by Erik Lynd
But this time Christopher wasn’t fast enough. He had only turned halfway and didn’t even have the Weapon raised when Golyat’s fist slammed into his side like a wrecking ball. He felt and heard his ribs snap and crackle as his feet lifted off the ground.
And then he was moving sideways, slamming through the window frame and out into the night air. Pain rippled through his whole body as the concussion wrecked its way through him. The sheer strength was unimaginable. Like a rag doll, he flew across the street.
He held onto consciousness out of force of will he had developed in his training. Then he was smashing through the window of the building across the street. The window frame collapsed inward and glass shattered. His consciousness wavered and for a moment he blacked out. Then the darkness faded, and he found himself staring at the ceiling.
“This world will be mine!” he heard Golyat scream from across the street, his powerful voice bouncing off buildings. “You are nothing! You are weak. You will not defeat me!”
With a groan, Christopher turned his head. It looked like he was in the living room of a very expensive apartment. A man with bed head in a disheveled robe held a large fireplace poker above his shoulder like a baseball bat. He looked like he was ready to hit Christopher at any moment. His eyes flickered between the broken window and Christopher.
A woman, presumably his wife, stood just behind him; she was also in a robe, her eyes were wide in terror and surprise. She was pointing at him and trying to speak at the same time.
Christopher still held the cloak of shadows around him concealing his identity. This was good because just behind the woman a boy of about ten stood in his underwear holding a cell phone. He was recording.
“Cool,” the boy said.
“Anthony, get back to your room immediately,” his mother yelled but did not turn her head.
“Don’t move,” the man said. “Who are you and what the hell is going on over there?”
“That’s the Demon Slayer dad, the Hunter of Lost Souls, right? You used to be called the Hero of the Bronx?” the boy asked.
“What the hell are you doing on the floor of my home?” the man said, ignoring his son.
“He’s saving the world, right sir?”
“Are you okay?” Juan asked over the earpiece. “Please say you’re still alive, that was an amazing punch.”
“I’m alive,” Christopher croaked out. All his focus was on breathing, calming all the warning signs his body was giving him at the catastrophic damage to his bones and organs. He calmly let the Hellpower flare up inside and heal the damage as fast as it could.
“I know you’re alive,” the man said. “The question is how?”
“I told you dad, he is the Hunter; he can’t die!”
The Weapon had become a knife again and lay at his side. Christopher was amazed he had even been able to hold onto it. He grabbed it now and it flared to life as a large broadsword radiating power.
The man yelled and struck with the poker. The Weapon leaped to meet the attack and shattered the poker into pieces. Christopher had not even moved from the floor. The man had backed away and seemed to be dialing 911 on his phone.
Christopher had to think. Golyat wasn’t pursuing. Why? He could not stand a blow like that again. Golyat had to know that. The power of Golyat was immense.
Christopher could not match that much raw energy. But maybe he didn’t have to, at least not yet. In his training Christopher had learned that it was not always strength or power that won, sometimes it was simply the appearance of strength and power.
He might have a greater weapon. Fear.
Golyat was afraid of him at some level. He had had several chances to engage Christopher directly but had always left it to someone else. Like all the other dark souls, beneath his bravado, Golyat was afraid of Christopher and what he could potentially do.
He represented Golyat’s—no all the Alliance’s—biggest fears. No matter how outmatched he might appear, there was always the chance that Christopher could take his soul and send him back to his deepest darkest Hell. And that was the only thing that scared Golyat.
Christopher knew he could run now, well crawl away anyway. He could go back to the lair and heal, but Hamlin was still back in that apartment and Golyat would think he had won. Hamlin would be dead, no longer used as bait. He had to go back, and he had to bluff the hell out of the situation.
“Ha! Are you dead, Hunter?” Golyat yelled. “I see no movement. Was it really that easy or are you just running in fear? I will find your mortal pet, he is in here somewhere. Show yourself!”
