Authors: Seth Skorkowsky
He clicked a button and the
right window turned green. The shuffling image steadied and focused on the farmhouse. White numbers in the lower right read 22:34. Little squares of digital static popped sporadically across the screen. A green face leaned into view. Ramón, his pupils like pale lights in the infrared. His lips moved, but there was no sound. He pulled back out of frame. The camera jostled a hair, focusing back on the farmhouse, then Ramón and Anthony crept past, quick and low, weapons drawn.
Matt watched the two hunters approach the house.
There was a good view of the front side, lit clear under the full moon.
Worst night of the month to go on a demon hunt,
Matt thought. While werebeasts could change at will, fighting during the full moon made them even meaner, more confident. Clay always avoided it, if possible. Daylight was always safer, though the chance of witnesses became infinitely higher.
A moment later
, the left half of the screen flickered to green life. The image whirled around, then stopped, focusing on the house from the other direction. Blurry straw from the hay bale on which it rested, covered the very bottom of the screen. The clocks both said 22:41. Camera four flickered, the image briefly scrambling into little squares before clearing.
The hunters moved forward, cautious and slow.
Matt’s eyes moved between the screens, watching the two teams close in. Anthony and Ramón stopped to place a camera in the bird bath, then crept around toward the barn. The others affixed camera two to the fence post.
22:
49
Natuche
’s team headed around the back of the barn when the doors burst open. Five men rushed out with clubs. A broad form stepped out behind them. The low-light cameras seemed to dim as flared lights crackled across the monster’s bare skin.
There
’s that ifrit.
More people stormed out from the house, and outlying buildings.
Daniel hacked one of the club-wielding men to the ground, then slashed a busty, winged woman through the gut. She staggered, and he drove the blade through her. Flames burst from the wounds. She fell, burning.
Some of the knights in the audience gave mumbled cheers at the succubus
’ death, but not much as Daniel didn’t have a chance to turn before one of the clubbers smacked him right across the face. He stumbled. Another club hit his arm, knocking the sword from his grasp.
From the other side of the yard, Ramón ran toward the injured knight.
A man stepped around a corner and raised a small automatic. Bright flashes burst from the handgun and Ramón fell. Another man raced across the yard at inhuman speed toward Anthony.
Vampire.
The massive hunter spun to the side and ducked, hacking at his attacker’s leg as it passed. Moving as a blur, the vampire leapt, dodging the blade. It landed, stopping instantly as if immune to its own momentum. Anthony sprung toward it, his axe cleaving through the air. The creature dodged to the side, but Anthony whirled the blade around and into the vampire’s chest. Bright fire erupted from the wound.
“
There you go,” Colin said to the screen.
Matt watched the videos in silence, his attention wrested back and forth between the two camera feeds like being at a circus with multiple rings vying for attention.
Camera Four flickered several more times, once even freezing for several seconds before continuing. Bright flames from the burning demon souls caused the night vision to wash out, distorting much of the action. Instead, Matt focused on the areas outside the battle. In the right screen, beside the house, he noticed four people standing and watching.
He leaned over to Luiza and pointed at the screen.
“Who are those guys?”
She shook her head.
“Familiars?”
“
Then why aren’t they attacking?”
“
Don’t know.”
Two withered corpses shambled from the barn and dragged Yev to the ground.
The room was silent as they watched the hunters fall one by one. Natuche was the last. She’d almost made it to where Anthony lay when a lanky, wild-haired creature tackled her from the shadows. She kicked and fought the thing hunkered atop her.
Ben gave a little yelp as the monster tore and ripped her face off, then ate it.
She rolled on the gravel, one leg kicking the ground.
“
My God, she’s still alive,” Schmidt muttered.
“
They all are,” Turgen said flatly.
The people beside the house walked out as several more emerged from inside.
Ten in all. With the demons, they carried the wounded knights into the house. The wild-haired fiend that had maimed Natuche snarled at the approaching men, but a hulking werewolf snapped its head, and the beast cowered away.
“
That’s the only ghoul I’ve seen there,” Malcolm said.
“
They’re not very common,” Schmidt said.
“
I know, but there were eight zombies at that house. The most I’ve ever seen one command was three, and that was a real powerful one.”
