by R W Thorn
Then he saw her. She was sitting upright among a damp mess of plastic and metal that used to be flat-screen TVs, blue-ray players, and stereo systems, her face uncharacteristically slack. She seemed dazed and confused, as if the explosions had left her rattled. Nevertheless, Jack felt greatly relieved. She was alive and whole. He stumbled toward her over the wreckage and fell to his knees by her side.
“Are you okay?” he asked her, his voice still muffled and his heart filled with concern.
She looked at him with a blank expression. Then, surprisingly, she reached for him and drew him close. Lennox held him tightly against her for long moments. He embraced her awkwardly in return. He sensed her talking, but he could hear only a muffled murmur. He had no idea what she might be saying.
Her hair smelled like jasmine despite having become increasingly wet. Jack knew he could easily get used to the aroma and was more than content to hold her for as long as she wanted.
He tried not to think about the image from his dream.
After what felt like forever, Lennox drew a deep, shuddering breath. But she didn’t quite let him go. Her hands were still on his arms. It was as if she drew comfort from his presence, his solidity. As for Jack, he was happy to see that she now looked more like her usual self, although her eyes remained dull.
He still held the grenade launcher. With his other hand, he attempted a gesture of reassurance but ended up just awkwardly gripping her arm.
“Are you okay?” he repeated, and she gave him a smile at the same time as she raised an eyebrow. He still couldn’t hear her words, but her expression had become faintly teasing. It was reassuringly normal.
“I can’t hear you,” he grumbled. He swallowed and shook his head in an effort to clear his ears like he would after he had been for a swim.
Surprisingly, it worked. It was like he had been on a plane and the air pressure had equalized. His ears squeaked and popped, and all of a sudden his hearing came back in a rush.
“…probably for the best,” Lennox said. She no longer looked at Jack directly, but she still wore her smile. Her cheeks were tinged red, as if she was blushing.
Jack frowned in confusion. What had she said that would cause her to blush?
Before he could ask, the Hell-beast once again shattered the air with a powerful scream.
Jack stood in one fluid motion and turned to the huge, blackened hole where the Hell-beast had been. He held the grenade launcher firmly, ready to fire. But the Hell-beast had not returned. The monster’s awful, metal-rending shriek had come from the floor below.
Before Jack started to move, Lennox stopped him with a gasp that sounded like shock. “Your leg,” she said.
Jack glanced down but saw nothing. He reached his hand around to the back part of his thigh where he had been struck with debris from the grenades. It hurt to touch, and when he looked at his hand, his fingers were sticky with blood. Lennox must have seen the wound when he spun around before his trenchcoat settled back into place.
“It’s nothing,” he grunted.
Lennox had also regained her feet. She seemed completely unharmed. Perhaps the leather she habitually wore had helped to protect her. But she didn’t accept his words. “It isn’t nothing. You’re bleeding. When was last time you were actually injured?”
“I’ll deal with it later,” Jack said. “There’s still work to do here.” The anxiety previously in his voice had been completely replaced by determination and anger. The Hell-beast wasn’t dead. Jack had yet to determine what shape the monster might be in, but he was Hell-bent on ensuring it could do no additional damage.
He knew that whatever they wanted to do, they needed to do it quickly. The grenade blasts must have caught the attention of those outside on the ground. Sooner or later, the police would work up the courage they needed to come in. Perhaps the Brotherhood could delay it, but they wouldn’t be able to stop it forever.
Jack wanted to be long gone before that happened. With Lennox at his side and Amelia urging both haste and caution in his mind, he made his way to the gaping, blasted hole in the floor and peeked over the edge.
The Hell-beast’s durability was beyond belief. Jack knew that if he had been much closer to even one of the grenades when it went off, he would not have fared half as well.
Yet, just like Jack, it wasn’t invulnerable. The grenades had done it significant damage. From where Jack was standing, he could see that great chunks of its flesh had been ruined. Even now, there were clouds of putrescence vapor rising from the worst of its wounds.
