Chapter 25
It was right about then that I really started missing my shield bracelet and rods.
If the Fallen angel known as Ursiel was feeling limited within the church's threshold, it wasn't apparent. I could see the steam rising from his flesh, much like it had the narthaguar. But it didn't seem to phase the demon, as the man-bear-pig leapt at me with breathtaking agility and speed, his four arms spread wide. He certainly didn't look any smaller than he had in the alley, but boy was he more determined to kill me.
A thicker coating of ice was already spreading across my body as I tensed, readying myself for his attack. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nicodemus dart toward Sanya, while Michael squared off against the Denarian holding his wife hostage. But I couldn't spare them any thought; my attention was on the pissed off Denarian closing on me.
"Forzare!" I shouted, aiming my staff down at the polished stone floor in front of me. The spell was angled, and wasn't designed to attack. I needed to put some distance between me and Fugly; the spell helped with that, as it boosted my backwards leap.
It just didn't do enough.
As I soared backwards, Ursiel's arms lashed out. While his first attempt at grinding me into pulp missed, he turned the motion into a quick backhand. His reach was impossibly long, and managed to clip me as I tried to escape.
While only a glancing blow, it was enough to send me spinning through the air over the pews and worshipers at the front. I barely missed the first ornate column on the left-hand side, but successfully glanced off the second one.
My left shoulder hit the pillar, and I felt a distinct popping sensation as pain blossomed across my neck and side before my momentum spun me around the post. My staff slipped from my grip somewhere along the way, clattering into the rows of pews.
At least I'd begun my descent when I finally hit the far wall, which was just as pleasant as it sounds.
Glass fell around me as the impact shattered a couple of the small windows overhead. I tried rising, but the pulsing pain in my arm was disorienting.
A furious bellow erupted as Ursiel leapt once again, his movement more apelike than ursine as he hurtled over the pews. He crashed through the same column I'd clipped, the paster and wood splintering beneath his weight. My vision was just beginning to clear as he descended toward me, his uppermost arms grabbing at the low ceiling of the alcove to swing his massive feet forward. I had maybe a split second before he'd land, crushing me beneath his bulk.
"Forzare!" I cried again, putting my newfound breath to good use. My right hand thrust up at Ursiel as I unleashed the spell, a wild and uncontrolled burst of power lashing out.
Without my staff to help me temper it, the magic swirled about in a savage whirlwind. It wasn't my most powerful incantation; I hadn't had time to pull enough power in to put any real force behind it. But the raging wind was enough to push the demon to his right, while simultaneously propelling me across the slick floor to his left.
The Denarian landed much like a freight train would, albeit with slightly more agility. The wall and floor shattered upon impact, sending shards of marble every which way. But the demon recovered depressingly quick, and I hadn't yet managed to stand as he turned my way and prepared for another charge. My left arm wasn't working, and I had the distinct suspicion that the mantle was the only thing keeping the searing pain of a dislocated shoulder at bay.
I was just beginning to wonder how I was going to get myself out of this one when a squadron of furious fairies made an attack run on the Death Bear.
"Pizza!" came the curious battle-cry as the first three glowing spheres of light swooped toward the Denarian. Before Ursiel could recognize the threat, Toot and two other members of my Guard released their payloads.
I think the Denarian might have blinked in surprise as he spotted the three water balloons hurtling toward him. I know I did, so I can't really blame him. I mean, who's going to bring water balloons to a desperate fight between good and evil?
Dewdrop fairies, that's who.
Wiley, cunning dewdrop fairies bearing fat, over-sized water balloons.
Filled with holy water.
When the first balloon broke over Ursiel's face, the holy water splashed across his skin, burning the demon's flesh like acid. An agonized bellow echoed off the walls as the already smoking surface of the Denarian just disintegrated, exposing livid red tissue and white bone as it chewed its way through his form. Both of its mortal eyes disappeared in an explosion of wet gore, while the upper set sizzled and smoked.
The scream warbled when the second and third balloons hit his mouth and neck respectively. Two of his hands flew up to shield himself from the unexpected assault. The other two arms flailed about helplessly, trying to strike at the fairies. But the first three had swept past him and circled back around, making room for the second strike team to come in fast.
