By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains strong violence.
"We had to make the deadline." The Hunter spoke out loud. "That's why I used a grenade instead of you. In case you're wondering. Don't worry, it won't happen again."
It was close to noon; the sun was high and would dominate the sky well into the night. Summer was the season of light and life. It was a time when good little boys and innocent young girls enjoyed the gift of life. With the top down on his 79’ Mustang, Samuel scanned the heavens. It was as blue as Lake Michigan used to be; there was no sign of rain as far as the eye could see. But the eye could be deceived, if they were in town, storm clouds would soon envelop Chicago. A sudden burst of heat on his thigh told him it was time to prepare.
The Bounty Hunter didn’t need to check if the Colt was loaded. The demon weapon always was. Where it got its evil ammunition Samuel did not know and had long since stopped wondering. The thought in Samuel’s mind was who in this miserable city of millions would be his target and Azazel’s prize. The Hunter looked at the green street signs as he slowly drove down Lincoln Avenue. “He was a cool dude. He ended my first slavery. I liked him,” he thought remembering the great man who dared call him friend. The country lawyer was one of the few reaps he truly regretted, but a deal is a deal and a debt must be paid.
As the Hunter passed from the North side of the Windy City to the South, he noticed the change in the houses and surroundings. Gone were the cute little clothing boutiques, and coffee shops. What replaced them were cheap liquor stores and even cheaper churches. The people were the biggest change. Up North the streets were pretty much devoid of walkers. This made sense to Samuel. It was past eleven in the afternoon, most good people were hard at work or learning in schools, but on the south end of the city, a completely different culture was in play. Some on that side never seemed to find work, at least not the legal kind. Briefly he remembered a time – long ago, when he believed nothing would hold his people back.
Crossing 61st street, the Colt began to vibrate in its holster. Sometimes it did that when evil was near. Looking at the gang signs that adorned nearly every surface, the Hunter had little doubt that evil festered there. He would have to be careful; though he himself served evil. Decades of hunting had taught him that unlike His servants, those dominated by evil had few alliances and fewer friends.
Like hot needles stabbing his brain, the Colt sent tendrils of pain into Samuel. The target was near and it must be reaped. The Hunter pulled up to the corner of 63rd and King Drive. Stepping from his car he felt the pull of the Colt. It wanted him to go down the nearby alley. Closing the door behind him, the hunter walked away from his car. He did not raise the top or lock the doors. The wards that protected his stallion would decapitate any normal thief and some less than normal beings.
As The Hunter made his way down the passage a stray dog poked his head around a garage. Animals are usually smarter than people. The mutt took one sniff of Samuel and quickly ran the other way. The three black teens a hundred feet away, made no such retreat.
“Is it one of them?” Samuel asked the Colt. The evil weapon couldn’t speak but it did communicate its wants, and the hunter waited for its signal.
“What you looking to buy, nigga?” The tallest of the group took the lead. “You want a dime bag or a nickel?”
The Bounty Hunter didn’t answer. He looked up at the sun and noted its position. It was high noon. The deadline had come. Returning his eyes to the teens he gauged their ages. The tall one was maybe nineteen, the fat stud in the middle, seventeen, and the little one with the nervous twitch could not have been more than thirteen.
“Why are you wearing that hot ass trench coat in the middle of summer?” As soon as the boy spoke the Colt began to beat. Like a living heart it had suddenly come to life and then sent an image of the deal into the hunter’s mind.
A ten year old boy stood outside Cook County Hospital. Inside, his seventeen year old brother was clinging to life, a victim of a rival gang member’s bullet.
The boy was praying to God, but was unsure of the words. Had he said God? Perhaps he said another name. One he possibly overheard or read somewhere. That part was unknown to Samuel. What was shown to him was a shadowy image he had seen in his own nightmares, advance on the boy. A product of a corroded community the boy, did not run from the figure. He knows what he sees is evil, but wickedness is a common sight for him.
“What will you give for his life?” The question appears open, but it has only one answer.
“I don’t want Marqunte to die.” The boy shows courage beyond his years. “I don’t want him to be hurt anymore. Not by the police. Not by no one. Forever!”
“NO!” The demon surged forward, breaking the boy’s courage and causing him to stumble back.
“Two years is the deal.
His wounds I will heal.
He will have my protection.
Your soul, added to my collection!”
The bargain was struck and the demon vanished. The image faded from the hunter’s eyes. The tall dealer was looking around him, as if he suddenly realized that there was something wrong.
The Hunter looked down at the boy. “A deal was made and now a debt must be paid.”
The boy’s eyes went wide with remembrance and fear. “Kill him. He’s a King!” he shouted.
The fat one rushed the Hunter. He was surprised that someone so large could move so quickly. He spun to his left and like a mad bull the boy flew by his target. Quick eyes caught the taller teen reach into his waistband. A quicker draw brought the Colt free. The Hunter’s left hand pushed back the hammer a millisecond before a well trained finger pulled the trigger.
The sound of thunder and the smell of brimstone filled the air as the dealer fell dead. Without turning the Hunter aimed behind him.
“Don’t sho…” The fat one’s head exploded before his useless plea could be finished.
The Colt vibrated madly in Samuel’s hand. It had come for one soul and consumed two extra, but it was far from satisfied. The Hunter looked down at the boy cradling his dead brother in his arms. His mind instantly went back to a similar scene over a hundred years ago, and for a moment he knew pity.
“You have eaten well,” he spoke to the Colt. “Is this needed?”
The Colt did not answer, but its vibrations ceased. Samuel holstered his weapon, and turned away from the heart wrenching scene.
The crack of a gunshot, and the force of a bullet slamming into his shoulder, spun Samuel to the ground. Coming towards him, the boy held his brother’s gun before him. The unmistaken look of murder filled his eyes as he shot again. Pain and blood burst from Samuel’s thigh. Blocking out the pain, his talented hand reached for the Colt, but it would not draw. A third shot exploded into the ground next to his head. Charred asphalt and rock fragments peppered his face. With two hands Samuel tugged at his weapon and still he could not free it. The boy stood over Samuel and peered down into his brown eyes.
“You killed my brother.” The boy aimed the gun at his head. “Fuck you, and fuck the devil too!”
The vibration in his hand brought a moment of relief. With a speed few living men have witnessed, the hunter drew the Colt and fired twice. The first shot shattered the boy’s gun, the next his heart.
Heat and pleasure seemed to radiate from the Colt as it drank in the boy’s soul. Hearing the sound of sirens in the distance, the Hunter turned and limped back to his waiting Mustang.
