Occult Assassin 4: Soul Jacker

OCCULT ASSASSIN

SOUL JACKER

BOOK 4

WILLIAM MASSA

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Copyright © 2015 William Massa

Published by
Critical Mass Publishing

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
 

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Also by William Massa

THE OCCULT ASSASSIN SERIES

Occult Assassin #1: Damnation Code -
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Occult Assassin #2: Apocalypse Soldier -
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Occult Assassin #2.5: Ice Shadows (A Novella)
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Occult Assassin #3.5: Coffin Collector (A Short Story)
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Occult Assassin #4: Soul Jacker
 

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HORROR/DARK FANTASY

FEAR THE LIGHT

GARGOYLE KNIGHT

MATCH: A SUPERNATURAL THRILLER

SCIENCE FICTION

CROSSING THE DARKNESS

THE SILICON SERIES

SILICON DAWN

SILICON MAN

COMING SOON

TARGET EARTH: THE SYSTEM BOOK 1

GARGOYLE QUEST

THE STORY SO FAR

After a decade spent fighting the enemy abroad and keeping his country safe, Delta Force Operator Mark Talon is ready to settle down with the love of his life. But Talon’s world crumbles when his fiancée becomes the victim of a murderous cult.
 

In the wake of his terrible loss, Talon dedicates himself to a new mission – hunting down twisted occultists around the globe and stopping them before they can unleash the forces of darkness upon an unsuspecting world.

In Soul Jacker,
Talon must head to the ghettos of Paris and face the curse of the Jinn.

C
HAPTER
O
NE

A QUAINT MEDIEVAL chapel topped the Northern Italian mountain, the breathtaking vista offering no indication of the evil forces converging on its summit. The first sign that something might be amiss came when a silver helicopter popped up from behind a jagged rock formation, a shadow against the sun, and zeroed in on the stone structure.

Alerted by the deafening rotor wash, Roberto Abatte, high priest of the Order of the Flayed Prince, emerged from the chapel. Shielding his eyes from the blinding sunlight, he peered up at the approaching craft. As expected, Laura Santerre, heir to her late father’s fashion empire, was both the last to arrive and the flashiest entrance of them all. Most of the other acolytes had braved the series of winding roads that snaked up the steep mountain, their luxury cars now parked around the chapel. Big security men in expensive suits fronted the fleet of BMWs, Ferrarris and Maseratis. They eyed the approaching craft with wary suspicion.

As the helicopter touched down, the guards raised their hands to shield themselves from the buffeting gusts of wind. Roberto faced the incoming craft in stoic silence. At this altitude the icy air packed a punch, but his self-discipline prevented him from showing any discomfort. He couldn’t allow himself the luxury of displaying weakness in front of his flock.

Laura climbed out of the helicopter and strode toward him, flanked by two guards of her own. She was dressed in a formfitting black dress that accentuated her ample curves and formed a perfect contrast to her alabaster skin and blood-red lipstick.
 

Laura didn’t bother to hide her sexual interest as their eyes met. Another spoiled brat, Roberto thought, to whom the cult and its rituals were just a way to stave off boredom and convince herself that she mattered. Her file painted the picture of a young woman who tried on identities the way other people changed clothes. Over the years she’d experimented with drugs, sexuality, religion, and a string of failed business ventures. Her curiosity rarely led to a lasting commitment—but she would soon discover the Order wasn’t a role she would be able to discard so easily.
 

“I hope I’m not too late,” Laura said. Roberto shook his head and indicated with a wave of his hand that she should follow him into the stone chapel. Her high heels echoed against the marble floor as they entered the place of worship. Six pairs of curious eyes tracked the new arrival. The congregants’ eagerness to commence the initiation rite was all too palpable.
 

Laura grew still, unable to mask her surprise as she took in the Christian symbols of worship surrounding her. Having expected this reaction, Robert explained, “If the Inquisition taught us anything, it’s the art of hiding in plain sight. Look more closely and you will see what I mean.”
 

A smile curled Laura’s lips as she spotted the subtle signs. Upon first glance, the stained glass windows depicted classic images from the Bible, but closer inspection revealed the symbols of black magic embedded in the imagery: a triangle with the all-seeing eye looming over a saint, a pentagram among a firmament of stars, a savior crucified on an inverted cross. The telltale indicators of the left-hand path would jump out at any person who knew what to look for.

Roberto tilted his head toward the congregants, and Laura joined their ranks. He advanced toward the altar, on which a thick, leather-bound book rested. Taking up position before the tome, he regarded his gathered flock. There was a famous soccer star and his actress wife, the owner of a fleet of luxury cars, even a countess. Wealth had bought them power and prestige but couldn’t satisfy
all
their needs. These men and women recognized the limits of material rewards and yearned to be part of something far grander and more meaningful.

Roberto planned to fill that emptiness today.

His eyes fell on the leather-bound tome. The ancient volume radiated an eerie energy. It was more than mere parchment bound by animal hide. The
Grimoire Incatrix
had been translated from the original Arabic into Latin during the 13th century, and the incantations contained within its weathered pages formed a direct line of communication with a force not of this Earth. When spoken at the right pitch and at the correct time of year, the words could open doorways to other worlds.

