Hunter of the Damned

by Jennifer Martucci

  “You may look upon me, Crocell,” Agares says.

  His overhanging forehead rises slightly and the nostrils of his upturned snout flare. He smiles, or does something that resembles a smile. Two large canines, pointed and waiting like spears, jut from his a considerable underbite, too large to fit inside his mouth. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Tell me, how is it you roam unnoticed?” Agares eyes Crocell from head to toe again, taking him in. Every inch of him a predator through and through.

  Crocell’s heavy brow lifts so that his eyes round before narrowing impishly. “Can I show you my lord?”

  “I would like that very much.” Agares nods.

  Crocell rolls his neck and closes his eyes and for a moment, the air is utterly still, as if all molecular energy in the universe is waiting with Agares. Within seconds, a sound akin to old towels being ripped fills the air and the tissue beneath Crocell’s skin ripples, rising and swelling as muscle and fat reconfigures. The faint echo of bone restructuring, bending and fusing into place pops and crackles. His facial characteristics begin to transform, a burbling brew of cartilage and collagen smoothing so that the face disappears altogether. Then little by little, a small nose pokes free and then lips, the top one very thin and the lower one thicker. Eyes form. The face is human. Crocell’s spine shortens. His shoulders narrow, and fours arms and shoulders are absorbed by his body.

  Agares’s lips hook into an amused smile. He’d seen many truly amazing feats in his life, seen lives claimed in savagery so thorough, so meticulous, he’d nearly clapped with joy. But nothing quite compares to this. What he’s witnessed is impressive.

  Within moments, a being completely different from Crocell stood before him.

  Tall and fair of hair and complexion with closely cropped blonde hair, pale lashes and navy-blue eyes, the beast had morphed from his true form to a façade so convincing even Agares was impressed.

  “What do you call yourself in this mortal shell?” Agares couldn’t help but ask.

  “Ed,” the beast replies in a smoother, human voice, fairly spitting the word.

  “Ed?” Agares spits the monosyllabic word with disdain. He couldn’t conceive of a more pedestrian designation. Even by mortal name standards, which were meaningless and unimaginative at best.

  Watching Ed with his long limbs and goofy, useless, even-toothed grin as he rocks back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels with his hands stuffed in his pockets, Agares resists the urge to punch him in his bulbous, pug-like nose. He realizes the need to be less than average by revolting human standards but still finds it a chore to look at him. Allowing his eyes to inspect Crocell’s physique that feeling multiplies tenfold. Shoulders too narrow for his six-foot-four frame and a small potbelly that sits above a high waist, Agares shudders. To make matters worse, this “Ed” Crocell had created appears to be aged around forty yet dresses like a man far younger. A zip-up sweatshirt with a store logo on the space where a heart should be if he had one and another logo T-shirt on beneath sits atop jeans and brightly-colored designer running sneakers. The overall presentation is neither fashionable nor remotely attractive. In fact, it’s garish and offensive to anyone with taste.

  “Please, Crocell, I can’t look at you like that.” Agares waves his hand in front of his face as if fanning an offensive odor.

  “Aplogies, my lord,” Crocell replies before transforming back to his demon form.

  “That’s better,” Agares says and doesn’t bother masking the relief in his tone. He inhales deeply and splays his arms wide. “It begins here. Our time is now. The future begins.”

  Dipping his head deferentially, Crocell says, “My, Lord, it is good to see you again. It has been far too long.”

  “Indeed it has.” Agares smiles. “We are here to stay, my friend.”

  Crocell beams at the term “friend”. “I will not fail you.”

  “Good. Now go upstairs, kill the woman and children that are sleeping and do a thorough sweep of the property to ensure no one else is present.”

  “As you wish, my lord.” Crocell bows before disappearing down the hallway to the staircase.

  Within seconds, bloodcurdling screams and desperate pleas are all he hears. A murderous melody to his ears, Agares fills his lungs and closes his eyes. The war has begun. His rightful throne would be claimed.