By the time he merged onto Lake Shore drive the wounds in his arm and leg were gone, but the lesson he had learned in the alley, remained. Until each and every debt had been paid, he was bound to the Colt, and through it, to Azazel. The demon lord knew no mercy, and the same must be so for his Bounty Hunter.
| Author Notes | This is fiction. I do not advocate the killing of kids or anyone. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Recap of Part 1:
The Bounty Hunter went to Chicago to fullfill the Bounty on the head of a thirteen year old boy. Taking his soul was not his first choice, but a debt must be paid. The Hunter also took the souls of the boy's brother and a friend. Wounded from the gun battle the hunter headed north out of the city and away from the police.
*************
The Bounty Hunter was starving. Not literally but close enough. The powers granted him by his master, Azazel, had completely repaired his bullet wounds, but like all things evil, those repairs came with a price. The re-growth of skin, bone and muscle tissue required protein and calcium; what the body could not find in his stomach, it would take from other sources.
“I have to stop for a minute.” Samuel had a habit of talking to the Colt like it was a person. To be honest, he wasn’t completely sure that once it wasn’t.
Just north of Chicago, in the small town of Waukegan, Samuel spotted a CITGO gas station. He looked down at his gauge, and decided that if he was going to feed himself, he would feed his mustang too.
He pulled up to one of the pumps and slid out. His legs instantly buckled and his hands began to shake. I have to get something to eat. Samuel forced himself to ignore his hunger pains and grabbed the pump. A man must feed his horse before himself. He pressed the clutch but nothing happened. Looking at the pump, his eyes caught a shiny sticker: Please pay first.
“When did the world get so untrusting?” As he walked to the station he passed an average looking young woman. Their eyes met and held. For a moment Samuel thought he felt a shiver from the Colt, but with the shaking in his body he couldn’t be sure.
Moving quickly he picked up a few items to take the edge off until he could secure a suitable meal, and made his way to the counter. A little boy was in line with his mother. Samuel liked the way the boy’s shoes lighted up. He thought back to the kid he had to gun down. “This is how kids should look.”
“Look, Mommy, a black cowboy,” the kid shouted, while pointing at Samuel.
“Tommy, No!” The mother quickly pulled the boy’s arm down. “I’m sorry, Sir. He’s into Westerns. He didn’t mean any offense.”
“It’s okay.” Samuel gave the kid a wink. “I was a cowboy, a hundred years ago.”
The mother stared at Samuel for a second, grabbed her son by the arm and then hurried out. “Guess I should’ve kept that small fact to myself,” he figured, as he watched the lady go back to her car. There was something about the sway of her hips that sparked a long sleeping part of him. As he admired the fullness of her backside, he noticed the young woman from before standing by her car, and looking in his direction. Again he felt a slight tremor from the Colt.
“Excuse me, Sir.” The old clerk was motioning him forward. “Did you find everything you needed?”
“Yes… no. You have any non-sugary food?” If the Colt was giving him some kind of weird warning, then he needed food quickly. Candy bars and potato chips were no good. They would have his accelerated metabolism crashing in minutes.
“All we have is Beef Jerky, but no one seems…”
“I’ll take all you’ve got.” Samuel reached into his pocket, and then threw a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “And I’ll take a box of those Flintstone’s vitamins too.”
As Samuel talked with the clerk, the young woman outside was having an entirely different conversation on her cell phone.
“Yes, he’s still in there. You better hurry; he looks like he’s going to shoot the clerk, not just rob him.”
“Can you describe him?”
“He’s a big black guy. With tattoos on his face and neck. He’s acting all wild, like he’s on drugs. He has an automatic weapon. It looks like one of them AR-15’s. Oh my God! He shot him! He shot him!”
“Police are on the way! Police are on…”
The young woman closed her phone and smiled. She really didn’t like to lie, but years of experience had taught her that sometimes even His agents had to sin a little to destroy soldiers of evil.
“Okay, Sir. That’s twenty packets of beef jerky, two pints of whole milk and one box of Flintstone’s multivitamins.”
The clerk started bagging the items. The Hunter looked out the windows for the young lady, but she was no longer there. For some reason seeing the woman gone only made the Hunter more nervous.
“Are those vitamins chewable?”
“Yes, Sir, and they come in five different fruit flavors.”
The Hunter ripped the top off the container, and with one hand began dumping dozens of pills into his mouth. He motioned the clerk to skip the bag, and popped the top of the milk. As he guzzled the cold liquid down, he looked again outside. All he saw were the boy and his mother, still pumping gas. The Colt was silent, but his instincts were screaming.
He dropped the empty milk carton, grabbed his bag of jerky and headed for the door. Behind him the Clerk was yelling about his change. The Hunter waved him off. The milk and the vitamins felt good on his stomach, but he knew it would take time for them to work into his system. At the moment he felt sluggish and vulnerable.
He stopped at the door and scanned the area. The street was empty. The mother with the great ass was on her phone, oblivious to the world around her, but the boy. The Hunter stared at the boy and knew something was wrong. The boy, who must have been at least seven, was completely still. Little boys are never still. The boy wasn’t facing him or his mother. The Hunter followed the boy’s line of sight. What is he looking at?
The Hunter’s angle was off. He pushed through the door and then caught the flicker of movement behind a parked truck.
“Shit!” The Colt began burning like a hot iron on his thigh. He flung the bag aside and opened his coat.
Later the boy would swear to his friends and his therapist that he saw the cowboy’s gun jump out of its holster and into the gunfighter’s open hand.
“Drop it!” The command seemed to come from all sides. If the voice thought the Hunter would simply surrender he was very wrong.
The Hunter quickly went down to one knee, just as a bullet whizzed into the spot his head used to be. The window behind him exploded, showering him with glass. The Hunter fired into the truck sending sparks into the air. Like roaches fleeing the light, Police officers swarmed before him.
The mother screamed and hit the ground. The Hunter paid her no mind. He needed cover, but there were none. He rolled right and then left. He kept moving and kept firing. Two cops fell in tandem and then another, and another. His aim was supernatural, the cops’ weren’t, but there were more of them.
In ten seconds four cops were down, but more seemed to appear like magic. The air was hazy with smoke and stench of brimstone. A bullet drilled its way into the Hunter’s left shoulder. He paid it no mind. He knew before the battle was over many more pieces of led would join it. Rolling behind a trash can, the Hunter found a modicum of cover. As officers died the Colt hummed. A second bullet slammed into the Hunter’s stomach, sending rivers of blood and milk streaming down his shirt.
The Hunter stifled a scream; there was enough of that coming from the mother.
“No, Tommy! No!” she screamed.
The Hunter stole a glance, just as a third bullet took his right ear off. To his trained eyes, the world seemed to move in slow motion. Tommy was running through the hail of bullets trying to reach whatever in his panicked mind passed for safety. At that moment he spotted the young woman standing behind a wall of police officers. He felt the Colt strain to move his hand in her direction, but he knew the boy would never make it.
Ignoring the Colt, Samuel ran to the boy, tripped him off his feet, and covered him with his body. On top of the boy he felt multiple bullets slam into his back and spine.
