CHAPTER 10
Running for your life through a dark and unfamiliar forest kind of sucks. But after a few breathless minutes I saw a glimmer of light just ahead. That had to be the road. We had to splash across a stream, and then scramble up a steep moss-covered embankment. There was a metal guard rail at the top. Sonya hopped right over. Because of the angle I had to kind of crawl up, and flop over the rail onto the asphalt.
It turned out the lights I’d seen through the trees had been for a little country gas station and convenience store. It was the only building in sight. There were a couple of cars parked there. Sonya started toward the store.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“His aura is jamming our phones. I’m going to see if they have a wired phone that works to call for help,” she said. “Like what do you call the old-fashioned kind?”
Was she trying to make me feel old? “You mean a landline?”
“Yeah, like a landline or whatever.”
“And involve some more innocent people so they can get murdered by that thing? Hell no.”
“I’m not going to endanger anybody.”
“Did you miss all the severed limbs back at the bar or the guy it put through the ceiling? Everyone around you is in danger. This creature is here because of you. You interrupted a deal between some really evil assholes, and this Drekavac thing is their insurance policy. The guy you stole it from, Stricken, he’s bad news and has seen shit you can’t even imagine, and even he called this monster relentless. It’s not going to stop until it kills you or we figure out how to kill it permanently.”
Sonya scowled at me, then looked back at the convenience store, which appeared well lit and relatively inviting when compared to our ominous patch of shadowy roadside. “What are we supposed to do then? Keep running until it catches us?”
“Or until my friends find us.” That was honestly my only real hope. I could keep killing this thing all night, but it only needed to get lucky once and I was toast. We could keep trying to stay ahead of it, but I didn’t even know if this was the kind of entity that would stop at dawn, or if it cared about daylight at all. I checked my phone, but still nothing. My radio was in the bag I’d lost, so I couldn’t even try that to see if my team was close. “I’ve got a GPS tracker on this vest and help was already on the way to the bar when this thing showed up.”
“What if the thing is messing with the GPS signal like it is our phones? Then what, huh?”
I sighed. That was likely. The air had been clear for a little while, hot and fog free, so it was possible we’d lost it, or maybe it needed time to recuperate or something. This could be our best chance. “Okay, but we make it quick, and then we get out.”
We hurried over to the gas station. The car that had been fueling up at one of the pumps drove off. There was only one other vehicle parked at the side, probably from whoever was working. There were clouds of bugs flying around the overhead lights. The night felt normal and alive, which was a good sign.
Through the window I could see that there was a kindly looking woman in her fifties working behind the counter. Since I was huge and scary, even when I wasn’t filthy, bleeding, and wearing a tac vest, I was probably going to frighten her, and then have to calm her down, which would take precious time. Sonya was a little dirty but looked relatively unthreatening, even with the heavy metal vibe going on. “I’ll stand guard out here and watch for the fog. Call that bottom number.” I handed her one of my business cards. The second number on it was to MHI headquarters, and with a Hunter currently MIA it would certainly be manned. They would be able to vector my team and all of Boone’s guys right to us. “Try not to freak that poor lady out.”
“Will do.” Sonya handed me the sawed-off. Then she brushed the leaves out of her hair, and poof, just like that, she was a totally different person. One second, she was the nose-pierced rocker, the next she was a cherubic little blonde girl with rosy cheeks and a pixie cut. Even the intricate tats on her arm had vanished, leaving just pink skin. “I used to use this face to sell Girl Scout cookies. I totally killed it.”
“I bet.” Though come to think of it, I really could go for a box of Samoas right then. “Hurry up.”
Sonya went inside. I went to a shadowy corner and watched for sign of the Drekavac. So far, each time I’d run into the monster, I’d been warned by the temperature swing. Hopefully, that wasn’t an effect that he could just turn off at will or I was screwed.
I had to remind myself this was worth it. All I had to do was keep this obstinate little thief alive despite the best efforts of a spectral bounty hunter, then we could get the Ward from her, use it to destroy Asag once and for all, and then my family would be able to live without constantly watching over our shoulders for assassins every second for the rest of our lives.
I’d given away my good med kit, but I still had my little emergency blow-out pouch on my armor. After I secured the sawed-off through some of the straps and slung Abomination, I did a quick wrap around the dog bite to control the bleeding. It still needed a good cleaning, but hopefully hell hounds didn’t carry rabies . . . hell rabies? Wow. That would be bad. While I worked I told myself it looked worse than it probably was.
