Ex-Communication, Peter Clines [ebook reader online free txt] 📗

legs while a score more threw themselves on the tail. They swarmed over the demon like ants on a lion.

Three dead people sank their fingers into the coil holding St. George and yanked at it. They loosened it enough for him to get his hands in. He pried the tail open and dropped away. St. George took in a deep breath.

An ex loomed over him. It had been a heavyset man with a goatee, dressed in a filthy tee and wool cap. “Your lucky day, dragon man,” growled the corpse, “ ’cause I actually hate this fucking thing more’n I hate you.”

St. George nodded. “We need to hold it,” he said. “Stealth needs a clear shot at its chest.”

The ex nodded and hurled itself onto the demon’s back. Over a hundred dead people clung to the monster, burying it beneath their bodies. They shifted to expose its bony chest.

St. George leaped into the air, soared over the demon, and landed next to Stealth. “I think Rodney just gave us our edge.”

“Agreed.”

“Ready to tell me the big secret plan?”

“Symbolism,” she said. “We have the sword and an archangel.”

“What?”

“A creature of radiance and will, shaped in God’s image.”

The phrasing stuck in George’s head for a moment. Then Cairax Murrain lashed out with both arms and dozens of exes went flying. The barbed tail skewered three and shook them off. It reached up and seized the dead woman who’d wrapped herself across its eyes.

“Stealth!” someone shouted.

The cloaked woman turned. So did Cairax Murrain. Captain Freedom slumped on a car near Madelyn. She was on the roof, holding the sword over her head.

The demon’s saucer eyes squinted as if it was trying to focus on something. Then it snarled.

It could see her.

“Hold the demon!” snapped Stealth.

St. George hurled himself through the air. His boot slammed into Cairax’s face, knocking the demon’s head back into a small tree. The monster tried to bite down on his leg but only tore the heel off his boot. Cairax swung one arm at him and glared at the hero.

The Corpse Girl tried to remember everything she’d seen in pirate movies about throwing swords. None of it seemed instructional. In the end she just swung her arm back and hurled the weapon in Stealth’s direction.

As the hilt left her hand Cairax’s eyes got even wider. It hissed through its forest of tusks and lunged forward. Another dozen exes stumbled forward and threw themselves at its hooves. They grabbed at its calves and thighs.

St. George grabbed the demon’s arm and twisted it back. The odd proportions made it hard to use leverage, but he got the claw up behind the spike-covered back again. The spidery hand flexed in front of his face and the movie Aliens flashed through his mind.

All at once George knew why “in God’s image” sounded familiar. It was a phrase from the Bible. It was what people always said about humanity.

The blade spun through the air like a propeller. Stealth took three steps, reached up, and snatched the whirling saber out of the air halfway between Madelyn and the demon. Her fingers shifted on the grip and she pulled it back over her shoulder. For a moment she was a statue. Then she hurled the sword at Cairax Murrain like a javelin.

Light flashed between them. A sonic boom cracked the air. Zzzap placed himself between Stealth and the demon.

A creature composed of radiance and will, shaped in God’s image.

A man made of light and thought.

Zzzap reached out an arm so his palm was blistering the creature’s hide and hoped he wasn’t about to die.

The sword melted the second it touched the gleaming wraith’s shoulder. The blade dissolved into a stream of steel and silver. The intricate engraving blurred together and was gone. The leather grip incinerated, a small cloud of ash that vanished in a swirl of superheated air. Almost a third of the sword boiled away to vapor and broke apart in the furnace that was his body, reduced to mere atoms.

For Zzzap it was every type of discomfort his mind could pull up as an analogy. Having something physical inside him, even just for a tenth of a second, was past nauseating—it was agony. It was food poisoning and charley horses and getting kicked in the nuts and broken bones and smoke inhalation all at once. He sensed the sword’s path, right where Stealth said it would be going, and forced his arm to stay up with his fingers spread.

The stream of molten metal shot from his palm. Free of his internal fires, it shed heat into the air around the demon. Inertia shaped it into a gleaming icicle of steel as it crossed the open space.

The sword in Zzzap’s hand punched through the demon’s skin and slid between two ribs. Smoke poured from the wound as it pierced Cairax Murrain’s heart. The blade slid even farther, and used the last of its momentum to bury itself in the bone plates of the monster’s back.

Cairax Murrain roared. It was a howl of pain and anger and frustration and fear that shattered glass and made eardrums bleed. The demon threw off the exes holding its arms and lashed out at Zzzap. The talons tore through the wraith with a sizzle and a loud crack. It thrashed and howled and hurled St. George across the wide street.

Zzzap stood there with his arm extended as the sword boiled away around his palm. The jagged piece of steel never moved. It was solid in the air between Zzzap and Cairax Murrain. White flames shot from the demon’s mouth. The wound sparked and flared and caught fire. The blaze started to build and swell around the demon.

St. George saw Stealth dive behind a truck. Madelyn tugged Captain Freedom down behind a car. The exes were still throwing themselves at the demon. They were laughing even as the flames charred them down to the bone.

St. George closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his face.

Everything went white. There was a