Redemption Song (Daniel Faust #2)(64)
I broke left. Harmony dove to the right. On the other side of the gallery Lars and Gary opened fire. The thunder of their guns echoed across the garage like cannon blasts. I had a cannon of my own, but before I could pull it one of Sullivan’s goons scrambled over a car hood and threw himself on my back. He was in full cambion mode, a spitting and clawing terror scrabbling at my face with dirty yellow fingernails, going for my eyes.
I fell backward against a car. The window glass broke against the cambion’s back. Then I rammed my elbow into his rib cage again and again. He fell off, tumbling to the concrete. I pulled my pistol, but before I could finish him off one of the bikers whipped down the aisle and fired wildly with a little pocket gun that made coughing putt-putt-putt sounds. I hit the ground as shattered glass rained down around me.
As soon as the rider went by, I pushed myself up and over another car hood, rolling as flat as I could and dropping to a crouch on the other side.
Right in front of Sullivan.
Seething with rage, he stood tall in the middle of the gunfight, giving the flying lead less regard than a swarm of gnats. He held out his hand.
“Give it to me,” he hissed as his fingernails lengthened into claws.
“If you insist,” I said. Then I shot him in the face.
The Judge kicked like a mule in my hand. In the echo gallery of the parking garage it sounded like a thunderclap at point-blank range. My ears rang and my teeth rattled and Sullivan staggered backward, shrieking, clutching at his face. Black ichor rolled out in thick oily rivulets between his fingers.
I didn’t have time to celebrate. The biker was coming back for another pass, and I threw myself clear of another streak of wild gunfire. A bullet whined past me, close enough for me to feel the breeze. My lucky day, I thought.
It hit the duffel bag.
Time lurched to a standstill. I knew what had happened even before I felt the bullet tear through the mesh, before I heard the breaking glass. Before I saw the plume of purple smoke streak through the bullet hole and out into the garage like a swarm of neon hornets.
It flew past the cambion, past the howling demon, and made a beeline for Harmony. She had one of Sullivan’s boys pinned down and was making every shot count, but she didn’t see the cloud of death streaking her way.
“Harmony!” I shouted. “Wards!”
She turned just in time, flinging up her forearm and hissing something under her breath. Her silver bangle flared with violent light and the soul cloud crackled, bouncing away, coiling and twisting. It changed course. I braced myself, expecting it to come after me next, but it found an easier target on the far side of the gunfight.
Lars never saw what hit him. The bulky Norwegian turned and caught the cloud full in the face. It enveloped him, streaming in through his mouth, his nose, his tear ducts. He went rigid, like a seizure victim, then collapsed to the ground.
When he stood back up, he wasn’t Lars anymore.
Thirty-Two
“Lars!” Harmony screamed, looking like she was about to break cover. Lars stood there, his jaw slack. He stared at the gun in his hand like someone had given him a chrome-plated duck and expected him to know why.
Gary, meanwhile, was a shadow in the back of the gallery, and I wasn’t surprised. After all, he couldn’t shoot the people he was secretly working for. From the pattern of his shots, I guessed he was laying down covering fire, going out of his way not to hit anybody. That meant the odds had shifted. Now it was Harmony and me against the world, and it looked like Harmony was about to do something reckless.
I beat her to it. I kept my head down and charged across the open aisle, hoping to catch her before she ran to meet the thing wearing Lars’s skin. One of the bikers whipped his Harley around and came right at me, headlight glaring. The light made a good target. I aimed high and snapped off a shot, never stopping my run. The biker went flying and his ride dropped, skidding on its side and crashing into a parked van.
“C’mon!” I said. “We have to go. Now!”
“I’ve got a man down!” Harmony shouted. “I’m not leaving without him!”
I grabbed her shoulder, pulling her to face me, and spoke in an urgent hiss.
“If we stay, we die. Lars can still be saved, but not here and not now. If we die here, nobody will ever be able to help him. Do you understand?”
She gave a sharp nod. Focused under fire. She crouch-jogged to the edge of cover and pushed up the fallen Harley. Me, I was watching the nightmare coming to life just ten feet away.
Sullivan was getting up.
He stood slowly, gracefully, lowering his hands to his sides. His face reknit itself as I watched. Splintered bone slithered and popped back into place, cheekbones rose, and one blown-out eye swelled and sprouted in an empty socket like some poisonous mushroom.
Harmony saw it too. She swung into the Harley’s saddle and patted the seat behind her. “Get on!”
Sullivan pointed at me. His voice was a bellow that could shatter tombstones.
“Faust!”
I jumped onto the bike. We took off before my feet lifted from the concrete. Harmony gripped the handlebars, staring grimly ahead as the engine gave a throaty roar and rumbled between our legs. Sullivan gave chase, dropping into a lurching gait and then to all fours, his muscles rippling and twisting in ways no human’s could. What chased us now was something bestial, a creature built for violence and the love of the hunt.