Night Slayer: Midnight War

by William Massa

I turned and saw the sorceress standing in the doorway of a building that blended with the rest of the campus. I noticed a few students glancing at this new structure curiously, on some level registering that something was wrong, but unable to pinpoint the problem and break through the haze of Octurna’s magic. Most just shrugged and went about their day. No one tried to explore the mystery building more closely, subconsciously sensing that it was off limits.

  “Run along now, Slayer. You don’t want to be late for your first day of school.”

  I grinned at the good-natured jab, resisted the impulse to give the sorceress the finger, and was on my merry way.

  I studied the college kids the way an anthropologist would examine a new species of hominid. I felt cut off from their carefree lives. They only had to worry about tests and getting laid, while I battled to save the world from an occult conspiracy. I had fought in two military conflicts, and now I was waging a private war with some secret cabal of magicians. It was hard to believe that my reality and theirs might intersect in any significant way, that sheltered academia could collide with a world of magic and monsters. But an agent of chaos had invaded this school, hellbent on corrupting young, impressionable minds. Professor Brogan’s dark influence had directly led to the deaths of my closest friends, and I was eager to make his acquaintance.

  Determined, I approached the social science building and joined the group of students streaming through the doors, on their way to the lecture hall where Brogan held court three times a week. The auditorium was enormous and fit about four hundred students. This wasn’t some intimate gathering, which was both good and bad. Good because the professor most likely wouldn’t notice a newcomer; bad because it might prove more challenging to strike up a conversation after class.

  I took a seat and watched the professor with growing interest. A few details became clear rather quickly once he started his lecture. Brogan was good at his job. I mean really good. Like everyone, I had my fair share of bad teachers growing up, but Professor Brogan wouldn’t have been one of them. Funny, personable and he knew how to keep things exciting and engaging at all times, drawing from a wide range of disciplines during his lecture. He would touch on history, psychology, anthropology, art, and social studies, making sure everything he said was relevant to the lives of his students. I found myself getting swept up in his spiel despite myself. An hour later, I had picked up some fascinating facts about occult masks and the role they played in religious ritual—and how we all wore masks to one degree or another.

  And sometimes we wear masks to get closer to our enemies, I thought.

  As the students filed out of the hall, I made my way to the lectern, intent to shake the man’s hand under some pretense that wouldn’t arouse suspicion.

  Brogan was busy packing his class materials in a leather satchel. A few girls swarmed around him, using the pretext of some upcoming assignment to chat him up. It was rapidly becoming clear to me how the professor had managed to steer his students toward the darkness. This wasn’t some creepy old man who spent his days alone in libraries or skulking in back alleys. Brogan was attractive and charming, an academic with rock star appeal. The Shadow Cabal had chosen their agent well.

  I pushed all these thoughts aside, abruptly worried that I might be dealing with a mind-reader like Octurna.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that, slayer. Like yourself, the good professor has only begun his black magic journey. He won’t be able to probe your thoughts…and if he should try, our magic will keep him at bay.”

  I’ll take your word for it, I thought. It was more than enough having just one person tuned in to my thoughts.

  I flashed the professor a plastic smile and extended my hand. “Professor Brogan, my name is John. It’s an honor to meet you. My friends have been bugging me to check out your class. I will definitely be enrolling next semester.” For a moment, Brogan regarded me with a startled expression and then shook my hand. “I hope to see you in the fall, then.”

  “You can count on it.”

  Brogan still eyed me with that puzzled look before two smiling female students demanded his attention. Their timing was perfect. High time to cut a hasty exit. It hadn’t been my best performance but the best I could come up with on short notice. I had always been better at banging down doors than subterfuge. But I was a fast learner.

  I stealthily glanced at my hand. As Octurna had promised earlier, the scar was gone.

  “Well done, Jason. Now get out of there before Brogan gets suspicious.”

  For once I was in total agreement with the sorceress. I rushed out of the lecture hall and headed for the exit of the social science building. A few minutes later I was on my way back to the mysterious new building that had materialized on the campus grounds.

