If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on the human face—forever.
—Eric Arthur Blair,
Editorial in G.K.’s Weekly. 1927
OCI Headquarters
The United States Coordinator of Information, Bradford Carr, PhD, was trapped in his office. He was against one wall, back pressed against a multitude of plaques and awards, nervously sweating, while a Siberian tiger sat on its haunches in the middle of the room, watching him carefully. Carr had inched toward some of the display weapons, but a low growl from the tiger had informed him of what a terrible idea that would be.
“Nice catch, Lance,” Sullivan said as he entered the office.
“Thanks. Big as he is, it would be like eating a water buffalo, which is very tempting right now, you have no idea, but I figured we’d want him alive.”
The esoteric weapons were neat and all, but Sullivan marveled at all of the books. From what he knew about the Coordinator, this place was a treasure trove of information on magic. Hell, he would have done this job just to loot this library, let alone to rescue his friends, but first things first.
“Let me go or you’ll regret this,” Carr sneered. “I’ve got a force of robots that will—”
“We already broke them. Your men are either dead or swimming, and we destroyed your pet demon too. So save your breath.” Sullivan turned to Lance. “It looks like Whisper blocked the bridge for now, but we need to get a move on.”
“Francis and Heinrich?” There was dried blood all over the tiger’s face, but none of it appeared to be from the tiger.
There was a rasp from the door. “I am here.” Sullivan turned to see a very battered Heinrich Koenig. His face was swollen with bruises and cuts and his shirt was hanging in blood-stained tatters. He’d found a pump shotgun somewhere. “But they took Francis away.”
It was good to see the Fade had made it. Sullivan had really taken a real liking to the tough German. Sullivan strode over and punched Carr in his ample stomach. He took it easy, but only because he didn’t want to accidently kill the man. Carr sank to the carpet, purple-faced and gagging. “Where’d you take him?”
“Go to hell, Active rabble,” Carr gasped.
“We should question him somewhere else,” Heinrich suggested.
“Yeah, cops are going to be on the—”
“No. There is a black hole growing in the basement of the main building. It is devouring everything and expanding rapidly. We only have a few minutes.”
“A black hole?” It could never be simple.
“I’ve got to get her out of here. I’m about out of Power, and I don’t think you’re going to want her around when I lose control.” Lance said through the tiger. “Catch you boys later.” The animal turned and bounded from the room.
Heinrich calmly stepped out of the way to let the predator pass. “I cannot accentuate this enough. We really must be going as well.”
That meant it was seriously bad. Heinrich certainly wasn’t the dramatic type. Diamond had secured the building that Lance had said housed the other prisoners. There was nothing else keeping them here. Sullivan looked sadly around the shelves of books. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.
Toru appeared behind Heinrich so silently that he even made the Fade jump, and that was saying something. “Sullivan, your prisoners have been freed and are being taken to the boats, but something strange is happening at the main building—”
“Told you,” Heinrich said as he studied Toru suspiciously. “Who are you?”
“That’s our new Iron Guard,” Sullivan said. “He’s okay. I’ll explain later.”
“I am imprisoned for a brief time and everything goes to hell.” Heinrich shrugged. “Very well. I am Heinrich Koenig.”
“Toru.” The Iron Guard nodded. “You seem more accepting than the others of your kind.”
“Oh, I despise all Imperium scum, but I have had a very difficult day. I will worry about it when we are not being sucked into a magical vortex, which will be happening very shortly. Speaking of which . . .”
Sullivan grabbed Carr by the neck and hoisted him to his feet. He gave a quick pat down but the Coordinator seemed to be unarmed.
“You’re Heavy Jake Sullivan, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
“I was afraid of that,” Carr muttered. “You have a considerable reputation in some circles.”
“You picked the wrong man to slander. Come on.”
“Wait, Mr. Sullivan. I know you’re a student of magic. If he is telling the truth about our impeding destruction, there is something priceless we must take with us. I have in my possession here the single most valuable magical tome in existence. To lose its knowledge would be a tragedy for the entire human race.”
It went against his better judgment, but Sullivan let go long enough for the Coordinator to pick up a large book off of his desk. If he’d so much as made a move for a drawer that could conceal a gun, he’d have gotten himself Spiked to the roof. “Give me that.” Sullivan snatched the book away. Flipping through the pages, he didn’t recognize the language, but it was absolutely filled with complicated spells. They looked legit. “My God.”
