by Declan Finn
“So, what do you have?”
“A lot of wrath.”
Father Rodgers waited a moment. “And?”
“Blind rage.”
Rodgers waited another moment. “You’re going to have to give me an actual sin.”
“Do you count necessary brutality?”
“Against?”
“A rapist.”
The priest paused, and just gave him a look. “At best, there’s adrenaline. Marco, give me something.”
“Impure thoughts. How’s that?”
Rodgers cocked his head. “That’s new. Anyone I know?”
It was Marco’s turn to pause. “Maybe.”
“Really? Amanda? Huh.”
“How do you figure?”
“It wasn’t going to be Yana, now was it?”
“Not really, no.”
“Should I ask how impure these thoughts have been?”
“I want to kiss her. Make out with her. Caress her cheek. I want to date her. I’m sure I love her. I’d marry her if I didn’t have the mental restraint.”
Rodgers arched a brow. “I’m waiting for the impure thought. Are you pondering her nude?”
“No. Duh … Well, I am now, thanks a lot. Why would you even ask that?”
Rodgers sighed in frustration. “Marco, have you ever considered that you’re bad at this?”
“I enjoy killing people. I should probably consider joining a monastery.”
“I don’t think the Trappists could handle you.”
“Not sure they could, either. Do they have a vow of silence?”
“Ha!” Rodgers boomed. “Now that I would like to see. You with a vow of silence.” The priest sighed. “Marco, are you going to tell her you love her?”
“No. That would be stupid. Not to mention jeopardize a great working relationship on fighting the army of darkness. I’m not going to screw up a war on evil just to see if I can get her to marry me .”
Rodgers sighed. “Anything else?”
“Nothing that comes to mind. Then again, I’ve been busy, and everything’s a bit of a blur.”
“In which case, say three decades of the rosary, and make a good act of contrition.”
“I’ll see how much I can do before we have to kick ass tonight.”
CHAPTER 20:
A DAY OF RECKONING
Marco stood in the cemetery that night and silently raged, waiting to reduce “Mister Day” to a pile of shattered glass. He scanned the tombstones around, waiting for the adversary to jump out from behind any one of them.
Catalano turned around once more and found the demon standing in plain sight. He wore a wonderful, brand-new Armani suit with a silk shirt and cheery green tie. His posture was elegant, his hair was perfect, and he smoothed his tie with a movement so suave, he must have taken dance lessons at one point.
Day smiled and cocked his head. “I’m curious, Mister Catalano,” he noted, slowly slinking around to Marco’s left. “What did you intend to accomplish by setting a trap for me? You know nothing can harm me.”
The New Yorker grinned at him. “True. You can’t be harmed. But I have no intention of harming you, I intend to kill you.” Shrug. “I expected to kill the monster who’s been causing havoc in the Middle East. It took me awhile, but I noticed something. You’re lazy.”
Day smiled. “Oh? Pray tell, how? I assure you, I am a most industrious demon.”
“Granted, but you’re lazy about how far you want to move. During your history, you’ve moved in a definite pattern and kept going right next door: Ireland to England, to Germany, to Russia, probably sliding into Afghanistan during their war against the Soviet Union. What did you do from there? Spend a little time in the Sudan? Head back for some ISIS action?”
He grinned. “You are very wise for one who has not yet lived one lifetime.”
The human smiled in turn. “And you cannot realize how nice it is to meet a demon who’s at least read Stoker’s Dracula. I’m only curious as to whether or not you flew one of the planes on 9/11.”
Day bowed slightly. “The second plane—the one which hit the target properly, in the middle of the building.” He studied Marco a moment. “I’m impressed at your mental capacity. Most people wouldn’t have made such a leap. The CIA never figured out that there were 20 hijackers, not 19.”
A shrug. “Might I inquire how you managed to keep the whole thing under wraps?”
Day waved it away as though it were trivial. “The President before that was no great problem to make a deal with, so long as we gave each other certain concessions. In the ’90s, I even managed to get him to cut down your military to 40% capacity since the first Gulf War.”
