There was only one way to find out!
Fueled by a rush of newfound hope, he snatched his amulet with his one free hand, every muscle in his body screaming with agony. Seconds before the teeth of the waiting maw could tear him open, he pressed the amulet against the monster’s glistening, see-through flesh.
The contact was electric, the results immediate. The Jinn released him from its steely grip mere seconds before those razor-sharp teeth would’ve ripped off his face.
The tentacles violently reared back, and Talon was sent tumbling down the corridor.
He hit the wet floor face first. Desperately, he pressed his lips together, refusing to allow any of the horrible, addictive substance into his mouth. Barely clinging to consciousness, he knew he had to get back to his feet.Tapping into a last reserve of strength, he stumbled erect, but it was too late. Rakan’s massive shadow eclipsed the wall before him. One meaty arm closed around his throat in a brutal headlock.
Talon clenched his jaw; he had to get out of the submission hold before it was too late. Instincts taking over, he twisted his head to prevent Rakan from choking him. In the same instant, he brought up his middle fingers under the man’s nose. He pushed up and back. Rakan’s grip loosened, giving Talon enough leeway to make his next move. He put all his weight into his enemy, slamming him against the wall.
Rakan grunted, releasing his hold with a pain-filled curse.
The beast on the other end of the corridor echoed his irritation with a renewed roar. Interesting, Talon thought. Apparently the link between man and monster worked both ways.
Talon spun around just as Rakan’s fist blasted out at him. The drug dealer’s paw connected with his ribs, cracking bone. Talon exhaled agony and stumbled away from the mountain of a man, who outweighed him by at least fifty pounds.
He’d defeated bigger men, but Rakan’s punches were fueled by the supernatural power of the Jinn.
Talon’s bleary eyes turned toward Samia. She had scooped up his demon slayer blade and now bravely faced the fast approaching monster. Even armed with the magical weapon, she didn’t stand a chance. The Jinn’s weight and momentum would flatten her.
Death was closing in from both sides of the corridor. The Jinn on one end, Rakan on the other. Struck by sudden inspiration, Talon’s gaze locked on Samia.
“Throw me the knife!”
The detective looked at him with disbelief yet did as she was told. She slid the blade across the floor and Talon caught the magical weapon before it slid to a stop. Blade in hand, he swung around at Rakan. To hurt the beast, he would have to harm the man. Talon drew the knife across Rakan’s face, drawing a deep gash across the man’s eyes.
Blinded, Rakan staggered back with a scream.
On the other end, the Jinn bellowed, and slowed its advance, blood gushing from its cyclopean eye.
The maneuver had bought Talon and Samia precious seconds.
Talon toyed with the idea of going after Rakan, but even without his sight, the drug dealer made a formidable opponent. Besides, the Jinn would be upon him before Talon could subdue Rakan.
There was only one way to defeat both enemies—turn them on each other. He would have to pit master against servant and trust that he and the detective could escape in the melee. Talon surged toward Samia and pointed at the open elevator door. Understanding filled her features and she nodded. Just before Talon flung himself through the door, he shouted, “Hey, come and get me, you slimy bastard!”
Before either Rakan or the Jinn could reach them, Talon and Samia jumped into the dark elevator shaft. Their hands clasped the emergency ladder while the enraged Jinn barreled down the corridor, its bulk shooting past the open elevator doors. In its blinded state, the monster was unaware that its real prey had fled. Driven by rage, it kept spiraling down the corridor, headed straight for the nearest human.
Rakan.
A heartbeat later, the massive beast opened its mouth wide and engulfed the man in its path. As the servant disappeared inside the translucent form of his master, the spiritual link between them shattered. The giant worm reared and bucked but kept moving, completely out of control. Unable to slow its forward momentum, the Jinn burst through the window at the end of the corridor and disappeared in a rain of shattering glass, plunging to the wet streets below.
Yasmine was about to whip out the AK-47 from under her long coat when the world around her shifted. For the first time in days, her thoughts were clear and her mind once again her own. One moment the notion of mowing down the demonic Parisians in the small café before her seemed like a sacred calling. Now she felt sickened by what she’d almost done. It felt like she was waking from a terrible nightmare. She spotted five other banlieue residents in the surging crowds, terrified eyes in ashen brown faces, mirroring her own shock and fear.
Yasmine was all too aware of the machine gun under her coat and the phalanx of security personnel milling around the mall. Somehow, she had to flee the shopping center and get rid of the weapon without being caught. If she was arrested or killed, then who would take care of Granny.
Her heart skipped a beat. She vaguely recalled returning to her apartment only to find Granny missing. That’s when the punks had grabbed her. They’d forced her to take the drug, and afterwards, there had been only darkness. She’d been convinced that she lived in a world where demons ruled Paris and were to blame for every misfortune that had befallen her people.
Moving as swiftly as she could without drawing attention to herself, she fled the underground shopping center. She was driven by one single thought: she had to get home. As soon as she reached the parking structure, she pulled the machine gun from under her coat and let it drop behind a trash bin. It clattered against the concrete floor and she picked up her pace, using her hijab to keep her features obscured from the security cameras placed intermittently around the parking structure.
