by Sam Stone
A small cry emerged from the sack. I had been right! There was a baby inside and it was screaming its lungs out, while a mother somewhere was undoubtedly mourning the loss of her child.
The condition of the bodies made more sense now. The demons were losing their grip on them, the human tissue was rejecting the evil inside – hence the boils, lesions and smell of rot. They could no longer pass as human. This was a desperate time for them.
I had to act. If I left now the child would be killed, its lifeforce used to rejuvenate the bodies the skinners had stolen and were wearing like old clothes. These warped and twisted creatures were hoping to save their pelts. To mend them, like crudely stitched rags, so that they could once again merge with the populace. They would appear as beggars, urchins, sweeps, factory and dock-workers. The type of humans that people treated as invisible and would barely spend time scrutinising. And they would do this by skinning the flesh from a newborn, each consuming a piece: the only way to restore this kind of demon’s power. Or so it was rumoured. I didn’t know for certain, because I had never come across one before. I just recalled hearing about them from a water demon I despatched some time ago.
We had coerced some truths out of the thing before we killed it. He had told us about nephilims, water nymphs – something sailors called sirens – and skinners.
Skinners were different from the usual demons and cross-breeds, because they borrowed bodies to live in. At the time I hadn’t believed him when he’d described the awful ritual they performed to sustain themselves. I had thought the demon had been lying to save his own life, but obviously he had told the truth.
The group drew closer to their meal, and now I saw vicious claws and fanged teeth as the glamour that hid their true nature dropped, warping the stolen bodies into animalistic changelings. I had to do something! It was foolhardy, but I would act regardless: I couldn’t stand here and let the child die.
‘Back away from the kid,’ I said, stepping out from behind my hiding place.
The creatures rounded on me immediately. Gaping maws snapped vicious, shark-like teeth. Black eyes took in my weapons, and the one I had followed – possibly their leader – began to laugh in that awful chirruping way.
‘You are no match for us, girl!‘ Its voice was a breathy hiss. ‘But we know of you. You and your companions …’
Its face, though still mostly human, was showing signs of wear and tear. Soon none of them would be able to blend in, so they were all as desperate as they could be. And desperate meant extremely dangerous when survival was the ultimate prize.
I was pointing the gun on instinct. Taking this one out first might help, but I didn’t know what type of weapon would work best.
‘I’m not alone,’ I bluffed, hoping they really did know of me and my companions. ‘This whole place is surrounded.’
The creatures looked around nervously. The chittering started up again and a furious row seemed to take place between the dock-worker demon and the urchin with the pustules.
The urchin looked over at me, assessing my nerves to see if I was bluffing. But I’d learnt to keep my poker face in place some years ago. And I always had a steady hand, even though I felt that familiar rush of fear and excitement that normally came before a fight.
‘We are only trying to survive …’ said the urchin.
Its face now looked cherubic, pustules hidden, I knew, behind a wall of their hypnotic glamour. He was an adorable child. I could see why the demon had chosen this body to inhabit. He could hide safely inside, while the unsuspecting mortals around him patted his innocent-looking head and fed him crumbs from their own tables.
I blinked away the glamour spell with little hesitation. That kind of simple magic required the person to be complicit in receiving it. I wasn’t, and therefore, could not be fooled. The face of the urchin returned to the bloated plague-covered mass it had been.
‘Nice try kid, or whatever you are. I’m not taken in by parlour tricks. Now back away from the baby. I won’t ask nicely again.’
The urchin glanced back at the other skinners and barked a chattering order. They backed away.
‘Not too far. I want you all to stay where I can see you,’ I warned.
‘But why do you even care?’ said the urchin. ‘If we take this one life, then 20 others will be spared.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘We have to survive, just as you do. These bodies are deteriorating. We need to repair them, or take new ones. One life … this baby … will spare many others.’
‘I’m not letting you eat that child, skinner,’ I warned.
There was a collective gasp as the creatures reacted to the knowledge I held about them.
‘You think you know what we are?’ said the urchin.
And yes he was beginning to annoy me in the way most arrogant demons always do.
‘I know what you are, and how you obtained those bodies. Back away from the child or I’m going to ensure that that body won’t be any use to any of you anymore.’
The urchin feigned backing away as I knew he would. He turned as though to go, then dived back towards the crying child. I fired the laser gun, severing the clawed hand that reached out for the baby’s delicate flesh.
The skinner-urchin gave a satisfying scream and fell back onto the floor, clutching his maimed arm. It was good to know that they would feel pain, but I had little time to think about it as the other skinners used the distraction to sink back into the shadows and disappear, leaving the urchin and the dock-worker. Both of whom were unwilling to abandon their prize.
I now had a dilemma. I could kill the two remaining and try to take the baby, but I was certain that the other skinners were circling around the warehouse in an attempt to cut off my exit.
