The Chaos Order (Fanghunters Book Three)

by Leo Romero

  He continued to thrash and resist.

  “Why won’t you stay still?” she snarled. “What sorcery are you using?”

  Dom began to make choking noises as she tightened her grip.

  “Maybe you are holy!” she said.

  She twisted her hand left and right, attempting to snap his neck.

  Dom reacted. He thrust his foot forward, kicking repeatedly at her inner thigh with his bare foot. It was like kicking a rubber tree. She squeezed harder and now he knew he was in trouble. His eyeballs rolled like marbles; the bones in his neck were literally bending under the pressure. A little more and she’d snap them like they were twigs.

  She growled like a wolf as she squeezed.

  Darkness began to descend over Dom’s eyes; he was losing consciousness. His head felt like it was about to pop.

  Do something, Dom. Do something. ANYTHING!

  He thrashed out a wild arm, his fingers clutching for anything within reach. They found his torch that he’d hung on the wall.

  He yanked it out of the holder and shoved it into her face as hard as he could. The flame on the torch caught hold of her wild hair; it ignited into flames. Within moments, she was a flaming torch, fire erupting all over her head. Her eyeballs rolled upward; she let out a panicked scream. She let go of his neck and jumped back, frantically patting her head with her hands in a comical fashion, trying to douse the flames. Dom dropped to the floor; the blood rushed from his head and back around his body. He croaked under the pain in his throat, but didn’t have time to nurse his wounds. He threw his torch to the side and whipped up his crossbow.

  Magdalena was now hopping from foot to foot like a deranged pygmy, panting like a rabid dog while she patted her burning head. The mummified arms and legs hanging off her waist jiggled and danced as if alive. An astringent stench of singed hair filled the air; it hit Dom’s nostrils, making his nose twitch. Now, with the advantage, he got a skewer loaded and aimed his crossbow at her, trying his best to steady his aim. His body was a temple of pain and burned energy; he just needed one more burst of strength and calm. Just one.

  Magdalena finally managed to put out the flames; she spun to face him, rage scrawled all over her face, big bald patches now dotted across her head. She looked like some kind of twisted experiment gone wrong; the kind of unidentifiable thing that mysteriously washes up on beaches near genetic research labs. Now she had her hands out to the sides, Dom could get a good aim at her heart.

  He became conscious of his breathing as he tried to turn it shallow; he needed to be calm, steady, so he didn’t miss his target. He sucked in a breath.

  Let her have it!

  He went to curl his trigger finger in, when she inexplicably dropped to the floor, propping herself up by the palms and the tips of her toes. She began scuttling across the stone floor like a giant crab, feral grunts bolting out of her mouth. The surprise threw him; he dropped his aim downward. With lithe dexterity she advanced on him in a zigzag movement, her bulbous shoulder muscles flexing, her eyes fixed on the weapon in his hands. He couldn’t get a lock on her no matter how hard he tried. Within seconds, she was by his feet.

  He went to shoot, but she’d already swung a brutal arm up at him. She effortlessly swatted the crossbow from his hands; it clanged across the floor, coming to a stop at the edge of the island they were on. It hovered half over the snake pit. Magdalena then propelled herself up to her feet, shoulder barging him. Dom stumbled back toward the opposite side of the island from where his crossbow now lay, precariously close to the edge of the pit. His arms reeled on the air as he desperately tried to regain his balance. From beneath him, a multitude of hisses bombarded his ears.

  He whirled his arms harder. Oh no, oh no, oh—

  He lost his balance completely. He stumbled back and became airborne. He screamed in terror as he fell into the snake pit. His reflexes triggered. On the way down, he managed to twist his body to the side; he threw out his arms at the last moment, hooking each of his hands on opposite ledges of the pit. He came to an abrupt, jarring halt, his legs dangling over the snakes. He immediately widened his legs, jamming both feet into opposing walls of the pit. Now, he was wedged in the space between the floor he’d been standing on and the slithering pit floor.

  He took a tentative glance down between his legs. Snakes were gathering beneath him, their heads turned up his way; he watched their forked tongues darting on the air, their hissing growing more fervent. They could smell food, dangling just above them.