  As soon as I stepped inside, the double-doors transformed into a wall of stained-glass again, and I was back in Octurna’s fortress.

  “Good job,” she said with a smile. “Now let’s see how the professor likes to spend his day when he is not teaching black magic tricks to his students.”

  I shifted my gaze to the stained-glass windows. They were now tracking the professor as he navigated the campus. After watching Brogan eat his lunch in the school cafeteria for a half an hour and surfing the web for another twenty minutes in the faculty room, I’d had enough of this mystical live-cam business.

  Octurna must have noticed my bored expression, because she said, “You better get some rest. I’ll let you know if things should get interesting.”

  She didn’t have to repeat those words. My sluggish body seemed to have developed a will of its own as I dragged my tired ass back to my sleeping quarters. I guessed the fight with the succubus had taken more out of me than I initially realized. As I made my way out of the observation room, I saw the two golems watching me from the shadows. Their faceless features flickered and morphed into the two stunning beauties I had spent the night with. There was a playful, coquettish twinkle in their eyes as they winked at me. I was tempted to take them up on the silent offer, but in the end I averted my gaze. Last night had been fun, but I felt exhausted after my little lap dance from hell with the succubus. Maybe I was getting old.

  Once in my bedchamber, I tossed my coat across a chair and lay down. By the time my head hit the pillows, I was fast asleep.

  I don’t know how long I was out before Octurna’s constructs shook me awake. Minutes or hours might have passed—there was no way to tell. Time had long lost its meaning inside the Sanctuary. Peering up at the constructs, I bolted out of bed before they could mistake my morning wood for an invitation. They were back to their faceless forms and didn’t inspire any X-rated thoughts in me.

  I nodded groggily and rose to my feet. The two golems watched me in silence as I got dressed. I wondered again what these creatures were. Did they have feelings and their own thoughts, or were they the equivalent of magical drones under Octurna’s command?

  “You guys don’t say much, do you?” I grumbled.

  “Conversation is overrated, don’t you think?” one of the golems said and transformed into a darkly tanned Filipina who reminded me of a fling I’d once had during my military years abroad. I treasured the memories of that brief erotic encounter to this day. The robe slipped off the woman’s shoulders, revealing the tight physique of a sun-kissed fitness girl. Perky tits, a tight ass, smooth skin. I swallowed hard, my mouth going dry.

  I was still staring, debating if this was Nuala or Zemira, when the second golem stripped off her hooded robe, revealing a full-figured, luscious Latina beauty. Her petite yet voluptuous body made me think of Salma Hayek in From Dusk to Dawn. Damn, I’d watched that scene with the snake dance more times than I liked to admit. Was the sorceress probing my mind for sexual fantasies?

  Don’t overthink it, Jason. We are at war, and each day might be your last. Enjoy the pleasures life gives you. You never know when it could all be taken away.

  Octurna made some good points, almost as if she was talking from personal exper
ience. But I wondered why she didn’t join the fun herself. Why was she using magical proxies for these sexual encounters? I’d have been more than happy to welcome her into my bed.

  The sorceress refused to provide me with an answer. Maybe she was more of a voyeur. Or maybe she was afraid to let her guard down. It had to be hard, being a military general in this new war. Was she afraid of losing her objectivity if we allowed ourselves to get too close.

  Or maybe I was just fooling myself.

  The two beauties circled me. “So who’s who now?” I eyed the Latina beauty. “Are you Nuala or Zemira?”

  “Does it matter?” she asked. “You can call us anything you like.”

  As attracted as I was, a part of me grew cold. Maybe if I had been sixteen, this would have been enough. But I liked to get to know the women I spent my nights with. And even though the constructs could technically become anyone, who were they deep down? I almost expected the sorceress to invade my thoughts again and tell me that I was no fun, but she stayed out of my head or at least held her peace.