A few minutes later, she stepped into the Paris night. A fine drizzle stung her skin. She welcomed the sensation, which further grounded her in reality. She could sense that this nightmare was truly behind her. She didn’t understand what had broken the unholy spell the drug had exerted on her—and truth be told, she didn’t want to know. Yasmine was free; it didn’t matter why or how. All that mattered was finding her grandmother.
She walked briskly down the brightly lit streets of Paris, appreciating, perhaps for the first time, the beauty of her adopted city.
Chapter Sixteen
By the time Samia stepped out of the tenement and into the night, the rain had stopped and the mist had thinned out. Swirling tendrils of fog still wove their way through the streets, but the condensation had lost its supernatural menace. She still couldn’t quite believe that they had defeated Rakan and the unholy creature under his command.
As they’d descended the tenement stairs, they’d encountered many of Rakan’s erstwhile followers. They all looked like they were waking from a horrible nightmare—which, from what Samia understood, wasn’t that far from the truth. The death of the Jinn had broken the dark spell of its lifeforce.
She expected to find the beast’s shattered form on the pavement, but they only discovered Rakan’s broken body splayed a few feet from the building. The twenty-story fall and the creature’s digestive fluids had reduced her former lover’s features into a bloody, pulpy mass. There was no sign of the monster. If both monster and man had been linked somehow, maybe the creature had dissolved in the same way Rakan’s features had been obliterated. Or could the beast have stolen away into the rainy night? The thought sent a cold panic down her spine, and her eyes probed the surrounding darkness. The halogen streetlights did little to illuminate the gray soup around them.
Combing the darkness, her gaze landed on an open sewer grate. Had some part of the monster escaped into the bowels of the city? Wounded, maybe dying, but still able to infiltrate the heart of the metropolis somehow, an evil poison polluting the water that flowed through the city’s stone arteries.
Tensions between the French and her peo
ple were at an all time high, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon. Things would get worse before they got better. The last thing her city needed was a monster churning up hatred and fear. The situation was bad enough without a supernatural influence.
Sirens grew audible in the near distance, and Samia let out a sigh of relief. Reinforcements would be arriving any second now.
“I must go,” the American said. She turned toward him and searched his battle-worn features.
I’ve seen things most men couldn’t imagine in their worst nightmares. There are horrors out there, dark forces men can tap into.
She doubted he would share his story with her. He didn’t have to. He’d saved her life, saved this neighborhood. He didn’t owe her any explanations.
“Are you at least going to tell me your full name?”
The American smiled, squeezed her shoulder and said, “Mark Talon.”
With these words, he vanished into the mist.
Moments later, the first squad car pulled up to the tenement.
Talon studied Casca as he inspected the strange vial. Five days had passed since the battle in the banlieues, and he now found himself in Casca’s office at his sprawling Silicon Valley mansion. The drug was the only tangible evidence of the horror he’d faced.
“Your experience in Paris changes everything. I will have to revisit the myths of the Jinn and interpret them in a completely new way.”
“Sounds like fun.” Talon rolled his eyes, knowing all too well the billionaire would have a blast unraveling this new occult mystery.
Casca placed the vial in a drawer of his mahogany desk. Talon glanced at the large globe that stood in the office’s corner. For most of his life, he’d been traveling the world, constantly on the go and he had a feeling his lifestyle wouldn’t change any time soon. He wondered where the billionaire would send him next.
Almost as if Casca had scanned his mind, he said, “Did you get a chance to read my interview in Forbes? I think I did an excellent job of playing the rich boy with too much time on his hands and an unhealthy interest in the occult.”
“Can’t say I have. Did the Order of the Flayed Prince take the bait?”
“Someone was paying attention because I received a personal invitation to attend a workshop hosted by the Shadow Seeker Society in New York City.”
“You think they’re connected to the order?”
“There’s only one way to know for sure.”
Talon mulled it over. Normally the billionaire commanded their campaigns from the safety of his mansion while Talon put himself in harm’s way. Now his general planned to venture out onto the battlefield. He’d proven to be a helpful ally when they’d faced the Reaper’s murderous spirit back in the Ohio mall but Talon couldn’t shake a growing sense of unease. Casca was developing an appetite for action, his confidence bolstered by his growing mastery of the magical arts.
On the other hand, the Order wasn’t like the any enemy they faced before. He’d scored another victory in Paris, but even the most skilled soldier knew that survival was mostly a matter of luck—and a lucky streak could only last for so long. This new enemy possessed the funding and membership numbers to pose a real problem. Who knew how deep their influence went and what horrific goals they might be working toward.
“You accepted the invitation?” Talon asked after a long pause.
Casca nodded. “The seminar is scheduled a week from now. I was hoping you might join me for the event.”
Talon cocked an eyebrow, and Casca added, “I have a feeling I might be in need of a personal bodyguard.”
Talon nodded. “I’m on the payroll, boss.”
Casca grinned and Talon joined him. Inwardly, though he wasn’t smiling, gripped by a dark premonition. He sensed the battle ahead would test them both in ways they couldn’t even imagine. Casca believed the Order had taken his bait, but Talon wasn’t so sure. What if their new enemy knew exactly what they were up to? He’d set a cunning and deadly trap in that remote Italian chapel, and he feared that the Order was now planning a trap of their own.
