Night Slayer 2: Monster Quest

by William Massa

  I steered the boat into the maze of the islands, and after the first few, they blurred together. Reality became an endless blue sea and a never-ending parade of emerald landmasses. Without my magical guidance system, I would have been lost. The red orb danced a few hundred feet up ahead on the ocean, a sharp reminder that there was nothing random about what I was doing here. I was putting my trust into magic, as I had for the last three months.

  I lost all sense of time as the boat sliced through the water. A quick glance at my Timex informed me that at least four hours had passed before the ball of magic zeroed in on one island.

  This was it. I had reached my destination.

  Somewhere up ahead, Diamonique’s bones were hidden. I didn’t dare imagine what supernatural horrors might guard the Guardian’s precious remains.

  My grip tightened on my submachine gun as I steered the craft toward the waiting island. I warily scanned the shoreline. Another boat, similar to mine, had been dragged up onto the narrow strip of sandy beach. Someone else was here. Had the Cabal beaten me to the target?

  I would find out soon enough.

  8

  I pulled my boat onto the beach, the hull skimming the water’s glass-like surface, and secured it to a nearby palm tree. The white sand beautifully contrasted the azure waters and painted skies. Death seemed far away.

  I took in the thick jungle canopy up ahead. An eerie yet familiar quietness enveloped this tropical paradise—a feeling I had most recently experienced in Italy. Something dark and evil dwelled inside the sea of green. Something monstrous. My restlessness was turning into a sense of impending doom.

  Pull yourself together, Marine, I admonished myself and cleared my mind of all negative emotions.

  I walked up to the second barge, which had been secured to the beach in the same matter as my craft. It was larger than my boat, and it was empty. I didn’t think this was the Cabal. Mages would travel in more style. In fact, they’d probably just emerge on the island from some inter-dimensional portal, uncaring of how their magic would react to the island’s wards. No, this boat belonged to someone else. I recalled Octurna mentioning reports of people who had vanished in this area, the most recent story of the missing fashion photographer foremost on my mind.

  I stepped up to the dense, intertwined undergrowth, and my twin knives snapped to attention. Let’s do this! The dual blades lashed out as I cut a swath through the exotic foliage. My eyes remained glued to the red orb which hovered about fifty feet up ahead, focused and alert to every sound and movement. Sweat pearled my forehead, and my combat suit felt sticky against my skin.

  My guard up, I carved a path into the forest. Sunlight shafted through the thick canopy like spotlights. The primordial landscape, with its large plants and towering trees was a place forgotten by time, and I wouldn’t have been all that surprised if a dinosaur poked its head from the foliage. But despite the lush vegetation, there were no signs of animal life. No birds, no monkeys, not even the clicking or buzzing of insects. Silence had fallen over the jungle like a curtain.

  This island was bereft of life.

  After about an hour, I reached a small clearing fronted by a lagoon. The water shimmered in the blazing sun, inviting in the muggy heat. A wall of rocky outcroppings encircled the lagoon. One quick glance at my surroundings confirmed my earlier suspicions. Large reflectors and tripods dominated the landscape, real eyesores in this natural environment. Camera equipment and towels lined the tall grass. This had to be the island where the photo crew had gone missing.

  I searched the clearing and found bags of equipment which contained lenses, speedlights, and diffusers. There was a folding table, a stepladder, lens cloth, and a crate filled with skimpy bathing suits, hair brushes, and a spray bottle filled with what looked like baby oil.

  The photographer and his team must have been in the middle of a shoot when something had interrupted them. I scrutinized the items and spotted a professional camera lying in the tall grass. I scooped up the camera and turned it on, noticing the lens was cracked.

  Hoping to find answers, I went through the last batch of pictures. Shots of a stunning bikini model dominated the set. She was blonde, tanned, and had a smile that could turn men into blubbering, wide-eyed fools. The photos were tasteful and slick and would make a killer calendar. The lagoon backdrop gave the images a primal feel, and I understood why the photographer had picked this location for his shoot. It made the girl seem like an exotic jungle spirit, playing up her nymph-like features. Unfortunately, the photographer hadn’t counted on something monstrous lurking in the jungle that so beautifully framed the pictures.

