The Demon Hunt

by Kris Greene

  “No more a fool than you are to throw in your lot with Titus. I am ashamed to even be one of you monsters!” De Mona spat on her golden mask.

  Something akin to hurt flashed across the Valkrin’s eyes behind the mask. “I regret a great many things, but being here tonight is not one of them. Die well.” The Valkrin raised her sword and struck.

  Gabriel found himself in a small cavern just above the sewers. It was almost completely dark except for the bit of moonlight that shone in from the mouth of the cavern. He looked to his left and saw the bloody trident on the ground but saw no sign of the goblin that had been impaled on the end of it. He wondered where the creature had gone off to, but he didn’t have to wonder long as a thick forearm snaked around his neck from behind, cutting off his air.

  “Filthy human scum. I’m going to rip your head off and use that fancy fork of yours to scoop out your brains when I eat them,” the goblin breathed his foul breath into Gabriel’s ear.

  Gabriel tried to break his grip, but even with his new powers heightening his strength, he couldn’t overpower the goblin.

  Call it, the Bishop whispered in the back of his head.

  Gabriel tried to concentrate on summoning the trident, but his panicked state made it hard to concentrate. “I can’t,” he rasped.

  You must or you will die! the Bishop warned.

  Gabriel tried again. This time the trident, which lay a few feet away, rumbled but it would not come. His throat began to constrict and spots danced before his eyes. Gabriel knew he was taking his last breaths.

  Suddenly the goblin released his grip and howled in pain. Gabriel dropped to one knee and sucked in precious air. He looked up to see Gilchrest with his legs wrapped around the goblin’s shoulders, gnawing on its ear. Gilchrest’s brave act was impressive, but also stupid since the goblin was nearly three times his size. The goblin reached up and plucked Gilchrest from his shoulder.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the royal family’s most hated son,” the goblin sneered. “Normally Orden would have the head of anyone who laid hands on you, rodent, but since you’ve thrown in your lot with our enemies, I’m sure he’d understand.” The goblin opened his mouth to devour Gilchrest. His teeth made it within inches of Gilchrest’s face when Cristobel’s axe cut through the air and opened up a nasty gash on the side of the goblin’s face.

  “Try me, monster!” Cristobel challenged.

  The goblin tried to rush Cristobel, but he was too swift for the brute and managed to open up the back of his head and calf. The goblin dropped to one knee, grimacing. Feeling overconfident, Cristobel moved in for the kill, but the goblin had expected as much. He knocked away the ax, and grabbed Cristobel by the throat and began shaking him violently. The goblin was about to snap Cristobel’s neck when he heard Gabriel call to him.

  “Goblin, you wanted my trident so bad that I decided to give it to you,” Gabriel said, before throwing the trident like a spear. The Nimrod buried itself in the goblin’s back, causing him to drop Cristobel. Gabriel raised his hands and called on the power of the Nimrod and this time it answered. Bolts of lightning shot from the trident and swept over the goblin’s body, frying both skin and bones. When the power finally faded, all that was left of the goblin was a pile of ash.

  “Is everyone okay?” Gabriel asked, as he retrieved the Nimrod from the ash.

  “I think so,” Cristobel said, rubbing his bruised neck. “That was pretty stupid of you,” Cristobel said to Gilchrest, speaking of him attacking the bigger goblin.

  “No more stupid than you saving me. Roles had been reversed, let you die I would’ve,” Gilchrest spat.

  “And that’s what separates monsters from men,” Cristobel said.

  “Where’s De Mona?” Gabriel asked.

  “She was right behind us,” Cristobel said, looking around for the girl who was nowhere in sight.

  Screams from the sewers below cut through the air and drew all their attention to the hole.

  Jak peered into the hole. “She’s still down there!”

  “We’ve got to go back.” Cristobel started for the hole, but Gabriel stopped him.

  “No, you stay here and I’ll go. If I don’t make it back, you must continue the mission and save our loved ones, do you understand?” Gabriel asked.

  “You have my word,” Cristobel agreed.

