Blood Feud

Part Two: Violation

"here's blood on the waves." Stuart Boroughs made the solemn pronouncement from the doorway of Captain Baker's quarters. "The ocean's turned red all around us. I think... I think there's something in the hold."

Baker stared back at his second mate. He wasn't completely silent. The captain's teeth made an ungentle 'krr-krr-krr' as he ground them together. He glared evilly at Boroughs.

"Untie me, you fool," Baker demanded.

Boroughs made a quick glance behind him. Baker could tell there were men gathered outside, but he couldn't tell who or how many. There was a shuffle of motion, a general grumble of agreement, and then the second mate produced a rusty knife from his belt. He approached the captain's bed and began sawing at the lengths of rope that were holding his commanding officer in place.

"I'm sorry," Borough's muttered. "I'm sorry, Captain"

"Where's Anderson?" Baker growled.

"He went... I don't know," the mate replied.

"You know," Baker snapped as the first and largest rope came free. The captain of the merchant ship Winter Moon sat up and immediately wrapped his hard, rough hands around his second mate's throat. He yanked Boroughs toward him and forced the man's chin upward. He examined the frightened man's neck.

"Mmmhmm..." Baker nodded and released his second mate, shoving him back toward the doorway. He untied the rest of the ropes himself. "I told you fools..." he spat at the small crowed outside. "...I told you there was something evil on this ship. On MY ship! I saw it with my own eyes. Tried to WARN ya! But no... no, you had to go and listen to that traitorous dog Anderson. He told you I was CRAZY! Where is he NOW, eh?"

"A couple a' men went to check the passengers," said one of the sailors. "When they didn't come back, Anderson went down into the hold-"

"And he didn't come back," Baker finished.

"Worse," said Boroughs.

Baker frowned at them. There didn't seem to be very many men outside...

"Where are the others?"

"That's what I'm tellin' ya," said Boroughs. "Anderson, he... he kept takin men down below. To help him with something, he said. Two or three at a time they'd go down... Anderson would come back alone. He'd ask for more men, and they'd go down, too. Only nobody ever came back up but Anderson."

"We saw blood on his pants," another sailor added.

"We grabbed 'im!" said another.

"Was he marked? On his neck?" Baker drew a dirty finger along his jugular. "Here?"

"No," said Boroughs. "But his eyes! He had the devil in those eyes, sir! We all saw it! I tried to stop them, but!"

"What did you do!?"

"There was blood on his clothes, but he wasn't hurt!" one young sailor cried. "Why would he have BLOOD on his clothes if he wasn't hurt!?"

"What did you DO!?"

"And his eyes!"

"He was talkin' crazy! About gods and... and his new master! He was MAD!"

"His EYES!"

Everyone was shouting at once now. Everyone.

But there weren't enough voices. How many men were standing out there? How many men were LEFT?!

"There's WITCHERY down below, I tell ya!"

"His EYES!"

"...blood on his clothes!..."

"QUIET!" Baker snapped. The voices stopped.

"What happened to Anderson. What did you do to him?"

"What we did to him isn't what happened to him-" Boroughs began.

"Did ye kill him?"

Silence.

"Good," Baker nodded. "Saves me the trouble."

"But the hold! The passengers!"

"We hear things down there. But I ain't goin! I ain't goin down there, I tell ya!"

"Shut up. And you'll go where I tell ya." Captain Baker reached for his sword. He strapped on his belt and slid the weapon into its scabbard. "There's evil on this vessel. How many men do we have to fight it?"

The small crowd moved back from the doorway as Baker stepped out of his quarters.

"How m-" The question stuck in the captain's throat like a poorly swallowed chicken bone.

There were eight men left. Out of a crew of thirty.

"What the hell?"

"Wisterson left. Him and three men took their chances in the little boat. Left us with no way off."

"And the others?"

"Down. With Anderson."

"...Anderson was wearin' their blood when he came back..."

"Wisterson said the ship was cursed!" one of the older sailors elbowed his way to the captain's side. "I say he's right!"

"And I say it's not the kind of curse that can't be fixed up proper by puttin' blade to throat. And the throat we need is down in that hold."

"What did you see, cap'n?" said the old sailor. "You said you saw it come aboard... was it a sea-demon?"

"It walked like a man..." said Baker. "...only it wasn't. When the swordsman jumped overboard, I knew it was a bad sign. Something must have followed his corpse back to the ship.... hungry for more."

"What was it?"

"Let's find out."

Captain Baker strode boldly toward the hatch to the great cabin, where the Winter Moon's paying passengers slept. Below the main deck, ten families were making the eight-week trip across the Atlantic cramped into a space big enough for five or six. On a good day, the stench rising from the hatch would be ripe, but not overpowering.

But this was not a good day.

It was a very, very bad one.

The smell that greeted Captain Baker as he approached the hold wasn't the musk of too many bodies occupying too little space... but the acrid bite of blood.

Lots of blood.

So much that it was seeping through the seams, cracks and crevices in the hull and staining the water around them a dark brownish red.

Baker stood at the edge of the hatch, and the men gathered behind him.

"I'm not goin' down there," said Boroughs.