  Toward the end of the set, the expression on the model’s face changed. Her smile vanished, and fear crept into her features. There were shots of the model turning toward the lagoon, surprise morphing into shock and then terror throughout the next few photographs. The shooter had kept taking pictures even as the mood had drastically changed.

  The last shots were the most haunting ones. There was a glimpse of a shadowy shape at the edge of the frame and a few pics of the screaming crew as they realized a monster had invaded the idyllic setting. The blurry outlines of the attacker raised more questions than it answered. Whether by intention or sheer random luck, the camera had failed to capture a good shot of the monster.

  I lowered the camera, sensing in the pit of my stomach that all help would come too late for those poor souls.

  Up ahead, the glowing beacon hovered over the blue lagoon. Almost as if sensing my gaze, the orb brightened before plunging like a missile into the body of perfect blue water. The red ball pulsed and gleamed under the calm surface.

  Looks like I was going for a swim.

  As a former Marine, water didn’t scare me. But monsters did. Judging by the sick sensation in the pit of my stomach, bones wouldn’t be the only thing waiting for me inside the lagoon.

  I took a few deep breaths, gave myself an internal push and dove headfirst into the glittering water. After suffering through the humid conditions on the island, the water felt refreshing against my skin. As I sliced through the lagoon with powerful strokes, a few things became clear. The magic woven into my uniform had generated a protective air bubble around me, which protected my clothes and gear from getting wet. The magic bubble also allowed me to breathe underwater and gave me perfect vision almost as if I was wearing a diving mask.

  Studying my aquatic surroundings, I realized there were no fish or any other signs of life. Instead, grotesque, froglike statues lined the sandy bottom of the lagoon. The orb’s flashing crimson light bathed the sculptures in an eerie glow, and I almost expected them to spring out at me.

  I swam past the statues and followed the flashing orb as it zipped through the water toward a submerged cave system overgrown with algae. The red ball disappeared inside the yawning black mouth of the cave, and I was foolish enough to follow. Darkness enveloped me. I fought off a wave of claustrophobia and kept going. The orb wouldn’t lead me into a trap. It wanted me to succeed.

  I had to be closing in on Diamonique’s remains. The sooner I got my hands on her bones, the faster I’d get off this forsaken island. Drawing strength from that thought, I doubled my efforts and sliced through the underwater tunnel like an arrow.

  With each stroke, my surroundings grew darker, the walls of the tunnel tightening around me. But I didn’t let that discourage me. I hadn’t come this far to turn back now. As long as the scarlet orb kept moving, I would keep following it—even though an irrational part of my mind suspected it was leading me into the deepest pits of Hell.

  Don’t get overdramatic, I told myself. I knew the Guardian’s remains wouldn’t be out in the open. They make this shit difficult in case anyone should be crazy enough to come looking for the bones of a century-dead combat magician.

  I was glad Octurna couldn’t hear my thoughts at the moment. This might seem like a fool’s errand to me, but for her, this quest was personal.

  Another minute passed before I reac
hed the end of the tunnel. My head popped out of a jagged fissure, and I found myself inside a waterless cave. The cavern was vast, the walls glistening with moisture.

  I pulled myself out of the water onto the stone floor. It felt good to have solid ground under my feet again.

  My clothes and gear were completely dry. Magic sure made life more comfortable. When it wasn’t trying to rip your face off and eat your soul, that is.

  I took a wary step and froze, my next breath caught in my throat. The orb hung in the center of the cavern, illuminating the horror within. Skulls leered back at me wherever I fixed my gaze, too many to count. The remains of hundreds of people filled this cave.

  I clenched my jaw, simmering anger making me forget my fear. Were the bones of the missing photographer and his crew among these bleached remains? And how was I supposed to identify Diamonique’s skeleton among all the others?

