by Kirk Zurosky
She was right. Angus was bleeding like a stuck pig, and even an immortal as angry as he would not survive much longer without staunching the blood. I motioned for her to move closer to Adams. “The boil may be right,” I said. “But we are about to see what Adams values more—his arm or adding a nice long scar to Angus’s face.”
“He can’t get both of us and dodge an arrow from Adelaide,” Contessa said, a fierce glint in her eye. “And once we move, the Pack will tear Adams limb from limb.”
“We cannot,” Conner piped in. “The House of Blackheart would be dishonored forever—and I do mean forever—if we are witnessed doing such a thing in front of the king at his coronation.”
“Aye,” Will agreed. “Take him down, but there cannot be blood on our House! You are on your own.” He looked rather sheepish as Beatrice gave him a look of disdain and brandished her pistol. “Damn,” he said. “Don’t look at me that way. I have no choice. You know it.”
“There is always a choice,” Beatrice said. “Grandfather is dying. I guess I am going to let fluffy little Garlic help me do the work of a real man!” Garlic, pacing eagerly at my feet, readied herself to pounce at Adams. I smiled broadly for, even in such a moment, it brought back our days of yesteryear. I patted her quickly on the head and raised my finger to signal the attack on Adams.
It was at that moment that Commander Beagle recovered from my low blow to rally the garrison and come running at us, muskets brandished to save Baron Blackheart and his party. “Oh crap,” I said, realizing who they were looking at. “They think I am behind this assault and in league with Adams.” The lordlady flipped to their feet, displaying far greater dexterity than before. They kissed an anguished Angus full on the lips, savagely ripping the Moon of Madrid from his neck, and then ran off with a speed belying those god-awful pantaloons. Adams thrust a bleeding Angus at us and ran off in the opposite direction of the lordlady, cackling all the way.
“Contessa, Mary Grace, tend to your grandfather,” I said. The girls were experts in wound care, and they and Angus disappeared quickly into a nearby inn. He had lost a lot of blood but should survive, for better or worse. I saw Adelaide and Beatrice lean toward pursuing Adams. “I don’t think that is a good idea,” I said. “Let him go.”
But Will and Connor ran after Adams with fire in their eyes and malice in their hearts. Adelaide and Beatrice ran after them. “Very well,” I said. “Be careful . . .”
“I am going to lead the rest of the Blackhearts into the coronation,” Jova said.
“Excellent, Jova, way to keep up appearances,” I said snidely. I eyed the garrison, who were sighting their muskets on me. “I am no longer welcome here, so enjoy the coronation. I am going to catch a lordlady.”
“That is not a lordlady,” Jova said. “Not a lord, or a lady, in fact.”
A bullet whizzed over my head, causing me to duck. “What then?” I said.
“She is one of the lady demons from Hell, remember?”
I stepped backward and yelled to him. “You have to narrow it down for me, my scary brother. Lady, demon, and Hell are not exactly exclusive to me.”
“Don’t you remember the Hellevator?”
How could I forget it, since its foul feminine operator had drawn blood with her spiked nipples, kissed me nearly to death with her black probing tongue, and offered me her . . . “Oh right,” I said, breaking into a sprint as the bullets of the garrison’s muskets made me do an impromptu Irish jig. “The princess that had the terrible toothed twat. All right then, perhaps I will stop and get a steel codpiece before I run her down.”
I started down the alley, heading in the direction the lordlady had gone, and realized Garlic was sprinting by my side. “Feel like a bit of demon hunting do you, girl?” I said.
“Well, I am no lady,” Oliver said from right behind me. The big troll ran so silently in spite of his size that I did not even know he was there. “But I have to ask. We know the Moon of Madrid she took is a fake, yes?”
“Yes,” I answered, seeing a flash of pantaloons far ahead.
“And we are, right now, chasing after one of the more hellacious demons you have ever encountered, to confront her?”
“Quite.”
Oliver grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me to a screeching halt on the cobblestones. “So, my friend,” he said, “the question is, why?”
