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  Screw it, I thought. Skulick’s life hung in the balance. If that skeleton monster murdered my partner, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, demon or not. If saving him came at the price of my soul, so be it.

  Mind made up, I made a go for the Cross of Light. The silver metal had stopped shimmering with spiritual light. The power lay dormant, waiting for the right Latin or Babylonian words to release its magic. Despite bracing myself for the barrier’s power, my hand was violently whipped back into the circle the instant I tried to go beyond its circumference. The agony shooting up my arm sent me reeling.

  I stifled a cry. I couldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever. I made another attempt. It felt like I slammed my hand into a cement wall, and I grunted in pain. It was no use. The magical walls of my prison held. The white magic was too strong.

  “You can’t do this alone, Raven.” Cyon stared at me as he drew closer.

  I met the demon’s gaze and realized what he was suggesting. An instant of hesitation, and then we clasped our hands together, demon and demon hunter forming one giant fist between the two of us. Together, we pushed through the binding circle’s barrier. The pain was like nothing I had ever experienced, and I’d been through some rough scrapes over the years. The scars covering my body, too many to count, bore grim testimony of the cost of my chosen profession. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull back from the burning barrier…but then I heard Skulick’s tortured voice.

  My partner’s cry for help shook me to the core of my being. Somehow, with Cyon’s help, I persevered through the waves of agony. White fire licked our hands, but I could feel the circle giving way to our concentrated, united effort.

  Encouraged, I gritted my teeth and pressed on. The flames were melting the skin of my fingers as they closed around the Cross of Light. The holy relic lived up to its name as it went supernova. The circle around us ignited, the light blinding. I could feel Cyon being pulled back inside of me. Another pitiful scream erupted from my lips.

  And then the light died down, the pain giving way to a sudden rush of triumph. I’d done it. I’d broken the binding circle.

  “Good job, Raven. I guess you’ll have to put up with me a while longer.”

  Cyon’s voice boomed through my mind, but I didn’t care. He had helped me yet again. A dull ache in my hand drew my attention. My victory had come at a high price. My once-human hand now had been transformed. It was reptilian with talon-tipped bony fingers. Mottled, leathery skin covered the limb all the way up to my forearm. I was looking at the hand of the demon. For the second time in my life, I’d been marked by the forces of hell.

  But this time I’d willingly allowed it to happen.

  I had struck a bargain with Cyon, allowing him to possess me. We had made a pact, and the demon hand served as a grim reminder of our new alliance.

  Determined not to let this latest sacrifice be in vain, I tightened my new demon hand into a monstrous fist and stepped out of the circle. A series of banging sounds drifted down from the second floor of our loft. I desperately hoped I wasn’t too late.

  Ignoring Aria’s gory remains best I could, I moved toward the stairs. I eyed Hellseeker and the Seal of Solomon on the floor before me. For a moment, I stood there, wondering if Cyon might try to seize full control over me now that I didn’t wear my protective talisman. But no such attack ever came. This new pact between us went both ways—we were in this together, connected by a new understanding. We would be a real team…at least until Morgal was out of the picture.

  Another scream rattled the loft, and I swiftly scooped up my weapon and protective talisman. I regarded the Cross of Light for a beat, tempted to help myself to the mystical weapon. But experience made me cautious. As long as the demon was inside me, I wouldn’t be able to effectively wield the cross. But there was another demon-fighting weapon I could use. The Demon Slayer sword. It was in the vault upstairs—along with my partner and the thing that wanted to kill him.

  As I cocked Hellseeker, a bloodied Cabrera scrambled back to his feet. The exorcist leaned weakly against Skulick’s desk, alive but shaken from the attack.

  “What have you done?” he asked.

  “What I had to do,” I replied, my voice empty of any regret. Deep in my heart, I knew I made the right choice.

  I turned away from Cabrera and headed for the winding staircase, gun up. The screaming had stopped. The only sound was the blood roaring in my ears.

