Three Hundred Years - 1. Story

 

Three Hundred Years

By WrathOfMagneto

 

I ejected the magazine from my .45 caliber pistol, counted the rounds, then slid it back inside with a sharp, metallic “click”. Three rounds. I suddenly got an uneasy feeling in my stomach, and for the first time in my career, I feared for my life. I’d never imagined before that I might actually die doing this, and the sudden realization that the end might in fact be near caused what was now a cold knot of dread to take hold of me.

 

I could hear it scratching, clawing, biting at the door, slamming itself into it in an attempt to get at me. Its growling sounded the way I’d imagine the hounds of hell to sound, I could practically smell its foul, horrible breath as I sat, crouched behind a marble desk that held various documents and pictures of family outings. Not my family, but the man I was contacted by, one Richard Harvey, who was now, at this moment doing his damndest to break down the door and eat me alive.

 

Nobody said anything about goddamned werewolves when I took this job.

 

I got the call from Mr. Harvey about two weeks ago. He’d told me that he’d been suspecting that his family was in danger, but didn’t know what from. At first he thought it was some kind of big animal, but every animal expert he’d talked to said that the animal that made the marks he found simply didn’t exist. Then when the hair he’d found turned out to match his own DNA, he was accused of making it all up. A hoax. But he was desperate, and finally, one of the large animal experts gave him my number.

 

I’d worked with Walter Jones, the expert he got my number from, before on a suspected bigfoot case. He specialized in mythical creatures, things like bigfoot, Loch Ness monster, and the Chupacabra. What we actually found was a…well…you don’t want to know. Literally if you saw it with an untrained eye it would break your mind. Simply know that it exists, and be terrified.

 

“Little pig…little pig…let…ME… IN!” Mr. Harvey snarled from the other side of the door. Great, it can talk. I didn’t want to know that. And it has a sense of humor. Its vocal chords sounded not in the least bit human, as if the transformation into a werewolf had stripped away every last bit of his humanity.

 

“How about you suck my balls?” I yelled back at it.

 

“Ooooh an appetizer!”

 

“Fuck you!” I screamed. “You’re going to kill your family! The people you care about!”

 

“Yes, but I get to kill YOU first!”

 

I pulled the slide back on the gun, ejecting a bullet. It popped out, and I caught it in my left hand. Then I held it next to my ear and shook it, and heard the liquid inside slosh around. Perfect. I popped the magazine back out, put the bullet inside, reloaded and cocked the pistol.

 

I had two types of bullets in my pistol, as I usually did. Both types were silver hollow-point, but one was filled with salt, as salt has purifying effects and tends to put a big hurt on most things that are “impure”. The other type, like the one I just checked and made sure was next to be fired, are filled with holy water. I’m sure you can figure out why. If not, why am I wasting my time talking to you?

 

I heard the solid oak of the door starting to give way. Loud, splintering cracks echoed throughout the room, and the creature that had once been Richard Harvey doubled his efforts to get at me.

 

I came around the desk, knelt down on one knee, and steadied my aim on the other knee. The door was going to give in at any second, and I knew I only had one or two shots at most. One holy water round and one salt. Hopefully one of them kills the fucker.

 

SLAM!

 

It started to buckle.

 

SLAM!

 

One more hit and it would be inside.

 

CRASH!

 

It burst into the room, and promptly lost its balance. It fell flat on its face, and the shot that I had aimed at its head missed completely. Shit. Wasted a holy round.

 

As it clambered back to its feet, I fired another shot off, hitting it in the shoulder. It grunted in pain, and staggered back a step or two. I hadn't expected the salt to do much of anything, and it didn’t disappoint.

 

“You think you can kill me with bullets?” it snarled like the monster it was.

 

I re-aimed the gun, hoping, praying that the last holy water round would be enough to kill it. If not, I’m totally screwed. I looked it square in the eyes, in what might have been my final act of defiance.

 

“Thus I refute thee.”

 

I fired off another shot, which hit dead between its eyes. They rolled back in its head, and he slowly started to transform back into a human.

 

I pulled out my cell phone, and used its camera to take a series of photos of the transformation. So that the family can know the truth, and I don’t get put away for murder. Not that the government, church, or whatever agencies that deal with these things would ever let it out that werewolves are real, but still, it was a good idea to have proof. Who would believe it anyway? Most of the population could see a zombie walking down the street, blood and vomit all over its clothes, and they’d dismiss it as a drunk with a bloody nose or something. People have a ridiculous need to rationalize everything, and it’s just pathetic most of the time.

