Night Slayer: Midnight War

by William Massa

  “Are you alright?” I asked lamely. Of course she wasn’t.

  The ground shook, and a quick glance told me the castrated monster was ready to smash us both into a bloody pulp despite the gushing injury between its legs.

  “Give me your gun!” the reporter said, snapping out of her daze. I was almost afraid to hand her the firearm, uncertain what she might so. But something about the way she eyed me swept my hesitation aside. The strength I had spotted earlier had edged back into her gaze.

  “Please,” she pleaded, desperation in her voice. She wanted this. Needed it.

  I handed her the sidearm, grip first. She released the safety and leveled it at the wailing beast. Without a trace of hesitation, she unloaded a full magazine into the creature’s open mouth. A hail of silver bullets found the soft tissue, and the monster’s enormous head snapped back, the sound of gunfire strangling its dying bellows.

  The damsel in distress had expertly nailed the head shot.

  The giant toppled stiffly like a felled tree, its crumpling body headed straight for us. Before tons of monster flesh could bury us, I grabbed the woman’s hand and dragged her out of the path of the crashing giant. The beast slammed into the ground with devastating force, the impact of its lifeless body rattling the pit.

  With a final grotesque gurgle, it exited from this world. The thing’s inhuman death rattle sending a shiver up my spine. And then it made no sound at all, bloody froth bubbling from its bullet-perforated lips. I wasn’t about to take the beast’s pulse, but I was pretty sure the reporter’s bullets had finished it off.

  Thick blood seeped into dusty ground, and I felt the power surging within me. Even though I technically hadn’t delivered the death blow, the tattoos on my body were absorbing the creature’s infernal energy. But if Octurna expected me to bring her the giant’s skull, she had another thing coming.

  I traded a quick glance with the reporter, impressed. She had handled my sidearm like a pro, and I suspected this wasn’t the first time she’d fired a weapon.

  “Who the hell are you?” someone called out.

  The voice reverberated through the pit. For a moment, I had been so distracted by both Beauty and the Beast that I’d forgotten about our audience of blood-thirsty cabalists. They peered down at us in hushed silence, clearly stunned that I had defeated their monstrous pet. I scanned the ring of purple and found the speaker. It was none other than Professor Brogan. Judging by the way he carried himself, he was the head honcho in this lodge. Our eyes met, and we stared at each other for a beat.

  “We will know soon enough,” Brogan said. “Get the intruder!”

  Brogan waved his hands, drawing circles in the air, indicating he was about to cast a spell. I had used up my shield during my fall, so there was nothing I could do but take a wait-and-see approach at this point. I steeled myself for the worst. Luckily, I didn’t turn into a frog or a puddle of ectoplasmic goo. I saw a ripple of green energy engulf the throng of robed cabalists. The crowd jumped to their feet, and one by one, they dove with inhuman athletic grace into the thirty-foot-deep pit, robes billowing around them, murder in their eyes. For a surreal moment, I recognized some of the cabalists. One was a classic pop star from the eighties, another was an up-and-coming movie actor.

  And then my celebrity spotting gave away to the more pressing need for survival.

  We had to escape this death trap. Now!

  Lightning fast, I popped another magazine into my submachine gun. I tossed a 9mm mag at the battered woman next to me. We both reloaded at the same time and depressed the triggers of our weapons. Our guns roared, and bullets whipped into the mass of robed fanatics.

  I dashed toward the slain beast and swiftly climbed its corpse until I stood on its bloody shoulders. I had acquired the high ground. From this elevated angle, I unleashed renewed bursts at the mob threatening to encircle us.

  Another phalanx of cabalists went down, purple robes turning red, but for every cabalist who fell in battle, two new enemies took their place. More and more of them kept dropping into the pit, eyes possessed, moving with an inhuman grace as if they were extras in some sick remake of The Matrix.

