Hell Breaker Page 12

  The rich, calming smell of coffee greeted Archer as she set foot in the bustling shop. Sleep-deprived students were cramming for tests wherever she looked. She found Dianna sitting in the back. The bespectacled college student was ensconced at a large table, surrounded by thick books on biology and chemistry and stacks of notes. Judging by the dark rings under the young woman’s eyes, she’d been burning the midnight oil.

  Dianna wasn’t the eleven-year-old girl her mother had known any longer. She’d blossomed into an attractive young woman who was working hard to make something out of herself despite having lost both her parents at a young age.

  During her search for Dianna, Archer had inevitably learned more about her mother. Her name was Holly McKendry, and she’d led a drug-fueled, crime-ridden life. By the time she’d checked out, Dianna’s father had already long been out of the picture. Rob McKendry had died of an overdose, leaving Holly to raise Dianna on her own. She’d done the best she could, trying to be a mother while stripping and selling drugs. She’d also been working her way through a never-ending parade of bad loser boyfriends. The last one pressured her into the drug store robbery which got her killed. Acquaintances told Archer Holly had been looking for a father for young Dianna, a good guy, a provider. No such luck. Dianna could have followed her parents down that same tragic path, but her aunt had helped her navigate the stormy, treacherous waters of her teens. Now, her future was looking bright.

  “Hi there, are you Dianna McKendry?” Archer asked. The question was perfunctory, meant to be an icebreaker. Archer had pored over many pictures of the young woman sitting across from her and would have recognized her anywhere.

  Dianna nodded slowly, obviously keeping up her guard while trying to place Archer. Diana looked so much like the doomed woman who had saved Archer’s life back in Hell that it pained her. Archer had lost her dad when she was a teenager herself and knew the pain of losing a parent at such a young age.

  “That’s me,” she said at last. “Do I know you?”

  Archer shook her head. “No, you don’t. But I knew your mother.”

  The young woman’s gaze bored into her. Archer had the young woman’s full attention.

  “Who are you?”

  “A…friend of your mother’s.”

  “She had no friends,” Dianna said. Her tone had turned cold.

  Archer steeled herself for the hard part and continued. “I have something to tell you. Something your mother told me. She’s sorry. She tried to do the best she could, and I know she came up short. But she loved you. She really did.”

  Dianna’s features became masklike. “Why tell me this now, why today?”

  “I’ve been looking for you for a long time. I’m sorry it’s taken so long.”

  This was the best explanation Archer could provide the young woman. She couldn’t tell her the truth. Better for her to think Archer was an ex-stripper friend of her mom’s who’d gotten her shit together and was eager to make amends with the past.

  “You will always be her Wonder Girl,” Archer said with a sad smile.

  The name worked magic, and Dianna’s guard crumbled. Tears welled up in the young woman’s eyes, and Archer choked up with emotion, too. Talking to Dianna proved harder than she expected. But being here, relaying Holly’s message was also liberating. She was unburdening herself of a great weight and responsibility.

  “Wherever your mother is, you’re in her heart and thoughts. She is so proud of you.”

  The first part might be a white lie after what had happened in the bone city, but Archer knew the second part was true. Tears carved tracks on Dianna’s quivering cheeks. Archer didn’t know how long she stood there, eyes locked with Dianna in shared silence.

  Archer leaned over and hugged her, fighting back her own tears. She wanted to cry for the young woman who’d grown up without a mom and dad, cry for the damned woman who’d lost the memories of her only daughter, and cry for all the treasured memories she’d lost in the dimension of fear.

  It could be worse, Archer told herself. At least I didn’t lose everything.

  Her words failed to convince her. Those moments the Soulless had taken—her feelings for Raven, the private hours they’d shared—could never be replaced. She felt a void in her being, an emptiness in her heart she couldn’t fill. Her attempts at trying to reconnect with the monster hunter had been awkward and weird. She knew Raven was suffering. He’d lost the woman he loved, the man who’d raised him, and the demon who’d been like a partner to him all at the same time. Morgal was gone and the murder of Raven’s parents had been avenged, but it was a bittersweet victory.

  As Archer stepped out of the coffee shop and faced the bitter cold, the world felt like a sadder, darker place. It would rain soon, and she sought refuge in a nearby movie theater. She didn’t care what was playing, anything to distract her raging mind for a couple of hours.

  As the movie previews flickered across the screen, Archer relaxed a little. She didn’t know what the future had in store for her, but she sensed Raven would remain a part of her life. He might not be her lover any more, but he could be a friend. And with the passing of time, perhaps those old feelings could be perhaps rekindled. Until that day, they would continue to battle the same enemy. The creatures of darkness weren’t taking a vacation while she and Raven grieved for the past—the war went on. There would be new paranormal cases to solve, new monsters to slay. In an uncertain, ever-changing universe, she clung to one grim truth: she would fight the shadows as long as she could draw a breath.

