11.
Hendricks was sitting quietly in the hotel room when he heard the car pull up outside. He had his coat back on, sword and gun in his belt, and he was ready to give it hell. He opened the door and shut it quietly after checking on Erin one last time. He left her keys on the nightstand with a note explaining he’d gone out with Arch and that she’d passed out before they’d had a chance to do much of anything. He was hoping to make it back before she woke up, so he could explain it to her in person, but he didn’t have much confidence that what he was heading off into could be wrapped up either easily or quickly.
“How’s Erin?” Arch asked him as he stepped off the curb, heading for the passenger seat.
Hendricks didn’t answer until he was strapping in. “She’s fine. Probably gonna have a headache in the morning, for more than one reason.” Hendricks lowered his voice, like he was talking about something indelicate. “How’s your wife?”
Arch set his jaw as he backed the police car out of the space. “Quiet.” They hit the highway and turned left, heading toward Kilner Road. There was a silence for about five minutes before Arch spoke again. “Where’s that other woman? Starling?”
“Hell if I know.”
***
Ygrusibas could feel the ancient power surging, swelling within now. It had taken a while, but it was here, the fury of the full strength of one of the old ones. The night was lit like day, the cow’s eyes adapting to the new power flooding into the shell. The ability to make changes was soon at hand, was coming, and then … then Ygrusibas would be free.
Creampuff mooed and tried for a patch of grass but was swiftly rebuked and kept from moving. Such things were not befitting an ancient. Only flesh would suffice.
***
“Do you think they’ll know we’re coming for them?” Arch asked, letting a little of his uncertainty show to the quiet ex-Marine on the other side of the cruiser. It wasn’t exactly his first raid, but he hadn’t done many scenarios like this, other than at the academy, and especially after how things had gone earlier, it was a little nerve-racking. More than a little.
“They’re dumb if they don’t,” Hendricks replied. That reassured Arch more than he would have thought. “Two of their kind got away from me, how many from the ones that attacked you?”
“None.”
Hendricks stared at Arch, his eyebrow slightly raised. “How many did they send? One or two?”
“Four,” Arch said, guiding the Explorer into a turn onto Kilner Road.
Hendricks made a choked noise. “You took out four demons? With the switchblade I gave you?”
Arch shook his head. “I think I got two of them with that?”
Hendricks was quiet for a second, waiting for an explanation. “How’d you kill the others?”
“Impaled one of them on a wall stud,” Arch said, flipping his lights off and coasting down the gravel road by the moonlight shining down through the trees overhead. “Busted another one open with a broken sink.”
“Jesus,” Hendricks said, muted. “I’ve never even heard of anything like that.”
Arch grunted. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice for how to do it, that’s for sure.”
They lapsed into silence as Arch took the car over to the side of the road. “Approach from the same direction as last time or come at them from behind the house?”
Hendricks gave it a moment’s thought. “Last time they caught us because those two guys were out getting high, right?” He waited for Arch’s nod. “It stands to reason that they’re not gonna be out getting high this time, since we killed them.”
Arch nodded at that, but it didn’t do much to soothe him. A question emerged in his mind. “How do demons get high if they’re … y’know, not human?”
“Not really sure,” Hendricks said, opening the door. “I know they’re susceptible to a lot of the same things that humans use, though. Maybe all. Dependence is a pretty big issue in the demon community, I’m told. And you really don’t want to see one of them on amphetamines, let me tell you that.”
Arch nodded; even the humans he’d run across who were coked-up or on meth were a pain to put down. Adding strength to demons seemed like a formula for complete and utter disaster.
They made their way over the fence, careful again to dodge the electric wire. The crunch of leaves beneath their shoes was muted as they took their time, trying to keep an eye out all around them, in front, behind, and on both sides. Arch wore himself out keeping his head swiveling and nearly tripped over a fallen log when he thought he heard the sound of a car going by on Kilner Road.
“Might want to keep your eye on the trail,” Hendricks said, muted enough that it was nearly lost under the whisper of the wind.
