Talon squeezed off round after round, pumping lead into the withering demon. The fusillade sent Zagan stumbling backward.
The elevator doors slammed shut just as the first charge went off. Metal warped under the blast and Zagan’s bestial shriek of defeat gave way to the deafening sound of an enormous explosion.
Shockwaves rattled the lift, but it continued to ascend. A beat later Talon reached the Omicron lobby and spilled into the atrium. Two steps farther from the destruction, the rest of Talon’s explosives erupted in the basement below. The floor shook and trembled. Tile beneath his boots cracked and spiderwebbed. Shockwaves rippled through the structure and shattered windows. It rained glass.
And then it all stopped.
The lobby had been eviscerated and resembled a battlefield of fractured glass and broken humanity. Talon stumbled and staggered through the gutted atrium. He had almost reached the exit when he heard the familiar sound of a round being fired. The bullet would find him before he could even turn.
***
The horde was closing in. Circling and circling. They had become part of the occult program, a physical extension of the code.
Serrone squeezed off round after round but the shots echoed impotently in the auditorium. No one gave a shit about the gun in her hand. She was outnumbered and a few bullets shy from being out of ammunition.
She doubted that her predicament would be any different if she were facing a smaller group of fanatics. These people experienced no fear. They didn’t care about their own survival. All that mattered to them was making a sacrifice to whatever unholy deity they worshipped. Her best option was to save the last bullet for herself but unlike the raging cultists, she had a reason to live. That reason was named Casey and she was seven years old and Serrone had promised to have dinner with her tonight. It couldn’t end like this. She couldn’t let Casey down. Not again.
Serrone was a tough woman but she could feel the hot tears welling up in her eyes. Going out like this just wasn’t fair.
The mob was almost upon her when a loud explosion rocked the Omicron building, shaking the foundation of the structure. For a moment, the images on the large screen fritzed out, turning black, and she could hear glass pulverizing outside the auditorium.
Serrone was still trying to make sense of the sounds of destruction when the horde ceased its approach. They jerked up straight and slumped in unison as if a switch had been flipped. The cultists suddenly didn’t look bloodthirsty anymore. Their faces wore expressions of shock, panicked eyes studying the knives in their hands. Stunned by their actions. Somehow the spell had been broken.
Taking in the change, Serrone allowed herself to experience an emotion she thought she’d never feel again: hope.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
FISHER COULDN’T BELIEVE what was happening. The explosion had solidified his growing dread. The servers had been breached. This disturbing insight was followed by another development. His fellow cultists were dropping their knives and returning to their senses. There was only one explanation…
Talon.
They’d been so close to completing the program. Rage flared inside Fisher and he swore he would find the man and teach him the true cost of his victory. Fisher would rebuild, gather a new flock. Omicron could not be stopped.
As these thoughts of vengeance consumed his mind and heart, footsteps echoed in the lobby below. He peered over the railing and saw Talon stumble from the elevators. Fisher’s lip twisted into a cruel smile. Payback’s a bitch.
He wished he could announce himself to his enemy, to make him suffer, but he expected Talon to be armed and wasn’t taking any chances.
He sighted down on Talon.
Fired.
***
A muffled scream followed the explosive crack of the bullet. Talon whirled and saw Fisher spill from the first floor and crash to the lobby. The man’s body jerked upon impact and grew still.
Who did he have to thank for saving his life?
Footfalls behind him. Talon turned. Staring back at him was Detective Serrone, gun leveled. Her hair was pasted to her forehead, features coated with perspiration and exhaustion. Who was he kidding — she probably cut a better figure than he did.
For a moment their eyes locked and Talon remained unsure of the detective’s next move.
“What happened here today?” she asked.
Forgoing long-winded explanations, Talon said, “Evil was defeated.”
His words seemed to satisfy Serrone. At least for now.The detective had saved his life. He would never forget her. Eying Serrone he said, “Thank you.”
Talon turned away from the detective, her eyes convincing him that she wouldn’t shoot him. She knew he was one of the good guys.
He staggered out of Omicron. Sirens keened in the distance as he stumbled to his motorcycle. He feared that in his battered state the cops might stop him, but he would have to chance it.
He swung onto the Ducati and shot out of the Omicron parking lot. He was long gone by the time the authorities arrived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
TALON DIDN’T REMEMBER how he got back to Casca’s estate. He later was told that he collapsed from blood loss as soon as he parked his bike. For two straight days he slept, lost to the darkness that came with deep exhaustion.
Upon waking, he vaguely recalled some of his dreams. Michelle was in most of them. There was also a dim recollection of a doctor checking in on him, but perhaps he’d imagined the man. Reality and imagination had fused while his body was recovering.
