Road Trip To Hell

Killing Time

Cover: Sebastian with swords drawn, clothes ripped. Dozens of pairs of demonic eyes peer out at him from the darkness. One pair of eyes, directly behind him, is much larger and more sinister than the others.

"aptain Gavin sighed heavily as he sat down.  He ran his fingers through his short, graying hair... sighed again... and then a third time.   He flipped through the pages in the folder he'd brought with him.   After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he finally, reluctantly, made eye contact with Marilyn Dobbs.

Dobbs could read the lines in his weathered face like a map.   He was wearing his deepest "this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you" frown, combined with the "you really screwed up this time, and I mean REALLY screwed up"  scowl.   The combination puffed out his features like some prehistoric fish.   Dobbs halfway expected spikes to launch themselves out of his swollen face and shoot across the room.

"...Dobbs..."  he sighed.   That made four.   It was worse than she thought.

"Captain, I-"   Marilyn began.

Gavin lifted his hand and shook his head.

"You don't want to hear my side of it?"

"You've already told your side of it.... I read it in the reports and I think everything is fairly clear.   You walked into an office building and shot a man."

"HE had a gun!"

Gavin raised his hand again.

"I've heard your side.   Now I'm here to tell you MY side, Dobbs."

"Captain-"

"You... an officer I suspended for reckless conduct... carried a concealed weapon into a building."

"It was MY weapon, and I'm licensed to carry it,"  Marilyn said.   Her words had a sharp quickness to them... as if she were trying to slice Gavin's accusations out of the air before they reached her ears.

"You then shot and killed a man whom YOU claim had a weapon... and whom YOU claim was about to use said weapon against you."

"You say that like you don't believe me, Captain."

"Doesn't matter what I believe, Dobbs.   Nobody found a gun anywhere in that building... except for yours."

"Did they LOOK!?"

"They looked."

"Tell them to look again-"

"They looked again."

"Then I'LL look!"

"I'm sure internal affairs will have a FIELD DAY with that."

"Good!  They need the exercise!"

"Dobbs, please..."

Gavin shook his head, and Marilyn shut up.   She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest.   Now it was HER turn to sigh.

"You are aware that the man you shot was a private detective?"

"Yes, I am."

"You are ALSO aware that he was hired by your ex-husband to investigate you in relation to a custody dispute."

"Yes."

"Do you realize what we have here, Dobbs?"

"We have a police force that can't find a GUN when-"

"We have motive.  We damn sure have witnesses.   We have a cop with a demonstrated history of impulsive behavior..."

"Don't you dare say it, Captain!  Don't you DARE!"

"...so, I believe what we have here, Dobbs, is murder."

"NO!"

Dobbs slammed her fist down on the metal table.   Gavin looked at the fist as if it were evidence... as if it proved his point by its mere presence on the table.

"Captain, I swear to you on my child's LIFE that there was a GUN in that man's HAND!"

"I believe you, Dobbs... I really do.  I believe you saw a gun-"

"Saw?   'Saw' as in I saw something that wasn't really there?  Is that what you're trying to say?  That I HALLUCINATED the damned thing?"

"No, you didn't hallucinate shooting that private detective... THAT most definitely happened."

"Captain..."  Marilyn began in a slow, rhythmic tone that was as close to begging as she came.  "You cannot POSSIBLY believe that I-"

"What I believe is irrelevant, Dobbs!  You KILLED a man!"

"In self-defense!"

"Against a weapon that nobody but YOU saw!"

"Captain-"

"Do you have a lawyer, Dobbs?"

"Do I need one?"   Marilyn snapped.

"Oh, yes... you do.   A good one, too;  I wouldn't want to be stuck with one of those court-appointed clowns on THIS one."

"You're going to prosecute me for MURDER!?""

"No... that's the district attorney's job.   I just collect the evidence."

"CAPTAIN!"

"I wish I could help you, Dobbs.  I really do."

"Then BELIEVE me!   And FIND that gun!"

"If there is a gun, we'll find it.   We WILL keep looking.   But, in the meantime... I'm afraid you're gonna be our guest for a while."

"WHAT!?   You're locking me UP!?"

"I'm sorry.   You'll stay here until we can arrange a private cell up at county.   Then we'll transfer you-"

"But... but what about my DAUGHTER!"

"She'll stay with her father, I assume.  I don't know-"

"You've GOT to be KIDDING ME!?"

"No, Dobbs.... this is no joke.   A man is dead, and right now my professional opinion is that you look guilty as hell.   You should be thankful that your ex-husband is still around, or else Alexis would be in a FOSTER home.   At least this way she'll be with somebody she knows.  And if this case doesn't go your way... she'll be there for a while.   A long while."

"Captain, please just let me see her.   Just let me explain what's going on; that's all I ask... please."

"I can't do that, Dobbs."

Marilyn Dobbs... formerly known as DETECTIVE Marilyn Dobbs... lowered her eyes and unclenched her fists.

So THIS was what the end of the world felt like.

"But,"  said the Captain.  "If... Royce or somebody were to sneak her in... there's not much I could do about that."

Dobbs slowly lifted her face.

"Thank you,"  she said softly.

"For what... I just said I couldn't do it."

"Right."

"Alexis will be fine, no matter WHAT happens... you have my promise on that.  As for everything else..."

"You just keep looking for that gun, Captain.   It's there.  Just keep looking."

"We will,"  said the Captain in a tone that was almost made Marilyn think he believed her.  Almost.   "Wherever it is... we'll find it."

"ead Man Rollin!"   Markell announced as he wheeled the newest guest into the morgue.   A plain white sheet covered the gurney, turning the body underneath into a vaguely humanoid arrangement of peaks and valleys in the cloth.

"Do you have to make a joke out of everything?"  said Corvin.

"Yeah,"  Markell replied.

Corvin and Markell were the evening shift at the morgue, or the 'Corpse Motel' as Markell called it.   The two men had absolutely nothing in common, save choice of occupation.   Corvin was old.  Markell was young.   Corvin was serious.   Markell was...not.   They were best friends.

"Where you want this one?"

"I'll find a freezer for him... just gimme a minute..."

Corvin walked down the row of refrigerated drawers, checking the tags on the front of each one, searching for a vacancy.

"Guess who this is?"  said Markell.

"Somebody famous?"

"Naw... this is that dude from the office shooting earlier today."

"Mmmhmmm."   Corvin showed no interest.

"I'll tell you what... she's got good aim!  She took him out CLEAN!"

"Who?"

"What, you don't watch the news, man?"

"Not really."

"Was a lady cop that did this.   P-KOW!  P-KOW!  Right through the heart!   Damn good aim!  Oughta give her some kinda medal or something'... if it weren't for her being a murderer and all..."

"Here's an empty one."

Corvin pulled hard on the handle, and the metal drawer slid out of the wall.   Markell wheeled the 'guest' over to its new home.

"Careful with this one; he's heavy."

"I've been doing this for a lot longer than you have."   said Corvin.  Markell grabbed the upper half of the body while his older and smaller partner took the corpse's legs.

"On three,"  said Corvin.  "One... two... three-"

They lifted.   Corvin groaned and dropped his end.   The dead man's legs fell back onto the gurney with a solid thump as Corvin backed away.

"Ouch!"  Corvin grasped his shoulder and winced.

"You okay, old man?"

"What is this... some kind of joke?"

"I TOLD you he was heavy!"

"Heavy, hell... what'd you do, put a laundry bag full of concrete under here?"

Corvin pulled back the sheet to reveal... a dead body.  The man was short, with a slim build and dirty brown hair.  He wore an old pair of jeans and a brown shirt, the fabric of which was saturated with blood.  There were two holes in the man's chest.  The shot that had killed him had gone right through the heart.   The follow-up shot had perforated a lung.   The man's face wore a peaceful, almost serene expression... not at all the blank gape that Corvin was accustomed too.   And CERTAINLY not the expression of someone who'd died from gunshot wounds.

Corvin also found it odd that rigor mortis had already set in.   Not only were the man's limbs stiff and almost immobile, but his very flesh was hard... as if every muscle in his body were clenched tight.   Of course, that was impossible... the murder victim had assumed room temperature several hours ago.   Still... it was a very strange corpse.   Not the strangest one he'd ever seen... but it certainly ranked up there in the top ten.

"See,"  said Markell.  "He's just heavy, that's all."
 
"He's unbalanced,"  said Corvin as he grabbed the corpse's legs once more.  "His weight isn't distributed right."

"What's that mean?"

