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Lines of Shadow: Sequel to Somewhere Between	By : AceMaxwell Category: G through L > Hellboy Views: 4117 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellboy or any related character and make no money off this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Prophecies
- 2-Reunion
- 3-Artifact
- 4-Inferno
- 5-Flightless
- 6-Valhalla
- 7-Fate
- 8-Broken
- 9-Seduction
- 10-Unleashed
- 11-Traitor
- 12-Overrun
- 13-Vows
- 14-Escape
- 15-War
- 16-Humanity
- 17-Ragnarok
- 18-Judgment
- 15
- 16
- 17
Thanks again to Mary Kroll for betaing this chapter.

- HB

John sprints towards the gap, shouting, "Everyone retreat! Run, now!"

I'm right on his heels, what's left of his so-called guardian angels flying overhead. So far, they haven't done much of anything that's impressed me. If I hadn't seen Uriel slam into Boyscout like a fucking Mac truck, he would've gotten killed on top of that building. They fight well, but they don't act quickly.

The walls are melting faster now. I can see the shadows of imps through the ice every time a bolt of lightning splits the air. They'll be through in few minutes, maybe more, but I doubt it. I glance ahead to find that Boyscout has gotten too far from me. When the shit hits the fan, I want him close enough that I can watch his back.

I pick up the pace, ignoring the jabs of pain that rip through my back with every step. Fuckin' stab wound. The world is ending and I still get shanked in New York. Figures.

We reach the ground troops. The back row is already looking at us, a few of them breaking away to take John's advice and get the hell out. He keeps shouting at them, pushing through the ranks to make sure everyone has gotten the word. I lose him in seconds because he's the smallest person here, but I'm still catching glimpses of his wings over everybody's heads. I follow him the best I can.

Around us, gods are murmuring questions at each other, wanting to know what's happened that made us decide to retreat. I'd take John's word for it, but I've discovered over the last few hours that none of these people take orders well. They're used to doing whatever they want.

"Those of you that can fly or teleport need to go in and get the archers out! The rest of you retreat." Something about Boyscout's urgency finally gets to them (or they notice that the ice around them is almost gone) so they finally turn tail and run. Some disappear in plumes of smoke, or fire, or snow. Others just fly away. 'Scout points at his angels and then out at the buildings where the archers and Thor and Athena are surrounded, "Help them!" They obediently take off.

Odin grabs my shoulders, squeezing hard, "What happened to Freya?" His single eye searches mine desperately. "What news is there?"

I'm not very good at delivering news of any kind. I'm WAY too blunt for it. I look to 'Scout and Freya's crown he's still clutching in one hand. Like he feels my gaze, 'Scout turns.

The imps are spilling through the ranks. We don't have time for this. I tense as two of them squeeze between Torque and the elephant-god Ganesh and make a run for John. Before I can move, a blade shoots into 'Scout's hand and he cuts them both down. He's getting better at this every damn day. I'm thankful, but I kind of miss him needing my protection, which is stupid.

'Scout presses the thin band of metal into Odin's hands, and simply says, "I'm sorry."

As the last of our army breaks, the demons come pouring through the street. 'Scout pulls at Torque. The big bastard never wants to leave a fight. He shrugs 'Scout off and slams his mace into the masses of imps, sending blood and body parts flying. We've seen this from him more than once. He gets so wrapped up in killing things that he doesn't acknowledge anything else.

I grab a discarded sword to keep the hoards clear of us for a few moments. If we can't get Torque to retreat, we're going to have to leave him or we'll all die. We're balls deep in imps and the big demons aren't far behind them.

"Torque, we have to go!" John shouts as lifts his wings out of reach. The demons clamor for them, jumping up to try and touch his feathers.

I maneuver my back against his so none of them can get close enough. They're hemming us in, the circle of empty space around us getting tighter. It's still thin in the back. If we get moving now, we could cut down the handful in our way and get out in the open, but we have to go NOW.

"John, we've gotta go!"

Just to the left of my foot, a very human hand shoots out from between the piles of imp bodies. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who it is. I reach down and haul Lazarus out of the mound of still-twitching flesh. He looks like he's been chewed on, but he'll recover.

He gives me a smile of thanks, which fades pretty quickly as he looks around, "Did I miss something? Where has our platoon gotten to?"

"Long gone," I answer as I stab a demon through the chest.