  Chapter 5

  ̴ Daniel ̴

  Frustration mounts as I sit with my arms folded across my chest in the backseat of Luke’s car. He’s been driving for hours and my legs ache from the limited amount of space his sports car provides. I’m tired, hungry and thirstier than I’ve ever been. The only sound that’s filled the small area thus far has been the continual hum of the tires racing over pavement, and the occasional sound of my stomach growling. Music would be nice. Conversation would be better. Without a window to stare out, my only view is the top of Luke’s head directly in front of me and locks of hair the color of flames diagonally across from me.

  Between the tense silence and the fact that I could eat my shoe if I had a packet each of salt and pepper, I feel as if something inside me is stretched so thin it could snap. I want to shout. I want to talk about what happened back at the field, about what’s happening now and about Luke’s claim that Servants of the Underworld are hunting us. I want out of the car. I want to eat.

  Unable to sit still and keep quiet for a moment longer, I fidget and try to move toward the middle of the back seat and lean forward a bit. “So, what’s your name?” I direct my question to the girl in the passenger seat.

  “Scarlett. But you knew that because you heard Luke say my name,” she answers coldly as she calls me out for trying anything to break the silence. Her words are clipped, laced with an emotion that borders on contempt. Her demeanor almost reminds me of my sister, Kiera’s demeanor when she’d address me. Thinking of Kiera softens me.

  “I’m Daniel. People call me Danny, or at least they used to call me Danny.” I mumble the last part of that sentence more to myself than to her.

  “Does it look like I care?” She turns to face me, amber eyes flashing with scorn I can’t understand.

  My head rears as of I’ve just been slapped. Her response catches me of guard. It stings.

  “Scarlett, take it easy on him,” Luke says.

  “Why? Why should I take it easy on him?” She rolls her shoulders back and straightens her posture, her chin tipped up a notch and her expression defiant. “We spent two days driving here to find him because you said he is Gideon, and there’s no way this stupid little boy is Gideon.”

  “He killed Adron all by himself back in Patterson.” Luke turns toward Scarlet and holds her gaze for several beats. A wordless exchange occurs between them, and as usual, I have no idea what the heck is being said or what’s going on.

  Scarlett looks away and shakes her head slightly before her eyes are trained on Luke once more. She arcs an eyebrow and bobs one shoulder. “Do you even know for sure it was Adron?” she challenges.

  Luke looks from her to the road ahead and she folds her arms across her chest, satisfaction curving her lips into a small smirk. “From everything I’ve heard of him, it appears as though it was,” Luke admits. Scarlett opens her mouth to speak, but Luke raises a hand and halts her. “Look, Scarlett, you may have doubts about all this, but I know what I saw and I know what happened.” He levels a stern gaze at her. “I was in Patterson for months and couldn’t sense who the Servant of the Underworld was. But Danny figured it out, and he took him out with ease.”

  “Ok, great, so he got lucky.” She tosses her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing at me. “You know, beginners luck.” Each word is a bullet spraying from her machinegun arsenal. “It doesn’t mean he’s Gideon.”

  “No, Scarlett, you’re wrong. You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I saw.”

  Luke and Scarlett are speaking about me as if I’m not sitting there between them. They volley each side of their argument back and forth and I’m left with
my head toggling between the two of them like an idiot.

  “Believe what you want. He didn’t impress me back at the field, flat on his back and looking like he was going to wet himself. Yeah, that’s Gideon alright!” She purses her lips and rolls her eyes. “Trust me Luke, he is not Gideon.” She gestures with her thumb to me a second time. “He just got lucky.”

  “Guys, you’re talking about me and I’m right here!” I complain.

  Luke glances at me through the rearview mirror and Scarlett turns her head and narrows her eyes, glaring at me for a moment and making a pfft sound before she returns her attention to Luke. I have no idea why she disapproves of me so fully, only that it makes me feel equal parts ashamed and annoyed. “He’s not Gideon,” she says with certainty. “If we hadn’t gotten to him when we did, he’d be dead now. He was taken down by those weak Servants of the Underworld. We had to save him.” She looks at me with disgust once again. “I thought he was going to start crying there for a minute when he was flat on his back with a sword about to drill through him,” she taunts.