The last thing he heard was the boy’s mother screaming for the police to stop. The last thing Samuel saw was the flashing lights of the boy’s shoes, and his final thoughts were, “My Jacob would’ve loved shoes like those.”
As day changed into night, those officers who survived could not comprehend what they witnessed. In the end reports were altered, and statements were edited to fit more with accepted reality, not with what actually happened. All mention of a foiled robbery was scrubbed from the official records. On June 28, 2013 six Waukegan police officers died in the line of duty against one crazed murder suspect from Chicago. A mother and her son, along with half a dozen police officers would go into badly needed therapy.
The body, labeled as John Doe, was taken to the Lake County Coroner’s office, and in the evidence locker at the Waukegan Police Department, a silver Colt revolver began to vibrate.
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 3
| Author Notes |
Story continued from: The Bounty hunter
Again this is fiction, no kids or officers were hurt in the making of this tale. I did get a hangnail though. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains strong violence.
Recap:
Part two ended with the Bounty Hunter being shot multiple times in a shootout with police. He was set up by a pretty young woman he did not know. During his gun battle, the Hunter sacrificed himself to save the life of a seven year old boy. His body now sits in the Coroner's Lab.
**********
The moon was full, that was good. The ground was a soggy mess, and that was bad, at least for the hounds. Water screwed with a dog’s sense of smell, it made them almost worthless as hunters. But if the dogs could see you, then it was game over. No two legs could ever outrun four.
Samuel froze in place; the sound of barking had gotten closer. He risked a look behind him, but only blackness greeted him. He still had a chance.
“I just need to make it to the river before them hounds,” he whispered to himself. He scanned the ground, found what he was looking for and took off into the underbrush.
The barking was getting nearer by the second. He knew his Master hadn’t fed the hounds in two days. They were motivated by more than orders, they were hungry. To the hounds a runaway slave meant only one thing, a free meal. Like their owners, they didn’t view black people as human. Samuel knew they weren’t born that way, no one was. They were bred that way and Samuel understood a little something about breeding. It was whispered amongst the folk, that he was not ‘natural’ born. Talk was that he was the product of a studding experiment, just like the Master’s prize Stallions.
But Samuel paid no mind to old womens' talk. He was a slave, pure and simple, and in the middle of the night running through a wet forest, with hungry hounds at his heels, there was no doubt as to what he was.
The unnatural eyes of the Hunter caught a flicker of movement in the bushes to his left. The Hunter reached into his britches and pulled out a long stone knife. Slowly he crept toward the bush, completely aware that more than men and dogs stalked the woods at night. Fierce as the Hunter was, even he had limits.
Within five feet, the Hunter leapt into the thorns. Sharp teeth fueled by fear and rage tore into his flesh, but he fought on. The Hunter sliced once, and then twice with his stone blade. Howls of pain rang out into the night. The fight was over. Covered in mud, blood and wounds, the Hunter dragged his foe from the shadows and into the Moonlight.
Attracted by the sounds of battle the hungry hounds and their pale skinned masters were right there to greet him.
Samuel looked up and stared straight into the barrel of a rifle pointed at his head.
“Drop the knife, Boy.” The order left no room for argument. Samuel let his blade fall to the ground, and lowered his head in submission.
“What did I tell you, Clemons?” Running up and taking the fallen blade, was a happy Michael Whitlow. “You, gentlemen, didn’t believe me, but my Samuel is the best hunter there is. He’s half bloodhound. Half grizzly bear and all mine.”
“Yeah, you told us.” Clemons slowly moved his rifle away from Samuel, and pointed it at the gasping and bleeding runaway slave. “Well, Bishop, you know the penalty for defying your Master.”
“P...Please… Masta, I…I’s sorry. I’ll never….never runs again, sir. Plea…”
The instant flash of from the rifle’s barrel temporally blinded Samuel, and for a moment all he knew were the stars before his eyes and the ringing of his ears.
“God damn, Clemons,” George Matthews, Whitlow’s foreman yelled, as he struggled to control the frightened hounds. “At least you could warn a soul before you do that. How’s we supposed to get him back now.”
The other men standing around the body all looked away. No one was willing to carry the smelly two hundred pound corpse, and no one had brought a shovel to bury him.
“Let the dogs eat him.” Clemons looked over to Whitlow. “Have your boy bring the dogs back when they’re done. You and I have some important business to discuss.”
The men began walking away, with Clemons and Whitlow in the lead. Matthews, still holding the three hounds, walked up to Samuel.
“I know it ain’t right, Samuel, but Clemons ain’t the kind of man to be trifled with.” Samuels slowly stood up. He didn’t say a word, but the foreman, after many years, knew what was on the slave’s mind. “I ain’t telling you to watch.” The man turned his eyes from the silent slave. “Just bring the dogs back when it’s over. I’m… I’m sorry.”
The foreman let the reigns of the hounds slip from his hands. Like the starving animals they were, the dogs descended on the dead slave, ripping into still warm flesh. The foreman walked away and vanished into the gloom, leaving Samuel standing over a scene that would haunt his mind whenever he was near deaths door.
As the dogs feasted, Samuel looked toward the moon and whispered a most unusual wish. He thought, except for the dogs, he was alone. He was mistaken. Standing in the shadows a being that had also witnessed the hunt, watched on and liked what he saw. He also liked what he heard. He liked that a great deal.
********
Shortly after midnight, nearly two centuries after Samuel witnessed a horrible event that forever altered his life. A different life changing event was taking place. A lone young woman carrying a strangely vibrating shoebox entered the Lake County Corner’s crime lab. She came looking for one body, and thanks to a vibrating shoebox; she easily found whom she was searching for.
Entering the lab, where a certain John Doe was lying on an examining table waiting for his turn to be dissected, a middle aged Lab technician jumped to his feet.
“Who are you?” he said, while blocking the woman’s path. “You are not authorized to be here.”
“Is that him?” she said, in a sweet, almost angelic voice. “Is that the man who sacrificed himself for the child?”
“Well… yes, and also killed six police officers.” The technician, shook his head, he was not quite sure why he answered the intruder. “Look, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, before I have to call security.”
For the first time since entering the room the woman looked directly at the tall balding man.
“It’s time for your break.”
“Wow, would you look at the time. I almost missed my break,” he said, looking at his watch, which showed a different time than the one he saw. In seconds he was out the door and on his way to the records office to see the lovely young night manager he was having an affair with.
The woman stood over Samuel’s cold and unmoving body. She had seen death many times, and had dispatched many souls to the gates of hell. So, she knew a soulless corpse when she saw one. Slowly she shook her head.