"Well I am," said Baker. "And I'm yer captain... so if I say yer comin' with me, then yer comin or you'll be joinin' Anderson in the deep blue. There's evil on my ship, gentlemen. I saw it come aboard. I saw it kill Willows and drag that other fella overboard... but you dogs locked me up when I tried to warn ya. So now you owe me. Either we go down there and kill it with me... or you finish the mutiny that Anderson started and kill me right now. But THEN what are ye gonna do? Bring this ship ta port by yourselves? With that thing in the hold? Then what? What if it gets out on land? Eh? What if that's what it WANTS us to do? Any o' you dogs got any answers ta that?"

A few men grumbled, but no words came.

"Then grab whatever weapons ya got."

The men armed themselves with knives, lengths of wood, and just about anything else they could find.

"Will this kill it?" Boroughs asked. He held up a long, rusty knife that looked like it had already killed several unpleasant things... some of them, recently.

"How should I know?" the captain replied. "But I know its afraid of us. Why else would it have Anderson bring ye down two at a time? If it wasn't scared... if it couldn't be hurt and killed... then it woulda come up here and taken ye all at once. Now lets go."

Captain Baker pulled the hatch open.

The stench that leapt out at them sent the men stumbling backward with hands and arms thrust across their weeping faces.

"Gah!" The captain took a deep breath in through his mouth and drew his sword. He tried to speak to the others, but all he could manage was a watery-eyed grunt. He waved his weapon at the hatch, and then marched forward.

Behind him, the men coughed a few prayers and watched their captain disappear down the wooden steps into the main hold.

Boroughs was the first to follow. He paused to look back, and the others fell in line behind him.

"It's tight down here," Baker grumbled. "Watch how ye swing those weapons."

When it was empty, the great cabin seemed abundantly spacious... but once it was packed with families and their belongings, the walls of the 25 by 20 foot room closed in like a sealed tomb. The flickering light of a single wall-hung lamp cast an orange glow over the chamber... turning the ghastly sight that greeted Baker into a vision of hell itself.

The passengers were dead. Their bodies were strew across the cabin floor; most had had their throats slit with varying degrees of savagery. Some looked as if they'd been mauled, torn open and half-consumed by some hungry beast. The missing members of Baker's crew were present as well, but theirs was a fate worse than what had befallen the passengers.

The missing crewmen dangled upside down from the cabin's ceiling, suspended by ropes tied to the wooden crossbeams. Their torsos and extremities had been slashed with long, deep cuts... deep enough for the blood to flow freely, but not so deep that death would be immediate. Instead, they were slowly bleeding to death... their blood drizzling out of them in a thick crimson rain.

Most of them were still alive. Several faces turned to regard Baker with giddy smiles and gleaming, jubilant eyes.

"...ehhnnn..." one of the dangling crewmen reached out to Baker. The man's face was coated with his own blood, which drained from a series of slashes across his chest. The arrangement of the marks was similar to a single swipe from a clawed hand. "Captain! He was right! It IS wonderful! Join us..."

"...join us..." another man moaned.

"My God in heaven," Boroughs gasped as he came up behind Baker. He took a quick step back, but the rest of the crew was blocking his retreat. "Wh...what is this?"

"It is a baptism," replied a voice from the deeper recesses of the cabin.

Something moved. A man stepped free of the bloody shadows and approached Bates, gliding forward with a slow swaying motion that was almost not a walk at all. His hair was black and unruly... his face, handsome. His eyes were as sharp as the blade clutched in Captain Bates' hand. He was naked, and despite the fact that he was walking through a literal rain of blood, there was not a drop of red on him. Bates quickly saw why. Each falling red droplet vanished immediately into the man's pale skin. He was drinking it... absorbing it not through fangs or claws, but through his very flesh.

"The baptism of a new savior... a new god..." The man stroked one of the suspended crewman. His palm came away bloody, but the blood did not remain long. Bates watched it soak into the man's skin. "...sweet nectar. Have you come to join us, captain?"

"I know you," Bates spat. "Brighton. I saw you go overboard! You jumped!"

"You saw a man a man clawing at the frayed edges of his soul... with nothing to live for but death itself. But it is a new man that stands before you now. I found something in those waves. Or rather... something found me."

"Kill him, sir!" Boroughs growled. He surged forward; Bates held him back...

...but at the same time, Bates subtly motioned for the others to draw close. One flick of his wrist would send them sprinting along the sides of the cabin, surrounding Brighton and closing in from all sides.

"What monster have you brought back from the depths, Brighton? Did you offer it my crew in exchange for your life?"

"I offered her myself!" Brighton hissed. "And... glory of glories... she accepted! I embraced the darkness, and she embraced me! Changed me! I brought her here and she feasted upon your cargo. She would have taken you all, but she spared you for my sake. Spared you because I was not ready... not yet strong enough."

"Strong enough for what?"

"To be her emissary in the new world. Her kingdom will be absolute. I will build it. And I will rule it. But first, this flesh must be sanctified. Baptized. In blood." Brighton leaned his head back and stretched out his arms... bathing in the blood of Bates's crew. "...ahh, I can feel it. I can feel my flesh changing... my weaknesses burning away. Soon this body will be transformed." Bates lowered his face and fixed Captain Bates in his gaze. "You will bow before me now, and offer yourself and your crew as my final sacrifices."

