Raven nodded again even though he didn’t know what he should believe at this point.
Gun out, his dad whisked him through the living room. The lights of their Christmas tree cast multicolored shadows, adding a surreal touch to their escape. Some part of the boy’s mind still believed this was nothing but a nightmare. They’d decorated the tree only a few days earlier. How could it be possible that his mom was now lying dead in the other room? Any minute now, he’d wake up and smell the pancakes she always cooked for breakfast on special occasions, and then they’d open presents and sing songs and have a snowball fight, and everything would be right in the world.
A window shattered nearby. Raven whirled to see an ice monster as it pulled itself into their living room in a flurry of snow.
His father’s gun blazed, the crack both deafening and reassuring. The ice golem exploded in a cloud of snow. Another lurched from the kitchen, icicle fingers glittering red in the Christmas tree lights. Another quick shot from Hellseeker reduced the beast to a puddle of melting snow.
His dad’s fingers dug deep into the boy’s hand as they ran. More windows exploded, and Raven tried to remember how many of the creature he’d spotted back in the yard. There had to be more than ten. How many bullets did his father have?
Up ahead, the hallway ended in the door leading to the garage, where his father’s treasured black Plymouth Barracuda was parked. The car had always reminded him of the Batmobile, and Raven sometimes imagined that his dad was a superhero out fighting crime instead of a boring vacuum cleaner salesman. Now he was starting to wonder if his fantasies had been right all along. His dad flung the hall door open, and together they raced down the stairs and ran for the car. Loud crashing noises drifted from above, but the monsters seemed to be intent on tearing the place apart rather than following them.
His father tore the Plymouth’s passenger door open and helped Raven get inside. He pulled the seat belt over him, the buckle snapping in place with a resounding click.
“Brave boy,” his father said and patted his cheek. For one brief moment, the monsters ceased to be of importance. Raven felt proud, as if the two of them could overcome any challenge. Just like Batman and Robin.
The door slammed shut, and his father clambered in on the driver’s side. The engine revved, a beast coming to snarling life.
“Hang on!” his father shouted.
Dad floored the gas, and the Plymouth tore through the flimsy garage door. Two snow monsters appeared seemingly out of nowhere and launched themselves at the vehicle. Raven cried out as the two bodies thumped against the moving Plymouth. To his surprise, strange symbols lit up along the windows, reminding him of the colorful lights of their abandoned Christmas tree. The creatures reared back from the lights as if hit by an electrical charge and transformed into splashing puddles of water that streaked down the windshield.
The car’s speed increased as they whipped down the driveway.
Raven relaxed just a fraction. They were getting away. His dad had saved them, just like he promised.
Houses blurred past them as his father navigated the Plymouth down a series of winding roads. As the snow-blanketed world rushed past the Plymouth’s window, Raven could only think of his mother’s frozen, lifeless form. His dad might have saved them, but he’d let Raven’s mother die and then left her body behind.
Screeching brakes pulled him out of his disturbing thoughts. A wall of fire lit up the night, blocking the road ahead.
His dad’s features darkened. A shadow eight feet tall rose from the ring of flames, a creature straight from the depths of Hell. Later, Raven would learn that the snow monsters had been the first wave of the hellish attack, mere hellhounds that could take on various forms or possess the living. The entity ahead was different. This was one of the Dukes of Hell, a full-fledged demon.
His father slammed the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt inches away from the flames. The demo grinned, and a long, tentacle-like tongue flickered out from between its teeth. The tongue whipped through the air toward the Plymouth’s windshield. With a crackle of mystical energy, the sigils and glyphs powered up, but the magic failed to prevent the attack.
With the precision of a laser beam, the tip of the tongue dug itself into the soft flesh of the boy’s chest. Blood spurted and agony exploded through his little body as he went into shock. Instinctively, he fought back against the urge to close his eyes and block out the horror and pain. He knew if he passed out, he wouldn’t make it out alive.