This wasn’t the same as the gate, at least not that I could see or hear from several blocks away. No green, no ghosts, no howling. But it was another bout of big magic. Was it a ward? Had the demon made its way into the city and triggered another defense?
“Call the CPD,” I told him, “and stay here.”
“Where are you going? You can’t run toward that. It’s dangerous.”
“Yeah, that’s my job and the point.”
I took off at top speed. After a moment’s delay, I could hear him pounding behind me, despite my orders that he stay at the house. I had no idea if he could take care of himself in a situation like this, but at least he was calling 911 as he ran.
I started a terse message to Theo: magical event west of prairie ave hist dist. demon? ward? i’m moving closer.
And then I stopped short when lightning burst from the pillar of light, forking as it reached toward the sky, illuminating clouds and buildings.
If this was a demon ward, it had moved far beyond stone-throwing ghosts. Far, far beyond. Fear clawed at me but didn’t seem to bother monster this time.
Safe inside you, it told me, apparently thinking I was a strong enough shell to keep it safe.
I die, you die.I guessed, but had no idea if that was true, mostly because I had no idea—or not a certain one—what monster was. But the sentiment had it coming to attention, and I could feel it stretch inside me like a protective layer, offering me what strength it could.
Much nicer, I complimented as the earth shuddered with magical thunder that rolled across the neighborhood, bringing humans to front porches and lights to windows.
I realized when Black reached me that I’d stopped running to stare at the sky and looked down at the unsent message on my screen.
look for lightning, I added, sent it, and started running again.
***
Prairie Avenue Historic District was only a few blocks long and wide; west of the neighborhood was an artsy community of small shops, artisan coffeehouses, and dive bars. And on a night like tonight—with the Sox playing only a couple of miles away and the weather perfect—the area was full of patrons, many of whom nowthronged sidewalks and stopped traffic to stare at the seemingly infinite beam of light and the lightning it had spawned.
I pushed through the humans, Black behind me, to get closer.
The beam had sprung from an old brick warehouse, one of the few buildings in the area that hadn’t yet been renovated. Its banks of windows had been shattered, presumably when the light had burst from its belly like an alien. Something roared machinelike in the building’s innards. It was presumably the source of the light and the film of old magic.
The light was nearly blinding. Since I’d never been human, I’d never lived in sunlight. I’d never seen the world so well illuminated and found I didn’t like the sharp shadows it created. The way it highlighted the pale cheeks of humans in shock, the gum and dirt on the sidewalk. The way it made glittering jewels of the deadly glass that littered the ground. Darkness helped to hide ugly things; light helped to reveal them.
The building hadn’t been the only thing damaged. At least a dozen people were down on the sidewalk, screaming or unconscious due to injuries caused by the glass and metal and brick that had exploded from the building. The scent of human blood was strong but held no appeal. Not when it had been gathered in fear and pain.
At least there was no chill in the air this time. No green fog and—thank god—no wispy hands reaching, slithering, but the sensation of old magic was undeniable.
What the hell was this? Other than terrifyingly dangerous.
“We have to move them away from here,” I said, and pointed Black to a small parking lot in front of the shops beside the warehouse. “There,” I told him, unsure if he’d actually help but having no one else to order around. “Let’s corral them over there.”
Without waiting for a response, I ran to the first human, began assessing. Two men with blood smeared across pale faces nicked by glass helped a hysterical woman on the sidewalk to her feet.There was a cut on her leg, and one had thought to use the woman’s scarf to stanch the bleeding.
I pulled out my badge. “Get her to the parking lot,” I said, shielding my eyes as I faced the light, “and away from this. There might be more explosions.”
I was grateful they didn’t argue but moved the woman along. I moved to the next group of humans, nearly punched a cop who put a hand on my shoulders—I was still ghost-punchy—and showed him my badge, told him about the parking lot, the need to clear the area. The risk of more damage and injuries.
“Other units are stuck in the damn traffic,” he said. “It’s stopped two solid miles out. CPD is working on a perimeter.”
“Work faster,” I said when the roaring inside the building grew louder. I could feel the charge in the air, and I knew what was coming.
“Take cover!” I screamed, and human shrieks filled the air as lightning forked from the beam of light again.
Patience had said the wards were triggered by the demon’s proximity. If this was some kind of ward, it appeared to have lost track of the demon, because the lightning stretched across the neighborhood in every direction like claws scratching a path toward their prey.
The world grew brighter as the forks descended, as if they were devouring the darkness itself. And then hell erupted. The strikes made contact with earth, sendingbooms across the neighborhood, sending fire into the air. A long, narrow staff of lightning struck a vehicle twenty feet away with a crack of sound, the force pushing it onto its side, where the vehicle shook with power and stank of burning rubber and bad magic.