by Jason DeGray
Creepy’s foot cleared the edge of the island where Wolf was huddled. Unhesitatingly, he embedded the meat cleaver into the remaining twin’s shin. Creepy went down instantly, howling like a madman. Wolf didn’t waste his chance to scramble out the back door, but not before the apish man fired a wild shot that blew through Wolf’s foot.
He crawled across the backyard to the garage, trailing blood the entire way. He could feel the blood filling up his shoe as he got the spare set of keys off the nail next to the door and started his car. He fought off a wave of dizziness and stilled his mind while the garage door opened and didn’t slow down when he saw Caine and his two henchmen standing in the driveway. The fact that both of the apish goons were upright and walking flashed through Wolf’s mind briefly before it was replaced by the more immediate need to escape.
Caine and his muscle barely missed being smashed by the large bumper of Wolf’s Challenger. Hugo and Creepy fired at him as he sped away, opposite the direction of the quickly approaching flashing lights.
CHAPTER 9
“Miriam? It’s Frank.”
“Hey Frank. Any news on Vic?”
“Not exactly, but something happened you need to know about. Meet me at your place?”
“Is everything okay?”
“Just come by.” Barber hung up and lit a cigarette. It was going to be a long night.
The Wolf residence was a carnival of flashing lights, yellow tape, and law enforcement. Barber intercepted Miriam as she rushed toward the front door.
“What happened here?” she screeched hysterically.
“We’re still trying to figure that out. Neighbors called about gunshots. There were signs of a struggle. Some blood. No bodies, though. Vic’s Challenger is gone, but nothing else seems to be missing.”
“What can I do?”
“Have you seen Victor? Heard from him at all?”
Miriam shook her head, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “What’s going on, Frank?”
“We’ll figure it out,” said Barber as he put a reassuring arm around her shoulder. He steered her toward a cop car where Spangler was chatting with a couple of blue suits, their Styrofoam cups of coffee steaming in the crisp air. The psychiatrist looked up and smiled. “Barber! Mrs. Wolf! When it rains, it pours, eh?”
“What is that bitch doing here?” Miriam seethed. “It’s her fault Vic went off the deep end in the first place.”
“Miriam, Dr. Spangler is trying to help.” Barber tried to interject but Miriam was lost to fury.
“Like she was helping when her diagnosis got Vic fired? She helped, alright. She helped my husband into a dark depression. She helped tear us apart. I’m telling you, Frank. Don’t trust her. She’s a shady bitch.”
“Mrs. Wolf is rightfully upset,” said Spangler cheerily, choosing to ignore Miriam’s insult. “Perhaps she would be better served by someone outside the department? Grace Pentecostal has a counseling team. Sven Paulson is excellent. I think I have his card…”
“Don’t bother. I already have it.” She turned to Barber. “I want to give my statement and go home.” Miriam broke from Barber and strode defiantly away.
Later that night, she sat on her bed staring at Sven’s card. Her slender fingers shook as she dialed the number. “Hello, Sven? It’s Miriam. Miriam Wolf? We met at church the other day. I know it’s late, but something happened and I really need to talk. You sure you don’t mind? Thank you so much. I’ll see you there.”
The Pioneer Restaurant was an all-night eatery across from the University of New Mexico and home to a menagerie of college students, night owls, and drunks.
Sven and Miriam sat in a booth, steaming plates of food and cups of coffee before them.
“I love green chile,” Sven said as he devoured a breakfast burrito.
“Never did get a taste for it,” Miriam confessed. “And I grew up here.” She sipped a cup of hot tea and picked at her food.
“So,” Sven said between bites. “What’s going on?”
Miriam took a moment before she said, “My husband is missing.”
His eyebrows raised. “For how long?”
“At least a month. But someone broke into the house tonight. There’s blood and Vic’s car was stolen. Vic always loved that car. He said he’d die before he let anyone else behind the wheel.”