 

I walked back over to the desk, and flipped through his old fashioned Rolodex. This is the part of the job I hate the most, having to tell the family the grim news. I found the number for his wife, and pulled it free, tearing the small index card as I did.

 

I pulled out my pack of cigarettes, Camels, and pulled one out. Broken. I threw it across the room. Pulled another. Also broken. I tore open the rest of the pack as the adrenaline in my system began to wear off, leaving me shaking like a leaf. All of them were broken.

 

Shit.

 

 

Three Hundred Years

 

 

“Its name has never been spoken aloud in the three hundred years since its arrival, and it’s going to stay that way, Lord as my witness,” Father Donald Jackson said, shivering slightly in the damp, cold air. He always preferred to meet with me outside, under the night sky, for reasons I’ll never begin to understand. His silver and gold cane clicked faintly on the paved ground as he walked. I thought idly of the vow of poverty priests have to take, and looked again at his cane. What do I know?

 

“Fine then, but I at least need to know how to kill it.”

 

“I’m not sure if anyone can, Mr. Green.”

 

That was a fake name. I insisted he never know my real name, for my own protection. Sometimes I might be impulsive, or even a little reckless, but one thing I’m not is stupid. It takes a whole lot more than a holy name to gain my trust, and even then I probably won’t give up my name unless I’m absolutely sure that it’s safe. And sure of their humanity.

 

“It’s that big?” I asked, my interest peaked.

 

“The size of the creature matters little, my son. Its power is what is to be feared.”

 

I shook my head. For someone who speaks to hundreds of people per week, he has trouble communicating in everyday life.

 

“I meant, what is the scope of its power?” I asked.

 

“Ah yes, of course,” he said, then paused, apparently thinking it over. Or maybe he had to poo , I don’t know. “Large.”

 

I hate you so much right now, I thought to myself.

 

“How large is large?” I asked, exasperated.

 

“End of the world large. Prophecy states that the destroyer will come, and walk the earth for three hundred years, preparing it for its destruction. The creature must be destroyed before it reaches its full power, the three hundredth anniversary of its arrival, or else all is lost.”

 

“When will that be?” I asked, thinking that since I had plenty of time to prepare, this should be a walk in the park.

 

“Four days from now.”

 

Of course it’s four days from now, I thought to myself.

 

“Oh. That’s kinda short notice, don’t you think? Why the blue nasty fuck hasn’t anyone gone after this thing in three hundred years?”

 

“The prophecy was buried in a vault in the Vatican,” the priest said, as if it should have been obvious. “There’s no time for discussion, it’s time for action.”

 

“Where the hell do you come up with these prophecies all the time? Didn’t you quit at the Vatican? What did you do, steal a copy of the ‘End of the World Handbook’?”

 

“I have my ways,” he said conspiratorially. Whatever. I really didn’t care that much. He had a way about him that would inspire such frustration in you that if you didn’t just leave the matter alone, you’d want to punch the man. And he’s a priest. I’m pretty sure priest-punching is frowned on in heaven, right up there with monk-kicking and nun-karate chopping.

 

“Either way, it’ll cost extra, because I’ll need my partner on this one.”

 

“Extra? Knowing you’ve saved the world should be reward enough!” he said, a look on his face as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 

“Look Padre, heroics don’t pay the bills. And I’m late on my rent because the check you wrote me for last time bounced, so I need it up front this time , or it’s no deal.”

 

“I told you before, that wasn’t my fault,” the priest said.

 

“Signing over a check for money you don’t have is completely and totally your fault! I’m not getting into another situation like those vampire bitches again and not getting paid for it!”

 

“I told you, the higher-ups didn’t approve of your methods. If you’d shown more mercy–”

 

“They were vampires, Padre!” I cut him off. “You have any idea how many different versions of the vampire lore there are? So what if I staked them, dismembered them, decapitated them, burned them, and then buried them upside down in eight feet of horse shit? I was being thorough.”

 

“You were inhuman!” he said, aghast at the nonchalant way I talked about it.

 

“Vampires, Padre. Vampires.”

 

“Still, you should have been–”

 

“Whatever. Are you getting me my money or not?” I asked, tired of arguing with the man.

 

He sighed, took his glasses off to wipe on his shirt, and finally looked in my eyes.

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said at last.