I had no time to waste. I blasted the laser into the face of the urchin, which exploded in a mass of blood, pus, skull and brain. I then arched the beam over to the rapidly retreating dock-worker and caught him as he reached the edge of darkness. The laser lit up the corner, exploding into his back, sending him smashing face first into a pile of crates. The boxes tumbled and scattered with the force of the bulky, now dead, body that crashed into them. I heard the chattering spreading all around me. I could wait for them to come at me, one at a time, while protecting the child, or I could take my chances and try to get back to the door I had entered.
I hurried to the sack, pushed aside the severed hand of the urchin and lifted the baby out of the middle. The sack was filled with all kinds of spoils – tools, food, clothing – hence the bulk of it. The baby was wrapped in a thin blanket. He looked bruised but mostly unharmed. I lifted him up and tucked him in my left arm, while scanning the area for possible attack.
A burst of chittering filled the air. I stood up, gun ready, and made my way cautiously back to the stack of crates, and the shadows that hid my waiting foe.
Once in my arms the child hushed its constant sobbing, as though he knew he was safe for now. I passed the first aisle without incident, but rushed onwards because now I felt speed was more essential than stealth.
A skinner burst out from behind a pallet containing canned food. It caught my leather-gloved hand, severed the connection to the power pack and knocked the laser clear of my fingers. I heard the gun fall to the floor, skidding off somewhere to the left. I ducked as the skinner swung its clawed fingers at my head, then holding tight to the baby, I dived between two rows of crates. I switched arms, pulling out the Colt 45, grateful that I’d had the foresight to load it before entering the warehouse. The skinner was soon behind me and I pulled the gun up to face him, just as a second skinner dived down into the gap between us from the crates above. The gun went off into the chest of the nearest demon, blasting a hole through him. The skinner’s body exploded backwards, taking out the demon behind him as the blast burst from the back of the first, into the chest of the second. The carcasses crashed back into the pallet of tin cans.
The air was rank with the smell of burnt demon and
rot as the bodies, sustained long beyond their natural death, now rapidly fell into total decay.
The baby was crying loudly again: I made no effort to hush it. There wasn’t any point; the skinners knew exactly where we were.
I weaved through the crates, as cautious as was possible in the circumstances. All I needed to do was get outside: the skinners were unlikely to follow in their current condition. I saw the door, light filtered in around the edges as it was slightly ajar. Maybe the row had raised the alarm and someone else had come in? I hoped not. Another civilian to save would be an inconvenience. I paused. It could be a trap, of course. The skinners may have opened the door to encourage me to rush forward, taking less care, while they gathered at the sides waiting to pick me off.
The baby had quieted. I glanced down at him, noted with surprise that he had fallen asleep. Then I felt the heavy breath of a demon standing right behind me. I threw myself aside, smashing into a pile of empty crates, that tumbled over with the impact – less dramatic that the earlier fall of full crates as the urchin and dock-worker died, but no less useful because as I knocked over the crates, I immediately ducked away to the other side of the aisle. By that time the clumsy skinner had thrown itself forward, and now it fell down onto the floor at my feet. I pulled the trigger of the gun and blew the bastard back to hell. It was very cathartic.
I ran for the door as it opened wide before me. Daylight poured in, blinding me momentarily before my eyes could adjust from the gloom. A shape loomed, outlined by the light, shadow large. It lifted something it was carrying and swung. Then I noticed that a skinner had been running almost parallel to me down the aisle to my right. The creature fell at my feet, head crushed by the handle on a very familiar cane … a cat’s head made from silver …
George Pepper pulled out the hidden sword from inside the cane and pierced the prone body for good measure.
‘When I heard the explosions I knew you were in trouble,’ Pepper said as he pulled me and the baby out of the warehouse.
He slammed the door shut as a skinner crashed against it in a last-ditch attempt to snatch back the prize. Then Pepper wedged a piece of shattered crate into the handle to prevent it being opened from inside.
2
‘We have to blow this place,’ I said.
‘Lucky for you I have this then,’ said Pepper, showing me a stick of dynamite. He had several more sticks in a bag by his feet.
‘I’m blessed to have such a useful friend,’ I said.
‘What’s with the kid?’ Pepper asked.
‘Skinners …’
‘Ah,’ said Pepper, catching on immediately to the importance of the devastation needed.
The door heaved behind us. Pepper leaned on it.
‘Just one problem,’ I said. ‘I don’t think that dynamite will be enough to bring this place down.’
Pepper looked down at the pack and nodded.
‘But I have something inside my reticule that could boost it.’
I hurried back to my hiding place, pulled free the reticule, and wrapped the baby in my skirt to cushion him from the sounds of explosion that would soon occur if the plan I was formulating worked out well. I then laid him inside one of the open crates.
‘You should be safe here for the time being,’ I said. The baby slept on as though he knew now he was completely safe. I hoped for his sake that the door held out until we could prepare the dynamite.
I took my reticule back to the doorway. Then we began the process of pressing the nitrogen bullets into the sticks.
‘Good thinking,’ Pepper said.
‘The dangerous part will be lighting them, opening this door and throwing them inside without allowing the skinners to escape.’
‘I have an idea,’ Pepper said.
