Night Slayer 2: Monster Quest

by William Massa

  Naja nodded, her eyes huge, and made her way toward one of the broken factory windows. She flashed me a final smile as she prepared to jump out. This time there was something different in her gaze. Something of the human girl she must have been once upon a time.

  “What’s your name, monster hunter?”

  “Jason Night,” I said despite myself.

  “You’re a real asshole, Jason, but you sure as hell taste good.”

  And with those classy parting words, the vampire disappeared through the window and became one with the night.

  2

  The wind tousled my hair as I screamed down the city streets on my magical motorcycle. Octurna had nicknamed the bike Nighthawk—talk about being a smartass. My last name had been the brunt of many a bad pun over the years. I was used to such jokes and even smiled at many of them. Between high school, the military, and SWAT, I had heard every variation of my name. Night Terror, Dark Night, Night Clubber, and the Nightmare had been some of the more memorable ones .

  And now I was the Night Slayer.

  I guess I was moving up in the world.

  With every slain beast, my powers grew and my command of magic improved, yet I felt restless and unsatisfied. I was tired of fighting low-level baddies like the vampires and collecting their heads for my boss. I wanted to go after the masterminds who orchestrated this horror show instead of the bit players. I had been at this game for a few months now and still barely knew anything about the inner workings of the Shadow Cabal.

  “Don’t be so eager to get yourself killed, Jason,” said Octurna.

  “Ah, there you are. Has anyone ever told you it’s kinda creepy to read people’s minds?”

  “I can only pick up the thoughts you subconsciously want to share with me. Your deepest secrets remain safely locked away in your head.

  Was the sorceress telling the truth? Did it even matter? Octurna lived by her own rules.

  “So how much longer before we go after the Seven Dark Masters?”

  “When you’re ready.”

  “And when is that going to be?”

  “You’re still exploring and discovering your new abilities. You need more time before you can face the real enemy.”

  I’d heard that tone in her voice before. The tone that meant I was asking too many questions, pushing too hard. End of conversation.

  I pushed all thoughts of future battles aside and focused instead on the road. To the few city dwellers who shuffled through the urban sprawl at this ungodly hour of the night, my bike probably appeared as a violent streak of power and light. And don’t even get me started on the anti-theft features this baby was packing. Octurna might be a pain in my ass sometimes, but this job was not without its perks.

  I rounded a corner and shot toward the boarded-up department store at the end of the block. The decaying structure looked like another casualty of the e-commerce revolution. No one would have suspected that the building hadn’t even been part of the city’s steel-and-cement landscape until a few hours ago.

  Octurna could will her magical fortress to materialize anywhere in the world. The structure never looked the same on the outside—the sorceress’ magic allowed her castle to blend in with any environment. In a densely populated urban area it might be camouflaged as a cathedral or, case in point, a department store that had seen better days, only to manifest as a chapel or abandoned farmhouse in the countryside a second later. Only the most psychically gifted people would sense the disguised fortress hadn’t been there before.

  As I drew closer to the cloaked castle, I spotted two dimly visible silhouettes hovering behind the grime-encrusted glass double-doors. From this angle, the shapes appeared to be faceless mannequins, spooky twin sentinels guarding a place that had long ago shut its doors to the public. I knew differently. Octurna’s two magical constructs—Nuala and Zemira—were here to greet me.

  The doors parted just as I reached them. A beat later, my cycle came to a stuttering halt inside a vast chamber that shared little in common with the rundown department store facade. Back in the real world, if you pressed your face against the dirt-caked windows, you would have seen rows of empty, dust-covered shelves and display stands. But once inside, everything was entirely different. I found myself in a medieval castle straight out of some fantasy novel or video game.

  Welcome to Octurna’s fortress, the Sanctuary. My home.

