The Demon Deception (5 page)

Eli settled in, preparing for a long fight.
He launched another flurry of blows. The vampire tried to dodge
them, but it couldn’t avoid everything. It took the blows on its
forearms. Eli knew that he was doing some major damage to the
possessed. Hellfire flared, and then flared again as magic was
directed to heal the vampire. Eli increased the tempo and intensity
of the strikes.

The vampire began to worry. The sticks
presented a defense that it couldn’t get through. This shouldn’t be
possible. No human should be able to match it for speed and
ferocity. This human matched him strike for strike, though. The
damage it was taking was diverting the energy that fed it, and kept
it alive. Nothing it did was able to get through after the one hit.
It thought that it would be able to kill the human quickly. It had
been mistaken.

Eli was drumming the vampire everywhere now.
The hellfire couldn’t keep up. The damage was too great. The
vampire snarled, foam spitting from its mouth. It was starting to
realize that Eli had set a trap, and the trap was starting to
close. Eli had played the vampire like a violin, using its
arrogance against it. Now, the sticks beat the vampire like a drum.
The strikes rained down on the vampire. It felt one, then the other
forearm break. More blows broke ribs. The Eskrima sticks broke the
upper arms. Then the unthinkable happened. First one, then the
other wooden stake slammed into its chest.

The vampire froze, and started falling. Eli
stepped forward and wrapped an arm around the possessed. He used
his strength to keep the monster up. He leaned in and said quietly,
whispering into its ear, “I know the damage you’ve caused. I know
the pain and suffering you’ve inflicted. I know about the children,
screaming as they died. I know about the torture. Don’t think I’m
going to make this easy on you.”

He let the vampire slip to the floor. The
vampire couldn’t move, transfixed by the wooden sticks. Eli gently
lowered the body to the floor, ensuring that the stakes stayed in
place. When the vampire was arranged on the floor, Eli stood over
it. He talked as he looked down at his victim, “I could make it
easy on you. One bullet, one shotgun shell, and you’d be consumed
by hellfire, nothing left but ash. Or, I could use one of these,”
Eli pulled twin short swords from sheaths harnessed under the
leather coat. They were exquisite works of art. The workmanship of
the blades, the hilts, and the engraving proclaiming that they were
superior to any other blades in the world. He made sure that the
vampire could see them. “These swords are Faith, and Mercy. These
would end your suffering immediately. But I’m not in a generous
mood. I’m not inclined towards Mercy at all.”

The vampire was frozen in place. Eli knew
that there was nothing it could do. He looked over at the table at
Cynthia on the altar. He smiled, and walked around the table. He
walked over to the altar, placed his hand on her head, and smiled
down at the soft beauty of the girl’s sleeping features. He
shrugged out of his coat, and picked her up, wrapping her in the
coat. It was cold, and he didn’t want her to suffer in the chill
air. Cynthia didn’t move, though her chest rose and fell. He could
feel her breath, soft as a butterfly, on his cheek. He used one
finger to gently open an eyelid. The pupils were dilated. He
frowned. He arranged her on the table so that she would be
comfortable. He turned her head from what he was about to do, just
in case.

The blade had caught his eye from the other
side of the room. Eli looked at the ancient, wicked thing. It was
hideous, created to instill fear in its victims. He wondered how
many children had died screaming on its ragged edge. He wondered
how many innocent lives had been destroyed by this evil instrument.
He picked up the blade, and walked back around the table.

He squatted down next to the vampire. “So,
here we are. And, in a little bit, you’re going to wish you didn’t
have those regenerative powers.”

He couldn’t stay too long, but he carved long
enough to do major damage and inflict maximum pain. When he was
done, he sawed at the neck. He used the heavy blade to saw at the
spine and hack until the head separated from the body. He dropped
the knife onto the floor. The loud metallic sound echoed in the
room and out into the tunnel. He picked up the head by the greasy
locks of hair, and looked into the eyes of the vampire. He knew
that the intellect was still in there, peering back out at him. He
put the head on the chest of what was left of the vampire’s body.
He pulled the ironwood sticks out of the body. Immediately, the
body began to heal. He jammed the sticks back down into the chest.
The healing stopped. The vampire was still alive. He grabbed the
knife, and rammed it down through the top of the head, pinning the
head to the chest.