  Three of the robed assailants landed on me. The impact sent me flying. In a flailing tangle of limbs, the three cabalists and I rolled down the dead giant’s corpse and hit the dusty pit. I was still getting my bearings when four more cabalists attacked. I had not been a slouch in the fighting department even before loading up on dragon blood, but these punches hurt. The fists raining down on me glowed with green light. Somehow, Brogan had transferred his own burgeoning magical powers to the crowd and turned them each into a bunch of murderous badasses.

  I activated my gauntlet and went to town. The twin blades sliced through the robes and found the flesh underneath. My knives tore through one man’s chest and burst through his back, slick with gore.

  I withdrew the two blades with a wet splat only to cleave the next cabalist’s face in half. He went down in a spray of red, looking like a grizzly bear had mistaken his face for a honeypot. A third assailant closed in, unfazed by the fate of its fallen brothers.

  Brogan’s magic hadn’t just given these cultists super-strength. It had transformed everyone into an irrational berserker. They reminded me of people high on PCP, uncaring of their own safety.

  So far, I had managed to stand my ground, but ultimately their sheer numbers would overwhelm me. I had to get out of this pit. Picking off these cabalists one by one was a fool’s errand. Much better to let my magical bomb do the dirty work. But I couldn’t detonate the bomb while still in the pit. See my problem?

  I never meant this to be a suicide mission. Fortunately, my whole body surged with the energy I’d sapped from the dead monster. And my newfound power inspired an idea. Could I teleport myself and the reporter through space and materialize on the stone veranda above the pit? In the past, my range for the spell had only been a few feet. I wasn’t sure we’d make it. But it was worth a try. The power rippling through my tattoos was immense, and it gave me the confidence to try the impossible.

  My gaze turned upward, and I fixed on the stone high above. Most of the cabalists had jumped into the pit except for Brogan and a few others I guessed were his top men. The good professor was busy powering his cabalist strike force.

  Now or never, Night.

  I snatched the reporter’s hand, said a quick prayer, and closed my eyes. I could hear the robed throng closing in on us, their feet slapping against the pit’s stone floor. Their rage and hatred and killer instinct seemed to cloud the air. It was hard to concentrate, but I couldn’t let the dire nature of our situation get in the way of the spell I was about to cast. I had to turn inward, shut it all out, and tap into my new abilities.

  I had to embrace who I was—the Night Slayer.

  For a split second, nothing happened. And then reality shimmered and warped. Both the pit and the incoming crowd of cabalists phased out of existence in a flash of blinding energy.

  14

  The world of the pit with its crowd of crazed cabalists vanished, replaced with the perfect darkness of the void. All sounds drained from the world. I felt at peace with myself and the universe. I was physically travelling through space, carried along by an invisible current.

  But I wasn’t alone in this dark yet comfortable place.

  I stole a glance to my right, and I saw the reporter, her eyes wide with wonder. Despite the surreal quality of the experience, we felt no fear.

  The brief moment of tranquility came to an abrupt end as light flooded the darkness. Reality intruded on the peaceful blackness, and we found ourselves on the circular observation platform where I had caught my first glimpse of the woman now standing by my side.

  I was able to look down into the pit and saw the mass of purple-clad cabalists descending on a ghostlike shadow image of us. The mob hesitated, unsure what had happened. They would figure it out soon enough. We had traveled about thirty feet through space. We were not in the clear just yet,
but fortunately only a couple of cabalists blocked the passageway leading back to the painting portal.

  The reporter fell in step with me as I ran down the passageway. I didn’t dare steal a glance back at Brogan. Last I checked, the head mage was a tad distracted with his efforts as a magical puppeteer. He was the battery powering this insanity, and hopefully his own spell had drained him sufficiently so that I wouldn’t have to worry about any nasty magical surprises.

  Guns blazing, we blasted our way through the few remaining cabalists. I tossed one robed enemy over the stone railing into the pit thirty feet below. He screamed all the way to the bottom until the sickening crunch of his spine snapping silenced him. The head of another cabalist vanished in a puff of crimson mist. I was really starting to like this girl.

