80 Proof Hex_Deckland Cain 2

by D Michael Bartsch

  “Let’s go get lunch. I haven’t eaten, and I think we are both getting cranky.”

  Carl looked like he didn’t want to smile, but he nodded his head.

  “Come on killer. We’ll come back over the weekend. We’ll tape an Ogre head on the target. The range guys loved that last time.”

  8

  Traffic wasn’t terrible in Reno, not in comparison to San Francisco. That didn’t mean I liked sitting in it. With snow on the ground, everyone was being extra cautious. Which I suppose in the grand scheme of things is a good thing. I would have preferred that they just hurried up and got the hell out of the way. Not that it would have mattered. Carl was driving, and the damn holy man drives like a grandma, slow and steady like he’s got all the time in the world.

  My stomach groaned. Carl shot me a look.

  “Pizza?” He asked.

  “Always.”

  To be honest, if it had been up to me, I would have skipped the pizza and downed a pitcher of beer, something dark with a hint of coffee or chocolate notes. Since there wasn’t a chance of that happening, pizza would do.

  “How much longer do you think it’ll take?” Carl asked. “You know, before I’m ready to start doing more than waiting in the car.”

  I closed my eyes. I’d been hoping he wouldn’t ask. I decided to try and come at it from a different angle. “You do more than sit in the car. You’ve been my eyes and ears.”

  “You know what I mean. I want to be out there helping you. You go into these situations by yourself. You need back up. I want to be able to pull my weight. You can’t keep going the way you’ve been. All it takes is one time.”

  “You pay rent for our apartment and end up buying me food most of the time. You do more than enough to pull your weight. I just do some of the heavier lifting now and then.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I want to contribute. There are things in this world that want nothing more than to hurt people. We have to stop them.”

  I couldn’t fault him for his intentions. Bastard had the nerve to have great intentions with everything he did. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to pave me a one-way road to Hell if he came with me and ended up getting one or both of us killed.

  “It’s different in real life than it is on the range or out in the desert when we practice. You’re talking about going from a controlled situation, where everything is perfect, and you have time to assess to a situation where you are actively hunting, or more likely, being hunted by a creature capable of ripping you apart without breaking a sweat. You need to be able to move by reflex. You need to point and shoot so much you can do it in your sleep. Cause once you get out there in the real world and your adrenaline dumps, everything you think you know goes out the window. Your hands shake, your vision blurs, and putting shots on target is damn near impossible unless you know what to do and how you’ll react to your biochemistry throwing a monkey wrench at you.”

  “You make it look so easy.”

  I barked laughter. It was biting and cruel, but he needed to hear it. “Carl, I’ve been getting into gunfights since the concept was invented. Hell, I was hunting Hellions before guns were even a viable option. A single shot musket was damn near useless, and you were better off carrying around a crossbow. You got one shot before you had to dump it and use pikes to pin the thing to a wall and then hit it with poleaxes and spears.”

  I didn’t get to go any further than that. A way of nausea punched me in the gut. It was an assault, like I had hit a wall of thick tar that tried to force its way into every pore of my body. I doubled over, groaning and letting out a string of curses that would have made a nun’s ears burn. Carl turned to look at me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Pull over.” I gasped.

  Someone honked at us as Carl whipped the truck across lanes to park on the curb.

  I opened the door, fumbling with the seatbelt and collapsed into the snow. If I’d had anything in my stomach, I would have thrown up. As it was, I dry heaved a few times and gasped for breath. There was magic in the air. Not the David Blaine type, but real, powerful magic.

  Another pulse of energy pounded my body. I dropped to my belly in the snow. I felt it wash over me and sink in through my skin. It wasn’t the oily filth of blood magic, but the overwhelming force of pure, untamed energy. My body was soaking it up like a dry sponge, absorbing and negating the energy in the way that was unique to me and me alone. When’d I’d sold my soul; I’d gained abilities. I could sense magic if I were close enough to it, and with that, I was immune to its touch. Sure it could give me a tummy ache, but it couldn’t kill me as far as I knew.

