Demonworld Book 3: The Floyd Street Massacre

by Kyle B. Stiff

  “No!” Hari shouted. “He thought I didn’t know. He was very specific about which herbs from the garden would be given under certain situations. He thought I didn’t know what was poisonous and what wasn’t, but he gave me specific instructions to never eat what came out of the bad end of the garden, ever. Well, I know a thing or two about plants and herbs! I just never let on about how much I knew, see.”

  “Hari!” laughed Wodan. “You saved our lives, man!”

  Hari wrung his hands. “I couldn’t not put the poison in. I was only assisting the cook, see... the only thing I could do to w-w-warn you guys was arrange the meat into a warning. But, gods below, boys, I had no idea who was going to get which plate! I figured I had a two-out-of-three chance of the message getting to one of you, and not to Pelethor. The wait... oh-h-h, that was the worst, just wondering what had happened. And then the gunfire... oh, guh-gods...”

  “What’d you do to these poor assholes?” said Jens, pushing a body with his foot.

  “Well, once I realized what I’d done, I got desperate. There’s all kinds of poison in this kitchen, see, just all kinds... and the guards, most of them eat at the same time as the lord, so I just started tossing in poison left and right, into food, into drinks, whatever... watching them fall over, or puke, or just contort and flail about... it was just horrible!”

  “There are more guards outside, though,” said Wodan. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Hari shook his head. “I puh-puh-poisoned some booze and slipped it to a guard going on duty. He’s taken it to the others... they’re dead as dead by now!”

  “No,” said Wodan, “we heard the guards in the dining room talking to them on the radio.”

  “Damn!” said Hari. “I... I can’t imagine those boys not drinking, though! I... I don’t know... what to do, then.” He hung his head and moaned.

  “It’s alright,” said Wodan, putting a hand on the old man’s bony back. “We’ll think of something. But, Hari… you really saved our lives!”

  “It’s... it’s just that… you... you were so kind to me, Wodan!”

  They sat for a moment and weighed their options. The best plan they could come up with was to run for it. While they debated whether the plan was terrible or just awful, they heard a baby cry out.

  “That’ll be the young master,” said Hari.

  “Take us to him,” said Wodan.

  Hari led them through darkened hallways hacked by berserker blades and up winding stairs. They entered Scorpio’s room and stood over his crib.

  “It’s okay, Scorp,” said Wodan, picking up the crying child. He realized that if Pelethor had lived, Scorpio would have been the successor to the knowledge that he had turned down. He would have learned how not to cry, and would have become another shadow trapped in this house of phantoms. He held Scorpio close and they left the room. Immediately across the hallway stood an ornately carved wooden doorway.

  “What’s that?” said Wodan, nodding to it.

  “Master bedroom,” said Hari.

  Wodan entered. Jens turned on a gas lamp and, while he filled his pockets with jewelry lying on a dresser, Wodan slowly entered Pelethor’s large walk-in closet. Many fine clothes hung on either side. In a dark corner sat two small boxes. Wodan knelt and opened one. “Get in here,” he said.

  Jens entered, pockets flopping about and clinking loudly as he moved. Wodan held a black suit and mask, with armored sleeves and a strange metal mouthpiece.

  “God’s death,” said Jens, shaking his head. “So you were right. He was one of the Hands.”

  “It’s padded around the shoulders, arms, and chest,” said Wodan. “I guess he was supposed to look the same as the other Hand, who must have been a little bulkier. That’s why he wasn’t able to kill Boris. The Hands are psychologically programmed to protect the Head of the Ugly, as long as the Head doesn’t show weakness.” Wodan dropped the suit, then opened the second box. He pulled out a black robe and a green silk mask. “What do you make of this?”

  Jens recoiled in horror, then said, “There’s no way!”

  “What?”

  “I don’t believe it!”

  “Believe what?”

  “Wodan, don’t you know? A green silk mask! I mean, if what they say is true, and if he doesn’t just dress up like that for fun… then Pelethor was one of the three Master Thieves who rules the Coil!”

