Hell Breaker Page 3

  I made it to the precinct in record time. You might wonder how I could set foot in police headquarters after what had happened about a month earlier, when the authorities had charged me with the murder of Joe Hendrix, a local special effects wizard. The cops had obtained security footage of me gunning down Hendrix in cold blood with my signature blessed pistol.

  Talk about damning evidence.

  To anyone watching the incriminating tape, it looked like I’d lost my shit and went all Terminator on poor Hendrix. The real killer had been a magical double who’d sprung from a cursed mirror, not exactly the type of story which goes over well in court.

  Luckily the ballistics evidence wasn’t a real problem. A nifty side effect of the power of my blessed pistol is that the mystical energy released vaporizes the otherwise normal ammo when it’s fired, leaving no bullets to trace.

  The security tape was the real issue here.

  Stepping out of the Crimson Circle’s demonic church three weeks earlier, still reeling from my bitter-sweet victory over Morgal, I was determined to clear my name. My life was complicated enough without being a fugitive from the law.

  Fortunately, I had a plan.

  The first step was to return to Hendrix’s effects shop. Once there, Cyon and I entered the creepy place where I had first fought a killer doll and my evil mirror duplicate. During the investigation of Hendrix’s murder, the boys in blue had ignored the magical mirror that had brought my evil double to life.

  Time to correct that mistake.

  I nodded at Cyon. “Let’s do this.”

  Cyon, now in control of Skulick’s rejuvenated body, unsheathed Demon Slayer. Witnessing Cyon wielding the magical sword, which I regarded as one of my weapons, felt strange. Hell, seeing my partner moving like his old self without the help of a wheelchair was blowing my mind. Keeping up with all these changes was becoming challenging. One surprise seemed to follow another. But despite the strangeness of the situation, the iron determination in Cyon’s eyes matched my own. We would do this. Together.

  I inhaled deeply and faced the cursed mirror for a second time.

  My eyes bored into my reflection, and a devilish grin curled the lips of the man in the mirror. Lightning fast, my mirror image burst from its glass prison, my presence having awoken the evil locked inside the old heirloom once again.

  The diabolical doppelganger lunged at me from the mirror’s surface, hands locking around my throat. We both went flying in a tangle of flailing limbs. I broke the creature’s hold on my neck and pushed the double back with all my might.

  My evil mirror image recoiled while I sprang back to my feet in one fluid motion. As I whirled toward the duplicate, Cyon peeled out of the shadows, sword up and ready to put my double in a world of hurt.

  My doppelgänger sensed the danger, but it was too late to alter his fate. The creature pivoted toward Cyon just as the demon brought the sword down—not on the duplicate, but on the mirror itself. Magical steel shattered the glass on impact. I wished I could have unloaded Hellseeker into the mirror for good measure, but at the time the cops had confiscated my blessed pistol.

  The breaking glass echoed through Hendrix’s effects studio. It was music to my ears.

  The living reflection never stood a chance. A pitiful wail cut through the warehouse as the creature exploded into a protoplasmic cloud.

  By shattering the mirror, we had shattered the illusion of its terrible magic. Later that day, Benson sent me a copy of the security footage of Hendrix’s murder. The duplicate had vanished from the incriminating video, banished from reality. It had disappeared as if some Hollywood digital artist had painstakingly removed my evil double frame by frame.

  Without the tape, all I had to worry about was the guard I’d knocked out during my escape from the precinct. A five thousand dollar check and an apologetic phone call had convinced the officer to not press any charges. Monster hunting doesn’t pay jack, so it’s nice to have a healthy stock portfolio.

  And that’s how I became a free man again.

  I had not been back to the precinct since then, which explained why my stomach was in a knot at the moment. Today would be the first time I set foot in the place since my arrest nearly month earlier.

  I easily found parking, thank God, a lucky break considering my volatile mood. I briskly strode into the bustling precinct, ignoring the stares, and quickly located Benson. The detective looked a lot better three weeks after the beating.

