The Bringer
Jennifer Park
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Park
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Cover design by: Art Painter
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
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
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Prologue
The Adherents were the assassin’s arm of the Master’s organization and Jessica had been brutal as she worked her way up to the position of head cleric. It required ruthlessness to retain her position, ruthlessness and watchfulness. The cult was notorious for swift changes in leadership. That she had kept her position for as long as she had was a testament to her intelligence and cunning. She turned her head when she heard footsteps approaching.
The lab was finally quiet. The final injections of the evening had been administered. Each of the cult members known as The Adherents received a potent infusion of vitamins, steroids and a serum derived from animal DNA several times a day.
The members spent months in training and medical preparation for their transformation. Not all the members survived the combination of injections and the spells required to bind demon spirit to mortal flesh.
Jessica, the head cleric of the cult, pushed back from the computer at her lab station rubbing her eyes. Things were moving faster and faster. The Master’s need for demon constructs kept them recruiting day and night. Night worked best.
Raymond’s knock on the lab door was more an announcement of intent then a request for entry. He opened the door without waiting for a response.
“You’re back.” Jessica swung around on her chair to face him. She watched as he crossed the lab toward her. Raymond was her second-in-command and she trusted him explicitly to carry out his assigned missions. That is all she trusted him with. He would stab her in the back if she gave him even the hint of an opportunity. He wanted her job and he was willing to do anything to get it.
“I am and everything went as planned,” said Raymond as he swung a lab chair around and straddled it backwards. He had a hard time being still. He was always moving. Even now he was pushing himself back and forth across the lab floor because the chair had wheels.
“I expect no less from my best handler,” said Jessica absentmindedly as she turned toward her desk and picked up her tablet. “How did our construct do?” she asked.
Raymond waved away her concern, “Safe and sound and back in his cage.”
“Good, the Master wants two more ready. We should get orders any time now.”
“What kind? Do we need soldiers, trackers or flyers?”
Thinking of the somewhat limited intel from the Master, all he had told her was he needed someone picked up and delivered to him, she responded, “Soldiers this time, I think. Flyers are always a last resort, they are just too noticeable being so batlike with the wings and that tail. And the Master said we would have no problem feeling the target’s location this time, so trackers aren’t really going to be all that useful to us. We need a couple of soldiers that can do a smash and grab for us. Who should we use?” Jessica asked scrolling through the files of the cultists on her tablet.
“Rafe, I think. He’s put on forty pounds since he joined. All muscle. He’s also recruited three new members this month trying to prove himself. He wants this, he’s committed. He should make an exceptional construct.”
Jessica ran over his information. “His serum includes bear, wolf and fox. His numbers under mental acuity have gone up. Okay, he’s one. I was thinking of Jason or Jenna also.”
“I’m good with Jason but not Jenna,” he said shaking his head negatively. “I want Jenna to put on a little more mass. I agree she’s almost ready she just needs a little more time. She’s good at recruiting the guys too. I’d like her to bring in several more new cultists before we turn her.”
“Alright, let’s prep Rafe and Jason. Are you good to prepare the chamber or are you still jetlagged? Everything needs to go smoothly tonight.”
“I’ll do it. How many chanters do you want, four others beside ourselves?”
“Yes, that should be adequate.” Jessica stood up and walked to the door. “I’ve already drawn my blood for the ceremony. It’s on the warmer.”
“Until midnight, then,” Raymond said to Jessica’s back as she left the lab.
No word was spoken nor greeting offered as the Cultists entered the small casting chamber. With heads bowed they stood within very precise symbols and markings chalked onto the floor.
Candles were the only illumination. They flickered from nooks in the walls and from several set into an altar in the center of the circle. The altar had been prepared with offerings to the dark entities they sought tonight. Herbs, fruits, flowers, gold coins, and a silver goblet filled to overflowing with the blood of the participants.
Cloaked and hooded in black robes, the men and women alternated around the circle. Six individuals, including Jessica and Raymond, the most powerful chanters of the cult, prepared themselves emotionally for the long night ahead.
It always seemed a little strange to Raymond. Walking from the modern, state-of-the art facilities like the lab and the gym or even the dorms into the casting chamber. The chamber felt like something out of medieval times. The walls were Venetian plaster in dark brownish hues. The floor was stone and the altar was carved from wood.