  Wodan ran the delicate mask through his hand, then said, “He must have been with the other two when they decided not to exchange Barkus for his child. He must have hated them for abandoning Scorpio. Now I understand why he’s been so driven to usurp control of the Coil. He wasn’t just ambitious… he wanted revenge against the Master Thieves.”

  Wodan let the mask drop to the floor, then rose and led them out of that room of shadows.

  They returned to the dining room. Only dead men waited for them. They were unsure why the other guards had not yet answered the call for backup and attacked them.

  “Maybe now that we’ve got Scorpio,” said Jens, “the guards outside will back down. What do you think of that, Wodi?”

  Jens saw Wodan standing over the body of Pelethor, studying him.

  “Wodan, when that guy was giving you his speech, what the hell was going on in your little head?”

  “What do you mean?” said Wodan, staring down at the dead man.

  “What I mean is, why did you hold back? I know you admired that freak, so why didn’t you join him?”

  “Because Pelethor was wrong about one point.”

  “Just one?”

  Wodan nodded. “He was right that I would need a master, if I want to advance beyond a certain point. But it couldn’t have been him.”

  “Why’s that, Psycho?”

  Wodan smiled at Jens, then said, “Because Pelethor should have been my student.”

  * * *

  They finally worked up the nerve to make a break for it, then raced across the lawn in front of Pelethor’s mansion. When they reached the small gatehouse at the entrance to the wall surrounding the grounds, they saw a cluster of dead Coilmen lying on the ground.

  Hari pointed to a bottle of hooch. “So they did drink the poison!”

  Wodan stared at the bodies, then said, “Those Coil guards in the mansion kept talking to someone, saying that the “status” was “green”. They sure weren’t talking to these guys.” Wodan paused, then said, “What happens when the guys they were talking to find out that the status isn’t green anymore?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Status: Red

  Hand stood as still as stone while Ugly berserkers ran about trashing the room. A slight smile played on his face, but his clear blue eyes were vacant. A dead Coil Captain lay on the floor with the rest of his family. An Ugly crouched nearby, jerking the bolt on his rifle back and forth. “I cain’t get this thang to work!” he announced, then the gun went off suddenly and blasted a hole in the ceiling. The berserkers laughed and Hand finally blinked as dust settled on his shoulders and face.

  “Who woulda’ thought?” said one berserker, pushing the Captain’s corpse with his toe.

  “You? Think?” said another.

  “Yeah, I think of stuff, dumbass!” shouted the first. “I was just thinkin’ how we been killin’ more Coil now than ever… since we been workin’ for ’em!”

  “Oh, I see what’s wrong wit you,” said another berserker. “You got a nasty head-wound, buddy!”

  “Me? Hell, I didn’t get hit!”

  “Yeah you did – right here!” With that, the berserker head-butted his comrade and laughed viciously. The first berserker fell back, then leaped on the other and put him in a headlock, bellowing and hopping like a wounded animal.

  “Will you dumbasses keep it down?” said another berserker, shaking his hand-held radio unit. “I can’t hear dick with you guys goin’ on!” The others ignored him as they continued smashing windows and furniture with their axes. The Ugly turned back to his radio. “Status. Status! St
ay-toos! God dammit, this radio’s done quit on us.”

  “The radios are working,” a voice said on the other end.

  “Who is this?” said the Ugly.

  “Team four.”

  “Team four!?” the Ugly shouted. “Nobody wants to talk to you, pissant! We’re over here doin’ the real work! What are you guys doin’?!”

  “We’re waiting for-”

  “Jack shit, that’s what.”

  “What’s going on?” said Hand.

  “This dumbass Coil kid is just-”

  “No, with the radio,” said Hand.

  “Well,” said the Ugly, shaking his head, “I cain’t get a hold of the crew at Pelethor’s mansion. They got several radios, I doubt they all broke down at the same time. What you think we should do, Hand?”

  “We’ve got plenty of Captains to kill before daybreak,” said Hand. “Teams three and four will move on their own, unless they receive orders to do otherwise. However, something bad may have happened. Let’s head back to the mansion and make sure nothing bad has happened.”

