The Demon Deception (4 page)

He stepped around the spreading blood, and
walked past to the open door leading downstairs. He looked down. He
could see shadows moving, so he knew there were more down there. He
didn’t know if they were guardians or humans. It didn’t matter at
this point. He pulled out one of his special grenades, the body
cast from silver. He pulled the pin and tossed it downstairs. He
listened to it ping as it hit concrete. He heard footsteps and
yelling as they tried to get away from the grenade. The grenade
went off. He ran down the steps to catch anybody that might have
survived. Two more guardians were disintegrating, caught by the
silver fragmentation. Two humans were dead, and one was dying on
the ground. He put a boot on the throat of the dying man, crushed
his trachea to help him along, and kept moving forward.

The architecture changed as he walked
forward. He could tell that he was entering a much older area of
the city. The newer construction changed, and old bricks, in place
for centuries, replaced the concrete. Some of it had crumpled,
leaving brick dust mixed with dirt and puddles of water. The air in
the passage way grew musty. In this area of the tunnel, roots had
broken through some of the brick work. His feet splashed through
deeper puddles, stealth compromised by the noise. It was getting
darker as the electric lights faded behind him. He turned on the
combat flashlights attached to his side arm and his shotgun.

Right now, violence of action was on his
side. Eli knew that if he stopped, it would give them time to
prepare for him. He moved forward into the tunnel quickly, watching
for traps. A human stepped from an alcove, and Eli shot him. Eli
jumped over the body as he continued down the catacomb. A large
lupine shape came charging towards him. He shot it, and ran through
the flaming ashes. He came to a low room with several tunnels. The
tunnels explained how the extra people had gotten in.

Three lycanthropes in full wolf form charged.
He shot one, then two. Ash filled the room as the last one launched
at him, grabbing his arm, trying to rip it from his body. The
lycanthrope’s teeth ground down on the chainmail under the leather.
The lycanthrope was too close to use the shotgun, so he dropped it.
It swung down on its strap and smacked against his body. He swept
the shotgun aside, pulled his pistol and shot the lycan before it
could break his arm. Ash fell like heavy rain in the room. He
holstered the pistol. He looked at the sleeve of the leather
jacket, mournfully. It was shredded. He really liked that jacket.
It was comfortable.

He felt, more than heard, the growl from the
center tunnel. From the gloom a large possessed, half wolf, half
man, walked towards him, growling. The face was elongated into a
snout, the ears pointed, but the rest of the features were human.
Wire like fur covered the body of the lycan. The eyes burned with
intensity, a raw pulsating hatred. Eli could see hellfire in the
eyes of this lycan. This was the pack leader.

Spittle flew from its mouth, the clawed hands
flexing, “Face me, human. I’ll rend you limb from limb. I’ll tear
your life’s blood from your throat.”

Eli looked at the intense muscularity of the
pack leader. This demon was massive, thirty pounds heavier than the
largest of the other guardians. This was a monstrous lycan, truly
one of the largest Eli had ever seen. He would have to handle this
carefully.

Eli whistled and said, “Good boy, who’s a
good boy. Go ahead, sit, come on now, lay down. Good boy!”

The beast howled, and ran at him. The muzzle
of the shotgun leaped up. Eli pulled the trigger. The pack leader
screamed in hatred and frustration as it died, the howl echoing
through the tunnels.

Eli racked the shotgun, chambering another
round. He yelled, “Anybody else want a Scooby snack?” There was no
answer.

Three tunnels lay before Eli. He didn’t know
which one was the correct one, so he took a guess on the one the
pack leader was in. He walked forward through the dim tunnel,
footsteps splashing in puddles. The sound, “schru, schru, schru” of
metal rubbing on metal echoed down the tunnel as he took time to
slide more shells into the shotgun, and replace the magazine in the
pistol with a full one.

