Skull Master

by William Massa

  “Robert Valdis, age forty-five, a professor of forensic anthropology. And here comes the best part—his nickname around campus is Dr. Bone. Want to know why?”

  I didn’t care to know how Valdis had come by that moniker, but you couldn’t stop my partner once he got going. There was a dramatic pause on the other end—Skulick lived for this shit—before he finally spilled the beans. “Our dear Mr. Valdis collects skulls.”

  “You gotta be kidding me...”

  “Not just human skulls…all kinds of animal skulls. He boasts the largest collection in the city. Deals with zoos and museums, even trades skulls online.”

  “Sounds like a lovely hobby.”

  “Almost as wholesome as hunting monsters?” Cyon said.

  I chose to ignore the demon’s mocking question.

  “His hobby appears to have turned deadly,” Skulick said. “The skull of the Devil’s Executioner must’ve been an irresistible prize to a man with such unique predilections.”

  Unique predilections. That was a nice way of putting it.

  Skulick continued to brief me on our suspect. “Valdis had a run in with the law when wildlife crime enforcement officers showed up at his doorstep three years ago. They deemed most of his collection legal, except for a few skulls belonging to endangered species that he had obtained online. I’m sending you some pictures of Valdis’ collection from a recent magazine article. It’s quite something. I’ll be in touch if I dig up anything else.”

  There was a weird undertone to Skulick’s voice, almost as if he was rushing through the information, merely going through the motions. My inner voice told me there was more on his mind. Perhaps there was something he wasn’t sharing with me. What could it mean? I chalked it up to him being as worn out as myself. Skulick was a night owl, but it was getting late even for him.

  For a second I considered telling him about the Crimson Circle but ultimately decided against it. I had avoided mentioning the return of the super-cult earlier. Stopping the Skull Master was our priority, and I didn’t want Skulick to lose his focus. Bad enough that my own thoughts were so tangled up in darkness.

  “Be careful out there, kid.” With those words, Skulick clicked off.

  Suddenly I wished I could turn the clock back to that fateful day when a specter had tossed Skulick out of that hotel window. What I would have given to have my partner by my side. He could drive me nuts at times, but there was no better man to have in your corner when facing the forces of darkness. Fighting alongside Archer had given me a taste of what I missed. I missed having a partner. A real partner, I mentally added before Cyon could chime in again with some irritating comment.

  The traffic light ahead of me turned red, and I slowed down. While I waited, feeling like the last man on Earth on the deserted nighttime street, my cell vibrated. Skulick had sent me the promised information. I quickly scanned the images. A middle-aged, professorial looking man smiled back at me amidst a room full of skulls. Dr. Bone’s expression was one of boyish enthusiasm, clearly proud to show off his macabre collection. Hey, it takes all kinds to make a world, right? Valdis’ obsession might be considered bizarre, but in essence was harmless. Or at least it had been until he’d started chopping people’s heads off.

  I fought back a shiver as another wet gust of wind seeped through my trench coat. Cursing under my breath, I promised myself that I’d pick up the Equus Bass first thing tomorrow. If I made it through the night, that is. After all, I was about to drop in unannounced on a fearsome supernatural serial killer. The medieval image of the axe-wielding, skull-faced beast of a man flashed through my mind, and I gingerly massaged my neck. I liked my head right where it was. Securely attached to the rest of me.

  The light turned green. I cranked the Ducati’s engine and blasted down the street.

  According to Skulick, Valdis’ owned a Victorian house in a nice and quiet residential neighborhood. Ten minutes later, I pulled up to the address. It reminded me of a Gothic doll house with its towers and turrets.

  After I parked, I contemplated my next move. I sure as hell didn’t plan on ringing the man’s doorbell in the middle of the night. For a moment, I wondered if I should contact Aria Giovanni but decided against it. Why increase the odds of collateral damage? I doubted the FBI would fare much better than Officer Brown and her partner had in the park. Bullets alone couldn’t stop the Skull Master. I could only hope my mystical arsenal would be sufficient to put an end to this nightmare. There was only one way to find out.

