Hellgate London - Exodus Part 38

When the pressure went away, Simon swung his sword, intending to knock the Hammer from Warren's grip. Instead, Warren s.h.i.+fted. The blade caught him on the right wrist and sliced through.

Warren's hand fell away from his wrist. Blood gushed from the horrible wound. Crying out shrilly, he dropped the Hammer and closed his other hand over the end of his maimed arm.

Simon felt bad about the turn of events, but he closed on the Hammer and lifted it from the floor. The bullets resumed their course and at least one of them struck Warren as he fell.

The disc imploded, but the arcane forces shot the demon from it like an inhuman cannonball. Before the demon went far, however, it stopped in midair and sank to its knees, obviously stunned. Its voice rose in ire and pain, and Simon knew he didn't want to be there when it recovered.

The two women ran to Warren. The dark-haired one tended to his amputated wrist while the other one stood by him and held him with a wooden smile on her face.

Knowing the Cabalists weren't friendly or even neutral, Simon abandoned them, following Derek down into the hole in the floor.

"Can you make it?" Simon asked when he landed on the floor beside Derek.

"I have to." Derek straightened with effort. Blood ran down the front of his armor. "Give me the Hammer."

Simon did, then accepted the explosives Derek handed him.

"Mine the tunnel," Derek said, glancing back up at the hole. "The demons will be down on top of us as soon as they've finished with those people up there."

Simon nodded and slung the explosives over his shoulder. They ran.

Only a short distance ahead, the tunnel curved, heading toward the river according to the map on Simon's HUD. He stopped, inserted a detonator into one of the explosive blocks, and dropped the pack of explosives to the ground around the corner, hoping the curve would deflect some of the concussion.

Farther back up the tunnel, the first of the demons had started coming through the hole, dropping to all fours. They barked and growled, then lifted their weapons and started firing.

Dodging around the corner, Simon checked to make certain Derek was still moving under his own speed. "Wertham."

"Yes?"

"Have you reached the other end of the tunnel? Is the way open?" Simon didn't relish the idea of blasting the tunnel closed and effectively creating their own tomb. It was possible that they could somehow dig their way out, but he didn't want to risk it.

"Give me a minute. Almost there." "Simon," Derek called, "blow the tunnel."

Footsteps, picked up by the armor's enhancements, sounded in the tunnel around the corner. They were rapidly growing closer.

If the tunnel's blocked, even if the tunnel's not blown up and closed, we can't get past the demons. They'll kill us all. I'll only be delaying- "It's here!" Wertham shouted. "We can get out!" "Simon, blow-"

Using the armor's systems, Simon detonated the explosives as the footsteps sounded right around the corner and he hurled himself forward. The concussion s.h.i.+vered through the tunnel, causing the floor to vibrate under Simon's feet. Then it overtook him and blew him forward, enveloping him in a coil of yellow and orange flames.

He cut off my hand!Even as he stared at the b.l.o.o.d.y stump that truncated his arm, Warren couldn't believe it. He'd been watching Merihim push out of the disc and hadn't even seen the armored figure until it was too late.

There wasn't as much pain as he thought there should be. In fact, there was hardly any pain at all.

Merihim screaming inside his brain was worse. The demon was angry and hurting, roaring with rage as it got to its feet.

Naomi leaned over him, holding him down with her weight as she fought to wrap his wrist with the bootlace she'd taken from his boot. "Lie still! You're going to bleed to death! Lie still!"

Warren didn't care. Another horrible thing had happened to him because he couldn't defend himself. Because no one cared enough about him to protect him. Chill weakness pa.s.sed through him, stealing his strength and fading his vision. He continued to struggle, but he was too weak to fight against Naomi.

She got the bootlace tied around his wrist and somehow managed to stop the bleeding.

"Don't," he whispered. "Please, don't." He was ready to die. She didn't know that, but he was. He was prepared now, while he was still in shock. He wasn't afraid. Death could come for him now and he wouldn't fight. He fumbled for the bootlace with his other hand, wanting to untie it and bleed out. Naomi captured his hand. "Stop," she said. "Please stop, Warren."

"He cut my hand off!"Warren's voice sounded weak in his ears.

"I know," Naomi said. "I know. It's going to be all right." "I'm a cripple!"

"You're alive."

