Good Intentions 3: Personal Demons (23 page)

“This one’s still alive! I need help over here!”

“…thought we were all going to die! What were those things?”

“You told us this would be safe! You promised security!”

“Oh god, what are we going to do?”

“Say as little as possible,” Lorelei warned. “Our only friends here are those who’ve shed blood at our side. Everyone else is a potential enemy.”

The scene in the ballroom shocked most of her companions. Bodies were strewn around the floor along with broken and overturned tables and chairs. A lifeless, monstrous figure apparently made of charcoal rose near the center of the room, comprised only of a head, shoulders and one arm reaching up from the floor. Light shone not from overhead lamps but rather a handful of brightly glowing orbs floating in the air.

“Oh my god,” Drew breathed. “What the fuck…? This is crazy!”

Taylor covered her mouth with her hands. “I can’t believe this.”

Blood marred the floor and the tablecloths all across the ballroom. Here and there, people knelt over the fallen. Some provided aid. Some wept. A few bodies laid entirely alone. Those who remained standing focused mostly on caring for the wounded. A handful of others argued.

“We could have all died, Oakwood,” a man with a beard and no mustache yelled at a dark-haired woman in a bloodied and torn suit. “Why weren’t you prepared for this?”

“Tell me how to prepare for something like this,” the woman snapped. “Tell me how I should have seen this coming. Wait, you know what, Archimedes? Don’t. Don’t tell me anything at all. You and your wife are fine. Why don’t you just go?” she suggested, pointing to the door.

As she did, a couple of others in the ballroom looked up and saw the newcomers. “Kate,” spoke up an older man. Another man, also wearing a suit, stood up from his work with one of the fallen to face the entrance. He didn’t bother hiding the pistol in his hand.

“You can’t be in here,” someone else called, stepping forward with his hands up. “You need to evacuate—”

“It’s a little late for that,” said Kate. “I’ll handle it.”

“Where are Molly and Onyx?” Lorelei asked in a loud, clear tone. Only the grieving and the healers ignored her. Everyone else looked up at her voice.

“I’m sorry,” Kate answered, stepping forward along with the man with the gun. “I have to ask who you are first.”

“You’re Kate Oakwood? And you’re Jin?” Lorelei replied, looking from one to the other.

“Yes,” Jin answered. “Again, who are you?”

“Lorelei!” someone called from across the ballroom. Onyx and Molly came in from the far emergency exit, quickly picking up their pace at the sight of their friends.

“Kate, they’re with us. We’ve got it,” Molly explained.

Another woman came with them, tilting her head curiously as she recognized at least one of the others. “Drew?” she asked.

The young man’s jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

“You know her?” Wade murmured, nodding toward the stranger.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Been at the same kung fu studio for a while. Why’s she here?”

“Lorelei is with us,” Molly assured Kate and Jin as they came over. “They’re all with us.”

“Are you both alright?” Lorelei asked.

“Yeah, we’re…oh God,” Onyx gasped, looking around the scene under clear lighting for the first time. “I didn’t realize it was this bad.”

“Onyx,” Lorelei said again, walking forward to take her hand despite her injuries. “You are unhurt? Where is Alex?”

The younger woman swallowed hard. “We don’t know. He’s gone.”

Alex nearly choked with his first breath. He smelled smoke, but beneath that he smelled musty, rancid, old air. The source of the smell wasn’t readily apparent. His eyes opened to complete darkness. He found himself on his back atop a shifting bed of debris. It felt like a mix of cardboard, metal, and who knew what. His ears still rang from the usual side effects of indoor gunfire.

Am I waking up?
he wondered.
Was I ever asleep? God damn it, I am
not
getting kidnapped again!
The thoughts came in a rush. He sat up and hit his head on something hard and flat overhead—which gave slightly with a low, metallic noise. It didn’t hurt much given his level of adrenaline. He realized he still had his hands full with his sword and pistol. That proved nothing, of course.
Whoever put me in here could’ve unloaded my gun and given it back just to be a dick, but it feels normal. Sword feels okay, too
. Alex turned it a little to test it out. Once again he heard that metallic bang as it hit something to his side.

The sound felt familiar. Ordinary.
Am I in a dumpster? Sure smells like it.

I’m still amped up. Breathing hard. Feels like it was only a second ago that jackass in the Marine cap hit me with that spell. There was a flash of light, weirdness in my head and my gut, and now…?
Shit. I can’t even tell if I blacked out or not. I’m not dreaming, though. Definitely awake.

Despite the ringing in his ears, he could hear his own movements and the shuffling of trash or whatever the hell he sat on. He also thought he heard the whistling sound of strong winds all around. He concentrated a little more, noticing the absence of rustling leaves he’d come to associate with windstorms growing up in Seattle.

Then he heard low, guttural noises creeping around his space in the darkness. Wherever he was, the walls were very thin. Something moved just outside. It let out a rasping noise of excitement and rushed to a sudden stop. Then…
Is that an animal eating something?

