Doc Holliday_The Sky Fire Chronicles

by Paul Summerhayes

  What’s that?

  Holliday came to an abrupt stop and paused to listen. On the edge of his hearing, he could just detect the faintest sound. Someone approached.

  Pressing himself up against the tunnel wall, Holliday tensed for action.

  Friend or foe? he thought.

  Further down the tunnel, the fungi highlighted the motherly figure of an African-American woman, hurrying his way.

  Just a woman. He relaxed a little. A prisoner, no doubt—

  There was something about this woman. Was it her posture, her movement or…no, it was something else. Something was wrong.

  Her eyes.

  The woman’s eyes were as black as night.

  Demon.

  As the heavy-set woman neared, her face distorted into a manic grimace and a low, guttural growled issued from her mouth.

  “If you’re still in there, mother,” said Holliday. “Please forgive me.”

  Holliday lunged forward, his blade aimed straight at the woman’s heart to end her suffering quickly. But the possessed woman wasn’t going to be caught flat-footed. Faster than Holliday expected, the plump woman jumped back from the sword’s deadly path.

  With speed and grace Holliday followed up, slashing his blade several times at the woman, aiming at her head, heart and stomach. Deftly, she danced out of the way of each blow with skill and speed uncharacteristic of someone of her physical stature.

  The gambler paused, stepping back to reassess the situation.

  This is wasting precious time. Time I haven’t got.

  In a fluid motion, an ivory-handled revolver cleared its holster and he fired from the hip. The iron projectile struck the woman in the forehead, blowing brain matter out the back of her skull. The force of the impact drove her backward, knocking her clean off her feet and throwing her to the ground.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, holstering his gun. Continuing down the tunnel, he hurried past the fallen woman without giving her a second glance.

  Small crimson wisps of magic floated in the air like smoke before the hunchback. His gnarled hands weaved an intricate pattern, invoking magical energies to paralyze the two women and press them forcefully to the ground.

  The twisted man grinned slyly. It felt good to do his masters’ work. These two were as pathetic as all the lifeforms crawling across this planet’s surface.

  His grin faded almost as fast as it came. He must be careful as he never knew when the shadow angel was watching. If his masters sensed his self-pride or pleasure, he would be reduced to ash in an instant. These mortals’ defeat must be his gods’ victory, not his.

  The hunchback concentrated and his magic intensified, causing the air to hum and crackle. Kate whimpered and Pat bit down on her lip, tasting her own blood in her mouth, but neither would give the mage the satisfaction of crying out for mercy.

  Suddenly, a dark shape jumped over the two prone women, knocking the demon-mage aside. Without pausing or giving quarter, the newcomer’s thin blade rained down several rapid blows, forcing the mage to retreat or be skewered. The hunchback matched the sword’s speed and deflected each sword stroke with a flick of his hand, sending orange sparks flying into the air at each contact—a red glow encircled his arms. The mage was protected by a hellish magical energy.

  It was Holliday. “Get away from them!” he spat, standing protectively between the hunchback and the women. His pale skin looked eerie under the flickering firelight. Veins stood out in his neck and forehead. “You die here, demon,” he said, measuring up the mage.

  The hunchback smiled smugly. “I think not.” At chest height, his hands weaved a pattern, leaving small threads of light floating in the air for a few seconds before they faded and vanished. His fingertips glowed brighter as he continued his movements, as though an internal light tried to burst through his skin. He grinned wolfishly, exposing crooked teeth.

  “Die!” Holliday leapt at the mage, but before he had gone half a step the lights extinguished, washing the cavern in an impenetrable blackness.

  Where are you, demon? thought Holliday.

  He could see nothing.

  Concentrate.

  His breathing steadied and he listened.

  “Help!” It was Kate’s voice and she was near.

  Holliday spun, moving toward the sound.

  “Help me!”

  “Keep talking, Kate,” he said, homing in on her voice.

  “He is hurting me.”

  Holliday stopped. Her voice now came from the opposite direction.

  What’s going on?