Hot tears flooded Warren's eyes. He didn't want to be alive. He wanted to be dead. And he wanted the man who had crippled him to be dead too.

"Look out," Tulane said. "Here they come."

Warren barely noticed the approaching demons. Some of them had slipped down into the hole the armored men had blown through the floor. But the others closed on the Cabalists. There was no doubt what they had in mind.

One of the Darksp.a.w.n picked up Warren's severed hand and grinned.

A Fetid Hulk, a great green demon that towered above the others and looked vaguely like an unfinished clay model of a human, snorted and slavered behind the Darksp.a.w.n. Smooth scales covered it. Its head was huge and monstrous, smooth and earless, showing off a large maw filled with sharp teeth.

Still grinning, the Darksp.a.w.n tossed Warren's hand into the air. The Fetid Hulk's head whipped forward on its elongated neck and caught the hand in its mouth. "No!" Warren shouted, trying to get up again.

The Fetid Hulk chewed a couple of times, crunching through the bones, then swallowed. It gazed at Warren again, as if speculating where to start next.

The demons started forward, baring blades, obviously intending to make their kills on unprotected prey as personal as possible.

Merihim stepped between them.No, the demon said.These are mine. I claim them. The demons grimaced and growled unhappily. Three of them started forward.

Merihim gestured at one of them with his great trident. The Gremlin started screaming and slapping at its head. In the next instant, the demon's head burst like a blood-filled balloon.

The other demons drew back.

Go,Merihim told them.Pursue the others if you will, but leave these alone. Reluctantly, the demons backed off.

Yes,Merihim said a moment later,the dead ones you can have.

The demons pounced on the corpses in a frantic scramble. The room filled with the smacking and crunching of their feeding.

Merihim turned to Warren.You let them take Balekor's Hammer.

Warren didn't reply. He only hoped that death would claim him quickly. You're not going to die,Merihim said.I still have use for you.

I can die if I want to,Warren thought.There's nothing you can do. He could already feel his heart slowing and see that his vision was graying around the edges.

Merihim walked over to him.

Warren felt Naomi's grip tighten on his arm and knew that she was afraid. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything.

Then the demon leaned down and placed his hand across Warren's chest.Live, he commanded.

Without warning, electricity surged through Warren's body. Only it wasn't electricity. It was something else. Something more powerful and more ethereal. His heartbeat sped up again.

And pain returned to him in a huge wave that splintered all hope of dying. No one who was going to die could be in that much agony.

"My hand!" Warren yelled. Because everything he'd missed feeling earlier, he felt now. Merihim picked up a nearby axe.I'm going to give you a gift. I expect you to use it well.

Barely holding on to his consciousness, Warren watched in horror as Merihim placed his own arm on the stone floor and chopped off his hand at the wrist. Blood stopped flowing almost immediately.

The demon never uttered a word. He tossed the axe aside and picked up the severed hand with his remaining one. Then he spoke in English, addressing Naomi. "Give him this or you will know my wrath."

He tossed the hand to her.

Naomi tried to grab the hand, but missed. Before it could fall, though, the fingers closed around her wrist and held on. She barely m.u.f.fled a scream.

Merihim laughed and held up his stump. Black tendrils shot up from his wrist and twisted together. In seconds he'd grown another hand.

Sleep. Heal. I'll have need of you again.

Warren crashed into the darkness, fearing that he wasn't going to die, that he was going to live. And if he had to live, he meant to see that the armored man that had cut his hand off was going to pay.

Dazed by the blast, Simon rolled to his feet, somehow managing to hang on to his sword. The armor's audio dampers saved his hearing and the HUD compensated for the bright lights, then the tunnel filled with dust. The armor filtered the dust out and kept his air supply clean.

He drew the Spike Bolter and examined the blockage that had filled the tunnel. Rock and debris had tumbled down from above, opening into another room of another building. The debris hadn't quite filled the tunnel. A gap no more than a few inches existed at the top, but nothing moved there.

Turning, Simon ran the other way, quickly overtaking Derek. He gathered Derek's arm across his shoulders and helped him increase his pace. Together they headed for the other end of the tunnel.

A few minutes later, Simon stood outside the tunnel only a few feet from the River Thames. The mud that stretched out from the bank testified that the river was indeed dwindling. Several boats and s.h.i.+ps sat mired in mud as well, even the ones that were broken.