  “Nice to see you looking like yourself again,” I said.

  “Getting there,” he said without humor. There was a gravity about the man, a newfound sense of purpose. Not that he’d ever been a joker. But over the last two years, he’d slowly come to accept that the paranormal was real. He’d seen too much to pretend otherwise. But being possessed by a demon and facing a Duke of Hell in battle—well, nothing quite prepares anyone for such an experience. And it makes it challenging, if not impossible, to go back to one’s old life. Benson was a changed man, and I worried about his mental state.

  “What’s going on?” I asked him, unable to hide the fear in my voice. “You said Archer might be in trouble. What happened?”

  “Follow me. There’s someone you need to talk to.”

  I fell into step with the detective as he led me into the precinct’s basement and through a maze of passageways. We were headed for the interrogation area, where I’d spent way too many hours a few weeks back. Thankfully we avoided bumping into Detective Orlando. I bet my number one fan wouldn’t approve of me being here. Luckily, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

  We came to a stop in front of a one-way mirror looking into an interrogation room. During my last visit, I’d been the one on the other side of the mirror. Now, a woman sat behind the steel table, her face buried in her hands almost as if she’d nodded off from boredom. All I could make out was a tangle of black hair.

  I eased closer to the observation window and tried to get a better look at her. Without warning, she stirred, and her head jerked upward. Her intense eyes met my own as if she possessed superhuman senses that allowed her to spot any observer foolish enough to watch her through the glass.

  Which was impossible, wasn’t it?

  “She does that a lot. Knows if someone is watching her. Or maybe she’s just paranoid.”

  “Who am I looking at?” I asked. “And what does this have to do with Archer?”

  “Parker Wang, age 31, disappeared two weeks ago, last seen boarding the nine train.”

  I nodded, the pieces falling into place. I figured Parker was one of the twelve missing people Archer had mentioned in her voicemail.

  “When we picked her up, it appeared she hadn’t bathed in weeks, and strange marks covered her body. But the real reason I called you in is that she attacked a transit officer with a whip.”

  I jerked my head around to look at the detective. “A whip?”

  Benson held up Archer’s mystical weapon, the Witch Whip which Skulick had gifted her a few months back. “I think this belongs to a mutual friend of ours.”

  I swallowed hard. How would this woman get her hands on Archer’s weapon? Unless…

  I didn’t finish the thought. Refused to.

  “At two a.m. last night, a group of frightened college kids ran into Parker Wang on the number 9 train. When they brought her to the attention of a transit cop, she freaked out, went crazy with the whip. The officer had to forcefully subdue her.”

  “What else did these kids tell you?”

  “Nothing that makes any sense to me, but maybe you’ll think differently about it.”

  “I’m all ears, Detective.”

  “They say Archer stepped into the subway car around one-thirty. The kids were on their way back home from a night of drinking and dancing, so they were out of it. They quickly sobered up when the train pulled into a station none of them had ever seen before. And that’s when they saw Parker Wang. Or I should say they heard her. She was screaming her lungs out and running for her lif
e.”

  “Something was chasing her?”

  “That seems to be the consensus. But no one saw anything in the dark.”

  I made an impatient gesture with my hand, encouraging Benson to get on with it. “How does Archer come into this story?”

  “I’m getting there. The ‘smoking babe on the train’—that’s a direct quote from a witness—pulled out a gun and rushed to Parker Wang’s aid on the dark platform. The college kids say something attacked Archer. Details are murky as no one saw the assailant in question. Parker Wang boarded the train seconds before the door closed and pulled out of the mystery station. Archer staid behind.”

  Benson’s expression darkened, and he shook his head. “That’s the last anyone saw of her.”

  I balled my fists, nails painfully cutting the palms of my hands. The thought of Archer alone, underground, with some creature stalking her…I had to find her. Now.

