Jack Dalton, Monster Hunter, The Complete Serial Series (1-10): The History of the Magical Division

by T S Paul

  Ghouls, like most paranormal creatures, are immune to standard bullets. Shooting them only pisses them off.

  Whipping open my coat, I pulled my pistols and started firing.

  It was dark outside. Really dark. Only flashes of light from the firing guns illuminated the field.

  Firing like I was at the range, I stood upright, out in the open, blasting away. Unlike the other shooters, I was making progress. The special rounds created for the Magical Division were working well against the Ghouls, but as a group we were losing ground. More and more of the creatures were joining the fight.

  “Where the hell are they all coming from?” Chief Sylvester yelled from the cover of his car.

  Edging closer to him I shifted my fire. “Ghouls live in abandoned buildings and cemeteries. With all this ruin and decay around us, this might just be the tip of the iceberg.”

  “My boys are getting massacred out here! What does it take to kill these things?” Sylvester asked even as he fired.

  “Fire and iron work the best, but you might try heavier rounds or shotgun shells,” I explained. Ducking down beside the chief, I dropped both magazines and quickly reloaded. My weapons were custom, just like the ammo, or I would’ve offered them to him. “I’ve got something in the van that might do the trick.”

  The Ghoul attack was in full swing now. If we didn’t get a handle on them, they might spread out across the city. While these things were super-dangerous, they didn’t usually attack people in large groups. Something or someone was stirring them up.

  Leaving Sylvester in the lurch, I ran for the van. There were only so many Magical bullets in the world, and I didn’t have them all. What I did have was a flamethrower!

  According to my files, Ghouls were hunted in the olden days by archers with flaming arrows. It was the best and most classic way to kill them. Trust in the military to take an idea like that and improve upon it. Guns at the ready, I ran down the street, dodging Ghouls and human police as well. Stopping only once, I managed to reach the rear of the van intact.

  After my Fae creature encounter more than a year ago when I first started this job, I wanted just a bit more firepower than human guns and arrows. Firing a crossbow or arbalest is fun, but reloading is a bitch. No human alive is strong enough to go without using the windlass. I wanted bigger and badder, the more dangerous the better. The United States Army called it the M2A1-7, the man portable flamethrower.

  Reholstering my pistols, I slung the tanks onto my back and almost hit the ground. Seventy pounds of metal with leather straps isn’t some light backpack. Grabbing the van doors to support myself, I locked in the firing wand. Just as I was about to close the doors, I spotted my flare pistol. Flares were what this battle really needed.

  Pop! Boom!

  Taking aim, I fired the first flare upwards, illuminating the entire battleground. Ghouls were everywhere! Near the first building, they had several uniformed men down and were eating them. The cops and Agents were either in the vehicles or behind them, shooting at the monsters or throwing road flares. Almost everyone blinked back from the bright light.

  The firing wand was set up like that of a Tommy gun, with front grips and rear grips. I only had about seven full seconds of usage on this thing, as it fired a bit less than half a gallon a second. Popping another flare, I swung the wand up and triggered the flame.

  Whoosh!

  There is nothing better in life than shooting fireballs at your enemy with a wand. I felt a bit like Merlin the Magician. Keeping my bursts at barely a trigger pull, I was catching as many Ghouls on fire as I could. Seeing the creatures in the light of my fires almost made me wish it was darker. Ghouls look a bit like what would happen if a zombie made love to a hyena. But with more teeth and fur. Nasty creatures that can strip a body to the bone in seconds.

  “The head! Aim for the head,” I yelled as I staggered toward the first group, firing my puffs of flame.

  With a roar, two Ghouls charged me. Mixed with the almost overwhelming smell of ammonia was the smell of burnt fur and death. Giving them another puff from my wand, I let go of it, letting it swing free. The creatures’ claws were tearing at my jacket as I put them down with shots from my pistols.

  Forgetting the now dangling wand, I lined up the others and continued to fire.

  “Jack!” Chief Sylvester yelled.

