by Michael Todd
“You’d probably already be able to smell the thing. They aren’t too pleasant,” the priest replied.
“With all the guys in this place, I’m not sure I’d be able to tell the difference,” the other man said with a snicker as he walked out of the room.
Damian turned to the box and rested his cane on the pew. His back and arm, surprisingly, felt much better, even within those few minutes. He wondered if his demon had heard the conversation and jumped on the ball.
The box was old and beat-up on the edges, with layers of aged labels beneath the top one. He took the key from his pocket and ran it down the center tape, and the sticky band ripped and shredded. He pulled hard to open both flaps and peeked warily inside. There was a layer of bubble wrap at least five inches thick. Carefully, he unwrapped it, sat back, and stared at the contents with relief and curiosity.
It was his old neon cross, something he had gotten when he had first become a priest. Initially, it had been to show the church that he was his own kind of priest, but through the years, it had become almost a beacon of his service. He had assumed it had been lost when he’d transferred to the mercs. Damian pushed it aside and searched around beneath it, but there was no note or card inside. He flipped the top flap back, but there was no return address there either.
“Curious,” he whispered.
Then again, everything in his life seemed to be curious at that point. He closed the top flaps once more and shoved the box to the side of the bench. He would make the time later to hang it up. Right then, he hoped to get some reading and studying done before they were called to yet another battle out in the streets. The days seemed busier than they had been in the past, an ever-building platform of chaos with the demons.
Damian stood easily and smiled at the lack of pain in his body.
Thanks. He spoke in his head, but as usual, he received no response.
He wandered to the bookshelf that was tucked into a dark corner of the sanctuary and ran his fingers along the old cloth spines of his collection. As he stopped on the one he wanted, rustling from behind him caught his attention, and he turned his head. Korbin stood at the front pew and peered into his box.
The priest smiled as he withdrew his book. “Is everyone that curious about the mystery box?”
Korbin smiled and held his gaze. “Probably, but that’s not why I am here.”
Damian set the book on the lectern and flipped through the pages without looking at the other man. “No? I had a feeling you would say that. What’s up?”
“We have a meeting in twenty in the conference room,” he replied. “There is some possible occult action taking place tonight involving an up-and-coming group. We hope we can head this one off and keep anyone else from being infected. Their powers are on point.”
The priest nodded. “Alas, my studies will have to come later. No matter. After the last battle, I’ve itched to be thrown into another fight.”
“You and everyone else on this team.” Korbin grinned. “I like this cross. Very nineties Romeo and Juliet. It fits you, I think.”
“Are you thinking about coming to pray or listen to a reading?” Damian asked, his brow wrinkled with excitement.
Korbin rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Nice try, but you know how I feel about all that stuff. Me and religion weren’t really made in the same mold. We are rather like those people who eat cheese with grapes. Sometimes, it’s exactly right, but the rest of the time, it’s a bitter and salty combo from hell—the kind that hurts your jaw and makes you drool a little.”
Damian narrowed his eyes, not entirely sold on Korbin’s example. Then again, he was never one to push religion on someone. They either found the way or they didn’t, but it had to be their choice. “Right, then. Remind me to never eat cheese and grapes.”
The team leader gave him a sloppy salute. “You wanna walk with me?”
He nodded, closed his book, and left it on the lectern. “Yeah, better early than late with these slackers.”
They both laughed as they headed down the hall to the conference room. When they arrived, to their surprise, everyone was already there waiting. Damian took a seat next to Calvin, and Korbin stood at the head of the table. Everyone quieted, ready for a little payback after the last fight.
“I am not really surprised to see all of you here so early. We had a rough time in the last fight and lost a good person,” he said, glancing at the angry faces of the team. “That said, the Takers aren’t a gang to lose yourself around. They aren’t the kind of cult that will make many mistakes.”
The guys exchanged glances quickly. They knew they needed to put a cork in their anger, at least at first. Korbin flipped on the television hanging on the wall. “These are some of the main creators within the cult. They won’t necessarily be at this one, but I know the lower-level management will definitely show up. They have something big planned; I can tell from the intel sent over. I’m not exactly sure what to expect, but they are going all out on this one.”
“Will they be armed?” Calvin asked.
Their leader drew a deep breath. “I’m not sure. There are Damned among them who are highly skilled in combat, but to be honest, no merc group has fought them yet. They have always hidden their meetings exceptionally well. That is why I believe this one has some merit to it. They are excited by it, and while most of it is whispering, it’s still come up on the radar. There could be some seriously big demon being summoned.”
He flipped through another slideshow of pictures of cult members. They all wore long robes, and some had red eyes, while others did not. The only weapons they could see were ceremonial daggers, but they all knew that meant shit. They could easily hide weapons under their robes.
Damian thought about some stories he’d heard a while before during training. “Do you think they have any magical beings with them?”
One of the teammates looked over. “You mean, besides transforming into a demon and ripping you apart with claws?”
He nodded and kept a straight face. “There are rumors that some demons have magical powers akin to cultish wizardry practiced centuries before.”
