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Lysandra’s smug face melted like a wax candle. Her heavily lacquered lips pulled down at the corners as her mouth slowly fell open.
“No,” she said softly as the rumble grew closer. “No!”
The last no was a shriek as she tossed her wine glass to the ground. It shattered on impact, spilling a dark red blend onto the earth like blood. The dry dirt sucked it up hungrily.
A few of her lower-level lackeys came trotting up, and she spun around, her kimono-like dress whirling around her like a fan as she frantically moved. Her dark legs trembled. In seconds, her carefully styled appearance was undone—her dark updo had slipped and hung in lank strands around her face, her lipstick was smeared, and her teeth were bared in a snarl. She’d gone from a snooty, smug queen to a wild, raving monster.
“Hide everything!” she screamed. “Get them—” She crooked a thumb toward one of the zombies. “Inside! No one say a fucking word!”
The rumble drew closer, and I shielded my eyes to see a formation of four motorcycles approaching up the gray, dusty lane just before the vineyard’s gate. Smoke and flame belched from their tailpipes. They bore down on the vineyard’s main gate, mowing it down easily. The curling motifs on the wrought iron were bent and chewed up under the bikes’ tires. They looked like the four horsemen come to rain down a reckoning.
It was the Order.
“Demoness,” a voice intoned deeply, ringing out all around us and within us. “Surrender now.”
“WHAT IS MY CRIME?!” she screamed, still snapping her fingers at her cronies. The demons, once my coworkers, scrambled toward her office. They were probably en route to burn her books and hide any evidence of soul stealing…
That also meant…
They were heading for her jars.
Before they could get there, though, the motorcycles roared across the fields and lanes, cutting past the gazebo until they drew in front of us. Dirt and vines and pulpy fruit spewed out from under their tires as they thoughtlessly trashed the place, looking for the straightest route to their quarry.
“Surrender now,” the frontmost guard said. As he spoke, a figure climbed off of the bike. His bulk had hidden her from my view until now.
“Marnie!” I yelled, tossing my garden tool and sprinting toward her.
My body ached, but no amount of pain would have kept me from her. Lysandra had left me only in my jeans, and my bare feet were stabbed on the rocks and plants below. I couldn’t have cared less.
“YOU!” Lysandra hissed.
She rushed forward and made to snatch up Marnie before I could get to her, but one of the Order let loose a glowing bolt of light. I hadn’t even seen him ready the sleek bow that had been on his back only seconds before. The light arrow pierced the spider woman’s upper left shoulder, and she screamed with fury. The sound of her pain and anger worked like a siren’s call, and every twisted creature, soul, and zombie she commanded shambled toward her to come to her aid.
“You choose to fight?” the sonorous voice of the Order said, rattling over the entire scene.
“I do,” Lysandra hissed, seeming to grow three times her size. One of her arachnid legs kicked out and sent Marnie flying several feet to the left as she set her sights on the Order.
“So be it,” intoned one of the ancient, endless guardians. Steel rang out as they unleashed their blazing swords.
I sprinted toward Marnie, hauling her up quickly before the Order clashed with Lysandra’s army.
“Come on, darlin’,” I said as I helped her to her feet. She winced and held her ribs where Lysandra had kicked her. “Come on, we have to get to her office.”
As we ran, a horde of zombies shuffled forward, intent on helping their mistress. Their bent, rotting bodies smelled sickeningly sweet, like the heavy grapes on the vine. Lysandra originally hadn’t wanted the Order to see them since they were evidence of her twisted methods, but now that the cat was out of the bag, she was pulling out all the stops. It was a futile attempt to save her own ass. The Order was unstoppable.
“What the hell are those?” Marnie shrieked, looking upward.
Above us, bat-like demons screeched and swooped down, urging the zombies to run into battle faster. Their claws slashed at the rotten flesh, splitting the skin open like too-ripe fruit. As the demons in the vineyard used their powers, the smell of sulfur thickened in the air.
A clash of steel rang out, followed by Lysandra’s furious scream.
Behind us, the battle had well and truly begun.
Marnie screamed, and I pulled her to the left to avoid a flood of spiders. They were the size of small cats and were often Lysandra’s spies on the grounds. One of them noticed us and broke apart from the horde, marking us as easy prey. Marnie screamed again, but this time, it was enraged.
“GOD. I. HATE. IT. HERE!” she screamed, bringing her boot down with each word. The spider mewled as she broke its skull open.
“Nicely done,” I said to her. She tittered out a laugh, then winced and held her ribs.