Marco arched a brow. “Always knew the Devil would be a Democrat.”
“I prefer to think of myself as a Lobbyist.”
“Not an Advocate?”
“Touché,” he said with another small bow. “I crippled your CIA and military capacities for years. Heck, since 2009, I was able to walk back every measly effort made after 9/11, making your country vulnerable for decades this time.”
Doubted, but I’m not going to debate the point. “If you live that long.”
Day took a step toward Marco. “Forever.” Another step. “It doesn’t matter how many times you shoot or stab me, because I am an army of darkness.” One more step and he stopped. “My real name is Legion, for I have the strength of many.”
Marco nodded. “Actually, I was thinking it was Asmodeus.”
Day’s smile became sly. “Like I said, you are smart.”
In five seconds, twelve metal bolts came from four separate, fully-loaded triple-action crossbows. Instead of the annoyance he had showed that morning, he screamed in agony, falling back, doubled over in pain. He glared, his eyes now pools of—literal—fire, staring as so though to burn Marco to the ground.
If eyes were windows to the soul, his was not exactly prime vacation territory. They had turned coal black.
Day cocked an eyebrow. “Why metal?”
Marco chuckled. “Think... Godzilla.”
Day’s eyes then followed the cables streaming from each arrow, which were just then being connected to the San Francisco power grid. “Oh, nuts.”
The electricity went straight into each arrow, leading directly into his body. Day pulled back his upper lips in a snarl, and turned his gaze on Yana, reloading her crossbow.
The strange and unlicensed use of the San Francisco power grid tripped a few circuits, because his body jerked one last time, then flopped to the ground.
Day was up in a second, which was three-quarters of a second longer than it would have taken him usually. He pushed up off his hands and knees in time for Rory to leap on him, driving a fist into the nerve spot behind the ear. The blow would’ve knocked out a human being, but only stunned Day. Rory drove a knife into his kidney before hitting the spot again. That blade was covered in the same anticoagulant that the arrows were.
Day twirled and threw Rory off with a shake that tossed the vampire over Marco’s head and almost three blocks away. Day turned to Marco, eyes burning with rage. He reached up and pulled out the first arrow, and the wound healed, but not half as fast as it had during their original battle. Day dropped each bolt to the ground, extracting each with infinite patience.
Marco slowly reached for a test tube at the small of his back, a nail poking out of the top of the stopper. Marco rammed a nail through the cork and the layers in the test tube, shook the tube, and tossed it at the demon. Day caught it with graceful ease and smiled as he held it in front of him. He dropped it to the ground and stepped on it.
The resulting explosion knocked Day off his feet, severing the front half of his foot from the heel. The concussion wave sent the toes flying over Marco’s shoulder before Day had a hope of healing the damage. The next tube was tossed at Day while the creature struggled to his feet. It exploded under his body and sent him sprawling, pieces of glass shining in his face. Day rolled to his damaged foot, while the oth
er foot bled profusely.
Another chemical bomb flew at him, and Day caught it. He shook it as Marco had—but it didn’t need any more mixing and exploded in his clenched fingers, blowing them off as well.
Day grabbed his hand with the healthy one, and fell back, collapsing onto one knee. “You can’t do this to me!” he cried as the next explosion fell between his legs, nearly severing the other foot at the ankle.
“Wanna bet?” I wonder how long I can keep this up before I get bored. I have eight more of these left. His Armani suit is already shredded, and it doesn’t look like he can take much more… then again, he will.
Marco smiled, and brought up a large boxcutter. He smiled. “Come and get me.”
Day leapt for him.
Marco burst back, just out of Day’s right hook. Day swung back, and Marco met the blow just below Day’s wrist, stabbing with the boxcutter. With a quick roll of the wrist, Marco broke off a blade from the boxcutter, leaving it in Day’s arm, embedded so deep that he couldn’t pull it out without tools.