"Hell if I know...   one more time, on three.   One... two..."

"THREE!"  the corpse said gleefully.   Brandon Phillips sat upright on the gurney and snatched his legs from Corvin's stunned grasp.   He gave them right back... in the form of a kick to the old man's chest.

The kick sent Corvin flying backward into the metal wall.   Corvin grunted as his head struck the wall, leaving a smear of blood as he slid to the floor.

"HEY!"

Markell jumped back from the gurney as the corpse hopped down to the floor.  Whatever plan of attack or escape was forming in the morgue attendant's mind disintegrated when the corpse spun to face him... and pointed a gun at his chest.

Markell had no idea where the semiautomatic 9mm had come from, but it certainly looked real.

"Hey, now..."  Markell said slowly.  He raised his hands above his head and started to back away from the approaching dead man.  "...hey, let's not do anything-"

Phillips pulled the trigger twice.

The first bullet tore out Markell's throat.  The second bounced off of a rib, nicked his aorta, and then lost itself somewhere in the soupy confines of Markell's chest.   The morgue attendant dropped like a stone.

Phillips calmly turned to Corvin, who was just beginning to regain consciousness.   The instant Corvin's eyes opened, Phillips fired three shots into the old man's face.   Phillips paused... regarding his handiwork.   He smiled.

He then turned to the door and approached it with confident, unhurried strides.   He unbuttoned his shirt as he walked.  His own gunshot wounds were nearly healed... they were just two tiny holes surrounded by tight, puckered flesh, like two tiny mouths on his chest.   Below them was the similarly puckered remnant of a larger wound... a wicked slash across his upper abdomen.   Phillips placed the barrel of his gun against the scar, as if scratching an itch with the hot metal.   He pushed.  Gently.   The gun and the hand that held it slid easily into the flesh-pocket beyond.  When he drew his hand back out, the gun was gone... conveniently concealed inside his own body.

"Coming, doctor,"  said Brandon as he pushed open the morgue doors and stepped out into the hallway.   "...I'll be right there..."

shley hadn't been unconscious.  None of them had.   From the moment they'd stepped into the building, their minds had merely been somewhere else... kidnapped by magic they should have been prepared for.

Yet, awake or not, their return to reality was marked by the same mental sluggishness of someone awakening from a long and very realistic dream.   It took Ashley several slow moments to even begin taking stock of the situation.   She and Sebastian were tied together, sitting in two antique chairs placed back to back in the center of a room.   The light was dim... but there didn't appear to be much to see anyway.

A single length of rope bound both her AND Sebastian, pinning their arms to their sides.   The rope was tight, allowing her only shallow gasps of air.   Anything deeper hurt her chest... and any attempt  to flex her arms would not doubt bruise her ribs.   Hopefully, Sebastian was aware  of their predicament.   He was a lot stronger than she was,  and any prolonged use of his muscles would likely suffocate her.   And a sudden flex would probably... probably not be a good idea.

Jason sat in a chair beside them with his hands tied behind his back.   His coat and weapons were piled in a corner by the door.  He challenged their captors with only a frown and a slight snarl that seemed more worthy of Sebastian than Jason Brooks.

"Don't be too disappointed in yourselves,"  said the tall, well-dressed proprietor of Payne and Coventry Distributors.   Mr. Payne leaned lightly against one of the covered  mirrors and smiled at Jason.  "After all... you WERE outclassed from the very beginning."

"Why don't you untie me and we'll see who outclasses who."

"'Whom.'"  Mr. Payne corrected.   "Who outclasses 'whom.'  See what I mean?... completely out of your league.  Still, you did manage a decent showing.   Quite decent, in fact.   I must say I was almost impressed."

"So what's this been about?"  said Jason.  "You've been leading us up and down the east coast for weeks for what?  Entertainment?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Brook.  Something much more important than that."

"What, then?"

"Why... CAPITALISM, of course!"   Mr. Payne smiled.   The smile reminded Ashley of a rabid dingo she'd seen on the Discovery Channel.   "How can one possibly expect to obtain a good price for goods that are unproven  and untested!   But now that we've  put you through your paces, we're well on the way to one of the most profitable auctions ever."

Payne's smile widened... becoming a toothy grin that was just on the near side of physical impossibility.   Ashley felt the ropes tighten around her chest as Sebastian squirmed.   She grunted at the discomfort.   Sebastian relaxed his muscles, and she could breath again.

"What auction?"  said Jason.

"He still hasn't figured it out,"  said Mr. White.   White was  a short, unctuous man with all the charm of a deranged IRS agent.   His smile was worse than Payne's.... not quite as wide, but much more sinister.   There was something about him that set off all manner of warnings in Ashley's mind.   Every instinct she had told her that it was this man, not Mr. Payne or the hulking figure behind them, that was the more threatening of the three.

"We're the goods,"  said Sebastian.   Ashley tried not to react to his voice... after all, he was tied up and helpless just like she was.   But they'd be free soon enough, and, after all the hell that Payne had put them through, Sebastian was going to unleash a beating on them that they would not soon forget, IF he left them alive to forget it.   Ashley couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"Just like everything else in here,"  Sebastian continued.   "Goods to be bought and sold."

"Sold to WHO."

"To 'whom'"  Payne corrected.  "And you'll find that out soon enough, Mr. Brooks.  YOU are the first item up for bid.   Mr. Pitt, would you be so kind as to-"

"I don't think so,"  Ashley said sternly.   She looked back and forth from Mr. Payne to Mr. White... then she chose her target.

She entered Mr. Payne's mind with all the ease of a freight train.   She was expecting more resistance from him, but she didn't complain when it failed to appear.   She went right to work... seizing his will and bending it to her own.

"Let us go."  She ordered.

"Now why would I do that?"  Payne said curiously.

"You want it the hard way?   Fine-" Ashley plunged deeper, forcing her mind deep into his psyche and then sinking hooks of raw pain into its very foundation.... twisting them in like corkscrews.   Then, properly anchored by sheer force of her will, she pulled out.... ripping the entire mess to shreds as she turned Payne's mind inside out.

"Mmm..." Payne nodded, then turned suddenly to Mr. White.  "You know, I almost felt that!"

"Oh, my,"   White gasped.   Then he smiled.  "She's better than we thought!

"She'll fetch a most excellent price."  Payne turned to smile at Ashley.  "Yes,  indeed she will.   But I'm afraid you'll have to wait your turn.   Mr. Pitt..."

The golem of leather, metal, and sand lumbered across the room toward Jason.

She was already gathering her strength for another attack.  She lashed out at Pitt.

But golem had no mind to seize.   Her mental attack washed over the soulless lump of leather, metal, and sand like water over a stone.  Instantly, Ashley turned her attention to Mr. White.

Payne's assistant smiled at her eagerly.  His malicious sinister air had intensified a thousand fold, as if daring her to try her mental tricks on him.

Ashley decided not to take the dare.

<<DO something, Sebastian!!>>   She sent the words as a mental stab into Sebastian's mind.   She felt Sebastian wince at the sudden intrusion, and then she read the words darting back across his thoughts.

<<I am,>> he replied.

<<What!?!>>

<<Observing.>>

Ashley had no idea what Sebastian could 'observe' when his back was turned, but SHE could 'observe' Mr. Pitt grasping the ropes holding Jason to his chair... and snapping them with a light, almost gentle tug.

Instantly, Brooks leapt from his chair and buried his fist in the golem's abdomen.   The punch landed with a dull 'thunk.'   When the golem failed to double over and fall, Brooks delivered a kick to the monster's knee.  Ashley couldn't tell what Brooks had planned next; he never got the chance to implement it.

The golem grabbed Brooks by the head and lifted him off the floor.  Jason struggled briefly... his hands grabbed the golem's wrist and tore in vain at the leather skin.   But when the monster squeezed... just a little... Jason went still.

"Try not the damage the goods TOO badly, Mr. Pitt,"  said Payne.

Pitt made no audible or visible response.  He just stood there, with Jason Brooks dangling from his fist like a Christmas tree ornament.   If he relaxed his grip on Jason's head, Ashley couldn't tell.

"Now would be a good time to do something heroic,"  Ashley hissed at Sebastian.

"Like Brooks is doing?"  Sebastian replied calmly.

Mr. Payne checked his watch and frowned slightly.

"Time is wasting.  Come along, Mr. Pitt,"  said Payne.   He walked out of the room.  Pitt followed him.  "Do keep our guests entertained, Mr. White."

