Inchoate battle cries erupted from their throats as they sprinted at me from maybe thirty yards away. Klaudia chose that moment to burst through the stairwell door, armed with a silver dagger in her left hand and looking like she’d just had fabulous sex somehow on her way up. She raised her right arm above her head—a gesture that seemed to precede most of the spells her coven cast in combat—and said, “Zorya Vechernyaya chroń mnie od zł a.” The immediate effect was a cone of purple light sheathing her form, much like Bogumila’s, but perhaps a bit more solid looking. The charging hexen pulled up and redirected their attention to Klaudia, whom they recognized as one of their old enemies. Two of them let loose with hellfire that bloomed from their arms like time-lapse orchids, and Klaudia calmly ignored them as it washed up against the purple light and found no passage through. The other two kept coming with a physical attack, and those received her special attention.

Her languid manner sloughed off, and suddenly she moved with liquid grace, crouching and then pivoting on her right foot as she swept the blade of her dagger across the eyes of the leader. She crossed her left foot in front of her right, then spun on it and leapt around in a sort of Chun-Li move, delivering first a right boot, then a left to the head of the second witch. Both hexen were down inside of two seconds, though I doubted they were dead. Their demon spawn would heal them up in no time.

Still, I admit that I gawked; I gaped, even. Malina had told me that her coven wasn’t trained for combat, yet Klaudia had just displayed stark evidence to the contrary. But then I thought she must be the exception to the rule; if the dark side of her coven had fought so well at Tony Cabin, more than two werewolves would have perished that night.

Shaking off my astonishment, I advanced to help, as the two downed hexen clambered to their feet and the flamethrowers were finally registering that nothing was burning inside that purple cone.

The answer to enemies who heal annoyingly fast is always, always decapitation. That is why swords will never go out of style. Fragarach sang through the neck of one of the flamethrowers, and I added a stab for Junior in the gut before the body fell. That reminded the remaining three that I was still around. Their minds and their jaws became unhinged as they bellowed hot roars of red ass-breath and charged me all at once, forgetting entirely about Klaudia. She hadn’t killed any of them yet, after all, while I’d been responsible for quite a number so far.

These last three had very little of their humanity left. They were old, old witches, and they’d been selling wee parcels of their souls to hell for so long that nothing but a single forlorn box of humanity was left in what was once a full warehouse. Something else occupied their skins now, something that made their eyes burn in their heads and black claws grow from their fingers.

I gave ground before the charge, whirling the blade in front of me in a defensive pattern. One, then two of their cursed faces dropped out of my vision, due no doubt to some guerrilla effort of Klaudia’s, but I still had one more to deal with—and she was faster than me.

Perhaps I’d slowed down. The pain of my injuries was building, for I’d done no real healing to any of them; I’d just continued fighting and probably exacerbated them in the process. The witch lost her left hand to Fragarach in order to get a good shot at me with her right. Her claws tore down through my flak vest at my left shoulder, ripping not only through it but also through my pectoralis muscles. I fell backward and she clung to me on the way down, trying to dig in farther with her nails, attempting to turn the claws up under my rib cage and do serious damage to my organs. Her left side, however, was unguarded and vulnerable. I shoved Fragarach sideways through her guts as she straddled me, twisting it madly to make sure the demon felt the blade. She convulsed spastically and vomited blood before her eyes finally cooled and she fell still. On top of me.

My left arm didn’t want to move. I tried and it hammered me with pain. I used the last of my stored magic to shut it off; I couldn’t think in a cloud of agony. I yanked Fragarach out of the witch—a messy business—then put it down long enough to shove her off me with my right hand. I sat up to see if any hexen were left.

There weren’t. Klaudia had eviscerated the last two, killing the demon spawn first, and then she’d slashed their throats for good measure. Now that the battle was over, her purple wards were gone and her waifish charisma was back. We were the only living creatures on a floor strewn with bodies, and yet she made it all cool somehow just by standing there. Even covered in blood, her expression had the sleepy, languid sensuality of an underwear model.