As one of the first three circled around to land on my right shoulder, I watched the second squad soar around the demon's flailing arms, before pulling the strings on what looked to be party poppers.
But instead of glitter and streamers, the small plastic toys ejected sparkling bits of white crystal.
"Salt?" I asked dumbly as the grains burst across the Denarian's head and shoulders.
"Blessed salt," Toot said smartly from my shoulder.
"Ah," I said with an ignorant nod.
"Apparently the white collars use it in their soccer mitts and on vacations."
It took me a second. "You mean sacraments and invocations."
The tiny fairy blinked at me. "That's what I said."
While I was busy translating dewdrop linguistics, Ursiel was stumbling about, his searing claws raking at his own flesh as he tried to dig out the salt that clung to his burns. I'd experienced literal salt in the wound before myself, but nothing like what the blessed grains seemed to be doing to the demon.
Two more waves had struck as Toot and I watched on. More holy water was joined by blessed salt, leaving the demon thrashing about in agony. Between Toot's assault and the threshold of the church, the Denarian was struggling to maintain its form. The hairs on its ursine body had caught fire, tiny white flames flickering across its flesh. It slammed into the wall, before careening to the other side of the pathway, crashing into the pews.
With Ursiel momentarily distracted, I reached out, holding my hand low to the floor. "Ventas Servitas!"
I heard a series of banging and clacking noises as my staff responded to my summons, sliding under the pews and spinning about until it finally snapped into my waiting palm. As soon as the soot-streaked wood was in my grasp, I aimed it toward the demon that was just beginning to recover.
The glowing eyes on his forehead were the only recognizable feature on the face. Everything else had been burned away, leaving not much more than a bloody skull that roared in defiance. Those burning eyes flashed with rage as I unleashed the power I'd been gathering while talking to Toot. "Infriga forzare!"
The combo spell shot forward, a torrent of arctic wind swirling toward the Denarian. Glass and marble shrapnel swept toward Ursiel, the materials cutting his flesh as if they too were blessed. Being part of the church's construction, they might very well have been.
The blast of air was followed by a drop in temperature, one that left every surface between us in ice as it slammed into the demon. The force of it sent Ursiel flying backwards, tumbling through the air much like I must have after his strike. And just like I had, he slammed painfully into the corner of the southern transept, before disappearing into the shadows of the rear alcove.
As I stool, I staggered. The movement caused a spasm of pain to burst through the numbing sensation of the mantle. My shoulder was definitely dislocated. But even though I'd bought myself some time, I knew the demon wasn't finished.
My eyes drifted to the wall. "If Riggs can do it, so can I."
Toot fluttered off of my right shoulder as I stumbled toward the wall, before pressing the left one against the smooth surface. With a grunt that turned into a scream, I slammed the shoulder into the wall. There was another popping sensation accompanied by a grinding one, and then I was on my knees as the pain overtook me.
"Harry?" Toot called as he hovered beside my head. "I think you're going to want to get up."
"Just a second," I replied in a decent soprano.
"Maybe sooner," Toot replied urgently.
I managed to look up as Ursiel appeared in the distance, two of his arms bracing himself up between wall and column. The ice and force spell had shredded him head to toe, leaving bloody gouges in his flesh. Steam curled up around him, giving him the appearance of something freshly emerged from the depths of hell. His blood dripped freely, sizzling on the church floor as if it were a hot pan.
But despite the damage, the Denarian was still standing.
And even worse, it looked like he was getting ready to charge.
"I don't suppose you have any more salt or water?" I asked as I pushed myself up, leaning on my staff to do so.
"The others took the rest," Toot said. "The Officer Knight said they needed our help."
A glance off to the right revealed that a swarm of glowing spheres were soaring around the others still at the front of the church. "Great," I muttered.
"You can handle this one, my lord," Toot said reassuringly.
Easy to say. Harder to believe.
But as the mantle once again numbed the pain I was feeling, I stood, facing down the hellish thing.
"You know what?" I said, straightening up. "You're right."
