by Michael Todd
Korbin sighed, looking out the window. “I hope so. I really hope so.”
12
Katie knocked on Angie’s and Juntto’s door. Pandora was behind her, holding two donuts in one hand and eating a third. “Why did you have to bring food with you?”
Pandora shrugged. “I don’t get the donut time now that I used to. I have to improvise, okay? Just be glad I don’t need dick as bad as donuts right now.”
Katie turned back around, then burst into laughter. “I’m sorry, I just pictured you carrying around an armload of dicks instead of donuts.”
Pandora lifted both eyebrows. “I mean, it’s not out of the question.”
Angie opened the door. “Hey, guys. Sorry, I was changing. Come on in.”
They walked in and followed Angie to the kitchen, where Juntto was filming his show. Katie bit the inside of her cheek and nodded at Juntto, letting him know they had to talk to him. He took a break, turning off the camera. Katie walked up, looking at his mess. “Sorry to interrupt you, but we have some news.”
Juntto waved it off. “I am getting pretty good with editing. It’s fine.”
Pandora was down to one donut but had already had six. She looked in the pot on the stove and flinched, the smell hitting her straight in the nose. She took the last donut and tossed it in the trash, holding her stomach. “That’s the only thing to ever tear me from my donuts. What are you making, stewed babies?”
Juntto shook his head. “It’s a lamb and garlic dish, with some other stuff thrown in because that’s what we frost giants do. So, what’s going on?”
Katie stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Looks like a new Leviathan may have been found.”
Juntto’s face went perfectly still. “Is it Legion or the Unnamed One?”
Katie shrugged. “We don’t know right now. We can’t catch up with it. Which is worse?”
Juntto sat back on his stool. “We don’t know much about the Unnamed One, but Legion is infamous. He seeks to add the strongest possible beings to his collective, and he’s not friendly.”
Katie nodded. “Well, then, let’s all hope this is just a false alarm.”
The truck bounced over the terrain with Korbin holding the oh-shit handle in the front and the guys clinging to the sides for dear life in the back. They made a left turn and raced over a patch of level ground. Korbin leaned forward and put his hand out. “Slow down. Don’t get too close.”
Up ahead were a large group of people and the helicopter, which now had no door. Korbin opened the door and nodded to Brock. “Let’s get around them. See if we can’t get some answers.”
Brock gave him a thumbs-up and walked back to the truck bed to update the others. Korbin stuck his head in the truck. “Stay here for now. If things go well, we’ll call you over.”
The guy swallowed hard. “And if they don’t?”
Korbin pulled his pistol out. “Then you hightail it out of here and call the Army. Tell them you were sent by Katie’s Killers and you need to get hold of General Brushwood. He is the best person to talk to.”
The guy nodded. “Good luck, then. I’ll be right here.”
Korbin shut the door, and the five of them walked slowly toward the group, spreading out far enough to move around them. No one was looking at them. They were just standing there, slightly hunched, their heads hanging low and their bodies swaying. Brock stayed next to Korbin with his gun out and his sword on his back.
Korbin cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Do you know where I can find two British military teams?”
He scanned the crowd, but no one so much as twitched. They acted like they couldn’t hear him. He sniffed, glancing at Brock and then back at the group. “It looks like you could use some help. My name is Korbin, and these are my guys. We are here to help you. Can someone tell me what happened?”
They waited, but there was still no response. All five of them were starting to get antsy. Suddenly the center of the group began to shift, the people moving to the side one by one and creating a walkway of sorts through them. From the center, a creature, something reminiscent of a mummy with its shroud flowing like tentacles around, stepped out. Its eyes glowed bright purple, and Korbin immediately knew it was not there to make friends.
Korbin pulled out his gun. “Oh, shit.”
He pointed his weapon at Legion and began to fire, and the other Damned, including Brock, followed suit. Then things started to get ugly. Legion’s soldiers, the missing military plus others, suddenly began to move. Legion put his arms up, opening what resembled a mouth and let out a deep and raspy scream. His soldiers popped into action, moving as fast as they could toward whichever of the Damned was closest to them.