  Taking a deep breath, Gabriel jumped down into the hole, with the Nimrod clutched firmly in his hand. He hit the murky water with a splash and took a defensive stance, anticipating the goblins would descend on him. When he looked over to where De Mona and the armored Valkrin were, he had to do a double take to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

  De Mona reflexively closed her eyes as blood splattered on her face. She expected to feel the sharp pinch of steel in her gut, but instead she was dropped roughly to the ground. When she opened her eyes, she saw the masked Valkrin driving her sword into the gut of one of the goblins.

  “Traitor!” one of the goblins cried and rushed at the Valkrin, wielding a spiked club. The goblin swung the club, but the Valkrin’s sword cut through it and his chest, and the goblin fell over dead. One by one, the goblins came, and one by one, they fell to the demon’s blade. One managed to blindside the Valkrin and delivered a crushing blow to her jaw, knocking her mask off. The demon snarled and plunged her claws into the goblin’s chest. Its eyes went wide in shock as she tugged and ripped his heart from his chest. Seeing that the battle was lost, the last few goblins retreated into the tunnel.

  De Mona lay on the floor, trying to compose herself and make heads or tails of what had just happened. In the shadows of the sewer, she could see the glowing eyes of the armored Valkrin staring at her. Slowly the Valkrin made her way towards De Mona. Fearing another attack, De Mona got to her feet and took a defensive stance. When the armored Valkrin stepped into the light, De Mona saw her face and gasped. The Valkrin dropped to her knees a few feet away from De Mona and looked up at her with tears dancing in the corners of her dark eyes.

  Looking at the Valkrin was like looking into a mirror. “Mom?” De Mona asked in shock.

  Mercy composed herself enough to reply. “Yes, baby. It’s me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Raven Wood was fifteen acres of sprawling land on the outskirts of the sleepy town of Beacon, New York. Normally the estate was quiet with the exception of the occasional industry party thrown by its unofficial owner, but that night it was alive with activity. Luxury cars and limousines lined the driveway, while henchmen lurked in the shadows. The estate’s owner, fashion designer Mario Bucaddo, watched nervously from the second-floor balcony as people dressed in everything from tuxedos to leather moved about his property.

  The forty-something-year-old Bucaddo had gone from a relative nobody to one of the industry’s hottest designers seemingly overnight. The media credited it to his hard work and cutting-edge style but there were some who knew better. When opportunity had knocked, Buccado eagerly answered the door, but he’d had no idea that it would be a gateway to hell.

  A cool breeze on the back of Mario’s neck caused him to spin around nervously. He found himself confronted by a beautiful young woman. A jade green evening gown, with sequined hems, hugged her body like a second skin and gave an added boost to her full breasts. A spill of brown hair fell around her angelic face, partially obscuring one of her inviting brown eyes. “Nice place you’ve got here,” the girl said seductively.

  Mario had to swallow to build enough moisture to reply. “Thank you,” he said, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. She was by far the most beautiful creature Mario had ever seen, but he knew better than to take any of the guests in his house at face value, especially that night. “If you’re looking for the party, it’s downstairs on the main floor.”

  The young lady smiled and moved closer to him. Mario tried to back away but couldn’t get his legs to work. The young woman ran her finger along the line of his jaw and breathed softly over his lips. “I think the party is ri
ght here.” She opened her mouth and a monstrous tongue uncoiled from it. Along the edges of the tongue were suction cups with needlelike teeth ringing them. Mario was so frightened that screaming wasn’t even an option. “Once you get past the pain, you might like it.” Before the girl could attack, she was snatched roughly away from Mario.

  Titus stood in the middle of the room with power radiating from his body like an overworked furnace. He held the succubus’s head in a vice grip, slowly applying pressure. The girl struggled against his grip, but even her enhanced strength was no match for the favorite son of Belthon. “How dare you come here and disrespect our host by trying to make a meal of him?” The young woman whimpered a weak apology, but it fell on deaf ears. Titus squeezed and her head burst like a rotten tomato.