  We barreled into the medieval passageway and surged toward the magical painting-portal located at the far end. My face set in a determined mask, I flung myself through the shimmering oil painting, my left hand tight around the reporter’s wrist. Energy crackled around us, and then we were back inside the sleek Malibu chateau. Two cabalists milling in the hallway regarded us with big eyes. Before either one of them could make a peep, they both sprouted cyclopean third eyes and collapsed in string-cut sprawls, the white marble floors turning red.

  I extricated the blue shimmering crystal ball from my coat and felt the reporter’s questioning gaze on me. There was no time to explain. The answers to her questions would have to wait until later. I silently prayed that I had enough magical juice left to shatter the orb. The teleportation spell had taken a lot out of me, and my whole body ached. My chest throbbed crazily, waves of pain spiking my body.

  Just hang in there a bit longer, buddy, I told myself.

  Fortunately, the next step didn’t require an enormous amount of power. Within seconds of focusing my magic on the ball, cracks started to form over its surface. A heartbeat later, the crystal orb shattered into a thousand pieces. Tendrils of blood-red mist began to spread through the beautiful yet sterile white hallways of the chateau.

  Icy fear speared through me as I watched the fog spread. Every hair on my body stood on end, sensing the destructive power of those swirling clouds of red.

  Determined to put some distance between us and the scarlet mist before it reached its deadly potential, I swiftly crossed the great hall. The reporter followed at a brisk trot. The remaining guests cleared a path for us as we beelined toward the exit. I guess my black combat suit and the reporter’s shredded outfit set us apart from the purple robe crowd. Anyone foolish enough to confront us backed off the instant they spotted my glowing green submachine gun and blood-spattered clothing.

  That’s right, guys, you don’t want to fuck with us.

  One doorman decided to get frisky and trained his sidearm on my center mass. I rewarded his efforts with two quick shots to the head, spraying a nearby Greek statue with his chunky brain matter. I sent a piercing glare in the direction of the second doorman, who wisely dropped his pistol and shuffled aside. We brushed past him, guns leveled, ready to kill at the slightest provocation.

  And then we were outside the mansion.

  Running for our lives.

  Screams erupted in the chateau behind us, and this time I hazarded a quick backward glance. The magical red mist had thickened. It now obscured the oblong windows of the mansion. A shadow appeared in one of the windows—the glass shattered, and a cabalist exploded from within. Clouds of swirling red energy covered him. With horror, I saw the mist literally strip the flesh off his body. A second later, it consumed the dead man’s bones.

  Suddenly, I was glad that Octurna hadn’t shared the details of her magical bomb with me.

  I forced myself to look away from the dissolving corpse and focused on the luxury cars parked in front of me. I spotted the blue Jaguar I’d acquired earlier and made a go for the vehicle. As I approached, I took note of the loud pounding noise coming from inside the vehicle’s trunk. The driver I’d knocked out was awake.

  I popped the trunk. The cabalist jumped out, armed with a knife which he must have kept hidden in the trunk. The blade aimed at the reporter.

  Before he could drive the knife into her, I drilled the cabalist in the forehead. I wasn’t taking any prisoners today. Thinking back to my dying team members melted away all traces of hesitation. This was war. And the Shadow Cabal was the enemy.

  The reporter stared at me, clearly shocked by my capacity for violence but also grateful. I had saved her a second time.

  I flung the passenger door open. “Get in the car!”

  She did as she was told.

  I slipped behind the steering wheel, cranked the engine, and stole another glance into the rear-view mirror. The red mist had now fully enveloped the chateau, and the screams inside had died down. By now, the terrible fog must have destroyed all life within its walls. It seemed that it was turning its devastating energy against the structure itself. Terrible sounds of destruction filled the air as the foundation of the chateau cracked and shook, tendrils of red spinning faster and faster around the Malibu castle. The crimson force transformed into a fearsome tornado. Windows blew out, walls collapsed, the surrounding plant life wilted.

  The mansion was being erased from reality.

  I’d seen explosives in action too many times to count, witnessed smart bombs incinerate vehicles and buildings. This was even worse. Slower, more deliberate. As the mansion’s foundation succumbed to the magical forces battering against it, a giant sinkhole opened up and swallowed the Malibu estate. Crimson light bled over the property, expanding rapidly like some hellish, all-devouring virus.

