The wraith turned its head back on Henry. Martha began to scream and beat at it again. This time, the creature reached back and thrust its free hand into Martha’s chest.
“Jack,” Henry shouted, “save her!”
I was sure Martha would never survive, and we had only seconds to get Henry out of here.
“Save her!” Henry cried again.
I rushed forward, Cassius and Chuey at my sides. Martha was thrashing on the wraith’s arm like a body impaled on a thick post. We were nearly to her when she let out a deafening scream and the wraith ripped from her chest a fistful of light. She went limp. Her light coursed from the wraith’s fist into its body, crackling along the ragged edges of its torn flesh. Then Martha was gone, an amber mist winking to nothing.
“No!” Henry screamed. The wraith whirled on him. We were caught behind it all now, as the creature plunged its great hand into Henry’s chest this time. My friend’s body convulsed as if struck by lightning.
I hollered for Cassius.
The centurion let out his war cry, leapt forward, and brought his sword down in a sweeping arc, severing the wraith’s right hand. The creature roared, stepped back to the fireplace, and while glaring at us thrust its bloody stump into the flames. The stench of burned flesh filled the room. Henry collapsed to his knees, still trembling, his chest open and bleeding his soul’s light in thin streams. Lady rushed to him with her medic bag.
“Remember,” I said, “we need this thing to renew the ward. Cassius, draw it out. Lakshmi, Chuey, get in its blind side and hamstring it. Church, be ready to help take it down. I’ll try to impart my sigil to its bindings.”
“Orcus is a single-use catalyst,” Lakshmi explained. “We’ll have to cut its bindings, so you can rebind it with fresh thread.”
The wraith pulled its smoking stump from the fire and stepped toward us, a low sound rumbling deep in its chest. Cassius teased the beast forward with his sword while Chuey and Lakshmi circled wide. The wraith stomped toward me, floorboards shaking as it came.
Its jaw began to open. And open. The flesh at the corners of its mouth tore in ragged lines, like a freakishly long, jagged smile, blood spurting out over its teeth and chin.
Then it charged, braying in harsh cacophony. The scream prickled my skin, resonating inside my head and down through my wounded shadow. My vision blurred, and I stepped back. Lakshmi danced in, slashing its waist binding.
The wraith bucked, elbowed her aside, and took another step toward me. Chuey slammed his macuahuitl down on the tendon of its right foot, bursting the flesh open.
It howled and kicked back with its wounded foot, driving Chuey into the fireplace mantel. He smacked his head on the stone and slumped to the floor.
The wraith screamed again, launching itself at me. Cassius threw himself between us, absorbing the blow and sprawling to the floor at my feet. The wraith raised its foot over Cassius’s head, but Lakshmi was there, slashing the binding on its raised foot, as well as the tendons beneath.
The wraith shrieked and fell to one knee.
Church rushed, arms out, ready to tackle it to the floor. But the wraith whipped its arm around in a savage backhand, driving Church into the bookcase, where he crashed to the floor, hundreds of vinyl albums spilling down around him.
Henry lay on the floor, too, his face twisted in pain, as Lady knelt beside him, digging through her trauma bag.
Lakshmi danced in again, slicing the binding on the wraith’s one hand. The creature bucked, roaring with an army of voices, and swung its smoking stump at her. She leapt back, evading theblow, but leaving a clear path to me. The wraith clambered up, its skin tearing at the joints. It stomped toward me, limping on its cut tendons.
I raised my lantern again and pulled a fast bracing stroke for Church—his time in the British Expeditionary Force—then one for Cassius, his Legion training.
The wraith lifted its head and howled—a terrible song that seemed to alter the light of my strokes. When the reverberations of its music were gone, Cassius and Church fell face-first onto the floor.
It lowered its head and started toward me again. “Assault strokes,” Lady cried. “Concentrate on harm.”
I glared into the beast’s bloody face and played hard staccato notes on my lamp, sending shards of light into the wraith with the images of violent street fights back home. The wraith shuddered, but its shadow began absorbing the light as though it were nothing.
I dropped my bow and clutched my khopesh. Then I signaled Lakshmi to come in from its back and started backpedaling to the far corner, waving my lantern wildly to draw the wraith. Lakshmi darted in behind it as it rushed toward me and slit the binding on the remaining leg. It shuddered and heaved violently, skin tearing and weeping blood and bile.
I dove, khopesh up, and drove my knife into its neck, severing its last binding. When the final braid fell away, the skin and meat of the wraith began to slough to the floor.
From my sling pack I quickly dug out the Orcus, which was vibrating harder in the presence of this wraith than it had the hellhound. Again, on instinct, I sang a few notes from one of my songs to quiet the thread—a few words about losing the one woman I’d loved. It helped even less this time?—
The room went quiet. I heard only my own labored breathing. Then the wraith roared, a deep, reverberating howl,and toppled sideways to the floor. An immense gathering of souls rose from its bloodied corpse in the shape of a giant man—eight feet tall, and three feet broad at the shoulders. It looked like something torn from the Endless Dark—wispy edges like mist or smoke.
I began to shield my eyes, expecting a violent wind like the one that had blown when we’d dismissed the hound at Highgate. But this wraith hovered over its own mortal shell, still thrumming with all the same power . . . and staring at me.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