Toot drifted away as I started drawing in more power. Power from within, and power from without. The power of the mantle, combined with the power in the world around me. More power than I'd summoned in quite a while, letting it build up inside me.
The frost covering me thickened as I channeled some of the power into armor. Plate mail resembling that which Michael wore formed across my chest, albeit made of ice rather than steel. Breastplate and gauntlets, pauldrons and cuisse, each piece forming with the grinding sound of an arctic glacier. Greaves flowed over my shins as a helm formed around my head.
While it might have mirrored Michael's armor, it was nowhere near as noble and righteous. The ice was a blue so dark it might as well have been black. Jagged spikes sprung from its surface, giving it a sinister shape.
A small whirlwind formed around me, gathering up more of the broken glass and marble. The shards swirled about, before snapping toward me. Some lay flat across the armor, forming a mosaic over the ice. Other pieces sank in, leaving jagged edges jutting out. Wicked blades of ice formed in the gaps, the razor sharp edges glinting in the light.
In moments, I was covered top to bottom in an all-encasing armor that made my entire body a weapon.
Because that's what I was.
I was the Winter Fucking Knight.
And it was time I showed them all just what that meant.
I screamed as I burst into motion, a furious bellow that was returned by the demon as it started forward. Ice flowed up around my staff, the surface glinting in the light as more broken glass worked its way into the coating.
As Ursiel charged, I snapped my staff down, using it to pole vault myself forward. When the timing was right, I released the weapon, shooting up from the ground. My boots flew at the demon's head, sharp icicles forming on the soles only an instant before they sliced into the remains of his face.
The unexpected blow rocked the demon back, and I bent at the knees, using the impact to propel me into a back-flip. I fell into a crouch, the icicles on my boots breaking as I landed on my feet. While Ursiel was still reeling from the blow, I darted forward, my hands growing claws that burned with a cold that rivaled his heated talons.
I stepped to one side as I slashed at him, my claws shredding his flesh and leaving a trail of steaming frost. The demon screamed again as the cold seeped into his veins, and he swung his massive arms around in retaliation, trying to pummel me.
But while the demon was stronger than I'd ever be, he didn't have my speed. Not when every movement I made was enhanced by a strategic burst of air that hastened my journey. I ducked beneath a lumbering blow, dragging my claws along the limb in the process. When it had passed me by, I twisted and swiped again, leaving more gouges along his side and back.
Around and around I went, ducking and slashing. The demon did his best to catch me, but he couldn't keep up. I was a whirlwind of ice and death, tearing his flesh from his body with every movement. Even when he got close, my armor would inflict more pain, as the glass and marble cut deep.
A swift kick to the back of one leg staggered him, finally bringing him down to a knee. Exhausted by the unending onslaught, Ursiel was slow to recover. He started to turn toward me, but he was just too slow. I was already leaping up toward him, and as I braced one hand on his turning bicep, I snapped my knee into the back of his head, driving the razor sharp poleyn into the base of his skull.
The blow did more damage than anything yet. As he toppled forward, I pushed off of him, completing another back-flip to land on my feet behind him. When he collapsed to the ground, I summoned my staff to me with nothing more than a thought, the pale ice-covered wood leaping through the air.
Ursiel tried pushing himself up, but that last attack had been brutal. I could see where his skull had fractured, and whatever passed for demonic brains threatened to spill out the back. His movements weren't much more than uncontrolled spasms, as the host within the beastly form began to die.
Stepping forward, I planted a foot on his back and shoved him down. Stone tile cracked beneath him as his breath burst from his ruined maw.
A slim icy blade formed on the thin end of my staff as I jabbed it down at him. The blade pierced all the way through him, the glass and marble upon it burning the demon from within. I left the staff buried inside him, standing upright on its own.
"I guess you proved me right," I said softly, leaning onto the spear. "Size doesn't really matter."
The demon gurgled something in response, but I paid him no mind. Instead, I focused on pouring more magic from the mantle down the staff, freezing his insides. While that worked its way through him, I gathered my own magic, readying it for a final blow.
And then I screamed as I unleashed it, letting it burst out the end of the staff and into the demon's body. My scream changed into the name of the destructive force that had laid waste to the hotel, all of it focused into one attack, on one opponent.
