I had no storm magic to help me—it was a pleasant, cloudless night. Calling Beneath magic would put me in danger of taking out the entire motel, but I had to do something.
Gabrielle, as usual, had no qualms about using Beneath magic potent enough to flatten the building she was in. She controlled her inherited power with far more ease than I did. But then, she had only one kind of magic to contend with. I was a mix of earthbound shaman magic and goddess powers, the two constantly trying to fight each other with me in the middle.
Gabrielle whooped as she sent shafts of blinding white light at the demons. “Come on, Janet. Let’s kick some demon ass!”
As she turned to me, a double-dose of flame came at her, and she couldn’t duck in time. Fire knocked Gabrielle sideways, and I smelled burning flesh.
She dropped to the floor, holding her arm. “Ow! Asshole. That really hurt.”
Gabrielle flipped a ball of light at the demon that had flamed her. The magic struck him, turned him to ash, and took out the wall behind him.
The other two demons, seeing their fellow die, shouted and renewed their attack.
Streams of fire shot from Mick’s hands, but the demons were negating the onslaught by flowing their own fire into his, keeping his flames from reaching them. The walls, carpet, and empty bed were burning by now, and yet, the fire consumed nothing.
I realized Mick had put a containment spell around the flames to keep those within the room from being roasted alive, and also to prevent the rest of the motel from catching. The spell was a tough one, and he had to maintain it as well as fight the demons.
That meant I had to come off the sidelines. Gabrielle was cradling her burned arm, no longer interested in the fight. She could turn her rage on and off like a switch. At the moment, she was feeling sorry for herself and perfectly happy for me and Mick to take over.
I reached my senses down through the concrete walls of the motel and into the ground, searching for balance among the rocks and bones of the earth. Bedrock was a long way down—this part of the state built up of rocks upon rocks, with open spaces and caves between. This was why we had sinkholes and cracks in the earth that led to places full of scary gods and goddesses, like my mother.
I found no vortex here, but I did touch a pocket of something I didn’t like. Its bite was hot, liquid, and explosive.
“Oh, shit,” I said. “Mick.”
He looked at me. His hair was damp with sweat, his skin gleaming. Mick’s eyes were filled with black, like voids of starless night, but streaked with red. The dragon tatts on his arms were swarming up and down, ready to come alive.
“Sorry,” I said.
My Beneath magic charged out of me before I could stop it. It struck at the demons in the room as well as in the hot place below Flat Mesa, where many more demons waited. My magic wanted to kill, and it went after the demons where they lived.
The demons in the pocket beneath the earth boiled apart and shot up through whatever escape hatches they’d made for themselves. These hatches popped up to the surface of the earth—in the parking lot outside from the sound of it.
One of the demons fighting us broke away, hauled himself to the tiny, high window in the back of the motel room, flattened his body—bizarre to watch—and slid through. The remaining demon screamed as my Beneath magic hit him. He fell in a mess of ash and blood to the carpet.
“Cool,” Gabrielle said, her voice thick with pain.
The demons outside struck. They came in through the window, up the stairs to the door, and through the walls themselves. I heard human screams, which meant they’d broken into other rooms as well.
Mick snarled a word I didn’t know, and his containment spell broke and fell away. I grabbed Gabrielle and hauled her up as the room burst into true flames.
The only way out was through the door, and demons came at us that way. Mick turned and directed his fire to the wall behind the bed. Wallboard, bricks, and mortar melted in the flame, creating a hole—which quickly filled with demons.
We had to get away somehow. Gabrielle’s interest in fighting was returning, though her arm was charred. She needed a burn unit, or Mick’s healing spells. No matter what, we had to get out of here.
“Can you make a dent in them?” I shouted at her. Mick was battling, fire dancing around him and from him. If one of the demon flames got through, it would burn him as much as it had burned Gabrielle.
If Mick could go dragon, our problem might be solved. But he needed open space and a few uninterrupted seconds to become the beast.
“Move, Micky,” Gabrielle called. She lifted her hand and sent a ripple of white toward the red flames.
Half the fires died out, but were instantly renewed. Mick’s earth magic was strong here, as was the demons’. Beneath magic was usually stronger, but against so much volcanic stuff, the Beneath magic for once was weakened.