Blood Magic

by N. P. Martin

  I stopped to listen for a moment. Then I heard a scream coming from not far away. Cursing, panicking in case Leona had been hurt by the other Razor Wolf, I bounded as fast as visual conditions would allow in the direction of the scream. Then, under the pale moonlight, I caught sight of the Razor Wolf up ahead, partly shielded by a gigantic, gnarled tree. All I could see was its head twisting violently, its jaws snapping at Leona, who was underneath it, the beast having pinned her down. “Leona!”

  Running toward her and the beast, I aimed the pistol as best I could at the wolf on top of Leona, but the creature was moving too erratically and I didn't want to fire in case I hit Leona. Stopping a few feet away, I thrust out my hand, ready to use my magic. Before I got the chance however, the beast on top of Leona gave a shrill cry as it suddenly fell to the side. And that's when I saw the huge knife in Leona's hand glinting in the moonlight, dark blood running down the blade. As the creature fell, Leona rolled herself over on top of it, straddling the beast, raising the knife again and again as she stabbed the creature multiple times, over and over, thick jets of blood arcing up in the silver moonlight, the creature squealing uncontrollably before suddenly going silent.

  The Razor Wolf was clearly dead, but Leona didn’t stop stabbing. She kept thrusting the knife into the Razor Wolf until the beast was just a mess of blood and guts.

  "Leona," I said, stepping toward her. "I think it's dead now. It stopped moving ages ago."

  Leona pulled the knife out of the creature's body one final time and then looked at me, rage still in her eyes, flecks of blood all over her face and neck. "Motherfucker bit me," she gasped.

  “Where?”

  She looked down. "My damn leg." She tried to stand up, but couldn't. "Shit…"

  “Wait.” I put the pistol back in its holster under my coat. “Let me help you.”

  Wrapping my arms under hers, I helped her stand up. “I don’t think I can walk, Creed. The bone…” She winced in pain as I helped her hobble over to a nearby tree.

  “Sit,” I told her, helping her down to the ground.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Heal your wound.”

  “Seriously? You can do that?”

  “I can do a lot of stuff.” I smiled at her as I knelt down in front of her.

  “What about that other mutt? Did you kill it?”

  I nodded. “It’s even deader than yours, and that’s saying something.”

  “I was mad at that fucker.”

  “No shit.”

  She smiled, and I put both my hands over the blood-soaked wound in her left thigh, causing her to wince slightly, which didn't surprise me because the damage was severe; at least one incisor having hit and scraped off the bone. If it were me, I would have been screaming the damn forest down by then. Leona was made of sterner stuff than I, however, and merely gritted her teeth as I poured a phial of yellow ointment over the wound, the greasy substance mixing with the crimson blood to form a dark orange color.

  “What is that shit?” she asked. “Not some old guy’s scrotum again, I hope.”

  I couldn’t help chuckling. “No, everything in here has special healing properties. Backed up with magic, it should at least mend the bone and close the wound.”

  “Handy stuff.”

  “I never leave home without it.”

  “Lucky for me, eh?”

  “You mightn’t think so in a second.”

  “It’s gonna hurt, isn’t it?”

  “Yep.” Closing my eyes, I said a few words to activate the magic in the ointment. When I opened my eyes again, I saw a yellowish glow bathing the wound in Leona’s leg. “Get ready.”

  "For what?" No sooner had she said it when her head slammed back against the tree she was sitting against, and her blood-flecked face screwed up in pain, her teeth gritting as she grabbed her leg with both hands. Then, just a few seconds later, she seemed to relax, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself. "That hurt more than the fucking bite did."

  “It’s the damaged bone and tissue regenerating so fast. It can pack a punch.”

  Leona stood up and tested her weight on her leg. “That’s amazing.” She bounced all her weight on her left leg as if testing a loose board on the ground. “Thanks, Creed.”

  “No problem...only the best for my girl!” The redness of Leona's cheeks would most likely have been derived from either the previous pain, or her anger at my comment, but either way I still chose to believe it was a blush. “Now, let’s get the hell out of these woods before any more of those things turn up.”

  32

  A Soul With Itchy Feet

  WE EVENTUALLY MADE it out of the dark woods without encountering anymore Razor Wolves, or anything else with teeth and claws, thank God. However, that didn’t mean the danger was over. On the contrary, it was just beginning.

  Before us, rising into the night sky like an ominous monolith built by some unknown race, was a giant wizards tower. The tower appeared to be made from massive stone blocks, and it seemed to stretch on forever into the inky sky above, making it hard to tell just how tall the tower was. There also appeared to be something covering many of the stone blocks. Or rather growing on the stone blocks. Something black and viscous looking that seemed to glisten like a giant slug in the moonlight.

  “Jesus Christ,” Leona breathed. “That’s the most sinister thing I’ve ever seen. You can’t even see the top. I take it our target is in there?”

  I nodded. “That’s Belger’s Sanctum.”

  "Figures. You warlocks and your weird-ass hangouts."

  “My place isn’t weird. I live in a brownstone.”

  "Yes, it is. You have books on the ceiling, not to mention a wolf, and last time I was there, I recall seeing a dead body in your basement."