  “Fine by me,” said the Ugly. Turning to the others, he said, “Come on, dipshits, we’re movin’ out!”

  One Ugly tore an oil lamp from its mounting, then smashed it against a wall. The expensive wallpaper caught fire immediately. Satisfied, the others turned and left the house.

  * * *

  Ullrich slapped down a giant steaming pizza and the customer sidled up to the thing.

  “That’ll be five,” said Ullrich.

  “I done paid you already!” said the customer, even as he reached into his pocket.

  “This ain’t no charity!” said Ullrich, but he laughed because the customer said the same thing every time he came in. After Ullrich gave the man his change, he wiped his hands on his apron, then noticed his boss staring through the front window. Ullrich looked and saw three young men in Coil black-and-greens, standing and staring back at them.

  Ullrich sighed, disgusted. I’ve got three friends in the Coil, Ullrich thought, and they can’t even make sure guys like these stay away from here.

  “Just ignore them, son,” said his boss. “Ignore them.”

  The customer glanced at the Coilmen, then turned away quickly. “Now them Coil think they own Pontius. They’re even wearin’ their suits.”

  “They’ll go away,” said the boss. “At least, I hope so.”

  Ullrich leaned away from the counter and looked at the old double-barrel shotgun tucked behind a stack of plates.

  “Stay ’way from that, son!” said the boss. “Just go about your business, and they’ll stay out of ours. If you start playin’ by their rules, you’ll get us in trouble with the Law on top of everything else.”

  Ullrich turned away and concentrated on wiping down the counter, then immediately heard something crash into the window. He saw a brick dance along the floor, then a large section of the window slowly fell inward and shattered on a tabletop.

  “That’s it!” said Ullrich. He grabbed the shotgun and a handful of shells.

  “I said ignore them, damn you!” his boss shouted.

  Ullrich strode outside as he loaded the gun and the three Coil immediately bolted when they saw that he was armed. Ullrich fired it into the air and felt his heart skip a beat at the incredible sound. One Coil yelped as if he’d been hit, then they disappeared down an alley. A car pulled up, its brakes shrieking, then two doors opened and several Coilmen emerged. Ullrich aimed, fired again, and blew out the car’s rear window. The Coilmen dove back inside and the tires peeled on the pavement, then the car scraped against another car as it blasted down the road.

  “You cowards!” Ullrich shouted.

  “Hey Ullrich!” someone said behind him. Ullrich turned and saw another group of young Coilmen approaching.

  How did they know my name? he wondered.

  * * *

  Hunley cruised around town in his Smith car. The heat that night was intolerable and he leaned across the passenger seat to roll down the window and nearly sideswiped a horse-drawn cart.

  He had no particular destination. He was depressed because his friends were depressed. Jens would never admit it, but he was torn up over Anne’s pregnancy. Hanging out with Pete one-on-one was out of the question, unless Hunley was suddenly in the mood to hear about how Anne had become pregnant through no fault of Pete’s. Ullrich was working overtime, and visiting him at work was usually a bad idea. Hunley considered stopping in to see Wodan, but Wodan had lately become distant and increasingly weird. He’d gotten his revenge against the Ugly, but that wasn’t enough for him.

  I don’t know what that guy wants, Hunley thought. Did he really think this city was going to get better, or what?

  Hunley realized that the car ahead of him had been stalled for a long time. Just as he thought about pulling around it, another car driving toward him on the opposite side of the road pulled to a stop directly beside him. A bunch of young Coilmen sat and stared at him, smiling maliciously. The driver was only inches away, staring with his window rolled down. Hunley’s heart started racing, and he looked away from them. He wasn’t wearing his Smith uniform, but he was outnumbered and had no idea what the Coil punks would do. Just as he wondered if he was about to be robbed, a third car drove up behind him and slammed on its brakes, boxing him in.