  And to her surprise, this realization filled Archer with a sense of calm.

  20

  The last two weeks hadn’t been exactly a walk in the park.

  I might have survived my trip to Hell, but in a way I felt like I’d never really escaped.

  I felt adrift and lost, moving through life without purpose and direction. Simply put, I was a fucking mess. Empty bottles of Jack Daniels and stacks of pizza boxes littered the loft, which was rapidly turning into a man cave. The place felt empty without the people I loved and depended on in my life.

  As I squinted against the early morning light seeping into my headquarters, my breath reeking of booze, I knew I needed to get out. Maybe for good. A fresh start. Anything to put some distance between me and the past.

  Mind made up, I showered, got dressed, and left the loft for the first time since returning to Earth. A light, chilly rain pricked my face. I felt numb inside, and it weirdly made sense that the elements should numb my body too. I had no choice but to walk in the rain. There were no cabs in my rundown neighborhood, and in some faraway dimension of darkness, the wreck of my muscle car was rotting away. I didn’t even care.

  I walked and walked.

  Druggies and bums—my neighbors—watched me with interest. I guess I looked like I could be one of them after my two-week bender, but they knew I wasn’t like them. I was the weird guy with the cool car who lived down the street. The one who was always packing. I wanted one of them to say something stupid. I was itching for a fight. I needed to feel something. Even if it was pain.

  I had destroyed the archdemon who’d slain my parents, and I felt nothing. No sense of triumph or even closure. All I could think of was what I’d lost. Skulick. Archer. Even Cyon, manipulative bastard he was.

  I aimlessly wandered the empty downtown streets. Ugly, boxlike structures cast harsh shadows in the watery light. Hey, at least the buildings hadn’t been constructed from human remains.

  As I walked, I lost all track of time. I couldn’t have told you if one hour passed or five. It didn’t matter. There was no place I had to be, nothing I had to do. Things had been surprisingly quiet in the Cursed City since my return. A part of me wondered if Cyon might have sealed the breach between our world and the dimension of fear during our return trip. Now wouldn’t that be great? But in one form or another, evil always returned. If the rift was sealed here, some other ambitious fools would crack open the veil between worlds in another city.
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  The fight never ended, and victories were few and far between.

  I didn’t want to dwell on the cost of our victory against Morgal, but my mind kept returning to Skulick. I tried to draw comfort from having set my partner’s soul free. He wasn’t a prisoner in Hell any longer. Freed from Morgal’s influence, his spirit could finally move on.

  But none of that changed the grim reality—Skulick was still gone, this time for good. I was on my own.

  Time to grow up, kid.

  I was about to head back to the loft when I recognized the warehouse up ahead. Unconsciously, I’d returned to the same rotting building which had shuttled us the between Earth and Hell, nearly six miles from my home base. Why had my feet led me back to this damn place? I was trying to forget, not be reminded of everything I’d lost. Yet here I was. Back at the site where the breach had first occurred. My scar throbbed something fierce. Occult energy coursed through the structure.

  My cell chirped. The ringtone had an eerie quality in these desolate streets. I checked the incoming call, hoping it might be Archer. It turned out to be Detective Benson.

  I paused. Should I even answer this call? Did the detective have some new case for me, and if so, would I be ready to tackle a new paranormal rime scene in my current mood? I doubted it, but I also refused to let one of my last remaining friends down.

  “Hello, Detective, what’s going on?”

  “I have some big news,” Benson said.

  “I’m listening.”

  “We arrested a surviving member of the Crimson Circle.”

  “Damn,” I said. “I had no idea you were still looking into it.”

  “I’ve been pursuing the case after what happened at the church. Being…possessed…by that demon, experiencing your world for the first time…”

  Benson broke off, overcome by emotion. I knew how he felt.

  “I’m sorry, Raven. I know you live with this shit, but this is pretty new to me.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I should probably reassure him somehow, but I couldn’t find the words.

  Almost as if he could sense my dark mood through the phone, he continued, “We found information you’ll be interested in.”

  “What sort of information?”

  “Lists, names of buyers of various occult items. And a world map with certain cities highlighted.”

  Benson didn’t have to explain. We both knew about Morgal’s lieutenants, who’d taken over some of the wealthiest and most influential people in the world. Even with their boss out of the picture, these lower-level demons would be determined to cause mayhem and misery all over the globe. Now more so than ever. They would want to avenge their fallen master and fill the power gap he’d left behind.

  Before I could respond to Benson, something strange happened. Even stranger than my usual brand of weirdness. It was just a whisper, the barest hint of a voice, but I heard it.

  Raven…

  “Do you think you could come down to the precinct now?”

  Benson’s voice faded in the background as my attention turned inward, hoping to pick up the voice in my head again.

  I waited.

  And waited.

  The voice remained silent. Had I imagined the whole thing?

  “Hey, man, are you there?” Uncertainty had crept into the detective’s voice.