  Carl was out of the truck and coming around to see what was wrong. I got to my knees and grabbed hold of the door. I used it to pull myself up to my feet.

  “What’s happening?” He asked.

  “Magic,” I muttered. “Lots of it.”

  I took a couple of deep breaths. I had felt something like what I was feeling roughly a year before, when a Rift in our reality had appeared. A hole had opened from our world into the other side, the place where Angels and Demons live, and it was close.

  Carl looked around, as if he would see some raging blood mage laughing and conjuring on the sidewalk.

  Another pulse hit me, and I felt pins and needles spread down my arms and legs. I shook my head, trying to ignore it. It wasn’t as bad when I was expecting it. I turned and grabbed onto the bed of the truck for support. I heaved myself over the edge and flopped into the bed of the truck like a dying fish out of water.

  I pulled a key out of my pocket it and opened up the toolbox in the back of the truck. I lifted the diamond plate lid and took stock. Most of the good stuff was back at the apartment, but I kept a stash of things in the truck and the trunk of my Stang for emergencies. I’m more than a little paranoid, but I have reason to be, least as far as I’m concerned.

  “What are you doing?” Carl asked.

  “If there’s a rift, something may use it to come through to our side. I’ve gotta find it and close it before that happens, and if I get there too late, I’ll need to find whatever came out and make sure it has as bad a day as I’m starting to have.”

  I pulled out my gun bag, unzipped it, and started going through it.

  The 320 was already safely in the shoulder rig I was wearing, two spare mags hung under my right shoulder, the gun under the left. I rummaged through the bag and took out an old .38 special. The Smith and Wesson wasn’t pretty, covered in nicks and dings, but it was a workhorse with plenty of fight left in it. It was snug in an Uncle Mike’s ankle holster. I set it aside and stripped off my bomber jacket. I wriggled out of the Galco shoulder rig and pulled off the knife sheathed on my back and laid it all on my jacket. My fanny pack came off next, getting tossed with the rest of my stuff.

  Carl was there, watching me. “It’s the middle of the day.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  I pulled out an AR500 plate carrier. I would have preferred to have my usual vest, but the two level III armored plates in the vest would offer more protection than my bomber jacket. I tossed it on, secured the straps.

  I pulled my flasher trench coat out of the box and slid into it. I hadn’t cleaned it yet, and it stunk from the Wendigo blood. It would have to do. The 320 came out of the shoulder rig, and I slid it onto the holster strapped onto the front of the vest. I moved the spare mags into an IWB holster and slid it into my jeans at the hip, strong side. The .38 special got shoved into my coat pocket. I didn’t have any speed loaders on me, but if I got to the point where I needed em, I’d be in trouble.

  I did a check to make sure that the SOG fighting knife was secure in the sheath I’d sewn into the trench coat. It was. Again, I didn’t plan on going hand to hand with anything, but you never know. As a last resort, I pulled the Halo V out of my fanny and stuffed it into my pocket. Standing up in the bed of the truck, I adjusted everything just slightly to make sure I had good movement. I’d left the KSG i
n the Mustang. I took a moment to be pissed but got over it quick. Being pissed didn’t help anything.

  Another wave of magic pulsed through the air. I grabbed the top of the truck for support but didn’t double over. They were getting weaker, which wasn’t a good thing. The Rift was closing.

  “You can’t go alone,” Carl said.

  I looked at him. I glanced around. A few people were watching, but most were doing their best to ignore the man strapping up for war in the back of a truck in broad daylight.

  “Carl, we literally just had this conversation.”

  “I know, and you need help.”

  “What I need is to find out where this damn thing opened up so I can go close it.”

  “Anything could have come out of that Rift. You aren’t going in there alone.”

  A series pops broke through the air. I looked up. It was a short burst of automatic weapons fire. Several heads were swiveling around, looking for the source of the noise. I looked down at Carl. His eyes were focused and hard. He had the look of a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer, and while I usually would have just walked off, I know that he’d just follow me. I considered cold cocking him and leaving him in the truck, but I knew that when he woke up, I’d never hear the end of it. Plus, there was always a chance I’d need him to drive.