  Burning torches grew from the high stone walls as I approached. As the fire chased away the darkness, more details became visible. Occult books, scrolls, and mystical texts lined the far wall of the chamber while the double-doors behind me had transformed into a bank of stained-glass church windows, adding to the feeling that I was in some cathedral or temple. Each multi-colored window appeared to depict some mythological scene, but when you got up close, the images in the windows moved and became real glimpses at the outside world. You might see Mexican kids playing soccer in some Guadalajara slum, smartly dressed professionals navigating the bustling streets of New York, or tourists strolling down the beaches of the French Riviera—snapshots of the various dramas unfolding across the planet. The windows acted as a magical surveillance system that monitored the world for hotspots of supernatural activity.

  A lovely collection of monster skulls was on display in the center of the large room. My new partner had a thing for hoarding the skulls of her fallen enemies. Hey, I guess we all need a hobby. Considering that the Cabal and its inhuman minions had slaughtered everyone the sorceress had ever cared for made this creepy behavior a little more understandable. In the last few weeks, I had added my fair share of skulls to Octurna’s fast-growing museum of death. The only reason I hadn’t bothered with the heads of my most recent kills was simple—vampires just weren’t all that impressive once you had a dragon skull as the centerpiece of your trophy collection.

  My gaze fixed on the large, elevated throne carved from black rock that faced the flashing magical windows. Octurna spent most of her time ensconced in her imposing command chair, her magnetic gaze riveted to the ever-shifting bank of windows and the myriad of stories unfolding beyond them. Not tonight though. The throne was empty.

  I killed the Nighthawk’s rumbling engine and dismounted. Crackling beams of energy oozed off my body and shot into the walls and floor of the chamber as the magic I had absorbed from the slain vampires fed back into the fortress. During my first hunts, Octurna had ingested this energy directly, but she’d grown much stronger since then. Now all my excess magic rushed into our base of operation, which in essence was an extension of the sorceress. I know, it’s all pretty trippy. Around here, it’s often best to just go with the flow. Otherwise, you’ll end up with a migraine.

  As the final burst of power drained off me, I waved at the two golems who had ceased to resemble nude store mannequins and reverted to their usual eerily charming selves—faceless wraiths enswathed in black robes and raised cowls. They looked like something out of a horror movie, but I wasn’t afraid of them. The two golems had been Octurna’s sole companions in this castle over the last century. They could look like anyone, male or female, but seemed to prefer this faceless, Halloween-mask state.

  What Nuala and Zemira lacked in natural charm, they made up for in their undying loyalty to their creator and an impressive, almost feral fighting spirit. They were fierce guardians, fierce fighters, and fierce lovers—qualities I had experienced firsthand since my arrival in this dark yet wondrous place.

  If I’m being honest, the two creepy phantoms had grown on me. And after my disturbingly erotic encounter with the Strigoi, I was relieved to back in the relatively normality of the enchanted fortress. Sure, I might live here with an ageless sorceress and a couple of shape-shifting mannequins, but at least no one here had ever tried to bite my junk off.

  “So anything new around these parts?” I quipped.

  The two golems faced me in blank silence. I guess it was a slow news day. I stole a glance at the empty throne.

  “Where is our lovely mis
tress?”

  “The sorceress has retired for the evening,” the golem on the right explained.

  That was out of character for Octurna. I couldn’t recall her ever having to catch up on her Z’s before and wasn’t buying this whole ‘needing to rest’ story. What was the sorceress really up to? Something was going on here. And I had a feeling it had something to do with the Ravanok Coven.

  I shrugged, doing my best not to dwell on it any further. “I guess I’ll see in her in the morning.”

  The two constructs turned to watch me as I made my way to the chamber’s exit.

  “Are you too weary for company, Jason?” Nuala asked. Octurna’s inhuman servants looked identical in their golem form, but I had learned to tell them apart by the sound of their voices. Nuala’s voice possessed a sexy huskiness which contrasted nicely with Zemira’s more high-pitched, softer tone.

  Her mannequin face morphed into the stunning, sun-kissed visage of the woman I had made love to the first week I’d arrived in the castle. A dark mane of hair framed vaguely Japanese features. My body stirred at the glimpses of the firm yet curvy flesh under the living mannequin’s billowing robe.

  Tempting…but no. It wasn’t right.