The three Damned in the back didn’t stand a chance. Seven or eight purple-eyed soldiers came down on them. They threw the Damned on the ground and pinned them. The Damned fought hard, but these creatures were wildly strong. Legion didn’t seem to walk; it was more like he floated inches above the ground, moving at a speed that Korbin had never seen any creature on Earth achieve. You could barely make out his body when he moved, just the fluttering white ribbons of fabric that whipped around him.
One by one he stopped at the three Damned soldiers, whispering something close to their ears. He moved to the last and all three went still as he floated in front of them, waiting. Korbin and Brock had backed up and were pointing their weapons at the soldiers. Suddenly the three Damned began to shake violently, their eyes rolling back in their heads and spittle flying. This continued for about thirty seconds before their bodies went limp.
Brock gritted his teeth, thinking they were dead, but a moment later, their eyes flashed open, turning from red to purple and back again. “Fuck. He is infecting them somehow.”
Legion’s army then turned to Brock and Korbin and started moving toward them. Brock hated shooting the soldiers, but he was running out of options. Korbin and Brock took a couple of the soldiers down with bullets in the chest and they fell to the ground, their eyes flickering from purple back to their normal hues.
Korbin grabbed Brock’s shoulder. “We need to fight, but if it gets too much, we retreat and call for backup, you understand?”
Brock nodded. “Got it.”
Korbin looked him straight in the eyes and gave him a nod. For Brock the next few moments were almost like slow motion. His eyes flicked behind Korbin as he turned, slamming a new mag in his gun. Brock saw the flashes of white, but they didn’t register until too late. As Korbin turned back around, Legion moved up to face him, reaching out and grabbing his throat. Korbin’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open, struggling for air.
Legion whispered to him, too low for Brock to hear, and then let go. All he could see was Korbin from the back. He stood there for several moments before lifting his chin and taking a deep breath. When he turned around, his eyes shifted to meet Brock’s, filled with swirling purple. Brock stepped back, tripping and dropping his pistol.
Reaching back, he slowly drew his sword, putting his hand out. “Don’t make me do this, Korbin.”
The bubbling and blistering pits of hell simmered in their sulfuric glory deep within the inner circle. Baal rushed around his mansion, ordering servants right and left, trying to get everything straight. Early that day he was awoken by the servants telling him he’d had a messenger from Lucifer. Wrapped in a robe, he hurried out of his bedroom to greet the messenger and take his request for Baal to join him in the throne room. He had no idea what for, but he wasn’t about to screw it up.
Lucifer, for as long as he had been the almighty ruler of hell, had been keen to receive splendorous gifts and glorious tithings from his many slaves. Baal was not exempt to those expectations just because he sat on the council since he was still a slave—which is always wise to remember. He just had a bit more room to breathe. He ordered his chefs to prepare all sorts of delicacies to bring with him since he wanted to impress Lucifer. Despite what people said, he was not actually hard to please when it came to thos
e sorts of things.
“Let’s go, let’s go,” Baal roared, holding the door. His staff and chefs accompanied him to the throne room.
There was no way he would pull that off by himself, and he wanted to give Lucifer his utmost attention while there, so putting out all of the food and drink himself was not in the cards for him. It wasn’t a big deal, though, since he had more than enough staff to fulfill his needs. It was getting them there on time that was worrying him. He knew how Lucifer felt about lateness.
Everything worked okay, though, and he arrived ten minutes early, enough time to be shown in while the chefs and servants set the luscious feast up on the long stone table that had been placed in the center of the room. It was almost as if Lucifer had known what he would do.
“Ah, Baal, I see you have brought the delicious cuisines of your personal chefs with you,” Lucifer said, walking off the dais and waiting as the demon servants removed his robes, leaving him without a stitch of clothing.
