Tear Down Heaven: Urban Fantasy Action with Witches and Demons, page 11
“I’ve got everything we need,” Iggs promised, patting the knapsack of Solomon’s Armory, which never seemed to leave his shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for this day my whole life.”
“We all have,” Lys said, shooting him a sharp-toothed smile. “I’m putting you in charge of the defense team. Go round up everyone who can still hold a weapon and get them armed. I want a wall of demons ready and waiting when Gilgamesh finally decides to get off his throne and hit back.”
Iggs saluted and rushed off to do as Lys commanded. Lys followed right on his heels, hopping behind him in short flaps from their injured wing. This left Adrian standing alone in front of the Hells’ Gate with Bex still hiding her face and Nemini giving him the flattest of all flat looks. Even the Morrigan seemed to have flown away while he wasn’t looking. He was wondering if he should say something to break the awkward silence when Bex finally lowered her hands.
“Let’s get away from the square,” she said, her face hard and determined like the last five minutes hadn’t happened. “If a counterattack is coming, I don’t want it anywhere near the tree we’re going to be using as an evacuation ladder. Where’s the Blackwood leadership?”
Adrian had no idea. He was about to suggest returning to his cabin, since that was the last place he’d seen his mother, when Boston poked his cheek with a paw. When he looked down to see why, his familiar nodded at a stone circle that was suddenly blocking the wide, elegant boulevard that led out of the square toward the palace.
The standing stones must’ve popped out of the ground like a mushroom ring, because Adrian was positive the circle hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. He could already see the points of dozens of black witch hats moving over the tops of the rocks, though, and his face split into a grin.
“They’re over there,” he said confidently, dropping his broom to the ground so Bran could change into his wider, much-more-comfortable-for-three-people raven form. “Shall we?”
Bex nodded and climbed onto Bran’s wing without another word. Nemini got on right behind her, sitting in her usual position at the raven’s tail. Adrian got on last, stepping onto the ridge of Bran’s back before tapping his foot to launch them all back into the air.
CHAPTER 7
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BEX COULD HAVE DIED from embarrassment. She never used to be a crier, but here she was, breaking down in front of Adrian, again. He would never judge her for that, of course, but Bex was judging the crap out of herself. She’d finally landed a real hit on Gilgamesh and secured freedom for her people. Now was the most important time of all her lives to keep it together and be a queen, but she just couldn’t get her stupid body to stop.
I don’t see why you hold yourself to these absurd standards, Drox said inside her head. As we saw during your battle with the Prince of Sorrow, suppressed emotions are weaknesses easily exploited by a knowledgeable foe. Expunging them in the company of trusted allies is therefore a sound tactical move that a wise leader should employ.
That was one way to look at it, Bex supposed, but Drox’s military assessment of the value of tears didn’t stop her from grinding her palms into her eyes as Adrian flew them over the now intensely chaotic plaza toward the incongruous new standing stone circle that had suddenly appeared on the main road to Gilgamesh’s palace.
It certainly looked like a witch’s invasion camp. The trees in this part of the forest were miniatures compared to Adrian’s skyscraper-sized Douglas fir, but they were still as big or bigger than the tallest trees in his forest back on Bainbridge. They were thick, too, transforming the once blindingly white Heavenly boulevard into a secluded grove. Moss grew on every paving stone, and water dripped constantly down the fern-covered walls of the massive apartment blocks, which now looked more like crumbling marble cliffs.
It was the complete opposite of the normally bone-dry and colorless Holy City, which meant she should’ve loved it. Now that she’d defied her mother, however, Bex had a different opinion. As much as she’d hated Gilgamesh’s monochrome architecture, there had been a point to it. All that dry white stone had maintained Paradise as a land of death, not the fertile Riverlands that the Anchors still mimicked. Bex had denied her mother the demons’ fire, but that didn’t mean the old rules didn’t still apply. If Ishtar—a goddess of life and fertility as well as war and death—got her claws into all this vegetation, she’d be able to pull herself back up no matter what happened with Gilgamesh.