The stench was truly appalling, and Jack couldn’t help but wonder if a similar vapor had started to rise from the injury on his thigh.
At least one of the Hell-beast’s hind legs appeared to be broken. Perhaps its back was broken as well. Either way, it seemed trapped among the ruins of the first floor. It didn’t appear to be able to easily move. Yet it had lost none of its venom. Even now, one of its heads glared up at Jack and Lennox with pure, malignant hate in its visage. The other two heads were weaving about in a hostile manner as if seeking something that it could use to kill them. It was a picture of broken aggression as it scrabbled about with its front legs as if it intended to drag itself along on the floor.
Nothing about it suggested even a glimmer of fear for its life. It seemed that such fears were alien to it, as if it had never considered the possibility of defeat.
Still glaring with vile intent, it let out another ear-shattering shriek.
Lennox covered her ears. When the last echoes of the shriek had faded, she uttered a curse. “Doesn’t this thing ever die?” she said. She sounded both frustrated and anxious.
Grimly, Jack aimed the grenade launcher. At this distance, from this angle, he knew he could get a good shot. But Lennox had a point. Jack hesitated and glanced her way.
“Damn this monster to Hell,” he muttered, his words full of hate. “We have one grenade left. The Hell-beast has already survived two. I don’t want to have to finish it off with just my handgun and my blades.” He didn’t say the words, but he was asking if Lennox had any ideas.
She looked at him with a thoughtful expression. Jack saw that she seemed to be completely back to her usual self. Lennox was in the eye of the storm and stood confidently, ready to take it all on, and any fear she had in her heart couldn’t match her courage.
As if she had all the time in the world, Lennox held up a finger as a gesture to wait and brought out her phone. Jack had forgotten about it, but she had somehow managed to retain her headset.
Jack reset his aim as Lennox dialed a number and waited. Then she said, “Nate? Lex. This Hell-beast is tough. We have one grenade left. How do we make sure we kill it?” Then she frowned, not out of anger, but in apparent concern. “Nate? What’s wrong? Nate?”
She switched her attention back to Jack. “Something’s wrong,” she said, her voice filled with worry. “We have to get back to the Lair.”
The way she said it brooked no argument. Jack didn’t know what she’d heard on the other end of the line, but understood it couldn’t be good. He felt the cold hand of dread clutch at the base of his spine. It was like an omen of doom, and he knew in the core of his being that this battle with the Hell-beast wasn’t the greatest threat he and Lennox would have to face.
The very thought made his blood start to boil in fury. Beyond his ability to sense if those he met had the taint of demon blood in their veins, he wasn’t truly psychic. That wasn’t one of the gifts of his blood. And yet, he had the occasional premonition. Horrible, terrifying visions that didn’t happen very often but which always came true.
He had one on the day that his family had been murdered. Another when his wife had been taken from him. And now, he knew without any doubt that something momentous was happening, something catastrophic, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
Somehow, he knew that it concerned the Daemonicon.
His heart thundered in his ears. He didn’t know exactly what the premonition m
ight be about. He just sensed a danger linked to Lennox’s worry. Yet it was intense enough that Jack had to close his eyes and breathe deeply to calm himself down. In his mind, he’d already acknowledged Lennox’s words. They had to get back to the Lair as fast as they could. Somehow, lives were at risk.
And yet, that wasn’t what he said. “We have to finish here first. What did he say?”
Lennox frowned in confusion. She seemed unsure what her priorities should be. She hesitated. Perhaps she was still a bit rattled from the explosions after all. Or perhaps she sensed some of Jack’s premonition.
“Lennox!” Jack said, his voice harsh and filled with suppressed irritation. It brought her back to focus with a jolt. “Even if the Lair is burning down to the ground,” Jack said deliberately, afraid that it might be the truth, “our first priority is here. The Hell-beast is injured, and we are here. We can finish it now. We must finish it now.”
Lennox nodded in agreement. “He said to contain the blast,” she said.