“No, you’re still in there. Aren’t you?” She placed the shoebox on his chest and removed the lid. Inside the silver Colt vibrated with a wild evil life of its own. A look of revulsion danced on the woman’s pretty face as she stared at the revolver. She closed one hand over the golden cross hanging from her slender neck.
“Are you sure?” With closed eyes, her lips whispered, “Sacrifice.”
Donning heavy examining gloves the woman removed the hot revolver and laid it on Samuel’s chest. Almost as an afterthought she placed one of Samuel’s rapidly warming hands on the Colt, and then quickly left the room.
Thirty minutes later a happy lab technician entered the room. He was not happy for long. He would spend the rest of the night feeling decidedly worse by the hour as he struggled to explain the missing body to his superiors. When the last report was filed, and he had received a month suspension, he was greeted with an empty clothes locker, a missing lunch box and stolen car keys.
“There is no God!” he shouted, as he phoned his soon to be ex-wife, and got only a busy signal.
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4: NIGHT WITH AN ANGEL
| Author Notes |
Thank you for your continued interest. I'm not normally a series writer, but this character has a hold of me. Suggestions are most welcome.
Again, this is fiction. Killing is bad, so is slavery. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains strong violence.
The motel room was purchased with the credit of a man who probably still didn’t know his wallet was gone. Samuel wasn’t sure how much the room cost. If he heard what the babbling old clerk said, he couldn’t remember. At the moment his immediate needs were all he cared about. The dank and dark room provided temporary shelter. The leftover chicken and applesauce were a godsend but he needed more. Most of the bullet wounds were still open and oozing substances he didn’t want to try to identify.
He’d spent the last thirty minutes face down over the toilet expelling whatever the Coroner had filled his stomach with. He thanked his lucky stars the Colt was able to repair his shredded gut first, or God only knew what he would’ve thrown up.
Exhausted, he lay naked on the bed, being mindful to stay on his side; his back was much too painful to fool with. Samuel searched his fragmented memory for answers. The last thing he remembered before waking up on a cold examining table were glowing shoes. He knew the rest of his memory would return in time, if he had enough of it to repair his battered body before duty called. He looked at the shiny gun on the table next to him. At least you look to be in one piece.
“I feel like three day old shit.” The Colt as usual didn’t answer. “How did I get you back, and more importantly, why am I not roasting in Azazel’s pit right now?”
“Because the Lord spared you.”
Faster than the blink of an eye the Hunter and the Colt became one. Even in the darkened room his aim focused in on the source of the voice. A flicker of moment almost too fast for the eye to notice shifted from right to left and the arm of the Hunter followed it.
“Don’t shoot, Samuel.”
A burst of pure white light lit up the room and temporarily blinded the Hunter. But before his vision failed the Hunter swore he saw large white wings on an unnaturally beautiful naked woman.
Tears streamed from his eyes as he laid the Colt down and fought to clear his vision. The Colt vibrated madly upon the bed. Whatever was in the room with them, the Colt was not happy about being laid down.
As the light faded, Samuel’s eyes cleared. Sitting on the sofa across from him was a young woman dressed in blue jeans and a Hello Kitty T-shirt. Samuel could not tell if she was white, Asian, or any combination of ethnicities. What he did notice was that she was the young lady he saw at the gas station.
Instantly his memory returned. He saw the shootout, the police, the kid and a smiling woman standing behind the cops.
The Hunter’s arm extended and the Colt appeared to glide along the bed towards his open hand.
The movement was not lost on the young woman.
“You don’t need that nasty gun, Samuel,” her voice was soft, seductive and seemed to come from within his head.
“No, I don’t need…” The Hunter hesitated. Something wasn’t right. He always needed the Colt and the Colt needed him. He could feel it vibrating on the bed, calling to him, but his body was so weak. If only he had more time. He needed the Colt and the gun needed souls. “No!”
The Colt leapt into his outstretched hand and instantly his clouded mind cleared. Though he could feel the Colt urge him to aim at the woman he held fast.
“Impressive!” A smile graced the woman’s face. “Most impressive, you are… a very unusual servant of Lucifer.”
“I don’t serve the Dark Lord,” the Hunter answered, and then thought, well… not directly. He slowly rose from the bed, with the Colt point at the floor. If there was a battle to be had, he would have it on his feet, though he wasn’t sure how long he could stand or if he could win. His mind went back to the vision of what he could only describe as angelic, and then he looked at the unassuming woman watching him. “What are you?”
His question was answered by silence and the girl’s dark eyes tracing his body. Why is she staring at me like I’m… Samuel instantly remembered he was naked.
“Like I said before; you are most impressive.” If she expected shame or embarrassment from Samuel she got neither. When you were born into slavery, being nude is meaningless. The expression on his face never wavered.
“Who or what are you? You’re not a woman, at least not a natural one.” Samuel considered intimidating the woman by walking towards her, but the very real possibility of falling on his face stopped him.
“My name is Jessie, and you needn’t fear me, Samuel.” She stood up and walked towards him. “I came to help you and possibly receive your help.”
The Colt began to vibrate in his hand. Samuel could feel its desire. Whatever the woman wanted the Colt didn’t care. She had a soul the Colt was hungry for.
Samuel ignored the Colt and focused on the woman. He was careful not to listen too closely to her voice. Whatever she was, she had the ability to sway the mind.
“Start making sense before I satisfy my little friend’s desire.” Jessie looked down. “And I think you know which little friend I mean.”
“Yes, I know your demon weapon hates me.” She walked back to the sofa and kicked off her heels. “Like I told it last night, I’m trying to help now.”
“Now?” Samuel tightened his grip on the Colt. “You called the cops. You set me up!”
“Hold on!” Jessie raised her open palms before her. “In fairness, you do work for Satan, and you are carrying a baby demon around.”
I’m too tired for this crap. Samuel’s legs were weak. He sat back down on the bed. He desperately wanted sleep and wondered if just shooting the woman was easier than kicking her out. Angel or not she never gave a straight answer. Samuel closed his eyes and lowered his head. His back was aching and his stomach was grumbling. He knew the Colt could heal him, but it would take food for him and souls for the Colt, and at the moment he was fresh out of both.
“I really did come to help you, Samuel.”
“Unless you’re about to order pizza, and a six pack of souls I don’t see how.”
“That’s the evil way to heal the flesh, Samuel. There are… other ways.”
Samuel felt warm, soft fingers lift his chin. He opened his eyes to splendor. Somehow, Jessie had shed all her clothes and approached him unheard. She stood before him, the picture of Eve herself. She was perfect from her soft pink lips, to her full round breasts, all the way down to her smooth hairless sex. Samuel felt his breath quicken and his heart race. The sudden rush of lust made his head spin. The Colt began vibrating wildly.
“I don’t… I don’t think this is good idea,” The Hunter stammered.
“Your other, not so little, friend disagrees.” Jessie lightly took his right hand by the wrist and guided it and the Colt to the floor. “You won’t need that gun tonight.”
