Hellgate London - Exodus Part 36

Forty.

From the darkness of the Turnbull Museum, frightened eyes studied Simon. He stared back at them over the Spike Bolter, adrenaline surging through his system. All of the Templar stood ready to fight. "Don't fire!" Derek shouted. "Don't fire! These are noncombatant!"

Simon lowered his weapon, looking out over the museum. With the moonlight slivered through the swirling snow and the dusty windows, the fugitives hiding in the building would have been barely visible. Except for the night-vision capability of the HUD. But he was willing to bet that the people inside the building could barely see each other. He didn't know what the people must have thought of them as they came through the door.

The snow swirled in through the open door, white against the darkness, then disappeared on the floor as it melted almost at once. The cold came as well, more active and biting than it had been with the door closed. Several of the people taking shelter inside the museum pulled their coats and blankets more tightly around them. There were at least three dozen of them that Simon could see, but he felt certain there would be others scattered throughout the building.

Derek held his hand up, freezing the Templar into position. Then he cursed, frustrated by the turn of events that had put innocents in harm's way.

"What are these people doing here?" someone asked. "Taking shelter," someone else answered.

Derek stepped forward, dropping his hand. His voice broadcast through the armor. "You people can't stay here," he said.

Simon knew Derek was remembering what had happened at the Thornton house with the book. The hammer they were after was known to have powers. All of the people inside the building would be in danger if they stayed.

A thin man in his fifties, gray and bent with age, stood to face them. "We can't go out there. This is the only safe place we've found. The demons don't come in here."

Looking around, Simon noticed there were no dead bodies like there were outside the building. Nor did the museum show signs of violence or combat. Most of the exhibits were long gone, leaving only empty shelves and floor displays, but they were largely undisturbed. Maybe thieves had come in over the years to pick over what had been left, but not demons. There was plenty of room for the makes.h.i.+ft beds that littered the floor.

"The museum must be warded," Derek said over the armor's privacy channel. "Someone laid a spell over this place and invoked some kind of sanctuary."

"Are you the knights?" the man asked quietly. He held a long kitchen knife in one hand, but he must have known it wouldn't have done any good against armor or the demons. "Are you Arthur's Knights of the Round Table? Come to help us in our time of need?"

Derek didn't say anything, but he remembered the boy asking the same question. Those stories, though forgotten to some degree, had resurfaced now. He was surprised at that.

"I was always told that Arthur Pendragon would return some day," the man went on hopefully. "That when England was in her greatest need, he would once again take up Excalibur." He looked at the Templar. "Are you here to help us?"

Derek hesitated, then said, "That's just a story. We're not part of that."

"I see." The man's shoulders rounded and he pulled a frayed blanket around his shoulders.

Demons screamed outside the door. Simon stepped back long enough to close the door and preserve what little heat remained within the museum. The people all looked so vulnerable.

"Do you have any food?" a woman asked. "Food is always hard to come by." Tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm not asking for myself, but for my boys." She moved the blanket and revealed two small boys hidden there. Both the boys looked frightened near to death. "I hate watching them go hungry, and we've all gone hungry for days now."

Simon sheathed the Spike Bolter and reached for the rations they carried out into the field in ammo compartments of the armor. They were primarily energy bars and soy-sub. The Templar only carried self-heats outside the city.

"It's not much," he apologized. He added the water containers that fed through the suit's drinking tube as well.

The woman smiled her thanks at him, then quickly started sharing the meager amount with other parents with children. The rations went quickly.

Other Templar came forward and handed their rations over as well.

"You're a bunch of fools," Mercer snapped. "If we get pinned down somewhere and can't make it back for a few days, you're going to go hungry."

"I can miss a meal or two," Wertham said. "I'll not knowingly leave children to go hungry." Raw emotion twisted his words. "That's not something I'll do. And it's not something I thought I would ever be asked to do."

A few more Templar, shamed by the words, stepped forward and gave up their supplies as well. Derek put his in as well. Only Mercer and three others didn't volunteer theirs.

"You'd better hope High Seat Booth doesn't hear about this," Mercer threatened. Derek turned to Mercer. "If the High Seat does, we'll know who told him."

Mercer held his commander's gaze for an insolent moment, then turned away. "Can you take us out of here?" the man asked.

"Where would you go?" Derek asked.

"I don't know. Isn't there somewhere safe?" "Not in the city."

"We can't stay here," one of the women said. "The demons can't enter this place, but it doesn't stop them from waiting for us outside. When we go out to try to find food, they hunt us. Staying here is just a slow death."

"The coast," Derek said. "There are still s.h.i.+ps that take refugees to France."

The man shook his head. "We'd never make it. Not as poorly equipped as we are for the winter, or in the shape we're in. We're too weak."

Simon looked at all the people and felt torn. All of the people in the museum were doomed, trapped by their vulnerability and needs. Staying in the museum was going to be a slow, horror-filled death, and none of them would escape.

