Back From Hell (Revenant Files Book 1)

by D'Artagnan Rey

  The brute turned his head toward her and laughed, but not with menace or contempt. It was an honest belly laugh like he had heard a good joke for the first time in a while. “And pray tell me, my dear, why would I do that? There are countless souls here for me to harvest. What’s to stop me from doing so and taking you anyway?”

  She held the gun to her head. “Because I’ll kill myself before you have a chance to do anything.” This made him stop chuckling and the lights in his eyes glowed so brightly they almost looked like flames.

  “Annie!” Marco cried as Valerie and Aiyana looked on in shock. “Get out of here. We’ll—”

  “Hold me off?” the Axman interrupted as he slammed the young man into the pavement. Annie pulled the hammer on the revolver back and stepped forward. “You don’t need to be so dramatic, girl. I heard you the first time.” He released his hostage and stepped toward her. “I have a little anger to work off, is all, because it seemed you found a way to get one over on me.”

  “So you need me alive?” she questioned and stood firm as he approached. “Valerie told me what you did to the others you took. Is that why you need me? Simply to be another vessel?”

  The killer rested his namesake on his shoulder. “The vessel, my dear.” He knocked the gun from her hand and grasped her by the throat. “But not for me. For something far more special.” He lifted her to his decayed face. “We’ll create the original sin and make death an antiquated concept.” She tried to respond but only chokes and gurgles came out. “Be silent for now. You can ask all your questions later.” He looked over his shoulder. “After I get my fill of souls.”

  She wanted to scream and he wanted to laugh, but neither were able to follow through. A shot rang out in the street, something that had happened often in the last few minutes, but this one seemed different. It almost sounded like a wail. The Axman shuddered for a moment and the lights of his eyes shimmered before he gasped in confusion.

  Annie felt his grip loosen and she kicked him in the chest and managed to pull out of his hand to land at his feet. He seemed to be stuck in place and a purple hole glowed in his skull. That glow began to spread and covered his whole head before it flooded to his shoulders, chest, arms, and legs. He turned slowly and it looked like his body began to set with rigor mortis. When he tried to swing his ax, it simply clattered from his hand.

  Johnny stood at the end of the street and plumes of purple smoke issued from the barrel of his gun. He stepped forward as Vic surged out of him with his gun at the ready. Their adversary took one more step before he fell to his knees. “So close…” he muttered as he began to turn into purple ash. “But this is not the end,” he whispered as his entire body crumbled to dust.

  Valerie could feel her limbs again. She stood slowly. Whatever had affected her and the others seemed to pass with the Axman as Marco, Aiyana, and anyone else who had been caught in the wave began to stagger to their feet. “It’s nice of you to come back from Hell,” she stated.

  Johnny and Vic holstered their guns and the ghost looked at her. “That’s not exactly where we were.” He focused on the pile of ashes. “Hopefully, he’s at the depths.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “And we come to our main story this evening. After the supernatural attack at the police precinct from a terror who referred to himself as the ‘Axman,’ the creature was vanquished by New Orleans Police Department led by Officer Valerie Simone. The Axman is now considered the primary suspect in the unusual killings that have happened over the last few months and the police have vowed to confirm this suspicion and continue the hunt for any missing persons.”

  Johnny chuckled as he sat on the motel bed and watched the news continue to discuss the events that had happened only hours earlier. “We don’t even get credit,” Vic muttered and appeared next to the television. “I always wanted a key to the city too. Just to see what the hell it’s supposed to open.”

  “It’s only symbolic, Vic. Contestants on reality shows get them sometimes so they can’t be worth much.” The young detective collapsed on the bed. “Besides, it’s better this way—fewer questions. Most people will simply assume the police had special gear to take care of it rather than a revenant detective duo with a special bullet given to them by someone on the other side.” He chuckled and wiped his face. “People may know about ghosts nowadays but they still don’t want them to ask too many questions.”

  Vic drifted to lie on the other bed. “Eh, it could be good for business. More people getting spooked means more calls. It might not be super-profitable but you could do several go-nothing gigs at once and make a decent chunk of change with little effort.”

  Johnny sighed contentedly. “To be honest, that sounds quite nice after all this. We probably can’t go back to Big Daddy’s for a while, though.”

  “Not until we can pay him back, at least,” his partner agreed and looked at the sack on the desk. “I spent most of my half getting the new guns but you should be good for a while, yeah?”

  “I should be. I considered taking some time off to maybe experience New Orleans rather than simply running through it.” He turned to look at Vic. “Still, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s not over.”

  The ghost leaned up and tilted his head. “I guess we can offer Val help to find any missing people or maybe his lair or wherever he was hiding. The fact that he wanted Annie alive to be more than merely a vessel is creepy. There are certainly questions that still need to be answered but as for the Axman himself—”

  “Are we sure that was him?” The young detective sat again to watch the news. “I know he claimed to be, but what if he was something else?”

  “A copycat? He seemed dead set on letting the whole city know it was him, but that was probably to build fear. For demons, fear directed toward them is like fuel. It keeps them going and strengthens them.”