"I think not."

Brighton frowned. Clearly, he had been expecting something else.

"A defiant mind. At my full strength, not even you will be able to resist me-"

"I've heard enough," said Bates. With a snap of his fingers, Bates motioned for the attack. The battle cry resounded across the tiny room as Captain Bates charged-

Brighton's razor-sharp gaze darted from the captain's face to his second mate's. Bates heard a gasp from Boroughs, and then a scream. He glanced behind him and saw that Boroughs had slashed his rusty sword across a fellow sailor's abdomen, slicing him open like a melon. The man standing immediately to his left turned to look... and caught Boroughs' blade across the throat. By that time, two others charged the second mate and drove him screaming to the bloody floor.

"BEWARE HIS EYES!" Bates shouted as he turned and continued his charge. One of the sailors had darted around him, and was charging Brighton even as Bates shouted. Brighton turned to catch the sailor's eyes, but the man looked away at the last instant-

-and drove his dagger into Brighton's gut. Bates was right behind him. With a crowd of sailors clustering around him, there wasn't enough room to use a sword effectively, but Bates managed a deep gash to the chest. A hand appeared on Brighton's forehead. Another sailor had caught him from behind. He yanked the monster's head back and ran his knife deep across Brighton's throat. Bates saw Brighton's flesh split open. Black blood oozed...

Brighton went limp in the sailor's grasp... but the monster was smiling.

"CUT HIS HEAD OFF!" Bates demanded. "Cut it off and we'll BURN it!"

The knife came up and around again, cutting deeper.

"SAW IT OFF-"

The monster's eyes gleamed.

Bates spun and ducked as one of his own men attacked him. He drove his fist into the sailor's gut. The man went down, but now another sailor was screaming.

"DON'T LOOK AT HIS EYES!" Bates ordered.

The scream ended suddenly. There was a loud crack, and then a wet, dripping, splattering sound. Bates turned and saw Brighton holding a sailor's headless corpse by the shoulders. Brighton's face was bathing in the blood as it spurted from the torn stump.

"...glglglssss..." the monster gurgled with glee. Around him, Bate's remaining sailors were fighting each other. Some were enchanted by the monster's gaze, the others merely trying to defend themselves.

It was hopeless.

Bates watched as Brighton calmly sidestepped one sailor and grabbed his opponent by the arm. With a simple twist, he tore the limb free of its joint.

-Pop!-

"GOD DAMN YOU!"

Bates charged. His blade bit a large, bloody chunk from Brighton's neck, but Brighton swing his fist in a short arc, catching Bates on the side of the head. The blow sent the captain hurtling sideways. The room became deep red blur, and then faded completely out-

-seconds later, Bates opened his eyes.

Brighton stood in the center of the room, using both hands to smear fresh blood over his face and chest. The crew was dead... torn to pieces by something that was no longer human. As the blood soaked into Brighton's skin, Bates saw the man begin to change. His flesh was darkening... his muscles rippling and twisting. Once-human hands now sported a black claw on each fingertip. The men suspended from the ceiling were using their final breaths to serenade their master in a mad chorus of giggling insanity.

"Yesss..." Brighton hissed. "It is time! It is TIME! Captain..." Brighton turned to face him. "...how far to the new world?"

The vampires eyes glowed with a fierce light that clawed at Bates' soul.

"You'll never see it!" Bates spat. The captain leapt to his feet and sprang for the hatch. "I'll WRECK THE SHIP first! I'll dash us against the rocks!"

He could hear the thing that was Brighton moving behind him, but Bates ran with the speed of desperation. He'd led his crew into a slaughter, but he wasn't going to deliver this evil to the colonies. He hauled himself onto the deck and swung the hatch closed. Instantly, the hatch jerked upward against his hands. Brighton pushed again... harder. The hatch started to open.

"NRRRGH!" Bates leaned against it with all his weight. The monster was stronger, but it lacked leverage. The hatch fell closed.

"You'll Never See the New World!" Bates screamed. "NEVER!"

"You don't have the power to stop me," said a voice from the other side of the wooden hatch. The voice was not Brighton's. It wasn't human at all. "And even if YOU did... this pitiful door does not."

"Wha-"

The wood beneath the captain's hands exploded upward in a spray of splinters, blood, and severed fingers.

"A-" Bates inhaled and began his scream... but it ended at the first hint of a sound when a clawed hand reached up and snatched away the front half of his throat. The captain's blood sprayed into the great cabin... bathing the upturned face that peered at him from below. The monster's eyes glowed, but death shielded the captain's mind. Bates died free... his final thought was of the colonies and the monster that the waves would soon deliver upon them. His lips quivered as if to call out a warning, but the warning died as a breathless whisper on his lips...

"...R-roanoke..."

he broken shards of bone that composed Jason's left hip were pulling themselves back together, tearing and gouging their way through already tortured muscle and sinew to find their proper place.

It hurt like a sonofabitch.

And, most importantly, it was taking way too long.

"ARRGH-" Jason drew himself up, maintaining his semi-crouched position with his other three limbs while his left leg reassembled itself. Tight spasms radiated outward from his spine in alternating waves of heat, pain, and more pain. It was fading quickly. But not quickly enough.

