“I’m sorry. This is not our fight. But we will be there, helping in subtle ways.”

  “I guess I’ll just have to take what I can get.”

  “Yes. Now, you should go.”

  “Because we are done here?” I asked.

  Azrael kept his gaze on me, his beautiful unwavering gaze, and said, “No, Sam. Because the devil is coming.”

  ***

  The demon and I converged.

  Lucky for me, the demon had been intent on his target—my son. Unlucky for the demon, my sword was true. As it prepared to deliver a blow, the black emptiness of its chest was exposed, and I drove the sword deep within it. I caught a brief glimpse of its fiery eyes flaring, then extinguishing before it disappeared in a cloud of smoke. I smashed into the grass so hard that I was sure I had broken a bone or two. Or three.

  When I was done skidding on my face, I rose up on my knees, spitting sod and grit and blood. A quick check confirmed that my collarbone might be broken, but already, it was healing.

  I stood on shaking legs, my wings providing me balance. My son had turned and moved toward me. In fact, he was reaching out a hand toward me. Thank God he could still see. But I was reluctant to grab his oversized hand, mostly because it was burning continuously. Hell, I could feel the heat. How the grass around his feet didn’t catch fire, I didn’t entirely know. No one knew. It was a mystery in and of itself. Kingsley had tried to explain it away that my son existed within a sort of gravitational field, a sort of bubble. If that was true, then how could I feel the heat of him now? And where was the damn bubble? His striking sword sure as hell sent the demons tumbling.

  Anyway... a moot point.

  My son watched me—and, for all I knew, stared at me. He was seeing my wings for the first time and I sensed his wonder. Something flashed above us, and he spun faster than something that big and burning had any right to spin. His sword came around in a great, sweeping, blazing arc, and the attacking demon was driven straight into the ground—and very close to me.

  With a yell that would do the Amazons of Themyscira proud, I leaped high and plunged my sword with hands down into its demon’s black, swirling chest. It screeched, contorted, and disappeared.

  Another appeared behind me—either materializing out of thin air or swooping down without detection. Luckily, my own inner alarm blared so loud that I automatically ducked without knowing what was happening. A rush of wind passed over me. In fact, I think it passed through my wings themselves. Luckily, my wings were there but not there.

  I spun, swinging my sword blindly, and clashed loudly with spiked claws. Unfortunately, my sword didn’t do any damage to the claws. In fact, it only seemed to anger the demon, who literally grew in size before me.

  I endured a hellish barrage from its hacking, swiping, cutting, slicing claws, some of which landed home, sending me spinning and tumbling and crying out. The demon claws burned worse than silver. Hell, maybe they were made partially with silver.

  Another swipe, and I felt a chunk of flesh hacked off my chin. Another swipe and I watched some of my dark hair flutter to the grass. Another swipe, and this time, I parried nicely. The second set of claws came and I ducked, and spun on a knee, saw my opening, and drove my sword up into its chest, and watched with satisfaction as its furnace-like eyes died out.

  Nearby, my son backhanded another demon so hard that he sent it through a fence. Soon, my son and I were working in tandem, him using his brute strength and unparalleled skill to send the demons if not quite back to hell, definitely down into Kingsley’s much-maligned and once-beautiful front yard landscaping.

  And that’s where I waited, plunging with glee, not feeling bad at all that most of the demons were dazed and a little confused. They attack my son, Fire Warrior or not, and they are going to die. It was the simplest pop math quiz ever. Attacking my son equaled death.

  We did this, over and over, until there were none.

  Both my son and I scanned the heavens, the shadows, anywhere and everywhere, but nothing materialized. Near the house, I watched some of the Lichtenstein monsters approach; the wolf, too. Kingsley had been damaged. Or, rather, his inner wolf counterpart had. I could see the bloody gashes from here. It was a wonder that the wolf was alive. The thought of losing Kingsley was terrible to comprehend. I knew that Kingsley and the wolf were truly one. There really was an inner wolf within him. He didn’t summon it from another world. If the wolf was hurt, he was hurt. Perhaps even too hurt to transform. I knew the feeling; my own wounds were reluctant to heal.

