《Inquisitor》


 Chpt 01 - The Necklace

    The utility elevator opened and Frank Martino pushed out a heavy metal cart with one hand while pulling a second one behind him. He was the on-site handyman for Ashtenburrow Heights, a luxury apartment complex in the heart of the city, and his work day was almost over. His duties changed from one day to the next ¨C fixing clogged sinks, repairing door frames, changing A/C and heating units ¨C and he¡¯d managed to keep the place running smoothly for three years now. Today, he¡¯d helped clear out an abandoned apartment. Before the cleaning company went through, the landlord wanted him to toss or store as much as he could.


    He maneuvered his heavy loads through the boiler room. The grinding of the cart¡¯s cheap plastic wheels across the concreate mixed with the familiar groan of the furnaces and water pumps. From the heat of the boiler room, he exited to the covered garage and out towards the side alley between complexes. It was below freezing as night approached, and his heavy boots crunched on the fresh snow. Everyday this week, Frank had gotten up early to shovel and salt the apartment¡¯s walkways. Soft flurries fell from the sky, and if the weather man was right (experience told Frank the man was right 50% of the time if it made his life easier, and 75% if it meant more work for him) there¡¯s be another foot come morning.


    Despite the cold, Frank sweated in his jeans and buttoned short-sleeved shirt as he emptied the contents of the carts into the large trash bin.


    It felt shitty to throw other people¡¯s stuff away. This young lady had moved in two months ago, paid no rent, and then vanished after Frank had posted an eviction notice on her door. Sometimes the landlord would try to stick items into storage and hold them for a tenant, but she¡¯d left no contact information, and the phone number she¡¯d given had been disconnect.


    Frank hoped she was okay. Given the circumstances, she was probably alive and well (though in a city like this, things happened) but not having a place to stay and losing all your belongings was always rough. He¡¯d been there himself when he was younger.


    With a grunt, he heaved a shiny black garbage bag packed with the contents of her fridge into the garbage, followed by handful of glossy magazines and books. He liked to donated abandoned books to the library, but all she had were yellowed paperbacks with the covers torn off.


    The landlord had already swept through and grabbed anything of value. Frank had helped her load a TV, furniture, and dishes into her pick-up earlier. Legally, abandoned items could be pawned off to help recoup expenses. Frank was left to discard all the stuff the landlord didn¡¯t want: clothing, toiletries, bed sheets, shower curtains, throw rugs, a mismatched set of silverware, open medicine bottles.


    If it had been warmer, there might be a few bums hanging around the alley who¡¯d rifle through his carts for anything good. That didn¡¯t bother Frank, but it made his boss grumpy. Most tenants didn¡¯t know this bin existed though, so as long no one complained and nothing was vandalized, Frank figured it didn¡¯t hurt anyone to let them grab something.


    As he hefted a shoebox into the trash, it twisted in the air. The lid slipped off and half the contents ended in the bin while the other half clattered over the frozen ground. With a sigh, Frank leaned down and scooped up the detritus.


    One item caught his eye. It was a necklace, a silver medallion with some butterfly-winged fairy and symbols scrolling around the edges, hung on a leather band. Holding it up in the fading light, he inspected the piece.


    At first, he¡¯d thought it was cheap costume jewelry made out of pewter or the like ¨C the sort of thing you pick up for $10 at the mall ¨C but it looked to be real silver, and the symbols and the tiny figure were formed with skill. Above her head, the fairy held a small stone, not plastic as he¡¯d first assumed, but a tiny emerald.


    Frank perked up at the find. His wife wouldn¡¯t care for it, Clara preferred simple and elegant pieces, but his daughter might want it. She was thirteen and loved all that fantasy shit: fairies, elves, goblins, dragons, and princesses. Lilly had even tried to learn that elf language after finishing Lord of the Rings; she¡¯d moved on after a month, but sometimes still greeted him with a ¡®Gi suilon!¡¯


    With a pleased grin, he tucked the treasure into his front pocket and finished his work.


    As Frank liked to say, the work was a pain, but he had the best commute in the city. After latching the boiler room exit and stowing away his carts, Frank headed back to the elevator and to his home on the second floor. Handymen didn¡¯t make much, but his rent was discounted, meaning that Clara could work nearby and Lily went to a nice school.


    Most of the other tenants were lawyers, doctors, and businessmen ¨C housing was expensive ¨C but other than a handful of assholes, none of his neighbors looked down on him. And Frank had learned there were assholes no matter where you went, so he just ignored any disdainful glances from young investors in their three-piece suits.


    Opening the door, he was greeted with the scent of cooking chicken and rosemary.


    ¡°Take off your boots before you come in,¡± Clara called. He¡¯d forgotten once and trailed oil onto the carpet, and now she reminded him every time he walked through the door. Dutifully, he unlaced them and set them in the closet.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Lily sat at the living room table, neon green headphones covering her ears as she stared at textbook. Beside it on the polish wood was a three-ring binder with notes and drawings haphazardly scrawled over the paper. She tapped a pen against the table as though in thought.


    Frank drifted into his daughter¡¯s field of view.


    ¡°Hey, sweetie,¡± he said.


    She made a grunting noise in acknowledgment.


    ¡°Good day at school?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯okay.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make some tea. Want some? Or hot coco?¡±


    ¡°Uhhhhh- sure.¡±


    Gone were the days where Lily would rush to great her father and demand a hug when he walked through the door. Increasingly, she spent her time in her room or out with her friends. When with Clara and he, Lily seemed bored or sullen. She was a good kid ¨C polite and got good grades ¨C but Frank missed the happy little girl she used to be.


    He put water on the stove and reconsidered the gift in his pocket. It was cute, but she didn¡¯t seem to like cute things as much. Frank couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d seen her play with the fairy princess dolls he¡¯d gotten her, and those used to be her favorite. Though he¡¯d been sure Lily would want the necklace when he¡¯d picked it up, now that he thought about it, she probably wouldn¡¯t have picked something like it out on her own.


    Oh well, it¡¯s not like he¡¯d paid for it or anything.


    At dinner, the three settled around their small table. Clara insisted on it. Frank would be fine eating in front of the TV while watching a movie ¨C he considered that bonding time, too ¨C but she¡¯d read that families that ate dinner together were healthier and more emotionally stable. That meant that if she cooked, they sat at the table and ate it.


    Tonight was baked rosemary chicken thighs, roasted red potatoes, and green beans. Frank put some raw radishes, carrots, and celery on a side dish. He¡¯d always been hefty, in high school he¡¯d been an offensive lineman, but lately he¡¯d been filling out with more flab than muscle. He figured switching veggies for his usual chips and salsa might help with the gut.


    ¡°Sweetie, I got you something today,¡± Frank said, while pulling the necklace from his pocket. After making tea, he¡¯d given it a quick clean and polish.


    Lily¡¯s eyebrows rose in interest as he dangled it in the air. She cupped the talisman to examine it. As she wrapped her thin fingers around the leather band, the emerald flickered, far brighter than Frank would have expected from reflecting the living room lamp.


    ¡°That¡¯s nice, honey,¡± Clara said. ¡°Where did you get it?¡±


    ¡°That lady in 14-G¡­ Um, Susan?¡± He handed over the necklace to his daughter.


    ¡°If you mean the woman who disappeared after you served her notice, that was Katrina,¡± corrected Clara. ¡°Susan is the older woman. The one with three cats.¡±


    Frank remembered now. He¡¯d helped her haul in groceries after her surgery. Yeah, Katrina was the girl who¡¯d left.


    ¡°Cool. Thanks, dad,¡± Lily said as she set the necklace beside her plate, and went back to eating. There wasn¡¯t much in the way of enthusiasm, and he couldn¡¯t tell if she genuinely liked it or was being polite.


    They finished dinner only talking lightly. Clara¡¯s boss had come back from a vacation in the Caribbean with a sunburn. Lily gave short answers to any question posed to her ¨C her day was okay, her classes were fine, her friends were all right, and would it be okay if she went to the movies this Friday? Jacoline and her parents were going, and Lily would need money for a ticket and maybe food.


    Afterward, Frank settled down in front of the computer to play BuildCraft. One of his buddies had set up a server and was crafting a massive automated house. Frank remained in his hovel surrounded by high walls to keep out the zombies, and had spent the last few nights crafting barrels of TNT. Tonight, he scouted around the periphery, trying to find out how to make it past the mine field and wall of flowing lava his friend had created.


    Frank, Jennifer, and Brian had all made efforts to break in, but had died previously. Steven was used to his friends¡¯ antics, and had become increasingly paranoid and vicious in his security measures. This didn¡¯t bother the other three. It made it all the more satisfying when whatever obscene monument Steve built this time exploded.


    Clara and Lily headed out, and he noticed that Lily had slipped the necklace on.


    ¡°You liked it,¡± he said, tugging off his headphone.


    ¡°Yeah ¨C see you later, dad.¡± Lilly gave him a kiss on the cheek and then mock-frowned, rubbing the stubble of his five o¡¯clock shadow.


    The rest of the evening passed peacefully. After the girls came back from dance class, Frank watched some TV while Clara read a mystery novel. While Frank flipped through the channels, a thump came from the other room, as though something had hit the floor.


    ¡°That¡¯s Lily¡¯s room,¡± Clara said, her mom sense razor sharp. She stood and headed to the closed bedroom door, rapping on the wood. Frank paused, his head cocked to the side as he half-listened to the TV and half to Clara.


    Clara knocked again, calling Lily¡¯s name, and when she received no answer, opened the door.


    ¡°Frank!¡± she called. He was on his feet in a flash.


    In two strides, he¡¯d reached the bedroom, and the sight that greeted him stopped his heart. Lily was sprawled unconscious on the floor. And she had become partially transparent. Frank blinked once or twice in confusion as Clara rushed to their daughter¡¯s side.


    As they watched, Lily¡¯s body dissipated into mist.


    They both reached out, their hands clawing through her vanishing form. Frank felt a shock jolt his entire body, and then the room spun. He found himself hovering in the air; below him, all three of their bodies slumped on the carpet.


    He tried to talk, to shout, but found no sound came from him. Then he was sucked away. Lights flashed by his vision as his spirit was pulled through space, away from earth and his own solar system, then away from his own galaxy.


    For one startled moment, he saw a multitude of universes and worlds spread before him. The sight was both impossible and utterly undeniable. Then he plunged, again pulled by an invisible force. His perception zoomed in crazily as he rushed downwards to another solar system ¨C planet ¨C land mass ¨C region ¨C city ¨C building ¨C and crashed through a roof into a glowing red ritual circle.


