Apocalypse Soldier (7 page)

“How well do you know the Bible?” he asked.

“Talon comes from the Italian name Talone. That makes me Catholic and a former altar boy.”

“Next you’re going to tell me that you wanted to become a priest?”
 

“Hey, watch it now. I’m the one who cracks the jokes around here.”

“Whatever you say,
Mr. Talone
.”

Talon grinned despite himself. For a moment he could pretend they were just two buddies joking around. It once again drove home the sense of camaraderie missing from his new life, away from his Special Forces unit.
 

The billionaire turned serious as he asked, “Familiar with Matthew 12:45?”

“Despite my Italian heritage I haven’t attended Sunday school in quite some time.”

“Verses 43 and 44 are the important ones. Matthew and Catholic demonology claim that when a demon returns to the same host, he will bring with him six other spirits, returning seven times as powerful as before.”
 

That explains the seven sigils at the Church
, Talon thought.

“Have you ever wondered why most victims of demonic possession are teens?” Casca inquired.

“I figured they’re the only ones willing to pay cash to see a horror movie in the theater.”
 

Ignoring his crack, Casca continued. “You’d think a demon, an agent of darkness, would target political leaders, warriors like yourself, individuals capable of horrible destruction and harm. Yet they pick young people at the cusp of puberty, the poor and the desperate.”

Talon mulled it over for a moment and said, “They make easier targets?”

“That’s right. To break from the demons’ world into ours requires immense effort and the vulnerable soul of a child provides a beachhead from which a greater spiritual attack can be launched. It’s a first step for these parasites. The impressionable, ever-changing mind of a teenager becomes a gateway to our reality. Demons operate on the principle of preying on the weak so they can use them to take over the strong.”

“Thanks for clearing that up. I’ll never look at
The Exorcist
in quite the same way again. But how does any of this apply here?”

“The mass murder in the church and the slaying of the priest are all part of a larger ritual designed to draw this entity back to Nicole.”

A chill rippled up Talon’s spine despite the searing desert heat.
 

“This time around, the demon will return sevenfold. Making it pretty much unstoppable. If the cult succeeds, these seven entities will be able to find new hosts and begin to manipulate our world to their advantage.”

Talon had barely managed to defeat one demon in Silicon Valley. Battling seven of these monsters seemed like an impossible challenge.

“You must stop this repossession from happening, at all costs,” Casca urged.

Talon frowned as a new thought entered his mind. “If repossessing a former host allows the power of a demon to grow, why doesn’t it happen more often?”

“Driving out the demon strengthens the host to fight off future spiritual attacks. Think of it as surviving your first tour of duty. The experience hardens the victim. Most demons seek easier targets… But if someone could weaken the defenses of the once-possessed, through sacrifice, ritual and psychological warfare…”
 

“The demon could gain access again.”

“And once inside, it will have a far stronger hold on its victim, allowing other entities to pass through. At least that’s what all the books say on the subject.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out if the books are telling the truth.”

One last thing was bothering Talon.
 

“So these demons aren’t truly Judeo-Christian?”

“Their names vary from one culture another. Lucifer. Djinn. Orisha. Shedim. Vetalas. Different terminology for the same phenomenon. These entities are manifestations of the
darkness
,
given shape and form by the occultists who are channeling the power.”

“Okay, I get it, but why would a cross or holy water harm such an entity?”

“How was the demon-slayer blade able to defeat Zagan? I don’t know exactly how it works, but if San Francisco has proven anything, we know it worked there. The spiritualists and occultists who created these weapons and designed these rituals found a way to access the
light
, similar to the way the cultists channel the
darkness
. A cross is just two pieces of wood, a vial of holy water just tap water blessed by a priest, and no matter how religious you might be, those items by themselves are useless against one of these creatures. But the same way the
darkness
can infect people and objects, so can the
light
. The exorcism ritual as practiced by the Church taps into that power.”
 

“In other words, it works.”