  Dom gulped, just as a snake reached up and snapped its jaws at the air inches from his crotch. His eyes bulged. Woah...

  The last thing he wanted was a bite from one of those. He tried scrambling up, but his feet couldn’t find any purchase. He was stuck in that gap like a cork. And the snakes were starting to pile up on one another in an attempt to get closer to him. Their hissing reverberated in his mind in a hellish choir.

  A shadow then fell over him and his head whipped up to meet it. The dirty sole of Magdalena’s giant foot was raised over him. His eyes then fell on his hand as it gripped the edge of the ledge for dear life. He knew in an instant what she intended.

  With a yelp, he threw his hand away, propelling his momentum to the opposite ledge. Magdalena’s foot came down on the area where his hand had just been; it slammed onto bare stone. Dom grabbed onto the opposite ledge, where he hung like a hunk of meat, his feet dangling toward the snakes. He pulled his knees up to his chest as far as they would go, his ass sticking out, hanging on by his fingertips.

  Multiple snakes were now hissing and snapping at his feet.

  Man, some vamp hit this has turned out to be, he thought to himself in disappointment. It’s worse than the Drake job.

  A snake snapped at his bare foot, missing it by inches.

  Where’s Trixie when you need her?

  With a hot grunt, Magdalena leaped across the pit. She went and stood over him; she glared down at him, her face a crazed scrawl of hate.

  “Feeding time, my babies!” she screeched, raising her foot. Dom stared at that dirty sole in terror. Once that foot came down on his fingertips, he’d fall into the pit with all those wonderful waiting snakes. He glanced down; they were a black mass of coiled meat, all writhing amongst each other on their never-ending journey to nowhere, just waiting to be fed upon by the demented ancient creature Dom was battling with.

  He knew right then that there was no way out; he had neither the strength nor initiative to haul himself out of the corner he’d been pushed into. It was fruitless; hopeless. He took another glance at that dirty sole, at all six toes misshapen and bulbous. Its shadow descended over him like a dark cloud. Somewhere behind him, hanging on the edge of a ledge was his crossbow, the only chance he had to kill Magdalena. From where he was currently stationed, there was only one way to get to it.

  And that was down.

  He sucked in a deep breath. Here goes nothing!

  He released his fingertips, just as Magdalena’s foot came down. He plunged into the snake pit, his stomach clenching. He focused hard on the mass of snakes as he fell. One popped its head up, anticipating his arrival; Dom aimed his remaining sneaker right at its open jaws. He landed square on, crushing its head back down; he felt its bones breaking underfoot as he landed on the soft, leathery bundle of snakes. Hot hissing filled his ears. He flicked his eyes upward; Magdalena’s ugly mug glared down at him with a dumb stare, her elongated earlobes swaying to and fro. Dom knew she couldn’t believe what he’d just done, and neither could he.

  He didn’t hang around. He fished out his can of mosquito repellent and his Zippo. He got her lit up, just as a snake head popped up. Dom yelped, held out his Zippo and pushed the button down on his repellent. The plume of repellent touched the flame and erupted into a small jet of fire that propelled into the snake’s face. It recoiled and slithered away, terrified of the flame. Dom grinned. Another snake snuck up out of the mass. Dom aimed his Zippo its way and pushed down the button on the repellent. The
snake caught the blast of fire full on. Its head singed, releasing a stench of cooked rot.

  Dom knew he had to move fast; the faster he moved, the less time the snakes had to react to his presence. He whirled and began scampering through the snakes, using them as flooring; they were soft and rubbery underfoot. It was like walking on an inflatable mattress. He trod light but fast, pumping his arms and legs, every footfall triggering off a round of terrifying hisses and snap of jaws. He trampled along them like a comic book hero using the backs of crocodiles as stepping stones to cross a river. He kept going, praying he didn’t stumble, his bare foot landing on slimy bodies, his Zippo and can of DEET at the ready.

  He rounded the corner of the U-shaped pit to be faced with a long stretch of slithering floor. A snake head popped up. He shrieked and sprayed it with fire. It whipped back down from where it came. Another instantly popped up like it was a game of Whac-A-Mole. Dom brought up his foot and slammed it down hard on its neck before it could strike. He then propelled himself off that one and used the momentum to scamper along the stretch of pit with big strides as if he was gearing up for a triple jump. He made sure to focus on his feet; a wrong landing and he could stumble and then it was all over. Agitated hisses went off behind him as he dashed through that corridor. Above him, Magdalena was loitering somewhere; he prayed he still had the element of surprise on her.

