Blood Rain: A Shadow Detective Novel

by Massa, William

  Marek’s vampires would easily decimate these boys in blue. They were as as good as dead, and there was nothing I could do to save them. I expected Marek’s vampires to swarm them like piranhas but to my surprise no such thing happened. The vamps merely watched the phalanx of officers in stony, eerie indifference. Rain pelted their faces, streaking their ragged hoodies crimson. By now, the officers had noticed the strange rainfall, their faces distorting with growing horror.

  “Bring up your hands and get on the ground! NOW!”

  The officer’s voice shook with adrenaline, his shotgun leveled at Marek’s undead followers. I had a feeling this was going to get ugly. The cops were on edge, and the moment they started firing, all hell would break loose.

  “Officers, stay back!” I yelled, my voice shaky. “You don’t know what you’re up against here!”

  “Shut the fuck up and get on the ground!” one of them shouted. Scarlet rain lashed the officer’s face as he turned toward me. He squinted through the veil of blood masking his face. His eyes suddenly went wide. Although I was too far away to see it, I could imagine his pupils turning into pinpoints of red as the blood rain worked its horrific magic. The cop doubled over, racked by violent spasms. His partner spun toward him.

  “What’s wrong?” the second cop cried out.

  The first officer glared up at him, his eyes inhuman, monstrous fangs extending from his mouth. Before his stunned partner could respond, the transformed cop launched into him. With an animalist shriek, the vampire cop sank his teeth into the other man’s neck.

  Gunfire went off, followed by terrified screams. This was merely the beginning of the violence to come. More of the officers were changing before my eyes. I watched in gaping horror as the cops became blood-starved monsters, willing to turn on their own partners.

  Marek’s promise of a vampire apocalypse was becoming a nightmarish reality.

  My pulse roared in my ears, fear threatening to overwhelm me. Yet I managed to somehow keep a cool head, willing my mind to a calmer place. Why wasn’t the blood rain affecting me in the same way? The only logical explanation I could come up with was that the Seal of Solomon was protecting me.

  Too bad it wouldn’t protect me from vampire fangs or a stray bullet.

  Dread crept up my throat at the thought of what might be happening around the Cursed City at this very moment. Was anyone unlucky enough to be outside during the crimson downpour being turned into a blood-hungry monster?

  Eying the red clouds above, I saw they were slowly spreading and moving from the outskirts of the city to its bustling center. I had to hope my plan would work before the storm unleashed its wrath on the more densely populated areas. If I failed, the alternative was almost unimaginably horrific.

  Marek intended to turn as many of the Cursed City’s citizen into vampires as he could, and his new army would prey upon those who escaped the initial effects of the rain. As their numbers swelled, they would shift their focus to other cities. Other countries. An epidemic such as mankind hadn’t experienced since the bubonic plague would sweep like wildfire across the globe. Civilization would be washed away in a river of Marek’s blood.

  With a flash of insight, I understood why Marek had posted the vampire video online. He knew it would get Skulick’s attention. It was always about luring me and my partner into his web so he could get his hands on the grail. And now he was offering us front row seats at the end of the world. Talk about the perfect revenge.

  Marek’s booming voice thrust me out of my fatalistic thoughts. “It has begun! Soon the world of man will give rise to a new order. Mankind will fall. But you, son of Richard, won’t be around to see what happens next.”

  Marek spun toward Archer. “Finish him!”

  Archer bounded toward me, a famished attack dog finally freed from her new master’s tight leash. She glared at me, lips twisted with hunger, indifferent of our shared past. To the woman I loved, I’d become nothing more than a snack.

  I wouldn’t use Hellseeker. It’s what Marek wanted, and I refused to provide him with the satisfaction of seeing me gun down the woman I love. Marek wanted me, the son of his greatest enemy, to die knowing I’d lost everything. Well, I refused to play along and give him the satisfaction.

  Especially not if there was still a hope, however slim, of bringing Archer back. My love slammed into me with supernatural force and sent me sprawling. I tried to scramble to my feet, but she was faster.

