Night Slayer: Midnight War Read online

  Night Slayer

  Midnight War

  WILLIAM MASSA

  Critical Mass Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 by WILLIAM MASSA

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Raul Ferran/NeoStock

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Also by WILLIAM MASSA

  About the Author

  Prologue

  “We embrace evil and welcome it into our hearts. Lord of Darkness and Despair, please accept our sacrifice and grace us with your presence tonight.”

  Leah’s ominous words hung in the air, her entire body trembling with anticipation, nerves on fire. As if to lend weight to the disturbing mantra, lightning bathed her one-bedroom downtown Los Angeles apartment in a sickly glow. Thunder rattled the windows, and the black candles hissed and flickered, painting surreal shadows over the circle of spiritual adventurers who’d gathered in her living room on this stormy summer evening. They were friends from college, philosophy and art students with open minds and raging hearts eager to explore the dark mysteries of the great beyond.

  Fools dabbling with forces they don’t understand and will never be able to control.

  The thought came unbidden, almost as if some invisible entity had momentarily invaded Leah’s mind.

  Leah clenched her jaw and silenced the voice of doubt, which sounded so much like her ex. Screw Sean. The cocky bastard had made fun of her interest in the supernatural any chance he could. She should have known that dating a first-year engineering student wouldn’t turn out well. Materialist jerk! Their recent break-up had driven her even deeper into her weird hobby.

  To be honest, deep down she didn’t really believe in magic. But she wanted to.

  Leah wished to shatter her mundane everyday reality and inject a sense of wonder into her boring, humdrum life. Even though none of her spells and rituals had ever worked in the past, she still loved dabbling in the dark arts.

  Determined to complete the ritual, she commenced the Latin portion of the incantation. Her friends joined in, their collective voices building into a hypnotic chorus. They had rehearsed the next part of the ceremony for weeks. Hopefully their hard work would pay off.

  She held up a flame-shaped dagger and drew the sharp end across her palm, drawing blood. Biting her lip, she let a few drops fall into a highly adorned silver chalice. She wiped the blade clean with a black towel and handed the dagger to the Goth kid sitting next to her. One by one, the other five people in the circle followed her example. By the time the cup returned to her, it was half full.

  Accept our sacrifice.

  Outside, lightning raked the sky, and thunder exploded, spurring her on.

  They all held up their bloody hands now in a silent salute, allowing themselves to become one organism filled with a singular intent—to greet the darkness.

  Words flowed faster over Leah’s lips, and the group’s chanting grew louder.

  Was a note of desperation already creeping into their sing-song chant? Acceptance that their spell was falling on deaf ears? That in the end, despite all the black clothing and occult paraphernalia, it was all just a game?

  No!

  I open my heart to the darkness…

  There was another loud crack, but it wasn’t thunder this time. The sound had come from the wall in front of her.

  Leah’s heart beat hard against her rib cage, excitement mixing with growing terror. It was working!

  A fissure split the wall behind the big screen TV.

  Heads whipped around, eyes widened with shocked surprise. “Don’t break the circle!” Leah cried as the person nearest to the wall tried to jerk away.

  The cracks zig-zagged over the full length of the living room’s wall, sending clouds of plaster into her nostrils and lungs. She fought back a cough. The apartment hummed with electricity, and the temperature jumped up by at least ten degrees as a ghostly green light bled through the expanding cracks. A foul stench weighed down the stale air, an odor of rotten meat, mold and decay.

  Her friends froze with terror, lips still mouthing the incantation while their eyes fixed on the pulsating cracks across the wall. And then the wall split in two, parting like the two halves of a doorway between worlds. Phosphorescent clouds spilled into Leah’s apartment and...

  A humanoid shape grew visible in the widening vortex of paranormal light.

  Magic is real, Sean. Told you so.

  The thought sent a dark thrill through her, but the feeling soon turned to horror.

  A bestial shriek announced the arrival of the supernatural being. The thing emerged from the jagged hole in the crumbling wall, its pale, glistening limbs crowding into the cramped apartment. There was no beauty to this monstrous being, no grace or elegance. Part emaciated hag, albino-white skin stretched over jagged bones, and part scaly reptile, the demon radiated menace…and hunger. Razor-sharp teeth clacked and saliva drooled as its skeletal arms extended toward the horrified crowd of wannabe occultists.

  Leah’s voice shook and sweat beaded her forehead as she said, “Don’t break contact, keep holding hands or the demon will be able to escape from the binding circle.”

  Her panicky eyes fixed on the pentagram she’d drawn on the floor earlier. It had lit up with an otherworldly light, now transformed into a swirling vortex of power that bathed their faces in a spectral glow.

  The beast regarded them for a beat and then unleashed a bellowing shriek that sent the insides of Leah’s stomach up into her throat. With mounting terror she watched as two of her friends wrenched their hands free and jumped to their feet, conquered by their own fear, and now stood outside the broken binding circle.