  I reached the top floor and advanced slowly toward the open door at the far end of the hallway. My stomach clenched with dread. The vault had been breached. What could the monster want from our cursed collection? Any number of items, unfortunately. It was a black magic armory.

  Tentatively, I stepped in the vault. It felt like some demented museum, the windowless, silver-reinforced chamber lined with shelves cluttered with magical artifacts. For a change, the items didn’t call out to me, the myriad of dark voices silenced. Maybe the possessed couldn’t be tempted any longer?

  A new sound from behind gave me pause. I whirled and stared back at a floating skull.

  The sixth skull.

  It hovered menacingly near the ceiling, eyes emanating a preternatural light. I’m too late, I realized with horror. The Skull Master, with the help of Aria’s skeleton, had succeeded.

  For a moment, I dared to hope the skull belonged to the skeleton creature, that the head had detached itself from the torso. My hopes were crushed when I caught a flicker of movement and spotted the living skeleton behind me. It had been hiding behind one of the crammed shelves, biding its time. Overhead, the skull buzzed back and forth like a pissed-off wasp. I felt the air rush out of my lungs as I caught a glimpse of Skulick’s prone form poking out from behind a nearby shelf. I had failed. Despite all my efforts, I had been too late to save my partner.

  Nothing mattered anymore.

  “Snap out of it, Raven,” Cyon barked. “There is still vengeance to be had.”

  Cyon had a point. Skulick’s murderer was still here, in this chamber. Focusing on that thought, letting the emptiness inside me fill up with simmering fury, I fixed my gaze on the shelf where the Demon Slayer sword had been laid out. We had stored the sword here for that day when it would be needed to battle Morgal. It should prove equally effective against living skeletons and their monstrous masters.

  My hands closed around the bone hilt of the weapon. Sword fighting hadn’t been part of my training, but Cyon would steer my hand, control each blow, direct each strike. He’d done it before, and I trusted him to do it again now.

  The floating skull zoomed toward me but recoiled at the sight of the shimmering sword in my hand. It pivoted in midair and shot through the vault’s doorway instead, vanishing back inside the loft.

  A beat later, Aria’s walking skeleton appeared in the doorway leading out of the vault. The creature was in the process of closing the vault’s massive door.

  The bastard is going to seal me in, I thought wildly.

  As the heavy, silver-reinforced door swung shut, I made my move. I hurtled the sword at the living skeleton like a spear. Caught by surprise, the skeleton froze as my sword speared its breast cage. The creature erupted in blueish flames, blackening before turning to ash.

  Encouraged by this victory, I rushed toward my defeated enemy, scooped up the sword, and stepped back into the loft. I arrived just in time to see the sixth skull—Skulick’s skull—burst through one of the loft’s oblong windows in an explosion of glass. I was reminded of that fateful day when Archer had hurtled herself through the same window. We really need to find a way to secure the loft from the inside.

  We. Bad choice of words. There was no more we. Skulick was gone.

  I surged up to the shattered window and peered into the dimly lit alley below. A lone figure was standing in the shadows. The Skull Master had finally graced us with his presence. Six skulls orbited the monster as he expectantly looked up at me. I tightened the grip on Demon Slayer. Sword in hand, I made my way toward the elevators, ready to f
ace the Skull Master for one final battle.

  18

  “Do you actually think this is a good idea?” Cyon admonished me.

  I didn’t give a shit, truth be told. My partner was dead.

  “Think about it, Raven. Why is Valdis waiting for you down in that alley?”

  “Maybe he wants to end it right now.”

  “It doesn’t add up. He already has six skulls. Why not go after the last skull, complete the series, and begin his invasion of the city? There is no logical reason why he should engage in direct combat, not now when he is so close to achieving his goal.”

  The demon was making a lot of sense, but I was far beyond logic at this point. One skull murder remained. Industria. Persistence, Effort. The opposite of sloth. I figured the Skull Master wanted me out of the picture before he turned his attention to his final victim. With six skulls at his command, and knowing that losing my partner had probably put me at a disadvantage, it was the perfect time to finish me off for good.

