Dust (Hellsong: Infidels: Cris Book 3) Read online

  God, they’ve cut us off already.

  “We’re outmatched, Shy,” Din says.

  With a single smooth gesture Domina raises her Beretta and shoots the Little Lady in the head. Fellman jerks, and I can feel the tenseness of the rigid muscles in his back.

  Domina moves toward me, putting her hand on my cheek and stepping around Fellman.

  “You love me, don’t you?” she asks.

  I nod as Fellman’s body goes slack. I’m in Domina’s surprisingly strong arms. She grunts as Din works at the harness. Then I’m free, and Domina lowers me, ungracefully but slowly enough to where I’m not hurt, to the ground.

  I’m entranced by her dark amber eyes.

  She kneels beside where I lay and kisses me, like a lover might. “Someday you’ll be mine,” she promises, her whisper sending a thrill down my spine. “I want you to shout and tell your friends that you’re okay. Can you do that for me?”

  “It hurts when I shout.” I say.

  A soft concern for my wellbeing narrows her eyes. “You don’t have to shout very loud, Cris. You want to be a good boy, don’t you? This is very important.”

  “I do,” I say. “I’ll shout as loud as I can.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  She stands, and I see where Fellman has fallen, blood still pooling out from where Din’s rapier had pierced him below the chin.

  “Can you hear me?” Domina yells.

  “Yes,” Cid answers.

  “There’s two of us, your man is safe. Tell them you’re safe, Cris.”

  “I am,” I say, and then repeat louder. “I am.”

  “Come forward a few steps,” Cid says. “An infidel will check to make sure he’s okay. After he’s cleared we’ll let you go.”

  Domina smiles sadly. “We’ll keep our weapons lowered, but I won’t disarm. Your man will have to be okay with that as we pass him.”

  “No need,” Q’s voice says from behind us. “And no need for you to turn around either. If you do, you will die. Walk two steps forward, please.”

  Q’s form is half obscured by the haze, but I see him now, his M-16 shouldered.

  He knows. He saw me talking to Domina. He saw her kissing me. He knows what I’ve become.

  I feel disgust in my stomach.

  “Cris.” Q’s voice is tender with pity, so maybe he hasn’t guessed everything yet. “Come to me.”

  He’ll know soon enough. That infidel brain will be ticking. He’ll see it. It’s so obvious I’ve been polluted.

  “Cris?” he asks.

  Not like this. He can’t see me like this. Domina, save me. Take me away.

  “He can’t walk.” Domina’s voice echoes about in my head.

  Lukewarm blood from Fellman seeps into the hem of my long sleeve shirt.

  Q’s shadow takes another step through the haze. “Keep looking forward,” he orders them, his words short and clipped.

  Domina’s black hair stirs as her head turns ever so slightly. That hair covers her eyes, but I can just barely see the ruby red of her lips as she whispers, “You can crawl to your friend.”

  I hurt so much inside.

  Q’s M-16 comes down an inch. “What did you do to him?”

  Domina’s shoulders tense, and it hurts me to see her afraid. I feel her pain in my gut.

  Din is as still as rock.

  Behind us, clicking along the stone, I hear the steps of the skeletons. Q came from back there, so the stadium chamber entrance hasn’t been blocked off by this explosion.

  The dead are out there, and they can get to us.

  Q comes out of the mist to stand over me, his nostrils flared, eyes wide with anger, his body armor rising with his heavy breathing. This time his voice sounds well controlled. “What did you do?”

  Domina’s head turns a little farther.

  “Don’t!” Q’s voice rings out, echoing in the hallway over the clicking of bone on stone.

  Domina’s head freezes.

  “Don’t,” Q repeats softly. “Not another inch.”

  She looks straight ahead again, her fingers clenching, her Beretta still held in her right hand.

  “Just tell me,” Q says. “Tell me what you did.”

  “Part of Maab’s conversion technique.” Domina’s voice is shaky. “Igraine ordered it. It’s not my—”

  “Which part?” Q asks.

  Din shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “The skeletons are back there, and surely they hear us. We’ve not much time. Your man is alive, you should—”

  “I asked which part!” Q screams.

  Din’s shoulders hunch as if weighed down by Q’s anger, and I can see Domina shaking.

  “What,” Q says between clenched teeth, “have you done,” his words have a force to them, an inevitability which terrifies me, “to my friend?”

  “Look. I know about the agreement with Ares. I know we’re not supposed to use conversion techniques on infidels, but we didn’t know,” Domina begins, and she then pauses, taking a breath. “We didn’t know he was—”

  In all my life, I have never seen an infidel lose their temper. Q snarls, throwing his gun aside and leaping toward her. She turns, bringing her Beretta to bear, but Q doesn’t give a shit. He grabs her by the throat as the gun discharges into his body armor, and slams her against the wall. I expect him to double over from the power of the bullet, but oddly, that doesn’t happen.