"But of course,"  White sneered, his smile finally broadening to match... and then exceed... the overly-wide grin of his employer.   "But of course..."

hen he woke up, the first thing Jason felt was cold.   The room was cold.  HE was cold.  And the large stone table that he lay on was like a block of ice.

Actually it was more like an altar than a table.   Thick ropes tied his arms and legs to huge metal rings protruding from the table.   The ropes were tight.  He couldn't move.   His coat and weapons were still gone... and now, his SHIRT was gone as well.

Staff-torches burned at the four corners of the altar, illuminating the stone and part of the chamber with a harsh orange light.  The light didn't reach the walls... if there were any walls... so he had no idea of the size of the room... if it was a room.  He could have been strapped to a rock in the middle of Stonehenge, for all he knew.  The place was certainly too large to fit inside the building that he and Sebastian had first entered.   The ceiling was too high to see.   The tendrils of smoke from the torches rose into the darkness and vanished high above the altar.  But there were no stars.  No moon.  Nothing existed outside the torchlight but an eerie blackness.

Jason could make out a design on the stone floor.   The complex network of lines and arcane symbols wasn't drawn with ink or blood, but was instead chiseled into the stone itself.  The deep pattern looked like a system of interlocking webs, each one centered around a different spot on the floor.  The largest web radiated from the altar on which Jason lay.

Jason didn't take that as a good sign.

There was a movement just outside the ring of light from the torches.  Jason saw a shadow walking in the near-darkness.   The figure did not approach the altar.  Instead, he traversed the chiseled lines, pausing at irregular intervals to deposit something onto the floor.   Jason watched him for a moment, then turned his eyes elsewhere.

A huge figure that could only have been Mr. Pitt stood quietly at the very edge of the light.   He looked very much like a piece of grotesque furniture: a leather couch brought to life and somehow transformed into the shape of a man.   The shallow depressions that were its eyes stared in the general direction of the other figure... as if waiting for orders.

"...Donovan..."  Brooks whispered.   "Donovan, what's going on?"

Jason wished he could claim surprise at the lack of response, but the ghost had a track record of becoming scarce at the worse possible times.

"Donovan..."

"I'm afraid Mr. Wilde has been... suppressed,"  said the figure walking in the darkness.  It was Payne.   He continued navigating the lines on the floor as he spoke.   He stopped to put something else on the floor.   "Free-range spirits cannot manifest in this place unless I wish it.   He would be of no use to you even if he COULD appear, but I've learned that it's best never to underestimate the dead."

"What have you done to the others?"

"Oh, I haven't done anything yet.   But what I am GOING to do will be of great interest to you Mr. Brooks."

"If you're going to kill me, shut your hole and get on with it."

"Kill?   Oh, no one said anything about killing."

Payne deposited another small object on the floor, then approached the altar.   Jason saw that the man had changed clothes.   He'd traded one expensive tailor-made suit for another, even MORE expensive tailor made suit.   All of his jewelry was gone... replaced by a single gleaming item.   The gold disk hung from his neck by a thick chain, resting lightly on his silk tie.   In the center of the disk, surrounded by concentric circles of other symbols, was the image of an open eye.

"No, there will be no killing here today,"  said Payne.  "In fact, my intention is quite the opposite.   I'm going to do you a favor, Mr. Brooks.   I am going to liberate you!"

"Uh-huh."

"Is that not what you want, Mr. Brooks?   A normal life?   To be free of the fate that your...and I use the term loosely... 'mentor,' has thrust upon you?"

Jason opened his mouth with the full intention of spitting in Payne's face.   But he didn't.

"What do you mean?"  he said instead.

"You know what I mean, Mr. Brooks"  Payne replied.  "You were defrauded.   You accepted a lifetime contract without the full knowledge of the terms... terms that were, in fact, intentionally hidden from you.   THAT is not a proper way of doing business, wouldn't you agree?"

"My mistake," said Brooks.  "I should have asked."

"But you had no opportunity!  No time to ask questions or perform due diligence.  You thought you were helping a dying man, but you were really being set up... becoming the next sucker in a very long line of suckers.   A line that stretches all the way back to the middle ages and beyond."

"And you're going to do something about that,"  Jason said doubtfully.

"Oh yes!  Contracts can be broken, Mr. Brooks.   I can undo the fraud that Mr. Wilde perpetrated against you.   You think I'm going to kill you?  NO... I am going to RETURN your life... your REAL life... to you."

"Just like that, eh?   Snap your fingers and its done... I'm back to regular old Jason Brooks.   No guns.   No auras.  No demons."

"You are correct, sir."

"And how much is this going to cost me?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"I thought you were a businessman.   What do YOU get out of this?"

"MY profit will come from the buyers... not from you."

"Buyers," Jason said suspiciously.  "Buyers of what?"

"Your supposed 'Gifts,' of course.   Do you know how many men or... miscellaneous beings... would like to be what you are?   Do you know how much some of them are willing to pay for even ONE of your abilities?"

"So you're going to auction them off to the highest bidder," said Jason.

"I do deal in enchanted items, Mr. Brooks.  And you must admit that YOU are one HELL of an enchanted item!   You may not think so just yet, but then you haven't yet reached your full potential.  But there are those who appreciate what you have, Mr. Brooks.   I have a roster of qualified buyers already prepared to bid.  The weapon-affinity ALONE will fetch a fortune!   More than enough to repay me for the considerable effort of removing your 'talents'."

"And I don't suppose these buyers will be using my Gifts to kill demons and help people, will they?"

"Don't be silly, Mr. Brooks.  Of course they won't."

"Then there's no deal."

"Ahh, I see."  Looking somewhat disappointed, Mr. Payne stepped back from the altar.  "There's been a misunderstanding."

"Damn right,"  said Brooks.  "I may have gotten stuck with a bad deal, but it's MY deal.  I was chosen for it.   I'm not sure why, but SOMEBODY thinks I've got what it takes to take out mystical whackos like you.   And you know what?... all the stuff you've put us through has started me thinking that they might be right.   So I'm keeping the job, AND the Gifts.  I may not want it, but it wants ME, and I'm not going to betray it by carving it up and auctioning it off for YOUR profit.  No deal, Payne.   No deal."

"An excellent diatribe, Mr. Brooks," said Payne.  "But you've confused the nature of the misunderstanding."

"Oh?"

"Yes.   Somehow you got the impression that the auction required your permission to proceed.   But you will now see, Mr. Brooks...  that it most certainly does not."

r. White paced back and forth in front of them like a tiger eyeing a potential meal.   Ashley met his stare, with one of her own... but so far, White had failed to become intimidated.   He just looked at her with sinister curiosity.

"You have no idea what you are, do you."  He said.   His voice made a statement out of the question, and added an undisguised taint of cruelty.   Ashley probed tentatively at his mind.  The gentle probe was like running naked through a field of giant cacti.   She didn't attempt another.

"How unfortunate that you've wasted all this time trying to be something you're not,"  White continued.  "You could have really developed all that unused potential... like your friend here."

White walked around the pair of chairs until he stood before Sebastian.

"Talk about potential,"  said White.  "Here is a man with NO potential...  no future at all.   And look what he's made of himself.   Not bad for a man with half a soul."

"Half... a soul?"  said Ashley.

"Ignore him,"  said Sebastian.  "He's toying with us."

"Yes, I am, aren't I?"   White smiled.  "That's what I do.  Acquisitions and Appraisals... making sure the merchandise is worthy of sale to our valued customers.   Tell me, did you enjoy my little gauntlet?"

"YOU did all that!"  said Ashley.  "You set us up-"

"From the very beginning,"  said White.  "From before you left Rock Springs.  From the very DAY after Brooks received his Gifts!   When we learned that there was a new, inexperience Knight, we knew that the opportunity was too great to pass up.   And when he encountered the two of you... the opportunity became truly golden.   Three absolutely PRIME specimens!  We had to act quickly, before Brooks became too experienced... too dangerous.   But at the same time, we had to be certain his gifts... and yours... were indeed worthy of sale.  So I devised a little obstacle course to properly appraise your worth.  Every event... every twist... every turn was carefully orchestrated by Payne and Coventry.   And overseen by me, of course.  We watched your efforts with rapt attention.   I think the buyers were quite impressed... despite a rather lackluster performance by Ms. Ricks."

"Lackluster!?"  Ashley objected.

"You seem more concerned with your own delusions of humanity than developing your true potential.  What a shame."