Arch just grunted low. They were almost to the treeline, and when they came out, they both crouched low and headed toward the top of the hill. The moon shone down on them, a few clouds visible in patches throughout the sky. The smell of the dairy farm was heavy in the air, a thick scent that didn’t bother Arch at all. He caught Hendricks turning up his nose a couple times, though. “Aren’t you from Wisconsin, the dairy state?” Arch asked in a low whisper.
“Yeah, but I didn’t live on one of the farms,” Hendricks replied. “I lived in town, like you.”
The moon slipped behind one of the clouds as the wind picked up a little more and Arch felt it run cool over his skin. It always took until nearly midnight for things to feel remotely nice out in the summer. The faint noise of crickets in the distance caught his gaze, until something moved in the house below, and a porch light came on.
“Shit,” Hendricks hissed. “I think they’re coming out!”
“Hold on,” Arch said, turning to see if they were by chance being flanked. He saw nothing behind them, no sign of anything. “I don’t think they know we’re here.”
There was a noise of footsteps and faint barks of talking down below. The house was a good ways in the distance, a hundred yards or more, and the voices weren’t clear. The figures on the MacGruders’ porch were just silhouettes, two of them, and they were joined a moment later by five more, three of them clearly bound in some way. One of them screamed, loud and long, and Arch felt himself tense as the figure—clearly a woman from the scream—was hit in the face. “They have hostages,” he said.
Hendricks’s face was screwed up, watching the spectacle as the whole group started to move out toward the pasture gate, the demons in the rear bringing along the bound humans at a slow walk. “I don’t think so. Prisoners, not hostages.” Arch looked at the man, watched him as he chewed it over. “Sacrifices, I think.”
Arch tried to puzzle through it, but he just didn’t have enough information to even jump to a conclusion. “Sacrifices for what?”
Hendricks gave a little shrug. “Not sure. I never did hear back from my source on what ritual they might be performing, and my books aren’t exactly comprehensive resources. All two of them.”
Arch let his gaze follow the slow procession as the leading figure opened the gate to the far pasture. By his count there were four demons and three humans. “Any chance those sacrifices are actually demons, preparing an ambush for us?”
Hendricks answered almost immediately. “I doubt it but maybe. I guess if they wanted us to underestimate their numbers, go charging in like reckless idiots, that’d be one way to go about it. But I don’t think so.” A shriek cut through the night, and it sounded genuine. “No, I think this is it, unless they rounded up some more demons since they came after us earlier. Figure two survived their run-in with me, plus Hollywood and one more, a lackey for him, like a personal assistant, because he’s the type of prima donna that would need one.” Hendricks shook his head. “It’s not a hundred percent, but I think this is genuine. We know they needed sacrifices, and it’s damned near midnight, so I’m thinking we’re about to see whatever ritual they’re about to partake in.”
Arch wanted to curse, but didn’t. “And the sacrifices? They don’t survive, I assume?”<
br />
“They’re not called sacrifices for nothing,” Hendricks replied.
“Let’s go,” Arch said, and they started to make their way down the hill as quietly as possible, trying to keep the dairy barn between them and the procession. It helped that the demons were speaking without bothering to be nearly as quiet as the two of them were.
***
Hollywood was ready. He was willing. It was time. Past time, actually, but that didn’t really matter, so long as the sacrifices happened in the midnight hour. Last time he was probably too excited, maybe chanced it a little too close to the wire. Maybe killed them at eleven fifty-nine for all he knew. Whatever. That was then, it was a few takes back, now it was time to call Action! again and get on with the picture. And he was ready for his close-up, anyway.
He felt the familiar plop of his shoe hitting something he wished it hadn’t but quelled the stream of profanities that came to mind. Why bother? The shoes weren’t going to be important for much longer, anyway. Once Ygrusibas was called forth, was in his body, he’d be changed into another form, a glorious one. It was the ultimate power merger, really. A greater demon like Hollywood already had a body that was full to the brimming with essence, a tank that was to the top with awesome power. Add in an ancient like Ygrusibas, one of the first, one of the fallen, and the changes would be swift. Power would be a quaint notion he’d look back on as something cute, like a Chihuahua. He’d be a fucking Rottweiler. With an M-16.
