Succubus Hunter 2 (The Succubus Series)

by Daniel Pierce

  It turned out the whole underground was a labyrinth where Voortman and his fellows, who he called underdwellers, lived. With a little motivation and a few threats Voortman was motivated to show us around the tunnels that most directly ran through the subway passage, though I could tell this was only the tip of the iceberg. It made me wonder just how big Voortman’s community of underdwellers was, but that was a concern for another day.

  For now, the tunnels proved to be a good hiding spot for Pembroke’s mummies as we watched the subway passage. Up and down the tunnel one hundred and fifty heavily armed mummies lay in wait, eagerly anticipating the battle to come.

  “I sure do hope you were right, my boy,” Pembroke whispered, his hand clenched tight around his rapier. “My neighbors have started asking questions. I don’t think we will be able to hide there much longer.”

  “She will be here,” I said with absolute confidence. Benazir would never be able to resist the bait we had set.

  Pembroke stood with Lyanne, Eve, and I in the side tunnel closest to the butchery, along with a handpicked selection of his best, including Dart, the knife wielding pair, and my former bus-mate, who was once again passing the time peeling and eating oranges. I think Pembroke had called her Morcant.

  I thought I’d try one more time to make conversation with the woman who had once been squeezed into a seat with me for over an hour. “So, how do you fight? Your powers fueled by oranges?”

  Again the only response was a look like I was an absolute idiot. Well, I tried.

  Pembroke tsked. “Coming on a little strong, aren’t you, Kurt?”

  “What? I wasn’t—"

  “Keep your head in the game, Kurt,” Eve said.

  “Really, Kurt, now is not the time. There’s a battle to be fought,” Lyanne piled on.

  I didn’t get a chance to try defending myself, because at that moment the sound of crunching footsteps alerted us that someone else was in the tunnel. My night-vision glasses helped me make out the lumbering forms that I recognized as Benazir’s golems. I had hoped that with the death of three of her flesh monstrosities she would have been unguarded, but it seemed that was wishful thinking. She’d somehow had the time and materials to produce seven more of the hulking slaves. I wondered how many other bodies we hadn’t found yet to produce that much flesh-fabric.

  Pembroke’s mummies waited in perfect silence, watching like still sentinels as the golems made their way through the passage. I had to marvel at their self-control to not prematurely launch into an attack. I didn’t think Pembroke even broke a sweat. Actually, I wasn’t sure if mummies sweated at all.

  Just as the golems were crossing our own hiding place, Pembroke gave a shouted order, and suddenly one hundred and fifty mummies descended upon the golems in a swarm so coordinated it was almost like a choreographed dance. Those with thrown weapons, such as the knife wielders, stepped out first and pelted the golems. Then came the ones with restraining weapons, nets and snares and chains, restricting the golems’ movement. Finally came the melee weapons, all manner of swords and spears and axes, and they began chopping away at the constructs.

  But the golems proved they were not going down without a fight. No matter how many holes were put in them, no matter how much of their flesh was cut off, they kept pulling themselves up. One broke free of the chains and nets restraining it and grabbed one mummies faces in each of its hands and squeezed, reducing their heads to pulp. Another that had been knocked to the ground grabbed a mummy by his legs and started swinging him around like a club. It was a vicious, chaotic fight and we were losing allies with each passing second.

  Culverton jabbed his rapier repeatedly into the center of a golem whose chest had been carved out by axes, finally getting the blade to cut into its core. The creature fell apart into a mess of uncoordinated pieces. “Keep at it, lads! Their cores! Take out their cores!”

  Eve and Lyanne did their part, unloading with armor piercing bullets onto a golem that had broken free and was batting mummies away with an uprooted bench. It turned and rushed toward them, the flail whistling in my hand beside me.

  I lashed out with the Night Flail, cutting with a horizontal slash that cracked the bench in half. With a roar it threw both halves at me, which I dodged with ease, feeling the battle come to me as my focus became tight and clear. The Night Flail came back around and wrapped itself around the golem’s leg, sinking easily in the sorcerous flesh. I pulled, knowing that the golem’s strength would keep me from tripping it, instead using the effort to pull myself closer, ducking as I got close to avoid a punch and sliding between the two tree-trunk-like legs. I rolled to my feet while grabbing a metal vial from my pack and tossed it into the golem’s back.

  It bellowed in unalloyed rage as its flesh began to slush off, then turned wildly to shake off the burning bits. In doing so, it revealed its back to Lyanne, who used the opportunity to put a bullet into the exposed core, gleaming gem-bright and vulnerable. The screaming was silenced.

  Around us, the battle was costly, but progressing due to the relentless nature of Pembroke’s family. Only one golem still stood, and it was being dismembered by two swords with nasty looking hooks on the ends of them. About two dozen mummies lay dead or in states where they likely wished they were, but the vast majority of them were still standing, angry, and in various states of dress that left me wishing for a few spare bathrobes. There are two kinds of naked—good and bad- and a five-hundred-year-old mummy’s pickled testicles fall into the latter category with a resounding bang.

  The state of our readiness was good, because the real battle was just about to begin.