"What potential?"  said Sebastian.   Ashley sensed the suspicion bubbling to the surface of Sebastian's mind.

"Oh, you have no idea just what it is you're sharing this rope with, do you, boy?  Shall I tell you?  What do YOU think, girl...should I let him in on your little secret?   Don't bother answering... the expression on your face tells me to let the poor boy find out the awful truth on his own.   And so I will."

"Don't listen to him, Sebastian,"  Ashley snapped.   "He's crazy."

"Noo, I think Sebastian walks closer to that edge than I do.  After all... he is, quite literally, not all there.   Isn't that right, Sebastian?"

"Pissing him off is really NOT the thing you want to do,"  said Ashley.

Mr. White chuckled.   Then he glanced at his watch.

"This has been fun,"  he said regretfully.   "But I have other business to attend to.  The auction is about to begin... and several rather large transactions are about to take place.   I trust that you two can keep each other company for the time being?"

"Where have you taken Brooks?"  Sebastian growled.

Mr. White just smiled as he turned to leave.   He stopped to gather Sebastian's weapons and Jason's guns... then took them with him, closing the door behind him.   The door locked with a hard, resounding 'clunk' a moment after Mr. White shut it, leaving Sebastian and Ashley alone in the small room.

"What was he talking about?"  Sebastian said slowly.

"You tell me.   What was this 'half a soul' stuff?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Yeah, uh-huh.  Ditto."

"You could just reach into my mind and take whatever you wanted to know."

"Yeah, I could,"  Ashley snapped.  She was hurt not so much by Sebastian's words... but by the fact that she'd been considering doing that very thing.   "But what makes you think you're worth the effort?   And shouldn't you be finding us a way out of here?"

"I am."

"Yeah, you said that earlier, but we're still-"

Suddenly, the ropes binding them together went slack.   Sebastian quickly untangled himself and rushed to the door. He tried the knob, but it wouldn't budge.   He stepped back, kicked the knob off of the door, and then began tweaking the exposed mechanism.

"How-"

"Dislocated my shoulder so I could reach the razor-blade strapped to-"

"Okay, so WHY didn't you do that BEFORE?!"

"Too dangerous.  Freeing myself with them still in the room would have put you in danger.  I would have had no way to protect you."

"I can take care of myself, ya know."

"Good.  Then you won't object to staying here while I go get Brooks."

"Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?"   Ashley pointed at the door.   "We haven't made it out of the room yet."

-CLUNK-

The bolt slid back.   The door came open.

"Oh.  You realize this was waaay, too easy, don't you?"  said Ashley.

"Of course.   It's another trap.   That's why you're staying here."

"So what happens if someone comes back?"

"I thought you said you could take care of yourself?"  Sebastian said sarcastically.  It wasn't the good, funny kind of sarcasm either.  He glanced at her and said "Stay Here."  Then he disappeared down the hall.

"Yeah," said Ashley.  "And since when have I EVER done what YOU said..."

ayne made a gesture that Jason couldn't follow, and the room instantly began to change.   The fire from the torches deepened to an angry red flame dotted with occasional streaks of bright green.   The flames burned higher than before, but, by some trick of Payne's magic, their light actually dimmed.   The small circle of illumination drew in close around the altar... and then exploded outward as more lights appeared beyond the outer ring of darkness.

Payne had placed candles at various places on the chamber floor, using them almost as punctuation marks in the complex design that had been carved into the stone.   And, at Payne's signal, they all ignited at once, each adding its own unique shade of bright reddish-green to the room.

Jason watched as the flames from the candles elongated... each glowing tendril reaching into the air like a snake coaxed from a charmer's basket.   The flames continued to grow, becoming pillars of light in the darkness.   Each candle was no larger than a man's forearm, yet the flames they sprouted were large enough to swallow a man whole.

"The guests are arriving,"   Payne said with pride.   Jason glanced briefly at his smiling face, and then returned his eyes to the candles surrounding the altar.

One by one, their flames began to change.   The flickering streaks of red and orange faded away, leaving nothing but occasional flashes of green amid an undulating cone of faintly yellowish light.  Then, shapes began to appear within the light.   At first they were just oddly colored shadows... but they quickly grew into giant faces, one face hovering each candle.

The first to appear was a man.   His skin was pale; his hair and beard were solid white, but their color was tinted yellow by the candlelight.  Similarly, his sky-blue eyes appeared a sickly greenish color   He had a stern, almost displeased expression .   He nodded at Payne.

"Welcome, Myrden,"  Payne said with a nod.

"I trust this auction will not be a waste of my time, Payne,"  said the flame-image.   The man spoke with a distinct Russian accent.

"It will not, I assure you,"  Payne said with a smile as the second image began to take shape.   The second candle yielded a woman's face.  The woman had passed beyond 'old' long ago, and could now only be classified as ancient.   Her skin was so blotched and wrinkled that it looked as if the slightest breeze would rip it right off of her narrow, delicate skull. Yet, her mane of silver hair fell around her shoulders in a loose style more befitting a young woman. Her eyes were milky orbs, with no sign of pupils or irises.   If the ancient hag could see at all, it was certainly not in any traditional way.

"Herrigan,"  Payne greeted her, placing the emphasis on the final syllable of her name.

"A pleasure, Mr. Payne,"  she returned.  Her voice was a high pitched cackle.  There was no other way to describe it; only the word 'Cackle' did it any sort of justice.

The third and fourth candles both spat forth their images at the same time.   One was a younger man with slick, dark hair swept back from his face and tied in a ponytail.   The solid black lenses if his sunglasses completely hid his eyes.   The other was an androgynous figure with what an eerily perfect face.   Not a single mark or scar tarnished the buyer's face, and every strand of his/her light-colored hair was perfectly arranged, as if by an artist.

"Greetings, Monsieur Payne," he/she said in a voice as ambiguous as his/her face.  The accent was distinctly French.

"Jerska.  Mr. Boyd."

The man in the sunglasses nodded silently.

The final figure to appear was an incredibly thin man with skin the color of chocolate.  He was bald; his leathery dome glistened in the firelight.   The man's deep-set eyes were so bloodshot that they looked like red lanterns beaming out from the confines of his skull.

"Tebish,"   Payne bowed respectfully to the last arrival.  "A pleasure to have you in attendance."
 
"De pleasure is all mine,"  said the final guest.   Jason couldn't quite place Tebish's accent... though it was most certainly some African derivative.   The voice itself was unsettlingly low... like the deep vibration of poorly tuned bass.

"I see you've captured your Knight,"  said Jerska. "As promised."

"You doubted me?"  Payne replied.   "After all these years, you should know that Coventry and Payne always delivers."

"You haven't delivered YET,"  said Jerska.

"And you haven't placed the winning bid,"  Payne said... adding an extra layer of smoothness to his voice to cover the hint of annoyance.  "Yet."

"Can we get on with it,"  said Boyd.   Jason detected no hint of an accent in the man's voice.  This was itself suspicious.  "I've got clients to see."

"Indeed,"  Myrden added.   "We are all very busy, Payne.   Time is money, and some of us do not have the luxury of being immortal."

At the last bit, Tebish chuckled, and Herrigan gave a half-smile... flashing a brief glimpse crooked, rotting teeth.

"I see.  Well, allow me to introduce our... I suppose we should call him a donor!"   Payne stood before the altar and swept his hand over Jason's body like a ringleader unveiling his latest circus acquisition.  "Sir Jason Brooks!  Slayer of demons!  Knight of the Crusade!"

Jerska applauded noisily... seemingly unconcerned that he/she was the only one clapping.

"You realize,"  Jason said dryly.  "That when I get out of here, I'm gonna track you all down one by one.   And when I find you, I'm gonna put so many bullets in you that the maggots in your graves will all die of lead poisoning."

"Oh, BRAVO!" said Jerska, clapping once more. "This one has spirit!"

"...and THAT brings us to our first item,"  said Payne.   He unbuttoned his jacket and reached into the inside pocket.  He retrieved a long, thin box.  Inside it was an unusually sharp and slender knife... a cross between a dagger and a scalpel.   The metal was silver, and what Jason at first mistook for light reflecting off of the blade was actually the knife's own glow.

Payne inspected the blade briefly, then leaned over the altar and placed one hand on Jason's abdomen.

The instant Payne touched him, a voice roared in Jason's head:

"JASON!"

"Donovan!?"

"No time for pleasantries"  said Payne.  He grasped the blade in one hand and raised it high.   "Best to say your goodbyes while you can."

"Donovan, can this guy really do what he says?"

