CHAPTER 10. OH NO, NOT YOU AGAIN
In the pale light of the single bulb hanging over our heads, the thing was even more monstrous than I remembered.
Yeah, it still rippled with muscle. The pale skin of its chest disappeared beneath the thick knotted hair at its waist that continued down its bull legs and to its hoofed feet. More hair sprouted at the hollow of the Galla’s neck, covering most of the monster’s sneering face like a cowl.
I paused. Something was definitely different. I vividly remembered the creature’s flawless alabaster-white skin. The thing standing before us didn’t have white skin. It was chartreuse, a sallow and sickly yellowish green. Also, it wasn’t flawless. In certain areas, I could see purple lines of varicose veins running beneath the skin like webbing.
“Is this...?” I began.
“A different Galla, yes,” Jane said, her voice clinically cold. “There are more than one, you know.”
“There are seven and we are one,” the Galla said, its voice sounding like a baritone snake’s hiss. “And as one, we are Legion.”
Slack-jawed, the three of us took a few steps back together as the Galla folded its wings around its body and took a step into the room, its hoof falling heavily enough that I could feel the impact in my bones.
A fluttering behind us pulled Gil’s stuttering attention. “Oh. Um. Shit. Guys? I found the other one,” he said, his voice low.
I turned to see flapping wings. The white Galla was crouched on the window ledge, wings moving slowly and steadily, a pair of angry eyes locked on us. A flash of distant lightning lit the lily pad fountain courtyard behind the Galla as its claw hand gave the window a push. Unlocked, it swung open with a creak.
“What now, master thief?” Gil asked. He held the closed book under one arm, eyes searching the room for some kind of weapon. “I figure you’re gonna want to open a dialogue? Play some Yahtzee? Maybe braid the hair on their chinny chin chins?”
Jane stepped away from the group and opened a cabinet, then another, quickly rifling through what lay inside. In the third, she found a small cache of medical supplies. Her hands tumbled rolls of gauze and expired meds off the shelf before she stopped. She turned from the cabinet, a smile on her face and a scalpel in her hand, metal edge gleaming.
“I’m all set,” she said. “How about you?”
Gil tried the same thing, scrounging cabinets and drawers with the same dramatic flair as Jane had. He returned with a dented metal coffee pot. He set his jaw and said, “Yeah, I’m all set too, thank you very much.”
He handed me something, saying, “Here you go, buddy. Go to town.”
It was a fork.
“Oh man,” I groaned.
We moved to the center of the room, standing back to back to back, our “weapons” at the ready. Gil had the Callowleigh scrapbook under his arm, the coffee pot held in front of him like a pistol.
“Dump the book, Abercrombie,” Jane said. “We’ll need every hand.”
“We’re gonna need this damn book if we hope to understand this Deacons Fehr guy,” Gil said. “Why don’t you dump your attitude, little lady. That would be nice.”
The window behind us exploded. Apparently the Galla had neither the patience nor wherewithal to squeeze through the small opening it had made, so it entered the old-fashioned way. I was facing inward and Gil stood at the back facing the windows. Things moved in slow-motion as I turned to see him raise the book defensively and block his Galla’s attack. At the same time, my Galla came at me. I was blindsided.
It was a mistake, obviously. With walls to the east and west and demons to the north and south, we were effectively cornered. I made a mistake I’d made before even though I’d sworn I wouldn’t make it again: I assumed that just because something was not human that meant it was inherently dumber than I was. Wrong again, buddy.
The Galla did just what I would have done if our roles were reversed: it attacked the second my attention was diverted. I checked on Gil and got decked by a freight train of muscle and bone.
The demon bowled me backwards and I crashed into Jane and Gil, the three of us toppling like dominoes. I lashed out with the fork as soon as the Galla hit me and I felt the tines rip into tough flesh. The bull jaws opened and came at my face–ready to make me even less attractive–and I had to lever a forearm under the beast’s jaw to keep my nose where it was.
Gil shouted as his Galla attacked. I heard the brrringggg as the Boss’ metal coffee pot hit what could only be the hard bone of a bull’s horn. I turned to the sound and caught a claw across my temple. Skin tore and I felt a searing pain. Hot blood ran down my face and into one eye. With my good eye, I saw the claw rise again.
A gleam of metal in the light and a blur as Jane’s scalpel swiped through the air, cutting straight across the Galla’s face. The monster roared and pulled back as I felt more blood splash against my face. The fact that it wasn’t my blood this time was a little comfort, but not much.
