Chapter 34

The cloudless night and the ink black sky allowed for a perfectly unobstructed aerial view of Business 131. I followed the deserted roadway heading South, until it intersected with the corner of Mosel and Burdick on the outskirts of town.

Parked right out in front of an unassuming two story brick building, I had zero to no problem locating the object of my desire. Or maybe, just maybe, the 24 hour flood light monitoring system of the Township of Kalamazoo's Northwood Fire Department had a little something to do with it.

I descended out of the sky, flying low to the ground as I headed directly toward a newly raked pile of dried leaves in an attempt to safely dislodge my involuntary cargo without the act of dropping it turning into some kind of crude air-to-ground missile strike.

Sensing I was about to let go, the priest dug his fingernails deep into my arms with what could only be described as a death grip.

So much for faith.

I didn't have time to debate the many disadvantages of allowing me to perform another one of my highly executed, yet extreme precision crash landings. I mean, kidnapping a priest was bad enough. I sure as hell didn't want to wipe out with him in tow. Even if I had asked for forgiveness in advance. There wasn't enough Hail Mary's to possibly absolve me from hurting a man of the cloth.

So I decided to do what I do best.

Without a single word of warning, I threw caution to the wind and let the profanities fly. "I'm not a fucking bird. I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. Vycandor can kiss my ass for making this shit look easy. God, please don't let me kill a priest." I decided to throw that last one in for good measure.

As it turns out, without worrying about concentrating on the mechanics of pulling off the perfect landing, I ended up slowing my frantically beating wings to a few circular flaps, straightened my body until I was in an upright position more or less, and slowly guided my feet until they gently touched the ground.

I smiled to myself. "Nailed it!"

The priest stood gingerly on the ground with his back still pressed up against my chest as he nervously peeled his fingernails out of my forearms. When he turned around to face me, I followed his rapidly blinking eyes to the yellow pus that oozed out of ten quarter-of-an-inch-deep curved puncture marks in my arms. Seconds later, we continued to watch as the pus simply dried up and the marks continued to heal so completely, until the skin on both forearms was just a shade pinker than my normal ivory-snow complexion.

"You may be an angel," the priest began with an almost inaudible whine, accompanied by a grief stricken look in his eyes when they finally met mine, "but you've got a mouth on you that would make even a hardened sailor weep."

I knew he didn't mean it as a compliment, but I pretended it was all the same. "Gee, thanks. It's better than a face-plant any day. And when it comes right down to it, angels heal. Priests don't."

When he didn't offer a rebuttal, I figured I'd won that battle.

Point for me.

My attention returned to the fire station and the two trucks parked underneath the flood lights, both painted a brilliant fire-engine red. Multiple high-pressure water hoses snaking back and forth across the concrete parking lot made it appear as if the trucks were in the process of being dutifully cleaned when the first wave of attacks happened without warning. Keeping the entire fleet in pristine operating condition was just another mundane part of any firefighters job. The men and women of Firestation #1 put their lives on the line every day to save others. The really, really shitty part was that, as grown adults, they never expected their own lives to end. Especially at the hands of teenagers, no less.

Nobody did.

A shudder of unimaginable loss rippled down my spine. Unless I stopped the Angels of War from invading the castle and getting to Thomas, the horrific scene here, not to mention the one at ground zero where Serenity's plan had first unfolded, was about to play out again and again all over the world. Only this time around, unlike the teenagers, there would be no healing the Angels of War and returning their souls. After all, that was the fail-safe Serenity had built into her plan for the second wave of attacks. She must have known all along that I would sacrifice myself in order to save the planet. She had also banked on the fact that I would ultimately form a blood bond with Vycandor so his heart could be used to turn Thomas into a sin-eater.

The only piece of the puzzle I seemed to be missing now was how Serenity and Lisette were connected. One was responsible for creating the monsters, while the other ruled over them. But for what purpose?

Lucky for me, I had a monster at my own disposal. I just wasn't exactly sure how to operate the damn thing.

Other than color, what separated the two heavy duty fire trucks was...well, EVERYTHING. The one on the left was your everyday, run of the mill, ordinary fire truck. Sure it did the trick of putting out fires and such, but it was so bo-ring. One the other hand, the truck on the right was a menacing combination of a fire truck and a ratified monster truck, otherwise known as Kalamazilla.  A local legend around these parts, this ferocious spectacle of a fire-engine currently held the record as the world's longest  transformer with the ability to morph from a 53-foot semi trailer, into a 100 foot mechanical beast built to look like a giant scaled serpent. Internationally heralded as a Robotic Hydrasaurus rex, this marvel of modern robotic technology was also recently crowned Champion of the 2016 Monster Truck Rally held locally each year at Wings Stadium. Supposedly, Kalamazilla had won for both racing and freestyle competitions its first time out. Which was unheard of for a newbie robot.