Pepper’s idea sounded insane and dangerous. He planned to climb up on the roof, enter the warehouse through the skylight windows, and then to distract the skinners long enough to allow me to enter by the door. Then between us we would place the bombs at various points in the warehouse. Once the dynamite was lit though, we didn’t have much time to get out again. It would rely on us both making our way back to the door, and out again before the whole thing blew.
‘I can’t imagine you climbing up onto the roof with your bad leg,’ I pointed out. ‘I’ll have to do it. But instead of going inside, why don’t we just drop the bombs through the skylights?’
‘It won’t be as accurate, or as devastating to the structure as placing them directly under the support beams will be.’
Pepper drew a map in the dirt with the tip of his sword.
‘This is where the bombs need to be placed,’ he said. Indicating where he thought the support walls and beams of the building were most likely to be. ‘From what you say, they die fairly easily. Bringing the structure down on their heads might just be enough to finish the whole lot of them.’
‘Their weakness is the human bodies they’ve decided to live in. Bodies that can still be injured or killed and I’ve discovered that they feel pain. Which is always a bonus.’
We argued for a moment about who would take the chance on entering and as always I won. Pepper couldn’t run as fast as I could, due to his injury, and I already knew the layout of the warehouse.
‘Keep them by the door until I’ve placed the bombs,’ I said.
I cut down some of the fuses on the dynamite, and lengthened those on the others. Then I removed a further roll of fuse that was in my reticule, tying it to my belt.
‘When you hear the first commotion, get the door freed but leave it closed. I’ll yell when I’m near.’
I made my way silently across the roof. I was carrying a sack containing the bombs, and had a long length of rope coiled over my shoulder. I glanced down the first skylight and noted a cluster of skinners pounding on the door. We had already made sure that they couldn’t escape by any other route. Fortunately the huge warehouse doors overlooking the dock were held together by a heavy chain to protect the contents from potential thieves. The skinners must have known this, as they had made no attempt to leave this way. The only way out was through the side door, and Pepper had this blocked.
I walked to the back of the warehouse, stopping at points to look down. I could see the clearing and the bodies of the dock-worker and urchin still there along with the carnage I’d left behind after exploding the other skinners. None of them had attempted to move the decaying bodies, which meant that they were all too focused on their own survival now. Making this particularly dangerous for Pepper and I.
I opened the skylight closest to the back of the warehouse. There was a beam crossing the centre of the building, just below the window. I lowered myself in and onto it. Then tied the rope around the beam, quietly lowering it down into the warehouse. I squinted down into the dark. It looked long enough, but I wasn’t sure if it reached the bottom. I would just have to take the chance.
I slid onto the rope, wrapping one leg around it for extra support, then shimmied downwards as silently as possible.
I heard the chittering of the skinners, but it sounded far away. As I reached the end of the rope, I realised it didn’t quite stretch down as far as I would have liked. I looked down. It was maybe ten feet from the ground, but I had jumped down further distances in the past with only a few scrapes. The problem here of course would be the noise I’d make. I wasn’t ready to attract attention just yet. I needed to do that on my terms when the first bombs were in place.
I slid down the rope as far as possible, then let go, landing with a soft thud, and a roll, to try and prevent injury and noise. As I landed the skinner chatter peaked and grew louder. I heard Pepper banging on the door to aggravate them, and blessed his timing. My slight thump went unnoticed and I hurried off towards the first corner and quickly placed the first bomb.
After that, moving around the warehouse was easy. I kept low, placed the bombs, joining them all to the long fuse that I would light as soon as the skinners became aware of my presence.
; I retraced my steps from earlier, heading back towards the door, wire falling between the aisles of crates, in a way I hoped the skinners wouldn’t notice until it was too late. Then I found myself back near the pallet of tin cans. I picked one up, weighing it in my hand.
The time had come to draw them away from the door. I threw the can over the crates to one of the corners furthest away from me, and nowhere near any of the bombs.
The skinner chatter halted. I threw another can. Then sank back behind the pallet and waited as two skinners hurried past towards the area I had thrown the cans. I lit the fuse and moved away, but first loaded a few more cans into the now almost empty sack. I had one more bomb to place near the door, and for that the skinners would all have to be drawn away. I began tossing the cans in various directions away from myself. Then circled the area that the skinners had previously searched which was easy because they made no attempt to hide themselves. I reached the door to find that two of the creatures remained.
I was hoping that Pepper had silently removed the cane from the handle and I would be able to make a quick exit, but the two skinners were blocking my way. I had the Colt 45, but the blasts from the bullets would most likely bring the rest of the creatures running back. That was the last thing I needed. I made my way back towards the stack of cans, and as I refilled the sack two skinners turned the corner and headed towards the pallet. I ducked down before they saw me, then crawled across the row towards another aisle. My hand fell on something cold. It was the barrel of a gun. My Crewe-Remington Laser was once more in my hands. I was no longer wearing the battery pack, thinking the gun lost, but I hoped that it still had enough energy to work one final time for me.