He sat down, and Baal did the same. Lucifer sipped from his cup and stared at Baal for a moment. “This was good timing for your food. I have some news from Earth. Somehow those idiots managed to wake up a Leviathan. And not just any Leviathan, at that. Legion is on the loose.”
Lucifer waved his hand, bringing up a view of the battle in the hills of Iraq. Baal watched with caution, knowing how powerful Legion could be. He had no soul. He could die, but when he did, he would not linger on any plane. And while he was alive, he didn’t care about anything but himself. As they watched the fight, Mania scanned the food that Baal brought. With a sneer, she sat back down and ordered the servants to bring her the fruit she wanted. She wasn’t into demon food; she made that perfectly clear.
Baal watched as Legion and his growing army added three more, all Damned, to the ranks, then turned one of Katie’s top Damned. “That is Korbin, as in Korbin’s Killers. The one who discovered Katie just moments after Lilith entered her body.”
Lucifer nodded. “Yes. And that is impressive.”
The fight cut out, and Baal put his paws together. “Do you wish me to help Legion?”
Lucifer sucked out the contents of the belly of an African toad and shook his head. “No. Other demons interfered on Earth, but it was never my command or my wish, nor would it have made any sort of impression on me had they succeeded.”
Baal tilted his head to the side. “But I thought...”
Lucifer shrugged. “I have to have some entertainment. Why not watching the bumbling idiots around me waste their lives on this nonsense?” He pushed the plate away and slammed his fist on the table. “They were all fuck-ups, and some of them were even traitorous fuck-ups. I don’t care about making hell on Earth. As a matter of fucking fact, I don’t care about taking over that idiotic ball of rock. I rule here. HERE!”
Lucifer growled, pointing his talon at Baal and taking a deep breath, then letting it slowly out. Mania raised her head from her fruit plate. “Deep breaths, darling. Remember what the yogi taught you. You will only be successful if you learn to control your emotions. Put forth only what you want to.”
Lucifer nodded as he took another breath and opened his eyes. He stared at Baal and grabbed a clawful of monkey brains. “What I want is my wife back at my side. That is all I want. I have been saying that since the beginning, but somehow my council believes they know better than I do what I want and need. Well, with your assistance, we got rid of the ones who couldn’t figure that out, and now what I want is Lilith. Legion is stronger than everyone but me and Him, but we both know that Lilith will not sit back and let him turn her precious humans into slaves. If Legion assimilates Lilith, we will retrieve her and bring her here.”
Baal shifted his eyes around. “Here? To hell?”
Lucifer nodded. “Yes, and she will heel at my request. She will do as I please, and she will proudly sit on that fucking throne I had made for her. There will be no more games, Baal. The time for that is over. Now I will focus on what is really important.”
Brock slid across the ground on his knees, slicing his knife into one of the soldiers charging him in the two-second pause in his fight with Korbin. The soldier collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony. Brock hated it; he couldn’t stand the sound. He picked his pistol up out of the dirt and put the last bullet into the soldier’s head to spare him the pain.
He jumped back up and ran after Korbin, slashing his sword at him, only to be blocked and then pushed down. Korbin was deadly with his twin swords, making no movement without thought. Brock was barely able to hold him off with his broadsword, but he was almost out of ammo, and the rest was in the helicopter that had been overrun by Legion’s soldiers.
Korbin waved his swords in front of him as he moved toward Brock with an intensity in his eyes he had not had before. Brock threw up his sword, blocking his follow-through. He struggled with Korbin for a moment, and then the two pushed each other off. Brock backed up, putting his hands up. “Korbin, please! I know you are still in there. Try to remember who you are. Try to remember fighting hard with Katie. Fighting against the demons for years. Think about falling in love with your beautiful wife, Stephanie, who is waiting for you at home.”
His sword momentarily slowed down as Korbin paused, the images conjured by those words passing through his head. Brock slowly pulled his pistol out, running his eyes over Korbin. He didn’t know if he could do it. He watched as Korbin shook out the thoughts he was trying so desperately to stop and growled, coming after him again. Brock scrunched his face. “I’m so sorry, brother. I’m so sorry.”