The old man harrumphed.
“Maybe there’s more we haven’t seen yet.”
“
Maybe.” Malcolm leaned back into his chair. “Eight zombies is unheard of.”
“
Kluge said he’d encountered one with a half-dozen walkers once,” Matt said, remembering the story.
Malcolm turned, his brow raised.
“Who?”
“
Victor Kluge. One of the hunters I read about.”
Schmidt laughed.
“Kluge? That charlatan probably never saw a ghoul in his life.”
A towering shape moved past
camera one. It looked dark in the night vision. Chiseled muscles with two rows of short white horns running down its back. It carried a limp girl over one shoulder. Another creature followed, stooped in an awkward walk resembling a monkey. It was thin with long, thick hair. A second ghoul.
“
Selene,” Anya said, confirming Matt’s suspicion.
Luc cocked his head to the side.
“What is that thing?”
“
That’s one of those tongue monsters we found in Canada.” Allan looked back toward Matt and nodded. “The ones Matt saved me from.”
Thanks, Allan.
Everyone watched as the monsters and people entered the house. The walking corpses returned to the barn.
“
So, not much happens after this.” Allan moved the cursor to a gray bar along the bottom of the screen. The first little bit was red. “At eleven twenty-two, these guys come out.” Allan clicked a little yellow arrow tacked further down the bar and the red line jumped to that position.
The timers read 23:22
. Two figures emerged from the house. Both wore dark robes and executioner-like cowls. They removed their hoods. One was a man, his hair dark and of no particular length. The distance and green night vision made it difficult to see much detail of the other except there was a feminine quality to her movement.
“
What’s that pendant on the man,” Schmidt said, pointing at the screen. “Can you make it any clearer?”
“
I’ll need some time to clean it up,” Allan said. “But we should get something.”
The man talked on a phone as the girl smoked a cigarette.
Matt could barely make out the glint of something hanging around his neck. Had Schmidt not pointed it out, Matt doubted he’d have noticed it.
Jean leaned forward in his seat.
“Who are you talking to?”
The caller seemed real excited, his own lit cigarette waving around as he talked like one of those light batons the guys on runways
carried. After two minutes he hung up. He said something to the girl, and they dropped their butts into a clay jar by the door and headed back inside.
Allan moved the cursor to the next yellow mark on the video.
“Once they go inside, there isn’t anything until two seventeen when camera four loses everything for three seconds. Camera one only got a little flicker. Five minutes later...” He clicked the marker and the video jumped ahead.
Four figures left the house, two men and a woman.
The woman wore a long braid. One of the men was stocky and bald, the other slender with long, dark hair. Matt recognized Baldy from the farmhouse. They jogged away down the gravel drive. A couple minutes later, lights moved across the buildings and two cars, a van, and a blocky box truck pulled up. The truck blocked camera one’s view almost entirely, and camera four still flickered, not fully recovered from whatever had scrambled it.
Figures started leaving the house and getting into the cars.
Maybe twenty of them.
“
Allan, can you clean that up?” Schmidt asked, running a finger over his moustache.
“
It’ll take time.”
“
Do it. See who they are. Get the plates.”
A huge form emerged from the house, nearly filling the doorway.
“What in God’s name is that?” Colin asked.
The monster straightened as it emerged, standing a full head above the van, broad and naked with plump tits
, capped with long nipples. A thick knot of hair jutted from the back of its head and hung down almost like a horsetail. It looked around, then vanished behind the truck.
“
Go back,” Jean said.
Alan clicked the back arrow a couple times.
The video started again, showing the strangers loading into the different cars. The hulking form emerged from the doorway. It stepped out and stood straight.
“
Stop it there,” Jean ordered. “Get its face.”
The video paused.
Frame by frame Allan moved it forward until the beast turned its head toward the camera.
Turgen leaned, squinting up at the screen.
“Zoom it in, please.”
The cursor moved over the images, drawing a dotted square around the monster
’s head. It zoomed in, filling the window with the blurred image.
A single curve horn protruded upwards above a thick brow.
Its jaw jutted forward. A pair of sharp canines stuck up and out from its lower lip.
A wave of defeat washed across the room.
Luiza shook her head. “No. It can’t be.”
