Sailor Ray and the Dark Descent (The Pact Book 2)

by Alex Villavasso

  “Easy, kiddo. Take your time,” he said before he moved again. The sensation of his backpack left me once more and I slid my foot backwards to match his stride. He moved again and in time we found our rhythm. Step-by-step, we traveled deeper into the ceremonial grounds. Around me, I could see the scattered bodies of the coven littered with bullet wounds and bloody cloaks, unresponsive to my steps as I pushed past them. The flame from the torches accentuated their faces and gave a sense of vigor to their otherwise hollow eyes.

  I slid my foot backwards and it tapped against the back of Mitch’s heel.

  “Mitch?” I whispered with my head still facing the basement stairs. His body was still and he remained silent. I was tempted to turn my head over my shoulder, but resisted the urge. Instead, vacant thoughts ran through my mind while I stared into the darkness. “Mitch?” I called out again and that’s when I heard it too. In the distance, a faint shriek unlike anything I had ever heard before cuts through the stillness. The walls that surrounded us hosted a slight tremor and the ground below started to quake. The flames of the torches that line the room began to flicker and sway, draining the light from the already darkened room. “Mitch, what was that?” My eyes darted from side to side, scanning the darkness for any sign of intruders.

  “Sweepers,” he said. My teeth clamped together at the sound of his answer. “They’re trying to scare us, but they shouldn’t be able to do much.” I felt him move, and I slid my foot back to meet his heel. Time moved at a crawl, but eventually, we met up with Sam and Logan. The ominous pressure from the unseen sweepers weighed on me heavily, leaving a pit in my stomach. Knowing that they could strike at any time jarred my focus, even though I tried my best to stick to the task at hand. “Sailor, grab this,” Mitch said as he handed over a small olive mat. “You can’t do a ritual on top of another one. This may look like a piece of ordinary cloth, but it’s not. It’ll definitely do the trick.” I didn’t doubt him. Not even for a second. I wouldn’t have made it this far if it weren’t for him. “Sam, Logan, I just need you to keep doing what you’re doing. Protect us while we set up. Sailor, you’re going to help me with this, so stay sharp,” Mitch said while digging through his bag and squatting on the floor. Earlier, Mitch had ordered us to make space for the ritual, making a small circle with room for him in the middle. As we stood watch, Mitch placed various containers of different shapes and sizes on the tattooed tiles until he finally came across a small brown bowl. His eyes twinkled at the sight of it, giving a sharp contrast to the hardened features of his face. “Okay, Sailor. That’s everything. Lay the mat down over here.” At his command, I placed the mat in the center of the circle and watched while he continued to prep for the ritual. “All right, guys, now for the fun part.” He placed the bowl on top of the mat and began to add a variety of herbs and spices into the bowl while mumbling incantations in Latin. From his pocket, he drew a match and lit it. I watched while the fire danced in his eyes before he directed his attention towards his fellow hunters. “Sam, Logan, you guys know the drill. Protect the ritual at all costs.” He put the match to a stray leaf from the bowl and instantly the room’s atmosphere began to shift in tandem with the newly emerging flame. A thin trail of smoke swiveled into the air and my eyes followed. “Sailor, snap out of it. Stay focused!”

  “R-right.” I heard the sound of Mitch’s pistol click after he stood and rearmed himself. He pointed his gun to his designated corner of the room, and glanced at me from the corner of his eye, reminding me to pay attention without saying a word. I nodded. Whatever he was burning relaxed me but my instincts fought against the sweet-smelling incense that slowly filled the basement. With a thunderous roar, Mitch began to chant in Latin and the distinct aroma became more pronounced. The darkness in front of me swiveled and contorted, separating from the natural darkness caused by our world. “What the hell?” A barely audible grunt registered in my eardrums and I managed to see the dark splotch shoot off deeper into the basement in a sudden burst of speed. “Did anyone see that? I don’t know what that was, but it didn’t seem like a—” A hellish screech erupted and a cold chill ran down my spine, instantly grabbing my attention. All the flames that lined the basement eerily flickered in synch and my knees buckled at the sudden rush of malevolent energy. The sound of wind brushing past us echoed in the basement, ruffling my clothes, but no one seemed to move. My stomach began to twist and turn as we waited in silence, bracing ourselves for the moment the demons would finally show.

