And the Darkstar used this flow of shadow, swimming through the inky currents like some great prehistoric predator on the hunt.
The scent of those who would oppose him was like blood in the water, and he followed it.
Though he would be loath to admit it, the Three Sisters of Umbra had shown him the way to supremacy. By slaying those who had been deemed the saviors of the world, protectors of humanity, he would prove to his detractors that he was all-powerful, and to worship him would be most wise, for he intended to have this world as his own—to flaunt before a helpless God—for a very long time.
And then there was the Morningstar, still managing to hold on somewhere deep inside the Darkstar’s psyche, holding out hope that somehow he might regain control.
Satan would see that hope forever vanquished with the murders of the half-breed Nephilim, crushing it beneath his heel, grinding it to nothing until all that remained of the Son of the Morning was a fading memory.
The stench of angel magick grew stronger, and Satan flapped his wings, surging with speed toward what would be his greatest victory.
Using sinister magicks, the Sisters had linked him to the Community of monsters and beasts around the world. They now knew of his plans to eliminate the last true threats to their evil dominion.
And with just a thought Satan called to them, to the trolls, dragons, goblins, and wraiths. He called to each and every nightmare made flesh, inviting them to participate in a victory that would give them a kingdom.
A world under the Darkstar’s unholy reign.
Satan turned his face to the point of light punctuating the darkness ahead of him, his mighty wings pushing off from the stuff of shadow, propelling his armored form ever closer to the obstacles impeding his rise to supremacy.
He could not wait to wrap his fingers about the throat of hope and squeeze what little life remained from the world, which was about to be forever claimed by night.
* * *
Lorelei looked down into the churning pool of shadow. Something was coming up from its depths.
“We need to get out of here!” she yelled, backing up from the edge of the hole. “Dusty, can you hear me? We need to—”
Nightmare incarnate exploded from the library floor. It rose up on wings formed from the stuff of night, its body adorned in armor as black and reflective as a pool of oil. Its wings beat the air with a rhythmic thrum, like the pulse of a mighty heart.
Its face was covered, and it looked at her through slits in a helmet made from shadows.
She knew that this was the one that had touched her, that had followed the residual trace of her magickal connection to the Instrument. And now it had come for her.
It had come for them all.
The armored figure stared at her, and she remained perfectly still; even though the muscles in her aching legs were screaming for relief, she dared not move a muscle.
A moan from Dusty distracted the winged nightmare, its eyes, devoid of any humanity, shifting from her to the source of the sound.
It was the moment she had been waiting for.
“Dusty, run for the door!” Lorelei screamed, summoning a magickal blast and hurling it at the chest of the invader. The roiling light struck the thing, knocking it back against a floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled with ancient volumes, causing a chain reaction as row upon row of the shelves noisily tumbled.
Lorelei grabbed for Dusty, and they raced for the door.
“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Who is that?”
“It’s death, Dusty,” she said in all seriousness. “That’s all you need to know.”
The door was right before them, but time seemed to have slowed. Lorelei watched as Dusty reached for the knob, but it was still so far away.
The air in front of them exploded in a blast of black fire.
Dusty screamed as he was blown back and away from the door, colliding with her. They both tumbled to the floor. Lorelei’s every joint was screaming, the side effects of using Archon magick again rearing their ugly heads.
Why now? Lorelei thought, when she and her friends’ very lives were at stake. She could barely move to crawl out from beneath Dusty’s weight.
There were more things… monsters… hauling themselves out of the hole in the floor. She knew they should have fixed that hole sooner, but that was neither here nor there.
The armored entity had recovered from her attack and was watching from its perch atop the pile of toppled bookcases, appearing to be enjoying her struggle—her panic.
Beasts—trolls and goblins—advanced across the library toward Lorelei and Dusty, swords and daggers in misshapen hands.
She couldn’t bear the thought of them in her library, and used that rage to fuel her magick. Blasts of enhanced angelic fire exploded from her outstretched hands, obliterating the advancing horde, but more were just as quickly emerging behind the ones she had slain.
And the armored figure continued to watch, his gauntleted hands crackling with cold, black fire.
She sensed that he could kill them with ease but chose not to, enjoying their struggle.
That just made her all the more furious, and she continued to kill the advancing invaders, feeling her life force dwindling, her body being eaten up by the use of such powerful magick.
Milton squeaked pathetically in her ear, as if sensing the damage she was doing to herself, but there was no other way. She ordered the mouse to go, to run someplace and hide, so she would hear none of the rodent’s primitive arguments.
She felt the loss of the tiny weight from her shoulder as crackling bolts of magick streamed from her outstretched hands. Her magick was getting weaker, and she attempted to rouse Dusty from where he’d fallen.
“Get up, Dusty,” she said, her latest volley of defensive magick only serving to momentarily dissuade the advancing legions of monsters, before they were stomping toward them again.
She feared that this might be the beginning of the end for her.
Pushing Dusty toward the burning opening where the door to the science building had been, Lorelei chanced a look at their armored foe.
