Then, in the abyss of confusion, there was a presence of something familiar, another bubble of familiar reality. A blue light intruded into the red, and it was as if time began to move again. It was coming from the opposite direction of the Dread Overlord. “I’ve never failed a mission,” the presence said as I turned.
“Agent Franks?”
He was different here. The physical body was just a shell, housing a spirit that was clearly not that of a normal human, but rather something simpler and older. The recycled organs, bones, and sinew that served as Franks’ avatar showed me the ward stone. It boiled with the power of pure reality. “Won’t start now.” There was a clear trail of energy connected to the ward stone stretching back to our universe.
Julie had explained it to me. As far as I understand how the ward works, it’s basically a focus point for our reality. Like a magnifying glass under the sun. Undead are an unnatural thing in this world, so it just blasts them. Things from outside this reality can’t take the heat. And now that I could see what it really was, I could tell that it was far more powerful than any of us had realized. The ward was huge, crackling with potential. The alchemists of old hadn’t just created a defensive device. They’d created a doomsday weapon. It was like the seventeenth century’s version of Mutually Assured Destruction.
If our reality was poison to the Old Ones, then Franks had just brought a keg of VX nerve gas into their living room.
The Dread Master assaulted us both with hate. As alien as we were to it, it probably didn’t even understand what was going on, but it didn’t like it one bit. Terrible visions and alien memories pounded my psyche. Bombarded by pain, Franks still pushed toward me, finally shoving the ward stone into my waiting hands. “Break it,” Franks ordered. “I can’t.”
Of course not. It had been built by a human, for humans.
The Dread Overlord propelled itself forward.
In this place, I could see the stone for what it really was, a mere shell, a container, harnessing a violent reaction of raw physics and possibility. Four hundred years ago, a combination of dark wizardry and powerful alchemy had bound it to the shell, letting just enough leak so that it could be used as a shield against the forces of the other side. Franks had prearranged all of the numbers on the sphere using his creator’s mathematical codes. It was ready.
The Dread Overlord was right on top of us. I would never make it in time.
My fingers sunk into the stone as I wrenched it apart. The field fragmented and energy lanced through the spreading cracks. I let go of the stone and it floated away from me, power building toward a cataclysmic reaction.
“Take my hand!” Julie . . . She had come after me. I reached toward her voice. “Hurry!” Then she grabbed me, pulling me down the chain, back to the real world.
The container shattered. Unleashed, a blue tidal wave of linear time invaded the reality of the Dread Master. If consuming me was a jelly bean’s worth of bad health to it, then this was the equivalent of suck-starting a double-barreled 12-gauge. The yellow eye focused on the approaching wall of deadly reality. Incompatible matter collided, splitting atoms and releasing energy in an algorithmic multiplying fury. Ageless infinity broke. Every bit of the ancient squid god became disjointed, fractured, down to the subatomic level. The galaxy quivered.
The Dread Master simply . . . ruptured.
The explosion billowed outward, consuming planets.
I gasped for air.
There was dirt under me, real honest-to-goodness dirt. Flat on my back, lying in the center of the now-solid stone circle, the Tree blotted out the sky above. Gunfire and explosions came from all around. A ten-foot-tall ogre lumbered past, on fire. I was never so glad to be home.
One of my arms was stretched out. Someone was holding my hand. My head hurt and I was so dizzy that it took me a moment to roll over and see who it was.
“Julie?” I whispered. She was lying facedown, perfectly still, but she had a death grip on my hand. “Julie?” Slowly, she took a deep breath, then finally raised her head. Tears stained her cheeks. “You came after me. . . .”
Julie smiled weakly. “Well, duh.”
“Thank you,” I croaked.
She just pulled herself closer, resting her head against mine. “Don’t ever make me do that again.”
I didn’t know if she meant the portal, or having me abandon her so I could sulk off to die. She’d had the courage to follow me someplace that nobody should ever have to go and had dragged me back out. “Deal.”
“Ever again . . .”