    He found himself lying on cold wooden floorboards, panting. His naked body was covered in a wet, slimy liquid as though he were a newborn who¡¯d slipped out of the womb.


    Clara and Lily were there, and around them stood about half a dozen men and women in dark, bloody red robes. Frank spotted candles, an older man grasping a huge leather-bound book, and shadowy figures dancing through the air. The group was chanting, but stopped as the leader raised one withered hand.


    ¡°It is finished,¡± he said, grandly. ¡°The eternal bride has returned to us.¡±

 Chpt 02 - The Brawl

    Frank¡¯s head throbbed dully and the back of his mouth tasted like he¡¯d been chewing balloons. One moment he¡¯d been sitting in front of the TV, the next his daughter had been sprawled on the floor, and the next he¡¯d been transported to this¡­ place. He had no idea what was going on, but a six men and women surrounded him, looking every bit like a satanic cult. They wore bloody red robes with some sort of tentacled eye on the chest. He¡¯d be an idiot to not realize they meant trouble.


    He staggered to his feet and the leader ¨C an older man with a sharp, black beard scowled.


    ¡°We only summoned the eternal bride,¡± he said. ¡°Are you some demon sent to attend her?¡±


    ¡°Do I look like a fucking demon?¡± Frank shot back. He probably should have said ¡®yes,¡¯ and tried to spook them, but he was a hefty, thirty-six-year-old man standing there with his beer belly and his junk hanging out. You¡¯d have to be blind to think he was a demon.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve done,¡± he continued, ¡°but you send us back to our house right now.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± asked Clara. His wife leaned over their still unconscious daughter. Frank suspected Lily was the ¡®eternal bride,¡¯ which was a title he was not fond of at all.


    ¡°I think not!¡± replied the leader. ¡°You¡¯ll be staying here for a very long ti¡ª¡±


    His words were cut off by Frank slamming a fist in his face. He¡¯d heard enough. These people were dangerous and he wasn¡¯t going to wait around to see what they wanted.


    The leader¡¯s lips burst with blood and he staggered back, clutching his face. The other cultists looked back and forth in confusion. Frank assumed it would only last a moment, and so threw himself bodily at the largest man with a yell. His shoulder slammed into the man¡¯s gut and he kept on running.


    Though his high school football days were long behind him, 250 pounds and pure adrenaline are a nasty combination. They collided with the wall with a slam. Some of the cultists were drawing wavey daggers from their belts, and Frank looked around for a weapon. He was not going to fight people with knives barehanded.


    His eyes fell on a stone altar and some sort of heavy wooden sculpture of Cthulhu and penguins love child. Frank sprang towards it, heart slamming into his ribs as he picked it up by the beaked head with two hands. There was no grace ¨C he just ran towards them wildly swinging while screaming like a madman. Its base was nice and heavy, and there was a satisfy crunch as he swung it into the chest of one of the ladies and sent her flying.


    Another fellow charged at him, knife drawn, but Frank had the length advantage. He slammed the wooden statue into the man¡¯s chest, and when he didn¡¯t slow down, bull rushed him like he had the first. They collided so hard they both fell to the ground, but Frank was on his feet first. He raised the statue overhead and then brought it down brutally on the man¡¯s head.


    One of the cultists tried to turn tail, but Frank was having none of that. Who knows what sort of backup the man might find? He grabbed him by the back of the robe. The man scrambled to get away and the robe tore in Frank¡¯s grasp.


    ¡°Sonofa--!¡± Frank said, as the man ripped free. He sprinted towards the door. Clara was in his way, and Frank called out in panic that the cultist might harm her. In fact, he slammed right into her and then staggered back. There was a blade in buried in his gut and blood on his wife¡¯s hands. Had she stabbed him?


    That didn¡¯t seem like something his Clara would do, but none of this made sense, so he just accepted it and spun to face the others. Only one was left on her feet and she was rapidly backing up, obviously terrified of the insane man and his wife.


    Frank grabbed the leader, punched him in the gut, and slammed him against the wall.


    ¡°SEND. US. BACK!¡± Frank roared in the smaller man¡¯s face.


    The leader¡¯s sneer was gone. Blood covered his teeth. ¡°I ca..can¡¯t.¡±


    Frank did not want to hear that. He grabbed the asshole by his scrawny neck and dragged him over to the ritual circle.


    ¡°What did you do to my daughter?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s fine, I swear!¡± the man stammered. ¡°The ritual causes the one summoned to fall into a deep sleep so they¡¯re more tract-ow!¡± Frank had squeezed hard on the man¡¯s neck without thinking. There were only a handful of reasons to make a young girl ¡®tractable¡¯ and he didn¡¯t like any of them.


    ¡°But she¡¯ll be fine!¡± the leader repeated. ¡°It will wear off on its own in under an hour. You¡¯ll see!¡±


    Clara came beside them. She¡¯d found another set of robes. ¡°Ask him where we are,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Frank shot the man a look and he answered immediately. ¡°Culvert, in the dutchy of Gulvania. We discovered a ritual to summon the eternal bride. We thought our god would be pleased with¡­¡± he trailed off here as Frank¡¯s gaze hardened. ¡°I don¡¯t know why your daughter was chosen, but the eternal bride is blessed! Our lord and master will shower her with riches unimagi-OW!¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    This time the hardening in his grip was deliberate. Frank¡¯s thick fingers sank into the flesh of the man¡¯s neck, causing it to bulge. This man ¨C this pathetic, insane man, had kidnapped his family, and wanted to hand Lily over to their ¡®master?¡¯ Frank saw red. It was the kind of crazy shit he¡¯d always tried to protect his friends and family from.


    No, this was worse. This was far, far worse. The more Frank realized just how deep a pile of shit they¡¯d been tossed into, the harder he squeezed. They weren¡¯t even on Earth! They could be trapped here forever!


    A hand touched his arm. Clara had slipped on a robe. ¡°If he doesn¡¯t know how to send us home, he might know someone who does. We¡¯re all alone here, and he¡¯s the one in charge.¡±


    Frank looked around. Several of the other cultists had wobbled to their feet and were looking at the scene with interest. The leader¡¯s face was starting to turn a purple cover as Frank choked him. It took effort, but Frank force himself to release his hold. Clara handed him a robe and one of the knives.


    The leader fell to his hands, gasping for air. ¡°The church¡­ the church of light,¡± he said. ¡°The priest there can help you. I¡¯ll take¡ªI¡¯ll take. Please don¡¯t kill me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to make any promises,¡± Frank replied. He¡¯d been in a few scrapes in his life, but never seriously hurt someone. He¡¯s choked the other man due to frustration and anger, but didn¡¯t know if he could bring himself to hurt someone deliberately.


    But the man didn¡¯t have to know that.


    Clara dressed Lily as Frank kept on eye on the rest of the cultists. The fellow Clara had stabbed was bleeding out. What unnerved him was how little the others seemed to care. The man curled up on the floor, clutching his gut, and none of them even moved to check on him.


    His groans made Frank feel bad, and he didn¡¯t even like the man.


    Once Clara was finished, Frank hurriedly threw on the red robes. It made him feel better, but not by much.


    He kept on waiting for an attack that never came. The cultists shot him murderous looks, yet made no move to intercept him. Frank was grateful for that.


    In the end, the Clara retrieved the book ¨C Frank had forgotten that ¨C and got an arm under Lily. His daughter was only half-conscious and sagged in her mother¡¯s arms. With a bit of coaxing and support though, she could stumble forward.


    ¡°Show us where this church is, and nothing funny,¡± Frank said. He kept a firm hold on the leader and pressed a knife to his back. They headed down a narrow, dusty set of stairs into a small abandoned house and out into the street.


    Culvert looked like what Frank imagined Dickenson¡¯s London to be. Oil lanterns lined the cobblestone streets, and dozens tall buildings crowded around him, their high, pointed roofs like hungry teeth. An iron-wrought gate barred the way, it whined as Frank kicked it open.


    ¡°Grab that lantern and lead us,¡± Frank ordered.


    The leader complied. Frank kept a hand on his shoulder as he walked down the street. The night was cool and moist. Candled flickered behind thick windows. He noticed they were all too small for anyone to crawl through and every door was latched shut. Stone gargoyles leered at them as they passed underneath and Frank¡¯s eyes darted from shadow to shadow. He had no idea what sort of place they¡¯d found themselves in, but his instincts screamed danger.


    He prodded the leader with the tip of his knife whenever the man slowed.


    Franks bare feet hurt as he walked across the cold, rough stone. What bothered him though was the sense that something huge loomed over them, licking its lips as it watched their progress.


    The leader brought them through winding streets. Frank was tightly wound and when a clock tower gave two booming chimes, he stabbed through the man¡¯s robe with a jerk.


    ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking,¡± the leader whispered, ¡°A man in a foreign land, wanting to protect his wife and daughter. It doesn¡¯t matter what they promise or offer you at the church of light. Culvert belongs to the Red God. The time of his return is near and you - if you truly care for the young girl ¨C would be wise to court his favor. Those chosen will be rewarded. There is no safety to be found in the church. It has failed these lands for over a hundred years.¡±


    ¡°Shut up. We¡¯re going home,¡± Frank replied. If he allowed himself to think differently, he might panic. And panicking led to doing something stupid. Best to check out this church and let them help.


    Frank spotted it as they turned the corner. It was an impressive structure ¨C a large stain glass window with a sun design dominated its upper face. Armed men called out for him to stop.


    Stupidly, it took him a few seconds to understand the issue. They were dressed in these red robes and he was holding a man at knifepoint. They looked like part of the cult.


    Guards armed with pikes casiously surrounded them.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean any harm,¡± Frank said. ¡°We¡¯ve been kidnapped and my daughter injured by this man. We came to the church for help. Here, I¡¯m putting the knife down.¡±


    He did so, letting the wavy blade clatter on the cobblestone.


    They spread out, surrounding the group with their weapons lowered. One of them approached Clara and Lily.


    ¡°The girl looks hexed,¡± he shouted. Those surrounding frank peered and strained their necks.


    The guards let them to the church steps while Frank tried to look as harmless and non-satanic as possible. The interior was bright, and the song of a beautiful voice filling the vestibule. He relaxed slightly. At least here there weren¡¯t any shadows for monsters to spring up from.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± a priest hurried forward in white and blue clerical vestiments. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± He peered at the group with concern.