  “What station was this?” I demanded

  “That’s the other freaky part. They said the subway stop didn’t have a name. None of them had ever seen the stop before, and they ride the 9 train every day on their way to school. They said it was between Barnum and Chesterfield. Only one problem…”

  “There is no stop between those two stations,” I finished, my voice hollow.

  The number 9 train made a stop somewhere that shouldn’t exist. It seemed likely that all the missing people had fallen victim to the phantom subway stop. And now Archer was stuck there too.

  “Do you have any idea what happened?” Benson asked, real concern in his eyes.

  “I don’t know. But I’ll find out.”

  I turned my attention to Parker Wang. She had buried her face in her hands again, seemingly intent on shutting out the world around her.

  “I guess it’s time I had a little chat with Miss Wang.”

  “Be my guest. I hope you have more luck than I did.”

  I held out my hand. “Can I have the whip please?”

  Benson nodded and handed me the mystical weapon. Whip in hand, I entered the interrogation room. A sour scent hung in the air, and I almost gagged. Sweat, dirt, and a faint hint of the rotten-egg stench of sulfur. Twenty years ago, the demon Morgal not only murdered my parents but also left a deep scar on my chest. It lit up in pain whenever I confronted demonic evil. As I took a seat in front of Parker, I felt the first stirrings of physical discomfort. A dark supernatural force churned within this woman, and my scar was picking up on it.

  Parker Wang didn’t acknowledge my presence. She’d seemed way more interested in me when I was hiding behind a one-way mirror.

  “Hi there, how are you feeling, Parker?”

  No response. The woman stared at a point over my shoulder, not making eye contact.

  I cut straight to the chase. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but we need your help. I believe you met a friend of mine recently. I think she’s in danger.”

  I held up the Witch Whip, and her eyes flickered to it, life creeping into her blank stare.

  “You recognize this whip, don’t you? It belongs to my friend.”

  I put as much emotion into my voice as I could muster and continued. “Her name is Jane Archer. She’s important to me.”

  Parker Wang’s lips quivered, almost as if she was too terrified to speak. I noted the brown-black bruises that lined her arms and neck. They look like burn marks. What had happened to this woman? Where had she been for the last twelve days before she popped up on the number nine train again?

  “Do you know where my friend is?” I asked.

  Parker Wang nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks. At last, a human reaction. Somehow I’d broken through to her. But her response didn’t bode well for Archer. My stomach churned with dread, but I pressed on. I had to get answers even if I might not like them.

  “The Soulless have her now.” Parker lowered her head as if that explained everything.

  “Who are the Soulless? Do you have any idea where Archer is now?”

  She nodded mutely.

  I swallowed hard and leaned closer. Only inches separated us, and the smell of her unwashed body enveloped me. Once again, I noted the sulfurous scent that clung to her skin.

  “Where is she?” I asked, my voice a glassy whisper.

  The silence stretched.

  “Damn it, where is Archer? I have to help her,” I said, losing my patience at last.

  “No one can help your friend now.”

  My eyes narrowed, pulse quickening. “Why do you say that?”

  “She’s in the Bone City.”

  Tears ran down her ashen features. “They fed on my soul, and they will feed on hers.”

  I chewed my lips and fought back the impulse to slam my fist into the steel table. This woman knew where Archer was, yet she refused to give me any straight answers. This cryptic bullshit was testing my patience.

  The anger edged into my voice, and I struggled to keep it in check. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Parker. More than most people can imagine. I’m sick to my stomach knowing you had to suffer like that. But I think my friend is in trouble because she helped you escape from this terrible place. Now it’s your turn to help her.”

  I reached out for Parker’s hand, but she reared back. Her eyes shone with feral energy. And that’s when they turned solid black. It required all my self-control not to bolt for the door.

  Suddenly, the strange scent made sense, and I understood why my demonic scar pulsed with growing pain. A supernatural force had infected Parker with its foul essence. I was about to press my magical ring, the Seal of Solomon, against her forehead, but her gaze cleared and turned back to normal.