  A wheezing cackle resonated down the subway tunnel, seeming to come from everywhere at once. “Oh my, my, so many little mice have stepped into the nest. It doesn’t do to be overly gluttonous, but it can’t hurt to feast every once in a while.”

  A blinding red light came from the end of the tunnel, forcing me to shield my eyes and toss my night-vision glasses to the ground. When my vision finally cleared, I saw her for the first time.

  Her body reminded me more of a bird than a person, long and bony, full of sharp edges and harsh angles. Her hair was a mess of dry, off-yellow strands, like a hastily piled stack of straw. She was dressed in a simple brown kaftan and well-worn sandals.

  But it was those eyes that drew your attention. They were the eyes of a hawk, sharp and fierce, seeing the world as filled with nothing more than prey. A killers eyes. A taker. A thing, not a woman; at least she wasn’t any longer.

  “It has been too long, Pembroke.” Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. “But don’t worry—we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other after I peel the flesh from your bones and use it to make my golems.”

  Pembroke pointed the tip of his rapier at her. “You seem to overestimate your odds, you ruinous hag. You are outnumbered and outmatched, as ever. Let us put an end to this farce between us so that my family may move on in peace. I will pray for your soul. You have my word.”

  “You’ll. . .pray? For me?” The wicked smile on her lips sent a chill through me. “Then by all means. Let’s.”

  The mummies launched their assault, and I had to believe that, however powerful Benazir was, she must truly have been mad to think she had the advantage here.

  Then I found out that I was the one who didn’t understand the situation. Benazir raised her hands, muttered a few words in a language as old as the stars themselves, and the mummies stopped in their tracks.

  And then they began to fall.

  22

  Stories were full of moments when the tide of battle changes, when a small force of underdogs finds the ability to overcome the greater odds, when it became clear that the few were going to triumph over the many. These moments are written to be inspirational, to give people hope about overcoming the challenges in their own lives.

  I didn’t think any of those stories were ever told by the side who found the tide pushing hard at their hulls.

  That was how I felt w
hen I watched an army of one hundred and fifty mummies collapse to the ground before the spell of the witch. Some clutched their chests like they were having heart attacks, other put their hands to their throats as if they were choking, but all of them were falling to the ground.

  There was no physical sign of what was happening, nothing for me to protect them from, and I was worried if I rushed recklessly against the witch I would fall victim to the same spell. I looked to Lyanne for advice—

  And saw her and Eve were also in bad condition. They were both clutching the wall to stay upright and were breathing heavily.

  “Life …. stealing magic,” Lyanne managed between gritted teeth. “More effective on undead … but it will get us, too, soon.”

  It was then that I noticed how cold The Night Flail had become on my arm. The abilities I had gained since picking it up protected me from many supernatural influences, and it must now be working to keep Benazir from draining my life force.

  “We had a deal,” a pitiful voice called out from among the mummies. I looked for the source and saw it was Morcant, the orange fan. She was trying desperately to push up on her elbows but failing. “I … told you everything … I helped you … why would you…”

  Pembroke, who looked more now like a mummy than I had ever seen, groaned. “You betrayed us … Morcant. Why?”

  Benazir threw her head back and cackled. “For the same reason anyone does, you old fool. For her own survival. She saw her odds were better with me. Too bad I never intended to keep my side of the deal. I have no use for traitors.”

  Morcant opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out, and she fell back on her face, still.

  I was rushing forward, The Night Flail dangling, hoping to use the distraction to get a surprise strike. Unfortunately, her hawkish eyes didn’t miss anything. She turned to me and opened her mouth impossibly wide, the bones snapping in a grotesque parody of human shapes, and a swarm of chittering, buzzing insects flew out to surround me. They assailed me from all sides, stinging my face, trying to crawl in my mouth and nose, filling my ears with a buzzing so loud that it drowned out the rest of the world. I tried to bat them away with my hands and with the flail, but it was the wrong weapon for the wrong job. I was trapped, the stink of insects filling my senses like a toxic perfume.

  There was a bang and a flash and the insects parted, away from me in a furious horde of clicking distress. Pembroke was on one knee, one hand extended, radiating a dark energy. “I’m afraid that’s my last trick, my boy, as this is it for me. Make … this bitch pay …”

  He collapsed, his body crumbling into ruined, flaky bits on the way down. Around him, the rest of his family met a similar fate. And not far, Eve and Lyanne were looking weaker than anything. I needed to finish this, fast. My anger flared anew.

  I spat out a bit of insect and brought The Night Flail up in a circular arc, swinging it in a defensive pattern as I stepped carefully toward the witch.

  “Well, young hunter, this is a surprise. Here I was, thinking your life would be the most delicious, the most … unique. And yet you seem to immune to my pull.”

  “Life is full of little disappointments.”

  She cackled as she brought her hands up into a V pattern. “You don’t know the half of it, boy.”

  I stepped within reach and brought the flail back to strike—

  And then I was blind. And deaf. It felt like hands were pressed over eyes and cotton had been stuffed into my ears. I shook my head trying to clear it, with no luck.