    ¡°Brother Kirwin, this fellow here ¨C the big one ¨C says he was grabbed and his wife and daughter spelled or somethin¡¯ by the small looking fellow,¡± explained a guard, as he pushed his helmet back to expose more of his face.


    ¡°They said they served a Red God and that Lily was an eternal bride,¡± Frank added. The priest¡¯s eyes widened, recognizing those terms.


    The priest grabbed Lily¡¯s other arm. ¡°This is serious,¡± he said. ¡°Come, come. We must take her to the lightbearer at once.¡±


    Together they made their way into the heart of the church. The cult leader looked more whipped by the moment. As they approached the grand altar of white marble and gold, the singing grew louder. Frank looked up and realized it came from the throat of a woman who floated above assembly. Brilliant wings of light sprang from her back, and her form gave off a gentle luminesces.


    ¡°Lightbringer,¡± the priest said, ¡°We call upon your aid. This young girl had her vitality drained by a follower of the Crimson Lord, and needs your protection.¡±


    The angel ¨C Frank never doubted that¡¯s what she was ¨C floated downwards. She touched Lily¡¯s forehead and light flowed from her to his daughter. Lily¡¯s eyes opened in confusion.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine, dear,¡± Clara said, brushing her daughter¡¯s hair. ¡°Sit down here and don¡¯t worry. Everything will be fine.¡±

 Chpt 03 - Where You Rest Your Head

    ¡°Dad, I¡¯m worried,¡± Lily said. They sat together on one of the cathedral¡¯s rock-hard pews. The guards had departed and brought two people; they introduced themselves as Lady Ravenwood and Master Bringle. The lady was young, blonde woman and wore fine chainmail armor. Over it was a white surcoat with a golden eagle emblazoned upon the chest. The man was older man, tall and lanky, and wrapped in a mud stained trench coat. Pockmarks covered his thin face and he smelled of alcohol. The angel had alighted again, floating above the altar on shimmering wings of light, resumed her low, sweet singing. Frank could not make out the words but it filled the church with an aura of safety and peace.


    He¡¯d explained events to them. They¡¯d taken the necklace Lily wore and interrogated the cult leader. Now they stood away from him, heads bowed, ugently whispering.


    ¡°It will be fine,¡± he said, rubbing his daughter¡¯s small shoulder. ¡°No one is going to hurt you.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± The head that rested against his chest shook. ¡°I¡¯m worried that the diseases we¡¯ll carry will make people sick. They don¡¯t have the antibodies modern people have. What if we¡¯re like Europeans spreading Small Pox to the Indians?¡±


    Frank paused in his rubbing. He hadn¡¯t considered that. It would have never occurred to him, and given the circumstance, would be the last thing on his mind. Their own safety was more important. Lily sounded serious though.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure that won¡¯t be an issue.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think this is Earth,¡± he ventured. ¡°They might not even be humans like us. And, um, they have angels. I¡¯m sure the angel who fixed you could deal with small pox.¡± Frank was pulling ideas from out his hairy butt-cheeks, but it sounded rational. The important thing was that it seemed to relieve her.


    Lily fell back into silence. Her unfocused gaze resting on the angel. Probably wondering why it had wings when it just hovered in the air, or something like that.


    Clara paced around the cathedral. Arms crossed over her chest as she walked the periphery, studying the statues and mosaics. This was exactly the sort of thing she¡¯d like back home. Not that it gave her any joy now.


    The two important looking people continued to talk. The lady knight studying the necklace intently. Frank wanted nothing more than to barge between them and demand answers. If he¡¯d been alone, he might have done so.


    Their faces were tight. The woman kept a gloved hand on the pommel of her longsword while the man¡¯s bobbed his head with a nervous rapidness as he spoke. A few times they glanced at where he and Lily sat, and Frank unconsciously tightened his grip on his daughter.


    Eventually, they broke. The younger woman made a small gesture and the man fell silent. She approached Frank. He stood, immediately picking up that she was someone important and not wanting to ruffle feathers.


    ¡°Goodman Martino,¡± she said. Though young, her voice was calm and authoritative. ¡°I would first like to express my regrets that you came to our realm under such deplorable circumstances. The villain you brought in shall be punished, and we have sent guards to where he indicated the ritual had occurred. If any of the fiends remain, they will be caught.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, mimicking the head bob he¡¯d seen the others do around her. ¡°But what we need to do is get home.¡±


    ¡°I understand your desire to return to your realm and I will do what I can to aid you. In the morning, I will send word to the Academy of what transpired so that the scholars there may look for a solution. The grimoire you recovered ¨C¡° She indicated the heavy, leather bound tome the cultists had used ¡°- may be of aid in this regard, but demon tainted objects can corrupt the mind. It will take some time to study the ritual safely.¡±


    He swallowed, hating to ask the next question. ¡°But¡­ you can send us back, right?


    Lady Ravenwood¡¯s lips pressed together subtlety and her gaze dropped for a moment - Frank¡¯s heart fell.


    ¡°In truth, I do not know. This is beyond my expertise. The magical scholars at the Academy are very learned, however. If there is a way to aid you, I assure you that it will be found.¡± Her words were smooth and diplomatic, but Frank¡¯s face flushed in anger. He had to look away as he balled up his fist.


    This wasn¡¯t her fault. He appreciated her lack of bullshiting, and he was lucky to that the person in charge even gave a damn about him or his family. It was those damned cultists who¡¯d done this to him! Insane fuckers who wanted to give his daughter away to a demon. He wished he had pounded them a bit harder before he¡¯d left.


    The lady picked up on his mood. ¡°There is a station nearby for pilgrims, travelers, and others in need of the cathedral¡¯s aid. We can house you there until such time as you we can return you to your realms ¨C it is safe, secure, and your needs will be provided for.


    ¡°Sister Marshall can take you, Goodwife Martino, and your daughter to the station.¡± Ravenwood indicated a nun who waddled forward. She was a foot shorter than Frank but twice as wide. Her body and hair covered save for her pudgy face. A wooden truncheon hung at her belt, and Frank wondered why she needed it.


    Frank felt he was being dismissed and struggled think of the right thing to say. Would they be stuck in barn somewhere for months in the hope that a professor of magic might figure out a solution? What if one couldn¡¯t be found?


    ¡°Will you be visiting us?¡± he asked, hopefully. ¡°To keep us up to date and I¡¯m worried they might come after my daughter.¡±


    ¡°Yes, your daughter¡­¡± she favored Lily with a troubled look. ¡°It might be best if she remained with me instead of at the station. The fortress of the Order¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Frank yelled. ¡°Lily stays with us. We can all go together to your fortress.¡±


    Lady Ravenwood raised a precise eyebrow at his outburst. Frank reminded himself that he wanted this lady on his side. He calmed and tried again: ¡°She¡¯s young¡­ only thirteen. And she¡¯s been through a great deal. She should stay with us.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°As you wish,¡± replied Lady Ravenwood. ¡°She will stay with you. Master Bringle is the head of the Witch-Hunters in Culvert and the outlaying lands. The matter of the cult¡¯s interest in your daughter falls to him, and so I leave your family in his capable hands. As my duties are many, I will likely pass any necessary information on through him unless it is an urgent matter.¡±


    Frank looked at the older man. He was a rough sort, no mistaking him for nobility. His iron blue eyes stared out at of a weathered face, measuring Frank up.


    ¡°You folk have had an ugly night. Let the Sister square you away for the evening and I¡¯ll call on you come morning.¡±


    The Sister led them out of the cathedral. She walked with a pronounced limp as she escorted them down the hill and to a fortified wooden building.


    ¡°Women and children take this bunk house,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Is there no way Frank could stay with us?¡± asked Clara, resting a hand on his arm. ¡°He¡¯s my husband.¡±


    ¡°Rules are rules. Men in one building, women in children in another. It¡¯s for the best. The grounds might be consecrated, but any sort can come off the road and beg the church for lodging. And all sorts do. Come morning, there¡¯s breakfast served in the meeting hall. You can spend your days together there if you please.¡±


    He would rather not be separated from his family, but he understood.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be far,¡± he said, pointing to the larger men¡¯s building farther down the hill. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine. Everything will be fine.¡± They hugged and kissed their goodbyes. After the Sister in charge took them in, Frank voiced the thoughts that had been troubling him.


    ¡°This place is very well guarded for church grounds. It¡¯s almost like a little walled city in the city. And you said it¡¯s consecrated. Consecrated from what?¡±


    ¡°The usual.¡± Sister Marshall shrugged her broad shoulders. ¡°Ghouls, vampires, ghosts, wererats, demons ¨C the angel¡¯s singing keeps away every sort of dark critter.¡±


    Shit. Shit. Shit. This was crazy talk. That didn¡¯t mean Frank didn¡¯t believe it ¨C he was well past the point of any doubt. That didn¡¯t make a world with vampires and demons any less crazy. His heart sped up in his chest as he remembered the walk to the cathedral. He¡¯d felt something watching them, but had hoped it was his imagination. Who knows how many monsters they could have encountered traipsing around in the middle of the night?


    His hand started to shake with panic as he realized where they¡¯d been trapped. How could this have even happened to them? They were sitting at home eating dinner in an apartment only a couple of hours ago.


    Frank tried to calm himself. Culvert was a city ¨C he¡¯d seen guards, that witch-hunter fellow, oil lanterns, and a clock tower. If packs of wererats (wererats? Like Splinter from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Did they live in the sewers?) roamed the streets tearing innocent people to bits, civilization would have collapsed already.


    As bad as it seemed, there were probably cities on earth as dangerous as here. Even with the vampires and cultists, this place might be safer than Detroit or Rio De Janeiro.


    The Sister was either oblivious or indifferent to his discomfort.


    ¡°Have things been stable in Culvert then?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Nah,¡± she said, ¡°Blood moon in two months. Those Red God servants have been sacrificing people right and left, most of the Order¡¯s gone east to fight in the war, and the witch-hunters are less useful than the rat catchers these days.¡± She twisted her thick neck to look at him, and noticed he¡¯d gone pale. ¡°You¡¯re safe here though. All we need to do is batten down and wear out the storm.¡±


    They reached the men¡¯s bunkhouse. A Brother with a shaved head unlatched the door and greeted them. Sister Marshall told the Brother what had happened and he listened with a frown. It was not the look of a man hearing shocking news but bad news that he¡¯d heard many times before.


    He took Frank in. Despite the Sister saying it was safe, the Brother held a heavy set of keys in his grasp, and he locked and barred the thick door behind them.