“That’s just something people say. I’m sure that’s not the case.”
“You don’t know my husband.”
“True, I don’t.” He sipped his coffee. “No bodies, though?”
“None.”
“That’s hopeful, at least. How are you holding up?”
“Not well. It’s been a long few months since the accident.”
“Accident?”
Miriam explained the official version of Wolf’s tragedy.
“That was your husband?”
She nodded.
“I saw it on the news, but I had no idea.”
“He…never really recovered. Just kept sinking into this horrible, self-destructive depression. And he had these nightmares…” Miriam shuddered remembering the way Wolf would scream at night when he was caught in the throes of one of his dreams.
“Did he ever share them?”
She nodded. “He said it involved all of our family and friends getting slaughtered by this creature he called ‘The Lord of Murder’.”
“Spooky. Sounds almost demonic.”
“Yeah. That’s what Victor thought. But Spangler said it was his PTSD causing psychotic breaks from reality.”
Sven nodded reassuringly. “Carrie deals with this kind of stuff every day. She knows what she’s talking about. She’s a good doctor.”
“Don’t get me started on that bitch.”
“Alright. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s alright. You didn’t know.” She took a moment to compose herself before continuing. “It’s not like Dr. Spangler said. Victor wasn’t crazy. He may have thought he was attacked by a monster, but his hold on reality was firmer than ever.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It had to be, or else he would’ve ended up a babbling idiot. He said so himself. That and the pain.”
“Pain?”
“His scars pain him constantly. He says they even throb to the beat of his heart sometimes. He told me his pain was a constant reminder that he was still alive and part of the world.”
“Maybe he was more damaged than he let on,” Sven said.
“Or maybe he wasn’t as crazy as other people said.” Miriam stopped herself. It was her belief in what other people had said that led her to push Wolf away.
“Do you really believe that?” Sven asked, a strange smile on his face.
“I…I don’t know.” If there was even the slightest possibility that he was telling the truth, then she had done him a terrible wrong. And she wasn’t ready to face that notion.
He put his fork down and took on an authoritative posture. “Being a church leader, I’ve made the spiritual realm my business. And in my experience, demonic influence never breaks into the physical realm. What we think of as ‘the devil’ or ‘demons’ are really the subconscious projections of mental disorders.”
“Yeah,” sighed Miriam and fidgeted with her mug. She wasn’t entirely convinced. Something about the whole situation refused to sit well with her. Wolf was one of the most grounded people she knew. He witnessed horrific things daily. Things he filed away in some guarded portion of his mind. Things locked away so they could never affect his life. What then, did he see that refused to be contained inside his mental prison? Whatever it was, if it were strong enough to unhinge her husband, it would kill a normal person. Suddenly, a bear attack didn’t seem to be the most plausible answer.
“Hey. Are you alright over there?” Sven reached across the table and grasped her hand. His strong, yet gentle touch conferred a sensitive masculinity that Miriam hadn’t felt in a very long time. She began to cry.
“I d
on’t know what to do. Why does God hate me?”
“Come on now,” soothed Sven. “God doesn’t hate you. On the contrary, He has nothing but love and respect for you. People often ask that same question during difficult times when, in fact, God’s trials and tests are done out of love to bring us closer to Him.”
“I don’t see this bringing me closer to God,” said Miriam.
“Maybe not now. But He has a plan for us all. And I’m sure He has something special planned for you.” A charming smile lit his face.
Miriam returned the smile, though she didn’t want to. “How do you know?” She wiped her tears away, embarrassed at her emotional outburst.
“Call it faith.”
“I guess in a situation like this, it’s all you have.”
“Kinda. Faith and strength. And I think you have both in abundance.” He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.
“Thank you, Sven. You’ve been such a great help.”
“Anything else you need?”
“Actually, I have some things to pick up at the house. Normally I wouldn’t ask, but after what happened, I don’t want to go by myself.”
