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I looked around. Dust still filled my eyes, making them water. The floor was carpeted in plaster. The walls were a patchwork of cracks and hanging chunks of drywall.
The room groaned again, softer now, like it was settling, and all that remained was the sweet smell.
The demi-demon kept urging me on. I got to my feet. Outside, I could hear the distant shouts and cries of the Edison Group. Overhead the light flickered like a strobe, throwing the windowless room into darkness.
“You have your distraction,” the demi-demon said. “Now take advantage of it. ”
As I stepped toward the door, something brushed my leg. I jumped and looked down. Nothing was there. Another step. Warm fingers stroked my cheek. Hot breath whispered wordlessly in my ear, blowing strands of hair, tickling my neck.
“I-Is that you?” I asked.
“Of course,” said the demi-demon…from across the room.
I looked around. I couldn’t see anything except debris. The light continued to flicker. Distant voices shouted about finding the computer tech.
“Their systems are down,” the demi-demon said. “Perfect. Now go. ”
I started forward. At a giggle to my left, I spun. A growl sounded behind me and I spun again.
“The door,” the demi-demon said. “Get to the door. ”
A blast of hot air knocked me off my feet, flat onto my back.
A giggle erupted above me. Then a low voice, speaking in a foreign language. I pushed up. Another blast slapped me down. Hot air whirled around, drywall dust flying like a sandstorm, filling my eyes, my nose, my mouth.
I crawled toward the door. The wind buffeted me from all sides. That sweet smell-sickly sweet now-made my stomach churn. Invisible hands stroked my head, my back, my face. Fingers plucked my shirt, pulled my hair, pinched my arms. Voices whispered and growled and shrieked in my ears. But the only one that mattered was the demi-demon’s, urging me on, guiding me to the door.
My head struck the wall. I patted around until I found the doorknob, pulled myself up, and turned it. Yanked. Turned. Yanked.
“No,” I whispered. “Please, no. ”
Seems those electrical failures might not be so convenient after all.
Fingers ran through my hair. Warm breath caressed my cheek. Hot wind whipped around me. The light flickered.
“Sweet child,” a voice whispered.
“What is she?” another asked.
“Necromancer. ”
A giggle. “Are you sure?”
“What have they done to her?”
“Something wonderful. ”
“Get away from her,” the demi-demon said. “She’s not yours. Shoo. All of you. ”
“Wh-what’s going on?” I asked.
“Nothing to worry about, child. It’s simply a bit of fallout from the liberation ritual. There are usually precautions taken against such a thing, but we didn’t have the time. Or the materials. ”
“Precautions against what?”
“Well, when you free a demon, you open a…”
“Portal into the demon world?”
“Portal is a strong word. More like a teeny tiny tear. ”
The voice continued as we talked. The unseen fingers touched me, poked me.
“These are demons?” I said.
“Hardly,” she said with a sniff. “Minor demonic spirits. Little more than pests. ” She raised her voice. “Who are going to be in serious trouble if they don’t heed my commands. ”
The spirits hissed and spat and chortled. And stayed where they were.
“Ignore them,” she said. “They can’t do more than touch you, and they can barely do that. Think of them as an infestation of otherworldly insects. Annoying and inconvenient, but hardly dangerous. They can’t manifest in this world without a dead body-”
She stopped short. We both looked at the closet door.
“Quickly,” she said. “Send me back to that guard. If his corpse is occupied, they can’t-”
A thump sounded from the closet. Then a low hiss. I spun and yanked on the exit door. Growls erupted from the closet. As I whaled on the door, I heard a scratching, like nails scraping wood. The click of a knob. The squeak of the door hinges. I spun toward the closet. The lights went out.
Forty-four
FINGERS BRUSHED MY FACE, making me jump back from the door. Across the room, nails scraped along the floor.
“He’s coming,” a voice whispered. “The master is coming. ”
“M-master?” I said.
“They lie,” the demi-demon said. “It’s just another-”
A wail at my ear drowned her out. I jumped back, knocking over a chair and falling hard. A blast of desert wind whipped my hair in my face, twisting my clothing, binding me. I heard the sounds of struggle, the curses of the demi-demon barely rising over the gibbering and shrieking of the spirits.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. The wind died and the room went silent.
Completely dark and completely silent.
“A-are you there?” I called.
She didn’t answer. Instead, I heard the scrape of nails, then the whisper of fabric as it slid across the floor. I leaped to my feet only to tangle in the fallen chair and topple over it, bashing into another piece of furniture. The back of my head cracked against something and the wound from earlier reopened, blood streaming down the back of my head.
The scratching stopped, and I heard sniffing. Sniffing and the smacking of lips.
I wiped the blood away and scuttled back, thumping into the wall. A chattering, then a hiss, and it went quiet again. I could pick up the distant voices of the Edison Group, and I clung to that, a reminder of where I was, in the lab, not locked away in a basement crawl space with dead bodies crawling toward me.
Umm, actually, yes, there is a dead body-
But it wasn’t a rotting corpse.
True, it’s a nice fresh one…possessed by a demonic spirit.
The scraping started again. I wrapped my arms around myself and squeezed my eyes shut.
Oh, that’ll help.
No, but this would. I concentrated on freeing that spirit. I kept at it, as hard as I dared, but that whispering of fabric and scratching of nails kept coming closer, so close now I could hear the scrape of buttons against the floor. I scrambled to a new spot, hit another chair, and crashed down on top of it.
