Mike hunched at Ann's feet. “This is going to hurt,” he said as he gently placed his hand on her injured foot.
Ann gritted her teeth as Mike began to undo the laces on her shoe. Mike lifted her foot, carefully pulling the shoe off, and as he did, Ann’s face twisted in pain, but she never made a sound. The blood-soaked sock was gently pulled back, revealing the ragged hole. It belched blood from both sides as Mike examined it.
“Well, it got bone. It’s going to have to be cleaned better than we can do it here, or it will get infected, but you’ll be fine for now,” he commented, peering into the hole and out the other side. “Do we have any alcohol or anything?”
“No,” Nick answered, lightly touching his broken nose. He could hardly draw a breath without sucking down a mouthful of blood.
“Lean forward and pinch your nose. Also, don’t blow any of it out. Your face will swell up,” Mike advised. “Try not to swallow any of that blood, either. It’ll make you sick.”
Nick labored to breathe as the taste of salt and aluminum dripped down the back of his throat. “Mouthwash…It’s alcohol-based, and I have some in my day bag,” Nick added as he leaned forward, pinching his nostrils.
“That should work,” Mike said, setting down Ann’s foot as if it was an explosive that would go off if it was knocked too hard. Mike shot up and looked at Nick.
“Stock room,” Nick offered. Mike walked into the stock room, clutching his injured hand. When the door finally shut, Ann looked up at Beverly.
“So, did you two bang in the bathroom?” Ann asked.
“What?” Beverly blurted out.
“When you went into the bathroom together.”
“No. Besides, we were only in there for like a minute.”
“So?”
“No, nothing happened,” Nick insisted.
“What’s it to you if we did?” Beverly said.
“I don’t know; nothing, I suppose. Y'all just seemed strange when you came out.”
“Whatever. If you weren’t shot, I’d hit you,” Beverly said.
Ann forced a smile onto her face, but pain and terror ate at it like maggots on a corpse. Her normally bright eyes seemed dim and hopeless. “We’re going to die, aren’t we? We just can’t fight them all.”
“No, we can’t,” Nick said as he clenched the hilt of his sword. “We could pull a Samson and just bring the house down on them when they come in.”
“No, I’m going out like a Viking,” Ann said.
Beverly petted Ann’s head. “How’s that?”
“’Cause I’m not going to stop hacking until my arms are ripped off, and if they bite me, I’ll force more of myself down their throats until they choke to death. No suicide. We’re already dead, and we’re going to have to fight like it,” Ann said, groaning as she sat up. Mike came back into the room with the mouthwash tucked under his arm.
“No need for that. It won’t do me any good,” Ann said as she grabbed her shoe and forced her swollen foot back in.
Ann duct-taped the hell out of her foot, trying to make a cast as best as she could. The boys did the same to their hands. They were all hurt. They had all been brutalized, and now fear was tearing apart their hearts like it never had before. If that was only one witch, then there was no way they could fight all the rest.
The point was driven home when they all moved Kim’s body to the cleaning room. Ann was the only one who seemed to have any determination left in her. She had gone the way of the samurai, and all that was left was a good death.
Ann glared at Hegel’s mangled body, and a smile crept over her lips. “I’m happy, and no matter what happens after this, I’ll still be that way 'cause I got you,” she said, peering down at the lifeless corpse.
* * *
In the darkness of the room, Nick could feel the diabolical form of the Eater of Wings. It was the same feeling that he had felt when the demon had fixed his gaze on him, and since there was nothing in the world that had ever made him feel as weak or as small, he knew the monster was still watching.
Cloaked in darkness, the demon just stood. Nick grabbed the terrible book that the owner of the store had bought. He flipped through it, leaving pink smears of blood on the old brown pages, and when he had found the illustrations of the Eater of Wings, he stopped. He scrolled down the page until he came to the line:
He loves to punish sin more than he loves God, and he himself is neither just nor equitable. Cast from heaven and rejected by God and his fellow angels, even the other demons curse him.
