Specter Rising (Brimstone Network Trilogy) Page 8

  Emily rolled her eyes and looked as though she was about to chew the Mauthe Dhoog out when he began to speak.

  “Incoming,” Bogey said, steadying himself on the small piece of furniture as if dizzy.

  Dez’s heart skipped a beat.

  “What do you mean incoming?” Emily asked.

  Then Johanna’s invisible dogs started to growl, and he got a sense that things were about to get interesting.

  “Felt as if I just got dropped fifty floors in a heartbeat; somebody is opening up a dimensional passage. I’m very sensitive when it comes to this stuff. We’re about to have company.”

  Stitch shoved the demon back in his chair.

  “Make him forget us,” the big man ordered Dez as they all started for cover.

  Dez locked eyes with the Fthaggua. It was just about to speak—probably to beg him not to do what he was about to—when Dez forced himself into the demon’s brain.

  He immediately felt sick to his stomach. Being inside a demon’s brain was like being inside a filthy toilet. Rummaging around in the most recent sections of its memory, Dez went about removing the images. The creature moaned as he did this, but time constraints did not allow him to be gentle.

  And besides, this thing had sent one of its own to assassinate his friend.

  The air in the chamber’s center suddenly began to crackle.

  “Dez, c’mon!” Bogey yelled from behind a large clay pot.

  He finished up the best he could and started to look for a hiding place of his own, but his legs were stiff, and even with the crutches, he was having a hard time getting around.

  There was sudden movement beside him, and he felt himself swept off his feet.

  “I’ve got you, lad,” Stitch said as he tucked Dez beneath his arm and headed to safety behind a statue.

  Together they waited and watched as a passage to, and from, another world began to open.

  Emily didn’t recognize the race of creature that emerged from the dimensional passage, but that was no big surprise.

  As much as she tried to study, keeping up with the wide variety of supernatural creatures that hated the earth and especially all the humans that lived on it, was far more than she was able to manage.

  This one was extremely pale, its white flesh almost blue, and most of its body covered in a black, metal armor. What really made her curious was the chain that it was holding as it emerged. Standing outside the crackling tear in space, the pale-skinned creature gave the chain a pull, drawing whatever was on the other end of the hole in space into the room with him.

  The beasts bounded from the rip with a roar.

  Emily immediately felt the wolf inside her stir, and had to take a few deep breaths to keep the transformation from beginning.

  These were two of the most fearsome—and ugly—beasties that she’d ever laid eyes on.

  Their bodies were large and muscular, with skin the color of a really thick callous. Their extra-wide mouths were overly crowded with razor-sharp teeth, and thick streams of drool leaked from the corners to pool upon the floor.

  As disgusted as she was by them, she found that she couldn’t look away. There was something about the monsters, something strangely familiar. She decided that it had something to do with their eyes.

  It was as if there was something more intelligent on the other side of the dark, animal-like orbs, crying to get out.

  “Hail Darka of the most revered Fthaggua,” the white-fleshed visitor cried out in greeting to the demon. “I have come with your final payment in exchange for news of your assassin’s success.” He hefted a small pouch that jangled, and Emily had to wonder if the demon was being paid in pennies.

  That’s what it sounded like, anyway.

  The Fthaggua leader slouched on its damaged throne, still feeling the effects of what Dez had done to it. The demon stared at the visitor, squinting its beady eyes as it tried to pull itself together.

  “I bid . . . I bid you equal greeting, O representative of the great Specter empire,” the demon managed.

  Emily immediately perked up. Did he say Specter?

  Darka the Fathaggua slipped from his chair. “Please forgive my demeanor,” the demon apologized, swaying upon its thin legs. “It seems that I have been struck ill . . .”

  The demon turned its head ever so slightly, noticing the arms of its chair lying upon the ground.

  Not good, Emily thought, her eyes darting over to where Stitch now hid with Desmond. The big man stared intently at the scene before them.