Blood Angels flew silently overhead, staring down for prey. Other demons worked the buildings and boats.

Standing there with Derek's arm across his shoulders, Simon thought of the men, women, and children they'd left behind in the museum. He didn't know if the fight down in the vault had disrupted the wards that protected the place or not. He hoped it hadn't. The thought of those people becoming victims during the night made him sick.

Quietly, the Templar moved out, staying within the shadows. Lisa, one of the female Templar, came back to help Simon with Derek, who faded in and out of consciousness. Evidently the injury was too much for the armor to slap-patch him through.

"Look," Wertham said, pointing downriver.

Using the magnification application on the HUD, Simon picked the figures out of the darkness. He identified the Cabalists as they made their way out of the gla.s.sworks building. They carried someone on a makes.h.i.+ft stretcher, what looked to be a section of carpet cut up from some office floor.

"They're in league with the demons," Mercer said. "Just goes to show that you can't trust them." He cursed. "We oughta kill them all and be done with it."

Simon didn't say anything, but he didn't think the Cabalists were in with the demons. When they'd found them, they'd been fleeing for their lives. He had no doubts about that.

But he couldn't explain the Cabalist-Warren-trying to take Balekor's Hammer from Derek and somehow using it to call forth a demon. Were they using the demon? Or was the demon using them?

He tried to push the matter from his thoughts. He had other things to think about. Provided they made it safely back to the Underground, he was going to make some changes in his life. Sitting back and going on missions for the High Seat wasn't what he wanted to do. It wasn't what his father had trained him to do.

Forty-Four.

You're a fool to go out there like this, you know."

Simon ignored High Seat Booth's comment and kept packing, throwing a few clothes and rations into the duffel bag on his bunk. There wasn't much room in the bag, and the way he planned on living was even harder than when he'd been in the South African bush. He was acutely aware of the other Templar in the barracks who were watching him.

"You won't last a day on your own," Booth warned. "If not anything else, you should have learned that since you've been back."

Simon rolled the duffel and hoisted it over his shoulder. He turned, but Booth stepped into his path. "Are you listening to me?" Booth demanded.

Looking down, Simon locked gazes with the man. Booth's arrogance was palpable. "I hear you," Simon said, "but that's not stopping me from going."

"Then why are you going?" "There are people out there-"

"I know there are people out there," Booth interrupted irritably. "I'm not an idiot."

"They need help getting out of the city," Simon replied. "Before the demons kill them, or the Burn. Or even winter."

"The smart ones will figure that out on their own," Booth insisted. "They'll abandon the city."

"They're not strong enough to do it." Simon knew that the other Templar were listening in, and some of them looked sympathetic. "And they're not strong enough to survive the attempt without help."

"So what are you going to do?" Booth put his hands on his hips and glared at Simon.

Simon was tired of dealing with Booth. It was primary school all over again. Booth was loud and he was a bully. He still didn't like it when things didn't go his way.

For the last two days, Simon had recuperated and made his plans. And he did have plans, despite Booth's doubts. Maybe they weren't as well thought out as Simon had hoped they would be before he left, but he knew what he wanted to do. He'd also figured out where he could get what he needed to pull it off-maybe.

Derek was still in the hospital, but he was doing well. The doctors expected a full recovery in a relatively short time. They'd mourned their dead. Recovery teams had gone back out the next day in an attempt to bring back the bodies and armor. Simon had gone with them, part of the final duty he figured he owed to the Templar. In the end, they'd brought most of them back, but none of them had been whole.

Only an hour ago, Simon had sent a message up through channels that he was leaving the Underground.

He had expected some resistance because Booth didn't like having his orders disobeyed, but he hadn't expected the High Seat to come himself. But there was the matter of the long-standing feud between them.

"I'm going to get as many of them as I can out of London," Simon said. "Do you plan on carrying them out of here on your back?"

"If I have to."

"You're not going to save many of them that way."

"If I save even one of them, it'll be worth it. And I plan on saving more than one."

"You haven't changed," Booth declared. "You've got the same bleeding heart you've always had. Just as full of yourself."

Simon tried to step around Booth. The High Seat stepped in front of him. Simon took a breath. "Get out of my way."

"No," Booth said. "You're under my command." "Not anymore."