Night Slayer: Midnight War Page 8

  An icy chill pricked my back as my thoughts turned to the Shadow Cabal. If man’s inhumanity toward his fellow man wasn’t bad enough, now I had to worry about a crazy syndicate of mages who were hoping to turn the world into a Club Med for demons.

  Hey, at least my life wasn’t dull.

  I shot past a fast food burger joint and started to salivate. One thing was certain—once I finished off my business with the succubus, I was going to grab myself an In-N-Out burger, the greasiest taco truck burrito I could get my hands on, and a cold IPA. There are certain things a man can’t live without.

  “What’s so special about this In-N-Out Burger?” Octurna inquired.

  It only happens to be the best damn burger on the planet. Talk about real magic. If you stay out of my head, I might get you one on the way back.

  With a grin on my face, I cranked the engine, excited by the prospects of a juicy burger.

  “I never witnessed a warrior walking into battle with such a favorable disposition, Jason. Are you taking this seriously?”

  Hey, I’m having a moment here. Please don’t ruin it.

  “I am…legitimately worried about your chance of survival. You had best accept the gravity of the upcoming battle if you hope to walk away from it in one piece.”

  Don’t sweat it, Octurna. I got this.

  I doubted the sorceress shared my confidence, but at least my words stopped her incessant whisperings in my head.

  As I blasted down the next few blocks, my elated mood evaporated. Grim thoughts settled into my mind. The initial excitement of being back in the world was wearing off, and the reality of what I was up against dawned on me. I was about to confront a creature that had managed to take out a full SWAT team. This monster had almost killed me once before. I would have died if Octurna hadn’t stepped in. At least I came prepared for my rematch. I was armed to the teeth with a badass magical arsenal and had a better sense of the nightmarish shit storm I was about to enter.

  I was ready for this fight. Needed it. Or at least that’s what I was telling myself. The closer I got to the strip club, the more the waves of adrenaline ebbed off and fear rose inside of me.

  Fear was good, I told myself. Fear kept your guard up. Fear kept you alive. Thank God for my years in the Marines. That training, paired with what I’d learned in Octurna’s fortress, would see me through this.

  I hoped.

  Dread in my heart, I stared at the ugly, square building that would have smoothly blended in with the other abandoned warehouses except for the flashing neon signs on its roof. Island Fantasy was no island, and I was pretty sure the joint disappointed on the fantasy front too.

  I pulled up to the structure and parked the Nighthawk. As I killed the engine, I wondered if the cycle would be safe in this seedy part of town. Octurna hadn’t provided me with a lock or chain. The idea of some thief getting away on my magical bike didn’t sit well with me.

  “Don’t worry, the motorcycle is protected. Any fool dumb enough to touch it will flashback to their worst childhood memories and be reduced to a blubbering mess,” Octurna chimed in helpfully.

  With a last, lingering look, I made my way to the strip club. I’d fallen hard for my new ride. The thought that someone might try to steal her made me physically ill.

  Booming music drifted from the main entrance, where a monster of a man kept his watchful eye on the clientele. I worried that I might look a tad intimidating in my Road Warrior get-up, but as I looked down at myself, I realized I was wearing a cheap, sweat-stained suit and a Rolex that uncomfortably bit into my chubby wrist. My clothes had changed without me even noticing. I felt for the coin in my suit pocket and came up with a stack of twenties and ones. I silently wondered how Octurna knew what the going rate for a lap dance was in the twenty-first century.

  I stepped up to the bouncer who regarded me with a blank, bored expression. My disguise was working. I just looked like another sucker eager to trade my hard-earned cash for a serious case of blue balls.

  He waved me inside, and I entered the pleasure den.

  A bored looking woman who had to be in her thirties and a few pounds too heavy for the stage eyed me with a tired, jaded expression. Ex-stripper who had made the career jump to door person—I could tell she loved her life.

  I paid the cover charge and stepped into the garish flesh palace. The AC was cranked up too high, and I felt terrible for the scantily clad girls shaking their asses on stage and hustling patrons for drinks and dances or both. Two neon-lit stages rose above the tawdry red carpet. Mirrors were everywhere, making the club appear larger than it was, an effect enhanced by the low, moody lighting.

