It was just Gil and Tabitha with me. Asher was tending to Bastion, running his hands in the air above his torso. I could tell that Bastion was still breathing. Good. That was a start. I turned to the others.
“Any clues about what’s coming?”
“Glasya-Labolas,” Tabitha said, glowering at the Everetts. “These people are insane. He’s a demon noble, nowhere near a prince, but still a clear threat.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “And you know this, because?”
“Because I’m a witch who knows my shit. Excuse me for keeping up to date with demonology. This Glasya-Labolas is a problem. He appears as a great dog with wings – and he’s a member of the Court of Gluttony.”
My mouth fell open as I stared between her and Gil. “You’re joking. This is their plan?”
Gil’s eyebrows were furrowed hard, his eyes burning black. “They’re summoning him to devour us all.”
Tabitha rummaged through her pockets, her neck covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The guardian of these woods was nervous. Oh. Not a great sign.
“It’s almost clever, when you think about it,” she said, pulling out a couple of her glass globes. “The point of summoning Glasya-Labolas is also part of the offering. The Everetts want him to eat every supernatural creature in Silveropolis, and we all count as a morsel in one colossal offering. It’s a win, win situation.”
My lips drew back as I focused my gaze on Olivia. She was muttering, concentrated completely on the task of calling Glasya-Labolas out of his hell. Black wisps of infernal power threaded through the locks of her hair. It stunned me, how she and her grandfather simply couldn’t see the irony.
“What I wouldn’t give to slit her throat myself. Gil, what are the chances we can take down her barrier if we hit it at the same time? You too, Tabitha.”
“It’s not invincible,” Gil said. “Worth a shot. We’ve shattered shields before. You just need to apply enough force.”
“That’s nice,” Tabitha said. “But we’ve got other problems just now.”
She lifted her hand towards the circle, now enlarged to the size of a helipad. My stomach swooped. Tiny shapes were darting in and out of it, flying among the disembodied faces and Uriah’s corpse. Their metallic bodies gleamed in the crimson glare of the moon, their skins colored like iron, copper, brass.
“Are those imps?” I said. “Fucking imps?”
Gil narrowed his eyes. “They brought instruments, too. The little bastards.”
So now we had those to deal with, too. Imps were among the lowest of the demons on the infernal hierarchy, minor nuisances, individually. But working together, and in larger numbers? Vermin. Locusts. Dangerou
s pests. We had to contain them to the clearing. If they broke out into Silveropolis, we’d have to deal with chasing them down, too.
Not to mention that godawful banging and tooting. One of the closest imps leered at me, then blew on its flute. Flames came out of one end.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I shouted. “They’ve weaponized the instruments.”
Gil cracked his knuckles. “I’m going to enjoy killing these things.”
One imp with a small flamethrower was a problem. But a dozen of them out in town? You’re looking at arson. And now the larger issue.
“How the fuck are we supposed to take down Olivia and stop her from completing Glasya-Labolas’s summoning and fight off these tiny bastards at the same time?”
“By fighting hard,” Gil growled. “We fight hard.”
He launched himself towards the pit, claws extended. A tiny scream pierced the night as he slashed the first imp in half, its drum exploding in a puff of demonfire. So the drums were grenades, too? Awesome. Just fabulous.
“Let’s follow his lead,” Tabitha said. “Won’t get anything done sitting on our asses. You take the girl. We’ll help where we can.”
She smashed three of her glass eggs on the ground, the resulting wisps of smoke braiding themselves into a single mass. Tabitha sent the cloud roiling across the clearing with a single command.
“Choke.”
The imps didn’t even have a chance to react. They dropped like flies back into the pit, flutes and drums bursting into gouts of fire. From somewhere below came more sounds of growling, chewing, and cracking bones. Glasya-Labolas sure did appreciate his employees.
I dashed towards Olivia Everett again. This time her barrier was visible, sculpted around her in the form of a tall black cylinder. It was like looking at her through dark fog, or smoked glass. The journal in her hands flipped its own pages, no longer required. Olivia’s words were coming from someplace else entirely. She kept up her chant, protected in her magical bell jar. I raised Susanoo’s sword – my sword – high above my head, then brought it down for a vicious strike.