Something stirred at my feet. Franks sat up abruptly. He looked around slowly before staggering to his feet. “Never killed anything that big before,” he said, sounding almost, but not quite, proud of himself. “It was . . . satisfying.”
We had killed an actual Old One. We’d blown up the Dread Overlord!
“Is it really dead?” Julie asked.
Franks didn’t answer. He just pointed.
Illuminated only by the burning remains of the shoggoth, Hood was on his knees. His cowl lifted, revealing black-oil tears leaking from his eyes and dripping down his face. “Oh, Master, what have they done to you?” he cried. Behind him, the undead automatons were not moving, frozen perfectly in place like statues. Then one by one, the joints began to give away, and they toppled, metal screeching, into the dirt. The High Priest’s body seemed to wilt as the shadow energy dissipated from him.
With their animated troops falling apart and the source of their magic gone, the Condition forces were done for.
I got shakily to my feet and picked up Abomination.
My nemesis seemed to be choking, clouds of flies spewing from his mouth with every heave. He retched, and a dead leech thing fell out of his mouth, fading away into nothingness on impact. Shadowy shapes rose from him like steam, red eyes blinking, before drifting off in fear. Hood was being abandoned by all of the Old Ones’ servants. I stopped directly in front of him. Above us, the Tree still loomed; the gunfire suggested MHI was still battling the now outmatched cultists, but this part here was my job to finish. “Why?” He looked up, black fluids leaking from his nose and ears. The substance that had kept him immortal was dissipating. “Why has he forsaken me?”
“Because he’s dead.”
He gagged on the demon oil. “Impossible.”
I shrugged. “Shit happens.”
Hood was sobbing, shaking. He knew I was telling the truth. “I studied them for so long. They couldn’t be defeated. Their victory was inevitable. Inevitable! I couldn’t stop them, nobody could. I sold my soul to protect this world.”
“You got a bum deal.”
“Then you come along . . . so stupid. So nonchalant about the ultimate gift you’ve been given. I had to work for my gifts. I had to bloody sacrifice. Fight and scrimp for every last bit of knowledge.” It was like his body was breaking down as the realization of defeat hit him. “Your way could only end in blood and fire. My way led to utopia. I did what I had to do.”
“You’re no martyr,” I said, cradling my shotgun. “Don’t tell me you did what you had to do. You did what you wanted to do.”
“Curse you, Pitt!” He surged to his feet, stumbling at me. His hands landed on my shoulders but his black eyes widened in surprise as Abomination’s silver bayonet was driven through his chest. “I . . . I . . .”
He rested his head on my shoulder and bled down my armor.
The funeral was on an appropriately rainy day. Grandmother stood at my side, never letting go of my hand, as Father and Mother’s caskets were put in the dirt. The caskets were closed, since the acid of the thing inside the pentagram had burned their faces into nothing but strands of meat and jelly.
The priest continued his litany, droning on, saying the same thing that his ancestors had said since Martin Luther himself had last stuck men in the ground. Eventually he was done, and the sky over Birmingham erupted into a downpour. The pitiful few who had gathered for the ceremony bolted for safety.
; The two of us stayed, watching the fresh dirt churn into mud. One old crone and one twelve-year-old child dressed in black, pathetic in the rain.
Grandmother bent down and whispered in my ear. “Let them go, Martin.”
I shook my head, water running down my face.
She squeezed my fingers hard. “Listen to me, child. Your father trifled with things beyond his understanding, and he paid dearly. Don’t make the same mistakes he did. Let it go. I know he educated you in his dark ways and his dark books, but he was a fool.”
I thought about the thing coming out of the basement floor. Grandmother was the fool, not Father. He understood what was out there and he had passed that information on to me. The Elder Things didn’t need to be feared, they just needed to be understood. And understanding could lead to control.
I could control them.
“Your parents reside with the devil now because of their terrible sins.”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“I tried to burn your father’s evil book, for your own good, of course, but it wouldn’t burn. So I gave away all his things to those Americans who destroyed the creature. They said that they would put them someplace safe, where nobody else would meddle with them.”
