“Above zero?” I shimmied into the thermals then yanked on the fatigues.
“Yep, but they’re thirteen hours ahead, so it’s full night. And it’s snowing. I’ll get Pellini’s gear together. He should be back in about ten minutes. Wear the insulated boots and change your socks. I pulled out the good wool ones for you.”
I obeyed then looked up to see her holding my tactical vest in one hand and my super-sleek mega-insulated coat in the other. “Gloves and balaclava are in the bottom zipped pockets,” she told me. “Headlamp and light sticks in the arm pockets.”
“Thanks. You’re my hero.”
“How bad is it?”
I shook my head as I shrugged into the vest and strapped on my weapons. “Dunno. I heard people yelling and screaming, but all Mzatal said was ‘I need you.’”
She winced. “I’d make a snarky joke about that, but if it’s so bad he needs your help . . .”
“Yeah, my thoughts exactly.” I took the coat and slung the rucksack over one shoulder. “I’m heading to the nexus to familiarize myself with the area. Hopefully Helori will meet me there.”
“Stay safe,” she ordered.
“Always, ma’am.” I gave her a quick hug then dashed out the back.
Rhyzkahl glanced my way as I ran across the yard and leaped onto the slab. He wisely remained silent while I dropped the rucksack and coat at my feet and called up the flows. He knew by now that if I was geared up, shit was going down somewhere, and I was in absolutely zero mood to play games.
Thankfully, the day was still mild, saving me from instantly passing out from heatstroke in the thermal clothing. I found the flows for Ust-Ilimsk, Siberia, “plugged in,” then closed my eyes and let the culture and language of the region seep in, like water filling a sponge. I was getting to be an old hand at this kind of download. It wasn’t my first time learning Russian—though my previous trip had been to Moscow in late August, with temps in the seventies and a rift in Red Square—but right now I was more interested in gaining a superficial knowledge of the city layout and a familiarity with the region.
A change in air pressure prompted me to open my eyes. Helori stood beside me in his human form—tall, lean, and lithe, with a multi-ethnic look that allowed him to blend in anywhere. At first glance he appeared as calm and collected as ever, but his eyes, typically so full of life, were dull and bloodshot. He looked weary and harried, I realized with a twinge of dismay. Though I was only up to “somewhat conversational” in my super-speedy Russian course, I swallowed back a request for a few more minutes. I had enough to get by.
“Pellini will be back in about five. Can you come back for him?” I pulled on the coat and rucksack then took the hand he held out for me. It trembled ever so faintly in mine.
“Only your presence is needed,” he said with a smile.
I gave his hand a light squeeze and pushed down the flutter of nerves. “Got that covered.”
The nexus and my back yard blinked out. Demahnk travel was usually as effortless as stepping from one room to another, but this was a way rougher ride. My stomach did a couple of unpleasant flip-flops during the heartbeat or so it took for the world to reappear.
I flinched as noise assaulted my eardrums. Screams of fear and pain, shouts and sirens, the crackle and snap of flames, and an earsplitting roar from a holy shit massive reyza.
Helori disappeared, leaving me in the middle of a snow-covered four-lane street. Fifty yards away, a rift spanned from curb to curb, casting malevolent patterns of orange and magenta and red onto the dull grey buildings that stretched along both sides of the roadway. At the edge of the rift, Lord Elofir worked complex weaves of potency as arcane flames leaped around him. And a dozen feet beyond the rift, Mzatal wielded both essence blades in a pitched battle with the gigantic scar-covered reyza. A Jontari. No doubt about it.
I broke into a run toward them, yanking on gloves and balaclava and cursing the ice and snow that made footing treacherous. Dark patches dotted the street, and it took me a moment to realize they marked where demons had been killed—the snow melting beneath the discorporeation and then refreezing. The bitter cold air seared my lungs, but I was pleased to note distant barricades and flashing lights forming a half mile perimeter around the incursion. The local first responders seemed to be on the ball, which would make my life easier. Even better, I noted that Elofir and Mzatal were drawing potency directly from the rift. Not only did that explain how Mzatal was able to maintain a fight against such a powerful demon, but it meant I didn’t have to worry about either lord depleting their reserves and collapsing.
Coils of rakkuhr wound lazily atop the snow and flowed around abandoned cars. Around the rift, the gouts of magenta and red lowered, like a gas burner turned from high to medium. Elofir sent out an intricate web of green poten
cy to further contain the wild energies, at the same time keeping one eye on Mzatal and the demon. I suspected he wouldn’t involve himself in the fight unless the situation turned absolutely critical. He had a reputation for non-violence, and even his aura radiated gentleness that spoke of a deep reluctance to do harm.
The reyza deflected a lightning bolt then snapped his wings out, buffeting Mzatal with great strokes of what had to be damn near a hundred-foot wingspan. Holy Christmas. And here I’d thought the demon at the Piggly Wiggly was big. This one looked to be at least two stories tall—well over twice the size of Gestamar.
Maybe that can be our new measurement system, I thought with a touch of hysteria. Yes, General, the class 1A demon was a 2.4 on the Gestamar scale.
Teeth bared, Mzatal braced himself with a wide stance and sent an arcing strike into the reyza’s midsection. The demon grunted and staggered a step but the flicker of arcane shielding told me he hadn’t taken any real damage. Mzatal slashed out with power to shred the shielding, but the reyza reacted with blinding speed to deflect the attack. His tail whipped around, and my heart spasmed in dread as it caught Mzatal solidly in the chest and sent him flying a good fifty feet, over the sidewalk and into a scraggly stand of trees.
My feet skidded on a killed-demon ice patch, and only the wild flailing of my arms saved me from falling on my ass. When I looked up again, Mzatal was climbing to his feet with slow, murderous purpose. Snow clung to him, hissing into steam as he straightened. Behind him, the trees burst into flame. Holy fucking shit, he was primed for dealing out a world of hurt. But it meant nothing if he couldn’t get past the shields. And I can’t shape the sigils for a shield buster unless I’m on or near the nexus. The brand spanking new super-shikvihr loop on my nexus was supposed to give me a boost when I was away from home, but I was on the other side of the friggin’ world. How the hell was I supposed to help Mzatal?
Adrenaline slammed through me as a child screamed somewhere to my left. I whirled, shocked to see a half dozen people huddled beneath a walkway, among them a wide-eyed man with a frightened little girl in his arms. So much for the local police making my life easier. “Evacuate the area means evacuate the area,” I grumbled to myself as I jogged toward them. None of them looked hurt, but they might not stay that way unless I got them to a safe place. And soon.
I spared a glance at Mzatal, in time to see him hammer the reyza with a potency strike that knocked the demon on his ass. With a mental cheer for my badass sweetie, I swung my attention to the cluster of people, poised to shout for them to come out and make a dash for the barricade.
My words died in my throat as the reason for the girl’s scream moved into sight. A second reyza prowled the raised walkway above. Though not as large as the other, it was still at least as big as the Piggly Wiggly demon. Only one point five Gestamars, I thought, pulse quickening. A mere sprout. But this mere sprout had the people trapped, and I had zero doubt he intended to do more than scare them.
“Elofir!” I shouted, pulling both of my guns as I ran. “People!”