The metal creature that had nearly crushed him with one half-handed blow was approaching fast. The jumble of jagged steel that was the creature's face seemed fixed on Jason's immobile form... but then again, it was hard to tell.

"Donovan!" Jason growled. The structure of his face shifted toward human to make the syllables pronounceable.

"Good God, what is that thing!?" Donovan's translucent form spoke as it descended.

"I was hoping you could tell me!"

"I have no idea," said Donovan. "I've never seen it before. Describe the aura-"

"...warped... evil..."

"Warped how?"

"Like its trying to be some other shape, but can't make it. And look what it did!" Jason extended his leg. It was a bloody mess, but was significantly less of a mess than it had been twenty seconds ago. "I think its silver!"

"Or magic."

"Whatever it is, it HURTS! See if you can slow that thing down while this heals!"

"Me? How do you expect ME to-"

"You're a ghost... SCARE IT!"

Jason dragged himself off to one side while Donovan hovered into the creature's path.

"STOP!" the ghost shouted, crossing his arms defiantly before him.

"...oh yeah, very scary," said Jason.

The creature stopped.

At first it was just a sudden slowing of its motion, but as the metal behemoth got its own momentum under control, the walking pile of metal ground to a halt six feet in front of the ghost.

But the squeal of grinding metal continued, raising and lowering in pitch until... from somewhere deep within the demon's throat... came a word.

"-nnnoovannnn..."

"wh-what?" Donovan recoiled from the thing that had just spoken his name. "What is this?"

The grinding, metallic squeal faded, then returned in a high-pitched scream.

"ITHURTZZZSsszzz!"

The creature's weight shifted unsteadily, and then it extended one arm toward Donovan. The wicked appendage ended in a cluster of blades that would have been fingers on a human hand. The blades curled upward at Donovan, not in attack but in an almost human gesture of supplication.

"-HELPMEDonovnnn! HELpme! PlEEeaszzz..."

"...My God..." Donovan floated backward, his face a mask of horror.

Then came another metallic sound...

-the sharp clang of a large wrench striking a metal object. It had come from a low concrete and steel platform a short distance away. One of the workmen had hidden himself among the machinery, but the sound of voices had drawn him out. The wrench had fallen from his tool belt. The sound of it landing on the metal grating was like a loud, clear bell.

A dinner bell.

"NNBBLOOD!" The demon bellowed. Its body turned toward the platform in an explosion of motion. It took one step... then another-

Then it was running.

The workman stared wide-eyed and motionless at the THING coming at him like a train.

"THAT MAN!" Donovan pointed at the platform.

"On it!" Jason crouched down, curling his newly-repaired legs underneath him. He felt the muscles fill with unnatural energy. A second passed-

And he sprang. The leap carried him past Donovan and more than half the distance to the demon. His legs folded beneath him as he landed, and he sprang again. The second leap sent him hurtling past the monster. This time Jason landed in a four-legged run. He cut across the demon's path and headed for the platform, where the workman was now frantically searching for a place to hide.

Jason felt the tremendous impacts of the demon's footsteps behind him. It was fast.

Jason was faster. And more agile.

AND he knew what it was that they were both running toward. The platform and its cluster of humming, buzzing machinery was surrounded by a high chain-link fence. The fence had a sign. The sign read "DANGER."

With a third and final leap, Jason sprang over the fence. He landed on two legs, with the rest of his body already transforming into human form... but not completely. One clawed hand came down on the metal cover of the main breaker control panel. Claws sank into thin aluminum like iron into butter. The other hand clasped around the neck of the stunned workman.

"Leave now," Jason hissed with a toothy, sinister grin. "And you never saw anything." Jason released the man's neck, and the workman sped away... screaming. Jason ripped the metal cover away, revealing a scattered arrangement of knobs, switches, dials and blinking lights.

None of them interested Jason. He didn't want to operate the machine... he wanted to STOP it from operating.

In about three seconds.

Two.

One-

With the fleeing workman just now reaching gate, the metal monster crashed through the chain link fence on the other side of the main power substation. The fence didn't even slow the creature down, but it DID fly up into the network of metal bars and conduits that connected the sewer treatment plant's machines to the city's main power grid.

One hundred and fifteen thousand volts alternating at sixty cycles per second went through the fence and into the ground. The cheap metal glowed red hot for an instant... and in the following instant it wasn't there at all. The metal demon felt a fraction of the jolt, but the fault didn't last long enough to affect the demon's relentless charge. The monster wanted the guard, and everything between it and its prey was merely an obstacle to be demolished or swept aside.

In this case, the 'obstacle' consisted of the remainder of the substation equipment-

-All of which was still energized at a very angry one hundred fifteen thousand volts.

The creature plowed through one of the support beams, snapping it in half and shattering the heavy ceramic insulators that kept the energized conductors out of reach. The rigid conductors fell. And all hell broke loose.

