by David Belau
The Demon Hunter
By David Belau
All Rights Reserved 2018
Special thanks
My wife Tammy for reading all of my drafts and pointing out my incorrect tenses.
Scotty Gosson for help in proof-reading and encouraging me.
Yoshua Gumbo and Andy Renk for feedback on content.
Cover art: Will Foster willfosterphoto.com
Introduction
My name is Tsayad. I am a demon hunter. There aren’t many of us around anymore. The last time I saw another hunter was more than a decade ago. So, it seems reasonable to tell my story. Maybe it will convince more people to use my services.
What’s it like? Most of my calls come at night. I’m not sure why that is. That does leave me a lot of spare time during the day. I keep myself busy with a few things. Keeping my weapons in good condition is one. My blade, I keep sharp enough to circumcise a gnat. She has enough weight to build up good momentum and at 15 inches she’ll reach out and touch you. She’s been with me the longest. My newer weapon is a shortened 12 gauge. It’s messy but whenever I’m having a bad day, splattering a demon somehow makes it all better. I highly recommend it. Now, don’t think that I’m so heartless. Taking a life is a solemn thing for me— I make sure to feel a little bad the next day, as I’m cleaning their residue off my clothes.
I use my blade if I’m trying to save the hide. Why, you ask? I tan the hides to make boots. Say what you want about hell’s worst, but their hides make damn fine boots. The hide is the only thing I can keep. Everything else needs to burn. There is nothing worse than the stench of rancid demon flesh. One particularly busy week, I forgot to clear a couple out of the trunk of my car. It was awful. It took months for that to clear.
The other thing that keeps me busy is my car. She’s just an old Dodge, and she doesn’t look like much, but she’s got it where it counts. When those four barrels open up and feed the screaming banshee of a small block, nothing can touch me.
I live outside of town, a few miles in the woods. Just a simple camp. It’s quiet out here. I can look down into town. It’s been getting darker every day. Fewer and fewer people have been using my services these days. I don’t know why, because there are more demons now than ever. They don’t hide like they used to. Some of them even walk around in the daylight.
A lot of people want to know what a demon looks like. That’s a hard question. Typically, they’re something that you can feel. Some of them look like the pictures you see— wings, claws, horns. Others look like worms and burrow into people— those are hard to get out. The worst kind, though, are attractive. Picture a handsome man in a suit, hair perfect and very self-assured. He’d be the kind of guy you’d vote for if he were a politician. Get near him and look in his eyes and the hair on your arms will stand up. You’ll know, if you’re paying attention.
I exist in a dimension between wakefulness and dreaming. It’s a grey area where quite a few beings exist if you’re in tune enough. Most people see the effects of this dimension on their world, but do not recognize it for what it is. Ever got out of a scrape at the last second or closed your eyes and waited for an impact that never came? Ever had plans fall into place so easily that you’d swear the universe was rooting for you? Those are the effects. Are we visible? To most people, no. Some, however, are in tune enough to recognize the signs and see what’s happening. These are my clients.
Back to the demons, they’re getting bolder now. Their presence seems to suck the light out of town— it’s getting darker. I feel like something is coming though. It can’t stay this dark for long.
This day was spent like most— cleaning my weapons from last night’s work. Demon blood isn’t corrosive, but it has a stench that rivals pretty much anything. I’ve got a strong stomach, but early in my career I learned that even the strongest stomach can’t handle that smell.
After my blade was cleaned and oiled, I slid it into its sheath up to the leather wrapped hilt. Then I tended to the few hides I had stretching on boards. I rubbed oil into them and made sure they were drying properly. These were good hides— really intact. The shotgun tended to perforate them. It really depended on the situation, which weapon I use. The shotgun was good for busy nights, or when I was feeling lazy. The blade was used for when I wanted to keep the hide, or on a slow night. It was more sporting I suppose— it gave them more of a fighting chance.
Before night fell, I decided to dig into the car. It had developed a misfire and I suspected the spark plugs were wearing out. As I replaced them, I wondered how busy the night was going to be. Things had been slowing down but still steady. There were a few people who still used my services— my regulars. I always made sure to take care of them first.
As a matter of fact, this night’s first job was for one of my regulars. They’d been having trouble with demons trying to infest their son’s room. Seems like every few weeks I was back clearing them out.
I tossed my weapons into the back seat and got in the car. I twisted the key and it snorted to life. Letting out the clutch, I got it rolling. The engine seemed smoother. Shifting into second broke the tires loose and confirmed that the miss was gone. Me and this car have a history together. It was always dependable and definitely had a presence. It rumbled like the wrath of God and shook the windows of passing buildings. The demons knew their time was up when they heard me coming. The factory paint was long gone, I’d since painted it flat black. On the hood was the symbol of my craft— a demon skull.
The night air was cool and I wound up the engine tight on the way to town. The car was running good and that made me feel good. It was going to be a good night.
Pulling up to the house, I wasn’t sure which weapon would be best for this job. I strapped one on each hip and headed inside.
