Night Slayer: Midnight War

by William Massa

  As I approached, I stealthily caught my reflection in the rear-view mirror, and his reaction started to make more sense. A stunning blonde in a skimpy red dress was staring back at me. Whoa! I had counted on my magical trench coat to cook up some effective disguise, and it had come through with flying colors. I was secure enough in my masculinity not to completely freak out over my magical sex change, knowing it was an illusion.

  Or so I hoped.

  The driver rolled down his window and regarded me with hungry eyes. Good. The fact that I was dealing with an occultist creep would make the next part a lot easier.

  “Are you okay, ma’am? Did your bike break down?”

  Another quick glance in the man’s rear-view mirror revealed that the Nighthawk now looked like a red moped. Nice touch.

  I tried batting my eyes at him. “I’m so sorry, I tried calling AAA but I’m not getting a signal up here? My provider sucks. I thought you might have better luck?”

  The driver shook his head. “Cell phones don’t work up here. Were you headed up to the retreat? They have a landline you can use. Just get in, and I’ll hook you up.”

  I feigned slight hesitation, making sure I didn’t seem too eager. I didn’t want the driver to get suspicious.

  “Come on, I don’t bite.”

  I do, buddy. I smiled in what I hoped was a charming, shy way.

  Still pretending to be wary of getting in a car with a stranger, I slipped into the Jaguar and got comfortable in the passenger seat.

  Now that I was inside, it was time to change my look.

  I visualized what I wanted to look like, peered up at the rearview mirror to make sure it had worked, and saw the Jaguar’s driver staring back at me. Shocked surprise rippled over the real man’s features, but it was too late. My fist snapped out, closed around the man’s throat, and started squeezing. Within seconds I had choked off the oxygen supply to his brain sufficiently enough for him to pass out and slump over the steering wheel.

  I drew a square into the air, and his form blinked out of existence. A muffled thump emanated from the trunk. I was still learning the teleportation spell, and my range was a joke, but it was enough to remove the unconscious bastard from the car and let me take his place behind the wheel of the Jaguar.

  I started the engine and made my way up to the sprawling estate. As the wrought-iron gate came into view, doubt crept into my thoughts. Did these freaks have some sort of secret code or handshake? As soon as I passed the security cams mounted near the entrance, the gate swung open.

  I pulled into the lush property and parked in an area filled with Teslas, Mercedes, and BMWs. Octurna wasn’t kidding when she said this organization made it a point to recruit powerful influencers. Judging by the luxury cars, this place had drawn the interest of its fair share of Hollywood shakers and makers. The idea that black magic might be encoded in my favorite popcorn flick or video game sent a shiver down my spine.

  Giving myself an internal push, I silenced my whirling thoughts. Concentrate on the mission, filter out the chatter.

  Calmed by this clarity of purpose, I parked my newly acquired Jaguar and got out. A few other people were walking up to the impressive property, and I fell in step with them. No one looked at each other or exchanged greetings. Everyone seemed to be in their own world. Good. I had not been looking forward to making small talk with the other attendees and blowing my cover in the process.

  I trailed the group into the house, my muscles tense, eyes alert.

  What other security measures should I be worried about? I mentally asked Octurna.

  “Look at the roof.”

  The sorceresses’ voice sounded distant and staticky. Our communication was breaking up. It must have been the mansion’s magical defense system messing with our telepathic link.

  I turned my focus to the mansion’s rooftop. I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for. Maybe more security cams or some other electronic security feature? I didn’t spot anything out of the ordinary.

  “Look closer. Tap into your magic.”

  Easier said than done. I was still getting the hang of all this combat magic stuff.

  My eyes swept the rooftops again. I took note of the stone gargoyles, and then one of the winged rock statues began to stir. A subtle but unmistakable sign of preternatural life. My chest tightened and the hairs on my neck stood up. The creatures were alive, hiding among the statues, perfectly blending with their stone cousins. A quick glance revealed two more live gargoyles among the grotesques. I saw a flicker of red in the creatures’ eyes, almost as if they could sense they were being observed.

