Demons and Druids Page 6

  As I slid it up, a medley of truly foul smells drifted out, almost knocking me backward. As messy as the place was, it smelled a hundred times worse: gasoline, sweat, vinegar, unwashed socks and underwear, all mixing into a rancid cocktail.

  I did not want to go in there.

  Of course, I had to: with The Cockney Fireman out of the way for a while, now was my chance to see what else he was hiding besides the cases of motor oil that he drank like diet colas.

  “Like what he’s done with the place,” I mumbled to myself. “Wonder who his decorator is? The Tasmanian Devil?”

  The disgusting kitchen was connected to an equally foul-smelling living room. A brown fabric couch, covered with singe marks and empty oil cans, dominated the place. The TV looked as if it had broken long ago: a fist-sized hole was smashed in the screen; a Wolverhampton Wanderers soccer jersey lay on top, discarded, its arms missing.

  I swallowed hard. The sleeves looked like they had been burned off. I wondered whose jersey it had been—and whether or not the dude still had his arms.

  Then I heard something. A soft, muffled whimpering coming from behind a closed door next to the couch. A trap?

  No—the notes of fear, of hopelessness, sounded too genuine to me. They were the same sort of terrified sounds I had made the night my parents died.

  In less than a second, I moved to the door and threw it open—revealing a dank bedroom, illuminated by a dim, flickering light. There was definitely a theme going on in this place decor-wise. Soiled, bare mattress? Check. Mounds of trash? Check. Trembling little girl? Big check.

  She was seven or eight at most, lots of brown curls, her face as pale as paper. She whimpered pitifully as I entered the room.

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m not going to hurt you,” I said in a quiet voice. “I’m going to get you out of here. I’m Daniel. What’s your name?”

  “Su-san,” she said. And then she choked out, “I want to go home! Please, please!” before bursting into tears that brought some to my own eyes.

  I dug around in my pocket for some tissues before giving up and simply creating a handkerchief. When I knelt down to hand it to her, I realized she’d stopped crying. She was staring over my shoulder. Then she raised a hand to point behind me.

  I turned slowly.

  It was him, The Cockney Fireman, sunglasses off, teeth bared, flames seeping from both nostrils and one eye.

  “’Ello, mate. Back to try a little of me home cookin’?”

  Bad, bad news, but what was worse—

  Willy had promised to let me know the creep’s whereabouts.

  So what happened to Willy?

  Chapter 33

  NORMALLY, I would have flexed right into a defensive stance. But something nearly uncontrollable inside was pushing me toward the offense this time. I leaned toward him fearlessly.

  “If you did anything to hurt my friend, I swear I’ll extinguish you,” I hissed.

  “Oi dunna what yer talkin’ about.” He grimaced. “Huh! Beta didn’t tell me yah were a nutter.”

  The flame in his nostrils and eye flared a little, then came out his ears, too. “Oi thought yah would have realoized after our last meetin’ just how dangerous a game yer playin’.” He shrugged. “But Oi guess Oi’m gonna get to kill ya after all. Good-ee.”

  His face had begun to distort before he’d even finished, and now a ball of fire burst from his bad eye—good eye?—aimed straight for my heart.

  Instantly I focused on the physical space in front of me and watched the fireball dissolve before it got close enough to even singe my shirt.

  “What the—” growled Beta’s henchman, loosing another three bursts of flame. They, too, died in midair.

  Just because I can create things doesn’t mean they always have to be visible. In this case, my defense screen was something neither of us could see, a concentrated cloud of carbon dioxide. It’s basic chemistry: no oxygen, no fire. No fire, no burned-to-a-crisp Daniel.

  He frowned. “So, you’ve figured out ’ow to put out my foire. Well played, mate. It’s toime to get out the big guns, then.”

  The Fireman had turned his head upward and raised his hands in front of him, like he was waiting for it to start raining fire.

