Malcolm chewed his lip, staring Matt down as he rose to his feet. “Doesn’t change what you are. Why did those demons run when they saw you? What aren’t you telling us?”
“I’m not hiding anything. Maybe they left because we killed their familiars before they could get close enough.”
“Bullshit. They had us surrounded. They could have kept us pinned in.”
“They were trying to close in while we were inside. If I hadn’t alerted everyone they’d have been on us before you knew it.”
“And how again did you know they were coming?” Malcolm asked. “Blood? Not exactly human.”
“You saw me kill one of those dead things and the guy with the rifle. The one trying to shoot me. If I was against you, why would I kill them?”
“Familiars. They’re expendable. Maybe trying to gain our trust. I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t expect you to be there, then once they saw you they were gone.” His fingers inched toward Hounacier’s white horn handle.
Matt grabbed Dämoren’s grip and thumbed the snap open. “Just try it.”
Schmidt slammed his fist down on his chair’s arm. “Gentlemen!” He glared up at Matt, his blue eyes cold. “Mister Hollis, I warned you.”
“You warned me never to draw it, and I haven’t, but if this asshole pulls so much as an inch of steel from that sheath, I’ll consider it a challenge. I read enough about the Valducans to know challenges have happened before.”
Malcolm grinned. “That rule only applies to Valducans.”
“You’re right. I might not be one, but Dämoren is.”
“Mister Hollis,” Schmidt growled. “Stand down.”
“I will right after he does.”
Schmidt’s jaw tightened. “Fine. Sit down, Malcolm.”
“Master Schmidt, I don’t—”
“I promised Mister Hollis he would be safe here,” Schmidt said, his stern voice rising. “I gave him my word. Now sit.”
Malcolm released the machete handle, holding his hands out to the side. His eyes narrowed, but never left Matt as he lowered back into his seat. “I still don’t want him wandering around by himself. Demon or not, he’s not one of us.”
Others murmured their agreement, Colin, Jean, Ben, Luc, Anya.
Schmidt nodded. “I tend to concur. Mister Hollis, you are welcome to stay in this house, but outside your room you need to be accompanied.”
Matt chewed on the old man’s words. I suppose I’ll be calling you every night when I need to go take a piss. “Fine.” Matt forced a smile. “Would someone please accompany me to the kitchen?”
“I will,” Luiza said. She marched straight toward the door and opened it, seemingly blind to the others’ stares. She turned. “Coming?”
“Yes, thank you.” He shot a ‘fuck you’ grin to Malcolm and followed her out.
The door closed behind them, and Matt let out a long sigh. His heart pounded with anger. He could almost feel the silver slug jarring with each beat.
Malcolm. Arrogant shit. Matt wanted to punch that bastard square in the mouth. Knock that cheap-ass attempt at intimidation right off his face. And Schmidt saying they didn’t trust him alone. Well, he was alone. He’d been alone since Clay died. Hell, he’d been alone since that wendigo killed his family and turned him into...into whatever he was.
‘Don’t talk like that,’ Clay had once said when Matt was seventeen and feeling particularly sorry for himself one day. “You ain’t no monster. Dämoren chose you. She wanted you to live. I want you to live. We’re family.” By that time the tumor inside him had begun its work, though neither of them knew it yet.
“I’m sorry about that,” Luiza said, breaking his thoughts. “Everyone is taking this really hard, and I think they just took it out on you.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I’m not excusing it or anything. I just wanted you to know why. We’ve lost a lot of our family. Not just these but over the past several months... They’re angry, and scared, and...”
Matt gave a small nod. “It’s fine. Thanks again, Luiza.”
They headed down to the kitchen where Matt found himself face to face with some industrial coffee machine, all chrome and buttons. He stared at it for a few seconds, trying to figure out where to even begin. He turned to Luiza who chuckled at his helpless expression.
“Move over.” She took the cup from his hand. “I’ll show you.”
He stepped back and leaned against a counter as she filled the steel filter with grounds and twisted it in before manipulating the little knob and buttons. “So why do you trust me?” he asked finally.
She turned, her chocolate eyes regarding him. “Because if you were a monster you wouldn’t be killing demons. And if you were trying to infiltrate us, you’d have made some attempt to contact us. Instead, we came to you.”
Matt thought about that, watching the syrupy liquids pour into their two cups. “And the things I can do, that doesn’t scare you?”
Luiza shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t think you’re a monster.”
He smiled. “I really appreciate that.”
She poured milk into his cup, gave it a quick stir and handed it to him. “We need to get back.”
Drinks in hand, they made their way up to the meeting room. Passing a window, Matt spied Turgen outside in the courtyard with Tom. They both limped along the far side near the arched drive entrance, Turgen with his cane and Tom his prosthetic.
“One of the men we lost in Mexico was Master Turgen’s student, Gabriel,” Luiza said, solemnly. “His sword, Rowlind was broken as well. He took it very hard.”
Terrible thing to have in common. Matt touched Dämoren under his arm. Losing her, seeing her broken and defiled was probably the single worst thing he could imagine. For them it was real. They’d seen it. Seen their students dead. He watched the two men slowly circle toward the house, then he and Luiza continued up.
Voices poured out from the meeting room as they neared. A few people stood outside the door, alone or in murmuring groups. A noticeable hush fell as Matt and Luiza approached. Matt just ignored it and took his seat.
Three minutes later, Turgen returned. Tom wasn’t with him. “Allan, are the videos ready?”
“They are.”
The old man settled into his chair. “So let us see what happened to our knights.”
Allan tapped the keys, and the satellite image of the farmhouse appeared on the screen. “Malcolm’s team found four cameras. Cameras one and two were on the east side approximately here, and here.” A white arrow cursor glided across the screen circling the cattle feeder and a fence near the barn. “Cameras three and four were on the western side, here and here.” He circled a spot maybe thirty feet from the house where they’d found one of the cameras resting on a cement birdbath. Forty feet beyond that, they’d found the last one atop a stump. The old image on the screen still showed a tree there.
“What’s interesting,” Allan continued, “is that cameras two and three are both clean. Completely wiped.”
“What do you mean?” Malcolm asked.
“I mean their memories are blank. There’s nothing on them.”
“Erased?”
“No. Erased memories will still hold residual information. Camera three is so clean that even factory settings are gone. Two, still has memory, but it’s unreadable.”
“Do you know what could have done that?” Turgen asked.
Allan brushed his hair and shrugged. “It’s like they were exposed to a magnet, but not just a little magnet. More like the type you’d pick up a car with. Really powerful.”
“All the clocks in the house were blinking,” Luc said, his hand on his chin. “Like they were reset at two-seventeen.”
“Same time the trackers went off,” Malcolm added. “Ever heard of a summoning that did that, Anya?”
She shook her head. “Never. But lightning and other phenomena have been recorded before. Most summoning records are a lot older than electronics. It’s possibl
e there could be a pulse.”
“That’s my theory, too,” Allan said. “Those cameras were the closest. One and four were further away. Whatever scrambled the others got camera one a little, but overall it’s okay.” He changed the screen from the bird’s eye of the house to two black rectangular windows, side by side. “The one on the left is camera one. Right is camera four.”
He clicked a button and the right window turned green. The shuffling image steadied and focused on the farmhouse. White numbers in the lower right read 22:34. Little squares of digital static popped sporadically across the screen. A green face leaned into view. Ramón, his pupils like pale lights in the infrared. His lips moved, but there was no sound. He pulled back out of frame. The camera jostled a hair, focusing back on the farmhouse, then Ramón and Anthony crept past, quick and low, weapons drawn.