  I averted my gaze and prayed my curiosity hadn’t blown my cover. Gargoyle security! What would these crazy mages think of next? Perched high above, able to see who was coming and going…had I been made?

  “I doubt it. Your magical disguise is strong enough to trick these simple creatures.”

  It required all my will power not to steal another look at the roof. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  “The Shadow Cabal has become complacent and lazy. For over a century, no one has dared to stand up against them. In the age of science, no one pays attention to magic. And that’s how they like it. They feel safe and untouchable. That will change tonight. Tonight, we remind them that the past isn’t dead yet.”

  Octurna’s speech boosted my confidence. The element of surprise was in our favor. But I would have to make this first attack count.

  I followed the crowd into the mansion and struggled to maintain my poker face as I took in the vulgar display of wealth and luxury. The views were as spectacular up here as I had hoped. A giant, seventy-five-foot infinity pool promised relief from the heat just beyond the massive bank of windows. The sun was setting, turning the sky blood red and bathing the guest’s faces crimson, giving them an inhuman, almost demonic quality.

  My boots clicked like a metronome against the marble floor as I explored the elaborate foyer. I entered a large hall split by a curving staircase. The chateau’s exterior had been a perfect fusion of modern and classical architecture, and the same design aesthetic extended to the inside of the property. Sleek glass windows contrasted with dry-aged oak floors, handmade art fused with custom furnishings, stylish though a bit excessive. An octagonal marble bar dominated the reception area and seemed to offer up every brand of alcohol your liver could desire.

  Dracula’s castle it wasn’t.

  Or at least not yet. My eyes widened slightly I shuffled forward with a handful of folks into the next chamber, where people were undressing and slipping into hooded purple robes the host had generously provided.

  I hesitated, unsure what my next move should be. The magical crystal ball inside my coat seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Rivulets of sweat ran down the sides of my face. I had hoped the sorceress would guide me, but no such luck. I couldn’t tell if she was ignoring me on purpose or if the mansion’s wards hard blocked our telepathic link.

  So how to proceed? The question now was one of timing. When and where to shatter the magical bomb and release its destructive power. I figured my best bet was to head to the center of the property to assure the maximum destruction. Judging by the singular focus of the robed guests, I figured they were about to attend a ceremony of some sort. Should I follow them and plant the bomb at their gathering place. That felt like a plan I could live with.

  Mind made up, I slipped into one of the robes, unwilling to stick out from this eerily silent crowd. Hey, some folks think of the Marine Corps as a cult, and maybe they have a point but it was my cult, and you couldn’t just join it, you had to earn your place in it.

  My thoughts were going a bit crazy as I threw the hood over my head and continued to follow the purple mob down an adjoining hallway. For a change, I wished Octurna would speak up in my mind and let me know I wasn’t flying solo here, but she remained silent.

  I clenched my jaw and tried to keep my cool as I trailed the robed procession down a white corridor. A quick glance u
p ahead showed me that our group was marching toward a large oil painting. The artwork showed a three-dimensional view of a medieval stone corridor with the requisite whirling torches set in iron grips. Events took an even weirder turn when the first robed visitors stepped into the painting and advanced further down the stone hallway, the burning torches painting their purple robes as they became a part of the artwork.

  This was more than just a painting. We were marching right toward a magical portal of some kind Who knew where it would lead us and how its magic might affect my disguise.

  I had to turn back. Find some chamber in the mansion and shatter the crystal.

  These thoughts were racing my mind when I heard the scream. It belonged to a woman, a shriek of unbridled terror which rattled me to the core. And it had emanated from the oil painting. Dammit! Someone was in trouble.

  Could I just ignore the pitiful cry for help? More importantly, if I detonated the magical bomb, would I doom the screamer to a fiery death?

  Pressed along by the robed crowd behind me, I had little choice. My lips pressed into a thin line as the surface of the painting shimmered and gave way. My next step struck rough stone instead of polished tile. I looked back and saw that the mansion’s modern hallway had become an oil painting inside the medieval structure.