“I knew you would understand. If you didn’t have such a reputation for stubbornness, you are exactly the kind of man that I would have approached concerning my grand vision.”
Vision? Sullivan snorted. Just like the visionaries of the Imperium, the Kaiser, the Soviets, Carr’s vision was just another group of assholes wanting to control everybody else. Sullivan was sick and tired of visionaries. “Shut up.”
Toru had moved to the wall of weapons and picked out a long Japanese sword. He set the 1919 down long enough to draw it from its black scabbard. It was a foot longer than the other Iron Guard swords that Sullivan had seen. “Magnificent.”
“And very valuable. That nodachi is said to have belonged to Sasaki Kojiro,” Carr said. “It was restored and given to me as a gift by Chairman Tokugawa personally.”
That seemed to surprise the Iron Guard. “One of my father’s blades? This is no accident.” Toru had to blink away tears of emotion. He smiled as he slid the blade back into the sheath. “Even now he guides my steps.”
“Well . . .” Carr had been ambassador. Of course he had souvenirs. It was obvious from the walls that he loved them. The big sword just seemed like a coincidence to Sullivan, but he’d actually talked to the dead man in question on the spirit phone. Who was he to judge things like signs of approval from beyond the grave? “Good, I suppose.”
“The Tokugawa family is reclaiming this blade, doctor.” Toru ripped a strip of silk from a robe in Carr’s display and used that to quickly tie to both ends of the scabbard so he could throw it over his shoulder. Car cringed at the defacement of one of his artifacts. “Attempt to stop me and I will spill your bowels with it.”
Sullivan shoved Carr toward the exit. “Walk.”
“Do you intend to kill me?”
“If you don’t tell me where you took Francis, you’re gonna wish I had.”
“I can cut off his feet,” Toru offered. “I have found that makes men talkative . . . briefly.”
Carr’s lip quivered beneath his gigantic mustache, but he didn’t speak.
As they hurried toward the outside, a trembling could be felt through the floor. This bunker had been meant for the command staff of the old Peace Ray project, so it had been built solid, but the whole place was shaking like it was about to fall down. Heinrich had talked about some sort of hole, but he really didn’t know if that would be causing an earthquake. Sullivan got his answer when they made it out into the courtyard.
The main building was gone. In its place was the top half of an expanding ball of black. It cast off an eerie light that seemed to make light colors glow. It was forty feet tall and lightning played back and forth across its curved surface. Wind howled past them as it was gobbled up. On one side the darkness reached the outer wall of the bunker and the bricks immediately began to dissolve into it, while on the other it reached one of the ruined trucks. The front end lifted into the air as the rear dropped into space. Within seconds it had consumed the entire truck.
“Is this your doing?” Sullivan grabbed Carr by the jacket and shook him hard.
“I don’t know what that is!” the Coordinator gaped at the blackness. “All my work . . . All of my research was in there. It’s all been ruined.”
More like all of the evidence of your wrongdoing’s been erased. They especially had to keep Carr alive now. Without physical evidence to turn over to J. Edgar Hoover, they were still in hot water, probably more so now since they’d just attacked a government facility and killed a mess of government employees.
“I believe Francis may have been responsible for this one,” Heinrich said.
The dome of death had expanded another few feet while they were standing there gawking at it. It was time to go. “Me and that boy are gonna have a talk.”
They ran for it. Carr walked with a bad limp, so Sullivan used his Power to make the Coordinator lighter and dragged him along. He didn’t want to help the man. He wanted to toss him into the black hole, but he needed the jerk’s testimony.
Faye popped into existence ahead of them. “Mr. Sullivan! Over here!”
They reached the gap in the wall. “Is everybody else out?” he shouted to be heard over the wind.
“Yes. We’ve already filled up one boat and sent it toward Mr. Browning,” Faye responded. “Oh, Heinrich! I’m so glad to see you! Where’s Francis.”
“We don’t know, but he does.” Sullivan pushed Carr to the ground. “You know about me, Coordinator, so I’m assuming you know about Traveling Faye here, and no, the rumors haven’t been exaggerated.”
Carr’s eyes grew large. Apparently he had heard about her exploits. It was sad when a teenage girl had more intimidation power than an ex-con Heavy or an Iron Guard.
“What do you mean, he knows where Francis is?” Faye stepped toward Carr, grey eyes gleaming. She reached behind her and pulled out a Bowie knife. “What did you do with my boyfriend?”