  The demon twitched.

  That was all the warning they were to receive. The creature’s clawed hand slashed out and removed half of Leah’s face with an almost lazy flick of its wrist. As she slumped forward, a final thought slashed through her mind: What have we done?

  The answer was simple—they’d made a fatal mistake.

  Her friends were about to find out that black magic was all too real.

  That the darkness was armed with teeth and claws.

  And it was very hungry.

  1

  The LAPD SWAT truck barreled through traffic with alarming speed, sirens at full tilt. My gloved hand tightened around the HK MP5 9mm submachine gun strapped to my chest as we rocketed into a turn.

  Joe, our driver, must’ve been a street racer in a former life. Besides myself, nine more SWAT officers filled up the back of the claustrophobic truck. Their solemn faces mirrored my own under their helmets, aviator shades, and bulky Kevlar vests—frozen warrior statues who would spring to lethal life once we arrived at our destination. Their weapons gleamed in the moonlight trickling through the truck’s windows.

  I would have trusted every one of these superbly trained professionals with my life.

  After all, this was my team.

  My name is Jason Night. I’m thirty-one, a former Marine, and proud to be the commander of this group of elite law enforcement o
fficers.

  Despite the sickening levels of violence I’ve encountered over the years, my stomach churned with anxiety at the thought of what might be waiting for us downtown. I hated walking into a situation with sketchy intel. Or, in this case, practically nonexistent intelligence. This much was known at this point: chaos had erupted around 9:25 pm in a six-floor residential building that mostly housed USC students. Neighbors reported hearing both screams and shots; there was even one eyewitness account of a resident plunging six stories to their death.

  The first cops on the scene had bravely entered the building. Within minutes, their radios had gone silent. History repeated itself when the next wave of cops arrived. According to the panicked voices buzzing over our headsets, the building seemed to swallow up anyone who was foolish enough to set foot inside.

  The time had come for SWAT to turn things around and break that disturbing pattern.

  “What are we walking into here, Sergeant?”

  The question had come from Tia, the only woman in the squad. She wasn’t here to fill some political quota–the bulging biceps beneath her tactical gear and the calm strength in her eyes quickly shut up any fool willing to doubt her credentials.

  “Based on the available intel, it’s most likely an active shooter scenario.”

  “Have there been any demands or evidence of hostages?” Taylor asked. He was twenty-eight, a former Navy SEAL who was built like an ox.

  I shook my head. “All attempts to reach anyone inside the building have failed.”

  “So we have no idea what we’re up against here?”

  Couldn’t have put it better, bud, I thought. But unlike regular cops, we were sporting considerably more firepower and would show zero hesitation to use it at the first signs of violence.

  The truck slowed. It was time to get this party started.

  I was up and out the door as soon as the vehicle ground to a halt, Tia just a step behind.

  Weeks of oppressive heat had finally exploded in a thunderstorm, a rarity for Los Angeles. Thankfully it had stopped raining even though flashes of lightning still lit up the dark night sky and peals of thunder shredded the air.

  One by one we emerged from the truck, submachine guns leveled and ready as our black combats boots slapped the wet asphalt. I had expected to see a crowd of curious onlookers, but this was downtown LA after a rainstorm, and the slick streets were deserted. As we cut through the night, I took note of the three police cruisers and two ambulances parked in front of the apartment building. The sound of crackling radios filled the air, but no one was around to answer the incoming calls, the vehicles sat abandoned.

  I scanned the area and finally spotted a single police officer who slouched forlornly among the flashing sirens, red and blue lights washing over blood-caked features.

  I approached the cop with quick steps. “What happened? Are you okay?” I shouted while I nodded at one of my men to take a closer look at the cop’s injuries.

  His thousand-yard stare didn’t acknowledge our presence. The man was in shock.

  What the hell was happening inside that building?

  I shifted my attention to the looming structure before us. Moonlight played over the steel and glass tower. As lightning webbed the sky high above, I was gripped by a feeling of foreboding, an unshakable sense that whatever was waiting for us inside, it would be unlike anything I’d ever encountered before.

  I’m not superstitious, in fact, my ex used to say I was skeptical to a fault, but I usually trust my hunches.

  I should have listened to my instincts this time.

  I stole a quick glance at the shadowy main entrance and decided it might be wiser to enter the building from the rear. The direct approach didn’t seem to be working

  My men fell in step with me, and we advanced toward the right side of the building where an alley ran along the back of the structure. We rounded a collection of dumpsters overflowing with trash and soaked cardboard boxes and made our way toward a heavy steel door.

  As we drew closer to the rear entrance, I noticed a bearded, trench-coat wearing figure slouched on the pavement. Just one more homeless bum sleeping off his latest bender. Downtown Los Angeles was full of these lost souls.