  The orb brightened for a second, and crimson lightning forked from the pulsating ball. It sliced toward the wasteland of bones like a laser beam and enveloped one skeleton in a fiery red glow. The message was clear. These were the bones I was after.

  I stepped up to the glowing skeleton, just one of many victims who had ended up in this dark cave. What sort of murderous beast inhabited this island? And why hadn’t it shown itself? Did it fear me, or was it biding its time?

  Didn’t matter. I had a job to do.

  I grimly bagged the remains, performing the grisly task with a singular focus.

  Once the skeleton was secure in my satchel, I turned to the opening that led into the underwater tunnel and back into the lagoon. Even though I had secured my prize, my stomach churned with anxiety. The entire operation felt too easy, and that made me nervous as all hell. I liked to face my enemies head on. Nothing was scarier or more dangerous than a predator that refused to show itself until it you felt its jaw clamp around your throat.

  I took a final look at the cave. I almost thought I had spotted movement among the bleached bones. For a terrifying moment, I imagined all the skeletons coming to life.

  Get a grip on yourself, bud.

  I narrowed my gaze, but nothing happened. The only sound disturbing the silence of this tomb was my breathing. I was alone in the cave.

  Move your ass, Marine, and get the hell out of this place.

  For a change, I listened to my advice and plunged back into the tunnel. Water engulfed me, and I retraced my path through the flooded cave system. Two minutes later, my head burst from the surface of the lagoon, and I swam with strong strokes toward the shoreline.

  I had pulled it off. I had braved the cave and returned to the light with my prize.

  I emerged from the water, welcoming the muggy air after my underwater journey, and started back toward the jungle.

  I planned to use the same path I had hacked into the jungle on my way in. As my eyes combed the dense greenery, my throat tightened with fear. The foliage I’d cut down with my twin blades had regenerated somehow. No trace of the jungle path remained.

  Jesus, what sort of creature could manipulate the environment like this?

  This would slow me down big time. Plus, the disappearance of the jungle trail carried a far darker significance. Whatever monster ruled over this island was aware of my presence. Until this point I had pretended that I’d escaped the beast’s notice. Now I knew better.

  The promise of imminent violence charged the atmosphere. For a moment, I was back in Afghanistan, patrolling war-torn streets, the heavy air tainted with spilled blood and burning rubber. IEDs had changed the game, adding a layer of ever-present danger to the most straightforward missions. Any second spent outside your military base of operation could be your last. Death had lurked in those streets, and the island gave off a similar vibe now.

  I was still processing all of this when a woman’s terrified scream cut through the jungle.

  9

  I whirled, my eyes boring into the wall of green closing in from all directions.

  I made out distorted words. Despite the horror in the screaming woman’s voice, she still articulated one word repeatedly.

  “Help!”

  Help is here, I answered in my mind. Everything will be ok, you’re not alone anymore.

  I followed the scream, letting the desperate sound guide me as I fought my way through the intertwined canopy and tall grass.

  As I drew closer, the cries grew weaker. I scoped the foliage with my dragon blood enhanced senses and caught movement in the trees. My head tilted upward.

  A tall, long-haired figure hung suspended in the vines—the model from the camera roll.

  I froze, transfixed by the horrible sight. Multiple cuts and abrasions covered her lanky body. She still wore the same red bathing suit from the shoot; shredded and torn, it resembled a bunch of rags. Vines had wrapped around the model's arms and torso and held her aloft, her long legs dangling about six feet above me.

  My gaze found hers and locked. Her unblinking eyes regarded me with a crazed expression, her face caked with blood and dirt, a mask of horror, the golden hair unwashed and pasted to her scalp.

  Someone had put the poor girl through the wringer. Anger stirred inside me. I would cut her down if it’s the last goddamn thing I did.

  I slowly brought up the gauntlet’s twin blades. She might mistake my intention and conclude I was here to finish her, so I tried to look as non-threatening as a muscle-bound man in black leather sporting a magical arsenal can be.

