Shawdow Detective Box Set, Vol. 2 [Books 4-6]

by Massa, William

  23

  The ghoul’s pink eyes flashed in the green light as it met my gaze. His muddy trench coat was open, his ropy muscles shimmering with a phosphorescent light that matched the eerie glow coming off Jennifer’s coffin. The monster brandished a long, serrated sword carved from a human leg bone. The tip was pointed right at Archer’s throat.

  “The book. You must get the ghoul’s copy of the Daemonium.”

  I paid Cyon’s request no mind. Right now, Archer was my bigger concern. How had the ghoul managed to take her prisoner? She had proven herself to be a formidable vampire hunter, but I doubted she would have been able to hop from one floating coffin to the next the way I just had. Even with my heightened reflexes and athletic skills, I had barely made it.

  I stole a glance at the secret entrance to the ghoul’s lair inside one of the other coffins, the same entrance I had used the first time around before the cemetery decided to turn into a Transformer. Even though the mausoleum now floated in a black void, that tunnel probably still led to the ghoul’s lair located in another section of the cemetery fortress. Just another reminder that the normal rules of spacial geometry didn’t quite apply here.

  “How?” I asked. “I destroyed you.”

  “Life and death no longer have any meaning in this place.”

  No kidding. I circled the ghoul, Demon Slayer up and poised, ready to lash out at a moment’s notice.

  “If you hurt her…”

  “You truly think yourself the knight in shining armor. Who are you going to save first? The woman in the box or the one foolish enough to join you on this mad quest? It is useless either way. Death always wins in the end.”

  Perhaps the ghoul was right, but I wouldn’t give up without a fight. I moved in with my blade held in the guard position.

  Varthek tossed Archer aside and lashed out at me with his bone sword. I parried the first blow and counter-attacked. To my surprise, the ghoul barely offered up any resistance. Demon Slayer found his pale, luminescent flesh and penetrated skin, muscle and bone. The tip of my sword, slick with the fiend’s black blood, burst from his back.

  Instead of succumbing to the terrible wound, the ghoul flashed me a leering grin. His claws snapped out and closed around the steel blade sprouting from his albino chest. Every glyph in the steel’s surface ignited with a scarlet light that formed a sharp contrast with the ghoul’s black blood.

  His grin deepened as he pulled the blade deeper into his chest, drawing me closer to him until only inches separated us.

  “Death is my master. And he feels it’s high time you and your demon showed him the respect he deserves.”

  With these words, the ghoul lunged out at me and buried a mouth rimmed with shark teeth into my shoulder.

  Pain lit up my nerves, and I let go of the sword. Stunned, I reeled back, blood pouring from my gored shoulder.

  The ghoul reached for the hilt of my blade and pulled Demon Slayer out of his chest, one painful inch at a time. Black blood dribbled to the stone floor, followed by the clatter of steel as he dropped it carelessly to the ground.

  I brought up Hellseeker and emptied my magazine into the ghoul’s head. The barrage of bullets reshaped the monster’s features in a spray of blood and bone—not that the ghoul had to worry about me ruining his good looks. He was an ugly son of a bitch to begin with.

  As the gunfire died down and the smoke cleared, the ghoul’s gaze found me, his broken features already starting to regenerate. He truly had conquered death. And that raised a hell of an interesting question. How did I defeat a monster that I couldn’t kill?

  This question was still going through my mind when the ghoul launched himself at me.

  24

  Archer’s eyes snapped open, but she thought she was dreaming. Raven was fighting an albino-skinned monster with his bare hands. The ghoul rushed him and threw the hapless monster hunter against one of the coffins. She could hear his bones crack from the impact. As Raven’s nearly unconscious form slipped off the coffin, it all came back to her. Falling through the bone floor, landing in a pile of clothes and human remains only to be attacked by the same monster who was now tearing into Raven.

  The ghoul.

  Somehow this place had restored the fiend Raven had killed earlier.