  He made it near the end of the pit and he knew it was far enough. With a roar, he pushed his knees down and sprang off the pile of snakes like they were a trampoline. He threw his hands up, his determined focus on the ledge above him. He hooked his hands over it and grabbed on, anchoring himself to it. His chest hit the wall and he was briefly winded, but he knew he didn’t have time to falter; if he fell, it was snake time. They snapped the air by his feet as he pushed himself up and out of the pit with gritted teeth, every sinew he had left straining.

  He growled in pain, his arms trembling under the stress. He had to haul himself out of there ASAP. He emerged from the pit like a demonic entity, drenched in sweat, bleeding and dirty, his clothes ragged and torn.

  He gave himself one more effort, one last push. He hauled his leg up and over and he was there. He rolled away, and jumped up to his feet, one thought now in his mind: Magdalena.

  He snapped his head to the side. She was hunched over, watching him from her position, her eyes wide with surprise. Dom rolled his own eyes down; they fell on the crossbow. It was hanging off the ledge just ahead of him. Magdalena’s eyes flicked down toward it. She flinched, then reacted. Dom didn’t hesitate; he hopped over the pit, bent down and snatched up the crossbow.

  Magdalena thundered over, just as Dom managed to pick up the crossbow. She stormed over to him, screeching, her hands clawing the air. Her wide stride cleared the distance between them in a flash.

  Now, in a squatting position, Dom threw the crossbow up her way. He had barely a second to aim and fire before she was on him. He utilized every precious moment of that second to make his aim true, to hit that sweet spot just above her saggy left breast.

  Come on, Dom, come on, Dom. You got one shot. Take it. Take it. Take it!

  He squinted one eye. Her mammoth shadow descended over him. He caught the sweet spot in his sights.

  “Gotcha!” he whispered, and pulled the trigger.

  The skewer split the air in two; it homed in on its target like a guided missile. She flung her claws toward his head and he grimaced in fear, knowing there was nothing he could do but hope, pray. Hope and pray his aim was true.

  Those hot talons swiped the air, about to tear his head clean off his shoulders, just as the skewer punched through her chest.

  Black blood spurted into the air. Magdalena came to an abrupt halt, the impact of the skewer destroying her momentum. Her arms flew back away from Dom’s head, and she hunched over, a scream bolting from her mouth, rocking the chamber. Her face began trembling, then contorted in pain and shock and disbelief all at once as she staggered back a step or two. With a dumb gaze, she stared down at the thing sticking out of her chest. She grabbed it and tried to yank it out, but it wouldn’t budge. She then bent and twisted it in jerky movements, her whole body convulsing.

  Dom watched on in apprehension, his breathing shallow. He didn’t know what was happening. All he could do was wait.

  Magdalena’s face snapped up to meet him. He flinched. Her jaw dropped, her eyes brimmed with incredulity. She began shaking her head, then reached her face for the ceiling. She then released a hellish wail that bounced off every wall around them and back again. Dom threw his hands up to his ears, the sound almost piercing his eardrums as much as one of Vincent’s sonic booms.

  He clenched his teeth against the din, while Magdalena thrashed the air as if trying to fight it. She then went rigid, her arms turning to steel, her fingers curled into claws. She offered a brief spasm, and her noise was abruptly cut off. Her arms and legs ran out of juice; they fell limp as if she were a puppet and the puppeteer had just cut her strings.

  She fell back, thudding onto the stone floor like a felled oak.

  She stayed where she was.

  Everything went calm, only the ongoing hissing from down below audible.

  Dom watched her body with wide eyes. He kept watching, waiting for her to get back up. But, she remained motionless; a corpse with a metal skewer standing erect from her upper chest.

  After a few apprehensive seconds, a jolt of relief panged his stomach. His chest finally released. He collapsed onto his back, a panting, sodden mess sprawled across the ancient stone.

