by John Hansen
“Peter let you have the King’s own credit card, and you rent a purple Impala? You have the royal credit card, and you rent a purple Impala. We couldn’t have gotten a Corvette? A Jaguar? I mean honestly. You’re a disgrace.”
I flicked my big friend in the forehead. “The idea is not to draw attention to ourselves you humungous moron. Plus this way you can rack the seat all the way back and I don’t have to hear you bitch about legroom.”
He rubbed at the spot on his head and puffed air through his nose. “Whatever.” And he closed his eyes to sleep in the car as he always did.
***
We arrived at the station and stepped out of the Impala into the fresh cold air. Devin cracked every joint in his body and began moving towards the doors, until I stopped him.
“Forgetting something dum-dum?”
“What?” He asked me agitated. Dev was always cranky after his nap.
I patted my leg where his giant mace was bulging under his cloak. “You’re not going through any metal detectors wearing that.”
“You still have Laniatus.” He said pointedly.
“Which you know full well won’t set them off.” Not to brag, but my sword was pretty special.
“Well what about your chainmail?”
“Same alloy, not a problem. But lucky for you I brought you a present.” He tilted his head at me inquisitively and I tossed him the two large knuckledusters I had made for him.
He gave them an appreciative once over and tried them on. “Daddy likey.”
“Yeah, I figured you would. Lose the cloak too, you’ll kill our credibility.”
He grunted acquiescence and dropped the cloak on the passenger seat. He put on his aviator sunglasses and fastened his badge to his belt. Devin and I had procured authentic FBI badges to help when we had to do investigations involving natural humans. I adjusted Laniatus to fit straight down my leg, put my badge in my inner lapel pocket, and we walked through the double doors into the station.
Anyone can tell you how important confidence is when pretending to be someone you’re not, so Devin and I stalked into the station like we owned the place. A beat cop in full uniform scrambled up to us to say something, but then Devin removed his sunglasses and looked hard into his eyes. The cop literally stopped dead in his tracks.
Dev tapped the badge on his belt and asked with pure authority, “Who’s in charge here?”
A bull of a man about six inches shorter than Devin, dressed in a clean navy blue suit stormed over to us. “Who the hell are you two?” He demanded.
Dev was about to get into one of his usual alpha male pissing contests when I placed my hand on his shoulder. “I’m Special Agent Korver,” I said producing my badge, “and this is my partner Agent Mason. We’re here regarding the decapitation cases.” Using false identities is fun.
The man in the suit scratched at his nose and let out a deep sigh of relief. “Thank God. We’ve got absolutely nothing on these. Lieutenant Betts” He said sticking out his hand. I traded grips with him, and he led us down a cold hallway to the morgue.
“This is our forensic coroner, Dr. Stanley Trumont.” Betts said. “Stan these gentlemen are Special Agents Korver and Mason. They’re here about the decapitations; you’re to offer them your full cooperation.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” said the coroner in a voice about two octaves too deep for his slight body.
“You as well, Doctor. What can you tell us about the heads being cut off?” I asked politely.
Trumont gave his Lieutenant a look, Betts nodded, said, “I’ll leave you to it.” And left.
The skinny doctor scratched at his neck nervously and spoke in his oddly deep voice. “Um, the head’s weren’t exactly cut off.” Devin cocked one bushy eyebrow at the coroner. “They were – well – they were pulled off.”
“Pulled off?” I asked with genuine surprise.
“Yes. All of the evidence says that this was done by a person. The funny thing is we now have three victims, no prints, and it seems that each time the culprit was of a different height.”
“So you’re saying that there are multiple murderers running around ripping people’s heads off?” Devin asked.
“With their bare hands.” Trumont added.
That made it more likely than not that our killer was decidedly not human. It was obvious that Devin had picked up on the very same thought, and he gave me a pretty displeased look. We each shook the doctor’s hand and briskly began our departure from the office. However, before we could take our leave we were cut off by the uniformed cop from before.
“Come with me.” He said quietly. “Please.”
