“Traitors!” Miller spat.
“Well,” replied Evans as his fangs and claws grew out to their full length, “time to put our money where our mouths are.”
The tone of his voice was confident, yet worry clung to his words. It was as if they needed more time to prepare, yet no more would be given.
Baal was not there to play games or parlay. He held his great sword aloft as a glowing beacon, pointing it at the barn and the monsters that were gathered inside.
“Annihilate them,” he commanded, saying nothing more. By his order, a dark tide swelled over and rushed down the hill. Within it, demons charged forward and were joined by werewolves and possibly a wendigo; it was moving so fast that it was barely a streak against the dark surroundings.
The demons had brought with them destruction runes of fire and ice, brandishing the magical stones before launching them at their enemies. The front of the barn, with its protections defaced, erupted into a dazzling and deadly display of blistering and frost-bound bombs.
Luckily for the monsters, some of the sigils on the roof were still intact and their defensive charms were activated. A large part of the blitz ricocheted back on the demons, killing a swath of them. Their mangled bodies tumbled down the hill, coming to rest at the bottom where they were trampled into the damp soil by those still drawing breath.
Ten men came screaming out of the barn, kicking off high into the air. Half of them extended their teeth and claws, now equipped to lacerate demonic flesh. Bones snapped in the others, contorting into the monstrous shapes of boars and bears, now poised to mutilate their canine brethren.
The shifters and vampires raced uphill side by side, clashing with the oncoming pack of werewolves and demons; the sounds that filled the dark skies when they met were brutal, laced with suffering and lament.
Meanwhile inside the barn, a bale of kappa wove water spells on the fire and the flames started to shrink.
The mountain troll took the distracted opportunity and moved in from behind, snatching up two of them in its gigantic hands, revealing himself as the treacherous snake. He wasted no time in dispensing with them, cruelly pouring the water from their heads down his gullet before biting clean through their reptilian necks. His thick and crushing teeth made sure their deaths were not painless.
The rest of the group spun around to assail the troll. Surrounding it and extending their scaly arms in a rough circle, they chanted in Japanese while avoiding the powerful swings that were striking the ground around them. Hay flew around like a blizzard and seconds later, a faint blue circle pushed out from the kappa to enclose the troll’s feet.
Almost immediately the beast gagged, reaching for his neck that swiftly filled with arid breath. The chanting was able to continue uninterrupted and water began to gush out from every pore, floating as if weightless and drawing out into long strands. The lances of water grew with each passing second. He must've been nearly drained when nothing but a flaking husk was left standing.
His dry and wrinkled eyes struggled to see the watery filaments as they turned in toward his torso. The glowing circle rose up from his feet to instantly freeze them into icy lances.
That's when the kappa’s chanting ended and the troll was impaled where he stood. His shrunken body collapsed with a soft whoosh. Their nemesis out of the way, they returned to battling the flames consuming the barn.
Bailey and Miller watched as the skirmish continued in front of them. Countless were dead on both sides, the ground made darker than the night around it.
“This is unbeliev -” said Bailey, his words cut off by a rush of air that raced between them.
“What was that, Bailey?” Miller asked, his attention still on the battle ahead.
“Hayden…” Bailey whispered, looking down at his waist; it was stained red from a huge gash across the belly button. He tried to stop the flow of blood, but it was too much.
Miller twisted around at the odd mention of his first name, catching his kin falling to his knees. Blood soaked the entirety of his lower body and he was fast fading. By the time Miller reached him, he was dead.
“What…?” he asked hysterically.” What on earth is this?” A wound, even one this extensive, shouldn't have killed Bailey. His vampiric healing would have kicked into high gear but something stopped that from happening. Instinctively, Miller reached out to the gash to investigate, but stopped just short of it. A faint yellow glow twinkled along the outer edges. This was no normal cut at all.
There was a growl from something that had approached behind him, breathing fast and heavy. Its hot breath caressed the hairs on the back of his neck.
Ah fuck, it's you, Miller thought, closing his eyes briefly.
He opened them as he turned, catching a glimpse of a long, serpentine tongue between razor sharp teeth, just before the wendigo closed them down over his face. All went painfully dark.
Further up toward the hill, Evans stood proudly in front of the armored fiend approaching him, his claws scraping against each other like nails on a chalkboard.
“What's the occasion, demon?” he asked mockingly, unimpressed by the garish outfit that was being paraded in front of him. “All Hallows Eve isn't for a month yet.”
“My, such audacity in the face of your betters,” Baal said, unfazed by the vampire’s nattering. He continued his gradual and deliberate advance as they began to circle each other cautiously.
“Betters?” Evans repeated with distaste. “In whose book?”
“The only one that matters…” Baal was suddenly close to him; way too close. “… MINE!”
His sword came down with a sharp whistle and would have sliced Evans in two, but the vampire happened to be faster, nimbly dashing out of the way just in the nick of time. The blade struck the dirt with a mighty clang, lodging itself into the ground.
Evans took a chance to strike. He looped around and swiped across the back of Baal’s armor, his claws digging into that dark shell. It was nowhere near deep enough.
