Hollywood looked at him blankly for a minute. “Well … yeah, okay, that’s a good point. But I really wanted you to know that, anyway, that it’s not about race. I’m not a racist.” He smiled a broad, almost apologetic smile. “Really. I’m totally down with the struggle. No, the reason I’m killing you is because you’re on the side of the angels—and I’m most definitely not.”
“Oh?” Arch felt a little of the feeling return in his fingers. “Side of the angels, huh? I haven’t seen any of them show up to help me yet.”
“And they won’t,” Hollywood said, adjusting himself so the book rested on his forearm, and opened to a pre-marked page with a cloth strip in place down the binding. “Because they don’t get involved, not anymore. It was just a figure of speech.” Hollywood looked up from his place in the book as the moonlight came down, illuminating the whole scene. “You are a righteous man, though. I can smell it on you,” he turned his nose away, “like the stink of this cow pasture. You were just drawn into this, I bet, took to it like I took to producing, like it was the most natural thing in the world.” He smiled as he leaned closer to Arch. “A lawman, a righteous man, and suddenly you find out there are demons walking the face of the earth? It was probably like you got awakened for the first time, like you’d finally found what you were called to do.” Hollywood leaned in, the grin getting worse, the smell of something like sulfur on his breath. “I know your kind. I’ve met a few of yours, you incorruptible fucks, you self-righteous shits.” He pushed Arch out to arm’s length. “The nice thing about you is that your pure soul—I can just smell it from here—is gonna make a beautiful sacrifice—”
A low sound suddenly cracked around them, like thunder but louder than any thunder that Arch had ever heard. It was a rifle, he’d stake his life on it, and Hollywood was already staggering by the time they’d heard the sound, his arm severed from his body.
“Ohhh,” Hollywood moaned, low and guttural, as he shuffled back. Arch staggered away from Hollywood, fingers still around his neck, but the hand disconnected from the demon at the shoulder. Arch ripped it away from him and threw it down, pulling his gun and aiming it at the disarmed Hollywood, who was still staggering around a few feet away, jerking like he’d been shocked instead of shot.
Arch backed up and made his way over to Hendricks, who was sitting upright now, his pistol back in one hand, sword in the other. “What the fuck did you do to him?” Hendricks asked.
“Nothing,” Arch said. “Did you hear that gunshot?”
“That was a gunshot?” Hendricks said, his eyes a little glazed. “God, that must have been like a fifty cal or something. Big bore.”
Arch shot a look back at Hollywood. “Something real big, I’d say, if it took his arm off.” They both watched, waiting, as Hollywood jerked again, but seemed to steady himself on his feet. “Isn’t he supposed to … you know, burn up now or get ripped back into the bowels of hell?”
“Doesn’t work like that for greaters,” Hendricks said and pulled up on Arch’s arm to get back to his feet. “They don’t just discorporate or disperse, whatever you want to call it. It’s one of the reasons they’re so dangerous.”
“Because we’re hard to kill,” Hollywood said, looking at them, sounding like he was breathing hard. Arch wondered why he’d be breathing then figured it must all be part of the package that held them together. “Pretty near impossible for you fleshy little fleas. You may have taken my arm—”
“We didn’t take your arm,” Arch said. Might as well get that out there. He wondered if there’d be another thunderous crack of the rifle in the distance and kind of hoped there would be. It’d be easier to figure out how to take the man down if someone would just blast his arms and legs off first. Not much threat from Hollywood if he was a quadruple amputee, lying on the ground. Arch would bet a decapitation would finish it then.
“Doesn’t matter,” Hollywood said, leering again. “You can’t kill me. You can’t stop me.” There was a strange light over his features, like a glow being cast upon him. “I have come forth to end … your … world. Nothing of this earth can stop me—”
Hollywood stopped as the glow became lighter, like the sunrise in the distance. Except that was a good five or six hours away, by Arch’s reckoning. There was something else, closer, just up the hill, like a lamp growing brighter, drawing closer to them as it came. It got to near blinding, and the wind picked up again and brought with it a smell of sulfur, of brimstone, and Arch had to cover his nose. Hendricks was leaning on him for support, and they both stood there, staring, caught between watching Hollywood and watching the new entrant, until the light finally died down.