  “Titus, I had no idea you were preparing the refreshments.” Orden strode into the room with Riel and Flagg on his heels. The goblin prince had traded his bloodstained tunic for a brown toga and cloak. On his head sat a crown of barbed wire and glass.

  “All must know their places in the order of things, good prince,” Titus told him, wiping his hands on the girl’s dress. “I trust that my parcel has been secured and all is well again between us, Orden?”

  “I’ve had my own captain, Illini, attend to the sprite, so there’s no need to worry about your precious young girl. However, the strength of our friendship will depend on why you’ve summoned me topside and how the empire can benefit from it.”

  “All will benefit from what I have to offer, Orden, especially our friends the goblins,” Titus assured him.

  “Then let us stop hiding behind formalities and envoys and speak as warriors.”

  Titus smirked. “All will be revealed once the gathering is underway. Let’s go join the others.”

  The room Titus led his minions into was initially built to host meetings, but had been modified to give it a more intimate feel. The ceilings were carved in a high arc into the marble that served as the room’s supports, with twin fireplaces carved into the wall like flashing eyes. The crackling flames played tricks with the shadows that seemed to dance on every wall. There were no conference tables for men to argue about who would sit at the head, only a great open space where the elders of several factions of supernaturals now gathered, speaking in hushed tones over refreshments. When Titus walked in with his entourage, all eyes fell on them.

  Flagg stepped forward and addressed the guests on behalf of his master. “Friends, associates, and those who are just curious, we thank you for answering our invitation on such short notice. Welcome to Raven Wood.”

  “Enough with the pleasantries, wizard, tell us why you’ve called us here. There are only a few more hours left until daylight and I still haven’t fed yet, so let’s move it along.” This came from a pale young man dressed in a graphic T-shirt and leather overcoat. His name was Murphy and he was an enforcer for the vampire house Sheol. Lounging on a beanbag chair behind him was a man who was paler still, dressed in a gray sharkskin suit. His lazy blue eyes rolled in the back of his head as he relinquished the young lady’s wrist he had been feeding from and came up for air. Unlike the brash Murphy, Spencer had a more subdued approach to things. He was an observant man who only spoke when necessary, opting to let his actions speak for him. Though Anglon was the house’s official leader in Sheol’s absence, Spencer called the shots on the streets and Murphy made sure the orders were carried out.

  “Watch your tongue, demon, or risk losing it,” Riel warned.

  “If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black,” Spencer mumbled.

  “Gentlemen, let’s not waste time fighting among one another. We are on the cusp of something that will solidify all our positions as masters of our respective territories as well as new kingdoms that will be like fruit for us to pluck when all is said and done,” Titus told them.

  “As you’ve already said more than once, but you have yet to tell us what this great revelation is,” Croft said from the sofa where he was lounging. He was the voice of the dark elves in the mortal world and a noted crime figure. Attending him was his son Rol, a worm of a man who lived in his father’s shadow. Titus had hoped that Croft’s nephew Gilgamesh would attend the gathering with his uncle, but Rol would have to do.

  “Yes, halfling, why have you brought us here?” Mongo questioned. He was a brutish-looking demon who had the body of a man and the head of a goat. Mongo’s lot weren’t the easiest on the eyes but they were quite deadly in battle.

  “Yes, my reasons for bringing you here.” Titus paused for dramatic effect. “Gentlemen, an opportunity has presented itself to me to finally secure my rightful place in this world, and as you have all been such good friends to me I have decided to share it with you.”

  “You mean the chance to help you become a god?” Merlin asked. He was an upstart young sorcerer who was always seeking a way to further his own gains, but even his all-consuming ambition didn’t make him a fool. “I know that it’s the Nimrod that has brought you here, Titus, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that I see nothing to be gained from becoming one of your slaves.”

  “And your people would be experts on slavery.” Dutch came into the room. He was dressed in tight-fitting leather pants and a white silk shirt. He glared at the sorcerer, clenching his fists, surrounding them with power.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Black King.” Merlin called his own power. “I can’t say that I’m surprised to see you here, since you have long been more loyal to your own greed than you have been to your coven. We’ve been hearing some very interesting things about you, things that would surely make for an interesting discussion at your next meeting of the covens, Von Dutch.” He called the warlock by his old name.

