NIGHT SLAYER 2
MONSTER QUEST
WILLIAM MASSA
Critical Mass Publishing
Copyright © 2018 by WILLIAM MASSA
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: Raul Ferran/NeoStock
Contents
THE STORY SO FAR
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Also by WILLIAM MASSA
About the Author
THE STORY SO FAR
Let me quickly introduce myself. My name is Jason Night. I’m a former SWAT commander and Marine. I’ve experienced a lot of crazy shit in my life, and I don’t scare easily. At least not until recently. After seeing my whole team get wiped out by a succubus and nearly dying myself, a mysterious sorceress recruited me to become a soldier in a war against monsters and magic.
See, an evil web of darkness threatens our world, a global network of evil wizards and creatures of the night known as the Shadow Cabal. I know it sounds like some paranoid YouTube conspiracy, but this shit is real. The Cabal is everywhere and nowhere. Controlling our society from the shadows. Leading us toward the apocalypse.
Trust me, nothing on my resume could have prepared me for this weird shit. Fortunately, the sorceress has become both mentor and general in this war.
I bet you’re curious about my new partner. Not all spell slingers are bad news. About a hundred years ago, the Cabal was a force of good in the world. The secret magical society maintained the balance between light and dark with the help of the Guardians, an order of combat magicians. Octurna, the sorceress, was one of these magical badasses.
She also happens to be the last surviving member of her order—the Shadow Cabal hunted down all the Guardians and slaughtered them. Octurna was the only one who got away. Barely. The Cabal put a death spell on her, which means she can’t set foot on Earth without risking instant death. So she built herself a magical fortress, the Sanctuary, which exists beyond time and space. As long as Octurna stays in the fortress, she is okay. It’s become both a refuge and a prison.
I think you’re getting the picture now. Stuck in the Sanctuary, Octurna needed someone who could venture into the field to face the horrors which threaten our world. A champion. A soldier. A Night Slayer.
I’m the lucky guy who landed the gig. Now I’m learning magic and kicking monster butt.
We won the first battle against the Shadow Cabal’s Los Angeles lodge. But the real war has just begun.
Prologue
When Tom first spotted Naja in the surging club crowd, he thought he was looking at an angel. He would soon learn she was a devil in disguise.
At age forty-nine with love handles spilling over his belt and heavy bags under his eyes, Tom wasn’t exactly a club kid any longer. A recent divorce had pushed him back into the dating scene, and he was having a rough time of it. Following a humbling string of bad internet dates, he’d fallen into a routine of medicating himself with beer, pizza, and bad movie marathons. He wasn’t ready to brave the dating world. It was a jungle out there.
But on this Friday night, he’d felt restless for some reason. The walls of his studio seemed to close in on him, and he fled his apartment. He couldn’t bear to be alone, and there was a nightclub nearby. A line of young people snaked around the block of the joint, all of them eager to get their groove on. Taking in the hipster crowd, he had expected to be denied access to the club, but the doorman took pity on him and waved him inside. The place was loud and dark. He spotted a few other lonely sad sacks at the bar. They all pickled their livers while they longingly scoped out the dance floor.
Tom joined them.
He started downing beers like a man on a mission. He was about to order his fourth drink when he noticed the woman on the dance floor. She was a dirty blonde with a body to die for, athletic and fit but with curves in all the right places.
Sensing the intensity of his stare, the woman stopped dancing and turned in his direction. Made eye contact. And smiled.
Tom swallowed hard as the beauty headed straight towards him. Her determined gaze never left his, her playful smile unwavering, oozing confidence and sexuality.
Tom couldn’t believe it. Was he dreaming?
He took another long pull from his craft beer, silently hoping the booze would chase away the butterflies in his stomach.
And then the goddess was upon him. For a moment, she stood there, studying him with a teasing smile. God, she was gorgeous. Her gaze burned in its intensity yet he couldn’t look away. Every muscle in his body was paralyzed except for his hammering heart. What could she possibly want from him?
Up close like this, with mere inches separating them, she looked even better than on the dance floor. A black leather skirt barely covered her coltish legs, and her emerald eyes sparkled seductively in the club’s flashing light.
“Hi,” Tom croaked, at a loss for a smoother opening line. His mouth was dry, and blood roared in his ears.
“Hi, I’m Naja.”
A long beat of silence. Then: “I’m Tom.”
Man, did he have game, or what?
But his lack of cool didn’t matter on this night. At least not to this hottie.
Naja’s lips turned upward, eyes filled with a silent promise. Then she pulled him onto the dance floor.
How long had it been since the last time he danced with someone? It must have been at his brother-in-law’s wedding nearly a decade ago. He couldn’t quite remember. He barely remembered his name at this point. The world became a blur of motion and images filtered through a haze of alcohol and endorphins. Music pulsed and throbbed as he contorted his out-of-shape body. Naja laughed and smiled and rubbed up against him, swaying her hips and rolling her shoulders.