  “I did it,” he gasped, although he didn’t really believe it. A laugh then burst from his chest, almost choking him. “I did it!” he repeated and gave the crossbow a big kiss. But, he still didn’t quite believe it, like it was a dream, or a game, something unreal, something outside the boundaries of his conscious mind.

  It was all too much, too quick. He rubbed his sweaty face, tears squeezing out from between his eyelids. All the fear, the uncertainty, the energy, the traveling; it was all a visceral blur. His strength had been sapped, his body ached, his mind pushed to the brink of insanity. And he’d made it. Somehow, against the odds, he’d made it.

  He cried tears of joy. He’d made it.

  Now, all he had to do was go get the Fangs and then find a way out.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Trixie threw her arms over her head, just as the thug began shooting his submachine gun in a wild fashion. She was pressed against the deck of the boat, Rafa and Alicia alongside her, all three of them like sardines.

  The rat-a-tat-tat of the submachine gun accompanied by splintering wood peppered the air. Trixie closed her eyes tight.

  Oh, crap! What are we gonna do?

  Fear shuddered through her veins alongside the boat as it vibrated under the hail of bullets.

  “Puta!” Rafa screamed, still gripping onto his crossbow like it was some kind of good luck charm.

  More bullets pummeled into the frame of the boat. Trixie knew they couldn’t hold out forever. It was only a matter of time before the bullets ripped through the frame of the boat. The boat continued to judder under the lead storm.

  The pressure inside Trixie’s mind exploded outward and she released a scream. The bullets rained on regardless. Trixie clutched her cheeks, her shrill cry continuing.

  For a brief moment, the bullets stopped while the thug reloaded. But, the boat continued to shake of its own accord. Trixie ceased her scream. Her fear was swiftly replaced with bewilderment. Her brow furrowed. The boat was shaking, even though the bullets had stopped. There was a low rumble, a shimmering from below like the water had been jacked with electricity.

  Trixie’s eyes darted left and right, her mind clouded with confusion. What the hell’s—

  The rumble then intensified and the boat rocked up and down like they were riding through a wild storm. River water gushed up onto the deck; she got a face full of dirty water that was like a slap to her senses.

  She bolted upr
ight. The trees around them were vibrating. Animals were scattering through the jungle, some screeching in terror. The world shimmered and shook, the boat rocking to and fro, back and forth on an increasingly unstable river.

  Her head snapped back; the guy shooting at them teetered, then fell back on the deck.

  “What’s happening?” Alicia screamed.

  Trixie didn’t know. Before she could come up with an answer, the rumbling intensified to a quake. The world shook and swung in vicious arcs. She gripped hold of the frame of the boat, river water splashing up into her face, some of it flying down her throat. A menacing rumble below sounded out like a drumbeat preluding war.

  A giant crack split the air, followed by a hollow splinter. Trixie’s eyes bulged; a palm tree in the near distance succumbed to the pressure and fell across the river. It landed in the water, creating an intense wave that rushed up to both boats and sent them bobbing like a cork on a tidal wave.

  They were thrown up and down, Trixie’s butt leaving the deck, then hitting it once more.

  Fear tore through her mind. She had no idea what was going on, or what to do about it. The river suddenly had a life of its own, and they were at its mercy.

  The quake continued unabated, the world juddered. From nowhere, the trees overhead began shedding giant seed pods that splashed into the river like bombs, adding to the chaos. Leaves and twigs rained down like confetti.

  Trixie suddenly remembered what happened after Leviah died. There was an intense, ongoing storm like something from the Bible. She frowned. Was that what was happening here? Had Dom killed Magdalena? Was that why this quake was happening?

  Before she could fully contemplate, a colossal splintering sound severed the atmosphere in two. She froze in terror. She stared agape at the tree just ahead as it began levering forward. It picked up pace as it went. Trixie watched on as it collapsed across the river, exactly where the other boat was stationed. She winced. A scream bolted out from the other boat. The monks were pointing helplessly up at the tree as it fell. Gravity took control of the tree and it moved at full speed. The monks barely had time to do anything when the tree slammed into their boat, obliterating it on impact. One of the monks bore the brunt of the trunk and was pushed under the water. The other two were sent flying off in different directions. The resulting wave zipped up to Trixie’s boat.