by Jason DeGray
When the Lord of Murder discovered the Violet Shadows’ plan to bind him to the flesh of an elderly bum and make him a slave, he’d reached out in desperation and found Spangler. He came to her in dreams first as a handsome man dressed in a robe of light. He told her of the evil Violet Shadows and their plan to make him their familiar.
Spangler had no idea of the Lord of Murder’s true nature. She only saw a benevolent being of light that was being manipulated and twisted by power hungry psychopaths. She swore herself to him then, promised to save him from slavery. In return, the Lord of Murder promised her answers to all her questions as well as power and immortality. The Lord told her to enlist the help of a handsome Purple Gates member, Sven Paulson, and Albert Caine. Both had skills the Lord needed in order to free himself from his prison. Spangler did as she was asked. Sven was reluctant at first, but succumbed after the demon granted him what he desired most: irresistible charisma. To be loved by those who met his gaze. Caine was more than willing to sign up. He had wanted revenge on the Purple Gates ever since they denied him entrance and access to Power. He could think of nothing better than to unleash the Lord of Murder in their midst—for them to fully taste of the power they lusted after.
Sven had agreed to phone the anonymous tip to Wolf, essentially ruining Jonas’ ritual and saving the demon prince from his fate as an avatar. Spangler, who was waiting in the shadows during the carnage, had stolen Power from the crime scene and taken it triumphantly to Caine. He hadn’t even cracked the cover before a man appeared wearing a plain porcelain mask and white gloves. He demanded Power and when Caine refused, the masked man lashed out with his arm. He was nowhere near Caine, but the old trickster was sent careening into his desk and then jerked over, slamming into the bookshelves along the wall. Before he knew what had happened, he was pinned down under a fallen bookshelf and the white-masked man loomed over him. He silently pulled his glove off and placed his hand on Caine’s bald head. Caine howled as spikes of pain shot into his brain and a raspy whisper spoke to him inside his head.
“You are his now, Albert Caine. Every action you perform. Every thought you think. It all belongs to him. Now hand over what belongs to him or suffer the fate you deserve, First Among Blasphemers.”
Caine reluctantly obliged and opened the glyph lock safe behind his desk to retrieve the grimoire. He handed it over though it was pried from his hesitant hands.
“You have pleased the Lord,” spoke the man, his raspy whisper grating on Caine’s ears the same way it grated on his brain. “He desires you to collect the offerings while his children gather. Take this honor humbly and with gratitude.” He turned and left, Sven following close behind.
Caine cursed and made plans to finish his flesh golems the very next day. He had botched his first attempt whom he named Petey, but with Power in his possession even briefly, he was able to find out what he did wrong. So he would make his flesh golems and use them to honor this demon’s wishes while he waited for his moment. Because in his heart, Albert Caine refused to submit. He had lived with his hubris for too long. It was a part of him, so he bided his time.
Caine busied himself with the prerequisite offerings—the lives of surviving Purple Gates members. Members that had no idea of the evil walking among them whose only sin was seeking the truth behind the veil and discovering evil there instead. These poor fools were his chosen victims. He found it poetic, in a way, to utterly destroy the organization responsible for this. To him, there were no innocents. Each member of the Purple Gates had joined fully knowing what it was they were seeking. Just because some found it while the rest played at it didn’t change the sins on their hearts. It didn’t negate their own private lusts and secret desires. Their heretical cravings for petty carnal power motivated them and drove them to keep playing at it. So he showed each and every one of his victims exactly what they wanted to see and then he killed them and harvested their organs.
Meanwhile, Spangler and Sven devised a way to obtain a pure and powerful vessel worthy of the Lord of Murder. Victor Wolf was the obvious choice. He was ruined by the Lord of Murder himself. The Lord’s mark on Wolf would strengthen the demon’s power when he took Wolf’s body. But first, he had to be broken down—sufficiently weakened to a point that the Lord could possess him without much resistance or to the point where Wolf would ask him in. Spangler did everything she could to make sure Wolf was neutralized and would thus be easier to take. She utilized department resources to have Wolf put on permanent leave. She had informed Porcelain of the survival of Senator Stapleton and Faye Robinson. She also used the eye given to her by the Lord himself to keep track of Wolf and Jonas. Carrie had done it. She had finally found magic. Real, true magic. Her Lord was proud of her and she eagerly anticipated his birth into the world so she could serve at his side, basking in his radiance and glory.
***
Wolf, Jonas, and Ragnar pulled into Albuquerque midmorning. They drove directly to Spangler’s house. She wasn’t home so Wolf took the liberty of kicking in the back door. The house was well-kept. Everything had its place.
“Where do we start?” Ragnar said.
“Bedrooms and offices,” said Wolf. “People tend to hide their darkest secrets in their most private places. Jonas, take the spare rooms. Ragnar, the office down the hall. I’ll check the master bedroom.”
“You act like you’ve been here before,” Jonas noted.
“I have. When she was married, her and her husband hosted barbecues all the damn time. I think they did it to fill the space between them with something positive. You know, like the company of people.”
“Rather profound insight,” said Ragnar, impressed. “Where did it come from?”