  He spun about, unsure of the direction of the two women or the whereabouts of the demon.

  “Show yourself, coward!”

  Holliday surveyed the darkness, but he could see nothing except total blackness. He raised his sword defensively in front, anticipating an attack at any moment.

  The seconds passed and nothing happened.

  Where are you, demon?

  There was a sound off to his right and Holliday spun to face it, drawing back his blade to slash the darkness.

  What if it’s Kate?

  He gripped his sword hilt tighter, his anger building.

  So that’s your plan. Have me kill my friends by accident… You will die for this, demon.

  In the darkness, a circle of red runes flared in the air, highlighting the hunchback’s ugly features.

  Magic!

  In that moment, Holliday spied a large, grey-skinned demon clinging insect-like on the wall directly behind the mage. Two large bulbous and intelligent eyes stared down at him and he sensed the demon was an accomplished hunter, one accustomed to the dark.

  Hell.

  The floating symbols disappeared as quickly as they came and the cavern fell back into total darkness. Instinctively, Holliday braced himself, anticipating the attack he knew was coming. He leveled his sword blade and listened for the demon’s approach. Moments ticked by and tension built, but the attack didn’t come.

  From the darkness came a low moan.

  “Kate?” he asked. “Keep away from her, demon!”

  No one answered.

  “Oof!” Something heavy struck Holliday between his shoulders, driving him clean off his feet and knocking the sword from his hand. The force sent him flying. Instinctively, he tucked his body and using his forward momentum, he rolled to his feet. He spun round to face his attacker, but he could see nothing in the inky blackness.

  His hand dropped to one of his revolvers, but he didn’t pull the weapon.

  I can’t shoot. I might hit Kate.

  Holliday’s hand left the gun and he raised them defensively, preparing for the next attack. Cocking his head, he listened for any sound that would give away either of the demons’ locations.

  Which direction?

  Tension built and a cold sweat formed on his brow. After several long moments, Holliday released his breath, he had to do something. Slowly, he moved backward, hoping to find Kate in the dark, instead he stepped onto something that yielded under his foot. Grinning, he stooped down and snatched up his sword.

  My luck improves…just try it again, demon.

  Without warning, pain shot through Holliday’s shoulders as long, powerful claws dug into his flesh from behind. Extreme agony washed over him and he clenched his jaw, oblivious to the blood running down his chest and back. The demon pressed down on his shoulders and his legs buckled, forcing him to his knees. The creature’s strength was incredible, stronger than anything he had felt before.

  Holliday’s nails thickened into claws and he released a bestial snarl. He was angry and his anger was building rapidly, flowing through his body and down his limbs. Quickly, his hatred for this foul creature intensified and his body shook with white hot fury.

  On shaky legs, Holliday slowly stood and twisted in the demon’s grip, heedless of his own tearing flesh. He lashed out with a clawed hand and was rewarded when he struck something solid, but the demon didn’t release him. Instead, its hold tightened like a l
ion’s jaw on its prey.

  Holliday swung his sword wildly and by chance it bit into flesh, spraying thick blood onto his arms and chest. Good southern steel had caused the demon pain and it released its grip. Grimly, he pressed his advantage, weaving his sword expertly through the air and forcing the hell-spawned creature to retreat from his onslaught. He slashed at the darkness again and again, the sword jarring in his hand each time he connected with something solid.

  Whoosh—the blade passed through the air without striking his target. He swung again and again, but he hit nothing. The demon had moved out of his reach forcing Holliday to pause, his breathing heavy from his exertions. The darkness pressed in on him and he listened, but heard nothing.

  Where are you, fiend?

  Pain shot through Holliday’s body as razor-sharp claws raked his back, tearing through cloth and flesh like they were nothing. Spinning, he struck out blindly at the darkness, but failed to make contact with his foe. This demon was fast and it was cunning.

  Holliday could feel his anger increasing and his body altering and the bloodlust starting to overcome his logic—replaced with the desire to kill anything that stood in his way. If the beast emerged now and he couldn’t control it, he could put the women in peril. He needed to kill this demon fast before he lost control.