“What is this about?” Devin asked in the same tone he had used earlier.
The poor guy looked like he might wet himself, but managed to choke out a few more words. “I need to show you something, it’ll only take a moment.”
I placed a reassuring hand on the guy’s arm. “Lead on, Officer.”
We followed him out of the building and around to the back of the building. “There is something very important you need to know about the recent murders that have taken place.”
“And what might that be?” I asked.
“I’m coming for my head.” Whispered the cop, and he sprung into action.
Devin and I should have both been dead. We were up against a warrior and necromancer that had defied death for centuries, and were caught completely off guard. But we’re Anointed Warriors and are somewhat tougher than your average customer. When a person is raised into the ranks of Knighthood they are anointed in ancient oils that award that person certain – abilities. In the material world those abilities pretty much boil down to heightened senses and reflexes, but they are seriously heightened senses and reflexes. The cop came at us hard and fast, but I had sensed something was off with him since the second we laid eyes on him and had tensed for action upon leaving the building. He lunged for Devin first; they always think the larger opponent is more dangerous, unfortunately for him, our enemy may have been right. Even though our attacker was moving at supernatural speeds, Dev still managed to get hold of his wrists before the “cop” could rip his head off. Of course as soon as the officer moved I had whipped Laniatus from its sheath, and had just used it to remove both of the pseudo cop’s arms at the elbows. To my dismay, it didn’t really help our cause.
There was no blood, no cry of pain, just a cracking noise and a sprouting of two new limbs.
“Wish I had my mace.” Devin muttered and slammed the cop in the face with one of the knuckledusters I’d given him.
Whatever he was staggered and I always say if you’re going to be bear be a grizzly, so I lopped off his head. There was a high frequency hissing and suddenly the body… changed. The “cop” grew to about nine feet tall, professional body-builder wide, turned completely jet black, and stood there headless.
“I think we found the body” I said stupidly.
As Devin and I stood dumbfounded, the body stooped down, snatched up its former head, and dropped it back onto its shoulders. The stump of neck attached to the head writhed and began reattaching itself to the body, and just like that the cop was standing in front of us again, grinning sadistically.
“Neat trick, huh?” He said slyly. “Your move.”
Dev and I exchanged a quick glance and moved to enclose the Horseman, but he just laughed. “Tell your false King I am coming for my head – and his.” With that he took off running. Faster than any car I’d ever seen, he just bolted around the building and was gone.
“If he can run like that why the hell do they call him the Headless Horseman?” I wondered aloud.
“Not the time, Jackass.” Devin said. “We need to go warn the castle right now.”
***
We arrived back through the portal and stormed past the guards without acknowledgement. Devin went to find Peter, and I went straight to the King’s private quarters to interrupt his reading.
He set his book down and looked at me with seve
re agitation. “This better be good.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Devin and I found the body; gather the Knights so we can explain please.” With that I turned on my heel and stalked through the halls to the strategy room to await the arrival of the others. They returned through the portal one by one and joined us to confer. First came Marcus, then Rudolph, Ashley, Jacques, Kellen, Juan, and finally Trevor.
We met around what I always thought was a huge clichéd round table so that Devin and I could alert the others to what we’d encountered.
“The Horseman has found a way to become a Pugot.” Juan Corrales said casually after hearing the events. He was a Latin man of just average height and build with a long braided black ponytail. He was in camouflage fatigues and combat boots with a Desert Eagle on one hip and a large Bowie knife on the other.
“A what?” Devin and I said unanimously.
“A Pugot, you dolts.” Sneered Kellen Factarum; he and I don’t usually see eye to eye. “There are only a few documented in history, and it is my understanding that they cannot be killed. They are headless shape shifters that can become any given person by wearing their head. Upon acquiring a new head the former one is absorbed and the Pugot grows more powerful.”
Kellen’s a lean six-footer, with sandy blonde hair, and like me he holds a preference for a traditional longsword. Mine’s better (at least I’m not petty though).
“And the Pugot may retain any form of their previous victims upon absorbing the head.” Juan added.