  “What has happened to your throne?” the Specter representative asked.

  “I . . . I don’t know,” Darka said. “Something . . . something is wrong,” he managed.

  The two beasts on the end of the leash were becoming agitated, and the Specter’s eyes darted around the room. She guessed that maybe he was sensing that something wasn’t quite right.

  The Fthaggua spun around to face the Specter. “Leave here at once . . . ,” the demon warned. “It isn’t right! It isn’t right!”

  Shoot, Emily thought as she triggered the transformation from human to wolf. Why can’t anything ever go according to plan?

  Their intention was to sneak onto the Fthaggua world, get the information they needed, and to get right back home.

  She should have known better.

  The Specter turned toward the still open dimensional doorway, preparing to escape.

  “Keep the passage open!” Stitch roared, bounding from cover.

  A throwing dagger had appeared in his hand and he hurled it with all his might as he ran to deal with the advancing situation.

  That’s one of the creepiest things about Stitch, Emily thought as she peeled away her skin to reveal the sleek and powerful form of the wolf beneath. He seems to have knives everywhere.

  The Specter representative didn’t know what hit him. The blade found a place deep in his throat, hurling him backward to the floor before he even had a chance to ghost himself.

  With a growl Emily emerged from her hiding place to help Stitch.

  The dead Specter had dropped the chain that restrained the two awful beasts and they were now free and looking pretty wild.

  Something told her Stitch was going to need all the help he could get.

  The Fthaggua demon was running for the door.

  Johanna Harkness quickly gave the situation a look. There were big, screaming monsters on one side of the room that looked like they could use her to pick their teeth after a meal, and then there was this little creep trying to escape while everybody was distracted.

  She was all over this one.

  “Going somewhere, buddy?” she said, running to block its way.

  The demon stopped and studied her with glinting yellow eyes.

  “I suggest you turn right around and go back into the room,” she said, doing everything she could to keep the tremor of fear from her voice.

  “Or what?” the demon growled, flexing its long fingers. There were some pretty nasty-looking claws at the ends of those fingers, and for a brief moment she imagined them raking across her skin and how much that would hurt.

  She almost got out of its way, but she held her ground, remembering how badly she wanted to be one of them . . . an agent of the Brimstone Network.

  “Or else,” she threatened the creature.

  The demon started to laugh at her, and she felt herself getting really mad. This ugly little thing had some nerve, laughing like that. She knew exactly what it was thinking too: that she was just some girl, no threat to anyone.

  The Fthaggua demon leaped at her, its claws ready to rip and tear.

  But it never got to her.

  Her dogs were there to protect her. The pack attacked the demon. It looked really surprised as the invisible beasts started to savagely tear it apart.

  Yep, she was just a girl, and no threat to anyone.

  ***

  Bogey needed an aspirin or maybe something stronger.

  Trying to keep the dimensional p
assage open hurt like crazy, and there was nothing he would have liked better than to let it slam shut, but his friends were depending on him.

  He couldn’t let them down.

  It looked like Wrestlemania gone mental inside the room. The two monsters, the likes of which he’d never seen before, were going wild. Stitch and Emily were doing everything they could, but couldn’t seem to stop them.

  Bogey knew how strong Stitch was, and couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched one of the berserker monsters take a full-on punch to the face from the patchwork man without even blinking. Not even Emily’s claws or teeth seemed to be able to do anything against the beast’s extra-thick flesh.

  What the heck are these things?

  He watched as Stitch was thrown across the room, crashing to the floor, and Emily was grabbed by the scruff of her neck and pushed facefirst into a nearby wall.

  It was looking pretty grim.

  Every instinct told Bogey to run.

  The monsters were looking around for something else to smash when they saw him.

  Little ol’ him, standing in front of their dimensional passage.

  Could it have gotten any worse?

  They let out a bloodcurdling scream and started across the room at him.

  Bogey was really proud that he stayed put.

  Since joining the Brimstone Network he had become quite brave. . . .