Our exit is shrinking fast and talkin' ain't fixin', as they say. I give up my guard at John's back and give Torque a mean left-hook to the jaw. He turns to me, eyes crazy, nostrils flared, and mace raised. Pretty sure he's going to try and smack me with that thing, but some sanity seems to leak into him. He lowers it a bit as he recognizes me.

"Retreat means run, you moron!"

Something rakes its claws down one of my legs and I punt it with a shout. It might be too late. Our exit is swarming with imps and one of those big, knuckle-dragging types is coming around the corner from behind us. Guess our ice wall gave out.

Torque puts his ears back, sets his shoulders, and bellows, charging the line. Some of the imps just get out of the way, but anything that stays in his path gets thrown like an underweight football player. We all sprint down the path he's cleared.

The giant demon gives a gravely roar that Torque returns. It's a few feet taller than Torque, but nothing like that has ever made the rhino-man shy away from a fight. He thinks like me. The bigger they are, the more noise they make when their ass hits the ground. The demon raises one gigantic fist, but Torque is faster. He leaps over a cluster of imps and smashes his mace into the demon's head. It explodes like a watermelon.

We're as clear as we're going to get now. I yank 'Scout ahead of me so I can see him, glancing back to make sure Lazarus hasn't become imp food again. We run without knowing where the fuck we're going. We're not going to find somewhere safe. Those things will be everywhere in weeks. I've seen the contents of Hell. What's crawling across lower New York is spit in the bucket. Hell is just as large as Earth, and probably has a population four times as dense. These things are going to be on every continent, destroying every innocent life they can find. Unless we can stop them here, the world is done for.

Over the sound of our pounding feet, I hear something that gives me a tiny shred of hope: the pop, pop, pop of an army-issue M16. Rising over that is the heavy thump of a helicopter's rotor. Six Cobra helicopters roar over us, releasing dozens of missiles into Hell's army.

"Fuck yeah!" I shout, a thrill running through me as columns of fire blow the hoards into the sky.

I stop and turn to watch, vaguely aware that John does too. The Cobras split, three going each direction around the compact storm our troops created. Without anyone to keep it going, the clouds are already starting to disintegrate and fall beneath the black smear of soot and fire the demons brought with them. I don't think the helicopters have to worry about lightning.

John pulls at my hand, "They're still coming. We need to go."

More missiles streak into the tip of Brooklyn, but my eyes fall to the thousands of demons rushing towards us. We keep running. It's not long before we run into the tightly grouped ground troops. M16s aim at us from every angle and soldiers start shouting.

"US National Guard, identify yourselves!"

Boyscout's wings flare open to block me from view, not sure whether it was intentional or instinctive. He extends his hands towards them, yelling, "Friendlies! Hold your fire!"

Torque drops his mace, but Lazarus doesn't do much of anything except put his hands on his knees and gasp in as much breath as he can get. Wouldn't really matter if they shot him anyway.

A sergeant breaks off from his squad, approaching us with his gun raised, "You, come out where I can see you."

Guess that would be me.

"No, he's with me. It's okay," John tries to explain.

Figure we might as well get this over with. I give John's hand a comforting squeeze and come around his wing. The sergeant adjusts his aim a bit higher, the sharp hiss of him pulling air through his teeth makes me smirk. I'm going for friendly, but I don't think he picks up on it.

Back in his squad, one of the other soldiers perks up, "Hey, aren't you Hellboy?"

Great, somebody who reads The Inquirer. I nod to him.

"Sarge, he works for the government."

The sweating soldier in front of me doesn't get much of a chance to figure out whether or not he believes that. Our demonic tail comes streaming out into the open and suddenly everyone's shouting "Open fire! Open fire!" and the crack and pop of a few hundred rifles ricochets off the buildings. The imps fall like dominos.

John yanks his wings close to his body, his armor closing around him. They may not be shooting at us, but I really can't blame him. Pretty sure I flinched too. The sergeant shoves at both of us, pointing into Brooklyn with instructions I can't hear over the sound of the guns. I figure it means 'you're clear to go', so we go.

The ranks open around us to let us through. Soldiers stare. Nobody told them when they signed up for the National Guard that they'd be defending our soil from monsters most of them couldn't even imagine. I stare right back at them, my tail curling unpleasantly. It looks like they're not all guardsmen. I see a few Marines and Army squads mixed in. They were probably brought out from local bases.