“
Look at the eyes,” Jean said. “It’s her.”
Luc lowered his gaze and sighed.
“Selene.”
From the journal of Sir Ernest Burrows, 1873
14 May
- I have arrived in London and secured a room at Claridge’s. I’d almost forgotten the damnable fog here.
15 May
- This morning I met with Watson to discuss my plan for Dämoren. I complimented him on his work, which he said was a Dumonthier style. I showed him the pieces of Dämoren, expressing my desire to use the entire sword in the gun’s construction. Watson seemed hesitant at first, but after expressing my desire and capability of payment, he has agreed to draft a design based on my specifications.
19 May
- I visited Mr. Watson this morning, eager to see his ideas. His designs, while aesthetic, lacked the functionality I had desired. Watson apologized for my disappointment, and told me to return to see more designs.
22 May
- Watson continues to disappoint me. He suggested using only a few select pieces of Dämoren, expressing that her steel would be unsuitable for a functioning pistol. I told him that substituting the steel is impossible.
26 May
- My confidence in Watson’s abilities wanes. He showed me three sketches today. None were acceptable. Why would Dämoren lead me to him?
28 May
- Watson presented me with a more pleasing design, a five-shot revolving gun, using Dämoren’s handle as the grip. It incorporated the LeFaucheaux cartridge system. I told him I would prefer the newer Boxer cartridge, similar to those found on the Enfield rifle. He became very distressed at this, stating the Boxer cartridge would be too difficult to adapt to the design. It has become clear to me that Watson does not share my vision.
Tomorrow I leave for France to find this Dumonthier, who designed the original gun that inspired Watson.
“I just had a moment to grab Feinluna before it was on me,” Luiza said.
Matt opened the dining room door and let her step through.
“What happened?”
“
Once it saw the sword, it knew better than to just keep charging. So it threw a chair at me. The wood caught fire at its touch. I ducked, and it went straight through this sliding glass door behind me.
Boosh!
Right out into the street.”
They made their way to the bar along the back wall.
Luiza poured a glass of juice and dropped a few thin slices of meat onto a little plate.
“Now this ifrit is mad, and the carpet, wherever it steps, is melting and smoking. It grabs this little coffee table, holds it up, and then charges. It hits me, and we both go right out the broken door. It’s crushing me between the balcony rail and this table, which is now on fire. I’m just trying to keep it off me and, for some reason, I’m more worried about broken glass getting into my bare feet.”
“
Or other things,” Matt added with a grin. He poured himself a glass of water.
Luiza gave a sly smile.
“That too. Now don’t get ahead of me.”
“
Sorry.” They found an empty table and sat. “Go on.”
“
I managed to get my shoulder against it,” she said, twisting in her chair, miming the movements. “I swung low and cut it right across the front of the ankle. It stumbles back, drops the table, and I swing.” Luiza gave a wide gesture as if holding the sword in her hand. “Cut its head clean off. This geyser of white demon fire shoots out of its neck. It stands there for just a moment, then falls. Suddenly, this roaring cheer erupts from everywhere, and I realize there’s a crowd of at least five thousand people watching me from the street, other balconies, everywhere.”
“
And you’re still naked?”
“
Close enough,” she laughed. “It’s not like I was planning for it to crash through my hotel door while I was changing. But this crowd thinks it’s just some act for Carnival. They have no idea that it’s real.”
“
So what did you do?” Matt asked, chuckling.
Luiza snorted.
“I bowed to my audience. Then I ran back inside, got my clothes, stomped out a carpet fire, and got the hell out of there.”
“
Wow,” Matt said, nodding. “That’s a good one. I’d loved to have seen that.”
Her brow rose playfully.
“I’m sure you would have.”
Matt felt himself flush.
“Mornin’,” Tom said, limping toward the table.
“
Good morning,” Matt replied, smiling, grateful for the distraction.
Tom didn
’t smile back. “Coffee?”
“
Yes, please.” Luiza said. “Black.”
“
With milk, please,” Matt said.
“
Eggs?”
They both said yes.
“Right.” The big man turned and limped back toward the kitchen.
Matt hid his frown with a drink of water.
