by Pavel Kornev
Chhhhhhh!
One of the constables jumped out of his cover and tossed a hand grenade into the yard, immediately caught two or three bullets in his chest and collapsed backward. Meanwhile, the steel monster didn't even sway, though the explosion was right under his feet. Beyond that, thin orange threads of electricity started meandering between the electrodes on his left hand.
"Retreat into the house!" Bastian Moran shouted. "Cover me!"
The constables remained in formation and released a hail of bullets. The iron figure kept snapping out short distinct bursts of fire, and the first policeman to dash for the doors was nearly cut in two by one of them.
"Torches!" the senior inspector ordered, crawling to the exit behind the cover of a long flowerbed. I crawled after him.
The spotlights were blinding, so the constables were now aiming at them. Almost immediately, one shattered, followed quickly by the second – darkness reigned in the yard once again. The steel monster continued shooting the botanical garden, but now, he was just shooting at random, responding to the odd shot of the soldiers covering our retreat.
"Run for it!" Bastian Moran shouted.
I dallied for just a moment to get the truncheon and grenade bag off the dead constable, and jumped into the house. The police fanned out along the windows and started shooting the iron blockhead with a renewed force. Now, covered by thick stone walls, their peace of mind had returned.
"Don't lean out!" the senior inspector ordered and glanced at the phosphorus-illuminated hands of his pocket watch. "We need to hold out for a few more minutes!"
I came over to him and showed him a bullet I'd picked up from the floor. It was half a centimeter in diameter, and no less than four centimeters long. Based on its appearance, it was titanium-jacketed with an iron core.
"A Gauss cannon," Bastian Moran told me. "His electric jar will run out of power any second now, then we’ll be able take him with our bare hands!"
I tried to take exception – but, just then, the gates flew off their hinges with a savage gnashing sound, and a police armored vehicle of a design I didn't recognize crash-dived into the yard. It had three axles, and treads stretched over the back pair of wheels with an awkward tower on top. However, the cannon barrel jutting out inspired respect with its caliber alone.
The cannon started turning toward Duke Talm in his steel armor suit but, suddenly, all the torches went out at once. The heavens split and a clod of darkness fell onto the armored vehicle. The huge winged demon flattened the self-propelled carriage, pushed it into the earth, tore out the tower with a careless swing of its huge paws, and threw it at the Duke.
It seemed as if his actions were doubled by space itself. Darkness descended like a ghostly cloak, and my heart almost stopped in fear. But the illustrious man made no blunders; he easily dodged and opened fire in return from his Gauss cannons. The titanium-coated rounds lashed his opponent like a deadly whip. Clumps of black feathers from the demon's wings started flying all around along with splatters of its no-less-black blood.
The infernal creature threw itself on the attack, and then the steel blockhead's free hand flickered with electric charge. A blinding arc hit the demon and threw it aside.
"Devilry..." one of the policemen croaked out.
The Duke was hurrying to finish off his wounded opponent, but the demon easily jumped up from the ground onto the house wall. The building shook from a powerful blow. A column collapsed from a flap of its wing, then the demon threw a marble statue of Atlas at the steel-suited man, jumping after it and dealing a crushing blow with its interlinked hands.
Atlas crashed into the dirt and flew to pieces, the Duke blocked the blow with his free hand, stuck the barrel in the chest of the demon and blasted a burst of a couple dozen bullets right through it.
The pair started grappling, and a nightmarish beast suddenly jumped through the broken window of the gallery and instantly bit half the face off a gaping constable. I jerked up my weapon and blasted the hellhound back outside, but that turned out to have been only the first in a horde of hellspawn.
"Retreat!" Bastian Moran commanded, having unloaded his air rifle into one of the creatures. He then took out a strange looking pistol, its grip attached to a cylindrical receiver at a sharp angle.
Everyone ran into the corridor and I, much to my surprise, found myself taking up the rear. Without hesitation, I grabbed a hand grenade from the ammo bag and, after tearing out the pin, threw it on the floor, then dashed off after my comrades.