  Eyes blazing with a bottomless thirst, she pinned me down, her fangs an inch from my neck. And that’s when the expression on Archer’s face changed. The madness lifted. Clarity edged back into her features. For the first time since setting foot in the junkyard, I saw the real Archer staring back at me. She still wasn’t human, but neither was she fully vampire anymore. Something fundamental had shifted inside of her.

  I glance upward, where Skulick still dangled from the crane. Even from this distance, I recognized the change in him. He’d stopped struggling like a feral beast and was looking around at the scene instead. I had no doubt his razor-sharp intellect was already making sense of the blood-drenched tableau. My partner was back in charge.

  “Well, finish him!” Marek bellowed at Archer.

  I sensed Marek’s growing impatience in his tone. And below that another emotion: confusion. The vampire-demon didn’t quite understand why Archer would hesitate in the face of an easy meal.

  I gently rolled Archer off of me and helped her stand. She was shaking, and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. I’d thought I would never get to hold her again, but Archer wasn’t a threat to me anymore.

  “Raven?” she asked, her voice uncertain.

  “It’s okay,” I murmured. “It’s almost over.”

  One by one, the shrieks died down across the wrecking yard and the transformed vampire cops backed away from each other. The stunned expression plastered across their faces mirrored Archer’s reaction. They were slowly waking from a nightmare, awareness creeping back into their shocked gazes.

  “What’s happening?” Marek demanded to know, his harsh voice cutting the air like barbed wire. The master vampire’s confusion was music to my ears.

  I whipped out Hellseeker from my shoulder holster and leveled it at Marek. I was under no illusion that I could destroy him with my blessed pistol, but that wasn’t my intention, at least not yet. For the moment, I had a very different agenda. I wanted to piss the vampire-demon off.

  “Looks like your ritual isn’t exactly playing out as expected, buddy. I’d say I was sorry, but we both know that’s a lie.”

  Marek’s confusion deepened. Despite his monstrous appearance, there was vulnerability in those distorted features now. A note of panic crept into his voice. “What have you done, mortal?”

  I remained silent, but the answer was all around him. All of the vampires around us—Skulick, Archer, and the cops, as well as Marek’s ragged tribe—were slowly turning back to human. The rain that was supposed to create more vampires was having the exact opposite effect.

  The master vampire’s giant wings flared out as he whirled toward me, murder in his animalistic gaze. His reptilian eyes gleamed with naked hatred. How had I turned his ritual against him? Simple, really. Before handing him the cup, I had coated it with angel blood.

  What, did you think that with the lives of my friends hanging in the balance, I’d be so foolish as to hand this madman a magical weapon of mass destruction without an ace up my sleeve?

  My earlier conversation with Cyon had given me a pretty good idea how Marek intended to use the chalice. Skulick had only managed to procure enough angel blood to cure one vampire, but there was no way in hell I’d choose between him and Archer. I had guessed if the energy generated by the three occult skyscrapers could amplify the power of Marek’s blood, the same might hold true for the effects of the angel blood. It had been a gamble, but it was now paying off big time.

  I studied Marek, looking for signs that the angel blood’s power was working on him, to
o, but he remained just as ugly as ever. Maybe he’d been a vampire for too many centuries for the curse to be broken. Maybe the demon blood coursing through him counteracted the angelic power. For whatever reason, he remained unaffected—and royally pissed off. While he still didn’t grasp how I’d turned the tables on him, he’d figured out who to blame.

  A lesser man would have stayed to gloat. But while I might have successfully thwarted the vampire apocalypse, Marek could still easily tear me apart. The next part of my plan hinged on being able to draw him away from the junkyard.

  Marek unleashed a bellowing roar and shot toward me. I unloaded a few rounds into him, which did about as much harm as shooting him with spitballs, while I cut a beeline to my Ducati. None of the former vampires tried to stop me. Though I hated to leave Archer and Skulick behind, they were probably safer here than with me for the time being. Within seconds, I was astride my bike and tearing away into the rainy night. Behind me, I heard Marek taking to the air.

