Damoren (6 page)

“
I don’t see them,” Allan yelled, struggling with his seatbelt.

“
Nowhere else to go,” Matt said. “Just hope we can get there before a crossroad.”

“
The compass?”

“
Back at the bar.” Matt veered around another corner. A rust-red truck ahead swerved out of the way, its horn blaring. “Sorry,” he said to the rearview.

“
Why didn’t it detect the gunmen?”

“
Familiars. It only points to the demon itself.”

An electronic beat began playing, followed by a guitar.
Diving a hand into his pocket, Allan withdrew a phone as a second rift blasted.

“
Yes?” Allan said, pressing the phone to one ear and his hand over the other. “We’re following them now.” He nodded. “Okay.” Nodded again. “All right. I will.”

“
Schmidt?” Matt asked as Allan jammed the phone back into his jeans.

“
Yeah. Said he’s left the bar. Wants to meet back at a fueling station outside of Milton Hill when we’re done.”

“
He’s not going back to the motel, is he?”

“
No. Packed this morning.” The car jolted on a pothole, knocking the Englishman’s head against the ceiling. He grunted. “You need anything out of your room?”

Matt jammed a thumb behind him.
“In the back. Never leave stuff in case I have to make a quick exit.”

A
llan nodded.

“
So, I take it the German doesn’t like me,” Matt joked.

“
Who?”

“
Schmidt.”

“
No. But don’t call him German. He’ll kick your ass.”

“
Why?”

“
He’s Austrian.”

The road forked ahead.
With no time to think, Matt kept to the right on the main highway.

Allan clutched the handle by his head in one hand
and steadied Ibenus between his legs with the other. “This the right way?”

“
Sure hope so.”

Cresting a hill, they turned, running parallel to a river.
A blue van sped along the road below. Matt hit the accelerator, seizing advantage of the straightaway and hurdled down after it.

“
What’s the plan?” Allan asked.

Matt tightened his grip on the wheel.
His Ingram and Dämoren’s extra ammo were in the trunk, which might as well be on the moon. He still had six shots in the revolver. “Don’t know.”

They drew closer.
The road turned and the van vanished again behind the forest. Matt touched the heavy pistol in his lap.
Almost there.

They were close enough now to see it through the blurring trees.
A glimpse of blue as they rounded a corner, only to lose it again around the next curve. Setting his jaw, Matt hugged the bends. Tires squealed. Red lights framed the van’s back door ahead as it took a steep turn. Gunning the engine, Matt shot around the tight corner, coming out less than twenty feet behind the bouncing van.

Matt hit the window button.
Wind roared, whipping his shaggy hair. He took Dämoren’s ivory handle in his left hand. “I’m gonna hit the tire”

Allan looked at the gun and back to the van, his eyes wide.
“You’re fucking kidding!”

“
Get ready.” Holding Dämoren out of the window, Matt leaned his head out. Wind hit Dämoren’s blade like a rudder, and shot up his jacket sleeve. Fighting the resistance, he aimed at the van’s back tire and fired.

Missed.

He cocked the hammer and aimed again. The van turned into a slight bend, offering Matt a glimpse of the tire’s profile. He took the shot, striking the chromed bumper.

Damn it.
He cocked the hammer again.

“
Turn!” Allan yelled.

Looking up, Matt saw
a tight curve ahead, just as the van hurled around it, its bulk leaning out with momentum. Pulling back into the car, Matt fought the wheel around the hard bend, the car’s outer wheels grinding against the asphalt’s edge. The road straightened, and he let out a breath. “Thanks.”

‘
Pay attention to your surroundings,’ Clay had lectured. ‘Tunnel-vision’ll kill ya dead as anything.’

Matt started out the window, but Allan stopped him.

“
Hold on.”

“
What?”

“
Wait for the next turn. Just stay on its arse.”

Matt nodded.
Holding the pistol out the window, he hit the gas and closed in. The van sped faster. Matt leaned out, aiming at the tires. The van swerved serpentine, back and forth, each time leaning out with its weight. They crested a low hill.

“
There’s a left ahead,” Allan yelled. “Bottom of the hill.”

Matt kept on the gas, pressing the van faster.
He wished he had the Ingram. Hell, he wished he had any gun. Dämoren’s bullets were too precious for this. Steadying his arm on the side mirror, he aimed at the back left tire.

“
Almost there,” Allan said. “Slow down.”

Matt let off the gas.
The van hurtled away toward the bend, still weaving back and forth. Brake lights flared as it started the turn. Just a little late. The van turned, giving Matt a second’s window. He led the tire a few inches and fired.

The rear of the van jolted, like a
kicked toy. Smoking tires shrieked and the blue van spun off the road and into the woods.

Matt hit the brakes
, stopping the car twenty feet past where the van had stopped. It sat motionless behind a cloud of black rubber smoke, facing the other way a few feet off the pavement. Chunks of broken tire lay scattered around it.

Allan hit the seatbelt release and opened the door, swinging the sword out in front of him.
Matt jumped out, holding the pistol up, and circled around the car. Allan neared the van when the back door burst open. Something big and red moved inside.

Allan sprang back, directly into Matt
’s line of fire, as a pair of tall creatures emerged. Short horns ran the length of their bony jaw lines, up to a pair of curved white ones, no thicker than a pencil. Turning its golden eyes to Allan, one opened its mouth. An impossibly long tongue slithered out, then split open, revealing a writhing mass of pink tendrils. They shot out toward him, but the Englishman swung his khopesh and appeared four feet to the side.