The first jolt was a electrical explosion that was roughly the same temperature as the surface of the sun. At the exact center of it was one very surprised demon with a very conductive metal body. It hadn't even felt the earlier fault, but that one had just been a warning shot. This one was the real thing. The creature was now a load connected to the city power grid, which was now lighting its metal hide up like the filament in a light bulb. The air in the substation roared with the buzzing crackle of raw electricity. The glowing carnage lasted a fraction of a second-

-at which time, a small, electromechanical device was supposed to recognize the fault and send a tiny signal to the main disconnect switches. The switches would then open, shutting off the power and ending the catastrophic fault.

Jason Brooks was holding that device in his right hand.

He smiled at it.

On the other side of the city, people regarded their suddenly dimming lights with growing concern. As the monstrous amount of current continued to drag the grid's voltage down, the equipment in the sewer treatment substation began to melt and burn. A hot black cloud that reeked of ozone and burning metal filled the station. Something exploded. It was followed by an even larger explosion that sent specks of plasma and bits of semi-liquid metal spraying in all directions. The surrounding machinery absorbed some of the projectiles... one of which sparked yet another explosion. Meanwhile, the massive electrical fault in the center of the carnage continued to glow like a miniature sun... a sun which threw random bolts of lightning into whatever metal object was unfortunate enough to be nearby. Liquid metal began to rain down onto it from the rapidly disintegrating framework above as...

...everything went suddenly still.

The crackling buzz of electricity gone mad ceased, and the fireball in the heart of the substation decreased in fury by several orders of magnitude. Somewhere, another machine had sensed the 'malfunction' and had stepped in to ensure the safety of the power grid by shutting off power to the sewer treatment plant... and everything around it. Houses and businesses in an approximate five mile radius saw their dim, flickering lights go ominously dark.

The substation was now a burning wreck. Scorched metal and flaming equipment vanished within a blanket of acrid black smoke. Jason coughed uncontrollably as he stumbled out of the cloud, exiting the substation by the main gate... a gate that was too hot to touch and would remain so for almost an hour.

He wiped his red, stinging eyes and coughed out a lung full of black smoke, then turned back to admire his handiwork.

"You like playing with electricity, don't you?" Donovan said in an condemning, 'angry-father' voice.

"Hell yeah," Jason coughed. "Love it. Always have."

Donovan gave the burning substation an incredulous glance, and then shook his head.

"You DO realize that someone is going to have to come and fix all this, don't you?"

"Hey, they'll get paid. I'm just doing my part to help the economy... and help make the world a safer place. If I get to make a few things explode in the process, that's all the better. And if they're really BIG explosions-"

"You're HAPPY! You're HAPPY about this disaster!?"

"Well... yeah!"

"The Jason Brooks that I passed my gifts on to would not be standing here... completely naked... admiring a catastrophe of this magnitude! A catastrophe that he INTENTIONALLY caused-"

"You WANTED me to stop the demon, didn't you?" Jason pointed to the half-melted slug of metal in the center of the substation. It was barely visible through the smoke. "Well, consider it stopped. Stopped rather magnificently, I might add! Damn, I'm good... I should be getting paid for this. Wait... why am I not getting paid for this, Donovan?"

"You have lost your mind."

"Whatever."

"No... I'm quite serious. Goode's curse has changed you. Turned you into something completely alien to who you really are. With him, the personality shifts are slightly more subtle, but you-"

"Just kicked that demon's ass without a single shot fired... and you're complaining!? No wonder Sebastian hates you!"

"Jason, if you still have any kind of control over yourself, I suggest you use it to-"

"Hey, I am in FULL control here!"

"-to find yourself some CLOTHES before the police get here!"

"Po-" Jason paused to listen. There... in the distance... "You heard them before I did?"

"No, but with THIS going on-" Donovan pointed emphatically at the burning substation. "How could they NOT be on the way!?"

"Hey, you think Dobbs is gonna be with 'em?"

"Jason." Donovan folded his ghostly arms across his equally ghostly chest. "...now is not the time. In fact, I do believe its too late."

Two loud, speeding police patrol cars veered onto the road leading to the treatment plant parking lot. Seconds behind them was a string of fire engines and power company vehicles, with a second, larger cluster of police cars bringing up the rear.

And, not far away, Jason could hear helicopters.

"You really did it this time," said Donovan. The ghost was already beginning to fade. "But then, if you're as good as you think you are, you'll find a suitable way to talk your way out of this by yourself"

"Watch me," said Jason. "Hey, where'd that workman go... he looked almost my size..."

shley closed the door slowly behind her, easing it into place with a final, resonating 'click' There was no lock, but that didn't matter. Someone could come in unexpectedly, but unless they shot her on sight they were going to find themselves running naked down main street, wondering what the hell just happened. For a brief, uneasy moment, Ashley felt a pang of guilt. Then she saw the figure laying motionless on the hospital bed. The unwelcome emotion faded... replaced by something else.

He was a pitiful thing. Asleep beneath the tightly-tucked sheets, he almost looked like an orderly or nurse that had slipped into the room to take a quick nap.

But then Ashley saw the stained bulges on the sheet where the casts and bloody bandages were keeping his bones together. And she heard the chorus of hisses and beeps from the machines clustered around his bed. Wires and tubes ran from the machines to his body... some stopped at his skin while others ran deeper. Ashley couldn't tell if the machines were keeping the boy alive or were merely monitoring his condition. Ashley traced the stump of the man's arm through the sheet. It ended abruptly halfway to the elbow. Ashley couldn't tell from this view, but she knew that the limb hadn't merely been cut off... it had been sliced up like lunch meat.

