by Michael Todd
Crucifix
Damian’s Chronicles™ Book One
Michael Todd
Michael Anderle
Laurie Starkey
Crucifix (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2018 Michael Todd, Michael Anderle, and Laurie Starkey
Cover by Ryn Katryn Digital Art
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US edition, October 2018
Contents
Prequel
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Author Notes - Laurie Starkey
Connect with Michael Todd
Books by Michael Todd
Books written as Michael Anderle
The Crucifix Team
JIT Readers
Nicole Emens
John Ashmore
Peter Manis
Angel LaVey
James Caplan
Larry Omans
Danika Fedeli
Daniel Weigert
Kelly O’Donnell
Editor
Lynne Stiegler
Dedication
To Family, Friends and
Those Who Love
to Read.
May We All Enjoy Grace
to Live the Life We Are
Called.
Prequel
Fifteen Years Ago…
Damian stepped out of the casino doors, his black leather boots splashing through a puddle from the first Vegas rain in over three months. He grabbed his sunglasses from his pocket and slid them over his shimmering red eyes.
The three guys he had watched until they left the poker table talked quietly to each other in the middle of the sidewalk, pulling their cotton hoods up over their heads.
He reined in the cocky smile that threatened to lift his lips. “Where are you people going?” he muttered under his breath.
They moved ahead, looking back and forth with their red eyes, trying to make sure no one noticed them. He didn’t know about anyone else, but until a month prior when he had been infected, he would have never noticed the red eyes.
Now? It was the first thing he saw.
Damian stayed close to the wall, weaving through the tourists filing in and out of the shops and restaurants on the Strip. He approached a small alley between the buildings and moved into it, peeking around the corner and watching as the men continued walking warily.
Water dripped from the edge of his wide-brimmed black hat, and he reached back to figure out what the hell was scraping at his neck. He rolled his eyes and pulled the hat from his head to yank the tag off. “Of course, I would buy a new hat and forget the damn tag.”
After putting it back on, he ran his fingers down his white button-up, fiddling with the small cross on the end of a long chain.
Movement pulled him from the absence of thought.
The guys started to move faster. Damian pulled his trench coat closed and headed after them, working to remain in the shadows. They were the ones he’d heard his new boss, Korbin, talking about in their last meeting.
They were infected and lured humans back to their lair to sacrifice them to Lucifer. Apparently, it wasn’t all that uncommon in daily life, although it was far removed from the public eye.
What the fuck would the world think if they knew?
The group made their way around a corner, right outside the main part of town. Damian approached slowly and looked carefully around the side of the building, waiting for them to move a hundred feet or so ahead of him. A wave of gratitude swam through him for his previous SWAT training. It’s not like the church trained me for this madness.
He rubbed his hands together and smirked as he stepped around the corner. “That’s right. Lead me straight to it, boys.”
Without warning, they bolted, hauling ass down a side street. Damian narrowed his eyes, knowing there was no way they could have seen him. He ran toward the alley, stopping hard when he almost ran into another infected.
The newcomer chased after the perps, and he slapped him on the shoulder as he whizzed past. “Keep up, kid.”
Shocked, he shook his momentary confusion off and took off after them. “What the hell?”
The perps sprinted like teenage boys chasing after a girl, but their two pursuers were faster. The assholes threw anything they could get their hands on into the path behind them, forcing him to leap high over trash cans and dodge right and left as he ran. The perp in the back of the group pulled out a gun and shot haphazardly behind him as he fled.
Damian ducked low, then dove for a nearby dumpster, grabbed the edge, and launched himself high into the air. He flipped several times and landed on the ground, one knee down and his palm pressed against the wet asphalt. He looked up through his dark glasses and snarled before taking off again.
His voice was low and ominous. “I hate breaking a sweat for the wrong reasons.”
The perps made their way through a door at the base of an abandoned office complex on the edge of town. Damian slowed as he approached. He grabbed the door and yanked it open, leaving stealth for another day. His cover was blown anyway.
He paused for a moment in the stairwell to listen until he heard the sounds of fighting a floor above him. Without thinking it through, he leapt over the railing of the staircase and bolted toward the battle. The black trench coat he wore flapped in the air behind him.
When he reached the second-floor door, he kicked it hard.