Unless they die in the next few minutes,he couldn't help thinking.

"I'm sorry," Derek said. "I wish we could a.s.sist you. But we can't. We've got our orders." "Are you part of the military?"

"No." Derek paused, looking away from the man and the other unfortunates. "It would be better if you leave now. Safer."

"We can't. You can't ask us to do that. We've got old people and children among us."

"I'm sorry." Derek started forward then, aiming for the back of the museum. The schematic they had of the building showed the entrance to the bas.e.m.e.nt there.

Trying not to think about the people barely living through the freezing cold around him and the fact that they were about to possibly endanger them all, Simon followed. He wondered what his father would have done, then wished that he'd have been able to ask him.

"Do you think this place is warded?" Wertham asked as they descended the steps leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"I don't know," Corrigan told him. "I've heard of such things, but I don't know if that's possible."

Simon didn't either, and he wondered if that was part of the protection hiding the Templar Underground from the demons.

"Warding doesn't matter," Mercer growled. "Demons have ways of getting past wards. None that have ever been put up have remained effective."

Trying not to think about that, Simon kept watch. The bas.e.m.e.nt was large, stuffed with boxes and crates that contained remnants of exhibits that had once filled the museum. A few more of the displaced Londoners squatted there as well, but they quickly gathered their belongings and headed up the steps when the Templar arrived.

They don't trust us, either,Simon realized. That troubled him more than he thought it would.

Derek spent some time at the west wall. "There's supposed to be a trigger. Ah, there it is." He pressed on a section of the wall.

With slow, easy grace, a ten-foot section of the wall pivoted to a ninety-degree angle, basically becoming two doorways leading into the darkened room beyond. The Templar followed a spiral staircase around and down, reaching the other door in short order.

The new door was filled with symbols. Even with his meager magical ability, Simon sensed the power locked into the door.

It's probably throughout that room,he told himself.

Derek tried the door but it was locked. He stepped back and called to Wertham. "These are supposed to be your specialty."

"They can be," Wertham agreed. He took his gloves off and placed his bare hands on the metal door, then started chanting. As he spoke, the symbols lit up. Less than a minute later, the bolts holding the door closed shot back with metallicsnicks.

Wertham seized the door and opened it, then stepped back out of the way. Shelves of artifacts stood barely revealed. Simon made out weapons and works of art, models, vases, and other fragile things the museum owner had put together after so much work and dedication. The man had obviously cared about what he was doing.

Almost immediately, Simon saw the movement taking shape in the shadows. He s.h.i.+fted from the light-multiplier application to a true infrared, spotting the hole in the back of the room because it stood out in sharper relief, glowing a little from heat.

Demonic roars came through the opening. Magnifying and enhancing the images, Simon saw dozens of demons bearing down on a group of Cabalists, who were just then starting to run for their lives.

"Look out!" Mercer cried, drawing his sword. He stepped into the room after Derek, who had gone at once toward the Hammer in a special case on the wall.

Balekor's Hammer gleamed a rich dark purple, like it had been roused from slumber.

The other Templar drew their weapons as well. They didn't even have time to get set. Through the hole, Simon saw a young black man charging toward them. He was dressed all in black, but he didn't wear the horns and tattoos of the other Cabalists he was with.

Before any of them could get set, the young black man threw out a hand. Simon saw a vague rippling take shape in the air before him, then an incredible force blasted the wall into pieces.

Forty-One.

Rock and mortar pelted Simon as he was blown off his feet and driven backward. He flailed as he flew backward into another Templar. Both of them went down, buffeted by the waves of force that slammed through the vault.

"Get back!" Derek shouted. "Back up the stairs or we're going to be trapped!"

Shoving himself to his feet, Simon took a firm grip on his sword and peered through the gaping hole in the wall. The vault had evidently b.u.t.ted up against the bas.e.m.e.nt of the building across the alley, crossing under the alley. The wall on that side of the room had shattered and been strewn across the floor.

The Cabalists rushed into the vault, adding confusion to the threat of sudden death. Several of the Templar aimed their hand weapons at the new arrivals and backed them off, not certain if they were attacking with the demons or merely under attack themselves. The answer came quickly enough when the demons fired and two of the security people with the Cabalists went down. The security guards took cover at the edge of the wall and returned fire, but the effort didn't slow the rampaging demons.

Simon had his Spike Bolter up, aiming it at the black-clad man that had blown the wall apart. The man was younger than Simon had at first believed. Then Simon saw the scaled fist that thrust through the man's coat sleeve. It looked like his skin had been removed and lizard's hide transplanted there. "Help us," a tall Cabalist cried out as he took cover. "We were ambushed by the demons."

"Let them through," Derek commanded.

Grumbling and cursing, the Templar pushed the Cabalists behind them and took up arms against the demons. They stood with the security people. And the demons continued their a.s.sault.

