He called his spirit, but the trapped arcane essence of the Bonespire dragged her back and held her, as if with chains.
“
The famous Eric Cross…” the woman said. She ground her heel into the meat of his back. Cross thought that her boot would punch through and stamp all of the way down to the stone. Blood trickled down the side of his face.
“
He doesn’t look so amazing,” Thane said. His accent was heavy with the sharp language of the southern cities. “Kill him, Korva. Kill him now.”
Cross heard something, leather and metal. She was chambering a round. Cross tried to pull his spirit close, but she was trapped. He felt her fury and panic as she desperately clawed at the bonds of an impossible prison.
“
What are The Revengers…?” he started. His voice sounded distant, like it wasn’t his. “What are The Revengers doing…working with the Ebon Cities…?”
“
No, Cross,” Korva said. He sensed a weapon hover over his back. He pictured the bullet ripping into his body. “You don’t get to ask questions. No questions, and no answers. Just you…dying.”
Cross closed his eyes, and waited for the execution.
FOUR
COLLAPSE
Cross heard the shot, but it didn’t come from Korva’s gun.
Rounds from the AA-12 exploded against Korva’s shield and forced her back and away from Cross. He saw Black, Kane and Grissom at the far end of the chamber. They worked their way through the network of walkways from an entrance opposite the way Cross had come in.
With the woman's foot off of his back, Cross spun round, found his blade and sliced at her. She leapt back in time to avoid the brunt of the blow, but the bone sword still cut open her shin, and she yelled out in pain.
Cross rolled sideways. His vision was blurry and his skull felt like it had been split like a piece of fruit, but his spirit was free of her eldritch bonds. He sent her roaring out as a cold missile that he aimed straight at Cranos Thane.
The vampire snarled and lifted his hand. Energies born of the Bonespire congealed and rose up to counter Cross' strike. Thane was unscathed, and he deflected Cross' next attack – a funnel of dark fire – into harmless wisps of smoke.
Paying so much attention to Cross left him vulnerable to Black, which has been Cross’ plan all along.
Danica held her clenched fists together. Searing light spilled from her fingers and surrounded her hands in a nimbus of glowing blades. Her eyes turned molten, and when she called out her voice channeled searing force into a jagged lance of flame.
Cranos Thane couldn’t react in time to block Danica’s projectile. A sword-sized bolt of razorine crystal fire pierced Thane’s stomach with a sickening crunch.
Skewered though he was, Thane sent an arc of the Bonespire’s energy away from himself with a backhanded motion. Cross smelled sickness and decay in that dark power, twisted and tainted souls held and used against their will, tormented and ground to their mindless essence. They were souls used as fuel: chattel sorcery.
Thane's backlash of energies sent Black flying through the air, and she came down with an audible crash.
Kane fired his pistols at Korva. The woman returned fire with an M4 rifle that Cross hadn't even seen her carrying. Gunbursts filled the air.
The place was about to explode into chaos. All of the shooting would bring security down on top of them in a matter of moments.
Cross drew his shotgun, pushed off the safety, and ran up to Thane. Thane pulled his undead body off of the spear of dark matter and tried to call more of the Bonespire's corrupt magic, a sea of gnarly spectral energies that flowed through the air like sewage. Cross calmly put the muzzle of the Remington up to Thane's skull and turned the vampire's head into a heap of blood and bone.
“
Remember me, bitch?!” Kane shouted at Korva.
Kane hid on the far side of the obelisk, while Korva knelt down near a pool. Several of the dangling bodies had been perforated by magic and gunfire, and now hung mangled and bleeding. Artificial black blood flowed copiously from the ruined and smoking husks. Several corpses had fallen onto the floor or into the vats, while others swung at awkward angles from the network of chains. The air seemed to be made of metal and meat.
After a moment, both Kane and Korva moved onto the platform, their swords drawn.
Cross helped Black to her feet. She'd taken a nasty spill.
He wondered where Grissom had gone when the staccato roar of the AA-12 shattered the air. Vampire sentries flew to pieces beneath the deafening barrage. Grissom used his explosive shells, and his sweeping blasts tore a hole in the far wall. Chunks of dark stone and vampire remains piled up on the ground at the edge of the wide room.
Grissom stepped partway into a hole he'd made, which connected to an adjacent hall.
“
Hey, I found Ronan!” he shouted with delight.
Ronan pushed his way out of the hall and flew past Grissom. A host of vampires was on his tail.
Cross' spirit detected the sheer volume of enemies that came at them from the hall.
“
Let’s go!” he shouted. “You okay?” he asked Black.
“
Yeah,” she said. “Did we get what we came for?”
“
Not yet,” Cross answered. Kane and Korva battled near the center of the room. “I should probably help
him
first...”
“
I’ve got it,” Black said, and without another word she was on her feet. Cross wondered what Black and Kane’s past involvement with Korva was.
If we live long enough to make it out of here, maybe I’ll ask them.
Cross turned back to the open obelisk. A chain of small explosions detonated behind him. A chorus of throaty calls sounded through the chamber.
Shit. Gargoyles.
The gargoyles flew in an undulating mass that curled and wound through the maze of snapping chains. Ebon wings beat the air. It was difficult to see the brutes in that network of metal and bodies, which they somehow navigated with ease.
It was impossible to tell how many there were: they were an aerial mass, a twisting flotilla of claws and teeth and wings. Tails lashed like edged whips. Their guttural howls echoed through the room.
Cross’ spirit burned cold against his hands as he released her. She remained tethered to his gauntleted fist by a thin strand of ice-blue vapor. Shards of acid cold exploded into the flying ranks.
