by Phil Maxey
Note to self, land on air conditioning units.
I untangled myself from the twisted metal and jumped down onto the roof. There were two doors. The closest was clean, not the one I wanted. I could also hear heart beats somewhere beyond it, at least ten and they were getting closer. I jogged to the second door which only had a low humming sound behind, and pulled it open breaking another lock. As I closed it, I heard the other door open and muffled voices. I quickly made my way down a narrow staircase until I got to an exit to the topmost floor. Most of the building was a mystery to me. Always had been. I just knew it as the place my father worked.
I pulled the door open to cobwebs and dust. A mop and bucket sat against peeling wallpaper, and tools were scattered across the bare floorboards. I stepped out to a long corridor, which I moved along, passing offices with the barest of twentieth century furniture. One of which had a large wooden desk, and a corner view of the buildings around it. I walked into the once plush office and wondered if my father had worked there. The building, the company, it was all part of a legacy I never cared for, especially since their passing…
A burning heat hit me. It was as if I had walked into a section of the floor where the humidity had been turned up. I stepped away from the window, pulling my collar away from my neck and walked back into the corridor. The further I walked the hotter it got, accept it wasn’t heat, but a sensation that went beyond the infrared. It would seem my radar for detecting evil had kicked in and was doing its job. I ignored the elevator, which had a sign across its closed doors mentioning the stairs need to be used and moved into the larger stairwell. Straight away I picked up voices, but they were near the ground floor.
I moved down the steps allowing my senses to direct me and on reaching the eighteenth floor I knew I had reached the zenith. I peaked out to walls and doors that were the exact same layout as I where I had come from, but were shiny and clean. Voices came from a room down the end of the corridor, it was also where the evil was emanating from, like heat from a road on a searing hot day. I slipped out of the stairwell, trying to hear if any of the rooms around me were similarly occupied but could not pick up even the slightest beat of a heart. I tried the first door. It was locked, then the second and the third, each attempt moving me closer to the group that were having a debate in what looked like a conference room.
The fifth door opened to me, I went to move inside when I picked up a voice I recognized. It was Maxwell Wilkins. Slightly lower, with a coarseness that it lacked twelve years earlier but distinctly his. I closed the door quietly, but logged where it was amongst the others and crept forward being ready to run at even a hint of someone entering the corridor.
At a junction, which had a desk for a secretary, I stopped and peaked around the corner to my left. A glass wall ran at least ten-feet and beyond it were five individuals, a few I recognized. The stench of evil hung in the air. They were all paying attention to an intense looking sixth person on a large monitor who they appeared to be having a conference call with.
I calmed my breathing and listened to the conversation.
“And everything is on track for the thirty-first?” said the middle-aged man on the monitor. His hair was a mixture of gray and black, as was his beard. He sat in a similar styled room.
“Yes, sir,” said Wilkins. “The board passed the vote, Octavian now has control over the company and all its assets, including the house. Initial investigating of the premises did show some paranormal activity, but that has been taken care of for your return.”
Return?
“And my son? I do not wish him to be hurt when the wards are broken, and the book is taken.”
Who’s this guys son?
The man on the monitor was younger than Fortacan. His comments made no sense, so I listened again.
He continued. “He is not happy with him running around with the vamp and the old—”
What?
I strained my eyes to better see the individual on the screen who seemed to think he was my father.
Nope, not my father. Wrong age, wrong fa…
A warmth came over me, but not from what I was detecting from the conference room but from an impossible realization, which flat refused to take shape in my mind. I turned my eyes away from the discussion and laid my head flat against the wall. My head was beginning to swim a little. Unfortunately I could still hear every word being said.
The man on the monitor continued. “And today it would seem the Praesidium are involved as well.”
Wilkins smiled. “Tell Him not to be concerned. He—”
I looked back to the glass-walled room. The other man’s face contorted into silent rage. “You do not tell him anything! We are here to do his bidding! If he is concerned, then it means my son—” There was that impossibility again. “— is a problem that needs to be taken care of, but Sebastian—” My legs felt weak. “— can be of great importance to our cause, and as such he will not be harmed, is that understood?”
“Of course Michael.”
I fell backwards against the wall for more support, making a dull thump noise.
This couldn’t be real. My father was dead. Along with my mother. I heard footsteps in the long room, and staggered forward doing my best to do so in silence, and moved inside the office I knew to be unlocked. The man’s words kept repeating in my head, no matter how hard I tried to stop them. I focused best I could on the conversation continuing in the conference room, although now it was more muffled.
“Good. Keep… updated. I… be… city shortly.”
I leaned up against the inside of the door, my breathing heavy, my neck covered in sweat.
“And will… take care of him?” said Wilkins. From his tone he seemed to now be talking to someone else. “He and his Praesidium thugs… stopped me… getting here today. Accosted me at my own home! If it… Olivia, I would be in some black site somewhere!”
