First Blood

by S. Cedric

  “Oukeshelefanai bohek hapentagram, anochi hatechiya ve-hahaim.”

  “Stop that right now!”

  “Kol asher maamin bi, gam met ishieh, ki anochi poretz hanetiv ve-moshiya betoch hahoshech.”

  The undulations were stronger. The air became tangible, expanding. Then it literally ripped open and from the very texture of that air came things that grabbed his arms and legs. He felt like a veil was moving over his face, a mask to suffocate him.

  Not again. Not one more time.

  He pulled the trigger.

  The shot was deafening.

  The bullet struck Loisel, pulverizing his shoulder bone, and the impact threw the man to the floor.

  Vauvert saw that he was already losing a lot of blood and in pain.

  Loisel continued to chant.

  46

  He is sitting cross-legged on the bed, his hands at either side, palms up, and meditating.

  He has chosen an ordinary roadside hotel. It is the kind of place that he likes, because he can let go and wait.

  He is calm, breathing through the nose.

  Slower and slower.

  He is chanting. It is almost impossible to hear, but it creates a continuous vibration.

  In front of him, the television is not working. The screen is a giant, motionless, and silent blue rectangle.

  He is looking at the screen and getting lost in the electric blue. When he stares at it a long time—when he is attentive enough to look at it just the right way—he manages to penetrate the light and cross through to see what is hidden in the world behind the world. Like right now. At this very moment, he perceives shapes and images that are not really there but could be. Most often, they are images of shadows and light rising from the past. And sometimes the future.

  It is generally difficult to differentiate the two. But that is part of the game.

  The images are becoming clearer.

  The blue becomes black. And white. Shadow and light. Night and snow. Things growing underground, there, where they were put years ago.

  As his heart slows, he feels a veil shiver on his skin. The veil slides off him. The veil that covered the world slips away from everything around him.

  And he feels him.

  Brutally.

  This is the one he is looking for.

  He can’t believe it. That idiot was doing it. Loisel was using the words right now. He is moving stars in the sky and causing a tremor in the heart of the earth. Even here, sitting on this bed in this hotel room, he can feel the black sun opening. The eye opening in the innermost depths of darkness. That is the oath they had taken. One is not enough.

  Slowly—very slowly—a smile creeps onto his lips.

  His heart changes course, little by little. It starts beating faster, then faster and faster, in pace with the words Loisel is speaking.

  His smile reveals teeth that had been filed to sharp points.

  He opens his lips, and a dribble of blood seeps onto his chin, while his heart pounds out of control.

  47

  “Stop that!” Vauvert howled, as the air snaked around him. “For God’s sake, STOP!”

  Loisel’s intense chanting was making every fiber of his body shake. The door slammed, opened, and banged shut, faster and faster. Unnerved, the inspector backed into the passageway and entered the living room. He could not see where he was going and stumbled into the broken chairs.

  “Go to hell,” he cried out, fumbling for a way out.

  Loisel’s incantation still reached him and stretched beyond. Every syllable he uttered traveled through the air, vibrating the inanimate matter more and more violently.

  A crack appeared in the ceiling. Plaster fell, covering Vauvert in dusty debris. He did not know where to direct his flashlight to avoid the obstacles.

  He was sure of one thing. He had to get out of there. Right away.

  He froze, though, when he heard an inhuman scream.

  It was more of a roar. It did not come from the room Loisel was in. It was coming from outside the house.

  There was a powerful banging on the front door. Another followed. The door shook, as if it were being hit with a sledgehammer.

  Vauvert paused, trying to illuminate the shadows and the blinding dust. What was outside the house? Whatever it was, it was full of rage. And it was trying to get in.

  The banging intensified.

  Vauvert was stuck between Loisel behind him and the thing hitting the door in front of him.

  The wood cracked.

  “What the...”

  He squatted, leaning forward in a defensive position. Some creature—some creature with hooves, Vauvert realized—was trying to break down the door. In the beam of light Vauvert projected onto the opposite wall, he saw that the entire hallway was trembling.

  There was more roaring.

  The monster was not alone.

  “Loisel, please,” he called out, looking behind him.

  What he saw terrified him even more. Through the door that kept opening and closing, slamming shut to the point of cracking, he glimpsed Loisel. The man looked like a mummy of ashes and dust. His right shoulder was in shreds, red, with the bone protruding. Yet he was smiling. In the alternating light and shadow, Vauvert saw blood flowing from his mouth, forming bubbles while he continued to chant.

  At the end of the hallway in the other direction, the front door could no longer resist the banging. It shattered under powerful kicks.

  Huge creatures rushed into the hallway. They were enormous and were pushing at each other as they overturned the furniture.

  It was the horses.

  Vauvert could see them only indistinctly in the thin beam of the flashlight. But with their muscular torsos and wild manes, they looked much bigger than he was. How many were there? He made out two, then a third. Almost on top of each other, they were galloping through the hallway, making a horrible high-pitched whinnying, and kicking the walls with their hooves.

  They raced into the living room in absolute chaos, an unbridled power that nothing could stop. In the beam of his flashlight, Vauvert saw one of them buck, knocking the table over. Formidable hooves came down on everything in their way. They were not ordinary horses. They were living nightmares.