He couldn’t have planned it better if they’d rehearsed it, only Faye certainly wasn’t acting. She was about the single nicest human being he’d ever met, but she’d kill anybody she considered a bad man faster than a farmwife would wring the neck on the evening’s chicken dinner. With Faye, once you crossed a certain line, your life was worth nothing.
“Talk, Coordinator, or I leave you with her.” It was a bluff, but Carr had no way of knowing his deal with Hoover.
Faye reached down and grabbed Carr’s tie. “Let’s toss him in the big sucking thing. I want to see what happens when you put a person in it.”
“It is rather unnerving,” Heinrich stated.
“Fine! I’ll talk. Just give me your word you won’t hurt me.”
Sullivan looked back toward the dome. They’d better hurry. “We won’t kill you.” But I sure hope you enjoy prison.
“Stuyvesant was taken across the river in a boat. There is a truck bomb there. It is to be detonated in the marcher’s camp.”
“The anti-magic march?” Sullivan asked, shocked at the barbarity. “Those are your allies.”
“Useful idiots.” Carr ground his teeth together. “Their deaths will be the final catalyst for ensuring that magic is properly controlled in this nation forever.”
Faye shrieked. “That’s it! He goes in the sucking thing!” Sullivan reached and blocked her with one hand.
She was the only one that could get there in time. “Get Francis,” Sullivan ordered. “Stop the bomb.”
The Traveler pointed at Carr. “I ain’t done with you!” Then she disappeared.
“Quit staring at me. If those marchers knew what their deaths will cause they’d be glad to make the sacrifice. I’m doing you people a favor. Your way, magical freedom,” Carr practically sneered the word. “Leads only to chaos and anarchy. My way leads to order and prosperity for all. Every man has a place in the order of things. Actives subvert that natural order.” Sullivan was too disgusted to respond. He dragged Carr to his feet and set out for the boat. “You have gifts and it is selfish for you to do only what you want with them. You people must be utilized properly. Actives must be given order, they must be controlled. You must be used where you are most valuable to the collective.”
“Specialization is for insects.”
“Exactly! The ant hill can only have one queen. The drones and the warriors must know their place! To allow people with such uncontrollable Power absolute freedom is to invite disaster for us all.”
Sullivan swore to himself that if Hoover couldn’t get this man convicted, then he’d personally see to it that Carr didn’t live a day past the trial, and if he got a short sentence, he’d be there waiting the day the warden let Carr out the gate. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll break your fucking face.”
But Carr was too antagonistic and proud of his philosophical bullshit to close his stupid yap. “Your man in Oklahoma, Bolander, through his actions, he’s set the stage to become a folk hero to the common people. As news of those events spread, they threatened to counter the effects of the assassination attempt in Florida. The spectacular nature of his death is what forced me to raise the stakes. If Actives could be capable of such heroics, then I also had to display the depths of their depravity. Do not blame me for this bombing. You brought this on yourselves.”
They started down the trail. “Save your bullshit for the judge.”
“Judge?” Carr shouted. “You still don’t grasp the enormity of the situation. This is bigger than any judge, bigger than any simple laws. Are you such a fool that you think this stops with me? This is about more than just one man’s vision, Mr. Sullivan. I answer to a higher authority. This is far bigger! Do you really think something as capable as the OCI can operate without sufficient clearance and oversight? I am not alone! Your kind will be controlled!”
Sullivan slugged the old man in the mouth. He pulled it to keep from breaking anything, but it was still intensely satisfying. Carr collapsed into the mud. Sullivan yanked him right back up. “Warned you.” Carr was dazed, but Sullivan dragged his bulk along like he weighed nothing.
Since they were running away from the vortex, they were running into the wind, and it was getting worse. The blackness was gaining on them. The bigger it got, the faster it seemed to grow. Sullivan glanced back and noticed that the anomaly had doubled in height since he’d first seen it. It had to be visible on both sides of the river now. How big was this damn thing going to get?
They reached the north shore. Diamond had already taken the bigger boat, but he’d also evacuated the mystery prisoners. The mud was so churned up that it told him a lot of feet had gone through here already. Dan Garrett and Ian Wright were waiting at the remaining boat. “About time!” Ian shouted.
“Heinrich!” Dan exclaimed at the sight of his closest friend. He ran over and clasped his friend by the arms. “What did they do to you?”
“I was the winner. You should see the other fellows.”
“Nothing Jane can’t fix. Hurry up and get in.”
Something hit the ground hard far behind them. Tree trunks cracked and mud came raining down. A demonic roar pierced them all to the soul and sent shivers down their spines. “Crow’s back!” Sullivan shouted.
