Lycan Fallout 5

by Mark Tufo

  Lycan Fallout 5

  Demon Wars

  Mark Tufo

  As always to my wife, if not for her gentle suggestion this series would have never been born.

  To my most incredible beta-readers, every time I think I have finally produced a mistake free book you prove me otherwise; and I am incredibly grateful for that! Thank you Patti Reilly, Kristen Beltz, Kimberly Sansone, Vanessa McCutcheon.

  To my readers thank you for your continued support and I sincerely hope you enjoy this book.

  To all the first responders and the men and women of the armed forces you have my utmost respect for all that you do and the Tufo family is thankful.

  Contents

  Foreword

  Prologue

  Prologue 2

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  AUTHOR NOTES

  About the Author

  Lycan Fallout The Series

  Also by Mark Tufo

  Also From DevilDog Press

  Customers also purchase

  Foreword

  Hello, Dear Readers. So, has this book title thrown you for a loop? Has my whole book tree timeline rather muddied the waters? Now you figure I’ve finally lost my mind, right? Perhaps you feel it might have been smarter to name Demon Fallout “Lycan Fallout 5” making this Lycan Fallout 6, then? How many questions can I ask in a row before you get pissed off? Alright. Let’s do an explanation slash recap. I’m thinking if you have NOT read Demon Fallout you may wish to skip right to the first prologue. You might be lost at first, but you’ll be able to infer what is happening…well shit. I guess there are spoilers throughout this story, anyway. If any of this worries you, just hang out here while I catch everyone up to speed and maybe try to get this all straight in my head!

  Gosh…do you remember the end of Lycan Fallout 4? The world seemed like such an easier place back then. Mike, Azile, Mathieu, Lana; they were victorious. Having beaten back the invaders at great cost, it looked like our heroes could at last walk off into that mythical “Happily Ever After,” the territory we all crave in our stories. Yeah, this isn’t that kind of story. Maybe you stop now, pretend that’s how it all went down, that Mike and Azile raised their twins, healthy and happy, in an idyllic world where birds sing and forest animals gather to watch over them, where Mathieu and Lana came with Gabriel, the realm opening cherub they adopted, visiting often, bringing all different varieties of beer and mead. They laughed, they loved; they cherished each and every moment together as they slowly grew old, dying peacefully in quiet slumber. Sigh. That’s nice. Too bad that’s not how any of this is going to happen. If you dare to continue, remember, you’ve been warned.

  Alright. Rubbing my fingers together as I start to type…let’s see, last we saw, Mike and Eliza were heading to the gates of the underworld in a bid to escape the ongoing Polion war, and, indeed, all manner of nastiness. Mike was still reeling from the fact that he had just killed a person, one whom he considered his son but who had betrayed him, had maybe, been silently grooming him for centuries–a long-game revenge ploy to make Mike pay for having had a part in killing his sister–the first time, that is. Eliza and Mike were stopped at the gates, their re-gained souls creating an effective barrier to the Aboveworld. Eliza persuaded Mike to bite her so she would be rid of the useless weight; he had, meanwhile, resigned himself to the fact that he would never leave there–not alive, anyway. When he was done with the bite, he turned to face the coming threats; that was when Eliza returned the favor. She bit him, thus wiping out any chance of ever being with his soulmate. He was on his knees, head in hands; Eliza had been pretty pleased with herself. It wasn’t that she felt any particular need to get back at Mike for killing her brother; it appeared she cared not in the least. No; she knew she was going to need his help to succeed in escaping hell, and she didn’t care who it hurt or what it cost to leave. As were all things to her, Michael was merely a means to a selfish end.

  Then we find Mike’s wife, Azile, the Red Witch, who had followed him into the underworld in an attempt to rescue her husband once she figured out that Tommy was setting him up. She stumbled across Linnick, the truth-telling breatine. Although Linnick was no bigger than a beetle, she proved her mettle time and again. Together, she and Azile are traversing the underworld, endeavoring to find Mike. When they are trapped within a dendrun hole, they find themselves in a direct confrontation with Lamashtu, the Lion-headed demon goddess who had threatened Azile with death and the unimaginable horror of taking her children and raising them as her own unless Azile could stop her husband from ending all worlds.

  This is your last chance to turn away, to live in the well constructed, easy to follow, happy ending fantasy you have made in your mind.

  …Still here?

  *Note to Narrator: (Sean? You ready, brother? Feel free to use my accent for that question; obviously the “er” becomes an “ah”. Your last chance to say your own words! Maybe sing a little karaoke?)

  Alright. Well then let’s get right to it.