  Johnny shook his head. “No. We never found his other minion. Could that have been him?”

  Vic considered it a moment. “Maybe he drained him like he did the other guy?”

  He bit his lip and nodded. “Maybe. He probably needed the juice. We also never found out who he was working for or with.”

  “Like I said, there are still questions that need answers and we can look into it if you want.” The ghost paused for a moment. “Did you feel that?”

  Johnny turned cautiously. He did feel something. It was familiar but in a way he had only felt once or twice. He removed his eyepatch and could see a purple light far in the distance beyond the walls of their motel, . “Purple?” he asked and looked at his partner. “Do you think that’s our friend from Limbo?”

  Vic nodded. “There are some purple ghosts but none I can think of who can do anything like…whatever the hell that is.”

  He sighed, stood, and retrieved his jacket. “I’ll drive.”

  “Oh, turn that off, Henry,” his wife Edna requested. “We should head to bed and I don’t want that gruesome thing to be in my head while I’m dreaming.”

  “Sure thing, dear.” The grocery manager acquiesced, pressed the power button on the remote, and pushed from his chair. “Something is always happening in New Orleans, isn’t it?”

  “It certainly feels that way.” She sighed although there was some mirth in her voice. “I always tell Maggie and Joan that you are the crazy one between us, but we must both be crazy to have lived here so long.”

  “It’s our birthplace, even with all the craziness,” he replied good-naturedly. “Besides, we might have enough luck to outlast the craziness. I’ve lived here sixty-eight years and never had to deal with any ghost, werewolf, or chupacabra.”

  “I don’t think there are chupacabras in Louisiana, Henry,” she pointed out as she removed her robe and slipped into bed.

  “Even better.” He laughed and lay beside her. “Either way, don’t need to worry about whatever that monster was. It’s gone now and I promise I wouldn’t let any nasty ghost get anywhere near you.”

  Edna smiled and ran a hand thro
ugh his hair. “Like I would let anyone get their hands on you—you know I don’t share well since the seventies.” He chuckled and they kissed and he turned the lights off. The couple went to sleep not long after. The house had been in Henry’s family for generations and even when they remodeled, they had made sure to keep it as traditional as they could, although they didn’t need to update the shed all that much.

  This made it easy for someone to jimmy the lock, open the door, and find an ax inside.

  He stalked across the back yard to the door, pulled the screen door open, and looked at the locked door behind it. In the old days, he would have had to punch out one of the sections of the door to unlock it. As much as he would have liked to relive a little nostalgia, he needed to add a new twist to his old story.

  Once in the house with no damage to the door or anything else, he walked past the living room and up the stairs. He looked at the pictures decorating the halls and found an older photograph of Henry with his grandfather. While he might not be aware of who he was, her ancestor certainly would be. He wondered if they would find each other in Limbo. They would at least have that to talk about—how a terror from his time came back in his twilight years and that the fear is never truly gone.

  The door to their bedroom was open and he could hear the rhythmic breathing of their slumber. He shut it slowly behind him as he crept to Henry’s side of the bed and studied them as they slept, completely unaware of the murderer above them. For a while now, he had kept his eye on many elderly couples around the town in case he needed more pieces in his game. He was down his last henchman but Jack had played his part well and although a little too boastful for his liking, it got his name out there again.

  He might have been obliterated but his retainer had set the stage. Fear was power, the feeling that hope was fading away and no longer within grasp. He had found it intoxicating when he was alive to have an entire city under his grasp with only a handful of bodies, but now that they knew he was no mere man? And now when they believed he was gone? When he had taken his new form, the intoxicating feeling in life became actual power. The power of fear and the power of souls fueled him and the terror he brought.

  But he would not take these souls, not tonight. For now, he needed to make a statement and make sure that the fear would spread, stronger than ever. He was sure the news and police would try to twist it and blame it on a copycat or some other murderer, but people talked and they gravitated toward their worst nightmares. They would know he was not dead and that there was nothing they could do to stop him.

  With care and precision, he hovered the ax head over Henry’s sleeping form and moved it so that it was over his ear. In life, he’d had victims who lived—always a smudge against his ledger and his infamy. Now, however, he had no worries that he would make a mistake. He raised the ax above his head, held it in both hands, and swung it. A burst of blood spattered the ceiling, the bed, himself, and the side of his wife’s face. She awoke, startled, and took a moment to look around and wipe her face when she felt the warm liquid.

  In the dark, he would be almost impossible to see, with the exception of his shining eyes. They glimmered in the night and stared hungrily at her. She looked up and her gaze locked with those lights for a moment before she uttered a fearful scream. He appeared behind her, almost in an instant, and looked out the window as lights turned on in a couple of houses across the way. He raised his ax as she turned to face him.

  She played her part gratifyingly well.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “Officer Simone, New Orleans Gazette!” a reporter called as Valerie and several other officers tried to leave the building.

  “Haven’t you people finished all your questions?” she asked, annoyance evident in her voice before she took a breath to calm herself. “How can I help you?”

  “Sorry, I had one last question before you go.” She held her smartphone up. “With everything going on and such a big supernatural event, why wasn’t the Agency called in?”