In the three days since returning from Spain, Tom’s friendly demeanor had gone cold. At first, Matt thought it was a general mood after seeing Eslarin broken and Yev dead. But more and more he suspected Tom’s anger was directed at him. He’d bet anything Malcolm was behind it. His shit had already led to Matt living like a prisoner, never alone outside his room. He must have said something to Tom. Either him or Schmidt. He eyed Schmidt and Jean, his white-haired protégé, eating at a nearby table with Turgen.
“
So,” Luiza said. “Your turn.”
“
Mine?”
She ate a slice of ham and nodded.
“What’s your funniest story?”
“
I don’t know. Not sure if I can top yours.”
“
Try.”
Matt chewed his lip and thought.
Finally, “I’ll tell you the story of the two Bobs.”
“
Two Bobs?”
“
Yeah.” He grinned. “Back when I was eighteen Clay and I were down in East Texas on some rumors of missing people around one of the lakes. There’s always a lot of drowning and accidents on lakes every summer, but that year the number was abnormally high. After a couple days, we heard some kids had made a fuss about seeing a monster one night and so went to check it out.
“
It was this dingy little cove with a couple old houses. Clay was more worried about stumbling on a meth-lab than finding a demon. But near the back of the cove, the blood compass went off, pointing to this real shitty trailer near the water.” Matt glanced up. “Thanks, Tom.”
Tom set two coffees on the table.
Matt sipped it, and sucked a breath, trying to cool his scalded mouth.
He set it aside to cool a bit longer before tying that again. “So we snuck closer. We sprinkled ma... warding powder along the windows and across the door to keep it inside. Since we didn’t know what it was, Clay told me to stay outside. I had a pistol with silver rounds, but he didn’t want to take the chance if they didn’t work. So I stood watch.
“
Clay creeps up and kicks open the door. I hear a shot, and then an ungodly scream, more like a screech. Then the side of this rusty trailer just explodes as this big bird-headed thing just comes plowing straight out the side right toward me.”
“
Bird-headed?” Luiza asked.
“
Yeah. Had a head like a vulture and these talons.” He lifted his hands, fingers splayed and curved, almost like he was about to catch a basketball. “Nasty claws. So I’m running backwards and shooting. It’s coming at me, bullets going everywhere. Clay steps through the hole in the trailer, and it’s a wonder I didn’t hit him. He screams, ‘Drop!’ and I dive to the side, and he nails it with Dämoren.
“
So.” He sipped his coffee again. “It falls and the fireworks start up. It’s burning this emerald green, and then we hear this man’s voice scream, ‘God damn. What the hell is that?’” Matt said in his best twang. “This bright beam of light hits me and we see these two good ol’ boys sitting in this flat-bottom boat, maybe thirty feet out.”
She chuckled.
“And you hadn’t seen them before?”
“
Nope. They’d been sitting on the far side of the cove by some trees. No lights on their boat, so they’d just blended in. One of them has this mega-spotlight and the other is holding a little twenty-two rifle. I’m sure we’re fucked. Clay and I are armed, but shooting people is a whole lot different than demons.
“
Suddenly, Clay busts out this gold badge. ‘FBI. Lower your weapons,’” Matt said, giving his best impression of Clay’s gruff voice.
“
FBI?” Luiza asked.
“
Clay used to carry this badge he’d found somewhere. Said, ‘Female Body Inspector’ on the bottom. He said no one ever looked too close because people always shy away when they see a badge, at least people who aren’t cops. Anyway, the guy with the light says, ‘Damn it, Bob. Lower your gun.’
“
The guy with the gun goes, ‘Well God damn, Bob, I heard him.’ He lowers his gun a little, points it at the demon that’s now burning on the bank, and is, ‘What the hell is that thing?’”
‘Gentlemen,’ Clay says, all serious. ‘That is an extra-terrestrial.’
Luiza burst into laughter.
Matt kept going. ‘Hell, you’re shitting me,’ his voice in the higher twang of Bob One.
Bob Two
’s drawl was deeper. ‘Look at it.’
‘Son of a bitch.’
“
Clay tells them that he and I are part of some secret government mission to find aliens,” Matt said, becoming aware that the other tables had gone quiet.
“
And they believed it?” she laughed.
He nodded.
