by Joey Ruff
A voice in my head taunted, what’s done in the dark will be brought to the light.
I rubbed my forehead and felt the fatigue against me like a crushing weight. Part of me was being pulled to the shower, as if the last three hours hadn’t been enough. A greater part of me needed sleep, but would settle for coffee, so I moved to the kitchen by way of the living room.
Clothes were scattered like a trail of bread crumbs from one of the sofas, and I stopped as I reached my pants and pulled out my drawers. As I slipped them on, I realized how badly I needed a shower, but it didn’t matter. I suddenly felt awkward being naked.
As I walked into the kitchen, I scanned the countertops and stopped. Lorelei didn’t drink coffee. I’d have to pick some up.
I walked back into the living room and heard a faint buzzing sound coming from my wadded trousers. I knelt and shuffled through the denim until I found the pocket and pulled out my phone. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was local, and I had the need to answer it.
“Yeah?”
“Swyftt?” came Chuck’s voice.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s early, mate.”
“Sorry.” His voice sounded panicked. “We’ve, uh, got a situation.”
“What kind of situation?”
“A big, grey…man, I don’t know what the fuck this thing is. It’s huge, and it’s pissed off about something.”
“It’s a troll. Where is it?”
“Lake City.” He gave me the address.
“I’ll be there,” I said and hung up.
I entered the bathroom as Kinnara was stepping out of the shower. Seeing her glistening and wet as she was, I forgot myself for a moment. With a little effort, I averted my eyes and said, “I just got a call. The troll’s been spotted. I’ve gotta go.”
“Where is it?”
I told her.
“I will talk to Victor,” she said. “If possible, we will meet you there.”
I nodded. Before she could say anything else, I was dressed and in the elevator.
“So fucking mental,” I said to myself. I punched the button for the lobby and ran a hand through my hair. “What in the bloody hell am I doing?”
I thought of Lorelei, thought of Ape. My head hurt.
On my way uptown, I stopped and got two coffees and drank them both. By the time I entered Lake City, I was feeling at least somewhat cognizant.
The address Chuck had given me was a used car lot off the beaten path and next to a construction zone. When I pulled up, I found Chuck and Stone, along with a few uniformed locals, behind a barricade on the edge of the dealership’s parking lot. Yellow caution tape was strung between light posts along the perimeter and black and white squad cars were turned sideways, their red and blues twirling.
The agents wore ballistics vests and slouched behind Stone’s dark sedan which was parked in-between the patrol cars. They had pistols in-hand and watched the dealership with a nervous eye over the hood or through the windows.
I walked up casually, Grace strapped to my leg. Twin Glocks rode my hips, and a Mossberg 500 12-guage shotgun was strapped across my back. I wore a clean black t-shirt under my new leather jacket with my worn, dirty trousers.
“Where is it?” I asked, and six sets of eyes turned to look up at me from their hiding place behind the cars.
“In the building,” Chuck said.
I looked up. The main building of the dealership was all glass in front with high ceilings and stone walls. With the glare of the morning sun on its façade, I couldn’t see anything inside, and with the exception of the sporty convertible dangling out of a rather large hole in the lower left corner, it remained relatively unchanged.
The lot around it, however, looked like a warzone. Cars were overturned or cracked in half as though they’d been nothing but giant eggs. A minivan was planted on its backend and sat facing the sky like an obelisk.
I scanned the sea of cars for a trail of destruction that would suggest an entry point, but there was none. The troll must have manifested in the middle of the lot, began wreaking havoc, and taken shelter in the building.
“You’re sure it’s still in there?” I asked.
“Yes,” Stone said. “We’ve been out here for forty minutes. We haven’t spotted it in at least half that, though.”
I looked from the building to the special agents and said, “Who called it in?”
“We were driving by when we saw it,” Stone said. Her voice sounded startled, and there was a far-away look in her eyes. “The thing was…overturning a Buick. We radioed for back-up.”