  I heard my name but ignored it. Just like Hogan’s Alley, I was in the groove! Bang! Bang! Bang! I shot two and wounded another. Dodging to the left, I shot two more.

  “Jack!”

  Glancing to my rear, I saw the chief and a large group of uniforms behind the cars. I dropped my magazines and pulled reloads, then kept firing.

  It was a cool night here down by the river, but for me things were heating up fast. Sweat was dripping down my face and where the flamethrower tank was, it was hot to the touch.

  “Jack, you idiot!”

  Spinning around, I raised my hands, guns still clutched in them, and yelled, “What?”

  Sylvester was pointing at my feet and yelling my name. Looking down, I could see a stream of liquid fire pooling at my feet. The grass and debris all around me burned as well.

  “Holy shit!” I jumped like my pants were on fire, which they were, and struggled to slip the seventy pounds of fuel and liquid nitrogen off my back! If it hadn’t been so serious, it would’ve been a great vaudeville act. The pack slipped off finally with a thump, and I ran for my life. Dying in a gas explosion wasn’t my idea of fun.

  Several really loud explosions made me hit the ground with my hands over my head. Looking up and to my right I could see National Guard reinforcements fighting back against the monsters, using grenades and heavy machine guns. It reminded me that I actually had a box of thermite grenades in the van. But if the military needed my help they could ask for it.

  “That was quick thinking, Dalton,” Sylvester remarked. “If you ever want to quit the FBI, I could use a sharp man like you on the force.”

  “For now, I’m happy with the Magical Division.” Looking around, I didn’t see any of the other FBI or Secret Service Agents. “Where’d the others go?”

  Several of the police officers around Chief Sylvester laughed. The man closest to me explained, “They hightailed it as fast as they could run. I saw one or two firing at the Ghouls coming out the door, but the moment they saw that bullets didn’t work, they were gone. Our experience with them is they don’t like to get their hands dirty.”

  Not wanting to disparage the Bureau, I kept my comments light. “Different strokes for different folks. Since I don’t usually have any backup, I like to get my hands dirty.”

  “We noticed, son. I have to ask, what the hell have you been shooting them with?” Sylvester asked, pointing at my guns.

  Scanning the battlefield for Ghouls, I could see that between the Guard and the State Police they were on the run. Heavy weapons were doing the trick. I looked back at the cops and explained the tricks we came up with to even the playing field. “You know how Magic exists? So we came up with these bullets…”

  Talking the Chief and his men through some of the FBI’s procedures and how I’d modified them took several hours. Several long tiring hours.

  Slumping down next to the car, I actually fell asleep until the battle was mostly over. We’d fought the Ghouls for more than four hours before forcing them to retreat back into their hole or across the river. More than a dozen cops were either dead or maimed.

  When the recriminations and those playing the blame game started up, I climbed into my van and left. While I might have proclaimed myself in charge the previous night, I knew they would be looking for scapegoats today. Heading north, I looped back toward the Director’s office and Anastasia.

  “What by all the Gods on Earth were you thinking last night?” Anastasia thundered at me. “Did you know who you offended?”

  Pulling out a chair from the nearby conference table, I flipped it around and sat down. Another of the many things my stepfather taught me
was to protect your weak spots. The slats of a chair wouldn’t stop a bullet, but they might stop a knife. Glaring just a bit, I explained. “I didn’t catch his name, but he ran like a little girl when the monsters came out to play. He may even have fed a few fellow agents to them as a deterrent.”

  “Mistakes were made. That is true,” Ana started.

  “It was a god damn cluster is what it was. Too many cooks in the kitchen. If it hadn’t been for Chief Sylvester’s men keeping the Ghouls off me, things might have been way worse than they were,” I replied.

  Ana scowled. “I heard about your flamethrower. As a matter of fact,” she pointed her finger upwards, “Director Hoover called me about it bright and early this morning!”