Brock flinched as he pulled the trigger once, shifted, and pulled it again. The bullets hit Korbin in the knees and went out the backs. The pain from the special metal hit him first, and he fell face-down on the ground, shaking violently. Quickly Brock pulled some zip ties from the side of his bag and pulled his boss’s arms to his back, fastening them tightly. He went back to his bag and grabbed the rope, hanging it over his shoulder.
He glanced back, seeing Legion emerge. Brock waited for Korbin to pick himself up, wobbling, then took off at full speed and launched into him. He gripped the restraints and ran as fast as he could. As he turned the corner, the rusty old pickup squealed its tires, coming to a stop right in front of him. He threw Korbin in the bed and tied him up really fast before closing the tailgate and getting into the cab.
The British guy took off, throwing up dust and rocks behind him as he raced off. Brock, hands shaking, grabbed his phone and dialed the general, trying to keep it together. “Brock?”
Brock twitched, glancing back at Korbin in the bed of the truck. He was still bleeding. “General, I…”
“What is it? Is everything okay?”
Brock wiped the spit off his lips. “No. Things are real fucking bad here, sir, and I’m the only one still functioning. The three we brought are part of the army or dead, and Korbin… He needs a doctor really bad.”
13
With his eyes closed, he could feel the surge of his demon rolling through him, fixing whatever was wrong. Korbin was in no pain at that moment, thanks to his demon. He moved his fingers, feeling a soft cotton sheet beneath him. In the background, he could hear sounds, people, footsteps, and possibly someone in a kitchen. He wasn’t sure if he should open his eyes. He wasn’t ready to fight anyone off if he were in danger.
Still, he couldn’t just lie there with no idea what type of danger he was in. Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking wildly to clear his vision. His vision cleared and he looked at the ceiling, which was cracked and stained. His jaw closed and he smacked his lips, feeling the dryness and smelling the stench from his mouth. Carefully he turned his head to the side and looked around. It was a stone room with dirty, dusty floors, a dresser, and an Iraqi flag on the wall. Near his bed was an old wicker chair.
The sound of footsteps brought his attention to a door to the right of the bed. A shadow fell over the floor and Korbin tensed, gripping the sheets. The sound of the stone scraping under boots heightened hi
s awareness, but when Brock stepped around the corner, he let out a long, deep breath.
“Hey,” Brock said excitedly. “You’re still alive. That’s good.”
A small woman, her head draped in floral fabric and wearing a dress that went to the floor, looked at him. Brock put his hand gently on her shoulder. “Rubama bed alma’ walkhubz min shanih ‘an yusaeid. Shukraan lab Abyha. Allah maeik.”
The woman bowed her head slightly, her eyes shifting wearily back to Korbin. “Bialtabe bikuli takidin. Sa’ahdar alzaytun aydana. Tushibak alsalamat.”
Brock lowered his head to her as she hurried off. He turned back to Korbin and walked into the room, pulling the wicker chair up next to him. “How are you feeling?”
Korbin took in a deep breath and slowly pulled himself up, his back resting on the wall. “Okay. I think my demon is blocking almost everything.”
Brock chuckled. “Well, at least your eyes are back to their creepy, beady red selves.”
Korbin shook his head. “I never did like the color purple. How did you get it out of me?”
Brock shrugged. “I got you away. I think it’s only if Legion can stay in close enough proximity to you. I’m not really sure, though.”
The woman walked back in carrying a tray with water, bread, and olives on it. She set it down over Korbin’s lap and poured water into the cup. Korbin bowed his head. “Shukraan lakum.”
She stared at him for a moment and then at Brock, who bowed to her as well. She hurried from the room, closing the door behind her. Korbin took a piece of bread and bit into it. “Who is she?”
Brock looked up at the door. “Someone we can trust. Someone who has ties to the general and American soldiers. She is only a few miles from where Legion was.”