The Demon Hunt

by Kris Greene

  In the crypt were twelve ornately decorated sarcophaguses sealed with the same mark the Bishop wore on his breastplate. A wraith stood in the center of the room with twelve bound souls kneeling on a pentagram drawn on the stone floor. Dutch moved around the center of the room, chanting and etching symbols on the sarcophaguses in blood. Jonas could see the faces of the individuals inside the sarcophaguses, and they were familiar to him. Suddenly twelve sets of eyes sprang open and Jonas realized that the order had been horribly wrong about the Bishop’s and Titus’s plans.

  When Jonas snapped out of his trance, he was disoriented. His legs felt like rubber, but he forced himself to stand. He knew that he would have to allow himself time to recover from the strain of the ritual, but time was something that none of them had.

  “Twelve hosts for twelve souls,” he muttered over and over as he staggered toward the door. When he threw the door to his chambers open he literally collided with Jackson. The otherwise cool and savvy warrior wore a very troubled expression on his face.

  “We’ve got a problem. Gabriel . . .” they said at the same time.

  “You first,” Jonas told Jackson while he tried to compose himself.

  “That idiot kid and the girl are gone and they took the goblin with them. My guess is that they’re headed for the Iron Mountains,” Jackson told him.

  “Oh no, we must get to them.” Jonas’s voice was filled with panic.

  “Yeah, before the goblins send them back to us in little pieces. It might serve them right for being so damn stupid. Now what’s got you so rattled?”

  “I know what Titus means to do with the Nimrod,” Jonas said.

  Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Well, don’t keep an asshole in suspense.”

  “Titus plans to finish what the Bishop started and raise the First Guard!”

  Jackson’s face went as white as a sheet. He knew the story of the twelve powerful warriors who gave their lives protecting Christ. “Sweet Jesus.” Jackson leaned against the wall.

  “Hardly. The souls Titus plans to use to reanimate the bodies are anything but holy ones. I shudder to think what we would have to stand against with the great warriors reunited with their weapons and animated by the forces of evil. Hell on earth would be a blessing,” Jonas told him.

  “We’ve gotta get to the kid,” Jackson said.

  “Agreed. Let’s get topside ASAP.”

  “Get your gear and let’s move,” Jackson told Lydia and Finnious as he passed the dining area where they were eating sandwiches.

  “Where’re we going?” Finnious asked.

  “It’s time for a little on-the-job training.” Jackson extended his blades. The look on his face frightened Finnious. Once everyone was armed and ready, they took the elevators back up to the hangar. “You guys stay close to me, and the motto of the day is to kill first and ask questions later.”

  “What’s happened?” Lydia asked nervously.

  “Your buddy Gabriel has taken us from the frying pan into the fire,” Jackson said, pushing the hangar doors open.

  The night was quiet—almost too quiet, in fact. Jonas and Jackson busied themselves loading the things they would need into the transport while Finnious clung to Lydia like a second skin. Something had the wraith spooked and she could feel him trembling.

  “Finnious, what’s wrong?” Lydia asked.

  “I don’t know . . . something doesn’t feel right.” He looked around nervously as if he expected the bogeyman to leap out from the shadows at any second.

  “Don’t worry. You know I won’t let anything happen to you.” She hugged him. Just then her sensitive ears picked up on something whistling through the air. “Incoming!” she shouted, and tackled Jackson out of the way just before several objects whizzed through where he had been standing. She swept her spear through the air and deflected the second wave of projectiles, embedding them in an abandoned Honda. The projectiles were black featherlike objects with pointed tips.

  “Where are they coming from?” Finnious scanned the junkyard frantically.

  A blur moved in Jackson’s direction, and he raised his blade just in time to fend off the strike. He tried to counter, but the blur was moving again. “Stand still so I can hit you, damn it!”