 

“Make it fast,” I said, and walked away from the man.

 

The drive home was uneventful. I pulled into the parking lot, and cursed for about five minutes straight as Lenny Williams, my neighbor downstairs, had parked in my usual spot once again. I’d asked him as politely as possible not to park there, and he’d smiled and said he wouldn’t. Lying prick.

 

I walked up the stairs to my fairly large, two bedroom apartment, and fumbled with my keys to open the door. I unlocked it and entered, hand on the butt of my pistol in its holster. I closed the door quietly, making a soft noise as the door latched. I took a few cautious steps inside the apartment, before I smelled burning meat. I drew the pistol, then realized that it was empty. If I could get to the spare clip in the small table by the living room I might be okay.

 

This apartment was set up strange. As you first walked in, there was a long hallway that ran the length of the apartment, with a doorway to the right as you got most of the way down that opened up into the main room of the place. The small kitchen was in the corner, and the bedrooms were along the same wall as the front of the building. I’d never seen an apartment like it.

 

I crept down the hall, and ran through the list of possibilities. There was that minor demon I had exorcized back in November, and he definitely smelled like burning meat. There was that psycho chef that was cooking and serving humans in his restaurant, but he should be in jail. He didn’t smell like anything except French cologne, so it probably wasn’t him. I just hoped beyond hope that it wasn’t a “soldier demon”. Those fuckers are hard to kill.

 

Finally I reached the table, and as quietly as possible I pulled open the drawer. Empty. I stared at the bare wooden bottom of the drawer, dumbfounded, as I knew the extra magazine should be there. I’d only put it there the night before.

 

I spun around as I heard a noise from inside the room. Gulping and raising the useless gun, possibly to try to scare the demons away, I spun around the corner.

 

And found my boyfriend, sound asleep in his chair, and a pan of burning hamburger on the stove. There was smoke coming out of the kitchen from the stove, and as soon as I saw it I realized that it wasn’t burning human at all. I don’t know how I could’ve mistaken it. Human smells sweeter. I sighed in relief and holstered the pistol, then took a look at my boyfriend. His hair was all mussed up on one side, the side against the chair. He was snoring softly, and there was a faint line of drool hanging from his bottom lip.

 

“Jonathan?” I asked, giving his shoulder a light shake. He mumbled something softly, something about not wanting to go to school today. I had to laugh at how cute it was.

 

“Come on, get up,” I said, more stern this time. His eyes opened, and he yawned, stretching his arms out comically. Then he sniffed the air and got a puzzled look on his face.

 

“What was memorable about our first date?” he asked, deadly serious now. I answered immediately.

 

“You were miserable. We went to the fair, and you got a really bad sunburn. Then you spilled a raspberry smoothie all over your favorite shirt. It took me a month to get you to go out with me again.”

 

“Oh,” he said, deflated. “Why do you smell like a demon then?”

 

“Because you’re burning hamburger.”

 

He squeaked, sounding every bit like a mouse with its tail in a trap, jumped up, and ran into the kitchen to save the apartment from burning down.

 

I heard the small fire extinguisher we kept in the cabinet go off, and nearly collapsed in a laughing fit.

 

Ten minutes later, Jonathan returned to the living room, black smudges on his face, and I lost it again. He looked like a cartoon.

 

“Damnit Tommy! The apartment could have burned down! Why didn’t you put it out when you got home?”

 

I finally got myself under control, and smiled at him. “I jumped to the same conclusion you did. I was scared shitless because I was out of ammo and I had the mental image of a soldier demon.”

 

He shivered when I said soldier demon. He knew as well as I did how bad those things are.

 

“Why were you out of ammo? Did you find the thing that was terrorizing that Haley guy?”

 

“Harvey, and yes I did. Turns out he was a werewolf,” I said nonchalantly.

 

“Hate it when that happens,” he said. “Did it bite or scratch you?”

 

“Jonathan, I’ve been hunting for years, I’m not that stupid.”

 

“I know, I just get worried sometimes,” he said sadly. “I wish you’d take me along more often.”

 

“Well, you’re just training. I didn’t want to take you into a situation where even I don’t know what we’re up against. That’s a quick way for the both of us to wind up dead. And fast.”

 

He started walking around the apartment, opening all the windows. The smell of burning really was pretty bad in here. I went to the bathroom and got the can of “Smell-ease”, an off brand air deodorant. It sucked, but was better than nothing.