Those were mine. “Yes, Grandmother. What were those brave Americans called?”
“Monster Hunter International. You owe them your life, you know.”
“I know.” And they owe me my father’s book . . . I vowed then on my father’s grave that I would regain my birthright. Someday I would find these Monster Hunters and take back what was rightfully mine. “Can we go home now, Grandmother? I’m very cold.”
“Yes, Martin.”
I jerked the bayonet out in a flash of red human blood.
Martin Hood let go, stumbled back, and pressed his hands against his chest. The blood just kept coming. He sank slowly to his knees, staring at me in disbelief.
“I . . . forgot what pain . . . felt like . . .”
Pain was a burning village littered with orc bodies. Pain was what the families of his innocent victims were feeling. Pain was what my brother felt when his fingers had been sawed off. Pain was one of the many things he had stolen from Carlos. Pain was what G-Nome had felt when the doppelganger had ripped into him. Pain and death and suffering were all that Martin Hood had left in his wake.
Pain was his legacy.
“Sucks, don’t it?” I whispered.
Then the High Priest of the Sanctified Church of the Temporary Mortal Condition fell on his face and died.
I stood over him, bayonet dripping. Julie approached with a limp, raised her M14 and mercilessly ripped an entire magazine of silver .308 into the body. I hate to admit that I flinched at the blasts. “Just in case,” she said.
“Of course,” I responded.
The Tree above us shuddered, insect limbs cracking. The blackness above the branches slowly dissipated on the wind, revealing stars. The nearby roots went from green, to brown, and then finally to gray within a matter of seconds, leaving the mutation with the consistency of cold stone. Mighty Arbmunep was finished, returned to the same hibernation that it had existed in for all of recorded history. Deprived of their magic and their undead war machines I knew that the cultists were now going to get the ever-living hell kicked out of them by a bunch of pissed-off and heavily armed Hunters.
Franks stepped up to the pulped body and thumped it with his boot. “Looks like shadow boy wasn’t as bright as he thought he was.”
Julie and I exchanged glances. “Bright?” I responded. “Look, dear, Franks made a joke.”
“Fascinating,” she responded, but she was mostly listening to her radio earpiece. “Sounds like the Condition is retreating, but our people are scattered and trying to regroup. A bunch are missing where the roots landed.” I knew that she was thinking of her little brother. “We’ve got to find them.”
There still had to be bunches of monsters lurking out there. Any Hunter who was alone was vulnerable. “We’d better hurry.”
Franks rolled Hood over and began patting down the bloody robes. I knew immediately that he was looking for the artifact. I unconsciously stepped back. The Dread Overlord itself might be dead, but who knew what else that little thing was capable of. “Keep that damn box away from me.”
The big man scowled. “It’s not here.”
“Looking for this?”
The three of us spun toward the voice. It was the girl, Lucinda, Hood’s daughter. She had lost her ceremonial headpiece and her black robes were in muddy tatters. She was crying as she held up the artifact. It glowed with an unnatural black light in the fog. She was barely an adult.
“Drop it,” Franks ordered as a 10mm Glock materialized in his hand.
“You killed him . . .” she wailed. “You murdered my father!”
“I did,” I responded slowly. “And you’ll die too, if you don’t put that box down and step away from it.”
“You’ll pay for this. All of you will pay! He was a good man,” Lucinda cried. “The Exalted Order will rise again and come for you.”
“Gonna be hard since we just blew up your god.”
“Lies!”
“Your father was an idiot. Now give up before you get hurt.” I really didn’t want to see Franks blow away a girl who was probably still a teenager. “Listen to me.”
“My father was a good man!”
“Your dad was a complete psycho. Listen, girl, I can relate,” Julie responded coldly. She had family missing out there amongst the roots. “But I really don’t have time for this. Franks, you got the shot?”
“Affirmative,” Franks responded. He put his front sight between Lucinda’s eyes.
“Drop her,” my wife said.