  The demon was close—he could smell its foul blood and it smelled like death. A sound alerted Holliday and he thrust his sword into the darkness. Instantly, he was rewarded by the sensation of the blade slicing into flesh. He held the sword for a moment before withdrawing it with a flick of his wrist and leapt back, his body coiled in readiness.

  A challenging roar erupted from Holliday’s lips, but it died quickly as light suddenly flared all around him. The cavern was lit again by the fires. In front of Holliday stood the tall demon, black ichor seeped through its clawed fingers and dripped onto the floor. Wide-eyed, the demon stared at him before sinking to its knees, gasping silently for air. He had gotten lucky and stabbed it through its heart.

  “Your time is over,” growled Holliday. “So give this to your gods when you see them.” He spat in the demon’s face.

  The demon stared up at Holliday as he raised his sword above his shoulder. Slashing down, the blade opened its neck from one side to the other, releasing a fountain of dark blood which spewed down its chest and onto the ground. Holliday stepped back as the creature fell dead at his feet.

  And now for your master. He surveyed the cavern, but the vile mage was nowhere to be seen. Nearby, Pat was helping Kate stand up.

  Kate!

  Dropping his sword, Holliday covered the distance to the women in half a heartbeat. He knelt at Kate’s side, cradling her head in his arms.

  “Are you…?”

  She looked up at him and was shocked by what she saw, but somehow, she managed a weak smile. In the colored firelight, Holliday’s features took on an unsettling, bestial appearance and his normally pale grey eyes were almost ghostly white.

  “I-I am fine,” Kate replied. As she watched, his sharp, bestial features gradually softened to become more human. So relieved that Kate was alive, Holliday didn’t notice the fear in her eyes.

  “The hunchback is gone,” Pat said.

  Holliday looked up from Kate and locked eyes with the marshal. “I will kill that one if our paths ever cross again.” His attention returned to the Hungarian. “Can you stand?” he asked and Kate nodded.

  Pat and Holliday assisted Kate to her feet and after a moment of unsteadiness, Kate regained her balance and could stand unassisted.

  “Let’s go this way,” said Holliday, pointing across the cavern. “It smells like the exit.”

  Chapter 26

  From the top of the steep cliff, Roberts looked down at the shadowy ground far below. The moon was full and it helped him in seeing the land’s smallest details. Halfway down the slope, a flicker of movement drew his attention, giving him reason to pause. Something stirred from behind a thorny bush and out of habit he dropped a callused hand onto his Colt Navy. There was no need to draw the weapon because at that distance, whatever was there wasn’t a direct threat to him.

  He continued to watch the bush and a minute later, a dirty, round face was revealed. He relaxed. It was the young farm girl Pat Garrett foolishly decided to save. He felt no emotion or concern for the child and turned away from her, continuing his search for an entrance into the demons’ abode. But a second movement drew Roberts’ attention and again he paused. This time, a shadow darker than its surroundings detached from the cliff wall and moved fluidly across the rough terrain. The shadow sped down the slope on a path that would intercept the girl’s location.

  Roberts tapped his fingers lightly on his revolver as he watched the shadow’s progress, when suddenly it stopped. He waited, but after no activity for some time he shrugged. It was nothing, just a cloud’s shadow he reasoned. He turned away from the girl and continued his journey amongst the rocks, heading further up the mesa toward its summit.

  After Roberts vanished from view, the shadow resumed moving again, creeping rapidly toward the unsuspecting child. In an instant, the shadow passed over the girl and continued down the hill, leaving a small, crumpled body in its wake. In that moment, her young life had been extinguished and her soul stolen. Sadly, no tears would fall for her passing as everyone who had ever loved her was already dead.

  A dusty Pat Garrett staggered out of a hole in the hard earth and into the dawn air. A faint breeze blew from the north and cooled the perspiration on the tall marshal’s skin, refreshing her after the night’s harrowing ordeal. She drew a ragged breath, glancing at the sun’s glow on the eastern horizon—it was a new day and by some miracle, she was still alive.

