Demon Slayer

by R W Thorn

  He had cleared about a third of them. Most of the rest surrounded Lennox.

  “Lex,” Jack said. Lennox was so consumed by the need to defeat these vile monstrosities that she didn’t respond. She hadn’t noticed his success with the holy water and continued to lay about herself with her knives. She spun about, spat a curse that was nearly a scream of pure rage, and then flinched as an extended pseudopod brushed her. At once, Lennox expressed her fury in a wordless growl and slashed at the spawn responsible.

  She showed no fear or hesitation in anything she did. Lennox was an elemental being made of vengeance and determination to match Jack’s own, and he couldn’t help but admire her.

  “Lex!” Jack repeated, more loudly. At the same time, he reached for a second vial. He had only three in his pocket, and hoped that the two he had left would suffice.

  Lennox paused in her fighting and looked at Jack with an expression close to madness. “What?” she demanded, her voice filled with annoyance at the interruption.

  “Jack, her demon blood is surging,” Amelia said.

  Jack could see she was right. Worried, he tried to judge how much of a hold the demon blood had on her, but didn’t mention it. Instead, he held the vial up so she could see. “Holy water works better,” he grated.

  Lennox wasn’t too far gone into the madness of her blood. She understood Jack’s words and waded through the demon spawn toward him, slashing left and right out of pure spite as she went.

  The demon spawn surged after her like a wave of living molasses that had been tainted by Hell. It was revolting to look at and awful to smell.

  Once she made her way clear of the spawn, Jack took a moment to assess her but stopped short of using his Daemon Ocularum. He feared the sight of him using the device on her might enrage her even more.

  She was breathing hard and seemed full of excitement and zeal held barely in check. She gave off waves of demonic energy that were almost palpable. Yet she still appeared to be Lennox, still retained her humanity. She wanted to see the demon spawn vanquished rather than join them.

  It was reassurance enough. Jack didn’t need to reach for the dose of her suppressant he carried in his pouch, at least not at the moment.

  He stepped forward and sprayed the contents of the second vial about. This time, he managed to douse an even greater number of them. He and Lennox watched in satisfaction as the demon spawn sizzled and squealed, with Amelia quietly expressing relief in Jack’s mind. In moments, only a handful of the foul creatures remained.

  “It would have been nice if you’d thought of that earlier,” said Lennox as the steam from the demon spawn started to disperse.

  Jack grunted in response. “Are you okay?” he asked. He was anxious about how close she had seemed to letting her demon escape.

  Lennox looked at her hands, both of which were still holding knives. Even in the dim, reddish light of the Hellfire orb that still floated in the air above them, Jack could see the angry welts on her skin and the way that her hands were shaking slightly.

  “I’ll live,” she said, unaware that the welts on her hands were not Jack’s main concern. Then she shivered. She breathed deeply, as if making a conscious effort to calm down. For a moment, her eyes were closed as she let go of her rage. Then she broke into a grin. “What about you, old man? How are you holding up? Are those ancient bones of yours proof against these things as well?”

  Jack felt relieved by her playful tone, by the knowledge that she still maintained control of herself. “I wish,” he said gruffly. He glared at the few remaining demon spawn with lingering hate. He judged them too far apart for the remaining vial of holy water to be effective, and drew his knives once again.

  “Come on,” he snarled. “There are still more of these things that need to be sent back to Hell.”

  The Tar Man’s Return

  Lennox’s Hellfire orb had started to fade by the time they cleared the alley of the last few demon spawn. Jack stood back, a grimace combining satisfaction with revulsion on his face, and surveyed the results of their efforts.

  The adrenaline that had sustained him throughout the battle no longer buoyed him. He felt weary, as if he hadn’t slept for a week. The wound in his thigh throbbed painfully, and his hands felt swollen and thick. He felt as if a gentle nudge might topple him over and grimly acknowledged that the demon blood in his veins didn’t protect him from everything.