  Her gaze flicked from the fight to the green glowing sarcophagus. This had to be the coffin that held Jennifer’s body, the young woman whose life force powered this infernal place. While the ghoul and Raven were busy trying to kill each other, maybe she could pop the coffin’s lid and release Jennifer.

  The sound of the fight continued to reverberate in the crypt as Archer crawled toward the sarcophagus. Luckily she reached the coffin without drawing any attention. The ghoul was having too much of a good time reducing Raven to a bloody pulp and mopping the crypt’s floor with the monster hunter’s face. Archer was tempted to help Raven instead, but she trusted he could hold his own. Besides, he would tell her to save the girl.

  At least that’s what the old Raven would have told me to do.

  As she reached the shimmering steel coffin, she pushed against the lid only to discover that it was sealed. She would have to find another way to pry the coffin open. And that’s when Archer spotted Demon Slayer. The magical sword gave off a dim glow in the green light of the crypt, the blade slick with a black, gooey substance which had to be the ghoul’s blood, the glyphs on the blade’s surface flashing wildly.

  Archer had seen with her own eyes how little effect the sword had on the ghoul. The blade might not be able to stop the monster but she doubted the coffin’s lock could resist. She would set Jennifer free. She didn’t know what might happen once the coffin was open, but hopefully it would end this nightmare.

  She positioned herself in front of the coffin’s center and brought up the sword high above her head. One well-placed blow against the lock should hopefully do the trick.

  The ghoul froze in mid-attack. Sensing her intent, the creature craned its neck toward her, its bulging, panicky eyes landing on her.

  “No!” the ghoul cried.

  Archer’s lips twisted in a wild grin, drawing strength from the creature’s fear.

  That’s right, you ugly fuck. You’re screwed!

  And with this thought, she brought the sword down on the green glowing coffin.

  25

  The ghoul towered over me, its hideous visage smeared with ebony blood. Most of the bullet wounds had already completely healed. The same couldn’t be said of my own injuries. Granted, being part demon sped up the healing process, but not at the same accelerated rate as the ghoul. The monster was mainlining the death energy he had released with the ritual. He’d become a creature beyond the normal laws of life and death.

  The ghoul leered at me as he brought up his bone sword for the death blow. Behind his back, I caught a glimpse of Archer and hope flared inside of me. In a grim parody of Varthek’s movements, she was holding Demon Slayer high above her head, the glow from the blade painting her determined features red. Her gaze remained fixed on the shimmering coffin at the center of the mausoleum, her intent clear. She was going to set Jennifer free and bring this whole damn place crashing down. Kickass plan, if she managed to pull it off in time.

  “Wait!” I cried, stalling for time. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this, Varthek. Help me understand.”

  The ghoul leered, displaying his blackened teeth. “Foolish half-breed. The dead shall walk this earth and my kind will rule over them, feeding on their rotting corpses as we please. We will be the masters of a new reality—and humankind will be nothing more than meat.”

  Nice villain speech. But you know the old saying, pride comes before the fall.

  The ghoul must’ve picked up the hopeful flare in my eyes. He grew still for a moment and then wheeled away from me. His eyes fixed on Archer. A scream exploded from his throat as he surged toward the coffin in a desperate attempt to stop her, but it was too late.

  Archer brought Demon Slayer down o
n the coffin’s locking mechanism. Wild beams of energy sizzled and sparked as the sword tore through the lock. Metal shattered, and for a beat I wasn’t sure whether the blade or the lock had given way. Could this magic be stronger than Demon Slayer?

  Then I heard the ghoul’s angry roar mixed with Archer’s cry of triumph. She’d done it.

  Displaying zero hesitation, Archer popped the lid of the glowing coffin. Green-red supernatural light erupted from the casket. She reached in, face aglow, and pull a dazed Jennifer out. The poor girl looked like she was waking from a terrible dream, panicked eyes ticking back and forth with animal fear, searching for an explanation for what was happening.

  The ghoul trembled with shock as waves of light washed over his ivory, fish-belly skin. He seemed to have forgotten all about me for the moment.

  This was my chance to strike.

  I seized it.

