“That’s one big chick,” the drummer said stupidly.
Then it was back to business, as the thing crossed most of the huge stage in two steps, curled toe claws digging splinters out of the floor. A black, forked tongue licked past lips as it spoke, with a voice that sounded surprisingly normal and feminine. “Come along, little performer. Show’s over.”
“Shit!” Mosh shouted, stumbling back, knowing full well that this wasn’t part of the act. “What’s that?”
“Oh, now everybody can see them!” I shouted as I pushed past my brother, shrugged out of the stupid coat, raised Abomination and flipped the selector down to full auto. The EO-Tech holographic sight settled on the creature’s center of mass as I jerked the trigger. Abomination recoiled up and to the right as I stitched a line of buckshot impacts across the creature’s torso. The purple shape jerked under the steady impacts, raising claws to protect its face as I blasted it with a continuous roar of ten magnum rounds. No normal being could have lived.
“Mosh. Run,” I ordered as I dropped the spent magazine and pulled another one from my vest.
The clawed hand came down and belligerent red eyes focused on me through the swirling confetti. “You!”
New magazine rocked in, I jerked the charging handle to chamber another round, aimed and fired. The one-ounce silver slug could have blasted a hole through a medium-sized cow but it didn’t seem to phase the oni. The projectile actually made an audible buzzing ricochet noise and there was a clang as the drum set took the hit.
She turned to the pit and shrieked, “Cratos! He is here. The Hunter arrived, just as they said he would.”
The second monster lumbered up onto the stage, also cloaked in gray, but, holy shit, this one was huge. The arms bulging out the sides were bright red, big around as my waist, and rippling with veins as thick as garden hoses. The head rose, revealing a much more demonic visage, rhino-horn-sized tusks pointing up out of a jaw a foot across. Above that, tiny black eyes blinked stupidly. Squat, with thick legs and a stumpy torso, he was still twice as tall as I was, and every inch of him was coated in red hide and hard muscle. It was truly terrifying. “Master will pay many souls for this one, Bia,” he bellowed, his voice shaking the foundations of the building.
The audience went nuts. Now this was entertainment. As long as they thought this was part of the show, they wouldn’t kill each other trying to stampede out the exits. Edward swung his arms sharply downward, and the two batons extended with a snap. I pointed my shotgun at the big red monster. “Ready, Ed?” The orc spun both batons around him fast enough to make the air whistle, looked at me, and nodded.
One of the bouncers stared up at the giant in shock, backing away slowly, while the others had the sense to run like hell. “Yum . . . snack,” Big Red said. The brute reached down, effortlessly picked the man up and casually bit his head off. Twitching and fountaining blood, the decapitated body was tossed fifty feet out into the audience by the monster like it was discarding an empty beer can. The nonchalant crunching of the skull as he chewed was audible across the entire stage. The purple one laughed.
Edward glanced down at the batons in his hands, then back at me, as if to say, Screw this. We both ran.
My brother hadn’t listened to me, and he was watching the two giants, mouth agape, guitar dangling in one hand. “Come on, man!” I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along as we sprinted for backstage. There was a massive roar and a harpy’s shriek as the creatures followed, each one of their strides equivalent to several of ours. The other people in this general area were close enough to know that these were not special effects and were fleeing in every direction. My eyes were dazzled from the spotlights as we ran under the overhang supporting most of the sound equipment and into an unadorned concrete hallway. I crashed and tripped over a cart, dragging Mosh with me. Gretchen and Edward were now far ahead, as were the fleeing roadies and stagehands.
Skippy was pushing the metal container cart that I’d run into toward the stage. It took me a second to realize what it was. The black stencil read danger: pyrotechnics. Skippy gestured at my vest. Knowing automatically what he wanted, I pulled out an incendiary grenade and handed it to him.
“Owen, what are those—wait, is that a grenade?” Mosh asked as he pulled himself to his feet, still trying to figure out what was happening. Welcome to the party, Bro.
“Yes, and when the pin is pulled, Mr. Grenade is no longer our friend, so move your ass.”
“Bia, here they are,” the red oni said as he squatted on his haunches and peered down the hallway. “Filthy souls to eat . . . he-he-he.” His giggle was unnerving.