“Dunno. Seems very psychoanalytical. Like something a textbook shrink like Spangler would do. C’mon. Let’s search the place.”
It was Wolf who hit the jackpot. He went for the underwear drawer first. This was the most intimate space in a person’s personal sanctuary. The holy of holies. Only perverts and thieves would dare dig through an underwear drawer, which was why it was the perfect place to hide your nastiest skeletons. The catch for the false bottom was hidden under the vibrator. Laying in the secret space was a neatly folded black velvet cloak and a bejeweled dagger with a golden hilt and sheath. On top of all of that was a piece of paper, a map with directions and a date scribbled in red pen. Wolf snapped a few good shots of the map with a disposable camera (he always carried one in those days) and copied the directions and date into his notepad before returning downstairs.
“What’d you find?” he said to his two partners in crime when they had gathered in the kitchen.
“Found a cool hat,” said Jonas as he showed them a red Albuquerque Dukes baseball cap. “This is vintage!”
“What about you?” Wolf said to Ragnar. “Find a sweater or something?”
“Office full of books. Found these in her desk drawer.” He handed Wolf some photocopied pages.
“What is it?”
“Let me see.” Jonas snatched the pages and scanned over them. “This is an ancient ritual from Power. It’s odd though…”
“How so?” asked Wolf.
“It isn’t for summoning an avatar.”
“What’s it for then?”
“More of an offering that opens a doorway for manifestation. I never even told the Violet Shadows about this ritual. What they wanted to do was insane enough as it was, but this,” he shook his head. “There would be no limitations of the flesh upon the Lord of Murder.”
“What does that mean? He’d be free to roam?”
“Oh yes. Very free. With the right vessel, he would be able to take his own physical form or possess others at will. He could, and would, literally fuck some shit up. And you thought I was crazy? These jerkoffs are trying to open the lion’s cage.”
“Why don’t all demons do this?” wondered Wolf.
Ragnar interjected, “Believe me, they try. But it’s not as easy as it sounds. The ritual requires very specific co
mponents. The hardest to come by being a Nephilim sacrificed on the spring equinox.”
“Why the spring equinox?” asked Wolf.
“It is the time of rebirth and renewal.”
“Where would they find a Nephilim?” Jonas asked.
The Viking shaman thought. “Aside from direct contact with demonic forces, like you or Wolf, they don’t have many options.”
“Well, maybe one of us is the target,” Wolf said.
“Maybe. But you two haven’t proven easy to detain. Still, I don’t see any other option unless they somehow got their hands on an unborn child they could taint.”
“Where would they find—“ The realization hit Wolf like a sharp kick in the nuts. “Miriam! We have to get to a one hour photo and get the hell out of town! Today!”
***
Sven called Miriam and invited her to a long weekend at a friend’s ranch. Her first impulse (especially after their incident) was to tell him no, which is exactly what she did. When he remained frighteningly insistent, she firmly told him that with the baby coming any day, she really didn’t feel comfortable leaving town. He told her he understood and Miriam hung up the phone and went to bed.
She awoke in a dark and cramped space she quickly realized was the trunk of a car. She thrashed and wailed until she felt the car pull over and stop. A few moments later, the trunk opened. Albert Caine and Hugo stared down at her.
“Hello, Mrs. Wolf,” said Caine.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Albert Caine. He motioned to the hulk standing beside him. “And this is Hugo.”
“You sick motherfuckers!” she screeched. “Let me go or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you both!”
“Such spirit,” said Caine playfully. “I can see why Wolf chose you to be his queen.”
“What do you know about Victor? What have you done with him?”
“I’ve done nothing with him. But we’ve run into each other on a few occasions these past months.”
Another face joined those hovering above her. A face hidden behind a plain white porcelain mask. The mask leaned over and whispered something to Albert.
“Oh alright,” snapped the old man. “We were just joking, anyway. I’m sorry Mrs. Wolf. Now, will you please join us in the car?”
“No!”
Caine motioned and Hugo lifted Miriam out kicking and screaming and dumped her into the backseat next to his horrendous twin, Creepy. The twins sandwiched her, holding her in place with their unnatural strength.
“Everyone comfy?” cackled Caine.
Miriam spit at him. “I’ll see you dead.”
“I’m sure. But not for a while. Now, we’ve got to be on our way. Power is calling us and the Lord grows restless.”
CHAPTER 22
Carrie Spangler panicked when she got home for lunch and found her house had been broken into. Given, it was Albuquerque. Houses got broken into routinely. She searched her house and its hiding places and found nothing missing. However, this didn’t assuage her anxiety. On the contrary, her anxiety grew. This wasn’t a random burglary. No valuables were missing. Nothing appeared askew. Whoever had done this had been looking for something specific, something they could take without stealing.
She went to her study, directly to her hidden safe. She retrieved an eyeball impaled on a bone and set it on her desk on a vellum sheet inscribed with esoteric symbols. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, cleared her mind, and began chanting. She was immediately beset by what appeared to be a flock of birds that exploded into her vision. Their bodies of light and the cacophony of their fluttering wings obscured any visions and caused her to cry out in pain. She tumbled backward out of her chair and into the conscious world. She picked up the phone with a trembling hand and dialed a number, tapping her foot impatiently as it rang. “It’s me. We may have a problem.”