He tilted his helmeted head and began to raise a hand, and she practically threw Dusty out into the hall.
“Go! Go! Go!” she screamed as she turned to confront her fate.
There were monsters before her, grinning around their jagged teeth as they prepared to take her life. But Lorelei wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“All right, then, you sons of bitches,” she said, reaching down into the core of her being to find some manner of reserve. Her hands sparked to life as her Archon magick mingled with the power of the Nephilim for one final strike against the invaders. “Let’s see how many of you I can take with me.”
A troll with a single bulging eye and an empty socket was the first to attack. Licking his cracked and swollen lips as if in hunger, he lurched to cut her down.
Lorelei was ready to let loose with the last of her magick, when the troll’s hand was severed. It flew through the air trailing a scarlet tendril of blood and landed upon the floor with a wet slap.
If she hadn’t been so close to dying, she would have laughed at the monster’s shocked expression as it brought its squirting stump to its face to stare at what was missing. Its head was next to leave its awful body, a blade of cold steel passing through leathery skin and muscle as a geyser of deep red blood fountained into the air.
Lorelei felt a hand grab her roughly by the arm and yanked her from the path of the horde.
It took her a moment to realize who had rescued her.
“Leave,” Kraus said, already swinging his sword at the next attacker. “They cannot afford to lose you.”
Lorelei stumbled toward the exit, but then stopped. She realized that she couldn’t leave Kraus to face his death.
She turned away from freedom and took in the scene before her. Kraus fought bravely, his sword cutting a bloody swathe through the advancing monster hordes, but there were too many. And as thei
r horrible numbers grew, they swarmed upon him, taking him down.
Lorelei knew what she must do as she watched her friend die, amazed that he did not scream or cry out as he was dragged toward the gaping hole in the floor, and over the edge, into oblivion.
“Did you enjoy that?” she screamed at the black-armored specter that watched.
It actually had the audacity to nod its head.
She knew this would be the last bit of magick that she would be capable of casting. The library—her beloved library—was a universe unto itself, a pocket reality that existed within the confines of an impossible space.
An enormous bubble of magick.
A bubble of magick that she was about to burst.
First Lorelei created a wall of corrosive magick to keep the beasties from getting too close while she worked.
The armored specter of death watched her with curious eyes.
Keep watching, you monstrous son of a bitch, she thought as, with a heavy heart, she began to shut down the spells that allowed the library to exist. Without them the library would simply implode, collapsing in upon itself as the reality around it rushed in to fill the void.
What’s that old saying? Nature abhors a vacuum?
The library trembled, and the reverberations captured the attention of the monstrous marauders as well as their armored leader.
Stick around a moment longer, and I’ll really give you something to take notice of, Lorelei thought as she continued her work.
An increasing rumble began somewhere far back in the library, like the growing roar of a stormy surf. It’s happening, she thought sadly, taking it all in as she slowly backed toward the exit.
She uttered the final phrase of the special Archon spells, and had just turned to flee when the nightmare visage struck. He extended his arm, the movement a blur, and savagely struck her down in a biting blast of black fire.
Her breath was punched from her body as she crumpled, wheezing feebly, to the ground. It felt as though she had been encased in ice, every ounce of warmth stolen from her being.
It was there that she decided to accept her fate. Lorelei managed to roll onto her back, watching as the armored leader flew down from his perch to join his nightmarish legion.
The vibrations beneath her body were intensifying, and she knew it would only be a matter of time before it all came crashing down as the library’s reality ceased to be.
The armored leader strode toward her, and she smiled in the face of him. She wished he would remove that awful helmet so she could see the sick expression of shock on his face as he finally realized that he and his horde were about to die.
Hands suddenly appeared beneath her arms, and she found herself being dragged through the opening blown in the library wall.
She bent back her head and saw that it was Dusty.
“You might want to think about speeding things up,” she suggested as the vibrations through the building intensified tenfold and the lighting fixtures crashed upon the hallway floor outside.
Dusty changed tactics, hauling her to her feet and throwing her arm around his neck before rushing them down the smoke-filled hallway of the science building.
“We need to get outside,” she said as they stumbled along.
“Working on it,” Dusty replied, his face twisted in exertion as he pushed open the door before them.
Lorelei chanced a quick look over her shoulder, watching as the armored monster emerged into the corridor with his nightmare troops.
Just as the library’s reality collapsed in upon itself.
There was no time for warning, not a chance to speak, as the implosion of air pulled Lorelei and Dusty viciously back toward where they had come. Then a magick-fueled explosion threw them through the doors, and outside.
And into the arms of oblivion.
* * *
She didn’t know how long she had lain there, twisted upon the grass. Minutes? Hours? Lorelei couldn’t be sure.
And where is Dusty? She tried to call out to him.
All that came out was a pathetic squawk. She began to cough, choking on the dusty air. She rolled onto her side and took in slow, ragged breaths, watching as the explosions of color before her eyes started to fade.