"Merus Hiems!"
There was something like a pop in the air. It was followed by an explosive blast as the raw and unadulterated power of Winter burst from within the demon. The force of it was enough to send me flying back, even as a metric ton of demon flesh exploded beneath me.
I spun through the air, the staff still with me not because of my grip, but because of the ice that had formed around it and my hand. The instincts of the mantle kicked in, making me spin about to land facing away from the carnage, in the direction of the others.
Frozen chunks of Denarian rained down as I crouched at the front of the church, staring toward Nicodemus and Deirdre, both of who's attention was quite suddenly transfixed on little ol' me.
"Next," I growled.
Shocked by the sudden and brutal end to the demon, the others had all froze — no, not literally — as one, an odd tableau forming before me. It gave me a moment to take stock of the situation, to see what I'd missed while Ursiel had been keeping me busy.
I could see that Sanya was down, a wound to one leg bleeding profusely onto the marble floor. I assumed Nicodemus was to blame, as the top half of his sword was slick with blood. Nick himself looked like he'd seen better days. After falling, Sanya had opened up with the assault rifle, leaving Nicodemus's coat and suit riddled with bullet holes.
That he was alive would have to be considered a miracle, if it weren't for the protective properties of the twisted tie he wore. Instead, he was ready for a fight, as was his writhing shadow.
Further back stood Michael, who was keeping himself between Deirdre and his family. Somehow he'd managed to safely extract Charity from Deirdre's clutches, and I wondered if the dozen fairies hovering around the Denarian had anything to do with that. Regardless, my friend's clothing had been shredded from head to toe, with dozens of red stains marking the places where Deirdre had landed blows against him.
When I looked to the demoness herself, I was surprised to see her metallic skin had faded away in several spots. Even as I watched, the pale flesh slowly began to transform again, although it was slow going. My guess was that the broken remnants of holy water balloons scattered across the floor had something to do with that.
Murphy had finally entered at some point, and had managed to get Forthill away from the fight. I noted one of her arms was bleeding, her long sleeve shirt soaked in red. Presumably that was from a swipe of Deirdre's hair, which still waived about the demoness' head.
I could see where a few cops had arrived, and had begun carrying the churchgoers from the action at the front. They were the first to recover, bursting back into motion as they hastily pulled the civilians away.
Nicodemus's eyes shifted from the remnants of Ursiel to me. "That's inconvenient," he said, frowning as he realized he and his daughter were once again outnumbered.
"I've not yet begun to inconvenience," I replied with a cruel sneer, before bursting into motion.
Before I moved, I struck the floor with my staff, unleashing a spell that created a funnel of air around it. It whipped across the marble floor, before shooting up toward the large dome overhead. As it went, I shifted my staff into my left hand and started forward, pacing myself.
Nicodemus braced for the attack, his sword swinging around defensively as I picked up speed. I could have charged full-tilt, moving at a rate he'd be hard pressed to match. Despite his experience and invulnerability, Nicodemus did not benefit from an inhuman grace or speed.
No, Nicodemus wasn't the threat. His shadow was, and as far as I knew, I had nothing in my repertoire that could counter it. I doubted my talent in fire magic would burn a creature that could channel hellfire; the strengths of the mantle, air and cold and darkness, didn't seem like the solution to an even greater darkness.
As far as I'd seen, the only things that were a threat to the Denarian's shadow were holy objects. And I was fresh out of those as his shadow shot forward to meet me, dark tendrils seeking to ensnare me before I could kill the man.
The thing was, I'd seen that trick already. I knew what was coming.
Which is why my wind funnel had shattered the painted glass of the dome overhead, leaving its shards to fall down around us as we closed upon one another.
As the shadows reached for me, they were met with a shower of blessed glass that cut through the tendrils of darkness, dissolving them as the light of the Swords reflected off the shards.
Nicodemus's eyes widened in shock as his shadow broke apart like mist around my advancing form. The Denarian clearly wasn't expecting his shadow to fail, but he reacted as well as any mortal could. His sword shot toward me, the steel of the blade more than enough to pierce the Fae-based magic of my armor.