  And then, without warning, they attacked.

  “Ahhhh! Somebody help me! Please!”

  “Oh God!”

  “Help m—” The screams were so closely tied. It was impossible to pinpoint the beasts. The sound of ripping flesh and gurgled blood echoed in my, heightening my senses. I turned to my right and then my left before looking above me and scanning around my feet. They were way too fast for me to track with the limited lighting the touches provided.

  “Over there!” Sam yelled. “Let’s get the bastard!” Flashes of light and the scent of gunpowder filled the air while Sam and Logan emptied their clips into the darkness. With every round, I stole a glimpse of the demonic beast’s body. Its torso twisted and contorted like a snake, and its head resembled a praying mantis with elongated fangs that protruding from its mouth, fresh with blood. For its hands, two disfigured scythes hung disjointed from what should be its wrist. From what I could see, its skin was slick and black like ash, but highly resilient. I looked on in horror as Sam and Logan continued to fire rounds into the demon, interrupting its feast while it was still in its tangible form. Enraged, the beast bellowed in our direction and burrowed into the ground headfirst, sinking into the floor without augmenting the landscape. “Where the fuck did it go!” Sam said while he fumbled a spare clip in his hand as he attempted to reload. “We must have shot that thing at least ten times. It shouldn’t be able to do that anymore!” I turned to Logan, but he said nothing, his gun was still pointed in the sweeper’s last known location. “Don’t let your guard down. It’s still around, somewhere. It’s trying to fuck with us.” Although it was faint, I heard the sound of my gun steadily rattling in my hand. I glanced down to confirm the shaking and placed my free hand on the base of my wrist before silently cursing myself for still having a full clip. I could have gotten us all killed.

  I hesitated when they needed me the most.

  An ominous silence filled the basement, but it did little to deter me from my thoughts of shame. I gazed at the pistol in my hand resentfully, my face scrunched into a scowl and my teeth mashed against one another. To the right of me, I could hear Mitch still reciting his incantation with authority. I briefly glanced at his rugged features—he didn’t seem to notice me. His breaths were calm and his words flew smoothly even though this was likely to be among the most deadly of situations he’d ever been in. I wish I felt the same.

  “Sailor, incoming! From your left!” Sam yelled. My vision snapped towards the basement entrance where the demon had reappeared. Like a shark on the move, the upper half of its body rushed towards me while the rest remained concealed below the surface. The demon’s red beady eyes honed in on me, contrasting the darkness that cloaked its body in a malevolent fog. I fired at the beast, aiming at its head, but it was hard to gauge how effective my bullets were. The beast emerged from the ground with a deafening shriek, exposing the hellish scythes that hung from its wrist, positioning itself like an adder, ready to strike. “It’s going to pounce! Keep firing!”

  Together, the four of us continued to unload our bullets into the infernal creature, but its tenacity was unlike anything I’d ever seen. With each flash of my muzzle, I could see it moving closer, defiant despite our efforts, until my ammunition finally ran dry.

  “Spread out!”

  Damn it! I reached for a spare clip to reload, but I was halted by a thunderous roar. The sweeper threw its body at me with its fangs exposed. I dodged to my right but one of its scythes cut across my stomach while it rushed past me, kn
ocking me to the ground. The incision ran deep into my gut, instantly dying my shirt crimson. “Guys, it got me!” I yelled from the floor with my hand pressing against my wound as my blood leaked out with every breath. “Oh sh—ah! Calm down, Sailor. You’re fine. You can do this.”

  “Logan!” I heard Sam cry in the distance. With our formation broken, we were nothing but easy pickings. After missing me, the demon wasted no time taking advantage our situation. Before we could regroup, a sweeper lunged at Logan and began to rip him apart. “Logan, I’m coming for you buddy!” Sam yelled over Logan’s screams. Sam pulled a dagger from his jacket and plunged it into the beast’s neck. The demon shrieked and whirled its torso in retaliation, cutting into Sam and simultaneously flinging him across the room.

  “Sam!” The sound of metal pieces crashing into the ground reverberated in the distance—a storage shelf, most likely.