It was a cow, Arch thought. Or had been. It was changed into something grotesque, standing on two legs, with swollen hooves and bifurcated legs that gave it balance. It stood twice the height of a man, and when it snorted, hellfire flared out of its nostrils along with a strong smell of sulfur. It had arms like a man, cloven fists, and a face that was positively frightening, with a keen intelligence that looked over all of them, down at the bottom of the hill. In two steps it was almost upon them. Arch heard the screams of the three Blenkmans behind him and he knew they were fleeing. He resisted the temptation to follow them. The thing standing in front of him was all manner of … just wrong.
He felt Hendricks tense at his side. “So that’s what they were summoning.”
There was a pause, and the cow-demon spoke, low and harsh, breathing fire out its nostrils as it did so. “I am Ygrusibas, the harbinger of end-times, the first sign of your world’s end, the breath of the apocalypse.”
Arch just stood there, next to Hendricks, fingers idly fiddling with the switchblade he’d pulled out of his pocket and the pistol he’d pulled with his other hand. Neither of them said anything, Arch trying to figure out what to do, whether to bum rush the thing or wait, and Hendricks probably running through just about the same thought. Nobody spoke for about a minute.
Finally it was Hollywood who said something. “You know what? Fuck this place.”
12.
“Seriously,” Hollywood said, just letting the rage run through him. “Fuck this town, fuck the South, you backwards hillbillies.” He pointed a finger at Arch. “In L.A, a pure heart like yours gets eaten while it’s still pumping blood. You’re a nothing, there. Fodder for the fucking gristmill. You’re an aperitif, swallowed and gone in an eyeblink.” He turned to point his finger to Hendricks. “And you? What have you got? A hard-on for revenge? Some mystery backstory and score to settle? OOOOH!” Hollywood waved his remaining arm in mockery. “Vague and mysterious may have sold screenplays in the nineties, but you’re played out, now. You’re not even a problem I’d have to solve. You’re a man on a suicide mission, and you’ll just keep circling lower and lower until you crash all on your own. I know your kind. I can smell you a mile off just from the stink of your past failures, hanging around you like the cloud that hovers over this dump.”
He wheeled on Ygrusibas, took in the whole distorted cow form, on the verge of becoming something glorious, though he really didn’t want to admit that to himself. “And you? You blew it, motherfucker! I called you forth, I brought you out of your torment. You were supposed to reward me, to join with me—so we could go about the apocalypse together.” He twisted two fingers together, trying to show this idiot ancient what partnership was all about. “I mean, really? A cow? Do you know who I am? I’m a fucking producer for fuck’s sake!” He thumped his chest. “I ALMOST GOT A SCREENWRITING CREDIT ON BATTLESHIP, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” He took a breath in through his nose then let it out through his mouth. “I’m a greater. A demon of the highest order, and you have seriously fucked up here—”
That was as far as he got. Ygrusibas dipped it's head, blazed in faster than Hollywood would have believed possible, even for an ancient, and there was a sound of cracking bones as he was swallowed nearly whole by the cow-demon, his essence still howling with fury as he was dissolved into something more ancient and powerful than h
e.
***
“Holy shit,” Hendricks said, not really sure what else to say. His whole body still ached from Hollywood’s last attack, and his stomach was positively throbbing. “Did our unstoppable bad guy just get eaten by a cow?” Hollywood had been gobbled up in two big bites.
“Either that or we just got killed and this is heaven,” Arch said, the strain evident in his voice.
“This is your idea of heaven?” Hendricks asked, not taking his eyes off the cow-demon. “Watching someone you dislike get swallowed whole by a bovine hellspawn? You religious people are even more fucked up than I always thought.”
“Your world will end,” Ygrusibas said and came snapping at them. The only thing that gave them enough time to dodge was the crack of another rifle shot. Ygrusibas staggered back, and Hendricks saw a hole in the demon’s arm burning with internal fire.