The first change he noticed when he finally woke up was that someone – most likely the doctor in his dreams – had stitched up the wound on his chest. There would be a scar in the shape of the inverted star, no doubt about it. It would serve as a constant reminder of the evil he’d confronted and defeated in San Francisco.
There would be other enemies. As long as ruthless men could master the rituals of the occult, they would tap into its unspeakable power. Talon had received a glimpse into an alien world and come to realize that the universe was far grander and more terrifying than he could’ve imagined.
After he showered and shaved, Casca brought him up to speed. Becky had returned to her life secure in the knowledge that this cult was history. The Omicron story still dominated the news channels. Experts left and right speculated about how this techno-cult could have gained such a hold over the minds of its followers. Deepening the mystery was the fact that many of the cultists suffered from a form of amnesia, or so they claimed.
Books would be written about the computer cult. Experts and pundits would be debating the case for weeks to come, at least until the next big disaster drowned out the chatter.
“Your two weeks are almost up, Sergeant,” Casca said. “Time to report for duty soon.”
Talon shook his head. “I won’t be going back. At least not permanently.”
Casca cocked an eyebrow.
“I’m resigning from Delta.”
“Really?”
“There are plenty of good men fighting the war on terror. My services might be needed on another front.”
“You think you’re the guy who’s going to save the world from the boogeyman?” Casca asked, echoing Talon’s earlier question.
“Perhaps we can save it together,” Talon replied.
They both grinned.
“Did we destroy the program?” Talon asked.
“I believe so.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“I’ve been hearing some disturbing stories coming out of Milan. Someone is abducting tourists and leaving dead bodies behind… Bodies with pentagrams carved into their backs.”
Talon winked. “I always wanted to visit Italy.” His face grew serious as he continued. “I became a soldier to keep this country safe. My job hasn’t changed. Only the enemy.”
“Let’s head inside and I’ll show you the reports. See what you make of it.”
Talon and Casca turned toward the estate.
>
They’d won a victory against the darkness, but the war was just beginning.
THE END
MARK TALON WILL RETURN THIS MAY IN APOCALYPSE SOLDIER
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William Massa is a screenwriter, script consultant and book reviewer (http://horrornovelreviews.com/) He has lived in New York, Florida, Europe and now calls Los Angeles his home. William writes horror, thrillers, science fiction and dark fantasy. More books are on the way.
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AVAILABLE NOW FOR $0.99!
After a decade spent fighting the enemy abroad and keeping his country safe, Delta Force Operator MARK TALON is ready to settle down with the love of his life. But Talon’s world crumbles when his fiancée becomes the victim of a terrifying cult.
In the wake of his terrible loss, Talon dedicates himself to a new mission – hunting down evil occultists across the globe and stopping them before they can unleash the forces of darkness upon an unsuspecting world.
In ICE GOD, Talon must head to Norway to stop Rezok, a Black Metal musician who plans on using an ancient Norse ritual to trigger a frozen cataclysm.
PLEASE ENJOY A SPECIAL SAMPLE OF
OCCULT ASSASSIN: ICE SHADOWS
CHAPTER ONE
WHIRLING SNOWFLAKES LANDED on Kristin’s face like icy kisses as her athletic frame hurtled down the steep mountain at fifty-plus miles per hour. Sending sprays of powder into the air, she skied with the skill and carefree abandon of someone in their mid-twenties. All around her, a state-of-the art lighting system turned the tree-lined slopes into an azure, phantasmagorical winter wonderland.
Kristin had arrived in Bergen, Norway, less than 48 hours earlier. Originally from Oslo, she worked as an account executive for a large advertising firm in London but tried to visit as often as her hectic schedule permitted. After the failure of her most recent romantic relationship, a doomed coupling with a French commercial director, the mountains of her homeland had been calling her.
Ahead the trail forked and Kristin opted for the steeper, more challenging backcountry chute. Twilight deepened and the woods grew dark. With fewer light poles available, she’d have to rely on her other senses. She tightened her body, further increasing her speed.
For a moment her problems ceased to matter and she felt in complete control. How she wished some of that confidence extended to her love life. She had tried to convince herself that Pierre was just a fling, but she was heartbroken. Their relationship had lasted for less than a month before the flowers and fancy dinners gave way to unanswered calls and unreturned texts. After three days of radio silence, she’d gotten the hint – the Frenchman had moved on. Why had she thought she could tame a well-known Lothario and heartbreaker?