“Against one entity it does. Against seven, let’s say I’d rather not find out, despite my intellectual curiosity about the matter.”
 

“I guess I’d better get to Nicole before the cult does,” Talon said.

“No pressure, now.”
 

“Cabrera believes that the demon already walks among us. He thinks a devil leads these men. He calls himself Amon. Isn’t that the name of a demon?”

There was silence on the phone as Casca chewed it over.

“There are many Amons in mythology. You have the Egyptian deity Amun, Amon of Judah, the 7
th
-century BC king and the demon Amon, the grand marquis of hell and commander the forty infernal legions.”
 

“Charming…”

“Amon has a the appearance of a wolf with a serpent’s tail according to demonology. I doubt Father Cabrera faced such a creature and lived to tell the tale.”

“Okay, so what’s going on here?”
 

“I don’t know what Cabrera saw but if it was a demon, it would wear a face of a man, not a monster. These creatures want to infiltrate our world, blend in. This cult leader sounds like he is hoping to be perceived as a devil even though he’s still a man.”
 

Talon considered this. What Casca described was a common practice in war. Warriors went into battle wearing masks designed to transform them into something greater than themselves. Something more frightening.

“You think we’re dealing with some crazy soldier who’s playing dress-up?”

“That’s for you to find out.”
 

“You do realize this cult has a head start… We might already be too late.”

“Let’s keep a positive attitude for now.”

“If I do get lucky and somehow manage to get to Nicole first, where do we go from there?”

“Convince her to leave Arizona with you. She’ll be safe with me here in Silicon Valley. My security team will protect her from the militia. I also intend to contact Cabrera so he can begin the process of fortifying her mind against any renewed spiritual attack by the entity.”
 

“Sounds like we have a plan. I’ll check in once I have a better idea what’s going on.”

“Good luck,” Casca said and ended the call.

Even though time was of the essence, Talon maintained the speed limit. Considering the small arsenal in the trunk of his car, he didn’t want to risk being pulled. The cache of pistols, ammo, grenades and a submachine gun wouldn’t endear him to the local authorities. Even in Arizona.

The sun had already set as he entered Sierra Nogal’s city limits. The jeweled lights of the city shimmered like flames in the evening. The town seemed like a place forgotten by time. A McDonald’s and Walmart, both built in the seventies, were the newest businesses. The streets he drove through were deserted and bathed in the orange hues of sodium-vapor of streetlights. Why had Nicole chosen Sierra Nogal to start her new life?
 

She is still running
, Talon thought. Instinctively trying to keep a low profile. And despite all her efforts, her past had still managed to catch up with her.
 

He checked the time. It was around nine o’clock. Nicole would most likely be home by now. Her roommate, according to Casca’s information, worked nights. Talon decided to pay Nicole a visit and go from there.
 

Following the directions on his GPS, it took him only fifteen minutes to find Nicole’s house. It was located near the main freeways but felt isolated. Palm and shade trees fronted a covered patio. He pulled up to the curb and parked the jeep. Most of his weapons stayed in the trunk except for the Glock in his shoulder holster and a Ka-bar strapped around his waist.
 

Talon walked up to the apartment and rang the buzzer. No one answered. He stood near the door and listened intently. No sounds drifted from inside the house. His gut told him that no one was home and he began to quickly pick the front lock. The lock was cheap and barely slowed him down. If people knew how vulnerable their dwellings were to a determined intruder, they’d probably invest in a better security system. Ignorance was bliss in this case.

The door snapped open and Talon entered the silent, stuffy dwelling. One glance informed him he was too late. The living room was in complete disarray. An overturned coffee table and broken vase suggested a recent altercation. The cult had gotten to Nicole first. He spotted framed photographs of a tall, fair-skinned brunette. Attractive but with a vulnerable, haunted quality to her smile. There was a sadness and seriousness there that seemed at odds with her beauty. In some of the pictures she was hanging out with a shorter, olive-skinned female whom he assumed to be Nicole’s roommate.
 

