by Nico Rosso
“It’s got to have a title,” she said.
“‘Terror on the Sunset Strip.’”
The air dragged out of the room through the broken window, quickly replaced by several Shrouds. Sleek minimalist furniture crushed under their feet, or shoved away by their clawed hands. How many of the beasts were there? Seven? Eight?
One was too damn many. She still remembered the burning pain the talons left along her shoulder. Just knowing they wanted that kind of pain and blood from her transformed the fear to anger.
Two of the beasts tried to drive between her and Trevor. That was the only way the monsters could win. Separate her from him. Finish them one at a time. Yes, she grew stronger, and the elements of the earth came easier to her. But the idea of fighting without Trevor gave her the chill of drowning in an arctic lake.
His quick action showed he wasn’t about to let that happen. Diving low, he grabbed one of the beast’s legs and pushed it into the other one. The whole mass of bodies tumbled toward her. She leaped, letting them pass beneath. Claws rose up to tear stripes in her jeans, but her flesh was not cut.
She landed at Trevor’s side. He punched hard into the Shrouds on the ground. Bone crunched. He reared back for another blow as a third beast attacked behind him.
She got to the monster before it could touch him. The creature was driven back by her swinging fists. It tried another lunging attack, and she kicked into the side of its leg. Black robes swirled around it as the monster hit the floor hard.
Trevor was still occupied by the two Shrouds behind her, but he called back, “Be the bitch.”
“Fucking gladly.”
The Shroud was a mess of limbs and cloth, so she didn’t know what exactly she was hitting as she pounded her fists down. An arm. Ribs. It lashed out at her with a backhand that slapped across her jaw. She staggered back but attacked again quickly so she wasn’t overwhelmed. Hating black eyes glared up at her. She aimed for the head. One blow, another. The beast was driven into the ground. It broke beneath her and the eyes finally closed.
Pain finally throbbed through her face and neck as she turned back toward Trevor. He stomped down hard on the second of the two Shrouds. It fell, lifeless as the other. Three more crowded his corner of the room. There were at least four collected on her side.
Still, Trevor managed a rakish smile. “Told you they’d come.”
The beasts hunched, heads nearly scraping the ceiling.
“You didn’t tell me how many,” she said.
“It just means they’re desperate.”
“Which makes them dangerous.”
The Shrouds stalked forward, shoulder to shoulder, like a black tidal wave of death. She and Trevor stood back to back.
He spoke over his shoulder, low. “All I have to do is remember that they’re here to hurt you.”
He rushed the three closest Shrouds. They obliged his attack, glassy teeth and talons ready. One raked its claws down his chest, but Trevor was hard as stone. He grabbed the creature’s hands and spun it into the other two. The beasts stumbled into a dining table, shattering the wood.
Trevor turned from them and hurried back to Misty, motioning her toward the four monsters on her side of the room. “They have to pay.” He picked up a broken table leg and handed it to her. “Knees.”
She swung it like a softball bat into the first Shroud, putting the weight of her stone limbs behind the wood. The monster bucked forward. Gnashing teeth just grazed past her cheek. Trevor wrapped his arms around the beast’s head and twisted hard. The crack of bone sounded like a gunshot. Dead, the Shroud collapsed half on her shoulder, knocking her down.
But she still had the table leg and swung it, one-handed, at the next Shroud. It dodged back, avoiding the blow. While it was distracted, Trevor threw a hard punch into its chest. She got to her feet and smashed the table leg into the monster’s head. The wood splintered. The beast staggered back.
Two more of the killers replaced it. And the three behind her and Trevor were collecting themselves. She glanced about for another weapon, but there was nothing close.
“Hand grenade?” she asked.
He sneered at the monsters. “We do it dirty.” Ducking under a Shroud’s slashing talons, he slipped behind it and leaped onto its back.
While he pinned its arms, she punched its ribs and chest. The beast gasped rotten breaths. Until Trevor wrapped a forearm around its neck. Then it was a quick snap and the monster was done.