    His name was Brother Thorough and he gave Frank a proper set of tunic and breaches to replace the cultist¡¯s robe, which he burned. He couldn¡¯t offer proper shoes though, only sandals that were slightly too small. He explained the rules of the bunkhouse: no drinking, no gambling, no sodomy, no fighting, and no stealing. Trouble-makers would be tossed outside of the cathedral¡¯s grounds.


    Breakfast was at fourth bell. Frank asked if that meant 4 am, but it seemed they didn¡¯t divide the day into hours, but into eight bells total.


    The beds were simply canvas cots on the ground. The other men within the bunkhouse were a mixed lot. Several were old and grey, some had missing limbs, and others looked like bums who crawled out from the gutter ¨C a fair few were a blend of all three.


    Frank laid down in the dark, listening to the other men snore. It smelled of sweat and damp wood with a hint of old piss. He hoped Clara and Lily¡¯s place was nicer.


    He tried to sleep but couldn¡¯t. Every gust of wind outside or someone tossing in their sleep startled him. After about an hour, he began to itch and discovered tiny bug bites on his arms. Frank¡¯s mind raced as he considered everything that might go wrong ¨C several times, he sat up, listening and wondering if he should have left his wife and daughter alone. What if they couldn¡¯t get home? How would they stay safe? They couldn¡¯t live like this forever.


    By dawn, he was both exhausted and wired with nervous energy. He sat on his cot and listened to the other men chat about the world ¨C rumors of monsters in the city and surrounding town, rumors of war, rumors of sickness spreading in the ¡®lower wards.¡¯ He kept silent, a few glanced his way but no one bothered him.


    At breakfast, he hugged Clara and Lily tight. Clara shot a worried look his way, knowing he hadn¡¯t slept. Lily complained about his stubble and a baby who¡¯d woken up crying several times last night.


    Their breakfast was sausages, rye bread, and boiled cabbage with mugs of hot tea. The woman¡¯s bunk was thankfully nicer than the one Frank had. Lily had thought to ask if anyone could read, and none of the other women could do so. Clara had started making friends, and it seemed a woman who could read, write, and do math was unusual here. If need be, she could get work as a scribe.


    Frank stared at her over his boiled cabbage. His sleep deprived mind struggling to understand that after less than one day, she was considering leaving the safety of the cathedral grounds and getting a job in the city.


    ¡°No need,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll be back home in no time.¡± This was what he wanted to believe, so he repeated it to himself and to reassure the other two. Clara gave him a doubtful look, but remained silent.


    Master Bringle was late. Not that he¡¯d been specific about what time he was coming, but the waiting seemed to last an eternity, so the man was late in Frank¡¯s mind. He wore the same clothing and dirty coat that he had last night, though the smell of spirits had vanished. From the dark marks under his eyes, Frank guessed Bringle had gotten as much sleep as he had.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Frank asked. ¡°What did you find? Did you get the others?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t mention you¡¯d beat them senseless and left one man out to bleed like a stuck pig,¡± Master Bringle replied. He grinned, his teeth were crooked and blackened in spots.


    ¡°That¡¯s how we got away,¡± said Frank, simply. Clara had actually stabbed the man, but there was no need to bring that up.


    ¡°Makes sense. The man you stabbed was alive, and offered up some names in exchange for poppy milk. I spent the night hunting them down, and I found one of their based. We¡¯re moving on it in under an hour. The church, the Order, and the Academy all have their ways ¨C good ways, honest ways ¨C but the Witch-Hunters have our own ways.¡±


    Again, he gave Frank a hard, evaluating look, and he seemed to like what he saw. ¡°If you¡¯re not one for waiting, you can join us. We can always use a big fellow like you who isn¡¯t afraid of a man just because he wears a red robe. Who know, we might be able to solve your problem much faster than if you waited around for the Lady¡¯s scholars to read your book. What do you say?¡±


    Frank looked behind him. Clara was chatting with a woman holding a two-year-old. Their eyes met and she gave him a reassuring smile.


    ¡°I think,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯ll take you up on that offer.¡±

 Chpt 04 – Consummate Professionalism

    ¡°How did you get to be the head witch-hunter?¡± asked Frank.


    ¡°Only one stupid enough to say ¡®yes,¡¯¡± replied Master Bringle.


    The two men walked briskly cross the cobbles stone streets, dodging angry horse-cab drivers and men pushing heavy carts. Under the misty light of day, Culvert looked benign, if a touch worn down. If switched the horse-drawn carriages for cars, the oil lanterns for street lamps, and dressed the people in jeans, it could be mistaken for an old, out of the way city in eastern Europe. Even the gargoyles that Frank had found threatening last night stopped being scary when he saw the copious amounts of white bird-droppings that covered them.


    This last detail was provided by the obscene number of birds that swarmed the city. They were black, as large as house-cats, and seemed the bane of every food cart they passed.


    Franks feet started to ache. The thin sandals Brother Through had given him did little to protect them against the cold and wet, or the rough ground. Master Bringle was a tall man, and as thin as a scarecrow. He sped forward, one hand jamming his felt three-cornered hat onto his head and his black coat beating in the wind he created. The man had no fear of the horse-cabs as they crowded the road; he¡¯d nimbly dash before one, and then step aside while the driver swore at him.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± asked Frank, huffing a little. He struggled to keep track of where they were in relation to the cathedral ¨C the city was a maze ¨C and the witch-hunter barreled on, never even glancing back to see if Frank could catch up.


    ¡°Fish up another one of my illustrious peers and then round up the volunteers for today. What, did you think we were going to take on a cult with two men? Actually, don¡¯t answer that. You¡¯re big enough that you don¡¯t need to be smart.¡±


    ¡°Volunteers?¡±


    ¡°Conscripted for the good of the city and the realm!¡±


    So much for his hope that he¡¯d be joining a group of crack professionals. Frank was already beginning to doubt the wisdom of accepting Master Bringle¡¯s offer when they entered a building with red paper lanterns hung above the doorway. Thick, citrus scented smoke filled the dark interior. Men and women laid sprawled on pillows in the corner, their faces slack, heads lolling, and pupils so dilated you couldn¡¯t tell the color of their eyes.


    Beside them sat tall, water-filled hookahs that they dreamily smoked from. Whatever they smoked, it was obviously potent.


    At the center of this establishment sat a fat man. No, not a fat man, a massive man. The amount of flesh on him made Frank¡¯s eyes widen for there was no way the man could fit through any of the doors. Standing up might even be beyond him. His vast swaths of fat were wrapped in layers of embroidered silk, and each sausage-link finger sported one or more heavy rings. A bevy of attractive girls attended him, wearing so little Frank wasn¡¯t sure why they bothered to dress.


    ¡°Mumford,¡± Master Bringle said.


    ¡°Toward the back!¡± The large man waved his hand towards the eastern corner in irritation.


    Off Bringle shot again, Frank trailing behind him in confusion. They passed through another doorway and down a cramped hallway where the smoke was so thick Frank¡¯s eyes watered. Master Bringle used his cane to draw aside beaded curtains and peer inside. Frank caught a glimpse of rhythmically moving flesh and then looked away.


    At the sixth beaded curtain, Master Bringle stepped inside the small room. Within a small fellow was sprawled naked, his curly head resting on the lap of a voluptuous older woman. This must be Mumford. He looked young ¨C mid-twenties at the oldest ¨C and was in good shape save for being pasty enough to glow.


    Bringle rapped the young man sharply on the thigh with his cane, prompting a grunt and flail.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Waasssit?¡± the man spit out, mouth full of cotton. In reply, Bringle struck him again.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do it!¡± he shouted, arms flailing now as his brain tried to crawl from its drug-induced stupor.


    ¡°Pick him up,¡± ordered Master Bringle to Frank. Frank had simply been standing, arms crossed, watching the spectacle. ¡°Hurry now.¡±


    Frank shrugged, got his hands under the too sweaty armpits, and hauled the man to his feet. He rocked, unsteady. Bringle snatched up the pile of clothing on the floor, a pair of boots, a belt pouch, and a sheathed sword. Frank looked at the last one with interest. Guards carried pole-arms, cab drivers horse whips, and he¡¯d seen dozens of people on the streets with wooden cudgels, but only the lady knight from last night had sported a sword.


    Master Bringle exited. It was left to Frank to drag along the uncoordinated human sack of potatoes. ¡°Nooo¡­¡± the young man groaned as he was pulled out of the establishment and back into the street.


    Frank understood why when Bringle stopped beside a large watering trough for horses.


    ¡°Nooooo¡­¡± Mumford protested, still unable to stand or keep his head up. ¡°I¡¯m up.¡±


    Frank tossed him in and stepped back as water ran over the sides. The young man thrashed, splashing water everywhere. Eventually, Frank grabbed at his shoulders and pulled him up a bit so he wouldn¡¯t drown himself.


    Mumford spit out water and shook his head like a wet dog, blinking rapidly. He looked far more alert.


    ¡°Cock-sucking son-of-a-whore,¡± Mumford said to Bringle. Then he noticed Frank for the first time. ¡°Sons-of-whores!¡±


    Frank let him go and rinsed the sweat from his hands as the young man struggled to sit upright on his own. Eventually, he scrambled out of the trough, pale skin shivering in the cold air.


    ¡°Give me my howlin clothes, Craw,¡± he sputtered to Bringle. He stuffed himself into the crumpled clothes ¨C breaches, shirt, vest, and overcoat ¨C and then put on his boots, belt, and sword. Throughout this, he maintained a string of curses. Most were aimed at Bringle, but a few lobbed at Frank when he remembered the big man was there.


    Lastly, he squeezed water from his hair and tied the rattail back with a black ribbon.


    ¡°Now, what¡¯s this? What¡¯s this, now?¡± he asked at the end.


    ¡°Got a job,¡± Master Bringle explained. ¡°We pick up a few volunteers and break into a cult safehouse.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it? Wake me up at dawn for that?¡± Mumford said, incredulously.


    ¡°Dawn was a couple of hours ago,¡± Frank pointed out.


    ¡°Think you¡¯re clever, aye?!¡± Now awake, the man seemed a bundle of energy. Mumfort was starting to remind Frank of one of those small, yappie dogs his mother loved.


    ¡°Less talking, more moving.¡± Master Bringle spun on his feet and set off in another direction. The two trailed after him. Mumford sometimes shooting Frank looks that he ignored in favor of not falling behind.


    This time Bringle brought them northward and to a large, rough building with dozens of tiny, interspaced windows.