  Din has dropped his gun and is reaching for Q, but the infidel’s kick knocks him away. Q raises his right fist over his head while his left hand leaves creases in Domina’s throat.

  “No!” I shout through my pain. “Q, don’t hurt her.”

  “Look at me!” Q yells at Domina, ignoring my plea, his voice echoing loudly amidst the enclaves. “Look at me you fucking bitch! Look at me or I’ll rip your throat out.”

  Din has his hands in the air.

  “Stay cool, Q.” Cid’s voice washes over us. “Stay cool. He threw his gun down. The truce holds, okay? The truce holds.”

  But my friend is not moved by her words. Sweat drips off his brow, his fist is shaking with his fury. “There are demons.” Q’s voice cracks. “They’re trying to kill us. All of us. They want us to suffer. And you’re doing that to people? Why?” He seems truly exasperated. “What in the fuck is wrong with you? Why?”

  “Cid,” Neb’s German accented voice comes from behind Q. “I’m not going to be able to hold them for much longer.”

  There must be some side passages my friends are using to get around, because I remember his voice coming from the other direction.

  “Let her go, Q.” El Cid orders. “You heard Neb, we have to leave.”

  But Q doesn’t respond to Cid at all. “Why?”

  Domina struggles for breath, her slender pale hands uselessly gripping Q’s arm. “He deserves it,” she says, forcing her words out despite his stranglehold on her throat. “All men deserve it. You deserve it. Cris definitely deserves it.”

  Q’s fist slams so hard into her face that I’m almost sure he’s killed her. The echo of the smack and of the resulting crack of her skull on the stone reverberates down the corridor. She’d have dropped but for his hand around her throat. His punches continue, hooks driven forward by his twisting shoulder, lightning fast, snaking in and out as her head beats out a rhythm on the stone wall.

  Din leaps with a shout and grabs Q from behind. My friend lowers his weight, stepping out with one foot, absorbing his attacker’s momentum. Din has locked his hands around the nimble Q and is trying to drive him into the wall.

  Domina drops like a ragdoll, her unconscious head lolling to one side at an awkward angle, her hair spilling over her shoulder.

  Q twists about in the man’s grip, his right leg kicking out, wheeling around in the air as Q’s graceful muscles force his torso downward. That leg wraps around Din as Q cartwheels over the stone. Din’s body, a slave to Q’s momentum, rises and then falls. They land, a mass of Carrion man and infi
del, upon the stones as Nebuchadnezzar appears out of the haze, skeletons clicking at his back.

  I hear Cid shouting, but I can’t tell what she’s saying.

  Domina twitches.

  Q has Din beneath him, a knee planted firmly on the Carrion man’s belly. Din has his hands raised over his head, trying to protect himself, but Q’s blows land repeatedly against the man’s ribs. Chainmail chinks violently under the blows, but I’d be surprised if it was offering Din any protection.

  “Cris!” Cid shouts.

  Oh, she’s talking to me.

  “Cris, my baby, my love. Sweetheart!”

  What nice things she is saying.

  “Cris! You have to come to me. You have to.”

  I look back. Domina is not dead. She’s alive, and Cid’s struggling to get the woman up in her arms. Domina doesn’t know what’s going on, so she’s trying to fight.

  “You have to!” Cid begs me.

  Maybe.

  Nebuchadnezzar kicks back a skeleton, and then another. He bumps into Q on accident, but the infidel doesn’t notice except to shift ever so slightly, maintaining his perfect balance. I hear ribs cracking under his next barrage.

  Din shouts and lowers his arms to protect his torso, and Q starts in at his head. Bony fingers grab at Q’s shoulder, but Neb smacks them away. Cid is there, grabbing at Q and shouting at me, but again, I can’t tell what she’s saying. Blood whips up into the air from Q’s knuckles, sparkling in the light as their droplets paint the dead.

  One of the skeletons is bending down by where Cid has abandoned Domina.

  That can’t happen.

  I try to crawl to her.

  “No, Cris!” Cid yells. “Away. You have to crawl away.”

  She grabs Q under the arms, trying to drag him off Din.

  Neb is franticly swinging about himself with the butt of a rifle. He looks at me, at where I’m headed. He moves across the corridor and kicks the dead thing which hovers over Domina. Her pale flesh seems unblemished, but she’s not moving.

  I begin to cry.

  “Q!” Cid bends her knees and tries to lift him up. “We’ve got to go.”

  Q shucks her off and lands another pair of blows upon Din before skeletal hands reach out and replace Cid’s. He’s only too glad to share his anger with them. Q is on his feet in moments, his fists snaking out in repetitive combinations like little bits of lightning. His enemies melt away.

  “Get him!” Q yells to Neb.

  The Nazi grabs me, struggling to help me to my feet, but I can’t stand.

  “He needs you, Q!” Cid shouts. “Cris needs you.”

  Q’s head whips around, and he sees me, a limp thing in Nebuchadnezzar’s arms. In this moment, surely he’ll notice I’m not worth his effort. But then he’s here, picking me up in his wiry arms with a tenderness that Fellman could never match.

