Last Rites (Darkling Mage 6) - Page 46
I obeyed, gripping my fingers in a tight fist as I commanded my amulet to do its duty. The tendrils of red light closed harder over the rift, but it remained unmolested, still spinning, still singing.
“Close, damn it,” I shouted. “No more of the Eldest. Just close, and leave our world forever.”
But nothing happened. I turned to Carver, but he only shook his head. I knew instantly what he meant. We skipped one of the reagents, after all. The breath of the dying.
Just by my ear, Izanami tutted. My lips tightened, but I held fast, focusing the amulet’s power on the rift.
“It seems that something is missing,” Izanami cooed. “Without the final ingredient, the enchantment is incomplete. Impotent. I do not believe you have crafted an artifact powerful enough to serve the recipe’s purpose.” She squeezed me by the shoulder, long nails digging into my jacket. “It was a masterful attempt, though, and a perfectly acceptable result for your first foray into enchantment.”
“Don’t patronize me,” I muttered.
Izanami shrugged, then walked off, examining her fingers. “Suit yourself,” she said. “But it truly is the only way.”
She sat on a headstone, producing a nail file out of nowhere, and went to work buffing her nails. I clenched my teeth, blood rushing to my neck. Entities, all the same, nonchalant even in the face of an apocalypse.
Then a snapping sound drew my attention back to the portal. The cocoon’s threads. They were breaking, one by one.
Chapter 27
“No,” Sterling hissed. “This isn’t happening.”
“I’ll call for backup,” Royce said, snapping his fingers and vanishing into thin air.
“Thanks for leaving right when it gets hot,” Gil shouted at nothing.
He growled, flexing his arms to either side as massive, bloodied wolf talons burst out of his fingertips. I sure hoped that would be enough. With the way the night was going I was pretty certain he’d need to go full dog.
All of us would need to go full everything. The final tendril looped around the rift burst apart, its remnants shimmering, then fading into nothing. The impact left a twisting pain against my neck, a kind of feedback from the amulet’s failure. I lurched away from the portal, stumbling into Sterling.
“You okay?” he asked, supporting my back.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, retreating for the moment, catching my breath. I reached for my backpack, ready to release the hounds. Or the one hound, rather, the bloodthirsty one that lived in my bag.
“Jump in when you’re ready,” Sterling said, his chest puffed out like a damn hero. “We’ll just be here carrying your weight.” He drew his sword, its edge glinting with electrical sparks, then gave me a wink.
“Jerk,” I said, still clutching my throat. “Don’t die now.”
“Please,” he said, chuckling. “Never.”
And the first of the shrikes came tumbling out of the portal, staggering out into Latham’s Cross – but they were different. At least the quantity o
f them. These things were ferocious, stumbling over each other in their frenzy to enter our world, dozens pouring out within seconds. My heart thumped as the five of us beat a hasty retreat, but we only gave the shrikes more space to fill. It was a flood, a tide of abominations, and I knew we wouldn’t be enough to stop it.
Carver’s disintegration spell took out a dozen, but that was hardly a dent in their ranks. Sterling and Gil whirled into the fray, katana and claws hacking and cleaving at rubber-black bodies, sending shrieking tentacles and thick droplets of gore spattering across the graveyard.
Sacrilege. That’s what this was. And Asher, it seemed, felt the same way, roaring as a massive spike of bone erupted from his forearm.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled.
He turned to me, eyes hard and furious as he transferred the spike to his other hand. Not a spike, I realized. It was a sword made completely out of bone, with pommel, hilt, blade, and everything. Crude, but wickedly sharp.
“Are you serious?” I choked out. “You made that?”
“Everyone gets a sword but me,” he shouted with misdirected anger. “It isn’t fair!”
It was Asher’s battlecry, and I watched his back as he launched himself into combat. Vanitas went speeding across the battlefield, ravaging his own quota of the monsters, savoring the massacre – but still we weren’t enough.
“Cavalry’s here,” a voice behind me said.
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