  A chill trickled down the base of my spine. I was looking at a painting within a painting.

  Another scream rang through the stone corridor, confirming that I was doing the right thing. Someone was in danger. Mortal danger, judging by the shrill panic in the woman’s voice.

  I continued to follow the procession of purple robes down the shadowy passageway, wishing they would hurry the hell up. The crystal ball inside my trench coat seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

  We all entered a circular stone observation area that overlooked a rough-hewn stone pit. Torches provided ample illumination, and I spotted a terrified figure thirty feet below. My eyes widened, and I felt rage bubbling up my throat. The brunette was practically naked, her skirt and blouse shredded, her hair wild and unkempt, eyes squirming with fear as she peered up at the purple-robed mob. She tugged on her restraints and snarled a curse. Even though she must’ve gone through God knows what torture, she hadn’t given up. Despite her fear, I saw something else in those eyes. Strength. Courage. Defiance.

  A familiar voice thrust me out of my thoughts. It belonged to Professor Brogan.

  “Welcome, my brothers and sisters. I thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight. Today, we have something special planned. Only recently did we learn that someone tried to infiltrate our organization…”

  Stunned gasps and moans of surprise rang through the crowd.

  For a split second, my hand went for my handgun, expecting to be outed in front of this crowd. But Brogan was apparently referring to the woman in the bone-covered pit.

  “Look at her. Using beauty and charm to gain access to our lodge. A reporter chasing a story, hoping to shed light on what happens at our meetings. A fool who is about to pay the ultimate price for her curiosity.”

  Brogan turned his attention to the nearly naked woman in the pit.

  “You’ve come here, your heart full of deceit, your soul hungry for answers.”

  “Let me go!” Her voice was hoarse from exhaustion, and I felt my heart going out to her. “Damn it, I won’t tell anyone what I saw. Just let me out of here!”

  Brogan smiled in response to the woman’s words. “Oh, I know you won’t. Not after tonight.”

  I gritted my teeth. What were these freaks planning? I received my answer a second later as the giant gate rumbled open inside the pit, and a nightmarish shadow fell over the bone-covered grounds. The reporter’s courage crumpled, and she let out another piercing scream.

  I swallowed hard. The real horror show was about to begin.

  13

  Mighty footsteps shook the pit, and the violent vibrations rattled the observation deck. My pulse quickened, and I swore softly.

  The massive beast emerging from the gate was humanoid and about ten feet tall, albino-skinned with bulging muscles. Its powerful shoulders were twice the size of a man, its features pallid and pitted with two ugly red wounds for eyes. Webs of blue and green arteries and veins formed networks under the transparent, ghostlike skin, and repulsive pink warts covered much of its torso like a patch of mushrooms. Horns of varying sizes, too many to count, pockmarked the thing’s otherwise bald scalp.

  Being somewhat new to this monster fighting business, I had no idea what sort of nightmare creature I was looking at. All I knew was that it looked dangerous and pissed and was one ugly fucker.

  It was a safe bet to say that the remaining lifespan of the screaming woman could be measured in heartbeats at this point. As the monster lumbered toward her, I noticed its dangling sex stiffening between its legs. The creature had something far worse in store for the reporter than a mauling.

  The purple-robed crowd of cabalists cheered with excitement, eager for the show to begin. Sick fucks! Fury sizzled up my throat, and my heart turned icy with anger. These soulless, decadent bastards wanted to be entertained, and I decided to deliver a performance they wouldn’t so soon forget.

  The time had come to act.

  So far, I had been a silent observer in the unfolding drama. Honestly, I had hoped to plant my magical bomb and steal off into the night. That was no longer an option. There was no way I could let this poor woman meet her terrible fate in the pit below.

  Unwilling to sit this one out on the sidelines any longer, I freed myself from the purple robe in one fluid motion, and shouldered my magically charged submachine gun. I leveled the weapon and unloaded a full magazine into the monster.