"Xell Bok Ral THRULL!"   Payne chanted.   The knife throbbed with a powerful white light, and began to vibrate in Payne's hand.  The delicate metal almost seemed to be singing as its light brightened exponentially, until it was like a miniature star in Payne's hand.   "...Yil Juxt-Tim Spiritu Sepra!"

"Oh, no..."  Donovan gasped.  "Jason, I recognize this spell!"

"What's he doing!?"

"He's-"

"Krelim Thoor RAE!"   Payne's hand descended in a fierce arc, leaving a trail of white light behind as the blade jerked downward-

-and plunged right into the center of Jason's chest.

"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHH!!"  Jason and Donovan both screamed.   Whatever Donovan was trying to say to him was lost in a storm of pain and convulsions as the glowing knife ripped downward, slicing Jason's flesh.   Every muscle in Jason's body locked tight.  His back clenched, forcing his body to arc upward off of the table... which only drove the blade deeper.  His eyes tried to widen and close at the same time as his cramping tongue spasmed in his mouth.  He had never... NEVER... felt anything like it.  The knife was both white-hot AND searing cold... and it hummed gleefully, terribly, as Payne slid it through Jason's flesh.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAaaa..."   Jason's scream ended in a squeaking gasp when lungs emptied.  Jason found that he could not fill them again... yet his ears were still full of screams.   Not HIS screams.  Donovan's.   The ghost howled into Jason's mind... a rising scream that spiraled upward through unending octaves as the knife continued to cut.   Tears spilled from Jason's eyes, not for his own pain... but for Donovan.

What... what in GOD'S NAME could make Donovan scream like that!?!

Jason looked down at the bloody, glowing knife still tearing at his flesh.... and he shuddered.  He shuddered because of what he saw, AND what he didn't see.

There was no blood.

The blade had just finished a foot-long incision down Jason's chest... an incision that felt four or five inches deep.

But there wasn't a drop of blood.

Instead... pure white light spilled from the wound.  It was as if Jason had a 4000-watt stadium light beaming out of his chest.   The light completely swallowed the glow of Payne's blade.   It blasted up into Payne's face, bathing his features in harsh illumination before shooting up into the darkness like the beam from a searchlight.

Payne's head turned briefly to the side.  Squinting against the light that would have blinded anything human, he smiled at Jason, and then continued his work.  The knife moved again, adding several more inches to the incision.  Then Payne leaned forward slightly.   His other hand appeared briefly in the erupting fountain of light... and then it dove into the wound.

Jason convulsed again Payne's hands reached inside of him.   He felt the knife... cutting... cutting...  the blade would not stop moving... it would not stop slicing and cutting... tearing him apart from the inside.  But why was there no blood!?   Why wasn't he dead or unconscious?   Why was there only light and pain and... and SCREAMING!

And with the shock of pure horror, Jason realized that it was not his BODY that Payne was operating on... is was his SOUL!!!

That realization forced more air into Jason's lungs, and another scream from his throat.

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!"   he howled as Payne's blade continued to poke and prod and slice...

...and then, somewhere inside him, the blade found what it sought.  Jason felt the cut... and another... one more... and finally, something within him came loose with a faint *snap.*

The screaming in Jason's mind... Donovan's screaming... suddenly became a distant echo.  It didn't fade away completely, but it was as if Jason were hearing it from across some great distance.

"HAAAAA!!"   Payne roared as he suddenly leaned back, yanking both hands out of Jason's chest.   One hand held the knife... glowing and completely bloodless.   The other held what looked like a cloud... or some ephemeral creature made of equal parts light, smoke, and cotton candy.   The thing swelled and contracted violently in Payne's grasp, but it apparently had no power to pull itself free.   So it pulsed and throbbed and screamed...

...screamed in a tiny, far-away voice that sounded a lot like Donovan Wilde.

"NOOO!"  Jason gasped.   He tried to sit up, but his bonds still restrained him.  "NO!  DONOVAN!"

"PITT!"  Payne snapped.

Instantly, the golem appeared... pushing a wheeled table into the circle of torchlight.  There were several objects arranged on the table... most of them were containers of some sort.   The largest item was a crystal ball.   Payne dropped the knife onto the table and grabbed the crystal.   He raised it above his head, along with the roiling white cloud he'd just removed from Jason.

"Prisae Kris-Latim EXTE!"   Payne spat.

The entire room shuddered.   It was not a quake, or an explosion... just a brief shudder.   The crystal flashed white... and there was a low humming sound as Donovan's soul began pouring itself into the crystal globe.  THe process was excruciatingly slow... and painful, judging from the high-pitched wails that emanated from the doomed cloud as it slowly vanished into its prison.

"DONOVAAAAAN!!"  Jason cried.  His eyes remained fixed on the crystal... and he could do nothing but whimper as the cloud finally drained into the sphere, filling its once-clear interior and leaving Payne's other hand completely empty.  "...oh, God..."  Jason said weakly.  He collapsed back onto the altar, noticing for the first time that there was no wound on his chest.   No pain... no scars... nothing but a faint tingling sensation where there had once been a flood of light...

...and a spark of raw, jagged emptiness somewhere in his soul.

"...oh, God... Donovan..."

"And NOW,"  Payne announced.   He had turned toward the assembly of buyers and was extending the crystal sphere toward them.  "The first item up for bid:  the soul of Donovan Wilde!   Bidding begins at Four Hundred!"

he hallway stretched on forever in either direction, the off-white walls broken only by large, ornate doors at regular intervals on either side.  There were no windows and no intersecting corridors for as far as Sebastian could see... just the one hallway stretching off into infinity.  The headquarters of Coventry and Payne obviously extended into dimensions other than Earth's...  which would make a methodical search futile.   Brooks could be anywhere.   And the process of searching for him was likely to uncover all manner of traps... none of which Sebastian was equipped to deal with.   He had to find his weapons.  THEN maybe he'd figure something out.

By then, it would probably be too late for Brooks.

Sebastian exhaled deeply, as if the act of breathing would extinguish the doubt growing in his mind.   He was never good at this type of thing... at 'making plans' and 'figuring things out.'   Donovan always did that.  Sebastian just... killed things.   Donovan would tell him what, when, and where to kill, and he'd do it.   He was very good at it, too... but that skill didn't necessarily translate into other areas.   He doubted that it ever would.  That was why he needed Donovan.

Sebastian walked past the never-ending row of doors, eyeing each one with suspicion.  Jason Brooks was behind one of them.  But which one?   Trying them all would take, literally, forever.   And trying the *wrong* ones would undoubtedly unleash some trap with which he was not equipped to deal.

Sebastian shuddered.   He noticed that his throat was dry, and his heart was beating faster than it should have been, givin his current level of exertion.

In other words, he was afraid.

Of?

Of the traps or whatever he might encounter in his search?   No.   He was afraid of... failing.   Payne was right, he was outmatched and outclassed.   Weapons or not, Sebastian wouldn't hesitate to fight any thing at any time.   But this?   Sebastian looked up and down the hallway... eyes glazing over at the infinity of doors.   What if he accidentally unleashed something that got past him... and went on to hurt Ashley or Brooks?  What if he did NOTHING... and just kept walking while Brooks was being slaughtered somewhere behind one of the doors?   And what if there was something he could have done... but didn't... because he didn't know how or where?

"...just give me something I can KILL..."  Sebastian whispered.

But there was nothing.   Nothing moved in the hallway but him.  His other senses told him nothing.   He couldn't hear or smell anything.  In fact, there was a curious ABSENCE of sounds and scents in the air.   Curious... but not useful.  There was nothing that would tell him the location of his weapons, Jason Brooks, or even the exit.

"What would Donovan do?"  he asked himself; thinking back to the dozens of similar situations he'd faced with his father.

What WOULD Donovan do?

Donovan wouldn't look for Brooks.   Donovan would find someone who knew exactly where Brooks was and MAKE them talk.   Or rather, he'd have Sebastian make them talk.

But there wasn't anybody here but him.   Him and Ashley.   Payne was with Brooks.  Pitt was a speechless golem.  And White had disappeared.

So NOW what would Donovan do?   Would he try a door?   If so... which one?   How would he decide?

Sebastian paused before one of the doors.   He put his ear to the door and listened.   He didn't hear anything, but the door was unusually warm.

He decided to move on.

He tried the next door.  The temperature was normal, but he heard a faint snorting sound from the other side.  Ladka Demons.   Nasty.   If Brooks was in there, he was already dead.   Sebastian moved on.