Confident that she would no longer choke to death, she attempted to rise, pushing herself up on one trembling arm. The pain that shot through her body was incredible, but she endured it. Owned it. There hadn’t been many days of late when she hadn’t had to deal with some form of discomfort. This was just more of the same, only much, much worse.
Through bleary eyes she looked into a thick, roiling haze of heavy dust and dirt. The library had imploded and the old science building had collapsed. It was deathly quiet on the campus, and she wondered if her plan to trap their attackers had actually been successful. Had the Nephilim managed to dodge yet another bullet?
She cleared her throat, and again called out for Dusty. Her voice sounded frighteningly weak, and she considered the damage done to her health by her extensive expenditure of Archon magick.
Lorelei had a sense that it wasn’t good.
Looking to where the science building had been, she caught sight of some movement within the smoky haze, and immediately felt a sense of relief.
“Dusty,” she called out, pushing herself into a sitting position. It was going to take a little more time for her to get to her feet. “Hey, Dusty. Over here.”
That awful tickle was in her throat again, and she started to cough. The sight of blood speckling her hand was both terrifying and relieving. She’d been expecting something bad like this for quite some time, and now here it was. She wiped the blood on the leg of her pants, her attention returning to the shape that approached.
As it grew closer, she realized that it wasn’t Dusty. Whoever it was had wings.
Terrible black wings.
A spell of defense sprang quickly to mind, but as she attempted to call upon it, her body was racked with incredible agony. It just didn’t have anything left to give the magick; she was spent.
Defenseless.
But then Lorelei’s fear turned to surprise, then to absolute joy.
Lucifer Morningstar stood before her, and he was smiling.
“It’s you,” she said, starting to laugh, tears of happiness running from her eyes. “You had us—me—worried sick.”
Lucifer did not answer but knelt upon the grass beside her.
“Where have you… ?”
And then, with a sick feeling twisting in her belly, Lorelei realized that the armor that adorned his body was not only filthy with dust and dirt, but it was totally black.
The realization was an awful thing as she remembered her horrible foe from inside the library.
“You’re not him, are you?” she said, looking into the eyes of her dearest friend, and seeing nothing there but darkness.
Leaning in close, the imposter put his arm around her back and pulled her fragile form to his chest. She tried to struggle, but his touch… It was as if all the fight had been taken from her.
In his free hand a knife of black fire formed, and he seemed to take great pleasure in showing this to her.
“What have you done to Lucifer?” Lorelei implored with desperation.
“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” the imposter whispered as he leaned in close to her ear.
Before plunging the dagger of shadow straight into her heart.
* * *
Satan looked deeply into the magick user’s eyes as the blade went into her chest.
He wanted to watch her die, to watch the light go out.
But most especially he wanted the Morningstar—wherever he might be lurking inside his skull—to see.
“You are only the first of your kind to die,” he whispered, watching as the woman’s face grew slack, the color gently leaving her skin.
How fragile and weak these Nephilim are, he thought as he let her body slump to the ground. The air around the location felt suddenly different, barriers of magick
crashing down now that the caster of the spells was no more. Satan was gleeful. Now others who had decided to recognize his dark divinity could follow him here.
It was madness to think that the Nephilim actually stood a chance.
Satan rose to his feet, wishing away his knife before reshaping the stuff of darkness into his foreboding helmet. Placing the helmet over his head, he turned to the beasts gathered around him. They were waiting for his commands.
“Take them down,” he said, gesturing to the other buildings. “And if you find anyone alive, bring them to me.”
* * *
Dusty hadn’t even been conscious, but the Instrument had managed to take hold of a part of his brain, and stir it to action. He came awake as he lurched across the school property, moving toward the sword. His mind was filled with chaos, and he wished that he could be knocked out again, the chaos was so painful to endure.
What happened? Where’s Lorelei? he wondered, and tried to stop to find her, but the Instrument would not let him deviate from his task.
The Instrument was in complete control of his actions, and there wasn’t a thing that he could do to stop it. Dusty wasn’t strong enough. He had always suspected that, but was too stubborn to admit it, even now.
He tried again to stop, to search for his friend, but the Instrument screamed inside his head, telling him that there wasn’t time for that, that Lorelei had met her fate and—
Wait. Met her fate?
Dusty fought the pull of the holy weapon.
What do you mean, ‘met her fate’?
The giant sword thrummed in the ground before him, vibrating so quickly that the sight of it was nothing more than a blur. The Instrument willed him closer, and he could not fight it, or the multitude of images that flooded his mind—amongst them, Lorelei’s fate.
“No,” Dusty whispered, not wanting to see it. He felt his strength leave him as he witnessed her murder at the hands of their armored foe. Legs moving entirely under the sword’s control, he continued to shamble, zombielike, toward the vibrating weapon. Dusty wasn’t even aware of the danger he was in, until it was too late.
The shadow flowed across the grass toward him and the weapon like an oil slick. Dusty had just enough time to turn his eyes to the sky to see what had passed overhead, before the gout of flame poured down from above.