  I felt sharp claws caressing my cheek. Through the cottony silence I could hear the witch’s cackle clearly. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you go to waste. I’ll kill you in a way that won’t damage your precious flesh, child. You’re going to make my greatest golem yet.”

  Taking a deep breath, I managed to force down all the terror, disgust, and sorrow that I was feeling at that moment, even as my guts went to water at being rendered little more than a meat sack by her violating magic. My mortal senses might be disabled, but those weren’t all I had access to.

  I opened up my sight.

  The world became blurs of stark white and swirling black, pulsing steadily like heartbeats as the void in my vision became real, and the spaces I could see took a physical shape. It was the world in its most primordial state, good and evil, light and dark, life and death. And in front of me was the greatest void of darkness imaginable, a disgusting pit of sickness, decay, and hatred. The heart of Benazir, thumping with a song of such hatred it sent eddies of red into the inky ether filling my sight.

  I struck out with The Night Flail and felt it crack as it struck home My senses cleared and I was treated to the sight of Benazir stumbling, clutching her face where the flail landed, her flesh split wide and inviting for my next move.

  Not resting on my laurels, I brought the flail back for another strike. She let out a scream and I was pushed back by a blast of shapeless force, my attack going wide as I went flying across the room to land with a thud.

  “You no longer amuse me,” she cried, her eyes burning with eternal rage. She raised her hands for another spell, and through my sight I knew its intention was to kill me.

  A hand reached out from the darkness of the tunnel behind her and grabbed her wrist, distracting her. “Who dares!?”

  Another hand grabbed her other arm, and yet another appeared around her waist. There were four, five, six, and then more sets of hands, all grabbing at her body, her hair, her robe, her face.

  “I don’t know who you fools are, but this will be your final error!” Benazir’s fingers twitched and a wave of red energy pulsed behind her. In its wake I got a look at the creatures grabbing her: dozens of them, pale skinned, hunched and ugly, with sunken eyes and shriveled lips that revealed yellowed fangs.

  Voortman’s underdwellers.

  Benazir’s eyes widened with fear. “What? Why isn’t my magic working on you? Explain yourselves!” She tried another spell, and another, flashes of light pulsing over the underdwellers, but nothing seemed to affect these creatures born of darkness and shame.

  And then she was screaming as the creatures started pulling her body in all directions. I heard bones crack and saw tears in the flesh where they were literally pulling her apart. One of her arms came completely free and two of the creatures began to sink their fangs into it, mumbling around their prize like chittering rats.

  I swung The Night Flail back and forth as I walked up the scene of Benazir’s torture. Whatever else happened, I would be the one to end her.

  “I wish I could say I felt sorry for you, Benazir, but if there was ever anyone who deserved this kind of fate, it was you. I don’t want you to worry, though. Your flesh will not be lost. Every. Morsel. Will be put to. . .good use.”

  The Night Flail came around in a sizzling arc. There was a blast of sand, heat, and wind as her head was torn from her shoulders to thump along the ground in the drumbeat of our victory.

  And then Benazir, the Desert Witch, was no more.

  I decided it was best not to wait around and see if the hungry underdwellers thought I would make a good dessert. Gathering up Lyanne and Eve, we began to make our unsteady way back to the portal-- and our home.

  The war was over, and it was time for some well-deserved rest.

  Epilogue

  Click. Click. Click.

  Sara’s face, which would usually light up with interest seeing something new, was frozen with the mouth agape.

  Click.

  Eve tapped her foot. “Disturbing.”

  Click.

  Lyanne sipped her wine, maintaining an air of calm I didn’t believe she really felt. “My thoughts exactly.”

  Click. Click.

  Maura lit up another cigarette and took a deep drag.

  Click.

  Darcy shook her head. “To think, these things have lived underneath us all this time.”

  On the computer screen were pictures taken by Lyanne as we made our way out of the subway tunnel. I
had been so determined to get us out of there I hadn’t even noticed her take out her camera and snap a bunch of pictures of the strange creatures that had saved us. As Sara clicked through the pictures and cleaned up the darkness and blurriness, we got our first good look at the creatures.

  And they were not pretty.

  These last few pictures were of a young female, her mouth open to display ragged fangs. She stepped forward hesitantly in the direction of the camera, sniffed the air, then took another step, her thin brow lifting with interest.

  Somewhere in the instincts that made me a Hunter, I knew what I was looking at was a threat bigger than anything else I’d ever faced.

  The last pic was of the young underdweller smiling hungrily. In a gesture that was far too human, she pointed at the camera as if she could see me.

  Then she winked.

  Sign Up For Updates

  For updates about new releases, sign up for the mailing list below. You’ll know as soon as I release new books, including my upcoming new series, as well as sequels in the Succubus Hunter series.

  Click here to sign up.

  You can also join the Harem Nation Facebook group where I hang out with Joshua King and Mark Albany.

  Click here to join.

  About the Author

  Daniel Pierce lives in Wyoming with his wife Marissa and their two dogs. After fourteen years as an engineer, Daniel decided it was finally time to write and release his first novel.

  As a lifelong fan of scifi and fantasy, he wants nothing more than to share his passion.

  He invites readers to email him at: