Damoren

by Seth Skorkowsky

  “What about the others?” Allan asked. He brushed his wet hair back with his hand.

  “Once we have the weapon, we’ll wait for them before going into that building.” He pressed the radio button at his shoulder. “Jean, where are you?”

  “We are headed through the employee entrance now,” Jean’s voice crackled.

  “Can you see the main building yet?”

  “Yes,” Jean answered.

  “We believe the weapon is in a truck parked just below it,” Malcolm said. “We’re going in to investigate, then wait for you to join. The building is occupied, so be careful.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Okay then.” Malcolm stood. “Follow me.”

  Staying low, the hunters hurried along the gravel path. The slung Ingram bounced softly, clacking against Matt’s body armor with each step. He paced himself alongside Kazuo, allowing the others to move on ahead. The faint drizzle had soaked his hair, and cold rivulets of water ran down the back of his neck. Matt watched the blocky building but saw nothing. He stopped behind a low berm of white clay and checked the blood compass. Still nothing.

  Movement flickered in the corner of his eye. Matt turned toward a towering rock crusher off to one side, silhouetted against the night sky. A sloped conveyer belt ran toward the top. He searched the dark shape but it remained still. He checked the compass again, but there was no movement.

  “Come,” Kazuo whispered. “We’re almost there.”

  They made their way down the slope, then raced across a short open expanse until they reached the giant dozer. Matt knelt beside the metal tracks. Wetness from the muddy ground wicked up his pants’ leg.

  He leaned out for a better view. The other hunters had almost reached the final slope. He checked the building. It remained still. He turned toward the rock crusher beside them, but saw nothing. Why leave it in the truck?

  The other hunters reached the slope. Allan and Luiza crouched low into the shadows, their swords drawn. Malcolm looked toward Kazuo and Matt. Matt checked the compass and waved him on.

  Hugging the shadows, Malcolm followed the tiered wall around below the mining building. He dashed through an open area to the box truck and pressed against the side. Matt watched, his heart thumping as Malcolm circled around the back of the vehicle and reached for the rear door. He checked the compass again.

  Two- no, three beads formed inside the bottle; one ahead and two off to the right. They were closing in fast. A trap.

  Matt waved his hand out, trying to signal the hunter. “Malcolm!” he hissed.

  Malcolm didn’t appear to hear. He reached for the rear door latch.

  Matt depressed the radio button. “Ma—”

  Malcolm opened the truck’s door and an alarm shrieked, piercing the night.

  Blinding lights flipped on atop the ridge, shining down into the white basin. Orange flashes of gunfire erupted from beneath the lights, spraying bullets through the box truck below.

  Shit! Matt pulled back behind the bulldozer’s treads.

  A spotlight flicked on atop the crusher to his left, bathing them in light. Metal tinged around him as shots rained down. White plumes exploded as bullets hit the rocks, spraying broken dust. “Kazuo, move!” Matt yelled, diving around the corner of the vehicle, between it and a parked power shovel. Clutching Dämoren, he scooted between the vehicles, trying to keep low.

  Another burst of tings hit near his head and Matt dropped to the ground. He looked back and his eyes widened. Kazuo lay face down on the muddy gravel. Blood streamed from a hole behind his ear.

  “No!” Matt dove out, momentarily exposing himself to the shooter above, and grabbed the small knight by the shirt. Bullets whizzed around him, plinking off steel and rock. One hit Kazuo in the hip, but the fallen knight didn’t react. Matt yanked Kazuo back behind the cover of the vehicle.

  “Kazuo!” Matt yelled rolling him over. He recoiled in horror. The bullet had exited under Kazuo’s eye, taking half his face with it. There was no question. Kazuo was dead.

  Shots rang out behind him. “Mal!” Luiza screamed.

  Matt couldn’t see them from his position, not while the shooter had him pinned. Kazuo’s killer. Anger welling, Matt slithered alongside the vehicle then carefully peeked over the top. Expecting a bullet any second, he searched the crusher, but couldn’t see past the bright light atop it. Orange flashed like fiery flowers and Matt jerked down as more shots zinged past. Taking the slung Ingram, he dove to the side of the vehicle and leaned out. He fired a burst up at the light and it exploded. Squinting, he saw movement. A dog-headed man stood atop the conveyer belt holding some kind of assault rifle. Matt fired the Ingram and ducked away as the creature shot back.

  Demons with machineguns, he thought. Great. He let go of the Ingram, took Dämoren in both hands, then popped back out. The demon hadn’t moved. Matt fired.

  The demon slumped, nearly losing the rifle, but leaned on the rail and fired back. The shots went far and to the right. Matt fired again and the creature fell. Golden fire quickly consumed it.

  More shots echoed behind him. Luiza and Allan. Matt started toward them. Kazuo’s half-face stared up at him, and Matt tried not to look at it. He noticed a curved shape in the wetted clay beside Kazuo’s body.

  Akumanokira.

  Matt froze for a moment, unsure what to do. He couldn’t just leave it there.

  Matt holstered Dämoren and knelt beside the dead knight. He picked the katana up by the copper grip and squeezed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, not sure if he was speaking to Kazuo or the sword. He pulled the metal scabbard out from Kazuo’s belt and slid the katana inside. A tiny latch clicked, locking it closed. “I’ll take care of it, for you.”

  “Jean!” Malcolm’s voice called over the radio. Matt could hear the shots firing behind him through the ear bud as well. “It’s a trap. We’re pinned down.”

  “We’re coming,” Jean replied.

  Matt crawled out from behind the bulldozer and stole a glance. Allan and Luiza laid flat on the ground behind a low pile of earth, bullet strikes puffing all around them. Matt leaned out further. The box truck’s rear door still hung open. Fingers of light shone down from the roof, cast through the dozens of bullet holes riddling the truck. Malcolm lay flat on the ground directly beneath the bed, staring back at him. Shooters fired down from the ridge above hidden behind the blinding light.

  Allan gave Matt a nod, then leaned out from his cover, clutching his tiny Walther pistol and fired several shots. The brilliant light atop the ridge burst and faded.

  Four shooters, three of them werewolves, returned fire. Allan hunkered down under the onslaught. Matt fired Dämoren at the first one. It fell dead and the others scattered for cover. Red flame ignited over the fallen werewolf’s corpse.

  A bullet whizzed past. Matt looked back to see more figures running along one of the other slopes. They’d have him trapped for sure. Clutching the katana in one hand and Dämoren in the other, he sprinted out from behind the shovel and headed to a scooped out pit he could use like a foxhole. He weaved as he ran, trying to elude any shooters, bullets striking around him. He’d gotten within fifteen feet of the hole then dashed straight for it. In that moment, he knew his mistake.

  A round hit him in the side, spinning him about. Stumbling, he kicked his feet, directing his fall into the pit as more shots flew past. Milky water filled the bottom of the hole, and he hit with a splash, dropping the sword but holding Dämoren tight.

  His side burned. Keeping low, Matt twisted to see the damage. The bullet had hit his vest, but the armor couldn’t stop a rifle round. Blood poured freely from under it. He pressed his hand over the hole in the hard vest but it did little to stanch the flow.

  The wound was bad. Very bad.

  Somewhere above, a werewolf howled, followed by another.

  “Matt!”

  He swallowed and tried to pull himself deeper into the foxhole. Clouds of red blood swirled around him. They gathered in crimson pools at t
he water’s edges, pointing toward the circling demons.

  “Matt!” Malcolm’s voice screamed in his ear.

  Matt fumbled with the radio button. “Kazuo’s down,” was all he could say.

  Matt’s eyes felt heavy. He was dead if he didn’t get to demon’s blood. The shooters had them pinned in. Luiza, Allan, Malcolm. They’d all die.

  Dämoren would die.

  Clay’s voice echoed in his mind. “Dämoren chose you. She wanted you to live. I want you to live.”

  He couldn’t let her die. He had to live. The weapons had to survive.

  Matt opened his eyes. Shots echoed from the direction of the building. Carefully, he looked over the side of the hole. The shooters were hunkered down behind a line of metal crates, firing down on Luiza and Allan. He could see their barrels, but didn’t have a shot.

  Matt lifted the Ingram and fired, emptying the magazine in a loud burst. The shooters hunkered down, but didn’t flee. He needed to get them out. Out where he could kill them.

  He had an idea.