  Our first encounter had been raw, heated, animalistic, unencumbered by emotion. Like any red-blooded American male, I hadn’t been able to resist Nuala and Zemira when they’d shown up nude in my grotto bathtub, but since then I’d refused their company. I wasn’t sure why. To my mind, the constructs were nothing but magical robots following Octurna’s commands. I liked it when desire was mutual, and the golems couldn’t—

  I met Nuala’s searching, eager eyes, and for a moment my mind went blank.

  Was I imagining things? Nuala’s dark gaze was filled with longing. Could the golem’s interest be genuine? But how was that possible? According to Octurna, the golems were thinking, feeling beings, but did that mean they also had a libido? Part of me wanted to believe that the gorgeous woman before me was eager to warm my bed. But another, more rational part suspected that this was just another one of Octurna’s games. She wanted me distracted for some reason. After all, this was her rodeo—nothing happened within the walls of the fortress without Octurna’s knowledge and approval.

  Still, seeing the desire in the golem’s expression flamed my passion, and I felt myself getting hard. I’d need a cold shower after this, but I shook my head.

  Nuala almost seemed disappointed at my refusal of her offer. “Why do you keep refusing me, Slayer? Don’t I please you?”

  “N-no, you’re lovely…” I stammered.

  Nuala sighed. “Your heart burns for another, doesn’t it?”

  Now we were getting closer to the truth. My heart belonged another woman. Make that two women.

  Told you my life is complicated.

  There was Octurna, of course. And then there was Keira, the journalist whose life I had recently saved in Malibu.

  As I watched, Nuala’s familiar features shifted to resemble Kiera’s. I tried not to show my surprise but failed miserably as my jaw hit the floor. Nuala normally preferred to communicate with sharp-edged weapons in the sparring arena. This caught me completely off guard. After weeks of eerie silence, she was turning into quite the little inquisitor. And manipulator.

  “If you care about this woman, why did you leave her apartment after your first night together?”

  Because I’m a goddamn idiot, I wanted to blurt out. But I just stared at the golem with a dumbfounded expression. It was a good, legitimate question. Why had I hightailed it out of Keira’s place the morning after?

  My mind flashed back to the night we’d spent together after my first Cabal victory. The next morning, I had been the first one to wake. As I took a look around Keira’s Santa Monica apartment while she peacefully slept, a wave of doubt hit me. The framed pictures of family and friends, the shelves stuffed with books and souvenirs of her travels—this woman had a life. Best if I gave her a chance to live it. Granted, she was an investigative journalist willing to take risks for a good story, but that was different from signing up for some crazy war against magic and monsters. The cost for joining forces with me was just too high.

  A ringing doorbell thrust me out of my thoughts. I felt Keira stir in her bedroom, and I took a quick step toward the door. A glance through the peephole showed a handsome young man waiting outside. Judging by the concerned expression in the fellow’s face, he was more than just a friend or a coworker. And I doubted it would thrill him to find a strange man in bed with his girl.

  “Octurna, get me out of here.”

  Almost immediately, the nearest window transformed into a doorway to the fortress.

  I swiftly snatched my clothes and strode toward the shimmering doorway. I almost made it through the magical gateway when a bleary-eyed Keira emerged from her bedroom. Our eyes met for a second. Then the apartment vanished, and I was back in the fortress.

  That had been three months ago.

  I had tried not to think about her.

  I had failed miserably.

  I wheeled away from Nuala, still wearing Keira’s face, and to my surprise, the real Keira stared back at me from one of the stained-glass windows. Had my own memories magically influenced the windows somehow and forced them to lock on the reporter? Or was this Nuala’s doing?

  I took a few steps toward the flickering window. Keira sat in some fancy eatery and kept checking the time on her phone. A second familiar figure joined her in the restaurant. It was the young man who had shown up at her place that morning. He greeted her with a hug and a warm kiss, confirming to me that he was more than a friend.

  I’d seen enough. I made the right decision leaving Keira’s apartment. The passion we’d shared that night was the result of nearly escaping a fate worse than death. She had a life to go back to, one that didn’t include monsters.