“My book,” he said, snapping his fingers at Sleeveless, who hustled up and opened it to the page that was already marked. Sleeveless was a good minion, better than the rest. It was a shame that he wasn’t going to get much of a reward, but there were sacrifices that had to be made to bring about change, right? People suffered all the time, demons too. What was one more on the pile? It was just a plus one, that’s all. A number.
Sleeveless held his cell phone, the face glowing, over the book so Hollywood could see. Good minion. He started to open his mouth to breathe the first words but another scream stopped him. He felt himself tense, irritated. He’d told Krauther to shut that bitch up—the whiny one, the teenager—but he clearly didn’t have a very good handle on things. Hollywood turned to give him a piece of his mind but stopped when he saw Krauther disappear into a blaze of hellfire, and the other nameless henchman followed a moment later.
***
Two down. That was Hendricks’s thought as he and Arch took down Krauther and the spare, the ones who had been riding herd on the human sacrifices. He pushed the humans, bound, one of them gagged, behind him, he and Arch, making a little defensive line in front of them, positioning themselves between Hollywood and his intended sacrifices. The last demon was with Hollywood, cell phone clutched in his hand, the faceplate lit so Hollywood could read from his book. Hadn’t these idiots ever heard of a flashlight?
“I’m glad you’re here,” Hollywood said, breaking the quiet that had persisted since Krauther had screamed like a bitch when Arch had ripped his back open and exposed his essence to the air. There was enough joy and amusement in Hollywood’s voice that Hendricks thought he might actually be speaking genuinely. “I was worried we weren’t going to have enough sacrifices, and it … I can’t describe how galled I was that these idiots you killed failed to bring you back to me. Instead … you just show up on your own. It’s like a gift from the heavens,” Hollywood said with a wide grin that faded. “Speaking figuratively, of course. I don’t get gifts from the heavens, and if I did, they’d probably be something I wouldn’t care to open. Like a bag of flaming—”
“So they play that game in the underworld, too, huh?” Hendricks said, cutting Hollywood off. No point in listening to his blather. There was going to be a fight, the demon was probably a greater—which meant it was going to be ugly. Their best bet was to let Arch use the shotgun to put him down again while they both opened him up with swords. Save Munson—the guy with the cut-off flannel—for later, once Hollywood was safely ventilated. “Doesn’t surprise me all that much that you’d be the one whose door they’d knock on for that.”
“You guys really know how to step in it, you know that?” Hollywood laughed. “To continue the metaphor.”
Hendricks couldn’t see for sure, but he had a suspicion and went with it. “I don’t think we’re the ones who have stepped in it.” Hollywood flushed; it was obvious in the moonlight. “So … we gonna rumble or do you just wanna keep running lines with us?”
Hollywood’s smug look came back. “Oh, no, I’m about to call ‘Action!’ Just wanted to—”
“Monologue for a bit first?” Hendricks added in. “Like some cheeseball third-rate villain in a movie?”
Hollywood’s smugness evaporated. “Haven’t you heard? A desire to be understood is one of the most powerful motivations for any character.” He smiled. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know a few things,” Hendricks said, exchanging a look with Arch. “I know how to field strip and clean an M-16. I know Leinenkugel’s is the best domestic beer ever made. I know the Green Bay Packers are the single greatest football team ever in American history.” He pretended to think for a second. “Oh, and I know you don’t like being shot in the face.” He raised his .45 and fired off a double tap that nailed Hollywood right in the head both times.