    ¡°Tell me that¡¯s not a jail,¡± said Frank.


    ¡°It¡¯s the palace, then,¡± said Mumford. ¡°We¡¯re going to have tea and crumpets with Lady Ravenwood. Too bad I didn¡¯t bring my dressing gown.¡±


    Frank turned to Bringle. ¡°How do you put up with him?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± Master Bringle offered a tight smile.


    Inside, the prison guard recognized Bringle, and brought them to a holding cell with several dozen men and women chained to the floor by the ankle. The faces that looked up at Frank were tired and dirty. They¡¯d likely been sitting in the cramped cell all night. Bringle walked through, inspecting the prisoners like one would fish at a market, and jabbing his cane at those that fit his tastes. These the goaler unchained and brought out to the courtyard.


    They were a rough, mean looking crew, a few sported tattoos or brands. They stood blinking in the sunlight.


    ¡°Hey Master,¡± said one, ¡°Got a bite to eat? Could go for a pie right now.¡±


    ¡°Food after the work is done. Good work and I might throw some coin your way. Most of you know Mumford already, this is Frank,¡± Bringle indicated him with a nod of his head. ¡°Red cultists grabbed him and his family, and he agreed to join us. Frank, these fine, upstanding citizens have recently run afoul of the law ¨C some debt and probably theft. In exchange for a reduced sentence, they¡¯ve kindly agreed to serve the community!¡±


    There was unenthusiastic laugher and grunts from the prisoners.


    Two of the guards returned with a stack of wooden cudgels and distributed them. Frank took one, wondering what in the hell he¡¯d gotten himself into.


    ¡°What if we run into something more serious than a bunch of men in bathrobes?¡± asked Frank.


    ¡°Not to worry. Vampires sleep during the day, and any undead or demons these cultists might have summoned are likely no more than animalistic brutes.¡±


    This failed to reassure Frank in the slightest. He wondered if there was some way for him to back out of this now. Probably not. He looked to be the biggest man here, though Bringle was a few inches taller. No wonder the witch-hunter had been eager to drag him along.


    ¡°No more questions, then?¡± said Bringle, ¡°Excellent. I¡¯m sure fortune favors us today. Come along, men. And try to keep a few alive this time.¡±


    With that he shot off again. Frank sighed as he lopped after him with the group.

 Chpt 05 – It Was That Way When We Found It, pt 1

    The group of armed men made their way to the foul-smelling docks. A whaling ship was coming it; it was a squat metal vessel painted dark blue with white trim, and had two tall stacks that continuously belched black smoke. In heavy netting above the helm lay eight whales, each about thirty to thirty-five feet long, their dark blood dripping through the nets onto the deck.


    Frank recalled the abundance of oil lanterns he¡¯d seen the other night. He had unconsciously assumed that oil was pulled from the earth as it was back home, but of course that would not be the case. Frank wondered how many whales it took to light Culvert for a single night.


    So fascinated was he by the sight, that he almost missed Master Bringle and the group stopping. They were by rows of warehouses. The men gripped their heavy cudgels and Mumford drew his word with a hiss; they prickled as one, like a pack of wolves catching the scent of prey.


    A man who¡¯d been introduced as ¡®Lucky¡¯ lumbered forward to the door of one of the warehouses. He possessed only seven fingers, and some beast had chewed part of his face, leaving him without a nose. Once, twice he rapped against the wood with his cudgel and then lowered his head as though listening.


    A small slot at eye level slide open and a man¡¯s voice called from the other side, ¡°What¡¯s th¡ª"


    Lucky gave the door a solid kick, breaking it open and hitting the other man. There was a shout of confusion and he sprang forward. The rest of the group rushed after him. Lucky pounded away at the head of a man crouched down, his hands up trying to ward off the blows. Three other men turned to look at the group in surprise.


    The brawl that followed was short, rough, and bloody. Frank punched one man in the face. As he fell, a tooth went scattering across the floor. There was a cut on his knuckle and it smarted; he hissed between his teeth.


    ¡°Are we sure these are cult members?¡± Frank asked. One of the men had curled up in a fetal position while two prisoners kicked and stomped him.


    Mumford gave an exaggerated shrug. The held his heavy broadsword in one hand, still unused. ¡°Master Bringle is right more often than not.¡±


    He set off, exploring the warehouse, and Frank followed. He was more than happy to let the better armed man go first. Tall stacks of crates formed a maze around them. Frank noticed the wood was dried and dusty, as though they¡¯d been sitting unused for some time.


    There was a shout to their left. A man leapt from the shadows, jagged dagger held high as he rushed forward. Mumford neatly sliced his belly while stepping to the side. The man stumbled forward a few more steps before falling to his knees, loops of pale intestine tumbling onto the dirt floor.


    ¡°Yes,¡± noted Mumford, as he pulled out a crumpled silk handkerchief to wipe clean his blade ¡°probably cult members.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    They continued searching until they came upon a red door set flat in the wall. If they others hadn¡¯t treated it as real, Frank would have thought it was painted on.


    Master Bringle scratched at his black and grey stubble as he examined the runes drawn along the corners. ¡°Crawl space. Big one too. Want to unlock this for us?¡±


    This question he posed to one of the men they¡¯d dragged from the front of the warehouse. They¡¯d beaten him hard enough that he had trouble standing. Blood covered his nose and face, and splattered on his shirt.


    He spit on Bringle¡¯s jacket in response. ¡°Your pathetic whore-gods won¡¯t save you. Turn back now ¨C run to Barsom or the capital ¨C hide. Culvert will be ours soon.¡±


    ¡°I cannot begin to tell you,¡± murmured Bringle, ¡°how many times I have heard that. Yet the city still stands under the grace of the angels and our Prince. Now do yourself a favor and say whatever password or perform whatever ritual to disarm the trap on this crawl space.¡±


    ¡°Fuck your mother!¡±


    That earned him a slap from Lucky, causing the blood to trickle from his lip anew. Bringle faces the door and raised his silver headed cane. He tapped an intricate pattern on the wall while chanting in a tongue unknown to Frank.


    The door slid open with the sound of stone scraping against stone. Fetid air rushed out, carry the scent of mildew and a rotten sweetness.


    ¡°Last chance,¡± offered Bringle.


    The man remained quiet and sullen, glaring at Bringle despite one eye being almost swollen shut.


    ¡°Fair enough. Frank, toss him in there.¡± Bringle waved in the direction of the hole in the wall.


    Frank started. He had been watching with growing unease, and hadn¡¯t expected to be the one to do¡­ well, whatever needed to be done. He assumed it was horrible. The prisoners and the witch-hunters watched him expectantly. Frank understood: testing the new guy, seeing if he could handle the work.


    These weren¡¯t trained professionals like soldiers or police officers back home. They were common thugs; people brave or desperate enough to risk their lives fighting madmen and monsters. Maybe Lady Ravenwood and her Order of knights were better armed and disciplined, but they weren¡¯t going to bother busting up a cult in the middle of the docks.


    Frank grabbed the back of the cultist¡¯s shirt and pushed him forward. ¡°You sure you want to do this, mate?¡± he asked, ¡°We¡¯ll figure out how to get in one way or another. Make it easy on yourself and unlock whatever trap you fellows made.¡±


    As he stumbled toward the door, the man¡¯s eyes were wide enough that Frank could see the whites. He trembled, but softly enough that only Frank and he knew it. This was a man walking towards his death and trying his best to hide his fear.


    ¡°W-whore-gods! The time is at hand. The Red God is coming; I will sit by his side while those who oppose him will know nothing but torment.¡±


    Frank shoved him forward. As he fell through the opening, dark tendrils shot out from all around and pierce him in a hundred different places. He shrieked then, as blood streamed from his wounds, the tentacles raised him up until he shook violently a foot above the ground.


    This was more than Frank could stomach. He walked away, covering his ears to the screams of the dying man. What the hell was he walking into? And these were the people who wanted his daughter?


    His stomach rolled at the image burned into his mind, but he kept his breakfast down.


    ¡°Ready boys?¡± Bringle called.


    ¡°Fuck you!¡± answered the one female prisoner. The rest responded with various unenthusiastic grunts.


    Frank turned to look at the impaled and hanging form of the cultist. He was still now but fluid continue to spill from his body onto the floor.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± he asked, ¡°the trap only works once?¡±


    ¡°Never underestimate the power of fear,¡± Bringle replied. He looked not a bit afraid or worried as he wiped off the man¡¯s spit with a cloth. ¡°Also, the trap works as an alarm. They¡¯ll be ready for us down there.¡±

 Chpt 06 – It Was That Way When We Found It, pt 2

    Frank swallowed hard and stepped past the still warm corpse. He tried hard not to hear the squelch of blood under his sandals. The passage was cramped, and the scent the wafted from the darkness ahead sickly sweet.


    Master Bringle point. He rose his cane in the air and the silver head glowed with soft light. Was the cane enchanted, or was the old witch-hunter a magician of some sort? Either way, it was nice they had something more going for them than one sword, some heavy clubs, and their balls.


    Frank¡¯s wondered how the people of this world had even left the stone age. They must be made of tougher, stronger stuff than his own ancestors. No, that wasn¡¯t fair. The men and women Frank descended from had suffered through brutal conditions ¨C plague and famine, two World Wars. He had no idea how dangerous the cult was, but even if they killed every man and woman in Culvert, Stalin would still have more blood on his hands.


    Still, the ragged group trudged on to what might be some blasted hell-pit and no one slowed or turned back. That Mumford took the rear, sword unsheathed might also have had something to do with it. Something told Frank that running was not an option for the prisoners. They had ¡®volunteered¡¯ to fight, and fight they must.


    If Frank suddenly turned coward, would he be allowed to leave? Something told him that he would rather not know the answer to that. Mumford, despite looking like a rich, addicted fop, had cut down one man already without blinking.


    Instead of dwelling on possibility, Frank gripped the cudgel they¡¯d given him and stared hard into the darkness. The passageway angled down at a gentle slope. The walls were smooth, as though some creature had burrowed down into the earth. From up ahead, something like the growling and slavering of dogs could be heard.


    The passage ended abruptly into a large cave. Five men armed with blades greeted them, but more disturbing were the creatures two of them held on chain leashes. They were something like a cross between wolves and men, hairless with mouth full of wicked teeth. As the group entered the cave, they let out a ghastly, unnatural howl that froze Frank to the marrow. They snarled, tugging fiercely on the chains around their necks, and the men holding them back released them with a grin.