“So say the body has been killing one or two people a year, for centuries, it would have to be immensely powerful.” Said Peter.
“And could be any number of people.” Ash chimed in.
Ashley Reyes was by far the scariest of the Knights in the room. She stood five-foot-nine, one hundred twenty pounds soaking wet, with long brown hair and big bright brown eyes. Oh, and did I mention she was a freaking knockout? Ash put most Victoria Secret models to shame and swung a two handed warhammer with enough force to squash a rock golem’s skull.
“Then how are we supposed to kill it?” Grunted Marcus the Gruesome.
The name said it all about Marcus. He was big. Only a few inches shorter than Devin and just as wide, he had earned the surname Gruesome from his horribly disfigured face. The ancient dragon Yragux had seared half of it off battling Marcus. He had killed Yragux with his battleaxe, but it was destroyed in the battle, so he ripped one of the dead dragon’s canines out of its skull and fastened it to some of the dragon’s scales that he later wove together. It left him with a twenty-three inch knife that he paired with a pretty nasty pump-action shotgun.
Peter furrowed his brow at the question. “We hack it to pieces. That’s been the plan, and I say we stick to it.”
“One problem with that.” Devin interjected. “We chopped off its arms and they sort of… grew back.”
“Fire?” Rudolph Richards asked.
Rudy’s a black man about the same height as I am with a Mohawk hairdo that I admired more that you could believe. He was muscled and scarred everywhere; wearing an open combat vest and armed with just about every weapon imaginable. Grenades, knives, firearms, a spiked flail, dual katanas crossed on his back, and his coup de gras; gauntlets that I had rigged up with spring loaded claws like Wolverine from X-Men.
“We’ll keep it in mind.” Said Peter. “Anyone have anything else, or have we really boiled it down to decapitation and fire?”
“We could go for the heart.” Suggested Jacques.
Ribery is a French-Canadian, and like Ash he could easily double as a model. He has wavy black hair, deep green eyes, and is built like Michelangelo’s David. I would hate him if he weren’t such a nice guy, but I don’t think he’s said a harsh word in his life. Don’t be fooled though, he was hell on wheels in battle. He favored a broad sword and shield and wielded them like the Knights of old.
“The Horseman has survived all these years without a head; I’m not sure taking the heart would do much either.” The King had finally broken from his trance. “Kellen, you said there’s no documented way to kill one of these?” Factarum nodded his approval. “Then when it gets here, we get creative.”
“Creative how?” I asked.
The King let out a deep breath. “I wish I had an answer to that. If the Horseman’s in Denver then he’s close and we need to think quickly. Trevor, you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, any ideas?”
Trevor Wingback was known for mouthing off just as much as I was, and as such we got along famously. He has red hair, pale skin, freckles, and doesn’t look very threatening at all – it’s what makes him so dangerous. He is called Wingback because when he was a baby he was found abandoned at the castle with giant wing shaped birthmarks on his back. Trevor had only ever used one weapon; a blade forged in the very fires of Hell called the Harbinger. No one knew where he’d gotten it, and he had never been at liberty to share. It was rare for him to go a meeting without speaking, and he didn’t disappoint. Trevor stood and stretched his back, his red plate armor shining beautifully.
“I only have one thing to say.” Trevor yawned. “I want – my head.” Then the slight man flipped over the round table and sprinted off towards the trophy room.
Even with his supernatural speed the Horseman didn’t get far. Marcus had avoided the table completely and turned his shotgun on “Trevor” to blow away both his legs. Regenerative limbs or not, they still vanished for a second and with nothing to catch its weight, the torso crashed to the floor. Marcus kept the pressure on and soon we had the Horseman surrounded ten to one. He drew the Harbinger and slowly circled looking for his first attack.
“Juan, he doesn’t deserve to hold that blade.” I growled.
“I couldn’t agree more.” My fellow Knight replied, he then blew the hand holding the Harbinger off with his Desert Eagle.
The blade rang against the floor and the Horseman howled his rage. He charged Rudolph, but feigned left to strike out at Jacques, who promptly chopped his arm off at the shoulder.