Alex held still.
How much am I missing ‘cause my ears are still ringing? Noisy eater, whatever the hell it is…or whoever
, he considered.
Shit, if I move at all I might knock something around on this pile and make noise.

A chorus of distant screams changed his mind about all that. Most of them sounded like the shouts of men protesting something horrible. The one that rose above the others conveyed awful pain and quickly died off. Alex twitched slightly, but it was enough: something in his unstable space in the darkness banged loudly against something else. The chewing noises outside stopped.

He winced.
That’s what I was afraid of
.

A booming male voice from further away spoke in angry words, but Alex had no chance to track whatever the man said.

Everything happened at once: a raspy rush of breath, the rapid grind of metal, darkness broken by muted daylight as human hands pushed open the lid to the dumpster. Alex saw black smoke up above, blotting out the sky, while right in front of him loomed an ugly, gruesome face. He saw glowing red eyes and a bearded, bloody mouth. He saw black sleeves and some sort of loosened black head wrap. He saw an open head wound under the tear in that wrap, too, and a big piece of shrapnel protruding from the man’s cheek.

The wounded man shoved the dumpster lid up, sending it flying back around on its hinges. His bloody, scraggly hands reached inside. The glowing eyes and debilitating if not fatal wounds made the next decision easy for Alex. Training and instincts took over. Alex didn’t try reasoning with the stranger. He stabbed his sword straight up into his attacker’s neck.

That stopped the assault. Suddenly Alex was holding the guy up. Those eyes still glowed, but the arms went limp. With his sword embedded in the man’s throat, Alex realized he’d probably cut everything necessary to keep the body moving. He yanked the weapon back quickly to keep the weight of the corpse from snapping the blade in half. The bloody man in black fell lifelessly to the ground outside the dumpster.

Black smoke filled the skies, swirling around steadily and angrily rather than rising skyward in any normal pattern. It was like being at the center of a whirlwind, except Alex hardly felt the slightest breeze.

In front of the dumpster lay a charred, overturned vehicle inside a shallow black crater. Past the crater, Alex saw the remains of low, formerly tan-colored brick buildings, now mostly covered in soot and missing doors, windows, and even patches of their walls or rooftops. More of the same awaited to the left and right, all surrounded by the swirling mass of black smoke. Bodies lay here and there, along with scattered rifles and other gear.

Holy shit, it’s like a bomb went off here
, thought Alex.
Artillery or an airstrike or something. Everyone’s got guns and combat gear but nobody’s in a uniform. Just black clothes and masks. Why the masks? What the hell is this, a terrorist camp?

Where in the fuck am I?

His attacker lay in a heap on the ground. Blood spread in a pool around his head. There should have been more.
He’s not crumbling, so he’s not a vampire. If he was a demon in human skin, he’d be way tougher than that. What the hell is he?

Oh god don’t tell me he’s a zombie. Shit. I
hate
zombie movies. Don’t tell me I’m actually in one now. I don’t want to deal with goddamn zombie terrorists.

“Whom do you serve?” boomed that unnaturally loud, deep voice he’d heard before. Alex whirled around. Not far away, across more blackened ruins, a towering red giant with an aura of fire loomed over a crowd of human silhouettes.
No, wait—not a giant
, Alex realized.
Something else
. The figure was twelve feet tall at least, but seemed to have no legs. Everything beneath his hips tapered off into a glowing red cloud stretching to the ground. The figure’s eyes blazed with an orange fire that stood out over its red skin, matching the flames outlining its body. The head, the arms, and the torso all seemed perfectly solid. The flames gave off no smoke.
Is that a demon? No wings, no horns, but still that seems like a safe guess.

Somebody screamed in the crowd before the fiery monster. Alex saw a good deal more figures like the one he’d stabbed: shuffling men mostly in black, some of them missing arms or standing on visibly broken legs. Some carried rifles strapped to their backs. Others carelessly let their AKs dangle from their shoulders or drag from straps hooked around their waists. Only a few of them actually held their weapons.

A few of the shambling men in black pinned a handful of others down on their knees. Alex saw black and white men among them, wearing desert fatigues and combat boots. Another man in fatigues laid on the ground nearby, also surrounded by more of the bloodied, shambling men, who knelt beside the body to tear and bite and—

Alex looked away.
He’s dead. He’s already dead. They can’t hurt him anymore. I don’t need to see the rest. Ugh.
He took in a deep breath, fighting to ignore the smells of smoke and death.
I’ve got bigger problems than what they do to the dead
.

The biggest such concern spoke again: “You knew what you would find. You knew this was no ordinary camp. You knew how best to strike. Who sent you? Tell me and I will let you live!”

“Boss?” asked one of the captured soldiers, a white man with his head shaved bald.

“Don’t say shit, Austin!” snapped another.

