I started to answer, but Katon waved me to silence. “He isn’t here.” He gestured to the shallow grave. “We came here looking for him as well, but he fled when he saw you approaching.”
The old revenant glanced about, a crooked smile on his ethereal lips. “Enemies of this necromancer, are you?” His smile turned into a smirk. “Seems a bit strange to find you amongst the soldiers of your supposed foe yet see no signs of battle, no inkling of hostility. It makes one think you are not entirely truthful.”
Angered by his attitude, my mouth ran amok. “I don’t know who you are, or what your business with Reven is, but you can kiss my ass if you think we’re buddies with corpse boy.”
His face stretched with the glory of his smile. “I am Daartan, leader of the White Knights. I have been charged by the Almighty Himself to the care of the lost souls of the conquered Anti-Christs. God help those who stand in my way.”
The air got even colder, my balls drawn in tight. I’d never met Daartan, but Lucifer had spoken of him, and not in anything resembling polite terms. Freed from eternal imprisonment in Limbo by God, it was the White Knights’ job to ensure the fallen souls of Satan’s Anti-Christs stayed fallen.
He was one bad dude.
Katon must have seen my face, because he jumped in again. “Regardless of how it may seem, we are not allied with Reven. We’ve come here to stop him before he returns Longinus to life.” He sheathed his sword in a show of peace.
Daartan watched him, his eyes narrowing to pinpricks of light. “You’ve no ties to the necromancer yet you wield a blade once belonging to Longinus?”
Katon’s face went white, well, closer to gray. It didn’t take a genius to realize what the knight was getting at. With the zombies sitting peacefully by like we were pals, it didn’t look good. This wasn’t a fight we wanted.
“Appearances can be deceiving.” Though he didn’t reach for his sword, I could tell Katon was ready for action.
“Perhaps, but in the end, it matters little.” The wall of revenants edged closer. “I find it best to secure the weapon, ensuring it can do no harm to me or mine.” Something in his tone made me think that was what he planned all along. The clarion sounded, Katon didn’t wait to be attacked. He sprung at Daartan, his sword in his hand in a blur. Unsurprised, the knight backpedaled, raising a shield of sparking energy to deflect Katon’s blow. Undeterred, Katon pressed forward. The rest of the revenants laid into the zombie horde.
Have you ever been in a fight where you just know you’re outclassed? When you feel deep down, you haven’t got a chance? Everything you do, your opponent does better? That’s how I felt right then.
It didn’t stop me, though.
While revenants weren’t exactly angels or demons, having become something entirely different after death, there was still some part of their original essence in the mix. At least, I’d hoped there was. If not, I was in for one hell of an ass-whippin’.
I drew my gun and snapped off a couple of shots. The first ripped through the nearest revenant, a wispy trail of light shooting out its back. The second struck home, piercing its eye, gold-yellow flecks exploding like a glitter factory. It wavered and its glow flickered, like a bulb about to go out.
Before I could hit it again, an arc of laser-fine light was swung at my head. I spotted it in my peripheral vision and just managed to step clear as a scythe of pure energy carved a sizzling gash inches from where I’d just been. Shards of steaming glass sprayed up from the crystallized ground, pelting me with a thousand bee stings. Squeezing my eyes shut to avoid losing one, I spun out of the jagged rain and opened them only to have to dodge another scythe blow.
Again and again, the revenant swung its glowing death at me, and time and time again, I barely managed to step clear. It didn’t take a bookie to realize the odds were turning against me. I was on the defensive and there was only one of them trying to take my head off. Once the rest finished the zombies and headed my way, I was dead.
Turns out, I didn’t have to wait that long.
Risking a desperate shot, I paused for just an instant. The scythe didn’t. It slashed downward, slicing cleanly through the barrel of my gun, missing my trigger finger by a pubic hair. Unfortunately, there wasn’t time for relief.
Having cut through the bullet in the chamber, it exploded. Unlike in the movies, there wasn’t any dramatic slowing of the scene, giving me time to react. There was only a searing agony in my hand and the instant realization it was only gonna get worse. And it did. Fast.
Like dominos, the rest of the shells in the clip exploded. The pain in my hand disappeared as tiny fragments of demon-slaying bullets and gun remnants spread the agony. Under the needles of a million-armed acupuncturist, sharp points of pain pierced me everywhere. Though it was hard to ascertain just how badly I’d been wounded, my entirety a whitewash of hurt, I knew it had to be bad.
Sometime during the conflagration, I’d fallen. I only realized it because I suddenly had a mouthful of dirt. Dizzy, unable to focus, I tried to roll over, to clear the sand from my eyes and mouth. White bolts of pain pierced me everywhere, zigzagging across my nerves. It brought tears to my eyes and forced the breath from my lungs in a pitiful gasp.
Though it hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before, I managed to flop over onto my side, panting like a dog from the effort. The world was a blur of stinging light, crashing against my vision in chaotic waves, tiny spots of bouncing darkness intermingled. My thoughts still clouded, unsure of what I was seeing, I blinked my eyes to chase away the tears and clinging dirt. It took a few moments, but my vision at last cleared.
And I instantly regretted it.
The dark spots I’d seen between the white, had been Katon. Mauled by the revenants, he was being tossed back and forth between them, each tearing away a chunk of flesh before passing him on to the next. His shredded skin hung in red, wet strips, swinging in time with his every movement. One of his eyes trailed from its socket, a gory pendulum. His left arm lay limp at his side, the bone protruding from his shoulder like a sharp spear. Half of his scalp was peeled back, the white of his skull peeking through the leaking redness.
Yet through it all, he still fought. With his sword clutched in his right hand, he struck out at every opportunity, but his blade failed to hit home. Even though he had to know the revenants were toying with him, Katon would battle to his last breath. I couldn’t let him do it alone.
I tried to get to my feet, pressing my hands beneath me to support my weight. Turned out, that wasn’t such a good idea. Ice pick pains brutalized my senses, pillaging my nerves as I crumpled into a heap of suffering. Barely able to see, let alone form a coherent thought, I looked to my hand.
Or to what was left of it.
The backfire had blown off my first three fingers. Nubs of charred blood and flesh were all that was left. My pinky remained, though it was clearly broken, pointing out at an odd angle. Only my thumb appeared relatively normal, open to the bone along the bottom, but still there, as was most of my palm.
Sickness welled up inside of me and I felt weak, my thoughts swirling as if down a drain. A pang of guilt for failing Katon fluttered against my conscience. I only had a second to think about it before the shadows poured over me, drowning me in a cold, black emptiness.
The dark faded and all I could see was blurry white. It took a few moments of blinking my eyes to bring them into focus. A moment later I could see, and the agony returned like stars exploding against my nerves. A split-second after that, I was begging for the cold numbness to return.
“You live. Excellent.” Daartan hovered over me, his eerie smile cracking his face. In his ghostly hand was Katon’s sword.