  Prologue

  PROLOGUE ONE

  * * *

  “Oh where, oh where, can my eyeballs be? Talbot took them away from me! They’re gone to hell, so I’ve gotta go south…so I can see him when I rip his liver right outta his mouth!” Tim sang-shouted. “Listened to his stupid stories–that’s what did me in. Not the next time, though. Nope. Just going to bash his skull in, stick my hands into what little brain that asshole has and play with it like a sticky dough. Going to revel as it oozes between my fingers and plunks to the ground. I hate him so much, I’m not even going to give him the pleasure of letting me eat him. Scavengers can pick him clean.”

  Tim stumbled over the uneven terrain, righted himself, then scrunched his hollow eye sockets and stayed silent for a moment as he listened for the pull of his missing body parts.

  “Close, I’m close! How did that fuck not recognize me? I wonder if his woman is down here, too. Probably is, since she was stupid enough to hook up with him. That should have been enough to get her a one-way ticket.” Tim rubbed his hands together gleefully, a giant smile stretched from ear to ear.

  “What should I do first? Do I let her watch me kill him or do I make Talbot watch me strip her flesh off in front of him? Decisions, decisions. Both have their strong points. Fuck it. I’ll kill them both at the same time. No, no! That’s too quick, Tim, my boy. Not savage enough.”

  Tim was so lost in his own thoughts about macabre murder techniques, he nearly missed hearing the soft pleas for help. He turned quickly.

  “Oh please, let that be Talbot,” he said as he tilted his head slightly to get a bearing on where the voice was coming from.

  “Help me,” came out in a whisper no louder than an ant could cough.

  “Where you at…friend?” Tim smiled at his brilliance. Adding that last bit was sure to encourage whoever was asking for aid. He took two more steps before doubt crept int
o his mind that perhaps this was a trap. “You’re not planning on doing me harm, are you…friend?” He’d now used the last word twice, he noticed that it rolled off his tongue with difficulty; it was not one he’d had much practice using.

  “Need help…dying.”

  “Not going to lie; you do sound like shit. What happened?” Tim did not move any closer; he became hyper-aware of his surroundings, waiting for something to attempt to sneak up on him.

  “Ta…” the man coughed. What sounded like a death rattle escaped his lips.

  “Take your time. Scratch that–you’d better hurry up. You sound like you’re on your last legs.”

  “Talbot,” the other managed to get out.

  Tim spun, at first thinking it was a warning. When nothing happened, he redirected his attention. “Oh, no no no…please don’t tell me you are him. I’m the one that’s supposed to do this to you.”

  “He…burned…me,” the man got out with great difficulty.

  “Now that you mention it, you do smell a bit singed; more like char-broiled, really. I fucking hate the smell of burnt hair.” A frenzied scrabbling caught his attention. “I know that sound!” Tim said excitedly. He got down onto his hands and knees and felt around, blindly reaching for the wildly bouncing bag. “Sweet fuck-filled cupcakes!” He ripped open the drawstring. Two eyeballs with sets of thin legs protruding from nearly every part of them crawled up his left arm. The first probed his empty eye socket before plunging itself in with a satisfying squish-pop. The white of his eye rolled back until his blue iris showed. The second had fallen off his cheek and was jumping pathetically at his toe. Tim reached down and shoved it hard into its face cave. He stood as the eye orientated itself.

  “Oh yeah. That feels fucking great!” His eyes made one more complete revolution before settling on the misshapen, charred form below him.

  “What in the great fuck happened to you? I mean yeah, I know Talbot did this to you, but you are one sorry son of a bitch. What’s your name, friend? I’ll let him know you sent your regards when I get back to him.”

  “T…T…Tommy.”

  “Idiot. I’m Tim, not fucking Timmy. I should mash the rest of you into the ground for…oh, wait.” Tim grinned. “You’re Tom-my. Sorry. I forgot I even asked you a question. Though, I don’t give a shit. This is about me and my quest for revenge, because yeah, that’s what it is now–an epic quest. Some fruity little fuck with a mandolin is going to sing songs about this. Then I’m going to wad him up into a ball and eat his ass too. Wait. I mean, yeah, I’m eventually going to eat his ass. Not first, though. I’m no queer.”

  Tim’s foot was hovering over the burned man’s head; he was about to crush and move on, never again pausing to think upon it.

  “Wait…Tommy? Did you say, Tommy? Where the hell do I know that name from? Did I huck a loogie in your drink once? Ah, good times, good times,” Tim said as he smiled in remembrance. “No, that wasn’t that pencil dick’s name; it was more pointdextery. Something like Marvin or shit–could have been Dexter. Oh fuck me. I’ve got it–you’re the incestuous little fuck that has a hard-on for his sister, aren’t you?! Listen man, I know I ain’t right in the head, but that’s straight up some hillbilly shit! No wonder you’re down here. Yeah, you’re better off where you are. Tim stepped on Tommy’s head. There was a wet squelching sound as he pushed multiple layers of skin off and forced them to the ground. The man screamed out in pain as the slick, damp muscle of his face showed. Tim whistled as he walked away.