Calvin snorted. “Great. So not only are they a force to be reckoned with on purely a cult level, but we’ll also face Hermione and Ron during the battle.”
“I think that is something we’ll have to see when we get there,” Korbin replied with a smirk. “As of now, there haven’t been any prior reports of magical abilities outside the scope of a normal demon.”
Damian nodded and elbowed Calvin, who chortled. Their leader rested his hands on the table. “So, we have one hell of a group to focus on tonight. Get your shit straight. We leave at sunset.”
The old underground car garage had crumbled from years of neglect. Chunks of cement had cracked loose to litter the ground, graffiti blighted the grimy walls, and the steady trickle of water hinted at deeper decay. The team positioned themselves immediately outside the open area and squinted through the darkness as the cult members stepped up to the altar they had created.
Damian’s gaze flicked from side to side to keep track of the participants. Near the back of the room, a young, dark-haired college girl caught his attention. She was gagged and slightly bruised, and her arms were pulled back and tied around a thick pillar adorned with strange symbols and scriptures. Without a doubt, she was terrified. Her gaze flickered constantly around the room, but closed whenever the occultists said anything to her. The team continued to watch, and waited patiently for the perfect time.
The young man who had apparently brought her in approached her, raised her chin, and looked at her. He said something they couldn’t hear and the girl spat in his face. He straightened and wiped the spittle away, and that was when Korbin took his shot. The kid’s head exploded from his shoulders, and the girl screamed and turned her head away from the splatter.
The fight was on.
The priest raced out, his bible steady in his hand and a pistol in the other. The cult members fought hard, but none disp
layed any powers beyond their demons. He tried to exorcise anyone he could, but Korbin was right. These Damned were in it for the long haul. The demons wouldn’t leave without taking the humans’ lives in an excruciatingly painful manner.
A bullet to the head seemed almost kind at that point. The team kicked ass, though. They sent some running for their lives and eliminated others where they stood. Gunfire rang through the cavernous space, and Korbin grabbed Damian by the arm. “Go get the truck, back it up close, and be ready for the civilian emergency vehicles to arrive. We need to get her out of here.”
He glanced at the girl and nodded at Korbin before he raced for the door. Sirens wailed in the background as he made his way to the street, two steps at a time. He scrambled into the SUV and backed it up as close as he could. Once he’d retrieved the gurney from the back, he passed it off to a teammate. The ambulances had arrived.
Chapter One
Present Day
Pump the brakes, Pops! Pops! Pump the motherfucking brakes! Ravi screamed inside Damian’s head.
His fingers bled as they scraped down the sides of the stone well. He grunted, threw his head back, and tried to push his toes against the sides to slow his momentum. The space was small, but the rope had tangled around him, and he had somehow gone into a half-spin. Not to mention the dust and debris that blew into his eyes the entire time. And then, of course, there was the whole plummeting to his death thing.
The priest struck a small ridge and was able to grasp it for a second. His flashlight fell from his waist, and he glanced down. Thankfully, the bottom wasn’t too far away. “Max! Fucking grab the rope! What are you doing?”
The narrow piece of stone that provided his only lifeline cracked ominously, and Damian groaned. “Oh, shit.”
What do you mean, oh shit? If we die, I’ll come back from hell and kick this kid’s ass! Ravi was more than pissed.
The ledge finally crumbled and he plunged downward again. His foot caught and he flipped forward, now falling head-first. He closed his eyes tightly and braced for impact. This was not the way he had thought he would go out.
Max peered over the edge and handed Damian’s flashlight to him. “Okay, I have the rope. When you get to the bottom, give it a tug.”
The priest clipped the flashlight to his belt and narrowed his eyes. “If you drop me, kid, I will haunt you. I promise you that.”
“Nah, this is easy. I got you.” He smirked.
As Damian began to climb down, Max turned and sat on the step to the well. He looked around the basement room and wrinkled his nose. I never thought these things were real except in horror movies. Wells in the basement? I feel like it wouldn’t work as well as one outside.
Obviously, this well was not meant for water, numbnuts, Astaroth grumbled.
He pursed his lips. Yeah, I didn’t really think about that one. At least it’s an awesome old building. I read about St. Oswald’s in Collingham somewhere forever ago in one of my books, and always wanted to see it if I went to West Yorkshire.
Am I about to get a history lesson dating back to the fifteenth century when this place was built? Astaroth asked in a dry tone. Because if so, I want to remind you that I have been around much longer than that and am really not interested.
Max shrugged and paid out a little more rope as Damian climbed farther down. Nah, I don’t know that much about it in the first place. I only know this was our assignment, which is weird considering there aren’t any ghoulies on the warning label.
Whatever these three wiseasses are looking for must be important if they won’t hire professionals to retrieve it. Not that you guys aren’t professionals, but retrieving random artifacts isn’t in your job title, Astaroth replied.
Whatever gets the job done, I suppose. He yawned. I am, however, not looking forward to being the one to climb down that damn hole next, especially when I have to tie the rope to one of these old beams and pray it doesn’t bring the whole place down on our heads.
