by Erik Lynd
"This might help explain it," Dark Eris said and held up a piece of paper from the desk. "He owns the zoo."
"That can't be right," Hamlin said. "The zoo is a nonprofit. Nobody owns it."
"Well then, maybe he is a big donor. These papers mention huge amounts of money that went into the construction and remodeling of parts of the zoo," she said. "And from the looks of it, he had a lot of say in the design. A lot of these papers are requests for approval."
"Well, that might explain it. Between his money and power, he could probably have manipulated the powers that be for this place," Christopher said. "Actually, makes me feel a little better, seeing that he had to use mundane means. It's not all magic and killing people."
"Now I'm really curious about what’s in that safe," Hamlin said.
He went over to investigate it while Christopher continued to boot up the system. Only one screen lit up, and it was asking for the password.
Well so much for this being easy.
He had no idea what the password was, so he went over to the desk and safe with the others.
"It weird," Hamlin said as Christopher came up behind him. "There is no actual way to input a combination of any sort. No dial, no digital reader. No wires running to it, so I don't think there's a remote interface."
"It has a handle," Christopher said and tried it. It didn't budge. "Rock solid."
"Almost as if it was a onetime deal," Dark Eris said.
"What do you mean?" Hamlin asked.
"Well, like you seal something up and never open it again. A permanent solution."
"But why put something in a safe that you never intend to get to again? Why not just throw it away? Shred it, or whatever," Christopher said.
Hamlin knocked on the side, it made a dull thump. "Well, it’s got to be a custom safe. I wouldn't think they would sell safes you can only get into with brute force. This safe looks solid as Hell. I can't imagine what kind of strength or power you would need. Not something you could bring down here easily..." Hamlin trailed off as he looked at Christopher, realization dawning. "You're right, girl. It was a onetime use."
Christopher caught on too. "Stand back."
He pulled the Weapon from his pocket. It screamed to life and shifted into a large axe. It was similar to the one he had fought the werehound with, but less battle-ready looking. It was thicker, more like a tool than a fighting weapon. Power crackled up and down its length.
Christopher stoked the Hell power inside of him, shrugging off the nagging suspicion that despite the huge amount of energy that flowed through his body, he was weaker than normal. Power radiated around him, jumping from the Weapon to his body, coursing through his shadow clothes.
But the desire, the hunger, was stoked as well. The need for the Weapon to consume souls washed over him. He had starved it for a while now, and the hunger was nauseatingly powerful. He tried to rein the power in, but it was as though he was numb. The need to kill was rising up in him from the Hell power, the Weapon was calling out to it and it was answering.
Trying to control it was like pulling at the reins of a horse, only to have them slip through your fingers. He tried to warn the others that they were in danger, but the power distorted his senses. Through a haze he saw himself raising the axe high above Hamlin as he crouched against the wall. He was yelling something but Christopher could not hear. The only sound he heard was the pounding of blood through his ears.
Hamlin had his gun out, but that only stoked Christopher's rage more. It was like he was suddenly two people, one the bystander unable to intervene, the other an axe wielding maniac. There was no sound, Hamlin was still yelling, his gun aimed at Christopher's chest. The roar of his Hell power crackled around him. The will of the Weapon had taken control of his body. He was a marionette and the power of Hell and hatred was pulling the strings.
Somehow he was weaker, he had always been able to control the Book and Weapon before. But the power was starved for a soul, and it would take the closest one.
Suddenly Eris was in front of him screaming. She stood between him and Hamlin, tears streaming down her face, arms raised up as though defending him from Christopher's blow. The sight of her, the sight of them in fear, and the thought that he was the cause of that fear caused him to pause. The uncontrollable power inside of him was about to take the lives of the only other people that knew what he was. The only others who could be there for him.
And he was about to kill them both and condemn them to Hell forever.
His will surged anew. With new strength he seized back control of his body and muscles. But the axe was already falling, the power screaming for flesh and soul. With a wrenching motion that was deeper in the soul than the strength of mere muscle, he changed the angle of descent and it came down on the edge of the safe.
With a sound that was a blend of metal twisting against metal, and shrieks of anger, the axe bit deep into the safe. The door burst open as the axe cut through, sending large chunks of reinforced steel flying.
As soon as the axe had completed its arc, Christopher sent it flying off across the room before collapsing in exhaustion. He felt like he had just fought the hardest battle of his life. Harder than the fight with the werehound. The darkness was coming for him, the haze of unconsciousness was on him. It was going to take him, he had no fight left. He glanced over at Hamlin and Eris huddled against the wall, looking at him as though he was a madman. The last thing he saw before passing out was the fear in their eyes, and he was suddenly scared too. He needed them. Maybe now more than ever.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ammit lifted its head from the bloody remains of what had once been a cab driver. The cab was on its side next to the train yard where he had dragged the body. Claw marks ran down one side, and the driver’s door was torn off. His prey had tried to drive away when he attacked. He liked it when they fought back or tried to escape, it gave him a chance to play with his food.