The one next to it grabbed her by the shoulders and lunged its teeth at her throat. She lurched back, driving a knee up under its chin. Broken fangs rained around her. The beast loosened its grip and she punched hard into its throat. Again and again, imagining her fist a boulder.
Another set of hands took her by the shoulder. She turned and almost put a fist in Trevor’s face. He glanced from the dead Shroud at her feet to the three coming behind them. “Don’t be greedy. Others want to dance too.”
If this nightmare was to end, it had to be by her hands. She’d become used to the hate and rage of the Shrouds. Let them burn themselves out, she thought as she weaved away from a taloned attack. But they seemed tireless. At least she could counter them with calm. The same dead gaze she gave the executives who ranted about how their visions weren’t being met. Only this time, she got to fight back.
She caught the monster’s wrists and the two of them struggled for balance. A second one rushed her and Trevor tackled it away. The third was free to attack, though. Claws rushed toward her. She would not allow this thing to take her blood.
When the talons reached her flesh, her skin was hard as stone. The cloth of her shirt tore, but nothing else. The beast shrieked and reared back, showing rows and rows of jagged teeth. As it bit down toward her, Trevor slammed into its side. Instead of biting her, the Shroud’s teeth sank into the shoulder of the beast she held. Its howls were louder than the first.
Trevor grabbed the biting Shroud by the sides of its head and twisted it away. The one she held was still reeling. She released her grip and chopped her hand into the side of its neck. Trevor finished off his beast and dragged hers to the ground to complete the kill.
There were only two left, clear on the other side of the room. They seemed to hesitate. Her calm was sharp as a razor. Trevor’s rage seemed to pulse out of him in searing waves.
She spoke. “When I imagined the possibility of meeting you tonight, and made up fantasies of doing dirty things with you, it was nothing like this.”
“We’ll get to your fantasies. Every last one of them.” He took a step toward the last two Shrouds. “Then you’ll make up more and we’ll do those.”
One of the beasts jerked, its torso angling unnaturally to the side. Trevor paused, watching. The monster contorted again, hunching its shoulders high. Each quick twist came with the sounds of snapping bone and tearing cartilage. Soon the Shroud was on its hands and knees. Black robes covered its form as it continued to contort. Its breath hissed out. Then it growled, low and guttural. Even the Shroud next to it seemed afraid.
The body shook quickly, sloughing the robes. It was a dog. Huge, monstrous. At least four feet tall at the shoulder. Slick brown fur pulled tight over a jagged skull. The whole thing seemed to be covered in teeth, from the ridges over its eyes all down its thick back.
Trevor paused, taking it all in. “Agony hound. Haven’t seen one of those since the twelfth century.” He added, “AD.”
The hideous canine snarled. Drool foamed over rows of yellow teeth. Muscular legs twitched as the beast glared at her with black eyes.
Edging in front of her, Trevor was poised on the balls of his feet, ready. “The Philosophers think themselves above all this, the purest human thought. But they’re just as ugly as the monsters they send to kill us.”
The dog pinned its ears back and charged. Clawed paws scr
aped on the hardwood floor until it got enough traction to speed forward. Misty tried to make herself as hard as she could. Stone, diamond, iron. It seemed like this new monster could crash through anything.
Trevor took the brunt of the attack. He elbowed the beast’s head aside while clutching its massive neck. The two of them careened around the room, scattering what furniture was left. The pools of dissolving Shrouds rippled in the wake of Trevor and the dog. Misty searched for an opening to help, but they moved in a blur.
Digging his heels into the ground, Trevor tried to slow the dog. But the monster coiled to one side, then sprang into a wall. Trevor was smashed between the beast and the plaster. He let out a grunt and the wall buckled into a crater around him.
Free from Trevor’s grip, the dog charged at Misty. The nose, she thought. Maybe it was like a normal dog and hated to be hit on the nose. Except that part of this canine was covered with sharp teeth, poking up through its skin. There was nowhere to run, she had to try it.