  I pause a second and wait for Luke to say something, to defend me or speak on my behalf once again. When he doesn’t, I say, “Hey, I just wasn’t ready for them,” and immediately regret the words as soon as they leave my lips.

  A smug smile curves Scarlett’s lips. “Well maybe next time they attack, they’ll wait for you to be ready.” Our gazes lock for a fraction of a second before she rolls her eyes and looks at Luke. “Really, this is who you think is Gideon? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  I’m jolted by a bolt of anxiety that makes me feel as if my heart plummets to my feet and a cold numbness spreads through my chest. Her words, her relentless putdowns, overwhelm me. “Why do you hate me?” The question bursts from me before I have time to stop it. I’m shaking and lightheaded and I’m sure I shouldn’t have asked it but it’s too late now. I can’t un-say what’s already been said. With that in mind, I ignore my better judgment and push it a step forward. “And why do you treat me like a kid?” Hearing my whiny tone, I’m truly arguing her point at the moment. I cringe inwardly and continue. “You don’t look any older that I do.”

  Her nostrils flare and her lips purse. Her anger is palpable. “I’ve been around for two hundred years, Danny.” She spits my name condescendingly. “So yeah, I’m a little older than you.” She shakes her head. “You’re what, eighteen?”

  “Seventeen,” I lower my head and reply honestly.

  “What a joke!” she snarls and her upper lip curls. “And for the record, I don’t like you because we wasted days when we could have been joining with others of our kind to prepare for what’s coming.” She huffs a lock of hair off her forehead and scowls at me. “Others that I know can handle themselves and help our cause.” Her lips collapse to form a hard line. Through her teeth, she says, “We should’ve let you die back there. You’ve been hanging out getting into bar fights instead of serving your purpose, the reason you were brought back to earth.” She licks her teeth and shakes her head. “You’re a coward.” She turns away from me and stares straight ahead.

  Insides still shaking, I try to process all that she’s said. “I’m not a coward!” I protest. “I just don’t want to spend the rest of my life murdering those things for a power that let Sarah die!”

  Whirling on me, her golden eyes pin me in place. “Do you have any idea how many people are going to die because you haven’t been doing what you’re supposed to do?” She allows the gravity of her words to hit me like a sledgehammer, pausing before she continues. “What have you done every time you had a calling and felt the pull?”

  “I fought it back and ignored it.” I match her tone and the ferocity of her features though I lack her conviction.

  She doesn’t soften in the least. “Blood is on your hands, and all because of one girl,” she hisses. Her anger is palpable. Her words are acid. A mane of copper corkscrews trembles with rage, and eyes the color of topaz condemn me. Full lips set firmly against how I choose to live my life are readied to pepper me with more ammunition. In spite of her complete and utter contempt of me, I can’t help but notice how beautiful she is. Both her words and that sudden realization hit me, and shame burns up my neck to my cheeks. “I never thought of that,” I admit in a low voice.

  “It doesn’t sound like you think of anything but yourself.” Scarlett takes her final jab before facing forward in her seat.

  “Okay, Scarlett, leave him alone. We’re almost there,” Luke finally chimes in. If I didn’t see him steering, I’d have thought the car was driving itself and that he’d dozed off judging from his silence.

  “Where are we?” I ask, eager to leave Scarlett’s line of fire. I crane my neck and try to stare out Luke’s window. All I see is an infinite stretch of black. I haven’t the vaguest clue of where I am or exactly how long we’ve been in the car, and I haven’t seen the headlights of another vehicle for longer than I can remember.

  “We’re getting a friend of ours,” Luke says as we turn off the road and onto another dark lane. In the distance, a house, darker than the dark of night, is outlined, and dim light shines in the windows. Alone and resembling a jack-o-lantern with two widely spaced upper level windows lit and the three lower windows lit like an impish grin, the house sits at the end of a long narrow driveway. Pulling the car close to the garage, Luke parks and turns off the engine. He and Scarlett exit and I clumsily climb out of the back seat after tangling myself in the seatbelt. When finally I’m out and untangled, I stand and stretch. My legs ache and my lower back complains. I start to bend to touch my toes and Scarlett lets out a loud puff of air. “Idiot,” she mumbles under her breath as she passes me.