It slammed open, and Damian ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding a steel beam flying through the doorway and smashing into the wall behind him. “What the hell is going on in here?”
No one answered.
The floor ahead was under renovation of some kind. A loud grunt caught his attention, and he turned in time to see the infected stranger slam a brick over one of the perp’s heads while trying to fight off another with his free hand. The guy was dressed all in black with his long hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.
Talk about multitasking. And women say men are terrible at it. Psht.
The man glanced at him
as he kicked one of the asshats in the stomach, sending him flying backward. “Hey, princess. Don’t just stand there. Kick some ass, hm?”
Damian shrugged, ignoring the princess comment. They’d get to that later. “Why the fuck not?”
He took a few steps across the floor and punched one of the thugs in the face as hard as he could. The force of the blow knocked the Damned backward, and the idiot landed on his skinny ass.
Wasting no time, he jumped on top of him and grabbed the fucker by the collar. He pressed a hand to the guy’s chest and began his exorcism. “Spiritus Sancti aeterna. Et daemonium exisse, ad Infernum. Ab hoc ad pacem human!”
The demon roared, spitting and foaming at the mouth. The red burned brighter in its eyes as Damian bellowed the incantation over and over again.
He reached up, ripped the necklace from around his neck, and held it in front of the demon. Time to bring in the big guy upstairs. “Christi urget te back ad infernum daemonium!”
The beast continued to screech, and its host’s eyes rolled back in its head. The poor young man on the floor beneath Damian contorted in ways a human couldn’t possibly survive. He realized it was too late to save the human and grabbed it by the head, twisting hard. The neck snapped, and the demon screeched as the lifeless body turned to dust.
Sickness rolled through his stomach. It was all part of the job, but watching an innocent die due to no fault of their own would never be easy. The minute it was, he was getting out of the business, calling or not.
A side door swung open, yanking Damian back into the fray. Three ugly-ass demons joined the two who remained, stacking the odds against him and his new companion—the multi-tasking princess-hater.
He chuckled and jumped to his feet as one of the demons lunged toward him. Timing the moment, he ducked and let the demon roll over him with ease.
As he stood, he shoved the cross in his pocket, pulled his gun from its holster, and reached out, grabbing his attacker by the throat with his left hand. He raised his right, the gun firmly in his palm, and pulled the trigger twice, putting both bullets into the head of another approaching infected.
He cringed again at the sight of the human writhing and falling to dust. Before overthinking it, Damian turned toward the wriggling demon in his grasp and threw him to the floor. The demon swiped at his legs, but he was too quick and jumped into the air. As he landed, his black boots pinned both the creature’s arms to the floor.
He snorted, looking down at the Damned. “And my mother said I needed to stop kicking and punching at the air when I was a boy. What a waste of time! Try again, Ma.”
The demon bucked hard, throwing him off toward the center of the room. He found his footing and raised his gun, backing up to the guy who had chased the demons off in the first place. The two fighters pressed their backs to each other, turning slowly as the attackers circled them.
“Who are you, kid?” the stranger asked, his tone calm like he did shit like they were doing daily.
Damian kept his eyes on the infected around them. “Name’s Damian.”
His fellow warrior stuck his hand around him. “I’m Abraham. I guess my real question is, what the hell are you doing out here?”
He smirked. “I’m a mercenary—or just became one, at least. Korbin’s Killers. I’m not a princess if that’s what you really wanted to ask.”
Abraham snorted with a chuckle and dropped his hand. “Korbin’s Killers, hm? That still doesn’t explain why you’re out here all alone.”
He ignored the hint of disapproval in his tone. “I used to work with SWAT, but now I work with the mercs and the church. Guess I wanted some action after a month of training.”
The man tilted his head back and laughed. “The church? Is that what that whole speaking another language bullshit was all about?”
“It was Latin,” he replied dryly.
Abraham lifted an eyebrow. “What, are you some kind of priest or something? I never seen a man of God battle before. Don’t you guys simply light candles and pray it up?”
He gave him a side glance as one of the demons shifted forward. “We do a lot of things, old man.”
He swung but missed. Abraham leapt forward and spun around, kicking another demon in the side of the head. The infected backed up, whimpering slightly and wiping the blood from the side of his face. The two men moved closer to one another again, feinting lunges at their adversaries to try to get them to back off.