  The chase was on.

  18

  I blasted out of the wrecking yard, the tires of my Ducati devouring the blood-soaked asphalt. Using the angel blood was only the first step of the plan I’d cooked up with Cyon. Now came the tricky part–defeating Marek.

  The pounding rain and the Ducati’s wailing motor drowned out the beating wings above me. I didn’t need to see or hear Marek to know that death was stalking me from above.

  As my bike shot down the mostly deserted city streets, I caught sporadic glimpses of homeless people. They stumbled through the mysterious downpour, confused expressions plastered on their faces. Like the cops, the magical rain must’ve first turned them into vamps and had now changed them back. I predicted that the mother of all hangovers was in store for them as their bodies continued to adjust to all these physical changes. They stared at me with haunted expressions which turned into terror when the spotted the winged monstrosity hurtling after me.

  A quick glance at my rear-view mirror confirmed what I already knew. A giant, sleek bat monster loomed above me. Any moment now, Marek would swoop down for the kill.

  I cranked up the engine and goosed it. I cut a hard right and braked, waiting. Marek dive-bombed down the side street, my lightning fast maneuver making him overshoot me by a couple of feet. As he crashed into a row of dumpsters, his roar of frustrated rage reverberating among the buildings, I expertly spun the bike around. The Ducati’s tires kicked up scarlet water as I shot down the other direction.

  Another glimpse at my mirror revealed that Marek was quickly regaining his bearings. Within mere seconds, the vampire-demon was airborne and resumed the chase. I considered pumping a few rounds at the incoming creature, but the weapon’s recoil was liable to kick me off my bike.

  Stick to the plan, I admonished myself.

  My motorcycle screamed down another road, barreled through an empty intersection, and shot into the small park up ahead. The park, like much of the rest of this rundown neighborhood had become a den for druggies and hookers. Let’s just say it wasn’t a place you wanted to hang out at night—or during daylight hours for that matter. Anyone who’d been outside during the blood rain had cleared out already, no doubt terrified and confused by their recent supernatural ordeal. So much the better for me; I didn’t want any innocent bystanders to get caught in what happened next.

  My bike growled as I lunged toward the sidewalk. Barely slowing down, I jumped the curb and sped down the narrow stone path that cut through the gloomy park. Darkness wrapped around me like a shroud. Skeletal trees and matted underbrush, now painted red, swayed in the windy downpour as I revved the engine.

  I was headed for a small clearing ringed by a copse of barren trees and jagged rocks streaked with graffiti.

  I never made it.

  The air above me whistled and suddenly I was airborne. For a beat, the now riderless bike continued down the trail before slamming into a blood-streaked park bench.

  The dirt path fell away below my flailing legs as Marek lifted me higher, now fifteen feet in the air, his talons painfully digging into my shoulders through my leather biker jacket.

  Without thought, I brought up the Seal of Solomon and raked it across the vampire’s face. There was an inhuman roar of pain, and Marek released me.

  My maneuver didn’t seem like such a smart move as I found myself sailing through the air, a scream lodged in my throat. The ground rushed up me at breakneck speed. Luckily, I crashed into the bare branches of a tree instead of planting face-first into the hard ground. The tree slowed my descent enough that the landing rattled every bone in my body instead of shattering them. My helmet and motorcycle jacket absorbed the brunt of the impact, but I was still winded. I laid on the ground for a stunned beat, broken branches raining down on me.

  As I struggled to get back to my feet, slipping and sliding on the red grass, I saw my father among the ring of trees. It had to be my mind playing tricks on me. Had to be. The fall must’ve affected me more severely than first expected. Maybe I had a concussion. Dad urged me to get up. I know I had to be hallucinating, but the surreal vision galvanized me.

  Real or not, I wasn’t going to let my dad down.

  I made it upright and groggily staggered to the center of the park’s tiny clearing. I didn’t get far before Marek’s man-bat form landed in front of me, his leathery wings barring any chance of escape. The master vampire’s eye blazed with a terrifying fury.

  “You ruined everything!” he screamed.