That thought was scary enough to make Bex forget all about a few embarrassing tears. She had the upper hand right now because Ishtar was weak, but if her mother found the strength to rise again, everything could flip. They had to beat Gilgamesh before that happened, but Bex wasn’t even sure what the victory conditions were anymore.
How can you think such a thing? Drox demanded as Adrian’s broom set them down in the moss at the circle’s edge. The goal is what it has always been: destroy Gilgamesh and retake Paradise. His voice grew smug. We already leveled one tower. Just keep swinging me and we’ll bring the whole castle down in no time.
“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy,” Bex whispered, looking down the straight road ahead of them at the fortress that still rose over the city like a white-and-gold mountain.
The dust from her earlier attack had finally settled, revealing movement on the palace’s battlements. The defensive ramps were so delicate and golden that Bex had assumed they were purely decorative. Now, though, there were figures lined up on the walkways that spiraled around the bottom of each tower.
Bex cursed under her breath. Even at this distance, she could make out rows of the same golden archer constructs that had shot at her the first time she’d come to the Holy City. Now that the big shield was out of the way, she could also see dozens of lion cannons positioned on the roof of the main floor all the towers branched out of.
That was the most frightening sight of all. Bex didn’t know if the cannons were out of range or if Gilgamesh simply hadn’t given the order to fire yet, but there were as many lions facing them now as there’d been when Heaven opened fire on the Seattle Anchor. Even with the extra firepower from her new horns, Bex wasn’t sure if she could block that many shots. Her best move would be to charge in and melt the cannons like she’d done before. There was no way Gilgamesh didn’t know that, though, which meant he’d probably already set up a counter for—
Bex.
Bex froze, causing Adrian, who’d been helping her off the broom, to look up in alarm.
She was alarmed, too. All her life, Drox had always called her Rebexa, but that wasn’t her name anymore. It couldn’t be, because the ground of Heaven didn’t crack under her feet when she hopped off Bran’s broomgrass wing. She was the one who’d picked it, but it still hadn’t quite sunk in yet that her name was really and truly just Bex now, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
You can decide how to feel later, her sword said sternly. But so long as the weapons of the enemy are facing us, we are on the battlefield. Accurate information is the most important factor here, and the truth is that you are no longer Rebexa. You are Bex now, and Bex has allies. Whatever Gilgamesh has in store for us, you do not have to face it alone. The witches of the Blackwood stand with you, as do all the demons of the Nine Hells. Even the wild Morrigan, who never participated in anything back when Paradise belonged to the gods, has come to lend her aid. This will not be like all the times you died alone. This last life has already been your greatest. Let us keep moving forward and see how we can make it greater still.
“Sounds like a plan,” Bex said with a nervous smile. “You’ve gotten a lot better at pep talks.”
Thank you, my queen, Drox replied proudly. I’ve been working to improve.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian said, confused. “Are you talking to me?”
“Her sword is back,” Nemini explained before Bex could answer. “I’m sure he has a lot to say.”
“Drox has always been a blade of many opinions,” Bex agreed, striding into the stone circle to get away from this topic since talking about Drox in front of Nemini felt cruel. The former Queen of Pride might have her horns and name back, but her sword was still broken into a thousand pieces.
Bex had thought about asking Adrian to examine it since he was so good at fixing things, but there’d been no time. She was already running late again. By the time they walked in, the huge circle of gray stones was full of witches. They were all wearing the same black clothes and pointed hats, so it was hard to tell who was in charge, but Bex recognized several of the women who’d run the festival back in the Blackwood as well as the three Old Wives. She’d only seen the white-haired old crone once before, but she recognized Adrian’s mother and Muriel, the young-faced Witch of the Future.