Arch filled the air with a load of buckshot that echoed in Hendricks’s ears as he blasted off a round at Munson. Hollywood staggered, stumbling back, and the book fell out of his hands to land on the ground. Hendricks crossed targets and shot Munson in the body once as he crossed the last few feet and landed his sword across the back of the demon’s neck. He didn’t get a chance to use his gun much when fighting because most of the places he fought were too populated, but he had to give Arch credit—shooting them first provided a welcome distraction. He ripped into Munson with the sword, opening up a gash as he hacked hard into where the spine would be on a human. Whether there was one in there was impossible to say; the wound welled up with orange light, and seconds later Munson was consumed in a scream of black flame, eaten from the inside by the fires of the netherworld taking him back.
Arch was already squaring up with Hollywood, firing his shotgun point blank in the demon’s face. Hendricks wasn’t sure, but he could swear he saw a little indentation from the buckshot as Hollywood’s head snapped around, like it had landed but hadn’t quite broken the skin. Close, maybe. If he lined up his shot and managed to shoot twice in roughly the same place …
There was an explosion of fury from the space where Hollywood was standing, and Hendricks felt it take him off his feet. His arms whirled as he flew a solid five feet off the ground into the air, and came to rest on the grassy earth, a jagged rock catching him in the right shoulder blade. Hendricks wanted to get up but was momentarily stunned; he tried to shake off the pain, and he wondered through the haze what the hell had just happened.
***
Arch had seen a little glow in Hollywood’s eyes before he’d gone off, a little like a bomb. It wasn’t hellfire coming out of him, though, more like a shockwave of force that sent Hendricks flying. Arch had been a little better braced, but it had still taken him off his feet. He’d been fortunate in his landing, shaking the feeling back into his brain real quick. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been quickly enough to keep Hollywood from catching him around the neck and ripping the shotgun out of his grasp.
“You are so lucky this time,” Hollywood said, pressing him to the ground. “See, this isn’t a ten-thousand-dollar suit from London. You already ruined that, and I’ve made my peace with it. It’s just a thing, you know, no big deal. Things aren’t … important.” There was an air of hesitancy in how he said it, like he was merely parroting the words. “Anyway, what’s important is what comes next. And what comes next is history making. It’s a new age.” Hollywood was wearing a big grin. “The last age, really.”
“Oh, yeah?” Arch tried to struggle off his knees, but Hollywood had him solidly. The switchblade was in Arch’s pocket,
and he was fumbling for it. This close, Arch could see a couple places where Hendricks had shot the demon, two spots on the forehead where there were slight creases, like something had pushed hard on a mask and made an indent. Arch still had the pistol on his belt, just had to bide his time for a minute, maybe, wait until Hollywood looked away. Hollywood was too fast and too watchful to try it now. Arch would end up separated from his body, likely as not, and that wasn’t the way he wanted to go out.
“Yeah,” Hollywood said and readjusted his grip to drag Arch across the pasture. Arch saw Hendricks, still writhing on the ground, as they swerved over to him. Hollywood aimed a hard kick at his guts. It made a heavy thump, like a watermelon being pounded in by a sledgehammer. and Hicks howled in pain. Arch wondered if the man had escaped internal injuries at that one, it had been so nasty.
“You three,” Hollywood leveled a finger at the other people, the hostages, Arch still thought of them. With a start he realized it was the Blenkman family from just down the road. “You move, I will blur over to you and kill you without a single second’s thought or remorse. Do you understand me? Nod if you understand. NOD, MOTHERFUCKERS!” The words crackled across the pasture and Arch saw them nod, even from the position Hollywood had squeezed him into, head down, locked into place with a hand at the base of his neck like he was a cat being manhandled by a farmer. “Okay, then,” Hollywood said, picked up the book he’d dropped with his free hand, and hauled Arch up.
Hollywood stared at Arch for a minute, and Arch didn’t really like the look of that. “Hey,” the demon said at last. “I want you to know something before we get started. This thing,” he pointed from himself to Arch, a dirty finger bobbing into Arch’s face, “me killing you? It’s not because you’re black, okay? It’s really important to me that you know that before we start.”
Arch just stared at him. “I’m sure that will be of great consolation to my widow.”
The Southern Watch Series, Books 1-3: Called, Depths and Corrupted Page 16