The hallway was clear of innocents. Not that Skippy probably would have worried about it anyway. He tugged the pin, dropped the grenade on top of the cart, and both of us shoved as hard as we could, sending the heavy load down the hall with a surprising bit of velocity. Five-second fuse on the white phosphorus ones. The cart rolled haphazardly toward the huge figure now waddling, crouched, down the hall. “RUN!” Cratos smashed the cart against the wall, pushing his way past it to get to us.
The three of us made it down the rest of the hall and around the corner before the WP detonated. Willie Petes don’t go off with a typical explosion—more of a pop-fizz, and then a layer of flame that sticks to everything and could melt steel goes shooting out in every direction. Cratos roared as phosphorus embedded itself in his hide. “Keep going!” I screamed. The pyro bundle detonated a moment later, not as massively as I hoped, but the shockwave traveled over us, raining dust down from the ceiling.
I hit the floor, sliding forward on my face, quickly rolling onto my back, and checking the way we had come. Smoke was billowing out of the hall.
“It burns me!” The idiot monster shouted as it blundered out of the inferno, still right behind us but now coated in living fire. Flames licked out around him; somehow they climbed the concrete walls and moved between the beams of the ceiling. An alarm began to wail as the fire sprinklers kicked on, pelting us with cold water. He blundered about, crashing into pieces of equipment and smashing the walls into powder, apparently blinded by the fire. The damn thing showed no indication of giving up.
This place was confusing, a maze of concrete halls. “How do we get out of here?” I shouted.
“This way.” Mosh pointed down another corridor, this one lined with green equipment lockers. He realized he was still holding his guitar by the neck and tossed it on the floor with a clatter. Too bad; that thing would probably be worth a bundle on eBay. We ran, leaving the burning oni behind, and raced past dressing rooms, equipment closets, and a table lined with all sorts of colorful food that was now drenched by the sprinklers. “Parking lot’s this way.” A bunch of people clustered ahead of us, mostly groupies hanging out for the afterparty judging by how trashy most of the girls were dressed. The groupies were every bit as soaked and terrified as everybody else and were all pointing down the intersecting hall.
“Why’s everybody screaming?” Mosh demanded as we slid through the water behind the women. He got his answer as a small, black object came flying back through the sprinklers. Edward hit the ground rolling, splashing instantly back to his feet. The female oni was right behind him, claws swinging wildly. Somehow she had gotten ahead and cut us off.
Edward dodged under the black claws. Long divots were ripped from concrete behind him. He spun, nailing the creature in the body with the batons: pop, pop, pop. The impacts sounded like solid hits and he was moving unbelievably fast, striking over and over, but she didn’t seem to notice. Bia lashed out with one taloned foot, raking a hole in the carpet where Ed had just been.
I pushed past the groupies. “Edward, down!”
“Everybody, this way,” shouted Mosh, grabbing some of the women, and physically propelling them through a door that he’d jerked open. Luckily it appeared that all Pitts adjusted quickly under stress. “Move!”
The purple creature ducked under the overhanging lights, which were flickering and shorting in the artificia
l rain. Orange emergency lighting suddenly kicked on along the floor. Edward dove aside, giving me a clean shot. Bia had protected her face earlier, so I put the holographic reticle on her skull and pulled the trigger. Her head snapped back under the impact as the slug bounced from her forehead. Skippy materialized at my side and my loaned .45 barked as he opened fire. Bia snarled and lifted her gray, tattered cloak as if to protect her face. I kept firing as she ducked her head and retreated back the way she had come. Skippy quit shooting. “Where she go?” he grumbled.
They could turn invisible. That’s how they were able to move through the audience. But how come I could still see them? Maybe this Chosen One business did have a few perks after all. “Her head is vulnerable,” I told Skippy.
“Garage is this way,” Mosh shouted from the door. Water was running in thick rivulets down his goatee. There was a mighty roar from the direction of the burning Cratos. He was on the move. “Let’s get out of here.”
