Part 39 (1/2)

It was fast but no faster than Henry.

Strong, but no stronger.

Four arms, however, that's a bit of a problem. This time, at least, he managed to keep hold of the rope. He rolled back under a slash that gouged the floor and managed to get a loop of rope around one leg as it lifted to stomp him. Ducked. Whirled.

”Nightwalker!”

Threw the coil of rope over the left arms to the Demongate.

She caught it. Whipped it back along the floor.

Henry kicked at the side of the demon's knee. Heard chitin crack. Scooped up the rope as he took a blow hard enough to crack even his ribs. He crashed to the floor and thought just for a moment he heard his father's voice bellowing at him to get up. His father had never approved of him being unhorsed. Snarling, Henry caught the next descending arm and threw himself back still holding it, trapping it under another loop of the rope.

Too close!

One of the lower tusks raked his shoulder, ripping through s.h.i.+rt and skin and filling the room with the rich scent of his own blood.

At first he thought the flash of light was based in pain, but then he saw the rune take shape.

The demon veered away from the lines of blue fire, giving the Demongate a chance to slam it in the side of the head with what looked like a microphone stand.

Closing three hands around one end of the metal pole, the demon yanked it from her hands, raising it over its head to bring it down in a killing blow. At the apex of its backswing, the microphone stand went flying from its grip to land with a clatter behind one of the false walls.

”You must hate it that your master's spell protects her even from you,” Henry growled and ripped a plate of chitin from its shoulder.

It shrieked.A second rune hung in the air.

He couldn't see Tony although it was obvious that Tony was there. Not obvious to the demon, thank G.o.d. It continued to keep clear of the runes but made no attempt to find the wizard drawing them.

Henry was hurt.

Leah wasn't. The world rearranged itself so that that demon kept missing her. The resulting contortions would have tied a human spine in knots. Demons were more flexible.

Lots more flexible, Tony realized as, chitin plates creaking, the demon curled around limbs wrapped in rope and charged toward Henry from a completely unexpected angle.

Concentrate on the rune!

He'd already screwed the third rune up once tonight. He couldn't afford to do it again. More specifically, Henry couldn't afford for him to do it again.

Three runes.

His head pounded as he began the fourth, keeping it next to the third as he finished it. If he drew the final rune in its proper place, the demon might realize his intent before he finished and go after him instead of Leah and Henry. The demon wouldn't be able to see him, not if the Notice Me Not was still working, but any kind of a charge in his direction would take it out from between the runes.

With any luck, his ability to move energy around was unique enough it would be unexpected. After all, how many wizards got trapped in haunted houses redolent with the waxy buildup of evil and ended up symbolically branding themselves in order to save the day? Well, the rune on his palm was symbolic; the branding part had been agonizingly real.

Tony'd just sketched in the final swooping crosspiece when the door between the offices and the soundstage bounced off the wall of Raymond Dark's sanctuary and crashed to the floor.

The wall swayed but stayed up.

It had been a soundproof door. Big, and thick, and heavy, it used to be attached to the wall with large metal hinges. The demon that had thrown it was mostly two enormous arms and the supporting torso. No head to speak of but just under where logic insisted the lower edges of its ribs should be-had logic not decided discretion was the better part of valor and b.u.g.g.e.red off for coffee-was a huge fang-filled mouth. There were no runes or glyphs or Post-it notes allowing it to take out Leah.

Jack and Lee's demon.

It had f.u.c.king well better be Jack and Lee's demon! Because if it wasn't, they'd missed a hole, and if they'd missed one, then they could have missed a dozen and a dozen extra demons were twelve more than Tony wanted to deal with.

He finished the final rune but didn't move it into place, waiting until the second demon joined the first under the gate.

It stood, weight forward on its knuckles, and watched the fight. Maybe it sensed the trap-hardly surprising with three blue patterns of glowing energy suspended in the air and nothing distracting it. Maybe it was waiting until the first demon took the edge off a common enemy. Maybe demons liked to see other demons get the chitin kicked off them. Whatever the reason, the gate wasn't enough to draw it between the runes. What could he add as enticement?

What did demons want?

Foot on knee, on elbow, on shoulder-Leah leaped for the light grid, kicking the demon hard in the face. It fell back, she dangled, and Tony called her jacket and s.h.i.+rt into his hand.

Fabric tore, b.u.t.tons bounced off demon, vampire, and concrete.

Most of the Demongate was exposed between track pants and white lace bra.

The oldest operating spell in the world. Leah'd said it was what had drawn the Demonic Convergence, so demons were obviously interested in it even when they hadn't been marked to destroy her. Since they hadn't been marked, Leah was half dressed but still completely safe, protected by the spell.

From the look on Leah's face, if this didn't save the day, demons would be a minor problem as far as Tony, personally, was concerned.

The second demon roared and charged forward.

Tossing the handful of white silk aside, Tony shouted out the words for the clean cantrip.

Scrubbing bubbles covered the floor of the soundstage, knee-deep.

The second demon started to slide, threw out a ma.s.sive hand to stop itself, overbalanced and, other arm flailing, slammed into the first demon. Chiton cracked. They both went down.

Tony threw the fourth rune into place.

Leah dropped onto a spotlessly clean circle of floor empty of demons and bubbles both, landing in a deep crouch as her knees took up the shock of the landing. Henry straightened, left arm held tightly against his side, blood soaking through the shoulder of his cream-colored sweater. The empty loops of yellow nylon rope gleamed, cleaner than they'd ever been.

Slipping and sliding through the scrubbing bubbles, picking up speed once he hit the dry concrete, Tony raced to Henry's side. This was where he'd been dragged into the story, back in Toronto after another demon attack had left Henry nearly dead. He had his jacket off before he stopped moving.

Henry's gaze slid past him. ”Tony?”

c.r.a.p. The Notice Me Not.

”Where are you, you little s.h.i.+t! How dare you use me as bait!” Leah stomped across the soundstage toward the place the fourth rune had been, kicking bubbles out of the way.

How did he turn this thing off?

”Quit s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around, Tony. Turn the spell off.”

He waggled the tab on his fly. Nothing. ”I don't know how.”