  The wolf made an effort to come to us, but Franklin put a hand on it, keeping it at bay. Not a bad idea. Kingsley was too hurt to do much. Besides, the demons appeared to be gone. For now.

  My son stepped over to me, and lowered his sword. His burning skin crackled and spat. I could have been next to the world’s biggest bonfire. A true Burning Man. We continued scanning the surroundings. Both of us, I suspected, knew that all was too calm. Too quiet.

  Also, my inner alarm hadn’t stopped buzzing. In fact, it had even begun to pick up in intensity.

  Footsteps. Near the front gate. Both my son and I snapped our heads around. Now, the sound of hands clapping. Kingsley’s front gate, amazingly, was still closed. Then again, when demons could materialize in the sky overhead, a front gate became a moot point.

  A middle-aged man in a black suit stepped out of the shadows, still clapping and maybe even laughing. Hard to tell from where we were. He clapped all the way to the front gate. Without missing a beat, he did something with his hands, and the wrought-iron fence exploded inward, wrenching free from its hinges and landing in a pile of twisted metal and dust, literally shaking the earth beneath my feet.

  The devil was here.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The man kicked aside the gate, and it went skittering over the gravel as surely as if he’d kicked a tin can.

  To my utter surprise, three Lichtenstein monsters charged past us. Like the demons, they protected their master. As they dashed forward, one loping and another flat-out limping, I saw the well-dressed man grin. I also saw him reach inside his jacket and remove something that gleamed dully. Two daggers. Silver daggers.

  The first Lichtenstein monster was upon him. I knew him well. His name was Gerald and he was, perhaps, the politest of all the monsters, and spoke with a crisp English accent. Now, he roared and hurled himself through the air, leaping easily twenty feet or more. Not to my surprise, the man in black dashed forward, too, leaping as well. The two met in mid-air, and the roar I had heard quickly turned to a strangled cry. When the two landed, only one did so smoothly on his feet; the other thudded on his back, unmoving, a dagger protruding from his chest.

  The man in black smiled and adjusted his sleeves, rolled his neck a little. I could hear it crack from here.

  The next two Lichtenstein monsters leaped—both gardeners here at the estate, and both with whom I’d had little contact. Both were obviously devoted to Kingsley to the end. And their end came quickly. With a flurry of feet and hands, a cacophony of grunts and strangled cries, two heads fell free. Both bounced, rolled, and came to a stop, as their massive, headless bodies finally toppled next to them. The devil had barely broken stride.

  He continued down the driveway, whistling. Another Lichtenstein monster appeared. And another. Both monsters were quickly dispatched. Both had been kind to me. Both had been family, in their own way—especially to Kingsley this past year. Both had died trying to protect him. Enough of this. Enough.

  Kingsley the wolf would be no match for what I saw coming at us, especially in his condition. Neither would Franklin, nor the remaining two Lichtenstein monsters—all of whom would be summarily dispatched.

  “Your son is impressive, Samantha Moon,” said the man, raising his voice as he approached. “You should be proud. Then again, you turned him, didn’t you? Your selfish act made him the monster he is today. The freak he will be for all eternity.” The devil bowed. “I commend you, Sam. In all the history of the world, rarely have I seen a worse mother. In fact, you might hold the crown.”

  Don’t let him get to you, Sam, came Allison’s thoughts into my head.

  I turned and saw her next to Kingsley, holding her head. Blood ran between her fingers.

  Are you okay?

  Don’t worry about me. I’ve got your back.

  “And don’t even get me started on your daughter, Samantha,” said the devil, walking toward me. The possessed man’s tie whipped crazily in the wind. I noted the fresh blood on his shirt. “Now, had you done your job—a job any mother would have done, mind you—you would have spared your family. You would have fled for the hills, or to the graveyards, or wherever your filthy kind congregate. You would have faked your death, or, even better, plunged a silver dagger into your own chest and rid the world of the problem—the very real problem—you have become.”