I followed my brother, walking backward, waiting for that horrible purple screechy thing to charge back into view at any second. The innocent bystanders had used the time to run like crazy and there were a bunch of discarded high-heel shoes on the floor. Mosh, Gretchen, Edward, Skippy and I ran down a steep ramp that had to be at least fifty yards long before we entered the huge open space of the parking garage. The sprinklers in this area hadn’t activated, so at least there was plenty of traction. There were several semis and trailers parked here as well as a bunch of miscellaneous cars.
“Pitt! Status!” shouted the voice in my earpiece.
“Busy right now, Grant,” I gasped as I kept on running.
We passed a pillar and I was suddenly jerked off balance as someone grabbed my arm. Slamming into the pillar nearly knocked the wind right out of me. I tried to bring up my shotgun but it was swatted aside. Agent Franks shoved me back into the wall, hard, and held a single finger up in front of his lips, indicating the need for silence. The reason quickly became apparent when the wall twenty feet over the ramp exploded in a shower of fragments, dust, and flying rebar shards. Cratos slammed his fists right through the wall. The great red beast launched himself flailing into the room, landing on the floor hard enough to shatter it in a ten-foot circle.
Franks pushed me back even harder with his left hand, raising a stubby FN F2000 rifle in his right. He was still in his suit, and hadn’t even taken the time to remove his clip-on tie. Cratos immediately focused in on my fleeing brother and the orcs and took off in pursuit. “Filthy souls to EAT!” He kicked a parked car and rolled it onto its side, scattering a cloud of safety glass. The screech of metal was obnoxious. Earth shaking with each step, the monster ran right past us. Smoke rose from his flesh but he looked no worse for having been doused in chemical flames.
“Now!” Franks shouted, spinning out from behind the pillar and leveling his rifle at the back of the running monster. A dozen other Feds appeared from behind various vehicles and opened fire, filling the garage with the deafening chatter of automatic weapons and the thumps of grenade launchers. Cratos was caught in the fusillade, hundreds of rounds and supersonic fragments impacting his armored hide. He momentarily disappeared in a cloud of smoke and flashes, spinning, off balance. I caught a glimpse of him as he reacted to the onslaught and covered his head. The monster tripped, toppled forward, and crushed a pickup truck beneath its bulk. Mosh and the orcs were nowhere to be seen.
The fire let up as the final guns ran out of ammo. Then came the simultaneous clatter of the well-trained agents quickly reloading. The oni wasn’t moving. Nothing normal could have lived through that, but these things were not normal. “Cables,” Franks ordered as he jerked the mag from his bullpup carbine and pulled a fresh one from inside his coat. “Go.”
Wiping the water from my eyes, I stared in disbelief as four agents sprinted to the downed monster. Each one was carrying a giant steel manacle, thick steel cables strung between them. Several other Feds ran up behind them, carrying some sort of spear trailing a fat electrical cord. A generator roared to life. It was some sort of monster taser. “You’ve got to be flipping kidding me,” I muttered. “Go cut its head off or something.”
“Orders said take them alive,” Franks replied.
That was stupid. Taking a cultist captive was one thing. Getting close to that downed monstrosity was idiocy. “There’s another one around here,” I warned.
“Bia,” Franks said, indicating that he knew a lot more about these things than he had ever let on. Son of a bitch. “We’ll take the big one first.”
The red form stirred, the metal of the pickup truck grinding beneath it. The agents began to shout and they hit it with the metal spear. Electricity crackled and the oni jerked and twitched, thrashing violently, smoke rising from the impact with a smell like burning rubber. “Bag him!” one of the men shouted and they started locking the giant manacles around Cratos’ thick wrists and ankles. Every time it began to move, the agents on the cables would step back, and they would hit him with the spear again. I had to admit, the MCB was effective. MHI would just have chainsawed the beast as soon as he was down.
Franks got on his radio. “This is Delta. We’re taking Force into custody. Violence unaccounted for.”
“Excellent. Research was positive that oni were vulnerable to electricity.” I could hear Myers reply. “Is Pitt still alive?”
Franks scowled. “Yeah . . .”
“So, you got your monster to interrogate. I’m guessing we’re square?” I asked hopefully.
“I’ve got three injured men because of you,” the big man replied. “We’re not done yet . . .”
