by Michael Todd
Mary nodded, breathing heavily. “There are two demons at the front gate and another pair about a hundred yards down at a service entrance.”
Korbin nodded and rubbed his hands together as they huddled. “Damian and Calvin, take the front gate. Mary and Johann, clear the service entrance. I’ll move to the gravel road and snipe the two on the roof.”
The team nodded agreement and readied their weapons. Their leader sprinted along the tree line, waiting for Damian and Calvin to make their move. The latter drew his gun and glanced at his teammate. “You exorcising?”
The priest grabbed his bible in one hand and his pistol in the other. “You know it.”
They moved furtively forward. Calvin stepped to the side and Damian rushed the first target. He grabbed it by the neck, slammed it to the ground, and held the bible in its face. He’d started a prayer but quickly saw that there was no human left inside. The demon had taken the soul, and the body was simply a husk.
He punched the beast in the face with his bible and growled with irritation as he shoved the book into his pocket. Flipping his gun to his right hand, he stood and aimed, giving Calvin the signal. He pulled the trigger twice as his partner ran past, already firing at the other guard. With both targets eliminated, the fighters glanced at the service entrance, where Mary laughed loudly.
She straddled one of the demons and maintained a choke-hold. “You like that, asshole? You demons are into that kinky shit, aren’t you?” She pulled the trigger. “Is that kinky enough for you?”
The creature turned to dust, and she glanced at Johann. He just shook his head, and she shrugged. “What?”
Her teammate rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.”
Two shots rang out from the road, and the guards on the roof dropped. The team watched as Korbin jumped to his feet. Mary slapped Johann on the chest. “That’s what I’m talking about. Pure talent.”
The team leader met the others at the service entrance and knelt to spread a map on the ground. He checked the number over the service entrance and pointed to its location. “We’re here. The main area amphitheater is through this service entrance, down about halfway, and out to the left. We should see the main area from there. I don’t know what we’ll walk into here, lock and load.”
The team huffed in unison, a silent battle cry. Korbin took the lead and walked slowly through the entrance with his gun ready. Johann and Mary fell in behind him to watch their flanks, and Calvin and Damian brought up the rear. The service hallway was silent, and lights flickered from an entryway ahead. Korbin put his finger to his lips, and the group huddled against the green tarp that separated the spaces. They inched to the opening and poked their heads around cautiously.
Mary gasped quietly, and Johann shut his eyes and stepped back. Damian pushed forward and peered over Korbin’s shoulder. Four crosses on the stage each held an older person dressed in worn staff maintenance uniforms. The bodies were nailed in place, their entrails spilled. They were obviously dead.
Korbin pushed the priest back and swallowed hard. “Okay. There are eight demons in that main area. We’re obviously too late for the people. Still, these monsters need to be stopped. Damian, do your thing. Save as many as you can. The rest of you, stay alive and eliminate the rest. Mary and Johann, take those three on the right. Damian and Calvin, those three on the left. I’ll handle the two onstage.”
The group surged into the main area. The priest curled his lip at the foul stench of demon and old blood. The bodies weren’t fresh. He grabbed a demon by its throat and slammed the butt of his gun into its head and launched into an exorcism prayer. “Domine tolle istorum simulatione fallatur. Deiice illos...”
He exorcised the two demons he could and laid the human bodies gently on the ground. The rest, though, were too far gone. The team dealt with them quickly and easily and watched Korbin battle the last beast onstage.
Calvin chuckled as the fighter roundhouse-kicked his adversary’s chest. “I swear the dude never ages. He’s like fucking Chuck Norris.”
Damian holstered his gun as Korbin decapitated his opponent. “I was waiting for one of them to slip on a liver or something.”
Calvin tried to stifle his laugh. “Bro, that’s…too soon, dude. Go tend to your sheep.”
The priest smirked as he moved to the two young men passed out in the dirt. He checked each pulse and nodded to Mary. “They should be fine. We’ll load them before we go, but do me a favor and check their vitals one last time.”
