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He was blind, but had expected as much. Holding the knife aloft, he called upon a portion of the power inside him. He hated to do it, but another's life was on the line now, not just his own.
Eagerly it surged forth, energy so great that it caused his almost-human facade to violently tremble. Remy pulled back on the Heavenly force, focusing its power, allowing it to flow up his arm and into his hand. The pain was excruciating, his fleshy form barely able to contain the power, but the knife suddenly glowed like a miniature star, dispelling the darkness.
Remy gasped at the sight of the creatures within. There were at least six that he could see. They were hu-manoid, thin, pale, and tightly muscled. Wings with a decidedly leathern, batlike appearance sprang from their hunched backs.
A horrible amalgam of the demonic and angelic.
They shielded their eyes from the brightness of Heaven's light, letting the petrified Casey go.
"Come to me!" Remy ordered, motioning the frightened woman toward him.
With a whimper, Casey darted toward him — toward the safety of the light.
"You're going to be all right," he assured her, pulling her close.
She was staring at him strangely, the sight of his glowing hand holding a burning knife. "What's happening?" she asked, her body quivering.
"There'll be time for answers later," he said, moving them back toward the door. "Right now, we need to get out of here."
One of the pale-ski
"You'll go nowhere!"
It dropped to a crouch before them, and Remy threw Casey back against the door, shielding her with his body as it lunged.
"You should have listened," it hissed.
Remy could hear Casey fiddling with the door behind him as he brought the knife blade up, burying it in the black, leathery flesh of the creature's shoulder.
"Guess you should've killed me when you had the chance," Remy growled, giving the blade a nasty twist, feeling the muscle shred through the wooden hilt, the stink of cooking meat wafting through the air.
The beast tossed its head back and howled in agony, its arms flailing. One of its leathery wings slashed the air, catching Remy across the face, sending him to his knees.
The world spun and he fought to stay conscious. He still managed to hold the knife, but the agony in his hand had begun to spread down his arm as his angelic nature took the opportunity to try and reclaim what had once belonged to it.
A sudden blast of damp, cold air on his neck stimulated his senses, and he saw that Casey had managed to get the door open and was reaching to pull him out onto the back porch. Tyger exploded out from the shadows, the cat's eyes wide with panic as he made his escape.
Typical, the angel thought offhandedly. Every cat for himself.
Remy scrambled to his feet, moving the glowing blade about to find his enemies. He saw them, clustered in a bunch, digging through the leather satchel that had once contained the sacred scrolls.
"They're not here," one of the abominations bellowed. They all turned their malefic gazes toward him.
"The scrolls," his injured adversary hissed, stepping aside as the others surged in Remy's direction. They were manipulating the shadows now, shielding their eyes from the knife's ethereal glow. "Don't let him get away."
Remy was already backing out the door, but he had to slow them down long enough for he and Casey to get away. Carefully, he cha
The creature's eyes bugged from his head as he fell backward into the arms of his unholy brethren.
Remy smiled, watching the angelic energy continue to burn, sputtering and sparking as if ready to explode.
Which is exactly what it did.
The room was suddenly filled with the brilliance of Heaven and the screeches of the winged creatures as the glorious release of light seared their every sense.
"Mr. Chandler, come on!" he heard Casey yell from the steps below.
It was still raining hard, and the cool air made the blistered skin on his hand throb as he threw himself down the stairs. They ran through the backyard and down the narrow alley between Casey's building and the one next door.
"Mr. Chandler, please tell me what…"
"Remy," he said, as he opened the gate to the street with his good hand. "After what we've gone through tonight, you should be calling me Remy."
The porch light suddenly went on and the front door opened to reveal an elderly woman, her hair adorned with bright pink curlers.
"Oh, shit, it's Mrs. McGovern," Casey whispered.
"What the hell is going on up there? Do you think it's fu
Casey started back toward the porch to explain herself, but Remy caught her by the arm.
"No time for that," he said, dragging her across the street, toward the car.
Her protests were interrupted by the roar of an explosion as an undulating cloud of solid black burst through the roof of the South Boston home.
"Go! Go! Go!" Remy yelled, pushing her to the car.
Mrs. McGovern was out of her house in a flash, ranting and raving. Like sharks to blood, the creatures within the cloud of shadow couldn't pass up an i
Remy and Casey had reached the car, slamming the doors closed in unison.
"She's going to be so pissed," Casey muttered as she snapped her seat belt in place.
"I don't think that's really going to matter now," Remy said, starting the car and slamming it into drive. He pulled out of the spot with a screech of tires, grabbing the rearview mirror to see if they were being followed.
Of course they were.
He wasn't sure exactly where he was going as he turned up and down the streets of Southie. All he knew was that they had to get away; the human race was depending on him. If he didn't find the scrolls and convince the Angel of Death to snap out of it, the Apocalypse would be called down and the world would end.
And he really didn't want to see that happen. He'd grown quite fond of the place over the years.
"Oh, my God, they're behind us!" Casey suddenly screamed, twisting around in her seat as she gazed out the back window.
Remy looked to the rearview mirror again. There was nothing but blackness behind them, as if somebody had placed a blanket of black velvet over the back of his car.
"Hang on," he said, gu
"We may have lost…" the angel began, but something dropped from the sky upon the roof of the car.
He jerked the wheel to one side, causing the car to swerve, and the bloody body of Mrs. McGovern slid down the windshield onto the hood, her eyes wide and still alive with agony beyond imagining. Trailing streaks of blood, she slid off the hood, and then the car bounced obscenely as she fell under the tires.
Casey started to scream hysterically, but Remy couldn't stop. He had to keep going, for there was no way these creatures were going to let them survive once they knew that he didn't have the scrolls.
And suddenly, he knew where he was going, as if his subconscious had taken over the reins for a moment and provided them with a way out of their current predicament.