  “Sam!” Mitch called into the darkness, but there was no response. “Sam!” Seconds later a string of gunfire erupted from the other side of the room. As loud as it was, it did nothing to muffle his final moments as a sweeper claimed his life. “Damn it!” Mitch hissed as he turned away from the far side of the basement. Not far from where he stood, he could see the wounded sweeper squirming on top of Logan’s lifeless body, struggling to stay alive. Mitch pulled out a shotgun and fired into its backside. The sweeper squealed and jolted from Logan’s corpse, where it finally remained still beside him. Mortified, I tried to stand to my feet, but my body was numb with shock. Mitch glanced my way before stepping closer to the sweeper’s carcass. At point-blank range, he pressed the barrel against the sweeper’s skull and pulled the trigger. “Can’t be too sure with them,” he said with a grunt, his eyes still focusing on the now mutilated beast. “It’s just us now, kid. Can you stand?” Mitch turned and faced me with an expectant look.

  “Yeah…I think I can.” With my hand still pressing against my gut, I pressed my pistol into the ground for balance. The stress from shifting my body agitated my wound, but I still stood as quickly as I could manage. I tried my best not to look at Logan’s ravaged body—focus on the task at hand—but it was hard. The way those things killed…it was almost effortless.

  “Our altar’s ruined so the other sweeper will be back sooner than later.”

  “Yeah.”

  Not far from where we were I stood I saw the shattered bowl on top of the olive mat along with crushed herbs and ashes, scattered around it. It was depressing, to say the least.

  “Look, kid…I know it doesn’t sound like much, but Sam did all he could to help us before he died. Logan, too. It’s up to us now to see this through.”

  “So we’re taking out theirs now? Their altar?” I forced out between breaths. Mitch studied me with curious eyes. He was seasoned. Just from looking at me, I knew he could tell that my blood loss was severe. I knew it too.

  “It’s our only shot,” he finally answered. “We destroy the altar; they leave us the hell alone. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “If it’s our only shot, what other choice do I have? I’d rather go down swinging than wait for some demon to turn me into mincemeat.”

  “Humph, you’re telling me.”

  “Boy…that ice cream’s starting to sound really good right about now.” I started to chuckle but my pain was quick to silence me.

  “I’ll keep my end of the bargain when we get through this, sweet pea. Ice cream for you, your pops, and anyone else that we’re able to get to, but for now, we have a job that needs to be done.”

  “Yeah.” I winced from aggravating my injury.

  Mitch glanced at me, but I was sure he realized my situation was out of his control. Rather than comfort me, he checked his munitions bag for supplies and reloaded his shotgun.

  “Hey, can you carry this?” He gestured his shotgun towards me, but I humbly declined. Just raising my arm brought discomfort. Adding a shotgun to the mix would do more harm than good. “Thought so.” He frowned. “Just watch my back and try to stay close, but give me some space. We only have to deal with one. If it gets us by surprise, our chances are slim. At least this way, we’re not sitting ducks.”

  “Okay.”

  “Aim for the head if you can. It’s a lot less durable. If it gets too close, knife it, but try to avoid its claws.” Mitch re-adjusted his backpack before throwing it over his shoulder. “That thing is hurt, but it’s no pushover. Range is our friend.” Slowly, he began to walk in front of me, treading deeper into the abandoned facility’s basement. With the cleansing ritual destroyed, I could feel the atmosphere slowly reverting back to its original state. Time wasn’t on our side.

  Mitch continued to march while I lagged behind. Every step I took shot ripples of pain across my midsection, but still, I pressed on. As we drew closer to the altar, the darkness grew thicker. I was tempted to reach for my flashlight, but remembered that it wouldn’t do any good here. When manifesting, powerful entities can drain energy from the environment, plus I’d be even more vulnerable. The scattered torch lights would have to make due.

  A faint snarl echoed in the darkness causing Mitch to stop and examine the room. I did the same, but there was no sign of a sweeper. Instead, I managed to catch a distinct inky blur in my peripherals—the same black mass I saw earlier when I first reached the basement.

  “Mitch? I think something else is stalking us, and it’s not a sweeper.” Sensing my distress, Mitch turned back to face me, his shotgun armed and ready.

  “I don’t know, I don’t see anyth—” Before he could finish his sentence, a serpent-like creature shot through the air and tackled Mitch from his side, forcing him into ground.