“Thanks,” I said as I stumbled to my feet in time to turn and see the white Galla’s clawed hand slashing toward’s Gil’s face like a hammer to an anvil. He dropped the coffee pot and raised the thick scrapbook with two hands, meeting the talons head-on. The claws hit the leather cover and sliced into it with a muted thump, pushing Gil back a few steps. He readjusted his grasp and twisted the book, pulling the white Galla unsteadily from side to side.
I wiped the blood from my eye and turned my attention back to the Galla behind me. The beast was rising to its feet slowly, blood still pouring from a slice across its face. When it lowered its hand, I saw that its nose had been sliced nearly in two by Jane’s scalpel, the dark flesh hanging and blood running freely. It shook its head from side to side once, sending droplets of blood flying.
It was disoriented, I realized, probably not used to getting much resistance from a couple of boring mortals. If ever I was going to have a chance to get the upper hand on a demonic Babylonian hellspawn with only a piece of kitchen cutlery, this was it. I charged.
I was about two or three steps from putting the piece of silver straight through the bull’s eye (hah!) when something heavy clocked me in the back of the head. Stars exploded across my field of vision and I nearly toppled over. Stumbling, I lowered my hands and nearly collapsed. I reached out, searching for something to rest my weight on.
It was the book–the goddamned Callowleigh scrapbook–that had hit me. Gil’s eyes followed its arc across the room after the Galla pulled it from his hands and tossed it at my head. Apparently Gil using it as a shield wasn’t the best idea.
After it hit me, it skittered across the floor, pages flipping madly before falling open near the far wall. Gil followed shortly after, the Galla tossing him like a beanbag into the melee.
He hit the dangling light bulb and sent it swinging, causing the light to cast crazy dancing shadows across the room as Gil crashed into the wall beside the book. Jane withdrew from the nearby Galla, shifting the scalpel from one hand to the other.
“Dylan,” she said. “You still with me?”
I backed up, the pair of Gallas focusing on Jane and I, apparently ignoring Gil, who looked to be out cold.
“Vaguely,” I said. I still felt dizzy, but the stars were fading.
“Get it together,” she said.
“I’m not too sure what our play here is going to be,” I said, my brain clearing a little. “Can’t get to the door, can’t get to the window. Can’t even get to Boss and the book,” I nodded my head in Gil’s direction. Her eyes turned to him.
She looked at him, then the open book lying on the floor. Her eyes narrowed and her neck craned to the right as she struggled to read the pages from a distance.
“Move towards that,” she said.
“What? The book? A minute ago you wanted to–”
“Shut up and MOVE!” she said, lashing out at the closest Galla with the scalpel and pushing back against me.
My Galla had recovered, and I suddenly felt like a poorly equipped matador as the winged
bull charged me. Against the wall to my left was a small end table cluttered with old, faded patient forms. I grabbed it and lifted it, bracing it against my chest and holding it between me and the Galla.
Its horns punctured through the tabletop and pushed me back a few paces, flattening me against the wall. I raised my hands, pushing the bull’s head upward, and planted a steel-toed boot right into the demon’s crotch. As per my luck, it didn’t do anything but elicit a thunderous punch right back, straight to my stomach. If I’d had good abs, I probably only would have been hobbled. Seeing as I had no abs anymore, it was a little worse. I doubled over, releasing the table as all the air flew from my lungs. The bull threw back its head, sending the table up into the ceiling and makeshift light fixture with a crash. With the crash came the crunch of glass as the room dropped into darkness.
I collapsed to my hands and knees, retching as I struggled to breathe. Someone was shouting my name, but I couldn’t hear them. Finally, I looked up to see Gil jump onto the green Galla’s back, a look of terrified giddiness on his face.
More shouting from behind me, Jane this time. I tried again to take a breath and failed. Jane ran past me, her scalpel lashing out, slicing across the green Galla’s chest. More blood spurted free. A monstrous fist came up and caught Gil in the face, sending him tumbling off the Galla’s back. With Gil and I on the ground, the Galla leveled its gaze on Jane. She squared her shoulders, locking her eyes on the monster’s.
That was when things got weird.
Rather than tear her limb from limb, the beast ignored her. Instead, it turned its back to her and snatched the leather-bound scrapbook off the floor with an eager hand. She rushed it as it turned to face her, but was batted aside like a child as the Galla launched off the floor with its two powerful legs and disappeared out the window, its great flapping wings carrying it up into the sky.
From the floor, the other Galla slowly stood, its face a mess of blood. Without a sound, it turned and unceremoniously followed its companion through the shattered window and into the night.