Stacia Kane - Demon Inside

There was no time to question it, no time to react, because something moaned at the other end of the hall, something that sent chills rising up Megan’s spine. A zombie…two zombies…the fire flared higher and she saw more, coming around the corner, a small army.

An uneasy moment passed as they stared at each other, demons, human, and zombies facing off in the hallway at the top of the stairs, and then the zombies charged.

She could vaguely remember Greyson telling her that the speed at which zombies moved was related to how strong the zombie maker was. Ktana Leyak must be getting more from the Yezer than Megan ever had.

The hall lit up like a tanning booth as blue-white flames engulfed them, but they kept coming.

“Go! Meg, go!”

Nick was already moving, grabbing her arm, yanking her away from where Greyson stood with his brow furrowed in concentration. Heat roared down the hallway, singeing her eyebrows, and she understood even as Nick and Malleus tugged her around the corner that if she didn’t get away she would burn, they would all burn when the zombies fell on them. The last thing she saw was Greyson standing, his body outlined black against the burning bodies advancing on him, his shoulders set as he waited.

They’d almost reached the end of the hall when explosions ripped the air. Megan’s hair blew forward, lifted from her shoulders by the force of the blast. To her right the blackness of the empty stairwell beckoned; they all ducked into it and started up the stairs, their feet pounding on the cement.

Another explosion rocked the building and tore a scream from Megan’s throat. Blindly she turned, stumbling back down toward the landing. If he was hurt, if he’d died—

“He’s fine!” Nick practically pulled her arm out of its socket as he dragged her up the stairs. “He’s fine, Megan, come on!”

The edge of a step collided painfully with her shin as she tripped over her own feet, but there was no time to stop, no time even to hear her own cry of pain.

The stained walls were nothing but a jumble in front of her. Something fell with a dull clang on the metal railing. A chunk of the stairs above. The building still shook. Another dull explosion rattled through it.

They reached the third floor and started down the hall, their feet shuffling through dead leaves and refuse. Megan’s demon heart gave another leap, bigger than it had been downstairs, and she stopped, almost falling forward.

“Nick? Do you—”

He nodded. “Not here. But closer.”

She turned back toward the stairs, but Maleficarum pulled her away. “Down there, m’lady. We don’t wanna stay in one place, right?”

Nothing came at them from the empty caves of the rooms they passed, but Megan had the sense of things waiting in there, skulking against the dingy shadowed walls, crouching under windowsills. She ran as fast as she could, hooking her finger into Nick’s belt loop and letting him pull her along until he slipped and she crashed down with him.

Her body knew what they’d fallen into before her mind was able to grasp it, to comprehend it. Blood, warm and sticky, spreading in a slow oozing lake across the hall. Her pants and coat were soaked with it, and when her demon heart twitched again she knew it wasn’t just blood, it was Yezer blood, her demons were here and they were being hurt, just like in their home. They should have been safe and they weren’t and that fucking bitch, she was going to get her—

She didn’t think she’d ever felt rage like this before, this bone-deep fury, and it scared her just as much as it elated her, made her feel powerful, more than powerful. Aroused, and that’s when she realized she had hold of Nick’s hand and was taking his energy, sucking it slowly into herself, and if she didn’t stop soon she was going to explode. The sex came from him, but it was the anger that shoved its way into her stomach and flooded her limbs. Jesus, he’s so angry, he’s so fucking hurt and angry—

She dropped his hand as if it had turned into a tarantula and backed away, slipping in the blood and falling against the grimy wall. The lake at her feet still spread; she turned, into the gaping mouth of the doorway and saw, in the faint light through the plastic over the empty window, pieces of her demons. Ears, legs, torsos, roughly stacked like Lincoln Logs against the wall, tumbled across the floor. How many of them, she didn’t know, but they were there, they were everywhere.

Where was Roc? Was he in there, God was he in there, one of those random limbs making the space look like the back room of a slaughterhouse?

She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until Malleus took hold of her arms and propelled her away, down the hall, squishing in the blood. “He ain’t there, m’lady, don’t you fret none, he’ll be ’ere soon, you wait an’ see…”

There were no windows in the far stairwell. It was like stepping into a mouth and being swallowed, feeling their way up the steps, moving slowly enough for Megan to start wondering why she hadn’t heard any more explosions in a while, and why Greyson hadn’t yet appeared. Her chest hurt.

The pitted metal railing bit into her hands but she was afraid to let go. Why they’d come armed to the teeth but without so much as a cigarette lighter…but then, they’d assumed they wouldn’t need to make their own fire, hadn’t they? It had never even occurred to her that Greyson might not be at her side every step of the way. Dangerous, that. Her vision blurred and she realized she was sobbing as they walked.

Even over the scuffling of their feet on the steps she heard the sound, a low gurgling rumble, like someone with laryngitis trying to yodel. Something waited for them on the fourth floor, and she thought she knew what it was.

Metal clinked and clanged around her as the men drew their weapons. She still had the gun, tucked dangerously in her pocket. Her palms were so slick it was difficult to get a good grip on it, and it wouldn’t do much good anyway if she was right.

She was. Her father stood waiting when they left the stairwell.

He hadn’t changed since they’d buried him, only two days before—two days, she couldn’t believe how much had happened in two days—but the vague emptiness in his eyes, the way he stood as though balancing on two feet was an effort, were things she’d never seen before.

Nick started forward, his sword raised, but Malleus grabbed him by the arm and muttered something. Megan didn’t hear it. She’d been expecting this, had known from the minute they saw the zombie coming out of the woods at the edge of town, but now the moment was here, really here, and she didn’t know what to do.

She couldn’t walk. She couldn’t move. She just stood there and stared at him, tears running icy tracks down her face. Was there anything left of him in there, and if there was, would he even care?

The thought had barely gone through her mind when he charged. The men leaped forward, trying to catch him, but he shook them off with amazing speed and agility and reached for her, his freezing fingers clutching her throat.

They crashed backward onto the cement floor of the landing. All the breath left her body; her back arched as she tried desperately to inhale, but his fingers tightened around her throat. This was it, he was going to kill her, just like he’d tried to do before, and she couldn’t fight him, she wasn’t strong enough…

She brought her knee up as hard as she could and smashed it into his groin. He might not be able to think and his nerves might be deteriorating, but she was willing to bet even undead men hurt when solid bone was driven into their balls. He howled, a raspy, animal sound, and curled forward. His fingers loosened. She sucked in a huge, glorious breath and actually felt oxygen spread through her entire body.