  “John Doe.”

  “What?”

  “John Doe. That’s what I named him.”

  “Not very original, Creed. If you’re going to steal and use someone’s dead body in a satanic ritual, at least give them a better name.”

  "What, so calling the corpse Fergus O'Hanlon would have made the whole thing more acceptable?"

  “Who’s Fergus O’Hanlon?”

  “No one. And by the way, I don’t do satanic rituals. Only hedge magicians who don’t know any better and death metal bands make reference to such things…and David Icke. It was just a summoning.”

  “Whatever,” Leona said, slamming a fresh magazine into her rifle. “We can discuss naming corpses and satanic rituals—”

  “Summonings.”

  “—later over a drink.”

  “For real?” If my smile was any wider, my face would split.

  “If we get through this.”

  "We will. You'd really have a drink with me? I've tried to get you to drink loads of times in the past, and you always refused. You fear losing control."

  She shrugged. “Maybe that’s what I need to do.”

  I smiled again and shook my head at her. "I think you're still in shock after the Razor Wolf attack, but still, I'm holding you to that drink. I have the perfect bottle of whiskey—" A wave of dizziness stopped me from speaking any further, and I fell forward onto my knees as a great pain shot through my chest, as though someone was trying to pull my heart out with their bare hands. Clutching my chest, I collapsed onto the ground, barely hearing Leona call my name as she tried to hold me up but couldn't. It felt like I were having a heart attack, although I knew that wasn't the case, not a natural one in any case. It was possible Belger had his dark reach inside me somehow, but I didn't think so. This was something much worse.

  This was my soul trying to make a run for it, the bastard.

  No, not yet…

  The pain and pressure in my chest increased as my soul pushed against me, trying to break free, and if it kept up the pressure, it soon would be. I had to do something before ghoul status was thrust upon me and I lost everything. I doubted Leona would have any interest in dating a ghoul either. So throughout the pain, I focu
sed on a spell that would fortify my body from the inside, preventing my desperate soul from pushing its way out. It took all of my concentration and enduring a further few minutes of pain before my soul got the message and settled back inside me again. “Well, that was pleasant,” I said, getting slowly to my feet.

  "What the hell happened?" Leona asked. "You looked like you were having a heart attack."

  "Felt like it too. My soul was trying to escape. Safe to say it no longer recognizes me. Only my magic—which is fading, by the way, thanks to the curse—is keeping it in. I don't know how much time I have before the spell wears off and my soul makes a break for it again."

  Leona stared at me, concerned. “You sure you’re up for the rest of this mission, Creed?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “Don’t have a choice, do I?”

  We both looked toward the glistening black tower again. There was nothing surrounding it but dead grass and trees, interspersed with the occasional head on a spike. Neither of us batted an eyelid at the heads, though, having seen much worse already.

  “I expected to see people here,” Leona said. “Why are there no people?”

  Walking toward Belger's tower, I held my hands out to my sides, palms down, trying to sense something. Then I stopped and looked at Leona. "It's because they're underneath us."

  “Like an underground base?” Leona scanned the ground. “I can’t see any entrance.”

  “It’s here.” I started searching the ground again, then stopped about ten feet from the tower, having sensed something hidden, not by the ground, but by magic. Crouching down, I put both hands on the slightly damp earth and closed my eyes as I tried to make the entrance reveal itself. It was a bit like picking a lock. The entrance was locked and made unseen by magic, so it was a matter of picking my way through the magical layers until I could use my own magic to crack the lock. Which took longer than it should have due to my magic’s diminished potency.

  After much wrangling on my part, an entrance finally revealed itself in the ground in the form of a large set of double doors, which thankfully were unlocked. Crouching down next to the doors, I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to contain my despondency at my sudden loss of power. Considering I still had to face Belger—who was undoubtedly running at full magical capacity—and somehow steal his soul, things were not looking good.

  “You all right, Creed?” Leona asked, standing beside me.

  I took a deep breath and stood up, doing my best to come across as calm and assured, despite not feeling that way at all. “I’ll be all right,” I replied, turning to her. “Listen, you don’t have to go in here with me. This Belger guy is dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt, or…” I trailed off, unable to say it.

  "Hey, I'm a soldier, remember? This isn't my first rodeo and considering how weak you seem, you're going to need me."

  “I just don’t want anything to happen to you, that’s all. This is my mess, after all.”

  “Don’t worry, you’re going to owe me after this.”

  “Owe you?” I said with a slight smile.

  “What, you think I was doing this out of the goodness of my heart?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  She took a step toward me, her eyes firmly on mine. "Given the craziness of my job these days, I need someone just as crazy to help me make sense of it. I've decided you'll be that person, Creed."

  “I thought I was that person.”

  "Either way, you definitely are now." She leant her face close to me, our noses almost touching. "We both stay alive, we both get off this cursed island. Got it?"

  Arguing with her at that moment would have been like trying to argue with a Drill Sergeant. Pointless. “I got it.”

  “Good. Now open those doors so we can get this guy.”

