by Brett King
Metzger squeezed Shayna’s wrists.
“Wurm tells me you keep your promises,” Metzger continued. “He’ll be disappointed if you don’t do your best to kill me.”
“Makes two of us,” Brynstone said, halfway up the stairs.
“Actually, it makes three. Four if you count the little girl.” The assassin looked down at Shayna, still struggling in his iron grip. He purred, “Run, little girl. Run to Daddy. Let’s see if he can kill me. We’ll see if he keeps his promise.”
Metzger opened his fingers, releasing Shayna. His daughter almost stumbled at first, but she regained her balance and hurried down the stairs toward her father. Brynstone didn’t budge. He had to keep a safe distance. He wanted to run to his daughter and scoop her up, but he had to let her come to him. He couldn’t afford a mistake. Not now.
Not with Metzger.
Two steps away, Shayna jumped and vaulted into Brynstone’s arms, squeezing tight around his neck. He fought the instinct to close his eyes. Her tears ran wet against his neck and a swelling rose in his throat. He wanted to live in this embrace forever. He brushed her blonde hair, kissing her cheeks and forehead, never pulling his gaze from Metzger.
The assassin reached down and picked up the headband camera, holding it so that Wurm could get a good look. He dropped his foot to the step below, walking down.
Shayna sobbed in Brynstone’s ear, then turned to see the man. She pointed a rigid finger at Metzger, her mouth curled in horror. Eyes wide, she began shrieking, “Daddy, get me out of here. Please, Daddy. Don’t let Monkey Guns get me. Don’t let him get me. Please, Daddy!”
Brynstone hugged his daughter tighter than before. She was jolting in his arms, her little body quivering with frenzy as the assassin took another step closer. He couldn’t keep her still.
“Please, Daddy, get me out of here.”
Metzger licked his lip. “Don’t forget to keep your promise, Herr Doktor.”
Brynstone wanted to turn and run. More than anything, he wanted to get his daughter to safety. He knew if he turned his back on the man, Metzger would lunge at them. Should he try to escape with Shayna or release her and let her run through the darkened catacomb, hoping she’d find Cori or Rashmi?
Ugly choices. So damn many ugly choices.
“Do you realize, Dr. Brynstone, that if your daughter had lived two thousand years ago, she would be one of the Lost Ones rotting up in that sarcophagus?” He took another step down. “Are you so certain that Shayna Brynstone should be saved?”
“Stay back, Metzger. This is between you and me. Leave my daughter out of it.”
“Don’t you realize everything revolves around your little girl? She is at the center of this entire ordeal. You are responsible for that fact.”
“Because of you, I had to give her the White Chrism.”
“You mean the Black Chrism,” Metzger corrected. “You’re still lying to yourself, aren’t you?”
He moved closer.
“John,” Cori Cassidy called from behind.
He took a breath. It was a relief to hear her voice. Still, he couldn’t afford to turn around. He heard her footsteps close behind now.
“Cori,” Shay called, reaching for her.
Brynstone whispered, “Sweetie, you have to trust me. Daddy has to stop Monkey Guns.”
“No, Daddy, don’t let go of me.”
“Shay, I need you to go with Cori,” he whispered in her ear.
“Something bad will happen to you,” she moaned. “Something bad.”
Coming along his side now, Cori reached for the child.
Metzger moved another step closer. “How lovely,” he teased. “The babysitter has arrived.”
Brynstone handed Shay over to Cori. He hated giving up his daughter, but he had to face Erich Metzger.
Then everything happened fast.
Metzger took the stairs at full speed, bursting into Brynstone, the clatter of body smashing body. Metzger grabbed him by the neck and punched him in the gut as they rolled down one unforgiving step after another. In a blur, he caught sight of Cori running ahead with Shayna in her arms. She was a fast runner, thankfully, and she made it to the bottom landing. He had to do everything he could to keep the assassin away from them. Metzger flipped him, sending Brynstone down the stone staircase. He crunched hard on one step, pain shooting through his arm. Shayna and Cori made it to the Hero door. He didn’t want his daughter to see this.