Rafe and Jason were already lying on the altar dressed in oversized tunics and very loose breeches. Rafe with his feet pointed toward the north and head toward the south and Jason just the opposite. They had been training and competing for months to become the host for a demon’s spirit. Fear and excitement intermingled at the thought of becoming a demon construct. They knew they would be allowing a demon’s spirit to bond with their flesh.
Rafe having been a physically abused child anticipated feelings of strength and power. He never wanted to be vulnerable again.
Jason had always delighted in the darker moments. Cruelty was an adrenalin surge for him. It filled the empty spaces left from neglectful parents and a lonely childhood.
The demon’s spirit brought with it increased strength, endurance and speed. Rafe and Jason had been bulking up and receiving multiple daily injections to fortify themselves for the increased stress and trauma of being bonded with a demon. They understood the strong chance of rejection if their bodies were not properly prepared for the ritual. The demon’s spirit would infest every molecule of their bodies. If their bodies could not contain the demon’s spirit, every one of their cells would explode. Raymond had warned them that there simply was no more painful way to die.
Even knowing this, with eyes wide open, they anxiously awaited the moment when they would become a demon construct whose sole purpose was performing assassinations for the Master. Jason was especially enthusiastic about being tasked to murder.
It was the privilege of the cultist who prepared the chamber to start the chant. Raymond lifted his voice and the others joined in on the second round. The words, ugly and guttural always filled Raymond with a sense of elation. He was part of something so few even knew about. Yes, the risk was high. One false move and the punishments were always quick and painfully severe. But the rewards, oh, the rewards were so worth it. His most demented wishes were always delightfully granted by the Master. The more grotesque and deranged the more his esteem rose with the Master. Raymond glanced at his companions reveling in the ceremony they were effecting.
The light flickered, Raymond noticed, almost as if the light were drawing away from the forces being gathered by the six figures. The air thickened with the smoke from the candles. The hours dragged on. The voices strained with the effort of chanting verses that no human should utter. The smaller candles, having used up their fuel, sputtered and died. The chamber grew dark as if readying to conceal the evil about to come forth. The voices rose in volume. The chanting changed in tone, the sounds harsher, the men and women swayed with the force of their desire.
The candles on the altar flared up, the flames unnaturally tall and bright, signaling the breach of the metaphysical barrier between Hell and the mortal plane. A sizzling, searing sound pierced the chamber as the demon’s spirits tore through the mystical portal created by the chanting. A black, amorphous vapor passed through the portal to hover over Rafe and a second followed suspended over Jason. The sheer haze then thickened into an oval mass before forming itself into a vaguely body-like shape. The dark human-shaped fog of demon’s spirits then seemed to throw themselves onto Rafe and Jason forcing themselves inside. The demon’s spirits eagerly violating human flesh for the sheer joy of being in physical form.
Rafe and Jason screamed and thrashed from the pain of the demon’s spirits binding to them. Every cell in their bodies was fighting back against this unnatural intrusion. The six cultists continued chanting the spell that would bind demon to human. They all knew what could happen during this the most dangerous part of the ceremony. If any of them fouled even one word of the spell or if Rafe and Jason hadn’t been properly prepared, well they had all witnessed failure before. They had all been punished for failure before. Not one of them wanted to go through that again.
The six chanted and watched tensely as Rafe and Jason’s bodies started to thicken and enlarge in the first sign of the bonding. Still on the alter, their skin split under the pressure, but healed quickly leaving long, ropy scars and ridges. Coarse hair grew to cover their upper chest and back, lower arms and legs. Their brow ridges, cheek and jaw bones grew dense and heavy.
The excruciating process slowed and concluded as Rafe and Jason healed unnaturally quickly. Their pain was quickly forgotten by the rush of excitement in the knowledge that the transformation was successful. Rafe and Jason had survived the melding of demon and human.
The newly created demon constructs sat up, stretching their transformed bodies. They flexed muscles strengthened by the fusing of demon with the animal serums they had been injected with for months. Jessica lowered her hood nodding at Raymond and the other four. It was an acknowledgment of a task well completed. The cultists were able to relax slightly for the first time in hours.
Jessica walked over to inspect the new constructs. She motioned to them and they stood up in front of the altar. She inhaled deeply taking pleasure in the brimstone smell they carried with them from Hell. She made an intense inspection of their reconstructed bodies, opening the now straining tunics and running her hands over their chests and shoulders. Touching a newly bonded construct always excited her. She wondered if Raymond might be available later to sate her feelings of desire.