“She didn’t wanna call you,” Chuck said.
Stone glared at him.
“You didn’t.”
“You were in the area?” I asked. “Why?”
“Another murder. Same as the other night. Slash marks to the torso, mutilation.”
I eyed him curiously. “Who?”
“Guy named Tom Robinson,” Chuck said. “Lived alone. Been dead at least three days, from the look of him. His neighbor came home from a business trip, noticed a smell, found Tom in his backyard.”
“McKnight,” Stone said. “He doesn’t need to know this.” She turned to me. “Swyftt.” Her eyes looked tired and her blonde hair that was usually pulled back in a tight ponytail was sticking out in places and held loosely from her face. “What is that thing in there?”
“It’s a troll, love.” I looked back up at the building and said, “You stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Wait,” Chuck said. “You can’t go by yourself.”
“You ever fought one of these before?”
“No.”
“Right.”
“But…it’ll kill you.”
“He’s right,” Stone said. “Even for you, that’s stupid.”
“You’re assuming it’s still in there,” I said.
“Of course, it is. Where else would it go?”
I smiled. “You wouldn’t believe me.”
I hopped over the car and walked towards the building. It was easy to keep a brave front around people who didn’t know any better. It was Huxley’s first rule of being a night hunter, after all: Always appear confident. In reality, as I approached the building, knowing what I was after, I was feeling pretty terrified. I was exhausted and still a little banged up from the fight the night before. I wasn’t exactly in any shape to take the wanker on by my lonesome.
I wasn’t typically scared. There was plenty of shit I faced down on my own where my cocky swagger wasn’t an act. Hell, I’d taken down a trio of werewolves once without breaking a sweat. Sure, they weren’t particularly savage werewolves like others I’d fought, but being outnumbered like that, they were still deadly. I never used to do fear, but age was wearing on me, and hell, maybe Ape was right. Maybe I was losing my edge. Maybe I’d been doing this for too long. Maybe twenty years is enough to burn you out.
As I peered into the lobby of the building through the smashed-in hole, it was quiet. The only sound was the glass bits crunching under my boots. The interior was dark, the tinted glass muting the sun’s brilliance, and the power was off. I pulled one of my Glocks and clicked on the beam that was mounted under the barrel.
The receptionist’s desk was crumpled beneath the convertible’s front tires, and the glass cubicles of the sales associates were nearly flattened and edged with scrapes of red paint. An SUV that had served as an interior display model was tipped up on its back end, and another convertible was overturned.
The showroom smelled like old coffee and the faint, ghostly lingering of cigarette smoke as I moved along an aisle between a series of cubicles and a row of offices, sweeping the area with my light and listening intently. The only sound to be heard was the whirring fans of the heating and cooling unit and the static drone and occasional crumble from an ice machine.
The service counter stood to my left as I came back into the open, and I put it to my back and swept to the right, finding nothing. Beyond the counter was a hall
way that led into the service bays. The doorframe was dented, and the wall around it was chipped and cracking.
I took a few steadying breaths, tightened my grip on the gun, and scanned the corridor with my beam. Nothing seemed out of place, and I started down it.
The service bay was larger than the showroom, higher ceilings with exposed rafter beams. It was cavernous, by comparison, and it made sense for the troll to head this way.
Cars and the skeletal remains of cars cluttered the bay, some hoisted on lifts, others in pieces in the corner. One wall bore a rack of tires, another, boxes of spare parts with shipping labels. Air guns and various tools littered the aisleways between the vehicles, and in the far corner, sat the troll.
Curled nearly into a ball and leaning against its side, the troll was completely still, but for the rise and fall of its breathing, rhythmic and calm. The red stump on its left arm was brought up across its right shoulder, also hiding its face.
My mind thought back to what Kinnara had said about the troll, how the only way to kill it was to be stronger than it. It occurred to me that I didn’t have to be stronger than the entire troll, just its weakest part. And then I had to be a damn good shot. But where was it weakest?