Scattered in the human ranks are the gods that fled from the wall. I'm glad that they didn't keep running. Maybe Anubis's guilt trip is still working on them. There are a few of the archers and storm gods here, but there are a lot of them missing. The gods with wings are still making trips back and forth, dropping off our stragglers.

Lazarus and Torque stop to speak with Durga, but I can't hear what they're talking about. Whatever it is makes Durga smirk and shake her head. Torque studies the area around him, clearly not interested in the conversation.

"Mr. Boy?" a soldier asks.

I snort at the name, correcting him, "It's just Hellboy or HB if that's easier."

"Right, Hellboy. They want to see you and Mr. Myers in the command center as soon as possible. Follow me."

I glance down at John and raise an eyebrow. He shrugs and we both walk behind the soldier. It's weird being surrounded by all these people, by being acknowledged by them. There wouldn't be a way for the BPRD to hide what's happening, so I guess it's out in the open now. If Manning was still around, he'd be disgraced for telling people all those years that I wasn't real.

We pass groups setting up reloading stations and long-range cannons. No matter what they're doing, they stop to stare at John and me. I know it's not just me they're looking at, since John's still got his wings out and is wearing armor that nobody's seen the likes of since medieval times. He keeps his head held high, facing straight ahead as if he doesn't see them. Thing is, his wings are trembling a little, giving him away. I guess I'm the only one that would notice that.

The farther we get from the front lines, the more civilians we see. Very few are survivors being led away, most are photographers and camera crews for the media. These people are too determined to report the news, if you ask me. Anybody with a basic survival instinct should be headed as far away from here as they can get.

It's not all that surprising that every camera turns to get a shot of us. A few sets of reporters try to rush over, but a number of soldiers move to stop them. Their shouted questions fade away as we duck into a warehouse that's been converted to a temporary command center.

Inside, there are maps on boards and tables and walls with lines scribbled on them in different colors of marker. The men and women grouped around the maps are sliding their fingers along the paper, discussing tactics and marching orders in serious tones. Along the far wall are banks of computers and receivers that are crackling with the voices of commanders and soldiers.

The man leading us takes us up a small flight of stairs that leads to a series of offices. Motioning at one, he steps back to let us through. I have no idea what to expect, but the face that greats me first is very welcome.

"Abe!" I holler, grabbing the icthyo sapien into a hug I know he wasn't expecting. I pull him to arm's length, "You brought them here?"

His gills still fluttering with surprise, Blue grips my arms and says, "Hardly. The National Guard was already mobilizing. Leonitus and I only pointed them in the right direction."

Leonitus rises from his seat at a cheap-lookin' table to great us. The other men sitting with him stand as well. There are five of them, including Leonitus, and the stars on their uniforms say that they're all varying levels of general.

Leonitus shakes my left hand and then moves over to John, "I'm so glad the two of you got out alright. We were worried that we hadn't heard from you." He turns back to the group, introducing us, "Gentlemen, these are two of our retired agents, Hellboy and John Myers. Their services are invaluable to us."

John flushes a little at the statement, saluting the group out of respect. My right hand doesn't work so well for saluting, so they'll just have to make do with a curt nod from me. Nobody seems to mind.

One of the men motions at a map of New York with small metal pieces on it that remind of a Monopoly game. I start to say something snarky about wanting to be the car, but Abe elbows me in the side.

"We need any information you have. Our troops seem to be holding them off well, but we need to know what's coming," a man with very thick, white eyebrows explains. He's got the most stars, so I guess he's in charge.

Due to the room being pretty small, Boyscout finally draws his wings into his back as he moves inside. He leans over the map, the blood caked on his armor from countless demons crumbles onto the laminated surface. He brushes it away and sticks his finger on the edge of Battery Park.

"The dragon is Lucifer and the army belongs to him. If we kill him, we might be able to disorient the ground troops and slow their attack. We can target the gateway to Hell through the ground if you know where it is, right?"

I really expect to hear some 'harumph's or 'nonsense' from the group, but Hell is already scrambling to get at their troops, so I guess nothing sounds farfetched right now. I'm just too used to skepticism.

"We have bunker-busters that can get through a lot of ground, so if you have coordinates, then yes."