  33

  Frank And John

  LEONA AIMED HER automatic rifle at the doors as I pulled one of them open to reveal a set of concrete steps leading underground to a dimly lit corridor. As I let the door fall to the side, Leona, still shouldering her rifle, headed cautiously down the stairs, ready to fire at anyone or anything she saw as a threat. I closed the door behind us and followed.

  The first thing I noticed as I walked down the stairs was the smell. Quite simply, it was awful. It was as if we had just broken into a tomb filled with bodies, their combined stench so strong it immediately turned my stomach. And it wasn't just the smell of human offal, it was also the combined putrid stench of urine and excrement, thickening the air so it felt like you were breathing ammonia instead of oxygen. Add to that the cloying stench of disinfectant, and your nostrils didn't know what hit them.

  “Jesus Christ,” Leona said in a harsh whisper.

  I stood beside her, facing a long corridor that was lit with the occasional fluorescent light on the ceiling, one or two of them blinking on and off, making a high-pitched buzzing sound as they did so. There were also doors on either side of the corridor, dozens of them the whole way down. And people, coming and going in and out of rooms. Most of the people were men, but I noticed one or two women. Some of them were naked. Others wore blue butcher’s aprons and overalls. Every one of them had blood on them somewhere. A lot of blood in most cases. “What the hell is going on here?” I said, although I already knew what was going on. I was just too sickened to admit what it was.

  Leona shook her head, her rifle lowered only slightly. She said nothing.

  Then a door opened not far from where we were standing, and a torrent of screams came gushing out. A second later, a man wearing a blue butcher’s apron and nothing else walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, shutting out the screaming coming from inside.

  Soundproofed rooms. To keep the screams inside.

  Leona had her rifle aimed at the guy in the corridor, perhaps forgetting that we were invisible and he couldn't see us. I placed a hand on the barrel of her rifle and pushed it downward. As I did, Leona relaxed a little, though knowing Leona, she wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in the man's head.

  We watched as the man (late forties, longish gray hair and lined face) in the butcher's apron leant against the wall and slid a hand into some hidden pouch on his apron, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a disposable lighter with a hand that still dripped blood. Blood ran off him from everywhere in fact, as if he had literally been bathing in it.

  One of the door's opposite opened then, and another man walked out into the corridor. No screams issued from the room he came from as he closed the door behind him. This man was likely in his sixties, with dark hair seemingly impossible for such an age. He wore white overalls that were stained everywhere with blood, and he smiled when he noticed the other man standing across the corridor. "Hey, Frank," he said. "Looks like I'm just in time. Gimme one of those, will you?"

  “Hey, John,” Frank said. “You having fun in there?”

  They both smiled at each other as John came and stood beside Frank, taking the cigarette he was offered. “What do you think?”

  They both laughed and Frank lit their cigarettes. “You got the girl, right?”

  John nodded. “Oh yeah. How’s the mother? I bet that bitch can scream.”

  “Fuck yeah. You should have heard her when I used the acid on her tits. Damn, that stuff can melt a fucking hole. What’s the daughter like? A screamer as well?”

  “Silent type mostly. Terrific pain tolerance for a kid. I’m enjoying breaking her. She’s almost there. You know when they just seem to give in?”

  “Mine’s long past that stage. She’s accepted her fate.”

  Leona aimed her rifle as if she was going to shoot them both. Once again I stopped her, shaking my head wordlessly at her as she glared at me. My eyes told her to wait.

  “Hey,” John said. “You wanna swap for a while? You can have a go at the kid. I’d like to finish the mother off. Got some stuff planned in my head.”

  “Oh yeah? Tell me more. What stuff?”

  Smiling, John said, “Next level stuff. If it wo
rks as good as it seems in my head, maybe I’ll tell you later.”

  “You’re a sick bastard, John,” Frank said, almost laughing, hyped up from whatever buzz he was on.

  "That's why we're here, though, right?"

  “You fucking know it.” They both did a little buddy shake with bloodstained hands. “All right, John. You can take the mother. I’ll finish breaking the kid for you.”

  “My man.”

  “Hey, there’s plenty to go around, right? Belger always keeps us happy.”

  “That he does,” said John. “That he does.”

  They both finished their cigarettes and disappeared once more into each other’s rooms.

  “Fucking sick bastards,” Leona growled as soon as the two men were gone. “Every one of those rooms…” She trailed off as she shook her head. “We can’t let these sick fucks get away with this, Creed.”

  “That’s not why we came here,” I said.

  "So we're just going to ignore this? Let them get away with it? Fuck that." She shifted her disapproving glare from me to the door down the corridor that John had just gone through. Then she let her rifle hang loose while she took out one of her Berettas.

  Goddamn it.

  The look on Leona's face is one I’d come to know well in the three years I’d known her. She wanted blood and justice in that exact order.

  Before I knew it, Leona had stomped over to the room occupied by John and his current female victim. With the gun in her right hand, she pushed down on the handle of the sturdy looking steel door. “Unlock this door, Creed,” she demanded. “I know you can.”

  I stared at her a moment, saw the look on her face that said she wouldn’t be swayed from doing what she thought was right. Sighing, I walked over to her. “Don’t forget this is my mission, Lieutenant Colonel.”