“I don’t think the limb thing is working here, Pete.” Said the King.
“Fire it is!” Exclaimed Rudy producing a handheld flamethrower from inside his vest.
“Where in the blazes did you get that?” Ashley asked incredulously.
“A lady doesn’t ask, and a gentleman doesn’t tell.” He replied coolly and opened up on the horseman with his toy.
About fifteen seconds later Rudolph took his finger from the trigger. When the smoke cleared the Horseman was standing in our circle examining his fingernails in a particularly bored fashion.
“Tell you what.” The monster said. “Try for my heart so that you can discover I no longer even have one, realize that you’ll eventually tire where as I won’t, bring me my head, and maybe I’ll let some of you live.”
The rest of the Knights and I let out a group snort and the King twirled his three-headed flail through the air. “You should leave now. Go hide in whatever hole you’ve been in for all this time and never come out.”
“Very well.” Replied the Horseman. “You’re lives are forfeit.”
Suddenly Trevor’s head began receding into his neck and vanished entirely. Then, standing where Trevor had been was the monster Devin and I had seen before. Huge, headless, and entirely black, the Headless Horseman was definitely something to be reckoned with. What made him even scarier was the next trick he pulled out. Ten different heads sprouted from the top of the Pugot’s body along with just as many sets of limbs.
“This just got interesting.” I muttered and braced myself.
The Horseman went to work attacking everywhere at once to the dismay of our elite group. First Jacques was batted into a far wall, Juan followed while reloading his pistol with one hand. Next went Rudy as he lunged at the body with his claws, shortly after Kellen had his ankle hooked and was thrown across the room next to Jacques. I chanced a look around at my fallen companions. They were all still breathing, but if our remaining force didn’t do
something soon none of us would be. Marcus tried another shotgun blast to the heads and an absolutely mind-numbingly stupid plan hit me.
“Heads and legs on my cue!” I shouted. The Horseman turned his full attention on me as I spoke. “Now would be nice guys!”
Marcus and Peter went to work on the legs feigning and altering attacks to distract, while the King, Devin, and Ash used any opening to smash a spare skull. I took the luxury of awaiting the opportunity to enact what was arguably the dumbest idea I’ve ever had (and that is truly saying something).
Finally, my opening appeared. Marcus caught half the Horseman’s legs in a shotgun blast, toppling it just as Ashley and Devin struck a full six heads from the monster’s shoulders. Now or never, I darted in under flailing arms and caught the remaining four with a broad sweep of Laniatus. In their stead was a gaping hole of darkness, and the missing legs put the Horseman at a height for me to dive into the gap. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I did.
***
I landed in a black abyss, realizing that I had probably just thrown away my life. There was nothing. Nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing to kill.
“Jonah, meet the whale.” I uttered to myself.
Turning three-hundred-sixty degrees, I searched for something – anything – to harm the Horseman, but it seemed like a losing cause. But, I always try to be proactive, so instead of standing around with my thumb up my ass, I started walking. Which begs the question, why was there so much room in here? I guess that was really a moot point at the moment, but I needed to find a way out of here or it was safe to assume I’d just wind up feeding the Horseman’s power.
I had been walking for what seemed like miles when I heard it. At first I wasn’t even sure I had, but then there was another faint echo of what sounded like a man in agony. I waited in utter silence trying to pinpoint the direction of the sound.
“Gotcha.” I said to no one, and sprinted off after the moaning.
It was appalling. I arrived to find a very ethereal looking Trevor Wingback sitting next to his own moaning head. The view was almost enough to make me sick. My friend, dead, inside of a monster, head severed and sitting pitifully in the darkness. The worst of it was the contrast to what Trevor had once been. Always radiant and jovial, quick with a joke, quicker to draw his blade. Wingback hadn’t just been my friend, he had been my sworn brother-in-arms, and had saved my life on at least two different occasions. Seeing him this way made an anger I had rarely felt boil inside me, which I failed to contain.