  Dutch’s face twisted into a mask of hatred. “Let that name be the last to ever cross your vile lips.” He flicked his hands out and sent two balls of magic flying at Merlin. Merlin cast his own spell and aimed his power at Dutch.

  Titus sighed, stepped between the colliding magics, and raised his hands. Both streams of power altered their courses, collecting in Titus’s hands and vanishing. “I would advise the both of you to remember why you are here and that you are my guests. You both know better than to abuse my hospitality, especially you, Dutch.” He turned his glowing eyes on the warlock.

  Dutch could not hold his gaze. “Forgive me, Lord Titus.”

  “This is a first, the Black King eating humble pie!” Orden laughed and smacked Riel jovially on his back.

  Titus ignored Orden’s outburst and continued speaking to his guests. “There is some truth in what the sorcerer has said. We have reason to believe that the Nimrod has resurfaced, but the reports have as yet to be confirmed,” he lied.

  “I’ve heard some nasty stories about that thing and I can’t say that I’d wanna run into it,” Murphy said.

  “Speak for yourself. The elders say that it grants the wielder the powers of a god,” Mongo spoke up.

  “It didn’t do Bishop Francisco any good, did it?” Spencer pointed out.

  “That’s because the Bishop, as powerful as he was, was mortal and therefore an imperfect vessel for the Nimrod’s power,” Titus said.

  “And last we checked you were born to mortal parents,” Croft pointed out.

  Titus gave him a murderous look. “Yes, I was born a mortal, but I have since transcended my genetic deficiencies and become something more.” He held his hand up and it began to glow brilliantly. “Something much more.”

  “And your half-demon status makes you a better candidate to command the Nimrod than some of us who are pure of blood?” Mongo asked.

  “Yes, why should it not be one of us who takes possession of the thing?” Croft added.

  “Because I have tasted its sweet nectar,” Titus said with a starved look in his eyes. “This Nimrod has answered to my touch once and it will again.”

  “If it doesn’t destroy you and us in the process,” Merlin said.

  “Gentlemen, you can side with me and become master
s of the world, or you can cower in the shadows with the rest while my armies conquer all.”

  “Buddy, you’re mad as a hatter.” Murphy stood to leave. “If this thing is indeed moving around somewhere in the world and up for grabs, I think we’ll try our luck without you.”

  “The dead man is right. Why should we hand over the weapon of ultimate power to you instead of trying to snare it for ourselves?” Rol asked.

  “Because if you do not join me, then you become my enemies,” Titus said seriously.

  “The Black Hand does not take threats well, demon,” Croft warned.

  “I am not threatening you, only telling you the ultimate truth. Friends of the dark order will be embraced, while our enemies will be crushed under our boots,” Titus told them all. Riel and the Valkrin bodyguard formed ranks around Titus while Orden watched the whole exchange with an amused expression on his face.

  “If that’s the case, we may as well do away with you now.” Merlin raised his hands to work a spell, but they were immediately bound over his head by shadows. When he opened his mouth, it was invaded by shadows, eventually strangling him. One by one the guests found themselves bound by shadows. Moses’s silhouette peeled from the wall and moved to a position beside Titus.

  “I’m sorry to have to do this, but you leave me no choice.” Titus moved down the line of his guests, now turned to captives. “I offered you a chance to be kings and you spit on my offerings, so now you must be shown the error of your ways.”

  “You offered us the chance to be slaves!” Mongo snarled. His beady red eyes stared murderously at Titus.

  “And now you will be examples. Fear not, gentlemen. Your souls will surely be parted from you this night, but your bodies will remain to carry on your legacies. Your people will follow me, and it will be your voices that tell them to do so.” Titus gave Moses the signal and one by one the guests were pinned to the walls by spears of pure shadow, all except Croft and his son Rol, who had backed defensively into the corner. Croft drew a pistol, but the Valkrin disarmed him and held his arms behind his back. Moses oozed toward the elf, shaping his hands into blades as he went.