  Perhaps Cyon was right. Was I a fool, an emotional hothead for engaging this monster in battle right now? But what options did I have? If the Skull Master was a formidable opponent now, what chance would I stand once he completed his collection of seven skulls? My window was shrinking and the time had come to finish this, one way or another.

  If I failed today, the city would succumb to the Skull Master’s wrath. A plague such as the world hadn’t seen since the Middle Ages would rage through the city and ultimately the world. My mind reeled with visions of the seven skulls sweeping through the Cursed City’s streets, a hellish invading force, intent on infecting its citizens and turning the metropolis into a vast urban tomb populated by living skeletons.

  I wouldn’t let that happen.

  I owed that much to my partner.

  Skulick wouldn’t have wanted to become a servant of this monster, his soul doomed to do the Skull Master’s bidding for all time. The sword in my new demon hand hummed with power, my mark sizzling with agony as I stepped into the alley that flanked our warehouse loft. The building on the other side was long deserted. You had to be a bit crazy to want to live in this rundown section of the city. Or get into the monster hunting business. We had chosen to set up shop in this rundown hood to minimize collateral damage, so at least I didn’t have to worry about any innocent bystanders getting hurt in the upcoming duel.

  I was both demon and demon hunter, a monster about to fight a monster. I didn’t care about the irony of the situation, all I gave a damn about was avenging the man who had saved my life twenty years earlier. I often wondered if Skulick felt disappointed in the way I’d turned out. Well, I would do him proud today. I would defeat this monster and release his soul—or die trying.

  I pushed all those thoughts aside and focused on the confrontation ahead. The Skull Master awaited me in the trash-choked alley. His executioner’s axe radiated a bloody red light that drenched the alley in a sickly glow. The six skulls hovered above his head and glared down at me with murderous intent, painting grotesque shadows against the alley. Which one had been Sklulick’s? I killed the thought. Grief could wait for later. Right now, I directed all my hatred against Valdis.

  We exchanged no words as I advanced. I was beyond rational thought. Beyond fear. What happened next occurred in silence. One of the six skulls broke formation and advanced toward me. It would only take one bite for me to experience a similar fate to Aria Giovanni.

  I brought up the sword without thought, and with one swift blow deflected the incoming skull. I had hoped to cleave it in two in midflight, but the attacking skull turned away at the last moment, and I merely managed to broadside it with the Demon Slayer. The impact sent it spiraling down the alley. My momentary victory filled me with little joy. I knew all too well that this battle was just beginning.

  The remaining five skulls attacked all at once. My new demon hand, clamped around the bone hilt of the sword, moved with expert skill. I had done some sword fighting over the years but was far more comfortable with a pistol. Cyon was guiding my moves, the way he had back on the Swiss mountaintop when we had faced the fire demon. We were fighting as one.

  The sword flashed each time it hit one of the skulls, its magic triggered by the contact with the black magic opponents. Unfortunately the skulls proved adept at avoiding any killing blows. They were swift and relentless. So far I had managed to block every attack, but it was only a matter of time before one of the skulls would break through.

  Fighting the individual skulls was the wrong tactic. I had to focus my full attention on the mastermind who was orchestrating the assault.

  Another skull screamed toward me as I closed in on Valdis, and I blasted it with Hellseeker. The round sent the bonehead hurtling against the alley wall. Two more skulls divebombed me and my sword came up lightning fast, cutting left and right. The skulls dodged my attacks, confirming my growing suspicion that my better bet was to aim for the monster controlling them.

  Your little friends won’t be able to protect you, Valdis, I thought. I unleashed Hellseeker’s wrath, unloading a full magazine into the Skull Master’s chest. He recoiled with each successive impact, the axe in his hand pulsing with energy. The axe had become a symbiotic part of him, as much as the skull mask that covered the professor’s features.