It shifted, bringing its stump down to its side, and I could see its eyes were closed in sleep. Its eyes! As thick as its skin undoubtedly was, its eyes would still be vulnerable. One clear shot to the eye, and I could put a bullet straight in its brain and be done with it all.
I crept within two yards of its face, standing just outside of its arm reach, should it grab for me, and took aim. The light from the barrel of the Glock lit the troll’s face like a stage actor in a spot. I steadied the gun with both hands and pulled the trigger.
It must’ve been the light that alerted it.
A hair before the gunshot rang out, the troll jerked, and the bullet struck the bridge of its upturned nose, ricocheting off bone and striking one of the support beams on the shelf above.
As it rose, the shelf broke, and an avalanche of mufflers and exhaust pipes showered over it. It staggered to a knee, shrugged it off, and rose to its full height. Blood trickled from the gunshot wound, running down the side of its nose to its mouth, but if it did anything, it just served to anger the beast more.
“Fuck.”
I took a few steps back as it roared, colliding into a motorcycle and knocking it over. I glanced back at it for only a moment, and when I turned back to the troll, its massive, outstretched fingers closed around me and lifted me into the air.
I managed to fire off two unsteady shots, but neither connected. It roared with the Glock’s report and shook me furiously until the pistol fell from my grip and clattered against the floor.
My other guns and arm were pinned under its hold, and I was helpless as it narrowed its eyes, opened its mouth, and brought me towards its gaping, crooked teeth and rotten breath.
21
As I waited to be troll kibble, I remembered what Nadia said: the anger holds it to this time period like an anchor. For the troll to move on, I had to replace its anger with…something else. But what?
It brought me close enough to its mouth that its breath felt as hot and fetid as exhaust fumes. I reached towards its face with my one free arm and swatted it on the cheek. The blow must have confused it, which is what I was hoping for, as it closed its mouth and stared at me curiously.
I was still within arm’s reach of the thing’s face, and – God help me – I did the only fucking thing I could think of.
I kissed it.
It was just a peck on the cheek, and its skin was tough and leathery, so dry and hard it was almost sharp beneath my lips. It pulled me back in an unexpected, swift motion, nearly throwing me into the shelves of parts on the wall. I felt its grip loosen around me slightly and braced for it to drop me, but it didn’t. It hurled me thirty feet through the air, and my arse kissed a giant spidery crack in the windshield of a blue VW Beetle that was up on a lift.
“I don’t think that worked,” I said, moving my head back to a loud pop.
I rolled onto the hood and gained my knees as I drew the other Glock and emptied the gun into the creature’s chest. With every pull of the trigger, the troll swatted its hand back and forth before its face as if smelling something foul. When the gun clicked empty, I ejected the mag and reached for another.
The troll took a few thunderous steps forward, took the motorcycle in its hand, and hurled it at me. I barely had time for the move to register as I looked up with the new clip in one hand, the empty Glock in the other.
I threw myself to the side as the bike’s front tire bit into the hood and tumbled wheel-over-wheel straight through the cab, splitting it like a buzzsaw.
I fell ten feet, landed on my hip and shoulder, and rolled. The Glock and its clip leapt from my hand with the impact.
The floor beneath me began to shake as the creature moved towards me, and I only had a moment to run through my options.
Sure, something stronger than a troll would be able to kill it, but I was definitely not stronger than a troll. According to Kinnara, Victor might be, but Victor wasn’t fucking here.
Apparently, one kiss wasn’t enough to change its mind about how it felt about me. If anything, it pissed it off more.
What else was there? I was missing something, something vital.
What would I do if faced with anything else? Assess the situation. Know the enemy. Know the weakness: everything had one. Think! Knowledge was the number one weapon.
What was the troll?
It was a sodding Korrigan.
