Night Slayer 2: Monster Quest

by William Massa

  One of the Guardians freed his leg from the sticky mass with a sickening, sucking sound, revealing a bloody stump. The flesh-eating house had sheared off his leg right below the knee.

  The house was alive. And it was hungry.

  The walls around the screaming man melted and flowed over him, consuming flesh as it engulfed them. I thought of The Blob, which had been one of my favorite horror films as a kid. Suddenly the movie didn’t seem quite so entertaining.

  The screen darkened, sparing me further grisly details.

  “So this hospital is like this mansion that killed those Guardians?’

  Octurna nodded.

  “How do we shut this fucking place down?” I said, my jaw tight with anger.

  A dark smile played across the sorceress’ features, giving her beauty a scary quality.

  “You will enter this facility, locate Nicole Zamorra, and break both her and Diamonique’s soul out of that asylum.”

  “Won’t the asylum try to gobble me up the moment I walk in there?”

  “Whoever said you would set foot in the hospital?”

  I stared at Octurna in confusion. She nodded at the window, which had changed again.

  On-screen, an ambulance screamed down a country road. The window’s magical camera passed through the ambulance and landed in the rear of the vehicle. A man lay on a stretcher, surrounded by EMT workers. Straps restrained his body, his gaze wildly ticking back and forth.

  “Where are you bastards taking me?” he asked, but no one gave him an answer.

  I was still trying to understand why the sorceress would show me this when Octurna zeroed in on me with lightning speed. Before I knew what was happening, her long-nailed hand plunged right into my chest. I stared at the sorceress’s hand, feeling betrayed. And then she ripped out a ball of hot, glowing energy.

  Reality grew cloudy, and my perspective shifted. I could see myself standing next to the sorceress, a soulless puppet like Diamonique. I realized that Octurna had torn my essence out of my physical self. Without asking for permission or giving me any kind of warning.

  And then I felt myself being projected out at the magical window. Horror exploding inside of me, I hurtled toward the wide-eyed man in the ambulance.

  13

  There was a blinding flash of light, and a new reality confronted me. I found myself in the screaming ambulance staring up at the brutes who called themselves orderlies.

  The sorceress had torn out my soul and flung my astral form through the magical window into the man strapped down on the stretcher.

  I was on my way to the Murtaugh Hill State Hospital.

  Tied to a gurney. Unarmed. My magic tapped out.

  Fuck.

  I tried to move and let out a pained gasp. The leather belts securing me to the stretcher bit into my skin. Damn, the straps were so tight that even wriggling my big toe sent a jolt of agony through my new body.

  The face of my host twisted with anger. The beefy orderlies saw it as another gesture of defiance and grinned at my helpless fury. Ironically, my rage wasn’t directed at them but the sorceress. She hadn’t bothered to ask me how I felt about having my soul torn from me and shoved into someone else. Hmm, I wonder why?

  “I’m sorry, Jason.” Octurna’s telepathic apology almost sounded genuine. “I knew you might hesitate.”

  “Might? Are you out of your mind?”

  “Your anger tells me I made the right choice. I didn’t have time to waste on arguing with you, Slayer. I wish there were another way.”

  “I thought this was a partnership. Partners respect each other.”

  “We’re not cops, Jason. We're at war. The stakes are just too high. None of this is personal.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  A dangerous undercurrent edged into Octurna’s voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I saw how you looked at Diamonique.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous. I’m fucking pissed. You didn’t even give me a warning.”

  The sorceress grew silent on the other end.

  “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I’m letting myself get carried away by my emotions.”

  “If you want this partnership to work, you need to play by the rules, Octurna. Every time I go out there, I risk my life. I deserve to know what I’m getting myself into.”

  “Then you need to listen to me now,” Octurna said, unable to disguise the impatience in her voice. “I won’t be able to stay in touch once you reach the asylum. And that should be at any moment now.”

  I grumbled under my breath but swallowed my pride and held my tongue. Whatever the sorceress was about to share with me would be crucial for the successful completion of the mission. Now that I had a chance to calm down, I could even understand why she had done the ol’ soul switcheroo. Octurna had recognized an opportunity—a patient on his way to the psychiatric facility—and had seized it without hesitation. No one could ever accuse her of being indecisive.

  “You’re about to enter a building that is alive, Slayer. The good news is that the asylum won’t be able to detect your astral form. At least not immediately.”

  That was a reassuring thought. Another question came to mind. “How do I get around the place while stuck in this body?”

  “Once inside the facility, project your astral body out of your current host and locate Nicole Zamora.”

  I shook my head. Octurna was talking about astral projection like it was the most normal thing in the world.

  “Quick newsflash, lady: Soul-hopping isn’t like taking a walk in the park.”

  “You’ll need to learn quickly, Jason. You only have an hour to complete this mission before you have to return to your body.”

  “What are you saying? What happens if I don’t make it back in time?”

  Oturna’s silence told me everything I needed to know.

  If I missed my window, there would be consequences. Bad ones. The type where I would remain trapped as a disembodied spirit on Earth for the rest of my days.

  Let’s say I didn’t want that to happen.