“Rico, they
eatin’
Bryce, man!” warned a horrified black soldier. “Christ Almighty, they—”

“Do not invoke such names here!” bellowed the giant. The crowd grew animated as the zombies applied more arm-twisting and other painful measures. A couple of the soldiers cried out in pain.

Alex raised his pistol, but thought better of it before he took aim. Though he felt a deep urge to sink back into the dumpster and hide, he immediately recognized that option as impractical.
Hiding won’t get me home. These assholes would probably find me eventually, anyway. Hell with that. I gotta do something.

Okay. So. American soldiers on one side of this, scary-assed maybe-demon and goddamn zombie cannibal terrorists on the other. Guess I can choose sides pretty easily.

With his decision made, Alex looked over his surroundings again for options. Away from the scrum of bodies, partly hidden behind what remained of a wall, stood two intact military-looking Humvees.
Those couldn’t have escaped whatever hit this place
, he thought.
Someone must’ve driven them here…oh God, is that a .50 caliber machinegun on the turret? They still use .50s?
The sight filled him with an uplifting rush of familiarity—and a sense of dread as he considered the distance and the danger.
Oh sure, just sneak over there and not bump into any fucking zombies or make any noise at all. Then hope the doors aren’t locked and the gun works like I remember and the demon asshole doesn’t zap me with his magic fireball eyes and…how do I get into this shit?

He thought once again of the parallels between this moment and a pivotal night only a few months past. One of the soldiers shouted in pain.

Guess there are some lessons I just don’t learn
.

Okay. Zombies. Or whatever they are. Pistol won’t do a lot of good. They’re probably a lot like vampires. It’s not like they’ll go down from a hole or two in their organs. That .50 cal would tear ‘em apart, though. It won’t kill a demon, but it’ll knock him around and give these guys a chance to move. I’ve just gotta get to it.

He tucked his pistol back into its holster.
The sword’s better if I bump into a zombie or two
, he decided.
If I get mobbed, I’m screwed anyway
.

Okay. Out of the dumpster. Don’t kick anything, don’t make noise, don’t go bang, don’t go bang
. He slid down the front side, landing by the zombie he’d killed and the corpse it had been munching on. He found a bloody AK-47 lying between them.
Might need that. Ugh. Okay, suck it up, Alex. You were a bad ass berserker and a legionnaire and a crusader and all that other shit. You used to hack people up all the time. You can do this. It’s just blood and guts. You can deal. You can ew ew ew so fucking gross!
he complained silently as he checked the weapon and slung it over his shoulder. For now, the sword was still the best option.

He leaned around the dumpster and picked out a path.
If I get to that fucked-up wall there, then those tires, then that overturned table, I’ll be halfway there
.
Nobody’s looking…go!

Alex darted from cover, staying low and moving like they’d taught him in the last stupid war he’d fought. The shadows cast by the swirling smoke gave him a little extra cover to move from one hiding spot to the next. Fortunately, the demon and his minions were too fixated on their prisoners to watch for trouble.

“I will ask again before my friends devour your limbs,” said the demon. “Or before I burn one of you to a cinder myself. Who sent you? Who told you to destroy this cult of Azazel?”

C’mon, guys, stall him
, Alex thought. He crawled low behind an overturned table that probably belonged inside one of the destroyed buildings. Then he blinked.
Wait, a cult? This place is a cult of…shit, is Azazel another demon? It sounds like the right kind of name.

“We don’t know for sure,” began one of the soldiers.

“Austin, shut up!” snapped another.

“Man, Dwayne, this shit is crazy!” Austin snapped back. “Somebody set us up! We don’t owe anybody shit now!”

“Keep it together, Austin,” urged the apparent leader.

“Perhaps you’ll speak more freely without Rico present,” mused the demon.

“What? Yusuf, no! Don’t!” protested another of the men.

“Motherfucker, we trusted you!” growled Dwayne. “We looked out for your ass, Yusuf!”

Alex blinked.
Huh?
He risked a peek over a burnt-up crate. At this angle, he had a better look into the crowd. The giant still seemed to rise out of a fiery cloud, but now Alex saw a pile of fatigues and a helmet on the ground where its feet should have been.

“The Yusuf you knew is but one disguise,” said their captor. “I have worn many. As for your trust, look what you and yours have done to this land. Do I owe you trust, mortal? Does anyone? How many lies, how much treachery have you committed to come this far?”

Okay, that sounds different
. Apart from Lorelei, he’d had only a few conversations with demons, but…
Why’s he being defensive? Demons don’t give any fucks at all what mortals think, same as vampires. This dude is indignant. Why’s he gotta justify anything?
 
Maybe he’s
not a demon
?

Still sounds like an asshole, though. Those guys have gotta be American soldiers, and I’m not down with eating the dead regardless
.

He crept on toward the Humvee.
Almost there
.

“Speak not of trust if you want to live,” Yusuf continued. “Speak instead of your masters. Who sent you, and why? Who told you of the magics of Azazel and how to defeat them? What did you intend to retrieve from these ruins?”