The beast was upon her. She tried to jump to one side and chop down on its snout with her hand. The blow only glanced away. The dog didn’t even blink. It threw its head against her. The air rushed out of her lungs. Her feet barely touched the floor as she flew across the room and shouldered hard into a wall, then fell to the ground.
Breath burned back into her. She may not be damaged, but it was still a struggle just to get to her knees. The hound lunged toward her, then yelped as it jerked back. Trevor held it by its back leg, using all his leverage to drag the dog away from her. Maybe if he could hold it and she could attack. She staggered to her feet. Or if together—
Hard arms wrapped around her. The view of Trevor and the dog flickered as black robes swirled about her face. The last Shroud had her. Rotten breath hissed past her ear. She tried to break out of the grip, but its wiry muscles coiled tighter.
There were only glimpses of Trevor as he held the dog. His eyes were wide with fear as he stared at her.
“No! No! No!” he shouted.
She expected the teeth or the claws of the Shroud. Instead, the beast lifted her off the ground and sped across the living room. Trevor let go of the hound and lunged for them. Just inches away. The Shroud yanked her hard and dived them both through one of the giant windows.
As they fell, she saw the hellish dog slam into Trevor. The two fought deeper into the living room. The tall trees at the front of the house flashed with the blue and red lights of a police car. The fall had to be at least forty feet to the hillside. If she could just break out of the Shroud’s grip, she could claw her way back to Trevor.
They hit the ground and everything went black.
* * *
Terror spiked ice through him. Misty disappeared into the dark outside the house, in the clutches of a Shroud. He tried to pursue, but the agony hound pinned him to the ground. Jagged teeth dug into his forearm, but he remained hard as stone. His flesh could not be damaged, but he felt the impact. The pain would be insignificant if he lost her.
He had to find her. He couldn’t leave her alone out there. And to be without her wasn’t a life at all.
The dog continued to bite down on his arm. Strong paws scraped against his chest, pushing him down again and again. The fear at seeing Misty disappear would not help him. He swallowed it, consumed it, fueling his rage.
Thousands of festivals, concerts, parties and orgies. He had given all his energy to them. The people in the crowd built it up and sent the power back to him. Trevor called on all of that now. Every last handful of fire he could clutch. And more. He wasn’t merely fed by the audience any longer. Misty gave him life.
She was somewhere out there, falling into darkness. Farther and farther away.
Trevor bared his teeth, collected all his strength and pushed back against the giant dog. It slid backward. The beast strained to keep him down. But Trevor tore his arm from the hound’s mouth and stood to face it. Anything standing between Trevor and Misty would die.
* * *
The world was broken. Shards of black and gray jumped all around her. An impact rang in her head. She tumbled down. How far? How far away from Trevor?
The Shroud still gripped her. She fell, scraping and turning against the beast and the hard ground of the hillside. Dry bushes and scrub crushed under her body. It had to stop. Otherwise this monster could twist her down all the way to hell.
She threw her legs out, slowing the descent. The Shroud’s grip was jarred, creating just enough space for her to wedge her arms between them. Pushing hard, she sprang free from the monster’s clutches.
The two of them fell a few more feet on the hillside before gathering their balance. The Shroud looked like a collection of the night’s shadows as it lunged for her again. She tracked the flashes of sickly yellow flesh, avoiding the claws and knocking her fist into the side of its head. Somewhere up the hill Trevor fought that hellish dog. She’d ended these Shrouds before. As much as she wanted it to suffer for taking her from Trevor, it had to be quick so she could climb back.
Her chopping blow found its mark at the base of the Shroud’s skull. The beast joined the still shadows on the ground, dead. Misty spun to face the hill. The distance seemed to stretch on forever. It was impossible to tell how far she’d fallen. Which house?
She would find the answers. One step up and she froze. Cold fear held her. A presence of evil behind her. More hate than any Shroud. It was terror to be fled, but she couldn’t run.
Turning, she saw a man standing on the curb of the winding street. Just an ordinary man. But how did he radiate such malice? He cocked his head at her, a distant yellow streetlight revealing his face. It was the man from the TV interview with Trevor this morning. The conservative with plastered-down hair.