  As I stealthily approached the building, my pulse quickened and my heartbeat jolted. Anticipation surged within me, my fear giving gave way to a powerful thirst for battle. Cyon was rattling the cages, no doubt about it. The demon was ready to take the fight to the enemy. But was I ready? Suddenly I regretted not having brought the Demon Slayer sword along for this confrontation. I hadn’t wanted to waste time returning to the loft. Every second I wasted brought me closer to another headless body. I would have to make do with what I had.

  Gun in hand, eyes alert, I made my way down a shadow-draped sidewalk lined with overhanging trees. Wind buffeted my coat as I strode toward the back of the house. With each advancing step, my scar began to grow more irritated. Surprise, surprise—dark forces lurked behind the innocent façade.

  Over the years, I had become pretty darn skilled at breaking and entering into homes. I’m not proud of it, but it comes with the job. It looked like the house was empty. Would Valdis be home at four in the morning or was he out and about hunting for victim number six? I didn’t have the answer. All I knew was that I wouldn’t wait until the morning to find out.

  My eyes narrowed, and I went to work. A few minutes later, I breached the backdoor’s lock and I set foot inside the spacious home. Shadows enveloped me, and I became part of the house’s darkness. The demon inside of me rejoiced, eager to draw blood. Besting the Skull Master would be a serious blow against the forces of evil. There was no doubt in my mind that news of the defeat would get back to my former master…

  I froze, catching the mistake and quickly corrected myself.

  Cyon’s former master. Not mine.

  I shuddered. What was happening to me? It was almost as if I was merging with Cyon, becoming one with the demon.

  My jaw tightened. I didn’t have time for this. Not now when I was about to enter the lion’s den. I pushed all my doubts aside and concentrated on the task ahead. This was not the time for a soul-searching episode.

  Senses alert, I paused and studied my surroundings, becoming a statue. My gaze flicked up at the wooden railing surrounding the floor above. No one hid in the thick shadows on the floor above. Or at least my eyes couldn’t detect them in the inky darkness. I listened carefully for signs of another human or inhuman presence. The windows rattled as the wind howled outside, but the place itself felt empty.

  I was alone in the home of a killer.

  My grip tightened on Hellseeker as I walked into the next room. It appeared to be the living room. I took in the tasteful leather furniture and shelves crammed with books. I scanned the collection. Mostly texts on history and anthropology. If Valdis had an interest in the occult, then he kept that part of his library hidden.

  I headed for the second floor. The bedroom was empty, the sheets untouched despite the late hour. My heart sank. Was Valdis roaming the Cursed City for human prey? Next up was the home office. It looked out at the dimly lit streets below. Nothing stirred outside.

  “Besides skulls, Professor Valdis appears to have an appreciation for medieval art.”

  Cyon’s words almost made me jump out of my skin. He appeared about three feet away from me, leaning nonchalantly against the desk. His presence creeped me out in these foreboding surroundings.

  He pointed to a medieval painting which overlooked Valdis’ desk. An army of scythe-wielding skeletons were wreaking havoc across a blackened, desolate landscape bordered by a body of water. Humans fled in terror, but a few fought back in vain. A group of people were being herded
into coffin-shaped wagons decorated by crosses. Fires burned in the distance, and the sea was littered with shipwrecks. Leafless trees dotted the barren hills, and fish lay rotting on a corpse-strewn shore. Grim stuff. I recognized it, thought. This was a replica of the famous medieval painting “The Triumph of Death” by Pieter Bruegel the Elder.

  I stared at the image. I had first come across the painting in an encyclopedia when I was only five. It had both fascinated me and given me nightmares. It made sense that someone obsessed with skulls would hang this painting in his office. But I wondered if there was more to the image. Could it hold a portent of far darker things to come?

  My fingers clutched my magical pistol as I continued to navigate the dark home. Reassured that no one was hiding in any of the upstairs rooms, I made my way back to the staircase. According to Robert Valdis’ recent magazine interview, his skull collection was kept in the basement. That’s where I planned to head next.