Damian pulled the magazine from his gun. Only two bullets left. Fuck. He had forgotten to reload before leaving the compound.
Abraham swung around to face his back. “Well, that’s perfect. A demon slaying priest. I’ve seen it all now.”
He turned to face him and glanced down at his gun. “Yeah, well, can we maybe wrap this up? I gotta get back soon.”
His partner smirked and stepped back, bowing condescendingly. “By all means. Man of God first.”
He lifted his gun and pointed it straight at his face. Abraham swallowed hard and then let out a deep breath as Damian shifted his hand and pulled the trigger, killing a demon closing on the man from behind. He heard the body of the infected hit the floor behind him.
The older man grinned and lifted an eyebrow. “That was cute, kid. But you might want to watch behind you. Someone is coming after your tiara.”
He spun around, putting his arm up as one of the remaining three infected swiped at him with thick, nasty claws. A growl left his throat as his hat dropped to the floor. He narrowed his flashing red eyes and gritted his teeth. “Anything but the hat.”
In a movement too quick to see, he kicked the demon as hard as he could in the chest, and it flew back and slammed into the wall. After making sure the rat bastard wasn’t getting up, Damian leaned over and grabbed his hat.
Abraham laughed. “That thing sentimental to you or something?”
He placed it back on his head. “It’s brand new. I rarely buy myself anything.”
The man nodded and eyed the hat a little too closely. “Well, it’s a nice one. Fits you well.”
The conversation was cut short by an attacker pushing itself off the wall. The human body the demon had infected was almost unrecognizable. The beast pushed off the concrete floor and ran toward them.
Both men stood calmly, waiting.
Abraham held up his gun. “You go low? I go high?”
Damian agreed. “Sounds perfect. Don’t miss, old man.”
“Never.”
They took off at a sprint toward the approaching adversary.
When they were almost to the clash point, he dropped to his knees and slid across the floor, knocking the demon off its feet. At the same time, Abraham jumped high, pointed his gun down at their target, and pulled the trigger as he flew over the top. The bullet went into its skull and it turned to ash in Damian’s face.
He jumped up, and the two mercs stared at the two remaining demons. The leader of the Damned in the room narrowed his eyes as claws grew through its human fingers. The other barked and snarled, scratching its talons against the walls.
As Abraham moved, Damian put his hand out. “I want the leader.”
His companion shrugged. “Whatever, cowboy. All yours.”
A preacher man, cowboy, princess. I need counseling. Obviously.
They approached the demons, and he took a defensive stance, his hands out in front of him and his knees bent. The leader’s eyes burned bright red as the ugly fucker lunged at him, falling right into his hands. They both flew back and rolled across the floor. He blocked its blow with his forearms.
In the background, a shot rang out, and Abraham dispatched his target.
Damian didn’t flinch but focused all his energy to press the leader into the floor. He growled loudly as he pushed the infected’s hands down to his sides and kneeled on top of them. The demon was strong and growing stronger by the moment. He knew if he was going to save the guy that he needed to do it right then.
He plucked a small bible from his inside coat
pocket and spoke Latin to the beast. It writhed and shook beneath him, trying to get its arms free. He pulled the small cross from his pocket and held them both out toward the infected’s face.
“Christi urget te Back ad infernum daemonium!” Damian was almost desperate to exorcise at least one of them.
Over and over again, he bellowed the words, but the demon only fought harder. After a few minutes, Abraham walked up and put his hand on his shoulder. “You have to let it go. The human is already gone, kid. Seriously. This isn’t on you.”
Damian held his breath. Isn’t on me? I can fix them, save them. All of them, right?
He resisted a moment longer, but the demon’s scaled body pierced through the flesh of the human, and he knew the man was right. He put his bible and cross away as a long, painful sigh left him.
Abraham pointed his gun down and pulled the trigger. The demon screeched and flittered off back to hell. The human’s body reverted enough to tell that it had once been a living soul. Damian crossed himself and kissed his cross before standing up, his emotions numbed for the time being.
The other man looked at the young priest’s face and could tell he was struggling with it. He wasn’t the kind to coddle, though, so instead, he took in a deep breath and smacked him on the shoulder. “You did damn good.”
Damian blinked a few times, coming back to reality. “No nicknames, old man?”