I looked at him curiously. “Because that is what we do,” I said, pointing to Garlic, who was running to and fro and wondering for all her canine mind just why in hell Oliver had stopped the glory of the chase. “We run after things and catch them, and in this case we need to know just why that foul creature is out of Hell and who she is working for—not to mention the fake Moon of Madrid is some spectacular bait to catch a thief.”
“Very well then,” Oliver responded. “By all means, lead the way.”
I began running once again, realizing the demon was playing with us by staying just far enough ahead to keep us running after her. Up and down the cobblestone streets we sprinted, slowly but surely heading north and getting closer and closer to Covent Gardens. I remembered a lordlady from that night at the Den of Angels. Had that been the Hellevator demon? Lordladies were not that common after all. It mattered not, because if the demon succeeded in getting in to one of the houses of ill repute, she would be lost to us.
The streets got more and more deserted, save for the usual patrons of this district, but I noticed there were far too many bloodied corpses lying face down in the gutter. London was an exceedingly dangerous place for both the infirm and the able-bodied, and Covent Gardens was no place for the uninitiated, but something evil and clearly inhuman had fed recently on these lost souls. Then, upon closer inspection, I realized that all the corpses were men, and all of them had died in the most horrible way a man could depart this world. Ugh. Up ahead, the lordlady stopped and whirled the Moon of Madrid around one crooked finger, beckoning us to approach.
“Are you sure you want to continue with this mad chase?” Oliver said, glancing sideways at a mutilated corpse. “I am really thinking that is a bad idea. Let’s let her go to Hell.”
“That foul creature is a bit addled in the brain from too many rides up and down on the Hellevator to think she would tire us out,” I replied. “Come on, let’s finish this chase!” Off we went once again, and finally the Hellevator demon was slowing down, which meant we either had her, or she was trying to herd us into a . . . “Trap,” I said as we came around a corner, through a gate, into an alley, and face-to-face with her. The gate clanged shut of its own accord, and a wagon filled with bricks slid in behind us, further barring our escape. The walls of the alley easily stretched thirty feet in the air. We were, by all accounts, neatly penned in.
The demon waved a talon-fingered hand in the air, and her pantaloons turned black and feathery and formed a skirt around scaly legs. She put the fake Moon of Madrid around her neck and shook out her black hair, and what looked to be three small black rats fell out of that raven nest and onto the ground. “Sirius Sinister,” she cackled, “I have you right where I want you.”
“Well, we both know that is not the case,” I said. “You, my dear, have a bit of a one-cock mind. And I will keep my cock if you don’t mind.”
Oliver sniffed the air and rubbed a finger against one wall. “Ah,” he said. “I thought as much. Pig fat. Even you are not going to be able to scale those walls.”
I shook my head. “Oh, I don’t care about that,” I said. “I like my odds right now. It’s three against one. I have defeated far more malevolent creatures than old piranha pussy over there.”
“Don’t look now,” Oliver said. “But I think she’s evening out the odds.”
I eyed the rats. Were they growing? Garlic backed up to me and snarled—yes, they absolutely were growing. Damn.
“My sisters are going to gnaw off your arms and legs and save the best part for m
e,” the demon said..
“Demon, are you trying to tell us your sisters really are rats?” I said, wishing really hard at that moment for the Blade of Truth. “I mean, come on now. I have been to Hell and back—twice. I am going to make mincemeat of those little mice.”
“Yes, well, about the mincemeat thing,” the demon said, waving her hand again. “Is this better?
“Quite,” I said. The mice had changed instantly into three demons exactly like the Hellevator demon, the only difference being the color of their hair. One had a shock of red hair oddly reminiscent of that cloven-hoofed puss-faced creature Feminera. Her sister in insanity could have been the twin of Bloodsucker Number One, but with black, scraggily hair and a body with arms and legs so long and spindly she looked more like a praying mantis than a humanoid. Visible on her bare midriff was a tattoo of a bloody phallus. This creature gave new meaning to ripping the head off after mating. The final creature did not change much from a rat, retaining the yellow crooked teeth and a long gray tail..
