“What’s that sound?” Nancy said.
The breath of your worst nightmare.
“It’s a discarnate spirit,” Eloise said, her sureness waning as they moved deeper into the basement.
“11:59,” Nancy whispered into her recorder. “Apparent audio evidence noted.”
“Belial, master of this world,” The Roach intoned. “I offer you these gifts and hope you find them worthy.”
At the edge of the mag-light’s reach, swirls of darkness struggled to coalesce. The beam dimmed and The Roach’s skin puckered despite the surge of warmth. Even the rectangle of light from the doorway above went a shade toward orange, as if Belial were draining the hotel’s electrical system to power up and drag himself into the material world. Belial could manifest in any form it chose, though most demons went with the old standby of horns, fangs, and reptilian eyes, at least until they found a suitable subject to possess.
“I see it,” Eloise whispered.
“Margaret Percival?” Nancy said.
“Yes,” came the response, though the sibilant word was lost in the distant thrum of the elevator.
“Taking a flash photograph,” Nancy duly noted for the benefit of the recording. The Roach wondered which image the demon would allow to be captured. The flash illuminated half the basement, and Eloise gave a choked squeal.
Belial decided to give the full Monty.
Though it was only for a split-second as the flash died away to a beeping that indicated dead batteries, the image burned itself into The Roach’s retinas. At least eight feet tall, three horns brushing against the floor joists, a wrinkled, trollish face, narrow eyes with yellowed, elliptical pupils, grotesque green musculature of the torso set atop scrawny legs that ended in cloven hooves, and between its thighs dangled—
The door slammed as their flashlights died.
“God help us,” Eloise shouted in the utter darkness.
Must be midnight. Let’s party.
The Roach held up the crucifix, confident that he’d be able to sear Belial’s form back to ash and sulfur. A hot wind rushed by him in the dark.
There was a thump and a heavy, sodden sound as one of the women moaned.Forgive me, Lord, for I have been mistaken.
Belial grunted and smacked drenched lips. The Roach slid his night-vision goggles into place, crouching into a defensive posture. He wielded the crucifix like a knife, shocked to see the demon bent over Nancy, slavering away at her throat.
Sucking her soul…
Belial dropped Nancy’s corpse and roared, dark liquid dripping from its serrated fangs. It snarled at The Roach, no trace of cunning in its beady eyes.
“I rescind my invitation,’ The Roach said, his voice quavering.
Belial either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. It turned toward Eloise, hot breath raising the temperature of the basement. Eloise backed away, probably seeking the stairs but inadvertently heading deeper into the basement. The Roach’s night-vision goggles painted a green landscape that looked like the surface of an alien and hostile planet. And, indeed it was, for this world was now ruled by Belial.
“God have mercy,” Eloise blubbered. God had been merciful by darkening the room and taking away the vision of the horned beast before her. But her faith was weak. And that only made Belial stronger.
“Leave her, Belial,” The Roach challenged. “It’s me you want.”
The demon’s claws reached for the woman’s tear-stained face, but then it hesitated and turned its hideous face toward The Roach. The crucifix didn’t deflect the hostility of the stare, nor the wariness in the hooded eyes.
Obey me, you horny-headed bastard.
The Roach listened for God’s instructions. He was a mere emissary, and only through the power of the Lord could he stand a chance here. Otherwise, he would share the fate of the two women whose faith offered no protection in the face of supernal evil.
But Belial’s bellow drowned out any message God might have delivered, and it set upon Eloise like a torrid lover, wrapping her in sinewy arms and squeezing her in the throes of depraved passion.
She issued a final gasp as her lungs emptied in Belial’s embrace. The forked tongue whipped out and licked its cracked, wet lips. Belial’s head dipped and the creature buried its grin against the woman’s gaping mouth.
Eloise struggled with the last of her energy, her digital camcorder bouncing to the dirt. Her eyes bulged and then she went limp in Belial’s grasp. He exhaled and filled her with loathsome unlife. As her fingers twitched and curled, The Roach took a tentative step forward, begging God for courage and wisdom and strength.
“Now you are mine, Belial,” The Roach said. “You have taken what I gave and must do my bidding.”
Belial hesitated, still pumping his foul wind into Eloise. Her eyelids fluttered and she reached one hand to Belial’s neck for support.
The Roach lifted the crucifix higher, expecting the demon to recoil in disgust. “By the master of angels above, I command thee to obey.”
Belial gave a bone-deep shudder and threw its head back, growling in agony and rage. The Roach pressed his advantage now that the demon was caught between its intended host and its current corporeal manifestation. He jabbed the tip of the crucifix into the creature’s back, the silver slicing through the scaly flesh.
Ichor gushed from the wound, appearing black through the night-vision goggles. The roar of rage gained pitch and intensity, almost the keening of a teakettle. Belial thrashed about, sending a clawed fist toward The Roach, but he’d already withdrawn his weapon and stepped away. He reached for the holy water, knowing it would burn like acid on the split skin.
But before he could react, Belial collapsed.
The tip must have reached his heart and poisoned it with the love of Christ.
The Roach stood over the trembling bulk. He had eradicated demons before, and they could only be defeated, never destroyed. Belial would return at another time and place, and The Roach or some other soldier of light would be there in God’s service. He tested the corpse with the tip of his boot, but the corrupt flesh was already decaying to ash and dust.
Eloise moaned and The Roach knelt to her prone form.
“May God bless you,” The Roach said, checking her pulse. With luck, she would remember nothing, and he’d only have Nancy’s corpse to deal with.
Eloise rolled to her knees, graceful for such a robust woman recovering from shock. “Dark....”
“Easy,” The Roach said. “I think you fell down the stairs and bumped your head.”
“Dark is....”
He reached for her, intending to help her to her feet. The blow came suddenly and powerfully, taking his breath and loosening his teeth as bone crunched in his cheek. He lay in the dirt, blood pouring from his nostrils as he squinted through the cock-eyed goggles.
“Pride goeth before a fall,” Eloise said, though her voice was rough and thick as if she were unused to the size of her tongue. The woman knelt and wiped a hand beneath his nose, then licked at the blood on her fingers. He watched her walk toward the stairs, his green field of vision going gray.
CHAPTER 26
“The jumper is awesome,” Duncan said.
Ann didn’t understand him at first. She’d drowsed after the hurried round of lovemaking, intending to recharge her batteries and be at full alert for the after-midnight hunts. She opened her eyes thinking they were in Duncan’s apartment, a cramped walk-up two blocks from campus. The smell of coffee reminded her of Sunday morning, and she smiled at the thought of those languid hours ahead, with no classes, no responsibilities, and nowhere else to be. Duncan clicked the computer keys, the first out of bed as usual, browsing all his favorite Internet haunts.