He saw a light at the end of the tunnel. It
was an open door to a room. The light in the hallway grew as he
continued. He walked forward, and stepped through the door. The
room looked like it had been pulled out of a Hollywood script. It
had skulls. It had candles. It had ancient grimoires. There was a
roughhewn table, roughly circular. The table looked like it had
been carved from the cross section of an ancient oak tree. It was
wide, about ten feet across. Eli wondered how the hell they had
gotten it down here. Behind the table was a stone altar. Next to
the altar was an ancient, evil blade. Cynthia was lying on the
altar. The little girl looked uninjured. Eli played for time. He
looked around the room to get an idea of what he was up against,
and to let his eyes adjust to the light.

The vampire stood on the other side of the
room, across the table, next to the altar. He looked like an
Eastern European rock star, with long hair, unbuttoned silk shirt,
hairy chest, gold medallions, blue jeans and cowboy boots. Eli
lived through the seventies, but this guy looked like he was still
trapped there.

Eleven women were in the room standing,
looking back at Eli. They were all well dressed in different
styles. Brunettes, red heads, blondes, they were all different, but
they were all exactly the same. They were all . . . hollow. They
had no depth. They were superficial. They were bored. The coven was
their latest cause to make themselves feel better about themselves
and the world they lived in.

The twelfth woman was busy. The coven master
smiled and waved at him. He took the moment to finish with a
shudder. The woman, stood and turned to face Eli. The coven master
zipped up, then pulled her close to fondle her breasts. She leaned
into him. Eli could tell that she was excited by the attention.

One of the women spoke. A pretty brunette,
she was dressed like the rest, though their clothes all represented
different designers. Eli wondered what was up with New York’s
fascination with black clothes. “This is him? This is the guy
that’s been chasing you all over the world? He’s nothing. You
should just kill him.”

Eli heard the emptiness in her. He knew that
she craved excitement. She wanted to see his blood. This was a
woman that liked to have men compete for her. She probably put her
boyfriends in impossible situations in which they had to defend
her. Eli smiled at her.

She was disgusted, “Kill him now, Master, so
that we can begin.”

The shotgun came up, and her eyes grew wide
as she took in the size of the hole in the muzzle of the barrel. He
shot her. The other women screamed as they lost control of the
situation. It was fun for them to kill, not so fun to be killed.
Things suddenly became very real for the ‘witches.’ They were no
longer bored. Some tried to hide, some ran at him, some tried to
run past him. He shot seven with the shotgun, then pulled his Glock
and shot the rest. Some pleaded for mercy. When that didn’t work,
they died pleading for their master to save them. They quickly
figured out that their coven master had no interest in protecting
them.

The master of the coven was laughing
maniacally. He pushed the woman he was fondling away so that Eli
could get a good shot at her. The coven master looked at the
slaughter around him and leaned against the large, round table. He
was covered with the splattered blood of his disciples. He pulled
pills from his pocket, shook his head, then began talking, “That
was precious, the look on their faces when you just started
shooting them. I haven’t seen anything that funny in a good, long
time.” He looked down at the pills in his hand, and then, as if
realizing that he had been a poor host, held them out to Eli, “This
is the best X in the city. You want some?”

Eli shook his head no. He turned the shotgun
towards the coven master. The coven master placed his hand on
Cynthia’s neck. The nails on his hands became talons, the threat to
the girl implied, “Oh, that’s not nice. You’re a guest in my home,
and you threaten me? That’s not civilized behavior.”

“You kill children. I don’t think you should
lecture me on civility.”

The coven master stroked Cynthia’s hair, the
talons catching on strays, “I think I’ll lecture you on anything
that I want. Besides, that’s not very sporting.”

Eli stared intently at the coven master, then
let the shotgun hang from the strap, “If you want sporting, how
about this?”

He reached into the recesses of his coat, and
pulled two ironwood sticks that had been sharpened with points on
the end. He knew this demon type. They were vain. Their egos ruled
their emotions. Sharpened wooden stakes would play to the ego. It
was so Bram Stoker, so Ann Rice.

The coven master laughed again, amused by the
stakes, “Ah, this will be much more fun. Not like the trap you set
for me in Brazil. That was so very . . . one sided. There was no
sport, no chance.”

Eli shook his head, “I’m not here for sport.
I just want to take care of business. But if it’s sport that you
want, how about a wager? Winner takes all.”