***
Arch ran to the side as a burst of flame lit the night, turning it almost into day, at least around their little corner of the pasture. It made him reconsider that thought about him being in heaven. Fire was more likely to indicate the other place.
Another crack thundered through the night and Arch saw the cow-demon stop again and roar, flames filling the air above them. “Who the hell is firing off that rifle?” Hendricks shouted, popping off three rounds from his .45.
“I don’t know,” Arch said, pulling the trigger of his Glock, aiming for the demon’s eyes. “But I reckon we owe them our gratitude, don’t we?” He figured the rifle was the only thing keeping the cow-demon from rolling right over them and being on after the next part of its business. Since it had mentioned ending the world, this was of more than a little concern to Arch. He hadn’t met many demons, but if this was what they were all up to and about, it seemed like he might have been backing the right side all along. He fired again then scrambled as Ygrusibas charged at him, head lowered. Even the rifle crack didn’t stop him this time.
***
Hendricks heard Arch howl as Ygrusibas picked him up after nearly running him down. Hendricks kept firing his pistol, but he heard it go click after a couple more shots. Arch was suspended by his ankle, flailing a little. Desperate, Hendricks just up and threw the pistol to hit Ygrusibas in the head with it. He didn’t have any spare mags on him, anyway.
Hendricks charged at the creature’s leg and stabbed, hard, into the knee with the sword. He opened a gash and saw a burst of orange light, more fire than he could ever recall seeing, like it was actually bleeding out, and it got damned hot all the sudden. He yanked the sword back. Flames licked out of the wound he’d made, burning him. Something grabbed him firmly around the ankle, and he was swept off his feet, his hat falling off his head and his coat hanging down around his shoulders.
He hung onto his sword, though.
***
Ygrusibas hadn’t seen these things before, these humans, these petty beasts. He knew of them, knew of the trouble they’d brought, had heard the whispers in the pits, but it was all idle chatter until now. They were weak, nearly empty of essence, empty of any meaning. He looked at the two in his grasp, staring from one back to the other. He wondered how any such thing, so small, so tiny, could cause such problems—
There was a searing pain in his hand, and he shook the one wearing black until the sparkling sword fell from his grasp. Such a small thing to cause such pain. There was a crack of noise again and another sting. This, though, was an even smaller worry than these two, these curiosities. Only a moment’s more examination and he would feed on them, take the little sustenance their essences offered, and be on his way. This whole world, if it was filled with these things, would offer only the slightest distraction for Ygrusibas. Ygrusibas was a consumer, would eat it all, would grow more powerful with the feeding, the dissolving of the essences within him. He was powerful enough now to anchor himself here, as a hedge against ever being drawn back to the pits.
He narrowed his eyes and looked once more at the figures in his hands. Trifles, that was all they were. Nothing compared to the greater demon he’d just consumed. But they were more than the herd of cows he’d had before, and that was something.
***
Another rifle crack sounded like desperation to Arch, like whoever was at the trigger of the thing knew it wasn’t doing much good. Ygrusibas took less notice of it than he had any of the prior shots, and Arch was getting a real good close up of the cow-demon’s eye when the latest shot rang out. The thing didn’t even blink in its study of him.
“Any ideas?” he shouted to Hendricks. The cowboy wasn’t moving, not right now, anyway. Between Hollywood and Ygrusibas, Arch reckoned he’d had a rough night, his arms limp and his sword dropped after he’d been shaken for stabbing the cow-demon. The sword had opened a thin line of fire along the hairy knuckle. Arch was still half-expecting blood to come rushing out, but it didn’t. Just that same hellfire that had seeped from the stump of Hollywood’s arm. “Come on, cowboy!” Arch said. “Look at this thing. You should be riding herd on it!” He estimated he was about ten seconds from being gobbled up. Whenever this thing got done peering at him, he was pretty well finished, and that wasn’t going to do for him. He had things to say to Alison. He hadn’t left it off very well, he knew that, but he’d thought somewhat stupidly that he was walking into something less hazardous than the fight he’d waltzed into.