  He pulled the glass shaker bottle from his belt and stood on his knees, hurling it overhand toward the crates. The bottle flipped end over end, sailing over the truck hiding Malcolm, and out over the ridge above. Matt cocked Dämoren’s hammer and fired.

  The jar exploded, raining powder over the boxes. Sparks flew and sizzled as two brown werewolves and a pale-skinned vampire leapt out, their skin smoking and blistering as silver and garlic dust ignited at their touch. Matt locked his elbow, gripped Dämoren tight, held down the trigger and fanned the hammer.

  All three demons fell dead.

  The disks of blood in the water swirled apart, joining with others in the pool. Two were moving to where Allan and Luiza still hid. Matt looked, but saw nothing there. Squinting, he spied odd shapes moving through the light drizzle as if the water was hitting something that wasn’t there.

  “Rakshasas!” Matt fired Dämoren at one of the invisible creatures.

  One jolted back, the bullet striking its shoulder. It materialized, taking the form of a black, featureless man. No light reflected off its body, giving it the look of nothingness, just an empty, humanoid hole of blackness.

  Dämoren was empty.

  The demons closed in.

  Allan rolled out from his position on the ground and swung Ibenus. Instantly he was standing, facing them down. The black monster lunged, but Allan swung the khopesh again, and appeared beside it. He slashed the blade in an upward arc, cleaving through the demon’s side. It fell.

  The other, still invisible, save the water on its head and shoulders, turned to face Allan. Luiza charged, attacking with her saber.

  Figures rushed down the slopes. Demons and familiars swarmed, ready to finish what the shooters started. An emaciated wendigo scuttled over the cliff face and leapt onto the truck as Malcolm crawled out. Matt pulled a new Ingram magazine from its pouch. His numb fingers fumbled, and it fell into the water. He moved for it, but his body just collapsed.

  He rolled onto his back. Blood coursed through the milky water, running in little streams and joining the moving pools at the edge. Matt opened Dämoren’s loading gate and ejected a spent shell. He lifted his pouch flap to slip it inside when all the blood in the water suddenly gathered around him.

  A winged woman slammed on top of him, the succubus straddling his shoulders. She hissed, latching an iron-firm hand over his face and shoved his head beneath the water. Matt fought, gurgling and spitting. Water ran up his nose and into his eyes, but the demon was too strong. Jagged rocks dug into the back of his skull as the monster pressed down.

  Still squeezing Dämoren, Matt hacked the gun’s blade, blindly trying to hit the demon. Claws tore his arm as she fought to grapple the swinging blade. She caught his bicep, and slapped his arm back into the water. Matt hooked his wrist, slicing down into the succubi’s forearm. It let go and Matt thrust his head out of the water as he slashed the blade into the screaming demon’s neck. Blood poured from the gaping wound and out her mouth. It ran down her pale breasts and arms and onto Matt. Her violet eyes rolled back and her blood ignited into purple and crimson flames. She crumpled on top of him.

  The wave of calming pleasure hit him like drug. Matt gasped as the bullet pushed from his body, wedging itself between him and the inside of his vest as the skin behind it healed. The exhaustion of being awake so long, the weariness from blood-loss washed away.

  His eyes focused, and he pushed the succubi’s nude corpse off of him. Her flaming blood spread out across the water, flaring as it met his.

  Matt rolled onto one knee and saw the chaos around him.

  Malcolm hacked Hounacier into the shoulder of an axe-wielding man as he dodged a scaly orange demon’s swing. A flaming wendigo lie at his feet. Allan held back a shrieking woman and a bald, pointed-eared vampire, as he blinked around them with sword swings. Luiza still fought the rakshasa, now visible and bleeding from several wounds.

  There’s so many of them. Matt rose to help his companions. He loaded a fresh round from his belt into Dämoren’s cylinder when a bullet struck him from behind, knocking him down in a jolt of pain.

  He hit the water, still saturated with burning blood, and the wound instantly began to mend.

  Matt turned to see one of the gunmen coming down the slope behind him, carrying a black rifle. The gunman’s eyes widened in surprise, seeing the man he’d just shot rise from the cauldron of violet-red fire. Matt spun Dämoren’s cylinder, aligning the single loaded chamber with the barrel, and fired.