    Though they looked somewhat human, the grey skinned creatures ran at them on all fours. Their mouths dripped with thick foam as their long tongues lulled out of their panting mouth.


    They were on the group in seconds. Master Bringle showed no hesitation as he slammed his cane¡¯s down hard on the beast¡¯s head. There was a hiss and the scent of burning flesh where the cane¡¯s silver struck the demon. It yelped in anger and lunged. Though Bringle looked old and scrawny, he moved like a viper, chanting as he circled around the hungry beast. Mumford leapt forward, slashing at its side as it turned to follow Bringle.


    Frank had no time to watch the battle as the second demon jumped into the air and tackled one of the other prisoners. The man gave a scream of terror as he fell, the demon¡¯s jaw clenched around his shoulder, having only just missed the neck.


    As one the prisoners turned and rained down cudgel blows on the demon¡¯s back, as it shook its head, ripping the man¡¯s flesh. Franked joined in with a shout. Blood pumped wildly in his ears as he slammed the wood down as hard as he could. The impact of the blows on the demon¡¯s strong back was hard enough to make his hands and shoulders ache, yet it seemed fixated on its kill.


    There was a sick crack of collar bone followed by a howl of agony from the prisoner as the demon jerked his head up, a bloody chunk of flesh in its mouth. It dropped the meat and lunged down again. Without thinking, Frank knew the demon would snap on the man¡¯s neck and that would be it for him. He lunged forward, sprawling across the demon¡¯s back and getting smacked by several of the prisoners. Frank mindlessly wrapped an arm around the demon¡¯s head and was rewarded with the most intense sensation of pain he¡¯d never known.


    The demon¡¯s teeth buried themselves a little below the Frank¡¯s wrist. The foam in its mouth burned and that sensation spread up his arm with alarming speed.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Frank shifted, sliding closer along the demon¡¯s rough back. His free left hand slithered forward and he plunged two fingers into the demon¡¯s eye. It popped, yielding to his strength, and he gripped down as hard as he could into the wetness.


    They struggled like that, each unwilling to break their hold on the other. Frank leaned to the right side, digging in his fingers while using his weight to twist the beast¡¯s head. It held, powerful muscles shivering with inhuman strength, for what felt like an eternity, before it bent to the side. Frank rolled on his back, the heavy demon on top of him, crushing his chest.


    The other prisoners backed off in surprise and confusion. Frank wrapped his legs around the demon¡¯s center as its malformed body coiling in frustrated effort. A few dodged the flailing paws to hit the beast on its head and chest. Frank felt every blow and was sure the next one would snap his ribs, but he hung on in a death grip.


    The other cultists now ran forward. Frank could do nothing, pinned as he was under the angry demon, as the two sides clashed. Mumford waded in, sword slashing and thrusting with enviable skill. One of the prisoners fell, a dagger lodged in her throat, followed by another slipping on her blood. As he tripped and crashed to his knees, another cultist snaked forward to hack at his head and shoulders. In response, Lucky threw himself at the cultist, tackling him to the ground, clasping his hands together, and swinging down in an overhead fist.


    The light around him dimmed and Frank¡¯s head felt like it was about to split open. The demon on his chest continued to wriggle, killing him not with its bite, but its crushing weight. None of the other prisoners noticed his predicament, so engrossed where they in the melee.


    Frank wondered if this was how he was to die. Everything was becoming dark.


    A figure loomed to his side and he heard the demon howl for a last time as something was thrust into it. Mercifully, someone rolled the weight from his chest, though his arm was caught in the demon¡¯s mouth. Frank sucked in the putrid air, his oxygen deprived head swimming. He shook it and immediately regretted the action, as the room spun.


    ¡°What¡¯s this now?¡± asked Master Bringle, for it was he who¡¯d saved Frank. ¡°Trying to hump a demon? Goodwife Martino wouldn¡¯t be please, I think. Fetching woman, too. Wouldn¡¯t risk her affection for an abomination, but men have peculiar tastes these days.¡±


    ¡°¡­what?¡± Frank could not follow the man¡¯s babbling.


    ¡°Nope, not like it was in my youth.¡± Mister Bringle crouched down and slid his cane into the demon¡¯s still fastened jaws. As he used it to pry it open, he continued to converse. ¡°In my day, a boy met a nice girl, they settled down and had lots of children. And that was it. Men nowadays try to slip it into anything that moves and run off as soon as a girl get with child ¨C my grandpappy would be ashamed.¡±


    Frank wondered if the old man had simply lost his mind. They seemed to have won the fight. The cracked skulls of several cultists leaked on the ground. A few of the prisoners had fallen and didn¡¯t look to be getting up. The other demon had lost its head ¨C likely Mumford¡¯s work.


    He tried to imagine how long the fight had taken. Three minutes, five at the most. These people were animals.


    Finally, Bringle got the jaws lose and Frank pulled his hand out. The flesh below his wrist was a bloody, ugly mess. The demon¡¯s teeth had pierced deep ¨C he suspected a tendon had been severed for his hand hung, limp and unfeeling. Frank could feel poison burning through his veins.


    Bringle frowned as he examined the wound. Despite his callus nature, he handled Frank¡¯s arm gently. He pulled out a glass vial and poured its contents over the bite, rinsing away some of the blood and saliva. It looked to be plain water but it smelled strongly of mint.


    ¡°How bad is it?¡± Frank gasped between breaths.


    Bringle squeezed one of his Frank¡¯s fingers. ¡°Feel that?¡±


    ¡°A little.¡±


    ¡°Not as bad as it could be then.¡± With that, he drew out a length of cloth and wrapped the wrist with the swift efficiency of a man who¡¯s done it hundreds of times. ¡°Grab this,¡± he said, gliding Frank¡¯s other hand to his wrist. ¡°Hold tight to stop the bleeding.¡±


    He did so and Bringle rose to check on the other injured. Two of the cultists were alive, and Mumford bound them, hands behind their backs, and laid them on their stomachs. Several of the prisoners spit on or kicked the bound men.


    Once he¡¯d regained his breath and his head felt right again, Frank stumbled to his feet. Ironically (was it ironic? Frank could never remember what fucking qualified as ¡®ironic¡¯ or not) the man he¡¯d scrambled to save was dead. He¡¯d bled out at some point and now laid peacefully in a pool of his own cooling blood.


    Mumford dug through the cultist¡¯s belongings.


    ¡°I hope this was worth it,¡± Frank said.


    ¡°Two demons dead, six cultists dead, two captured, and this¡­¡± Mumford picked up a large, leather-bound book much like the one Clara had found.


    ¡°I thought you couldn¡¯t read those.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t, you can¡¯t, but we have someone in the witch-hunters who can, and a right bit faster than any of the academy grey beards.¡± Mumford flashed a grin. The edges of his gums were stained dark blue. ¡°The Order has their methods, and we have ours.¡±

 Chpt 07 – It Was That Way When We Found It, pt 3

    Frank had broken out in a sweat as the poison ran through his veins. His insides burned while his skin turned cold and clammy.  That mint-smelling concoction Bringle had poured on the wound helped but whatever the demon had in its saliva was scorching its way through his body. His right wrist had stopped bleeding, but the hand still hung limp. Flexing his fingers caused pain to stab up his arm, so he simply held that arm bent close to his side and hoped he wouldn¡¯t need it.


    In the center of the cavern sat a pool of black, shiny liquid. After tending to the injured and making sure all the dead were dead, Bringle approached it cautiously. He dipped a crystal vial in the viscous substance and drew out a small portion of it. Only two lanterns, their flames gone thin, lit the interior. Bringle held up the vial to the light, examining the blackness within.


    ¡°What is it?¡± asked Frank.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Bringle replied, and then sniffed at it with his long, hooked nose. ¡°Smells like rendered pig.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a delicious bacon demon,¡± Frank said, flashing a smile.


    The look Bringle gave him was cool and disdainful. ¡°I think not.¡± He moved to the two bound cultists, his black and silver cane snapping on the ground as he walked before them. They were both in kneeling positions, their hands bound behind their back.


    ¡°Now gentlemen,¡± he said. ¡°I find you guilty of heresy, malignant use of the dark arts, conspiracy against the well-being of the city, and treason against the Prince and Realm. Any of these is worthy of a hangman¡¯s noose. I may, however, be lenient in my punishment if you prove cooperative.¡±


    He used the tip of his gain to raise one man¡¯s head and force him to look Bringle in the eye. ¡°I want to know what was going on here and for how long. I will find out one way or another, but you can save me time and you pain, by telling me now.¡±


    The two looked at one another.


    ¡°We are pathfinders,¡± said one. ¡°The heralds approach Culvert and we make way for them.¡± He swallowed hard, eye flicking from side to side. Like the man upstairs, his eyes were wild and Frank could tell he believes everything he said wholeheartedly.


    ¡°Pathfinders?¡± Master Bringle repeated. ¡°You are hired thugs. I sense no magic between you. A sorcerer summoned those demons you had changed and ordered you to guard this warehouse. Why?¡±


    ¡°We are the pathfinders! The six heralds approach Culvert and we shall open the way for them! Soon the city will burn, and we will be rewarded by the Red God.¡± Saliva dribbled from the man¡¯s lips as he shouted, and he began to rock back and forth.


    Bringle simply shook his head; the witch-hunter almost seemed sad. ¡°What of the ¡®eternal bride?¡¯¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the man said with a crazed grin. ¡°The Eternal Bride comes! The last and greatest of the heralds, who will open the gate for the Red God himself. All shall tremble in her wake!¡±


    Frank watched the man in bewilderment. How the hell had anyone mistaken his daughter for some evil demon bride? They¡¯d picked up the necklace from the woman who¡¯d left the apartment; she could be the eternal bride and this was some madman¡¯s misunderstanding.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°What are the other heralds?¡± Bringle asked, his tone coaxing as he went along with the man¡¯s madness. ¡°What has your Red God prepared and how is this pool connected to it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too late,¡± the cultist snapped. ¡°Are you blind, man? It¡¯s too late. We¡¯ve already won.¡±


    ¡°Stop talking, Enigo,¡± the second cultist said, abruptly. ¡°You¡¯ve said enough already.¡±


    Enigo shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not afraid. Do you hear me witch-hunters? I have already tasted the paradise beyond. You may have come before we expected you, but this has been years in the making. You are too late!¡±


    Mumford gave a swift, booted kick to man¡¯s kidney area. The cultist yelped and twisted, falling to his side.