Leaving a hand on the chest of each construct she stared into their eyes noticing the change. The sockets were canted downward at the inside corners. Rafe and Jason stared back at her with the eyes of wolves.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
The one who was Rafe narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, “I feel whole,” he paused considering, “complete.” His voice had become deeper and rough, almost a growl.
“Excellent. The Master will be so pleased. You will be known from this day forth as Baclaren. It means ‘always faithful to Him’ so apt for one with such a strong attachment to your new life. You will never stray.” She smiled and turned to his companion and asked, “And you, how do you feel?”
“I feel…everything,” he said while stretching, “I smell everything,” he breathed in deeply, “and I hunger.”
“Very good,” she said caressing his face, “all is as it should be. You will be known from this day forth as Mandavin. It means ‘to rend’ something you are especially suited to.” She stroked his chest one last time before stepping back and addressing Raymond over her shoulder, “Take them to their new kennels and get them settled in. The Master feels they will be needed for a very special assignment shortly.”
Chapter 1
“Do you want me to drive?” Miranda asked her brother rather pointedly.
“Why?” Jerom knew why but when his sister got that tone in her voice it really ticked him off.
“You. Aren’t. Going. Fast. Enough!” Miranda accentuated each word with a slap of her small hand on the dashboard.
Jerom gave her the side eye, “I’m doing 90 and I’ve already gotten one ticket. We’re almost there anyway.”
There was to the house of a good friend of their parents. Ben lived on the coast of South Carolina. A place they had been frantically driving to for a day and night already.
“We have to find her. With Mom and Dad on that stupid retreat we’re the only protection she has.”
Miranda did a sweep of the countryside surrounding the highway with her eyes finally landing back on her brother’s profile. He really was going as fast as he safely could. She knew this but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from lashing out. Not that it helped any. Yelling at Jerom usually made her feel better, but not today.
“I take protecting the Bringer very seriously too, sis,” Jerom responded while easing the car around a long curve. He loosened his grip on the steering wheel squeezing the blood back into his hands one at a time.
“I know you do. I do. I’m sorry, but you didn’t have the vision.” Miranda had the gift of sight, passed down from mother to daughter for generations. Sometimes it was just a thought or a word. A puzzle she had to solve. This time though it was a full-blown in-living-color vision and it had been absolutely terrifying. She added quietly, “No one should have to go through what she’s about to go through.”
Jerom had slowed the car looking for a forest road, “Look Miranda, there’s the turnoff. Ben can help. He’ll figure out some way to locate her. I promise.” Jerom said taking the turnoff that led through the woods to Ben’s house on the coast.
He fishtailed in the gravel as he turned through the circular drive, com
ing to a stop directly in front of the open door. The house they had driven up to was part of an old lighthouse complex. They could see the light tower structure behind Ben’s house on the cliff overlooking the ocean. The house itself was a low rectangle draped in vines, with a front porch that looked like a recent addition. A rectangle of illumination welcomed them as Ben opened the door.
“Get in here guys,” Ben said in a hoarse shout, motioning them to hurry as they ran from their car. Ben took one last look around before closing the door behind them. He ushered them into a room that spanned the whole front of the house. The low-beamed ceiling and deep windows gave a cozy feeling to the less than tranquil night. Ben said, “Okay, what’s this about the Bringer? You weren’t very clear when you called earlier.”
“Miranda had a vision last night. In it the Adherents found the Bringer somehow and they sent demon constructs after her. We have to do something.” urged Jerom.
“You really think the girl you saw in your vision is the Bringer?” Ben asked as he sat down on the couch motioning Jerom to do the same.
“I do, I really do,” Miranda paced the main room of the house, looking worried. The room was narrow and she had to circle the couch and the chair.
“How do you think the cult found her?” Ben asked watching her from the couch.
“I don’t know. Maybe they broke through her shielding somehow? All I know is what I saw in my vision and it scared the crap out of me,” Miranda looked over her shoulder worriedly as if expecting something bad to happen.
“I think it might help if we could see you’ve seen,” said Ben.
“How’re we gonna do that,” asked Jerom. He twisted around to follow Miranda’s pacing.
“You know, I’ve been working on a new spell,” Ben paused thinking. “Maybe if I tweak it a little I can project your vision into the room around us. I’ve only used it on myself, but if I change a couple of words and use your blood it might work. You want to try it?” Ben asked.
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