  The silver slug hit the man in the gut. He staggered, then raised his rifle toward Matt. Orange flashed from the muzzle, and Matt threw himself down into the water-filled pit. A shot grazed his leg, and Matt screamed, more in surprise than pain. The demon blood still burning on him soothed and healed it.

  “No!” Luiza cried.

  Gunshots popped from behind and Matt’s would-be killer fell, dying.

  Matt turned to see Luiza racing across the open stretch toward him, saber in one hand, pistol in the other. Her eyes were wide with worry.

  She doesn’t know the blood is still healing me.

  A dark shape flew down from the sky hitting the ground beside her with an earth-shaking thud. A towering, blue oni raised a metal club, resembling a hammered section of railroad track, and swung.

  Luiza sprung back, barely dodging the blurring swing. The oni attacked again, swinging the weapon like a bat. Luiza ducked and rolled out of the way.

  Matt splashed out of the pit and ran toward them, Dämoren in his hand.

  Luiza hacked at the oni, but it jumped back with surprising speed and parried the blade with his steel beam. Feinluna flew from her hand, cast aside like it was nothing at all. Luiza fired her pistol at the monster as she started for her fallen sword, but the bullets, obviously not jade-capped, had no effect. The hulking demon raised its club and smashed it straight down onto the gilded saber, shattering it to pieces.

  Luiza froze, her mouth open. She started at the broken sword. The oni roared. Leaving its club imbedded in the ground, it raised its fist to strike her.

  Matt leapt, grabbing Luiza and knocking her out of the way. They hit the hard-packed mud, and Matt immediately jumped to his feet, putting himself between Luiza and the demon. “Run,” he screamed. Dämoren was empty. He had only her blade.

  Luiza didn’t move.

  The monster charged, and Matt dodged a beefy fist. He hacked Dämoren at the beast’s arm, slinging water. Metal rang as he hit the oni’s crude armor. It growled.

  “Luiza, run!” Matt sprung forward, hoping to take the creature by surprise. He hacked at a sliver of exposed blue skin at its thigh, but the monster side-stepped the attack.

  Forming both hands into a single fist, it swung. Matt moved to dodge the blow but the beast was faster. The fist glanced off Matt’s vest, sending him sprawling to the ground. He gulped like a fish, the breath completely knocked from him.

  A pair of bouncing headlights raced down the l
ong slope across the basin toward them.

  The oni roared at the coming lights, then looked down at Matt, lying at its feet. It raised a fist. Still stunned, Matt couldn’t move. He met the beast’s eyes, readying for the killing blow.

  A shot fired and the unarmored back of the creatures left knee exploded. Violet blood splattered the ground and the beast howled. A second gunshot struck again, and the oni tumbled backward onto the gravel.

  Malcolm ran up behind it, Hounacier in one hand, smoking sawed-off in the other. The oni struggled to rise, but Malcolm rammed the machete straight into the demon’s open mouth. Kicking his foot against the monster’s armored chest, he wrenched the blade free as silver and green fire burst from the dead oni’s mouth and eyes.

  Malcolm looked down at Matt. “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” Matt croaked, struggling to his feet. “Just in time.”

  Malcolm motioned to Luiza. “Get her out of here.” He turned and ran to where Allan still fought back six opponents, blinking around them while hacking his khopesh.

  Luiza had knelt beside the imbedded club gathering pieces of the broken sword.

  Matt touched her shoulder. “Luiza?”

  She turned. Tears streamed down her face. “He’s gone,” Luiza mouthed. “I can’t feel him.”

  Matt met her eyes, seeing her pain. “I’m... We need to move.”

  She nodded absently.

  The hunters’ van tore through the basin toward them, jolting over the white rocky ground as it circled the lagoon. Susumu stood in the open door his long naginata at his side, the ends of his yellow headband flapping behind him.

  “Come on!” Matt lifted Luiza to her feet. She hesitated, and then followed. They ran to meet the oncoming knights.

  The van slid to a stop and Susumu leapt out, carried by his own momentum. The samurai hit the ground running, charging the army of demons and men.

  Luc came out of the passenger door, his mace in hand. He saw Matt, covered in mud and blood, running toward him with Luiza. “Come on!” A bullet shattered the window beside his head, showering him with glass, and Luc crouched behind the door.