  I don’t respond, rather I straighten my posture and follow she and Luke from the driveway to the walkway. Only once we reach the front door, we find it wide open.

  “This isn’t good,” Scarlett says and slides a look Luke’s way.

  “No, it isn’t,” Luke answers as he steps inside.

  As I cross the threshold, I’m reminded of the night I went to Sarah’s house and found her parents dead. It was a scene much like this.

  “Jake! Jake! Are you here?” Luke’s voice is answered by staunch silence.

  “We should’ve come here first instead of going to find him,” Scarlett says to Luke as she clips her head toward me. Then she drills me with a penetrating stare. “If anything happened to Jake, it’s on you.”

  “Me? How is it my fault?” I snap back, only this time I’m not anxious or nervous. Instead, I match her hostile tone and fire back. “I didn’t ask you to come for me!”

  Surprise flickers across her features for a fleeting moment. She’s been antagonistic and argumentative at best, still I feel a twinge of guilt at her reaction. She composes herself quickly and her scowl returns. She walks beside Luke, and I follow them inside. Hardwood floors gleam and run from the entryway to the living room. Soft light illuminates the space where a sofa and loveseat in a soft tan shade sit around an area rug before a marble fireplace. The room is cozy yet well appointed.

  “There’s no sign of a struggle.” Luke’s voice is low and concerned.

  “None that I see,” Scarlett agrees.

  They continue to talk but their voices fade to unintelligible chatter. My vision becomes hazy, wavering in and out of focus until my mind is clouded completely. The world around me falls silent, save for the beat of my heart. I’m suddenly bombarded by a vision. A man, tall with long gray hair and a beard fills my thoughts. He accompanies a younger man, slim of build and with closely cropped blonde hair. I recognize him as the man who lives here. Though I’ve never seen him before, I’m certain he is Jake.

  “A bearded man called to your friend. He pulled Jake toward him.” My voice sounds hollow, foreign to my own ears. I blink several times and my vision clears. “It’s a warning.”

  Scarlett and Luke stare at me for several moments before Scarlett says, “How do you know that?” For once, her voice is devoid of sarcas
m.

  “I just sensed it,” I admit.

  “That’s not possible.” Scarlett’s voice is a hoarse whisper, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s filled with awe.

  “I told you,” Luke said.

  Shaking her head, her eyes glaze over. “That doesn’t mean anything,” Scarlett says, though her voice isn’t as dismissive.

  “What does the bearded man look like?” Luke asks. His brow is furrowed and his eyes are narrowed.

  I have a clear image in my mind. It’s tattooed in my brain. I close my eyes and allow myself to be consumed by the image. Flashes of color dance through my field of vision and a scenario unfolds before me. “He’s tall with long gray hair, a neat beard and pale eyes, so light-blue they look clear. He’s surrounded by many younger hunters.” Before I finish describing the scene, a sense of dread washes over me with the force of a tidal wave. Danger and panic are all I feel and I break out in a sheen of cold sweat.

  “That’s Aeric,” Luke says. “Aeric is the man with the long gray hair and beard.” He and Scarlett exchange furtive glances.

  “Something’s wrong,” I say when I cannot shake the feeling. “I can’t explain it but I feel it.”

  Luke leans forward, concern etching his features. “What is it? What do you see?”

  “It’s not what I see, it’s what I feel. We need to go.” Urgency laces my every word. It flows through my blood along with a flood of adrenaline. Every cell in my body vibrates and hums as we dash out of the house to the car.

  “It’s going to be a day’s ride,” Luke shouts as he opens the driver’s side door and allows me to climb in.

  “I hope we aren’t too late,” I mutter to myself.

  I have no way of knowing what the encounter I envisioned holds in store for us, only what I sense deep in the marrow of my bones. Within the confines of Luke’s car, we dart off into the night toward what I anticipate will be a dark desolate destination. Wringing my hands in my lap, I hope against hope I am wrong, but if past experience is any indicator, what awaits us will be far worse.