by James Hunter
I tore my gaze away from the ceiling and focused on the ginormous lopsided mound in the center of the room. I say mound, but it was more like a Mongolian yurt, built from broken rock, shattered bone shards, and, most disturbing of all, skin. A wide opening faced us, covered with a tapestry of human leather, stitched together with crude black catgut sutures.
“It has been a long time,” a voice echoed from the bone yurt, “since any creature has been foolish enough to venture into my lair willingly. And here we have three.” The voice sounded like an industrial-sized blender filled with cinder blocks and nails. “Usually,” the creature said, “I have to fight for the scraps left over from the Reckoning.”
The voice drew closer, louder, as the human skin drape pulled open like the velvet curtain at a movie theater. “A bottom feeder, they call me. Not fit for the world of demons and the damned, they say. And so it has been. I’ve hidden below, my body stolen by the powers that be, but my mind sharp. Alive. Active and given new form.” The last word, form, reverberated in the air like a shotgun blast as the speaker finally scuttled into view.
A pair of massive, crushing yellow pincers emerged from the yurt followed by a thick body, the size of a VW bus, sitting on eight arachnoid legs, all cobbled together from bone and meat. A huge tail protruded from its back and arced gracefully into the air, capped by a wrecking ball of stone covered in hundreds of black, barbed spikes, glistening with what had to be venom.
A giant demonic scorpion. Yep, why hadn’t I seen that coming?
“I don’t know who or what you are,” I said, stepping forward, resting my hand on the butt of my pistol, feeling a certain ease knowing I could put this son of a bitch down for keeps if I really needed to. Though only as a last resort. As much as I hated to admit it, Azazel was right. I only had three bullets left, I still needed to cap Asmodeus, and there were a few sons of bitches back topside who really deserved a Reaper bullet to the face. Like the Savage Prophet and the Morrigan, for starters. Hmm, maybe I could get those two to line up in a row so I could take ’em out with a single shot.
“Our business down here has nothing to do with you,” I continued. “Zip. Zero. So just stay out of our way, and you can go right on being a gross, disgusting bottom feeder. Understand?”
“How diplomatic of you,” the creature droned, its mandibles flexing open and shut as strings of drool leaked from its tooth-studded gullet. “And what business is it you three are about then? What mission is so pressing you would venture here? To this place where man-flesh does not tread and is not welcome?” He scuttled minutely closer as he spoke, just inches at a time, but soon he’d be within striking range.
“Our business doesn’t concern you, there’s nothing else you need to—”
“We’re going to murder Asmodeus,” Levi said flatly, cutting me off. Jerk bag.
The scorpion creature faltered, hesitation marring its motions. “Lies,” it hissed, its host of red eyes squinting. “No one can kill him—I would know since I’ve tried for eons.”
“Wrong,” Heckabe said, her ears lying flat against her skull. “This man”—she thrust a talon toward me—“can kill him. And my mistress, Hecate, has dispatched me to help him. But we need access to this room.”
“The Succubus Queen is involved, then,” the creature said, more to itself than to us, its mandibles quivering in anticipation. Then, it shook its head. “No, if you think you can kill him, you’re all bigger fools than I am. Murdering you and eating your miserable souls will be a mercy compared to what Asmodeus will do to you.”
“We don’t need to fight,” Levi said, a small frown on his face saying he hoped it would come to a fight. “But we’ll do what we need to. And if that means wiping you off the map, then so be it.”
“Aw shit,” I said, stealing a look at each of the archways connecting to this place. Skeletal Revenants, hidden in pools of inky shadow, had crept into position. This asshole had just played us using the oldest trick in the book: villain monologuing. There are only two reasons villains monologue—because they’re overconfident morons, or because they’re stalling. The Bone Collector had done the latter.
“It’s a trap!” I yelled as the Revenants flooded into the room, bony fingers reaching toward us as the Bone Collector in all its disgusting, scorpion glory charged us like a junkyard dog.
A pincer the size of a wheelbarrow whipped out in a brutal horizontal arc, catching the MudMan square in the chest and swatting him up like a pop fly despite his bulk and weight. Levi sailed through the air, his flabby arms waving frantically before he collided with one of the support columns with a thunk. But I didn’t have any time to worry about Levi since I needed to worry about myself at the moment.