Stuff like this didn’t happen to guys like him, or at least they never had before.
Yet he wasn’t dreaming. This was real.
Naja snaked an arm around his neck, sending jolts of electricity up his neck. Her perfume tickled his nostrils, a faint yet intoxicating aroma of peaches and roses with a hint of perspiration.
And then the mystery woman kissed him, her tongue hot and hungry. Tom couldn’t have resisted even if he wanted to. Naja finally came up for air and suggested they should leave the club and find a place more…private.
Tom nodded, a silly grin plastered on his face, willing to follow this vixen anywhere.
They left the club through the rear exit, thumping techno stalking them into the dark, garbage-infested alley.
Talk about a sobering change in scenery. Cold air slapped Tom’s face, and he nearly gagged on the stench of rotting garbage. A siren wailed in the near distance and made him think of a flatlining heart monitor in its shrill intensity. Suddenly he was all too aware that he had his arm wrapped around a stranger.
A beautiful stranger, he told himself sharply. Don’t fuck this up, buddy.
Naja pulled him past the row of overflowing trash containers. When she turned toward him, her flirtatious smile was gone.
A sound rang out behind him, and Tom sluggishly spun around, coming face to face with an emaciated home
less man. The man’s eyes were wild, almost feral.
Then everything happened real fast.
The skull-faced hobo advanced with animalistic speed and closed the distance between them within seconds. Despite the man’s ravaged, meth-head appearance, his bony fists lashed out with savage brutality and surprising power.
Tom’s scream died on his lips as he went down, and darkness crowded the corners of his eyes. A veil of unconsciousness enveloped him.
Tom had no idea how long he’d been out for when he finally regained consciousness. A minute? An hour? Judging by the deep pools of shadows broken up by irregular patches of moonlight, it was still night time.
His throat tight with terror, he stumbled to his feet, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He wasn’t in the alley anymore. Moonlight shafted through broken windows and illuminated an industrial sprawl of factory equipment. Syrupy goo and puddles of tar coated the floor, stuck to his shoes. The rusting machinery around him made him think of the barnacled remains of a sunken ship.
What was this place?
And that’s when it hit him. The sticky sweet smell combined with a faded sign on the dirty floor told him everything he needed to know. He was inside the decaying Strathen Sugar Refinery, which had closed two decades earlier. Stiff competition from corn syrup and artificial sweeteners and a steady decline in demand for old-fashioned cane sugar had forced the plant to shut its doors for good. It had been a fixture in the city for nearly a century.
These thoughts whirled through his mind when he sensed movement in the darkness.
Tom’s pulse leaped, and a chill trickled along his spine.
He wasn’t alone.
What did you expect? They dragged your sorry ass into this abandoned spot for a reason.
A giggle emanated from the shadows. Followed by a bloodcurdling, animalistic shriek.
Tom’s pounding heart felt like it would burst through his ribcage.
A second shriek cut through the abandoned refinery.
Closer now.
“Please just leave me alone,” Tom called out, feeling pathetic and weak. But he couldn’t help himself. More words tumbled from his quivering lips. “Who the hell are you people? Why are you doing this?”
Another peal of laughter echoed through the long-abandoned structure, and a shadow flitted between hulking machinery.
Fear turned into anger as Tom realized that these bastards were playing a goddamn game. They were torturing him and getting off on it. God, why had he ever set foot in that club?
A crashing noise made his hair stand on end, and he spun around.
The homeless man was back.
As the tall, emaciated figure lurched into a pool of moonlight, Tom swallowed hard. The bum had changed since their first interaction in the alley behind the club. Twin fangs protruded from his mouth, his bulging eyes glowed a fiery red, more beast than man.
A shrill and lilting cry cut through the factory, and the darkness spat out two more man-beasts, the sound of their snapping jaws building into a symphony of terror. Spindly bodies, stretched limbs, ghoulish features—the unholy trio advanced with unsettling agility, eyes mad with hunger.
He’d watched enough schlocky horror movies recently to guess what these things were. Of all the ways he’d end up dying, Tom had never guessed it would be goddamn vampires.
One of the creatures lunged at him and grabbed his outstretched arm.
The three ravenous monsters clustered around him, jockeying for position. But despite their clearly voracious appetites, something held them back. Their fangs snapped at him, but they didn’t quite connect. They could have killed him already. So what the hell were they waiting for?
A familiar figure emerged from the blackness. Naja sprouted her own set of fangs, green eyes blazing, her erotic aura tainted with malevolence.
She tilted her head at the unholy trio, signaling her approval. “Feed my children!”
No!
The monsters descended, their fangs gleaming in the moonlight, and then—
The first vampire’s head erupted.
Tom lurched free of the other two and staggered forward.
He detected a moving figure in his peripheral vision. The man wore a black leather trench coat and sported a green glowing submachine gun. And he was pointing the spectral weapon at another one of the fanged attackers.