“I understand. Why don’t you get some rest and we’ll go by there when you’re ready.”
“You don’t mind?”
He smiled. “Not at all. I’ll help you with anything you need.” The smile spread to his eyes. “Anything at all.”
CHAPTER 10
Wolf barreled into the parking lot of the Borderlands Motel, screeching to a halt in front of Jonas’ room. Jonas had already come outside, darting nervous glances in all directions.
“What happened to you?”
“Some old fart named Albert Caine was waiting for me with two big, ugly apes. I got shot getting away.”
“Albert Caine? Are you sure it was Albert Caine?”
“Yeah. Why? You guys know each other?”
“See? I told you! We’re not safe. We have to get out of here now!”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Wolf snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been shot!”
“Yeah. And hospitals will be the first place they’ll be looking. Police chatter will be the next. I know someplace we can hide out and get your foot fixed while we’re at it. But you have to trust me.”
Wolf felt lightheadedness already creeping up on him. “I don’t see much of a choice.”
“Me either. Then it’s settled. I’ll drive.”
“Hell no. Nobody drives my car.”
“Are you for real? You’re bleeding all over the place and you look pale enough to pass out. You won’t make it five more blocks.”
He needed to prop his foot up to slow the bleeding. He couldn’t do that driving. Wolf grumbled his complaints, but conceded and slapped the keys into Jonas’ hand.
“Thanks. You won’t regret it.”
“I dunno…I kinda already do.”
The Challenger’s engine roared to life and ten minutes later the two men were speeding up I-25, north toward whatever sanctuary Jonas had hidden away from the insanity of the city. Wolf drifted into a red-tinted sleep and woke when the car jerked to a halt.
“We’re here,” said Jonas. “Stay here until I get back.”
Wolf tried to make out where they were. It was a poorly lit village with dirt roads. There was no noise from traffic nearby, so they were some distance from any main roads. He saw the dim outlines of tall pine trees swaying in the breeze and directly overhead the night sky was bright with stars. They were far from the city for sure. Jonas returned some minutes later accompanied by a bear of a man with a reddish-blonde beard and hair tied in a ponytail.
“This him?” asked the stranger in a baritone voice with a thick European accent Wolf couldn’t place.
Jonas nodded.
“We better get him inside.”
“Where are we?” mumbled Wolf.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe. Now lay down on the cot so we can get that bullet out,” the man said.
A Native-American woman mixed something together in a mortar nearby, then poured it into a chipped coffee mug and topped it with boiling water. She handed the concoction to her husband after it steeped.
“Thank you, Tracy dear.” He turned to Wolf, “Here. Drink it.”
“What is it?”
“Anesthesia.”
Wolf finished the drink and laid his head back. “Are you a doctor?”
He chuckled. “No. I am no doctor. I’m Ragnar.”
“Ragnar…” Wolf mumbled as he drifted into sleep. He was immediately beset by nightmares. He dreamt he was being pursued by the Lord of Murder, his hideous winged canine visage outlined in blood. Wolf fled like a maniac through a thick crowd of people, throwing bystanders behind him and into the demon’s path. He realized in his frantic flight that the people he was throwing aside were people he knew: Miriam, Barber, Jonas, Spangler. Wolf couldn’t escape the crowd. The more he tried, the thicker the throng grew until there was nowhere for him to move. Behind him, heads and limbs flew as the Lord of Murder cleared a path to his quarry. He was trapped.
Suddenly, a golden figure pierced the darkness. The crowd parted to let the newcomer through and he stood between Wolf and his pursuer. “You will not harry this man,” said the figure, who appeared as a golden Viking covered in runes and holding a large hammer.
“You?” hissed the demon. “You are out of your element. A stranger in a strange land. You have no power here.”
“Care to test that?” he hefted his hammer.