***
Officer Lance Lane got the call on his radio while eating at Vicky’s Diner in Vaughn, a small town about twenty miles from Encino. It was a lieutenant from the big city—Albuquerque.
“What can I do for you, sir?” he asked after the call had been patched through.
“I was wondering if you’ve ever heard of Sol Ranch?” asked Lt. Loera.
“Yeah. Ran cattle for ‘em when I was younger. Why?”
Benny quickly explained the situation, careful to gloss over the occult overtones. “I was just wondering if you guys could keep an eye on it for me. You know, let me know if anything is happening.”
“Can do, Lieutenant.”
“I appreciate it.”
“No trouble at all,” said Trooper Lane as he ended the call. He wasn’t lying. It wouldn’t be any trouble at all. He was already headed in that direction as guests were already arriving. But first, he’d need to make some phone calls and enlist some extra help. He used the restaurant’s phone. “Hey. It’s Lane, in Encino. I need some Apocalypse Boys up here by tonight. We’ve got a leak.”
***
Wolf, Ragnar, and Jonas stopped at Clines Corners off I-40 for lunch. Clines Corners was a convenient interchange positioned atop the continental divide. A large truck stop replete with gift shop and greasy spoon diner boasted 24-hour service and cheap coffee. The three tricksters sat amidst truckers and travelers eating their greasy food and discussing their next move.
“I’m not worried about being noticed by people,” said Ragnar. “It’s the spirits and the scrying that bothers me. We are no longer protected by the boundaries of my sanctuary. Chances are we’ve been scryed already.”
“Not necessarily,” said Jonas, smiling through a mouthful of biscuits and gravy. He dug in his pockets with greasy fingers and set down a talisman made from bird feathers and bones. In the center was a tiny bird skull.
“What the hell is that?” asked Wolf.
“One of the trinkets I found in Caine’s office. I was going through the stuff I got and saw it. I call it my ‘Flock of Seagulls’.”
“What is it supposed to do?”
“Protects from scrying or astral viewing. Anyone or anything that tries to snoop us is swarmed with a flock of astral birds. They can’t see anything but the fluttering of wings. I activated it before we left, just in case.”
“Smooth,” said Wolf. “So that gives us a bit of an advantage. I think we should hide the car here and walk the rest of the way,” he pointed to a spot on the map marked “Encino Motel”.
“That’s over three miles!” Jonas whined.
“Exactly. Gives us plenty of distance and the right angle of approach. We approach from the mesa and no one will see us coming.”
“What if there’s armed guards like there were at Stapleton’s?”
“They have my wife and I have a trunk full of guns,” growled Wolf. “Each and every one of those ass-clowns gets a bullet. I don’t care how many of them they are.”
“Spoken like a true warrior,” laughed Ragnar.
“We don’t know they took Miriam,” Jonas challenged.
“I know. I called her mother.”
“And?”
“And after the initial shock of hearing from me, she told me Miri wasn’t at home. No sign of her since last night. She’s pregnant with my child and I’ve been touched by a demon. I’m putting two and two together here.”
“The logic is sound,” Ragnar agreed. “We must assume that Mrs. Wolf has been taken and her life, and the life of her child, are in grave danger. So let’s get them back.”
***
Barber didn’t take a couple of days as Benny suggested. Instead, he loitered around the station until Spangler left for lunch and then followed her home. While he waited, he made another call to his wife. Having not seen her husband in three days, Gerry Barber was understandably hysterical and worried. He promised her a long vacation after the case and hung up after hasty “I love yous”. A few moments later Spangler rushed out of her house and sped off. Barber followed her out of town and onto I-40 East, toward the exit that would lead to Encino. He sincerely hope
d he’d make it back to actually take his wife on the cruise he promised.
CHAPTER 23
Encino, located in the windy and brutal New Mexican badlands, isn’t a large town. It didn’t have a grand metropolitan destiny. As a matter of fact, official signs outside of town declared it to be a village. And to be honest, that was being generous. Located on a barren stretch of US Highway 285 in between the slightly larger village of Vaughn and the I-40 interchange at Clines Corners, Encino still clings to a semblance of life, albeit a life populated with shadows and decay.
The village was made up of a cluster of dilapidated houses, a few boarded up shops, a town hall, and the village’s only surviving business: a gas station/mini-mart. The Encino Motel was in advanced stages of ruin. The sign out front still proclaimed vacancy as if the universe enjoyed a bit of irony now and then.
Wolf pulled his Charger around the back of the motel and out of sight. Then the three men set up shop in one of the ramshackle rooms.
Wolf checked and cleaned his weapons: two handguns and an automatic shotgun. Jonas sat on the floor surrounded by glyphs and talismans. Ragnar sat cross-legged in the corner, meditating.
“Can you feel it?” asked Jonas, never looking up from his occult accouterments.
“Feel what?” asked Wolf as he strapped on a Kevlar vest.
“The energy. The air around this place is charged! We’re definitely in the right spot. The trick is moving freely here.”