“I am going to see if that enchanted weapon of yours is really indestructible,” said the Hellevator demon. “I am going to take your manhood and then your life!”
The other demons broke into a frenzy of laughter. “And wait, wait,” the red-haired menace said, sneering at us so hard I was waiting for her face to completely pucker up and implode. “We get to see if the troll is really the hardest man in the world,” she said casually. More cackles ensued, and swords sprouted from their clawed hands.
“Sometimes it is really hard to be your friend, Sirius,” Oliver stated. “Just saying.”
“I can see that,” I said. “But our gooses and manhoods are not yet cooked.” I turned to look at the approaching demons. “All right girls,” I said, “this is your last chance. Come any closer, and we are going to have to kill you. Walk away, and you shall live.”
The cackling my comment brought from the demons was so loud that Oliver and I both winced and had to stick a spare finger in each ear. “It shall be a pleasure to rend you limb from limb,” Rat Face shrieked.
“I cannot wait to wear your testicles as earrings,” Praying Mantis spat.
Oliver sighed and stole a glance at me. “Perhaps you should stop talking right now,” he said.
“Right,” I agreed. “Probably a good idea. We need a plan and fast!”
In a different part of London what I had feared most for my girls was about to come to fruition as Adelaide and Beatrice trailed Will and Connor of the Wood heading north, away from the abbey, hunting Adams. “We have to avenge Grandfather,” Adelaide said to Beatrice. “I care not for him. But he is family.”
Beatrice nodded. “He has all the charm and manners of spoiled porridge,” she added. “But he is family indeed.”
Connor smiled. “You ladies are certainly a couple of odd ducks,” he said.
Adelaide pushed him in the chest angrily. “You are one to talk, Connor,” she said. “You two follow Grandfather around like a couple of runt puppies.”
“But you are not like him,” Beatrice added. Her eyes caught Will’s and held them in her smoldering gaze. “What power does he have over you?”
“No power at all, merely our loyalty for taking in our mother when she was pregnant, and no other Pack would have her,” Will said, stepping closer to Beatrice, who matched his move, coming nearer to the handsome werewolf. They stood there staring at each other for a moment, the space between them growing steadily smaller. “Loyalty only for a long ago deed. That is it. Not like the kind of power you have over me, Bea.”
His brother punched him hard in the arm, shattering the moment. “Come on, you two,” he said. “That wretch Adams is getting away. You don’t want that, do you? You did come after him for a reason, yes?”
Adelaide sniffed the air. “Adams is heading for Saint James’s Park,” she said, turning to the west.
Connor sniffed the air, too, and frowned. “All I smell is pig,” he scoffed. “There is no way that you—a half werewolf—can smell what I, a purebred, cannot!”
“There are lots of things I can do that you can’t, Connor,” Adelaide retorted. “Living in a world of male predators, my sisters and I have grown quite astute at picking up the scent of those that would try to take us. Of course, one could argue that is all men,” she said, looking at Connor, who made a practiced effort of examining the dirt in his fingernails. “But,” she continued, “in the worst of you, it utterly reeks from nasty, dirty, semen-covered skin. I could scent that bastard Adams all the way to the Gates of Hell.”
“So that is why you came after him, Adelaide,” Connor said, suddenly looking a bit more pleased. “You want to send him through the Gates of Hell! Outstanding!”
“Connor, we did not come after Adams, we came after you.” She broke into a sprint, leaving a red-faced Connor standing there with his mouth wide open.
“Come on, man, you are going to attract flies looking like that,” Will said, slapping his brother on the back of the head. “Go after her! To the park.”
Beatrice watched Connor run after Adelaide, and turned to Will. She put a soft hand to his cheek and stroked it. She pressed her lips against his and leaned into his body. She suddenly broke the kiss and began walking backward. “Are you going to come after me?”
Will nodded and put his hands on his hips. “Until the day I die, sweet Bea,” he said. “Until the day I die. Now go!”