What was taking her so long? I started walking back toward the window so I could look inside, but then I saw headlights approaching. Thankfully they were regular, normal headlights, and not blue fire beams coming from a horse skull. They were pulling into the gas station, so I moved back around the corner to stay out of sight until I could figure out who this was. Hopefully, it was one of my coworkers, but then I saw that it was a battered old minivan, which certainly wasn’t one of MHI’s fleet vehicles.
But it turned out that it was a Hunter after all.
Gutterres winced as he stepped out of the minivan’s driver seat. The Vatican Hunter’s clothing was charred and burnt in spots. There was a bright red burn mark crawling up his neck and ashes on his face. Battered, covered in dust and blood, it looked like he’d had a much worse time than I had. Gutterres started limping toward the front door, but then he paused, as if he sensed something, and then spun and aimed a handgun my way. “Show yourself.”
I moved slowly out from the corner. “Rough night?”
Gutterres lowered his pistol when he recognized me. “You can say that. It’s not often I get knocked across a forest and then have to carjack a vehicle to go for help. Pitt, right?”
“Yep . . . Gutterres?”
“The one and only. Is the girl safe?”
“She’s safe.”
He glanced at the store. “Is she inside there?”
“She’s in there supposedly calling my people for help. Did she call you instead?”
“I wouldn’t know if she had. My coms are down.”
“So are mine.” The two of us stood there beneath the hum of the fluorescent lights. This was where it got sticky, because my track record for diplomacy with other groups of Hunters was decidedly mixed. “Here’s the thing though. That deal you had with her? MHI really needs that Ward Stone.”
“That’s unfortunate. So do we.”
“I figured. Only we need it to save the world.”
“Isn’t that a coincidence.” Gutterres didn’t budge. “Perhaps you can petition my superiors to borrow the Ward, after we’re done using it to save the world.”
“We could compare notes over which one of us has the bigger problem and prioritize from there.”
“A reasonable proposition. Or I could just claim the property my organization has already paid for and go on my way.”
“You could try . . . ” I let that threat hang, like he’d have to go through me first. Except that only seemed to amuse him, which I’ll admit was kind of annoying and also a little worrying. Earl warned me not to pick a fight with this particular dude. “Look, man, I need that rock to kill Asag. I’m sure by this point you’ve heard of him.”
Gutterres nodded slowly. “Disorder. The chaos demon who was leaving his mark at massacres around the world, who has been oddly silent since your siege of the City of Monsters.”
“He’s not just any old demon. He’s a world-ender. But yeah, you guys should have come to that party. You really missed out.”
“We like to do our own thing. But okay, Pitt. Killing Asag is a worthy goal. I’ll give you that. Except that attempt would require destroying the stone, and do you have any evidence it would actually work?”
“I killed a Great Old One that way.”
“From my understanding you’re the only man alive to ever do so.”
I shrugged. “I guess that makes me kind of the expert.”
“Too bad the Old Ones hail from an entirely different reality, working on an entirely different set of rules than Asag’s species—”
“There’s more of them?”
Gutterres openly scoffed at my ignorance. “I’d assume so. How could there not be?”
I’ll admit, I hadn’t really thought about that much. One of them was bad enough. “So what does the Pope need another Ward for? Don’t you guys already have one?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss what we need it for. My assignment is to retrieve this one, and time is of the essence . . . So please, step aside.”
Neither one of us was pointing our guns at the other, but we were both still holding them. I didn’t like the idea of harming a fellow Hunter, but I had no doubt this particular holy warrior was dedicated enough to his order and mission that he’d shoot me in the head and sleep like a baby tonight. Only I couldn’t back down because this was bigger than either of us, so if he lifted that pistol I’d fucking end him . . . though unlike Gutterres I’d probably feel remorse afterwards. A very tense few seconds passed.
Only I never got to find out which one of us was more committed because our standoff was interrupted.
The lights flickered. The buzzing insects scattered. It was suddenly very cold.
“Not this guy again.”
“We should continue our debate later,” Gutterres suggested.