No way they were going to re-attach THAT.

And it looked painful... or, at least it would be if the person attached to it wasn't unconscious. But that was easy enough to fix.

"Paul Jacob Norman," Ashley spoke the name aloud, pronouncing each syllable clearly and frowning at the taste of them. Her thoughts played around the periphery of the unconscious man's mind, probing at the black wall of nothingness that was keeping her out. In theory. Ashley took a short, impatient breath. "Wake up."

Paul Jacob Norman opened his eyes.

The flood of sick, nauseating agony rushed across his mind and swept his thoughts right back into the darkness-

-only to be forcibly dragged back into the light once again. This time, they held fast. He was awake.

For the first few seconds, he was in too much pain to even recognize where he was. Ashley waited for his mind to adjust... and then helped the process along with an ungentle application of her own will. Paul's eyes snapped into focus. He looked up at the ceiling. Then over at her.

"Remember me?" She said calmly.

Paul's eyes widened. He tried to gasp, but the machine attached to the tube in his throat was regulating his breathing. The beeping of the adjacent machine increased sharply in tempo. The bulges beneath the sheet tried to move, but failed.
The beeping continued to accelerate.

"...nnnn...." was the only sound that Paul could make.

"Are you in pain?" Ashley said. "Stupid question... of course you are. Let me fix that-"

Ashley didn't move.

Paul made a curious moaning sound, then went limp on the bed. The noises from the heart monitor slowed to an even tempo... not exactly calm, but not racing headlong into shock either.

"Feel better?"

Paul grunted. His thoughts whispered a wordless 'yesss.'

"Don't get used to it," Ashley continued. "When I leave, the pain comes back. I just wanted your full attention for a few minutes. Do I have it?"

Paul made a small, slow nod.

"You DO remember me, don't you? Or am I just another face to you?"

The nervous, intangible twitching in his thoughts gave Ashley her answer. He remembered.

"I know you're confused," Ashley said. She approached the foot of Paul's bed, but then stopped and glanced back at the door. There was no one there... but for a moment, she could have sworn there had been a stray thought...

"You don't know what's going on," Ashley continued. "Although you've got a pretty good idea why I'm here. You're mostly right."

The machine beside the bed began to beep faster.

"But I'm confused, too..." Ashley paced back and forth at the foot of Paul's bed. Mostly her eyes remained fixed on the floor, with only occasional glances at Paul or the door. "I mean... why me? The club was full of girls, right? Why'd you pick me?"

Paul shuddered.

"What do you mean, you don't know!?" Ashley snapped. She glared at Paul, and he tried to sink into the mattress. "How could you not KNOW!?"

The machine beeped faster still.

"I wasn't the best looking girl there... not even close! So why me? If you were just gonna drug a girl and rape her, you could have picked anybody in there! So why'd you walk into that club and pick ME out?"

Ashley paused and met Paul's eyes with her own.

"Because I was alone," she said. "Because I was sitting there all by myself and I looked vulnerable. Not because I was pretty or... or you thought I looked sexy or... or anything like that. I was vulnerable. That's all I was to you: an opportunity."

Ashley waded through the chattering of Paul's thoughts.

"Oh, don't try to kiss my ass NOW!" She hissed. "I know what you did! I know what you TRIED to do... what you would have done if somebody hadn't stopped you! Now I'm supposed to take compliments from you!? Like your opinion really MATTERS to me!?"

Ashley took a second to calm down. She didn't come all this way just to get angry and loose control.

"You wanna know what's really messed up?" she said after a moment. "I liked you. Just a little. You know... had you been a REAL man and not some sick pervert... who knows...? But no, instead of just TALKING to me, you had to put drugs in my drink. Instead of inviting me back to your place, you had to knock me out and DRAG me like some caveman. Then you... then you put... put your HANDS on me! You were gonna rape me and pass me around to your friends like a... like..."

Ashley realized she was crying again. She turned away to wipe her eyes, then turned suddenly to Paul.

"Don't you DARE think that!" She spat. "Don't you DARE try to apologize to me! You're not sorry! You're sorry you got CAUGHT! What you did to me was... inhuman! It was WRONG! I was walking around all morning thinking that it was all MY fault, but it's not. It's YOU! It's YOUR fault! YOU'RE the one that's so f*&ked up that the only way you can get laid is to DRUG some girl in a club! But when you pick the wrong girl, all of a sudden you're SORRY? No... no, I don't think so. You're not sorry YET, but you're about to be... because getting cut up and thrown out a window doesn't even BEGIN to make up for what you've done! You like to rape unconscious women, Paul? Does that make you feel good? Well how about I make you feel REALLY good... better than you've ever felt in your entire life! Would you like that?"

Paul shook his head. The machine beside the bed beeped a rapid pattern of pure fear.

"You're lying," said Ashley. "You drug and rape women for fun, so how about I just save you the effort? How about I just give you what you want right here... right now...?"

"...nnnn..."