  “I’m sorry. I saw an opportunity. And I seized it,” Octurna said, and I wondered whether she was trying to convince me or herself. “There was no other—”

  Before I could tell her what I thought of her ruthless Machiavellian methods, our communication broke off. And that meant I had reached my destination.

  The ambulance slowed, confirming my suspicion. This plan was falling apart pretty much from the start. Had Octurna needed to share any other information with me? There was no way to know now. I would have to improvise, make it up as I went along.

  The primary aim was to break Nicole Zamora out of the asylum. That would be a hell of a lot easier if I wasn’t stuck in this middle-aged, out-of-shape body. And who was this guy, anyway?

  As soon as the question popped into my head, the answer came. It was almost like I had hacked the memories of the person whose body I had taken over. The man’s name was Anton Novak, age 57, a retired teacher and hobbyist podcaster as well as a conspiracy nut. He had posted many videos on YouTube which speculated that a secret society pulled the strings of reality from behind the scenes. His YouTube channel was gaining thousands of new listeners every week. No wonder the Cabal was looking to shut him up and ruin his reputation. He was shining an embarrassing light on their clandestine organization.

  Anton Novak was about to become the latest casualty in the war between good and evil.

  Unless I did something about it.

  My invasion of Novak's body and mind had submerged his personality and placed him in something like a magical coma. Once I evacuated my host, he would wake up and remember our shared time together like a bad dream. I didn’t plan on hanging around for long in the poor guy’s head.

  The ambulance stopped, and my full attention fixed on the orderlies.

  Here we go.

  They checked my restraints and tightened the belts holding
me down, making each breath an agonizing exercise. Going by their grins, they were enjoying this a tad too much. Fucking sadistic bastards.

  I bit back what I thought of their mothers and promised myself to wipe those smirks off their meaty faces before the day was over. Better to save my rage for the task ahead. For now, I would play along.

  They lowered the stretcher out of the ambulance and wheeled me through the asylum’s garage bay.

  My gurney rolled passed some armed guards and a second ambulance parked in the bay, wheels screeching. We reached a steel door that opened with a metallic creak. Looking at the solid walls and ceiling, I had a hard time believing that this building was, in fact, a living creature. Did the staff know they spent their working days in the guts of a monstrous beast that could consume them at the slightest whim? I doubted it. They were Cabal followers, but not mages or supernaturals. Just ordinary people who were backing the wrong team. What was the secret organization offering them in exchange for their loyalty and souls?

  Best not to dwell on it.

  The meatheads shoved me through the door, which slammed shut behind me, bolts snapping into place with a chilling sense of finality. We shot down a sterile corridor, my eyes riveted on the metal pipes that ran along the ceiling. The overpowering scent of Lysol hung in the air, almost if the cleaning staff believed their efforts could both scrub out stains and cleanse the ward’s troubled inmates of their demons.

  Harsh neon light washed over my face as the wheels bounced into a creaking elevator. We climbed a few floors before we stopped, and the doors rumbled open. More winding, mazelike corridors followed, each one more oppressive and uglier than the last. I made mental notes of where we turned, absorbing as many details as possible. This facility was a giant maze. Committing even the most trivial detail to my mind might help me escape later.

  Doors aligned with the hallway on both sides. I picked up my fair share of anguished wails and mad cackles as we rolled along. Every one of these rooms housed a broken soul. The years of physical suffering and psychological toil were not the worst part of their horrible journey. Ultimately, the building would consume them, flesh, bone, and soul.

  With those fun thoughts going through my mind, my ride into the dark heart of the forsaken asylum continued.

  After a few more minutes, I finally arrived in my future home—a lovely padded cell that would allow me to bang my head against its walls to my heart’s content.

  The orderlies unstrapped me from the stretcher, and I let them stuff me into a straightjacket. I toyed with the idea of making a break for it but decided against such a rash maneuver. This building could strip me of my flesh before the first orderly hit the floor. And I doubted this body could take a punch or generate enough force to knock the beefy bastards out.

  Octurna possessed a Machiavellian streak, but she wouldn’t have sent me on a suicide mission. She believed I could pull this off. I would bide my time, come up with a plan. In less than twenty minutes.

  No pressure.

  Once the last belt of the straightjacket was tight and secure, the orderlies dragged my ass into the cell. The door fell shut and blended in with the rubber walls. Cocooned in a windowless place with nothing to occupy my mind but my rising terror.

  I took deep breaths and focused on this simple function of my body which remained under my control. In and out, measured inhalations.

  The next breath caught in my throat as the ceiling ballooned toward me. For a freaked-out second, I panicked. Had I been made? Was the game up already?

  Then I realized this must be the initiation ritual for new patients, the moment when your average arrival would have lost their shit. Not that I fared that much better. Melting walls had a way of messing with your head. Even if you weren’t insane when you got here, you sure would be within a few nights.

  I choked out a scream, playing the role of a rational man confronted with an irrational horror. It didn’t take a lot of acting to pull off.

  The bulging ceiling drew closer, only a few feet separating it from blanketing my face. I caught moving shapes in the walls, the outlines of past victims struggling against the pliable geometry of the place. They yearned to break free of their eternal prison. Pitiful moans echoed in the cell and reverberated deep inside me.