  “Mitch!” I fired at the demon’s head in a panic, careful to place my shots away from Mitch’s body while it clawed at his back. “Hold on, Mitch!” After a couple of shots, the sweeper flinched, giving Mitch just enough time to twist onto his back and attack its elongated frame. He fired twice before the demon drove his scythe through him, piercing deep into his chest. He fired again but it doesn’t stop the sweeper from biting down into his neck. “Mitch!” I feverishly squeezed the trigger of my firearm until my clip came up empty. “Damn it, come on!” I threw my gun to the ground, and in a fit of desperation, I drew my knife. I ran and lunged at the beast, burying the blade into its shoulder, but I didn’t stop there. The sweeper wailed while I continued to unmercifully thrust my blade into its back, ignoring its screams as it thrashed. “Get off of him, you bastard!” With every stab, I felt the demon weakening beneath me, but in a last-ditch effort, its jaws clamped into my arm and slung me towards the altar. My forearms braced my fall, but my head still connected with the floor. I tried to summon the strength to stand, but my body remained still.

  Not long after that, my world turned black.

  My senses stirred to the sound of gunshots and screams. It was Mitch. I could hear him weakly swearing as he emptied round after round into the darkness somewhere not far from where I was. When I last saw him, he was already bit and had lacerations across his back. He had also lost a lot of blood. It was most likely over for him no matter what I did. The sweeper screeched and I heard the final scream before Mitch went silent. The only thing audible now was the soft moans from the victims as the creature picked at their vitals and chopped away at their flesh, finishing off whatever stragglers managed to survive the initial attack before my arrival. I guess bleeding out after being sliced or shot wasn’t enough for the demon. It was taking out an insurance policy for its survival. No loose ends. The sound of its mandible chewing and dropping wet, dripping flesh was disgusting. I was pretty sure that fucking thing didn’t even have to eat.

  Damn it. I can’t believe I’m going to die here.

  I tried to stand but my body failed to respond.

  I’d lost too much blood.

  “Sa-ilor?” I sluggishly moved my head, careful not to draw attention to the prowling demon as he fed from across the room. The voice I heard was too good to be true.

  �
�Dad?” I whispered.

  “Yes, baby, it’s me.” I extended my hand towards his and I felt the warmth of his hand cover mine. He was hurt just as bad as I was, if not more. “You got to make it to that altar, baby girl. It’s the only way,” He groaned. “We don’t have much time, but you can do it, baby. That thing is hurt, but it’ll only get stronger as long as the altar is feeding it energy. You have to go.” He clenched the ridge of my hand. “Move.”

  “But what about you? You’re hurt.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be right behind you.” I watched him as he slowly reached into the fold of his waistband and pulled out a dagger. “You got some time before he catches on to what you’re doing. But then he’s going to have to go through me,” my father said before his face contorted with pain. “I’ll hold it off for as long as I can.”

  “But, Dad.”

  “Go,” he responded adamantly.

  I took one final look at him as I tried my best to hold back the onslaught of tears that desperately wanted to come out. We both knew that the second I came close to the altar, the sweeper would come for me, and in turn, him. I could tell it hurt him to smile, but he did it anyway. I smiled back before I rolled from my side onto my stomach and began to crawl away.

  Inch by inch, I moved closer to the altar, the blood from my abdomen slowly leaking between my fingers. The flames on the scented candle flickered like a beacon of hope as I drew near even though the bowl in front of it discharged an opaque darkness that filled the room like a heavy fog. I don’t have to destroy it, I thought mid-crawl as I sized up the altar. I just have to disrupt the flow of energy.

  The sweeper shrieked, and I flinched at the sound. Just from its voice, I could tell it was gaining ground.

  I paused but an image of my dad’s face took center stage of conscious, pushing me to crawl faster and ignore the fact that my body had long since reached its limit.

  The deep incision across my stomach made any form of movement agonizing. It was hard to function before I was thrown twenty feet, but now it seemed my like my injuries were finally catching up to me. My head felt heavy from the blood loss and my vision hadn’t been normal since I hit my head. The forearm that the sweeper managed to bite was a mess, too. The jagged incisions along my arm, leaked freely. Come on, Sailor. You can do this. Stay focused. Think of Dad. I swallowed back the building blood inside my mouth as I struggled onward.