  Tapping into Cyon’s demonic power and my own simmering rage, I catapulted back to my feet and rushed toward the ghoul. The creature heard my approach and pivoted in my direction, but it was too late to bring his bone sword up. I gritted my teeth as I slammed into the ghoul full-force, the impact sending him toward the now empty coffin. Varthek landed inside with me on top of him, and I drove my demon fist into his shrieking face, pounding him again and again until both of us were splattered with black blood.

  “You bastard,” I said, my voice overlaid with the demonic timbre of Cyon’s tones as I continued to drive my fists into his face. “You thought you could come here to my city and hurt the people under my protection?”

  The ghoul lifted a feeble arm.

  “Every goddamn month, some evil shit-for-brains like you shows up here and tries to destroy the world. And-I-am-sick of-it.”

  I punctuated my words with vicious, punishing jabs. The creature’s face had stopped healing, the magic of this place already waning. Varthek was little more than a mass of bruises and pulped flesh, but still the bloodlust inside me was not sated.

  I looked back down at the ghoul. He was still alive, but without the healing power of the black magic, he wouldn’t last long.

  Dripping with sweat and blood, I jumped back from the broken figure splayed out in the coffin. My crazed gaze landed on Archer. Detecting the shock in her gaze gave me pause. I studied my bloodied fists, took in the ghoul’s destroyed features. Who was the greater monster at this point? Had I crossed the line?

  Varthek moaned, numb and groggy from my furious beating, his legs and arms dangling from the sides of the casket like a broken doll. I quickly pushed them into the casket. The ghoul let out another moan, understanding flickering in his bloodshot eyes, but he was unable to offer up much in terms of resistance. I closed the coffin’s lid, trapping the ghoul inside and sealing his fate.

  The spell had been designed to work with Robert Lamont’s life force. Jennifer had made for an ideal substitute, her similar DNA making her capable of channeling and directing the power of the ritual. But a ghoul reanimated by the death dimension’s magic…well, judging by the wild flashes of mystical energy forking from the coffin, the spell was about to backfire in a pretty spectacular way.

  There was no time to stay and gloat. Vibrations rocked the mausoleum. Dust showered down on us. We had to get out of here as quickly as possible.

  I grabbed Jennifer from Archer and hauled her over my shoulders. “Run!” I screamed and we barreled toward the mausoleum exit.

  The scene awaiting us outside the crypt was even worse than before. The flying ring of coffins circling the mausoleum were being sucked up by a tornado-like force, the swirling void vacuuming them up one by one. The caskets splintered and shattered in the process, and human-shaped energy forms emerged from the wreckage.

  The spirits of the trapped cult members, I realized. They were now free to move on. I saw the spectral shapes rise and then vanish into the yawning blackness. I wondered what might be waiting for them on the other side, and if it was preferable to an eternity trapped inside a coffin.

  My thoughts were jerked back to more pressing issues as the ground I stood on cracked and shivered. Fissures zigzagged between my feet in a violent replay of the earlier cemetery earthquake. There was no chance in hell that we could escape the same way I’d come to the crypt. This whole place was falling apart, sizzling beams of light jumping from one coffin to the next, the remaining caskets going supernova and turning into blinding vortexes of mystical energy.

  “Back into the crypt!” I shouted. Maybe the ghoul’s secret tunnel offered a better chance of escape. Archer fell in step with me without any protest, wrapping an arm under Jennifer’s to help me carry her.

  We rushed back into shaking super-crypt. The coffin that held the ghoul radiated crimson light. Another tremor shook the crypt, and then the world around us started to come undone. Archer and Jennifer held on to me for dear life.

  My original plan had been for us to use the secret tunnel that had originally led me to the ghoul’s lair. As the tremors intensified, the notion of sneaking around underground tunnels while the world came tumbling down on us wasn’t exactly appealing. Stubborn bastard that I am, I was still going to make a go for the tunnel entrance when a particularly strong quake struck, and I was thrown head-first to the stone floor. I crawled toward Archer and Jennifer, who had fallen a few feet away, hoping to shield their bodies from the rocks pelting down on us.

