The Demon Hunt

by Kris Greene

Jonas waited until the screwdriver had almost reached the bench before releasing his hold and allowing it to embed itself in the table near the spindle. “No, but I can manipulate small fragments of it when I tap the power of the spindles. If my race could control time or fate, we may have been able to stop our own destruction.”

  Jonas blew the dust softly and the image shifted. “Belthon’s men petitioned the Medusan to aid them in their conquest of humanity, but we refused. As is decreed by the fates, we are never to interfere with the affairs of man or demon, only record them. When we refused they began hunting the Medusan and butchering them. We petitioned the Knights to help us, but the Bishop was too consumed with eradicating the demons to think of anything else. There were even whispers among some of his Knights about the man’s obsession. It was Titus who came to me and said that he had a way to end the war and save all our people. He claimed that he could get the support of the church to broker a truce, but he could not execute his plan while the Bishop still wielded the Nimrod.”

  “So you used your powers over time to help him steal it.” Gabriel recalled the image he had seen of Jonas near the Bishop’s tent.

  Jonas nodded. “At the time I knew nothing of the Bishop’s bargain with Belthon, or Titus’s plans of betrayal. As you all know, it was Titus who slew the Bishop and it was Redfeather who turned the tide of the battle, but what you do not know is the aftermath of my foolishness. My people were wiped out and the magic of the spindles consumed by the darkness. All I wanted to do was stop innocent people from being slaughtered, but instead the Medusan ended up on the chopping block. Titus let me live as a walking reminder of what I had caused, but sparing my life is a mistake I vowed to make him regret.” There was fire in Jonas’s eyes when he said this.

  “Sounds like you’ve got as much reason as any of us to want to get at Titus,” De Mona said. She had been standing in the corner, quietly listening to the tale.

  “Which is what we’ve been trying to tell you,” Morgan spoke up. “If Titus seizes the day then every living thing will suffer the fate of the Medusan.”

  “That’s not going to happen while I still have a say in it,” Gabriel declared.

  Spoken like a true Knight of the cross, young Hunter. Your foolish heart may even be bigger than that of your meddling ancestors, the Bishop whispered.

  “Yes, but unlike my ancestors I’m going to finish this thing for good.”

  “You feeling okay, kid?” Rogue asked, seeing Gabriel seemingly talking to himself.

  “The Bishop mocks him,” Jonas answered for Gabriel. Gabriel gave Jonas a puzzled look, since he thought no one but he could hear the spirit. “No, I cannot hear him, nor am I reading your mind, but the spindle has shown me certain things in order to better aid you in stopping the Bishop and Titus in their insane quests. I know the Nimrod better than even the Bishop thinks.”

  “Then you know a whole lot more than I do, and I’m sharing my body with this warped dude,” Gabriel said. “Jonas, do you think you and the spindle could help me figure out what this thing wants? Maybe if I know that we’ll have a better idea of how to stop the invasion.”

  The snakes on Jonas’s head hissed softly as his face darkened. “You are but a vessel for the Bishop and his twisted mistress, the Nimrod.”

  “I’m nobody’s pawn,” Gabriel’s voice was sharp.

  “Aren’t you? We all are pawns in the Bishop and Titus’s sick games. The spindle has shown me a great many things, but I fear the best course of action in stopping what is coming wasn’t one of them.”

  “So, what are we supposed to do? Fly in blind and hope Titus doesn’t mop the floor with us?” Asha asked, cradling Azuma like a child. The monkey was conscious again but still suffering from the beating Morgan had given him.

  “Of course not. You are all gifted with great powers, but it is Gabriel who will be the glue that binds them together. As the leader of the Knights, it is he who must lead you into battle against your enemies.”

  “Me? I’ve been getting pushed around since I was a kid. What do I know about being a leader?” Gabriel sounded disheartened.

  Morgan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The man I saw strike down our attackers hardly seemed like a pushover. There is a little hero hiding in us all, Gabriel. It’s just a matter of finding him.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “I wouldn’t even know where to start looking.”

  “And that’s why you have been led here. I believe that the spindle can answer a great deal about what we have been chosen to do. But to truly understand who you are becoming, you must understand who you were.”