All three of them were standing in front of the circle’s biggest stone. The Morrigan was there as well, watching everything from the top of the rock in her crow form. The gathering wasn’t only witches, though. Captain Roga, the war demon in charge of the tower where Bex had defeated the Queen of War, was there, along with three salty-looking war demons in modern clothes that Bex vaguely remembered pulling out of the Lowest Hells. Desh was nowhere to be seen, which meant Lys probably had him busy helping with the evacuations. But while the Hells demons were an expected sight, the wrath demon standing next to the witches with her horns respectfully lowered was a total surprise.
“Zargrexa?” Bex said, running to meet her. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
“I could be nowhere else, my queen,” the village leader replied, bowing her horns even deeper. “You stormed the Hells and freed Ishtar’s children from bondage. Had you not specifically wanted a small team, we all would have gone to fight beside you. I thought we would have to wait for your return to rejoin the war, but when the witches announced they were coming to Heaven, we knew the moment was upon us.”
The old demon raised her graying head with a proud smile. “I’ve brought ten thousand demons from those you saved at the Seattle Anchor. They’re coming up the roots as I speak, along with this.”
She handed Bex a small bottle full of something that looked like freshly-squeezed pomegranate juice.
“What is it?” Bex asked, holding the bottle up to the dappled light. “A potion?”
Zargrexa’s smile widened. “The best sort of potion. That is a bottle of liquid wrath.”
“Did you say ‘liquid wrath’?” Adrian asked, suddenly darting over to join them. “You mean someone finally figured out how to bottle emotions?”
Zargrexa shot her queen a nervous look. This confused Bex for a second before she remembered the village leader had never actually met Adrian before. She was about to start frantically assuring her that he wasn’t a prince despite how he looked when she noticed Adrian’s eyes were back to their usual blue-gray.
The realization went through her like a jolt. There’d been so much going on she hadn’t even noticed, but Adrian’s creepy mirror prince eyes were gone. It must have happened when he’d used up all his white blood to grow the tree, because Adrian finally looked like himself again, which in turn made Bex so happy she couldn’t keep the goofy smile off her face.
That must have been proof enough for Zargrexa. The old demon changed her tone at once, clasping her hands in front of her and bowing her horns before Adrian in a show of great respect.
“I’m not sure who discovered it, Honored Witch,” she said, answering his question. “The Old Wives of the Blackwood, may Ishtar’s blessings be forever upon them, knew of our hunger problems and were working on a solution. Shortly after the queen left, the witch in charge of our camp came by with a cauldron full of this liquid as well as barrels of other bottled sins for all the different types of demons. It’s not as energizing as true sin from the rivers, but it held off starvation, especially for the demons of Hate and War, who have trouble finding proper sustenance during happy events like festivals.”
Adrian stared at the little bottle in wonder, but Bex’s eyes were still locked on Zargrexa. “How much wrath did you bring?” she demanded. “I found the rest of our people, but they’re on the edge of starvation.”
“We figured they would be,” Zargrexa said. “I told the witches that my queen was certain to find the rest of our tribe and that the exit from Limbo would leave them starving. We would be in need of much sustenance, and the daughters of the forest provided. When I left, every wrath demon who could not join the fight themselves was tending a cauldron full of liquid wrath. We should have enough to feed our entire population.”
She looked past the standing stones at the crowd that still swamped the entrance to the Hells. “Where are they, my queen? I see many of our horns in the crowd, but not nearly as many as I expected. Have you ordered them to hold the perimeter?”
Her red eyes were full of hope when she turned back to her queen, but Bex’s throat was so tight she couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to tell this woman who’d been through so much already that Gilgamesh had worked half their people to death before she’d even arrived. This was supposed to be their glorious victory, but Bex’s mouth tasted like ash when she forced herself to tell Zargrexa the truth.
“They didn’t make it,” she said. “We saved as many as we could, but Gilgamesh had already…”
Her voice broke apart despite her best efforts, and Zargrexa lowered her head.