  He’d gone a fair distance when something stopped him in mid-stride. “Wait. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy?” he repeated the name, hoping it would eventually jar a memory loose. “Tim, man, you’re letting this Talbot-fuck get into your head! How could you be so stupid? That fucker back there is a vampire. Can you imagine the power you could pull from him?!” Tim turned around and headed back. “You ain’t going nowhere, Talbot. We have all the time in the world to continue our little soiree.”

  Prologue 2

  PROLOGUE TWO

  * * *

  The light above Lamashtu, which she planned on using to destroy Azile, neither brightened nor dimmed as Linnick spoke. It held steady; as if it had been mounted upon a thick, steel beam.

  “I did not see this. How is this possible, breatine?” Lamashtu looked perplexed, and for the first time, the light wavered.

  “All things are possible if one can discern the truth through a web of lies,” Linnick replied.

  “It is indeed another way.” The light blinked out as quickly as it had come. Lamashtu’s long donkey teeth gleamed dully as she smiled. “I am unsure what will end up being worse for you, witch. But I will be watching closely; if you make an effort to usurp me, I will think nothing of taking your children. Do you understand what must be done?”

  Azile looked to Linnick then to Lamashtu. “I do.”

  “Then you should save him before it is too late.” Lamashtu swept her hand through a soft fog; Azile and Linnick were pushed out of the great hall and back into the dendrum hole they had found themselves in; they were rushing back the way they had come.

  “That true?” Azile asked Linnick.

  “I find it strange that even a demon goddess of Lamashtu’s status would be confused about my kind.”

  “Meaning?” Azile asked.

  “We can easily differentiate truth from untruth in others. That does not mean we don’t speak it.”

  “Are you saying…”

  “I lied. Nearly every word I spoke in there was a falsehood. I do not know if that was wise…but I did so. A creature as ugly as Tallboat deserves as many chances as can be afforded to him.”

  Azile sobbed in relief.

  “He still poses a great danger and is in great danger, Red Witch; I do not think you should feel so reassured.”

  “Trust me, little one. I am not at ease. It is just nice to have a friend on the inside; I was not expecting such.”

  “This truth does not easily exit my mouth, but I will tell you this. If we are caught and she asks why I did what I did, I will tell her that I was compelled.”

  “That I put a spell on you?”

  “Correct.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Chapter 1

  Mike Journal Entry 1

  “What have you done?” I cried out, not even bothering to look at her. Unlike the first time, when Tommy had bitten me, this time I felt my soul detach and pull free like it was in such a rush to exit the place it was going to bust through the door.

  “Not going to want to die now, Michael. I suggest you get up and help me find a way out of here.”

  The icy pain of suspicion turned into the red-hot anger of knowing. I stood and faced her. I didn’t even bother with words before I struck the side of her face with a punch that should have sent her reeling. She laughed; I’d like to say I had done enough damage to bloody her teeth, but it was my own lifeblood that coated the inside of her mouth. I struck again. The laughter faded but the smile grew; her eyes narrowed and took on a more sinister glare.

  “Do you like that? Does it make you feel like a real man striking a woman?”

  I hit her one more time, the redness and bruise healing even before I could pull my fist back. “It’s been a long time since you were a woman,” I said, but I still stopped. It was pointless. I didn’t even get any sort of sick satisfaction from delivering the blows. I was mired in an all-encompassing misery. The meaning and definition of my life took a nose dive the moment she took what was finally mine. I loved Azile and the twins with all my heart and I wanted to spend as much time as I was granted with them but at some point, yeah, I wanted to call it a day. I’d lived longer than any person has a right to and the day would come when I was ready to cash in my chips.

  Eliza lashed out; not sure if it was retribution for the punches or the words. Either way, it hurt. I rubbed my jaw. For the first time, I saw something in Eliza that made me think that possibly she felt something more than hate and revenge, more than the desire an
d need to devastate merely for the sake of destroying. Pain–not in the physical sense but rather internally, like possibly my words had affected her. Did having her soul back for nearly two centuries now change her in some way? The look in her eyes was so subtle and left so swiftly, I could have completely misread the entirety of the situation. Then she changed my mind completely.

  “You done being a bitch?” she asked.

  “Don’t mince words on my account.” My jaw popped as I mumbled my quick response.

  “I’m asking because we have company.” She pointed behind me.

  A substantial something was approaching. It was easily over ten feet tall, closer to fifteen, red with a shimmering blue outlining its entire body, and a large broad nose nearly flattened against its face. I racked my brain. It looked familiar in a déjà vu type of way. I almost staggered when struck by the realization of what, or rather who, it was.

  “Kalandar,” I said.

  “You know the beast?”

  “I know the beast,” I had my axe in hand, wondering if I should attack or see how this played out.

  “And?” She was standing by my side.

  It was a toss-up which of these two I should be more wary of. Kalandar stopped some twenty feet from us.