'Scout looks to me for the location, since he's never been there. I study the map. It doesn't have any of the subways marked, so I follow the line of Canal Street with my eyes. Where it meets the red line, I put a fingertip and then slide it slightly westward. "Here, almost at Eighth. It's seven or eight stories beneath the city. Is your bomb gonna go that deep?"

"It will."

"Good." 'Scout taps the Brooklyn Bridge and explains, "This was being held aloft by the archangel Gabriel. I don't know if he's still there, but enough explosives should bring it down and that will limit the number of demons on this side. If you don't take it out, they'll just keep coming."

A colonel comes in, salutes, and says, "There are several… uh, people here that are demanding to be let into the meeting. The woman is very persistent."

"Sounds like Athena," John mutters to no one in particular, moving past the colonel and out to the head of the stairs.

I follow him, grinning at the sight of Athena in old Roman armor yelling at a staff sergeant. It's such a weird thing to witness. Behind her are Odin and his son and the other Norse god they were sitting with at the war council. Still thinkin' his name is Tyr, but I could be wrong. All I know for sure is that he's the Norse key keeper. Anubis is off to one side, leaning over a map and scaring the living hell out of the poor woman who was taking notes for a commanding officer. He didn't bother to change back into his human form.

"We're not all going to fit in that office," I say matter-of-factly.

Just behind me, Abe makes a comment, "At least the relation between Odin and Athena seems to have improved."

"Nah, they still want to kill each other," I joke and trot down the stairs. "So they're going to handle the gate, but we've got to get to Lucifer. There's no way their stuff is going to be able to kill him."

"Excuse me?" the words are annoyed, offended. I roll my eyes before I turn to look at the head general. "We have the finest weapons the world has to offer."

John covers his mouth to hide his reaction and I can't help but chuckle a little. I shake my head at him, trying not to be too harsh, "Nothing you have is going to kill the Prince of Hell. No offense meant, sir, but that thing has lived countless years in the lake of fire, so what do you think missiles are going to do to him?"

I was expecting Leonitus to play 'dad' and tell me to be nice, but he stays out of it.

"We have weapons designed to break through the armor on tanks, what makes you think that-"

I cut him off, for the sake of time, "Those aren't going to get through his scales. You want to kill him, we're going to need an explosion on the inside of him or we're going to need to find another way. Since you're not going to get him to eat a bomb, I think we should move on."

My sarcasm is lost on John, of all people. "Why can't we get him to eat a bomb?"

I start to ask him what the hell he's thinking, but the expression on his face is enlightened. My sarcasm has never spawned real ideas before, that I know of.

Since the stairs are clogged with people, John jumps over the railing to the floor. It's only a story, but it still makes me twitch. He grabs the staff sergeant that Athena was arguing with, "Go out and find Lazarus. He'll look like a civilian to you, blonde shaggy hair and a goatee-thing. He'll be with a giant rhino. Bring him here." Clearly taken by this idea he has yet to share, John goes back to the base of the stairs, directing his next question at the group of generals, "Do you have anything in your arsenal that would create a very large explosion, but that could be carried easily by one man?"

They blink at him like they're confused, but one says, "Pretty sure we can find something."

His idea is taking shape in my head. We may not be able to get Lucifer to eat a bomb, but a person carrying a bomb is a whole different story. This is going to be a pretty shitty day for Lazarus. It'll take him a long time to regenerate from that.

"He's too smart for us to just walk up and pretend like we're attacking him. We'll need to come up with something convincing," I add onto 'Scout's train of thought, making sure it's headed in the right direction.

"We could come in on a helicopter-" John starts.

I shake my head, "He'll knock us out of the sky before we get anywhere near him."

"It's not like we can take a boat…"

I can finish that sentence for him, 'and there's no fucking way we can get across that bridge.' I rub my flesh hand across my jaw, scraping my head for ideas. Everyone around me seems to be trapped in the same riddle: how do we get to him? Anubis opens his mouth, takes in a breath to speak, and then dismisses his idea with a snort.

Finally, a voice I'm not familiar with says, "We could release Fenris. He would take us across the river."

Odin's head snaps up, his argument so sharp that I can feel it, "That animal is not trustworthy, Tyr. I will not just cut the bonds it took us years to get him into."

"You are the only one afraid of him. If I ask it of him, he will do this."

In their mythology, Fenris is supposed to be the one who kills Odin during Ragnarok, but I don't know how much of their real prophecies have survived the ages to become myth. Some of it could be true, but it could be so far removed from fact that it's useless information. Judging his reaction though, I think that story could be one that survived intact. Odin is really fuckin' scared of that wolf.