The woman straddled the Hunter. Her lips brushed against his face peppering it with butterfly kisses. A wild scent of jasmine and cherries swirled around her. Jessie lowered herself onto him. From the moment The Hunter entered her, rivers of heat penetrated his member and raced up his spine. Parts of his conscious mind threatened to shut down in protest. Pleasure the likes of which no man has a right to experience flooded his being. He screamed out in ecstasy as she glided over him in perfect harmony with his heart beat. He cried out in pain as the bullets lodged in his back expelled themselves from his body, as if nothing so foul could stand to be in her presence.
The intensity of their passion brought him close to unconsciousness.
“Stay with me, Sam. Oh God! Stay with me,” she cried, squeezing him with a strength that defied her petite form.
Somewhere between their third and sixth orgasm his tear soaked eyes caught glimpses of large white wings extending from Jessie and enfolding them both. In the shadows of her wings she sang to him.
Come away with me in the night.
Hold my hand as our souls take flight
And I will show you Love.
Love, love, love.
Sleep, Samuel. Rest my brave Hunter.
For tomorrow in His name we will fight.
Feeling more satisfied than he had known in his life, Samuel slept. His only wish, was that he would not dream.
But even in the arms of an angel some wishes can't come true.
| Author Notes | In every battle, in every war, there comes a shore leave or a moment of rest. A calm before the storm. |
By lancellot
The hungry hounds made quick work of the runaway slave. Samuel hadn’t known the man personally, but through the vine he knew of him. The dead man had not been a slave long. Tell was, he was one of the last ‘new’ slaves to be sent over before the law changed and ended the trade. Samuel had always thought ‘slave trade’ was a confusing name. Blacks came over but no blacks or whites were traded in exchange. What were slaves traded for?
Much of the slave was eaten, only a few scraps of bloody clothes and the larger bones were left. He wouldn’t need a shovel to bury that. Probably easier to just toss the remains into the river.
“Rest in peace my brother. May God have mercy on your soul,” Samuel lamented, as he kicked a femur into the river.
“God has no claim,
in mans' evil game.”
The Hunter spun around at the sound; his hand instinctively went down to his stone knife, which was not there. Damn! He went into a crouch and readied his fist. Clever eyes searched the shadows for the man who spoke. The voice sounded dry and scratchy, not like the smooth southern accent of white men Samuel had come to know. Samuel had been trained since birth to react in a submissive way at the mere sight or sound of a white man, but somehow he knew without a doubt the voice he heard was not white. He wasn’t sure what it was, but, in the woods at night, with a dead man’s bones and hungry hounds it couldn’t be good. Samuel suddenly noticed what he was not hearing.
“The dogs! Where are the hounds?” Panic gripped his heart, voice or no voice, if something happened to the master’s prized hounds, while in his care, he might as well hang himself.
“You need not fear my friend.
The hounds, home I did send.”
The Voice sounded closer than before and it seemed to be all around him.
“What do you want? I ain’t got nothing.” Samuel tried not to sound terrified.
“What you are is what I seek.
One created to be strong, not weak.”
Samuel understood what he heard, but was confused by the way the voice spoke. “Why do you talk in that sing song way?”
“To speak directly with man is forbidden.
In this poor poetic way my true voice is hidden.
Free you from your slave bonds I can.
But you must follow my plan.”
Samuel knew what he was speaking with. How that was possible, he didn’t concern himself with. He also understood that the devil had no friends and did no favors.
“I do not wish to sell my soul to the devil.” Samuel closed his eyes. “Our Father, which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
Laughter erupted from the shadows breaking Samuel’s concentration.
“Your faith in the Father is your sin.
He has forsaken you and your kin.
As you pray to Him those closest to you will be lost.
Then a deal with me you will make, with a high cost.”
It took a few minutes of silence before Samuel realized the entity was gone. He pondered the demon’s last words, unsure of what they meant. He began to walk away when he stumped his toe on the dead slave’s jaw bone.
“Sorry my brother, it seems that you fell to a greater evil than the one I spoke with. Go with God, and know that your master can no longer get new slaves from our old home. That way is lost to him and...”
In that instant Samuel froze. The slave master, Clemons, could not get new slaves from Africa, and Samuel was too old to be broken in again. Why would the master show me off? ‘Those closest to you will be lost,’ the voice had said.
“Oh no!” Samuel took off at a brake neck speed. Branches, limbs and barbs snagged at his skin and tugged at his clothes. The woods seemed to reach out at him, taking pieces of cloth and pints of blood, in payment for disturbance of its peace. Even before he reached the Plantation he knew he was too late. His master had not been showing off Samuel’s hunting skills, he had been displaying the breeding plan of his father. Samuel was a great achievement but he was not the last in his line. That honor belonged to his baby son, Joseph.
Bursting into the slave quarters he shared with his mate Sara and their infant, Samuel let out a primal scream at the nothingness he found. He collapsed to his knees and pounded at the dirt floor, cursing himself for the fool he was in not seeing the clear signs. His young master was a fool, who racked up huge gambling debts. The plantation was failing. The young man was in over his head and he had missed it all.
“Help me!” he screamed in the dark. “I’ll do it. I’ll give myself to you. Just save them. Please save them. Please!”
Slowly the cabin grew darker; coldness surrounded Samuel on the floor. Out of the shadows a man unlike any he had seen before emerged. His skin was blood red, his eyes sky blue. He had a long red spear tipped tail that seemed to dance to an unheard melody. He was dressed in all black clothing unlike any Samuel had ever seen. Though he appeared no larger than a man and leaned heavily on a wooden cane, he radiated power and strength unmatched by any human.
“Can you get them back? Will you save my family?” Samuel was still on knees and made no attempt to rise as he pleaded for his loved ones.
“I will keep your family safe from the hands of man.
In exchange, you will hunt for me throughout the land.
Your soul, you will keep, for I need your mind to be free.
Two hundred years of willful service to me is my only fee.”
Desperation and confusion battled within Samuel’s mind. He was no good at ciphering but knew he would dead long before even twenty years could pass.
“Two hundred years? We will all be dead and buried long before then.” Anger had crept into his voice as the idea of the demon playing games with him grew.
“Your time on this world I will extend.
As for your family their lives will not end.
Safely with me in peace and harmony they will stay.
But cross me Hunter and for your sins they will pay.”
Samuel lowered his head to the demon’s feet and pledged himself into the service of evil.
| Author Notes | Dream sequences are pretty nice for telling a little backstory. It allows the author to inform the reader without changing the current course of the main story. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.
“Get up slave. Get up. Samuel, wake up.” Samuel felt himself being shaken as the veil of sleep lifted. “It’s time to get up, Samuel.”