“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Nick whispered.
“Yes,” a voice said. The timbre of the voice sounded like a thousand knives being sharpened at once, but no else in the room seemed to be able to hear it. They all still worked, diligently reinforcing their makeshift fortress.
“Why?”
“I saw you steal the money, and now you must be punished. It is the right thing to do,” the voice said.
“What about all the witches?”
“I have decided that many sinners shall pass at my coming tonight.”
“Are you going to kill all of us?”
“All shall feel my wrath.”
Nick’s heart sank as the demon spoke its hateful words. “Why?”
“Because it is just and good, and you know nothing of either.”
“I know that it’s wrong to punish someone when the person lived well for most of his or her life,” Nick said.
“If a man lives well for his whole life and then commits murder, the way he lived before has no bearing on his guilt or the punishment to be meted out. He is guilty and should be punished. Even your earthly laws see the truth in this,” the demon spoke.
“I took twenty bucks from a cash register. Don’t you think death is a bit much?”
“No, all that is wrong with the world comes from the same place. You overestimate your own value. In stealing, you said your right to pleasure was more important than that of the man who gave you a job, and so you took what was his. It is the same sin as murder. A murderer steals another life because he believes that personal happiness is more important than the life of another. All sins are the same. All are overestimating your own value, so they all deserve the same punishment.”
“You’re dispensing justice without mercy, demon. That’s unjust in and of itself,” Nick said.
“I am an angel,” the demon replied.
“You were an angel,” Nick said, running his fingers down the brittle pages of the book. “This night is all your doing, isn’t it? Every bit of it?”
“No, the witches would have come without me and so would have the other demons. I’m just making sure that all get what is theirs.”
“What about the other demons? Will they not lift a finger to try to stop you from slaughtering their followers?”
“They know my power, so not a word will escape their lips.”
“Stop this,” Nick begged.
“They’re coming,” the demon said.
The store began to quake as hundreds of naked witches’ bodies crashed into it. Ann grabbed the hilt of her sword and hopped on one leg to one of the windows. Dozens of hands burst through their makeshift barricades.
“God help us,” she screamed as she lopped off one arm after the other.
Mike grabbed Hegel’s pitchfork and began plunging it into any body part of a witch he could find. The roof shook with the sound of fiends trying to claw their way in. Beverly swung and slashed like a knight as she removed appendages from the bodies of the damned. Blood spewed in from every hole in the vanishing structure. A bookcase was thrust into the air by the witches’ unholy powers, and it crashed not a foot from Beverly as she wildly swung her sword.
Spears and blades of all kinds were being pushed through the wall, and even a shot or two from a gun ripped through the store. Witches never play fair. The building offered no more protection than happy thoughts, and its walls might as well have been made of wrapping paper.
The trappe
d were keeping the ones at the windows at bay as best they could, but the roof and walls were another matter. Bits of Sheetrock and insulation began to fall from the ceiling. It would not be long until the witches had dug a hole large enough to fit through.
Nick could see Beverly doubled over in pain as she crashed to her knees. At first it was vomit that spewed from her mouth, but it was quickly replaced by blood and the wiggling chunks of something. The retching was so violent it shocked her body, not even letting tears form in her eyes. Fat yellow worms began to slide out of her mouth. She momentarily sat up, looking stunned at the feeling and the sight. Nick could see Ann rush in from the side. She snatched Beverly away from the ungodly wiggling mess, and with all her might, she threw her shoulder into one of the bookshelves, felling it like a massive cedar onto the worms. The dark powers were beginning to fill the room, and there was nothing they could do about it.
Nick still stood in the center of the room, his eyes locked on the Eater of Wings who had materialized. He stood with outstretched wings that brushed the top of the high ceiling as he silently stared death into Nick’s eyes.
“Help us,” Nick pleaded.