The coven master was intrigued, “What is your
wager?”

“The only thing left to bargain about of
course, Cynthia.”

“Is that her name? You want to bargain for
the little girl?” The coven master inhaled her scent, kissed her on
the top of the head, and cradled her neck in his hand.

Eli wasn’t worried about him biting Cynthia.
Contrary to modern myth, it took more than a vampire’s bite to turn
a victim. The ‘victim’ had to make a willing choice to sacrifice
their soul to the vampire. They had to relinquish their souls to
darkness. No, he was worried the monster would slice her throat,
break her neck, and hurt her.

“Well, the little girl, and a life, of
course.”

“Hmmm, you’re saying, that if I kill you, I
get to keep my snack. If you kill me, then you get to take her with
you?”

“That’s my proposition.”

The vampire thought about it, then replied,
“Well, not much of a wager. I think that’s probably the only option
left to us. But, if you put your shotgun and your pistol down on
the floor, I won’t hurt her. At least, I won’t hurt her until after
I’ve killed you. I just want it to be you, your ‘sticks,’ against
me. Nothing else. Deal?”

The coven master could see Eli struggle with
the idea of being almost defenseless against him. To emphasize his
point, the coven master kissed the top of the girl’s head again,
enjoying the softness of her hair against this lips.

Eli’s body posture changed as he acquiesced,
“Okay. If that’s the deal, then I’ll take it.”

Eli placed the wooden sticks on the table. He
unhooked the shotgun, and laid it on the floor.

“No, go ahead and pump it so that all of the
shells are out of the shotgun.”

Eli complied, and racked the shotgun until
there were no more shells. The shells hit the floor and rolled
away. He laid the shotgun on the floor. He did the same thing with
the pistol. He pulled it from the holster, and hit the magazine
release. The magazine slid into his hand. He put the magazine on
the floor, and kicked it away. He pulled the slide on the pistol,
and a bullet flew through the air, then tumbled as it hit the
floor. He placed the pistol on the ground. He picked up the two
ironwood Eskrima sticks, and moved away from the table.

The coven master smiled. He set the girl back
down onto the altar. He walked around the table, towards Eli. As
the vampire walked towards him, Eli circled away from the door of
the room, avoiding the corpses on the floor, drawing the coven
master to him. Soon, they were on the sides of the large room, the
little girl directly across from the door, the large desk between
them and her, four points on a square. Eli hoped this would keep
the coven master away from Cynthia.

“You know, I’m tired of you interrupting my
fun. This is the third coven that you’ve destroyed.” As the vampire
spoke, his human body fell away, the grotesque figure of the
Nosferatu from European legend replacing the swarthy handsome
man.

Eli could tell that it was gathering
strength, ready to pounce. Eli took up a good stance, jumped in
place on his toes to warm up and stay loose. He was ready for the
charge. He knew it would come, sooner than later. The coven master
would want to take him quickly, so that it could get back to its
fun with Cynthia. Eli attacked and took the advantage away from the
monster. The vampire was surprised, falling back as the sticks
whirled through the air. The first strikes didn’t land, but Eli had
driven the monster further out of line away from Cynthia. He had
shifted the monster enough that it had to kill Eli to get to
her.

The vampire retaliated, talons ripping
through the air. Eli blocked the blows with the sticks. He moved
his head to the side to avoid a backhand strike from the vampire.
The first salvo was finished, and Eli danced back out of range of
the monster’s talons. The vampire spit at Eli’s eyes, and Eli
shifted his head to avoid being blinded. The vampire struck low and
hit Eli in the side, but the talons couldn’t get through the chain
metal of the leather jacket.

Eli winced from the blow. The jacket helped,
but Eli knew that the blow would have broken a rib if he didn’t
have the armor on. The vampire wasn’t a trained fighter, though,
and predictable in its movements. The vampire slashed again, and
Eli hit the arm from two sides. A loud crack announced the break.
The vampire hissed and drew back. Its eyes turned black, and
hellfire burst to cover the arm. The arm healed almost instantly,
the broken bone knitting quickly.