The next door seemed to radiate an uncanny silence and stillness, more so than the hallway itself.   Sebastian tried the knob... it turned almost effortlessly in his grasp.   He stepped to the side, and placed his back against the wall.  He gently pushed the door open.

The hinges creaked...

...but there was no other sound or motion.   Nothing burst through the door to seize him... nothing came to investigate the sound.

Beyond the door was... predictably... a room.   A large room, packed with rows of huge, free-standing metal shelves that reached from the floor to the 60 foot ceiling.   Boxes and crates of every conceivable size jammed the shelves, and the lights in the ceiling were woefully inadequate.  Together, they made it difficult to see much beyond the first row.

Sebastian smiled.

There would most certainly be something in here to kill.

Crouching low, he slipped into the room and let the door close behind him.  He paused to watch the door for a moment, making sure that it didn't disappear... as doors in demonic lairs were known to do.

This one didn't.   At least not yet.

Sebastian was just a few feet away from the first shelf.   On the bottom row was a plain, unmarked cardboard box.  Using his razor-blade, Sebastian sliced it open.... paused to make sure there were no surprises... then reached in.

The box contained a lot of dust... and a charred skull.   It wasn't human... or any animal or demon that Sebastian had encountered before.  He examined it for a moment, paying special attention to the horns and triple rows of small sharp teeth,  then put it back in the box and kept moving.   He didn't open any of the other boxes or crates.  He couldn't open them all in a single lifetime anyway.   Sebastian darted around the corner to the next row.   There, he paused to see how far the warehouse extended.

It was big.   Very, very big.

And there was something gleaming at the far end.

Sebastian ducked onto the next row and started toward the thing he saw... whatever it was.   He sprinted a few yards, stopped, dropped to the floor to listen for signs of pursuit, then leapt to his feet and ran again.   He repeated the cycle several times, until he was so far from his starting point that he couldn't even distinguish it from among the rows of boxes.   He kept going.  The gleam he saw grew larger.   A few yards later, he could see that it was the reflection of light off of some polished surface.   A few yards after that, he could see that the polished surface was a car.

Two cars.

The rows of shelves didn't reach all the way to the far end of the room.  They all stopped a few yards away from the wall, creating an empty space that Coventry and Payne had used to store two vehicles:  A black Corvette with a few bullet holes in it, and a gray 3000GT with a broken mirror.

Sebastian walked over to his car and peeked in through the window.

"Looking for these?"  said Mr. White.

Payne's mysterious assistant had appeared suddenly, standing by the metal shelves.   Sebastian's backpack was slung over one bony shoulder.   Sebastian's swords hung from his belt.   Sebastian's keys dangled from his extended middle finger.

"Where is Brooks."   Sebastian demanded.

"Or perhaps you're wondering what all of this is for,"   White swept his hand across the row of shelves.

"Where is he."  Sebastian sneered.   "Tell me.  Now."

"Or what?  You'll cut me with that razor blade you're hiding in the palm of your hand?"

Sebastian toyed with the blade.

"Wouldn't you be better off using this?"

White snatched one of the swords from his belt and threw it blade-first at Sebastian.  At the first sign of movement, Sebastian launched into a back flip... snatching the sword out of the air an instant before he landed on the gray Mitsubishi's hood.  He twisted to one side and held the sword upright... muscles tense... eyes watching White as he approached.

White dropped the backpack and tossed Sebastian's keys onto the floor.  Then he drew the other sword.

"Where is Brooks,"  Sebastian repeated.  "I'll kill you quickly if you tell me now."

"Brooks, Brooks, Brooks,"  White taunted as he walked lazily around to the front of the car.   "You certainly have a one-track mind.   But I suppose that's to be expected... considering-"

Sebastian saw the movement an instant before it happened.   White's muscles tensed, and then he was leaping... sword swinging in a downward, diagonal arc.   Rather than block the attack, Sebastian did another back flip, landing on top of the car at the same instant that White landed on the hood.   White's sword slashed at Sebastian's feet.   Sebastian blocked and sent his foot hurtling toward White's smiling face.   White dodged to one side.... they both leapt off of the car at the same time.   Swords bounced noisily off of each other in mid air, and the instant Sebastian's feet touched the concrete floor, he spun to block-

-clank!-

With swords crossed between them, Sebastian growled at White.   White smiled back.

"You're good,"  he said.

"You're not," Sebastian replied.

The fighters twisted in opposite directions... separating for an instant before reversing and striking.   They pummeled each other's blades with slashes and blocks, filling the warehouse with the continuous, almost rhythmic CLANG of metal against metal.   White was stronger than he looked, but that meant nothing to Sebastian-

-CLANG!-

A fierce block from White.   Sebastian felt the metal recoil in his grasp.  He spun and struck again, twice in rapid succession-

-CLANK-CLANG!-

Then kicked White squarely in the crotch-

"AGH!"

-while slashing a third time.  White threw himself back at the last moment, managing to keep both his balance AND his head.  Sebastian came at him with a downward slash.   White took the bait.   He slashed at Sebastian's exposed abdomen, but Sebastian's blade moved faster than he expected-

CLANG!

The boy threw an award, but effective block while hooking his foot around White's ankle.  He snatched White's foot from under him, but White still managed to block the killing blow while stumbling backward.

"Heh, heh, heh..."  White chuckled as the circled each other.  "Excellent maneuver."

"Fighting me was a mistake," said Sebastian.  "You'll loose."

"Perhaps."

"And then you'll die."

"Doubtful."

White lunged, intending to draw Sebastian into another round of attacks.  Sebastian backed away... then backed away again as White charged.   Suddenly, the boy spun... making a flashy show of swinging his blade while jamming his elbow straight into White's smiling face.

"ACK!"

White jumped backward... blood pouring from his broken nose.   Sebastian saw an opening... but didn't take it.  He recognized a trap when he saw it.

"First blood to you,"  White said, wiping the blood form his upper lip.

"Its not who spills first that matters... its who spills the most."

"Quite right-"

White came at him with a surprisingly swift series of slashes and hacks... each one hitting harder than the last.  Sebastian blocked them all, and, when he tired of this particular game, he back flipped away... landing on the Corvette's hood.  Predictably, White slashed at his legs.   Also predictably, Sebastian leapt to avoid the strike...  the metal passed under his feet and continued on into the Corvette's windshield, shattering the expensive bulletproof glass.   Sebastian flipped over White's head and landed behind him, attacking an instant BEFORE his feet hit the ground.   Sebastian's blade thrust horizontally, intending to impale White from behind.   But White... didn't dodge... didn't duck... he SLITHERED out of the way, his torso and legs making a sudden undulation that no pure human physiology could reproduce.   Then he twisted... a little too fast and too far... and slashed.

Sebastian, unsurprised by any of this... blocked the attack and backed away.

"Another excellent move,"  said White.   He circled Sebastian.  Sebastian watched him warily.   "I meant what I said earlier... you've done quite well for yourself.   But I suppose you really didn't have a choice, did you?"

"You'll do well to shut up and keep fighting,"  Sebastian hissed.

"After all, its not like you can have a NORMAL life.   Sure, you can hide and pretend... like the girl... but what kind of living is that?   She's certainly not happy.   But you... look at you... you're in heaven, aren't you-"

Sebastian's blade seemed to come from five different directions at once.   White's eyes widened in surprise... but only briefly.  He recovered enough to block and back away, giving ground before the boy's assault.

"-You're ECSTATIC!"   White had to shout over the incessant clang of the weapons.  "Almost ORGASMIC!"

White suddenly switched to the offensive, using his strength to shatter Sebastian's series of attacks and throw the boy off balance.   Now it was Sebastian's turn to block and give ground as White bore down on him.

"You're good,"  White hissed through his unflinching smile.  "because this is ALL that you HAVE!  ALL that you ARE!"

"SHUT UP!"   The clang of Sebastian's blade punctuated his words.   The two fighters paused for almost an instant... and then continued, trading block for blow... blow for block...

"SWORDPLAY!  VIOLENCE!  HATE and DESTRUCTION!"

-CLANK-CLANG!-

"THAT is what you are... THAT is all that you CAN be.... only things that that little spark you call a soul can sustain!"

"ANGER me at your PERIL!"  Sebastian spat.  White's sword had yet to touch him, but the man's words were like daggers in his flesh.

"ANGERRR!!"  White shouted gleefully.  "THAT'S IT!!  ANGER!!!"

-CLANK-

"ANGER and RAGE!"