Or so they say.

But what I really, really wanted to know was...why in the hell was the thing parked at the Northwood Fire Department in the first place? Shouldn't it be headed to the next stop on the Monster Truck Rally tour? I mean, before the attacks happened that is. Not that I was complaining, of course.

And then it hit me.

Thanksgiving was less than a week away. Kalamazilla was scheduled to make a special appearance at the annual Thanksgiving Day Parade in downtown Kalamazoo. Announcements had been all over the local news channels. Even the kids at my school were buzzing about it. They couldn't wait to get a load of the monstrosity in action. Weighing in at nearly 40 tons, and standing over 50 feet tall, Kalamazilla also currently held the title as the world's fastest, most extreme fire fighting weapon ever built.

So when it came time to make a decision between the two fire trucks, the choice was obvious. 

"You can't be serious," the priest pleaded. "This is why you dragged me all the way over here?"

"Yup." I nodded absently, still trying to locate the cockpit.

In order to operate the robot, the driver had to actually sit in the head of the beast itself. The long, hydraulically activated neck simulated the swaying movements of a gigantic serpent, while the immense power of a MiG 21 jet engine helped to unleash a ferocious blast of water straight from the mouth of the beast that blew the competition at the monster truck rallies away.

Or, in this case, I planned to use the Robo-hydrasaurus to more than effectively destroy a flying horde of blood-sucking demons, and send them straight back to hell where they belonged.

First things first, I had to make sure I had plenty of water. After all,the water you brought is the water you've got. And I needed a lot.

I followed a large, protruding fire hose running from the rounded belly of the beast that was still attached to a nearby hydrant. After shutting it off, a water tank level indicator light located on the pump-control panel told me the tanker was full.

Now all I had to do was figure out a way to bless the shit out of it.

I pulled out the hose and secured the tanker, before backing a respectable distance away. "Okay, take it away, Father. She's all yours. And make it snappy."

The priest stared at me with wide eyes. "I forgot the salt."

I had to crane my neck because I didn't think I'd heard him correctly. "Come again?"

He paused to clear his throat. "I said, I forgot the salt."

Irritated, I waved my hands in the air. "Yeah, I got that part. What do you mean, you forgot the salt?"

The priest answered with disarming innocence as if speaking to a child. "You need Holy Salt before you can create Holy Water, I'm afraid."

Part of me, a really big part, wondered if he was just being difficult on purpose.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" I stormed, racing through an open garage door and into the kitchen of the firehouse where I spied a salt shaker on the stove. Retrieving it, I rushed back outside and thrust it a him. "Here. I swear, if God had left saving the planet up to you, we'd already be dead by now."

The priests usual calm expression turned sullen and angry.

I forced a smile. "Kidding, duh..."

"You can't expect me to use regular table salt."

"Why not?"

"First, I would have to consecrate it, then I would have to bless it. These things take time," he urged.

My eyes flicked to the dying fireworks display in the sky. Vycandor was putting up a valiant effort but, judging from the look of it, he was quickly running out of energy to stave off the onrush of demons in their final quest to eliminate the human race.

This time for good.

I may have been fighting to save Thomas, but I couldn't stand to lose Vycandor in the process.

"Time is what I have the least of right now," I insisted with a renewed sense of urgency.

"If only we had the power to bottle time," the priest agreed. He paused thoughtfully. "Wait, that's it!" Patting his robe, he pulled out a tiny silver vial and proudly held it up for me to see. "Time in a bottle." The blank look on my face must have told him his words were completely lost on me. "I always carry Holy Water. Never leave home without it."

It was my turn for doubt. "You can't be serious. How are you supposed to bless 2000 gallons of water with that?"

I watched his eyes light up. "With the power of prayer." Before I had a chance to argue, he kissed the vial, raised it up over his head, and began to murmur a blessing. "God, who for the salvation of the human race has built your greatest mysteries upon this substance, in your kindness hear our prayers and pour down the power of your blessing into this element. May this, your creation, be a vessel of divine grace to dispel demons. Let no pestilent spirit, no corrupting atmosphere remain. May all schemes of the enemy be dispelled. Let whatever might trouble the safety and peace of those who remain to fight be protected by this water and secure them against all attacks. We ask this in your holy name, Lord. Amen."

The priest sprinkled some water on me before handing me the vial. Worry clouded his dark brown eyes. "God has placed a heavy burden upon your angelic shoulders."

I attempted an encouraging smile. "Don't worry. I got this."