There was a bang, then a wail and the door flew off its hinges, but I had already jumped out. From the side passage, another hellhound dashed in front of us. I shot as I ran, aiming for the crimson glow of its eyes. The buckshot knocked the infernal creature from its feet. I managed to jump past and charge off after the police.
Another grenade rolled down the floor. I curled up behind a corner and almost ran right into a free-for-all skirmish. The hellspawn had intercepted our division, and they were now fighting it out ferociously. Shots thundered, the constables were shooting from all barrels and dashing for the exit, but the infernal creatures were too many, and the normal rounds couldn't hold them for long or, for that matter, kill them.
I jumped up to Bastian Moran and pulled him back.
"After me!"
The hellhounds slashed up by the grenade blast were still no threat, but new monsters were already giving soul-chilling howls from the gallery, and we were running as fast as we could down a side corridor.
"To the back yard!" I shouted, only managing to find my place in the impenetrable darkness of the empty house by a miracle.
The senior inspector overtook me. I also picked up the pace, and even managed to load another twelve-caliber round into the Winchester's tube magazine before the door flew open with a rumble and a beast only distantly reminiscent of a dog ran at us, charging with its disproportionately huge, bulbous head first.
I shot right into its gaping maw, tripped over a carcass underfoot and rolled on the floor. I immediately turned over onto my back and managed to throw my hands up, the Winchester clutched by the barrel and buttstock, just a moment before a set of terrifying fangs as long as a pinky finger managed to close around my throat.
The teeth of the hellhound easily rumpled the steel of the gun, but couldn't get through the frame. Then, Bastian Moran returned. He placed the barrel of his pistol to the head of the infernal creature and blasted out its brains.
"Hurry up!" shouted the senior inspector, yanking me to my feet as we jumped outside.
To the ghastly wail and rumble of the subsiding firefight, we tore through the back yard over to my former armored car, which had been parked there by the detective sergeant. One of the hellbeasts was trying to catch us out in the open, but the senior inspector really was an excellent shot: running, in pitch black and under pouring rain, he put a bullet right between its crimson-flame eyes.
It seemed that the master of the hellish pack was now expending all its energy on the confrontation with the Duke, because the diabolical mutts it was holding in the physical realm with its powers started to grow weaker. Reality assigned them nothing more than the boundless rage of dead souls. Even normal bullets now took them out of commission for a significant time.
"Get behind the wheel!" I shouted, catching up with Bastian Moran.
He threw open the door and got in the driver's seat. I, meanwhile, threw open the back door, crawled into the trunk and collapsed, sapped of strength, among the many boxes; my lungs felt on fire, and my arms and legs refused to obey.
The powder engine crackled to life. The self-propelled carriage started trembling in time with it and turned around toward the gates. But it was too late. Glass exploded out of the manor window, and the ghostly pack shot out after us, hot on the trail.
I got up from the boxes. The armored car was picking up speed unexpectedly quickly, and a strong bump threw me onto my back. The wheels popped over the knocked-down gates. I almost fell again, got behind the G
atling gun, switched on the barrel assembly drive and – what a miracle! – the electric jar wasn't fully discharged; the rotor hummed into action, gradually picking up speed.
The hellhounds had already made it through the yard, but I was in no hurry to open fire. Despite the constant bouncing, I was obstinately holding the cross hairs over the gate. Only when the infernal creatures gushed out to the street did I push down on the trigger. The Gatling gun shuddered, vomiting out a hail of lead that sliced through the pack like a scythe. All that remained now was to take aim and shoot down the most persistent, saving as many bullets as possible, as they were almost gone.
And so we tore down the deserted road, gradually distancing ourselves from the hounds and, from time to time, snarling forth fire. We drove like that for a short while, then were overtaken by a deafening rumble.
It overtook us, and rushed past at a blistering pace before quickly returning in an echo from the houses. Over the manor, there arose an elevated fiery mushroom, but we didn't have to wonder who had emerged victorious from the fight for long: a moment later, on the dark backdrop of the cloud-covered sky, there appeared an incomparably darker spot. The demon threw open its black wings and lunged off in pursuit.
In horror, I got out from behind the machine gun, crawled over to the grated window between the rear and cabin and shouted:
"The demon! It’s flying after us! Drive!"
Bastian Moran cursed out and stepped on the pedal, clutching at the handle. I stuck my head out, but the cursed abomination had already hidden among the low clouds.
"Bastian! Where are we going?"
"To the Sublime Electricity lyceum!" the senior inspector called back, turning the wheel in agitation. On the rain-slicked causeways, the armored car skidded from time to time, but Moran managed to keep it on the roadway by some kind of miracle, and just kept driving, never reducing speed. Must have been evidence of his army experience.
The whole city was immersed in darkness; both the gas jets and electric bulbs were all off. The only thing breaking up the dark of the night was the frequent bolts of lightning but, after we dashed past the Imperial Theater, we started to see a white luster before us through the sheet of rain.
The Sublime Electricity lyceum towered in the center of its square like an ancient citadel. Its windows shone forth with a bright light, and the copper balls on the poles that wreathed the giant Nicola Tesla coil were occasionally enshrouded in translucent flashes of electricity.
There, salvation awaited. But the armored car was still driving up to the square when a black shadow nosedived from the heavens. Paving stones from the causeway flew in all directions from the terrifying blow. The neighboring homes shuddered. The lyceum, meanwhile, caved in. It looked as if the shaking caused by the demon had caused its expansive basements to collapse. The light in the high windows flickered and went out.
"Devil!" Bastian Moran cried, sharply turning the wheel.
In the headlights, the body of the demonic being flickered by, clearly ravaged by the battle with its steel opponent. I then flew onto the floor. The powder engine revved, and the we dashed clear.
The demon gathered his strength, threw open his wings and took off into the air, but its flying was now somehow faltering and labored. I was puzzled over whether it had missed us intentionally or not but, the second time, it was clearly intending to take a less risky approach – it didn't go up too high, just gliding over the roofs of nearby buildings, gaining speed.
"Drive!" I shouted to the senior inspector, taking a seat behind the Gatling gun and shooting the rest of the machine-gun belt at our pursuer, but without any success.
Curses! Why hadn't the Duke's titanium bullets stopped him?!
That question didn't occupy me for long, though. I threw open the box with the launch tube. It had already gotten me out of one jam, so why not? After I got the launcher out, I started hammering on the partition between the rear and cabin of the car.
"Moran!" I barked over the rumbling of the engine. "Drive up Calvary!"
"We won't find shelter in your manor!"
"Drive!" I insisted. "It's our only chance!"
After taking a missile from the box, I crammed it into the tube, snapped it shut and locked it. Then, I clipped the mask on my face and went over to the open back. The demon was tailing our armored car down the little winding narrow streets of the Old City, waiting for the right moment to make a blistering dive.
I set the launch tube on my shoulder and, when the self-propelled carriage was flying full steam onto Dürer-Platz, I caught the infernal creature in the thrown-back crosshairs. At that very moment, it folded its wings and plunged downward like a stone; I also took immediate action. The spark of the electric igniter flickered up. The tube gave a kick and the trunk of the vehicle filled with a cloud of acrid gas.
Leaving a trail of smoke behind it, the missile tore upward, caught the infernal creature coming down to meet us, and exploded with a grumble. A blinding flash blazed forth. The demon was sent flying away. It crashed to the earth and inertia rolled it another good twenty meters, crushing its wings, making it shed black feathers, and causing blood to gush out, glowing with a transparent flame.
If it had been a mortal being, the flesh would have been scraped back to the bone, and the bones themselves would have been milled to dust. But instead, the paving stones cracked and crumbled into shards. The terrifying blow to the fountain, meanwhile, completely shattered its marble basin.
Before the armored car flew off the square, I managed to see the demon getting up from the paving stones and trying to take off into the sky. Fortunately, one of its wings was seriously damaged and now, the infernal creature was forced to come after us in bounding leaps, each of which required significant forethought. We then managed to catch a tailwind.
But we also had problems of our own: the engine wasn't able to manage the weight, and the armored self-propelled carriage struggled up the hill against the stream of water coming down it. Our pursuer was gradually closing in on us.
"Faster!" I shouted as I threw the semi-automatic-rifle box from the back. They wouldn't be able to help us in the present situation anyway, and only added unnecessary weight to the vehicle. After it, the box of cartridges went overboard. Then, the Madsen machine-gun met the same fate and, soon, the only thing left in our arsenal was the hand-held mortar and its white-phosphorus rounds.
Cranking the drum, I loaded the incendiary rounds one after the other and aimed, but the demon was too far away; hitting it from this distance didn't seem possible.
"Where to now?" the senior inspector cried out to me as the armored car rolled over the bridge up to the fence of my estate.
"Keep going up!" I called back. "To the very top!"
Around a turn, another bend, and the engine revved. The shaking reached its absolute limit. The path to the top was horribly broken, but thanks to the exotic-seeking tourists, extravagant newly-weds and occasional visits of an inspector to the rusty tower, it hadn't grown over once and for all and the self-propelled carriage was able to pass at a speed only slightly lower than our hell-bent race through the city.
Behind us, over the manors nearest the summit, the black wings of the demon flickered past. I pressed myself to the grated window and shouted over the sound of the engine and the thunder blasts:
"Pull over quick in front of the tower and drive around it!"
Bastian Moran nodded, and a little while later reduced his speed, giving me the chance to jump out. Then, he steered the armored vehicle onto the path around it, which was broken up and uncared for.
The tower was depressing. Its tons of rusty iron stretched up for more than two hundred meters, and now, with lightning bolts striking its top from the thunderous sky almost constantly, it was even slightly illuminated in the darkness by the red-hot metal. There was steam coming off in every direction.
I gathered my strength and rushed forward.
It smelled strongly of ozone. The raging wind nearly knocked me off m
y feet. My ears were ringing from the thunder. I couldn't even raise my eyes due to the blinding flashes of lightning. The air was humming from the atmospheric electricity all around. Suddenly, my hair stood on end.
But I stopped and turned around only when I sensed the approach of evil with my back. The world instantly turned gray. The sounds died down. Lightning was striking the tower very high up.
I turned and shivered involuntarily – the demon was climbing to the top.
There was no way to play on his fears or buy my way out of this one, the infernal creature wanted only one thing – to take me and drag me down with it to the very farthest depths of hell. I didn't have a single chance to stand up to it in battle, but I wasn't preparing to give up, either.
I had a plan.
The demon stood up to its full height, threw open its shredded wings and stretched out a clawed paw. Its eyes were burning with a crimson flame. Its gaping maw was filled with darkness. And it even became darkness itself, by some absurd misunderstanding having been incarnated in our world.
I was mindlessly afraid of it. I was afraid of it, and intended to destroy it.
The infernal creature was approaching slowly and falteringly. On its smooth hide, overflowing with all shades of darkness, I could make out the wounds left by titanium bullets. Its chest was adorned with deep burns from the electric shocks. Its muzzle, which elicited horror by its appearance alone, grimaced with every lightning strike to the tower behind me. But the creature wasn't planning to give up. As if against its own will, it started getting closer and, with its presence alone, warped the laws of the universe.
I started shooting when the distance between us was only one hundred steps.
With a dull clap, one of the incendiary rounds blasted off toward the demon, then a second, third and, just then, the hellspawn tore from place and threw itself on the attack with a movement imperceptible to the human eye.
I miscalculated. I thought I had enough time to flee, but I had underestimated the crafty beast. The demonic creature seemed to flow from one point in space to the next. If no mortar rounds hit it now, it would tear me to shreds.