  The blur moved in Lydia’s direction, but unlike the others she didn’t move on sight but her hearing. She deflected the blow aimed at her and countered with one of her own. The blur staggered, finally becoming visible to them. It was a man, or at least something shaped like one. Large black wings flapped softly, dislodging the loose debris on the ground. A death’s-head mask covered the creature’s face, but they could see the milky blue eyes behind it.

  “And who the hell are you supposed to be?” Jackson asked sarcastically.

  “Death,” Finnious whimpered.

  The angel of death ignored Jackson’s question and let his eyes roam over all of them, stopping when he reached Finnious. He could see the Spark radiating inside the wraith like a great beacon. “Give it to me,” the angel said in a ghostly voice, reaching for Finnious.

  Lydia knocked his hand away with her spear and stood between them. “If you touch him I’ll kill you,” she challenged. The angel tried to move around her and she cut him off again. His movement was so swift that she barely had a chance to raise her spear to deflect the strike from the scythe he was carrying. With a swipe of one of his massive wings, the angel knocked Lydia to the side and continued toward Finnious.

  The wraith tried to scramble away, but the angel plucked him from his feet by the back of his shirt. “You must give it to me.” He shook Finnious roughly.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fin cried. Through the mask, he could see insane eyes staring back at him. The eyes were familiar, but he couldn’t think why.

  “Take your hands off him.” Lydia rushed the angel. She tried to plunge her spear into his back, but his wings blocked the strike and knocked her backward. They flapped once and sent spearlike feathers flying at Lydia. She managed to dodge most of them, but one nicked her side and downed her.

  “Give me the Spark, or I’ll cut it from your dead body!” The angel raised his scythe over Finnious.

  All Finnious could think to do to protect himself was raise his hands, and when he did they started to glow brightly. With a rush of air, light poured from Fin’s hands and blinded the angel. Jackson seized the opportunity and struck the angel across the face with one of his blades, knocking his mask off. Beneath the mask was a spill of white hair and a face Jackson recognized from Sanctuary.

  “Julius?” Fin gasped, turning the angel’s attention back to him.

  Julius’s pale eyes momentarily filled with color as the light of recognition shone in them. Pain shot through his head as the voices of the restless dead flooded his ears, threatening to drive him insane. “I must have it! Give me the Spark!” Julius tried to split Jackson in half with the scythe, but he crossed his blades and blocked the blow. Jackson knocked the scythe away and delivered a glancing blow to the angel’s stomach.

  “Don’t hurt him! He’s a part of the order!” Lydia shouted at Jackson.

  “Maybe he was a few days ago, but it looks like our boy here switched sides.” Jackson moved in on Julius with his blades drawn.

  “You don’t understand. I must have the Spark to make the voices go away.” Julius clutched at his head.

  Jonas raised his hands toward Julius. “Let us try and help you.”

  “No, no!” Julius swung the scythe, nearly taking Jonas’s hand off. “Only the Spark can make the voices stop.”

  “Then it sucks to be you, because the only way you’re getting that Spark out of Finnious is over my dead body,” Jackson told him.

  Julius hesitated, and it almost looked like he was battling with the decision. There was another wave of voices and he lunged for Jackson. Jackson was a skilled fighter, but Julius had been trained in combat since he was old enough to hold a sword. The scythe moved with blinding speed, sending a painful vibration
up Jackson’s arms every time the blades met. Striking with his wings, Julius knocked Jackson’s arms apart, leaving his torso exposed. The scythe came down, splitting Jackson’s gut open. He staggered backward, watching his blood spill on the grass below before collapsing.

  “I’d hate to have friends like yours,” Asha said when she and Rogue were outside the herb shop.

  “Shut up, Asha.” Rogue stormed past her on his way to the SUV. He was more upset with Gilgamesh than he was with Asha, but she was the closer target. He was surprised to hear the dark elf’s stance on the situation, but he couldn’t say that he blamed Mesh. Rogue and people like him had been behind the scenes trying to save the asses of the human race from one self-inflicted disaster or another, only to have them create more problems for themselves. To top it off, the supernaturals were still treated like lepers by the few mortals who even acknowledged them. The sensible side of him had said to walk away from the problem before he got too deep, but by that point it was too late. He was in up to his neck, and the bounty on his head ensured that he would see it through to the end.

