Authors: Seth Skorkowsky
The plane shuddered and Matt gripped the armrest.
“Have you tried?” he asked, his lips barely moving.
“
Not me personally, but Valducans have tried several times over the years. I’ve found record of over seventy attempts. In all those times, we’ve made two. Two in eight hundred years. However, other people have made holy blades in that time, people that didn’t know any of the prayers and techniques that had worked before. They just made them. And if asked to do it again, they couldn’t.”
“
Any ideas why it doesn’t work?”
Allan shook his head.
They flew in silence for several minutes. The engines’ drone wormed back into Matt’s consciousness. He looked out the window again. A few stars glinted through the darkness, not as many as he’d hoped. Matt leaned closer to the glass, looking down. A path of silver moonlight reflected off the black ocean below, stretched out like some endless marble floor.
“
You never finished your story,” Matt said, settling back into his seat. “So how’d you get involved with the Valducans?”
“
When I was twenty, farmers had reported a monster lurking outside Greasby, killing their sheep. They described a huge black dog, like the Black Shuck or something. Press called it the Beast of Wirral, but no one paid it much mind. Then the body of a girl was found in a bog. Some animal had attacked her. Of course some blamed the Beast of Wirral, but not many.”
“
So you went looking for it?”
Allan nodded.
“Yeah. Armed with a flashlight, a motorcycle jacket, and Ibenus in a beat-up DJ case I found in pawn, I spent two weeks creeping around farms and moorland. I started missing lectures, my marks were plummeting. I thought I might be going mad. Then one night it found me.”
“
What was it?” Matt asked
“
Hellhound; a kind of werewolf, really. I had just crossed a farmer’s fence onto a dirt road, when I heard it howl.” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “Like an idiot, I pulled Ibenus out and headed toward it. I’d passed a hillock when I saw its red eyes in the shadows. It was huge. Massive. Like a small horse. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. It charged at me and leapt. I swung, trying to block it, and bam, I was a meter away. Ibenus had never done that before. It came again, and this time I blinked to its other side and brought my sword down right into its flank. Legends had said a hellhound’s wail could sour milk and cause a miscarriage.” He nodded. “I’d believe it. Unholy sound. It staggered back, then turned toward me. I blinked closer, and split its head in one blow.
“
I hadn’t been ready for the fire. Brilliant blue flames. Then Ibenus changed. The corroded metal mended. It became as new. The leather I’d wrapped around her handle split open as the ancient wood beneath grew back. Bloody amazing.” He paused. “Then I saw the burning dog was becoming a woman. Naked, face cleaved open, and there I was, holding a fucking sword above a corpse.”
Matt sighed.
It had taken him years before he could handle seeing the body after a demon kill. Sometimes, it still got to him. “What’d you do?”
“
I freaked. Killing a monster is one thing, but murder, prison. Thought about burying her, but what then? I just got the hell out of there. Went home. Police found the body the next day. I swore I’d never do anything like that again. But Ibenus had me. Month later, I’m in Chinatown looking for a succubus.”
“
You find it?”
“
No, but Marcus found me. Valducans recruited me, and I’ve been with them since. That was four years ago.”
“
You finish school?”
Allan shook his head.
“No, but I’ve been leading the project to convert the Valducan library to digital. Learned a lot. Lot more than anything school could have done.”
“
Like what?”
“
Everything. Lore, demon-types, histories. There’s a lot of stuff they’ve packed away. Like, do you know why silver hurts some like vampires and werewolves?”
Matt shook his head.
“Why?”
“They’re deceptive creatures. That’s essentially their power. Silver is the metal of mirrors, so it hurts them. It reflects what they really are. That’s why vampires abhor mirrors.”
“
Why don’t werewolves, then?” Matt asked, his brow furrowed. “They don’t give a damn about them.”
Allan rubbed his bandaged neck.
“Well...maybe because werewolves are more physical. Vampires are more spirits. It’s why a vampire can continue inhabiting a body even after it has died. They aren’t as tied to the flesh as a werebeast.”
“
OK, then. What about gold or iron. Rakshasa’s are masters of deception. Silver just pisses them off.”
“
It’s a different kind of deception. Gold is highly reflective. It doesn’t corrode. They need something more powerful than silver.”
“
But gold won’t kill a vampire.”
The Englishman shrugged.
“It’s just a theory,” he said, his tone surrendering.
“
Well,” Matt said. “Best one I’ve heard so far.”
#
They landed late the next day at a tiny airport in Southern France. A tall man with hair so blonde that it bordered on white picked them up in a sedan the color of oiled leather.
“
Jean, this is Matthew Hollis,” Schmidt said to the driver in French. “Clay Mercer’s student. Matthew, this is Jean.”
“
Good to meet you,” Matt said, holding a heavy duffle over one shoulder and clutching Dämoren’s wooden case under his other arm.
Jean gave a terse smile.
His dark sunglasses stared back with cold indifference.
“
Jean is protector of Lukrasus, and is one of our finest knights,” Schmidt said proudly.
Matt smiled back at the white-haired hunter, then loaded his gear into the car.
Not all of their baggage could fit in the trunk, and he and Allan constructed a makeshift wall of bags and suitcases in the backseat. They held it up between them as Jean drove. Matt held Dämoren’s case in his lap, his shoulder pressing against the precariously stacked luggage as he stared out at the rolling hills. Picturesque houses of wood and stone sat perched above the lush farmland and vineyards. Ancient low stone walls draped in moss divided the farms. After forty minutes they turned up deeper into the hills and came to a large chateau nestled in a valley.
Passing through an arched gate they entered a wide courtyard.