Crusted eye lids soon opened to naked splendor, and nightmares from a century gone by quickly faded from his mind, like foulness in the wind. His wounds were gone, only the scars in his mind remained to remind him of his battle.
Dreams of his past seemed so far away. Samuel took a moment to take in the wonder of a perfect morning. Jessie had opened a window and sunlight fell gently across her small breasts. Samuel wished time would stand still. He almost allowed himself to consider the possibility of ending his hunt. What If I just stopped? They are gone and nothing can bring them back. There is no guarantee Azazel will honor our bargain. But before the unspoken words could settle in his mind, Samuel knew it could not be. His was not a life of ease, and a bargain with the demon could not be cast aside.
“What would you have of me, woman?” It was time to go work and the sooner he faced it, the quicker he could get back to his destiny.
Jessie slowly rose from the bed. She turned her back to him, seemingly not wanting to meet his eyes.
Samuel couldn’t help but admire the tight firmness of her young backside and remember how wonderful it felt to grip her heavenly gifts.
“I am no angel, Samuel.” Her words were spoken with sadness, yet with strength. “I am one of the few nephilim who serve the Lord. I have never heard HIs voice directly, and I have never entered Heaven. Like you, I am a soldier of one of the First.”
“Who do you serve?” Samuel prepared himself for the worst. He was not surprised by her revelation. He knew half-breeds existed. Azazel had once boasted of siring many children. He also mentioned that most were dead along with their mothers. He figured her to be one. He did not believe for a moment, that an actual angel of the Lord would lower herself to lay with the likes of him. His ego only went so far.
“No, Samuel, I am not the offspring of your master. My mother is the angel Glendale, and it is she whom I answer to.”
Samuel released the breath he did not realize he was holding. “I’m so glad you said that. Banging the boss’s daughter is never a good career move.”
Jessie turned to face him. A smile graced her young face. “You are a great lover and funny too. I did not know you had so many skills.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I need your skill as a bounty hunter. I want you to kill someone.”
“Aren’t you supposed to say you want him dead or alive?”
“I prefer dead. I do not think taking him alive will be an option.” Her tone had quickly taken on a business like feel. This was no attempt at humor.
“Two questions, who is your target, and why can’t you kill this man yourself?” The second question was the most important to Samuel. It was clear that Jessie had powers beyond mere humans, so dispatching one man shouldn’t pose a problem.
“My target isn’t a man, at least not completely. He too is nephilim. His human name is Durbin, son of the fallen angel, Danyul, and it is forbidden for me to face him directly.”
“Fine, I've killed for less. I just need to get my ride out of impound before the cops sell it.” Samuel started to get up from the bed, but Jessie placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I have already retrieved your vehicle while you were resting. I have also secured you new clothing and a few gifts to aid you in your battle.”
“Um…okay.” Samuel did not remember her leaving, but he had to admit he was pretty well drained last night. “If, you went out already, then why are you half-naked? Not that I’m complaining.”
A smile spread across Jessie’s face. “The Senator will not be home until noon. Now that you are well, we can finish what we started before you fainted.”
She pushed the Hunter down on the bed and wedged his head between her thighs.
“Wait, did you say, Senator?”
“Hush, it’s not polite to speak with your mouth full.” With a quick downward thrust and rhythmic grind, Jessie ended any further conversation, and the Hunter soon lost himself in his tongue work. He figured if he was to die this day then he would enjoy the moment.
In the far corner of the room there was a shadow uncast by any light. Within that darkness sat the demon lord Azazel. In his hands rested the silver Colt, humming delightfully. The dark lord’s first thought was to strike the Halfling down, but curiosity stayed his hand. Having sifted through her mind far easier than she read Samuel’s, he knew precisely what she really wanted and in her plans he saw an opportunity for himself.
“Let the children play, my son,” he whispered to the Colt, “The Hunter’s deal with me cannot be undone.”
| Author Notes | The thought a small transition before the shooting starts was needed. It also gave time for Jessie to explain herself. |
By lancellot
One by one the soldiers filed into the ready room. They wore no insignia or signs of rank. What made them special could not be seen by the shape of the muscular bodies; their military buzz cuts or the perfect laced boots each wore. There were a dozen of them in the room and they should not exist. The Spook Squad as they secretly called themselves was no place for normal men.
Each agent in this outfit had to be ready 24/7. There was no maternity leave, private quarters, budding love affairs, and absolutely no unauthorized hunts. They had no families, or ties to any community, and if they were to die, no one, not even their teammates, would mourn their loss. The Secretary would lay no wreath on their unmarked grave, providing there was something left to bury.
“Attention!” the Sergeant shouted as the Captain entered the room.
They stood shoulder to shoulder in two neat rows of six. The Captain stepped to the small nondescript podium. He, like those before him, wore no identification. They all referred to him as The Captain because that’s what the Sergeant called him. If that was his true rank, they didn’t know and would never think to ask.
“At twenty hundred hours NORAD detected an atmospheric disturbance twenty miles north of Chicago, near the town of Waukegan. Yeah, that’s fifteen clicks from where we are. Intel was able to pick up brief satellite images of what the analysts are calling…and don’t you dare laugh…an angel landing at a cheap roadside motel.
A few of the men visibly suppressed chuckles as someone in the back row whispered, ‘Because you can’t fuck in Heaven.’
“Anyway, this report comes less than forty-eight hours following a shoot out at a CITGO gas station where six Waukegan SWAT members were gunned down by… and I’m just reading it as I see it… a black cowboy, with a silver Colt revolver, who just wouldn’t die.”
“Excuse me sir.” A soldier near the end raised his hand.
“What is it, Oddball?”
“Seeing as how it's 2013, shouldn’t that be an African-American dressed in western wear, Sir?”
“Moving on. Local police indicate that the, African-American, suspect was killed at the scene and transported to the Lake county Coroner’s office, where at approximately 1200 hours the body disappeared. Now this is where it gets tricky. We have witnesses seeing a large black male enter the same motel hours before the light show started.”
The Captain laid his notes on the podium and stepped around it. “That’s the official report. Unofficially the brass is getting pressure from a high ranking council member for our unit to investigate the motel as soon as we’re prepped.”
“Excuse me, sir.” The Captain’s aide entered the room and handed him a note. “Thank you, Scott. Have my mobile command readied.”
The Captain turned to his men. “Our target is mobile. Intel reports he is likely headed to a private compound in North Chicago. This home belongs to U.S. Senator Dick Devlin. He is a member of the Inner Circle and he is reported to be on grounds. We will pursue this possible terrorist, and attempt to intercept him before he gets there, failing that we will protect the
Senator at all cost. Gear up and move out.”