The Collector’s barb-studded tail zoomed toward my head like a scud missile, and I dove to the side just in time. The mace of rock, bone, and spikes whipped through the space I’d occupied seconds before, but even as I hit the deck, a lightning fast leg, tipped with a spear of bone, slashed down at me. I rolled right as the razor-sharp tip smashed into the ground, leaving a divot in the earth the size of a baseball. This clown wasn’t playing around.
I rolled again, narrowly evading a second thrust, then flipped onto my belly and scrambled to my feet before this asshole could skewer me like a shish kebab.
As soon as I gained my feet, I bolted forward—this thing was a murder machine close up, so distance was definitely my friend.
I made it about fifteen feet before the first of the Revenants converged on me. I was damn near tapped out from all our previous skirmishes, and I wanted to save what little juice I had left for the Bone Collector. So instead, I channeled a trickle of Nox and a whiff of air, bending them into a weapon, which took shape in my palm. This wasn’t the single-edged katana I’d used against Tezrian. Nope. This was a burning, violet warhammer, blunt on one side with a cruel spike jutting out from the other. Azazel’s favored weapon, perfect for smashing through heavy plate armor and epically effective against a bunch of brittle bones.
A bony fist lashed out at my head. The attack packed the wallop of a jackhammer, but the Revenants were slow as snails in molasses, and I sidestepped with ease. I shot inside the creature’s guard and swung the hammer in a vicious arc, smashing the blunt face into an ankle-thick section of spinal column that connected the creature’s torso and legs. Bones snapped, and down the boneman went, its upper body smashing into the floor while the legs staggered around drunkenly, suddenly directionless.
Even broken in two, however, the creature still clawed for me with bony fingers, but one quick twirl of the hammer ended all of that as I smashed its skull into a pile of bone chips and chalky white powder. Instead of celebrating my victory, I juked left, dodging another Revenant, and kneecapped it with one solid swing of my hammer. Most of its femur exploded from the sheer force, and I pressed in with a follow-up thrust that obliterated the creature’s lower jaw and most of its nasal cavity. Down it went in a heap, the power animating it fleeing.
A sucker punch to the jaw caught me a second later, and I slammed into the wall as white spots exploded across my vision like a hail of shooting stars. I reeled unsteadily for a moment, which earned me a brutal front kick to the gut, forcing the air from my lungs in one fell swoop. I clutched at my stomach with my free hand, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as I struggled to stay upright. This Revenant was smaller than the others—quick and nimble—with one hand that looked like a medieval mace made from a skull riddled with finger bones, all sharpened to deadly points.
The creature darted in, hoping to take advantage of the opening, and I let it, pretending I was too weak to defend myself. But the moment it got in range, I threw out a front kick right to the sternum, knocking it back a step, then slammed my shoulder into its stupid face. It stumbled, unprepared for the sudden rush, and then—because I was feeling pissed and this thing had landed a cheap shot—I struck with a javelin of pure, invisible force. The construct sand-blasted the sonofabitch in the face, leavin
g only a cloud of gritty gray and yellow dust in its wake.
The Revenant toppled seconds later.
I doubled over, one hand braced against my thigh, still struggling to breathe as I scanned the battlefield.
TWENTY-NINE:
Bone Collector
Levi had recovered from the Bone Collector’s lucky shot and was off to the left, spinning, kicking, and smashing like the Incredible Hulk on a drunken, rage-filled bender. His fists flashed out with uncanny power; torsos and rib cages exploded like smoke grenades whenever he landed an attack. Ebony spikes now protruded from his chest, back, arms, and shoulder like a porcupine’s quills. The spits of gleaming rock looked delicate, almost fragile, yet whenever one of the Revenants landed a blow, bits of bone and dust broke off like dry wood.
Levi was one tough sumbitch, no doubt about it.
