to one side. Megan started to follow them but Greyson and Nick yanked her back, keeping her moving forward even as something yowled and screeched to her left. She dared a glance and saw the brothers fighting with something, a beast that reminded her vaguely of the Nepalese mountain demon who’d attacked her in a different park months before. That had been a sunny fall afternoon. This night was as if winter had a personal vendetta against them.
It wasn’t a yaksas, though. She realized it when they reached the far fence and looked back. The snakes were still spreading, moving as inexorably as the tide, getting closer to Malleus and Spud as they struggled with the thing. It was black or green or dark blue, she couldn’t tell, but it was huge, and she screamed when it swung a great fist and sent Spud flying. He landed on the grass and stayed there, motionless.
Megan’s heart stopped. Beside her Greyson jerked, ready to run to Spud, but another scream rent the air. They turned toward it to see a woman leap from one of the windows on the square. For one sick, dizzy moment Megan thought she was flying, the way her body seemed to hang there, before she plunged to the ground and bounced once, twice, before settling in the middle of the road.
Megan’s hands flew to her face, covering her eyes, her mouth. Greyson’s coat muffled her cries, his arms like a vice around her shoulders.
She didn’t understand when he shifted and gripped her neck hard enough to bruise, when he shoved her violently down to the ground at his feet and stepped sideways. The edge of his overcoat brushed against her face as she scraped her palms on the snow. In the same movement Greyson pulled his gun, aimed, fired, fired again. Off to the side Spud still lay silent. Malleus and Maleficarum were winning their battle with whatever beast had injured Spud.