  I descended the stairs, gun up and ready. There was no pain coming from my scar, which eased some of my concerns as I opened the basement door. I found the switch in the dark and the recessed ceiling lights flickered to life, revealing the skull collection in all its gruesome glory.

  The photos Skulick had sent to my cell failed to fully do it justice. I found myself surrounded by a sea of shimmering bone and enamel. Thousands of skulls had been painstakingly positioned on shelves and in display cases. I spotted animal skulls of various sizes, most of which I couldn’t identify. It felt like every bird, reptile, and mammal on earth was represented in this sprawling basement museum.

  “You’re too easily impressed, Raven. Once you’ve experienced the bone fields of the dimension of fear, a room full of skulls won’t seem all that impressive.”

  Ignoring Cyon’s commentary, I continued to explore the sagging shelves. I doubted I’d stumble upon the skull of the Devil’s Executioner, especially if Valdis was indeed out hunting tonight, but I had to be certain.

  What had triggered the professor’s strange fascination with skulls? The question haunted me. Was it some weird coping mechanism with his own mortality? Did he just like them? I had to grudgingly admit there was an eerie beauty to some of these skulls.

  As I weaved through the maze of shelves, I noticed a small table at the far end of the bone museum. It faced a map of the Cursed City. A collection of pins and photographs dotted the map, spread all over the city. I recognized some of the people in the pictures. Father Jackson. Officer Brown. Each photo was color-coded according to the person’s virtue.

  Tendrils of dread danced up my spine.

  “He researched his victims, taking his time, making sure he was picking the right person for the right virtue,” Cyon said, echoing my own thoughts. “He planned this for quite some time, long before he ever laid hands on the skull. Meticulously devoted to his dark goal.”

  I scanned the desk. The copious notes on the victims lent weight to Cyon’s words. Valdis had planned these murders for months…perhaps years.

  I stopped in mid-thought, my mind going blank with horror.

  I had spotted an all-too familiar face. Staring back at me was Skulick. Underneath his photograph, it read: Humilitas. Humility. The opposite of the deadly sin of pride. I had been reading up on the seven virtues and what they represented. One of the texts had described humility as the courage and heart necessary to undertake tasks which are tedious, difficult, and unglamorous and to graciously accept the sacrifices involved. What better way than to describe the man who had taught me how to hunt nightmares, who had continued to fight however he could even after he’d been crippled.

  While I was searching the home of the Skull Master, the fiend most likely was hunting his next victim—my partner.

  Behind me, a moaning sound resonated through the basement, thrusting me out of my grim musings. Goosebumps erupted on my skin, and my heart hitched up my throat.

  I whirled, pistol leveled. The moan repeated itself. I realized it was coming from one of the shelves.

  “We aren’t alone any longer!” Cyon said.

  No shit, Sherlock, I thought as my scar flared with a sudden, intense agony.

  Terror growing, I approached the shelf in question. My eyes widened as I spotted a glowing red skull, unmistakably human, among the various animal specimens.

  Before I could react, another moan erupted from the shelf to my right. And another. The dark lamentations multiplied, emanating from every direction. My scar churned with writhing agony. It felt as if I someone had stabbed me and was twisting the knife around in the wound.

  I was surrounded.

  One thing was for certain. The glowing skulls had not been there when I first entered the basement. And that meant they must have materialized out of thin air.

  I targeted one of the glowing skulls and squeezed the trigger. My magically enhanced bullet hit it dead center, the impact sending it into another shelf where it knocked over a sea lion’s skull. I took note of the blue discoloration of the sea lion’s teeth. Weird the details that jump out at you when you’re faced with mortal danger.

  The sound of bones smashing into the cellar’s stone floor was drowned out by a terrifying scream. The wail of the skulls filled the chamber, building into a war cry from Hell. I’m a monster hunter, but nothing can prepare you for being stuck in a basement full of howling skulls.

  The skull that I had fired at earlier now rose into the air, its surface cracked but still holding together. Clearly my blessed ammunition wasn’t a match for the evil here. I had to get out of this claustrophobic bone prison before it was too late.