  Just as the driver beside him reached into his jacket, Hunley’s body reacted. He reached across the open windows, grabbed a bunch of the Coilman’s hair, and slammed his face down into the car door. The young man pulled back and bellowed, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” as blood gushed from his nose. Hunley sat back in his seat and realized that not only were the other passengers pulling out guns, but punks in Coil uniforms were stepping out of the cars in front and behind him. Hunley dove down into his seat as a storm of gunfire slammed into his windows, spiderwebbing the windshield and coating him in broken glass.

  Hunley threw the car into reverse and mashed his foot down on the accelerator. He slammed into the car behind him, heard men shouting and cursing, then felt more bullets smack into his car’s side, front, and back. The windshield jerked, then one corner sagged as if the thing was deflating. Wild panic coursed through his veins. Unable to see, he turned the wheel and rocketed forward. He felt the front end slam into another car. More gunfire rang out on all sides, then he felt the car sink as two tires exploded. He put the car into reverse, gunned the engine, slammed into something, then drove forward again and tore through the blockade. A Coil rose into view, then grabbed his ass and hopped away as Hunley’s car clipped him.

  Hunley laughed hysterically as he flew away from the death trap. Sweat poured down his face and his fingers slid along the steering wheel. More bullets smacked into the rear of his car and a third tire blew out. He leaned out of his window just in time to see that he was careening toward a building, then turned hard and raced through a busy intersection. Smoke poured out from under the hood and people stared at him. He laughed uncontrollably as he leaned out the window.

  The killers did not pursue him as he made his way home. The closer he got, the worse the car sounded. He had to lean into the wheel and forcibly keep it on the road. He was sure that he was driving on rims. There was absolutely no way he would be able to explain to his old Smith master that he had been doing anything but cruising when some Coil just happened to roll up and trash their car. He was going to have words with Pete and the others, because if they couldn’t keep their own gang off his back, then what the hell good were they?

  * * *

  Wodan carried Scorpio while he, Jens, and Hari walked toward Floyd. Jens could tell that Wodan was working some idea around in his head. Before he could ask, Wodan turned to them and said, “I have a bad feeling about tonight.”

  Hari nodded as if he, too, had thought things over and agreed that things would somehow get worse. Wodan handed Scorpio over to Hari, then said, “Hari, why don’t you take Scorpio and yourself to Precinct Zero. Find Virgil and see if he’ll let you stay with him for a while. At least,
until we can figure some things out.”

  Hari nodded, then said, “I don’t really know how to get there.”

  “I’ll point it out to you,” said Jens. “It’s not far from here, and I don’t feel like sitting around at home.”

  They turned to go and Wodan went off in another direction. “Where you goin’, Psycho?” said Jens.

  “I’m going to see Anne.”

  “What for?”

  “I have a bad feeling about tonight,” Wodan said.

  * * *

  An old Lawman and a young Lawman sat atop the high wall surrounding Pontius.

  “I know you think it’s gonna be boring, and you’ll never get promoted, and this’ll be the rest of your life,” said the older Lawman. “And you’re right. But it’s not so bad, really.”

  “Yeah?” said the young Lawman, unconvinced. He leaned over the wall and looked out into the dark wasteland.

  “Yeah, it’s not. Why, there’s one guy who got stuck up here, and he spent years chippin’ off pieces of the wall and gluin’ together an entire model of the whole damn city. It looks real as can be! He says he knows someone he can sell it to, you know? That’s the trick, you got to find somethin’ to do with your time.”

  “Huh.”

  “Yeah, man. Just look at it like this. You must have a friend somewhere, or they woulda stuck you out patrollin’ the farms. Now that’s a good way to get killed.”

  “Guess I’m lucky,” said the young Lawman. He leaned over the side and spit, then watched it fall and disappear into darkness.

  “Sure, you are. Boredom’s the most dangerous thing up here on the wall. One thing you don’t have to worry about is…”

  The young Lawman heard something down below. Grunting, then an impact against the wall. The older Lawman must have heard it as well, for he shouted, “Hey! Get that light down here!”

  The other Lawmen in the tower took their time with the giant electric light while the two Lawmen peered down into the darkness. They saw nothing but endless night.

  “Shit,” said the older Lawman. “Thing is, everyone has a good laugh when you call a false alarm. Damn, this su-”