Odin and Tyr go back and forth a few more rounds before Athena can't take it anymore and cuts in, "It is the only option we have. You said it yourself that we cannot avoid our fates. It is time to face yours."

All the fight goes out of him, his shoulders slumping slightly as he lowers his gaze. A can practically see him working through what she said, even to the point of when he accepts it. Odin lifts his head, his good eye blazing with something like madness, "You're right. The will of the Norns is final."

He and Tyr vanish in a swirl of snow, leaving the rest of us to gather the rest of the supplies. Several soldiers return with Lazarus and we explain what his role will be in all this. He takes it better than I was expecting, or at least better than I would've taken it. He just nods and asks where the bomb is.

Within ten minutes, we have some kind of mini-tactical warhead slung across Lazarus with a leather belt and are all waiting for the Norse gods to get back with their monster. Our team consists of myself, John, Lazarus, Torque, Thor, Anubis, and I suspect Odin and Tyr as well. I have a few smaller explosives gathered in a black backpack. Hopefully they'll be enough.

We stand on the roof of the warehouse while we wait, watching the battle mankind is waging against Hell. Modern weapons seem to be doing pretty well against the hoards. So far, none of the demons have gotten past the front line. Up here, I can see that the defensive line the National Guard has set up spreads across the length of Brooklyn, from one riverbank to the next, just like our ice wall.

The loud thud of the larger guns reverberates in my chest. Don't think it's a feeling I'd ever get used to. Far across the river, I can see the massive shape of Lucifer silhouetted against the flaming New York skyline. I don't really know how he's communicating with his troops, because he hasn't moved since this battle started. Maybe he talks in their heads like a telepath, or maybe he's using some kind of pheromones like in Aliens, fuck if I know. I just have the unshakable feeling that killing him is our best chance of getting through this.

John's shoulder brushes mine as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. I slip my arm around his middle, pulling him flush to me. When he rests his cheek on my pec, I press a kiss to the top of his head.

"You ready for this?" I ask softly.

He shakes his head, mumbling, "Not really."

I'm not either, but we don't have much of a choice. Beside us, Lazarus is bouncing on the balls of his feet. It's not really nerves, but it's as if he's got a shitload of energy. He's recovered from everything that's ever been thrown his way, so he's got no real need to worry… though he is going to get eaten alive. That's no picnic no matter who you are. John can attest to that.

"Hey, you sure you understand how to start the timer? I mean, you really suck with technology and all…"

Lazarus doesn't even look over at me, just keeps bouncing on his toes, "Yeah, I got it. It's already set, so all I have to do is press a button. I think I can manage that much."

A collection of F16 fighter jets scream out of the east, probably coming off of a naval vessel in the Atlantic. They flash over the Brooklyn Bridge a split second before their missiles hit. The explosion makes all of us stagger even though we're at least a half a mile away. The bridge doesn't just fragment, it disintegrates. The pieces that rain into the water are so small that I doubt even Gabriel could put Humpty Dumpty back together.

Lucifer rears back his heads and roars, flexing his giant wings out so far that they completely block the view of the island. The river erupts with steam as he moves forward. At first, the water still flows around his feet, but then something happens that I don't think any of us were expecting. It dries up completely. The water fucking evaporates faster than the river can bring it in. It's like Moses parting the Red Sea, but this is definitely not a miracle. This is bad. Very, very bad.

As the river crawls away from the shore, the demons waiting in Battery Park scramble down the muddy embankment. They follow Lucifer so closely that they're practically dodging around his feet. The river bubbles and roils in front of him, hissing away in columns of steam.

At the western edge of Brooklyn, a snowstorm starts blowing in an area that's about the size of a long block. It thickens so it's almost completely white and then fades, the shape of a wolf forming in its wake. Fenris stands with a paw planted in four different intersections, his massive ears perked forward and his attention focused solely on Lucifer's approach. I'm guessing that the two little specs standing between his shoulders like a couple of fleas are Odin and Tyr.

"There's our ride," Anubis says dryly.

Odin and Thor flash back and forth between the roof and the demi-god wolf's back, loading everyone within thirty seconds or so. I kneel down and grab a handful of fur as big around as sunflower stalks, yanking 'Scout into a similar position by his wrist.