“Get her out,” he yelled at Cori.
“What are you afraid of, Herr Doktor?”
Metzger lunged again, the man executing his fighting style with command and confidence. Rising up, Brynstone turned to confront him. He was face-to-face with the assassin; now was his chance to take on this man who had wrecked his family.
Metzger pivoted into a standing kick, plunging his boot into Brynstone’s stomach. The blow rocked him on his feet as Metzger wielded a fist into Brynstone’s face, sending him rolling down the stairs, spiraling to the landing.
Moving at an unreal speed, Metzger caught up and blazed another direct strike into Brynstone’s face. It was a precision shot. There was no waste of energy. Every jab efficient and elegant. The guy was a killer in every way imaginable.
Brynstone saw another attack coming, but ducked to avoid the man’s fist, more on instinct than deliberate execution. Driving hard off his back foot, Brynstone came with a forearm smash that connected with Metzger’s jaw, the shot sending the assassin in a helix move that whirled him away.
Blow after blow, he was holding his own, fighting back hard against the guy. Brynstone had waited years for this moment. He came back another time, but Metzger caught his arm after the strike. The assassin slammed him into the wall near the Hero door. The surface came at him like a bulldozer, and his legs buckled as he crumpled against the wall. The man squeezed Brynstone’s neck, pain exploding in his head. He couldn’t break free. Metzger had surprising strength.
“When we faced each other years ago, you shot me,” Metzger spat. “You’re the only person who can make that claim. You will suffer for that indignity.”
Brynstone was wearing down. Barely hearing the words. Putting all his focus into his next move, he pushed off the wall and came at Metzger, driving their heads together, skull bashing skull as he managed to break the assassin’s hold.
On his feet now, Brynstone headed for the stairs, running to the landing. He had no idea where Cori had taken Shay, but he wanted to draw Metzger as far from them as possible. He took the stairs three at a time, barely sensing his feet on each step. Lunging more than running now, he heard Metzger following right behind.
Brynstone made it to the false door. He ducked inside the small chamber, alone with the broken bodies of the Lost Ones. He staggered backward, crushing fragile mummies under his boot, fighting to catch his breath. He needed to think through his next move.
A shadow dashed across the opening to the false door as Metzger stepped inside the room. He grinned like a demon and Brynstone saw the reason. The assassin had found a deadly toy.
Erich Metzger raised the hammer drill.
He pumped the trigger, the torque driving the bit with a metal scream.
Chapter 54
3:37 a.m.
“Is Daddy gonna be okay?” Shay called in a delicate worried voice.
With the child embracing her, Cori made it past the main tomb. She had only heard about Metzger, but had never met him before now. Getting a glimpse of him, the man had terrified her.
Back as a psych intern, she had worked with criminal patients diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder. That summer, she had dealt with serial predators who had committed unspeakable brutalities against their victims. None of the ASPD patients came close to matching Metzger in terms of cunning and ferocity. He was the closest thing she had seen to perfect evil.
Did Brynsto
ne stand a chance? He had survived an attack from Metzger once. She prayed he could do it again.
“Daddy will be fine,” Cori called in a thin voice, hoping it calmed the child.
“Good,” Rashmi Raja called. “You found her.”
Cori was thrilled to see the woman.
“Rashmi, you have to do something,” she panted. “John is fighting Metzger. On the stairs inside the Hero door. Can you help him?”
Raja’s eyes narrowed. “The German guy, right? The creep sandwich who dressed me up in explosives? Yeah, I’m there.”
Metzger wielded the hammer drill.
Brynstone moved into a fighting stance.
These weren’t good odds. Metzger didn’t need the drill, but it was an amusement for him. A new way to kill.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” the assassin said, standing in front of the broken door. “Exhilarating, isn’t it?”
“Didn’t know you were so excited to die.”