  Reeling under my fiery onslaught, the Skull Master brought up his axe and deflected an incoming blow from my sword. The devastating impact between the weapons sent violent vibrations up my arm, and I stumbled back. If it hadn’t been for the enhanced strength of my new demon hand, I would have let go of the sword.

  I parried the next blow from the massive axe seconds before it fell. Two more crushing blows followed, axe and blade meeting each other in fiery explosions of supernatural energy. Red-blue forks of lightning streaked through the alley, transforming our chosen arena into a fireworks display and bathing the skull-masked attacker’s inhuman features in a hellish glow.

  Even though the Skull Master dominated this bout, I was taking notes, analyzing his style of attack, the way he carried himself and the height at which he held his axe. Who had made me an expert in medieval battle techniques? It had to be Cyon, but that begged another question: How did the demon know so much about medieval warfare? What was Cyon’s story? I had made a pact with a monster I barely knew anything about. The answers would have to wait as the Skull Master launched his next attack.

  I ducked down at the last possible moment, hungry steel whistling overhead.

  Cyon had advised me against this confrontation, fearing it to be a trap, but he was doing everything in his power to keep me alive. For better or worse, we were in this together.

  The executioner’s battle axe rushed toward me and I brought up the Demon Slayer. This time the force of the blow did knock my sword out of my hand. I heard the blade clang against the pavement, leaving me unarmed. Hellseeker was spent, and I doubted my magical ring could deflect the giant axe the Skull Master wielded like he had been born with it.

  Before the monster could attack again, I made my move. Admittedly it wasn’t a brilliant strategy, but it was all I had left. I rushed at the Skull Master. Operating on pure instinct, I snapped my new demon hand around the wrist of the hand wielding the axe. Tapping into Cyon’s demonic strength, I started squeezing.

  A few seconds later, Valdis let go of the axe and it clattered to the ground. For a moment, I was up close with the monster, mere inches separating my face from the hideous skull mask. As I peered into the fiend’s bottomless, yawning eye sockets, it felt like I was staring into the smoldering pits of Hell itself.

  I twisted the Skull Master’s wrist and, moving with inhuman speed, whirled toward the axe. Demonic power surging through my veins, I scooped up the Skull Master’s weapon and raised it high. I stared down my now-unarmed enemy, but something gave me pause. The skulls had ceased their attack, hovering above me in what appeared to be hungry anticipation. What were they waiting for? Their master was unarmed, defenseless, at my mercy. They should b
e rushing to his aid…so why weren’t they?

  I froze, hit with a sudden insight. There was only one reason why the skulls wouldn’t be attacking. They wanted the next blow to land.

  Industria. The seventh virtue.

  I flashed back to Valdis’ map. I considered the level of work and discipline that had gone into selecting his victims, tracking down the skull, and ultimately acquiring it. Months, years had been spent preparing for this unholy mission. A chill laced up my spine. Even a monster could represent a virtue.

  The dark realization hit me with the force of a gut punch—Valdis was planning on adding his own skull to the collection to complete the series of seven virtues. And he’d chosen me to be his executioner. I stared at the occult markings lining the red glowing axe in my hand, considered what I had almost done.

  If I had struck this final, lethal blow, I would have given my enemy exactly what he wanted. He had targeted Skulick not only because he represented a heavenly virtue. He knew how I would react in the wake of his death. Valdis had tried to play me, but I had seen through his scheme.

  “I know what you want me to do, Valdis!” I said. Rage flooded my mind, and I felt more demon than human. “You’ll have to find another sucker.”

  And with these words, I brought up the axe. I didn’t aim for the neck. Instead, I angled the blade at the front of the skull-mask. Using the side of the axe, I knocked the skull-mask off the professor’s face. The world slowed to a crawl as the unholy relic cut through the air and crashed to the ground with an air of finality.

  Unmasked now, Valdis let out a cry of anguish and dismay. I felt not an ounce of pity.

  The fiend had taken the lives of good people, and with the help of black magic twisted their souls into becoming his dark servants. The time had come to break the hold the Skull Master held over them.