  Reacting on pure reflex, I brought up Hellseeker. The maneuver made me wince in pain, my bruised ribs reminding me that I’d just survived a fifteen-foot fall in case I’d forgotten. Thank God I hadn’t sprained an ankle.

  I faced the gargantuan beast, gun held steady. Red rain streamed down Marek’s giant wings, making him look like a gargoyle made of blood.

  Marek took a menacing step toward me, and the ground shook

  “Your father’s little toy gun didn’t kill me thirty years ago, and it won’t be able to stop me today. I’m more powerful than you can imagine.”

  “Is that so?” I said defiantly. “You’ve become more than a vampire. You fed on the blood of a demon.”

  The lack of fear in my voice seemed to give the master vampire pause. But this insight came too late. My eyes caught sight of a new figure in the clearing. It was Cyon, and he was grinning in the bloody rain, his bony visage eerily accentuated by the unnatural downpour.

  Marek whirled toward the demon who had been his prisoner. His monstrous gaze ticked from me to Cyon, understanding dawning. For the first time, I detected an undercurrent of fear in Marek’s bestial features.

  “A monster hunter working with a monster?” Marek asked in disbelief. “Impossible.”

  “Hello, Marek,” Cyon said. “You have taken what wasn’t yours. The blood of a demon runs through your veins. My blood.”

  Cyon took a few steps toward the winged beast, unafraid. This was a creature who had served among Hell’s Legions. Confronting a monstrous creature like Marek didn’t faze him. He was a far scarier beast all together.

  Cyon continued to advance. “As a demon, there are rules that you now have to obey. Rules that bind our kind. Rules you used against me and which I’m now going to use against you.”

  Marek found his voice at last. “What are you talking about, demonspawn?”

  “Look around you, Marek, and tell me what you see?”

  The question hung there for a beat. Marek studied the clearing more carefully. Then he looked down at his clawed feet. His eyes widened as he finally noticed the giant pentagram Cyon and I had drawn on the grass. It was the same one Marek had used to imprison Cyon, albeit much larger. Rocks formed the five points of the star marked with occult glyphs designed to imprison a demon. Cyon had wisely stayed out of the trap.

  You guessed it. I’d been the bait to lure Marek into the binding circle from which he could not escape. I’d counted on Marek being so blinded by rage that he wouldn’t spot the pentagram until it was to
o late. Only one last step remained for the trap to spring shut.

  I recited a series of words in Latin and Aramaic, drawing on my occult studies, and the pentagram around Marek lit up like a Christmas tree from Hell.

  The vampire-demon, still not believing that he could have walked into his own trap, flung himself into the air.

  He didn’t get far.

  After ascending about eight feet, the invisible force field flung him back to the ground with brutal force. Shrieks of frustration burst from his lips as his wings flailed madly. His next tactic was to launch himself at me, but I had stepped out of the pentagram, taking my place next to Cyon. Marek’s talons sliced the air and bounced back with violent force when he slammed into the invisible barrier.

  There was no escape from the circle. By draining a demon, Marek had gained Cyon’s powers—but also his weaknesses.

  Cyon stepped up to the edge of the pentagram. The demon’s smile sent shivers down my back. The human mask vanished during that moment, and I saw the real monster beneath the earthly disguise. Thank God Skulick didn’t know what I’d gotten myself into. He would have chewed me out for even considering a partnership with such an unholy monster.

  I spoke slowly with the cadence of a chant. “Marek, you belong to me. You are mine to command. Invoking the power of this binding circle, I cast you down to the pits of Hell where you shall remain for all eternity.”

  “No! I am immortal! I am—”

  Marek’s words were cut off as the ground shook and quaked with tremendous force. A giant sinkhole in the shape of a star opened beneath the master vampire, forming a huge cavity in the earth. The walls of the hole began to avalanche in, pulling a suddenly terrified Marek with them. The master vampire struggled to claw his way up through the crumbling dirt. A beat later, he vanished inside the supernatural sink hole, his terrified roar assaulting the night.

  Hell was about to welcome its newest inmate.