He supposed someone might have seen him, tearing apart the cab as it barreled down the road, although the area was not very populated and those that were nearby had learned to keep their drapes closed when they heard noises outside. Nobody wanted to be a witness to a drug deal gone bad, or worse.
He supposed there might be cameras in this train yard. Maybe even security guards heading his way at this very moment.
Good. More food.
He released the soul he had just consumed. He felt its warmth spreading through him. Each one he ate made him feel stronger and more powerful. It was the soul he was after, but he even enjoyed the simple things, like the coppery taste of human blood or the way the soft bones crunched in his jaws. If he could, he would gorge himself on this delicacy.
And why couldn't he? Why did his mistress put restrictions on his feast? Who cares if the mortals saw him? What could they possible do to him?
He loved his mistress, but she was a coward. She was too careful. He could have killed this great Hunter that first night if she didn't have this fear of mortals finding out, or her fear of the thing she called the Alliance. He would not defy his mistress, he loved her, but he could take liberties with how he interpreted her orders. He would not let his chance to kill the Hunter slip away again.
He sniffed at the air. He was close to the zoo, he could smell the animals with his mundane senses, but he was also close to his true prey. Ammit could smell the Hunter with his other senses. He was nearby. Somewhere in the area and close, very close. So close it was frustrating.
With a roar he slammed his shoulder into a nearby train car. It lifted off the tracks and tumbled over, pulling the next car attached to it off the tracks also. That car leaned also, but stayed upright.
Power. Yes, he was getting stronger with each mouthful. He needed more souls. His mistress' limit was only two per night, but that was just an approximation. Surely one or two more wouldn't hurt? It would just make him stronger as her champion.
Then he smelled it again, or rather felt it. A sudden tug on the power insid
e him. Ammit licked at the air, his large tongue sending slimy tendrils of drool flying through the air. It had the same taste as that small chunk of soul he had torn off the boy. It drifted over him like a cloud of power. It was the Hunter, Ammit had caught his scent again.
Something had happened. The Hunter had used power and it amplified his footprint to Ammit. The air was alive with the stink of it.
Interesting, thought Ammit, tilting his head in a very dog-like gesture, it came from the direction of the zoo. Had the Hunter thought to hide himself with the animals in the zoo? Did he somehow think that would throw Ammit off? Then he was a fool. He would tear the zoo apart looking for the boy.
Or, he thought and paused. He looked down at the human blood all over his hands and dripping from his muzzle to the ground. Or, Ammit could feed tonight and then tomorrow draw him out. His mistress had thought the Hunter cares for these soft, fleshy mortals. Instead of killing unsatisfying animals while he searched, tomorrow he could simply gorge on the humans visiting the zoo. If he truly cares about these mortals, the Hunter will come and try to stop him. He would be the dessert to Ammit's feast of souls.
His mistress would never agree to this. But after the Hunter was dead, what need would there be for their kind to hide? This would be a magnificent way to announce themselves to the world. Yes, once she understood, once she saw, his mistress would be pleased with him. He would be the courage she needed. It was all so simple.
He heard a noise over by the train car. Ammit's head swiveled as he tried to focus in on the sound. He smelled meat.
"Help!" cried a weak voice from the car that hadn't tipped over completely.
Ammit saw a hand appear outside the door as whoever was inside tried to climb out. Probably some hobo spending the night in the car.
"Help!" the man cried again. "Is somebody out there? I need help!"
Ammit's muzzle lips tried to come up in a smile, but he just bared his teeth like a rabid animal.
Oh, he would help him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"I seem to be making a habit of this," Christopher said in little more than a croak when he woke up on the bed in the corner of the lair.
Eris handed him a cup of tea. "I found some supplies in a storage area. Only a little food, but there was some tea. Seems our Beast had a little refinement in him. Habit of what?"
"Waking up with you taking care of me," Christopher said and sipped the tea. She smiled at him. It seemed to warm him more than the tea.
Hamlin walked out from one of the adjacent rooms. He stopped when he saw Christopher was awake. For a brief moment Christopher could see a flash of fear, then it was gone. But it wasn't just fear. Christopher could see the emotions playing out through his aura. It was something more like worry. Hamlin tried to hide it with a smile. Christopher couldn't decide which was worse, the fear or Hamlin smiling.
"I'm sorry... I lost it... I," Christopher stammered.
"Look kid," Hamlin said and came closer to the bed. "I can't even imagine the burden you have. That power fighting with you all the time, it must be unbearable."
"But I almost killed you. No, I almost sent you straight to Hell."
"Well, I'm pretty sure I'm on my way there with or without your help. The important thing is you didn't strike me."
"Only because Eris was there. I was out of control," Christopher said.
"It was because you still had enough control that when Eris stood in the way you could stop, force yourself unconscious rather than strike. I could see it, the battle you were waging was taking a terrible toll," Hamlin said.
"It's getting stronger, the power in the Weapon and the power inside me. The more I starve it for souls, the more it tries to take over when it has the chance."