 

“Where’s the spare magazine I put in the hall table?” I asked.

 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you!” he said excitedly. “I had an idea on how to make the bullets more effective!”

 

He reached into his pocket, pulled out the magazine, popped a bullet out, and held it out to me. I picked it up from his outstretched hand, and held it up to the light. Intricately carved on four sides, were four identical crosses. They looked as if they’d been carved by an expert, and I knew that indeed they had. Jonathan must have been a sculptor in a past life.

 

“Good thinking!” I said as I passed the bullet back to him. “Maybe this way the salt bullets will be as effective as the holy water.”

 

“That’s what I was thinking. I got the idea from Father Jackson’s cane. It has similar crosses carved into the head of it.”

 

“Speaking of him, I stopped by and saw Father Jackson after dealing with Harvey,” I said. “He’s got something he says is big, and if the check clears, we’re going after it.”

 

He got a big smile on his face. He loved the hunt almost as much as I did, and I had to admit, he was better than a lot of seasoned hunters. I’d been doing my best to teach him everything I knew, and he’d taken to it like a bird to air.

 

“Yes!” he shouted, and did a cute little dance. “I’ve been waiting for something like this!”

 

“Jonathan, let me be as serious as I can on this one. This isn’t going to be a walk in the park. This is way worse than those vampire bitches.”

 

“I understand Tommy,” he said, more serious. He was still smiling, but he knew I meant business. “I mean, I helped you take down that pair of soldier demons a few months back.”

 

“Jonathan, I’m talking about one of the big ones.”

 

“Oh. Oh! Do you think it’s…?”

 

“McKenzie? No. McKenzie was big, but nowhere near the level of this thing. Father Jackson said its name hasn’t been spoken aloud in three hundred years, and in this case I actually believe him. He wouldn’t have been this spooked if it was just McKenzie.”

 

McKenzie Williams and I have…history. McKenzie isn’t its real name, as its real name is impossible for a human to pronounce, but that isn’t important. It’s only one out of a hundred names it had taken throughout the years, but for some reason it decided to target me. Its shaggy blonde hair, its green eyes that sparkled in the light, I fell for it almost immediately. I thought it was a human. It was only when it started murdering people did I find out the truth.

 

It got inside my head. And I mean that literally. It couldn’t just jump inside of me, that would only kill me as soon as it was done, and for some reason it was fond of me. But if it broke down all of my defenses, it would be able to use a subtle influence and control my every move. It took nearly six months, but that’s exactly what McKenzie did.

 

It was going to make me into a murderer like itself. I didn’t even know McKenzie was doing it. I just started doing as it told me, and I very nearly became one of the monsters I now destroy. It tried to get me to kill a child, a little girl. I was going to do it, too, but thankfully a hunter that had been tracking McKenzie showed up just in time. McKenzie had to pull its concentration out of me in order to fight the hunter, but the hunter was good. McKenzie barely escaped.

 

I’ve been hunting it ever since. The hunter who saved my life took me in for a while and taught me how to hunt. He quickly learned that I was a natural born hunter, and easily one of the best. But he cut me loose as soon as he figured out I was falling for him. Kicked the shit out of me and threatened to kill me if we ever crossed paths again.

 

“Tommy? Are you okay?” Jonathan asked, breaking into my thoughts.

 

“Yeah,” I said, and then yawned. “It’s been a shitty day. I think I’m going to shower and go to bed.”

 

My cell phone rang, scaring the shit out of me. I looked at the ID. It was the priest.

 

“You paying me, Padre?” I asked the man as I answered the phone.

 

“The money’s already in your account,” he said, sounding tired.

 

“Perfect. I’ve got four days? It’ll be dead in three,” I said, and hung up the phone.

 

I looked over at Jonathan. He smiled, and hopped up and down for a second. Then he rushed into my arms, fingers interlaced behind my neck, and planted a huge kiss on my lips.

 

“I’m sorry honey, but you aren't going to be sleeping any time soon,” he said with a suggestive wink. I laughed.

 

“I’ll get over it.”

 

* * * * *

 

 

“Let’s go over this one more time,” I said, worry etched in my voice.

 

“Tommy, I’ve got it.”

 

“Just humor me Jonathan.”

 

He sighed, and said, “Don’t look directly in its eyes. Don’t do anything stupid, like running in alone, or thinking for one second that it’s not a threat. And finally, don’t believe a word it says.”

 

“You missed one.”