  Or would brain damaged be more accurate?

  “I got your back,” said a voice close by, and he turned slightly to see Dez struggling with his crutches.

  He’d forgotten about the boy, thinking that maybe he’d exhausted himself when he’d rummaged around inside the Fthaggua’s head. He wasn’t exactly sure what Dez could do against the two monsters, but at least he wasn’t going to die alone.

  Dez managed to get to his feet and seemed to be concentrating.

  Bogey almost let out a scream of surprise as the two monsters stopped dead in their tracks.

  “You did it, buddy,” Bogey said excitedly. “Make them think that they’re chickens or something . . . we can beat the crap out of chickens.”

  But then Dez had to go and ruin everything when he started to scream in pain, like somebody was tearing off his head.

  “Somebody did this to them,” Dez wailed, tears streaming down his face. He dropped his crutches, falling to the floor. “Oh, god . . . somebody turned these poor people into . . . into these things. . . .”

  It was pretty nasty news, and Bogey felt wicked bad, but it didn’t change the fact that the monsters—that used to be really nice people, he was sure—were again coming, and they were looking at him like he was a Happy Meal with a really cool toy inside.

  The monsters were so close, he could smell them.

  Bogey wanted to close his eyes, not wanting to see his death as it happened, but he couldn’t.

  Dez was still lying on the ground, moaning in pain, attracting the attention of one of the monsters. It reached out a massive hand to grab him.

  “Keep your paws off’a him!” Bogey screamed.

  It was a stupid move; the other of the two super-uglies now turned his attention to him.

  The monster roared, spewing a stream of spit all over him, and Bogey thought that was it. He was going to die, but at least he was going to die doing his job.

  What happened next, he couldn’t really explain.

  Just as he was about to end up as a snack for one of the beasties, the other—the one that was going to grab Dez—attacked its partner, tearing into the other with such ferocity that Bogey had to temporarily close his eyes, it was so gross. There were pieces of skin and stuff flying everywhere.

  The one monster had torn apart that other in a matter of seconds.

  Bogey squinted through one eye to see what was going down, and couldn’t believe his peepers.

  The remaining monster was kneeling beside Dez, holding the moaning boy in its arms like somebody lovingly holding a puppy.

  “Are you all right, Dez?” a voice that suddenly seemed very familiar asked, coming from the mouth of the fearsome beast.

  Dez had stopped moaning and seemed to be coming around.

  “I’m good,” Dez said, his eyes blinking away the hurt.

  Bogey knew the voice coming from the monster . . . but how was it possible?

  “Good thing I decided to tag along,” the monster said, and it tried to smile, too many teeth inside its mouth making it look awful.

  It sounded like Dez’s . . .

  “I’m glad you did too,” Dez said, reaching up to lovingly touch the side of the monster’s face.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  8. THE TURTLE GLARED MENACINGLY DOWN THE barrels of the fearsome weapons.

  “So you saved us only to shoot us?” Bram asked, stepping forward. “Doesn’t make a heck of a lot of sense to me.”

  “Hurrrmm,” Boffa gurgled from somewhere deep within his speckled throat. “The ways of the Terrapene are mysterious.”

  “Murderous is more like it,” one of the Specter guards spat. He stared hard at the turtle, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

  Boffa lumbered forward, jabbing the guns at them, and Bram quickly stepped back, hands raised in surrender.

  “Murderous?” the turtle bellowed. “Specter kind smashes the eggs of Terrapene young till there is only Boffa, and Boffa is called murderous?”

  Bram watched the Terrapene’s thick fingers twitch upon the triggers of the twin weapons and held his breath.

  The turtle extended his neck and hissed through his beaklike mouth. Then he lowered his weapons and stomped away, grumbling.

  Bram turned to Lita. “Let me guess—another enemy of the Specter nearly brought to extinction.”