Saint James’s Park was a massive expanse of trees, gardens, and known as a place for terrible debauchery—all in all a fitting place for Adams, who was no stranger to the park or debauchery. In fact, when Adams entered the park with Will, Connor, Beatrice, and Adelaide hot on his trail, he looked so utterly crazy that passersby avoided him, thinking him escaped from the madhouse. His grin was maniacal, and his eyes wild with a rage that would only be satisfied when he had killed the Wood brothers and taken their bitches from them. “Not ordinary bitches,” he snorted, grabbing his crotch and fondling it happily. “I will show those bitches something that is not ordinary.”
He made his way down to St. James’s Park Lake and saw a deer drinking placidly from the shore in the afternoon sun. Nearby a group of ladies were enjoying a lovely picnic of tea and crumpets. They were not alone, as a few manservants stood guard over them to ensure their day in the sun was not spoiled by some soulless deviant. But alas, fate had brought Adams across their path.
Adams licked his lips and sighed as he admired the long graceful curve of the deer’s neck, focusing on the beat of the doomed creature’s heart throbbing so enticingly. But then one of the ladies got up from her blanket and walked toward the lake. Her skin was like fine porcelain, and her rear end was full and inviting. Adams weighed his choices of satisfying the various hungers within his foul soul, his hand again going to his crotch as he watched his human prey bend at the waist and splash some water on her hands.
“Mmm, so many bitches to take,” he said. He would kill the guards first, and whoever ran the slowest among the girls would be his first. He stepped forward to take what was his, and a twig cracked ever so softly, making the deer raise its head. Adams shook his head, the small sound having jolted him back to his mission. Begrudgingly, he took his hand off of his cock and grimaced. He needed the deer to take care of the Wood brothers. The mortal bitches would be his another time. He sprinted toward the deer and tackled it to the ground in front of the women. He snapped its neck, yelling at them as he did so and reveling in the cries of terror he caused. The guards stood predictably helpless, shocked by the appearance of this crazed animal.
Adams was encouraged even more and took the deer’s head in one hand. “Oh, I am a scared little deer,” he said, moving the deer’s jaws open and closed as he talked. “Save me! Save me!” He guffawed loudly at the screams that erupted, pointing and laughing as the women scrambled to collect themselves and run. One guard found his nerve and rushed to confront Adams, who li
cked a trickle of blood from the deer’s jaws and then hollered at the top of his lungs at the guard, the blood still dripping off his tongue. Adams was happy to see the guard lose his courage just as quickly as he had found it. “Ladies,” he said, flipping the deer over his shoulder and walking back into the woods, “perhaps another time.”
Had I known what Adams had planned, I perhaps would not have acted so rashly and gotten Oliver and myself trapped in the alley. I quickly reassessed my surroundings, seeing Oliver was indeed correct, and my chances of scaling the walls were slim to none. And even if I could, I was surely not going to leave Oliver and Garlic to fend for themselves. There was no choice. We could either battle the sisters right here or risk traveling via wormhole with the possibility of the demons joining us. That choice was a no. I eyed the poison-tipped blades the demons carried and realized that when the poison dripped to the ground, it was sizzling in a very familiar manner.
“Somehow these beasts are in league with Scorn,” I said. “That’s basilisk poison on those blades, Oliver.”
“I thought as much,” he answered. “Doesn’t much help the odds, now does it?”
The Hellevator demon’s head perked up when I had mentioned Scorn’s name. “That’s right,” she said. “Gulth Scorn was nice enough to provide this poison. So when I chop your arms and legs off, you really will know pain. He seems to think life has taken it easy on you, Sinister. He wants you to know the pain that he has suffered.”
“Pain and suffering!” Praying Mantis echoed.
“How kind of him,” I said. “But I will pass.”
“And then he wants you to die,” Red Head added. “But come to think of it, sister, he didn’t really say he wanted that to happen right now.”
“Don’t bother me with such irrelevant details,” the Hellevator demon snapped.
Then Rat Face spoke up. “Sisters, our deal was to steal the Moon of Madrid from that idiot Angus, and when Sinister pursued us—like he did—we show him the pain.”