  Monsters coming back from the dead.

  Vauvert raced to the stairs, the horses galloping on his heels. After they had spent fifteen years decaying underground, Loisel had found a way to bring them back, to give them black, powerful flesh and the determination to destroy everything in their path.

  The inspector was not thinking any longer. He was focused on getting away, on saving himself. But the snow-covered stairway was slippery. He missed a step and banged his knee, and his flashlight slipped out of his hand.

  He quickly retrieved it.

  It was no longer working.

  There was no time to hesitate. He climbed the rest of the stairs on his hands and knees as fast as he could. He could hear the horses kicking at the bottom of the steps.

  Vauvert could not see anything, but he felt the stairway shake as the monsters tried to climb the steps.

  They were formidable, but they were not very smart. They had become wedged at the bottom of the stairs as they fought against each other to get up the steps. It would not take them long, though, to disengage and get up the stairs.

  This thought galvanized Vauvert. He crawled into the hall, bumping into a dresser that was blocking the rest of the way. There was a thick coat of snow everywhere. He was feeling the cold again. He was soaking and frozen. He felt the wind from outside and snowflakes on his face.

  He shook his flashlight until it lit up again.

  He moved the beam of light from one wall to another, looking for a way out of this hell.

  Although the ceiling was open to the sky, it was too high to reach.

  The first horse was nearly up the stairs. The others were hitting its flanks with their hooves, as they tried to knock him out of the way. The beast slipped and fell. The other two monst
ers charged over it.

  Vauvert surged into the first room that still had a door. He slammed it, found the key, and turned it quickly.

  The whinnying and the sound of hooves was louder in the hall.

  Quick.

  It was snowing here, too, where the roof had partially collapsed. The snow was falling on an old musty bed.

  Vauvert spotted a window the other side of the room.

  He rushed to it, hearing more crashing sounds in the hallway.

  The door shook, and Vauvert knew the monstrous horses were throwing themselves at it.

  He leaned out the window. The frozen wind blew in his face.

  He climbed out and hung onto the base, his feet dangling.

  Now.

  He let go, dropping into the darkness and falling into a thick snowdrift.

  The sounds from the second floor echoed through the valley. He heard the door give way.

  Vauvert rose to his feet.

  An engine started. Lights blinded him.

  Loisel was running. Even with a bullet in his shoulder, he had found enough strength to make it across the house, get outside, and reach his BMW.

  The powerful car slid on the thick layer of snow but managed to make it to the road.

  Vauvert called on his last reserves and hurried to his SUV, while the monstrous head of one of the horses tried to push through the too-small upstairs window. In the darkness, the beast’s eyes burned with flames of pure rage.

  48

  In the hotel room, the world is turned upside down.

  He is still sitting on the bed, but every fiber of his body is vibrating, forming and coming apart in pace with his voice.

  His heart is no longer beating. It is a bursting sun—a blue explosion. The screen in front of him absorbs it and swallows it, like the ancient mirrors used by the first of his kind to practice the reflection ritual. He melts into the electric blue. He becomes this blue, and he is the world that contains this blue. Now he can hear Loisel’s voice distinctly. Every syllable envelops him. The words of power. They rip off the veil and open the doors.

  And bring him directly to Loisel.

  He is crazy. Loisel could not keep from calling them one more time. One time too many.

  Loisel had raised the veil, pulling on it, ripping it open to let the souls of dead slip through from the shadow world, leaving a trace of wrinkles leading right to him. And now he knows where he is. At the other end of the veil. In the gaping hole

  He sees where he is.

  And he breathes the smell again, which comes like an echo. He takes a whiff. He has always loved it. It is an intense red aroma that spreads throughout the blue like a huge toxic cloud.

  Blood.

  Loisel not only is using the miracle, but also is injured.

  That is good. It is even wonderful.

  He closes his eyes, and the connection breaks. He feels the weight return to his body, as the blue sputters out. The veil returns to the world and settles. He is breathing heavily. His heart is beating fast but slower than before, a lot slower.

  “I feel you. Yes, I feel you. I make you out in that invisible space.”

  He unfolds his legs and puts his feet on the floor. The world is still wavering a little, but it is bearable. He leans down to put on his shoes.

  Then he stands up.

  Everything he is carrying is in his bag. He picks it up and throws his snakeskin coat over his shoulders. He is ready.

  He opens the door. Cheap neon lights illuminate the hallway. The hotel has no staff. It is fully automated. The man takes the stairs, which are covered with a rough carpet.

  The parking lot is deserted and freezing. Snow is falling. Headlights follow each other on the highway.

  He gazes at the Pyrenees. The person he is looking for is there, in the heart of the mountains. He can still hear the murmuring. He can smell the sweet, salty odor of blood pulsing in his neck. A traitor’s blood, finally spilled. He feels euphoric.

  He breathes in the wonderful scent of cold wind.

  Loisel will not be able to shake him now. His blood will leave an indelible trace.

  It is time for the hunt.

  He pulls the scaly coat tighter around him.