“Well, the six-foot bird-headed thing was pretty convincing. That, and the dozen or so empty beer cans in the bottom of the boat probably helped. But the best part was that Clay convinced them to help dispose of the body even after it turned human. He said, ‘Now the local authorities can’t recover the body. Autopsy will show the truth.’ And he got them to sink it into the lake for us. They were more worried about poisoning the fish with radiation than they were about sinking a body.”
Still laughing, Luiza wiped a tear from her eye.
“Why aliens? Why not tell them the truth?”
Matt shrugged.
“I asked Clay the same thing, later on, and he couldn’t even tell me. Said it was the first thing that came to mind. He used to watch this old show about FBI agents who tracked aliens, and he just went with it. He told them that they had done a great service to their country and to mankind. Got their information in case he ever needed them again, and that was it. One of them went, ‘Damn it Bob, I told you I wanted to go to Lake Fork. This one’s got damn chicken aliens.’”
She laughed again.
Matt liked that.
Tom set two plates down on the table.
“That’s a fine story, there.”
“
Thanks.” Matt smiled at him.
Tom smiled back.
A small victory.
“
I’d say that wins,” Luiza said.
Matt ate a corner of omelet.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t naked in front of five thousand people.”
After they had finished breakfast, Luiza said,
“I’ll be going into town. You want me to take you back to your room?”
“
Allan should be in the library by now.”
“
Still up for tomorrow?”
He nodded.
“We never finished our shoot-off.”
They stood.
Before following her out, Matt approached Turgen at his table.
The old man looked up from a newspaper.
“You’re a good storyteller, Matt.”
“
Thank you.” He fished a fold of paper from his pocket. “I’m almost out of reloading supplies for Dämoren. Some of it you have here, but not all of it.”
Turgen took the note and read it.
“Black powder. Thin felt fabric. Pure silver.”
“
Dämoren can’t shoot smokeless. I asked Luiza, but she’s not a citizen here and can’t buy it. I also need to cast spare bullets. Ten ounces at least.”
“
I understand.” The old man nodded and handed the list to Schmidt. “We’ll have it for you this evening.”
Matt shifted a bit uneasily as Schmidt glanced at the list, then slid it into a shirt pocket.
“It’s very important they’re exactly what’s on the list. Dämoren’s picky.”
Turgen smiled assumingly.
“Max is familiar with Dämoren’s needs.”
Matt gave a little sigh.
“Thank you.”
#
As expected, they found Allan in the library engrossed in his computer. Mikhail, the orphaned student sat at a table, his dark hair over his face as he scribbled notes beside a worn book. The lingering smell of Anya’s cigarettes still hung in the air, though she wasn’t at her desk.
“
I might see you this evening,” Luiza said. “If not, I’ll get you in the morning for our run.”
Matt smiled.
“Look forward to it.”
Once the door closed, Allan looked up from his clicking keyboard.
“Got a girlfriend, I see.”
“
What? No. She’s just been keeping me company while I’m under house arrest.”
Allan
’s brow cocked. “Uh huh.”
Matt felt his ears redden.
“It’s nothing like that.”
The Englishman nodded.
“All right then, ‘cause Luiza and I have been shaggin’ now and then, and I didn’t want that to cause any tension between you and I.”
A sudden pang hit Matt in the gut as if Allan had just kicked him.
He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t form the words. “Oh,” he finally said. “No. No problems.”
Allan laughed.
“I knew you liked her. Don’t worry, mate. I’m just fucking with you.”
Matt snorted a laugh and shook his head.
“Fine. You caught me.”
“
Not like it was hard.” Allan brushed his fingers through his hair. “So did you have a chance to read my notes on the tongue terror?”
“
Yeah.” Matt, grateful for the subject change, pulled up a rolling chair and sat. “Pretty straight forward. Nothing I could really add.”
Allan
’s eyes narrowed. “But?”
Matt shrugged.
“Eh... Not too big on the name.”
“
Terriblis lingua? It means tongue terror. We’ve assigned Latin names to demons since the Eighteenth Century.”
“
No. That’s fine.” He rubbed his chin. “Tongue terror.”
Allan gave a puzzled look.
“But you said it was fine.”
“
The scientific name is fine. But actually calling it tongue terror... I mean, you have the chance to call it anything. It should be punchy.”