  RAVEN!

  There it was again. I clenched my jaw. No point in denying it. The voice in my head was real and all too familiar.

  “I’m sorry, Benson, something came up. I will get back to you as soon as I can.”

  Before Benson could retort, I ended the call. I definitely wanted to study those maps. But I wanted to find out who was invading my mind even more.

  My gut told me the voice had come from the warehouse. Suddenly, my presence here didn’t feel like an accident any longer. Something or someone had guided me back to this place.

  I drew Hellseeker and entered the warehouse. Runes and wards bled down the walls. Cyon’s work—dormant now, but still imbued with latent power according to my aching scar.

  I combed the main floor. The place appeared deserted, but in my line of work appearances can be deceiving.

  My scar pulsed, and I let the gnawing pain guide me. It led me to a steel staircase up to the next floor. The pulsing in my chest kept building in intensity as I closed in on the roof access door. Whatever was setting off my Spidey Sense, it was on the roof.

  “Whoever the hell you are, show yourself,” I said as I approached the exit.

  I didn’t receive an answer. Someone was having way too much fun playing games. Too bad I’d lost my sense of humor in the dimension of fear. I snarled as I kicked open the door and stepped onto the roof. Blustering wind tussled my hair and buffeted my coat. A landscape of ugly, empty warehouses stretched out below me. The majestic skyline of the Cursed City overlooked the scene, and for a surreal moment I thought I was looking at the bone city.

  I swallowed hard as reality returned to normal. There was no one here.

  I was about to head back into the warehouse to continue my search when I caught a glint of strange light coming from the far edge of the roof. Curiosity piqued, I followed the mysterious radiance. My eyes widened as I recognized the source of the light.

  Hell Breaker.

  I frowned. How was this possible? I remembered the weapon leaving my hand, lifting to the air and releasing Skulick and the dead Atlantean as the warehouse phased out of Hell.

  But here it was.

  I recalled the disk’s ability to return like a boomerang. Had it whistled back to the warehouse and landed on the roof seconds before we returned to our world? It was the only explanation which made any sense. I held my breath as my hand closed around the steel disk. The three curved blades shimmered in the milky sunlight.

  The moment my fingers closed around Hell Breaker, I heard the voice in my head again.

  “Did you miss me, partner?”

  “Cyon?” I asked.

  “In the…well, not the flesh. But I’m still here. And we still have work to do.”

  I held the sentient demon-killing weapon in my hand, oblivious of the rain, which was becoming heavier. And to my surprise, I was smiling.

  The light pulsing off the disk grew brighter, steel morphing into a sword adorned with spells and runes that had previously graced the pages of the Daemonium.

  Demon Slayer or Hell Breaker. No matter what you wanted to call the weapon, it felt good in my hand. Better and more badass than ever.

  I held up the sword as if I was posing for a movie poster. Facing the Cursed City’s skyline, I might have resembled a knight gearing up for combat. Which wasn’t too far from the truth. The war against the forces of darkness would continue. And for the first time since my return to Earth, I felt ready to return to the front lines.

  THE END

  Raven and Cyon will return.

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  Afterword

  Wow, here we are! After nine books of chronicling Raven’s adventures, we have finally reached the climax of the Cyon/Morgal cycle. And what an exciting ride it’s been! Telling these tales, my first attempt at producing self-contained novels which also tell a bigger, serialized story, has been a blast, and I hope you all equally enjoyed the ride.

  Is the Shadow Detective saga over? Far from it. I have some new Raven stories cooking, but these will take the action in a brand new direction. New projects are in the works too—Night Slayer, Panther Man, The Paranormalists to name a few.

 
As the saying goes, stay tuned.

  Please accept my gratitude for reading the Shadow Detective series and keeping me motivated with your facebook comments, emails and reviews. You guys make this whole venture worthwhile.

  All the best,

  Bill Massa

  Venice Beach, April 2018

  About the Author

  William Massa is a produced screenwriter and bestselling Amazon author. His film credits include Return to House on Haunted Hill and he has sold pitches and scripts to Warner, USA TV, Silver Pictures, Dark Castle, Maverick and Sony.

  William has lived in New York, Florida, Europe and now resides in Venice Beach surrounded by skaters and surfers. He writes science fiction and dark fantasy/urban fantasy horror with an action-adventure flavor.

  Writing can be a solitary pursuit but rewriting can be a group effort. I strive to make each book better than the last and feedback is incredibly helpful. If you have notes, thoughts or comments about this book or want to contact me, feel free to contact me at:

  williammassabooks@gmail.com

  Also by WILLIAM MASSA

  THE SHADOW DETECTIVE SERIES

  Cursed City

  Soul Catcher

  Blood Rain

  Demon Dawn

  Skull Master

  Ghoul Night

  Witch Wars

  THE OCCULT ASSASSIN SERIES

  Damnation Code