  Sam, look, came Allison’s voice in my head.

  I turned and saw where she was pointing into the sky. I saw a flash appear and disappear. Many flashes. They were angels, and one of them, I was certain, had been Ishmael. They were nearby. How they were helping, I didn’t know. But I found their presence comforting.

  “Oh, you see them, too. Whew, I thought I was going a little crazy. I thought maybe this new body—and mind—was a dud. Your angels can only do so much, Samantha Moon. They know, and I know, that we are bound in this moment. This is not their fight. This is our fight.”

  More flashing from high above, but that’s where the flashing stayed—high above.

  “So much centers around you. You are, in fact, the key that could unlock untold destruction into this world. Through you, the dark masters can rise again. And yet, here you stand, with your new wings and your new sword, a brave little girl with her monstrous son nearby, and her freak of a daughter not too far away at all. Yes, I can hear her, Sam. And I can hear her listening in on your thoughts, too. By proxy, I can follow your own train of thoughts, Sam. Oh, you didn’t know that? Why else would I need your daughter, Sam Moon? Oh, I see that my words are getting to you. Good. They should. They would get to anyone with a conscience. Do yourself a favor and put down the sword. Better yet, give it to me. I’m really, really not sure what I was thinking by conceding to its creation. A rare lapse in judgment.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, or how to respond. Were his words getting to me? I tried to think they weren’t, but I knew there was truth to them.

  He stepped closer, moving slowly, and I could see now the evil grin plastered on his face, wide as ever. The man, whoever he was, had been thoroughly and completely possessed. Even worse, he’d invited the devil in.

  “Yes,” came the devil’s words, following my train of thought via my daughter. “He worshiped me for only a few months. Sadly, he thought it was all a joke. I rarely joke, Sam.”

  I gripped the sword more tightly in my hand. Next to me, my giant of a son shifted on his own feet.

  “Lay down the weapon, Sam, and let me rid the world of the scourge that is you. Consider it a favor. I’ll do what you didn’t have the guts to do, and the dark masters will have to wait for their next chosen one.”

  The devil stepped closer, and now, I could see the fire in his pupils, even from here.

  “Yes, Sam. Our paths have crossed. Of course, I had known this day was coming. I just hadn’t known with whom. Oh, how I was disappointed to discover it would be with a bored, confused, suburban housewife. A private eye, no less. And a vampire, of all things. Then again, I should have known it would be a filthy bloodsucker. Few could have found the sword. And, yes, there it is. And there are your wings. I suppose crossing paths with a vampire makes some sense. A shame I will have to kill you in front of your son, and with your daughter listening in, as well. Surely, they will be scarred for life.”

  My son stepped forward. He’d apparently had enough. He raised his burning sword, which crackled and spit fire and looked for all the world like something straight out of a Mummy movie.

  The devil paused, grinned even wider—while at the same time, I saw a brief flash of fear cross the man’s eyes. Now the man raised his silver dagger—and slashed it across his own throat. He dropped, choking and gagging and spitting up blood. Now kicking and flopping. The slash had been too deep to help the man, even if I had been inclined to do so. I hadn’t. And, as he flopped, a swirling, black, inky shadow rose up, a shadow that somehow also gleamed wetly. It spun and twisted and took shape.

  The shadow continued to grow and morph. It turned and undulated in the air, taking on more depth and detail, and for the span of time it took for the flopping man to finally die, there stood before us the devil.

  The real devil. As he appeared when not possessing mankind.

  Azrael had prepared me for what to expect, but nothing—nothing—could prepare me for this. Nothing. Not ever.

  ***

  The devil stood twenty feet or more, clearly taller than my son, himself a giant. Definitely taller than the demons he had created.

  I briefly considered summoning Talos, just so that I could match the devil’s size, but I knew that even Talos did not possess the weaponry—or fortitude—to overcome or withstand what I was seeing before me.

  The devil, I knew, had never been truly tested, until now.

  Lucky me.

