“I’m… trying. But… there’s this buzzing in my head, Luc. It won’t go away.”

  “Don’t pay attention to it.”

  “It’s all-consuming—”

  So he needed to distract her, hey? There was only one thing he could think of. Okay, there were probably thousands of things that could distract her. He still had access to his magic. He could click his fingers and create a fluffy bunny for her to hug. Or maybe he could attach a TV to his chest. But that’s not what he wanted, and it’s not what his addled heart told him to do. He leaned down, crunching his head forward, still flying as fast as he could as he punched through every wall in their way. And Luc, Seventh Son of Satan, locked his lips over Maggie’s. Was this any time to kiss? Absolutely not. He would’ve preferred to have some silence and, you know, a far more comfortable locale.

  But it did what it needed to. Both for him, and for her. He felt her stiffen at first, then melt. The tension that had filled her started to ebb away. She clutched at his face, holding it tighter.

  He held her faster around the middle, too. They pounded through another wall. He was going as fast as he could, wings now filled with the energy of her presence, but it still wasn’t enough. That exorcist was right behind him. The guy was now actually gnashing his teeth. On the face of it, not something that particularly bothered a denizen of Hell, but it would be such a departure from the man’s usual behavior, it was a terrifying indication of how possessed he was. This guy would never come back. His mind would’ve been torn to shreds. And John, one of the most uptight, upright people Luc had ever met, would be ultimately responsible for it.

  “Release her. Release her so everything can be cleansed,” John roared.

  “Not talking about gaining revenge on all of the conspirators now, are you, John? Because you are one of them. You know, this morning, one of the librarian hands told me what the naming spell told you. You are the greatest conspirator in this mess. And lo, it has come to pass. You are the very force who will allow Ometa to get to Maggie. You monster,” Luc growled, and he meant every syllable of it.

  “The only true monster here is Maggie. It would be a criminal act to waste her. Her mind is too large, needs to be filled up, needs to be filled up.”

  “Like Heaven,” Luc spat. The actual saying might be like Hell, but if everything were like Hell right now, it would be a lot more explicable and a lot easier.

  He was aware that this was still the accountant’s territory, but apparently that was irrelevant. The exorcist, so fully possessed that John should have been leaking out of his nostrils, came at Luc again, even as Luc managed to put some much-needed distance between them. Whatever Luc did, whatever wall he smashed through, the exorcist was right there, screaming, the power buffeting off his body so strong, it started to burn the walls. It revealed the wards that protected this place. But they couldn’t account for John’s connection to Ometa anymore.

  At least Maggie wasn’t shaking now. That kiss had woken her up, refocused her, given her something to hold onto.

  But it couldn’t last forever. And Luc really needed his wits about him right now, because he caught a glimpse of the window to his side. He saw… winged creatures. They were flocking toward the building. They were not angels. They were…. “More exorcists?” Maggie blurted as she stared toward them, neck straining badly.

  “You focus on me, Maggie, always on me,” he said as he pulled his head forward and stared into her eyes.

  They’d just shared another kiss, and while it had distracted her, maybe she was already over him, because she ignored his words, turned, and stared at them. Her eyes bolted wide with real fear. “Is this all John’s doing? He has… completely fallen, hasn’t he?” She appeared to answer her own question as she shook her head hard. “No. Not yet.” She closed her eyes. “There is still a scrap of good left in him somewhere.”

  “Scrap of good?” Luc had to splutter. “Are you out of your mind? Every single one of those exorcists he’s possessed is now dead. When he removes his mind from them, their real brains will leak out of their ears. I imagine they will eat through anything they touch like acid to flesh. John has fallen. He fell a long time ago. Now it’s time—”

  Now it was time to fight, because another hand thrust up from the floor, seemingly out of nowhere, because the exorcist was still right behind Luc.

  But apparently more than one had entered the building. This guy had a much larger hand, and as his fingers locked around Luc’s ankle, it stopped him from flying. His wings flapped, but he couldn’t get any traction or speed. He pivoted around like a bird tied to a pole and smashed right into the first exorcist. The guy was waiting for Luc. He produced a gold cross from around his neck. How it still functioned, considering this exorcist was very much possessed from head to foot, Luc didn’t know. But this was not the time to think about that fact. This was the time to reinforce his magic with everything he had, because the possessed exorcist proceeded to stab the cross down as hard as he possibly could. It encountered a magical barrier around Luc’s chest – one he hastily placed there with a muttered magical spell.

  The exorcist grabbed his cross harder, reinforced his grip, spat blood, and pushed the cross down as hard as he could until ripples of magic spread out everywhere.

  “Luc,” Maggie screamed.

  Luc didn’t have the breath left over to tell her a thing. He had to force all of his strength into simultaneously holding her and trying to force the spell back.

  But the exorcist did not fight alone. The one who’d grabbed Luc from the floor proceeded to climb him, using him as a ladder until he pulled his body right out of the concrete. It spat around him, flying high as magic wafted off him in every single direction. The guy’s face was… did you really care about what the guy’s face was? No, of course you didn’t. You cared what level of magic he had, and it was the same as the original exorcist. It was also magic that desperately wanted to make Luc pay in every single way possible. As both the exorcists tried to stab their crosses down into Luc’s body, pain ripped through him, so complete, he imagined it had been downloaded from the minds of every single person who’d ever died on Planet Earth.