She gave a thumbs-up. “Might as well practice my medic duties on someone. You boys keep it clean out here.”
Johann walked past. “Complaining?”
Mary chuckled. “Nope, observing. You could at least get a fucking papercut every now and then.”
Damian walked away from the conversation and studied the stage. The corpses on the crosses didn’t make much sense to him. The amusement park had a reputation for child sacrifices, not adult.
Calvin joined him and folded his arms. “It’s a damn shame.”
Damian nodded, and his gaze shifted into the distance as he strained to listen. “Do you hear that?”
The other man listened closely, then nodded. Music played faintly from the shadows. The priest frowned. “Sounds like a music box.” He headed immediately toward the sound, drawing his pistol.
Calvin groaned and hurried beside him. “Dude, this is stuff you don’t chase down. I’m serious.”
They headed between the wrecked rides and past the crumbling game booths. Damian’s gaze roamed the scene quickly, looking for any sign of demons. The music ended abruptly, and the men halted, looking around. Calvin shuddered, staring at a torn picture of a clown hanging on a post by one corner. “Where did it go?”
Damian was about to respond when a deep, eerie chortle sounded from their left. The priest turned quickly, his pistol ready, and studied the old funhouse. Calvin tilted his head back and tightened his grip on his weapon. “Come on, man. Are we really going in there?”
“Hey, who says you can’t continue the fun of Halloween into November? Come on. Let’s check it out.”
They inched their way into the structure, noting the striped wallpaper peeling in ragged strips. They stepped into a room full of old mirrors, and Calvin turned his flashlight on. As they crept forward, he gasped and fired a round instinctively into a reflection. He turned quickly to catch a demon’s arm before its claws raked his body.
Calvin wrestled with his attacker and crashed into one of the mirrors. His gun fell from his hand, and he snatched a glass shard, grimacing at the flesh melting from the fiend’s face. “Fucking creepy.”
He stabbed the demon’s throat, almost severing its head. The creature squealed and turned to ash.
Behind him, Damian cleared his throat. “You done playing around?”
The fighter scoffed and stood. He brushed remnants of glass from the front of his pants and retrieved his gun. “I’m about ready to get the fuck out of here.”
The chortle sounded again, and they raced through the next door into an area where the walls slanted and a central platform shifted continuously from right to left and back. An old, dirty clown sat on the moving dais with his back to them. His costume was riddled with holes and covered in small, bloody handprints.
Damian raised his eyebrows. “Fuck. Hey! What are you doing, Bozo?”
The demon’s laughter ceased, and it turned slowly to reveal a disfigured, painted clown face. The beast roared, and rows of sharp teeth dripped with saliva. The priest’s gaze shifted and settled suddenly on the faces of five children sitting cross-legged on the floor. Their eyes all glowed bright red.
Immediately, the fighters raced toward the clown. Calvin caught the creature in a choke-hold. Damian held his bible up for a moment but dropped it at his feet. The demon bucked free, and Calvin fell against the side of the room. He grabbed his pistol, but the enemy struck it from his hand. Stepping back, Damian tripped and fell off the platform. His hand grazed his bible as he prepared
for the inevitable. The fiend raised his claws high, ready to strike, but two shots rang out.
The priest opened one eye and stared at the bullet holes in their adversary’s forehead. The beast screeched loudly and burst into a cloud of dust. The two men glanced at Korbin who had entered ahead of Mary and Johann. His smoking gun barrel told the story. Damian nodded in thanks and ran to the children. With his bible held gently in front of them, he began the exorcism prayer.
The words spilled from his mouth, but he could tell the demons were too strong for their tiny little host bodies. They ripped the children apart with every word.
Calvin walked up, knelt beside him, and put his hand on the open bible. “Brother, they’re too far gone. I’ll take care of this one.”
Damian shook his head, his gaze fixed on the bouncing blonde curls of a small girl. “No. No, they can’t be gone. No.”
Korbin grabbed the priest’s arms from behind and hauled him to his feet. He grabbed his shoulders and turned him away from the children. “Damian! Let it go. Come on.”
He stared at the team leader for a moment, tears welling in his eyes. Unable to speak, he followed Korbin as Mary and Johann joined Calvin on the platform. He stepped through the doorway and recoiled involuntarily when several gunshots echoed through the funhouse and his soul. Against his better judgment, he glanced into the room. A small hand peeked from behind the platform, stained with blood.
He closed his eyes and drew a harsh breath. That fight had changed him forever.
Chapter One
Thunder crackled across the London sky, and lightning lit up the living room where Damian sat clutching his book. The fire shimmered as a breeze gusted down the chimney. His gaze locked on the front door and he wondered if he had imagined it. Slowly, he closed his book and scooted closer to the edge of the chair. He hadn’t actually heard a knock, surely. It was only the wind playing tricks.
As his shoulders began to relax, thunder rumbled again, and the front door shook with another pounding demand. Damian swallowed hard. He hadn’t imagined it. There actually was someone at the front door that late at night.
Ravi hissed. I don’t like this. I can’t sense if there is something out there you should worry about.
The priest set the book on the table. What choice do I have but to open it?
The demon chuckled nervously. Uh, how about you don’t go to the door? Whoever it is will think you are asleep or not home and go away. Maybe they’ll come back at a more appropriate time, like daylight.
Damian shook his head. Whoever is here obviously thinks it’s important. I can’t not answer it.
She huffed, using her strength to immobilize him. Hear me out. You are in here, your guns are out there, and you slay fucking demons for a living. That could be some badass demon, ready to mow you down as soon as you open the fucking front door. Seriously, think about this.
He grunted and tried to free himself. I am thinking about it. And let me ask you this: since when do bloodthirsty, angry demons knock politely? Don’t you think one of those would be in here already?
Ravi was silent for a moment. True, but it could be a new tactic.
Damian rolled his eyes, and she released her hold. Yes, because manners are high on their list of war tactics. Take a deep breath, Ravi. We will be fine. I wouldn’t take risks unless I truly believed I had to.
He stood and walked quietly to the entrance, placing his steps to avoid making the worn floorboards creak. At the door, he leaned forward to the peephole. A porch light shined behind the visitor, shadowing their face. From the silhouette, he assumed it was a man, but the peephole wasn’t large enough for him to see much. Whoever it was, they either weren’t infected or had masked the red in their eyes. That couldn’t be mistaken, even in the dark.
Ravi whispered, Who is it?
Damian straightened. I don’t know. I can’t see their face, but I don’t think it’s a demon. I don’t see red eyes.
Just then, the person pounded again, and the metal door handle rattled. Damian shook his head at his nerves. He grasped the lock with one hand and the handle with the other, closed his eyes, and said a quick prayer for safety. After a deep breath, he yanked the door wide and immediately assumed a defensive stance. He narrowed his eyes as the person lifted their head.
“Wally! Good Lord, man, what are you doing here? And at this hour?”
His friend looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Water poured over his wide-brimmed hat, and his clothes were utterly soaked. Large dark bags shadowed his eyes, and his lip twitched nervously as he peered over his shoulder. It was obvious that Wally had something serious on his mind.
The priest shook his head and pulled the man inside. He shut and locked the door behind him, pulled a towel from the nearby closet, and handed it to his friend. Wally rubbed his face and removed his hat. Damian hung his hat and coat on the rack and waited for the visitor to collect himself.
His hands were white and shaking, and his face seemed frozen. He frowned, and his gaze shifted nervously to the fire. In silence, he relinquished the towel and allowed his host to lead him to the blaze.
Damian watched quietly as Wally extended his hands to the warmth. Finally, when a little color had returned to his cheeks, he said, “I’m so sorry for coming here without calling. I know it’s terribly late, but I just got in, and I had to see you immediately. There is no time to lose. Then again, with these demon matters, that always seems to be the case. I’m caught up in something I don’t really know what to do with. There are so many questions.”
The priest had no idea what Wally was talking about, but he knew it had to be something big for the man to fly out from the Vatican in the middle of the night. He studied him curiously and noted that he clutched his leather bag to his dripping clothes. Damian sighed and went to fetch a second towel.
He handed it to Wally, took his bag, and set it beside him on the floor. “Dry yourself off and calm down. I’ll make us some tea, okay?”
His friend looked at the towel in bemusement and nodded. Damian smiled and hurried to the kitchen. He ignited the gas stove, filled the kettle, and set it on to boil. While he set two cups out, he glanced wearily through the doorway. Wally now sat by the fire with his bag in his lap. He clutched it tightly to his chest, staring at the flames.
The man twitched and muttered to himself. Damian knew the researcher was the nervous type, but he had never seen him quite so bad before. The tea kettle whistled for attention. The priest poured the hot water into the teapot and closed the lid, letting it steep as he loaded a tray and carried it into the living room. He set the tray on the table, pulled the bottle of vodka from the small bar, and filled a shot glass. Tea would warm his visitor, but the liquor would calm him…hopefully.
Damian held the shot out to Wally. His friend blinked but took it from him, not arguing as the priest had expected. He swallowed and grimaced before handing the glass back. His gaze returned to the fire as his host poured the tea and watched him closely.
Even Ravi could tell something was awry. This guy either witnessed a massacre or performed one.
Damian ignored her, carefully handed Wally a cup, and sat down opposite him with his own tea. Wally took a sip and released a deep breath, the warmth easing the damp chill. The priest gave him a few moments to settle. Forcing him to talk before he was ready would only make things worse. He needed to calm his nerves to a coherent level.
After a few minutes, Wally shifted his gaze to Damian as he shook his head and sighed again. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”
Damian laughed and stood to refill both cups before he sat and crossed his legs. “We’re all messes these days. What’s going on?”
Wally put his cup and saucer on the side table and stared at his bag. “So, I went to the post office this morning to check my box for any family mail. I set it up so work wouldn’t be inundated during the holidays, since I have a big family. On top of that, anything that comes through the Vatican is read before its given to me.”
The researcher shrugged. “I suppose it’s not a terrible thing. A lot of hate mail is sent there. Anyway, I sat down to go through my post and found a flat package at the bottom. It was wrapped in a single piece of brown paper, and the tape that sealed it had bloody fingerprints. There was no return address and no note inside, so I have no idea who sent it. The stamp didn’t reflect an exact mailing location. I swear it was almost like it was put there by hand.”
“Curious. Does that happen to you often?”
Wally shook his head. “Not in my personal post. People send relics anonymously all the time, but this was my private box. Obviously, I opened it immediately. Inside, I found several of the cardinal’s effects—the one who’d had the relic in his room. Among those was an extensive set of thin leather-bound journals, all handwritten by the cardinal. They even had his seal on them, which I found odd for a private journal. Nonetheless, there they were.”
The visitor put his leather bag on the floor, opened the front pouch, and shoved a change of clothes aside. He pulled the package out and unwrapped the brown paper carefully. Damian leaned forward, staring at the journals on top. Wally was right. The cardinal’s personal crest was burned into the front cover of every single one of them. They were held closed by a thin piece of leather tied in a knot.
Wally pushed them aside to reveal several other items and the bloody fingerprints on the wrapping. Damian leaned back and rubbed his hand across his chin, intensely curious. His friend handed the package over, and the priest placed it on the footstool in front of him and stared at it.
The researcher cleared his throat and crossed his legs, water still dripping from his pants. “I didn’t take those things to the church since I couldn’t explain why I had them. On top of that, I could tell someone had gone to great lengths to get them to me privately. I didn’t feel I should turn them over to the church unless I understood why.”