For a moment, Jack’s mind went blank. How could they contain the blast? Then Amelia spoke once again.
“The amulet,” she said.
He understood. “Do you still have the Amulet of Ducent?” he asked Lennox.
A Cornered Beast
As if by reflex, Lennox’s hand reached to the amulet she wore under her leather jacket around her neck. “Yes,” she said.
“Can you activate it from a distance?” Jack asked.
Lennox considered, then nodded. “Yes,” she said again.
“Give it to me,” Jack said.
Lennox looked uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure why he wanted it, but she tried for humor. “It won’t go with your eyes,” she said. But she acquiesced and slipped the amulet over her head. “What are you going to do?” she asked as she offered it over. There was hesitation and worry in her voice. She seemed concerned, as if she thought he had something insane in mind.
“Contain the blast,” Jack grunted in reply. He slung the grenade launcher over his shoulder, trusting the canvas strap to keep it in place. Then he took the amulet from her and held it reverently in both hands. He knew he would only get one chance at this and that much could go wrong. Yet he could think of no other way to be sure.
Jack took a moment to study the Hell-beast. It was still scrabbling and straining to move, still glaring about with malignant hate in its gaze. Parts of its flesh still continued to boil and give off foul-smelling steam as a result of the grenades.
Despite all this, the Hell-beast remained a far more dangerous foe than any wight. It was among the most powerful creatures Jack had ever faced. Its very presence could inspire terror and panic among the people of New Sanctum, and that terror and panic were the least of threats it embodied.
There wasn’t any choice. He had to send it back to Hell.
Jack breathed deeply to calm himself. He thought about what he meant to do. He knew the danger but didn’t fear it. He had too much rage and hate for the creature to have room for fear. Yet he knew one misstep could mean his death, so was loathe to take the actions he planned without due consideration.
He stood at the edge of the blackened hole in the department store. The sprinkler system still struggled to operate, but the flow of water had slowed to a trickle from each sprinkler. There were patches of smoke rising from the charred edges of the hole. An occasional breeze blew in from the broken windows, flapping Jack’s trenchcoat against his legs. A confusing jumble of smells that ranged from burnt plastic and sulfur to Lennox’s delicate perfume filled the air. Jack could hear the grunting and scrabbling of the Hell-beast below them and the muted noises from the crowd outside on the ground.
Jack nodded to himself in acceptance. He could do this. He must do this. There was no other way.
As he took a few steps away from the hole in the floor, he felt a quiet approval mixed with pride from Amelia.
“Get ready,” he said to Lennox.
“Be careful,” she said in return.
Jack set himself, then took off at a run and launched himself into the air. He dropped through the hole with his trenchcoat billowing out behind him like a cape, hoping against hope that he could do what needed to be done.
The Hell-beast reacted swiftly. It shrieked in fury and madness and snapped at Jack as he landed with both feet on its back, bending his knees to absorb much of the impact. Jack stumbled only a little and quickly caught his balance. He had a surreal moment as he looked down at his purple sneakers. He stood on the flesh of the powerful Hell-beast like a surfer on a board and knew that he would recall the image of it for the rest of his life.
The monster snarled and bucked for all it was worth. It flung itself about as best it could in a towering fury, as if insulted and enraged that Jack would even think to stand on its back. The Hell-beast shrieked yet again, giving voice to the combined hatred of all of the damned souls of Hell itself. Jack knew the monster would have bucked him off in an instant if it still had full use of its legs. It would have gripped him in its jaws and ripped him to pieces if it could reach him.
But the Hell-beast did not have full use of its legs, and it couldn’t reach him with its jaws. Even so, its writhing and attempts to dislodge Jack were almost enough to do the job. Jack dropped down low and gripped the bony plates of its shoulders in an effort to hold on, with the amulet’s chain wrapped around his fist. He gritted his teeth and using every last ounce of his strength while waiting for the opportunity he hoped would come.