  “That’s easy, a nobody. Until all this stuff started I had never been a blip on anybody’s radar,” Gabriel said.

  “Even Jesus started out as just a carpenter,” Jackson reminded him.

  Rogue looked at Jackson oddly. “You know, as twisted as it sounds coming from him, it actually makes sense.”

  “The wisdom of fools,” De Mona mumbled, to which Jackson flipped her off.

  Gabriel cut his eyes at De Mona. “You’re awful opinionated all of a sudden, considering you brought this on our heads.”

  “Gabriel, that’s not fair,” De Mona said.

  “Isn’t it? De Mona, you knew what that thing was before you brought it to me. You let me walk blindly into a shit storm that took everything I had: my life, my home, my grandfather. Jesus, you might as well have just walked into that library and killed me instead of dragging it out.” He hadn’t meant to be so harsh but his feelings of hopelessness had him frustrated.

  De Mona turned her moonlit eyes on him. “You know, I’m about sick of you trying to heap this pile of shit on me like I intended any of it to happen.” De Mona raked her claws along the table as she moved closer to Gabriel. Hostility came off her in waves. “The only reason I even brought the Nimrod to you was because your grandfather’s name was on my father’s lips when he died. I was scared shitless, angry, and alone, so please excuse me for coming to the one person whom my father felt would make everything okay. I know you blame me for all this and I can’t say that I disagree with you, but placing blame ain’t gonna bring my dad back or do jack shit for your grandfather. I don’t even care who’s to blame anymore. What I do care about is taking it to these fools and making sure that our people didn’t go out for nothing.” De Mona extended her hand. Her face was hard from the change that always seemed to loom near the surface, but her eyes said she was tired of arguing. Gabriel hesitated, but accepted her truce and shook her hand.

  “Jonas, you said that the spindle can give us some insight. How?” Gabriel asked.

  Jonas patted Gabriel on the back. “It has its ways, but the process will take some time. In the meantime you need to rest, all of you. We’ve prepared the bunkers for you to use while you’re with us.”

  “They ain’t the Ritz, but you don’t have to worry about nobody trying to kill you in your sleep,” Jackson offered.

  “I can’t go to sleep while the goblins have my grandfather. Even now they could be torturing him while we’re in here mapping strategies,” Gabriel said heatedly.

  “As greedy for flesh as the goblins are, Titus knows your grandfather is their only lead to the Nimrod. His life is safe, but for how long I can’t say,” Jonas told him.

  “Then we need to come up with a plan of attack sooner rather than later,” Rogue said, tucking in his shirt. He still looked a hot mess, but the gesture was more out of habit than anything else. “I’ve got some leads I need to follow up on.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Gabriel offered.

  “No. Like Jonas said, you need to rest.”

  “C’mon, Rogue. If those things come at you again you might need the Nimrod. You’ve seen what it can do.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen what it can do, and it also attracts a lot of unwanted attention,” Rogue reminded him. “I need to move quickly and quietly and I can’t do that worrying about you getting hurt or drawing Titus’s people to us like flies to shit.” Rogue saw th
e look of hurt on Gabriel’s face. He hadn’t meant to bruise the young man’s ego. “Gabe”—he placed a hand on his shoulder—“no matter what anyone says about all this, you are our leader and we gotta keep you safe. If the Nimrod falls, we don’t stand a chance at saving the world. You’d serve us better by staying here and working with Jonas and the spindle to understand your role in all this.”

  Gabriel nodded that he understood, but clearly didn’t like it.

  “Don’t worry, G. I’ll make sure he stays outta trouble,” Asha spoke up. Though everyone seemed to be warming to Jonas’s hospitality, she still didn’t trust him and was reluctant to stay closed up in their base.

  Rogue scowled at her. “Didn’t you hear what I just told the kid? It’s bad enough that I gotta watch my own ass out there. I can’t afford to be responsible for someone else too.”

  “Then let’s be the eyes in the back of each other’s heads. Regardless of how you feel about me, you can’t deny the fact that I kick ass in a fight. We’ve both got contacts out there that might be able to give us a leg up on Titus, so why not work together?” It was clear Asha was not likely to be swayed from her stance.

  “She’s got a point, Rogue,” Gabriel said.

