Page 81 of Revelations

Her elbow shot out, catching Mr. Pompom across the nose with a resounding crack. Blood spurted down his face and ruined his sparkling white brand name parka. He fell back immediately, making room for another to take his place.

The demon squad closed ranks around Greylyn again. A sea of hands grabbed for her. She sidestepped, bobbed and weaved, all the while throwing punches and slicing her way through the mob. The blood-soaked slushy ground became treacherously slick, forcing a tenuous balancing act, so that she would not fall back down, which would certainly serve to make her an easier target.

A Muay Thai outward kick leveled a row of assailants like dominoes, but still more moved in. In a matter of seconds, there were so many bodies surrounding her, that Greylyn did not have enough room to maneuver. The slice-and-dice method of fighting no longer worked.

She was an expert at hand-to-hand combat from her training under some of the best military minds over the years, specializing in techniques that involved grappling and other martial arts to throw off many attackers. Instinct took control. Greylyn lashed out with first her fists, followed by small but powerful kicks at her opponents’ knees. Several of them face-planted into the red slush.

Using them as stepping stones, she launched herself at the last circle of demons. Like a professional football player, she sacked the meanest-looking one and took several more down with him.

The demons paused in surprise, just long enough for her to gain some distance from the mob by sprinting as fast as she could on the frozen tundra.

At the far right corner of the street was a row of shops. Spotting large chunks of meat dangling from hooks in one window, Greylyn dashed for the butcher shop. Once there, more weapons could be obtained in the way of cleavers and even saws.

The door slammed behind her, and she pulled a butcher’s rack in front of it to buy herself some time. The makeshift barrier did not hold long. Just as she grabbed two meat cleavers, still bloody from the day’s cuttings, the shattering of wood thundered throughout the store. The demons let out a collective howl, as if a pack of wolves had picked up the scent of freshly spilled blood.

To the far left was a set of decrepit stairs. With no other means of escape, Greylyn dove for the steps and slammed a flimsy wooden door behind her. It would not keep the demons back, but perhaps it would allow just enough time for her to find a way out of the building. She sprinted up the uneven and steep stairs, nearly losing her footing on the final step, teetering on the edge of falling backward.

The room swam in her vision. Recovering her balance, she glanced down at the horrifying truth. There was not a clean spot on her body or clothes. Everything was covered in blood. The crimson liquid spewed from open gashes, including one dangerously close to her jugular. Her knees buckled under her. After everything that she had been through, it could all be for naught if her guardian healing powers didn’t kick in … and quickly!

Stampeding footsteps up the stairs shocked her system back to reality. Pure adrenaline propelled her on. A way out…there had to be a way out.

The dimly lit attic was tiny, no more than a ten-by-ten foot storage room. Unfortunately, there was no clear exit to the roof; only a tiny, four-paned oval window, which was blocked by a mountain of boxes and trash.

Greylyn’s head whipped around as she heard the lower door blow apart. Seconds were all that separated her from being cornered by a battalion of demons. With no other means of escape, she jumped into the trash heap and clawed her way through to the glass.

Although she was petite, Greylyn doubted her body would fit through the opening once she smashed the glass. It would be a tight squeeze.

She dropped one of the cleavers that she hadgrabbed on her dash up through the butcher shop and wrapped some old newspaper around her fist before punching the window with all her might. Pain exploded from her knuckles all the way up her arm. The window shattered just in time—the horde of demons was rushing toward her, howling and snarling. Sucking in her breath, Greylyn dove head first out of the jagged opening.

The tips of glass sliced her arms and legs like a cheese grater. Once clear of the glass, she tucked her body inward. She flipped completely around before landing on her feet. The sudden jarring shot agonizing shards of pain up her legs. Rolling over, she clutched her right knee to her chest. It did not feel broken, but it hurt like the devil.

The sounds of the demons crashing down the stairs and back out into the street threw any thoughts of pain completely from her mind.

Get up, Grey! Let’s get the hell outta here!

Too late. They were almost on her as her feet struggled to find purchase in the blood-soaked slush.

Just as she expected to feel herself being grabbed by many hands and thrashed to pieces, everything grew eerily quiet. No one touched her. There was no more demonic growling or screaming—only silence.

Hazarding a glance behind her, Greylyn saw every possessed human soundlessly clutching at his and her own throats. Their eyes bulged. Some doubled over in apparent agony. Others thrashed around violently; all without so much as a whimper.

Each exorcism was different. Most consisted of lots of shouting, cursing, and the demons inflicting as much damage on their human shells as possible. This was different. The excruciating pain was evident. However, there were no accompanying sound effects, as if someone had hit the mute button during a particularly gory scene from a zombie movie.

Thomas, I don’t know what you’re doing, but DO NOT STOP!

No longer able to stand, Greylyn elbow-crawled away, casting looks behind her to see if the exorcism was still working. The blood-drenched mud was littered with the mass of bodies that she haddecimated during the battle. Her arms dragged her body with what little strength remained. Unable to move another inch, she fell back into the slush against the door of the house where Thomas and their freaked out hostess remained locked safely inside.

A relentless humming sound emerged from the house. As the volume intensified, the bodies of those possessed thrashed even more violently. It should be over soon. If the incantation worked, the demons would be eradicated completely. The remaining carnage of dead and wounded might prove difficult to explain. Those who lived would most likely have no recollection of the event—if they were lucky.

Ear-splintering cries erupted from the throng as the spell reached its climax. To shut out the horrific screeching, Greylyn clasped her hands over her ears.

Silence returned, as every person who had not already succumbed to his or her injuries, crumpled to the ground. The only sound now was that of the piercing mountain wind.

Moments later, the door behind her creaked open. Thomas’ husky voice whispered in disbelief, “Did it work?”

He gasped in horror. His eyes rounded in shock as he fell down on his knees beside her in the red slush. Her head lolled back like a rag doll. Just before the darkness enveloped her, another deep intake of Thomas’s breath alerted her that something else was wrong. It was followed by the squeak of the Tibetan woman inside. Something in those sounds went beyond shock at the sea of bloody bodies strewn around the once quaint village street. The blizzard-force wind suddenly stopped. Even the specks of snow stilled where they were in mid-air.

Despite darkness edging her vision as her body fought the need to shut down, Greylyn pushed herself to a sitting position, leaning on Thomas for support. Her right eye was mostly sightless now due to swelling and the congealed blood that had caked it shut. But her left eye clearly saw the source of terror. It casually strolled through the slaughtered heaps of bodies like a tourist checking out the sights of midtown Manhattan.

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