  He was durable far beyond normal. He had withstood punishments that should have killed him and walked away with nothing more than the occasional bruise. Yet even he had his limits. Jack had learned through painful experience that he still had to fear teeth and claws, and fire and acids burned him just like they would any other.

  Three times in the past, he had been wounded to the point where death seemed inevitable. In each of those times, he had closed his eyes with a sense of relief that he could finally relax, expecting either the torments of Hell or the comfort of oblivion.

  But each time, to his surprise and disappointment, he survived. It had taken days or weeks, but he’d woken with his vitality restored, his own death rejected.

  Last time had been when Amelia had died. He’d thought to follow her into whatever hereafter there happened to be, and had been crushed and heartbroken to awaken next to the festering remains of the Hell-beast that killed her.

  Jack understood that he was not immune to the draining effects of the demon spawn’s touch. Perhaps one day he would use that knowledge to test the limits of his immortality. But for now, there was still work to be done.

  “Take that, you repulsive, oil-slick amoeba!” Lennox spat as the very last of the demon spawn disintegrated under her blades. Panting, she stepped back from the sulfur-smelling explosion of steam that it had released and looked around for another target.

  Finding none, she favored Jack with a broad grin that mixed savagery with joy. The demon in her was once again close to the surface, but it seemed to be under control. As Jack watched, she visibly calmed herself.

  “That was almost fun!” she said cheerfully. “Kinda satisfying, you know? Like lancing a boil or picking a scab.” She wiped her blades clean on her jeans, and her expression twisted in revulsion. “And about as disgusting,” she added. “Although I have to admit, I’m not a fan of how they suck the strength out of you.” She flexed her fingers, testing them, making sure they were still functional.

  Jack gave a non-committal grunt in response. He saw that they were both covered in grime, the remnants of the demon spawn, and it stank of sulfur and rot. On Jack, it added to his rumpled, slovenly appearance. It was just another piece of evidence that he was homeless and a bum. But somehow, Lennox transcended it. On her it looked like an anomaly, easily disregarded. Even the smudges on her face were little more than a distraction from the perfection of her skin.

  This difference in their perceived appearance was a mystery that he had noticed before but had never understood. Nor did it worry him overly much.

  Amelia caught his thoughts and offered a brief laugh but no insight.

  “We’re not done yet,” he said grimly. “There is the tar man to deal with.” While Lennox seemed perfectly able to enjoy their moment of victory, Jack’s anger still smoldered. Despite his weariness, he would push himself to continue. The tar man was dangerous, and Jack would not tolerate such danger in his city.

  Lennox raised an eyebrow and favored him with a wry half-grin. “You really know how to show a girl a good time, don’t you?” she said teasingly.

  Jack just grunted. He held her gaze.

  Lennox’s grin grew broader. She stuck her tongue out at him like a six-year-old girl teasing the boys in a playground. She might have gone as far as to wiggle her fingers by the side of her head if she wasn’t still holding her knives. But Jack was in no mood for frivolity. His expression hardened into a glare.

  Eventually, Lennox let her playfulness fade away. She sighed out loud, disappointed.

  “Fine. Be like that, then, you old Grinch. Bu
t don’t be surprised if I’m a bit slower to agree to a date with you next time around.” She softened her words with another quick grin and became more serious. “How do you propose we find this tar man, anyway?”

  Jack couldn’t be certain if she was truly irritated by his lack of frivolity or if she was just teasing him. For a moment, he thought of asking Amelia for her opinion, but the quiet snigger his wife uttered in the depths of Jack’s skull dissuaded him.

  He said nothing. Instead, he consciously accepted that she was at least back on the job. “Give Nathanial a call. Find out if anyone –” he began, but before he finished his thought, it all became moot.

  The laughter had returned.

  It was the sound of a madman hidden beyond the reach of Lennox’s fading Hellfire orb. It sounded like the signature track of a comic-book villain, and it echoed around in the darkness in a way that made it hard for Jack to pinpoint exactly where it came from.

  A faint stench of tar mingled with the lingering odor of sulfur and rot.

  “Had to ask, didn’t I?” Lennox muttered to herself in ironic irritation. At the same time, she raised both of her blades as if preparing for another wave of attacks.

  Jack was more forthright. He swapped his blades for his gun. “Show yourself!” he demanded of the darkness.

  The tar man continued to laugh, the sound filled with malice and derision but little true joy. “Now why would I want to do that?” the tar man responded, his voice as oily and vile as his face. It was a voice of ridicule and towering disrespect.

  Jack had lost all patience. “So I can blow your loathsome head off!” he said.

  The tar man let out a snort of mirth. He seemed genuinely amused by Jack’s response. But he didn’t come into the light.

  “Lex, can you make your orb brighter?” Jack said out of the corner of his mouth.

  Lennox didn’t reply directly. Instead, she muttered a word that felt to Jack like he’d swallowed half a gallon of curdled milk, and the orb immediately glowed more brightly. But not enough to do more than throw shadows about. Jack still had no clear shot.

  “I must say, I am both surprised and impressed,” the tar man said in the darkness. “I did not believe you would be able to master my children so readily. I wonder, how much of that holy water do you have left?”

  The way he pronounced his words sounded somehow slimy, as if there was oil dripping from his tongue as he spoke. It was repulsive, the sound of mucus mixed with venom, as if the words themselves were toxic.

  “And how do you think you will go if I release my children in a more crowded location?” the tar man added.

  Jack had witnessed much in his many years walking the Earth. He had become hardened to horrors that would strike others dumb or make them go catatonic with terror, and he accepted death as an everyday occurrence. But the thought of what the demon spawn might do in a crowd where people couldn’t get away was enough for a hard ball of fear to form in the pit of his stomach.

  Nor was he alone in his reaction. Beside him, Lennox uttered a strangled gasp as she imagined the potential carnage. A quick glance showed him that her face had gone pale, dismayed at the thought. As for Amelia, to Jack, her reaction was just as extreme.

  “We cannot let him do that!” she exclaimed.

  “Why?” Jack demanded. “Why would you do this?”

  Again, the tar man’s laughter started to echo throughout the alleyway. “Why would a fish swim in the sea? Why would a monkey swing through the trees? Because it is who I am! Because, after all these years spent hiding from the likes of you, I am finally free to do what I wish!” the tar man said in between his laughter, his vile, slimy voice taking on a hard edge of contempt. “Because we – because I can!”

  As the tar man’s laughter once more started to echo throughout the alleyway, Jack set his jaw and strode toward where he thought the tar man might be.

  “But the question you need to ask yourself isn’t why I would do this. It’s what you can do to stop me,” the tar man continued. “Because this is only the beginning. You see, I’m enjoying this little game. I don’t want it to end too soon. I want to see what you and your lovely girlfriend will do.”

  Jack had heard more than enough. The tar man’s words were an irritation he didn’t need.

  He sensed movement in the dark, like the billowing of an overcoat, and raised his gun. But the light enough. Jack couldn’t see clearly. The movement could as easily be that of a homeless man in the shadows, so he held his fire.

  Lennox uttered another word that sounded repulsive to Jack’s ears. The orb of Hellfire started moving down the alley, casting its reddish light all about. Jack felt a moment of grim satisfaction. To the tune of more laughter echoing from the walls, he took a strong, two-footed stance and steadied his aim. All he needed was a stylish fedora and he would have been the spitting image of a ’50s detective getting set to take down an enemy. Apart from the grime on his clothes and his purple sneakers.

  Jack’s finger rested on the trigger. He was more than ready to fill the tar man’s body with bullets made from silver and garlic salts. Perhaps the garlic might have been better suited to revenants and vampires, but the silver and salt tended to be effective against most with demonic blood in their veins. And these bullets had runes of power carved into them as well.

