“It’s fitting,” Horne said, “that your father’s death opened my eyes to my true destiny, and now his son’s death will assure I fulfill it.”
Horne had waited for this moment for twenty-one years.
But so had I.
My eyes remained riveted on the two magic circles, which had changed color from blood red to electric blue. Horne still hadn’t attempted to leave the ring of glyphs, and I guessed that the soul transfer spell hadn’t quite run its course. Horne’s victorious rant couldn’t disguise the fact that he hadn’t actually won yet.
Over the course of my conversation with the Horne demon, the Seal of Solomon I wore on my index finger had grown hot as it ate away at the magic holding me in place. I already sensed some feeling gradually returning to my hands. My anger was breaking through Morgal’s paralysis spell, or maybe swapping souls with the demon had weakened the magic. I couldn’t be sure. But I liked to believe that my love for my parents and my need to avenge them played an important role in what happened next.
Tapping into my rage, I kept focusing on my hand. I moved my fingers inch by strenuous inch while I visualized pulling off the ring with my other hand and throwing the Seal of Solomon into Horne’s protective circle. I replayed this image over and over again, all the while masking my thoughts with the very real anger I still felt.
I sensed Horne was catching psychic impression of my thoughts, and his demonic eyes lit up with sudden alarm. But by then it was already too late.
I saw my mother’s frozen form, her bluish lips, her wide-open eyes staring emptily into space.
I saw the roaring flames consume my father’s car as he slammed into Morgal.
I saw myself, a young orphan lost in a world of horrors.
Horne had taken my parents from me, and with them any chance I’d had at a normal life. My rage exploded and movement returned to my body. In less than a second the ring was off my finger.
“No!” Horne said.
Yes.
I hurled the ring into Horne’s magic circle.
The Seal of Solomon clearly didn’t like Horne’s magic too much as the circle went from blue to a searing, almost neon yellow.
And then the circles were gone.
Judging by the terror in the old man’s wizened features, interrupting the magical ritual had sent his soul back to his ailing human body.
Morgal regarded me for a beat. Had I just made the biggest mistake of my monster-hunting career?
Instead of attacking me, Morgal inclined his head a fraction of an inch in thanks to me and then turned toward the man who’d dreamt of being a demon.
“Please.” It was the only word Horne managed to say before the demon launched itself at him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FLESH WAS MORGAL’S canvas, pain his muse. The demon had spent eternity figuring out new ways of torturing the damned. Considering the horrors he was willing to inflict on random strangers, I couldn’t imagine what was in store for Horne.
The next few moments gave me a gut-wrenching preview.
Morgal tore into the old man and went to work. Horne’s cries of agony soon devolved into animal squeals. Horne had become a screaming piece of meat, and Morgal was both butcher and surgeon working him over.
Mercifully Morgal’s large wings enveloped the altar, sparing me the details. I don’t have the stomach for torture even if it was well deserved.
With Morgal focused on his grisly handiwork, I cut a hasty retreat. More than anything else in the world, I wanted to face the demon in battle, but I didn’t stand a chance against this agent of darkness. Confronting him without a more powerful weapon than Hellseeker was suicide. My best bet was to get out of here so I could fight another day.
Relieved to be in charge of my body again, I made my way toward the magical circle that had served as Morgal’s prison. Horne’s haunting screams intensified as I retreated.
I stopped in front of the circle and swiftly retrieved both the Seal of Solomon and the Soul Dagger. Crouched at the edge of the circle, the low angle offered me a view of Celeste’s dead body next to the altar. The sight filled me with sadness and pity. She’d never had a chance. Horne had molded and manipulated her since birth, used her as a means to an end on his mad quest for power. Just one more victim of the man’s out-of-control ego.
I slipped the relics into the deep pockets of my coat and continued toward the stairs. I didn’t get too far before Morgal became aware of my escape attempt. I froze as the demon turned his reptilian visage toward me. We looked at each other. Into each other. No words were exchanged, but the expression in those nightmarish, bottomless eyes sent chills down my spine.