“It’s not much, but enjoy,” Rutger said, sliding a bowl of hot, fresh macaroni and cheese on the table in front of Liama. Her eyes grew in anticipation, already devouring the pile of the shredded cheese melting on top of the pile of cheesy elbow noodles. Rutger had placed a pillow on top of an old phonebook so the girl could better reach the table.
The kitchen was small, just enough room for someone Rutgers’s size to walk around a table centered on the floor. Shortly after purchasing the place, he replaced the old particle board and laminate countertops with real wood: mahogany and oak and sealed with good lacquer. A window above the kitchen sink offered a view of pine tree needles that Rutger let overgrow.
Fiya and Thomas were in Rutger’s den. Fiya paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. Thomas sat in a lone chair, comforted by a bearskin that, unbeknownst to him, was the skin of a werebear. Werebears were a much rarer breed of lycanthrope than their cousins. While less prone to hunting humans, they would do so if they were already an active killer that became infected with the curse rather than naturally born with it. The one Thomas had sat on was a maniac that stalked coeds in Northern California. Rutger didn’t keep too many souvenirs from jobs, but he considered the beast to be quite the prize, so he couldn’t resist.
Unless Thomas was to comment on the fur, Fiya and Rutger didn’t feel the need to tell him. He let the chair sink him in. It was probably the most comfortable chair he’d ever sat in and didn’t want to leave. He fought the urge to fall asleep.
They had brought Rutger up to speed when he prepared food for Liama. Thomas retold his misadventures with his ghoulish kidnappers, up to when Fiya helped them escape from a pack of werewolves. He felt ridiculous recalling the unbelievable details and was pleasantly surprised that the big, bearded man didn’t flinch once or look at him like he was a nutcase. Rutger listened quietly, occasionally nodded along, and even offered a couple of grunts, never interrupting questions.
Fiya’s nerves sizzled and wouldn’t let her sit. Part of it was due to driving for a long time, but the other part was the constant sense of impending doom and being helpless. She glanced at a two-cushion couch that appeared comfortable, but not anywhere as comfortable as the werebear chair Thomas occupied.
She had set her baggage near the front doorway. Everything necessary was removed from the car: duffle bag, guitar case, and the backpack with the bullet-making kit and bullets. Fiya insisted their tools be nearby, just in case.
Rutger walked over to the fireplace, reboiling the coffee he had prepared earlier. Fiya thought the hazelnut- and- cinnamon-coffee smell took her to the closest concept of home and put her a couple notches closer to at ease. Rutger poured himself a mug and said, “I always knew we shouldn’t be operating in secret. We should’ve gotten more support; the public could’ve been made aware. In general, people are stupid, and, of course, letting the masses know about everything now would be quite a shock, especially finding out all at once. There could even be groups denying everything.”
“Just like flat-earthers,” Fiya interrupted with a smirk.
He nodded and continued, “But if the knowledge were commonplace for centuries, it wouldn’t even be a problem. It could become dangerous out there, and I mean people can be dangerous. I don’t know. I just think everyone should’ve been aware a long time ago, so it’s a mess now.” He sipped the coffee, felt sated. He looked at Thomas. “Are you sure you don’t want any?”
Thomas shook his head. He never liked the taste of coffee: fine with the smell but hated the taste.
“Just as you like,” Rutger replied. He handed Fiya the mug, then poured himself another. Fiya sipped, and it tingled all the right spots in her body. She felt a little more at ease. Then Rutger asked, “Have you contacted the other districts?”
She held off answering immediately to enjoy the magic of the first sip. “Yes, sir, I have. Or I’ve tried. None of my messages will go through.” She remembered checking again on the road several times, concerned at the repeated “undelivered” tag. “And they haven’t bothered checking in with me or Paul.”
“Paul … DeMatto?”
“Sí.”
“Of all that’s left in this region, it’s you and Paul?”
Fiya nodded.
He groaned. “That’s unfortunate.”
“You don’t like him, either?”