  Octurna hadn’t been joking when she urged me to go scorched earth on the place. At this rate, nothing much would remain of the Shadow Cabal’s party pad. Talk about sending the bad guys a message they wouldn’t be able to ignore.

  As the mountain consumed what was left of the building, I saw movement on the disintegrating rooftops. Three winged shadows erupted into the air and emerged from the billowing cloud of red.

  The three sentinel gargoyles. The winged bastards were zeroing in on the Jaguar.

  Shit!

  I floored the gas and blasted out of the property, the three pissed-off gargoyles in hot pursuit.

  We shot down the winding mountain road, swathes of trees and thick undergrowth zooming past my field of vision. The waves of magical red light had turned night into day. It looked like a previously unknown volcano had erupted on top of the Malibu mountain.

  The dragon blood had enhanced my senses, including my hearing and night vision. I could hear the wings of the beasts slicing the air, saw their muscular shapes cutting toward us in my rear-view mirror.

  They had failed to spot me when I first infiltrated the Cabal lodge. Preventing my escape was their best shot at redemption. After battling the Hulk’s repugnant cousin, three gargoyles didn’t faze me. Or at least they didn’t at first. As they drew closer, I began to understand that these nasty fuckers posed their own unique challenge.

  I turned to the reporter, whose name I still didn’t know, and said, “Think you can drive?”

  She regarded me for a beat, studied the rear-view mirror and the incoming gargoyles, and then nodded. Our bodies brushed against each other as we switched seats while hurtling down the mountain road. I tried to be a gentleman about the whole thing but couldn’t help but notice that my passenger was practically naked. Fortunately, the shrieking gargoyles were keeping my mind out of the gutter. Mostly.

  The reporter grabbed the wheel and expertly navigated the vehicle down the steep road.

  “So you can shoot guns and drive like a stuntwoman,” I said. “Anything else you can do?”

  She flashed me a quick grin, and I knew I could trust her.

  Reassured by this exchange, I popped the sunroof open and stuck my head out. Within seconds, I shouldered my machine pistol and tried to get a bead on our three aerial pursuers as the Jaguar swerved down the twisting road. The reporter took a curve too fast,
and I nearly fell out. My wound was burning as if someone had poured sizzling hot oil on it. A dull ache gnawed at my brain. So much for the regenerative abilities of my dragon blood.

  I clenched my jaw, sighted my submachine gun on the lead gargoyle sweeping in for the kill, and squeezed the trigger. Gunfire shredded the air, and silver bullets peppered the creature’s head, chest, and wings. The gargoyle’s aerial maneuver turned into a crash landing as it slammed with ferocious speed into the mountain road. The impact rattled my teeth and shook the car.

  No time to celebrate my victory. I needed to focus on the two remaining gargoyles.

  As I reloaded my weapon, the second gargoyle landed on the trunk of the car with a loud thump. The vehicle swerved for a moment, and I feared the reporter might lose control. Fortunately, the car straightened out, and I let out a sigh of relief despite the gargoyle now eyeing me with lethal intent.

  Good Girl, I thought.

  The beast roared at me, wings flailing while its claws remained buried in steel. Sharp teeth tore towards me, and I returned the greeting with the twin knives of my gauntlet. Moonlight glinted on the two blades as they ripped through the winged beast’s throat and exploded from the back of his neck in a spray of black blood. I savagely twisted my wrist, and the creature detached from the vehicle, vanishing to the side of the road in a convulsing heap of flailing wings.

  Two down, one to go. So where was the third bastard?

  I scanned the air and spotted the remaining creature trailing us from high above. Apparently, the last gargoyle was trying to learn from the mistakes of his fallen brothers. Instead of dive-bombing me, it kept its distance, zig-zagging back and forth, determined to not make for an easy target.

  I blocked out the pulsing pain in my shoulder and tried to get a lock on the gargoyle. But it moved faster than one would expect for a creature its size. And then it soared past us overhead, pulled in front of the rapidly descending Jaguar, and dove toward the windshield.