  “How did it go?” Morgan asked, stepping out of the vehicle as they approached.

  “My friend is gonna tell us where we can find a rift,” Rogue told him.

  “But he isn’t gonna help us,” Asha added.

  “Listen, sweetie, I don’t see Dutch busting down any doors to try and snatch your ass out of the fire, so you need to watch where you throw those stones. Let’s get back to Queens to see if Jonas and Gabriel have made any progress.”

  Just then, Morgan’s radio chirped to life in his ear. There was so much noise in the background that he couldn’t tell what was going on, so he disconnected the earpiece and listened through the speaker. “Jackson, slow down, I can’t understand you.”

  “Not Jackson . . .” the mechanical voice crackled.

  “Finnious?”

  “Get away, get away!” Finnious’s frightened voice came through the speaker. In the background they could hear screams and the sounds of battle.

  “Finnious, where’s Jonas? Is Jackson okay?” Morgan asked frantically.

  “Oh my God there’s blood everywhere!”

  “Where are you? Give us a location!” Rogue shouted.

  Jackson’s shaky voice came through the speaker. “Red, we’re in a bad way out here. We’re at the scrapyard getting our asses kicked by some dude with wings. Shit, he cut me up pretty bad, Red. Listen, man, you guys need to . . .” There was static, then the connection went dead.

  Morgan’s face was terror-stricken. “Jackson? Jackson!”

  “We’ve gotta get to them,” Asha said.

  “You guys take my truck and I’ll meet you there.” Rogue took a few steps back.

  “Rogue, this is no time for us to split up. Get your ass in the truck!” Asha barked.

  “I’ll get there faster on my own. I’ll hold down the fort for as long as I can; you guys just make sure you get your asses there,” Rogue said and raised his hands skyward. The shadows began to peel from the alleys and streetlamps, swirling around Rogue like a flock of sparrows. “If it hides in the darkness, the shadows will find it,” he said, before melting into a pool of shadow and spilling into the cracks of the broken concrete.

  “Sweet,” Asha whispered in amazement.

  “Quit your gawking and let’s go before our friends are sent to their makers.” Morgan grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the truck. He shoved her through the driver’s side door into the passenger seat and got behind the wheel. He pulled out of the parking spot and immediately slammed on the brakes when two girls stepped into the path of the SUV. He slapped the horn over and over, but the girls refused to move.

  “Hold on, I know them.” Asha hopped from the car.

  “Tend your tea party another time, girl; there are lives at stake here!” Morgan called after her.

  “Just keep the engine running,” Asha called over her shoulder as she approached Lisa and Lane. There was something strange about the blank expressions on their faces, but Asha was so happy to see her sisters that she never noticed it. “Goddess be praised that you guys are here. Look, I don’t have a lot of time to explain, but I need your help. Let’s get in the truck and I’ll fill you in along the way.” Asha started for the truck, but Lisa and Lane didn’t follow. “Are you guys coming or not?”

  Lisa kept her eyes glued to the ground when she spoke. “Asha, we have orders to bring you before the council to face charges.”

  Asha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are the both of you high? We’ll see what Dutch has to say about this.”

  “Who do you think sent us?” Lane asked.

  Asha looked between the two witches she had once called sisters and her sadness was replace by anger. Magic flared to life in her hands. “I don’t have time for this. Tell Dutch we’ll speak about it later.” Asha made to walk away, but the sound of a round being chambered froze her. She turned around to see that both Lisa and Lane had automatic weapons trained on her. “What are you guys doing?”