Seizing the opening, Matt fired, hitting the beast between its knotty pectorals.
Black blood exploded from the wound, followed by a geyser of purple flame. Matt swung Dämoren to the second beast when something moved inside the van.

The red-haired driver stumbled out clutching her pistol.
Pop. Pop. Pop.

The bullets slammed into Matt
’s chest. Pain exploded through his senses, blinding him. He fell back and hit the leaf-covered ground.

#

Someone screamed. A man.

Allan!

Matt gasped, regaining consciousness. Dämoren lay beside him. Allan screamed again.

Matt reached for the gun,
and pain shot through his arm. Blood poured from a hole in his left arm, filling his jacket sleeve. Gritting his teeth, he picked up the revolver. His chest felt like he’d been beaten with a hammer. The Kevlar had saved his life, but his ribs were broken.

Pushing himself up onto his knees, he saw the
redheaded shooter. She stood still, her Beretta at her side, watching her master. The crimson demon hissed, its long tongue was peeled open like a banana from a hundred tendrils. Allan stood writhing, tangled in the pink ribbons, his face contorted in agony. Red welts covered his neck and hands where the strands touched.

The monster turned its long head, locking its gold a
nd black-slitted eyes onto Matt. The woman turned and aimed her pistol.

Bypassing the familiar, Matt raised the heavy revolver and fired.
The monster’s head knocked back, blood and brains exploding out into the woods. It fell, its tentacles sliding from Allan as it went. The gun fell from the familiar’s hand, her arms limp at her sides.

“
Oh God!” Allan shrieked, his hands grabbing his face as he collapsed.

“Hang in there, “ Matt shouted. Clutching his wounded arm, he staggered to his feet. Blood poured from his sleeve. He scrunched his eyes, fighting a wave of dizziness. Purple and orange flames danced over the first demon, its black blood running down its sides. Matt dropped to his knees and thrust his hands into the warm, sticky blood. Tingles spread up his arm, soothing the gushing wound. He smeared his fingers deeper into the ooze. Ribs crunched into place beneath his vest. He gasped at the moment’s pain, and then rose to his feet.

The
woman still stood there, her face slack. The golden sheen faded from her eyes.

Allan lay on the ground.
Tears streaked his pained face.

“
You’re going to be okay.” Matt crouched beside him. Bright welts crisscrossed the man’s hands and neck, like he’d been lashed with a cat o’ nines. A few of the lines marked his face, but those didn’t appear as severe. Many of the red welts on his neck and hands had blistered.

“
It burns,” Allan hissed.

“
I don’t know what that thing was. What do I do?”

“
Don’t know.”

“
It’s like a jellyfish sting. Do you want me to piss on it or something?”

“
No!” Allan’s eyes flashed open. He gulped several deep breaths. “Vinegar. Water. Wash off the venom!”

“
I don’t have any!” He mentally ran through the contents of his car. “Vodka?”

“
Yes,” Allan winced. “The alcohol.”

Matt raced back to the car and popped open the trunk.
He pulled out the footlocker and dug through the bags behind it, pulling out a mostly-full bottle of Polish vodka. 120 proof. He grabbed a wadded shirt from the bag then ran back to where Allan lay.

“
Here you go, man.” He unscrewed the top and splashed some of the clear liquor onto Allan’s hand.

Hissing, the Englishman balled his fist.
“Fuck, that hurts!”

Matt stopped.
“I’m sorry. I thought—”

“
No.” He motioned toward himself frantically. “More.”

He splashed more onto Allan
’s hand and poured some over his blistered neck. The slime on the Englishman’s wounds congealed into strips of clear jelly as the alcohol ran over the wounds. “This helping?” Matt asked, dabbing them with the wadded shirt.

Allan nodded.
“Thanks.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position, took the vodka-soaked cloth, and wiped the back of his neck.

A piercing scream erupted behind them.
Grabbing Dämoren in her holster, Matt whirled around to see the red-haired woman screaming, her hands up by her face, and eyes frozen onto the burning monsters before her.

“
Ma’am,” Matt said, holding out a hand.

The woman looked down at herself, then to the gun at her feet, the van, and back to the demons.

“Miss, it’s okay. No one’s going to harm you.” He stood.

The shrieking woman looked up at them, her eyes crazed and wide.
Her gaze locked onto Matt’s blood-smeared hands. She stepped back.

“
Miss, you’re okay.” Matt kept his voice calm and low. “You’re safe.”

Without a word, the woman turned and ran away screaming.

“Hmm,” Allan said. “She took that well.”

Despite himself, Matt chuckled, then burst into laughter.
He turned back to the hunter, sitting upright and wincing with every laugh.

“
Poor thing. I wonder what all she’ll even remember.”

“
If she’s lucky, nothing.”

Allan swigged the half-empty bottle
and coughed. “Thanks. Thought you were a goner when she plugged you.”

Matt rapped the vest under his shirt.
“Worth the investment.”

Allan swigged the bottle again and offered it up.
“Good shot.”

Matt took the bottle and knocked it back.
The vodka burned his throat, taking his breath. The first demon had shrunk, its horns slowly retracting. He guessed it might take another half-hour before it had fully returned to human form. “Gotta dig that slug out before the Mounties get here. Ballistics.”

“
What about that guy you shot in the bar?” Allan asked, crawling to his feet.

Matt shrugged.
“Can only hope it shattered. Can’t have too many deaths linked to me. Caliber is pretty unique. No telling how many unsolved murders I’d be charged with if they ever caught me. Besides, by the time anyone might get it out, I hope we’re halfway across the ocean.”