The demon grunted. I’ve died worse ways, that’s for sure. What the true travesty would be is not having the delicious hot liquid of life for the next hundred years or so while I climbed out of the pits of hell. I don’t think I could control myself down there without the sweet nectar of Peruvian coffee. It would be the worst thing to ever happen to me.
Max laughed and fed the rough line slowly through his hands. You live in hell and not having coffee would be the worst thing? I guess when you’re evil, your priorities are somewhat different.
Damn right they are, Astaroth yelled defiantly. If you were…
His words trailed off, and he sniffed the air. He did this several times, which made the young priest pause. What is it?
The demon sniffed one last time. There’s a demon in here. Get up.
He immediately pushed to his feet but still held tightly to the rope with one hand. Instantly alert, he moved his other hand to his mouth and gripped the edge of his leather glove with his teeth to draw it tighter on his fingers. He drew his dagger and held it in front of him, the hilt firmly in his grasp. The rope rubbed against the leather of his glove, the only sound he could hear in the otherwise deserted place. Silence hung heavily around him, and the hand of fear gripped his chest. He was alone, and since Damian was in the well, there was nothing his mentor could do to help him.
Something scraped across the cement floor, and Max shifted position quickly. His gaze scrolled through the shadows. To the other side of him, something fell from one of the meager wooden shelves and clanged loudly as it landed. He jumped, and his breath quickened. The demon was playing with him, he realized. It was teasing him.
Max maintained his grip on the rope. “Come out here! Stop playing games, you little bastard.”
The beast scurried quickly across the ground and giggled in the shadows. Max narrowed his eyes as he stepped forward. He could see a small demon in the corner—tiny, really. Not much bigger than a chihuahua. It scuttled away again and forced the young priest to spin in place as he searched everywhere for it.
Astaroth tried to follow the search. Where’d that little fucker go?
I don’t know, but he’s tiny.
Don’t let that fool you, the demon hissed. It simply means he can move faster. He seems smarter than the others, too. Actually, he seems really familiar. There is one tiny demon who does the bidding of the more powerful ones. He might not be big, but he’s as smart as hell, and he is stronger than he looks. Not to mention the teeth.
Max jerked to the left and his gaze shifted. So, you’re telling me it’s Bunnicula, only it wants to claw me to death methodically instead of drinking my carrot juice.
Astaroth sniffed the air again. Yeah, sure, something like that. My only question is, what kind of movies have you been watching?
It’s a book, a kid’s book, he replied. And a particularly creepy one, in my opinion. Dammit. I never wanted a pet bunny after that. Never. And probably won’t ever.
A demon-fighting priest afraid of a bunny. Astaroth snickered. Where did I go wrong in life? How did I piss fate off and find myself here with your scared ass?
The demon scurried over, raked its claws lightly down Max’s leg, and immediately retreated under a bench in the corner. The priest jumped, flailed his legs up and down, and almost lost his grasp on the rope.
He tightened his hold on the line, bent forward, and breathed heavily. Slowly, he straightened and shifted the hilt of the dagger in his hand for a better grip. Astaroth sniffed. Max’s gaze flashed across the floor. Maybe it left.
The demon snorted. Yeah, right. Like he came only to scare you and bugged out. He’s here somewhere, that little sonofabitch.
Max stiffened and glanced at the rope in his hand, conscious of the fact that he needed to control it to aid his mentor. When there was another cackle directly in front of him, he looked up slowly and stared into a pair of red, beady eyes. For a second, man and demon paused before the tiny creature laughed manically and leapt forward. It struck Max in the chest and he stumble
d back, tripped, and fell heavily.
His hand smacked hard against the stone steps, and an instant after he landed, the rope slipped from his fingers, whipped up, and caught between two stones at the top of the well. When Damian yelled, Max tilted his head back helplessly, knowing he was falling. “Shit. Shit. The rope!”
Astaroth hissed. I would take care of this little bastard on your chest before you worry about the fucking rope.
The priest turned his head at the same moment that the demon swiped its claws over his cheek. “Ouch!”
He snapped his hand up to catch the demon by the throat, and it gurgled and hissed as its feet thumped against its captor’s chest. Max gulped, dropped the demon, and spun to grab the rope. The creature launched itself at his feet, giggling wildly, and toppled him onto his face. His fingers were barely inches from the rope. His diminutive assailant raced up his back to grab his hand and bend it backward.
Max groaned and kicked reflexively. “Hey…ouch! Stop that, you little bastard.”
He slapped around beside him with his free hand in search of his dropped dagger. Before he could locate it, the demon dropped his other arm and scurried over to snatch up the dagger. It shrieked with laughter as it jammed the blade into Max’s sleeve, then scurried across his back and punched him in the cheek as he twisted his head to try to escape the onslaught.
“Ouch, stop… Ouch! You little fucker. I’ll kick your ass!” Max continued his rant as he struggled to remove the dagger from his sleeve.
The little fucker was super-fast, though; much faster than Max could keep up with. Astaroth sighed. Are you kidding me? You’re being taken down by a gnome. A Damned garden gnome.
You try to move with him punching you in the face! Max mentally yelled.