  Jack thought it was just a matter of time before the Hellfire orb shone its light on the tar man. He thought he would get his shot soon enough, perhaps when the tar man started talking again. Jack would put an end to the malice in the tar man’s heart and the ridicule in his voice.

  But the tar man didn’t start talking again. And he’d either been further away than Jack had thought or he could move very quickly. The sound of a motorbike starting up mingled with the tar man’s laughter. Jack’s aim wavered. For a moment, he felt uncertain. Then he cursed to give vent to his frustration and turned back to Lennox so fast that his trenchcoat billowed out behind him.

  “We can’t let him get away!” Jack shouted.

  Lennox lurched into motion. She understood the situation as clearly as he did, and reached her Ducati a heartbeat before Jack. She sheathed her knives and slipped her helmet over her head, raising the visor so she could see clearly.

  “Hurry!” said Amelia.

  Jack had already holstered his gun. Together, he and Lennox stood the bike up. It wasn’t easy with the road still covered in slime from the demon spawn. There was no point in trying to start the Ducati on so slippery a surface, so they turned it back the way they had come and pushed it until they reached more certain ground. All the while, they could hear the tar man’s bike revving in the darkness. The tar man continued to laugh like a madman, and it became clear to Jack that he was taunting them. He could have already accelerated into the night, beyond their ability to follow.

  It was frustrating and galling both at once, but it gave Jack hope that they could catch him. Lennox had to take a moment to check the bike over. She grimaced in disappointment at the new scratches on the red steel framework. But other than that, the Ducati seemed to be in good shape.

  “Can’t ask for much more than that, I guess,” Lennox said, and quickly climbed on. She seemed to accept the minor damage as just part of life. As if it was nothing much to worry about. Which might have been a fair assessment, given that the tar man still laughed in the dark.

  “Now, let’s see if you still start.”

  Seconds later, the Ducati roared back to life. Lennox turned to Jack and offered a grin. “Are you just going to stand there all night?” she asked him.

  Jack didn’t need a second invitation. He climbed on and Lennox gunned it, leaving the Hellfire orb to fade out behind them.

  As they started to speed into the darkness, Jack couldn’t help but think of the tar man’s words. He pondered that the tar man had said he was finally free to do what he wished. That this was only the beginning.

  Jack thought about what the tar man could be planning. But most of all, Jack wondered about th
e slip the tar man had made when he said ‘we’ when he meant to say ‘I’.

  “You have to stop him,” Amelia said.

  Mario’s Pizzeria and Bar

  The tar man led Lennox and Jack on a tense, desperate chase through Hope Town. Jack gripped Lennox’s waist tightly with one hand and leaned into the corners as best he could, trusting Lennox to stay in control despite reaching insane speeds through the dark and narrow streets.

  Normally, Lennox would be hollering in mad glee, excited by the sheer speed and danger it represented. But the tar man was ahead of them, weaving and dodging between the few cars on the roads with surprising expertise. Instead of joyful exuberance, Jack could sense Lennox’s determination mixed with a certain annoyance that she couldn’t easily catch up.

  Yet they weren’t falling back, either. The tar man stayed just half a block ahead of them. Too far for Jack to hear if he was still laughing. Close enough for Jack to see the man’s overcoat stream out behind him like the cape of a comic-book villain, like Jack’s own trenchcoat did in the wind.

  Jack glared at the tar man’s back with an intensity that threatened to drill holes in the man’s spine. He pressed against Lennox closely enough that he could smell the jasmine of her perfume over the lingering stench of demon spawn residue. He was conscious of her form against him, conscious of every small move she made to maintain control of the Ducati. He used this consciousness to move with her, to make it easier for her to ride as fast as she could.

  At the same time, he had drawn his gun and kept it aimed past Lennox’s shoulder at the tar man’s back.

  He had yet to pull the trigger. He couldn’t be sure of hitting his target. The tar man weaved and dodged as he rode, as if aware of Jack’s hostile intent. And there was always the risk of a stray bullet striking somewhere Jack didn’t want it to go.