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Smoky zeroed in on the ground and dropped me gently into the mist before landing. Within the blink of an eye, he swiftly morphed back into his human shape and opened his coat. I dashed into the offered shelter without a second thought. This was getting to be old hat: my brother-in-law saving my butt from my sister’s wayward powers.
Grinning, I pressed against him. No dirt, no blood on his spotless white clothing, as usual, but he reeked of testosterone and dragon sweat. As he enfolded the long drape of his trench around me, a flare lit up the sky. I could see it even from within the darkness of his coat. There was a screech, and then Smoky whispered, “She got it. My girl got the demon.”
Then he tensed. Oh shit, had the magic backtracked onto her? Camille could kill herself if one of her spells, magnified by the horn, backfired onto her.
As soon as it was safe, he opened his trench coat, and I stumbled out. We both took off at a dead run, but then—blink—he was in dragon form again and snatched me up, carrying me as his wings beat a tattoo toward the smoke that was billowing out from the area where Camille and the demon had been standing.
I watched the ground disappear below me, anxious. Was she okay? Was the demon dead?
As we neared the area where they’d been, smoke rose to meet us, and boy, did it stink. Burnt flesh. Shit. That better be demon flesh, I thought. Smoky spiraled to the ground and let go of me, then shifted back into human form, and we raced through the gray clouds to see what the aftermath of the blast had left behind. Coming in from the sidelines were Delilah and Roz. We joined them and plunged into ground zero.
I heard coughing. A woman coughing.
“Camille? Are you okay?” Delilah was waving her way through the soot-laden air. “Camille?”
“Here, we’re over here,” came a familiar voice, and I relaxed.
“The hell with this,” Smoky said and stepped back. Once again he stood there in dragon form, but this time he beat his wings to a steady cadence, the rush of air clearing the smoke from the area. As it cleared, we saw just what havoc Camille had managed to wreak.
She was sitting there on the ground, looking exhausted, covered in soot, ashes, and some sort of jet-colored goo, which I strongly suspected was demon guts. Morio and Vanzir were crouching next to her and they, too, were slathered with the slime. There was no sign of the demon, at least not anything big enough to worry about. Fist-sized chunks of the Karsetii were scattered everywhere, unmoving, dead to the world.
Camille gazed up at me. “We did it. We killed her.”
“You still have the spirit seal, right?” I asked.
She stuck her hand down her bra and nodded. “Yeah, it’s safe and secure.”
“Then I guess we’re done here. We just need to go back and mop the floor with Dante’s Hellions. And destroy that Demon Gate spell before they summon something else through.” I glanced around. “I guess we should get moving. Anybody sense any speck of life left within the hive mother?”
Vanzir knelt and picked up a large piece of the dripping demon. I tried not to grimace. Somehow, that just seemed so very nasty. He sniffed it, then closed his eyes. After a moment, he tossed it to the ground and shook the slime off.
“No. She’s dead and gone.”
“Hopefully, it will be another two thousand years before another one of those things comes out of hiding,” I said. “Okay, let’s get back to Harold’s house and put a stop to this ever happening again. Even with their necromancer dead, want to make a bet they’d figure out a way to keep the gate open?”
“Either that, or bring in another necromancer. What will seal up a Demon Gate?” Camille asked, looking at Morio.
He frowned. “If we had another necromancer on our side—a skilled one—he could take care of it with no problem. We can probably negate it, since we’ve been working with death magic, but to really put it out of commission, we need someone who can create them in the first place.”
“What do you mean? You mean they might have a chance to recharge it after you guys take it down?” I wasn’t too clear on the mechanics of spellwork in the first place, and I certainly didn’t know much about death magic.
Morio sighed. “Not exactly. When a magician creates a Demon Gate, he isn’t just casting a spell. He’s actually ripping open a doorway to the Subterranean Realms. Or he’s supposed to. In this case, the dingbat they had working with them accidentally opened it to the astral plane instead of the Sub Realms. That’s why he attracted an astral demon. But once that door has been opened, it’s not easy to close. You can’t just turn the spell off. You actually have to be able to force it shut and mend the rips in the etheric plane. We can do a fix on it, but neither Camille nor myself has the strength to close a gate that’s been opened by an adept necromancer.”
“Well, shit. What are we going to do?” Delilah said, standing. She held out her hand and pulled Camille to her feet. Smoky and Rozurial were frowning, and Vanzir just looked pissed.
“I know.” I smiled. “It may take a bit of cajoling, and we may end up having to bargain our way into getting him to do it, but I know who we can ask.”
“Who?” Smoky said. “Camille’s not making any more bargains.”
“Not like the one she struck with you, huh?” I said pointedly, laughing at him. He glowered, but I just shook my head. “Don’t get your smokestacks in a dither. I’m thinking about Wilbur. You know—Wilbur, who owns Martin the ghoul? Our new neighbor? I’ll bet you anything he’s powerful enough to fix this little problem.”
“Of course,” Camille said. “Anybody who can raise a ghoul to the level that Wilbur did with Martin is bound to be able to open—or close—a Demon Gate.”
“So what next?” Rozurial asked. “Do we go get him or—”
I shook my head. “No, we have to stop the Hellions from bringing anything else through first. Then we ask Wilbur to pretty please do his thing. If he wants money, we find a way to pay him money. If he wants a dead body or two for more ghoul friends, we procure him a few corpses. Whatever it takes.”
“Then I guess we have our plan,” Delilah said.