*******
The Bounty Hunter felt great being back behind the wheel of his Mustang, with the top down , driving south on Lake Shore drive. He felt even better having a pretty woman next to him. He liked the way the wind blew back her dark hair. The sun was on its way down. They both still wore their sunglasses and must have look like a wealthy couple out for an afternoon drive. He missed his old trench coat, but he had to admit, he kind of liked the Ralf Lauren Polo shirt Jessie bought him. She called it, grown man’s clothes. He called it comfortable. He asked her how much it cost and she replied, ‘nothing.’ For that matter when he inquired how she got the mustang back, she said, ‘I asked for it.’ Remembering the strange effect her voice had on him that night he didn’t doubt her.
With great difficulty Samuel stopped looking at her out of the corner of his eye and tried to formulate a plan for what lay ahead. One does not just ring the door bell of the Senior Senator of Illinois and then blow him away as he answers. This wasn’t some crack-pot fiction novel. In real life a U.S. Senator had major body guards and possibly on duty cops. He doubted there would more than that.
It was for that reason he did not mind the clothes Jessie got him or having a pretty, kind of white, woman at his side. That was another thing bothering Samuel. Last night he couldn’t tell what ethnicity Jessie was, but the more he looked at her in the daylight, the more Caucasian she appeared. Not that he had an issue with that. She is gorgeous no matter the color, he thought smiling to himself.
“Thank you, Samuel.” She rested a warm hand on his inner thigh. “I’m not really changing colors you know. It’s only how your mind is choosing to perceive me. You want me to look more like a white woman so we can more easily blend in the Senator’s community and that’s how you now see me. Don’t worry; other people will see me that way too.” Her soft hand pressed down on his hardness, and his foot pressed on the gas.
With her unique brand of encouragement they arrived in North Chicago faster than expected.
“He has a large estate on the outskirts of the city. There aren’t many houses near his. The area is heavily wooded, so we may or may not be spotted as we approach. I suppose there are guards or even state police stationed on grounds.” Jessie stared at Samuel behind her dark glasses. If she was waiting for some sign of fear, she would have an eternity to wait.
“Are you fighting with me?” Samuel asked.
“I am forbidden from…”
“Sorry, I wasn’t speaking to you.” Samuel patted the Colt on his thigh. “It’s a habit.”
The Colt gave a slight buzz that Samuel had learned to take as a yes. For awhile during the drive he had his doubts that it would cooperate. The gun had been silent since he bedded with Jessie last night.
“It’s just around this curve.” Jessie pointed to her left. “Pull over here.”
Samuel eased the Mustang to the side. Jessie got out and walked toward the trunk. As Samuel exited to join her, his eagle eyes caught a glimpse of a black helicopter settling over the tree line with the setting sun. There was a nearby naval base, so he dismissed it and joined Jessie at the open trunk.
Inside, Samuel saw sights that made him wish he was a single man. Jessie reached in and pulled a dark bullet proof vest.
“You were so shot up last night I figured you could use this. I know you like the cowboy look, but you remind me of a knight and every knight needs armor.”
Samuel pulled off the nice feeling polo, and carefully stored it in the trunk for safe keeping, and then donned the vest.
“To replace the one you lost.” Jessie took out a new black leather trench coat. “I am sorry about ruining your last one.”
Samuel slipped on the heavy coat and sighed. It was a perfect fit. Before Jessie could go back in, he reached into the trunk and brought out a black Stetson. Samuel placed the hat on his head and felt a shiver run up his spine. He was back to his old self.
Before closing the trunk Samuel hit a side panel opening a secret compartment, inside he retrieve a few grenades and dropped them into his pockets.
“You never know.” He winked at the woman and shut the trunk. “What about you? When the bullets start to fly I don’t want you getting hit by accident.”
Smiling Jessie placed her hand on the golden angel charm hanging from her neck. “They will never see me coming.”She gave him a wink and then vanished before his eyes. “I’ll be right behind you every step of the way and don’t worry I can’t be touch while in this form.”
Samuel was used to people thinking he talked to himself; it was quite another experience to have a disembodied voice speak to him.
He rested his palm on the Colt, “Once more into the fray, old friend.” and then dived into the darkening woods. His plan was to circle around and enter the estate through the back undetected.
At least he thought it was a good plan.
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
“Sir, we’ve got movement to the East.” The Soldier was all business as the Captain looked over his shoulder at the security screens.
“Looks like that car we spotted on the way in was his. Alert the boys on the perimeter that our lone idiot is coming up the back.” The Captain didn’t wait for a response he knew his orders were carried out like the word of God.
Sitting on a soft white leather sofa, Senator Devlin watched the squad move about with military precision. He had known for some time the foolish girl would attempt a rescue. He thought she would be alone. Because of her power to warp men’s minds he had quickly dismissed his regular human guards. The Squad was an asset the Inner Circle rarely deployed, even to one of his rank, but until he could move his ‘guest’ to more secure quarters the covenant would not deny him every possible protection. That she would send a human to do her dirty work worried the Senator. One did not send children to wage war against men.
***********
“Someone’s coming.” Jessie’s voice in the Hunter’s ear startled him. He would never get used to an invisible girlfriend. He froze not from her warning, but from the realization that he thought of Jessie as his girlfriend. He quickly pushed the thought aside, remembering how easily she picked up his thoughts. “I like you too, Samuel.” He felt a wet kiss on his cheek. Damn!
The sun was gone and twilight threw strange shadows over the grounds. On his hip the Colt began to madly vibrate. The Hunter quickly drew the gun to calm it and ready himself. There must be great evil around.
A soldier dressed in green camouflage stepped off the patio and onto the grass. The Hunter pressed himself closer within a shadow. He had expected guards or cops, but not military. He wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew.
“I can’t see you human, but I can smell your fear.” The soldier walked to the middle of the lawn. The Hunter guessed he was acting as bait to draw him out. It was apparent that his plan at stealth had failed. The Hunter was about to shoot the arrogant fool when the soldier laid down his M-16 and took off his shirt.
“Look, no weapon. You can face me one on one, but you’d better hurry before…” The soldier looked up at the full moon coming over the tree line, “oh, too late.”
The Hunter’s eyes grew wide as the soldier began to grow larger. His once smooth chest flared out, and dark brown fur burst from his skin. His jaw protruded and large white fangs shot forth.
“It’s a Lycan!” Jessie screamed in his ear. “We must withdraw. Now!”
But the Hunter had stopped listening. He had never seen a living Lycanthrope, and the steady humming from the Colt suggested that myth or not, it needed killing.
The man-beast dropped to all fours like the animal it was and charged. Its speed was incredible; it was on the Hunter in an instant. Like the fat teen that charged him days before the Hunter simply side stepped the creature. A normal sized man would have been able to change directions quickly, but the Lycan’s mass had increased by a factor of three. In a blur of fur and claws it flew past the Hunter as it tried and failed to bring its bulk to a stop. With practiced ease the Hunter raised the Colt and snapped three quick shots into its hide. The creature staggered for a moment, and then let out anguished howl before turning its red eyes to the Hunter. Two more shots, landed into the monster’s heart, but the Lycan merely shrugged them off and slowly advanced.