Korrigan were weak against…iron. Iron burned the Sidhe, and silver would probably hold it. I’d never tried silver against a Korrigan. You’d think with my years of experience it would’ve come up, but when you’re staring down a charging nasty that’s bent on eating your entrails, you don’t take gambles and you don’t tempt fate. You pick the proven medicine, and you shove it down the fucker’s throat.
The troll was practically on top of me, and in its right hand, it held a long exhaust pipe like a club, lifting it into the air and bringing the muffler on the end down on me like a club.
I rolled back, struggled to my feet and hobbled over to the entrance to the service bay. My leg throbbed from where I’d landed on my hip, and my shoulder ached like fuck.
I unslung the Mossberg and leveled it at the troll. I pumped it, held my breath, and waited. The buckshot was iron, and I had seven shots in the barrel after I spent the one in the chamber.
“Come on, fuck head!”
A silver pick-up sat between me and it, and the troll tossed it to the side and came straight for me. I fired, chambered the next round, and fired again.
Wisps of smoke began to seep from the holes in its chest as from a cartoon pie, but it came at me more ferociously, its anger growing with every shot.
The troll made for the entranceway with single determination, a look of focus in its animal features, and I squeezed off two more shots before it bent low and pushed its way through the smaller corridor.
I backed past the service desk to the showroom, fired again as the troll pushed its way out of the door, standing a little too soon and cracking the wall further. As it came out of the tunnel and caught another spray, mostly in the face this time, it reeled back in rage, throwing its red stump through the thick glass window on its left.
I fired my last round and slung the Mossberg over my shoulder, backpedaling steadily, my eyes never leaving the troll as it continued its advance with a sure, steady pace.
It stopped for a moment at the bent, metal frame of the glass cubicles and tore an aluminum beam about eight-feet-long.
I backed against the convertible and looked to the right, seeing the gaping hole in the wall and the squad cars on the street beyond. The daylight was building, taking it outside wouldn’t be a smart move. I couldn’t delay it either, as the dealership’s employees would be reporting for duty sooner than later.
I had to think fast
and pulled my cell phone, hitting redial.
“You okay in there?” Chuck asked. “You’re making a lot of noise.”
I moved from the convertible and made my way to the stairs that lead to a balcony and another row of offices. “I need tear gas. Tell me you’ve got some.”
“Uh,” he said. I heard him mumble something to Stone and then he said, “Yeah, Swyftt. We’ve got a little.”
“Get up here and toss it inside.” I was halfway up the stairs, and the troll hadn’t let me out of its sight, nor had it quickened its pace. There was nowhere for me to go, and both of us knew it.
“Umm, really?”
“I need to confuse it, make it sad…something. We don’t have time to argue, Chuck, just fucking do it.” I hung up the phone and stepped on to the balcony. As I moved along it, my pace quickening, the troll roared, threw its arm back and chucked the aluminum beam like a spear. It tore the air in front of me and struck the brick near my head, piercing straight into it.
I reared back, pulled Grace, and ducked under the beam. The troll reached back and tore another beam from the rubble, and as it lifted its hand to throw, I fired. The steel cable bolo spun through the air, hit its fist, and wrapped around its hand, locking the beam in its grip.
It threw its hand forward, but the beam remained. Angrily, it swung its arm back, and the aluminum went through the front windows behind it. It bellowed at me, phlegm frothing at its lips and streaming in the current of its howl. As it brought its hand back to its side, I could see it smoking slightly.
Outside, one of the squad cars had pulled into the lot and was creeping up to the building, cautiously navigating the wrecked cars and debris.
The troll began to beat its fist against the floor while flexing its hand. It shook its arm, and I could see its frustration reach a crescendo when it began to clap its wrist with its red, metal stump uselessly.
Its torso quivered, and its eyes locked onto me. With a howl of rage, it pounced. Its arms went back over its head, and as it came down, it brought both fists forward and down on the balcony with crushing force.