“Not the best resume of a hunter, from what I recall. His achievements were pretty thin. Never really talked to the guy, though. I take it he bailed?”
She nodded again.
“Hmmm. Tried anyone else just in case they weren’t in the office during detonation?”
“I don’t really know anyone else.” Admitting this made Fiya feel sheepish, and she brought the coffee up to hide her face.
“Hmmm.”
She continued, changing the conversation's direction away from potentially grilling her about her lack of a social life. Like he’s one to judge, secluded up here in the woods with no phone or internet. “I don’t know if the other facilities have been taken out like ours have, or we’ve been blacked out. I’m not even sure which one’s more frightening.”
Thomas looked up from almost nodding off. “Blacked out?
Fiya answered grimly, “Ignoring us, leaving us on our own.” She sipped her coffee again.
Thomas’s eyes darted around, scrabbling to think. He leaned forward in the chair. “What … uh … what if your communication is just blocked? Like whoever is orchestrating all this has blocked your signals so you can’t request help or keep the others updated?”
Fiya didn’t consider this at first, and she was certainly open to it now. Her head went right to assume the worst-case scenario from her organization and didn’t even think someone else could be blocking it. Could the phones be hacked? Although she had basic antivirus protection on hers, if someone knew what they were doing, it could be done ... an incredible feat for ghouls to pull off.
“Someone worked very hard so we wouldn’t catch onto their scent,” she said. “Though a message did get through yesterday morning, the one that sent me to the site, so it had to have been only blocked within the last 24 hours.” She leaned against the side of the fireplace as something new crept into mind. She briefly considered not mentioning it, but as she looked up and saw Rutger giving her that I know you’re thinking of something, just spit it out look, she figured to hell with it. “What if that wasn’t even HQ that sent the message in the first place?”
Rutger raised an eyebrow while Thomas fell back in the chair with his mouth agape.
She took out her phone again and examined the chain of messages. It looked exactly like one she’d get, so there was no reason for her to suspect anything was wrong. With a disappointing shrug, she put her phone away. “Can’t tell. My message about the bonus was separate, and I haven’t gotten anything new from that thread.” And until she could get confirmation, the entire idea would fester in her thoughts with everything else, like rat-dropping sprinkles on top of a shit sundae. “Think my dumb ass replying to the possibly fake one about the site opened a virus on my phone?” She let out a groaning sigh as she buried her face into her palm.
No one gave a response. Thomas’s lips tightened to a grimace as he stared into the fireplace.
Rutger leaned against the wall near the fireplace. On the opposite side, Fiya leaned near and continued to drink his coffee, both thinking and listening to everything. His eyes fixed on the dancing fire.
Thomas thought the guy looked huge when they arrived, but now he really felt the man’s imposing size, towering by the fireplace. Upon arrival, Thomas was too scared to get out of the car after seeing the man's size with an axe slung over his shoulder. Fiya’s trust and warm hug helped him find the courage to leave the vehicle with Liama in tow.
“We can still go back to where they held us,” Thomas suggested. “Even if they abandoned the location by now, there could be clues left behind.” He thought about the others and how he promised he’d be back.
“Uh,” he started and stalled to take a headcount in his fuzzy, non-photographic memory. “Eighteen … I’m pretty sure there were eighteen of us, yeah. Including us, Liama and me.”
Rutger squinted one eye at him and then slowly drifted away from Thomas. Fiya instantly recognized this as his heavy-thinking face, never to be confused with his heavy-drinking face. This was the exact expression she hoped would appear on their visit. Then, as his face returned to its neutral state, Rutger disappeared into the dark hallway behind the den. His lumbering footsteps rumbled the cabin with each step.
Thomas turned to Fiya, confused, and she only replied with a shrug. She knew Rutger was onto something. Whether it was the correct something remained to be seen, but anything was better than the lack of options she had. His input was why she traveled all this way. Well, one reason why. I’m happy he’s still alive.
Adjusting in the chair, Thomas checked on Liama, who still sat eating her bowl of macaroni and cheese. She even danced as she chewed, unaware eyes were on her.
