Free Countdown by Unknown Author Page B

before? As it turned out, however, she needn’t have been concerned; with the combined powers of Black Adam and Isis at her disposal, Mary felt more than ready to deal with whatever occult menace awaited her.
    Time to show the world that Mary Marvel is back—and better than ever.
    She swooped down from the clouds toward an apartment building in Midtown. Her heightened senses drew her straight to the source of the disturbance. Five pregnant women, clad in matching white robes, knelt atop the roof of the building, chanting in unison. They faced each other from the five points of a pentagram. The pouring rain plastered their ceremonial robes to their swollen bodies. Thunderclaps punctuated the verses of their chant. Swirling fumes rose from a lit cauldron at the center of the pentagram. Freshly spilled blood traced the outlines of a five-pointed star. A nearby clock tower tolled midnight.
    Okay, Mary decided at a glance. This can’t be a good idea....
    “Stop!” she called out from overhead. “You don't know what you’re doing!”
    But they knew enough to raise a little hell, apparently. Before Mary could call a halt to the blasphemous ritual, fire and brimstone erupted from the cauldron, instantly incinerating all five congregants. The sudden flare-up blindsided Mary, who threw up an arm to protect her face from the bright orange flames. By the time she lowered her arm an instant later, the hellfire had died away and an honest-to-goodness demon stood atop the roof, surrounded by the smoking remains of the careless coven. The falling rain quickly extinguished the glowing embers.
    Mary wasted little time mourning the reckless women; they had brought their incendiary demise on themselves. Instead she concentrated on the grotesque apparition they had foolishly summoned from the abyss. Curved horns crested the demon’s skull. Fiery red eyes glowed like hell-fire, and cloven hooves stomped against the tar-papered rooftop. Arcane markings tattooed his bestial features. All pretty standard, in other words. What was really disturbing was what the demon was wearing. To Mary’s disgust, the creature appeared to be clad in a suit made up entirely of... dead babies?
    Overlapping layers of emaciated infants squirmed all over the demon’s leathery hide. Their shriveled, wrinkly faces were more hideous than cute. Cyanotic blue skin was stretched tightly over their bony bodies. Scores of tiny, toothless mouths wailed incessantly, the shrill caterwauling quickly grating on Mary’s nerves. They smelled like a hundred dirty diapers.
    That’s just gross, Mary thought, making a face. She descended directly into the demon’s field of vision, hovering only a few yards above the rooftop. “So,” she challenged the vile creature, “what’s your deal?”
    “Ha lo kamo sako!” the demon snarled, baring its fangs. His guttural voice scraped at her eardrums. “Devini morti! Formang’l al cii!”
    Mary didn’t bother trying to figure out the monster’s infernal dialect. “Oh yeah, that’s what I would have said.”
    “I am Pharyngula, the harvester of stillborn souls.” He scowled, as though annoyed at having to repeat himself. “Forgive me; I have not spoken English in over six hundred years, and your peculiar idioms are unfamiliar to me. Long have I been trapped outside this sphere of existence.”    _
    “No doubt for the betterment of humanity,” Mary guessed. She glanced at the steaming piles of ashes that were all that remained of the unfortunate coven. “Too bad those dimwits let you back in.”
    “Yes,” Pharyngula agreed. “For you.”
    He flung out his arm and a flood of writhing fetuses shot across the distance between them. Dozens of grabby
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    little hands seized her with unexpected strength. Tugging painfully on her hair, clothes, and flesh, they dragged her down toward Pharyngula until the demon’s leering face was only inches away from her own. She felt his hot, sul-furous breath upon her