  Except what I saw before me—a hulking, grotesque, burning nightmare—was enough to make me run for the nearby hills and never look back. The burning eyes, now as big as bonfires, could have been doorways into hell itself. The massive, twisted horns belonged on something prehistoric and terrible. Its many claws looked like real scythes, only bigger, and each was as black as night. Unlike his demons, the devil sported veins of glowing fire that crackled upon his black skin. Real skin, too, unlike his demons who had seemed more shadow than substance. More than anything, the thing before me seemed unstoppable. More so than the giant worm I had encountered. Or even the dragon from earlier in the week. The demons, although fierce and filled with hate, had appeared waif-like. The devil dog had been terrible to behold, but it had been a good deal smaller than this thing. Indeed, what I saw before me could destroy whole cities, whole nations, and never stop destroying until the Earth had been laid to waste.

  I stood there, unable to move, barely able to think.

  That is, until my son stepped between myself and the devil, and raised his sword.

  ***

  The blur of the attack was mind-boggling. The devil came at my son with claws slashing, and my son met each claw with his flashing sword, a sword that moved in blurred arcs, as fast as a spinning top.

  At one point, my son stepped back, raised his free hand, and summoned another flaming sword. The battle resumed anew, and the two entities fought in a seemingly choreographed ballet of death. Each swipe, each thrust, each slash were all blocked by both fighters, all done with a speedy damage that I could barely follow. For each move, there was a counter-move, for each step backward, there was a step forward. For each attack, there was a perfectly timed counterattack.

  If my son was wearing out, I couldn’t tell. If he was slowing down, I didn’t see it. All done at such a high level of skill and precision and, oddly, in unison, that I was left immobile, speechless, and filled with untold fear. This was my son, after all, fighting the devil in his rawest, most hideous form. A devil unleashed.

  There was a pause in action—and I immediately saw why. One of the devil’s long, curved, claws had found an opening. And that opening was through my son’s shoulder. Indeed, the curved devil tusk had punched through the fire, and out the other side.

  My son drove his fist—and the pommel of his burning sword—into the devil’s hideous face, slid off the black claw and stumbled backward. Molten lava poured from the wound in his shoulder. The devil’s own blazing eyes widened with what could only be pleasure, and as he raised his clawed hand for what would surely be the end of my son, I dashed forward, spread my wings, and took flight.

  ***

  A fireball appeared over my shoulder, and slammed into the devil, who staggered backward.

  I turned back and saw Allison running from the house, arms raised. More fire erupted in her hands and she hurled it forward. The fireballs sailed past me in a blink and exploded in the devil’s face. The massive, hoofed creature staggered back and clawed at his burning face.

  As another fireball just missed my outstretched wing and slammed into the devil’s shoulder, sending him spinning, I made a mental note to compliment Allison on her aim. That was, if I survived the night. I also briefly wondered if the surrounding angels had anything to do with Allison’s aim.

  Those thoughts were fleeting and instant. For now, I raised my sword and flew as fast as I could, praying like hell that one of Allison’s projectiles didn’t hit me in the ass.

  Suddenly, another demon appeared before me. It raked me across the face, and sent me tumbling to the grass below.

  From the ground, I looked up—and watched as demon after demon popped into existence. Dozens of them. Hundreds, in fact.

  The devil threw back his monstrous head and laughed.

  ***

  Many of them formed a barrier around the devil, a black shield of claws and burning, red eyes.

  Across the yard, Kingsley had Allison, looking like a girl with her giant dog. Nearby, my son struggled to stand, and I suspected the poison from the devil’s claws was working its way through him. Above, demons gathered in a swirling swarm. They weren’t about to let their devil—their master—die without a fight.

  “Block your thoughts, baby,” I whispered to my daughter, praying like hell she was still safe in the cell, and still listening to me. “Don’t let the devil know what Mommy is about to do next.”

  It was time to end this. I gathered my strength and launched straight up into the night air, even as the demons oriented on me, flashing forward, claws raised. Through it all, a plan began to form in my mind.