Fantastic Hope - Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,78

feet tall, with unnaturally long arms ending in long clawed fingers. Its horn speared the air in front of my face, and it snapped at my throat with gaping jaws as it bore me to the trembling floor of the bandstand. I landed hard, but rolled sideways and got on top of the creature, rearing back and sheathing my fist in a nimbus of pure white light. I focused the magic into a spike of power and punched the demon between the eyes, driving a piece of my soul’s energy into its skull. The demon shrieked in agony, and I watched the light blaze from within its head out its eyes. Then the creature burst into a blast of energy, throwing me against the railing of the bandstand, and its earthly form was destroyed. The demon still existed, but it was gone from this plane, at least for now. And for now was all I was worried about.

I scrambled to my feet, looking around for Jacob. Rosalyn was struggling to hold him away from the edge of the circle, but she was obviously giving up too much weight and strength. I couldn’t get to her in time, even with my enhanced speed. I watched helplessly from across the bandstand as he forced her back closer and closer to the circle, until her back foot hovered less than an inch away from it. I ran toward them, knowing it was futile, and froze in midstride as a black shadow blurred through the night and slammed into both of them, knocking them to one side and keeping the circle intact.

“Duck!” a familiar voice called out behind me, and I dove for the floor. My elbows scraped painfully across the boards as a shot rang out in the night. There was a heavy thump from behind me, and when I got to my feet and looked around, Renfield stood about twenty yards away, a Colt 1911 pistol in his hand. The demon-touched cultist beside me lay on the floor, clutching his thigh and screaming in pain, the knife meant for my back lying forgotten a few feet away. I nodded to Renfield and turned my attention back to Rosalyn, my chest relaxing at the sight before me.

Uncle Luke stood over a toppled Rosalyn and Jacob, his fists clenched. He turned to me. “We’ll handle the human rabble. You take care of the demon.” The cavalry had well and truly arrived.

I turned my attention to “Raguel.” “I know you aren’t an archangel, and you’re not getting out of that circle, so you can either clear off the smoke and tell me your name so I can send you home, or you can wait there with your thumb up your arse until dawn when you’re banished anyway.”

The smoke dissipated, and a well-dressed man of middling height and athletic build stood in the circle. He wore a navy suit, a gray fedora, and black wing tips. He even wore a pocket square that matched his red tie. All hint of demon was gone, until you looked in his yellow eyes. “Quincy Harker,” he said, his voice more a rumbling purr than speech. “If I’d known you were nearby, I would have worked harder to get free in time to kill you. Lucifer isn’t happy with how you spoiled his plans in France a few years ago.”

“Lucifer got more than his due in France, demon. Who are you?” My mind flashed back to the night I lost Anna, the night that sent me spiraling into madness and bloodlust that I barely came back from.

“My name is Abbadon. Humanity is mine by right, gifted to me from the Father. Now release me and I will be merciful!” He roared the last bit, lunging forward and slamming into the circle, repulsed by the magical boundary.

Abbadon. Fantastic. Originally Muriel, he did have a deep connection to humanity, since he was the one who scooped up the clay that Adam was formed from, then stood guard over the garden and its inhabitants. Apparently he had a quarrel with Michael when the enforcer with the flaming sword tossed his pet humans out of the garden, and found himself tossed into the flames with his buddy the Morningstar. Now he was back, and in Jersey City. I knew this place really was hell.

“I don’t need your

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