A solar eclipse was mere minutes away, and a dark baptism awaited the well-heeled power brokers in the chapel, an initiation rite that would bind them to the Order—and to the
darkness
. Once the moon finished swallowing the sun, the black magic within the book would manifest itself in the unholy chapel.

“Today marks a new chapter for all of you,” Roberto declared, fanatical conviction fueling his words. “Soon your old selves will be nothing but a memory. Rebirth awaits. Are you ready to take the final step and prove your devotion to the darkness?”

Their answer was a resounding yes.

He leaned over the Grimoire, flipped open the book…and froze. His stomach churned as the world tilted. The book before him was not filled with ancient secrets. It was a hollowed out replica containing a digital timer and a tangle of wires embedded in a clump of white putty. Before he could scream, the timer hit zero and charges ignited the plastic explosives. A heartbeat later, the entire congregation of devil worshippers got their chance to experience hell on Earth.
 

***

The stained-glass windows of the chapel blew out with devastating force, the explosion shattering the idyllic mountain setting. The stunned guards outside froze, the blast shaking bones and rattling teeth while apocalyptic columns of searing flame painted their faces scarlet. An instant later, their hands reached for their firearms as they rushed toward the raging inferno.
 

They hadn’t gotten far when a series of muffled pops erupted and three of the men went down before they knew what hit them. Another volley of lead forced the remaining guards to seek shelter between the parked cars. Eyes darting, they tried to spot the new assailant. They were still combing the mountaintop battlefield when the chapel door flung open and one of the cultists burst from the structure. Fire licked the man’s form. Two bullets struck down the living torch—a mercy killing, courtesy of the same mysterious assailant.
 

The guards spun around and spotted a shadowy figure disappearing behind a nearby Mercedes. A moment later the sound of the engine bashed the air and the vehicle screamed past them, hurtling down the narrow mountain road. Shouts were exchanged and the men rushed to their cars and motorcycles.
 

The chase was on.

Behind the wheel of the fleeing Mercedes, Mark Talon allowed himself to steal a glance at his rear-view mirror. The eyes staring back at him flickered with single-minded determination. Six months earlier the former Delta Operator had lost his fiancée at the hands of a murderous cult. In the wake of the tragedy, he’d turned his back on his military career and signed up for a new mission - hunting down evil occultists across the globe and stopping them before they could unleash the forces of darkness upon the world.
 

The roar of a black Ducati motorcycle bashed the air as it popped up in the mirror next to his face, a BMW hot on its tail.
 

Talon punched the Mercedes’ accelerator, his attention split between the high-speed chase and the object that had brought him to the remote chapel:
The Grimoire Incatrix.
 

According to Simon Casca, the Silicon Valley billionaire turned occult expert who sponsored his missions, it was one of the most dangerous tomes of black magic in the world. Five long weeks of recon had led them to Northern Italy. The billionaire’s intel had steered him toward Roberto and his connection with an organization known as the Order of the Flayed Prince.
 

How the hell do these cultists think up these names?
 

After tailing the man for a few days, Talon had discovered that Roberto kept the book locked up in the Cassa Depositi e Prestiti and only retrieved it from the Italian banking institution for special occasions. So he’d waited, remaining in the shadows, biding his time.
 

Until today.

Once he had discovered the location of the initiation ceremony, he’d made his move. Approaching the chapel from the mountain-side, he ‘d reached the peak thirty minutes before Roberto did. Hiding in the chapel’s vestibule, he’d switched out the books and waited for the new members of the circle to arrive. He had felt zero mercy when the bomb went off. Each one of the initiates had spilled blood as part of their dark rites. Seven innocent lives had been snuffed out so that the decadent fools could gain access into one more elite club.
 

The dead could not be brought back, but Talon would make certain these fanatics would never hurt anyone else again. He knew from experience that the world was a better place without certain people in it.

The screaming engines of the advancing BMW and Ducati reminded Talon that one more battle lay ahead. The explosion in the chapel had cut off the head of the snake, but he still had to deal with the spasms of its dying body.
 

Talon twisted the steering wheel, the tires tattooing black marks on the winding road as he carved a hairpin turn. One wrong move would send the car hurtling down the steep mountainside to a fiery end. Right hand on the wheel, he used the left to bring up his Glock. With the press of a button, the window whirred open and then he was returning fire, the recoil sending tremors up his arm. The mountain landscape streaked past him in a mad blur. In the fading light, it was difficult to aim. The sun’s light was growing dimmer, and darkness was falling like a shroud across the land.

The solar eclipse was beginning.
 

Right on schedule…

Talon had come prepared. He lowered the Glock for a beat and snatched a pair of night-vision goggles from his satchel. The glasses transformed the road ahead into a spectral green landscape. As the orb of the moon slid over the sun, tires screeched behind him, his pursuers struggling to adjust to the sudden darkness.