Talon drew his Glock and advanced carefully toward the open bedroom door. Death pervaded the air. The first thing he noticed as he stepped into the next room was a cow skull facing him from the head of the bed, bone flecked with crimson, long horns sheathed in red. The skull rested on a blood-drenched, headless female body. Demonic sigils marked the wall.

Facing the mutilated woman before him made Talon think of Michelle, and his heart sank. Another casualty in this dark war. Anger rose within him and it took a concentrated effort to regain control over his emotions.
 

Focus on the victim. On the mission.
 

Was the dead woman Nicole? He studied the body more closely. The shorter build and skin tone seemed to rule out Nicole. Besides, this cult wouldn’t go through all the trouble of tracking Nicole down to just to take her head. They had something far more spectacular in store for her.
 

Nicole was still alive. For how much longer was anyone’s guess.
 

Wary, Talon edged deeper into the room and spotted a dead man previously hidden by the bed. He was sprawled on the carpeted floor, sporting a red hole in his chest framed by the scar of an inverted cross. His wide-open eyes pointed emptily at the ceiling.
 

Talon dropped to his haunches and inspected the body. How had the man died? Had he been shot in self-defense? More importantly, why had the cult left behind one of their own? Maybe it was a form of punishment for getting himself killed.

He touched the man’s body. Judging from the warmth of the corpse, the man must’ve died within the hour. Dammit, he just missed them! If he’d been just a little faster…

Had anyone heard the gun being fired? The lack of cops seemed to suggest otherwise. Or if they had, they’d failed to report it. One bullet going off in the Arizona desert could easily be ignored.

Talon proceeded to analyze the man’s bare torso. He took note of the frog tattoo with the Roman numeral six hidden in the design. He recalled Cabrera’s words:
“I believe these killers were soldiers.”

The Navy Seal tattoo seemed to confirm the priest’s suspicion. Classic ink for the unit was a trident, but nowadays most operators avoided unit-identifying tattoos. If a mission went wrong and an operator ended up captured in a foreign jail, Special Forces tats would be brought to the attention of the intelligence service. Selling a cover story of being a student visiting a Third World country was tricky with a trident on your shoulder. Smart soldiers hoping to avoid waterboarding and electrical shocks steered clear of classic designs.

If Cabrera was right about the cult, its members were all former elite soldiers. What would drive these men to unite under such a dark ideology? The question baffled Talon and was real cause for concern. He was up against professionals like himself. Men trained in the art of war who now served the darkness.

As Talon took a closer look at the corpse, he caught a faint whiff of an earthy, sour odor. Investigating further, a thin crust of dried droppings clung to the soles of the dead SEAL’s shoes. He’d become intimately acquainted with the smell while riding horses in the mountains of Afghanistan during the war with the Taliban.
 

This brought up an interesting question:
Where would the cultists come in contact with horses?

C
HAPTER
T
EN

AS THE SUN set, the purple light took on a hint of orange, the desert cooling off quickly. The twenty-acre horse ranch squatted forlornly in the expanse of sage, pine, and cacti. At the center of the property, an old Victorian home with sandblasted exteriors and grime-covered windows sagged in the dust. A rattlesnake slithered through the sand, cutting a hasty retreat as two battered pick-up trucks pulled up to the ranch. Doors snapped open and four strongly built men emerged from the vehicles.
 

The army of the apocalypse soldier.
 

More men greeted them at the house with machine guns slung over their shoulders. Two wiry, compact soldiers carried Nicole’s unconscious form to the house. Their boots kicked up dust as they navigated the dirt road to a wooden barn, past the wreck of a rust-covered Chevy wasting away like a wounded beast. A few horses grazed inside a nearby corral.
 

They entered the large stable where more black-clad cult members sporting AK-47s waited. Starlight bled through the rafters and played across the old oak beams and bales of hay. A pentagram drawn in animal blood covered most of the floor. The two cultists bound Nicole’s hands and feet with zip ties and lowered her in the red circle.