-CLANG-

"THAT is what you are!  ALL that you are!   Mercy?  Peace!!  LOVE!?!  What are these things to YOU!?"

Sebastian spun and slashed as hard as he could.   White grunted as he blocked, but he kept right on talking-

"THOSE are the divine qualities of the HIGHER self... that portion of the soul that YOU just don't HAVE!"

-CLANG-CLANK!-

"...that you NEVER had!  And Never WILL!!"

-CLANK!-

"And what did DADDY think of THAT, eh?   To HIM, you were a MISTAKE... A MONSTER to be trained and disciplined, not for YOUR sake, but for HIS!   To ease his own GUILT at your very existence!!   And what would BROOKS think, if he knew the truth!?   What would the GIRL-"

"NRRAAAAAGH!"   Sebastian gave a bestial roar as he charged, sword swinging in wicked powerful arcs.  White could have retreated.   The way behind him was clear.... but instead, he stood his ground, barely managing to block the first few attacks before his mistake was shown to him in full, bloody clarity.

Sebastian battered his way past White's blocks with blows that fell like sledgehammers.   White backed away, not in fear or retreat, but PUSHED back by the shear force of Sebastian's fury.  And every step White took only shoveled more fuel onto the boy's rage.   Sebastian's blade came from everywhere at once... raining down upon White.  The tip of Sebastian's sword struck a glancing blow... shattering White's forearm and sending White's blade tumbling from his grasp.

The blade never touched the floor.

It was clutched in Sebastian's grasp before gravity even knew it was free to claim.  Sebastian slashed with both weapons.  White jumped backward... torso contorting in odd ways to avoid the vicious double-slash.   The boy let the attack's momentum carry him around into a spin...a spin that he suddenly reversed, coming back around and lashing out as White's gasped in surprise

The first blade missed its mark by a hair, but the second bisected White's abdomen across an imaginary centerline... slashing deep, and sending several loops of intestines splattering across the concrete.

White's entire body convulsed as it flew backward, throw against the shelves by the force of Sebastian's blow.

"AAGGHT!"   White spat as he slammed into the metal shelf.  His one good hand clutched at his gut, trying to hold back  the flood of organs seeking open air through the fatal wound.   He transfixed Sebastian with wide, staring eyes.

"Brooks,"  Sebastian said through clenched teeth.  "Tell me-"

White tried to laugh... but the nascent chuckle only sent a spurt of blood and a clot of... something... slipping past his fingers.   He sighed instead... then slowly slid to the floor.

White grabbed one of the boxes as he fell.   The box toppled from the shelf spilled a pile of dust and bones at White's feet.   White landed beside them... leaning back against the shelf as more blood spurted out from between his fingers.

"...round one..."  he hissed.  "...goes to the man with half a soul.  Now... round two..."

White made a gesture, and suddenly the pile of dust rose into the air as if caught in a miniature whirlwind.   Bones lifted up from the floor and assembled themselves amid the storm... a storm which began to deposit flesh upon the bones even before the assembly was done.   When the whirlwind finally died, there were no bones and no dust... but in there place was a skinless, gorilla-shaped monster with the wide, toothy grin of a half-starved shark.

The thing attacked immediately, executing a horizontal leap that launched it toward Sebastian like a cannonball.   The monster had no claws, but serrated protrusions of bone ran along the length of its fingers.   Sebastian avoided them easily, dancing to one side and slashing at the demon's back.   The creature's blood was purple.   And it apparently didn't like being hit in the back.  The thing spun and lashed out with a back-hand strike that would have flayed the skin right off of Sebastian's flesh.  Sebastian ducked, then rose with an upward strike, driving his sword into the demon's chest, entering under the ribcage.   Sebastian had never seen this type of demon before.   But it was shaped like a man, so he guessed that its vital organs were kept in the same general location.  He guessed right.   The demon grunted... coughed up mouthful of purplish-green blood, then toppled...

Sebastian turned toward the sounds before he even realized he was hearing them.  The hissing rush of air... the sound of boxes hitting the floor... the sound of Mr. White's footsteps as he staggered along shelf, yanking down every box he came to.  And when each box hit the floor, it spawned a whirlwind of dust and bones... and each new whirlwind spat forth a demon more grotesque than the last.   Some of them were familiar... but most were not.  None of them were smaller than a man, and some were several times larger.   All of them were deadly.   And as White made his way down the shelves, dumping box after box, each new howling, growling, snarling THING was joined by another... and another... and another...

Retreat.

Run.

Sebastian knew that was the only smart thing to do.   There were too many of them.   A small ARMY of them, with more appearing every second.  He should turn and run like hell itself was after him... because it was.

But rage still boiled like fire in his veins.  He glanced down at the demon he's just killed, its body already dissolving at his feet.

Dead.

With so many more left to kill.

The crowd of demons exploded outward like debris from a bomb, unleashing a collection of sharp and angry shapes... all running, leaping, galloping, slithering and oozing toward him.

Sebastian snatched his sword from the demon's dissolving corpse and charged into the fray.

t only took a few minutes for Ashley to realize the futility of searching door to door.  The energy she was sensing... plus the fact that the hallway seemed to go on forever... meant that there were probably an infinite number of doors, and/or that most of them would open onto something rather nasty.

Fortunately, she had other means at her disposal.

Ashley sat down in the middle of the floor and closed her eyes.   She considered the danger of what she was about to attempt... but it was probably no more dangerous than what Sebastian was doing.

Probably.

She opened her mind and expanded her senses outward.   She could see and hear nothing around her... but that didn't phase her.   Those weren't the sense she was using.   She sent out a tiny wave of awareness... seeking out the unmistakable vibrations of her friends.   She liked to think of it as something akin to sonar.   If anything living were close by, she would find it...

-ping-

Sebastian.   She didn't look into his mind, she just recognized it and moved on-

-ping-

Mr. White.   The merest brush with his mind send ice-cold needles running down her back.  The only impression she got was that he was near Sebastian.   Good.   She wanted to jump into Sebastian's mind and watch, but she wasn't doing this for cheap entertainment.   She moved on-

Her mind touched a lot of unpleasant things... most of which were hiding behind the various doors.   It occurred to her that Jason's resistance would make him difficult to find, but-

-ping-

Mr. Payne.

And Jason would be right there with him.

She got a general fix on Payne's location, then reached out for Sebastian-

-but suddenly there were a lot of OTHER minds surrounding Sebastian and Mr. White.   Non-human minds.  Minds that pushed back rather forcefully when she tried to touch them.

Demons.  Lots of very ugly demons.

Sebastian was obviously very busy at the moment.  His emotions didn't seem to register any fear, however, so that probably meant he had things under control.

Ashley opened her eyes and blinked a few times to clear her head.   It took a few seconds for the dizziness to fade.   When it did, she stood and started down the hallway.   With Sebastian doin his thing elsewhere, she would just have to handle this herself.

"Don't worry, Jason... help's on the way."
 

is own death seemed like only a distant and unimportant possibility, as if the fact that he might not survive the fight was only a half-noticed footnote to the fight itself.   Sebastian's only thoughts as the horde of demons reached him...

...was which ones he was going to kill first.

Some of the creatures were of a type he had faced before.  He knew what they were capable of, and he knew the most efficient way(s) to dispatch them.   He had to get these out of the way with first and level the odds before he took on the unknowns.   Sebastian picked out the first monster to die, and veered to intercept it.

Sebastian impaled the first creature he came to, while slashing to the right with his remaining sword.   The side-slash removed the claws... and hands... of some humanoid thing that made irritating howling noises as it walked.   Instantly, he spun around-

Both swords met in a giant 'V', with another demon's head caught between them.  A powerful jerk of his arms sent the creature's head tumbling to the floor amid a spray of watery pink goo.

Sebastian's heard something roar.   He ducked and sliced the knees out from under the attacking creature, then spun out of the way before the thing could fall upon him.   But that hadn't been the thing he heard roaring.   Thing?  Things...

Two baboon-like demons leapt over the falling corpse, claws extended for Sebastian's throat.   Sebastian's blades lashed out in vertical arcs, and the demon's entrails rained down on him an instant before their twitching corpses hit the floor.

Claws racked down Sebastian's back.

"AAAAAARRGH!"