Fiya gandered toward the dark hallway: She knew it led to a condensed library, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It just occurred to her that though she’d visited this cabin a few times, she’d never entered the hall.
The lumbering footsteps came back, and he appeared from the darkness, holding a journal open to a specific page. In his other hand, he held a revolver, which she recognized as the Ruger Blackhawk Hunter. Fiya was relieved she remembered the right cartridge gauge.
Rutger handed her the heavy pistol, and she hesitated before taking it. Though it was comfortable in her hands, something about it made her ill in her gut. She stared dumbly at it as if it were a dead animal.
As Rutger flipped another page, reading to himself, Fiya walked up to Thomas and handed him the revolver. He looked up at her with curiosity. “The bullets are for this,” she said.
“You didn’t have the gun on you when I made them?”
She shook her head and stepped away to lean against the wall again.
Thomas examined the gun, admiring its weight and shape. “It’s beautiful.” He recognized it as a Ruger but wasn’t sure of the model and noticed its similar rune on the cylinder that Fiya bore on the back of her lower neck and on her sword. There were smaller runes carved into the barrel, and when he rubbed his thumb across them, he thought he felt a divine power but shook it off as his imagination. The light from the fireplace caught an inscription carved inside the barrel. He tried to read it, careful not to point the barrel directly at his face but couldn’t make out the inscription.
Then Rutger’s voice boomed, commanding everyone’s attention. “He is the Havoc of Flesh and the Entomber of Cities. Blood of man fuels his hunger for destroying the beauty in this realm of Earth. He is the greater demon Bahtzuul the Devourer, and he wants nothing but rivers to run red with blood and a terrain of corpses leading to his throne. Ancient civilizations attempted to bribe the Hell fiend, to spare their lives, but he ravaged their offerings and then devoured their tribes. He became the Devourer of Civilizations, including the Mayans and Indus. The Order of the Immortuos Venandi found him increasingly difficult to destroy.”
Liama stopped dancing in her seat and carefully listened. She ate the last of what was in her bowl, which had begun to get cold. Like French fries, once they were cooled, macaroni and cheese became gross and inedible. To her, at least.
Rutger continued after taking a breath. “After his destruction of the Mississippians, in where what is now known as Cahokia, we conceived a plan to send in a new sacrificial offering, filled with alcohol and poisons sealed in fragile containers which would break open once the body crushed them during digestion. Previously there was no success in smiting the demon due to the sheer difficulty of mortally wounding him, but Bahtzuul fell into a deep slumber where the locals took the opportunity to cut out his heart. The Order of the Immortuos Venandi wished to perform a proper exorcism and slaying of the heart in Rome …” ─ Rutger paused to clear his throat ─ “… but the heart never arrived. The men who succeeded in seizing the fiend’s heart were never heard from again.”
“Just up and disappeared?” Thomas asked.
Rutger winced a smile and nodded. “Because the Immortuos Venandi were not stationed in the Americas yet and would be many centuries from doing so, transporting the heart was a risky maneuver that proved a failure. By the time the Immortuos Venandi hunters made it to the mountains of the west, the corpse of the demon was long buried and has remained dead and buried for hundreds of years.” He stopped and looked upon the others.
Thomas and Liama stared at him, expecting more and while yet processing so much.
Fiya faced the floor with her arms crossed.
“The company didn’t like us to have access to the computer servers outside its buildings, so, as Fiya knows, I copied down a lot of stuff. I have my own library back there.” He cleared his throat and turned another page. “It is suspected that should his heart be returned to the body, it is possible the fiend could be brought back from the dead. A sacrifice of human beings must be fulfilled for it to fully regain its strength.”
“Why 18 specifically?” Thomas asked.
Before Rutger could reply, Fiya answered. “Eighteen divided by six is three, three sixes. The mark of the beast is 666. Eighteen sacrifices.”