“Thanks for the assist,” I said. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

She shrugged. “Vietnam.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

She grinned and her eyes sparkled mischievously.

“Yeah, I am.”

I shuddered as I came down off my adrenaline high and exhaustion set in. But when we heard a thin scream and the pale lavender glow outside the northeast windows abruptly winked out, we bolted for the stairs and hoped we wouldn’t be too late.

Chapter 25

The situation outside was a giant bowl full of gloom and grim. I got around to the north side first, because Klaudia had run around to collect Berta, Roksana, and Kazimiera. I saw no sign of Leif. Bogumila lay dead on the concrete, looking old and terrified in death, and Malina was righteously pissed. My earlier suspicion of the rabbi’s beard now appeared justified, for it exhibited all the qualities one might associate with a distant relative of Cthulhu, with four long, hairy tentacles squirming radially from his jaw, two on either side of his chin. The two on the left were wrapped tightly around Bogumila’s throat, and now they were trying to disentangle themselves from the woman they had strangled to death. The other two were trying to reach Malina, but she was laying down some heavy-duty protection as I approached.

She chanted four lines in Polish, and since I was finally in range to hear, I recorded it eidetically for reference. As she reached the end of each line, a booming clap thundered from her palm along with the colors violet, blue, red, and white, swirling around her in sequence like exuberant streamers in a gymnast’s floor exercise:

“Jej miśoć mnie ochrania,

Jej odwaga czyni mnie nieustraszona,

Jej potęga dodaje mi sił,

Dzięki jej mięosierdziu żyję!”

Malina translated them for me later and explained that each line was a spell in itself, affording her “certain strengths and protections” through the benediction of the Zoryas. Her words meant: By her love I am protected, By her courage I am made fearless, By her might I am made strong, By her mercy I am spared.

When Malina finished, there was an impenetrable yet translucent shield around her, and she looked like she was just getting warmed up. It was far beyond the conic wards I’d seen from Bogumila and Klaudia.

Rabbi Yosef’s crazy squid beard had seen enough; the tentacles quailed and would go no further. They started to retreat, rolling up quickly into the rabbi’s face as he considered how to deal with a far more accomplished witch, then he startled and took a step back as he saw me coming, covered in the gore of witches and demons and my own blood, with Fragarach held ready in my hand. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t say hello, just raised my sword to his throat and said, “Freagróidh tú.” He froze up in the blue glow of the spell and started spluttering something at me in Russian. “You will not speak except to answer my questions,” I said, and he promptly shut up.

“Thank you, Atticus, that will make this so much simpler,” Malina said.

“No, stop,” I told her, as she was gearing up to lay him out. “I need to talk to him first.”

“He must pay for Bogumila’s death!” Malina blazed from behind her shield.

“Yes, he must. But first he will speak plainly to me for the first time. What is the name of your organization, sir?”

He fought it, of course, but eventually he said, “The Hammers of God.” Understanding clicked in my head. That stylized P on the hilt of his knife had been a hammer.

“Where is Father Gregory tonight?”

“He is on a plane back to Moscow.”

“How many are in your organization?”

“I do not know the exact number.”

“Give me your best guess. How many might show up to avenge you should you disappear tonight?”

“At least twenty Kabbalist fighters like me. That is standard when one of us disappears. But they may send more if they think the threat warrants it.”

I turned to Malina with a wry grin. “It is prudent that we stopped to chat, is it not?”

“He still must pay,” she insisted, as Klaudia, Kazimiera, Berta, and Roksana raced to join us and surround him.

“You want to face twenty or more of him?” I asked.

“He is lying about that.”

I shook my head. “You’ve experienced this spell yourself, Malina. He cannot lie. Perhaps there is another way we can make him pay yet avoid a confrontation that may lead to more bloodshed on our side.”

Malina clearly found this suggestion distasteful. She wanted to kill his ass right then and there. “What do you propose?”