Metzger chuckled. In a sincere voice, he said, “Ich danke Ihnen.”
“What was that? Are you thanking me?”
“I am,” the man answered. “Because you make it all so meaningful.”
He pressed the trigger and charged with the hammer drill. Brynstone pivoted and grabbed the German’s arm, but he still managed to swipe the drill. It grazed Brynstone beneath his arm, shredding open a line in his shirt. He released Metzger’s arm as the instinct of pain pulled him away. He darted around the sarcophagus, still feeling the sting of the hot masonry bit on his rib. In the darkened chamber, he nearly tripped over the sledgehammer.
Metzger was coming fast, ready to bore the drill through Brynstone’s skull. Not this time. The guy had chased him into the chamber, but there was one thing he hadn’t counted on. The beating had made Brynstone mad as hell. He wanted to punish the assassin.
He reached down and grabbed the sledgehammer.
Tonight, the blood feud ends.
One survivor.
No rules.
Metzger charged again, the drill bit churning. Swinging the sledgehammer like he was trying to knock one out of the park, Brynstone caught the edge of the drill. The tool flew across the room and smashed into the wall, cracking open as it hit the floor.
Rock defeats scissors. Scissors defeats paper. Sledgehammer defeats hammer drill.
Metzger pulled back with a look of genuine shock on his face. He hadn’t seen the sledgehammer until it was too late.
Brynstone’s arms sizzled with fatigue and pain, but he had enough power to get the twenty-pounder in the air again. He took another swing.
Metzger ducked this one, his brown hair rising as the sledgehammer swooshed over his head.
Before the assassin could make another move, Brynstone jabbed the hammer’s handle, catching Metzger in the gut. Pushing him up against the stone sarcophagus, Brynstone slapped the handle up across Metzger’s throat, crushing his windpipe, trapping air inside. Brynstone looked down into the man’s eyes. They were eerily calm, like he was voluntarily holding his breath, like he didn’t need or even want air at the moment.
That’s when the knife came out.
Metzger had pulled it from his boot. The serrated blade swiped Brynstone’s collarbone, slicing his shirt as it cut a ragged trail to his shoulder. His muscles raged, the searing line of pain bright beneath his neck. Blood splattered across his exposed skin.
Metzger wasn’t finished. Raising the knife, he plunged the blade into Brynstone’s chest.
Brynstone gasped hard, dizzy with pain, his entire body seeming to convulse with the weapon jammed in him. His heart screamed inside his damaged chest.
Metzger cackled.
Running on last reserves, Brynstone dropped the hammer and picked up the man, Metzger’s feet coming off the floor. He slammed the assassin down inside the sarcophagus. The German landed on three ancient mummies, crushing them beneath his weight. Metzger’s head hit the side of the stone box, the impact causing his eyes to close.
Wincing, Brynstone clutched his chest and stared down at the knife. He wrapped his fingers around the blood-spattered handle. Every instinct told him to pull it out, but he fought the urge. He knew that removing the weapon could make it worse, causing greater damage to the surrounding flesh. Pulling out the serrated blade would release a profusion of blood.
Brynstone wanted to close the stone lid on Metzger, but he didn’t have the strength to drag and lift it into place over the sarcophagus. He stared down at the man. Blood streaked his face like war paint. Metzger was trying to move, bracing himself to sit up, fighting to climb out like some wretched zombie emerging from his grave.
Can’t let him out.
Brynstone reached in to slam the man’s head against the sarcophagus wall. Before he could, Metzger reached up and grabbed the handle, ripping the knife from Brynstone’s chest. Blood sprayed out onto the stone floor.
Brynstone’s agonized scream echoed inside the chamber.
Light-headed now, he staggered back toward the false door. His muscles seemed to clench all at once as pain streaked out from his chest to his arms and shot down to his legs. A deafening roar filled his ears. It wouldn’t be much longer until he blacked out.
He had to get out of here. He had to see Shayna.
One last time.