 

“I’m not doing that,” he said defiantly.

 

“You have to,” I told him. “If it kills me, run. You won’t be any match for it by yourself, and it’s better to lose one hunter than two. There aren't a whole lot of us out there, you know?”

 

“I just can’t, Tommy,” he said, voice cracking. “Would you be able to leave me behind?”

 

I skipped a beat. I hadn't thought of that. “That’s completely different. I’m a seasoned hunter, I’d actually stand a chance one-on-one with the thing. But it’d kill you in seconds.”

 

“That’s not fair! You can avenge me, but I can’t avenge you?”

 

“Okay, let’s just forget about avenging anyone for right now,” I said, trying to keep the peace. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan on getting killed by this thing.”

 

I looked out across the field, from our perch up on a hilltop. It was night time, so we were reasonably well hidden, and far enough away that you’d have to squint on a sunny day to make us out. Across the field stood a small shopping center, located on the outskirts of town. Father Jackson told us the creature would be in this area, although as it was nearing midnight and there’d been no sign of anyone at all, I began to doubt the authenticity of his information.

 

It was hard to tell most of the time whether or not his crazy information had any merit. Supposedly, he’d worked inside the Vatican for a number of years, guarding lost secrets, prophecies, and various ancient artifacts, but something he’d seen down there had spooked him bad enough to move halfway across the globe and run an unassuming church in our crappy little town. I knew he kept in contact with some of the priests he’d worked with, but the fact that half the time it was wrong didn’t instill much faith.

 

That, and the fact that he was a crazy old man. What the hell would the destroyer of the world be doing in our shitty little town at a tiny shopping center after hours? I realize that this town has seen some weird things, like vampire triplets and a businessman werewolf, but even I found this one hard to believe.

 

I had just turned to Jonathan, to see if he wanted to try and make last call at the bar we frequented, when the shopping center exploded.

 

“Holy–!” Jonathan screamed.

 

“I don’t think so. There’s nothing holy about that.”

 

The place where the shopping center stood should have been was nothing more than smoldering remains, but for some reason, as quickly as the explosion and flames began, it stopped. The fire went out almost immediately, and most of the debris that should have been flying through the air and destined to rain down on our heads, hung motionless in the air.

 

“What the hell?” Jonathan asked. “Did time stop, or something?”

 

I glanced at my watch. The second hand was still ticking away, so I knew it hadn't.

 

“Nope, at least not over here,” I told him.

 

“Have you ever seen anything like this?”

 

“Never.”

 

The floating debris suddenly shook violently, as if there had been an air-quake, or something. Then all of it imploded in on itself, and all that was left standing was what looked like a miniature black hole.

 

I looked over to Jonathan, to make sure he had just seen what I had. His jaw was practically on the ground, and I couldn’t tell in the darkness, but if I had to make an educated guess, I would have said he was as white as a sheet. Well, a white sheet, anyway.

 

About ten feet in front of the black hole stood a figure of a man. I’m not sure exactly where he came from, because I’d never noticed him until this moment, but I knew right away from my first glance at him that it wasn’t human.

 

“I really don’t want to be here anymore…” Jonathan whispered to me. I wholeheartedly agreed with him.

 

Out of the black hole strode a giant black shape of what could only be a soldier demon. It was tall, much taller than the man-thing, and its heavily muscled arms hung to about mid-calf. Its knees were inverted, giving its already powerful looking legs even more power, and its head hung at the end of its impossibly long neck. On the crown of its head stood long, sharp horns, similar to, but not identical to those of a longhorn steer.

 

“Well, one soldier demon isn’t that bad,” I said in a reasonable tone.

 

Nine more strode out of the black hole.

 

“Okay, time to go,” I said to Jonathan. He nodded in agreement.

 

I cautiously stood up, and gathered my half of the arsenal we’d brought along. We’d brought about four pistols, two shotguns, a few glass bottles of holy water, a pair of daggers, and a sword that had angelic symbols carved along the blade. As we finished and were about to turn to leave, as quickly as possible, I glanced back over at the happy fun brigade by the black hole. The figure of the man was looking in our direction, and I knew immediately it was staring right at us. It raised its right hand, and pointed to us. The demons charged.

 

“Run! To the car! Now!” I screamed, panic gripping my veins, my heart pounding in my ears. No time.