  Rogue glared at him. “Oh, so now you’re interested in calling the shots?”

  “I’m not calling the shots; I’m just doing the math. If something does happen to get the drop on you, it’d be best if you weren’t alone. I need you to stay alive long enough to help me rescue my grandfather,” Gabriel said.

  “All right, you win,” Rogue said, still not looking happy. He turned to Asha. “Before we head out let me make something very clear to you. You stay close to me, and if I tell you to do something you do it without a moment’s hesitation, you understand?”

  “Yes, daddy.” Asha blew him a playful kiss.

  “You can take Jackson too,” Jonas offered.

  Jackson’s head snapped up at the mention of his name. “Hold on, I didn’t say anything about wanting to join in on this remake of Cannonball Run.”

  “You didn’t have to. I know you’d like nothing more than to honor your oath, which is to protect humanity,” Jonas said in a flat tone.

  “Ain’t neither of them human!” Jackson pointed out.

  Asha stuck her middle finger up, but Rogue ignored the remark.

  “And who of us are?” Morgan stepped up. “I know better than any of us that all blood runs the same at the mercy of our enemies.” He cut his eyes at Jackson when he said this. “Rogue, Asha, I’m with you if you’ll have me.”

  Rogue just nodded before heading for the door. Asha took a minute to examine the jeweled hammer in Morgan’s thick fist. “You might prove useful.”

  “Gabriel, stay at the compound while we’re gone. I don’t have to tell you what’s waiting for you out there, do I?” Rogue asked.

  Gabriel laughed. “Hardly, Rogue. The police want me locked away, the forces of hell want me dead, and the Bishop wants me to be a vegetable. I think I’ve run out of people to piss off.”

  Jonas nodded in approval. “Then it’s settled. Morgan will accompany Rogue and Asha while we try and devise a plan of attack. Jackson, would you please escort our guests to the bunker? I’ll be in my study; there is much to do and little time in which to do it.”

  “Right this way, kids.” Jackson led them back to the elevators.

  Gabriel followed Jackson, but he did so reluctantly. He felt like a coward for hiding in the underground bunker while his grandfather was suffering in the Iron Mountains, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. Since he had lost his parents he had watched his grandfather make sacrifices for him, and it was time that he returned the favor. Nothing would stop him from rescuing his grandfather, even if he had to face the horrors of the Iron Mountains alone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “This way!” Cristobel shouted, hanging a hard left at the end of the corridor they were sprinting down. As they rounded the corner an arrow pierced the wall just above Lucy’s head.

  In the blink of an eye the situation for Lucy, Redfeather, and their guide/hostage went from bad to worse. Before the little dwarf could be silenced, he had successfully thwarted their quiet escape. Brutus had been a frightening opponent, but the creatures on their heels were much worse.

  “Do these things ever tire?” Redfeather spared a glance over his shoulder and saw at least half a dozen goblins hot on their heels.

  “No.” Cristobel barely dodged the arrow aimed at his heart. “The servants’ entrance isn’t much farther. If we make it there we can escape into the woods. This way.” He motioned but stopped in his tracks when he saw the goblin blocking their path. He was a hulking creature with an enormous head and four arms, each holding a weapon.

  “Come, little vermin, come to Vez.” the monster waved them on.

  “We’re trapped!” Redfeather stopped in his tracks.

  “We’re all doomed.” Cristobel shook his head sadly.

  “The hell we are,” Lucy said, picking up speed. “Come on, baby, I need you,” she called to her magic. Lucy leaped into the air, waving her hands in a complex pattern as she sailed over Vez’s head and landed on the other side. When he turned toward her his head rolled off his shoulders and onto the ground, followed by two of his limbs. “Thank you, Goddess.”

  “Don’t be so quick to offer up your thanks.” Cristobel pointed down the hall, where a second group of goblins were joining in the chase. They were now trapped.

  “Then we fight.” Redfeather pried a broadsword from Vez’s dead hand and motioned for Cristobel to take up the ax.

  “There’re too many of them. This way.” Lucy yanked Redfeather and Cristobel down another hallway. She had no idea where she was going, but she felt wind coming from the corridor she chose and wind usually meant outside. She could see an archway that opened up outside and her heart swelled with hope, knowing that her guess had been correct. The hope soon died when she realized her error. The steps that had once led to the small exit were broken and it was at least a fifty-foot drop into what looked like a river of raw sewage.