He stood up, grabbed his weapons and
ammunition. He walked over to the girl and gently picked her up. He
didn’t know how much or what kind of opiates they put into her, but
he didn’t want to wake her. God knows she would probably have
nightmares for years after this. He hoped she was young enough that
she would forget this night, or dismiss it as a bad dream. He
stepped out of the room, and walked up the tunnel about thirty
feet. He laid her on the floor. He still had something to take care
of, and he wanted to make sure that she was safely out of the way.
He rummaged around in his jacket, and pulled out a cylindrical
object.

He walked back to the corpse. He had a US
Army thermite hand grenade. He wedged the grenade into the mouth of
the vampire, and pulled the pin. As he walked away, the fuse of the
grenade caught, and the thermite began burning at five thousand
degrees Celsius. He walked out and scooped up Cynthia. He began
jogging down the tunnel to get away from what was turning into a
raging inferno. Everything in the brick lined room would be
destroyed.

As he jogged past, he heard the cell phone on
one of the corpses ring.

“
I guess his girlfriend is trying to call
him,”
he thought.

He kept jogging. Smoke was starting to
pollute the air. He passed another body. The previous cell phone
stopped ringing, and the one on this corpse began. That one
stopped, and the next phone on the next corpse started ringing.
This kept happening as he moved through the tunnels and back up to
the entrance. He stopped when he got to the first room at the
entrance that led into the alley. It was cold out, so he looked,
and found a jacket for Cynthia. It had belonged to one of the
gangsters that he had killed. This one had been hung from a hook,
so no bullet holes or blood on it. He wrapped the girl in it, and
put his jacket back on. Another cell phone began ringing. He
sighed. It wasn’t going to go away. He walked over to the corpse
and rolled it over. He rummaged through the pockets until he found
the cell phone. He picked it up, hit ‘answer’, and listened.

He began talking, his responses punctuated as
he listened to the other side of the conversation, “Yeah, I’m done
here. What, no, I have to take the girl to the hospital first. I
don’t know what kind of drugs they put into her. I just want to
make sure she’s safe.” He paused, then continued talking, “What?
Who do you want me to meet? Are you kidding me? You know I spend
most of my time cleaning up after her, right.” There was another
pause as he listened, “What, why? Good God. Okay, okay, I’ll watch
my language.” There was another, longer pause, “Yes, I’ll meet her,
but I’m not happy about it. Where and when?”

The conversation finished. He hit end, then
dialed 911, and reported the fire. He threw the phone back down on
the corpse. He picked the girl up, wrapped the jacket tightly
around her to keep the cold wind at bay. He stepped into the alley
and walked into the night, the rhythm of hip-hop music punctuating
the timing of his steps.

----------------------------------------------------

Eli carried Cynthia
back to the apartment. He placed her on the bed, and began putting
equipment away in pelican cases. It wouldn’t do to walk around New
York with that much armament on him. The only thing he kept was his
Springfield XD. He changed jackets. The chain mail was showing
through the leather, and would attract too much attention. He
called a friend, Detective Roy Mayland.

Detective Mayland had been asleep. He picked
up the ringing cell phone and listened. He rubbed the sleep out of
his eyes.

“Hey Roy, how’s it going?”

He had to think for a minute to place the
voice, “Eli, is that you?”

“Yeah, how’s it going?”

“Pretty good. It’s been a while.”

“Sorry it’s so early. I hope I didn’t wake
the wife.”

“Too late. She’s awake.”

“Sorry. Apologize for me.”

“She’ll understand when she knows who’s
calling.”

“Yeah, well. Still, tell her I’m sorry. I’m
in town. I was working, and I found a missing girl. Her name’s
Cynthia Rowland.”

“You mean, the little girl kidnapped from the
park?”

“Yeah, I have her here with me.”

“How did you find her?”

“You know me, Roy. I have contacts in places
you don’t want to know about.”

Mayland paused as he thought about it, “Yeah,
Eli, I know. All too well.”

