our circle rushed in to help, solid enough to grab at the Nephilim’s arms and legs to help Sorren.
Close by, Higgins fought with his talwar in one hand and the three-sided phurba knife in the other, as more of our ghostly comrades threw themselves at Blondie to hold him back. Higgins moved with deadly speed, blocking the Nephilim’s blows. He kept his talwar wheeling at head height, while he struck with the phurba any time Blondie tried to get close. It was a fearsome defense, and his opponent shrieked in anger, denied an easy kill.
I wondered why the Nephilim didn’t just transform and fight in their monstrous shapes, when I realized that Donnelly was chanting. Still within the circle, the necromancer’s magic might not have the same control of the fallen angels as he did over the spirits of the dead, but he could dampen the Nephilim’s magic enough to keep them in their human form. And while human Nephilim were hard to kill, they were a damned sight worse when they turned into monsters.
Unfortunately, that left us shy one fighter, since while Donnelly was busy squelching the Nephilim’s magic, he couldn’t join in the battle. From my perspective, an equal number of Nephilim to humans is already an unfair fight. The ghosts were definitely on our side, but their best efforts couldn’t do any real damage, so they focused on slowing down the fallen angels.
Three Nephilim came running toward Teag and me—Crow, Ebony, and Asian Dude. I went left, Teag went right, and the ghosts that Donnelly had summoned for the circle went right up the middle. Nephilim weren’t Reapers, so the ghosts had no fear of them, and empowered by Donnelly’s magic, the ghosts were solid enough to run interference between us and the Nephilim.
I didn’t have time to watch, because I had problems of my own. Crow, the Nephilim coming for me, had the good looks of a rich boy gone wrong: high cheekbones, a cleft chin and thin, sensual lips with a lock of dark hair that he flicked out of his eyes with a casual toss of his head. Maybe I was supposed to be impressed, but I had seen what these guys looked like for real, and that destroyed their appeal.
Bo’s ghost was already beside me, and he lunged for Crow, managing to score a deep bite on the fallen angel’s left wrist until the creature flung him loose. While he was preoccupied with Bo, I raised my athame with one hand and clutched my spindle whorl with the other, drawing on the memory the whorl held of its previous owner, a Norse witch named Secona. That boosted my power, and I channeled my magic through my athame.
A cold-white torrent of power erupted from the athame and caught Crow full in the face. He staggered, blinded and battered, as Bo sprang for the throat. Two ghosts, one in the uniform of the British Indian Army and another in the parka of an Arctic explorer, rushed at the Nephilim and grappled with him, keeping him from coming closer to me. I saw the ghost of a Conquistador and another in an aviator jacket struggle to hold back Ebony while Teag battled Asian Dude. I dared not use Alard’s walking stick for fear of catching the house or my allies on fire. But I had one of Josiah Winfield’s pistols, loaded and ready, and Teag had the other one.
I dropped the spindle whorl back in my pocket, drew Josiah’s gun and fired, knowing that I might not get another shot. As I did so, I hooked my magic into Josiah’s weapon, letting the memories of its previous owner run through me, gaining a temporary advantage as his knowledge became mine.
Silver is unpleasant to vampires in the real world because it gives them a rash, not because it destroys them. Same with holy water. Nephilim, on the other hand, are highly allergic, on top of not much liking getting a bullet to the heart. I’d used one of Josiah’s special rounds, packed with silver, iron, and obsidian and both blessed and baptized in holy water. Before I could lower my pistol, Crow lurched forward, shoving me hard enough to hurl me across the room and into one of the Society’s wunderkammeren. The closet of oddities smashed open, showering me with its strange and singular wonders, momentarily stunning me as glimpses of the pieces’ power and history flashed past me.