A movement behind Ygrusibas’s leg caught Arch’s attention. He thought at first it was one of the Blenkmans coming back. It took him a minute to realize it was a red-haired woman, strolling somewhat casually up behind the cow-demon. He watched, waiting, as the grip on his leg grew tighter and he felt the end coming up fast.
***
Hendricks awoke to a sort of vague shout from Arch, something about cowboys and riding herd. He was aching all over, ribs, sternum, even his leg where the demon held him. His head was spinning, probably from being suspended upside down, but there wasn’t in a position to do about that. No gun, no sword. He might as well have taken out his dick and tried slapping Ygrusibas with that for all the effect it would have.
He blinked and realized there was someone moving behind the cow-demon, someone with red hair who wore black. He wanted to believe it was real, but the potential for a hallucination crossed his mind. He started to say something but the figure grew clearer. It was Starling, no doubt, and she was standing just between the demon’s legs. “Uh …” he called out to her, quietly, but enough that he saw a flash of red hair as she turned toward him, “… a little help here?”
Starling stared at him, and he felt for a moment that a current of electricity snapped between them. Then he thought it might just have been the cumulative effect of the beatings he’d suffered. Either way, she was looking at him, looking, then moving—
Ygrusibas screamed, a cry loud enough to rend the air itself, like Hollywood’s shock wave all over again but sonic this time. Hendricks’s skull hurt, but not just from the sound, he realized after a moment. It was because he’d been dropped on his head.
***
Arch was waiting for it, hoping for it. For a flash he’d thought maybe Starling had been working with Ygrusibas all along, some kind of feint and betrayal, but she’d stood beneath the demon’s legs, reached out, and ripped the calves of the thing clean off. It had dropped him in a hot second, Hendricks too. Arch had managed to catch himself before he hit the ground, landing on his knees in the soft grass. Hendricks didn’t look to be quite so lucky.
Arch was scrambling a second later. Instinct told him that this wasn’t going to last, that whatever Starling had done was just temporary. Ygrusibas was flat on its back, and Arch still had the switchblade in his hand. He clambered onto the cow-demon’s massive torso like a cat climbing a human, and he started digging in with the knife, dragging it between ribs as he kept moving.
***
It took Hendricks a moment to realize that the screams weren’t his. He was hazy, really hazy, maybe worse than the time in Iraq when a mortar had gone off way to
o close to him. This wasn’t Iraq, though, it was a cow pasture, and he was fighting a demon. Or had been. Now he was fighting a cow that had eaten a demon. Actually he was sitting back watching it happen, but that took another moment for him to figure out.
Arch was clawing the thing across the extra-sized ribcage. He was making some decent headway, too, if the lines of fire that were crisscrossing its torso were any indication. Hendricks searched for his sword and found it nearby. He picked it up and went to join Arch—maybe see if he could cause some screaming of his own.
***
Whatever Starling had done had put Ygrusibas down hard. Arch might have been more impressed if he’d had time to think about it. As it was, he was trying to keep the cow-demon from ending him, and the only advantage he had was that it was still seemingly disabled by Starling’s efforts. Where had she gone? He made a mental note to look for her later, maybe say thanks somehow. If they made it out of this.
Hendricks was right there with him in a second. He started hacking at the thing with the sword, and it was starting to look like a little pyre, like someone had set a fire under Ygrusibas. It was bleeding out through the rips and tears in the cowhide. He almost got a laugh out of that. It looked no more like leather in its current state than chicken crap looked like chicken salad.
***
Hendricks stabbed deep into Ygrusibas’s chest, and his sword clacked on thick bones on either side of the wound. No blood came out, just more of the heat, more of the fire, something that made him want to recoil. He didn’t though, not much. The pains on his body were dull, but he squinted into the mess he’d created. The heart should be in there, he would have thought. He couldn’t see it, though, just a bright light somewhere in the center of the body of the beast, a surging fire that was so hot he would swear he was about to burst into flames himself.
The Southern Watch Series, Books 1-3: Called, Depths and Corrupted Page 17