"You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you? Trust me... you'll like it. You ready?

"...nnNN-"

"Hold on... this is gonna be good-"

Ashley's eyelids slammed shut. Her jaw clenched and a deep groan.. almost a growl... rumbled in her throat as, across the room, Paul Norman went into uncontrollable spasms on the bed. Every muscle in his body clenched... some hard enough to tear free of their tendons. Paul screamed into the plastic tube that was feeding air into his throat. His teeth bit into the plastic, and the tube came free, blowing a gust of air across his face. He never felt it. Paul's tongue slid out of the way of his clenching teeth just in time to avoid being bitten off. Paul's face turned red... and then purple as a single monstrous spasm forced his blood pressure to almost fatal levels. Tiny capillaries burst in his skin, and tiny bolt of red lightning oozed across his eyeballs.

"...NNNNNNRRRGG-GG-GG-GG!"

One of Paul's front teeth cracked from the pressure of his jaws. Fresh blood soaked the bandages as stitches popped and wounds re-opened. The machines surrounding Paul's bed wailed and screeched.

"-GH-GH-AAAAAGHHH!"

Then, as suddenly as it began... it stopped.

Ashley opened her eyes and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She smiled. Paul Jacob Norman lay in a puddle of his own sweat and blood. His breaths came in rapid, delicate gasps. Bloodshot eyes stared up at Ashley in disbelief.

"Would you like to know what that was?" Ashley said. Her own voice was weak... but somehow satisfied. "That was every orgasm that either of us has ever had. All at once. Times ten. I hope you liked it... because I've just burnt out the pleasure center of your brain. You'll never feel pleasure again.... Sex. Food. Your favorite song. All gone. Welcome to hell you sick, sorry bastard. Now I COULD erase your memory so you'd forget I was ever here... or that any of this ever happened. But I'm not. I want you to remember. I want you to remember everything. I want it all to be perfectly clear in your mind when you LIE to the cops about what happened. Because if you tell them the truth about last night OR today, I'll come back. And HE'LL come back, too. We'll have a contest to see which one of us can hurt you the most. Would you want that?"

Paul shook his head.

"Then you'd better think up something to tell the police. Make sure it includes a full confession about all the OTHER women you've raped. If it doesn't..."

Ashley scowled.

Paul got the idea.

"Now I'm leaving. Pray that I don't ever see you again."

Ashley spun on her heels and marched to the door. She yanked it open, then paused in the doorway.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot..." Ashley snapped her fingers.

On the hospital bed in the room behind her, Paul Jacob Norman started to scream.

Ashley closed the door gently behind her.

"ooks like you found your monster," Jason said as he approached the rear of Detective Dobbs' car. The car was tucked away beside an idling fire engine, hidden from the hordes of cameras and reporters that had descended on the sewer treatment plant.

"Huh-?" Startled, Dobbs turned. "Oh. You. Why am I not surprised to see you here, Brooks?"

"Because you like me..." Jason walked up to Marilyn, but didn't stop at normal conversational distance. Instead, he slid up next to her so closely that their clothes were touching. He put his hand on her shoulder, then he leaned in and whispered in her ear: "You just don't want to admit it."

"This is a secured area, Brooks," Marilyn took a step away from Brooks and gave him a Stage One Warning Frown. "You're not supposed to be here. How'd you get past the barricades?"

"See that cop right there?" Jason nodded at one of the uniformed officers that was keeping the growing crowd of spectators back. "I saved him from a giant demon hound once. I think he likes me, too. So you bagged your killer robot?"

"Whatever it is," said Dobbs. About fifty yards away, a crane was lifting a hunk of scorched, half-melted metal the size of a large SUV out of the ruined substation. "Looks like it bagged itself. Came up through the main intake and wandered into the substation."

"Is that what the workman said?"

"Mostly. There was at least one other person here, but the description wasn't exactly..."

"Human?"

"Mmm. So how'd you know there was a workman, Brooks?"

"Saw you questioning him."

"Really? That was an hour ago; how long have you be here?"

"I'd say at least an hour." Jason flashed a seductive grin and then winked at the detective.

"And what the hell are you wearing?"

Brooks looked down at his clothes: Army boots, camouflage hunting pants and a black and white checkered flannel shirt. It was the best he could do on extreme short notice, but it wasn't exactly inconspicuous.

"Laundry day?" he said, still smiling.

"Mmmhmmm." Brooks could almost see the wheels in Dobbs's brain turning... making note of his ridiculous appearance and trying to find some connection between his clothes and every crime that had occurred since Kane slew Able. He didn't mind. He didn't mind at all. It meant she was thinking about him.

"So what do you think it is?" he said. "You don't look like you're buying into the whole 'killer robot' thing."

"What it is NOW is evidence."

The crane was now lowering the mysterious metal object onto the back of a flatbed truck. Jason took a moment to study the truck, its driver, and the men standing around it. The auras were reasonably clean, so he diverted his attention to more important matters.

"You smell good," he said, leaning in to sniff Marilyn's hair. It smelled like... hair.

"-as for what it WAS," Dobbs continued. She was ignoring his advance... but she wasn't moving away. That was good. "We'll find out soon enough."