“Truce,” I quickly agreed, because he didn’t strike me as the sort to shoot me in the back as soon as I turned around. The Vatican guys couldn’t possibly earn an alright on the Harbinger scale if they were dishonorable back shooters. I started looking for targets. “Let’s blast this jackass.”
“That’s a bad idea. I’m guessing you’ve not fought one of these before.”
“This is my first time on the Drekavac express. Would not recommend.”
“How many times has he been destroyed so far tonight?”
“Uh . . . ” That was a good question. I’d kind of lost track during all the excitement. “Does his petting zoo count?”
“They’re all facets of the same being, but only the humanoid form ultimately matters.”
“Five or six probably?”
“Then you’ve only seen him at less than half his might. Shooting him is a waste. He can be reborn thirteen times before the cock crows, and each time he’ll simply come back stronger. The last few forms are incredibly deadly. The only way to keep him from re-forming is to take his head as a trophy.”
“Decapitation. Got it.” I could work with that.
“It has to be clean. That’s got to be the killing blow. If he’s killed before his head comes off, he’ll just come back. Got it?” Gutterres was staring at the fog bank that was curling along the edge of the road. It was skulking along like a living creature, low and hungry. “How are you with a blade?”
“I can Lizzie Borden the shit out of stuff, but it isn’t exactly graceful. I’m way better with a gun.” I wished Edward was here. He loved decapitating things. “You?”
“Superb.” And the way Gutterres said that obviously wasn’t boasting, it was simply an honest assessment of capabilities in the brief moments before battle. “Only I lost my main blade when I got hit by lightning. All I’ve got left is this little fellow.” He spun a hooked karambit around in his left hand that he’d kept hidden from me before. There were two kinds of men who carried karambits. Morons who liked to spin them around and show off who were more likely to cut themselves than their opponents, or psycho knife fighters who were really good at hooking limbs and severing tendons. Gutterres didn’t strike me as a moron. He’d probably been intending to surprise me with that nasty thing if we had thrown down.
I drew the massive kukri from the sheath on my vest, flipped it around, and extended it to him, handle first. The blade was twenty-one inches of wickedly curved steel, specifically designed for happy little Gurkhas to lop off limbs.
Gutterres hefted my kukri. “This will do.”
“I want that back. Okay, I’ll be the distraction. When he’s concentrating on murdering me, circle around and take his head.”
“Will do.” And then he turned and ran toward the woods. Even injured the dude was so quick that he vanished within seconds, like some kind of Catholic ninja.
Since I needed to draw the monster out, I walked away from the building and out into the open. It didn’t make sense to hide behind a bunch of gas pumps to fight something armed with a blunderbuss that shot lightning bolts.
There was movement inside the country store. Sonya was banging on the glass, shouting something that looked like “What are you doing?” and “Are you insane?” I waved my hand downward, trying to tell her to stay low.
The fog was hanging like a solid wall a hundred yards ahead. I was going to feel really stupid if Gutterres doubled back and grabbed Sonya while I was busy getting hacked to pieces, but sometimes you just have to go with your gut. I started walking toward the fog. “Here goes nothing.”
Just in case my stupid plan didn’t work, I picked out some things I could take cover in or behind quickly. Then all I could do was hope that Gutterres was as good as he thought he was.
There was a growing glow ahead. The eerie light made the trees on both sides of the road look like towering monsters. The Drekavac appeared. The wide-brimmed hat bobbing up and down as it strode toward me. I think he’d been trying to duel me once before, so drawing him out seemed like the thing to do.
“I’m challenging you, Drekavac!” I shouted. “Come over here and fight me.”
I had a feeling the strange being might have been willing to go mano y mano earlier, but that was before I’d hit him with a grenade, because this time he simply pulled his cannon out from under his coat and started blasting.
I ran for the tree line.
Lightning struck. It blew a hole in the road behind me. Flaming chunks of the asphalt rained down as I dove into a drainage ditch and landed face-first in a pile of weeds. Some asshole had thrown some beer bottles in here, and a couple had broken, so I got cut again. Gutterres hadn’t been lying about the Drekavac coming back stronger, because it took a lot less time between shots now than it had before. I crawled forward as the monster blasted the dirt above me. The impact was so close it rattled my teeth and I could feel the pressure in my eyes. I popped up long enough to fire two shots in his direction, but I aimed low on purpose, skipping silver buckshot off the road, because I didn’t want him dead, I wanted him distracted. I was subjecting myself to this abuse in the hopes of making the monster perma-dead.
