by Ryland Thorn
The monster spins and whips its tail about. Jack loses his footing but not his grip. He is whirled about in the air in a complete circle before he has to let go. When he does, he cries out in frustration and rage and crashes into a pile of men’s jackets that cushion his fall.
Again the Hell-beast looms above him. This time, he lacks even the crossbow with which to defend himself. Nor does he have time to draw his knives or check the weapons in the duffel bag that is still draped over his shoulder. All he can do is catch the Hell-beast by its left and right throats and grit his teeth in anger as he strains to keep its jaws away from him.
The Hell-beast bears down on him. It snarls and drools and glares with demonic red eyes that look like the madness of all the souls trapped in Hell. Its front feet, viciously clawed, are pressing on Jack’s chest. The weight of the creature is so great that Jack is struggling to breathe. He knows that he cannot keep it at bay for much longer, but even now he has yet to give up.
He snarls and glares back at it with every ounce of hate he possesses and twists his face out of range of the middle head. He is not just holding the other heads back but is doing his level best to crush its dual windpipes in his fists.
Despite his best efforts, he accepts that he lacks the raw strength to do real damage. He just hopes that he is giving Lennox enough time to save the child.
As the weight on his chest becomes too great to bear and the edges of his vision start to go dark, he hears the distinctive sound of Lennox casting a spell.
Once more, the words offend him on a visceral level. They make him nauseous, but that doesn’t stop him from smiling.
“Get off me you foul piece of garbage!” he grates.
Then Lennox’s Hell-fire detonatation catches the Hell-beast squarely on the side.
It is a blast at least equal to the one she had used against the wight in Coven Street station. It lifts the Hell-beast off Jack as easily as a hurricane wind lifts a trampoline and hurls it over toward the window.
This time, her aim is better. Jack is caught only by the very edge of her blast. He tumbles a short way and uses the momentum to regain his feet. With the weight of the Hell-beast no longer crushing his chest, he draws a deep breath that tastes as sweet as relief. But the monster is not down for the count as the wight had been. It is a long way from broken. Even now, it is scrabbling back to its feet and screeching in rage.
Lennox has come to stand beside Jack. She no longer has the child with her. Instead, she is aiming the shotgun.
Bang! She fires at the Hell-beast, catching it high on the shoulder. The mixture of holy water and garlic salts and sage are effective. Almost at once, the Hell-beast’s flesh starts to sizzle, and it lets out another shriek of pain.
Buoyed by this success, Lennox fires again. Bang! And again. Bang! And again. Bang!
All three shots make an impact, but the Hell-beast is amazingly tough. The air is filling up with the foul steam of its putrescence, but it is a long way from defeated. It shrieks again and charges straight at them. Lennox and Jack have no choice but to dive to the side. It is like they are bullfighters facing a foe far more fearsome than any bull. The Hell-beast clatters to a halt near the escalator and turns to face them again.
Lennox and Jack are both quick to get to their feet. Lennox fires off another blast as the Hell-beast glares at them. Bang!
“How do we kill this thing?” Lennox demands as she aims the shotgun again. Bang! There is a tremor of real fear in her voice.
Jack has had the same thought. “Keep it busy!” he yells and turns to his duffel bag.
Lennox tries to fire again, but the shotgun is empty. She swears and hurls the weapon toward the Hell-beast, which is snorting and preparing to charge once again. “The boom box!” Lennox cries. “Nathanial said this thing is susceptible to music!”
Jack had been reaching for the grenade launcher. Instead, he pulls out the small, square chunk of electronic plastic and presses the play button. The grenade launcher is not the most accurate weapon. If music can slow the monster down, Jack will be able to jam the grenade launcher’s muzzle down one of its throats.
The department store is a ruin. There are broken shelves and clothes and cosmetics and toys strewn all over. The air is filled with the disgusting miasma of sulfur and decay, mixed with the pungent scent of fifty different perfumes. The Hell-beast is snorting and pawing the floor like an enraged bull preparing to charge, and Lennox and Jack are madly doing all they can to send it back to Hell.