  I eyed my reflection for a beat. The face staring back made me shudder. It was me but about a hundred pounds heavier. A double—correction, triple—chin, and I was pretty much bald with only grey tufts above my ears reminding the world that once upon a distant time I’d possessed a full head of hair. It was an image I wouldn’t get out of my head any time soon. But man, I sure looked like the perfect mark.

  “Excellent job, Octurna,” I thought.

  My pleasure, handsome.

  I could almost hear the sorceress laughing. I wasn’t amused.

  Strangely enough, even though I looked like I was one meal shy of a heart attack, my body felt the same to me. At least that meant I hadn’t actually physically transformed. Octurna’s magic was no joke. The big question was if this trick of smoke and mirrors would work on a demon. The sorceress seemed to believe so. I hoped she was right.

  “Have some faith in me, Jason.”

  I headed for the bar and purchased a Coors Light, making sure to tip generously. I had no idea who among the dancers was the succubus. The plan was to let the creature come to me.

  Beer in my grubby hand, I took a seat in one of the gaudy purple chairs surrounding the larger stage. A tiny Asian beauty hung upside down from the stripper pole, one leg wrapped around the shiny metal while the other pointed toward the dance floor. Talk about flexibility. The girl looked like she might be ready for Cirque du Soleil tryouts.

  I sipped my drink and let my gaze roam the joint. How to pick out the demon from all the other dancers?

  The women came in all shapes and sizes and ethnicities. A little something for everyone. But none of them particularly moved me. They couldn’t hold a candle to the Amazons that had shared my bed last night.

  Oh hell. Last night’s adventure in the grotto suddenly made more sense. Octurna had made sure I wouldn’t get distracted while on the job. Christ, the sorceress had thought of everything. Kinda scary how she did that.

  That said, neither lap dances nor strip clubs were my scene. Personally, I considered them a waste of hard-earned cash I’d rather spend on a date with a real girl than on some two-minute fantasy. But I planned to buy a few dances to attract the attention of the succubus.

  It’s a hard gig, but someone’s got to do it.

  After the fifth girl collected her twenty-dollar bill, I was beginning to wonder if I might need a better plan. And then girl number six showed up, and my tattoos lit up with agony almost as if I was sporting fresh ink.

  I studied the gorgeous creature in front of me. The previous dancers had been attractive enough. Girl number six undeniably was a vision. A natural beauty, nothing fake here, with a big smile and even bigger eyes. A body made for sin, a face of an angel. While my tattoos were telling me she was the succubus, the rest of me wanted to save her from a future in a place like this. Honestly, she was the last dancer in the club I would have suspected of being a demon.

  Octurna’s words echoed through my mind: Don’t trust surface appearances. Boy, she hadn’t been kidding. The succubus had altered her appearance from the femme fatale I’d first encountered with my team. Like Octurna’s golems, her appearance seemed to be fluid and specific to the fantasies of her potential victims.

  I guess I had a thing for the girl-next-door who needed rescuing.

  The succubus flashed me a friendly, inquisitive look. �
��And what’s your name, sugar?”

  “Joe,” I said, the lie rolling off my tongue.

  She innocently offered me her hand. Shaking a scantily clad girl’s hand in this place felt surreal. “Nice to meet you, Joe. My name is Sasha. Are you having a good time?”

  I nodded my head, perhaps a tad too quickly. Her wholesome appearance was throwing me off. Octurna was wise to test me in the arena the way she had. This might prove tougher than I imagined. I was a sucker for a pretty face.

  “The succubus is manipulating you,” Octurna said, but her voice didn’t seem quite as loud in my mind as it had before.

  I wanted to believe that Octurna’s magic could be wrong, wanted to give this lovely creature the benefit of the doubt.

  “Snap out of it, Jason. My magic doesn’t lie. Don’t let yourself be played for a fool unless you want to end up like the others. Don’t be such a... man!”

  I ignored Octurna and focused on Sasha.