Picking up on his unease, Casca poured him a shot of bourbon. Talon drained the glass and gave his employer a more genuine smile.
Whatever horrors might be waiting for them in New York, this time they’d face them together.
THE END
Note from the Author
Dear Readers:
The recent horrific terrorist attack in Paris shocked me deeply, especially since I was in the middle of writing Soul Jacker at the time which echoes some of the ethnic tensions impacting Europe and the world at the moment. This story wasn’t designed to ride on the coattails of a recent tragedy or to be sensationalistic. It was conceived way before the recent horrific attack and was originally planned to be the second book in the series. The Charlie Hebdo attack early this year made me push the story and Apocalypse Soldier became book 2. But the tale continued to haunt me, and I finally came back to it this summer, after I felt enough time had passed. Little did I realize even more horrific attacks would soon rattle the City of Lights. Extremist ideology has been replaced with the occult in the Talon stories but like the Dark Knight movies, Occult Assassin is designed to take the real world of terrorism and give it a fantastical push. Sometimes art imitates life and other times it intercepts it, becoming eerily prophetic. My heart goes out to all the victims and I sincerely hope the story doesn’t offend anyone. It was meant to be cautionary tale, grounded somewhat in reality but clearly a fantasy-horror story.
The world is a dangerous place even without monsters and demons, and I’m grateful that the real Mark Talons out there valiantly strive to keep it safe for all of us.
William Massa
December 2015
Los Angeles, CA
6: Doomsday Disciples
The Mission
After a decade spent fighting the enemy abroad and keeping his country safe, Delta Force Operator Mark Talon is ready to settle down with the love of his life. But Talon’s world crumbles when his fiancée becomes the victim of a murderous cult.
In the wake of his terrible loss, Talon dedicates himself to a new mission – hunting down twisted occultists around the globe and stopping them before they can unleash the forces of darkness upon an unsuspecting world.
Chapter One
Just outside of Los Angeles.
Turning thirty didn’t have to be the end of the world, not even if you found your fiancé in bed with another woman only three months before the wedding.
The seven-year itch had hit her beau a little early, that’s all.
Gracie tried to look at the bright side. At least she’d discovered that David was a cheater before he put a wedding ring on her finger, so screw him and good riddance. After three months of crying herself to sleep every night—and consuming way too many pints of ice cream and bottles of wine—she was beginning to feel better about life.
Or at least that’s what she tried to tell herself.
Patching up her broken heart would take time. Some might heal by immediately diving back into the dating pool. Gracie didn’t belong to that tribe.
Despite her recent heartbreak, she planned to celebrate her upcoming milestone birthday in grand style. She wanted to do something edgy, extreme, and super memorable.
When her best friend Vanessa proposed that Gracie jump out of a plane to commemorate the Big 3-0, she’d immediately said yes. Vanessa was an extreme sports enthusiast. She loved to surf and snowboard—and, yeah, jump out of planes.
Gracie, on the other hand, was a lot less adventurous by nature. She preferred a good meal or nice book over taking unnecessary risks with her life. But something about floating high above the world (okay, technically you were falling, not floating, but that’s what it looked like in skydiving videos) appealed to her.
And perhaps she had something to prove to herself.
Maybe David had cheated on her because she was too cautious and uncool and lame. Maybe it was time to turn over a fres
h leaf, to make some actual changes in her life and show the world that she could take risks and have a blast doing so.
So here she was inside a Cessna 182, puttering toward the exit altitude of 10,000 feet, a parachute and tandem skydiving instructor strapped to her back.
Gracie stole glances at the dizzying sight of the Earth below. She was getting serious second thoughts about the jump.
Don’t you dare chicken out of this one, she admonished herself.
Vanessa flashed her a reassuring smile. How could she be so damn cool about all of this?
Gracie hoped that her protective goggles and scarf hid how terrified she was. How many minutes had passed since they’d taken off? Fifteen? Twenty? Scott Hacken, the young, handsome tandem instructor with the mysterious eyes, had told her it would take about half an hour to reach jumping altitude. They should have gone with a bigger plane that would have reached these heights in mere minutes.
Thirty minutes had never felt this long before. The anticipation was maddening.
According to Scott, the Cessna 182 was the workhorse of the skydiving community. The plane could only carry a pilot and up to three jumpers, and they were all packed into the small plane like sardines. Gracie clenched and unclenched her fists, the claustrophobia getting to her in the rumbling aircraft.
What had she gotten herself into here? Stupid, stupid…
“We’re almost there,” Scott said.
Across from them, Vanessa’s eyes lit up with anticipation. Seasoned pro that Gracie’s friend was, she would jump on her own and be the first one out of the plane.
“Hey, Gracie, it’s okay,” Vanessa said. “If you’re nervous, it’s normal. Everyone gets butterflies on that first jump. Once you’re out there, that all goes away. You can barely process what is happening, and you’re living 100 percent in the moment.”
Occult Assassin: The Complete Series (Books 1-6) Page 53