  “It’s official. I got it from the FBI armory when I picked up my guns and other supplies. If I hadn’t had it, we would’ve been screwed out there. You yourself should know what I do isn’t a simple walk in the park. It’s a war, and I don’t want to lose it!” I exclaimed.

  “What about the case I brought you here for? Have you got a lead on it?” Ana asked me.

  “Last night was sort of it. You told me that Vampires had certain powers. Can the older ones call creatures to them, like maybe a pack of Ghouls? I ask because everything I know about Ghouls says that what happened last night was strange. They don’t do that. Ever. In all the files and reports we have on them there isn’t any mention of pack activity like that. Normally, they are loners and big-time cowards. Something was directing them. It’s the only explanation I have. This Vampire we’re hunting tried to make us the hunted last night. Which means he’s either desperate or I’m closing in,” I stated.

  “Probably both. Show me where you’ve searched so far,” Ana directed.

  Unfolding the map I’d been using, I spread it out on the table. Wrinkled from being in my pocket so long, I smoothed it with my hand. “Between the police and me, we’ve checked everything for four blocks to the north, south, and east of the Lincoln Monument. The Ghouls were here,” I pointed on the map to just east of Roosevelt Island. “The buildings all around the monument itself and the reflecting pool are either government or embassy in nature. We only have their occupants’ word that they’re clear, but I detected no clues they were being persuaded. Could this creature have crossed the river into Maryland?”

  Anastasia stared at the map for a moment before closing her eyes. As she cocked her head, I could see the faintest of smiles cross her face.

  “No, he’s still close, I can feel it. What about the monument itself? Did you check it completely?” she asked me, opening her eyes only to stare.

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t, and I stupidly allowed the police and Park Service to distract me.”

  “There’s your answer, then,” she said. “Good job on the Ghouls, but you need to find this creature and stop him. Don’t worry too much about the Director. He won’t like it, but I’ll explain what’s going on.”

  “He won’t just fire me for embarrassing him?” I asked.

  “I won’t ever admit to telling you this, but he can’t. At least right now he can’t. Your position was created and approved by both Congress and the President. That fact alone was why he picked you and expected you to fail right away. If you quit that first week, he could asked for more funds and resources, allowing him to create his own FBI team filled with handpicked Agents. The Division would become his tool to control and become just one more political showpiece. Administrations change though, so watch yourself,” Anastasia commented. “Fight the good fight for now. “I’ll call the Park Service, but you need to get out there now.”

  What Ana had said gave me a lot to think about. It sure did explain why I was out here alone and on the edge so much. But I seemed to have a few allies, as well. This could be a lifetime job if I could stay alive and keep the politics at bay.

  Standing at the edge of the reflecting pool, I looked at the memorial. The massive structure sat ninety-nine feet above the ground. It was made of marble and concrete. Looking at it made you think of ancient Rome or Greece with the Yule marble and Doric columns. Thirty-six names and dates were printed across the top edge, all states that were in the Union at Lincoln’s death. It was hard to believe the entire structure was less than forty years old, having been just completed in 1922.

  “Magnificent isn’t it?”

  Looking to my right, I smiled at the Park Service representative. “It is. While I know there are restrooms and a gift shop in the interior of the building up top, what’s underneath it? I mean, it can’t be solid all the way through. There has to be a way to access the electrical and plumbing.”

  “You mean the undercroft? There’s an access door to the right of the stairs that leads down, but it’s my understanding the stairs are wooden and rickety. Nobody’s really been in there since just after construction,” the man winked at me. “For once, they didn’t use the lowest bidder on utilities.”

  “Can I get down there? It might be where our perpetrator is hiding,” I said.

  The man shrugged. “Sure. Let me grab the MOD and call maintenance. We should be able to find the keys.”

  “MOD?” I asked him.

  Shrugging, the man smiled. “Occupational lingo. I’m sure you have fun acronyms in the FBI as well.”

  “Yup,” I replied thinking about some of the more complicated ones like the office wienies seemed to come up with.