  Redfeather peered over the ledge. “I don’t suppose you could conjure a spell to help us get out of this, could you?”

  Lucy flexed her hands but didn’t feel much more than a slight vibration. “My magic is still shorting in and out, but even if I did have my full powers I wouldn’t be able to levitate all of us to safety.”

  “We’re going to have to jump,” Cristobel said, adjusting his grip on the ax.

  “Then go. I’ll hold them off until you two clear the river and make it to shore.” Redfeather took a defensive stance as the first of the goblins became visible at the mouth of the corridor.

  “No dice. We’re not leaving you here to face them. We all jump at the same time or we don’t do it,” Lucy said. Though she hardly knew the old man, circumstances had bound them. Her conscience would never rest if she left him to the mercy of the goblins.

  “We can’t. One of us has to hold them off just long enough for you to get to shore or we’ll be sitting ducks for their archers. Now, stop arguing with your elder and go.” Redfeather pushed Lucy through the archway. She hit the sludge below awkwardly, but she composed herself quickly and made for the shore.

  “Your turn, my friend,” Redfeather told Cristobel.

  The dwarf stared up at him with a look of both curiosity and sadness. “I’ve only heard of this level of bravery in the stories of what we once were.”

  “Then let my example kindle the spark of what you can be again. Now, go. Lucy may need your help.” Cristobel nodded, but he was hesitant. “I’ll be right behind you,” Redfeather assured him. Before Cristobel made his jump, Redfeather had another thought. “If by chance I don’t make it, protect the girl and help her to escape these mountains and find my grandson. He and his friends have the means to help.”

  Cristobel nodded. “We will wait for you on the banks,” he promised, and leaped.

  With his friends safely away
, Redfeather turned to face his enemies. The first goblin to come within striking distance lost his hand and the lower half of his face in two strokes. Redfeather hadn’t handled a sword in years, and even back then it was only ceremonial, but his reflexes came alive as if he had combat experience. The second goblin found himself speared by the tip of Redfeather’s sword. Using his foot, Redfeather pushed the goblin off the sword and turned to make his escape. His leap was awkward and slow and he paid for it when a goblin grabbed him by the pants leg. Redfeather’s chin smashed against the ground, knocking him out and leaving him at the mercy of the goblins.

  “This is probably gonna be infected.” Lucy tried to clean as much of the sludge from the wound at her collar as she could. It had began to swell up and was starting to look nasty. “And don’t even get me started on this smell.” Both she and Cristobel were covered with a foul-smelling brown substance that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to identify.

  “The elders can tend your wound when we reach my village, and as for the stink, be thankful it was the waste and not the rocks.” Cristobel directed her gaze to the jagged rocks that surrounded Orden’s fort.

  “Not a pleasant thought.” Lucy scanned the side of the fort for Redfeather but didn’t see him. “Where the hell is he?”

  “There.” Cristobel pointed up at the exit they’d jumped through. They saw Redfeather go airborne, but he was immediately snatched back by goblin hands. “Oh no.”

  “We’ve got to go back!” Lucy took a step, but Cristobel grabbed her by the arm. He was surprisingly strong for someone his size.

  “To escape the Iron Mountains was a blessing, but it would be impossible for us to do it twice. We’ll do him no good if we’re dead. We’ll find another way, I swear it.” From the entrance of the fort, goblins of all sizes spilled out, screaming for blood . . . their blood. “We must go.” He tugged Lucy and she finally allowed him to lead her away.

  Lucy had heard a few ghost stories about the Iron Mountains, but the stories paled in comparison to the reality of what she saw before her. Under the mountains nothing grew. The vegetation had all died, leaving only the withered remains of trees and bushes. The riverbeds that had once cooled some of the greatest weapons created by the dwarfs had long since dried out and now streams of lava flowed freely. Orden’s fort, as well as most of the structures around it, was carved directly into the rock faces of the mountains. The land was so vast that it seemed impossible to fit it beneath New York City, but where the kingdoms of Midland were concerned time and space meant nothing.