"Mercer," Derek yelled, "get these people out of here. All of you fall back. We can't fight them here." Mercer fled up the stairs.

Derek had Balekor's Hammer in both hands as he sprinted back toward the exit. He pushed into his men, urging them onward as the demon hordes pressed in from behind.

Weapons fire from the demons struck within the vault. Sparks erupted from Simon's helmet as some kind of beam splashed against him. The force rocked him on his heels but he stood his ground.

"Derek!" Mercer yelled from the top of the stairs. "The door has closed! It's jammed and I can't get it open! We can't get out!"

Simon wondered if the door had been blocked by the people they'd told to leave the premises. He wouldn't have blamed them.

"Get the door open!" Derek shouted back. "Wertham's trying!"

Simon pushed himself forward through the advancing wave of Cabalists. The man in black who had caused the wall to explode brushed past him, obviously looking for the fastest way out.

"Derek," Simon said as he watched the demons approach. He stood in front of the Cabalists, drawing weapons fire and providing the protective wall of his armor. "We can't run. There's no time. If the demons bottle us in here, they're going to pick us off. We can't get trapped in here." Derek stood beside Simon.

"It's time we fought back," Simon said. He held his sword and the Spike Bolter. "Live or die, we can't run from this fight."

"Here!" Derek shouted. "Form a skirmish line! We're going to take the fight to them!"

Scared and pumped up on adrenaline, Simon reached for the anger that fired through him. Maybe these weren't the demons who had slain his father, but it had been demons like them. He stood ready.

Derek flashed him on a private band through the HUD. "We can't let the hammer slip out of our hands.

No matter what happens."

Simon nodded grimly, rocked by another salvo of beams that sliced through the blown-out wall. "We can't stay here, either."

"I know." Derek slung the Hammer over his shoulder and freed his sword. "Charge!"

As one man, the Templar boiled out of the vault, racing over the bodies of the dead and injured Cabalists bleeding on the ground. War cries, amplified by the HUD's audio enhancers, pealed from the walls of the rooms. They met the demon horde less than ten feet from the opening in the wall.

A solid wave of Templar met the ragged line of demons. For a moment, the demons held their ground, then they were knocked aside and down as the powered suits got the upper hand.

Simon thrust the Spike Bolter into a demon's face and squeezed the trigger. The demon's head blew into pieces, scattering gore all over Simon. Setting himself, Simon swung his sword and cut deeply into another demon's body.

There are too many,his mind screamed at him.But there are already two less than there were, he told that scared part of himself. They were also packed so solidly in front of him that he couldn't miss. All he had to do was keep fighting.

Metal ground against metal as the Templar blades and armor met the armor the demons were wearing and the weapons they carried. Already several of the demons were down, some of them dead and others mortally wounded and crying out in fear. The Templar killed them without mercy, just as the demons did to the fallen Templar. The din was horrendous, like a scene cut from the deepest pits of h.e.l.l.

Simon kept moving, using the HUD to keep track of the other Templar. They tried to stay in a group, but it was impossible with all the close-in fighting that was going on. Reaching across his body, his sword raised to block an axe blow, he pushed the Spike Bolter against the back of a demon's head that was attacking a fallen Templar and pulled the trigger.

The demon's head went to pieces, but as the creature slumped, Simon saw that he'd acted too late. The demon had already succeeded in shoving a spear through the fallen Templar's chest. Electricity and arcane forces fired at the breach in the armor, but blood was there, too. The falling demon draped the Templar.

Lifting his foot, Simon drove his other attacker backward with a kick. Simon reached down for the fallen Templar, just enough to make suit contact so he could read the other man's vital statistics.

All his suit received was a series of flat lines that confirmed what he'd feared. There was no pulse. No respiration. The man was dead.

"Simon! Look out!" Derek chopped with his sword, turning aside a spear that had been aimed at Simon's heart. The demon behind the spear thrust was a brutish beast almost twice as large as Simon.

The demon swept a ma.s.sive fist back, striking Derek full in the face. If he hadn't been in armor, the blow would have killed him. As it was, Derek crumpled against a wall nearly twenty feet away, his senses wavered, and for a moment he thought he was going to drop. He took a deep breath and shook off the effects of the blow.

Simon waded into the fray again. With all the limbs and weapons waved around, with beams tracking scorch marks on the floors, walls, and ceiling, it was impossible to know which way the battle was turning.

Swinging his sword, Simon buried the blade in the thick corded muscle of a Darksp.a.w.n's neck and chest. The sword lodged, trapped there as the demon fought with its last breath to stick him with the sword it carried. Simon kicked at it, trying to free the dying creature from his sword.

Before he succeeded, another Darksp.a.w.n shouldered its wounded comrade aside and aimed a pistol at Simon's face. Simon attempted to duck but couldn't get out of the way in time. Bilious green liquid splashed against his helm, followed immediately by a cloud of white smoke that partially obscured his vision.