  The staccato bursts of furious gunfire rattled the stone veranda overlooking the pit, and the cabalists standing near me recoiled in shocked surprise. My bullets tore deep gashes into the monster’s fish-belly flesh and spattered its swollen muscles with dripping gore.

  Magazine spent, I reloaded like a machine and pumped a few quick shots into the purple group of cabalists before they did something stupid like trying to rush me. As the robed freaks backed away from the traitor in their midst, I swiveled toward the beast in the medieval arena below and found the giant staring back at me. Glowing red eyes bored into my soul with murderous hunger. Bloody graffiti covered the beast’s muscular chest, and it looked more pissed off than hurt.

  I was still considering my next move when the pink warts on the creature’s upper body opened like the petals of some mutated flower, and a collection of tentacles exploded from the unsightly growths.

  One of the thrashing appendages snapped around my torso like the lasso of some overeager cowboy and pulled me to the edge of the stone catwalk. The creature’s intent was clear—it was hoping to pull me into its bone-littered playpen.

  Not so fast, buddy.

  I nimbly whipped out one of the silver daggers from my bandolier and sliced the undulating limb apart. The severed piece of tentacle hugging my waist stiffened and dropped to the ground while the other half gushed red and withdrew into the pink boil from which it had sprung. Thankfully, I had skipped the hors d’oeuvres on the way in and didn’t have to worry about spray-painting the bleachers with the contents of my stomach. That shit was nasty.

  The creature howled with agony and frustration. Before I could launch into a victory dance, two more tentacles found me, lashed around my throat and wrist, and with a vicious yank, whisked me into the pit.

  That’s when my training kicked in.

  As the ground came rushing up, I instinctively drew a quick triangle in the air with my free left hand. Reality warped and sizzled, and a protective energy shield formed around me. Instead of being reduced to a broken pile of bones, I landed on a cushion of magical energy.

  A roar cut through the arena as the serpentine limbs released me. I glared at the beast as it howled with pain and fury, its gaping mouth splitting the gargantuan head in two. Gleaming teeth emerged from its gums like
claws unsheathed from a cat’s paw.

  One more tentacle unfurled toward me, and this one sported a six-inch curved stinger. I tried to sidestep the incoming projectile, but my timing was slightly off, and the stinger tore into my chest like an oversized fish-hook. I gasped, biting back a scream as blood erupted from my punctured chest and coated my skin-tight black combat suit.

  I reflexively snatched the flailing tentacle. The long sparring sessions with the golem sisters were paying off. Nerve endings exploded in my injured side, and my legs grew wobbly, but I steadfastly refused to let go of the monster’s twitching feeler. Tapping into every available reservoir of strength, I jerked the stinger out of my shoulder. Pain twisted my lips but, I didn’t release the tentacle. Instead, I violently pulled on it.

  Time to reel in my catch.

  The beast drunkenly trundled toward me and opened its massive jaws, intent on biting off my head, T-Rex style.

  As its shadow swept over me, my gauntlet sprouted twin blades. The sound of the knives exploding from the steel glove was music to my ears. With a ferocious snarl, I lashed out. The blades found the creature’s dangling manhood and severed it from his bulging body in a spray of scarlet.

  I’ve seen some gruesome shit over the years. Two wars had taught me what steel and fire can do to the human body. But seeing a elephant trunk-sized, red-veined albino monster dick soaring through a medieval arena was a new one even for me.

  For an eternal moment, the giant glowered at me in shock, unable to process what had happened to the favorite part of his anatomy. And then all hell broke loose as the beast went ape shit. I couldn’t blame the creature.

  Its pitiful wails echoed through the arena. Didn’t matter if you were a man or a monster, that was about the worst thing that could happen to a member of the male species. Knowing what this bastard had planned to do to the captive reporter, I didn’t feel too sorry for him.

  I turned away from the screaming mountain of heaving muscle and spun toward the woman. She stared at me like a child greeting the first morning light after a long night of nightmares.