  Or me.

  I wordlessly brushed past the golems and stepped through the steel-reinforced wooden door. My gut churned as I made my way down the torch-lit stone hallway which led to my quarters. My footsteps echoed forlornly as the endless vaulted corridor stretched out before me, a reminder that Octurna’s fortress was vast. Even though I’d spent the last three months within the castle’s stone walls, I’d barely explored its many levels, chambers, and secrets.

  The fortress was both a sanctuary and a prison for the sorceress. The Cabal had put a death spell on Octurna which she hadn’t been able to lift. Setting foot in the real world would kill her instantly, and she’d been trapped within these walls for nearly a century. The only advantage was that time passed slower here, which explained why the sorceress had barely aged in the past hundred years. Octurna was smoking hot for a woman of any age, much less someone who had witnessed World War I firsthand. Physically, she hadn’t changed too much in the last century. As to her mental state—well, that was a different story. No one could go through the psychological ordeal she’d experienced and emerge unscathed.

  I guess we had that in common.

  I arrived at my chambers and immediately plopped down on the bed without even getting undressed. Despite my weariness, I couldn’t fall asleep. Too many questions raced through my mind, and my thoughts kept returning to Octurna and Keira. After about an hour of tossing and turning, I gave up, rose to my feet, and headed to the arena. My muscles were still sore from my little sparring match with the vampires, but I didn’t care. My restless mind needed to release energy. What better way to do that than to kick some ass?

  The training chamber resembled a small medieval arena, a circular pit about twenty-five feet in diameter with a sand floor ringed by ten-feet high walls. Stone bleachers enclosed the combat area. She loved to watch my progress as I sparred with the two golems using both magic and my arsenal of monster hunting weapons, but tonight the seats were all empty, and I spotted no sign of the enigmatic sorceress.

  I didn’t have to hold back within these walls. These were matches to the death, the arena’s sorcery able to heal any injury
no matter how grievous. I could lose a limb or be stabbed only to find myself fully restored at the end of the fight.

  I took a deep breath, and my index finger depressed the button on my gauntlet that made the two blades snap to attention.

  I brought the twin knives up and sliced the air with fearsome energy, in my mind battling invisible foes. I guess I hadn’t gotten my fill of combat for the night. From the corner of my eye, I caught movement—the golems had decided to join me in the arena. Although they were back to being faceless figures in hooded robes, the golems each held their preferred weapons. Nuala sported two short swords while Zamira expertly wielded a fearsome battle ax and a multi-tail whip. I guess they were feeling equally restless.

  I welcomed their arrival. I wanted to get my hands dirty.

  “Alright, ladies, show me what you got,” I said.

  The golems attacked, eager to test me in battle. Metal clanged against metal as I swiftly brought up the double blades of my gauntlet. The next few minutes became a blur of flashing steel and moving limbs as I parried and blocked one expert strike after another. Sweat masked my face within a minute of going toe-to-toe with these two furies.

  Zamira’s whip lashed out at me, but I anticipated the attack. The twin knives of the gauntlet shot up and became entangled in the leather tails, yanking the whip out of her hand. Furious, Zamira advanced with her ax, but I quickly scooped up the whip and used the weapon against her. The tails of the whip snapped out at her and coiled around the hand holding the ax, forcing the golem to let go.

  This barely bought me a breather as Nuala rushed at me. I spun toward her, blocking the vicious blow of one of her short swords with my gauntlet. The violent impact yanked the first sword out of her hand. Steel sparked, and a shockwave traveled all the way up my arm and into my shoulder. My leg snaked out and connected with her robed chest.

  Nuala let out a guttural cry as she staggered back. I closed in on her, a force of nature. She tried to parry the next blow with her remaining short sword, but I tightened my hand around her wrist before she could strike a blow against me. I twisted violently, my lip stretched into a snarl, and she dropped the second sword. I rammed my knee into her gut for good measure, and she collapsed on the dusty ground. I sucked in a lungful of air.