  “Luc,” Maggie spluttered. She reached up. Her fingers landed on his face. She wasn’t about to kiss him, was she? Yes, yes, he’d already established that was a very good distraction for her, but right now he needed his wits about him. He required every single scrap of magic he could manifest, but there wasn’t enough. There was a sputtering hiss from his frontal shield. The cross managed to get through. It was only by a centimeter, but that was irrelevant. It stabbed down into his chest, drawing blood. It splattered over his front. He’d already lost more than enough blood in the last 24 hours, thank you very much, and he didn’t need to leak anymore, but this wasn’t up to him.

  “Luc.” Maggie reached around.

  He knew what she was going to do a second before she tried to open those damn doe eyes and stare at the first exorcist. “That’s what he wants,” Luc roared.

  He collapsed his arms around her shoulders and tried to move her out of the way, but the exorcists were at the front and at the back, and there was nowhere to go. There were two walls on either side of them. They were penned in. Or at least that was the theory.

  A sudden rumble shook through the floor. Luc didn’t know if he was making this up, but it seemed to be a rather efficient rumble, one that knew exactly how much it was worth and exactly what it could do.

  The exorcist at the front had a chance to react – had a chance for his eyes to open wide in a snapping motion like somebody cracking fingers with a sledgehammer. Then something rushed right out from underneath him. It was a giant hand, the equivalent of a librarian hand, but one who was steeped in the accountant’s tradition. It was a surprise pens and little ledger books didn’t fly off him in every single direction.

  The exorcist screamed, but by that time it was far too late. The souped-up librarian hand climbed him, reached his head, and squeezed. Luc didn’t really want to see the next part, even though he was a denizen of Hell and was very comfortable with death indeed. He twisted and collapsed around Maggie again.

  The souped-up hand went for the exorcist behind. And that’s when John thought this would all be over. But it wasn’t. He’d made the fatal mistake of pausing for too long. He felt something moving from underneath them, but his feeling didn’t translate into action quickly enough. Something erupted up out of the floor, concrete dust spreading high.

  That thing didn’t wrap around Luc’s ankle. It moved around Maggie instead. He heard the snap and crunch of it locking over her bones. A very specific sound, because he’d heard it all too much recently. His chest punched out, and he sucked in a breath, ready to scream her name at the top of his lungs, but there wasn’t the time. She was yanked down through the hole beneath him.

  “Maggie,” he bellowed anyway.

  She was already out of sight.

  Luc had been through some particularly stressful situations in the past however many days. This was the worst. The moment that she was yanked away from him felt as if someone had reached in and removed not just his internal organs, but everything inside him that had ever made him him. All the beliefs, all the memories. They were gone. Because now, like it or not, they were all wrapped up in one Maggie Brown.

  He twisted, movements so snapped, they could’ve ground his bones to dust.

  He threw himself down the hole, but by that time, it was too late. He could sense transportation magic. He wanted to pretend it would be impossible for anyone to use transportation magic in the accountant’s own building, but the place was being breached, and outside, Armageddon was brewing.

  Luc still screamed at the top of his lungs, still gave it absolutely everything he had.

  He sailed down into the room below this one – a seemingly simple office.

  At some point, it would’ve had a devilish bean counter at the desk, but now the desk had been burnt through and Church wards were spread over the room, crackling over the walls like yellow spray paint from particularly pious graffiti artists.

  Who cared? Who cared? This constant mantra repeated in his head. There was only one thing that mattered. “Maggie? Maggie,” he roared. She wasn’t in the room. There were three holes in the floor. They presumably led down to the same level below – but that would be where he could stop making assumptions. He could feel that each was different and would take him to a different part of the building. In other words, he had three guesses. This was the greatest decision he would ever make.

  “Maggie?” He thought he saw a scrap of her cardigan on the corner of the hole closest. He flung himself toward it, but that would be when his ring started to squeeze around his finger. He had never felt a grip more complete. Rings usually maintain their size once they are in your hand. Now imagine instead that they get to decide what size they want to be?

  Imagine instead that they become nooses for your fingers? That’s precisely what he had to deal with now. And as the ring closed off around his wedding finger, pain erupted through him. It was worse than he’d ever felt, because not only did it burn through his nerves, but it burnt through his mind brighter.

  He staggered to the side.

  “Maggie? Maggie? Wherever you are—”

  Before he could beg for her to hold on, he heard the last sound he ever wanted to hear. No, it wasn’t Heaven laughing in his ear. It wasn’t even John coming close to whisper that he’d finally won. It was the sound of his Ring of Satan cracking.

  Shock and horror plowed through him, forming an explosion in his chest – one that ripped up high, reached his mouth, and tried to scream but encountered a block as he swallowed instead.

  Maggie was in dire danger. She had seconds. And the ring had even less.

  He twisted himself around. He closed his eyes. He took a step. He fell through a seemingly random hole, but his ring loosened for half a second, letting him know it was in the correct direction.

