Page 63 of Helsing: Demon Slayer
“Please,” she said, her voice thick with strong emotion now. “I want you to have it.”
“Okay.”
Dianne turned, and picking up his hand, slid the silver ring onto his small finger. Then she raised his hand and kissed it before sliding back down with a sigh. He sat in turmoil, his heart and his head so full of conflicting thoughts he had no idea where to start unraveling them.
Within moments, he heard Dianne’s quiet breathing and knew she’d fallen asleep. It reassured him to know that he made her feel secure enough to do that, and some of his own tension at the tenebrous Sword of Damocles hanging over them drained from him.
It didn’t last. It was almost as if letting down his guard with Dianne let thedaemonsin.
The change was almost imperceptible at first—a subtle shift in the hum of the Defender’s engine. Ryan tensed, glancing toward the faintly glowing dashboard. András, sitting rigid in the front passenger seat, opened his eyes suddenly, his hands still pressed against the dashboard. The harmonic energy he’d been channeling flared briefly, casting eerie shadows around the cabin before dimming again. The young warfighter Edvard, new to theElioudcause, glanced between his superior officers and the opaque windows, his gaze tight with worry but edged with calculation.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Dianne.
András didn’t answer immediately. He tilted his head, as if listening to something far away. His jaw clenched, and he let out a slow, measured breath. “They’re closer.”
Ryan’s stomach sank. He shifted slightly, pulling the thermal blanket higher over Dianne’s sleeping form, and peered out the window again. Night pressed against the glass, thick and suffocating. It felt almost alive, a heavy presence that made the skin of his neck tighten all the way to his temples where it drilled into his brain.
“Define ‘closer,’” he said, his voice tight.
András turned his head just enough for Ryan to catch the faint glow in his eyes, a sign of theElioud’s heightened awareness. “Close enough to taste our fear.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Before Ryan could respond, a sharp, grating noise pierced the night—metallic and shrill, like claws dragging across the Defender’s roof. The vehicle shuddered violently, throwing Dianne against him. Her eyes flew open, wide with terror.
“What–what’s happening?” she asked, clutching at him.
“Stay down,” Ryan said, his tone brooking no argument. He pressed her closer, his own heart pounding as the noise intensified. It wasn’t just claws now; it was a cacophony of scraping, hissing, and a low, harsh growl that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
András snarled back and struggled, as if wrestling with an invisible force, his face twisting in effort. The air hung heavy with the scent of ozone. Sparks emitted from his fingers and the tips of his hair, while acrid smoke drifted to obscure his face. The console lights and the headlights wavered erratically, dimming and brightening as if power surged and receded with the battle.
Next to him, Beta struggled to maintain control of the Defender, a shimmering dance of colored light linking her to her husband. The vehicle lurched forward, the engine groaning as if under immense pressure. Outside, faint, shadowy shapes flitted just beyond the range of the flickering headlights—twisted, insectile forms that moved too quickly to be clearly seen.
Ryan tightened his grip on Dianne. His mind raced, calculating options, but there was nowhere to go, no way to fight back. The Locusts were here, and he could feel the malevolent presence of their master, the Dark Angel of the Abyss, like a boulder crushing his chest.
Against reason, he said, “We have to—” But his words were cut off by a deafening crack as something heavy slammed onto the hood of the Defender.
András shouted, a visceral cry for victory against an overwhelming foe to keep the vehicle running. Ryan had never seen the giantElioudso stretched to the limits, not even in theElioud’sepic battle against thekulshedërand a host ofdaemonialast December.
Beta swerved violently, narrowly avoiding the edge of a steep drop into the blackness below.
Ryan’s world contracted to two thoughts: keep Dianne safe and survive long enough for the intervention he didn’t know he was hoping for.
Outside the SUV’s windows, dimly lit sky pulsed as if the black heart of an enormous monster beat in irregular contraction. Forks of sickly green and amber rent the air around the armored vehicle, which had once seemed so sturdy. In between flashes, Ryan glimpsed trees swaying in a mighty wind. The Defender itself slid sideways while Beta wrangled the steering wheel to keep it on the road.
And then a brutal rhythmic chant began unlike anything he’d ever heard before.
No, scratch that. It sounded like an Army march, a Gregorian chant, and a dark club-dance mix rolled into one stomach-churning choral assault. A low, unholy voice led a deep male choir in a call-and-response that raked down his spine and raised his hair.
He caught the wordslibera tenebraeandtenebrae vincit. He didn’t know much Latin, but he knewtenebraemeant darkness andvincitmeant conquers.
He had abadfeeling about this.
The turbulence abruptly halted. The night sky brightened into a surreal sepia-toned landscape to reveal a massive, obsidian creature with wicked spurs and spikes protruding from its head, thorax and abdomen.
That wasn’t the disturbing thing about this locust.
It was the human head wearing a crown.
Abaddon, Dark Angel of the Abyss, stood on the mountain highway before them.
