Chapter 3: Demon Worm Hole

I exited through the backdoor in my dark grey hooded cloak, with my short-barreled semi-automatic shotgun and hip dagger on my belt. I took to higher ground on the rooftop of Salem Street’s flower shop for a better view once I spotted my target: a tall husky man carrying a wailing woman in a dress to his hip. I couldn’t see much of her face, just her round backside and two flailing legs. Same could be said for him; he was wearing a long black trench coat and a fedora hat, the felon practically blending with the darkness of the night. A textbook sneak and grab—they weren’t even cunning with it anymore. From sunrise to sunfall, the call for strategic action was long snuffed out, cunts like him in a hurry to sell women to the highest bidder as sex slaves, or sell their organs in the black market after stuffing them in the back of a van, hashing away at their body parts on a dingy surgical table. I opposed both choices, and let my bullet do the talking for me.

I dove in at a clean angle behind him, unloading one clear shot through the back of his head.

I rarely used two rounds on one target, but this one looked like he was going to be an exception.

Scrunching my face, I realized the headshot didn’t slow him down any. That round hadn’t blown his skull into bits, and once my feet landed on the ground, I saw the reason why.

The dreadful and haunting expression on his monstrous face when he turned his head over his shoulder rendered me still. I stood there in chills, gaping at the four eyes on his elongated forehead, the creature appearing to be a humanoid with a demonic goat head. The bastard didn’t say a word to me, simply acknowledging my existence and then turned his head around to continue running. Only this time, he crossed the street in an attempt to shake me off his tail.

“Huh,” I groaned under my breath, reaching over my hip for a kard dagger. “All right. We can make this a little more interesting.”

I acted now and asked questions later. I bolted toward the beast full throttle, my speed prompting him to run even faster. It wouldn’t make a difference, I was faster on my feet than he was. And he knew it, trying to break my momentum by whizzing in and out between trees. I tried one more time to blow a hole through his head, and again I caught another clean hit. I saw two bloody shots underneath his hat, so he was clearly wounded, but he wouldn’t stop running, not even for a fucking second.

“Shit.” I tightened my grip on the hilt of my dagger and tucked my shotgun away. The woman’s crying continued to pierce through my ears, even louder after she heard the second shot. It felt like I was running out of time the further we went down the grove, and if I didn’t act now, this asshole would shimmy himself into a tunnel and make it harder for me to trail him. He had an idea of where he was going, I didn’t. And given this disadvantage, I had to end this chase before it was too late.

So I maneuvered, tapering off his tail and planned on ambushing him from the side. I made up the tight bundle of trees and then swooped, catching him by surprise with my dagger hot and ready. He panicked, but so did I, noticing a shift in the air to his right, with a translucent glowing film prepared to absorb all of us inside.

What the hell?

A portal? Was my mind playing tricks on me?

I took a sharp breath in and sailed through—there was no time to push the breaks on my fall. One second I was in Pendu Park, and then the next—

“Help me, please!” she begged, her jagged voice like an echo in this barren wasteland. It was foggy and dark, and I couldn’t gauge much around me. The smell was pungent, the thickness of sulfuric fumes in the air churning my stomach. But then I saw his staggering bright yellow eyes in the fog, and that was enough to pinpoint where he was.

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Once I took off, the air started to open up. My eyes adjusted, and that bastard in the trench coat was as clear as day. He finally stood his ground to fight, chucking the woman he stole aside, his defensive glower looking down at me. He extended his claws and slammed on his jaw, taking on mass in a matter of seconds. He grew five times his size, packing on muscle and girth. I couldn’t say I expected this much action tonight, but I wasn’t about to back down from this skirmish.

He gave me a ground-shaking battle cry, his long vile tongue hanging down the corner of his drooling mouth. He took on his true form, from the anthropomorphic features, to the demonic aura permeating his blackened flesh. I charged at him strategically, testing how deep my blade could cut him. It was effective, better than my shotgun even, leaving the beast screaming in pain.

The slash along his bicep forced me to hit him even harder, but this time he was prepared to swat me away. I took a mean hit, dropping on the ground hard enough to disarm me. I heard my shotgun tumbling a few meters over my head, but I was more worried about the demon closing in on me with a slash attack. I rolled, then countered, circling my slices around his ankles with breakneck speed to bring his knees on the ground.

Another breakthrough—keep hammering.

I was relentless now, slashing him over a half dozen times. With every slash, the scar on the back of my hand pulsated. I was putting damage on this beast, discouraging his will to fight. He fell on his hands, and that would be the end of it, my final slash honing in on his neck. It was smart for him to slouch forward in an attempt to protect his vital organs. But I leaped onto his back and grabbed onto his horn, then ran my blade right inside jugular vein.

The beast went crashing down with a loud thud. I stood on his bleeding corpse, wiping his blood off my forehead. I waited for his lungs to deflate, the last of the rise and fall of his back moving me to jump onto the terrain. I should feel exhausted, but that fight had somehow revitalized me. For some reason, I felt energized, ready to take on another beast. My blood was on fire, and I could feel a foreign strength trickle inside me.

It made my fingertips tingle, sending impulses through my brain. I couldn’t explain this feeling, but I wanted more of it… 

Shots of adrenaline continued pumping through my veins, distracting me from the gash I had on my upper arm. He got me good, but I hadn’t felt the sting, not until after the battle was won. It was deep, though nothing fatal. I’d taken worse blows; nothing a tourniquet and stitches wouldn’t fix.

“Hmm?” I hummed, picking my head up to the blond woman in the red dress pointing my shotgun at me.

“Stay where you are!” she begged. “Don’t you dare move!”

I was impressed, but my face told a different story. I narrowed my eyes on her, trying to decipher what possessed her to turn a gun at me.

“I know who you are. I know what you’re all about! You’re Graves the Butcher! A murderer! And I’m going to stop you!”

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