There was a gunshot. The bullet slammed into the dirt at Lucinda’s feet. I turned in time to see a look of confusion cross Frank’s square face, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in a heap.
Ray Shackleford stood over Franks, blood-soaked hand open in front of him with a length of spinal column resting in his palm, torn cleanly from Franks’ back. The vampire smiled as he dropped the vertebrae on the ground. “Well, that worked perfect! Hey, kiddos.”
“Dad!” Julie gasped. She dropped her empty M14 and went for her pistol.
Lucinda Hood screamed. I jerked my attention back to her, only to see Susan Shackleford standing where she had been. The girl was scrambling away leaving a trail of blood behind her. Susan held up something and laughed. It was Lucinda’s petite hand, torn clean off at the wrist, still holding the artifact. “About damn time!” Susan exclaimed as she examined the device.
“You’ll all pay!” Lucinda whimpered, holding her bloody stump against her robes. She pulled out a length of rope and dropped it. The portal activated in a burst of flames and she fell headfirst through the opening.
“Hey, honey, you forgot something,” Susan said as she tugged the severed hand off the artifact and tossed it casually through the portal. The opening snapped close behind. “Kids these days, I swear . . . Speaking of which . . . how’re you guys doing?”
Julie and I stood back to back. She aimed her .45 at her father and I kept Abomination on her mother. If they attacked at this range we were dead meat. Susan was unbelievably powerful for a vampire of such young age and could move so fast that it was hard to watch.
“Been better . . .” I responded slowly. “We had a deal, Susan.”
“Stay back!” Julie shouted.
“Whew!” Ray said as he raised his shoe and smashed Franks’ torn-out spine. He ground it fiercely into the dirt until it broke with a sickening splatter. “Good thing he was distracted. Franks could totally have whupped my ass.”
“Yes, we had a deal,” Susan smiled, showing her pointed teeth. “You were supposed to take care of the necromancer for me. Check. Killing an actual Old One, though. I’ve got to hand it to you, that’s impressive. Seriously, that’s like some sort of record. My chief rival is dead, and I owe you one for saving me fro
m his service. No, we’re not going to kill you, Owen. I’m just here for what‘s rightfully mine.”
“What do you want with that thing?”
“Oh, this little trinket unlocks all sorts of ancient goodies, and until the Others pick a new Guardian to protect it, I’m going to milk it for all it’s worth.” Susan shrugged. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. Like I said, I’m here for what’s rightfully mine . . . Like my children. Julie, honey . . . come with us.”
“Never,” Julie hissed. Her father shifted a bit and she tightened the grip on her gun. “Don’t come any closer.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Ray twisted his head and smelled the air like the predator he was. “Hunters are coming . . . I can’t tell how close. This stupid Tree messes with my senses. I smell . . . Copenhagen.”
“Come with us, Julie. Your little brother is out there in the dark, hurt and scared. Only I can save him now.” Susan’s eyes were glowing.
“I should have left that stake in you,” I spat.
“Your mistake,” she smiled. “Take them, Ray.”
We both opened fire, but the vampires moved so quickly that it didn’t do us any good. It was like Susan just stepped between the shotgun slugs. I perforated her heart and lungs, but the wounds closed instantaneously. She slammed her open hand into my armored chest, launching me back into the circle of stone. I crashed into a rock and the air blasted from my lungs.
My head swam as I tried to rise. Julie screamed.
Susan had her.
Filled with rage and fear, I pushed myself to my feet. Ray intercepted me. Our bulks collided, and he engulfed me in a bear hug, crushing my ribs. “Stay out of this, kid. This is family business.”
I head-butted him in the face. His nose shattered. I hit him again, my forehead the only weapon available. Ray let go. He had superhuman strength and speed. I had desperation. I drew my .45 and shoved it into his chest, jerking the trigger as fast as I could. Ray looked at me in shocked disbelief as I tore his heart into silver-laced confetti. He grabbed me by the throat, hoisted me into the air, and then slammed me back down with a roar.
The Monster Hunters Page 108