  These questions were still going through my mind when the Filipina exchanged a deep, passionate kiss with her Latina partner. In the end, I was a just man. And these vixens were determined to drive me crazy. The Asian goddess pulled away from her friend and kneeled before me, her delicate fingers closing around my raging hard-on. I moaned with pleasure and my mind went blank.

  All too soon, I would have to risk my life again. This could be my last day on Earth. Better to seize and enjoy the moment. Right?

  12

  An hour later, feeling refreshed and ready to take on the entire Shadow Cabal single-handed, I stepped up to Octurna’s rough-hewn stone throne. There was something eerie about the way she surveyed her collection of monster skulls, her medieval throne bathed in the eerie red and blue light generated by her stained-glass windows. Part Disney villainess, part femme fatale from a Heavy Metal comic strip.

  Did she spend her nights glued to the windows or did she retire to some shadowy tomb inside her fortress? What else did she do besides pore over ancient occults texts? What did she do for fun?

  These questions and more cycled through my mind, making me realize how little I knew about my new partner. And how much I wanted to get to know her better.

  “I hope you have a good reason for interrupting my beauty sleep,” I said good-naturedly.

  The sorceress’s emerald eyes sparked, and her lips stretched into a triumphant smile as she said, “We have the location of the Cabal’s lodge.”

  I followed Octurna’s gaze to the bank of stained-glass windows. Their patterns focused on a black BMW as it made its way up a winding mountain road. Two other luxury cars trailed the first vehicle. The window zoomed into the BMW, revealing the by now familiar face of the driver—it was none other than Professor Brogan.

  The window pulled away and showed the BMW’s destination. The car was headed for a sprawling, palatial estate that grew from a lush, forested mountain. The property vaguely recalled a medieval castle or chateau with its towers and turrets as it reigned atop a promontory, dark and foreboding like a storm cloud. The place must have cost a frigging fortune, and I could only imagine how spectacular the views were.

  “I thought these cult guys like to keep a low profile.”

  “Sometimes they choose to hide in plain sight. You’re looking at the headquarters of the New Magic Center, a quasi-religious organization giving Scientology a run for its money. Their slogan is ‘bring magic back into your life.’”

  “Wow. I bet showbiz types are eating it up.”

  Octurna nodded. “The Shadow Cabal loves to recruit from the elite, the famous, and affluent.”

  “Sure looks like they found some well-heeled donors. If you tell me my favorite stars are part this, I’m calling for a timeout.”

  Octurna narrowed her eyes and drummed her fingers on the ebony armrests of her throne. Her impatience was palpable, and I decided to tone down the jokes. My face grew serious as I shifted my attention back to the fortress-like estate filling up the large window. I watched with interest as the BMW pulled up to the mansion’s parting wrought-iron gate.

  Damn, this magical tracking spell was paying off big time! I was impressed and humbled by Octurna’s abilities. If she could pull this kind of stuff off in her weakened state, what was a full-blown mage capable off? It was best not to think about it too much.

  Suddenly, the window zapped out of existence, turning back to a wall of stained-glass. Someone had cut off our tracking spell.

  “What happened? Did Brogan realize we’re keeping tabs on him?”

  Octurna shook her head. “My tracking spell was crafted to avoid detection and disperse at the first sign of a magical defense system. The Eye of Horus has served its purpose well. We located the lodge. It’s up to you now, slayer.”

  No pressure.

  The sorceress grinned, leaning forward on her throne. “I hope you’re well rested, because you’re about to work up a sweat.”

  There was no double entendre to Octurna’s words—unfortunately, she wasn’t teasing another encounter with her two magical servants. The workout that awaited me was of a very different nature.

  “You want me to go scorched earth on that place?”

  “I want you to burn it down to the ground, slayer. Think you’re up for the challenge?”

  “Only one way to find out. We’ll need some serious explosive power to bring a place this size down. I hoped you stocked up on Semtex.”

  Octurna shook her head. “Who needs such crude weapons when you have magic at your disposal?”

  The sorceress extricated a red-glowing crystal ball from her robe. It radiated a menacing glow and looking right at it hurt my eyes.