Grissom blasted the gargoyles with the AA-12. Grey bodies rained on the walls and floor. Wet debris exploded in a meat storm.
Cross’ ears rang from the weapon blasts and the screams of aerial combatants. More avatar bodies were blown apart, and links of dark chain rained down like nails. The entire room had turned into a stinking charnel pit.
The gargoyles scattered. It was difficult to see the fliers amidst the exploding bodies.
Cross barely avoided being skewered by a gargoyle as it flew low and swept at him with its claws. He fell forward and fired the HK at the beast as it flew off.
We have to get out of here. Those things will tear us apart, and we still have a horde of vampires to deal with.
Cross fired blindly as he pulled himself to his feet. His spirit came down and deflected claws and stray bullets.
Vampires poured through the wall and the open door, and it was only Grissom’s monstrous weapon that deterred them and kept them from overtaking the team.
Ronan fired at the vampires with an MP5. A gargoyle swooped low, and he cut the creature out of the air with a curved blade.
They were about to be overwhelmed. Grissom and Ronan backed along the narrow walkway and towards Cross.
Kane and Black battled with Korva, who was still protected by the stolen magic of the Bonespire. Every bullet or blade or spirit attack directed at her was deflected at the last moment by an unseen force. The combatants dodged in and out of the avatar’s bodies, and they fired around and sometimes through the corpses.
A gargoyle landed directly in front of Cross. It regarded him menacingly for a moment before he put a bullet in its eye.
The arcane cylinder still hovered where the obelisk had been. Cross snatched it out of the air.
“
We’re leaving – NOW!!!!”
Hexed smoke billowed ahead of the vampire shock troops as they pushed through the walls. They fired at Grissom and Ronan with bone rifles and needle guns. Only the avatar’s bodies and the dangling chains lent the team any cover, and even those quickly fell beneath the barrage of gunfire and gargoyles. Several of the fliers had crude swords which they used to hack through the chains. They cast avatar bodies to the ground and into the dank waters.
Cross sent his spirit out over the hexed fluid, which smelled of fuel and dark magic. He expanded her form until she covered the pools at the far end of the room, then detonated her in a shower of sparks.
The vats caught alight. One pit exploded into flames, and then the next. Every pool burst into a cloud of black fire and dissipating spectral faces, hollow visages that melted into pale steam as the flames rose and cut off the vampires. A half-dozen gargoyles were caught over the explosions, and they screamed as their flesh and wings caught fire and they crashed to the ground.
The force of the chain reaction caught Cross off guard. Flames spilled from one pool to the next. Chains ignited, and dark flames raced along their lengths, found the rigid bodies and cast them in burning sheaths. Fire spread across the room like molten rain.
Chains snapped and bodies collapsed. Heat washed over Cross’ face, and he smelled the dismal odor of a burning graveyard.
Grissom and Ronan ran straight past him and towards the doorway.
Kane and Black still battled Korva still battled at the center of the room. They seemed oblivious to the fact that the enormous chamber was exploding one square foot at a time. Korva grabbed a chain and spun herself around a corpse and away from Kane, only to swing back and catch him off guard with a kick to his face. Black’s spirit grabbed Kane as he fell and kept him out of the dank pool behind him.
Black then moved at Korva, who caught Danica with a gauntleted palm strike in the face, but Black slashed forward with a short blade and tore open Korva’s side.
Behind them, the room kept exploding. They’d be consumed by the flames in a matter of moments.
Cross pulled his spirit back. She was weakened from starting the explosions, and had difficulty reforming.
Bodies dangled and fell. Cross gagged on meat scent and bloody musk. Heat blasted against him and nearly knocked him down. He looked through the haze and found Korva and Black, still locked in battle. They fought with short blades and fists laced with arcane energies. Chunks of debris hailed down from the ceiling and crashed into the waters.
Time seemed to freeze. Cross leveled the shotgun and carefully aimed at Korva. He called his spirit up, wrapped her around his body to shield himself from the smoking wreckage and exploding black blood. The air tasted like rotted fruit and vomit.
He breathed in, and was about to fire when a shadow moved over him. Cross turned and shot the gargoyle just in time. He fell backwards as the monster’s body crashed into the black fluid, which sprayed up and onto his face.
Dark ichor burned cold on his skin. His eyes stung and steamed. Black whispers slithered through his brain like hot razors. Somehow the fluid worked its way into his mouth and slid down his throat like a mass of greasy worms. It churned in his stomach.
Darkness melted through him. Cross stumbled. He saw Black and Korva struggle, saw vampires push their way through the distant flames, saw Grissom hammer shots into low-flying gargoyles. He didn’t realize that he’d slipped off the platform until he fell into the pool
Grisly black cats like shadows creep onto fields of smoking skin. They claw their way through bodies and walls of pale flesh.
He looks out over desolate fields of white dust and black bones. Towers of roaming steel pass beneath coal-black rain.
Bladed ice tears hang in stasis. The air is frozen plasma. Firmaments of debris lie embedded in the atmosphere like dead flies in honey.
Cold wind bites at his face. He feels trapped, caught in the jaws of a moment that refuses to release him. There is a finality to every breath, an inevitability to every stilted and frozen movement. He feels history race away behind him as he struggles forward, an anachronism, gelled to a path he cannot turn away from.
There is no other route. He can’t turn back. It’s possible that this was always true, and that he has not seen it until this moment, this event that he will remember forever, this turning point in his cursed life.
As he presses deeper towards something that waits over the dread horizon and he ignores the dank and poison rain that drips like oil out of the sky, he realizes that, if he lives, he will measure the rest of his life from this point. Everything will be remembered as something that came before he fell into the black fluid, or the nightmare that came after.