“Preparations… almost complete,” said a voice which sounded like Frome. “The drude says she has what she… needs to get… underground sanctuary.”
I Need to get back…
The door to the conference opened and I tracked a steady heart rate of a person in the corridor move to where I had just been standing. I gripped the handle of the door, which they tried to turn but I resisted its movement. It swiveled again but I held it firm. The heart rate on the opposite side of the door increased, then whoever they were turned and moved off, back from where they came. I opened the office door as quietly as I could and quickly made my way back to the main stairwell, then down the flights of stairs, listening for a floor that contained the least sounds of humans. Finally I jogged onto the second, and moved straight into an office with a large window. I was able to push it open just enough to squeeze through the gap and then dropped onto a large trash container in a side alley, then to the ground. I immediately fell backwards against a wall, my legs lacking the strength to hold me. My logical mind was fighting what I knew to be true. I was the last of the Hell-Locks. Had been for twelve years. And if he hadn’t died in the accident, where had he been for all that time?
I remembered their last comments again.
Have to get back.
I pulled myself up and ran.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“What were you thinking!” Alyssa threw her hands apart then promptly returned them to her hips.
“The Hell-Lock building contained answers and I got them… now we know they are using that witch to try and break in here. They’re coming. We need to be ready.”
“What if they caught you? They could have killed you!” Her face was flush with emotion. For a moment I thought she actually cared about me. “And then how would we get the seal back! Did you even find where it was?”
I shook my head. I had pushed the other thing that I had learned deep down within me. I wasn’t strong enough to confront it. First thing first. Keep everyone alive and stop them from getting the book.
Fortacan stood with his arms folded. “Alyssa, it wo
uld appear they did not know he was there and he has provided us with invaluable information.”
She looked at him. “You’re okay with this?”
He sighed then looked at me. “It is not wise to run into the enemy camp without a plan.”
I nodded.
“But what’s done is done. What else did you learn?”
“There was some kind of meeting. A… middle-aged guy on a screen. He seemed in charge. And the demon from the library—”
“Frome?”
“Yeah and Wilkins, and a young woman. The woman was called Ol—”
“Oliva Octavian?” said Alyssa.
“You know her?”
“She’s the girl I told you about. Daughter of Tray Octavian. Her partying sold a whole lot of issues about ten years back.”
“She was the one that stopped us from taking Wilkins.”
Alyssa looked doubtful. “I find that hard to believe.”
“She had a tattoo on her wrist. It looked like that—” I pointed to the cover of the Hell-Lock volume that was a nearby table “— But had a spider in the center.”
Fortacan raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” His words sounded desperate.
“Yup.”
He walked forward, still unsteady on his feet and laid a hand on the cover of my grandfather’s book.
“What?” I said to whoever would talk.
“It would seem you have discovered another of the Exiled Knights families and if they are working for our enemies, it means—”
“One of the seals has been destroyed,” said Alyssa. “And one of the Horsemen has already been unleashed upon the earth…”
Fortacan reached for a nearby seat and sat near the table. “I had already presumed… that most of the seals were intact. But it would explain why things recently have been… accelerating.”
“Could Olivia also be a demon?” I said.
“Two families… two demons?” said Alyssa. “That can’t be coincidence.”
The professor nodded. “I think you are correct, it is not.”
“So you’re saying the order were all demons?” I said.
“That is what the evidence suggests…” said Fortacan.
“But how does that make any sense?” said Alyssa. “They were charged with protecting holy relics?”
“It doesn’t,” said the old man. He raised a hand. “We have learned much that we need to think on, but for now we must get ready for the inevitable onslaught.”
“I am ready,” said Alyssa. “Let them—”
A heavy knock came at the door. Everyone froze, but me and Alyssa could both smell the same scent, that of a vampire outside the door.
She moved to it and looked through the spyhole. “It’s Salazar,” said Alyssa. She opened the door and the large aging rockstar vamp walked forward having to lower his head a little through the entrance.
He stood in the small space and looked around. “Hasn’t changed. Good, I liked that it felt like a…” He looked at the glum faces. “I would appear to have come at a bad time?”
“Our enemies have plans to attack this place,” said Fortacan. “So I suggest that you—”
Salazar moved to the second of the high backed chairs near the fire and sat, then lazily waved a hand. “Then we will wait for them together.”
I looked at him and smiled.
*****
I sat in my room, my back up against the bleak wall, avoiding the almost faded blood stains. The sound of distant supernatural thunder had started an hour before, and was gradually increasing in intensity. A single candle burned. Not that I needed it, but the flame flickered with each boom giving me further confirmation of the coming storm. My watch sat on my wrist, minus its front glass plate. I had managed to put it back together, but it felt lighter. It appeared to be working as before, which at least was some solace. It had just gone 1 a.m. The witching hour had finished, but I wasn’t sure that really meant much.
The image of the man on the large screen in the conference room kept coming back to me. Despite my desire to ignore who he claimed to be, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had gone through a similar change to what I had. It would explain his appearance, but that’s the only question it gave me an answer to. Where had he been my whole life? And why was he working for those that actively wanted to destroy the seals? He was a company man, interested in the stock market and vacationing in the Keys, not exactly a resume for ending the world.
Before retiring to my room the professor had given us all a rundown on the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and how we really did not want to meet any of them. Despite what I had become and experienced it still all sounded like a story that you watched with pop-corn. Four creatures from hell, that would bring death and destruction to the earth, all laying the path for something worse.
Right…
Fortacan said it appeared that at least one had already been released from beyond the veil, and the destruction of the Hell-Lock seal would give rise to another. Each being of evil would make it harder to stop the other from being released into the world, until the end of humankind would be inevitable.
Salazar reiterated his assertion that he had not come across any of these ‘Horsemen’ and that if he did he wouldn’t be bothered anyway. I was begrudgingly beginning to like the pirate vamp.
The professor felt differently. Since he had learned that a seal had already been destroyed he seemed unusually glum. He had been fighting the forces of evil his whole life, and now he discovered he had already lost one of the battles without even being aware of it.
For the past week I had been knocked back by events. That needed to stop. If we got through tonight I would go to Knotty. If I didn’t have my company, I at least needed to know how to fight.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in,” I said to Alyssa, but the door remained closed.
“You need to come to the weapons room.”
I got to my feet, moved outside and followed the vamp to the collection of guns and older implements of death.
Salazar was already inside, brandishing a scimitar. “The professor has improved his collection since I was last here. This is a—” A boom rang out, louder than before. He looked at the ceiling and walls. “— nice piece.”
I eyed the Damascus steel dagger which I had already returned to its place on the rack, but moved to a handgun. “This loaded?” I said.
“There’s a loaded magazine in the draw below,” said Alyssa. I looked where she indicated, and clicked the magazine into place.
“Pull the top back when you want to cock it,” said Alyssa.
I nodded. She was sporting her own handguns, two on both sides. Then if that wasn’t enough she picked up an assault rifle and placed it over her shoulder. She was a walking armory.
“I thought you did not like the gun-powder devices?” said the older vamp.
“They can’t get the book. They already have too much as it is.” She didn’t need to explain what she meant.
He nodded then swung the curved sword a few times. “Very nice piece.” Another percussion sound rattled the weapons around us, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. “It would appear that our unwanted guests have almost arrived.”
Alyssa nodded and we all left the small room and ran along the darkened corridors, booms ringing out, until we arrived in the main and largest room of the underground bunker. Fortacan stood in front of the long table, the book, behind him. In his hand was his glowing blade. “They’re almost here!” he said, trying to be heard over the thunder claps. Everyone looked at the front door.
Suddenly illuminated symbols burned bright all around us. On the walls and ceiling and one particularly large one across the old wooden door.
“Here we go!” shouted Alyssa. She raised her rifle at the entrance.
The light from the wards dulled until they were just smoldering etchings. I could hear my own heart beating loud and without warning a gust of icy wind blew past everyone distinguishing most of th
e torches that were burning, but the fire in the wall still held its flames.
Somewhere behind us, in the corridors a door creaked. Then came laughter, high pitched at first then distorting and becoming masculine.
That damn witch.
Alyssa turned towards the demonic sound. “They’re inside…”
Before I could look in the same direction the front door flew open, slamming against the wall behind it. I walked forward with Salazar and we peered into the gloom. At first I thought there was nothing in the long old corridor, but then I saw it. With accompanying thuds, something which filled the entirety of the space, from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, ran towards us.
The older vamp pulled his sword back into a fighting stance, and muttered something in what sounded like Spanish.
Automatic fire rang out and bullets filled the space outside the door, but the thing kept on coming. We both leaped away as clawed limbs sprung forth from the entrance, swiping through the air, sending shelves and their contents to the ground. I recognized it as a ghoul and kneeled then fired, but the bullets just sunk into flesh and muscle. It angrily turned to me then lunged, but a slice from Salazar’s scimitar ripped across it, causing a gray liquid to cover the walls.
In the confusion I went to surge forward, when grunts and the deafening sound of automatic gunfire rang out again from behind and I whipped around, just in time to see a blur slam into Alyssa knocking her into the wall. She immediately regained her feet and sliced at the assailant with her glowing blade, but the attacker deftly ducked and threw a punch to her stomach doubling her over.
As the ghoul laid waste to the room, Salazar battling it best he could, I scrambled forward managing to connect my fist with the warrior getting the better of Alyssa. They fell backwards, demolishing a chair on their way to the floor.