  Lita lowered her eyes in shame. “The Terrapene were our oldest adversaries . . . and Boffa their most fearsome warrior. But even with his kind all dead, he continued to fight the war. Until my mother took control of the kingdom, when all signs of him disappeared and we thought him dead.”

  “Wishful thoughts!” Boffa yelled over his shell.

  “There has to be a reason why he saved us,” Bram said to his sister. “Did you hear me, Boffa?” he asked the Terrapene as he slowly approached. “Am I right? Is there a reason why you just didn’t let the Shriekhounds overrun us?”

  The turtle spun around, glaring at Bram through dark brown eyes tinged with yellow. “Filthy beasts, the Shriekhounds are,” he growled. “Hate them just as much as murderous Specter.”

  “You still could have let us die,” Bram stressed.

  “More Shriekhound than Specter now . . . more Shriekhound to kill.”

  The Terrapene’s arms disappeared inside the shell, returning without the weaponry.

  “Queen is very sick,” Boffa said, pushing Bram out of the way to approach the stretcher.

  The Specter guards drew their weapons, and the turtle stopped, his head bobbing as he sniffed the air.

  “Will be dead soon,” he said. “Unless you go with Boffa.”

  The Terrapene started back down the passage, stomping over the corpses of the Shriekhounds as he went.

  “What do you mean unless we go with you?” Lita called after the beast.

  Boffa stopped but did not turn around.

  “Poison is killing queen . . . can smell it coming from her soft flesh. Boffa have medicine that maybe keep her live . . . maybe not.”

  He started walking again.

  “Only way to know is to come with Boffa.”

  Lita watched the Terrapene for a moment, then looked at Bram.

  “It’s a chance we didn’t have before,” he said.

  The Specter guards looked less than enthused.

  “It’s a trap,” one bellowed, hand still clutching his drawn sword.

  “Why would one such as he show us mercy?” asked another. “We’re enemies to the soul.”

  Bram said nothing more, allowing Lita to make up her mind and hoping that she would make the right choice.

  “Follow the
Terrapene,” she finally ordered. “If there’s even the slightest chance of keeping my mother, and our queen, alive, I will risk it.”

  “But, Princess,” one of the soldiers began.

  She silenced him with a look that said there would be no argument, and started to follow the Terrapene.

  They followed Boffa out into the fresh air of the Specter world and into a heavily wooded area of a deep valley. The Terrapene was like a bulldozer, pushing his way through the thick forest, leaving a path of overturned earth and broken trees.

  It seemed as though they had been climbing out of the valley forever.

  Bram tried to help the Specter soldiers with their burden, but they refused, nearly pushing him out of the way as they struggled to carry the queen’s stretcher up the steady incline.

  Lita moved up beside him and stopped for a moment, taking a drink from a canteen made from the mottled skin of some foreign beast. She offered it to Bram. “Stanis and Yosh have sworn a sacred oath to protect her no matter what, and this is part of that oath.”

  “So that’s their names,” Bram said as he drank some water and handed the canteen back to his sister. “I only want to help.”

  “It is not your place,” she answered, putting the water away and continuing with the trek.

  Bram took a deep breath and turned around to see how far they had come. He gasped aloud, barely able to comprehend the sight of what lay in the distance behind him.

  Down below, nestled in the bosom of the valley, was the decomposing body of a giant. Bram guessed that Ureichuras had been at least two hundred feet tall, and he had to wonder how the Specter could have defeated a race so huge. The remains were covered in a thick growth of moss and other vegetation. A few more years and you won’t be able to tell that’s a body, he thought.

  “Abraham?” Lita called, interrupting his thoughts. He turned from the spectacular, yet disturbing sight and continued to climb, quickening his pace to catch up.

  They marched on through the dense woods, the ground eventually growing more level, until they came to the edge of a flowing stream. It was nightfall, and Boffa informed them that their journey was complete for now.

  The Terrapene moved toward an area of thick brush, pushing it aside to reveal the entrance to a large, underground burrow. He disappeared inside for a few moments, then reemerged.