“I’d feared as much,” the wrath demon whispered, clutching her wrinkled hands tight. “I can’t explain it, but I knew in my bones that something horrible had happened. I worried it was your death since we could no longer feel you, but this…”
She stopped there, wiping the tears from her eyes before looking back at her queen.
“We will fight,” she promised. “It’s what the others would have wanted, for we are the demons of Wrath, the only tribe who never kneeled! I know they would want us to avenge their deaths and take back our home from that false and murdering king. I will go now to make sure those who survived are fed, but I will not leave this place until Gilgamesh is dead.”
“Then we will fight together,” Bex said, reaching up to grab the taller woman’s shoulder. “Welcome to the final battle of the war, Zargrexa.”
The old demon bowed low at that, stooping all the way to the ground to touch her horns against the toes of Bex’s boots before she sprang back up and ran into the crowd, yelling in Riverlander for her people.
Bex watched her go with a lump in her stomach. Hearing that her wrath demons wouldn’t starve now that the witches had invented bottled emotions should have been great news, but so much had happened in the last twenty-four hours that Bex didn’t know how to feel anymore. Telling Zargrexa about the wrath demons they’d lost had left her numb inside, but there was nothing she could do about it except keep pushing forward.
With that in mind, Bex pulled herself straight and turned around to face the delegation of Blackwoods that had been waiting patiently since she arrived. She wasn’t sure if they’d actually been waiting for her or for Adrian, but he’d stuck steadfastly by her side, as had Nemini. It was put-up-or-shut-up time now, though, so Bex raised her heavy new horns as high as she could and stepped into the center of the stone circle.
“Witches of the Blackwood,” she said in a formal voice. “Thank you for coming to our aid once again.”
“It is only fitting that victims of a mutual enemy should band together,” replied the sharp-eyed Old Wife of the Past, whom Bex was pretty sure was Adrian’s Aunt Lydia.
“As I’m sure Zargrexa already told you,” Agatha continued when her oldest sister paused, “we have taken every possible step to assure our victory this day. We bring with us ten thousand demons from the survivors of the Seattle Anchor. We’ve also secured an escape route for the victims of the Hells as well as food and shelter for them within our Blackwood.”
“It is our aim that the new Bonfire Queen should be free to attack Gilgamesh at full force without the burden of worrying that she’s left anyone behind,” Muriel, the young Witch of the Future, finished.
“Thank you,” Bex replied, unsure which witch she should be looking at since they seemed to speak in rounds. “We are deeply in your debt.”
“It is we who are beholden to you,” said Lydia, Witch of the Bones, as she pointed a knobby finger at Drox’s ring on Bex’s right hand. “Our forces are unsuited for direct combat. We can provide support from the air, but we’ll be relying on your demons to push the main assault.”
Which explains why they were so eager to remove the noncombatants, Drox whispered in her head. A camp full of starving refugees is an obvious target. By evacuating our wounded, they free you to be their attack dog.
“I am always happy to attack the tools of Heaven,” Bex said, both to the witches and her sword. “But I’m even more happy to know my people will be safe. If you promise to evacuate those who are unable or unwilling to fight, I’ll gladly lead the charge. Captain Roga?”
She’d expected the war-demon captain to jump at the sudden call-out, but he was a soldier from horns to hooves, and all he did was step forward. “My queen?”
“What’s our army looking like?”
“Fierce,” he replied proudly. “We have many who are weakened even among the war demons, but this is the fight we’ve been waiting for all our lives. If these witches can provide us with food, I’m certain I can get you a fighting force worthy of your new name.”
Bex was about to tell him good job when Nemini suddenly spoke.
“Do we have time for that?” she asked in a surprisingly sharp voice. “Given how hard Gilgamesh was working you all in the Hells, he’s obviously in a hurry. That fits with what Adrian was saying as well, as does the fact that we have yet to see any retribution. It’s been over twenty minutes since Adrian first grew his tree and ten since Bex sliced one of his towers in half, but we haven’t seen a single prince.”