  Finding the manager on duty took longer than maintenance. When everyone was gathered outside the door, I explained what I wanted to do.

  “What undercroft?” The MOD asked.

  “The basement. Where do you think the pipes all go?” the maintenance man asked.

  “We don’t have one of those,” the MOD shook his head.

  “Sure you do. You just handed me the keys for it, remember?” I held up the key ring so he could see.

  “No, no, no, no, no, we don’t have anything like that and if we did it’s not safe to go down there. Hold up…” The man started trembling and shaking as if palsied.

  Touching the man’s shoulder, I asked, “Are you ok?”

  “No, no, no, no, you can’t go down there. Unsafe. It’s locked for a reason.” The MOD’s eyes moved wildly back and forth.

  “What the hell’s wrong with him?” one of the men asked me.

  “He’s under the Vampire’s spell,” Anastasia answered from behind me.

  I looked at her in surprise and pointed upward. It was daylight! “Uh, boss?”

  Ana smirked at me. “I’ll explain it all to you later, I promise.”

  Leaving the MOD with the other Parks people, Ana and I entered the undercroft.

  “You’ve been holding out on me,” I muttered as we climbed down the half rotten stairs.

  “Everyone has secrets Jack, especially in this town. You should know that by now,” she answered.

  “You could’ve clued me in at least, though. It would’ve made my job here easier,” I explained. Having a day-walking Vampire would be so helpful in many of my investigations! My God! I could see the potential of it all.

  “My life is not my own, Jack. No Vampire’s truly is. I don’t need the complication of the FBI or whomever is in charge at the moment. You do these sorts of jobs for many years and you’ll understand me better. Trust me on this, Jack,” Anastasia explained to me. “We’re close.”

  The memorial undercroft was dark and damp. Our voices, while kept low, echoed. Concrete support columns ran the length of the structure and small white stalactites hung down from the roof.

  “You’re supposed to be dead! How have you hidden yourself from us so long?” a voice growled from the shadows.

  “Grigori, it has been a long time. Why are you in my city?” Anastasia asked.

  “Your city? You claim this magnificent place as your own? Really, Aeliana, keep dreaming. When the master learns of your betrayal and claims… Well…You were in charge of punishments once, so you know already.” A short, hairy man dressed like a hobo dropped from the ce
iling. “Did you like my present? Finding that many Ghouls in one place was a surprise to me.”

  “The humans don’t believe in them,” Ana explained.

  “Who are you?” I asked the strange man.

  “Your pet still speaks?” the man asked. “You’re slipping in your old age, Aeliana. Want me to fix him for you?”

  “Jack, his current name is Grigori Rasputin and he’s part of the Strigoi faction,” Ana explained. She looked back at Grigori. “Your change has begun, hasn’t it?”

  “The Curse of the Strigoi has struck. You cannot stop me now, Aeliana, this city is mine now. My minions will rise from the depths and the light will fall upon the unworthy,” Grigori chanted. “Join me now or suffer my clan’s wrath.”

  Ana spoke, her voice sounding like that of an angel. “I think not. Jack, now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party.”

  The logical side of my brain thought “code word” while the illogical side thought “action.” My hands, moving on their own, swung the crossbow on my back around and put two bolts instantly into the Strigoi Vampire in front of me. Even as they hit home, one in the heart and one in the chest, Anastasia was ripping the man's head off his body.

  “Feels like old times,” Ana said as she held up the bloody trophy. “Thank you for your service, Jack.”

  With that, I passed out onto the floor of the undercroft, my weapon at my side.

  “What happened?” I blinked my eyes several times to clear the dust and sleepy from them. The last thing I remembered was talking to the Park guys.

  Darkness had fallen on the city and there were rotating emergency lights everywhere.

  “You hit your head coming out of the undercroft when the stairs collapsed,” Anastasia explained from beside me. Impeccably dressed as always, my Vampire boss smiled at me. “You should be congratulated, Jack. Killing an ancient vampire is the big time.”