  Lane grinned at her. “Like my sister said, we’re taking you in. Alive or dead, it’s totally your choice.” Asha raised her hands and Lane aimed the gun at her face. “Asha, you’re hands-down the best spell-caster I know, but I’d bet these shells against your magic any day. Now let’s go. Our king is waiting.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Jesus, this place smells like ass,” De Mona said as they walked through the sewers of the Iron Mountains. The ledge they were walking along was barely wide enough for them to walk shoulder to shoulder. A few feet below there was a river of some of the foulest water she’d ever smelled.

  “What did you expect? All the waste of the Iron Mountains travels through these tunnels,” Cristobel said, clutching his ax tightly. Though his face was calm, his heart was racing. They had barely escaped the Iron Mountains the first time and he could only pray that they would be able to do it again.

  “I don’t like this,” said the redheaded dwarf who they had learned was called Suitor. “At least if we were topside we’d have room to fight should something go wrong, but in these cramped quarters we’ll be at a disadvantage.”

  Gilchrest snorted. “Never make it within mile of mountain topside, especially carrying dwarf stink on us so heavy.”

  Suitor drew his blade and pointed it at Gilchrest. “If I cut your nose off, you wouldn’t have to smell our dwarf stink, goblin!”

  Gilchrest bristled. “Not be so brave if I free of this.” He tugged at the collar.

  “I would welcome the chance to take your head for what your people have done to us,” Suitor said. The dwarfs and goblins hated each other, but they had made an uneasy truce for the sake of the mission. No one knew how long it would last.

  “Arguing amongst ourselves isn’t going to get us any closer to the Iron Mountains,” Gabriel pointed out. Like everyone else, he was on edge, but as their leader he had to be the glue that held them together.

  “No, but it provide Gilchrest with entertainment,” the little goblin chimed in.

  De Mona grabbed Gilchrest by the back of the collar and lifted him over her head. “Listen, you’re supposed to be our guide, so guide us instead of running your mouth. How much farther?”

  Gilchrest turned his head as best he could with De Mona holding him suspended and searched the wall until he spotted one of the hidden directional markers used by the goblins. “Not far, not far. Hardly used for more than waste these tunnels are, but inside the mountains they take us.”

  “Good.” De Mona tossed him on the ground. “Lead on.”

  The goblin hobbled down the tunnel with his useless wings flapping behind him. A large rat darted out from the shadows and was swiftly snatched up. Gilchrest stroked the rat’s head and whispered something to it while the rat struggled to free itself.

  “You’d better not be planning on eating that,” the blond dwarf warned. He was called Jak.

  Gilchrest squinted at the dwarf before dro
pping the rat back on the ground and watching it scramble away. He muttered something under his breath and fell in step with Gabriel. “Question I have.”

  “What is it?” Gabriel asked him.

  “Why you do this, risk life for one too weak to fight own battles?”

  “Because we are family, and family looks out for one another.”

  “Goblin law say they who too weak to fight either food or slave, even own family.”

  “Then the goblin laws are twisted. In human families we love and protect one another.”

  Gilchrest frowned. “At one time Gilchrest feel same about brother Orden, but much time go by and still no one come for me. Abandon Gilchrest I think he has,” he said sadly. The moment quickly passed and he was back to his questioning. “Back at dwarf village almost killed by one of own I was, but you save. Why you do this, human?”

  Gabriel sighed. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

  “But you human and I goblin, we natural enemies. Brother Orden try to kill you and take your grandfather and you still help Gilchrest?” The goblin shook his head. “I don’t understand how you human think.”

  “Maybe after this is all done you will.”

  Gilchrest laughed. “Not likely. When this done, enemies again we are, yes?”

  Gabriel thought on it. “Maybe, but it doesn’t have to be that way. We have choices.” He left it at that and moved to catch up with De Mona.

  A few yards later, the tunnel curved left and began to slope downward. As they descended, the air became thinner and much fouler as the smell of raw sewage crept into all their noses. A little farther down, the tunnel opened up to a narrow platform that ran along a stream of murky green water that was thick with waste.