  Moments later, Holliday emerged from the ground, supporting his dirty and fatigued companion, Kate. A brief smile touched Pat’s lips before her weariness vanquished it as quickly as it came. She was relieved, they had all survived.

  It might have been a trick of Pat’s weary eyes or the early dawn light, but Holliday’s harsh features seemed to soften and his frame to thin and become more stooped under the weight of his companion. Pausing, he fumbled in one of his coat pockets and a moment later, produced his dark glasses and fitted them over his eyes. Overcome with fatigue, Kate slid out of Holliday’s arms and dropped exhausted to the ground. Holliday glanced at her lying in the dirt before lifting his face toward the rising sun. He too looked like he could fall over at any minute.

  We must keep going, Pat thought, moving toward her two friends.

  Suddenly, a tall shape appeared from behind a boulder and leveled a revolver at them. It was Roberts.

  “Marshal…” started Pat. There was something in the old man’s yellow eyes that warned her something was wrong. She went cold. What now?

  Roberts’ revolver was aimed at Kate’s chest.

  “Lower your gun, Marshal,” growled the thin gambler dangerously. He dropped a hand onto one of his ivory-handled revolvers.

  No one moved.

  What the hell is Roberts playing at?

  Without an explanation Roberts lowered his gun, returning it to its worn leather holster.

  Pat released a breath. That was close. She glanced over at Holliday. His slender hand still hovered over his revolver.

  “The devil’s spawn will be searching these slopes for us,” said Roberts, his voice calm and even. “We must go now.”

  The asshole is business as usual.

  Without waiting for a response, Roberts moved off, heading down the slope without looking to see who followed. Kate pulled Holliday’s hand away from his gun and urged him to stand. Assisting each other, they followed the old marshal down the slope at a slower pace.

  Pat followed behind the pair. She was weary, but fear of being ambushed kept her surveying the rocky slope for any sign of danger.

  “Now, where’s that girl?” she whispered. The breeze answered, by tugging gently at her raven hair.

  Chapter 27

  The sun was at
its apex when Roberts and Pat left the dusty street to enter the small restaurant—the outside of which was black and charred. The building had only suffered minor damage when compared to most of the structures in the main street which were little more than smoky ruins. They paused in the doorway. The restaurant was empty except for Holliday and Kate sitting in the back of the room away from the front window.

  Pat followed Roberts’ lead, crossing the room to their new friends. The two lawmen stood patiently before Holliday’s table, watching the gambler flip a card over and lay it on the table. He didn’t look up from his solitary game. Kate sat back from the table watching them over a white porcelain cup. She smiled when Pat locked eyes with her.

  “Howdy, marshals,” said Holliday eventually, not looking up from his cards.

  “Have you considered Tombstone yet?” asked Roberts.

  Holliday paused, holding a card mid-air and looked at Roberts, his eyes unreadable behind his ever present dark glasses. Glancing back down at his game, he slowly placed the card on the table. “No.”

  What? thought Pat. After all he’s seen?

  Coolly, Roberts studied the gambler for several long moments. “No, you won’t help your countrymen halt this demon invasion, or no, you haven’t considered it?”

  “Pick one.” Holliday drew a card from the deck then studied the rows of cards on the table before placing it.

  “The Earps will be there.”

  The old man is playing all his aces.

  Holliday placed the deck on the table and leaned back in his chair. Scooping up a glass of whisky, he studied Roberts. “So Wyatt will be there?”

  “Yes,” Roberts lied.

  “It doesn’t sound like a fight he would join.” Holliday swooshed the amber liquid in his glass in small circles.

  Does he trust Roberts?

  “I’ll think about it.” Holliday placed his glass on the table and picked up the cards again. He returned to his game, drawing and looking at a card. “No doubt you will be easy enough to find.” He placed a card on the table. “I’ll just have to follow the dead bodies.”