  Then, out of nowhere, his mouth opened and he gave a bloodcurdling, unearthly scream. The scream of a man being burned alive, I couldn’t help thinking. A moment later, the sleeves of his denim jacket burst into flame. They were burned away in an instant, and I could see his massive arms, glowing a dull, angry red, the color of molten metal.

  And then—oh, crap—I saw the volcanoes!

  Around the room, on all four walls, the ceiling, and the floor, miniature craters were appearing, blackened rings rising from the plaster, the wood paneling, the rug.

  The room took on a reddish glow, and from the center of each crater, lava began to flow, first in drops, then in rivers from the ceiling, down the walls, flowing and pooling on the floor.

  The heat was unbearable. What with The Fireman’s screaming, it probably wasn’t that different from hell.

  Or maybe this room was a branch office?

  Chapter 34

  STEAMING LAVA already covered most of the floor. In less than a minute, there would be nowhere left to stand without getting severely scalded. I was blanketing my body as best I could with carbon dioxide, but there was no way I could keep up with this much fire.

  The only area left untouched was a small circle where The Fireman stood. If I wanted to get out of here without turning into a pile of charcoal briquettes, that was my only chance.

  He finally stopped screaming and lowered his head to look at me—just as I did a flying leap and tackled him into a bubbling pool of lava. I was using his body to shield myself from the red-hot liquid.

  There was a loud sizzle, but he didn’t cry out. Suddenly his skin radiated heat like a house on fire. Even when my hands started blistering, I didn’t let go.

  He was grunting between gritted teeth, and squinting at me through smoke-clouded eyes. Then his panting and grunting took on a different tone, a deep, vicious crackle.

  A moment later there was a searing explosion and his body burst into flame.

  Just in time, I jumped back into the clear area in the middle of the floor. In seconds, there was nothing left of him, only flames.

  But they were getting higher and higher. And hotter.

  What was going on?

  I put my hand to my face to shield myself, and that’s when I heard a voice. Not a cockney one. A voice like the roar of a rocket lifting off. There’s a biblical story about Moses in the desert, talking to the burning bush. It couldn’t have sounded much different from this.

  “So this is the fly in the ointment, is it? The infamous Alien Hunter, Daniel X.”

  The Cockney Fireman was gone. In front of me was a fiery blossom rising right out of the lava on the floor. Directly in the center, between its flaming petals, a dark maw yawned like one of the rock pits I had seen during the training session with my father. That was where the voice came from.

  “Phosphorius Beta, I presume.”

  Chapter 35

  THE FLAMES all around him flickered green, then purple, and then a brighter red than I had ever seen. It might have been beautiful if I didn’t know that he was the third deadliest alien on the planet.

  “I would congratulate you on your perceptiveness, but you’re not worthy to even speak my name. I have been doing business here a long, long time. This is my country. Was always meant to be. And you and your bloody friends went and messed with it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What happened to the Cockney? Your hotshot henchman?”

  “My ‘hotshot henchman’? Ha! You’re funny, aren’t you?” The fire flared up in what might have been a laugh. “He’s gone, punk. All burned up. I’ve been in business far too long to put up with failure like his. And I’ve been hunting you down for far too long not to get my revenge at last.”

  I had no idea what he was ta
lking about but wouldn’t let myself get distracted by his babble. The lava had cooled quickly, and as he spoke I began edging my way toward the balcony door, toeing slowly to find a solid path. The heat coming from Beta was intense, and it unnerved me more than I’d like to admit. Even with all of my father’s training, fire took me back to the most traumatic event of my life.

  “What do you need her for?” I indicated the bedroom door with my thumb. The distraction technique again. If he got close enough to touch me, no amount of carbon dioxide would save me from being charbroiled.

  “Susan? That little cipher? She’s just fuel for the fire. As impure as the humans are, I find their physical forms can be useful, from time to time.”

  “You’re quite the sensitive chap, aren’t you,” I said sarcastically. “I just get such a good feeling about you, you know?”

  “Sensitivity is for those who are accustomed to losing. Like you.”