 

We ran across the grassy area on the other side of the hill, toward the car I’d parked on the dirt road. I didn’t look back, but I knew the demons were closing in on us. Visions of horrible dismemberment followed by our slow and painful deaths as the monsters ate our flesh raced through my mind. Finally I reached the car at the same moment Jonathan did. It took all of about a second for us to throw our weapons in the back and then hop in the front seats. I turned the ignition, firing up the engine, and sped off just as the demons reached the car.

 

I felt the back of the car lurch to the left as the closest demon slammed its meaty hand into it. I corrected it, as an experienced driver would correct his driving on an icy road, and quite literally put the pedal to the metal. The tires gripped surprisingly well on the dirt road, and we quickly gained speed.

 

I glanced in my rear view mirror and immediately wished I hadn't. They were right on our tail, kicking up a cloud of dust and gaining speed. The one closest to the car opened and closed its mouth, its jaws snapping with force enough to reverberate inside the car.

 

Finally after what seemed like an eternity of bumpy twists and turns, the road changed from dirt to pavement as we entered into the main part of the town. I came up to an intersection near the local hospital, and seeing the wrought iron sculptures out in front of the hospital, I cranked the wheel hard to the left while tapping on the brake pedal. The tires squealed, and the car nearly spun out. The demons behind flew past, not having anticipated the abrupt turn.

 

Risking a glance as the tires once again gripped the road, I saw that two of the beasts had been impaled on pieces of modern corporate art. It had worked like a charm. For some reason, wrought iron works on demons the way silver does on werewolves. The beasts were dead. Only eight more to go.

 

We drove on, gaining a little distance as the beasts struggled to disentangle themselves and rejoin the hunt. Off in the distance I spotted my goal. The bright, gleaming golden cross on the steeple of St. Michael’s Church, the church that Father Jackson preached at. It was visible even in the night, as there were small spotlights on the roof of the church that were always on, pointing at it.

 

So close. Maybe a block away, at most. I noticed idly that there were not many other cars on the road. Strange, there were usually many more than this, especially the closer to the center of town you got. Maybe people could sense something in the air. Something bad.

 

Almost there, I thought to myself as we entered the parking lot. Just have to get inside.

 

The dark, man-shaped figure materialized in front of the car, and I pulled hard on the wheel to avoid hitting him. With a simple gesture of his hand he sent the front of the car airborne, and at our speed the car flipped, then finally rolled to a stop about fifty feet away. The car was upside down, and after a second of trying to reorient myself, I unclipped my seatbelt.

 

I crashed to the roof of the car, on my head, just as I heard Jonathan moan in pain.

 

“Jonathan! Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, I think so. I think I just hurt my arm,” he groaned. He unclipped his seatbelt and fell onto his head, the same way I had. “And my head.”

 

As fast as possible I reached into the backseat and pulled out what weapons I could carry. I pushed a couple of pistols into the waistband of my pants, slung a shotgun whose shells contained buckshot and rock salt over my shoulder, and pulled out the sword that had angelic symbols carved along the blade. It was supposedly a replica of Excalibur, but I’d bought it out of a cheap novelty swords catalog.

 

I kicked out the driver’s side window and crawled out, only to find myself face to face with a pair of black boots. Fingers that felt as strong as steel gripped onto my hair, and pulled me painfully to my feet. I wouldn’t look it in the eye. I could hear the remaining eight demons behind me, scratching their claws at the pavement, restless to get at us and tear us limb from limb.

 

“So, this is the best hunter this world has to offer? I’m disappointed.” Its voice made my skin crawl and the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It made my stomach churn, and I tasted bile in the back of my throat. It made my penis shrink back a bit against my body, as if I’d just jumped into a pool of cold water.

 

I struggled for a second, but then it felt as if my muscles had turned to jelly. It was useless to resist this thing’s power, and I was finally beginning to understand. There was no stopping it.

 

“You! Not a wise decision!” it yelled at the car, out of which Jonathan had not yet climbed. Jonathan squeaked in fright.

 

The sound of the gunshot was deafening in my ears.

 

“No!” I screamed, and I once again struggled to break free of the monster’s grip. It smiled a horrible, disgusting smile at me, and I knew I was about to die.

 

Suddenly I was sprayed with some type of hot liquid, and the thing’s grip loosened. Its smile drained off of its face, and finally it released me and I fell to the ground. I looked up at it and found the head of Father Jackson’s cane had impaled it through the heart.