  I cry as Q carries me away.

  I regain consciousness. They’ve stopped near the Erebus to tend to my wounds.

  And sometimes, I feel . . .

  Nebuchadnezzar watches the entrance silently. “He’s awake,” the necromancer says without turning around. “That’s Cris’ hellsong.”

  El Cid is stitching my split rear end faster than I thought possible. The tiny needle in her hand threads through the wound. I have not known pain like this. In, out. In, out. In, out.

  Q is wrapping my ankle with similar speed. “Where’s Aiden? Was he captured too? Did he fall near you?”

  Infidels don’t cry.

  My world is spinning.

  Myla’s song becomes a shriek, a shrill banshee howl with the same resonance as the cry of the Furies, echoing like a lost soul in the dark winds of the Erebus. I feel Myla’s rage, her anguish, her unspeakable denial tearing down the back of my neck and spine.

  But it’s not her who’s really screaming. The hellsong belies my own sorrow.

  El Cid stops for a moment, her needle paused in my flesh, her mouth slightly open. Q’s head bows, his eyes closing. Even Nebuchadnezzar has turned toward me.

  Cid finishes tying off my stitches, and then holds me in her arms. “Oh, Cris.”

  Her tears drop onto my neck and run into the collar of my torn shirt.

  Infidels do cry.

  “Neb,” Cid says. “I’m out of gauze, do you have any?”

  Q takes up the watch as the Nazi dips into his pack. He produces a roll of gauze.

  I’m bewildered. “How?” I ask. “How were you all here to save me?”

  “We should have left,” Cid says. “You know Jessica, Mason, Eagan and Jenner are waiting for us, and we’re long overdue. We tracked Keith’s men up to the Catacombs, but the trail was dead. At that point, it was our duty to give up on you.

  “But Q wouldn’t let us leave. He said that somehow he’d find a sign. We’d been searching the catacombs systematically since we lost your trail, until we heard your captors bedding down for the night.”

  Neb hands over the gauze. Cid finishes her work quickly.

  “Help him get his pants on,” she orders the Nazi, “Q, you’re on watch. I’ll scout out the entryway to the sanctuary.”

  Q melts into the shadows outside our chamber as Cid disappears into the wilds. I’m alone with Neb.

  He kneels at my feet, picking up my pants. The flashing light of the Erebus helps him determine which way is front. He lifts one of my feet and slides it into a pant leg, then repeats the process more carefully on the other.

  It only hurts a little.

  I look up at his haughty features, at his well-defined cheek bones and light eyes.

  He meets my gaze.

  “She lied to you, you know,” Neb says.

  “No,” I say. “Cid doesn’t lie.”

  He nods. “Not directly, no. She did say we had to abandon you, and Q did demand we stay.” He pauses, helping bunch up the legs of my pants so he can get my left foot through. “But she didn’t argue back.”

  Myla’s wail dies away, and all I can hear is the buffeting of the Erebus—then, as I close my eyes, even that goes quiet.

  This is what I feared, that after escaping, I’d discover I had no reason left to live.

  “I want to die,” I say softly, more to Hell, or to the Erebus, than to Neb.

  He shakes his head. “Oh, no. You don’t get to die.” The words are eerily reminiscent what Keith said when he’d captured me. “And even if you do, I’ll just sprinkle a little dust on you, and you’ll be right back up on your feet.”

  The Erebus is but a whisper.

  “I saw an Angel, Neb.”

  He looks at me, blue eyes curious. “You did?”

  “That means there’s a heaven.”

  His head tilts upward, as if to stare at that far off realm. “Not for us, Cris. Not for us.”

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  Need to look up a term?

  Check out the Gehennic Encyclopedia as a free download on Kindle or view at our website: hellsongseries.com/encyclopedia

  What is it like to be damned?

  Arturus knows.

  Born in Hell, Arturus has never had the chance to meet his creator or seek redemption; but that doesn’t mean he has no destiny. He lives near the village of Harpsborough, whose people have torn a moment of peace from the unwilling claws of damnation—and damn-ation wants it back.

  Future omens are poor. Infidels roam the wilds, devils are amassing, and the very stones of Hell themselves have begun to break apart. But even while they fight damnation, Arturus and the hunters of Harpsborough find themselves facing off against traitors from amongst their own ranks and a people they thought they’d left far behind.

  Look for Even Hell Has Knights and continue exploring the Hellsong Universe!

  Like a character? Want to follow them through the Hellsong universe?

  Cris returns in Convalescence.

  Cris appears in Even Hell Has Knights and March till Death.

  El Ci
d, Q and Aiden appear in Knight of Gehenna and March till Death

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  Shaun McCoy lives in South Carolina. He is an accomplished Pianist, Cage Fighter, Chess Player and Writer. You can check out his fan page at www.facebook.com/shaunomccoy