    ¡°I say we bash their heads in and leave,¡± the young man said. ¡°We have the book and neither of these two are warlocks.¡±


    ¡°Please Alexander, we¡¯re not barbarians. We take them to the magistrate for a proper trial and execution. With the Blood Moon on the horizon, it will do the people¡¯s spirit good to see heretics hang.¡± Master Bringle waved to one of the prisoners. ¡°Grab them and we¡¯ll depart.¡±


    Frank couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing. ¡°Wait a moment, that¡¯s it? Are we forgetting the big pool of black, ominous bacon?¡±


    ¡°What would you have me do?¡± asked Bringle. ¡°It¡¯s obvious unnatural but other than that, I have no idea what it is. I¡¯m hesitant to even touch the substance. The condition of the warehouse suggests they¡¯ve been here for some time, so I believe him when he says it¡¯s part of a larger plan. As Mumford has said, the grimoire is more valuable than underlings.¡±


    Frank clenched his good hand. There was little arguing with that logic, but a bunch of people had died for¡­ what? Some crazy rambling and a book? After all this, he¡¯d hoped for more.


    ¡°We can¡¯t just leave it here¡­¡± Frank said, ineffectually.


    ¡°Nor can we put it in our pocket and take it. The witch-hunters hunt those who deal in the dark arts, as well as the occasional monster. While I have taught myself some of the esoteric arts, true masters of the arcane are rare. My gut tells me that such a master will be needed to deal with this¡­ pool. And I always trust my gut when it comes to danger,¡± Bringle concluded.


    The man had a point. These witch-hunters were in a sorry state, and he couldn¡¯t blame Bringle for knowing his limits. Frank was sure that if he could have dragged along a ¡®master of the arcane arts¡¯ the witch-hunter would have done so. Instead, he¡¯d rounded up a posse.


    With a sigh, Frank grabbed the saner of the two cultists under the arm and hauled him up. Lucky grabbed Enigo.


    ¡°Do you hear it?¡± the madman asked, ¡°Do you hear the whispers gathering?¡±


    ¡°I hear an idiot babbling worse than my three-year-old,¡± snapped Lucky as he shoved him towards the exit. The cultist stumbled and then rocked backwards, slamming into Lucky with his shoulder. Frank tightened his grip on the man he led, pushing him down to a kneeling position in case he got any ideas.


    The other prisoners rushed the cultist, grabbing at him. There was the sound of ripping cloth and the man sprung free, shirtless and sprinted toward the black pool. Too late, Frank reacted, tossing himself bodily as he tried to tackle the man. He knew without doubt that he did not want him anywhere near he pool.


    Frank wasn¡¯t fast enough. He missed as the man sped by, crashing onto the ground and causing a new surge of pain to run up his arm.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming master!¡± screamed the cultist as he jumped, ¡°Take this offer--!¡± He splashed into the oily substance, his voice cut off as plunged under the surface, spraying the black liquid through the air. Soon he rose again, body writhing and coated in inky oil. Steam rose from his form and Frank heard the sound of horrid laughter fill the air.


    The liquid itself surged forward, coiling in thick loops around the cultist. His body swelled obscenely as the poured into him, merging with his flesh.


    Frank felt hands on his shoulder. ¡°Get up, man,¡± said Mumford, ¡°We need to get out of here.¡±


    What staggered from the pool bore little resemblance to the man who¡¯d entered it ¨C or any human, for that matter. It appeared to be made of clotted black oil and fluid continuously leaked from it. It was easily ten feet in height, but massively deformed and so lopsided one arm was nothing more than a large club. It crashed into one of the lanterns and fire raced over its skin.


    The witch-hunters and prisoners bolted for the exit. Behind them lumbered a shrieking, fiery giant.

 Chpt 08 – It Was That Way When We Found It, pt 4

    There are times when a group of brave men decide, collectively, that bravery is best left for another day. Though Frank had fought through the warehouse, and even faced the monstrous demon-dog hybrids without flinching, a burning, ten-foot tall demon of clotted oil was well outside his paygrade.


    The group sprinted to the hole in the wall that would lead them upwards to the warehouse and sunlight. To his right, there was a roar in the air as a black, flaming pitch flew through it and landed on the back of the man beside him. The prisoner cried out and stumbled, clawing at the fiery mass that stuck to him. The air became thick with the scent of burned flesh, pine, and bacon.


    If Frank were a better man, he might have stopped to help the wailing fellow. Instead, his legs found a burst of strength despite the poison fresh in his veins and he sprinted forward. His long legs carried him past the prisoners. Only Master Bringle, that old scarecrow, could outpace him. Even in his blind panic, a bubble of thought formed in his mind, and he wondered if Bringle had become the head witch-hunter simply because he could outrun all the others when monsters gave chase.


    A bark of laughter escaped his mouth. Behind him, came the wet, meaty impact of another ball of pitch hitting a person, followed by the same bleat of agony. Though he did not look back, his mind conjured the image clear enough. In high school, he¡¯d done roofing work for his uncle and the tar for that could easily reach 300 degrees. It clung to the skin, and pulling it off meant peeling away the flesh it landed on.


    ¡®Why does it have to smell like bacon?¡¯ Frank thought. He found himself drooling even as his stomach rolled at the howls of pain behind him.


    They raced up the smooth tunnel and poured out of the crawl-space into the warehouse.


    ¡°Can it follow?¡± asked Lucky. The tunnel was cramped even for an average size man.


    Bringle tapped on the door frame, chanting in that strange language of his. The stone of the red door slid shut. ¡°It¡¯s more liquid than bones. The stone is thick and should buy us some time to-¡°


    There was slam from the other side, and the wall shook, cracks appearing along the red door.


    ¡°Or maybe not.¡±


    Another slam and angry black ooze began to flow through the crack, widening them. They stepped back as the fluid burst through the wall, sending chunks of rock flying through the air.


    As a thick, black foot stepped from the hole, burning pitch continued to drip from it. Frank looked around at the dry, dusty warehouse, stacked high with wooden boxes and crates. His heart sank as he understood what exactly was happening.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to burn this place down,¡± he said as the group scrambled to the exit. His mind returned to the image of the caught whales, their fat turned into the oil that lit the city.


    The demon mindlessly crashed through the flimsy boxes after the men. A quick glance confirmed his suspicions, the crates weren¡¯t filled with regular goods, but kindling ¨C dry hay and some other mixture that spread across the floor and merrily took light.


    Outside of the warehouse, it was cool and misty. The wharf was crowded with ships, sailors, dock-workers, and travelers.


    ¡°Do you have a fire department?¡± Frank asked as they backed away.


    Mumford looked at him in confusion. ¡°A department for fire?¡±


    ¡°Firefighters?¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we can fight a demon with a water bucket line, goodman.¡±


    The flaming monster broke through the wall of the warehouse, not bothering with the door. Black smoke billowed out of the warehouse and around them people screamed and bolted in panic. Most of the prisoners simply fled with the crowd, leaving the witch-hunters to their fate.


    If the demon or the man who sacrificed himself to draw it forth remembered them, it gave no sign. Instead it charged forward into the crowd, swinging wildly. Some bodies went flying or sprawled to the down, but at least one man became stuck fast in the sticky, club-like mass of his arm. The demon used the unlucky man to beat those that had fallen to death. After a few swings his head cracked open, and he hung like a limp, abandoned doll.


    Satisfied with its killing, the demon moved on, the corpse still stick fast in it. It turned its attention to another nearby building that rushed into.


    ¡°We have to clear the area,¡± Frank said. The fire within the warehouse was growing quickly, and would soon leap to another building, even without the pitch demon. Everything on the docks was made of wood. He remembered much of the city being crowded and filled with wooden buildings, and even the stone ones might burn inside.


    Bringle, his face pale and tight, nodded in agreement. ¡°Mumford, Lucky, head to the Order hall and tell the knights we¡¯ve a wild one loose in the city, then head to the Sisters of Mercy and tell them about the fire. Frank and I will work to clear the docks.¡±


    The other men jogged off.


    Frank spotted a bell on the deck of a docked ship and pointed at it. ¡°That might help.¡±


    Together they made their way across the dock and onto the boat. Frank unhooked the heavy, bronze thing while Bringle explained to the sailors that they worked for the city. Soon the two men raced across the waterfront, moving from building to building. Frank clanged the bell and hollered ¡°Fire!¡± until his lungs felt they might burst.


    Ships unmoored and soon they crowded the waters of the bay. Those within the warehouses poked their head out, spotted the fingers of black smoke, and abandoned their work.


    There was little rhyme or reason to the demon¡¯s work. It lumbered along, murdering any in its path, and plowing through buildings at random. The only constant was the ever-growing trail of fire and bodies it left in its wake. It presence meant that no bucket line could form and none could try to knock down buildings to stop the spread.


    Eventually, it reached the warehouse where whale oil was stored. There was a great, shuttering boom that filled the air, followed by a second, and then third one. Frank had gotten himself far away, but the flames burned like a brilliant beacon, piercing to the low-hanging clouds.


    By the time, the knight arrived, the docks were engulfed and the flames had crept into Culvert. Frank¡¯s throat was raw from yelling and his body covered in sweat.


    ¡°Mercy,¡± Lady Ravenwood said as she rode up, ten armored men behind her. ¡°Is it a dragon?¡±


    Bringle shook his head. ¡°Demon. Though I haven¡¯t seen its like before. It¡¯s all ablaze, made of oil, and strong enough to knock down stone walls.¡±


    Lady Ravenwood slid from her horse. Bringle explained how events had transpired, but left out what the cultist had said about the heralds and the eternal bride. Ravenwood¡¯s face hardened with each word and she watched the conflagration.


    ¡°Madness,¡± she whispered at the end. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I should thank you for discovering this mess or yell at you for setting it off.¡±


    ¡°To be fair, Astile,¡± Mumford said to the Lady, ¡°the situation was already rotten when we found it. At least we were able to clear people out of the docks, and this could have happened on a warm, dry day.¡±


    She shot him a cold look, and he answered with a winning smile. Frank had the feeling they knew one another.


    ¡°Goodman Martino,¡± Lady Ravenwood said, ¡°I had imagined you staying with your wife and daughter in the safety of the cathedral grounds. Give me your arm.¡±


    He raised the chewed on one. At some point, it had started bleeding again and that had soaked into the bandage Bringle had tied. She unwrapped it and hissed between her teeth at the ragged puncture wounds. Covering his wrist with her hand, she lowered her head in prayer.