This fight was not going to be easy.
Baal yanked his sword out of the ground and lunged toward Evans, flames blazing from beneath his helm.
Four werewolves raced across the clearing and through the fighting crowds, bearing a large golden vase between them. It was adorned with a fiery leaf motif and strange, curled symbols, sitting within a middle of rickety wooden frame.
They made haste for the barn, tearing through what little resistance remained inside and placed the container on the ground. One of the wolves stepped up to the vase, its golden surface gleaming in the firelight. The rest backed away as he pulled off the lid.
“Aistadeaa,” said the wolf. It was the last thing he or any of the others would do.
Back outside, Baal kicked Evans to the ground and looked down his nose at the pathetic vamp, soiled with muck and a battered in face. He shifted in his busted armor, placing the full weight of his boot on Evans’ chest.
As fun as all this was, the time for play had passed. He raised his sword for the kill, ready to cut that ugly head off that marred body, but before he could bring it down, a massive explosion ripped through the barn. The shockwave wasn't far behind and it flung him away like a rag doll.
Evans looked over to the barn, or what was left of it, his head stuffed full of intense pressure and ringing.
A great shadow emerged from the tempest of fire. It was difficult to make out in the swirling torrent, but its massive wings and thick, swept back horns were unmistakable. The sight of that alone was enough to widen his eyes in fear. This was not a fight Evans could win even at full strength. So bruised and battered, he limped off into the woods alone – away from the fight, the noises of death, and the light.
Baal got to his feet a few minutes later and noticed he was by himself. Swearing under his breath, a distinct cry pierced the silence; everything else had fallen still and afraid.
He looked to the decimated structure, a mere scattering of planks amongst a curtain of flame. Though his sword was in
hand, a chill moved down his own spine when he saw it: the infernal jinn, Ifrit, was loose upon the Earth.
“Foolish mutts!” he yelled. “Do you know what you've done?” The question went unanswered as all things in the barn had perished.
This was of no surprise, for this wasn't a moderate weapon, nor someone's tamed pet. It was a force of nature far worse than any wendigo or group thereof. Everyone and everything within a mile had been placed under a death sentence.
Baal cursed the ineptitude of Keli and those following that lesser she-beast for allowing such a stupendous misstep to happen.
He had little choice but to face it; running was a coward’s move. Approaching the wicked creature and pointing his sword at it, he spoke sternly. “I am Baal, Lord unto Hell and Knight in service to Lucifer the Great. Foul creature, I command you to retreat back to your confines. Now.”
There was a long period of silence.
“What is your answer?” he demanded.
A great fireball made its way toward him. Baal extended his free hand and a shield appeared in it, deflecting the energy on its skull façade. The land around him burned to cinder.
He lowered the shield. “So be it!”
Baal held his sword aloft and it became a frosty blue. He charged and the sharp tongue of ice was quick to chew its way into the beast’s belly. The jinn halted, burning from the freezing cold spreading out from the wound.
The exchanges continued, back and forth, potholing the earth and their bodies alike. Before long the entire area was smote to ruin.
The Ifrit threw Baal to the ground and held him down as it laid upon him, the heat conducting through the dark armor with ease. As his body burned, it belched molten salvia into his face, bubbling the host’s skin into a disgusting, peeling mess.
With what strength that remained, Baal released his sword and shut his eyes, commanding the blade to fly through the beast’s skull. It was an order it gladly followed.
As the sword pierced the Ifrit, the end had come. Without releasing its grasp, the Ifrit slumped forward, shaking violently as energy built. Finally, its body could not contain anymore and it exploded violently, the both of them engulfed in a massive surge. Fire fell from the sky like rain, relegating themselves and a significant portion of Durango to memory.
THE MOON BLANKETED ITSELF in the warmth of the black smoke as Keli walked amidst the smoldering devastation that was once Durango. Motes of char entwined with floating embers moved without a care over the what remained of the dead.
She stopped just ahead of two black spires sticking precariously out of the gray powder and bent over to pick them up. Out of the ash she pulled Baal’s lofty helm. It was empty. The host’s body had been obliterated, mixed in amongst the dusty remnants and his demonic form fared no better, since carried away by the wind.
Baal was no more. It seems her idea of stopping by Durango for a bit of housekeeping took care of two birds with one massive, molten stone.
“YOU’LL HAVE TO LEAVE very soon,” Madeline said sternly to Gage. “There is no telling who, or what, saw that beacon but they will be on their way here.”
“Did you know that the signal would be sent?” asked Gage amidst heavy breaths.
“No,” she replied. “I had assumed they would remain dormant until actually used. Obviously that didn't happen.”
“Used?” Adrienne asked, her curiosity piqued. “How so?”
“There’s not a lot of time to go into that right now,” she answered. “It’s… complicated. You have Charles’ notes on it and from what you’ve told me about your friend Joey, he does a great job at figuring things out.” Her eyes locked back onto her son’s. “I implore you to leave… soon. You have no idea what is coming for you, baby.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, trying to place his hands on her shoulders. They passed straight through. Oh how he wished he could actually touch her right now. Hug her dearly. “We’ll get the truck packed up now with the rest of our stuff and leave at first light.”