"I vote for terrorists." Both Jason and Marilyn snapped to startled attention. "Especially since we got one standing right here." The fact that James Royce had managed to sneak up on Dobbs was unusual in itself. But sneaking up on Brooks was... damn near impossible. He should have smelled the demon-detective a hundred yards away, but he hadn't. It was as if Royce had simply appeared behind them.

"Where'd YOU come from?" Brooks growled. He studied the slow whirlwind of black that was Royce's aura. It's shape was almost like a human aura... only constructed from bits of charcoal held together with tar and asphalt. Jason noticed that the detective's right arm still had an aura, even though the limb itself was missing.

"I should be askin' you that?" Royce said. He gave Brooks a long look, and kept his distance.

"What's the matter?" said Brooks. "Problem, officer?"

"My partner's hanging out with a dangerous criminal... that's what's the matter."

"Thanks for the concern, Royce," said Dobbs. "Brooks is fine."

"No he's not."

"U scared of something, Royce?"

"Nothing-"

"BOO!" Jason shouted, jerking suddenly toward Royce. Royce recoiled, started and clearly frightened.

"Heh, heh, heh."

"You're acting like a child, Brooks."

"So... do you like younger men?"

"What's gotten into you, Brooks?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're... different."

"Do you like it?"

"Not really," said Dobbs. "Now you're even LESS my type."

"I hate to interrupt this little mating dance you've got going," said Royce. "But they're gonna be ready to haul that thing to the Crime Lab in about ten minutes. If ya can detach yourself from Brooks long enough, ya might wanna ride along."

"Thanks, Royce. Jason, I suggest you make yourself scarce. Not EVERY cop here owes you a favor."

"Actually, most of 'em do."

"And for now, lets just pretend you had nothing to do with this mess and call it a day, eh? No reason for you to talk to me... or for me to talk to you. At least until the evidence is examined. Then I'm sure I'll be looking you up."

"What, you think I was involved in this-"

"Of course you were, Brooks. You're here aren't you? But nobody can prove anything yet, so for now we can both just go and do whatever it is what we do."

"Kill demons," said Jason.

"Excuse me?"

"What I do..." Jason looked directly at James Royce. "...is kill demons. Wherever I find them. Might wanna keep that in mind."

"Whatever," said Dobbs. She and Royce walked off, and each of them turned to give Jason a separate parting look. Dobbs' was of wary suspicion. Royce's was overt, seething hatred. Jason met each with a smile, then watched them merge with the crowd of officers that was gathering around the flatbed truck. The crane had deposited the metal demon's remains on the back of the truck, and workmen were securing the scorched hulk with thick chains. Two other men were unfolding a tarp, preparing to drape it over the truck bed, hiding its cargo from curious eyes. A single patrol car pulled in front of the truck and sat with its motor running. The officer behind the wheel hit a switch, and the blue strobe lights began to flash hypnotically. Two more cars brought up the rear. The drivers of each of the vehicles got out and formed a smaller crowd within the larger one. Dobbs and Royce were in the center of it.

Jason listened through the haze of car engines, reporters and conversations, easily picking out the details of what was being said. Dobbs was going over the security protocols... which included a second pair of police cars traveling a half mile behind the convoy, and a police helicopter which was currently refueling and would be airborne again in five minutes. He also learned their true destination. It wasn't the city's brand new Crime Lab, but a storage facility on the other side of town.

"Very clever," said Jason.

One of the workmen on the back of the truck shouted that the load was secure, then he climbed down, leaving the others to draw the dark gray tarp over the cargo and tie it down. The man who'd shouted gave a thumbs-up sign to the officers, then walked over to the truck's cabin, leaned in, and removed a first aid kit. Jason ignored him, focusing instead on the details of the convoy's route. He memorized them as Dobbs spoke.

"They're going straight through downtown," said Jason. "Shorter route. More secure."

"We should take the cargo before they reach the city limits," Donovan said beside him. "I don't want that thing going through a populated area. It's done enough damage."

"Don't worry; it's dead." Jason frowned at the large lump under the heavy tarp.

"Dead demons are sometimes more dangerous than live ones," said Donovan.

"Speaking of dead demons.... care to place a bet on something nasty and fatal happening to our friend Royce in the near future?"

"Jason..."

"If I can make him do something demonic in front of Dobbs, then maybe I can win her over to our side."

"Our side of what, exactly?"

"The whole Good vs. Evil thing. Her aura's already darker than it was when I met her. It's gotta be Royce. He's up to someth-"

"Our objective is the demon. The DEAD one. Let the detective see after her own soul."

"Well it's not exactly her SOUL that I'm interested in..."

"Focus, Jason." Donovan began to blurred and fade from view. "I'll go and get the others in place. Try not to do anything unpredictable."

"Unpredictable?" Jason said as his mentor vanished. Jason eyed the convoy of vehicles and their cargo. Dobbs was being helped into the truck's passenger seat, and James Royce was buckling himself in beside the driver of the lead car. "Noo, I think I can predict exactly what's gonna be happening in the next twenty minutes." Jason made a gun with his thumb and index finger, and aimed it at Royce's head. "And its gonna start with a bang."

To Be Continued

copyright 2005 by Dark Icon Entertainment