Detective Mayland and Eli had worked together
when Mayland was working Criminal Investigation in Iraq. Mayland
had quit the Army afterwards and applied for work with the NYPD.
Since then, Eli had popped up in New York several times. Every time
Mayland got a call from Eli, he knew it was going to be
interesting. Mayland knew not to ask too many questions.

“So, Roy, can I meet you at University
Hospital of Brooklyn. I need to get her into the hospital. The
people that had her gave her something. I don’t know what it is.
She needs to get checked out.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Eli could hear the
concern in Roy’s voice.

“Yeah, she’ll be okay. She’s sleeping, and
her breathing’s good. Better safe than sorry, though.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you.”

Eli hung up. He could hear the sound of
emergency vehicles in the distance. He looked out the window. He
couldn’t see any smoke, so there was still time for them to get
there and take care of the fire.

----------------------------------------------------

Thirty minutes later, Eli was handing off
Cynthia to Roy. She was still wrapped in the coat.

“Can you tell me where you found her?” Roy
asked.

“Roy, you know better than that.”

Roy nodded, “Okay, Eli, just asking. What
about the people that took her?”

“You don’t have to worry about them anymore.
They won’t be hurting children again.”

“Eli, you should let us handle this kind of
thing,” Roy chastised him.

Eli shook his head, “Roy, if I did that,
Cynthia would be dead right now. I got there just in time to stop
them. Believe me, if I thought the NYPD could handle it, I’d give
you a call and step back. You know what I do. You really think a
beat cop could handle some of the things that I deal with.”

Roy thought about it, and then shook his
head, “No, not after Iraq. That thing almost killed me. What was it
you called it?”

“An Efreet.”

“Yeah, well, you saved my ass in Iraq. No
problems.”

Roy took the girl from him, “Hey, Eli, you
need to stop by before you leave town again. Nancy would love to
see you. The kids are getting big, too. Dave asks about you.”

“I’d love to, but I can’t promise anything
right now. I have something else in the works. Tell Nancy that I’ll
stop by when I get a chance.”

“Okay, Eli. She’s going to be disappointed,
though.”

Eli shrugged, “You know how it is. It’s
business. Tell her I’m sorry. Give your kids my love.”

“Okay. Don’t be a stranger though. Three
years is too long.”

They said their goodbyes, and Detective
Mayland took Cynthia inside the hospital. Eli pulled his jacket
tight around him to fight off the cold. He turned south and began
walking. He had an appointment to keep. Eli walked south on Bedford
Avenue to a greasy spoon he liked. He was glad the meet was there.
A few toughs eyed him as he walked. He pulled back his jacket and
showed his pistol. They didn’t know who he was affiliated with or
what kind of juice he had, so they left him alone.

He opened the door of the restaurant,
enjoying the hot air that spilled out. The place was old. It looked
like it hadn’t been refurbished since the sixties or seventies. He
walked past the patrons to a booth in the back. The patrons were
mostly refugees from closing night clubs, trying to get something
to eat before they went home.

He took the gunslinger seat to watch the door
at the front of the restaurant. The waitress walked over. He looked
at her. She was African American, in her mid-forties, and life had
not been kind to her. He could see the woman that she used to be,
the hope that she had when she was young, and the beauty that she
had been. He smiled at her. She smiled back.

“How can I help you honey. My name is Carol.
Do you want to start out with something to drink?”

He was early for the meeting, so he decided
that he was going to get something to eat. He didn’t look at the
menu, ordering coffee, black, and three eggs over easy, hash
browns, and wheat toast. She walked away with the order, put the
ticket in the window, and brought him back a cup of black coffee.
The china was ancient, and had a chip on the rim.

“Do you need cream with that, honey?”

He took a sip of the coffee, “No, this tastes
pretty good.”

“Okay, but you let me know if you need
anything.”

She walked away to wait on other patrons. He
sat there, sipping coffee, waiting for the food to be delivered.
Ten minutes later, Carol brought his food to the table. He gave her
a twenty for everything, and told her to keep the change. It was a
large tip for the service, and she smiled, grateful for the extra
money.