 

Father Jackson pulled the cane out, and the creature that was once the destroyer of the world crumpled to the ground where it died like an insignificant insect. Father Jackson smiled down at me. His cane seemed to be glowing with some kind of otherworldly energy, and whatever it was, it was keeping the soldier demons at bay.

 

I scrambled to my feet and ran around to the other side of the ruined car. I crouched down and used the hilt of the fake Excalibur sword to break out the window. I pulled Jonathan free, and gasped when I saw the wound in his chest. Tears welled up in my eyes. My bottom lip quivered as I struggled not to cry out at the sight of my beloved, lying dead on the dirty pavement.

 

I looked up at the demons. They stood there as if waiting for the perfect moment, when the cane is out of sight and they can leap into action. I should have been afraid of them, but for some reason I wasn’t anymore.

 

My scream started somewhere in my belly and erupted from my mouth like a fearsome volcano spewing lava and ash out to destroy a civilization. I held my sword, intending to use it every bit like the fabled dragon slaying weapon it was modeled after, and charged.

 

The first beast didn’t even stand a chance. The sharp blade sliced through its neck like it was paper. The second fared no better, as I pierced the thing’s heart. The third beast slashed out at me, but I dodged it easily and cut its heavily muscled arm off at the elbow. It staggered away, howling in pain as the fourth leapt over it and attempted to pounce on me. I dropped to one knee and swung the sword upwards, disemboweling the thing and slicing it open from crotch to chin.

 

There was motion from behind me on my right side. I swung the sword around, and it clashed against Father Jackson’s cane.

 

“Kill them, not me boy!” he shouted.

 

The demons were in a panic now, and even though they feared my sword and Father Jackson’s cane, they did not retreat. The fifth one picked up one of the dead demons and threw it at me, which I narrowly dodged, and then leapt at me as I stood back up. I didn’t get the sword up in time, but the priest’s cane slammed into its face, crushing its skull and collapsing it to the ground.

 

Father Jackson and I ran at the last three, which were in kind of a triangular formation, two in front, one in back. I jumped onto the chest of a dead one, and leapt into the air. I swung the sword downward, slicing the one on the right in half just as I saw the one on the left fall to the priest’s cane. In one move, Father Jackson and I both plunged our weapons into the eighth demon. I pulled the sword out, Father Jackson pulled the cane out, and we stopped to catch our breath.

 

I looked over at him, and found that his once pristine, white robes were covered in a deep, dark red. I could feel the demons’ blood all over my body, but I didn’t care. Tears had been streaming down my face the entire time, and it’s a wonder I hadn't been blinded by them. Without a word, Father Jackson and I turned, and left the bloody mass behind.

 

About halfway back to the destroyed car and my wonderful, dead Jonathan, I suddenly spun around and slashed out with the sword. I heard the thump as one last demon’s head hit the ground. Almost forgot about the one who’s arm I cut off.

 

I turned back around and found Father Jackson smiling at me.

 

“That, son, is why you’re the best.”

 

We reached Jonathan’s body, and I nodded toward him. “Apparently not good enough.”

 

“Stand back,” Father Jackson said and raised his cane, which was oddly devoid of blood. He hovered the head of the cane over Jonathan’s chest, and it began to glow more brightly then ever. I watched in awe as the head of the cane radiated pure energy, and as I stood in it, I felt it cleansing me. The blood remained, but the energy mentally, emotionally, and physically healed all my pains and as I basked in it, I felt like all was right in the world.

 

After an eternity the cleansing light receded, and I got a clear look at Jonathan. The blood all over him was still present, but the hole in his chest was gone. He coughed, spit up a little blood, and opened his eyes.

 

“Tommy?” he asked timidly.

 

“Right here, babe!” I said, overcome with emotion. I scooped him up in my arms. “I’m never going anywhere.”

 

So there we were, covered in blood and holding each other as we cried in joy. His face was flecked with spots of his own blood, from the spatter of the gunshot wound. I know demon blood was all over my face, as it had sprayed everywhere. We didn’t care. We kissed, passions locked together in a dirty, disgusting, bloody mess that was never more beautiful.

 

Finally, we came apart, and I looked over at Father Jackson’s cane.

 

“Where the hell do you get these things?” I asked with a laugh.

 

“Oh, I have my ways.”

 

I laughed out loud, and my eyes drifted over to the monster that was supposed to destroy the world. Three hundred years of hard work, all for nothing.

 

“Happy anniversary, asshole.”

 

© 2008 WrathOfMagneto

 

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