He didn't seem convinced. "I don't think you understand. If darkness is allowed to supersede light, then earth as we know it is doomed. Chaos will reign supreme and all of God's creation will cease to exist."

He was right. The reign of Chaos was about to begin. Just not the way he thought. 

"Yeah, yeah, blah, blah. I know this part already. If I fail, then my dad and his Angels of Doom are going to be allowed to rise up and make me pay for all my defiance. Trust me, I'm not about to let that happen again." I turned around to open the valve on the tanker and promptly poured the contents directly into the water. On second thought, I decided to drop in the vial before closing the valve and turning to face the priest again. "You can never be too sure about these things."

"Silver is good for Holy Water," he agreed, patting the belly of the beast.

I had to get a running start, flapping my wings hard to reach the serpents head that was twisted around and resting on the hindquarters next to two more MiG 21 jet engines, capable of generating enough speed to demolish a quarter mile in just 6.5 seconds flat.

Settled into the seat of the cockpit, I came face to face with more high-tech electrical gadgets than I could shake a stick at. It was all more than a little overwhelming.

"Decisions, decisions...I hate decisions..." Eyes crushed shut, I took a deep breath before opening them and picked a large red button smack dab in the middle of the control panel that looked the most promising. Once depressed, the powerful vibration of the twin fighter engines firing up made my teeth rattle like jellybeans.

I stared at a rear-view video surveillance screen in awe as bursts of 20-foot flames mixed with exhaust repeated in a swift succession of volleying backfires that sent huge plumes of reddish-blue flames shooting out the back.

"Cool."

"I thought firetrucks were supposed to put out fires, not start them," the priest shouted over the engines.

"This little hottie is going to do both," I replied with a grin.

Sliding the cockpit door closed, I pushed more buttons and levers until I found one that allowed the hydraulics to first lift the neck, and then swing the monstrous head complete with multiple rows of pointy horns to a forward facing position. The effect felt like being on a roller coaster at Cedar Point, only more awesome.

A green light flickered to life, letting me know all systems were go. I didn't bother turning on the switches marked 'SIRENS' because I didn't want to call attention to my arrival. I just wanted to get to Vycandor as quickly as possible.

Flooring the drive pedal, the mechanically super-charged beast of a fire truck took off down the street like a rocket, reaching a blazing top speed of 415 miles per hour. At least, that's what the speedometer thingy read before the force knocked me back and I hit my head hard against the headrest.

I flashed through too many stop lights to count with my skin feeling like it was melting off my face on the way downtown. The colorful light display that guided me to his last known location abruptly died out the second I hit the brakes. Unable to slow down, and fearing the worst, my hands fumbled for the parachute button I knew must be somewhere. When my body jerked forward and my forehead hit the control panel, I knew I'd found it.

Huge tractor-size tires screaming in protest, I rolled to a stop pretty much at the exact same spot where I'd left.

Vycandor shot another streak of bluish-purple flames high in the air that caught one of the creatures directly in the chest mid flight. The blast sent it careening into a nearby car where it caught on fire and continued to sizzle dramatically.

The effect reminded me of a giant bug zapper.

I slid the cockpit door open and stood up on shaky legs, only to be immediately greeted by the noxious odor of burnt flesh. Each rancid breath felt like someone was pouring acid down my throat.

Vycandor stared at me blankly with his mouth hanging wide open, while a group of creatures slowed their aerial assault to do the same. They were either too busy, too stupid, or too busy being stupid to realize it was game over for them now that the cavalry had arrived. 

Cavalry of one, that is.

I glanced down at hundreds more of the creatures that lay dead in the street alongside their victims. The beating heart of Kalamazoo had been silenced by the ugliness of a senseless rampage that paid a murderous call. Judging from the death toll, Vycandor had repaid the menace of the onslaught with his own brand of justice. 

Just one glance is all it took to let me know he was unscathed by all the violence and bloodshed. I wish I could say the same for buildings that lined the once busy street. All that remained now were fragments of ruined dwellings. The place looked worse than a war zone.

Vycandor pointed at my choice of ride and frowned. "Is this contraption what you meant when you said you were going to get reinforcements?

"I sniffed proudly. "Yup. Just wait 'til you see what this little baby can do."

He arched a dark brow. "You call that little?" Part gentleman, part deadly assassin, his eloquent query was coupled with an expanding bolt of ice that shot out of the palm of his hand without him seemingly bothering to aim, striking with all the speed and merciless grace of a Samurai wielding a deadly sword against an advancing army. Well, more like the remnants of an advancing army.

The blast cut straight through the middle of five of the last remaining creatures still in hot pursuit of their original target before they knew what hit them. The way they slumped to the ground with a sickening thud to join the other fallen Angels of War made me wonder just who was saving who in this scenario.