Madeline nodded. “Alright,” she said, voice breaking.
“I love you Mom,” he said. “Seeing you again was much needed.”
“You too, Gage. I cannot tell you how proud I am of you. I know that your father would be too if he were here.”
She raised a hand, the fainter one that she had used to open the cellar door, and closed her eyes. A balmy draft wrapped itself around Gage, its tender heat rising from his feet up his entire body. He felt motivated to return the gesture and to his surprise was able to push against her soft skin with his own fingers for a brief moment before his hand fell through the mist.
A tear pooled at the corner of Adrienne’s eye and she wiped it away before it had a chance to trickle down her cheek.
“Well,” said Madeline. “I’ll let you two get to it. Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be floating around. Otherwise, I will see you both off first thing in the morning.” She stepped back a few paces before fading away, leaving Adrienne and Gage alone in the room.
Each of their hands found its way into the other’s and they brought their foreheads together.
“I’ll take the rest of these boxes and see if there’s anything else we can go ahead and pack up in the ol’ girl,” said Gage as he rubbed his nose on Adrienne’s. “It shouldn’t take me too long. I’ll see you upstairs afterwards?”
She moved her hands up around his neck and gave him a kiss, savoring in the prickly goodness of his beard. “Okay then,” she whispered. “I’ll see you up there soon. I’m going to see about grabbing us something to munch on.”
Gage smiled profusely as he pulled himself away, moving toward the stairs. “I have something that can take care of that, too. Just in case you turn up empty handed.”
AS HE THOUGHT, THERE wasn’t much left to pack up other than a few clothes and toiletries. Gage strode back into the bedroom and noticed that Adrienne wasn’t there yet. She was probably still on the hunt for something to eat.
He took the opportunity to plop himself down on the edge of the bed, wondering if he had made the right decision to come here. Not one to doubt himself, a shade of skepticism had entered his mind now that an extremely powerful relic dangled around his neck. Letting out a lengthy sigh he bent over, the amulet tucked tightly between his clasped hands. It gave off an enticing warmth and for the first time in his life, he contemplated praying.
“Well,” he said aloud into the empty room. “I’m not even sure I believe you exist, but I’ll give this a go. Ironic isn’t it? Here in a world of demons and monsters, the guy that slays them has doubts about your existence.
“But I'm wondering, yet again, if it was the right choice coming here. Especially with her. I need answers, else I don’t think I will ever be able to get rid of this shred of doubt that keeps lingering. I mean don’t get me wrong, things seem to be going great, but now the weight of the world is on my shoulders, quite literally strung around my neck, and I don’t know if I am remotely up to the task.”
He opened his hands and the silver disc stared blankly at him from his calloused palms.
“How is it such a small thing can be the key to something so overwhelmingly large as the end of the world?” he pondered.
As he sat there contemplating the words he spoken to himself, an inner voice resounded in his skull. It was distant at first, like a shade of a whisper, but before long was booming, filling his body with both vigor and contentment. Oddly, it was the same voice that always spoke to him since the day he first could, yet it felt different… more paternal.
“Gage, you must always take positive inventory on what you have and what’ve done in your life. No matter what, don't get bogged down in the overwhelming and nagging little details as that can drive even the sanest man to throw himself over a cliff.” There was a brief pause. “And let’s face it, you’re far from the sanest man on the planet. After all, you fight demons and things-that-go-bump-in-the-night as your career. Hardly the stuff of sanity… it's the stuff of legend.”
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Gage chuckled a bit. “There's no denying that fact. But, I still don’t know.”
The voice continued, “Far too often there are times we find ourselves down and out, lonely whilst circling a pit of despair, thinking about nothing but all of the insurmountable things have gone wrong or questioning every decision we made to evaluate if it was the right one: Should I have slayed that creature? What about the repercussions of leaving that one alive? Should I have come back home…
“Don't do it. Focus instead on the positive, going with what your gut or your heart tells you, and most importantly believe in yourself. There is certainly no shortage of good across your thirty short years; the lives you've saved alone are worthy of record.”
It dawned on him then that he had frankly lost count of the sheer number of lives he'd saved over the last three years. Each and every one of those souls would have been lost had it not been for him or his teammates.
“Life’s direction and the direction of the things churning within it can change in an instant. We win things, we lose things, we learn from those things. Use that gained knowledge and the impact of the lives you have kept safe on this Earth and use it to carry yourself through the day, months, and years ahead.”
Gage was still dubious. “But how do I know if I'm good eno -”
“Gage, just stop thinking about it. Simply immerse yourself in the depth of the world. You ask yourself now if you have made the right choice. You have, if only because it was a choice you made for yourself. You also wonder if you are good enough for the task at hand. Only in situations where we place ourselves outside our comfort levels can we discover who we truly are. Only when we challenge ourselves can we grow into who we are meant to be…”
Gage felt compelled to nod his head in agreement as the words rang resoundingly true to him. The voice diminished, its departure leaving his body colder as the muted ticking of the wall clock became louder.
Homeward Bound (Journeyman Book 1) Page 20