Cameron Haley - Skeleton Crew

Below, Ismail Akeem danced on Palmer Street, his thin body convulsing as he disgorged the spirits he had eaten.

Amy Chen released phantasmal beasts and monsters that drifted silently through the rank of charging giants, vanishing completely within the massive bodies when they darted in to strike at their relentless, unwavering quarry. When the fire giants were only a few strides away, the sidhe rushed forward and attacked, lashing out with spell and blade to savage the demons’ deformed and burning flesh.

For a moment, it appeared the sorcerers and sidhe warriors would stop the charge and cut the Fomoire down where they stood. Then the giants’ blows began to land, and sidhe blood and crushed bodies fell on the grass like detritus scattered by the tornadoes.

“Time to pay the rent,” Terrence said. He dropped a levitation spell and floated down to the street, and he was already spinning attack spells when his feet touched the pavement. Adan flashed a fierce grin at me and then leaped down after him.

I’d have preferred to battle the Firstborn as I had in the Carnival Club-from the Between, and with Ned in my hands. I’d decided against it because I didn’t want to leave my helpless body lying around anywhere close to the battlefield. I was pretty sure I couldn’t hide so well that no demons would find me, and it would only take one to ruin my day.

On the other hand, I didn’t really want to see a repeat performance of the slaughter at the club, multiplied by seven and not even counting the rest of the demons on the field.

I knew what they could do and I knew how effective our weapons and magic would be against them. The demons were relentless, unstoppable, and I did not believe we could stand against them.

That’s why I came prepared to cheat. Mr. Clean’s TV sat on the rooftop behind me. I wasn’t planning to let the jinn have a piece of this fight, but I did need all the juice he could give me. I also carried the walking stick I’d taken from Papa Danwe when I killed him, for the same reason. I was physically recovered from what the demon had done to me on the bridge and I didn’t need the stick to walk. I just needed the juice.

“Your first day of prison, they say you should find the biggest, baddest motherfucker on the cell block and take a shot at him,” I said. “Maybe you do a little damage, maybe not, but you prove you’re not a punk and the rest of the convicts will leave you alone after that.”

“And that really works?” Oberon asked.

“No, it just means you get your ass kicked on the first day. The secret is, it’s really for you-you prove to yourself you’re not a punk. After that, you can take your beatings and whatever else comes and you can hold your head up.”

Oberon nodded. “I believe it is the same at court.”

“Yeah, but there’s less dancing in prison.” I raised my arms, with the walking stick in one hand and the other out stretched to the sky. I tapped juice from the street until my body burned with it and then I reached out with my mind and opened my familiar’s veins, taking all he could give, as well.

I stepped forward to the edge of the building and pointed the walking stick at the Fomoiri hero. “Friends have all things in common,” I said, and a torrent of magic rushed out of me and coursed over and through him. It was a simple friendship charm, one of the first spells you learn as a kid to make your way through life a little easier than it is for other people. It was a simple spell, but it was backed with a lot of juice. A combat spell with that much magic behind it might have seriously wounded or even killed the Fomoiri.

One down, and then we’d just have six more fire giants and the rest of the demonic army to deal with.

The Fomoiri hero lifted his ax, a wicked implement more than ten feet long, and then he froze. He stood up straight, almost at attention, and stared at me as the sidhe warriors rained blows and lethal glamour upon him.

I pointed at another of the fire giants who spun a spiked ball and chain around his head before whipping it down upon the glowing, multicolored shield Amy Chen raised to defend herself. There was a blinding flash as the ball impacted the shield. Amy fell to her knees and the shield began to burn, orange flame devouring the colorful light until it dimmed and then extinguished.

“Kill,” I said. If I’d known the demon’s name, I might have been able to issue more elaborate orders. On the other hand, that might have just gotten me in trouble.

The Fomoiri hero turned and brought his ax down on the knobby skull of Amy’s adversary. The blade cleaved through the giant’s head and bit deeply into its torso. Fire and darkness billowed out of the terrible wound, and the demon collapsed into a pool of smoking tar that began to disintegrate and blow away on the driving wind.

“Kill,” I said, pointing to another demon. The Fomoiri spun the ax in his hands and buried the blade in the back of a giant that had grabbed Terrence in one massive, gnarled fist and was lifting him toward its fiery maw. The demon collapsed and disintegrated, and Terrence tumbled free, rolling to his feet and immediately spinning attack spells that tore into a giant that was hammering at Adan’s defenses with a huge, two-handed hammer.

“How long can you keep this up?” Oberon asked. “Perhaps I can go for coffee.”

As if summoned by his words, a trio of crawlers scuttled over the edge of the building and leaped at us. They slammed into our protective circle and began clawing and tearing at it, struggling to squirm through the magic that held them at bay.

“Nice job,” I said, gritting my teeth against the burn of the juice racing through me. “Maybe you can keep these guys off me so I don’t get defriended by the fucking Balrog, here.”

Oberon grinned and leaped forward, out of the circle, his silver sword spinning and thrusting at the attacking crawler demons. His sword didn’t have much more of an immediate effect on them than my bullets had. Their inky, black flesh quivered and oozed around the blade, but golden light danced in the furrows and puckered holes the blade left in its wake. The faceless demons screamed and scrambled away, only to regroup and scuttle toward the fairy king from three directions. Oberon blurred and his sword was a glowing, silver tracer in the air. Black tar spattered the rooftop as the crawlers fell beneath the blade.

Oberon’s laughter carried on the wind. “They’ll have to send better than these pathetic creatures if they wish to bring low the Lord of the Shining Host,” he shouted. I winced.

The thing that crawled onto the roof was like a giant centipede, which wouldn’t have been so bad except that it was formed from the bodies of human children, one torso extending from the shoulders of the one before in a long, repulsive, fleshy chain. The chubby little arms served as the demon’s legs, and they scrabbled furiously against the asphalt as the creature undulated across the rooftop. The demon’s cherubic head was topped with golden curls, but the face was torn open and something insectile protruded from the torn, bloody mask.

“Discretion is the better part of keeping your fucking mouth shut, King.”

The front section of the demon rose up, baby arms waving, and the bug head made a wet chittering sound. The entire length of the creature’s body convulsed and black fluid sprayed from the insectoid mouth. The fluid vaporized when it struck my protective circle, giving off an oily black smoke, but Oberon was covered in it from head to toe.

The king screamed and fell to his knees. His sword clattered to the rooftop as he clawed at the black fluid that sizzled on the exposed skin of his face. It ate away at the flesh and I could see bone glistening underneath.

“Oh, fuck me,” I said. “Hold the charm on the giant as long as you can, Mr. Clean.” I hefted the walking stick in my hand and stepped out of the circle. I dropped a spell on the king to kill the hostile magic, and then I turned to the demon. I extended the juju stick and poured juice into it.