He only needed the Hell-beast to pause for an instant. To give him a chance to move without being immediately thrown to the ground. Yet even now, despite its injuries and festering wounds, it was impossibly strong. Jack started to fear that it would never give up, that it would never pause for breath. He feared that he would be tossed aside and that this chance to vanquish the monster would pass.
Jack feared that he would lack the strength to hold on.
But just as his grip started to loosen, the Hell-beast paused in its enraged thrashing about.
The pause was all Jack needed. Unleashing his own fury in a howl that wasn’t as powerful as the shriek of the Hell-beast but which lacked none of the passion, he regained his feet as fast as he could. Encouraged that the monster didn’t immediately buck him off, he launched himself at the Hell-beast’s middle head. In one deft move, he looped the Amulet of Ducent over one of its horns and then leapt to the ground.
This time he didn’t land so well. Because of the wound, his left leg lacked part of its usual strength. He lurched to the ground, crashing heavily onto his shoulder among broken shelves and shards of dinnerware plates.
The Hell-beast heaved itself toward him, forcing him to scramble out of its way. Ignoring the wound in his leg and the new ache in his shoulder as if they didn’t exist, Jack lurched to his feet and swung the grenade launcher off his back. He took careful aim and shouted out to Lennox.
“Now!” Jack bellowed.
Almost at once, he heard Lennox pronounce words in an ancient tongue that hurt to listen to.
Jack wasn’t one to offer prayers to gods he’d never met. Given the nature of his blood, he doubted that they would deign to answer even if he did. He just checked his aim one last time, pulled the trigger, and hoped for the best.
The last grenade left the launcher with a dull popping sound and sailed toward the Hell-beast.
Samuel
Jack watched the grenade fly with his eyes wide and his heart in his mouth. This was the moment of truth, when they would learn if their courage and strength had been enough or if there was still more they would be required to do.
The flight of the grenade seemed achingly slow. It wasn’t like a bullet, but more like a baseball pitched over a plate. Even slower, to Jack’s straining senses. A dirigible sailing through the air, drifting along on nothing but the breeze.
He willed it on with all his anger and hate, with all the spite against these creatures from Hell he’d built up over so many years. As the grenade passed
its zenith, he saw that his aim was true. The grenade would hit the Hell-beast squarely in the chest. And yet, for this attack, aim was secondary. Timing mattered more. It was timing that could turn success into failure, and render the last grenade useless.
And their timing was perfect. The grenade reached the Hell-beast just as Lennox finished casting her spell. Red demon-fire arced from her fingertips toward the amulet. In the blink of an eye, the amulet activated, casting a protective shield that enclosed the Hell-beast completely, like it had been caught inside a soap bubble.
It enclosed the grenade as well.
The shield glowed faintly blue. It shimmered and looked like liquid energy, and no more than an instant later, the grenade exploded.
Lennox ducked away from the hole and disappeared from view, and Jack hurled himself down and backward out of fear that the shield would be inadequate to protect him from the blast.
They needn’t have bothered. The shield contained the explosion completely. A flash of light and a muted blast combined with the distant sound of the Hell-beast giving full voice to a scream. Unlike any other that the Hell-beast had uttered, this scream was full of fear in addition to the usual rage.
Then the flash of light was gone. The muted blast and scream both faded into silence.
Jack hadn’t turned completely away. He could see through the shield to the Hell-beast, which for one tiny moment looked not enraged but instead lost in total despair. Then, like the wight had done in Coven Street station, the Hell-beast relaxed and crumpled in on itself. The enclosed grenade had been too much for it. The monster couldn’t survive.
The shield flickered and died. Perhaps the blast had damaged the amulet so it could no longer function.
Panting heavily, Jack hauled himself to his feet once again. He felt exhausted. Weary beyond measure. Everything ached and his muscles protested the order to stand.
He gave himself a moment to recover and then tottered toward what was left of the Hell-beast. It had become nothing more than a mess of sludge and ashes, just like the wight had done before it.