The parents were sitting, huddled on the couch together in the living room. Being regulars, they had learned a long time ago when a demon was present. They could feel it and see its effect on the physical world. It was that intuition coupled with a thought, or even a spoken word that called me into action. Lately, it had been their son who was attracting the vermin.
Walking past them, I headed toward the boy’s room. I paused for a moment outside the room and listened. Hearing a single, low voice, I guessed that there was only one in the room. I drew my blade and entered the room.
The boy was on his bed with an iPad on his lap. The demon, a small one, was perched on the headboard. It hissed when it saw me. “What are you doing here?”
“I was called here, what’s your name?” I swung the blade in small circles, warming up my wrist.
“My name is Agabah. You?”
“Tsayad. Why do you keep coming here? I blasted five of your brothers here, two weeks ago.”
His face twisted. “You don’t have any authority here.”
“I was called here.”
Agabah started to sweat. I’ve mentioned how bad demon blood smells; their sweat really doesn’t smell all that good either. Slightly more tolerable, but nasty none-the-less. When cornered like this, they always sweat. I snorted audibly, “You ever take a shower?” He just glared at me. “Cause you smell like burnt bacon, boiled with cabbage.” I sniffed again, “And just a hint of cauliflower.” He didn’t answer me, just sneered. “You didn’t answer my question, pig. Why do you keep coming here?”
“You have no authority here,” he stated again. He sat up straight, trying to look bigger, but the sweat gave him away.
“Well, I’m here, right? I only come when I’m called upon. The way I see it, that gives me plenty of authority. Now answer the question.” I punctuated my statement by swinging my blade and bringing its point to his throat.
He spat. “I’ve been told that you’re all alone here. All
your brothers left this God-forsaken town. The way I see it, you’re outnumbered.”
I looked around the room and counted on my fingers. “Not so good at math, are you?”
“You know why we keep coming?” he scoffed. “We keep getting invited.”
In one quick motion, I liberated his head from his neck. It rose about an inch and made a full flip— a look of surprise still etched into the face, before plopping on the bed next to the boy. Overall, I was pleased. A full flip was good. Sometimes, if I put some English on it, I could get them to spin on the vertical axis.
I collected my prizes and carried them out to the car. Putting them in the trunk, I looked back at the house. I hoped that I wouldn’t have to come back for a while. This family had been through a lot during the past year and could really use a demon-free house.
The next job was across town, a fairly new client. My route took me through downtown, which was filled with old brick buildings. They bordered a park that was on the shore of the lake. The moon was bright and reflected off the water. I’d grown to love this place— not many people did. The kids would always say that it was a great place to be from. They could not get out of town soon enough. It wasn’t big enough to attract the big chain stores or restaurants, but somehow that gave it a unique character. Over the years, the industry had dwindled and the town had settled into a depressed state. I passed one of the old logging mills on the way out of downtown. It was a dark, hulking monument to what some saw as the problems in town, but I saw a hardiness in the people. They were used to being seen as the underdog and for every franchise that refused to build here, a local would open up shop to meet the needs of the community.
I pulled up to the house, an older home with peeling paint. As silently as I could, I entered the house— all was quiet. Down the hall was a bedroom, I entered and saw a small bed with a lump under the covers. The poor guy was shivering with fear.
The demon was slowly flying around the room— making noises, bumping things and making shadows. Somehow, he hadn’t seen me yet— his focus was on the lump under the covers. He came close to me on his next loop, and I decided to knock him down a peg. My fist cracked the back of his skull and sent him to the floor. “What’s up, tough guy?”
The demon rubbed the back of his head with a clawed hand. “What are you doing here?”, it hissed.
“Just standing up for this little kid here. Why you gotta pick on little kids?”
The demon tried to get up. A swift kick to the gut kept him down.
“What’s your name?” It tried to speak and I kicked it again. “I’ll tell you what your name is. Coward.”
It staggered to its feet in time to receive another fist to the face. It took a swing at me, which I dodged and countered with a left jab. It swung again, missing me completely. My right hook connected with its temple and sent it to the floor.
“I’m surprised you’re trying to fight me, Coward. Don’t you usually go for little boys?” It started to speak and I answered with my boot.
I was getting tired of this. No patience is in me for demons who torment little kids. I grabbed the well-worn pistol grip of my shotgun and pulled it out of its holster. I raised it to its face, my left hand gripping the pump action. “Who’s your daddy?” Its eyes widened and it started to stutter. “What was that?”
“You are,” it finally said.
I shook my head. “No. I’m not your daddy, you’re too ugly to be my kid.”
“P-please let me go.”
“Are you groveling? Now I know I’m not your daddy.” It started to speak again when I pulled the trigger. It slumped to the floor, a crater where its ugly face had been.
Looking back at the bed, I saw that the boy had his head on the pillow, sound asleep. His dreams wouldn’t be disturbed any more tonight.