Within all this chaos, the delicate tones of soothing harp music fill the air.
It is incongruous, like a moment of peace within a storm or a single pure note within the cacophony of untalented teenagers trying to riff on electric guitars. It is haunting and comforting and relaxing all at once, and it does indeed seem to work. The Hell-beast no longer looks ready to pounce. Instead, it looks uncertain. Confused, almost. Its horrific heads tilt to the side as if it is trying to listen.
Perhaps music does indeed take the rage from this particular beast.
Lennox breathes an audible sigh of relief, and Jack reaches for the grenade launcher. He takes his eyes from the Hell-beast for only a moment, and at that moment the monster shrieks and charges again.
Jack doesn’t pause to watch. He just throws himself to the side, crashing painfully into the twisted wreckage of a clothing stand.
The Hell-beast doesn’t come close to him. Instead, it catches Lennox a glancing blow that is nevertheless enough to send her flying.
“Lex!” Jack bellows. He doesn’t see where she lands and fears for her safety. He wants only to go to her and make sure that she is all right. But he knows that if he does that, he is giving the Hell-beast time to start another attack.
Jack is as frustrated and full of hate and rage as ever he has been in his life. Somehow, he is on his feet once again. Blood is throbbing in his temples, and he is gritting his teeth. His fury is burning him up from the inside, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he spewed fire with his breath. It is like the demon inside him is trying to awaken, to reach out and take control. He feels like he can spit acid, like his curses would take root and grow.
The Hell-beast has cast Lennox aside as if she is nothing. Even now, it stands next to the window with saliva dripping from its gaping jaws and the steam of holy water still rising from its back. It is moments away from attacking again, and this time it is unlikely that Lennox will be able to do anything to protect herself.
Nor does Jack have anything more than his knives to fight with, and they are woefully inadequate for the task. The crossbow is somewhere on the shop floor, and the grenade launcher is still in the duffel bag a body length away.
Lennox in danger is something Jack cannot abide. It is his job to protect her. In that, he will not fail. With his hate and fury matched by his determination, Jack hurls himself back to the duffel bag.
“Lex, stay down!” Jack cries out at the top of his lungs. He still cannot see her and fears the worst, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. In a single movement, he digs out the grenade launcher and fires toward the Hell-beast, well away from where Lennox should be.
The grenade arcs through the air toward the Hell-beast as if in slow motion. Jack readies himself to fire again. The grenade launcher is like a massive revolver with three chambers in the cylinder. There is a canvas strap dangling from it that will allow him to sling it over his shoulder at need. It is worryingly inaccurate, and Jack takes careful aim. The act of firing has turned the cylinder, so all he needs to do is pull the trigger. He does so, and with a dull popping sound that is far less impressive than the blast of a shotgun, a second grenade also sails through the air.
The Hell-beast utters another of its terrifying screams. It is so loud that it threatens to shake the department store from its foundations. Jack fears that the first grenade is going to miss. It is a little wide and short as well. But the second is on target.
Jack drops to the floor and does his best to protect himself
, hoping that Lennox is doing the same.
A fraction of a second later, the first grenade goes off.
Boom!
There is a flash of light and a concussive blast that hits Jack like a wall falling on him. It is followed almost immediately by a second.
Boom!
Chapter Fourteen: Injuries
There is a searing pain in Jack’s left leg and his whole body aches. His head is ringing as if someone has pounded on it with hammers. He can’t hear anything more than his own heart beating in his ears and a high-pitched whine that won’t stop. The whole world smells like hot metal and ozone. Somehow, he has the impression that it is raining.
The grenades were much more powerful than he expected. The shock of the blasts had been akin to Lennox’s demon magic and then some. Yet that doesn’t mean they have done the job.
It doesn’t mean that the Hell-beast is dead.
Jack groans and pushes himself up into a sitting position. He looks around. The department store is filled with dust and debris, and there is a huge, blackened hole where the Hell-beast had been. Many of the windows have blown open. And somehow it is raining, but gently instead of a torrent. It takes Jack a few seconds to realize that the explosions have triggered the fire sprinklers and that maybe they have been damaged. They are releasing far less water than he might have expected.