  As I threw myself over them, the mausoleum lurched, the ground buckling. A beat later, the whole place began to move, almost as if some force had pried the structure loose from its moorings and was now hurtling the crypt through space.

  My demon claw dug into the cracks between the stones as the structure juddered, threatening to shake itself apart.

  26

  Cormac watched as the light from Father Cabrera’s mystical cross continued to fade. At this rate, he judged the power emanating from the talisman would go dark within a minute. And after that, the whole club would literally go to hell. The club kids would turn into zombies, as would Father Cabrera and the remaining exorcists. Raven’s ring would keep protecting Cormac from the effects of the death fog, but its magic wouldn’t be powerful enough to ward off a club full of hungry zombies.

  These fatalistic thoughts were still cycling through his mind when a series of violent quakes rattled the club and almost made him lose his balance. Instinctively, he clung to the bar, as bottles of alcohol were knocked off the shelves and shattered on the floor. The smell of hard liquor filled his nostrils.

  The next twenty seconds felt like the longest of his life. Finally, the shaking subsided. He let out a sigh of relief, amazed to be in one piece. Even though the vibrations had eased, he continued to hold on to the bar, expecting there to be aftershocks. A few low trembles rippled through the club, but the worst appeared to be over.

  Cabrera’s cross suddenly sparkled with a renewed burst of mystical energy. Simultaneously, the yellowish fog outside the large skylight began to disperse. The glowing shroud lifted, giving way to dim moonlight.

  Hope flared in Cormac. If the fog was breaking up, it could mean only one thing: Raven had succeeded in his mission. He prayed it meant that Jennifer was safe.

  Cormac rushed toward the club’s exit. None of the remaining bouncers tried to stop him as he popped the door open, ready to strike down any attacking zombie with the Seal of Solomon. But no monsters jumped out at him as he stepped into the cool night. The acrid scent of the death fog was rapidly fading, vanishing with the mist. The cemetery seemed to be sucking up the clouds of fog, the sickly light dimming with each passing second.

  That wasn’t the only change. The nightmarish cemetery fortress was collapsing in on itself. The grave markers and coffins that lined the castle’s patchwork walls broke away and vanished in the mist that still ringed the bottom half of the death palace.

  By the time Cormac reached the cemetery, the fog was gone—and so was the castle. As he passed through the arched entrance, he couldn’t help but inhale sharply in amazement. The w
hole cemetery had been perfectly restored. Every stone, tree, and tombstone appeared to be back in its proper place. There was no sign of the horror that had manifested itself here, almost as if the otherworldly castle had been nothing but a bad dream.

  They did it! They defeated the ghoul’s black magic!

  Hope flickering inside of him, Cormac made his way toward the mausoleum at the center of the cemetery. He prayed he would find Jennifer with Raven and Archer.

  27

  Vibrations rattled the crypt, making my teeth chatter. The coffins shook as if they were about to release more reanimated bodies. I knew that wasn’t going to happen. These caskets were all empty by now, the ghoul having feasted on the corpses inside. I never thought I’d find that fact comforting.

  As the shaking slowly grew weaker, the sense that the mausoleum was moving subsided. My eyes found Archer’s. I was still laying on top of her, all too aware of our physical closeness. I looked at her for an awkward beat, not sure what to say. I finally broke the silence with a quip.

  “Talk about a wild ride.”

  Archer managed a smile and I felt the tension easing somewhat.

  I rolled off her and stumbled back to my feet. Every part of my body ached.

  I searched the crypt for Jennifer. Her eyes were still glazed with terror, and a thin line of blood trickled from her scalp where she’d been clipped by a falling rock. Still, she was alive. If I was being honest with myself, I hadn’t expected to save her tonight. But I was glad I did.

  Poor girl, I thought. I hoped she would be able to recover from the horrors she’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours. Between losing her best friend to the ghoul and then being trapped inside the coffin at the heart of the spell, she’d been through more than most people could imagine. But Jennifer was tough. And a certain psychic I knew would be more than willing to help her recover from the ordeal.