Someone had decided to crash this party.
Someone just as deadly as the monsters.
A heartbeat later, all hell broke loose.
1
The vampire’s headless body collapsed, spurting a fountain of black blood. My chest filled with magical energy, and the intricate network of tattoos etched all over my body flared with power. The more supernatural creatures I slayed, the more magic I consumed—magic I would transfer to Octurna, the woman who had become both my mentor and my general in our war against the Shadow Cabal.
The other two vamps spun toward me, eyes wide with surprise. They looked like what they were—bums turned into bloodsucking monsters. And they were not exactly thrilled by me interrupting their latest meal. These creatures were used to being the scariest things lurking in the shadows.
Vampires were predators. Never prey.
That was about to change.
I squeezed the pistol’s trigger and drilled three rounds into each one of the monsters. My weapon fired a combination of blessed wooden projectiles and silver bullets. Only the most powerful of vampire could resist such a barrage. These two guys didn’t fit the bill and evaporated in clouds of smoke and ash.
Another surge of power rippled through my body. I shivered and shook my head as I absorbed the magic. It felt like I’d downed a few triple Expressos. Man, I didn’t think I would ever get used to this part.
In case you hadn’t guessed it already, I was still new to this monster hunting game.
Three months into this new chapter of my life, I was getting the hang of the gig, but the learning curve was a steep one. Every day brought new insights and challenges. Case in point, the monsters I faced at the moment.
Technically these creatures weren’t full-blown vampires. According to Octurna, the homeless bums turned ravenous bloodsuckers were Moroi. Undead revenants brought back to life by the same vampire bite that killed them. Alive but not alive, dead but not dead. Undead.
And normally a Strigoi—a living vampire, a cursed soul who drinks the blood of the living—pulled the strings of the Moroi under their command. These guys were the soldier ants, so where was their unholy queen?
I knew she was close. Hiding in the factory’s shadows, biding her time to strike.
These creatures had first come to Octurna’s attention a week earlier. Drained bodies were piling up in the New York City morgues, and the sorceress suspected that a pack of vampires was turning the city into their own private blood bank. We had traced the victims back to this club, established that the venue was the creatures’ preferred hunting grounds, and set our trap. It hadn’t taken long before the vamps struck again. Luckily for the man who almost became their latest victim, I was at the club when the queen of this pack of bloodsuckers put the moves on him.
But where was she now?
I stole a quick glance at the middle-aged victim, a crumpled ball of nerves, and tried to shoot him a reassuring look. Everything will be alright, bud.
Judging by the naked terror oozing off the guy, he wasn’t buying it. Smart man. Nothing would ever be alright again. The poor fellow now belonged to a small select club of people who knew that the nightmares were real. That was a hard place to come back from, as I knew from personal experience. Because if vampires existed, what other horrors roamed the dark underbelly of our world? At least I got a chance to fight back against the demons. Unfortunately, the victim whose life I saved wouldn’t be granted such a luxury. He’d be spending the rest of his days looking over his shoulder. Nobody would ever believe what happened to him, and if he was smart, he wouldn’t try to explain. Not a great way to go through life, b
ut it sure beat the alternative.
A fourth Moroi burst from the shadows and barreled toward me, arms outstretched, claws ready to perform plastic surgery on my face. The magazine of my submachine gun was empty, but I still had a few tricks up my sleeve.
I dropped the gun and, lightning fast, whipped out two silver stakes from the bandolier strapped across my chest. Invulnerability had made these creatures careless—vampires were apex predators who rarely ran into a human who could bite back.
I rammed the first stake into the vampire’s stomach while stake number two pierced the creature’s chest right over his rib cage. The monster froze inches before his fangs would have pierced my skin, pinned like a giant butterfly on display. The red glowing eyes dimmed, became human for a split second. I almost thought I spotted a note of gratitude in the vampire’s dying gaze, or perhaps that was wishful thinking on my end. Then the Moroi’s face caved in, and the creature blew apart in an explosion of black ash.
As I spun away from the cloud of disintegrating vampire flesh, another power surge hit me. Vampires provided less magical energy than some of the bigger, badder beasts I’d faced, but tonight’s body count was adding up. Refreshed and energized, my dragon-blood-enhanced senses swept the decaying sugar refinery in search of the queen vamp.
Yes, you read that right. Dragon blood pumped through my veins nowadays, thanks to the sorceress’ eccentric views on modern medicine. When my dying ass had crawled into her fortress, seeking refuge from a murderous mob of possessed college students—don’t ask—she had nursed me back to life with some dragon blood. Nasty stuff, but you couldn’t argue with the results. Not only had it healed my wounds and saved my life, but it had given me some mild superpowers. Heightened reflexes. Increased strength, stamina and speed. And the aforementioned improved senses. I could practically see in the dark, and my hearing rivaled that of a bat. My new abilities came in handy considering the hours and company I was keeping nowadays.
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