But his eyes were dead and distant. Pale and glassy, they seemed to look past her, unfocused. His legs were unbalanced, shoulders askew. As if something else wore his skin.
On the TV, his voice had piped thin and reedy. On the street he hissed like a giant serpent.
“Base beast. Whore of mud.”
His words lanced through her.
“Your atavistic desires drag you to slut yourself in the lowest pit. Opening your holes to the worms of desire.”
Shame. Horror. Guilt. The emotions hooked deeper than her flesh, threatening to tear her apart. She’d learned to deflect the hate of the Shrouds. Their malice bounced off of her the same way their claws did off her stone-hard skin. But the root of their rage stood before her.
A Philosopher. It must be. The man’s mouth turned down in revulsion. His disgust slammed into her. As if she was looking in a mirror and hated who she saw. All the judgment from parents, teachers, bosses, society and, worst of all, herself, came crushing down.
The man stood deathly still, needing only words to attack.
“See your degradation. As you ooze out between the legs, begging for rotten flesh to fill you.”
Scream, she told herself. Shout this son of a bitch back to hell. Or take a step toward him. Smash his face in with a stone fist. But humiliation and doubt constricted around her. No breath to yell. No strength to move.
“Die on your back. As you lived.”
His mouth twisted into a disgusted smile. Her own shame would end her.
* * *
A police siren chirped outside, behind Trevor. The agony hound stood before him. Beyond the devil dog was the smashed window where Misty disappeared. If the cops came in, the hound would probably kill them. Even if they did survive, they’d want too many answers. Every second away from Misty was too long.
Trevor turned and rushed to the radio still blasting classic rock. The dog took the bait and pursued. Trevor reached the radio and tore the power cable out the back. Just as the dog lunged, teeth first, he jammed the exposed wires into the flesh of the beast’s mouth.
Sparks
blasted out in a quick flash. The hound yelped and jolted backward. Trevor leaped at it, lifting it by the neck and smashing its back onto the floor. The teeth along the beast’s side dug trenches into the wood. Panicked paws scraped up at Trevor, but he held it strong, hands around its throat.
With the music dead, the voices of the cops echoed hollow through the front wall. “LAPD. Open this door immediately.”
The hound snapped its teeth, wriggling its huge body. Trevor kept it pinned with a knee to the chest. He dug his fingers deeper through the muscle of the beast, finding its throat. Growls turned to rasping wheezes.
Flashlight beams knifed in from the front windows. The cops wouldn’t be able to see him. But once the door was open...
Surging with one last chance, the agony hound clawed up with its paws. The nails scraped against Trevor’s chest.
“Die,” he told the beast through clenched teeth. “Die and go back to the inferno where you belong.”
The cops scraped and knocked against the side door where he’d broken in. Trevor jammed his hands harder into the monster dog, finally crushing the life from it. He ran for the broken window, dragging the dead weight along with him.
He leaped out of the house, letting the hound fall next to him. Thirty feet, maybe forty until he hit the sloped ground. The dog would dissolve like the Shrouds, but the cops were coming in fast. The fewer unexplainable things they saw, the better.
Trevor slammed into the hill and rolled another fifteen feet. Old dust and dry twigs rose up all around. Stars spun. He stopped tumbling and slid on dirt and loose stones until he got his legs under him and ran farther down the hill.
Where the hell was she? He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t leave her alone. In danger.
“Misty!” he shouted into the night. No answer. He shouted again. Dark silence.
His own death meant nothing. As long as he destroyed whatever had taken her away.
Chapter Ten
Tighter, the shame constricted and she almost welcomed death. Every set of eyes that had ever passed judgment on her. Worst of all her own. Yes, she agreed with them. Kill this body, flesh and meat. It’s not pure. It debases the mind, dragging her humanity into the dirt. Her throat tightened. Breath wheezed. An unseen hand choked her. Was it her own humiliation that powered the grip? Dark red haze ringed her vision. It wasn’t the light of dawn. It was the end.