Unfortunately for him, I was no mortal. Fueled by the mantle's speed, my staff snapped up and around, deflecting the blade away. As the steel met the fairy ice, it tore through it with ease. But the frigid coating did its job, diminishing the force behind the blow. When the sword struck the wood, it barely scratched the surface, before my enhanced strength knocked the blade away.
With his last line of defense countered, my right hand shot toward Nicodemus's neck, the frozen claws closing about his noose as the wide-eyed man tried to retreat. I rode him down, releasing my staff so that I could reach for him with my other hand as well.
Just as my left hand closed on the Shroud around his waist, a livid scream pierced the air, and a writhing mass of steel blades flew into my face.
Thin tendrils of metal lashed all over my armored body, the steel cutting through the ice with disturbing ease as Deirdre slammed into me. The mantle tried to replenish the protective coating from below, the layers thickening even as the outer surface was shaved away.
The demoness didn't escape the exchange unscathed either. As her hairs whipped across my armor, the church glass and marble shards cut at them, destroying them just as they had Ursiel's flesh. When her body crashed into mine, more fragments pierced her metallic skin. It phased her little, as her rage drove her to ignore the injuries.
The impact separated me from Nicodemus, my grip on the noose slipping as his daughter concentrated her attack on that arm. My left hand held fast to the Shroud, though, and I felt a tearing sensation ripple through the thin cloth before the demoness drove me backwards.
"Forzare!" I screamed, my right arm turning toward the metal-fleshed woman. Raw power sent her backwards, but her hairs snapped down into marble and wood to give her purchase. Rather than being sent hurtling like Ursiel had earlier, the demoness pivoted to the ground a few meters away, her four eyes glaring balefully at me as she prepared to throw herself forward again.
Knowing my armor wouldn't hold up under a second such attack, I thrust my hand at her a second time, unleashing a second spell. "Arctis aer!"
The magic flowed out of me, focusing primarily on my target area. The temperature at the front of the church dropped fast, the air around the demoness cooling almost twenty degrees per second as she started forward. With the power concentrated in a tight funnel, the effect wasn't as great further out, which meant that I didn't kill everyone all at once.
As Deirdre tried launching herself toward me, the cold took root in her flesh. The sonic boom from the sudden temperature drop was accompanied by a shrieking sound as her metal skin froze. Her lithe tendrils all stiffened, as did her limbs only moments later.
"Ice, ice baby," I snickered as the woman's movement slowed to a standstill. Within seconds, she looked like a furious statue. Only her eyes showed any movement, as the light emanating from within them began to grow brighter.
I glanced toward Nicodemus, who had pivoted to defend against an attack from Michael. The blades of the two were swirling back and forth, my friend fighting desperately to find a gap in the ancient man's defense. His wounds were slowing him, and I knew he'd need help before long.
I quickly wound the Shroud around my wrist as I started to draw in more power. Maybe I could hit Nicodemus from behind, giving Michael the chance he needed to end things. But my attention was drawn back to Dierdre as an ambient light began to shine from beneath the ice coating her.
"Oh, come on," I growled, as the same heat that had burned in Ursiel's claws began to melt the frost holding Deirdre in place. If the look on her face was any indication, the heat was hurting her just as much as it was the ice, but she wouldn't have to bare it for long. Not at the rate the frost was melting.
Frowning, I extended my hand toward her again. "Forzare!" I shouted, sending another kinetic spell down and out. But rather than aiming directly at her, I'd sent my power down toward the floor. The wind bounced off the marble, carrying the shards of glass with it as it then curled toward the Denarian.
I could see where the ice enclosing her had already started melting in several places. The shards of blessed glass found those exposed areas, striking her steel flesh at piercing speeds. Sharp edges bit into her mottled skin, causing the Denarian to scream in pain from a dozen flesh wounds.
Unfortunately, no large piece found its way into her jugular, so the demon was still breathing when the power subsided. But at least it had weakened her, causing the ice-melting heat to fade from her body. If I sent another cold snap in her direction, it just might freeze the shards into place, trapping her within.