Heckabe, by contrast, had somehow managed to avoid the Revenants altogether and was on top of the Bone Collector. She was down on all fours, her shield and mace gone, her claws digging into one of the rigid armor plates lining its back, pulling and wiggling at it like a little kid working on a loose tooth. The Bone Collector bucked and flailed like a rodeo bull as his spiked tail stabbed down again and again. As fast as the scorpion was, though, Heckabe was faster. Nimbler. She avoided each strike by inches, doing everything she could to find some weakness, some opening.
But her efforts seemed wasted.
I conjured a javelin of red-white flame, thick as my wrist. The column of fire smashed into the Bone Collector’s face, but rolled up and over its exoskeleton, not leaving so much as a scorch mark on the creature’s bony exterior. I might as well have sprayed the thing with a squirt gun for all the good it did. Obviously, this ugly bastard had a natural resistance to all things Vis, which was bad news for me. And even worse, the flames plowed into Heckabe, setting her hair and clothing on fire.
She howled in agony, letting go of her death grip on the Collector’s armored plate, and a sudden twist from the bucking creature sent her flying through the air while she burned like a dumpster fire. She hit the ground with another muffled howl and immediately began thrashing, rolling left and right, extinguishing the hungry preternatural-summoned blaze. I felt like a real shitheel, let me tell you. “Sorry,” I called out, knowing she was never gonna let me live that down—assuming we survived, which was a damn big assumption.
Time to try something else. I thrust my left hand forward—fingers splayed open, sweat beading on my forehead, a snarl gracing my lips—and used the little strength left in my body to pry a flat, rune-covered slab of sandstone from the wall. This giant bug needed a good squishing, and the rock would make an excellent impromptu Shoe of Justice. The giant slab hovered in the air for a moment, slowly spinning as I wrestled to push the damn thing higher into the air.
“Lazarus! Heads up!” Levi called.
His warning was too late, though. Some sneaky, dickhole Revenant slammed into me, lanky arms wrapping around my waist, lifting me up into the air in a crushing bear hug, then suplexing right into the ground like a pro wrestler playing it up for the crowd. Thankfully, the move was as sloppy as a pulled pork sandwich, so instead of landing on my neck—which almost certainly would’ve put me out of my misery for good—I came down on one shoulder with a sickening crack.
I lost all concentration as pain lanced through my arm, radiating up into my head and back. The sandstone slab plummeted with a boom, and, for a split second, I thought I’d pass out. But then a new wave of hurt brought me back as blunt teeth sank into my bicep. This new asshole was trying to eat me. My jacket protected me, preventing its gross teeth from breaking the skin and undoubtedly giving me a lethal combination of tetanus, rabies, and dysentery. With that said, it still hurt worse than getting hit in the face with a sock full of nickels.
I screamed and bucked at the hips, off-balancing the Revenant just enough to get my left hand free. With a thought and a whisper of will, I surrounded my fist with condensed air before promptly hitting the son of a bitch right in its empty eye socket. The blow caved in part of its face, and the pressure around my bicep mercifully vanished. I scooted away and swung the warhammer awkwardly with one hand, landing a glancing blow to its head that managed to lay that asshole skeleton out.
A moment later a clawed-tipped hand shot out—Heckabe. She looked much worse for the wear: her clothing mostly charred tatters, most of her fur burned down to bristly black nubs, patches of twisted red skin peeking through in places. She looked like a thoroughly unhappy camper. Still, I accepted her hand and let her pull me to my feet.
“Sorry again, about setting you on fire and all,” I mumbled.
She snarled, her wicked sharp teeth looking especially terrifying against the backdrop of her burnt face. “We’ll square up later,” she grumbled. “But first we need to put this thing down. Your power is as good as useless here. The only way to beat this thing is through sheer brute for—”
The words died on her lips as Levi charged the Bone Collector like a runaway semi-truck, bellowing a frenzied and guttural war cry. He was covered in bones, bits and pieces of Revenants pinned to his body by the black quills sprouting from his arms, chest, and back. In the flickering light, covered in body parts, spikes, and held together by gray goop, he looked far more demonic than anything else in the cavern. He had the upper half of a Revenant in his meaty mitts, swinging it around his head like a gigantic flail by a length of spinal column.