He whirled and slashed...  not even seeing enough of the creature to recognize it before its snarling vanished in a spray of its own blood.   Sebastian quickly jerked to one side.  Something darted past him.  Sebastian ignored it and launched himself at the rotting, skeletal figure lurching toward him from another direction.   The skeleton's jaws parted, and it spat a spray of poison... that missed Sebastian entirely a mere instant before the boy's blade shattered the rotting skull.   Sebastian thrust one blade backward, into the abdomen of something he didn't bother to look at, then quickly spun and...

...his eyes caught a glimpse of something, and then there was a brief hissing sound.  Instantly, Sebastian raised his arm to shield his face as two six-inch spikes flew at him... launched from the hide of a demon resembling a cross between a cobra and a porcupine.

Both the spikes caught Sebastian in the forearm; they would have taken his eyes if his arm hadn't been in the way.   That was how the creature attacked... the spikes weren't poisonous, but it launched them with deadly accuracy.

But it wasn't the ONLY one.

Sebastian grunted as he flung one of his swords... the weapon traveled in a straight line from his fingertips to the spine-demon's neck, striking so hard that it nearly tore the creature's head clean off.   He then yanked one of the spines from his arm and jammed it into the eye of another roaring-baboon-thing.   The creature's roar became a squeal of pain as it scrambled away, leaking gore from its pierced eye-socket.   Sebastian didn't bother killing it.   There were too many other demons closing in.

Sebastian ran for the nearest metal shelf... clearing the way by slicing down anything too stupid or slow to remove itself from his path.   The instant his hand touched the metal, he began to climb.

About thirty demons gathered around the shelf and started up after him.   Something slimy wrapped around Sebastian's arm, just above the wrist...

...the prehensile tongue of some frog-like thing that was following him up.   Sebastian grabbed the thing's tongue and yanked the beast up... while jamming his blade down into its approaching face, right between the eyes.   The thing gurgled as it fell... its fat, bulbous body knocking down several other demons on its way to the floor.   Sebastian went up another couple of shelves... allowing the throng of demons to crowd around below him.  The larger, faster, and more dangerous creatures were right up front... exactly where he wanted them.  They grabbed the metal shelf and began shaking it... boxes and some of the climbing demons fell to the floor.

Sebastian crouched down and threw himself into the air.   He flipped over their heads and landed at the rear of the demonic menagerie... right next to the corpse of the spine demon... the corpse that still had his other sword protruding from its throat.   Sebastian reclaimed the weapon and instantly tore into army of demons, cutting down the slower, weaker creatures with the efficiency of a high-speed blender.   Blood and gore sprayed back into his Sebastian's face as he killed them... one after another... two at a time... however they came to him, THAT was how they died.   The boy's muscles burned with the effort of keeping his blades constantly moving... constantly slaying thing after monstrous thing.  And each hideous thing that fell made the slaying of its brothers that much easier.  So the swords struck faster.  The blood flowed like fountains from their gnarled bodies as he cut them down.   His heart pumped fire in his veins, fire that burned with fury... fury at the pitiful creatures that Mr. White had DARED place before him... fury at the world that had dared to even PRODUCE such monsters... and unquenchable rage at the words that Mr. White had tried do wound him with...

Words that became more true with every swing of the blade.

He WAS only half a man.   He HAD no place in this world, other than what he did this very moment.   He knew nothing of the world that Brooks and Ashley lived in... HIS was the realm of monsters and rage... a place where he used the second to slay the first.   He would never have what they had.  He was a killer, and that was all he would ever be.  All he COULD ever be.

And he liked it.  He embraced it.   He excelled at it.

Let the others have their normal lives.   HE would take the feel of steel ripping through flesh... the sound of bones shattering before his blades... the squeal of death in an inhuman throat.... he would take these things over 'normal' life ANY time.   ANY place.

"YAAAAAARRRRRGGGH!"   Sebastian roared as his blades came down in an a double-arc across some lumbering thing's chest, unleashing a shower of sparks, blood, and bits of flesh.   The thing inhaled sharply through its three, tooth-filled mouths as it backed away... leaving a trail of its own internal organs behind it as it staggered... stumbled... and finally fell.

Sebastian spun to face the next... next...

...next?

Demons lay around him like sides of slaughtered beef in a butchery.   He'd killed them all.   The last few minutes of combat were a bloody blur, filled with screams, squeals, and the sounds of his swords.   The bodies that hadn't dissolved yet amounted to nearly forty.  There were perhaps an equal number of bubbling, hissing puddles of goo... remnants of the rest of Mr. White's horde.   The air stank from their rapid discomposure.

But there was no sign of Mr. White himself.   The shelves were still filled with boxes... plenty more demons for White to unleash.   But he had either succumbed to his injuries before reaching them, or had made his escape during the slaughter.

Sebastian's mind was a blank for a few moments as the anger and bloodlust faded.  Then he remembered... Brooks.

He needed to find White in order to save Brooks.   But White could be anywhere.   Or dead.

The needling twinges of doubt began creeping into the edges of his mind.

What if he was too late?   What if the fight with the demons was only a trap to delay him while...

Sebastian swallowed nervously.   He'd done the wrong thing.   He shouldn't have fought.  Brooks and Ashley could be dead now... and it would be his fault.

And yet... when Sebastian looked down at the gore dripping from his swords... he couldn't help but smile.

A sudden clapping sound snatched the smile from his lips.   Sebastian turned-

-and there was White.   He stood in the long, wide corridor that ran between the shelves in the middle of the warehouse.  He was clapping slowly, grinning like a fool.

A dead fool.

There was no more blood oozing from his abdominal wound... not because the wound had healed, but because there was no more blood left in him.  Brilliant splashes of it decorated the floor and shelves where White had unleashed his monsters earlier.   Now there was no more left within him.   His skin was pale, and it hung loosely from his bones... more like a suite of oversized clothes than skin.

"BRAVO!"  Mr. White said.  His voice sparkled with life... despite the fact that he was a walking corpse.  "VERY good show!   Now that WAS impressive!   Do you see now?   Do you see?   Unlike the girl, you have embraced what you are!  And LOOK what you've made of yourself!"

White swept both arms out to his sides, indicating the field of demonic corpses that Sebastian's rage had left behind.

"MOST impressive!  It would almost be a shame to auction away all of that skill!"

"You've been testing me again."

"Of course!!  What did you THINK!?!"

"I obviously passed,"  said Sebastian.  "So is this the part where you ask me to join you?"

"Well..."  White said slowly.  "Are you open to an offer?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

"Tell me where Brooks is-"

"Or what?  You'll kill me?  Don't be silly."

White smiled... stretching his grin literally from ear to ear.

"You're not human,"  said Sebastian.  He clutched his sword tightly as he walked in a slow arc... back and forth before the grinning Mr. White.   He studied the thing... trying to figure out exactly what it was, and how best to kill it...

"Human?"  said Mr. White.  "Not even close."

"You don't think I can kill you."

"Oh, you most certainly cannot."

"Immortal?"

"No,"  said White.  He reached up and scratched the side of his grinning, loose-fitting face.   "I'm simply... very much... out of your league..."   His fingers pinched the skin and tore it away... the single tear became a jagged seam that split open with a wet sound, ripping White's outer form down the front.   Skin and hair and clothes and muscles fell away like a full-body mask... revealing the indecipherable shape underneath.

Sebastian had no idea what it was... it looked like a solid column of white stone, crisscrossed with dozens of tiny cracks or seams.   But once the "Mr. White" skin fell away, the column shuddered and began to expand..

...the seams yawned open as the thing literally UNFOLDED itself.   Huge wings burst from the rear and stretched outward, brushing the shelves several yards away as a long, serpentine tail unfurled down the length of the warehouse.   The monstrous scaled chest inflated to its full size with the drawing of a single breath, and the predatory head lifted free and extended upward atop a short, but incredibly muscular neck.   Limbs the size of tree-trunks flexed and bulged as the incredible white dragon rose before Sebastian... looking down at him with fiercely glowing eyes, and smiling with a tooth-filled snout the size of a large automobile.

"AHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!"  The dragon roared.... flames flickering ominously within the dark tunnels of its nostrils.  "That's MUCH better!"

"Dragon," Sebastian spat... mentally kicking himself for not realizing it before, AND for wishing that Donovan were here to help him.

"Very observant!"   The dragon's head descended toward Sebastian.   Its lips peeled back to reveal its teeth, most of which were larger than Sebastian's swords.   "You've won the first two rounds, boy... but now let us see just how good you AREN'T!"

The jaws parted, and the beast exhaled a monstrous jet of orange flame right at Sebastian...

[To Be Continued]

copyright 2005 by Dark Icon Entertainment