  The wholesome-looking stripper sat down beside me, and we started to chat. Talk about a lively exchange. There were no awkward pauses, no lulls in the conversation. Somehow Sasha kept the flow going, making it seem both natural and fun, and like we’d known each other for way longer than five minutes. Even though I tried to tell myself over and over again that I was dealing with a murderous predator here, I kept finding myself getting lost in her eyes. Sasha sure could make a man feel like the center of the universe.

  “Remember what she is. What she did to your team.”

  Along with Octurna’s words, images of my slaughtered team flashed through my mind. Sasha’s smiles suddenly seemed less genuine, her beauty less intoxicating. I clung to the images of carnage and despair. I forced myself to picture each of my dead teammates even though it hurt. I focused on the memory of the reptilian beast that hid under this skillfully crafted façade. I had resisted her charms once before. I could do it again.

  I know what you are, I silently promised. And tonight, I will send you back to Hell.

  Sasha still smiled and joked and flattered me at every turn, but she had stopped weaving a spell over me. Her magic was powerful, but so was the memory of my dead friends.

  Thank you, Octurna. I owe you one.

  My initial infatuation gave way to anger and then hatred. Hatred for what this creature had done to my friends. Done to me. And what it was doing to innocent people. She was a monster. And I was going to kill her or die trying in the process.

  “Do you want to go to the champagne room with me?” the succubus asked.

  I flashed a happy grin and nodded enthusiastically. Inside, I cringed at the thought of this monster rubbing up against me. I was already thinking of ways of luring the succubus out of the club so I could finish her.

  Be patient, I told myself. Take a page from her playbook. Lure her into a false sense of security and control. Let her lower her guard. And then strike without mercy.

  Sasha grabbed my hand, and I let her lead me to the back of the club. The envious looks of the other patrons followed us.

  The back room was even chillier than the main floor of the club. I guess they didn’t want anyone to get too comfortable, and the cold did have a sobering effect. I pretended to respond to Sasha’s words and the sensuality of her dancing—and kept feeding her bills, creating the impression that I was another mark smitten by her. This is what the succubus wanted. She fed on emotion and need.

  I looked up at her, pretending to be a man madly in love. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Sasha. I…I don’t want to seem forward, but is there a way we could continue this in a more private setting?”

  This was it. I was setting my trap. I prayed I hadn’t overplayed my hand. The succubus hadn’t murdered her victims in the club, so in each instance she had found a way to meet up with them elsewhere. The club was her web but not the place where this black widow finished off her prey. Confronting her here would draw attention and most likely get innocent men and women killed. The chance for collateral damage was way too high.

  The succubus’ eyes lit up, and a devilish smile played over her lips.

  “Someone wants to be naughty tonight.”

  I shrugged, feigning sudden shyness, playing up the role of the middle-aged schlub who was about to do something foolish but couldn’t help himself. I pulled out a roll of hundred-dollar bills. The gold coin in my suit jacket seemed to be printing money, creating new wads of cash as soon as I needed them. Man, this magic would have sure come in handy during my last Vegas trip.

  Our little moment was ruined by the bouncer. He stuck his head through the door and barked, “Sasha, get your ass on stage!”

  The succubus’ eyebrows shot up in irritation, and her eyes narrowed with anger. Suddenly she didn’t look so innocent—a small crack in the demon’s mask.

  “I get off at one,” she told me. “Could you wait for me in the alley out back? I don’t like to have to walk home by myself.”

  I checked the time. It was twelve thirty.

  I flashed her broad grin. “I’ll give you a ride, sweetheart.”

  She giggled and planted a little kiss on my cheek. I wanted to scrub it off, but I forced myself to be still. We returned to the club area, and Sasha dutifully headed for the stage, all smiles. Someone had snatched my seat while I was in the back with Sasha, and I plopped down on one of the bar stools. Onstage, Sasha began to seduce the rest of the club, but she continued to wink and flash me a few smiles.

  I sported a smile of my own. I had scored a date with a demon.

  For the next half hour, there was nothing to do but wait and watch. As I sipped on another Coors Light, I steeled myself for what lay ahead.