As Day’s fist passed him, Marco leapt after the arm. Marco wrapped his left arm around Day’s right, holding on for dear life as he stabbed up into Day’s armpit, breaking off another blade as he pulled and twisted. As Marco pulled back the boxcutter, he pushed out another blade. He he drew it down Day’s ribcage, opening up the demon’s side like a zipper, all the way to Day’s hip. Marco pulled back, stabbed Day in the femoral artery just inside the thigh, twisted the blade, and slashed across the rest of the quadriceps. He twisted it out, leaving the blade behind.
Marco dove to his left, and Day tottered. The bland little man who housed a demon blinked, confused. “Are you getting faster, or am I going slower?”
Marco simply smiled. “Oh, buddy, you have no idea.”
* * *
“So, what exactly is your plan?” Rory asked. “Can I hope that it involves land mines?”
“Sort of,” Marco said. He drew a boxcutter handle from his pocket. “We all know these, right? It’s a non-disposable handle that gets refilled with a strip of box-cutter blades.”
Bram raised a hand. “So what?”
Marco grimaced. He wanted to spell this out so he could get the details straight. “The strip of cutters are segmented, so as one becomes blunted, they can be broken off, using a fresh one. Now, with Mister Day’s regenerative properties, we know how fast he can heal. What can slow him down?”
“Leaving a blade in?” Rory asked.
“Holy artifacts?” Father Rodgers suggested.
“Anti-coagulants?” Merle Kraft added.
“All of the above,” Marco said. “I’ve got several of these boxcutters. I’ve painted one side of the blade with anti-coagulants, and the other with holy water. If we don’t get him with one or the other, he’ll still have to heal around the blades I leave in his major muscle groups and blood vessels.”
Amanda nodded slowly. “Assuming that he doesn’t rip your head off when you blink? I went at him full speed, and didn’t slow him.”
Marco nodded, appreciating that she asked the sensible question. “Yes. But you activated the protocols in the hospital for a vampire invasion. That got his attention. Slowed him down a bit, maybe?”
She nodded. “Yes. But he was still vampire fast.”
His smile grew a little more. He raised his left arm, showing his wrist, where he had wrapped a rosary. “I know that they’re not supposed to be used as jewelry, but I figured God isn’t going to object. If holiness slows him down, I hope that it keeps him from tearing my arm off and beating me to death with it.”
“And you’ll be doing this by yourself?” Amanda asked again.
Marco shrugged. “On the one hand, he knew Rory was coming. So he knows it’ll be a trap if you two are close by. No one ever worries about the small, unimportant human.”
* * *
Day shook his head a few more times, and looked at his right arm, as though wondering what happened.
“What’s the matter?” Marco asked. “Does dying not appeal to you?”
In-between blinks, Merle Kraft popped into existence behind Day, and jammed two large syringes into Day’s neck, filling him with both holy water and anti-coagulants. Day roared with the sound of a thousand voices in pain.
Marco did the math. Right leg and arm damaged. Kicks out of the question. He turns to responds to Merle, I stab him in the back.
Since he can only respond with his left arm, I stand behind him on the right side. If he tries a rear left elbow, I’m out of range. If he tries a left hook or cross, I’ll be out of range before he can reach me.
As Day screamed in pain, Marco charged. Day whirled around, swinging with his left arm, and Merle wasn’t there. That was perfectly timed, as Marco rammed several blades right into Day’s kidney.
Marco threw himself straight back, rolling over one shoulder, springing up several feet away.
Day’s eyes had gone darker. They were as deep as the dark between stars, and almost fragmented, and insectoid.
“You will regret–”
There were several metallic streaks slapping into Day’s back, and breaking up his dialogue.
* * *
Amanda did not look impressed. “Do you expect Day to bleed to death?”