“DIE!” Levi bellowed at the top of his lungs as he lunged in, smashing the Revenant directly into the Bone Collector’s skeletal face like a living club. The Bone Collector staggered back with a throaty bark as chips of bone exploded out like shrapnel. Most of the Revenant’s head disappeared on impact, but the MudMan kept right on going, twirling the bony body, clubbing the creature into submission. And when the rest of the Revenant’s corpse was little more than a few bits of rib stuck to the spinal column, Levi charged in, darting beneath the colossal Bone Collector.
His fists—one in the form of a blocky mallet, the other resembling an oversized meat hook—beat and pried at the Collector’s undercarriage. Levi worked methodically, as though he intended to crack the scorpion open like a crab, find whatever made the thing tick, then smash the shit out of that, too. And he was doing a pretty admirable job despite the shambling Revenants closing in on every side. As powerful as the Bone Collector was, it seemed unprepared for the ferocity and utter fearlessness of Levi’s assault.
Like a mean-ass honey badger, Levi just didn’t give a shit. The only thing that mattered to him at this point was murder.
“New game plan,” Heckabe growled, eyeing the chaotic battle with cold calculation. “You get close, use that hammer of yours to take out its legs and dismantle the tail—make it vulnerable. I’ll handle the Revenants, keep them off your back long enough to put this thing down for keeps.”
“Got it,” I replied, but she was already moving. In a blink, she was ten feet away and flipping through the air like a burn-ward gymnast. She touched down as light as a feather in the middle of a shambling group of Revenants ten strong, and immediately set to work, teeth and fangs flashing out while she spun and twirled like a Yuletide top. The flashy and deadly display seemed to draw the ire of every half-dead schmuck in the room, and soon, all the shuffling bonemen were beelining toward her.
Giving little ol’ me a clear path to Levi and the Bone Collector.
Even though I was tired and banged up, I shook it off and bolted toward the monstrous creature. The scorpion was scuttling around in circles, bone-tipped legs shooting in, trying to skewer Levi, but the MudMan ignored the glancing blows with stoic grunts and continued his grisly work. Somehow, he’d managed to pry off one of the bony plates protecting the creature’s belly and was busy ripping gobs of brown meat and gray guts from the nasty opening.
With the Bone Collector so thoroughly distracted, I angled right, into its blind spot, and went to town. I grasped the warhammer in both hands and laid into one of its bac
k legs, putting my full body weight into the attack. The weapon reverberated in my hands as the strike landed, and a network of hair-fine cracks rippled out across the armor-plated leg. The creature roared, the inarticulate scream brimming with rage and pain in equal measure. I planted my feet, squared my shoulders, and struck again as if I were chopping down a sapling instead of a huge leg.
The cracks spread dramatically on the second impact, and pieces of hard enamel chipped away. I slammed my hammer home once more—third time’s the charm—and the lower portion of the leg snapped and shattered, the spear tip falling away as a flood of thick, phlegmy green goo oozed out. The leg, it seemed, was hollow. The creature twirled in a flash, though, not giving me time to ponder the new revelation, as a deadly clawed appendage shot out, ready to decapitate me. I ducked low, snagging the three-foot hunk of broken leg lying on the floor, and dipped beneath the creature.
Levi was still hammering away at the thing’s underside, though he paused momentarily as he caught sight of me from the corner of his eye. I blundered right into him, thrusting the amputated limb into his hands, then hastily hooking a thumb toward the opening. He nodded, instantly understanding my plan, and I kept right on going, heading for the next leg in the line. I skidded to a halt just as Levi thrust the bony leg up into the creature’s exposed guts with impossible strength.
The Bone Collector screeched, the sound of a bone saw blasted through a bullhorn, as more green blood cascaded down, showering the MudMan below. Yep, glad he did that part of the plan and not me—I’ve been splattered in monster guts more times than I’d care to count.
Once more I went to work, battering another leg, this one neighbor to the one I’d hacked off a minute ago. Thwack, thwack, thwack. The hammer rose and fell in time with my breathing, and after four solid hits, the second leg snapped, dropping to the floor as more gore splashed over my boots. Gross. I ignored that, though, kicking the fallen limb back toward Levi as I went to the next leg in the line. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