“Movement. Shock him!” One of the agents shouted from Cratos’ side. The men on the manacles stepped back and the spear was driven in, but nothing happened this time, no arc, no sparks, nothing. “Malfunction! Hit him again.” The spear was jabbed again but with no effect. The agents cried for help with terror in their voices.
Franks stepped forward, trying to discern the problem. The red hulk started to rise. The men on the manacles retreated, yelling for assistance. I glanced to the side. The electrical cable leading from the portable generator to the spear had been severed. “Bia!” I shouted, as the purple figure threw off its cloak behind the men providing covering fire. Cackling, she slashed into the agents, ripping through their armor, blood spraying. They died quickly, having never even seen her coming.
“Aim for her eyes!” Franks shouted, but she was already gone, moving behind some parked trucks.
My attention snapped back to the big red one. An agent was shouting, “Sir, Force is—” but he never got to finish the sentence. The massive oni rose, bellowing, cables twisting and snapping, and one huge fist clocked the man, launching him across the garage in a cloud of bodily fluids. The other men started shooting, but they were too close to the beast now. With a roar, Force laid into them, living up to his title. With each movement, another agent went down, and in a matter of seconds, the survivors were retreating in disarray.
“All teams converge on the garage now!” Franks ordered into his radio. He put his rifle to his shoulder and aimed carefully at the twisting and jerking monster, searching for the eyes. I put Abomination to my shoulder and centered the sight on the moving target. It was an exceedingly difficult shot. Franks fired and missed. The oni whipped one strand of cable wildly, cracking the air like a bullwhip, and a nearby agent went down. The man screamed incoherently, both of his legs severed at the knees. I tuned that out and exhaled. The eyes were moving. Focus on the holographic dot. The trigger pull was smooth and straight back to the rear.
My slug struck Cratos in one diminutive black eye. The giant paused stupidly, as if thinking about something exceedingly complicated. He stumbled and went to one knee. Something that looked like thick steam came pouring from the now-open socket. He put one meaty palm on the floor to steady himself and shook his head. When he looked back up through the rotating cloud, the eye had returned. His red lips pulled away from his tusks, and he snarled
at me as the smoke dissipated. “Filthy-souled Hunter!” He came off the floor and charged like an enraged bull.
Franks shoved me aside at the last second. Cratos flew past and collided with the pillar, blasting a giant chunk from it. Franks spun one way, I sprawled the other, frantically dragging myself on my butt through the debris. The giant came out of the dust, shaking himself violently. One piece of rebar, unnoticed, was impaled through his chest. “Lose some souls because of you. Replace it with yours!” he growled, bearing down on me. I kept scuttling away, but he was right there, and I could taste his horrible sulfuric breath pouring down.
His tiny eyes bore into me and the blackness behind those lenses seemed to stretch on forever, inky pools from a horrible place, utterly devoid of light. He extended one giant red hand toward me, palm as big as my chest. I felt myself growing weaker, like all of the warmth was being sucked out through my ribs, leaving my limbs numb and cold. I couldn’t breathe.
The life was being pulled out of me . . .
Suddenly, it was as if I could see through his skin. The oni’s body was just a shell, a constructed mass of false tissues, and underneath was the real creature, a swirling demonic bag of stolen souls.
The oni licked his lips hungrily.
Then he was gone. The rear end of a bus smashed into Cratos, driving him back into the pillar with a brutal crunch. I shook my head as air filled my lungs and blood flowed back into my extremities. It hurt. I stumbled to my feet. The door of the Cabbage Point Killing Machine luxury tour bus slid open with an automated hiss. Mosh sat behind the wheel. “Get in!”
One giant red arm was already flailing about, pinned between the pillar and the bus. The rear tires began to slide forward against his pressure. That’s one tough monster. I ran and jumped into the vehicle. The three orcs were clustered behind Mosh. Edward had gotten cut on the arm at some point and Gretchen was ministering to him. Somebody pushed in behind me. Franks.
“Get on the freeway,” he ordered. There was a huge gash across his chest, and his white shirt was hanging open and soaked with blood. I didn’t know if it was his or somebody else’s. Franks didn’t indicate that he was in pain, but then again, I didn’t know if he could feel pain. “They’ll follow Pitt.”
The Monster Hunters Page 74