  That was the only right thing he was doing, though. With every second he failed to save Maggie, she came closer to her ultimate demise.

  Two weeks ago, when they had met, Luc would never have known how far and how fast he would’ve fallen for Maggie Smith. You could’ve replayed the scenario over and over again, but he would never have predicted it. But that’s the way with life, isn’t it? If we could predict our greatest upsets, they wouldn’t become upsets, because our lazy little minds would avoid them.

  What was he trying to get at here? That he wasn’t the same man he had been two weeks ago. He was deeper, different, more powerful even.

  But all of that depth and power didn’t matter now. So what was the ultimate point of it?

  “Maggie,” he screamed one last time, so very breathless, he thought he would die of a cardiac arrest right here and now.

  But as he fell through that hole, he started to hear her.

  It was her. Her breath, her weakness. For she was diminishing. He didn’t need his ring to twitch to warn him of that.

  He landed face-first down on a very cold, very damp concrete floor. It had no business being so wet. It would be a waste of resources and potential damage to the infrastructure of this building. The accountant simply wouldn’t tolerate it.

  But trust him, it was damp, and it was only getting damper as something flowed in to fill it.

  His nostrils flared. He didn’t need them to warn him of the iron tinge to that dampness to know it was blood. His demonic form reacted to it. His eyes twitched open wide. He felt his skin crackling, changing, returning to that which comprised his true form.

  It meant his muscles bristled, and his wings spread out even further. Good, because something suddenly struck him in the back. It felt like a battering ram, but one made out of wind. Wind with a tinge of blood. He spun in time to see the force strike him in the middle of the chest. He managed to shove his feet down, flap his wings, and hold his ground, though he was dragged a few centimeters backward. As he snarled into the face of that spell, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. It should’ve done so much quicker, considering where he had grown up. But this was no ordinary darkness, insofar as it didn’t belong to Hell. This was what you got on the edges. Not on the edges of people’s minds or the edges of people’s lives. This was what you got on the edge of reality. And no, Hell had no business hanging around there.

  Luc thought he heard a hissing. Strong, long, drawn-out, like a hand somebody was kneading into a point.

  It could only come from one mouth. Though mouth was a generous term. It could only come from one hardened, pure desire.

  “Ometa,” he hissed as he flapped his wings again, dodged another charge of force, and put some distance between him and it. But there was only so far he could go. This room was remarkably small, even though every single sound echoed as if he were in the Grand Canyon.

  He flew up, but the ceiling was only two and a half meters above. The walls were only three meters apart. That wasn’t a lot of space for someone with a wingspan like him.

  That blast of bloody wind sliced around again, smashing into his side and forcing him toward the wall. He struck it.

  He pumped his wings and didn’t dare stay against the wall for long. He could feel something oozing down it. More blood. “It comes from you, doesn’t it, John?” Luc demanded. “I haven’t had a true sniff, but I imagine this is the blood of the pious. These were people who went to Church. People who believed Heaven’s lies. I shan’t hold that against them, neither should you. So why did you kill them? Why did you murder them in cold blood? Just how far have you fallen?”

  One of the exorcists wasn’t in the room, so ostensibly there was no one to talk to. But Luc was still aware of that hissing. It felt as if it came from so far beyond the universe, the word alien wasn’t applicable. Alien things still come from this realm. True foreign forces, however, come from so far outside of this universe, there is nothing comparable within it to understand them against.

  Luc could spend the rest of his life trying to find an example of what Ometa was. But he would not find it. And that was the point.

  Other. That word repeated in Luc’s head, and the more it did, the more it sliced down into his cerebellum, the more it forced him to realize how very precarious the situation was. The more he could feel Ometa, the more distinct Ometa became. Which meant the more he connected to Maggie’s fragile mind and used her as a means to manifest.

  “Stop it, John. Maggie said you still have a scrap of good left somewhere in you. I don’t believe that for a second. But prove her right. For God’s sake, don’t use her like this.”

  “She is an aberration. A tool.”

  “Her uncle didn’t think like that.”

  “Her uncle was a tool himself. All of them were ultimately doing this work. The best work anyone can do in all of the realms.”

  “Listen to yourself. Listen to your tone, to how far you’ve fallen. This isn’t the best work anyone can do in all of the realms. This is the work of destruction.”

  “Isn’t that what Hell is there for? Don’t you justify your actions by claiming that you break down old systems, old thoughts, and old bodies to give rise to the new? Then you are uniquely placed to understand what Ometa is here to do. This universe has sinned,” John said, his old exorcist tone shining through and shaking through his voice. That said, it wasn’t possessed of even the faintest scrap of light, and that was the unfortunate point for John. He would never be able to see how far he’d fallen, how much he’d sacrificed. Luc had already warned the poor bastard about going after revenge. The more you focus on some task, the more of yourself you give to achieve it, the more you become it. If that task is something like having a family or helping others, so be it. There were some amongst humans who would think that was a good idea. Each to their own. But Luc’s point was this. Give yourself to the pursuit of justice, and you will become it. But there is no true justice, no heavenly sanctified path of righteousness, regardless of what the exorcists of the Church would think.

 

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