  A wave of alcohol and body odor wafted from the unconscious figure. I gagged at the stench but also felt bad for the guy. Hopefully, one day in the future, the city would get their act together and find a better solution than letting these poor people fend for themselves.

  Turning away from the vagrant, I gave Rodney the hand signal to start picking the steel door’s lock.

  At twenty-five, he was the youngest member of my team, but his grey eyes and chiseled intensity made him look a lot older. My radio hissed and crackled as rainwater bubbled down a storm drain behind me, making it hard to hear if anything was moving on the other side of the door.

  I took measured breaths as Rodney worked his magic, intent on steadying my nerves and centering myself.

  This is taking too damn long.

  Almost as if to lend weight to the thought, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the night. It was followed by the sound of breaking glass. I glanced upward and saw a young man in a Lakers jersey pounding the window on the fifth floor, tattooing the glass with bloody handprints.

  I traded an alarmed look with my team. Then I glanced at Frank. At six foot three, he was the tallest man in the team.

  “We need to get in there now!”

  Frank nodded, and his trunk-sized arms leveled a breaching shotgun at the door. He depressed the trigger, and with a deafening KABOOM, a series of shock-lock slugs shattered the hinges.

  I raised a boot and kicked the door open. A beat later I was inside the building, moving, moving.

  The scream had proven one thing to me. There were still innocent lives at stake here. I had a sickening sense that we’d arrive too late to save the man in the basketball jersey, but there might be others. Hiding from the killer or killers rampaging through the building, desperately praying for help to arrive in time.

  We’re here now, I thought, wishing I could telepathically communicate with any survivors.

  Hold on just a little longer. We’ll get you out of this place.

  I charged down the hallway with quick precision, my team right behind me.

  And then I froze.

  A scene out of a horror movie awaited us in the building’s main lobby. Two dead cops and one EMT worker lay sprawled on the stone floor in widening pools of red. Crouched over one of the corpses was a young Asian man, barely college age, his face still covered in acne. His mouth was rimmed in red as he lapped up the blood on the floor. He whirled toward me with a hiss, his glaring eyes green slits.

  What the fuck?

  Displaying animalistic grace, the Asian kid sprang to his feet. And that’s when I spotted the knife in his crimson hand. As he leaped at me, jaws snapping like a rabid animal, I instinctively squeezed the trigger. The burst from my MP-5 submachine gun slammed into his body, the impact sending him into a wall of mailboxes.

  I noticed the blood spatter on my black vest, and icy horror gripped me. Fuck, I’d seen way too many zombie movies over the years. I hoped to God that whatever madness had seized the kid wasn’t contagious. This wasn’t some hostage rescue situation anymore but a scene straight out of a nightmare.

  “Holy shit!” Frank exclaimed. The man had witnessed his fair share of crazy and didn’t spook easily. But cannibalism was a new one for both of us.

  I weaved past the downed bodies and approached the kid who had tried to take a bite out of me. He was down, dying but still clinging to life despite the bullets I had pumped into him. His eyes regarded me with contempt as he started shouting in a foreign language at me.

  “Anyone know what language that is?” Tia asked.

  “Latin,” I said. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but years of attending both Catholic school and mass allowed me to at least recognize the language. Things were getting stranger by the minute.

&nbs
p; Another shriek cut through the lobby and we all turned toward the staircase. The demented cries had emanated from a few floors above us. Unlike the terrified scream we had heard in the alley, these shrieks barely sounded human. Were there more of these crazies in the building?

  Eyeing the Asian kid as he let out his final gasp, I wondered what could turn a young college kid into a cannibalistic terror. Drugs? Some kind of disease? Whatever was happening here, it needed to end. Now.

  I nodded at my team, who all looked pale but determined, and we rushed up the stairs in tight formation, climbing one flight after another. I could practically smell our fear, but we were professionals. As long as innocent lives were at stake, we had to press on, no matter how crazy the situation might be.

  My stomach churned as more bestial shrieks filled the stairway. Lips pressed into a thin line, jaw set, I let the chilling sounds guide me. When I reached the third floor, I finally spotted another one of the possessed freaks. This one was female and dressed all in black, a goth girl on steroids, tats and piercings wherever there was bare skin. She might’ve been pretty once upon a time before the madness had taken over.

  The young woman snarled at me, her eyes wide with rage and hatred.

  I swallowed hard. This girl sported the same inhumanly black gaze as the Asian kid downstairs. Her face was masked in gore, more like a ravenous beast on the prowl than a human being. She emitted a monstrous howl and dove down the stairs right at us.

  Tia reacted first and fired. The barrage of lead sent the goth girl over the railing and on a three-story dive to the lobby below. A muffled thump reverberated through the staircase as she smashed into the stone floor below.