"Then we don't use it unless you have dark souls to give it. When you have a bunch of baddies or one in particular baddie you whip it out," Hamlin said, as though that solved all their problems. "It's either that, or you feed it regularly."
"It's more though. Something’s different. Ever since that thing took a chunk out of me, I feel like I’m not all here. Like I’m less of what I was. My control over the power is weakened. I think that thing took a piece of me, of my soul, and I don't think that kind of shit heals."
"Maybe when you stop it, you can get back whatever it took from you," Eris said.
"Maybe," Christopher said, but he wasn't sure he believed it. He looked up at Hamlin. "Hamlin, I'm sorry."
Hamlin gave his more normal half smile. "I know, kid. We'll figure this shit out, but let’s keep your sword in your pocket until either the bad guys are knocking down the door, or you’re confident you can control it."
Christopher nodded, but he couldn't help but notice the detective kept some distance between him and the bed.
"But enough of this. While you were pulling a Rip Van Winkle on the bed, Eris and I did some poking around. There was a lot of stuff in the safe. Including the password to the computer," Hamlin said. Behind him, Christopher could see the wall of computer monitors had sprung to life. Images played across the screens. Most were too dark to distinguish, and many had the green tint of night vision. It took him only a moment to realize he was looking at the zoo at night.
"He tapped into the security system?" Christopher asked.
"Yeah, and that's just the tip of the iceberg, but I know jack shit about computer stuff."
"There's more," Eris said and then nodded for Hamlin to go on.
"Well, I'm glad you're sitting down. Kid, you're rich," Hamlin said.
"I guess, but I don't like to think of it in that way." Christopher said.
"No, I mean like rich-rich. There are all sorts of financial documents, everything from charitable organizations to real estate to Swiss bank accounts. All of it, somehow in your dad’s name."
"Holy shit! How much, and how is it in my Dad’s name?" Christopher asked. He was stunned and he was exhausted. This was just one more shock to the system.
"Not sure exactly, I'm no accountant, but it’s a shit-ton. Much of it in real estate. Since it’s in your dad’s name and you’re his sole heir, it all belongs to you. I mean, once we have the lawyers go over it and taxes are taken out. "
Eris grabbed a rolled up piece of paper off a huge stack on the floor in front of the safe. Next to the safe was a blackened and twisted piece of metal he hadn't seen when they first arrived. It took him a moment to realize it was the four-inch steel door of the safe. He shuddered again. He had been moments away from unleashing that power on Hamlin.
Eris unrolled the large piece of paper on his bed. "I found this map, and it looks like you own property all over the world," she said.
Christopher looked at the map. It looked like a satellite blow up of the whole planet. Red dots were spread everywhere. Most major cities had at least one, sometimes more, as did every country.
"Lairs," Christopher said. He knew he was adopting the term they had used for this one. Somehow, it just seemed appropriate.
"There's one in Vegas. I've never been. I say we book plane tickets now," Christopher said. He felt he had never needed a vacation more than he did at the very moment. He wondered how long they would have until the werehound caught up to him. He figured at least enough time for him to catch a show.
"It's overrated, besides, there's more. You up for moving about?" Hamlin asked.
"Sure," Christopher climbed to his feet. Eris helped him up, but he didn't really need it. He felt emotionally exhausted, but physically he was way better than he had been the last time he woke up from unconsciousness. "But for the record, I don't believe you about Vegas."
They walked over to a large door on the other side of the room. It was also steel and looked almost as heavy as the vault door. Christopher was instantly on guard, he didn't trust doors when they involved his predecessor. They had a way of not behaving correctly.
Hamlin opened it and gestured for Christopher to enter. "Don't worry. I've already been inside. It's weird, but it didn't kill me."
As Christopher stepped in, they flared to life. The room was still gloomy, but it had brightened noticeably.
"Well, that didn’t happen when I came in here before," Hamlin said from behind him.
That was when Christopher noticed he had walked all the way into the room. The room was, in a word, awesome. Light still from an unknown source played along the carvings like they were alive. There were only two other things in the room besides the intricately carved walls: a frame, like something that would have held a full length mirror, only it was empty as though the mirror had been removed or broken, and a small pedestal with a cube about the size of a Rubik's Cube on it.
"What is this stuff?" Christopher asked, not really expecting an answer.
"Not sure, but I've seen Hellraiser, so I ain't going anywhere near that cube," Hamlin said.
"What's a Hellraiser?" Christopher asked.
Hamlin just shook his head. "Kids today, what the Hell is the world coming to when kids don't know the classics. Never mind, but as an emissary from Hell, the movie should be right up your alley."
"I think it's also a map," Eris said. She had come in behind Hamlin.
She walked over to the wall and traced a carving, and Christopher noticed that some of the carvings were not glowing with the mysterious light. Now that she mentioned it, it did seem like the non-glowing carvings outlined countries. Dots were spread around the countries with incandescent lines connecting them to each other. He had a feeling he knew what the dots represented.
"The lairs," he said to know one in particular.