  Death wasn’t final in this cursed place, that much was certain. The spirits of the deceased patients lingered in the walls of the structure, damned to suffer until the end of time.

  Or until someone tore this dump down.

  Just before the padded ceiling reached me, reality returned to normal like nothing weird had ever happened.

  The asylum likes to play games, I realized. It tested the poor souls housed within its walls. This was just a little taste of what it could do.

  I didn’t plan on hanging around long enough for this place to push me to the brink. Time to find Nicole Zamora.

  Easier said than done.

  I had to remind myself that this wasn’t my body. I was just a passenger along for the ride. Anton might be buckled into a straightjacket and locked in a cell, but yours truly could—apparently—go wherever I wanted. So, how to detach my astral form from my host body? Somehow Octurna had never covered that in Magic 101.

  I drew on my experience with the Teleportation and Ghosting Spells. It was a delicate balance of imagining the desired results and opening the channels within oneself to make it happen. I focused and turned inward, shutting out the details of my not-so-pleasant surroundings. I visualized myself taking flight and drifting toward the rubber walls, saw my ghost form leave this husk and float away.

  At first, nothing happened, but I kept at it. Years of military service had given me discipline over my body and mind. I liked to joke around a lot, which made people forget how relentless and laser-focused I could be. Octurna hadn’t recruited me for my good looks or bad puns. I was a professional and highly effective soldier, not because I was the strongest or fastest but because I never lost sight of the goal. I never gave up. And I could be one hell of a bastard if the situation called for it.

  I kept trying to break my spirit out of this body. Don’t ask me how long it took. All I knew is that at some point I felt myself growing light as a feather and rising toward the ceiling. I looked down at the body I had borrowed and would have whooped with joy if I wasn’t scared out of my wits.

  I floated toward the cell door, adrift, struggling to operate in this weightless, disembodied state. The asylum didn’t respond to my astral form. I remained invisible to its senses. At last, a little good news.

  I looked down at my ghost body, which looked like a transparent version of my flesh-and-blood self. I even sported the fractal tats Octurna had transferred onto me. The sorceress' magic had been burned into my soul. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but now was not the time to do any soul searching. No pun intended.

  My first order of business was get out of this cell. My astral form would have to pass through the rubber walls of the living asylum. Would the maneuver trigger a response from the structure? Only one way to find out.

  I concentrated, saw myself moving toward the wall. I imagined swimming through the air as if I was underwater. The next moment, I hurtled at the rubber wall and passed through it.

  For a horrifying second, my spirit was inside the living walls of the beast. Terrible sights bombarded me there. I swam through an ocean of darkness filled with nebulous forms. Ghostly apparitions drifted past me like human flotsam. Emaciated, pale-faced creatures, their bloodless lips distorted in the rictus of screams. Hollow sockets pointed blindly into space, while sharp-toothed black shadows nibbled away at their hazy, flailing bodies like ghostly piranhas. The blob-like entities took bites from the sightless ghosts, tearing at waxy flesh that kept regenerating, trapping them in a vicious cycle of never-ending agony.

  This fucking place was worse than any hell I could imagine.

  I recoiled from the sight of all these tormented souls, terror racing through my ghost form. My sanity buckled,
and I wanted to scream.

  One body spun in my direction, a school of the energy parasites in hot pursuit. The goddamn beasts had no intention of letting this tasty morsel get away. Or me, for that matter. Already, I sensed them moving in my direction.

  The creatures rippled toward me with blinding speed.

  Seconds before the energy beasts could chomp down on me, I emerged from the inner wall and popped into the corridor. For a beat, I spun ass over teakettle through the sterile hallway. I regained control of my movements and froze in mid-air. Two nurses appeared in front of me and pushed a gurney with another hapless patient right through my ghost form. The penetration of my physical space filled me with fresh horror. I gasped as the pulsating insides of these living people flashed before me, the hammering of their hearts and rush of blood threatening to overwhelm my senses.

  I hovered in the air as the two orderlies and the stretcher disappeared down the hallway. I shook all over, and I stared at the cracked ceiling in desperate need of a paint job.

  A little more of this, and I would lose my mind.

  I calmed my raging emotions, centered myself and tried to not dwell on the most recent horror. How long had I been moving through the inner walls of the living asylum? It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but it had felt much longer. I stared at the walls, floor, and ceiling with raw fear. If my ghost form touched the physical structure, it would trigger a return trip to the dimension of fear.

  I hung there for another moment, almost expecting the asylum to engulf my spirit form, but no such thing happened. The energy vampires inside the walls had detected my presence, but the hospital still wasn’t fully aware of its ghostly intruder. I planned on keeping it that way.

  Instead, I concentrated on forward movement and shot down the length of the austere hallway. I surged past the holding cells, refusing to pause and look inside. There was nothing I could do for these unfortunate patients. Weirdly enough, an irrational part of my mind feared that if I peeked into the cells, I’d find Keira imprisoned in one of the rubber chambers. This place existed to silence people who challenged the Cabal, after all.