I took aim, preparing to unleash another wave of arctic air. But a flicker of shadow drew my attention, and I had just enough time to take a startled breath before a wall of darkness slammed into me.
"Enough," Nicodemus said gruffly from somewhere beyond the veil of shadow that wrapped around my head. The darkness itself propelled me into the wall, a jarring impact that hurt from head to toe. Inky black wrapped around my wrists and neck, restraining me as the world faded away, until there was nothing but shadow upon shadow.
"I hoped that we might come to an arrangement," Nicodemus said from beyond. "You have such potential."
It sounded as if the duel between him and Michael had finished, as I could no longer hear their swords crashing together. But I couldn't see anything, as the shadow wrapped around my face.
"I've said it before," I gasped, the shadow around my throat making speech difficult. I tried pulling my arms apart, but the shadows held them fast. "I've already made my deal with a devil."
"So you have," Nicodemus said, sounding entirely too close for comfort. "I suppose the prophecy was right after all. Goodbye, Mr. Dresden."
I felt a tug on my left wrist, and I clamped down on the Shroud as the shadow tried to tear it away. In response, the tendril around my neck tightened, cutting off my air completely. The ice around me thickened, trying to buy me the precious few millimeters I needed to restore air to my lungs. I could feel it shifting, as if trying to move some of the remaining shards from the church into position, to cut at the shadows.
But I didn't have time. If Nicodemus was no longer tied down with Michael, he could be closing on me, and I wouldn't even see the attack coming. Within moments, he could put his sword through my throat.
Desperate, I started drawing power in, preparing to strike out at everything in front of me. Without my staff or my rods, I was working at a disadvantage. Add to that the fact that I couldn't invoke them verbally, and couldn't see my target, it seemed less and less likely that I'd succeed.
Still, anything was better than dying. My mouth opened as I prepared the spell in my mind. I was on the verge of unleashing it when the darkness suddenly disappeared in a flash of blinding light.
I choked on the spell as the shadows binding my throat disappeared, leaving me gasping for breath as I slid down the wall. My hand instinctively went for my throat, even as my eyes tracked the swath of light that had cut up through the darkness to strike away Nicodemus's advancing blade.
As I landed on the floor, I found myself looking up at the small form of Karrin Murphy.
At her, and the blazing Sword of Faith in her grasp.
"No more," Murphy whispered, her voice firm as she stared up at the taller man.
Nicodemus's eyes were furious as he stared down at the hated blade. But then his gaze shifted to the woman, a loathsome sneer making his face ugly. "Stand aside, fool."
Rather than replying, Murphy braced herself, ready for whatever was to come.
Nicodemus seemed to consider it for a long moment. As he did, the light from the Sword redoubled, pushing the darkness back. The shadows didn't seem to like that, but there was little it could do. Not while the Sword was being born by a true believer on holy ground.
The leader of the Fallen seemed to realize that himself. "So be it," he said, his eyes flickering toward his daughter. "Our job here is done."
I glanced in her direction, and saw that Deirdre had fully recovered from my spell. Without a second one to reinforce the ice, she'd broken free, her heated metal flesh cooling again as she'd prepared to continue the fight.
But she wasn't the only one. Michael had stepped forward, fresh blood on one arm making him hold Amoracchius one-handed. Sanya had pulled himself up into a sitting position, the twice-injured Knight leaning on a pew to train his rifle at the demoness. Her skin might have been enough to stop the bullets, but that wouldn't work for long, what with Lacuna and Toot waiting for Forthill to finish waiving his hands over a full mop bucket.
Deirdre seemed to realize they were more than outnumbered, and retreated rather than pressing an attack. Metal hairs bit into the back wall of the apse, carrying her up and over me like a spider as she made her way to the other side.
Nicodemus shifted in the same direction, his smile not fading. "A pleasure, as always," he said in Michael's direction, his sword swooshing up in a salute. His eyes flickered over Murphy and Fidelacchius for a moment, before settling on me. "Be seeing you, Harry."
"Chao," I rasped out, my throat too sore for banter.
Nicodemus nodded pleasantly, before he and his daughter disappeared through one of the doors at the rear, the darkness fleeing from the light.