My next job was downtown. Pulling to the curb, the interior of my car was bathed in green neon light. Loud music thumped next to me. Joe’s was a place I’d been many times before. The sound of laughter spilled into the street as I exited the car. Glasses clinked and people danced, as I entered the crowded bar. I made my way to a back corner where I could assess the situation.
You’d think a place like this would have a lot of demons. The sad truth is that men are usually evil enough on their own that they don’t need any extra nudging to carry out their plans. Violence, adultery— these are all deep in their hearts and only need the right conditions to come out. Alcohol certainly helped there— "liquid courage", as they call it.
I wasn’t looking for the cocky drunk that was hitting on girls at the bar. No, I was looking for the guy on the edge. The nervous one, unsure if he should really carry out what he planned. Maybe he was thinking of the consequences, like the law. Or maybe he still was holding a shred of value in a person’s worth. All he needed was a little nudge— more than liquid courage.
It didn’t take long to spot him sitting alone at the bar. He seemed to be fixated on a group of young women at a table. He was trying not to be obvious, but I knew what he was looking for. The girls were dressed to kill and having a great time. They counted down before each threw back a shot of whiskey. Whooping, they slammed their shot glasses back down to join the other empty glasses that littered the table.
I turned my attention back to the man. Yeah, he was the guy. A small demon sat on the bar, leaning on the man. The man quickly finished his drink in one gulp and made his way to the girls’ table. He grabbed a chair, flipped it backwards and straddled it at the end of their table. He seemed to be good at small talk. Things were going well for him so far. This wasn’t where he needed courage. The demon, a grey slimy thing, stood nearby.
The man ordered the table a round of margaritas. It seemed like he’d already picked his conquest for the night. He was giving her more attention than the other girls, making her feel special. Remember what I said about men being evil enough on their own? It’s sad but true. My concern, however, was the demon. Why was he here?
The girls got up and headed to the bathroom. The demon moved toward the man. I jumped into action, quietly unsheathing my blade.
It leaned in on the man and I watched him reach into his pocket. He produced a small vial filled with powder and suddenly I knew what the game was.
Quick as I could, I locked my left arm around the demon’s neck and brought the point of my blade to its back. The man had already removed the plug from the vial. The demon squirmed as I pulled him away.
“Seems like tonight’s your night, puke,” I whispered into its ear. “My dance card isn’t full yet and the night is young.”
“Leave me alone,” it hissed through clenched teeth.
“I’ve been watching you tonight and I’ve got one question for you.”
It struggled trying to get away from the point of my blade. “What’s that?”
“Why didn’t your momma flush you when you came out? You’ve got to be the ugliest turd head I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Shut the hell up.”
“Oh, now don’t get all mad, we’ve still got to dance.”
“You’re on the losing end here. There’s only one of you.”
“That seems to be a theme tonight.” I slid the blade into its back and gave it a twist for good measure. Its lifeless body fell to the floor.
I looked back at the man. He looked nervous and still held the vial. This is where he needed that nudge. He was sweating and glanced around. His fist clenched around the vial then threw it under the table. The moment was gone. A slight look of frustration was on his face that he managed to hide when the women returned. He’d failed and I had won. The girls were safe for now.
The next job was across town. The route took me through the industrial side of town where building after building stood vacant. Like hulking behemoths, they told of the once proud history of the town. Industry used to be its strength. There were a lot of reasons for the decline— changing markets, government regulations, corrupt businessmen, to name a few. I recalled one businessman in pa
rticular that I’d visited a few times, but there’s only so much I can do. He eventually succumbed to his demons, and the town lost one of its largest employers as a result. Some of the laborers were able to find new work, others left town. Still others were never able to overcome, and turned to drink or drugs to cope.
Since the decline, the whole town seemed to be under a cloud. Most everyone had something negative to say about the place.
Once the industry left, the secondary businesses started to close up. Without industry, there was no money to go out to eat anymore. There was no money for women to get their hair done, no money for concerts. I passed an old theater whose towering spires whispered of a grandiose past. After it stopped showing movies, it was used as a music venue. The voices that used to emanate from it were all gone now. It sat dark and bowed inward as if under a large weight.
After passing the theater, the road headed up into the foothills. I mashed the throttle and opened up the secondaries on the carb, letting the small block breathe. She barked out the headers and the sound echoed off the hills. Hitting second gear pressed me back in the seat and I soon found myself overlooking the town. It was beautiful from up here. The night sky was clear and the stars shone brightly. You could see the silhouette of the mountains— rocky crags and volcanic peaks. The lake south of town shimmered in the star light.
How could anyone be ashamed of this town? Couldn’t they see the beauty all around them? This was my town— I’m not ashamed of it. Sometimes I just want to slap sense into people, but that’s not my job.
The house was a big one. As I understood it, the parents were gone for the night and quite a party was going on. A nice group of demons were also inside. I’d have to be quick, lest they gang up on me.
Pulling the shotgun out of the car, I surveyed the front yard. I could see a couple teenagers, but the bushes obscured my view from the street. After chambering a round, I made my way toward the house.