  “Fine, but I swear, if you shoot me in the back again, I’ll kill you myself.”

  “That was one time!”

  “One’s all you get when it comes to shooting someone on accident. If I hadn’t been wearing my vest, I’d have bled out in the damn desert while you sat there apologizing and speaking in tongues.

  I bent back down and looked through the toolbox. I had another plate carrier in the bottom. Don’t ever accuse me of being underprepared; I’ll prove you wrong. I tossed it to him. He put it on clumsily. Thankfully, we’d practiced with him wearing it a few times. I pulled out the P64. The old military pistol was chambered in 9x18 Makarov. I wouldn’t want to get shot with it, but it was underpowered for hunting Hellions.

  I checked the indicator. There was a round in the chamber. I then thumbed the safety off. Feeling comfortable, I handed it to Carl, making sure that the barrel wasn’t pointed at me. He was just pulling his coat on over the vest and put the P-64 into a pocket. I gave him a second eight round box mag.

  “You remember firing this guy?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “Good. It’s double action, and you got one in the chamber. So if we get into trouble, point and shoot. Also, I’m serious. Don’t shoot me in the back.”

  In all honesty, the P64 had just about the worst double action I’ve ever seen. It had a pull weight over twenty pounds. I didn’t bring that up because it was an added comfort to know that I didn’t think there was any way Carl could accidentally fire the damn thing.

  I tossed everything back into the toolbox and locked it. I hopped out and looked around, trying to think of where to start. I couldn’t feel any more pulses, but the air was littered with magic, and my body was absorbing it at a steady rate. My stomach felt like it was floating inside me and my arms and legs were getting that annoying pins and needles sensation. I ignored it.

  Another string of automatic fire broke through the air. It was coming from down the street.

  “Hey, asshole!”

  I turned, assuming they were talking to me. A hipster in what was more than likely an alpaca wool beanie was trudging through the snow towards us.

  “You cut me off you son of a bitch. Also, you can’t park here. It’s a red zone.”

  I looked at the truck. The curb was covered in snow. I used my foot to kick away some of it. The curb beneath was red.

  “We won’t be long,” Carl said. “It’s an emergency.”

  “I’m calling the cops.”

  I turned, moving quickly. Rushing forward, I swatted the phone out of the hipster’s hand. Reaching up, I grabbed ahold of the strap of the leather messenger bag that was slung over his shoulder. I spun him with my free hand, keeping hold of the strap and wrapping it around his neck as he spun. Once I was behind him, I drove my knee into his back and pulled back on the strap, hard. I could have snapped his neck if I’d wanted to, but I knew Carl would never forgive me.

  As it was, he wasn’t happy.

  “Deckland!” He shouted as I chocked the hipster.

  The bastard gasped and gurgled as he clawed at the leather strap. It wouldn’t do any good. I pulled until I felt his body go slack and then let go. He collapsed into the snow. Carl knelt down next to him. I found his phone. I picked it up and threw it at the brick wall in front of me. I heard the glass shatter as it hit.

  I turned back to Carl.

  “We gotta go.”

  He looked up at me. He was about to say something when a shrieking noise cut through the afternoon air. I did a slow turn to look behind me. The sound echoed between the brick buildings of downtown. My eyes fell on an old Methodist church. It had been in downtown forever and was now sheltered by the apartment buildings and parking garages that had sprung up around it. Between towering apartment buildings and a parking garage, the church was all dark stone that had blackened and weathered with age. Grass and trees grew all around it, and it was a beacon of hope to a broken and sinful city. Least, I’m sure that’s what they told themselves.

  “Stay here if you want,” I said. “I have work to do.”

  I jogged over to the church, careful not to fall in the snow. Carl caught up with me. He looked pissed. I understood why, but that was his problem. It wasn’t my fault the guy had put his nose where it didn’t belong and got choked out for it.