Toru hoisted the 1919 and immediately ran to the side. Sullivan unceremoniously tossed Carr into the boat, then turned back and unslung his BAR. He was about to order Dan and Heinrich to get the Coordinator out of here, but there wasn’t time. The demon was coming too quickly. Trees were being pushed over, and the noise of splintering trunks was closing too fast.
Crow had Summoned something nasty this time.
“Fan out!” Sullivan ordered. Toru was already out of sight. Dan, Ian, and Heinrich hurried down the shore. Sullivan tested his Power, felt it there, reliable and true, and got ready to face down the demon. They’d come too far to die now.
From the noise, he was expecting something massive, but instead, it was only a normal sized figure running through the trees. Yet, it was as if he was drawing a mass of smoke around him, and as he passed down the trail, the smoke was smashing the trees flat or tearing their roots right out of the ground like it massed the same as a herd of elephants.
Crow stopped twenty feet away, appearing to be a normal man in a black suit, but he was surrounded by the seething cloud of evil smoke. It seemed to coalesce around him in a vague animal shape. “I’m back, Heavy,” he hissed. “And this time, I’m wearing the greatest demon of them all.”
In the distance behind him, the void was growing larger. If the demon didn’t get them, then the black hole would.
Oh, Francis! Faye found him lying on the grass behind the back of a truck on the Washington side of the river. He’d been shot several times and from the dead bodies, it was obvious who’d done it. Luckily, Pemberly Hammer and Whisper had gotten there first.
Hammer had looked up long enough to say, “Tourniquet isn’t stopping the bleeding.”
“We must get him to the hospital,” Whisper said. “Too bad I had to use our car to block the bridge.”
“He needs a Healer or he’s dead.”
“Healer’s on the other side of the river.”
“Out of my way!” Faye shouted.
“Faye?” Hammer asked. “Where—”
She was glad that her friends had tried to save him, but everybody else was just too darned slow. Faye took Francis by the hand. It was cold. Her grey eyes could see well enough in the dark to tell that he was deathly pale. “Hang on, Francis. I’ve got you.”
She didn’t know where the handsome Healer was, and Jane was clear on the other side. That was a heck of a long jump with carrying the weight of another person, and it would take a much larger burst of Power, but she was feeling especially feisty tonight and figured she could do it. She checked her Power and was excited to discover that it had grown since the night had begun. It was counter intuitive, but her magic was getting stronger again. She could probably get Francis over there in one hop, but the island was still a safer waypoint first. Faye subconsciously ran the math in her head in the time it took anybody else to blink. She studied her head map, only to realize there was only a hundred yards or so left of the island that wasn’t dangerously close to the sucking void, picked a spot, and Traveled.
She and Francis appeared an inch above the ground and landed in the mud. It was better safe than sorry. To the north, the other knights were fighting something, and she recognized the human form of that no good Crow. There was no time to help though. She’d come back for them once she saved Francis. Her head map picked out the spot on the west side of the river where Jane and Mr. Browning were, so she focused, looking for a safe spot, and . . . Clear.
Jane Garrett was only ten feet away and had her back to where Faye landed. She was watching an incoming boat, filled with knights and bedraggled, scared prisoners. “Jane! Jane! I need you!”
The Healer’s reactions were honed. When somebody called her name like that, she responded immediately. Grimnoir Healers were used to being needed in a real hurry. “Francis! Oh no . . .” Jane got on her knees and studied her angle of attack. “Three entrance holes. Two exits. Some fragmentation and multiple wound channels. Lung damage. Liver damage. Femoral artery is severed. Blood pressure dropping.” She put her hands on Francis chest. “Heart will stop in forty seconds.”
“Fix him!” Faye cried.
“Shhhh.” Jane closed her eyes and her hands began to glow. “I’ve got this.”
“Don’t let him die, Jane. I love him,” Faye blurted out.
Jane was exasperated. “Do I tell you how to teleport? No. I don’t think so. So go do whatever it is you do and quit fussing at me so I can concentrate.” The hole in Francis’ chest made a sizzling noise and he moaned.
Faye stood up. Jane was right, and she was the very best Healer ever. There was nothing else she could do for Francis . . .
Except punish the organization that had hurt him.
Crow was pleased. This new body was amazing. He couldn’t believe that he’d waited so long to try it out. He’d been foolish to be so scared of the greatest of all Summoned. It hadn’t even taken much coaxing to bring it to Earth. It had been eager. No Summoner had ever dared call on it before. They’d been too frightened. Only Crow had the nerves to tame the fiercest beast that had ever existed on a very fearsome world.
