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THE AXIAL RIFT OPENED with a ripping sound that fell in on itself, like a record playing backward. Barakiel stood near the rusted tangle of train tracks behind Philadelphia’s 30th Street Station. When a dozen demons emerged from the rift he smiled with relief. No Corrupted. None of his father’s dark warriors had made it through. The demons may be sturdy and vicious, but they were dim-witted. The fight would be routine, and he could get home to Zan. He didn’t let himself think about what might happen when he revealed himself to her. He had a battle to deal with first.
I cannot love her if I let myself be killed by demons.
The location made things easier, as well. Usually, when the yellow-eyed beasts shot through the axial rift he had to draw them away from population. Here, regional-rail trains were passing nearby, but there were no pedestrians. And the hour suited him. The equinox had come at night, around 10:30. Even if Pellus had not been there to conceal his activities, it was unlikely the passengers would be able to see much of anything occurring so deep in the rail yard.
But Pellus was there, of course, to hide the battle from weak human eyes and ears with his curtain of refracted light and his sound barrier. Barakiel could depend on him.
Thank Balance this will be easy after all that has happened.
Shortly after the demons emerged, the warrior’s relief evaporated. Instead of rushing Barakiel, a handful ran off in the direction of the city streets. The others charged to where the passenger trains were coming and going. Barakiel froze for a second to weigh the threats before he moved toward the trains to pursue the greater number of demons.
I hope you can conceal this imbroglio, Pellus.
Barakiel was about to fall upon a demon with his sword when he saw another begin to rip up the tracks in front of an approaching train.
What in all the realms?
The train would derail if the monstrous creature finished, so he sped to fling it away from the tracks. As he raised his sword to take its head, another demon ripped apart a switching station. Yet another threw chunks of corroded metal. Some pieces fell onto a set of tracks in front of an approaching train. Barakiel killed the first beast then ran to the blocked tracks to clear the debris before the train arrived. Other demons ran amok through the rail yard, destroying any structure they could see. Anxiety gripped him.
What are you trying to do to now, father? Murder innocent humans to torment me?
He calmed himself with deep breaths as he noted the location of each demon. The most efficient thing would be to kill them systematically, nearest to farthest. The longer they were alive, the bigger the chance of catastrophe. All he could do was try to finish in time to avoid a derailment. At least the trains were not traveling at high speeds as they approached the station.
He flashed to the closest demon, which was distracted by its efforts to curl up a rail. Barakiel sank his dagger into the base of its skull. It twitched, then fell still. He left the damaged tracks to plunge his sword into the back of another beast about to push down power lines across the entire rail yard. Next, he cleaved the skull of a demon ripping up another set of tracks. One by one, he slaughtered them.
Lucky for me, their operating principle is chaos.
Three more. No train was approaching on the ruined tracks, but that could change at any moment. The odds of detection increased the longer it took him to eliminate the ridiculous beasts. At this point, this mess had taken longer than his battle with the Corrupted at the summer solstice.
Is that what this is about, father?
Finally, Barakiel severed the head of the last demon. He rushed to the two sets of damaged tracks in succession and bent the twisted rails as close to flat as he could get them, hoping this would make it easier for Pellus to repair them so that the trains would not derail. As a traveler adept, Pellus could manipulate the properties of matter and energy, but it was not easy to alter metal. It took time and a great deal of effort.
After Barakiel had smoothed the rails, Pellus signaled him with a flash of light. The warrior charged over to find the adept’s face creased with anxiety.
Balance help us. Pellus rarely looks worried.
“What in all the realms is going on?” Barakiel asked. “The other demons, did you see where they went?”
“They ran into the street and got into a truck.”
“A truck? What could possibly explain this?”
“The false monks’ followers. I do not know how they knew we were here, but it must be them. They drove onto the highway.”
Two months previous, Barakiel had killed a group of men in France who had apparently worshiped his father. They claimed to be monks of the same order Barakiel had lived with centuries before. He and Pellus discovered that these false monks had murdered a helpless man and that he was not the only human they had sacrificed to Lucifer. These men also trafficked in repulsive images of murdered and tortured women, making a sexual fetish of their suffering.
Compelled to kill them, Barakiel had paid a great price. In acting against his purpose and destroying the weak, he’d lost Balance and become weak himself. He would have died in battle if Pellus had not saved him.
The two Covalent knew the predator monks had followers in Philadelphia, but they hadn’t succeeded in tracking them down. Now, this. Barakiel darted his eyes from the tracks to the highway, unsure which was worse for the citizens of Philadelphia, a truckload of demons or a train derailment. He howled in frustration.
“Pellus, what should we do?”
“We need to pursue the demons. Immediately.”
“But what about the tracks? Can you repair them?”
Pellus directed his penetrating stare to the west. Barakiel had keen eyesight, but it was nothing compared to the senses of a traveler adept, who could detect disturbances in air and light caused by objects moving miles away.
“A train is approaching. Around that bend, no more than five minutes from here. Not nearly enough time for me to restore that metal to its former state.”
“We have to do something! People may die if a train derails.”
“People will die, a lot of them, if those demons get loose in a neighborhood.”
“We have to do something,” Barakiel repeated. “Conceal me. I will force the train to stop. That will buy you time.”
“Not enough, I am afraid,” Pellus said with a grimace. Barakiel was about to dash off to the approaching train when the adept muttered, “Of course.”
“What?” Barakiel almost shouted.
“I will disrupt the electrical system. I can do it quickly. The humans will think it was caused by the vandalism. All the trains in the system will lose power, and you will stop the only train close enough to roll to the damaged tracks.”
Barakiel wanted to kiss him. Instead, he barreled off toward the oncoming train. He ran next to it, matched its speed, got a sturdy hold on the front and gradually reduced his pace, his muscles straining as the massive column of metal fought to jump his grasp. Whatever Pellus was doing caused a blinding arc of power to rise over the rail yard. Barakiel grinned. He let go of the train and spread his arms as the bolt of electrical energy shot right to him. For a moment, he luxuriated. Then he slowed the train as if it were a toy. He ran back to Pellus, his momentary elation gone as his frantic thoughts turned to the demons. He couldn’t imagine what his father would gain by setting them loose on the population.
Then it hit him.
They are going after Zan.
He shook his head, trying to quell his fear enough to think. Zan waited for him at his house. He planned to tell her everything. He planned to tell her what he was. Such revelations were against Covalent Law, but his love for her had reached so deep he could no longer keep his secrets.
Now, he wouldn’t get the chance. He had to warn her. It was her only hope. He shouted at Pellus to give him his cell phone. The adept knew what Barakiel was thinking because the phone was already dialing. The warrior held it to his ear with a trembling hand. She answered.
Thank Balance.
“Zan, listen to me. Something is coming for you. My enemies. Arm yourself. Now. Arm yourself and run,” Barakiel said, struggling to sound calm as his chest seized with fear. “I can’t explain. There’s no time. If you can’t run, take a defensive position and arm yourself. Five will attack you. They are fast, extremely fast. Arm yourself, please. I’ll be there in minutes. I’m coming.” He ended the call and charged over to Pellus, who had moved to desiccate the demon corpses so they would not be found.
“Where is the kinetic rift?” Barakiel shouted.
The Pain Season, Book II of the Covalent Series, is available now.
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