  Darkness raged within her, but it was at bay for the moment. I had to reach the person inside of her without disturbing whatever evil had briefly taken her over. Attacking her would be the quickest way to destroy the progress we’d made and end this conversation right here and now.

  “If you have any idea how I can find my friend, you have to tell me,” I pleaded with her. “Where is Archer?”

  In a voice drained of all emotion, the woman said, “She’s in in Hell.”

  More tears coursed down Parker’s cheeks. They turned black as they hit the table. Her hands shook, her lips distorting into a pained grimace.

  I jumped to my feet, sensing something bad was about to happen. Before I could touch her, her whole body burst into flame, and a wave of searing heat drove me back. Parker Wang jerked up and contorted as hungry flames licked her flesh, her lips frozen in a silent scream.

  Despite the agony she was enduring, she neither tried to extinguish the fire nor did she let out a peep, seemingly paralyzed by the same unholy force which now greedily consumed her form.

  Lightning fast, I tore off my trench coat and threw it over the burning woman. The maneuver barely slowed down the fire. These weren’t normal flames but hellfire borne from black magic.

  The door flew open, and a stunned Benson joined me in the interrogation room, a fire extinguisher in hand. His features mirrored my shock and horror as the extinguisher hissed. Foam hit the writhing human torch, but the fire continued to burn and burn.

  Mercifully, the poor woman didn’t suffer for long. Within seconds, the flames had consumed her, leaving nothing but ash behind.

  Hell had claimed another victim—and my only link to Archer had literally gone up in flames.

  I could almost hear Morgal laughing at my helpless rage.

  5

  A blood-red sky silhouetted the ghoulish Bone City.

  Archer refused to give into the despair that threatened to consume her. She had to keep looking for a way out of this nightmare. She did not understand where she was or how she could escape from this ghastly place. Luckily, she still had her trusty Glock, two magazines of silver ammo, and Bloodslayer. Whatever monsters might call this terrible place home, she would face them.

  Yeah, right. You’re screwed, girl! You’ll never get out of here alive.

  She struggled to shut
down those fatalistic thoughts. None of this is helping. Either give up now or fight, she told herself.

  Archer gritted her teeth. She was a fighter.

  Parker Wang had somehow survived in this crazy place for days without the help of any fancy magical weapons. Archer wished she hadn’t lost the Witch Whip, but it could be worse. A lot worse.

  Drawing comfort from this thought, Archer scanned the approaching storm clouds. A snarling wind buffeted her hair and whipped the bruised sky into a frenzy. The purple-black clouds hemorrhaged phosphorescent lightning.

  Who knew what rain would be like in this freaky place? She imagined drops of sizzling acid slashing down on her and melting the flesh off her bones. She had to locate shelter, which meant she would have to seek refuge in one of the nightmarish structures.

  A thought occurred to Archer. Parker had been one of missing people. Maybe there were more survivors in this city. People who had gotten off at the wrong subway stop and ended up in the fucking Twilight Zone.

  Taking sharp, quick breaths, Archer sprinted down the deserted streets, Glock in hand. There were no cars, no other sounds besides the rumbling storm, no soul in sight. This place was devoid of life, a dead city. The buildings loomed on both sides like monstrous cathedrals, shrines devoted to deities beyond her comprehension, silently watching her. How many poor souls had it taken to gather enough bones to build such giant ivory towers?

  And that raised an interesting question—who had done all the killing?

  Almost as if the invisible denizens of this horrific city had read her mind, a shrieking wail pierced the necropolis. It was the same ululating cry of the creature that had pursued Parker Wang.

  Archer grew still and tried to determine the direction the howling sound was coming from. Every hair stood on end. She caught a fleeting disturbance in the air, the sensation of something moving behind her in the near distance. But when she looked around, there was nothing there.

  She kept searching the forlorn streets for any signs of movement.

  Nothing.

  She glanced up at one of the tall structures, and that’s when she spotted a cluster of black shapes flitting past its windows. Could one even describe them as windows? More like holes in the nightmarish architecture.