on top.”
I’ve never seen a Jade in full feral mode before. Candy’s nails have curved out into thick claws. Her eyes are red slit pupils in a sea of black ice. Her lips and tongue are as black as her eyes. Her mouth has a slightly different shape. Like she has a few more teeth or the ones she has are wider and sharper than before. A mouthful of pretty white shark’s teeth. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in eleven years. I want to have monster babies with her right here and now. But something explodes, someone screams, and I remember my other friends and the end of the world.
“Parker probably has Vidocq and Allegra at the center of the club, near the sacrifice,” I tell her. It’s just a guess, but with D-day going on in the front parlor, it’s where I’d go.
Candy helps me to my feet. My knee is knitting itself back together. It can almost take my weight, but it’s not there yet. Candy slings my right arm over her shoulders, puts her left arm around my waist, and practically picks me up. I didn’t know that Jades were that strong. So far, this is the best first date ever.
I talk Candy through the twists and turns I remember from Muninn’s blueprints. There isn’t much action in the inner rooms. Mostly, it’s half-naked civilian assholes cowering behind the furniture, trying not to listen to the slaughterhouse noises from the outer rooms.
Candy and I are almost to the door of the central room.
And about to be monumentally dead.
A couple of Kissi are sitting and smoking on the stone steps outside the sacrifice room. The father-and-son murder act that killed the counter girl at Donut Universe.
“Look what the cat drug in,” says the kid.
“Dragged in, but won’t drag out,” says Dad.
“Let’s eat him this time. Eat him and get the shiny thing inside.”
“You don’t mind, do you?” Dad asks me. He seems to notice Candy for the first time. “Oh, look, he’s bought dessert.”
“What is she?”
“A filthy, dirty monster, son. Maybe you should nibble her first. I want to see what Mr. Shiny Chest tastes like.”
The Kissi aren’t carnivores, like the Jades. There’s a hint of game playing in their voices. Fear and confusion are the Kissi’s favorite snacks and words are a good way to tenderize the meat. Candy takes her arm from around my waist. I can barely stand, but I manage.
The young Kissi circles Candy, but I can’t watch long. Dad is coming for me. My knee still isn’t back yet, so I have to stand my ground. It’s not my favorite place to be, but I’ve been here before. You can’t avoid an attack, so you hang back, leave yourself open, and let the attacker show you what he’s going to do.
The Kissi goes straight for my bad knee. I pivot the best I can to bring the butt of the Browning down on its neck. But he tricks me. Feints for the knee and lunges up at my chest. I’m crippled and off balance. I can’t get out of the way in time.
Daddy Kissi plants his shoulder in my sternum and knocks the wind out of me. He’s on top of me, pinning me down with his weight. I know what’s coming. Fingers inside my chest, like spiders crawling over my ribs. Then he’ll pull out my heart and the key with it. When I fell, my arm twisted behind my back. I can’t use the Browning or reach my knife.
I get ready for the pain. He brings his hand down hard. But just sort of punches me in the chest.
I look down, then at him. The Kissi looks as surprised as I do. He rears back and slams his hand down again. It just bounces off the body armor. I have a feeling that this isn’t part of the armor’s original design. But my heart and the key are still where they should be, so I’m not complaining.
The Kissi screeches, “What are you doing? Stop it!”
When he rears back for another try, his weight shifts enough for me to get my hand out from under my leg. This time, when Daddy Kissi slams into my chest, I wrap my arm around his neck, shove the Browning under his chin, and blast away. The Spiritus bullets blow the Grand Canyon out the back of his head.
I shove his carcass off and look around for Candy. She’s on her stomach, tearing out chunks of Avila’s polished wood floors with her claws while Junior is on her back with both hands buried inside her spine.
I can move enough to limp up behind Junior, shove the Browning in his ear, and blow half of his head off. Junior falls one way. I fall the other. Candy pushes herself up onto her elbows, crawls over, and collapses on top of me.
“The sacrifice is in there,” I say. “We can’t stay here.”
“I know,” Candy says. She sits up and pulls me up with her. We’re both streaked with human and Kissi blood. Candy grabs my head and plants a hundred-thousand-volt kiss on my lips. There’s something in her saliva that feels like spider venom and speed. Her black tongue draws my tongue into her mouth and her razor-sharp shark teeth slide down the full length of it.
Candy lets go and smiles. She uses her thumb to wipe off some of the blood she’s smeared on my lips.
“Thanks for getting him off me,” she says.
“Anytime.”
She helps me to my feet. I’m still shaky, but I can walk again. I can tell that Junior hurt her, playing around in her lungs. I give her the Browning and the Navy Colt pistols. I pull the na’at from my coat. Twist the grip to collapse the center shaft so that it hangs like a whip.
I point to the doors.
“Open sesame,” I say.
Candy brings up both guns and blasts open the twin doors.
Inside, it’s almost comical. Don’t devil worshippers have any imagination? It’s like a Hot Topic Halloween party. There’s a circle of men wearing long, black, hooded robes. Each man holds a silver dagger. Between each of the men is a drugged, naked starlet wannabe with an inverted pentagram cut into her chest. Up at the altar, the head priest holds a shiny kris over an unconscious angel. The angels are what make the scene not funny. There are thirteen of them. The ones who’ve been at Avila the longest are filthy. Cut up, pale, and bruised. The newer, less abused ones are hog-tied with bright, diamond-like cords.
With Kissi guards stationed outside, it probably didn’t occur to the devil’s nitwits to have some security inside. Candy and I are pretty beat up, but they don’t know that. Plus, we’re armed. Plus, we’re covered in enough blood and filth that we look like Hell arrived in the room a little sooner than they expected.
One of the robed satanists takes a swipe at Candy with his dagger and she blows a manhole in his chest with a blast from the Navy Colt. More men charge as the big clock over the altar hits the first midnight chime. Candy wades into the crowd and blasts anyone who gets near her. I swing the na’at over my head, let it extend to almost its full length, and crack it like a bullwhip. The high priest’s hand and kris knife fly off in different directions. He screams and falls to his knees. Bye-bye, gates of Hell.
The rest of the old-boy coven doesn’t seem to notice that they’ve already lost. They swarm us. Suddenly I’m back in the arena. Swinging the na’at, feeling it shear bones just right. Bring my arm up and sweep it down. Let the na’at’s own momentum