  As I reached out for her, the vines came alive and lifted her limp form further into the treetop canopy.

  What the hell?

  The vines moved and slithered like the living tentacles of some beast, animated by an unknown force. More disturbing, the tips of the plants had deeply embedded themselves in the model’s bruised skin, making me think of green IVs.

  I gritted my teeth as grim understanding filled my mind. The trees and vegetation were the enemies here. Fuck, I’d almost prefer fighting vampires again. At least the bloodsuckers made sense.

  A rustling sound filled the jungle. Dark forms shifted in the walls of green.

  I spun around, my dual knives ready to shred any attacker. With growing horror, I realized the model wasn’t the only person hanging in the suffocating air. I spotted three men, their heads slumped forward, vines threaded through their bodies as if the jungle was trying to weave them into itself.

  I swallowed hard, tasting bile in the back of my mouth and wiped the moisture from my brow. No matter how much weird shit I came across, there was always some new nasty surprise waiting around the corner. Shit.

  I was still reeling from this latest sight when the canopy above me shifted again.

  A loud thump echoed through the jungle as the vines released one man. He dropped to the moss-covered ground right in front of me. I cautiously approached the downed figure. Judging from the weird angle of his neck and twisted state of his limbs, he couldn’t be alive anymore.

  I bent over the figure, reached out to check his pulse just in case, and then froze in horror.

  The man’s eyes bolted open, both iris and whites stained dark green. It looked as if the vines had pumped his eyeballs full of chlorophyll. The monstrous eyes glared at me with inhuman hunger.

  I stumbled backward and stared at the monstrosity before me. Green and brown tendrils sprouted from the man's ears and nose and undulated around his face. The plants and roots were inside him, had become a part of his body somehow.

  I stole a glance at the other bodies in the trees, the vines buried deep into their arms and torsos once again making me think of IVs. Perhaps the plants weren’t just feeding on these people—they also changed them. Into what, I did not understand.

  Another rustling sound. A tangle of wild branches exploded from the green-eyed man’s open mouth, animated with unnatural life, and viciously raked my face.

  I recoiled, my blades slashing down on the man as he lunged at me. Deep grooves opened across my attacker’s face and chest as my dual knives laid
open his flesh. Instead of blood, the wounds oozed a green juice. He howled with pain as smoke burst from the cuts.

  Encouraged by this reaction, I brought up my rune-engraved submachine gun and drilled two silver bullets into the transformed man. He went down in a geyser of green.

  One enemy was down, but already the other figures in the trees above were coming alive.

  I shifted my attention to the model. I should turn on my heel and run back to the beach where my boat was waiting for me.

  I shook my head. I wouldn't abandon her. The vines had pierced the woman’s skin, but unlike her unfortunate compatriots, she was still one of us, her eyes human and pleading. And as long as red blood flowed through her veins, I would try to save her.

  First, I would need to cut her down from the trees. As I reached for my silver-chain whip, the jungle stirred again. The vines uncoiled and released the two remaining men. This time they landed with panther-like grace on the forest floor and sprang in my direction. Green eyes locked on me, and vines spilled from their mouths and noses like insectile feelers.

  I stood my ground as my silver-chain whip sliced the air, cutting the plant monsters down like weeds.

  As they slumped to the mossy earth, their skin melded with the plants, becoming one with the jungle. Nasty. And distracting.

  But that had been my enemy’s point all along. The transformed men were appendages of a much larger and far more terrifying creature. They had never been the real danger.

  I neither heard nor saw the tangle of descending vines behind me. Thick, creeping plants wrapped around my arms and tightened around neck. Desperate for oxygen, my hands went for the vine choking the life out of me.

  I was still trying to hook my fingers under the creeper when I was lifted into the air. One moment I was touching the ground; the next, I found myself suspended about ten feet above the jungle floor below, level with the model. Despite my training, the island had gotten the drop on me.