Christopher slowly rolled to his feet, but only got as far as his knee before the pain became too much and he had to pause. He could feel blood running from his mouth and his left arm was numb, the bones shattered. If he pulled this off, he wanted an Oscar.
The man and the woman were kneeling by their child holding him close, terror on their faces.
“I will not hurt you; no matter what you see, I will not hurt you,” Christopher said to the family. “It might look scary, but understand I mean you no harm. And please stop filming me kid.”
The boy nodded, and the dad snatched the phone out of his hands. Christopher got to his feet, barely. It felt like his spine was out of whack. His healing was fast, but he was a mess. It would take time. Time he did not have.
He needed to focus. He took a moment to breathe, though his ribs were in agony with each breath. He let his thoughts come and go before finding his no-mind. He reached out to the darkness around him, his familiar home. And he pulled it close like a blanket.
The man gasped as the room darkened. Dark power surrounded Christopher, spreading out like a shroud of hatred. He stoked the Hellpower inside him until his body radiated energy, arcs of power leaped from the Weapon and up his arm. It screamed at him to take the souls of the family, to taste their essence. But Christopher dismissed the errant desire like he did all the other thoughts that clouded his mind, and the Weapon’s roar became background noise.
“Golyat!” Christopher roared, using the Hellpower to project his voice across the street. It echoed even louder off the walls of the buildings. Below traffic was at a standstill as people stopped in the street to look up at the battle above. The explosions had caught their attention. “You will not be rid of me so easily.”
The window he had flown through was almost floor to ceiling. He stood there, Weapon at his side. Bands of power leaped from him and spread out across the building. Even then he still pulled power to him, stoking the fires of Hell inside of him more than ever before.
“I’ve come for you Golyat and am ready to drag you back to Hell.”
Golyat stepped into the hole Christopher had left through the window and bottom half of the wall. Christopher could see him quite clearly, his sense augmented by the Hunter powers Hell had given him. Golyat no longer looked so sure of himself.
“I’ve learned a few tricks, Golyat. Stuff even my predecessor did not know.”
“That’s impossible,” Golyat said quieter, but Christopher could hear him over the wind blowing between them. “You are just a kid.”
“Your guards could not stand against me. Your trap was sprung, and I still stand. Who will stand with you now? Your errand boy, Apophis, could not even defeat me.”
Golyat looked at something in the room as though considering. The Weapon shifted in Christopher’s hand, becoming a large war hammer.
“Even my companion waits in the shadow with tooth and claw to rend. She too has a taste for souls.”
Then like a move stolen from a Thor Marvel movie he smashed the hammer into the wall next to him. Energy arced from the darkness outside meeting the Weapon as it crashed into the wall shattering a large section. The brick and mortar exploded away from the impact.
Golyat was gone from the window. The lights had gone out across the street, but the darkness hid nothing from Christopher. He searched through the windows but couldn’t see any movement.
It was time t
o test his bluff. It was also going to be the hardest part. His body was still racked with pain, but he had stalled long enough. He jumped, thrusting out tendrils of power to help propel him across the space between buildings. He struggled to look as graceful as he could; he could not show weakness. His body protested as his body flexed into the jump. It was all he could do to not cry out. But that was nothing compared to the landing.
He landed with a thud back in Golyat’s living room. His landing shook the building and at the last moment, as his body gave out, broken bones and torn muscle no longer able to fully support him. He used his one good arm to slam the Weapon down and he went to one knee. The ground cracked, and power flashed like lighting. Dark clouds rolled away from him, bathing the room in an even deeper darkness.
He hoped the fireworks display covered the fact that he couldn’t even stand.
“Damn Chris, even I’m a little shaken up,” Juan said in his ear.
Across the darkened room Golyat stood in the entrance to the main hallway. Behind him Christopher could see Grace retreating, pulling a wounded Apophis behind along with her. Before leaving, Apophis looked at Christopher with a mix of coldness and something like begrudging respect.