“Take a few nice locks of his hair while I’ve got him here. He’ll know he’s in your power then. You can send him some explosive diarrhea or something like that, something painful and humiliating yet short of death, and you can also set up a dead man’s enchantment so that if you die, he dies too. And then we’ll explain to him, in small words, how he killed a very nice witch who was trying to help us kill all the evil witches upstairs, and he and his Hammers of God should just leave us the hell alone from now on, because we have the East Valley well under control.”

Malina weighed my words. She knew that she was more than a match for the rabbi, but he’d been stronger than Bogumila. Twenty more of him against the five remaining members of her coven weren’t good odds, and she understood this. She agreed, albeit with great reluctance, and dispelled the light show swirling around her. Her sisters accepted the decision without comment, but I could tell they didn’t like it either.

“There, Rabbi, you see?” I said. “Heinous witches don’t let asspuppets like you live. Only merciful ones who understand, like me, that you’re trying to do the right thing but you’re just too dim to understand what it is. So we’re going to show you. Right after Malina takes some of your hair.”

Malina flipped off his hat and tore a giant handful from his scalp, stuffing it into the pocket of her leather jacket. We all enjoyed his pain. Then I released the rabbi from Fragarach, bound his sleeves firmly behind him in a similar fashion to what I’d done in my shop, and we led him through the building and explained how we’d completely eliminated die Töchter des dritten Hauses, a coven that had hunted Kabbalists like him for centuries. While he was busy fighting Bogumila, Malina had personally taken care of a large demon ram and another in utero. Klaudia had eliminated two more. Leif and I had accounted for the rest between us (I confirmed that we had slain twenty-two), and the vampire disdained demonkind so much that he’d refused to sink his fangs into any of the witches.

To the rabbi’s frothing accusations, I replied that, yes, I tended to enjoy the company of vampires and werewolves and witches, because all the ones I knew were extraordinarily well scrubbed and had fantastic taste in automobiles; but none of us suffered a scrap of hell to dwell in our territory unmolested, and we had, in fact, been far more effective against them than the Hammers of God had been so far. So please you, good rabbi, get the f**k out of our town and stay out.

He agreed to leave, albeit with much grumbling and resentment. I figured it was even money he’d come back with friends. We did not wish him farewell.

I found my missing teeth and felt certain I could heal them back into place with a good night’s sleep on the earth. I recovered Moralltach and its scabbard near the hole in the floor. Of Leif, however, there was no sign.

Malina joined me at the spot where I’d seen him leap from the building. We looked down at the the rocky landscaping below and saw no sign of disturbance there.

“I’m so sorry about Bogumila,” I said to her in low tones. “And Waclawa.” I said nothing about Radomila or Emily or any of the others who’d died in the Superstitions.

“Thank you,” she said, almost too quiet to hear.

“Did you chance to see what happened to Leif?” I asked.

“I saw him fall,” Malina said, sniffling a bit. She wiped at the corner of her eyes and nodded. “He was right between me and Bogumila. I don’t think the rabbi even noticed, though how he could miss a flaming vampire is beyond me. He ran east down Pecos; that was the last I saw of him. I remained at my station in case any more hexen fell down.”

I looked off toward the east. Lights on the north side of the road indicated buildings, but, after a few lots down on our side of the street, there was nothing but darkness.

“East, you say? Is that undeveloped land over there?” I pointed.

“I don’t know,” Malina said. “We should probably check it out.”

Antoine’s refrigerated truck rolled into the parking lot as our small convoy of sports cars pulled out onto Pecos, steering carefully around the golem’s head that Leif had thrown through the roof. Bogumila’s body was bundled gently into Roksana’s Mercedes. We waved and wished Antoine and his ghouls bon appétit. His gang would have the place cleaned up before sunrise, leaving nothing but property damage and a large pile of rocks behind for the police to wonder over.

I was riding with Malina and Klaudia in the Audi. Klaudia sat on my lap, her torso twisted around to face me and a leather-clad arm draped around my shoulder. With her other hand, she was caressing my injured jaw with a delicate tip of a fingernail. She made cooing sounds of sympathy, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her lips.