  At last, I felt the concrete of the balcony beneath my feet. Beta seemed to notice I was moving, and his fire jumped halfway across the room. Its petals blasted heat in my direction, and his voice held an extra note of menace.

  “Going somewhere? Or maybe you prefer death by falling over death by being burned alive?”

  I backed up all the way to the railing and closed my hand around it. As I expected, it felt flimsy, much like the one on the fire escape.

  Beta’s fire whooshed across the floor and re-formed at the balcony door—a roaring pillar that singed the top of the doorframe. Something like a dark face was visible under its surface, but it was flickering so violently I couldn’t be sure.

  The column spun, unleashing a howl of air that formed speech. “End of the line, Daniel. Any last words? Reflections on our great times together?”

  “Sure,” I began. The memory of a fire at a Kansas farmhouse so many years ago sent a pang of terror through me for a millisecond before I pushed through it. “How ’bout ‘You’re not as hot as you think you are!’?”

  As the flames rushed forward, I kicked backward with my foot, knocking the railing away. Then I let myself fall.

  At the last possible second, I grabbed the edge of the balcony, my legs dangling high over the courtyard.

  Beta rushed at the space where I had been a moment ago. He passed right over my head. As he swept over my fingers I felt a searing pain, but I held the concrete ledge with a death grip.

  I turned to watch him fall off the balcony, toward a dirty swimming pool below.

  Beta looked like a writhing, burning meteor as he descended. Tongues of flame licked upward, but he was falling too fast to burn me.

  “I’ll see you again soon, Alien Hunter. You have no hope of winning. There are too many of us! Too many…”

  A splash and a hiss drowned out whatever Beta said next. The whole courtyard was suddenly full of steam.

  My hands were raw and blistered, but I held on to the balcony and peered down into the courtyard. The pool was half-empty now—and there was no trace of fire, or Beta.

  Too many of us? What the heck did that mean?

  Chapter 36

  MY CLOTHES WERE BURNED, my hands were badly blistered, and I smelled like I had been wrestling charred hogs in a barbecue pit. Susan didn’t seem to mind, though. As soon as I opened up the bedroom door the little girl ran out and gave me a big hug. It was painful, but I didn’t care. Saving someone always feels good.

  “Is the bad man gone?” she whispered. “Is he?”

  “Yes. He’s gone, Susan. He’ll never come back. You’re safe.”

  “But are you safe?” the little girl said to me.

  And then, a big oops. Major oops. I realized part of what my father had been trying to prepare me for.

  Suddenly the little girl’s shape before me was like a Venus flytrap with hundreds of legs and arms. And she was shrieking at me: “YOU MURDERED HIM, MURDERED HIM, MURDERED MY FIREMAN!”

  Flames shot out at me, and the heat was unbearable. Worse still, the little monster was blocking both the doorway and the room’s only window.

  Moth—it was the odd thought in my brain, the only small possibility that I might live through this new sneak attack.

  So like a moth, I went right into the flames, and I grabbed the core with all my remaining strength.

  “MURDERER! TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF ME!” it continued to scream. “MURDERER, LET GO!”

  But I wouldn’t let go and I wouldn’t stop charging straight ahead either.

  “Come with me, Susan!”

  I crashed through the window with the blazing, squealing creature in my arms. Then I was falling, falling, falling.

  And then… I was swimming in the remains of the pool down in the courtyard.

  And my attacker was nothing but hot air.

  Too many of us, Beta had said.

  And Susan had been one of them.

  Chapter 37

  EVERYTHING AFTER THAT quickly went from bad to worse. When I got back to the town house, Willy hadn’t returned, and there was no clue as to what had happened to him after he began to follow The Cockney Fireman.

  I didn’t need a clue. There was no question in my mind that Beta or one of his minions had been up to no good. This time when I stormed out to find answers, I refused to let any of my friends come along. I bear-hugged Joe and Dana, and I promised the tear-streaked Emma that I would not come back without Willy.

  I could not, would not, ever lose one of my friends again.

  The sign outside B. Faust and Company, Ltd., said the shop closed at seven. But now it was eight thirty and there was still an eerily bright glow seeping through the cracks around the metal shutters that covered the entrance.