Marco shook his head. “I’m crazy. Not stupid. I’m not the trap, I’m the bait. When I have him engaged and securely in the fight, that’s when the rest of you come in. You all hit him with everything we have. This includes arrows with the holy water/anti-coagulant mix, and throwing Stars of David.”
Bram smirked. “You want I should blow his head off from two klicks out?”
Marco shrugged. “If you can, knock yourself out. In fact, that would be great. Pardon me if I don’t rely on it, though. He’s a demon, and if we trash his body, that’s nice, but does anyone really want to rely on that alone?”
Rodgers leaned forward on his chair. “Marco. I need to be close enough for a full combat exorcism. The way you describe your kill box, I won’t get close.” He pointed at Marco with his lit cigar. “And you’ll already be far too close.”
“That’s when things are going to get tricky. And when everyone else is going to come in and save my behind.”
* * *
The throwing stars of David came out like machine-gun fire, the really fast ones obviously coming from Amanda. One of the stars slammed into Day’s spine, and the demon’s legs fell out from under him.
Bram will be so disappointed, Marco thought. He never even got a chance to blow Day’s head off.
Day’s intact hand reached back and grabbed the star, and pulled it out. There was the sound of sizzling, but he didn’t even mind.
Makes sense, a choice between a little pain or death.
Day took several deep, hyperventilation-speed breaths, and let out another Godzilla roar. With his left arm, he pushed off the ground to standing up straight, and spun on his “good” leg.
Marco dropped to the ground, face first. The centrifugal force hurled the Stars of David from his back, as well as several arrows and razors, sending them shooting out like bullets. There were several screams, two of them female.
Day slowed to a stop, and he staggered like a drunk, trying to maintain his balance. The demon gave a full grin, revealing suddenly sharp teeth. His body was covered in blood, but his wounds were already healing. Even his fingers were starting to grow back.
“You can’t stop me,” he bellowed. The voice sounded less human, and more like it had been run through a distorter, or had rumbled from deep inside Day’s stomach.
That was the point where the giant Irish wolfhound jumped on his arm, biting for Day’s face. The demon staggered back, and delivered a quick uppercut with the partially blown-off hand, and swatted away with the other.
Marco saw the lycanthrope pass overhead, and hoped that George would heal.
Marco scrambled to his feet, charging Day head on, two fresh boxcutters in hand.
Day grinned, and braced himself.
Then Marco dropped to one knee. There was the crack of a rifle, and Day’s head snapped back. The demon took a single step back, and then doubled over, as though he was vomiting, but a .50-caliber bullet came out of his forehead.
Marco drew down and tossed two tubes on either side of Day, knocking him around in time for Marco to throw himself shoulder-first into his stomach.
They rolled on the ground before Marco showed the good sense to leap off. Day sprang to his feet and swung casually, as though Catalano was more of an annoyance than anything else, now that it was hand-to-hand. Marco dropped him with an unprofessional kick between the legs and leapt back again. Day doubled over in pain and received the gift of two more test tubes at his feet, breaking legs and feet and other parts.
But the chemicals released into Day’s bloodstream had already worn off. His insectoid eyes glowed and he smiled manically. He stepped forward, ready to kill, when a bottle of acid broke against his head. He cringed, gasping as Rory followed up his attack with a broadsword through his chest.
“Die, you focker! Die!” His roar was almost as inhuman as Day’s. Day pushed him away again with all his strength and sent Rory on another flying trip.
Marco smiled weakly. “Do you really want to give him so many frequent-flier miles?”
Day smiled and rushed forward, taking his time, comparatively, and brushed Marco aside, smacking him against a marble slab. Marco sunk to his knees as Day stood over him. The student looked up at him through cloudy eyes, waiting for night to finally overtake him.
* * *
Amanda had followed orders. She didn’t like leaving Marco out in the cold at the cemetery, but his plan had relied solely on being underestimated.
She watched from her position in the trees as Marco and the demon danced around one another in the dark. Chemistry being used at its finest, in a combination of a close-quarters combat with chemical warfare.
Until Marco started losing.