The Drekavac stumbled as I clipped it in the leg, but then I ducked back down as its gun belched blue fire. Its aim was off, way high, because he missed the ditch entirely and nailed a big tree behind me.
Or at least I assumed he had missed his target, until the top half of that tree landed right on top of me.
I got hit everywhere. The dirt walls of the ditch caught the trunk, but the smaller branches filled the space. My body was shoved hard into the mud. There were so many leaves, I couldn’t see a thing. I tried to move, but I was squished. The harder I struggled, the more branches got stuck. “Damn it!” I thrashed my way forward, trying to find an angle so I could shove the smoking trunk away, but I was hosed.
The Drekavac used that time to walk up to the edge of the ditch. I looked up to see those two fiery eyes staring down at me through the leaves, and there was no pity in the flames. As the creature pointed his gun at me, his face was a twisted metallic facsimile of humanity, but its sliver of a mouth turned into an all-too-recognizable sneer . . . because it knew I was doomed.
Gutterres proved it wrong.
There was a flash of steel. The Drekavac’s head flew from its neck. The body slowly fell to its knees, and then came apart at the seams, melting into blue fire and ashen bits. The big hat caught a gust of wind and floated a little way before it disintegrated too.
The other Hunter went over to the severed head and picked it up. Weirdly enough, the Drekavac’s head still appeared to be alive. It didn’t move or speak, but the fire was still burning in his eye sockets, and the expression frozen there was really pissed off.
“Is it dead dead?” I shouted.
“This should stop him for tonight. Though the head will turn to ash at dawn, enabling the creature to re-form again tomorrow night.”
I’d volunteered to be a punching bag to buy Sonya one night? “That’s it?”
“I don’t make the rules, Pitt. You have to put down a Drekavac thirteen times before the cock crows to banish it once and for all, but its last few evolutions are so powerful that pulling off that feat is rather legendary. I’ll deliver this head to the local priests and maybe they can do something to slow him down a bit more.” Gutterres walked over to the edge of the ditch and looked down at me. “Are you wounded?”
“Only my dignity.” The tree falling on me had really sucked, and I was going to have bruises everywhere and the cut from the broken bottle, but nothing felt broken or punctured. I tried to wiggle free, but there was just too many branches pressing against me. “I could use some help here.”
“You’re really stuck, aren’t you?” That seemed to amuse him.
“Yeah.” There were probably eight hundred pounds of big fuck-off tree on top of where I was squished. The only reason I wasn’t dead was because the biggest chunk had hit the dirt first, and the leafy branches that were trapping me had spread out the impact. “Give me a hand.”
“That looks like it’ll take you a little while to get out. Here’s your knife back.” He dropped my kukri. It stuck point down in the dirt, well out of reach. Then he began walking away. “Thanks for the assist.”
“Hang on!” I shouted, but Gutterres kept walking. “What the hell, man?”
“Sorry. Sonya made a deal with us. If the Ward survives our mission, maybe we can work something out with MHI. I’ll be in touch.”
“Gutterres! You son of a bitch!” But my yelling was in vain, because he wasn’t coming back. Not that I could blame him, because if the tables were turned, I’d probably have done the same. It beat having a shoot-out to see who got the Ward. I went to work trying to pry myself free.
It took me a minute of fighting, snapping branches, collecting more scratches, and covering myself in sap, but finally I scrambled out from underneath the fallen tree. I snatched up my knife and ran back to the country store.
Oddly enough, I was surprised to see that Gutterres hadn’t used that time to escape with Sonya. The minivan he had stolen was still there. Minivans are always depressing to look at, but this one looked even sadder than usual, since it was sitting on four deflated tires.
The Catholic Hunter was standing there, looking nearly as ticked off as the severed head he was still carrying. The convenience store lady had come outside to see what all the commotion was about, which was when I noticed that the only other car that had been parked here—which I assumed belonged to the convenience story lady—was missing.
I started to laugh when I realized that Sonya had slashed Gutterres’ tires so he couldn’t follow her, and then stolen the store lady’s car. She’d screwed us all.
“This is not funny,” Gutterres snapped.
I had to disagree. I found the situation hilarious.