He reached for the wall near the broken opening, leaving a bloody print as he slipped through the false door.
“Where are you going, Herr Doktor?” the assassin called. “You have not kept your promise.”
Brynstone didn’t look back. He was fading fast. It took all his concentration to get down the stairs without collapsing, watching one foot chase the other. Halfway down the staircase, he heard Metzger again. The man was pulling through the false door.
“You disappoint me,” Metzger called. “I never thought you would run, Herr Doktor.”
Pain exploded inside Brynstone’s chest. A fever burned behind his eyes. His vision closed in tight as the stairs swirled in a confusing blur. He willed himself to make it down to the bottom landing.
Shayna.
Shayna.
One last time.
Please, God.
“You are a disgrace,” Metzger called. “Look at you. A pitiful disgrace.”
Brynstone heard him starting down the stairs.
Raja appeared outside the Hero door. Her eyes widened when she saw blood flooding down Brynstone’s chest, his face drained and white. Her eyes darted. She saw Metzger coming down the stairs. She went into a stance and aimed her firearm, but Brynstone was blocking her shot on the narrow staircase.
Didn’t matter.
Brynstone had one more play in him.
He had saved his strength for this next move, the final one of his life. Clutching his chest, he looked back. He wanted to see the assassin’s face.
Metzger knew.
He had figured it out. He could see now what Brynstone was planning. Losing his calm demeanor, he burst into a full sprint down the stairs.
Got to do this.
Straining like hell, Brynstone charged to the door. In surprise, Raja lifted her gun back as he came at her. He jumped, then rolled past the Hero door.
His timing had to be perfect.
He pounded his elbow down on the pressure plate, activating it. Rolling on his side, he landed at her feet, coming to rest on his back. The Hero door roared to life, sliding fast down the incline. Raja crouched over him, keeping her gun low, aiming at the assassin as she covered Brynstone down on the floor.
Metzger made it to the landing, his eyes blazing with hatred. With bruising speed, he dove toward the opening, trying to clear it before the door slammed closed.
Brynstone held his breath. Could Metzger roll through the doorway?
He was close.
But not close enough.
<
br /> Metzger’s body hit the sliding stone door with a sickening thud, bouncing him away as it closed tight.
A deafening silence fell over the catacombs.
Brynstone stared at the Hero door. Imposing and majestic, designed almost two thousand years ago, it had helped him defeat his most bitter enemy. The great door had closed, sealing Erich Metzger inside a black hell for eternity.
Chapter 55
3:41 a.m.
Viktor Nebola watched the monitor. His ribs still ached, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away as Brynstone activated the pressure plate in the chamber floor. The move was flawless and gutsy.
“You see that?” Nebola called. “He got him. Metzger’s trapped.”
Edgar Wurm stood near the door, talking on the phone. Reception was better over there. A few minutes before, they had been watching the Brynstone-Metzger fight on the monitor. At the time, Wurm had been holding the five-inch barrel of his Kimber 1911 Rimfire against Nebola’s head. It was a relief when the call pulled Wurm away.
“Shallow heroics by Brynstone,” Wurm said from across the room. “Is Metzger dead?”
“Not at all.”
“Whatever happened to Metzger, he’ll get free,” he muttered. “But we’re running out of time.”
Back into the phone, Wurm repeated the news about Brynstone. Nebola didn’t know the caller’s identity, but it was someone from the Shadow Chapter.
Nebola watched monitor five. It was recording the live feed from the headband that had been strapped around Raja’s head. It had fallen during the struggle, but it was still recording a look down the stairs. Pacing at the bottom, Metzger had the look of an enraged animal. Nebola had known him for a while, but he had never seen the assassin like this. There was no way in hell the guy was getting free and he knew it.
Metzger marched up the stairs. He had spied the camera. He leaned in and peered into it, his face filling the screen. His reptilian eyes narrowed. He knew he was being watched. His mouth curled into a sneer. In a rare moment of frustration, Metzger picked up the small camera and threw it.