  Reaching the front of the building, I moved carefully over the low concrete steps that led up to the doors. They were icy, and I wasn’t in the mood to twist my ankle trying to walk into the place. I reached the door and put my back to the wall, standing to the right of it. Carl moved and stood behind me, back to the wall.

  “I can’t believe you did that.” He whispered.

  I looked back at him, considering choking him with collar of his own jacket.

  “If you’re going in there, I need to know you’re with me. If you have any doubts, stay outside. You can’t hesitate. If you don’t lash out first and with as much force as you can, you’re going to end up dead or worse, you’ll get me killed. Get on board with the way things are, or go wait in the truck. It’s up to you.”

  He looked like I’d slapped him in the face. I didn’t care. I’d probably end up feeling bad about it later, but he needed a reality check. I turned back to the door, took a deep breath, and pulled on the handle. The heavy wooden door swung on well-oiled hinges, smooth and silent. I took a breath, and did a quick look inside, looking in and snapping my head back out in a split second.

  I closed my eyes and tried to make sense of what I’d seen. The building had a main sanctuary just beyond a small entryway. A central aisle led down the center of the sanctuary. Rows and rows of pews sat on the ground floor, and there was a mezzanine. I kept my eyes shut and went over every inch of the mental picture I’d taken. I couldn’t see anything that stood out. That could be good, but more than likely it meant that something was just in there waiting for me.

  I opened my eyes and looked at Carl. His jaw was set, and he was looking to me for cues. I jerked my head towards the door.

  “Stay low, and keep your back to a wall if you can.” I went to move but turned back again. “And for God’s sake, don’t shoot me in the back.”

  That got a hint of a smile, just a small upturn at the corner of his mouth. He was still mad at me and looked scared on top of it, but he seemed open-minded about how much. I could live with that.

  I pulled open the door and slid into the entryway.

  I walked carefully across the tiled floor. My boots were wet with snow and slipping was a bad idea. Outside of a few overhead lights in the entryway, the only light in the place came from outside, filtering in through various stained glass windows. That meant that the already dim l
ight from the overcast sky was spread into a hundred different muted colors that threw weak rays of sun and pockets of darkness around the sanctuary.

  I walked to the entrance of it and poked my head in. Shadows choked every corner and clawed their way between every pew. I looked up, trying to scan the mezzanine but it was shrouded in darkness, along with the ceiling and just about everything else in the place.

  I couldn’t see a damn thing. Nothing moved, and there was an eerie stillness in the place. I couldn’t help wondering where all the church people were. More importantly, I wanted to know where the guy with the gun was. I had no way of knowing how many civilians or guys with guns were in the building. I could stumble across some poor bastard just trying to keep his head down, or I could get myself shot. I don’t think Carl would ever forgive me if I popped a minister by mistake. It was a shit scenario. If I knew for sure that the place was empty, I could have just burned the damn thing to the ground. As it was, I didn’t think Carl would let me burn down a church to flush out a single Hellion either. Dammit if I ever get my way.

  I stepped into the sanctuary and moved along the back wall, the Sig was in my hands, held close to my chest while my eyes swept from side to side. I reached the left wall and disappeared into the shadows. Carl crept along behind me. He’d seen me draw the Sig and had the P64 out. He held it up in front of him. His finger wasn’t on the trigger, so that was good, but he muzzled me twice that I saw, and I couldn’t help feeling an itch on the back of my neck at the thought of getting shot in the back. He was also trembling. He was scared. His adrenaline had dumped, and I couldn’t risk saying anything to him.

  I walked along the wall, keeping my left shoulder pressed against it as I crept through the darkness. As I moved further into the building, I felt more magic. It wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as when I’d doubled over in the truck. I was pretty sure it was the residual magic left over from the Rift. The good news was that I was confident that it had closed. The bad news was that there was too much magic floating around the room to know if there was a Hellion in the building with us. They have a habit of giving off wafts of magic that I can sense, but not enough to cut through what was already in the room. For all intents, I was blind.