The Demon Collector

by Erik Lynd

  But he wanted to. He had stayed here to fix as much as possible, but it might be time to try that other door, see where it could take him. When he had glanced through, it looked like dark tunnels. But it must lead somewhere right?

  He heard a thud from above. Distant, but echoing throughout the room. It sounded like it was coming from the elevator shaft. He stood up trying to decide if he should go to the door or not when he heard a loud crash followed by the sound of screeching metal. He decided it would be best if he didn't go see what was behind that door.

  In the end it didn't matter. It came for him.

  The door to the computer room slammed open and darkness spilled in. A figure stood in the doorway, a band of power arcing from him. Juan jumped and ran to the far wall of the room, his back pressed up against the glass wall of the server room.

  The figure came through the door. The shadows seemed to bend around him as though he were the master of darkness itself. The figure was cloaked all in black, his coat shifting shades of dark as though sewn from shadows. A hood covered his head and the darkness under that hood was the worst yet. Juan could feel the menace, the sheer power from whoever or whatever lived under there.

  It was like seeing the devil himself. As the man came through the door the power came with him. Such strength that Juan could feel it, could almost taste it.

  It was the devil and he had come for Juan. It made sense. What he had done, the demon girl who had found him. At least she had seemed nice. He stood a little straighter. If this was the end, he deserved it. He would not go with fear. But as the figure got closer and closer he felt his resolve weakening.

  "So, Satan, you have come to take me to Hell? I am ready, and I will go proudly," Juan said.

  "You're Juan, right?" the man said.

  "Yes, I am Juan Flor..." Juan let it trail off.

  A large panther, although it was too big to be a true panther, padded around the side of the figure then sat and started grooming itself.

  "You did most of this? All of this computer stuff? The hacking, the damage?" The man asked.

  "Yes, I did. It was all my fault and I know I deserve..."

  "And you know a lot about computers, setting this stuff up, maybe running large systems in disparate locations around the world?"

  "Um, yes, I guess..." Juan was getting confused.

  "Would you like a chance at redemption? Some way to make up for all that you have done?"

  This time Juan nodded, he was too confused to speak.

  "I am not going to damn you to Hell, Juan. I only damn those worthy of such punishment. Unfortunately, I am here to offer you something almost as bad. A job."

  26

  Mr. Stone walked down the long cement hallway. To one side was a balcony with evenly spaced columns. Bright light, generated from massive lamps hanging above the large warehouse, flooded in between the columns and left long shadows every few feet. Mr. Stone hated light, the shadows were more his speed.

  And as he passed through, each shadow stretched out further on the hallway floor, a piece of Mr. Stone sloughed off into the shadows. It was as though each step through the shadows was a cleansing that purified the man a little more. Slowly Mr. Stone disappeared revealing the true man underneath.

  He was tall, powerful. Hair black as ink and eyes of the bluest sapphire. When the pretend Mr. Stone was gone, Jax remained.

  The phone in his pocket vibrated. He slipped it out of his jacket and answered.

  “Hello Mr. Smith,” Jax answered, Mr. Stone’s voice was still there, even if he had cast the visual glamour aside, and Jax tried to make it appropriately fearful and concerned. “Yes Mr. Smith. I know, it did not go according to plans. We were betrayed from the inside. I admit one of my team, a young hacker, suddenly grew a conscience and tried to undo everything…”

  He paused as Golyat screamed a string of words, only a handful of which were a language used in the last five hundred years. Jax understood them all, he just didn’t care to listen. He stepped to the edge of the balcony, still hanging back in the shadows, however. It wouldn’t do to spoil the surprise too early.

  “Of course, Mr. Smith. It was a huge catastrophe, one I personally take responsibility for. But I do not think it was entirely my fault…what do I mean? Why your little hero friend from New York. I saw the news, I saw when he showed up, and I am certain he was there to foil your plans.”

  More screeching through the phone. Jax held it away from his ear. It was getting annoying.

  “Of course, Mr. Smith. I recognize that my organization takes some of the blame for the mismanagement of the infrastructure failure, although you must admit it was quite spectacular. I will make sure this does not happen again.” A pause. “Yes, of course I can meet face to face. Are you back in the U.S. or still in Mexico? I can be on a plane and meet you in a few days.”

  Golyat had calmed, but his words still dripped with violence. Jax wasn’t worried, he was a challenge but ultimately controllable. Jax knew, he had seen it.

  “Great I’ll take the first flight I can…okay yes, I can charter a flight. I will be there in forty-eight hours.”

  Jax hit the end call button and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Then he gazed down at the warehouse floor far beneath him. The warehouse was bustling with people making preparations.

  Carved into the concrete floor of the warehouse was a circle fifty-feet in diameter. Around it, also roughly carved into the concrete, were a series of symbols and letters. The first language. Jax shook his head. The effort it had taken to have Golyat “discover” the language so he could create his gate… Jax didn’t even want think about it. Sometimes he felt like he was herding monkeys with nothing but a stick and a banana.

  There was Golyat now, on the warehouse floor supervising the installation of the artifact they had retrieved from the pyramid. Golyat slipped his own phone back into his pocket, his face still flushed red in anger presumably from their discussion moments before.

  Sometimes Jax worried about him, you can’t just hold in all that emotion. At some point Golyat was going to explode. Jax hoped he was nearby when it happened.

  A large crane was setting the carved block down at the edge of the circle. Delicate and faded symbols, worn down over thousands of years, sprawled across its surface. Carved by hands that were not quite human, it was an essential component of the gate Golyat was building. As were the other artifacts surrounding the circle. Each had its place, each its purpose.

  Golyat thought he was building the gate for himself; he would use it to openly rule the world. But Golyat didn’t understand, he would never even be able to comprehend what he was truly building, or what purpose it would serve. It was not for him. Whether he knew it or not, he built it for Jax.

  There was no organization, just as there was no Mr. Stone. There was just Jax, the puppet master, the far seer, the one who knows all.

  Jax stepped back from the balcony. He reached out and with a finger, hooked the fabric of reality, and wrenched open a door to the Currents. Then with one step he was in them, flowing away.

  Also by Erik Lynd

  NOVELS

  Asylum

  The Collection

  THE HAND OF PERDITION SERIES:

  Book and Blade

  Eater of Souls

  The Demon Collector

  SILAS ROBB SERIES:

  Silas Robb: Of Saints and Sinners

  Silas Robb: Hell Hath No Fury

  COLLECTIONS AND SHORTER WORKS

  The Long Fall Into Midnight Vol. 1

  The Hanging Tree

  Dark on the Water

  His Devil

  Dreams

  Siege of the Bone Children

  In the Pit

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  The Long Fall Into Midnight

  About the Author

  Erik Lynd writes novels and short st
ories primarily in the horror, dark fantasy, and urban fantasy genres. Currently he is in the middle of two ongoing urban fantasy series; Silas Robb and The Hand of Perdition series. He also writes the occasional horror novel such as Asylum and The Collection. He lives in the Pacific Northwest where yes it does rain a lot and no he does not mind it.

  For more information…

  www.eriklynd.com

  erik@eriklynd.com

  This book is a work of fiction.  The characters, incidents, settings, and dialogue were created by the author and should not be construed as real.  Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Demon Collector: Book Two of the Hand of Perdition

  by Erik Lynd

  Copyright © 2017 Erik Lynd.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.  By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook.  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverses engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without express written permission.