The Hell-beast is nowhere to be seen. Ignoring the pain in his leg, Jack climbs unsteadily to his feet with the grenade launcher still in his hands. He intends to check the blackened hole where the Hell-beast had been, but not yet. With no immediate danger, he has a different priority.
“Lex!” he calls out, the word sounding to him as if he is shouting into a pillow. “Lex! Where are you?” Usually, his voice is either flat or filled with rage and hate. But this time, despite how muffled it seems, he can hear the distinct tone of anxiety within it.
He lurches mechanically toward where he saw Lennox land. It feels like he has earmuffs on to block out all the noise. “Lex?” he calls again and wipes the moisture building up on his face with his sleeve.
Then he sees her. She is sitting upright amongst a damp mess of plastic and metal that used to be flat-screen TVs, blue-ray players, and stereo systems, and her face is uncharacteristically slack. She seems dazed and confused as if the explosions have left her rattled. Nevertheless, Jack is greatly relieved. She is alive and whole. He stumbles toward her over the wreckage and falls to his knees by her side.
“Are you okay?” he asks her, his voice still muffled and his heart filled with concern.
She looks at him with an expression that is more blank than he likes to see. Then, surprisingly, she reaches for him and draws him in close. Lennox holds him tightly against her for long moments. He embraces her awkwardly in return and senses that she is talking, but all he hears is a low murmur. He has no idea what she is saying.
Her hair smells like jasmine despite becoming increasingly wet. It is an aroma that Jack knows he could easily get used to, and he is more than content to hold her for as long as she wants.
After what feels like forever, Lennox draws a deep, shuddering breath and releases him from the embrace. But she doesn’t quite let him go. Her hands are still on his arms. It is as if she is drawing comfort from his presence, his solidity, and he is happy to see that her expression is no longer slack. She looks more like her usual self, although her eyes remain dull.
He is still holding the grenade launcher. With his other hand, he attempts a gesture of reassurance but ends up just awkwardly gripping her arm.
“Are you okay?” he repeats, and she gives him a smile at the same time as she raises an eyebrow. He still can’t hear her words, but her expression is faintly teasing. It is reassuringly normal.
“I can’t hear you,” he grumbles. He swallows and shakes his head in an effort to clear his ears like he would after he has been for a swim.
Surprisingly, it works. It is like he has been on a plane and the air pressure has equalized. His ears squeak and pop, and all of a sudden his hearing comes back in a rush.
“…probably for the best,” Lennox is saying. She is no longer looking at Jack directly, but she is still wearing her smile. There is a tinge of red on her cheeks that makes it seem like she is blushing.
Jack is confused. What had she said that would cause her to blush?
Before he can ask, the air is once again shattered by the powerful scream of the Hell-beast.
<<<>>>
Jack stands in one fluid motion and turns to the huge, blackened hole where the Hell-beast had been. He is all focus and is holding the grenade launcher firmly, ready to fire. But the Hell-beast has not returned. The monster’s awful, metal-rending shriek has come from the floor below.
Before Jack starts to move, Lennox stops him with a gasp that sounds like shock. “Your leg,” she says.
Jack glances down but sees nothing. He reaches his hand around to the back part of his thigh where he had been struck with debris from the grenades. It is painful to touch, and when he looks at his hand, his fingers are sticky with blood. Lennox must have seen the wound when he spun around before his trenchcoat settled back into place.
“It’s nothing,” he grunts.
Lennox has also regained her feet. She seems completely unharmed. Perhaps the leather she habitually wears has helped to protect her. But she doesn’t accept his words. “It isn’t nothing. You’re bleeding. When was last time you were actually injured?”
“I’ll deal with it later,” Jack says. “There is still work to do here.” The anxiety that had previously been in his voice has been completely replaced by determination and anger. The Hell-beast isn’t dead. What shape it is in is yet to be ascertained, but Jack is Hell-bent on ensuring that it can do no additional damage. He knows that whatever they do, they need to do it quickly. The grenade blasts will have caught the attention of those outside on the ground.