“Your order dies with you!” The demon howled and attacked. Golden light and red energy flew in all directions like astral sparks as the combatants warred. They traded blows, moving so fast that they began to blur together. Wolf had never seen anything like it, waking or dream. The Viking beat back the demon, though he was severely wounded. As he fell to his knees and the demon moved to finish him off, the dream fell away.
Wolf opened his eyes with a groan. Ragnar sat beside him lost in a trance. He was sweating heavily, his face contorted. Tracy rushed over and slapped him hard three times. His eyes fluttered open and he looked immediately at Wolf.
“You should never flee from a demon, they are relentless. The only way to get rid of them is to stand and fight.”
“You were in my dream,” said Wolf accusingly. “You got inside my head.”
“I did what I had to. You were thrashing like a madman stuck in a nightmare after I took the bullet. I saw the evil oozing from your wound and pulled it out as best I could.”
“You pulled evil out through a hole in my foot?” Despite all he’d seen, some part of him still held on to that rational worldview that had shaped his career and his life. It helped keep the world intact—or as intact as it could be after suffering what he did.
“Yes, odd as it sounds. Fortunately for you, you already had an open wound. Still, I couldn’t get it all. He has quite a hold on you.”
“Tell me about it,” Wolf grumbled. “Thanks for your help. But for the record, stay the hell outta my head. Where’s Jonas?”
“I sent him into town to pick up a few things for dinner.”
“I see. And you know him, how?”
“He was a student of mine.”
“Ah,” said Wolf. “You’re a magician too.”
Ragnar laughed. “Hardly. I am Ragnar. Last of the warrior-shamans. We are not petty magicians. We are masters of our wills. Creators of our destinies. I sought to instruct Jonas in our way so that he may continue the order. But I’ve looked into his soul. Whatever goodness and purity once dwelt there has been long lost to dark and twisted powers. I was a fool to trust him. Tracy saw through him before even I did.”
At the sound of her name, Tracy peeked her head into the room. “Everything good in here?”
“Everything is fine. Just telling our guest of Jonas and how you saw through him.”
Tracy’s face soured. “It’s no great trick to see someone’s heart. And his heart is as black and as void a
s they come. If Ragnar would’ve listened to me from the start then he would’ve avoided a lot more trouble!” She took a deep breath and then smiled. “But what’s past is past. You want some tea?”
“That’d be great.” Tracy left and Ragnar returned his attention to Wolf. “After the disaster with Purple Gates, Jonas returned here bloody and nearly dead. I nursed him back, despite my loving wife’s protests. During his recovery, he told me what happened. He told me of your involvement. It was a brave thing you did.”
“Brave or reckless. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
“Doesn’t bravery involve a little recklessness?”
Wolf chuckled. “I suppose.”
Ragnar’s face hardened suddenly and his gaze bore into Wolf’s soul. “Don’t trust Jonas. The Lord of Murder still tempts him. And I know my student. He is not strong enough to resist.”
“Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind. I tried to stay away. I even tried to kill him. But he saved my life. He brought me here.”
“True. But why?”
“Out of the goodness of his heart?” Wolf joked.
Tracy returned with a tray. “There is no goodness left in his heart.” She served Wolf a steaming cup. “Not since he took up with that Purple Gates group.”
“They’re all dead now,” said Wolf. “Or the ones who summoned the demon are, anyway. I watched them die. The rest of the kooky bastards seem to be getting offed at record paces.”
“And that doesn’t strike you as odd? Why do you think that is?”
Wolf shrugged. “I kinda figured it was someone on the inside, you know? Taking out everyone who ‘knew too much’ or some such crap.”
Ragnar said, “Not far off, I think. Jonas said the money behind the group, the ones running the show, weren’t in the actual crafting circle. They were a safe distance away watching and waiting to reap the benefits.”
“Benefits? What benefits?”
“The Lord of Murder is a granter of power. He is heavily involved in all the things that make the world run: money, politics, religion, and sex. If he could be successfully summoned and contained he would be a formidable enemy to anyone who crossed his masters.”