  I climbed a fence and from there hoisted myself up a drainpipe to the roof. When Emma and I had last visited, I’d noticed skylights. Time to see if they might give me an easy way inside.

  There. Three skylights, in a neat row. I could hear voices, so I crept up on hands and knees as silently as I could. All three skylights were opaque with soot and grime, but one was missing a pane in the corner. A dim golden light was flickering inside.

  Cautiously, I put my face to the hole. From my vantage point I could see the whole room, and let me tell you, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

  The place hadn’t shut down at all. About a dozen “people” were still scurrying around, wheeling tubs of molten metal or manipulating unfamiliar objects glowing with heat. What they were making, I had no idea. How they were making it… well, that was the really freaky part.

  One enormously muscular man was welding two curved metal plates together. He was being showered in sparks but wasn’t wearing a mask. “Safety first” didn’t really seem to be a major issue in this place, though, because he didn’t even have a welder. He was just running his finger up and down the join between the plates, while a white-hot scalpel of flame extended above his fingernail like an extra knuckle, searing the pieces in place.

  A few yards away from him, another man with a tumorous paunch held a thick metal bar in front of him like bicycle handlebars. As I watched, the metal began to turn red between his hands, until the whole center of the bar was glowing. Then, as gently as if he were stroking a cat, he massaged it into a smooth curve and tossed it onto a pile of similar pieces.

  Everyone in the workshop had the same fire-scarred hands that I’d seen on The Cockney Fireman. And they all looked withered somehow, like the life had been sucked out of them… like the only thing keeping them alive was gasoline and spark plugs.

  There was a movement just below me, and I looked down. Separated from the rest of the workers by a partition was a little break room, complete with microwave, sink, and a small stovetop encrusted with old food.

  The grizzled, unpleasant woman who had yelled at Emma and me two days before was sitting at a rickety table with a cup of tea in front of her, tapping one foot against the other nervously, like she was waiting for someone.

  Or something.

  A sound made her jump a little, and her head turned tow
ard the stove. All four of the burners on the range had lit on their own and were burning with orange flames that extended at least six inches in the air.

  In a matter of seconds, the flames grew even higher, and came together, until they formed a giant ball of fire that hung over the stove like a miniature sun.

  Then, almost daintily, the flames stepped down onto the cement floor, burning in a flaming blossom that was all too familiar to me.

  This was the same flaming monster that I’d drowned in a dirty apartment swimming pool.

  Beta was back in all his glory!

  Chapter 38

  AT BETA’S APPEARANCE, the woman jumped up so fast she knocked over her chair, and she turned her head away. The monster was so bright that it was hard to look at directly.

  “It’s you!” she cried out in a gasp. “They told me you would come for me.”

  “Yessssssssss,” came the hiss. “Are you prepared for me, dearheart? Are you prepared to receive my power?”

  Her voice rasped eagerly. “Yes, yes. Make me one of your flame weavers. I want to know what it feels like to have fire at my fingertips. To have fire within me. To be…”

  “To be something more than what you are?” The tongues of flame were waggling with suppressed laughter. “Very well, ask and ye shall receive.”

  All of a sudden, Beta flared till he towered over the grim-faced woman. Her docile smile faded and she took a step back. An instant later, she was enveloped in flame as Beta poured over her like a deluge.

  I couldn’t even see her anymore. But I could hear her. Her voice had lost its eagerness. “It… it burns. Is it supposed to—no, no!… I want it to stop! I—”

  She gave a shriek that made my skin prickle, but no one in the rest of the workshop even looked up. And then it was over.

  All that was left of Beta was a wisp of flame flickering from the woman’s mouth, which she quickly sucked inside like a long strand of spaghetti.

  Her fear was gone, replaced by a bland, satisfied smile. Her eyes glistened, but they were strangely hollow. It was like the lights were on, but nobody was home. She smiled mechanically, but believe me when I say that her face was the type that should never smile.