Matt watched the two hunters approach the house. There was a good view of the front side, lit clear under the full moon. Worst night of the month to go on a demon hunt, Matt thought. While werebeasts could change at will, fighting during the full moon made them even meaner, more confident. Clay always avoided it, if possible. Daylight was always safer, though the chance of witnesses became infinitely higher.
A moment later, the left half of the screen flickered to green life. The image whirled around, then stopped, focusing on the house from the other direction. Blurry straw from the hay bale on which it rested, covered the very bottom of the screen. The clocks both said 22:41. Camera four flickered, the image briefly scrambling into little squares before clearing.
The hunters moved forward, cautious and slow. Matt’s eyes moved between the screens, watching the two teams close in. Anthony and Ramón stopped to place a camera in the bird bath, then crept around toward the barn. The others affixed camera two to the fence post.
22:49
Natuche’s team headed around the back of the barn when the doors burst open. Five men rushed out with clubs. A broad form stepped out behind them. The low-light cameras seemed to dim as flared lights crackled across the monster’s bare skin.
There’s that ifrit.
More people stormed out from the house, and outlying buildings. Daniel hacked one of the club-wielding men to the ground, then slashed a busty, winged woman through the gut. She staggered, and he drove the blade through her. Flames burst from the wounds. She fell, burning.
Some of the knights in the audience gave mumbled cheers at the succubus’ death, but not much as Daniel didn’t have a chance to turn before one of the clubbers smacked him right across the face. He stumbled. Another club hit his arm, knocking the sword from his grasp.
From the other side of the yard, Ramón ran toward the injured knight. A man stepped around a corner and raised a small automatic. Bright flashes burst from the handgun and Ramón fell. Another man raced across the yard at inhuman speed toward Anthony. Vampire. The massive hunter spun to the side and ducked, hacking at his attacker’s leg as it passed. Moving as a blur, the vampire leapt, dodging the blade. It landed, stopping instantly as if immune to its own momentum. Anthony sprung toward it, his axe cleaving through the air. The creature dodged to the side, but Anthony whirled the blade around and into the vampire’s chest. Bright fire erupted from the wound.
“There you go,” Colin said to the screen.
Matt watched the videos in silence, his attention wrested back and forth between the two camera feeds like being at a circus with multiple rings vying for attention. Camera Four flickered several more times, once even freezing for several seconds before continuing. Bright flames from the burning demon souls caused the night vision to wash out, distorting much of the action. Instead, Matt focused on the areas outside the battle. In the right screen, beside the house, he noticed four people standing and watching.
He leaned over to Luiza and pointed at the screen. “Who are those guys?”
She shook her head. “Familiars?”
“Then why aren’t they attacking?”
“Don’t know.”
Two withered corpses shambled from the barn and dragged Yev to the ground. The room was silent as they watched the hunters fall one by one. Natuche was the last. She’d almost made it to where Anthony lay when a lanky, wild-haired creature tackled her from the shadows. She kicked and fought the thing hunkered atop her.
Ben gave a little yelp as the monster tore and ripped her face off, then ate it. She rolled on the gravel, one leg kicking the ground.
“My God, she’s still alive,” Schmidt muttered.
“They all are,” Turgen said flatly.
The people beside the house walked out as several more emerged from inside. Ten in all. With the demons, they carried the wounded knights into the house. The wild-haired fiend that had maimed Natuche snarled at the approaching men, but a hulking werewolf snapped its head, and the beast cowered away.
“That’s the only ghoul I’ve seen there,” Malcolm said.
“They’re not very common,” Schmidt said.
“I know, but there were eight zombies at that house. The most I’ve ever seen one command was three, and that was a real powerful one.”
The old man harrumphed. “Maybe there’s more we haven’t seen yet.”
“Maybe.” Malcolm leaned back into his chair. “Eight zombies is unheard of.”
“Kluge said he’d encountered one with a half-dozen walkers once,” Matt said, remembering the story.
Malcolm turned, his brow raised. “Who?”
“Victor Kluge. One of the hunters I read about.”