As it turns out, the fireworks display wasn't a distress signal after all. It was Vycandor kicking major ass. And I'd practically missed the whole damn thing.

"Guess you didn't need my help after all," I mumbled.

He smiled up at me in victory, clearing enjoying the fact that he'd just single-handedly destroyed the baddies.

Too bad it didn't last long.

I saw him visibly stiffen and then he blew out an icy breath that hung in the air like a frozen fog. Normally a man of few words, the warning I saw on etched on his face spoke volumes. "Looks like we're going to need reinforcements sooner rather than later."

"Huh?" Confused, I followed the direction of his eyes and noticed what appeared to be storm clouds brewing on the horizon. The resulting silence spread through the deserted streets of downtown Kalamazoo like the plague. As the blackness continued to move closer I realized I wasn't seeing clouds at all, but a swarming mass of winged demons of near biblical proportions.

"Chaos, tell me you have a plan."

Vycandor may have managed to defeat the first invasion, but there was absolutely no way we could ever hope to win against this many creatures at once. The voracious horde of predators didn't just dominate the night sky, they flooded the entire horizon. You couldn't see the stars, you couldn't see the moon, hell you couldn't even see the ground as they approached.

Somehow I knew this was part of the plan all along. To lull us into a false sense of security so we would eventually drop our guard. Just like what happened on the beach.

I guess it's just a good thing I didn't drop my guard.

Ducking inside the cockpit of the robot, I blindly started hitting every button I could find. Instead of unleashing the Holy Water like I'd planned, I somehow only managed to turn on controls that operated the transformers extremities, including but not limited to the animated blinking eyes, hydraulic tongue, and especially the controls that made the gigantic head, neck, and tail swing violently back and forth. I even accidentally hit a button in the process that launched the confetti cannons. Judging from the rear-view cameras, the mechanical giant serpent didn't look like it was transforming into attack mode as much as it looked like it was having a seizure.

Not to mention tossing me around the cockpit like a rag doll and almost causing me to hurl from motion sickness.

If there's one thing I learned from making a giant transformer twerk, it was that I had absolutely no business trying to operate the damn thing with my hands in the first place. Other than firing the confetti cannons, that is. Even I had to admit the effect was pretty epic. Except the tiny pieces of red, white, and blue paper that blanketed the stunned crowd of newly gathered demons was the farthest thing from threatening. But at least I had their attention, right? That had to count for something.

I quickly searched the cockpit for the controls to the water tanks, making a conscious decision to  avoid touching anything that even remotely resembled a button. A blinking light above a lever on my right looked as good as any. Holding my breath, I flipped the switch and waited anxiously.

An earsplitting squeal made me cringe and cover my ears.

The lever didn't turn on the pumps, but I did manage to turn on the sound system instead. The offending noise came from a microphone that had dislodged from a hook and landed on a nearby amp with murderous results.

It gave me an idea.

When it came right down to it, I knew of something even deadlier to demons than Holy Water. My voice. Did I mention I'm completely tone-deaf? When I sing, the notes start off okay like a train barreling down the tracks. Once I hit that high note, the train quickly derails.

Lucky for me, I never let a few bad notes stop me before. And I didn't plan to start now.

I wrapped my mind around the on-board radio and found a song by Dev, featuring the Cataracs. Snatching the offending microphone off the amp before the demons lost interest in me and resumed their hunt for Thomas, I decided to tweak the words a little bit. You know, just to make things more deadly. Music is my Kryptonite. When I hear a song I like, my mouth goes off.

If you wanna get to me

There's some things you gotta know

I like my beats fast

And my bass down low

Ba-ba-bass down low

I paused briefly to wrap my mind around the MiG 21 jet engine anchored inside the lower jaw of transformer. When I turned it on, a powerful vacuum allowed six individual fire hoses to mingle the Holy Water with the jet exhaust as the song continued to play over the external loud speakers. I waited for the pressure inside the engine to build before I continued singing. Singing horribly, that is.

Yeah, I like it loud

And I'll make you shout

Ga-give you that Black Eyed Peas

You know that Boom Boom Pow!

Echoing the final word of the song, I released a ferocious blast of steaming Holy Water that caused the robot's head to recoil and the long neck to twist around violently as highly compressed air exploded from the mouth of the beast, devouring everything in its path. 

I managed to find the pilot's seat at the very last second, but remaining in it without being tossed off was a little bit like riding a bucking bull. And the bull was winning.

Who knew battling a bunch of demons would turn me into a rootin', tootin' cowgirl? I certainly didn't.

"Yipee-kayee, motherfuckers!"