    ¡°Through the grace of the angel Devonia and the power of the Light, I heal you. May your path be free of shadows and the sun and moon your guide.¡±


    Soothing warmth flowed from her fingertips into his body. He could feel the strength returning to his hand as the flesh knit itself back together. She released her grasp and he flexed his fingers. The wounds had healed, leaving faint, pink scars under the dried blood.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, his voice hoarse from the shouting. ¡°I have an idea on how we might fight the demon.¡±


    Lady Ravenwood raised one elegant eyebrow. ¡°Do you Goodman Martino?¡± she sounded doubtful. ¡°We of the Order channel the divine light through our weaponry. I assumed I would fight the demon, not ¡®we.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. Then I have an idea on how you could fight it.¡±


    Lady Ravenwood gave a faint smile, willing to indulge him. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±

 Chpt 09 – It Was That Way When We Found It, pt 5

    ¡°Tell me again why I agreed to do this?¡± asked Mumford. They stood in the center of the docks. Around them customs buildings and warehouses burned merrily. The heat of the flames caused both men to sweat profusely despite the chill winter weather, and its noxious smoke burned their throat and lungs despite the damp cloths they¡¯d wrapped over their faces.


    Frank coughed, then lifted his cloth for a moment to spit on the wood of the docks. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said. ¡°Desire for honor and glory? Compassion for your fellow man?¡±


    Mumford eyes lit up as he laughed. ¡°Oh yes, other than drinking, debauchery, and running a few good men through, I¡¯m a regular saint, I am.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard that ladies adore demon-slayers. I couldn¡¯t help but notice you had your eye on a certain Lady-Knight. Astile, I believe you called her? I¡¯ve yet to hear anyone else call her by her first name.¡±


    Frank had intended the comment to be friendly. While Mumford seemed a bit wild, he looked at Lady Ravenwood in a way that reminded Frank of himself when he¡¯d met Clara. Instead, the light in Mumford¡¯s eyes faded, and he looked down.


    ¡°Astile, yes. We were engaged to be married not long ago. Not too long ago. It¡¯s been a few years now.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sorry to hear that.¡± It was obvious the boy still carried a torch for her. Frank doubted the split had been his idea.


    Mumford scratched at his mop of curly hair. ¡°My fault. Her brother was one of those ¡®good men¡¯ I ran through.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°I doubt even killing a demon or two would return me to her graces after that.¡±


    A harsh wind blew from the sea, bringing with it a burst of relief in the form of fresh and cold air. Both men instinctively sucked in the bounty before it was lost to the smoke. The ring of a fire bell carried over the wharf and the groan of the burning buildings. They jogged down the dock toward the source of the sound.


    ¡°You know, if this works, we¡¯ll have to make you an honorary member of the witch-hunters,¡± Mumford said as they ran.


    ¡°At this point, I¡¯d settle for a nice pair of boots.¡± Frank¡¯s feet were killing him. The thin sandals he¡¯d been given did nothing to cushion them and his heel had started bleeding earlier.


    Following the demon through the flaming ruins of buildings had proved impossible. It had switched from spreading the fire to keeping the existing conflagration active and letting the crowded conditions of the city do the rest. Given its aggression, drawing it out wouldn¡¯t be hard, but as it now had most of the waterfront as its playground, simply finding it had been difficult.


    They¡¯d borrow more ships¡¯ bells and handed them among Lady Ravenwood¡¯s men with strict orders to ring if the demon was spotted. Now the clanging began and the group converged on the spot it issued from.


    Three knights fought the demon on foot. They were heavily armored, like metal-clad crabs that bore tall shields and full covered helmets. They had taken up a line with spears but did not advance. Instead, they kept a defensive position, using their shield to fend off heavy blows and the balls of burning pitch the demon threw in infinite supply. As the other appeared, the demon decided to charge at the new targets, but despite the bulk and size of their armor, the footmen intercepted it. One took a charging blow that slammed him back several feet, yet he somehow remained upright.


    ¡°Form a shield front,¡± Lady Ravenwood barked, and three more footmen took up a guard position. Behind them, the other, lightly armored fighters began to toss short spears at the demon. Quill after quill lodged into the flaming figure, sticking in the oily mass of its center only to slowly ooze out and drop to the dock, its tip covered in burning pitch.


    ¡°Steady, back up, back up.¡±


    The spearmen were not harming the demon, not that Frank could tell, but they succeeded in keeping it attention. Whenever it would charge forward, a footman would take the blow, and the other work to push the demon back off him.


    Frank and Bringle had agreed that the demon¡¯s unfocused aggression meant it lacked the intelligence of the man who¡¯d sacrificed himself to bring it forth. It had abandoned the prisoners and witch-hunters to attack the crowd and then moved on to the warehouses when there were no people to kill in easy reach. Slowly, they made their way along the docks. The spearmen, footmen, and witch-hunters lured the creature along towards a waiting boat.


    It was less fighting a man and more trying to bait a bull for the matador. They had to weaken it first and then Lady Ravenwood could get close enough to finish it with her sword. Only, it didn¡¯t seem to be weakening at all.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Frank shuffled up the wide gangplank that connected the ship to the docks. The demon hesitated. Though its ¡®face¡¯ was nothing more than a gooy mass where a head would be, Frank could read reluctance here. For a moment, he feared that it had caught on. That it would return to the safety of the burning buildings. They would have difficulty luring it again as the spearmen were almost out of their throwing javelins.


    It made one hesitant step forward and then another, up and up the gangplank. The group spread out around it. Now on a wooden ship with the burning demon. Already the deck warped and blistered where hot, black pitch dropped onto it.


    ¡°Shove off,¡± Ravenwood called. The sailors they¡¯d hired pulled up anchor and moved the sails so the wind blew them away from the harbor. Frank had thought his plan sounds and Lady Ravenwood had agreed to it, but now that he was on a small ship with the demon, he had second thoughts.


    Again, the pitch demon rushed forward, eagerly swinging its clublike arms. The footmen had little room to maneuver here, and the demon pinned one to mast. It then slammed its head against the soldiers. Its black ooze flowed into the slits of the man¡¯s full helm. The man wasn¡¯t long for the world after that. The sounds of his screams were muffled as the ooze filled the helm, but he continued to twitch and spasm in pain. His weapon clattered to the ground.


    The other footmen pierced the demon¡¯s sides with their heavy spears. Frank grabbed the dropped spear and joined them. He slammed the spear point into its lower back and pushed. Its body was a thick, tarlike substance. Frank grunted as he braced himself and forced the point through the center and out the opposite shoulder.


    His hands and face burned so close to the demon, and he staggered backwards. ¡°I thought you said we could weaken it!¡± Frank said through gritted teeth.


    ¡°I thought you could,¡± responded Ravenwood, calmly, ¡°most demons are not this resilient to damage. Let us hope your idea bears fruit.¡±


    The demon dropped the suffocated soldier and spun around, ripping spears from the grasps of the footmen. A few, like Frank, had been able to pierce all the way through. It seemed emboldened now that it realized they were trapped with it. It swung about wildly, knocking one footman to the ground, and following it up with an overhead blow. Under its blows the boards of the deck shuttered and cracked. The demon wildly pounded on the prone solider, beating him down until boards snapped and the man crashed through to whatever was below.


    ¡°Abandon ship!¡± cried Bringle. They had reached the other vessels waiting for them in the middle of the harbor. The largest was a whaling ship; it dwarfed all the others in length and size. Its sailors drew alongside the knight¡¯s craft with rowboats. Frank wasted no time climbing down the side of the ship on a rope ladder and into the waiting craft.


    As the soldiers scrambled to safety, the demon flew after them. It caught two before they made the safety of the waiting crafts. Even then, it strode the deck, lobbing flaming balls of pitch into the waters after the rowboats.


    It seemed either unaware or unconcerned as the ship it stood on caught fire.    Frank kept an eye out for the foot soldier who¡¯d fallen below, but never spotted him. Soon the ship shone like a bonfire on the waters and sunk below the surface.


    Peering at the water, Frank spotted a slowly spreading pool of blackness. The oil demon floated, its fires extinguished, its form leaking out into the salty waters. They tossed out the thick netting used to secure whales. As it twisted and bobbed, tangling itself up in the heavy cord, even as chunks of it loosened and floated free.


    ¡°There was a man inside there,¡± Bringle said. ¡°I think he may still be within.¡±


    Lady Ravenwood nodded as the rower brought the closer to the struggling form. One of the sailors handed Frank one of the long hooks dockworkers used for cargo. He snagged part of the net and pulled it closer to Lady Ravenwood¡¯s boat.


    The figure within was smaller than he recalled, but still malformed. It pulled against him and he and sailors struggled to keep it still with their hooks.


    Within Lady Ravenwood¡¯s grip, her sword began to glow. The polished steel turned golden as she readied it, and then she thrust downwards to where the heart should be. As the blade slid in, the demon¡¯s flesh smoked and hissed. It thrashed, causing the boats to rock violently.


    Finally, it quieted. It¡¯s blackened form solidifying into a rocky substance.


    ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± said Mumford.


    ¡°Not until we get all the fires out. I hate to think how many will have lost their homes today,¡± Lady Ravenwood responded without taking her eyes off the demon. She attempted to pull the sword out, but it had stuck fast within the demon¡¯s hard corpse. ¡°Of all the¡­¡±


    Frank hauled the demon¡¯s calcified corpse partially onto the boat. ¡°Now try it.¡±


    She did so, planting one boot on its chest and leaning back as she pilled. ¡°It¡¯s caught something,¡± she said with a grunt.


    ¡°Let me try,¡± said Frank.


    She stepped back, waving a hand as if to say it was all his. He gripped the crossguard in one hand and the unsharpened beginning of the blade with the other, and then pulled with all his might. The sword was caught on something. As he strained he heard the hard shell of the crust crack, and a sudden flood of energy filled his body.


    In his hand, the longsword glowed. Not the strong golden light it had with Lady Ravenwood, but a brilliant crimson. At last, the chest burst outwards as Frank yanked out blade. Impaled on its end was what looked like a massive stone heart.


    The blade¡¯s glow diminished as Frank held it up. He realized the other occupants of the rowboat were all staring at him ¨C Ravenwood, Master Bringle, Mumford, and the sailors.


    ¡°What did I just do?¡± Frank asked.


    Lady Ravenwood¡¯s eyes flicked from the sword in his hand ¨C its light dimming ¨C to his face, and back again. ¡°You¡¯ve told why the cult decided to kidnap you and your daughter,¡± she replied.