  She sighed and leaned into the impromptu mic. “The Supernatural Exorcism Agency only handle the cases they deem ‘important.’ We wanted them to assist us early on in the investigation and we received no word from them.” She smiled slightly. “It would appear that this was not in their interest. But the supernatural department of the NOPD will always be here to take care of these matters and although neither I nor any of my colleagues wish for something like this to happen again, if it did, perhaps the SEA would at least look into the matter. Thank you.” With that, she turned to head to the parking lot as some of the other officers took questions or held the remaining reporters off.

  Valerie reached her car with no interruptions from the news crews, but as she pressed the button to unlock her car, she heard footsteps behind her. “Funny, I never heard of the Agency getting any reports from New Orleans.” She drew her revolver and aimed it at a man in a white coat with slicked-back blond hair and stubble. “Although I should say that might be an oversight by myself and my compatriots. Hearing that there is nothing going on in New Orleans would be miraculous or simply another way to say too good to be true.”

  “I take it you’re with the Agency, then?” she asked but didn’t lower her gun. “What do you want—or rather, why are you here? The problem has been solved.”

  He slid his hands into his pockets and smiled. “I’m sure you and I and many others would love to believe that, but even if you were only a rookie looking into the supernatural out of morbid curiosity, you would know better than to think anything having to do with the weird and wicked would be cleaned up so easily.” He nodded at her gun. “You can put that down now. I’m no ghost so ether wouldn’t do much to me outside of the chills.”

  She lowered it but only slightly. “You are right. I know you are real, which is why this revolver is a Colt Positive Police Special filled with .38 specials. It works extremely well against flesh and bone.”

  The man nodded, amused. “I certainly agree. It’s somewhat antiquated but it looks in good condition.” He leaned against one of the empty cars. “Look, officer, I didn’t come here to strike the fear of God into you—”

  “And that’s a good thing. You aren’t doing a terribly good job of it,” she remarked.

  He shrugged. “Be that as it may, I am here on the orders of SEA to look into the matter you and your department handled today.”

  Valerie finally allowed herself to relax a little. “All right, but why are you talking to me and not my superiors?”

  “Oh, your department head and chief are indeed being talked to. I’m part of a small unit that arrived soon after you eliminated the Axman and if it's any consolation, we were already on our way here before everything happened—you know, to help.”

  She frowned. “You have the opposite of perfect timing.”

  The man took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. “Fair enough,” he admitted and lit one. “Listen, I decided to come to you instead of someone of higher rank because I’ve seen the reports. You’ve been working this case harder than most and you got the ball rolling.”

  That caught her attention. “Wait—reports on me?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded and took a drag. “Our information gatherers work fast. After we started to look at this after the incident with the Italian restaurant, they found everything they could about everyone involved—including your revenant friend Johnny.”

  The young woman aimed her weapon at him again. “Are you after him?”

  He shook his head. “No, not at all. He’s made our work easier in some ways. But he is an unusual person, is he not? Keeping an eye on such rare finds is one of the things we do.” He took a puff. “Look, we’ll take a look around the city to make sure this is well and truly over because someone has been playing with us and we didn’t want to play. I hope that it is done for not only our sake but for everyone in the city. Because if it isn’t, we’ll have to deal with it and I can tell you, with what we’ve seen, this won’t be a simple smas
h and grab mission.”

  Valerie lowered her gun again. “And what would that mean for New Orleans, Mister…”

  “Agent Donovan.” He took the cigarette from his lips. “And it means that New Orleans would be put under ‘protective custody’ by the Agency.” He sighed and looked at her with sympathy. “Tell me, have you ever heard of a place called Savannah in Georgia?”

  She looked quizzically at him. “Savannah, Georgia? I can’t say that I have. Is that a city in the state or the country?”

  He snickered and took another long drag. “Yeah, that’s about right.”

  The two partners finished their drive to the outskirts of the city and the purple light now looked like a flame to them. As they pulled up at the location, however, it died. “It looks like we’ve arrived,” Vic commented as they exited the car.

  Johnny looked around but saw only trees and tall grass. “I have nothing,” he admitted and folded his arms. “Was that simply some weird phenomenon caused by the—whoa!” A streak of purple phantasma pounded into him. His partner drew his gun and aimed it at the figure that emerged and pressed the young detective against the car.

  It was indeed the stranger they had met in Limbo but instead of the cool, easy demeanor he had then, his eyes were now filled with rage. “You got it wrong, you imbeciles!” he yelled. “You wasted the bullet on a hoax—a trickster! The Axman is still here.”

  “Let him go!” Vic demanded and pulled the hammer back on his gun. “Get away from the kid, you maniac!”

  “Hmm,” he muttered, eased away from Johnny, and turned to the ghost detective. “Your little peashooter would do nothing to me but I am not here to fight.”

  “That was one hell of an introduction.” The young detective sneered and pushed the man aside as he stepped away from the car.

  The figure shook his head and adjusted his hat as it had almost fallen off in the exchange. “I was simply…letting off some stream due to your hijinks.”