Schmidt laughed. “Kluge? That charlatan probably never saw a ghoul in his life.”
A towering shape moved past camera one. It looked dark in the night vision. Chiseled muscles with two rows of short white horns running down its back. It carried a limp girl over one shoulder. Another creature followed, stooped in an awkward walk resembling a monkey. It was thin with long, thick hair. A second ghoul.
“Selene,” Anya said, confirming Matt’s suspicion.
Luc cocked his head to the side. “What is that thing?”
“That’s one of those tongue monsters we found in Canada.” Allan looked back toward Matt and nodded. “The ones Matt saved me from.”
Thanks, Allan.
Everyone watched as the monsters and people entered the house. The walking corpses returned to the barn.
“So, not much happens after this.” Allan moved the cursor to a gray bar along the bottom of the screen. The first little bit was red. “At eleven twenty-two, these guys come out.” Allan clicked a little yellow arrow tacked further down the bar and the red line jumped to that position.
The timers read 23:22. Two figures emerged from the house. Both wore dark robes and executioner-like cowls. They removed their hoods. One was a man, his hair dark and of no particular length. The distance and green night vision made it difficult to see much detail of the other except there was a feminine quality to her movement.
“What’s that pendant on the man,” Schmidt said, pointing at the screen. “Can you make it any clearer?”
“I’ll need some time to clean it up,” Allan said. “But we should get something.”
The man talked on a phone as the girl smoked a cigarette. Matt could barely make out the glint of something hanging around his neck. Had Schmidt not pointed it out, Matt doubted he’d have noticed it.
Jean leaned forward in his seat. “Who are you talking to?”
The caller seemed real excited, his own lit cigarette waving around as he talked like one of those light batons the guys on runways carried. After two minutes he hung up. He said something to the girl, and they dropped their butts into a clay jar by the door and headed back inside.
Allan moved the cursor to the next yellow mark on the video. “Once they go inside, there isn’t anything until two seventeen when camera four loses everything for three seconds. Camera one only got a little flicker. Five minutes later...” He clicked the marker and the video jumped ahead.
Four figures left the house, two men and
a woman. The woman wore a long braid. One of the men was stocky and bald, the other slender with long, dark hair. Matt recognized Baldy from the farmhouse. They jogged away down the gravel drive. A couple minutes later, lights moved across the buildings and two cars, a van, and a blocky box truck pulled up. The truck blocked camera one’s view almost entirely, and camera four still flickered, not fully recovered from whatever had scrambled it.
Figures started leaving the house and getting into the cars. Maybe twenty of them.
“Allan, can you clean that up?” Schmidt asked, running a finger over his moustache.
“It’ll take time.”
“Do it. See who they are. Get the plates.”
A huge form emerged from the house, nearly filling the doorway.
“What in God’s name is that?” Colin asked.
The monster straightened as it emerged, standing a full head above the van, broad and naked with plump tits, capped with long nipples. A thick knot of hair jutted from the back of its head and hung down almost like a horsetail. It looked around, then vanished behind the truck.
“Go back,” Jean said.
Alan clicked the back arrow a couple times. The video started again, showing the strangers loading into the different cars. The hulking form emerged from the doorway. It stepped out and stood straight.
“Stop it there,” Jean ordered. “Get its face.”
The video paused. Frame by frame Allan moved it forward until the beast turned its head toward the camera.
Turgen leaned, squinting up at the screen. “Zoom it in, please.”
The cursor moved over the images, drawing a dotted square around the monster’s head. It zoomed in, filling the window with the blurred image.
A single curve horn protruded upwards above a thick brow. Its jaw jutted forward. A pair of sharp canines stuck up and out from its lower lip.
A wave of defeat washed across the room.
Luiza shook her head. “No. It can’t be.”
“Look at the eyes,” Jean said. “It’s her.”
Luc lowered his gaze and sighed. “Selene.”
From the journal of Sir Ernest Burrows, 1873
Damoren Page 12