Sooner or later, the police will work up the courage they need to come in. Perhaps the Brotherhood can delay it, but they won’t be able to stop it forever.
Jack wants to be long gone before that happens. With Lennox at his side, he makes his way to the gaping, blasted hole in the floor and peeks over the edge.
The Hell-beast is there. Its durability is beyond belief. Jack knows that if he had been much closer to even one of the grenades when it went off, he would not have fared half so well.
Yet, just like Jack, it is not invulnerable. The grenades have done it significant damage. From where Jack is standing, he can see that great chunks of its flesh have been ruined. Even now, there are clouds of putrescence vapor rising from the worst of its wounds.
The stench is truly appalling, and Jack can’t help but wonder if a similar vapor is rising from the injury on his thigh.
At least one of the Hell-beast’s hind legs appears to be broken. Perhaps its back is broken as well. Either way, it seems trapped among the ruin of the first floor. It doesn’t appear to be able to easily move. Yet it has lost none of its venom. Even now, one of its heads is glaring up at Jack and Lennox with pure, malignant hate in its visage. The other two heads are weaving about in a hostile manner as if seeking something that it can use to kill them. It is a picture of broken aggression as it scrabbles about with its front legs as if it intends to drag itself along on the floor.
Nothing about it suggests even a glimmer of fear for its life. It is like such fears are alien to it, as if it has never considered the possibility of defeat.
Still glaring with vile intent, it lets out another ear-shattering shriek.
Lennox covers her ears. When the last echoes of the shriek have faded, she utters a curse. “Doesn’t this thing ever die?” she says. She sounds both frustrated and anxious.
Grimly, Jack aims the grenade launcher. At this distance, from this angle, he is sure he can get a good shot. But Lennox has a point. Jack hesitates and glances her way.
“Damn this monster to Hell,” he mutters, his words full of hate. “We have one gre
nade left. The Hell-beast has already survived two. I don’t want to have to finish it off with just my handgun and my blades.” He doesn’t say the words, but he is asking if Lennox has any ideas.
She looks at him with a thoughtful expression. Jack is happy to see that she seems to be completely back to her usual self. Lennox is in the eye of the storm and stands confidently, ready to take it all on, and any fear she has in her heart is no match at all for her courage.
As if she has all the time in the world, Lennox holds up a finger as a gesture to wait and brings out her phone. Jack had forgotten about it, but she has somehow managed to retain her headset.
Jack resets his aim as Lennox dials a number and waits. Then she says, “Nate? Lex. This Hell-beast is tough. We have one grenade left. How do we make sure we kill it?” Then she frowns, not out of anger, but in apparent concern. “Nate? What’s wrong? Nate?”
She switches her attention back to Jack. “Something’s wrong,” she says, her voice filled with worry. “We have to get back to the Lair.”
The way she says it brooks no argument. Jack doesn’t know what she has heard on the other end of the line but understands that it cannot be good. He feels the cold hand of dread clutch at the base of his spine. It is like an omen of doom, and he knows in the core of his being that this battle with the Hell-beast is not the greatest threat that he and Lennox will have to face.
The very thought makes his blood start to boil in fury. Beyond his ability to sense if those he meets have the taint of demon blood in their veins, he isn’t truly psychic. That isn’t one of the gifts of his blood. And yet, he has the occasional premonition. Horrible, terrifying visions that don’t happen very often but which always come true.
He had one on the day that his family had been murdered. And he is having one now. Something momentous is happening, something catastrophic, and there is nothing that he can do about it.
Somehow, he knows that it concerns the Daemonicon.
His heart thunders in his ears. He doesn’t know exactly what the premonition is about. It is just a sense of danger that is linked to Lennox’s worry. Yet it is enough that Jack has to close his eyes and breathe deeply to calm himself down. In his mind, he has already acknowledged Lennox’s words. They have to get back to the Lair as fast as they can. Somehow, lives are at risk.