“Unknown obstacle,” it said in its weirdly chipper voice. It sounded like a first-day intern eager to please the senior staff.
I looked up. Ahead of us, cars were packed bumper to bumper. Traffic was barely ever this bad when I was traveling to the office, as I was usually moving against commuter traffic, not stuck in it.
“Auto: Is the obstacle human or supernatural?”
There was a pause. “Vegetal” was its response.
I blinked. “Repeat that.”
“The disturbance is vegetal,” it said again.
What the hell was a “vegetal” disturbance? A fallen tree in the road? City workers were mowing ditches under the cover of darkness for some reason? Something weird had happened. And in Chicago, weird usually meant supernatural. Lately, it meant demon.
“Auto,” I told it, “stop ride.” While it processed, I sent a quick message to Theo:Auto stalled. Will be late.
I put my screen away, looked ruefully at my travel mug, and climbed out, closing the door behind me. I ignored the honks and shouts of humans pissed about the traffic, the delay, or the fact that I’d abandoned my ride in the middle of the road.
There was smoke and heat in the astringent scent of split leaves and sap in the air…but below it all was something far nastier. Part sulfur, part smoke, both gritty.
Demons.
A woman ran past me screaming, a toddler clutched in her arms. That snapped me out of my daze. I unsheathed my sword and ran forward, passing two more humans who were busy trying to film the incident instead of helping the other humans in harm’s way.
“Call the CPD!” I called out, and kept going.
And then I stopped short, just like the Auto had.
An eight-foot-tall supernatural wielded an enormous limb from a nearby oak tree like it was light as a child’s toy. His skin was tan with a faintly gold shimmer, and he wore only gym shorts that—let’s be honest—didn’t match the vibe. He was swinging the branch like an elephant’s trunk, slamming it into cars, crumpling hoods and smashing windows. And putting the tang of sulfur into the air.
Demon.
A woman sat cross-legged on the ground beside a vehicle that was sitting precariously on its side. Blood streamed from her forehead, probably related to the spiderweb crack in the windshield.
“Everybody back!” I yelled out, and helped the human to her feet and out of danger. Then I grabbed the collar of another hapless human who was inches away from being thrown onto the asphalt by a flying branch, and shoved him to relative safety.
“Get off the street!” I said, gesturing the humans back.
“I’ve got civil rights!” another human screamed, screen pointed at the demon.
“But no desire to be civil,” I muttered as she tried to start some pushy-shovey, nearly sending me into a young woman trying to drag a stroller from an SUV while keeping hold of two young children.
I pulled the stroller out of the car. “Get the kids away from here,” I said, and sent a magical pulse into the woman with the screen. She might have been stubborn, but a little glamour did the trick and had her turning to join the fleeing crowd.
Unfortunately, that magic had been noticed. I wasn’t going to have time to update the Ombuds as the demon turned to me, its green eyes glinting in the streetlight.
“Drop the branch,” I said, “and leave Chicago in an orderly fashion.”
Might as well start by asking nicely.
He released the tree limb, which hit the ground with an audible thud. And for a millisecond, I thought this was going to be manageable.
Naïve vampire.
The demon opened his mouth as if to scream. But there was no sound. Instead, gleaming green vines poured out and stretched and reached for the ground, leaves unfurling as they grew. And then the vines were snaking toward me.
As much as my mind and body wanted to retreat, I didn’t have time to be horrified. They moved fast, growing thicker as they sped across the asphalt.
I slashed at one, which oozed a viscous sap the color of blood; then I pivoted to slice at another that was reaching for my boots.