Large gray blocks formed the corners of the imposing brick building, three stories high. An Asian man in gold and white stood in the courtyard twirling a long pole with a curved blade on one end. Jean pulled into a red brick off-building, likely a barn in a previous life, but now a garage with nearly a dozen other vehicles housed inside, and parked in a vaulted alcove.
“
If you want to wear Dämoren in here,” Schmidt said stepping out of the sedan, “you may. We are holy knights, protectors of God’s weapons. We wear them with pride and to ensure their security. However,” his blue eyes hardened, “if it is ever unholstered outside your room, it will be considered a threat. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“
Allan will show you around and to your room. I hope you find our home to your liking.” He turned and walked toward the manor, Jean in tow, carrying the old man’s bags.
Matt looked up and around, admiring the ornate stonework of the garage.
He could make out what appeared to be boxes and stacked furniture stored in the old hay lofts above. “Nice place.”
Allan opened Ibenus
’s case and put on a dark clamshell sheath. The stitching was open along the top two thirds of one side, allowing Allan to draw the curved khopesh. Following his lead, Matt opened his locker and removed his shoulder rig. He kind of wished he had Clay’s old holster of tooled leather and brass that hung low off his belt, rather than the plain black nylon.
“
She’s a lady. And the lady likes leather.”
Clay’s voice echoed in his head.
Their weapons in place, the two men shouldered their bags and headed out into the courtyard.
As they neared the man twirling and swinging the bladed pole in mock combat, Matt recognized his gold and white attire as some form of gi. A younger man, maybe seventeen, stood nearby. His sharp features appeared to be Japanese.
“
That is Takaira Susumu, and Riku his apprentice,” Allan said. “The naginata is Shi no Kaze. Theirs is the last existing samurai clan. Their sole existence is to protect Shi no Kaze, a duty they have performed for four hundred years, even after the official abolishment of the clans in the Nineteenth Century.”
“
Are they Valducans?” Matt asked, watching the samurai deftly swing the long blade back and forth in a series of rapid steps.
“
No. But the Takaira clan has been on good terms with us since after the Second World War when we helped smuggle out many of their relics during the American Occupation.” His voice lowered. “They are very proud and undoubtedly view joining us here as more of a favor than actual need for protection.”
They followed short stone steps up to a pair of large doors.
Inside, Matt found himself staring into a massive floor to ceiling mirror. Pale green masks looked out from glass cases hanging on either side.
Matt stepped closer to one of the jade masks.
Tingles of discomfort rippled through him as he drew near. While at first they seemed identical, with their bulging eyes and scowling mouths filled with fangs, they were different. One’s teeth curved outward, its short horns straight up. The other’s teeth jutted forward before a rippled tongue. “What are these?”
“
Chinese mask demons,” Allan replied, stepping beside him. “They were bound to these masks in the Eighth or Ninth Century. They repel demons.”
“
So they’re possessed? With demons inside them?” Matt took a step back. He felt their jade eyes boring into him. There was intelligence to them. Burning hatred.
“
Yes. Nothing to worry about. Not unless you put one on. Their cases are alarmed and bullet proof.”
Matt nodded, trying to suppress the unease the masks gave him.
“Do they work?”
“
The alarms?”
“
No, man, the masks. Do they repel demons?”
“
Evidently. Never seen them face to face with one myself, but there are multiple accounts in the archives. Unfortunately the technique of binding one to these masks was lost long ago. They’re just amazing.”
“
Fucking creepy is what they are,” Matt said, turning away. “We’re supposed to be killing those things not decorating with them.”
Allan shrugged.
“Still, I’d like to try one of your blood compasses on one, just to know there’s something in there.” He motioned Matt to follow and they headed left, deeper into the manor. The passages smelled of wood and old smoke. More mirrors lined the halls, one before every barred window.
“
So tell me,” Matt asked, eyeing one of the small cameras mounted near the ceiling. “Were you wondering if the masks would repel me?”
The Englishman hesitated, his hand resting on a jeweled, silver doorknob to another room.
“No. I won’t deny there’s something unsettling about your abilities, but I don’t think you’re a demon.”
Matt smiled.
“Thanks.”
“
But I’m not exactly in the majority here. So just watch yourself.” He pushed open the door into a green-painted room. Old paintings stared down from the walls, overlooking several cushioned chairs, and carved wooden tables. A man with a two-day beard and tattoos running up his olive-tanned arms played billiards with a Latina woman, while a blonde woman sat nearby, reading a computer tablet. The haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air.
The blonde looked up from her tablet.
“Allan, nice to see you again.” Her accent sounded Slavic, maybe Russian. “So this him, huh?” Her gaze moved to Matt partially hidden behind the Englishman.
Allan stepped aside.
“Everyone, this is Matt Hollis from America and his gun, Dämoren.”
Matt, suddenly feeling a bit awkward at center-stage, just smiled.
“Hello.”
“
Matt.” Allan motioned to the pale blonde. A jeweled-studded sword hung at her side, a yellow tassel dangling from the tip of its curved scabbard. “This is Anya Jeliazkova protector of Baroovda.”
She extended a delicate hand.
“A pleasure.”
“
Good to meet you,” said Matt, shaking her hand.
“
Anya joined shortly after I did,” Allan said, smiling. “Baroovda has been in the family since the Fourteenth Century.” He pointed to a painting of a bearded man in a turban holding the same curved sword.
Allan led him further into the room, closer to the dark pool table.
“This is Luiza Moreira and that,” he gestured to the gilded saber at the dark-skinned woman’s hip, “is Feinluna.”