"Wizard!" it howled in triumph. "Wizard, the sun is sinking! I will tear out thy heart! I will hunt thy friends and their children! I will slay them all!"
"It's thine heart," I muttered. "And no you won't." I lifted my left hand and slashed it at the sparkling mist, sprinkling droplets of blood at it. "Bound, thou art," I snarled. I reached out toward the thing, and found the part of me that was still inside of it, a warm sensation, like coming home again after a long trip. I could only barely brush it, but it was enough for what I wanted to do. "No other souls wilt thou harm, no other blood wilt thou spill. Thy quarrel is now with me. Bound, I make thee! Bound!" And with the third repetition of the word, I felt the spell lock, felt it settle around the Nightmare like steel coils. I couldn't keep it from getting away, I couldn't forbid it from the mortal world altogether, but I could damn well make sure that the only person it could mess with would be me. "Now let's see how you do in a fair fight, asshole."
It screamed, all but bursting the bonds of my spell, the sound reverberating through the room. I lifted the knife in my other hand and ripped it at the air over the circle, releasing the holding spell, pouring everything I had left into the strike. I saw the magic lance out into the circle, even as the Nightmare faded. It split the rainbow mist like the sweep of some invisible woodsman's axe, and once more, the Nightmare screamed.
Then the mist gathered together in a horrible rush, an implosion of space, and the creature was gone. A handful of water splattered the ground, and the candles went out.
I collapsed forward, to my forearms, wheezing and gasping for breath, my muscles shaking. I'd hurt the bastard. It wasn't invincible. I'd hurt it. Maybe nothing much more inconvenient than the cut on my finger, or a slap in the face, but it hadn't expected that.
I hadn't been able to get to the person behind it, but I'd felt something - I'd sensed their presence, gotten a clear whiff of their perfume, in a metaphysical sense. Maybe I could use that.
"Take that, jerk," I mumbled. I lay there gasping for several minutes, my head spinning from the effort of the spell. Then I put my things away and shambled up out of my lab, into the room above.
Michael helped me to a seat. He'd built up the fire, and I soaked in its warmth gratefully. He went to the kitchen and brought me a Coke, a sandwich. I drank and ate greedily. Only after I'd finished the last of the drink did he ask, "What happened?"
"I called it up. The Nightmare. Someone helped it get away, but not before I laid a binding on it."
He frowned at me, grey eyes studying my face. "What kind of binding?"
"I kept it from going after you. Or Murphy. Or your family. I couldn't keep it out, but I could limit its targets."
Michael blinked at me for a moment. Then said, slowly, "By making it come after you."
I grinned at him, a fierce show of teeth, and nodded. A touch of pride filled my voice. "I had to do it at the last second, on the fly. I hadn't really planned it, but it worked. So long as I'm alive, it can't mess with anyone else."
"So long as you're alive," Michael said. He frowned, and leaned his thick forearms on his knees, pressing his palms together. "Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Doesn't that mean it's certainly going to try to kill you? No torment, no sadistic tortures - just flat-out mayhem and death."
I nodded, sobering. "Yeah."
"And ... whatever person is behind the Nightmare, whoever helped it escape - that means that you've just put yourself in their way. They can't use their weapon until they've removed you."
"Yeah."
"So ... if they didn't need you dead before, they're going to stop at nothing else now."
I was quiet for a moment, thinking about that. "I made my choice, man," I said, finally. "But hell, I'm already in water so deep, it doesn't matter if it gets any deeper. Let the Nightmare and my godmother duke it out for who gets to be first in line."
His eyes flickered up at mine. "Oh, Harry. You shouldn't have done that."
I scowled at him. "Hey. It's better than anything else we've managed, so far. You'd have done the same thing, if you could."
"Yes," Michael said. "But my family is well provided for." He paused, and then added, in a gentle voice, "And I'm sure of my soul's destination, when it's time for me to go."
"I'll worry about Hell later. Besides, I think I have a plan."
He grimaced. "You aren't concerned about your soul, but you have a plan."
"I don't intend to get killed just yet. We've got to take the offensive, Michael. If we just sit back and wait, it's going to be able to take us apart."
"Take you apart, you mean," he said. His expression grew more troubled. "Harry, without Amoracchius ... I'm not sure how much help I'll be to you."
"You know what you're doing, Michael. And I don't think the Almighty is going to quit the team just because we fumbled the ball, right?"
"Of course not, Harry. He is ever faithful."
I leaned toward him, put a hand on his shoulder, and looked him right in the eyes. I don't do that to people very often. There aren't many I can. "Michael. This thing is big, and it's bad, and it scares the hell out of me. But I might be the only one who can stop it, now. I need you. I need your help. Hell, man. I need to know that you're at my back, that you believe in what I'm doing here. Are you with me or not?"
He studied my face. "You've lost much of your power, you say. And I don't have the sword anymore. Our enemies know it. We could both be killed. Or worse."
"If we stay here doing nothing, we're going to get killed anyway. And maybe Murphy and Charity and your kids with us."
He bowed his head, and nodded. "You're right. There's not really any choice." His hand covered mine for a moment, big and calloused and strong, and then he stood up again, his back straight and his shoulders squared. "We just have to have faith. The good Lord wouldn't give us more than we could bear."
"I hope you're right," I said.
"So what's the plan, Harry? What are we going to do?"
I got up and went to the mantel over the fire, but what I needed wasn't there. I frowned, looking around the room, and spied it on the coffee table. I bent down and plucked up the white envelope, taking the gold-lettered invitation Kyle and Kelly Hamilton had delivered.
"We're going to a party."
Chapter Twenty-four
Michael parked his truck on the street outside Bianca's mansion. He put the keys in his leather belt pouch, and buttoned it with the silver cross button. Then he straightened the collar of his doublet, which showed through the neck of the mail, and reached behind the seat for the steel helmet that slipped on over his head. "Tell me again, Harry, why this is a good idea. Why are we going to a masquerade ball with a bunch of monsters?"