"Hang on," I tell him, even though it's not strictly necessary.

Tyr stands up at the base of the wolf's head, next to an ear that's taller than he is. Very gently smoothing the animal's fur with his human hand, the god talks at it in an endless stream. Mostly, it seems like he's asking for the wolf's forgiveness for helping to chain it up in that valley.

Odin appears with Lazarus in the last of the snowstorms, the snow drifting down to cling in the thick fur at his feet. Odin looks forward to his war god and kneels next to me to grab a handhold, "Tyr raised the beast, so he sees it a little differently. It took many weeks to convince him that chaining this monstrosity before it got too big to handle was the only choice. He lost his hand for it."

"What happened to his hand?" I have to ask.

"He laid it in the Fenris's mouth as a sign that he would bring no harm to the animal. When the beast figured out what we were doing, he bit it clean off."

I roll my stone hand and study Tyr's replacement arm, "So you gave him the key to your gate?"

Our ride lets out a growl that I feel roll through my body as if I'd let it out myself. I have to tighten my grip when he starts moving. Each step covers most of a block. He lifts his legs high to step over the buildings, placing his paws carefully in the widest streets or intersections.

Odin fixes that bright blue eye on me, "I know what you're trying to understand, so let's get to the point. Someone attached that key to your arm. You were not born with it; you were chosen."

One of life's great mysteries solved, but it doesn't comfort me much. What did fate have to do with it when I was just picked? It's not as though I was born to play the role of Earth's Destroyer, but I did it anyway. I fulfilled every expectation they had of me.

John's hand closes over one of my stone fingers, silently comforting me. It makes a huge difference. My nerves smooth out and the deep ache in my chest starts to fade. I hope he realizes the effect he has on me. I turn my hand so he can slide his fingers onto my broad palm. Very carefully, I enclose his hand in mine, smiling at him.

As Fenris reaches what's left of the river, he breaks out into a run. We all grab on. I wonder vaguely how fleas and ticks can do this, because staying on an animal this big is harder than you would think. Every twitch and flex of muscle threatens to buck me right off. I put my arm over 'Scout's back and grab the fur on the other side, just in case.

Lucifer looms in front of us, bigger than anything I've ever encountered. He's as tall as most of the skyscrapers in the city, maybe taller when he arches his necks back. He cackles as we run towards him. The laugh melts into a hiss that's louder than the evaporating water. Frills and flaps of leather open at the sides of several heads. Three of the mouths open to continue cackling while the other three bare their teeth.

"Ready?" Boyscout shouts at me.

I nod, releasing my hold on the fur. Lazarus just slides off of Fenris's back, but I'm going to need a ride down. I wrap my hands tightly around John's forearms. He may've managed to convince me that he can carry my weight in a glide, but I'm still a little twitchy about it. I'm three times his size and a lot heavier than I look. I get the feeling that this is going to be like one of those cartoons where somebody is using an umbrella to fly, until the umbrella turns inside out and they drop to the ground.

"You sure you can do this?"

'Scout doesn't bother answering me, he opens his wings and the wind catches in them, jerking us both off the wolf's back. As the surface slides out from under me and every pound of my considerable weight falls on John's arms and wings, he grunts in pain. We don't drop like I'd pictured, but our descent is fast. Gliding towards the empty space around Lucifer's feet, John has to flap hard to keep us from crashing into the hoards surrounding the dragon.

Fenris slams into Lucifer, his teeth going for one of the many serpentine throats. They twist easily out of reach and the wolf's mouth snaps shut with a crack as loud as a massive tree breaking in half. Even with as big as the legendary wolf is, he's not as big or as muscular as Lucifer's dragon form. He rears up onto his hind legs to claw at the scales of Lucifer's chest, biting at the base of one of the necks. Chewing savagely at the thick appendage, Fenris yelps in surprise as the head comes crashing down on top of him, ripping into his flank.

The tiny figures on Fenris's back attack the dragon with lightning and weapons so small that the dragon couldn't possibly feel them. All we need to do is be enough of an annoyance down here that he'll bring one head down to snap up Lazarus. We definitely don't want him dedicating much more attention to us than that. If he actually focuses his attention on Lazarus, he might notice the bomb. It's not all that small.

