Realisation hits the masses swift and hard. A single scream rings out. Then a volley of them. Panic sweeps the crowd. A stampede develops, everyone wanting to get away from the demons, trampling over one another, the weak going down in the crush, dying beneath the feet of their workmates. Anarchy at its most destructive and terrifying.
Lord Loss laughs and his laughter carries over the sounds of the screams. I’m rooted to the spot, unable to react, heart jackhammering, not wanting this to be happening, wishing I could be anywhere in the world but here.
I see the cameraman who moved forward turning away to capture the scenes of mayhem. “Not yet!” Davida snaps. “Stay on the hole. Give me a close up.”
The cameraman steps right up to Lord Loss’ chest, manoeuvring his camera to within a few centimetres of the writhing, hissing snakes. He moves his head from behind the camera to check something—and one of the snakes strikes. It lashes out from within the hole where Lord Loss’ heart should be. Sinks its tiny fangs into the cameraman’s left cheek. He yelps, drops his camera and tries to pull away. But the snake has a firm hold. It yanks him closer so his face plunges into the hole. And now all the snakes are biting. The cameraman’s arms and legs thrash wildly, then go still. He falls away a few seconds later, his face a blood-red map of bites and rips, skin flailed, bone cracked, brains dribbling down his chin.
“No!” Davida gasps. “He hadn’t finished the shot! They shouldn’t have…”
She stops and studies the demons tearing into the humans. They’re drawing no distinction between the intended victims and the collaborators, dragging down cameramen and other technicians as well as the unsuspecting members of the cast and crew.
“No!” Davida screeches. “We had a deal!”
Lord Loss looks at her sneeringly. “I do not make deals with fools. I promised you chaos, which you and your underlings could film, but I never said I would spare any of you. You simply assumed—and assumed wrong.” He smiles at me. “Greetings, Grubitsch. Such a pleasure to see you again. I will take much satisfaction from your long, slow, painful death.”
“Not today!” Dervish bellows and suddenly he’s by my side, right hand raised. He fires off a bolt of energy at Lord Loss. The demon master deflects it, but is knocked sideways. “Come on!” Dervish snaps at me and Bill-E. “We have to get out of here.”
“But what about…?” I gesture at the fleeing people.
“We’ll summon them when—if—we blast a way out,” Dervish says. “The best thing they can do for now is flee. That will delay the demons and buy us some time.”
“But—” Bill-E begins.
“No arguments!” Dervish barks. “Follow me now or, so help me, I’ll leave you for the bloody Demonata!”
With that he turns and flees south, sidestepping the stunned, frozen Davida Haym. There’s no sign of Chuda, who must have deserted her when he realised they were going to perish along with those they’d planned to sacrifice. I’m not sure where he thinks he can run to or hide, but he fled anyway.
Davida can’t move. She’s weeping, seeing all her dreams of immortality go up in flames. I’d like to say I feel sorry for her, but I don’t. All I can think right now is, “Serves you right, you mad old cow!”
Then Bill-E and I are past the desolate producer, following Dervish through the warren of streets and alleys of Slawter, the screams of the dying and yowls of the demons rising all the time.
Twisting and turning, Dervish in the lead, no apparent route in mind. He stops in the middle of a street. There are doors on either side of us. Handy for a getaway if we’re attacked. “Are you OK?” he asks us.
“Any reason we should be?” I reply calmly, hiding my terror as best I can.
Bill-E says nothing. He looks like a shell-shocked soldier. As awful as I feel, I think Bill-E feels a hell of a lot worse.
“Billy?” Dervish says softly. “Are you with us? Are all the lights on in there?” He taps the side of Bill-E’s head.
“They killed them,” Bill-E wheezes, his lazy left eyelid snapping open and shut at great speed. “I saw a thing with… it looked like a tiger… but bits and pieces sticking out… it killed Salit. He tried to stop it. He didn’t know it was real. He was acting his movie part, where he was a big hero. But it cut him down the middle and—”
“We don’t have time for hysterics,” Dervish growls. “Be a man and help us fight, or go and babble somewhere until the demons find and kill you.”
I hate him for saying that, but I know he’s only doing it for Bill-E’s sake. Cruel to be kind and all that guff.
Bill-E glares at Dervish, anger driving the fear away. “I’m not hysterical,” he says stiffly.
“Glad to hear it,” Dervish says. “Now listen and listen good. Lord Loss is the only demon master. The rest are his familiars or others Davida roped in. Some are stronger than us but most aren’t. We need to capture one of the weaker demons and use it to get out.”
“And the other people?” I ask quietly.
“We’ll take as many as we can,” Dervish promises. “If we’re successful, I’ll send a telepathic signal and let all the survivors know where we are.”
“Why not do that now?” I ask. “Arrange a meeting place and tell them to go there. It would give them more time, a better chance.”
Dervish shakes his head. “Those who were working for the Demonata would receive the message too. They’d go running to Lord Loss—try to save their own foul lives by selling out the rest of us.”
“OK,” I mutter. “So how do we catch a demon?”
Dervish scratches his left cheek nervously. “Bait,” he says softly. And his gaze settles on Bill-E.
I don’t like it. Hell, I hate it! But it’s the quickest, easiest way. We’re up to our eyeballs in trouble. We have to take risks.
We leave Bill-E standing in the middle of the street, twisting his hands, face crumpled with fear. He trusts us but he’s terrified. I would be too in his shoes.
“If anything happens to him…” I whisper to Dervish.
“It won’t,” Dervish says solidly. “Now don’t talk—watch.”
A minute passes. Two. Screams fill the air, a chorus of agony and anguish. Every hair on my body is standing upright. I have to keep my teeth parted, afraid I’ll grind down to the gums if I don’t take care. Part of me wants to run, make for the barrier, force a way through, forget everybody else.
Save your own skin, it whispers. Dervish and Bill-E are the only ones who matter. Convince them to leave with you. Let the others look after themselves.
I ignore the treasonous, selfish voice—but only with an effort.
Movement at the end of the street. Several figures come racing around a corner. Dervish and I tense, ready to unleash a burst of magic, then hold it back when we see that the figures are children. Bo Kooniart, Vanalee Metcalf, three others.
“Run!” Bo screams at Bill-E. “We’re being chased! Get the hell out of here, you moron, before—”
“Bo!” I yell. “Over here.” She stops, panting, eyes wide with terror. “Quick!”
“But there’s—”
“I know. Trust us. We can stop it. But you have to—”
“Here it comes,” Dervish interrupts.
I look left. A demon with the body of a giant bee is humming through the air after Bo and the others. As it gets closer I see that it has a semi-human face, except with bee eyes and more teeth than any human I’ve ever seen. Magic flares within me. I stretch out a hand in the direction of the bee demon.
“Not yet,” Dervish says. “Let it get closer… closer… Now!”
Together we channel magic and unleash it. Twin bolts of energy strike the demon sharply, knocking it across the street, away from the children. It smashes into the wall on the opposite side. As it slumps to the ground, Dervish runs towards it. I follow, caught up in the moment, acting instinctively.
The bee shakes its head and starts to rise, buzzing angrily. Dervish grabs a wing before it gets out of reach. Yanks it down. The bee lashes out at him with a stinger the size of a large kitchen knife. He ducks. I scream and smash an elbow into the bee’s semi-human face. Its teeth bite deep into my forearm, but I jerk my arm free before it can do serious damage.