  My gaze flicked to the exit, and that’s when I felt the rush of air behind me. I pivoted toward another incoming skull. It slammed into me with ferocious force and knocked me off my feet. Hellseeker went flying as I came crashing down into one of the shelves. Animal skulls rained down on me.

  I scrambled across the jumble of leering animal skulls, eyes roaming madly. The enemy could be anywhere…

  Just as I located my firearm, I heard the distinctive rush of air again. Instincts taking over, I spun around and brought up a large cow’s skull like a shield. Not a moment too soon, as the flying death’s head slammed into the cow skull with devastating force. The impact sent me reeling and nearly knocked me on my ass again. Cracks and fissures zigzagged across the yellowed surface of the cow skull. Despite its greater size, it was no match for the magical attack.

  I had to get out of this basement. Now.

  I flung the cow skull at another one of my incoming attackers , scooped up my pistol and rushed toward the door that would take me back upstairs.

  A skull materialized before my face, and my fist lashed out. I made sure to graze the skull’s surface with the Seal of Solomon.

  Sparks erupted as the ring’s magic cut a deep gash. The skull shrieked with agony and darted aside, allowing me to clear the remaining stairs.

  As soon as I reached the main floor, the air crackled and two skulls appeared in front of me. Great! The bastards could teleport.

  I refused to engage these enemies in such a confined space and hurtled myself through the nearest window instead. Glass shattered as I plunged into the yard behind the house. A high fence enclosed the weed-infested space. I fought myself back to my feet and… came face to face with the monster that had brought me to this address in the first place.

  A hooded beast stared me down, nothing human remaining in the monster’s fleshless skull-features. The hollow sockets emanated a spectral light, infused with a hellish malevolence. Red-blue tendrils of energy crackled and forked around the massive executioner’s axe in the Skull Master’s hand. There was no doubt in my mind that I was staring into the face of death itself.

  Despite my terror, I took note of a series of occult symbols etched into the massive axe blade’s surface, energy coursing through the black magic markings. It certainly looked like the one that had supposedly been melted down. Apparently Skulick’s books had gotten that part of the legend wrong. Perhaps th
e Templar Knights had tried to keep the weapon out of the wrong hands instead of destroying it. They had succeeded for five centuries—but everything changed when the Crimson Circle got involved.

  As the Skull Master raised his supernaturally charged axe, Cyon’s voice tore through my terrified mind.

  “Told you we should have brought the sword!”

  14

  Over the years, I’ve battled demons and hellhounds, weres and vamps, zombies and wraiths. But a skull-faced, axe-wielding executioner from Hell was a new experience even for me. Terror bit at my nerves. The powerful figure blocking my escape hadn’t attacked. It was waiting for me to make a move. The Skull Master’s face was devoid of emotion, a frozen mask of death. The axe gleamed menacingly, crimson energy radiating off its head like thick drops of blood.

  Dread laced up my back and my stomach clenched. I expected the Skull Master to bring the axe down on me at any moment, but the deadly blow never came. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I raised my weapon.

  “Do you truly believe your bullets can stop me?”

  I eyed Hellseeker, and my face fell. The Skull Master wasn’t worried about my weapon’s firepower, and considering how the bullets had barely been able to slow down his flying skulls, I understood why. My pistol was no match for his power.

  Or maybe, I thought, I’m no longer worthy of the blessed weapon. With Cyon riding along as my not-so-silent partner, maybe the holy power was diminished.

  Ordinarily, I’d ask Skulick, but my real partner couldn’t know what was happening to me.

  The bone-faced monster took a lurching step toward me, axe poised to strike. One wrong move and the blade would come hurtling toward my neck.

  “I was only nineteen when I brought my first skull home,” the Skull Master said in a surprisingly eloquent voice. The jaw didn’t move, the voice emanating from the bone-masked visage. “I had discovered a dead rabbit on the side of the road and wanted to study it. I’d always been fascinated with wildlife.” He paused, almost as if remembering a past that belonged to another person. Like me, Valdis was possessed by a force beyond this world. His obsession had set him on a path of no return, bringing him in direct contact with the minions of darkness. Perhaps he still believed himself to be in full control, but I knew better.