“I should eat your eyes for all of your transgressions.”
A beastly, hair-covered forearm burst through the roof, taking with it massive chunks of wood. Soon the witches would have dinner as well as their revenge for their wounded pride. Another bookshelf was flung into the air, crashing into the ceiling like a battering ram, and the force of the blow tore a massive hole in the already weakened wood. The children of the night poured through the hole. As witches rushed in, Mike turned, and seeing the breech, stabbed at them. Three of them fell, but so many had burst in that the tide was unstoppable.
“What if we make a deal,” Nick tried to scream to the demon over the riotous sound of the attacking witches.
“I do not collect souls. I destroy them,” his monstrous voice boomed.
“I would never give my soul, but I would give my life,” Nick said, staring at the creature.
A beastly witch rushed Ann, grabbing her by what little hair she had left, and the witch slashed at Ann with her powerful claws. The strike ran down her back, slicing like a razor till it hit her belt. Ann swung around, lodging her blade into the shoulder of the raging witch. She barely flinched as she slammed Ann to the ground, knocking the breath from her lungs.
Mike charged into the room, swinging and stabbing with the pitchfork at everything that moved. Beverly backed into a corner so she could not be attacked from at least one angle. There she swung at the naked witches, killing many.
“What do you mean?” the demon said.
“I will never sin as long as I live, but you have to save my friends and me,” Nick screeched as the witches closed in on him.
“Never again?”
“Never,” screamed Nick.
“Do you know what it is you’re asking, boy?” the demon growled. Nick looked over to see Beverly struggling to stand. Every muscle in her body strained with each swing of her sword, and each was so lumbering that it could be her last. The witches had surrounded her. It was only a matter of time before she fell.
“Yes,” said Nick.
“Let me think about it.”
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Nick said as he thrust his sword into an oncoming witch. The witch crashed to the floor with a thud.
“No, but I have all the time in the world,” the demon said. Nick swung and swung at the deluge of evil that flowed through the store.
“Do not let us die!” Nick screamed. He cleaved desperately through flesh and bone in his single-minded trek toward Beverly, knowing he could never make it.
* * *
The werewolf-like witch was standing over Ann, ready to rip into her flesh. From the ground, Ann swung her sword, striking its shin, and stopping halfway through the bone. The creature’s leg gave way, and it crashed to the ground. Ann sprang to her good foot and aimed the point of her sword at the screaming beast. She rained down one decisive blow after another. Its blood and chunks of flesh clung to her face as she screamed with the pain and fury of all mankind. Like Beverly, Ann also backed into a corner to help stop the possibility of being attacked from every direction.
“Come on, girl!” a warlock shouted, his muscles rippling as he made his naked strides. Among the destruction, he strode toward her, holding a massive ax. One look at this monstrous warlock let you know he was old and had killed many. His face was as scarred as a chopping block, and his eyes cast themselves on her soul as kindly as a rusted razor on skin. Ann rose up, putting her weight on her injured foot, and she could feel bones shifting and popping like the studs of an old house.
“Seven hundred years have I lived, and many battles have I fought. Heads have I taken, and souls have I destroyed,” he said, coming within a few feet of her. He clenched the handle of his massive ax with both of his gnarled hands. “I have toppled nations. I have—”
Before he could finish his thought, Ann flicked her sword at his claw-like hand, and a finger rolled off the ax handle onto the floor.
“Ow! Fuck,” he said, looking down at his now-mangled hand, but before he could lift his eyes back to Ann, she cracked her blade on the top of his forehead twice. He toppled backward as the skin on his face split open like a pair of skinny jeans on a fat girl’s ass. Ann rushed to his side and reared back her sword.