I was expecting mud to suck at my feet as we land, but the ground around Lucifer is so dry that it's cracking. John lets me go and keeps gliding another few yards. When he does put his feet down, he has to run a couple steps to keep from pitching forward. We don't waste any time. After taking one good glance around to make sure none of the imps have decided to come any closer, I drop the backpack to the dirt and pull out the packages of C4 plastic explosive.

While I'm busy sticking the ignition pins into the gray bricks, John scrambles to get the detonator prepped. Lazarus breaks free of the imps and comes running, clutching the bomb in one hand. The belt must've snapped, but the bomb seems fine. The dusty green case is designed for battle so there's not much of anything that's going to do real damage to it. He's sporting a few new gouges, though.

"Next time, I get to fly first class," Lazarus laughs when he gets close enough for us to hear. Motioning at our line of explosives, he asks, "So where does this one go?"

I jerk my head towards Lucifer, "On that front leg that's closest to us."

"You think it'll cripple the leg?"

"Nah, probably just piss him off, which is what we're counting on."

Lazarus cranes his head so he can look up at the struggle between wolf and dragon. Fenris's white fur is smeared with blood, both his and Lucifer's. It's hard to tell who's winning right now. Their roars and growls are nearly deafening. Every time Lucifer readjusts his footing, John looks up from his work to check on where his front leg has come to rest. When Fenris manages to grab one of the writhing throats, that front foot slams down close enough to us that I could spit and hit it. The claws dig into the riverbed, throwing up dust that makes us all cough.

Fenris shakes his head from side to side and tears out a massive chunk of throat. Blood rains down on the ground, burning the hoards of imps it lands on. It seems to work a lot like Napalm. It clings to the demons and keeps burning, no matter what they do to scrape it off. A second after the blood falls, the head rips free of the remaining threads of neck and plummets to the ground. The thud makes the ground tremble under our feet.

"Time to finish this," I say, worried that the next glob of blood is going to fall on us.

John helps me gather up the C4. For once in a long history of ignoring my pleas for him to get out of harm's way, he actually listens when I shove the detonator into his hands and say, "Get as far away from here as you can. I don't want him to see you when this thing goes off."

He just nods and runs towards Lucifer's back feet. I was expecting a 'Hell no, I'm staying here' just like I always get, but I don't have time to wonder what made him finally listen to me. Lazarus gets into position, his finger poised over the button that will start the thirty second timer on the warhead, and I grab one of Lucifer's deep red scales and climb.

There's no need to place the bomb too high; it'll serve its purpose wherever I stick it. I push the packages in between the oblong scales that are as big around as a car tire, pausing to hold on as he lifts his foot slightly to lunge at Fenris. When he drops it back to the ground, I keep working. There's not much to it except forcing the blocks of malleable plastic into places where they'll stay put and pressing the small red button that arms them.

I finish in seconds, sliding off the long, smooth claw and jogging to where John is waiting. "Do it," I tell him just before I get to him.

'Scout presses the detonator and a half-dozen scales blow off of Lucifer's foot. It doesn't do much, but I wasn't expecting it to. A tiny bit of blood oozes down his foot and he screams. One head snaps towards us his leg, but the only one for him to see is Lazarus. I don't realize I'm holding my breath until that head slams down on top of Lazarus. When Lucifer takes the bait, I let out a loud exhale.

The dragon's teeth are too long to dig into Lazarus, but he pins the man between them, throwing his head back and flinging him around a bit before swallowing him. Something rips free of Lazarus, but I can't see what it is until it falls to the ground between Lucifer and Fenris. It's Lazarus's arm, the armed warhead still clutched in his hand.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Run!" John screams, at me, at our friends on Fenris's back. "Get out of there!"

Instead of yelling about it, I grab his shoulder and shove him away from where the bomb's laying. We sprint as fast and as hard as we can. I'm not sure exactly when Lazarus armed the fucking thing, but I try to keep track of our time in my head. We dart past Lucifer's back feet and an idea that I don't have time to think twice on flashes through my mind.

Snagging 'Scout's arm, I pull him down just behind Lucifer's foot, putting my body over his. His arms go around my neck, tightening as he buries his face against my shoulder. His armor separates at his chest and crawls over me. I can feel it making its way rapidly down my spine and legs, protecting both of us.

It doesn't do anything to deaden the sound of the explosion.

- TBC

There's only one chapter left. Be prepared for the beginning of the end. I'll be sad to leave this one behind.
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Lines of Shadow: Sequel to Somewhere Between