  He can already imagine the taste of Loisel’s heart when he sinks his teeth in it.

  49

  Vauvert plowed through the calf-deep snow to get to his SUV. His mind was reeling. He opened the door and looked around inside.

  Despite his jacket and thick gloves, he was shaking as he tried to start the engine.Calm down, for God’s sake. Calm down. You are safe now.

  A shadow passed behind the car.

  Vauvert straightened, on edge.

  From out of nowhere, someone threw himself violently at the car, causing the whole vehicle to sway.

  Vauvert raised his gun to protect himself.

  A grimacing face flattened itself against the window.

  Vauvert realized that his bullets would not be of any use. It was Elie Dupin—or rather, the ghost of Elie Dupin. The man was pressing more than his face against the window. He was smearing his intestines all over it, as well.

  Vauvert dropped his keys and screamed.

  “Shit! Shit!”

  He spread his feet to look for the keys on the floor, but they were nowhere.

  Not wasting any time, he locked the doors. Then he reached down between his legs. The damned keys had probably slipped under the seat. He could not think of any other explanation. He twisted around as he felt for them.

  And even in this position, he could see Dupin’s horrible, swollen face and his enormous purple throat, disfigured when he had hanged himself in the stable.

  “Leave me alone,” Vauvert yelled, gasping for breath. “Dammit, leave me alone.”

  Outside, the man in the black coat seemed to be saying something. He turned his face, spreading the blood, and pressed his lips against the window. He then repeated the same sentence.

  Vauvert could not hear what he was saying, and he did not want to know. He had to get out of there. To do that, he needed his keys. He twisted some more. Maybe they were under the pedals.

  Dupin continued to repeat the same words relentlessly. Finally, Vauvert vaguely recognized the vowels.

  “Ee. Ah. Oo.”

  Ee. Ah. Oo.”

  He finally felt the keys under the gas pedal. He grabbed them. This time, he inserted the key correctly and turned. The engine roared. The windshield wipers cleared the snow, and the powerful headlights lit up the house. Vauvert could see that the horses were no longer at the window. He wondered if they were still upstairs, or if they would suddenly surge out the front door.

  Whatever. He would be far away in just a minute. Farther and farther away from this place.

  He stepped on the gas, turned the wheel, and skidded through the snow.

  The shadows absorbed Dupin’s ghost.

  Vauvert raced away from the house.

  He had to find Loisel.

  He alone would have the answers.

  50

  There was only one way to leave the property: by taking the country road that snaked down the mountain for nearly three miles. Vauvert did not think and just raced on.

  In the headlights, he watched enormous snowflakes fall in dense clusters. The windshield wiper was on high.

  I can catch up to him. I know I can.

  The SUV slid dangerously at every turn, but Vauvert did not care. He kept his foot on the gas and kept driving. Faster. He maneuvered the hairpin turns, one after the other. ,

  Like the snow, his thoughts were swirling.

  What was Loisel? Some kind of magician? A sorcerer? Whatever he was, he had extraordinary powers. He could bring dead things back to life, and he was certainly capable of other horrors.

  Yet he was still a man made of flesh and blood.

  An injured man.

  If he did not lose any time, Vauvert could catch up to him. He wanted answers, and he would get them, whatever it took.


  He drove for miles. He started wondering if Loisel had stopped on the side of the road somewhere and turned out his lights. Maybe he had passed him. Then he saw a car briefly light up the pine trees. It was still far ahead but not that far.

  He accelerated.

  The headlights lit up another cluster of snow-covered pine trees. And then vanished once more.

  I’ve got him. My God, I’ve got him.

  He made a sharp turn and skidded. The SUV got dangerously close to a ditch.

  “Shit!”

  He had to slow down, losing precious seconds. He did not see the headlights in front of him any longer. All he saw was snow on the windshield. It looked like hyperspace in a science fiction movie.

  Be careful, he reminded himself. The road is slippery.

  His phone rang.

  Without slowing down, he felt around for the hands-free speaker.

  “Alex! Finally. Everyone is worried sick.”

  It was Detective Blanca’s voice.

  “Benjamin!” he bellowed, focusing as much as possible on the road as he negotiated another tough turn. “I’m in the mountains, and reception is spotty.”

  “I know. Damien told me about the horse farm. What’s going on?”

  “You’ll never believe me. I found Loisel. He’s on the run, heading to Spain. Get my GPS coordinates.”

  The next turn took him by surprise. He braked—too late. The SUV slid on the ice. “Shit!” he said again. “Damn it to hell.”

  “What’s happening?” Benjamin Blanca yelled into the phone. “Are you all right Alex?”

  Vauvert managed to pull the vehicle out of the spin.

  There was a long downhill slope ahead. At the bottom, he saw the lights of the other car cut through the pines.

  “Alex!” Blanca yelled. “Answer me!”

  “Yes, yes, I’m okay. I think I see him. I’m almost there.”

  But then he realized that the headlights were not going down the mountain, but were coming toward him.

  “Dammit. It’s not him. And the asshole has his brights on.”

  Vauvert flashed his lights. That was all he needed. The person driving toward him did not put his lights on low beam.