“Ohhh, shit, no,” the warlock pleaded as Ann swung her sword like a golf club, smacking the evildoer in the head several times. After she was sure he was dead , she ripped the ax from his hands and rushed into the hordes of witches like a human meat grinder. Kill them, kill them, kill them was all she screamed in her head. All but herself, the ax, and the sound it made when it cleaved through flesh were gone. She came at them like an overwhelming heat. Flashes of screaming faces, broken weapons, and severed limbs came into her existence, but for the most part there was only blood.
Teeth were busted free from gums, arms hacked, and heads cleaved. She had killed nearly a dozen before they overwhelmed her. There were so many of them, and for each hand she chopped off, a dozen more shot in and snatched at her. They pulled at her hair, ripped her clothing, and punched her face. With a hateful scream, her legs gave way, and she crashed to the floor with the rioting witches stomping on her. She looked between the tangle of marching feet to see Mike being slammed to the ground. She couldn’t see Beverly, but Nick was trapped behind the counter with a dozen horrific forms surrounding him. One witch flung a book, striking him in the head, and he fell to the ground.
The finality of the situation was punctuated by the maniacal cackling of the Eater of Wings. It was over, she thought, as a bare foot landed on her head with all its might. The world blinked, and she could no longer feel the trampling horde. She was dead. No, not dead. Pain still raged across her body. Warm fluid splashed her from all directions, and with all the power she had left, she raised her battered eyelids. What she saw was a grisly display. The demon was not cackling at their loss, but at the deaths he was about to cause.
Dozens of witches had been slashed to pieces. Most were missing arms, legs, and heads. Their bellies had been split open, spilling their rotten intestines to the floor. The attack had come so fast that it was just starting to dawn on most of the witches that they were dying. Some crashed to the ground like stones chunked into a pond while others stumbled, still trying to hold on to what little life was left. Many had been pinned to the wall with random objects from the room. Their bodies were skinned and gutted as if they were wild game. Cries of pain and panic rose from outside as rivers of blood rolled from the roof as if it was raining.
Squeals and screams shot out to the heavens as souls were being sent to hell. Soon the store went completely black as if a blanket had been draped over it. It was the deepest darkness that any of them would ever witness, and in the dark, the store’s structure began to creak and shift as if a massive weight had been placed on top of it. In the darkness, the demon still cackled w
ith glee. Like statues, the survivors lay still with no sound escaping their lips.
“Death has come to you all,” the booming voice of the Eater of Wings shouted through the blackness. “Do not think that I have forgiven your sins, boy. You have made a deal. I save your friends, and you never commit another sin. I know that you cannot hold up your side, and when you break this deal, I personally will torture your friends for the remainder of their natural lives. I will use all of my powers to extend their lives just so I can torture them longer, and when I finally kill them, it shall be the worst death that any mortal has ever felt. This is your punishment for your sins, my boy, and when you finally fail, it will be you that has slain your own friends by your own weakness.”
“Why?” she heard Nick’s voice say through the blackness.
“Because I have plans for you,” the Eater of Wings said with a hiss. “Great and wonderful plans.”
The voice of the demon seemed to come from no specific direction within the darkness, but as it faded back into the immaterial world, the lights began to flicker. When the demon was gone, the lights clicked back on with a blinding flash, revealing that all the slain witches were gone, but all the signs of their struggle were still there. The room had no inch that was not covered in bodily fluids.
The survivors all froze in place, their hearts sinking with the final words of the demon. All of their lives were tied to Nick now and his ability to resist what God himself said that man could not.
Minutes passed before Mike made a move. He stood up among the slick pools of blood and walked over to Ann with an outstretched hand. Ann grasped it, and with a labored breath, he pulled her up. Her legs wobbled with each step, and Mike had to bear most of her weight as they inched across the room. When everyone was standing, Mike eased to the door with Ann still draped on his shoulder like a wet towel. Nick found the The Book of Eddiss lying on the floor, covered in blood, and picked it up. He clutched it tightly to his chest as he fell in line with Mike and Ann at the door.
Maleficarum: Hunger of the Witch Page 9