  I experienced fear—what sane man wouldn’t—but I refused to let the emotion control me. Instead, I put my trust into my training and drew confidence from it. I was a Marine. A SWAT commander. And now, a monster hunter.

  This time, the succubus would be facing a different, much better-prepared opponent.

  At five minutes before one, I paid my remaining tab at the bar and left the club. Near the entrance, sobs drifted through the night. They came from the jersey-wearing punk next to my motorcycle. From the looks of it, someone had gotten too frisky with my wheels. As the punk wailed about a mama who never breastfed him, I walked around the club and edged into the back alley.

  The back of the club was dark and ugly and smelled of trash. Without the glittering neon to dazzle the senses, the place looked more like another abandoned warehouse in a shitty part of town than some pleasure palace. Talk about a fitting metaphor for the whole joint. Would the succubus try to kill me right here?

  We would see…

  I waited.

  And waited.

  After about fifteen minutes, I started to wonder if something might be wrong. Had the succubus seen through my magical disguise? Was my cover blown?

  I was about to leave the shadowy alley and return to the club when the steel back door creaked open, and Sasha emerged. Her wholesome, innocent looks clashed with the squalid surroundings and the slick leather coat and long black boots she wore. Her eyes found me, and a smile brightened her angelic face.

  I picked up a new emotion from her—hunger. It was subtle and barely noticeable to a regular person, but I was looking for any signs of the monster hiding under the mask. I had caught my first glimpse of the succubus, and it took all my willpower not to react.

  Patience, I told myself. You’ll get your chance soon enough.

  Damn, I was starting to sound like Octurna.

  Sasha stepped up to me and opened her coat. The move caught me momentarily off guard. I expected to see a naked body under the leather fabric. I’d imagined perky breasts and long, lean legs. Instead, her body consisted of a mass of snakelike arms which branched out like a blooming flower.

  A second later, a tornado of whipping tentacles raced toward me.

  I went for one of my silver daggers, but the monster’s undulating limbs were faster. One wrapped around my hand. Another snaked around
my neck and drew tight.

  I gasped, choked and struggled for air.

  Then the world turned dark, and the ground came rushing up at me.

  9

  My eyes screwed open, and I squinted, still groggy from the attack in the alley. As my vision adjusted to the low light, I realized I was back in the strip club. Hands cuffed to a steel chair on one of the dance stages. I caught my reflection in the wall of mirrors. Not surprisingly, my disguise had evaporated, and my own lean mug stared back at me. I no longer wore the cheap suit but sported my black monster hunting combat outfit. Unfortunately, my weapons were gone.

  So much for the element of surprise.

  No one in the joint paid me any mind, which struck me as odd. Their collective attention was riveted on the second, larger stage. Everybody in the club, all the way from the drooling horndogs to the ‘roid-popping staff to Sasha’s lingerie-clad sisters in arms, had gathered around. The air crackled with anticipation. What was going on here?

  I received the answer an instant later when a trending R & B song boomed from the speakers, and red and blue lights swept over the main stage. Sasha stood there, naked and lovely as my fantasy of her had been, surrounded by my arsenal. The submachine gun, my pistol, the daggers and gauntlet—they had all become props in her private little performance art piece.

  She ran the silver daggers sensually over her bare flesh and blew me a kiss.

  The demon was mocking me.

  The whole club focused on Sasha as she started to writhe like a serpent around the steel pole, brandishing my weapons. One thing was for damn sure—my monster hunting career was getting off to a rocky start.

  The succubus’ moves hypnotized the hormonal crowd, her heat intoxicating. Even knowing what I did about her nature, I still couldn’t pull my eyes away.

  What was Sasha up to? Was she offering me one last dance before she finished me off?

  She continued her mesmerizing performance, weaving a powerful spell over the club’s patrons, working them all into a frenzy. I sensed that this was no ordinary dance. Her body glistened with sweat, her eyes afire as she took the burlesque arts to a new level. It rained bills on stage. Everyone watching would have eagerly parted with whatever fortune they had and would have gladly handed her the shirts of their backs if she so demanded.