“Indeed,” Rutger added: “The sum of the mark of the beast. The number eighteen is what triggered my memory about these notes, so I narrowed it down to local lore. The mountain range where Bahtzuul the Devourer is suspected to be buried is here in Washington. Glacier Peak to be exact.” He stopped and closed the notebook.
The crackle of the fire seemed to mock the silence.
“Holy shit,” Thomas muttered.
Liama gasped at her father.
He turned to her in a snap and said, “You didn’t hear that!”
She shook her head in a teasing disappointment.
“This sounds like a pretty dead-on lead,” Rutger said. “There’s not much else on this, the lore was pretty scarce. I have names of the Immortuos Venandi who were assigned to take care of the heart at the time, but nothing useful. If anything, it’s a heck of a start. This could be a cult or …” He paused and set the notebook on the mantle. He turned to Thomas with an eyebrow arched. “You mentioned your captors spoke and appeared intelligent?”
Thomas nodded. “Yes, and they stank like death.”
Rutger scratched his beard. “At first, I was going to suggest it was a cult of people who worshipped this demon. How they got their hands on a sample of Ghoul Fever to spread, I don’t know, but it’s a good distraction, but I think it’s probably worse. I absolutely believe the guards who held you captive are corpses. They tried to cover themselves but can’t cover the smell of decaying flesh, but they show intelligence and speak. Coherently?”
He paused for confirmation from Thomas, who nodded.
“It’s just a hunch, and it’s something that hasn’t really been seen since the Dark Ages, during the Crusades. I think we’re dealing with demonic possession of corpses. Demons driving behind the wheel of ghouls, so to speak.”
“Demonic possession has happened plenty of times since the Dark Ages,” Fiya interrupted.
“True, but of live people. I’m talking about occupying the bodies that have expired to become ghouls and in organized numbers. A cult of demons that worship Bahtzuul, his legit disciples … I’d say the odds are good they probably know exactly what they’re doing.”
Fiya pouted her lower lip as she nodded, agreeing. Before letting silence linger, she asked, “So, where’s the heart?”
Grimacing, Rutger replied, “It’s not documented. No one knows.”
“No one from the Order knows, yes, but someone took it.”
Thomas got up from the comfort of the werebear fur chair, setting the revolver down on the arm of the chair, a
nd walked over to his daughter. He massaged her shoulders and asked if she wanted something to drink, but she shook her head. Then he looked back to Rutger and asked, “So we were supposed to be offerings?”
“Indeed.”
He looked down at his daughter’s empty bowl, dismayed, and said, “Gravy …”
“Why continue to go after them if they only need a certain number?” Fiya asked. “Why not just replace them with new offerings? Not that we’d want them to, I’m just trying to understand.”
Rutger shrugged. “They’re witnesses now. This group is probably very close to reviving this beast, so they don’t want anyone to interrupt them.” His eyes wandered to the revolver on the armrest. “That firearm is ready.” He looked into Fiya’s eyes. “It’ll do everything your sword and my axe, can do. It works, and we won’t want to get close to Bahtzuul if he ever does come back from the dead.”
Liama turned to the big, bearded man with a perky smile. “Is it magical like Fiya’s sword?!?!”
“It is. It’s a prototype, but it works. Officially, it’s not an Immortuos Venandi weapon because they didn’t build and bless it themselves. It’s got the Death to Undead rite to expel a demon from our plane of existence and sanctify the corpse so a demon or spirit can no longer enter it. I have blueprints made out so I could take it in to make it official, but I haven’t gotten around to that yet. I found the key is the hammer and the cylinder.” He paused to make a thumbing motion drawing a hammer back on a gun. “It’s completely reforged and even quenched in holy water.”
“Holy water? The stuff priests splash around?” Liama tilted her head inquisitively.
“The very same. The blades have all been quenched in holy water, so while I couldn’t make an entire revolver, the cylinder and hammer were doable, and I wanted to give it a shot. I tried everything with them. On the inside of the barrel, I actually used a laser engraver to engrave the Rite of Exorcism, which wasn’t easy. I went through seven revolvers before this one, trying to get it to work consistently. Mark 8 works just fine.”
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