It hadn’t even fought him for control. He’d expected more of a struggle, but it had simply accepted his demand and let him take charge of its body. It had been surprisingly accommodating, and had gone obediently to the back of their mind. Crow could sense the savage brutality of the creature, but it was also cunning, it might not have understood humanity, but it understood that its master had a need for strategy and discretion.
He was only allowing a tiny percentage of its true physical form to manifest, but even then, Crow had never felt so mighty. He forced it to look like his regular chosen human shape, but its abilities and strength were off the charts. It was sorely tempting to let the true form free, but he was afraid. Not of another embarrassment like what had happened in Oklahoma, but rather that once he started, he would not be able to stop. Crow didn’t know if he, or the demon, could handle that much freedom.
In fact, he was far more worried about the growing darkness behind him than the Grimnoir in front of him. He did not understand what it was, but it was all consuming. There was only death inside the darkness. He did not know if even the great one would be able to pull itself out of the darkness should it get too close.
The Grimnoir attacked. They were powerful, but they were nothing compared to this form. The Heavy struck him with waves of crushing gravity, but he simply shrugged them off. Up became down and down became up, but the greatest Summoned did not care, and it willed itself to stay connected to the ground. The Iron Guard hosed them down with bullets from a belt-fed machinegun, but it was like being pelted with handfuls of sand.
They had a Mouth. He hurled words at Crow. The words were filled with magic, but they were feeble, human words, and they made no sense. In fact, he was having a very hard time understanding any of the words the Grimnoir were saying. That gave Crow pause . . . Was the demon affecting him more than he’d thought? If it was, it was very subtle, and as Crow thought about that, the words began to make sense again and the garbled nonsense the Grimnoir were shouting turned back into English. That was better.
I apologize, master. I was only trying to protect us.
Don’t let it happen again. Crow thought that was interesting. He’d never had a Summoned that could communicate so clearly before. He should have been afraid, but instead he felt strangely relaxed. This form was very comforting.
He tried to swat the Grimnoir, but even in his great form, they were annoyingly difficult to kill. The Heavy increased the mass of his body and withstood a blow that should have crushed him. Interesting, this Heavy also possessed some of the capabilities of a Massive. The creatures of this world are able to connect to more than one aspect of the Power . . . This is different than the home world. Perhaps, if we had been able to do such a thing, then the Predator would not have been able to consume us.
Crow was confused. The memories were odd, filled with strange colors and unfamiliar smells, cluttered with overwhelming sadness, bitter regret, and an all consuming desire for conquest. He forced the demon back down. I’m in charge here. Not you.
The Fade was elusive. He disappeared as Crow tried to strike him down, but reformed on the other side, and managed to make both of their forms indistinct. Crow’s pathetic human form sunk deep into the rock before the Fade leapt away. The Heavy began to congratulate the Fade, but Crow simply jerked his stuck limbs out of the ground, dragging the foreign matter with him.
These enemies are robust. Some of them have bound more Power to their bodies. This world has advanced much in the ways of magic.
A sword cleaved down through one arm, sending it spiraling away, then came back up quickly to remove their head. Their head went bouncing off into the forest.
Crow’s severed head laughed. He gathered up some of the excess essence of the mighty Summoned and reformed the body. The Brute seemed surprised when Crow simply grew a new head.
This form is too clumsy. Set me free.
No. Crow knew there was too much danger in that.
Let me free and we will rule this world.
It was tempting.
A Traveler appeared. The demon recognized right away that this was the most dangerous of them all. Her personal magic was astounding, and her spirit was bound with a diagram of Power beyond anything ever created in the old world. Crow began to tell the demon what to do, but the demon shoved him aside. The human did not understand just how fearsome the Traveler really was. She was possibly his equal and obviously one of the rulers of this world.
Free me or she will destroy us. I do not want to return to the cold place.
She folded space, attacking over and over, moving from spot to spot quicker than their divided mind could follow. Crow fought the demon while the Traveler fought them both.
Faye was Traveling like mad. Crow was much faster than before, and even though he looked like a man, he was moving with unbelievable quickness. It was like there were walls of force around his hands, and when he swung, great big patches of ground were torn apart. Whole trees were sent flying into the air. He’d strike, so she’d move and stab him. They kept on repeating the little dance, and Faye couldn’t figure out why he’d not managed to kill her yet. It was like he was distracted or something.