Already the sand was seeping back into his broken skin, and his many cuts were sealing back up. The gut wound would take longer. Christopher was betting he wouldn’t risk continuing the fight for now.
“Watch yourself, Hunter. I will come for my brothers.” Then he disappeared with Grace down the hall.
Golyat studied him for a moment. “You are different. I don’t know what happened, but you are more of an unknown quantity now. The force I put into that blow should have crushed you. However, you might be weaker than you look. I suspect that if Apophis blew on you hard, you would fall over. You are lucky Grace has commanded him away, that I have chosen not to make that gamble. But mark my words Hunter, when we meet again you will be destroyed.”
Golyat turned and left through the hallway, stepping over the bodies of his dead soldiers as though they were mud puddles he had to avoid. Then he was gone. But Christopher had to be sure.
“Is he gone?” he whispered to Juan.
“Yeah, they left in the elevator,” said Juan.
With a whimper, Christopher slid to the ground. He heard a door slam and Hamlin was running toward him.
“Jesus, kid! Are you okay?” Hamlin asked.
“No. No, I don’t think so. I need a minute. But we need to get out of here.”
“Yeah, but we aren’t going through the lobby downstairs. Any remaining guards will be in a firefight soon with the police. Even if we made it, we would have to somehow explain all of this to the cops. And I’m not even sure I believe all of it.”
“We have to go by rooftop. I can carry you. Help me up.”
Hamlin gently helped Christopher to his feet. “Shit kid, you are in no condition to go rooftop skipping on your own, let alone haul my fat ass.”
“Things have changed. I have changed. You’d be surprised at what I’m…what we…are capable of now.”
Hamlin looked at him as though deciding. “Yeah, there is something new about you. Come on, let’s get out of here and then you can tell me all about it.”
Hellcat faded out of the shadows near the ruined body of the brother she had torn apart and gave a small roar.
“There’s something we have to do before we go. Help me over to the body,” Christopher said.
He put his good arm across Hamlin’s shoulder and hobbled over. It helped with walking, but any movement sent agony through his broken body. His bones felt like they were being held together through sheer willpower.
The brother’s body was slowly reforming. The process was taking time from all the visceral damaged Hellcat had done, but if they left him he would be whole again in a few minutes.
“Hamlin, I need you to cut open its chest. There is something inside it that we have to put in this canister.”
“What something?”
“Just take this.” Christopher handed Hamlin the Weapon, which had reverted to its more docile pocket knife form when Christopher had collapsed.
For a moment Hamlin looked like he was going to refuse, terror flashing across his face. “I…I can’t… I mean it’s not for me; it’s yours.”
“It won’t hurt you, for you it will just be a really sharp knife. And Hamlin, I am its wielder, but it is not mine. The Weapon is all of ours, it’s for the team.”
Hamlin nodded and took the knife, gingerly at first. Then when nothing happened he held it a little more firmly.
“Now dig inside its sandy guts for a putrid, hardened lump,” Christopher said. “You’ll know it when you find it.”
“I’m sure I will,” Hamlin said quietly.
Less than a minute later Hamlin was shoving the metal canister into the pink purse with a sludge-covered hand.
“Nice purse by the way,” Christopher said.
“Thanks, I got it on sale. We better get the hell out of here.”
Christopher grimaced. He had stalled long enough, trying to give his body as much time to heal as possible.
“Hold on tight, I only have one good arm and I think it’s going to be a bumpy ride,” Christopher said.
Hamlin awkwardly wrapped his arms around Christopher. “I’m not much of a hugger. We shall never speak of this.”
“Sure,” Christopher said with a grin and held him with his good arm.
“Hey guys,” Juan said in Christopher’s ear, “Look up at the security camera in the corner. Say Cheese. Perfect, got it all, including Hamlin’s very flattering and very sparkly purse.”