She was pulled out of her thoughts when her eyes landed on an unexpected obstacle directly ahead. A six-foot high wall of ice blocked the narrow trail. The blockade flexed and rippled in the starlight. She’d seen videos of ice heaves, tsunami-style waves of frozen water rippling over shorelines and damaging homes. She had forgotten the science behind the phenomenon, but she did know it occurred near lakes and required strong winds. So what had triggered such a strange anomaly at this high altitude? And why did it only seem to be affecting the ski trail?
All these thoughts slashed through her mind within a handful of seconds. The time for speculation had run out – the ice barrier was upon her. She had to act fast. A direct impact at this speed would kill her.
Kristin dug the edges of her skis into the powder. The maneuver sent her flying. Airborne, she twisted her body in midair and landed butt-first, as she’d been trained to do. Her derriere absorbed the brunt of the fall as she slid down the trail on her back. The powdery snow cushioned the impact and Kristin counted her blessings. An icy surface would have been far less pleasant.
For a moment she just lay there, the cold seeping through her ski jacket. Her breath misted in the chilly darkness. She predicted some ugly bruises in the morning, but her training and quick reflexes had spared her any broken bones. With a determined grunt Kristin performed a press up while holding the base of her poles with an uphill hand. Her upper body strength was well developed from regular gym visits and she quickly got back on her feet.
She dusted thick clumps of snow off her ski-suit and bindings before taking a closer look at the surreal sight in front of her. A row of frozen stalagmites jabbed into the air like the teeth of some buried ice giant.
Kristin shivered as she gained a stronger sense of her situation. She was alone on the deserted chute and no sound broke the unnerving silence. Making matters worse, one of the nearby light poles began to flicker and grow dark.
Shit! Other lights followed suit and winked off, drenching the mountain in darkness. The sole illumination now emanated from the dim stars overhead. What was going on? She decided to round the barrier and continue down the mountain as quickly as possible. She instinctively sensed that she was in danger.
To suppress her fear, she concentrated on the task at hand. She trudged along the frozen barricade, moving toward the tree-line on the left side of the trail. How she wished some other skier would materialize, but the odds were slim considering the late hour.
The sound of her skis crunching over the snow echoed eerily on the forlorn trail and her pulse quickened. The wind had picked up and now cut through her clothes. Her teeth chattered and each breath was like inhaling ice. So much for being inured to the cold. She always teased her British colleagues when they complained about their comparatively mild winters. But this was different. The temperature must have dropped over twenty degrees since she took her tumble in the snow. How was this possible?
She reached the trees and began to round the strange ice wall. Behind her the branches stirred, wooden fingers brushing against her back. She stifled a scream.
Get a grip on yourself!
Just a few more seconds and she’d be on her way, blasting down the trail and headed for the safety of the base about 800 feet below.
She suddenly noticed strange carvings etched into the trees. Her eyes narrowed and she had to lean forward to catch a better look. As a native Norwegian, she recognized the symbols as runes, the characters of the alphabet used by the ancient people of Northern Europe. She didn’t know the meaning of these symbols, but it deepened her sense of dread. Heart hammering in her chest, she turned away from the trees and wove around the icy obstacle. Fear fueled her movements. Reality had narrowed to one simple objective — she had to get back on the trail.
Her singular focus paid off and she reached the other side of the ice wall, on
ly to grow dead still… Three human silhouettes blocked the trail ahead.
A scream wanted to escape from Kristin’s throat, but her lips were frozen shut. The tall, gaunt snowboarders loomed before her, creating a human barrier across the width of the chute. Even if she managed to somehow weave around them, nothing would stop them from chasing after her.
The spooky trio advanced. As they stepped into the moonlight, Kristin realized they all wore fiberglass skull-helmets favored by both hardcore snowboarders and paintballers. They looked more like monstrous, medieval skeleton creatures than masked humans.
Despite the punishing cold and her mounting terror, Kristin exploded into motion. Using her poles, she pushed away from the figures and shot back toward the trees.
She had barely advanced a few feet when a massive silhouette peeled from the shadow-soaked woods, barring her escape. Like the others, he wore a skull-mask that erased all humanity from his visage and a glittering knife extended from his gloved hand.
Kristin’s piercing scream cut through the forest but was quickly drowned out by the unforgiving wind.
CHAPTER TWO
THEY CALLED HIM the vampire.
His real name was Rezok and he was the lead singer of the Norwegian black metal band Ice God. He also happened to be the reason why Mark Talon, the occult assassin, had come to Bergen, Norway and found himself in a rundown pub surrounded by a mob of screaming, drunk fans. Any minute now Ice God would hit the stage, and the anticipation in the crowd was palpable.
Occult Assassin: Damnation Code (Book 1) Page 14