The others had hit Crow with everything they had, and it hadn’t done a thing. The big sucking thing was getting closer. There was only about fifty yards of island left. They were shoving the boat into the river and trying to escape while Faye kept Crow occupied.
Faye had fought demons before. She’d helped beat the Bull King by finding its Summoner and blowing his brains out. Only, how could she kill a Summoner when he was inside his own demon? They’d already killed him before, and he’d just come right back. That didn’t hardly seem fair. She needed to kill his real body once and for all. That way he’d never come back again. She needed to kill his body good and dead, for George, and for everybody else this awful man had hurt.
Ian sent his Summoned in on a suicide charge. Crow simply uppercut the creature. It flew a hundred yards through the air, plummeted down, and hit the river with a huge splash. He had been trying to help her, but he’d only gotten in the way. Ian cried out in pain as his Summoned was banished. Summoners definitely had a connection to their creatures. Crow had to be the same.
Faye checked her head map and pushed it out further than she ever had before. Her Power was burning so hot, and she was Traveling so fast, that she could easily do both things at once. Where would Crow be? For all she knew he could be hundreds of miles away. Yet, he was connected to the demon somehow. When they’d killed him before, his spirit had figured out how to get back home. He hadn’t gotten lost. So Faye reasoned that there had to be some sort of link between the two, she just had to figure out how to find it.
When she’d brought Jake Sullivan back from the land where the dead went to dream, she’d followed his connection to the Power. Everybody had one, even the really faint ones that belonged to Normals from when the Power had tested them when they were young, but decided not to bond permanently. Her head map had spotted those before, she’d just had to adjust how she perceived the world. Would a Summoner’s trail be any different?
Faye pushed her head map even harder. She didn’t need to see further, she needed to see finer . . . Faye was stunned as her head map showed her what she was really fighting. This was no ordinary Summoned, and if Crow knew what he’d brought here, he was an even bigger fool than she’d thought. It was vast. This was no regular Summoned. This was one of their gods.
She had to find the trail . . . Look beyond the terror of the monster. It had to be there somewhere. And sure enough, she found it. Through the noxious smoke were what looked like chains encircling the Summoned, and they pointed in a straight line to the east. Faye forced her map to follow the chains. Crow’s real body wasn’t very far away at all.
Crow screamed when he realized what she was doing, but it was too late. She was already gone.
Faye landed in the middle of a plain living room, still holding a Bowie knife that was dripping demon ink to burn black spots into the floor. The furniture was dusty. Dirty dishes sat rotting and forgotten in the sink. There were pictures on the wall. She recognized Crow in a few of them, only these were very old tintypes, and in some he was wearing an old fashioned Army uniform. These had to be pictures of his father or something.
The apartment was small and quiet. It smelled like decay. Her head map told her the only other living thing here was in the bedroom. Faye wiped her knife off on the table cloth, put it back in the sheath, and drew her .45. She turned the knob, and alert for danger, let the door creak open.
There was a shape in front of the window, sitting in a chair, staring off into space. Faye went to the lamp in the corner and turned it on. Crow’s back was to her, and it took Faye a moment to realize that he was sitting in a wheel chair.
Reaching out, Faye took one handle of the wheelchair and pulled it so that he faced her. She gasped in surprise. Crow was ancient. His real body was all shriveled up. His head was more of a skull than anything, and his paper thin skin barely hid big purple veins. From the tiny diameter of his legs beneath his flannel pajamas, he had not walked in a long time. He smelled bad, and his gooey eyes were staring off into space.
Faye checked again. Sure enough, this was where the chains led. This was the mighty demon that she’d fought. This was the man that had killed or hurt her friends. His shirt was hanging open, and on his bony chest was carved an intricate spell. His ribs were slowly moving up and down as he breathed.
Crow blinked. Some of his conciseness had returned. “Please . . . Don’t.” He raised one palsied hand. “Please. I’m begging you.”
“Why?” It was all she could ask.
“I’m scared of dying.” He touched the spell on his chest. “I want to live.”
She’d wondered how an Active could be so eager to enslave other Actives. Now she had her answer.
Faye lifted the 1911 and shot him in the chest. Crow jerked and spasmodically grabbed onto the wheels of his chair. Then she shot him again and again. She shot him until the magazine was empty and the slide locked back. Faye slowly lowered the smoking gun. Crow was already so dry and dead inside that hardly any blood came out of the holes.