“What? Is Juan talking to you? Do you have an earpiece?”
“Yes, Juan was just talking to me. He just said he’s glad we are still alive.”
Before Hamlin could respond Christopher jumped out into the night, speeding toward the rooftop across the street. Hamlin screamed the whole way.
31
Christopher made it a half-dozen blocks before collapsing on the roof of a building. He told Juan where they were so he could bring a van around to pick them up. Hamlin was able to break the lock on the roof access door and when Juan arrived they could limp their way down the stairs and out onto the street.
Juan threw open the door and helped haul Christopher into the van; once inside, Hamlin promptly collapsed too.
“That was one hell of a gamble kid,” Hamlin said.
“You saw through my bluff?”
“Ha. I suspected when you were making all that ruckus; I mean I saw that blow you took, that would have killed an elephant. But now it’s obvious if Golyat had decided to stay and fight, you wouldn’t have stood a chance. Hell, Grace could have taken you out. What made you take that kind of risk?”
“Yeah,” Juan said. “What made you think you could pull it off?”
“You mean besides having no other choice? Fear. I know how I was when Golyat last saw me. I was inexperienced, slow, untrained and yet he still had someone else deal with me. No matter how strong he is, he is afraid of what I represent.”
Christopher pulled himself up against the side of the van. He was feeling a little better, but it would take some time to heal fully from everything that had happened in the last few days, or maybe the last ten years.
“He won’t risk confronting me directly unless he has a clear advantage that I could not possibly overcome. He was expecting the kid he had seen last time, the fresh-faced rookie Hunter. I showed what I had become. I hoped he would realize he did not have quite the advantage he thought he had.”
Hamlin was staring at him intently. “And what have you become, Chris? You were fighting in ways I have never seen you before, you were fighting the Apophis with year and years of experience like an equal.”
Christopher sighed and leaned his head back. “I’ll tell you everything, I promise; for now suffice to say that I did a lot of soul searching when I was trapped. I learned enough for several lifetimes.”
Hamlin si
mply nodded and leaned his own head back. “Okay, we are both exhausted kid, I get it, but after we rest I want to know everything. It’s just so messed up.”
“What is?” Juan asked.
“All the trouble, all that fighting, and we are no closer to tracking down this Alliance. Sure, we flushed him out of one of his homes. But we still know nothing about how they’re organized, what they are planning or how to stop them. For all that pain and we know absolutely nothing.”
“Oh yeah,” Juan said. “In all the excitement I forgot to tell you. We know everything.”
There was a long pause and then Hamlin cleared this throat and asked, “Um, what are you talking about Juan?”
A big grin spread across Juan’s face. “You did it Hamlin. The moment they connected that laptop you had stuck that USB drive into to their network—I presume to access tools to scan for viruses—they opened the door for us. My hack got in.”
“You are in their system?” Christopher asked. “I assume you mean their computer systems.”
“Oh yeah,” said Juan, his grin even wider. “And my little baby is spreading; every day I am getting deeper and deeper. Soon we will have complete access to everything on their network. We are going to be able to do a lot of fucking damage.”
“One other thing,” Hamlin said. He reached into the mysterious purse hanging around his chest. “There’s this.”
He pulled out a small crystal container with a shimmering, wispy form flashing inside. Instantly Christopher recognized it, and he should, it was a part of him. The shard of his soul taken from him. He couldn’t contain his excitement. Despite all the pain, he leaned forward and took it form Hamlin. The glow brightened as he took the crystal into his hands.
The darkness inside of him, the part fused to his soul rose up in anger. But Christopher suppressed it, time enough to deal with that. For now, he had himself back, he needed to be whole as soon as possible.
“Thank you, Hamlin. Thank you.”
Christopher smiled as he eased back against the wall of the van. They had intel on the Alliance, he had his soul back and would be whole soon. As soon as the Erises wake up all would be right once again.