  “Your mission is simple. Infiltrate the mansion. Head to the center of the property. And shatter this crystal ball.”

  I hung back slightly. “Are you telling me that’s a magical bomb?”

  The devilish smile plastered on Octurna’s face told me everything I needed to know.

  “I assume this isn’t a suicide mission, so how long do I have to get out of there once I crack the egg?”

  “About three minutes.”

  “Piece of cake,” I said with more confidence than I really felt. Who knew what magical or monstrous surprises were waiting for me in the Cabal lodge? Plus, carrying around a magical super-explosive wasn’t my idea of fun.

  “We’re about to send a message to the Shadow Cabal,” Octurna said with dark satisfaction. “I want them to receive it loud and clear.”

  I shifted my attention to the cache of monster slaying weaponry and started to arm myself for the mission. I slung the bandolier of silver daggers over my shoulder, slipped on the shoulder holster with my 9mm and snapped on the monster slayer gauntlet. The twin blades shot out with an audible snap, the red light of the stained-glass windows playing over the razor-sharp steel, a preview of the upcoming carnage. I grabbed the submachine gun and fixed my gaze on the estate again.

  I was ready to do this. As ready as I’d ever be.

  “Remember your training. And don’t get cocky. Reconnoiter, infiltrate, destroy and high tail it out of there.”

  “I sure like the sound of the last part of your plan.”

  Octurna shot me a long, almost disapproving look. “Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice when I recruited you for this crusade.”

  “It’s called having a sense of humor, babe. You should try it some time.”

  “This isn’t like any enemy you faced in your past, Jason. We’re not in Afghanistan or Iraq.”

  “I know. But I used to play World of Warcraft, too. And I was pretty good at it.”

  The sorceress cocked an eyebrow, once more not getting the reference. I usually was the one playing catch up, so it was nice to see our roles reversed for a change.

  “This is real war, Jason.”

  “I’m a marine. This is not the first time I’ve stared death in the face.”

  Oct
urna handed me the crimson crystal. Perspiration beaded my forehead as I gently accepted the red crystal ball. I pocketed the magical bomb, treating it with the greatest care, almost as if I was handling a volatile beaker of nitroglycerin.

  “Don’t worry. It’s not going to break if you drop it, slayer. Only a magical blast can shatter the crystal.”

  “Thanks for telling me now.” A strange heat had enveloped my whole body when I touched the bomb, its power undeniable. My gaze landed on the Nighthawk, which revved to life, the bike sensing a new mission was imminent. Like the golems, my new ride seemed to have a degree of awareness.

  Sometimes it felt like my life had become an X-rated version of Fantasia.

  Before I could have any second thoughts, I was astride my ride and blasting through the portal. Cold darkness gripped me, and my bowels tightened as I crossed the invisible threshold between the pocket dimension and the real world. Nausea hit my stomach like a dump truck. And then the sensation passed, and I found myself in the Malibu mountains, fading scarlet sunlight dappling the beautiful hillsides, the blue of the Pacific a thin band in the distance stretching into smoggy infinity.

  The wheels of my motorcycle spit up gravel as they fought their way up the twisting mountain road. Up ahead, the lodge awaited. Despite my beautiful surroundings, the sight of the property made the hairs on my neck stand up. My tattoos twitched, sensing the dark magic concentrated at the peak of the mountain.

  I was about to enter the lion’s den. I knew a direct assault would end in failure. The various wards and magical defenses would stop me cold. Stealth was required for this operation. My magical tattoos started to burn, so I pulled my bike to the side of the road and hid behind a copse of trees and thick undergrowth. And waited.

  About ten minutes passed before another car appeared on the mountain road. The blue Jaguar could only be headed for the lodge. My lips turned upward in a satisfied smile. This was my ticket into the compound. I emerged from the shrubbery, and the Jaguar screeched to a tire-burning halt. I waved at the driver, a mid-thirties male who stared at me with saucer eyes.