“Silver, you need silver bullets.” The invisible Jessie yelled. The Lycan heard the voice too, and turned in a complete circle trying to find its source.
“Right, I forgot that.” The Hunter raised his weapon to his lips. “Silver bullets, please.”
The Colt glowed for a moment. The bright light in the darkness drew the beast’s attention away from its search. It howled at the Hunter and then charged.
“Yeah, I know.” The Gun fired once. I large hole exploded between the wolf’s eyes. When it hit the ground, it was the body of a naked man missing part of his head.
******
Inside, The Captain and Senator Devlin stared at the video screen. The Senator said nothing. The Captain snatched up his radio.
“Units two, three and four converge on the hostile out back. I want him dead. No games.” He turned to the Soldier at the control desk. “Turn on all the lights.”
******
The Hunter picked up the dead man’s M-16 in his left hand and took the feel of it. He turned to the Colt in his right hand.
“Can you mimic this?” A short thrum from his companion brought a smile to his face. “Good, because here they come.”
The loud rattle of automatic fire filled the air as the Hunter dived for cover behind a Marble statue. He brought the M-16 to bear and fired at the six men streaming out of the building. They were good shots. Pieces of shattered marble and hot bits of led showered his face. The Hunter only smiled and returned fire. This was what he was made for. This was the stuff of life itself and he relished every moment of it.
A brave or foolish soldier peaked over a ledge he was hiding behind. The Hunter emptied the M-16’s magazine into him, shearing off the top half of his head. The man’s body fell to the ground and instantly turned to dust. The Hunter didn’t know what he was, but was sure dust meant dead.
The Hunter threw aside the spent weapon. He did not draw the Colt, only pulled a cherry lollipop from his pocket, which his mind-reading girlfriend had left for him, stuck it in his mouth and waited.
Seeing the Hunter cast aside the M-16 one clever soldier signaled to the other four. He then fired at the Hunter providing cover for his mates to join him behind a low marble fence.
“He’s empty. He doesn’t have any more magazines, and only has that little revolver he was carrying left. I’ll provided cover while you four flank him. That way…”
Two grenades landed at the soldier’s feet interrupting his brilliant plan. The explosion was felt inside the mansion. Body parts and dust rained across the video screen before the Captain’s eyes.
******
The Captain did not yell this time. Calmly, like a man struggling to deal with the unbelievable he keyed his radio.
“Sergeant, take three men and…”
“No!” The Senator pushed the radio away from the Captain’s face. “Have your troops close up the mansion and take position inside.”
The Captain snatched the radio away. “It’s one man; a human at that. I will…”
“You will obey me.” The Senator’s blue eyes suddenly glowed yellow. “I don’t care about your dead soldiers, Captain. Protecting the hostage is your primary goal. If you can’t do that, I will kill you myself. Is that understood?”
The Captain to his credit never showed the slightest sign of weakness. He knew full well the Senator was a member of the Inner Circle and could snuff out his flame in an instant, but that didn’t make him afraid.
“Understood, it’s your show.” He placed the radio back up to his lips. “Sergeant, move all remaining forces inside, and take up defensive positions. We’ll stop him in the house.”
“Copy that,” replied the Serge.
*******
The Hunter saw several doors slam shut and the lights go out in the building. They are hunkering down. Good, now I don’t have to worry about them sneaking behind me.
The Hunter looked down at his feet. A severed head was looking up at him. Its lips were moving in silent speech. He pointed the Colt at the head and fired. He kicked the dust from his boot and strode towards the mansion.
He knew the real battle had only just begun. It was going to be a long night, and he had only one lollipop left.
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
The Bounty Hunter stepped behind a large Oak tree. The backyard was layered in darkness. Grey storm clouds had rolled in from the east obscuring the full moon. Samuel took in a deep breath. The scent of water and pollution was heavy in the air. He thought back to decades past when much of this area was still dominated by forest and the only thing to fear was the occasional coyote.
“It’ll be over soon.” He waited in silence. “I’m talking to you, not the Colt.”
“Oh, I wasn’t sure.” Jessie’s voice came from his left. “Are you waiting for them to come out?”
Samuel took out the stick that used be a lollipop and flicked it aside. He purposely allowed his mind to visualize a blank wall. He wanted to see if Jessie could see beyond it. As the silence hung in the air, he figured she could only read the thoughts at the front of his mind.
“No, they won’t come out for us. Why would they? We don’t have anything they want. But they have something we want, or something you want, and I don’t mean Devlin’s head.”
Shimmering in golden light, Jessie slowly appeared next to him. Even with his head turned, he could feel the sadness on her face.
“I’m sorry, Samuel, I didn’t want to lie to you. I just thought, well, you’re a bounty hunter, and I thought killing is all he is. I was wrong about that. I was wrong not to tell you the truth. Devlin has my mother. Somehow he has managed to do what no other non-angel has ever done. He captured an angel.”
The Bounty Hunter was only half listening. Somewhere between, ‘I was wrong’ and ‘mother’ his keen eyes spotted the flutter of curtains on a large side window, indicating it may be open. Without a backward glance at Jessie, he began walking towards his target.
“These things aren’t human, so I’m going to need a little something extra; I’m thinking phosphorous incendiary shells. I bet even werewolves burn.” The Colt glowed slightly and the Hunter smiled.
The window turned out to be a sliding glass door, and it was indeed open. The soldier who opened it stood two feet to the side with his automatic aimed at the opening. Blended into the shadows, he was virtually invisible. His breath held for long minutes with no problem, he was deathly silent. With no nerves to speak of, and no heart beat, he was as still as a statute.
“It looks like they forgot this door.” Jessie touched her charm and slowly vanished. “We can slip in without them noticing.”
The Bounty Hunter stopped before the glass door and drew the Colt. “Let’s try that M-16 with armor piercing rounds.”
The Colt glowed brightly, and elongated in the Hunter’s hands. In seconds his revolver was replaced by a silver automatic rifle with a smiling red devil image on the barrel. “Cute.”
“Okay, let’s go,” said Jessie.
“Wait.” The Hunter held up his hand. “Two things I want you to remember before we head in there.”
“Okay.”
“First, do everything I say.”
“You got it, lover,” Jessie reached out and patted his buttocks, “and the second thing?”
“I’m a black man in a cowboy hat surrounded by werewolves, angels, nephilim, and God knows what else.” He raised his weapon and fired a steady stream around the door. The deafening sound of thunder and broken glass cut off all communication. When the sound faded, a swirl of black dust and a 9mm handgun fell through what remained of the door. The Hunter kicked the weapon aside and step through. “For me there is no such thing as going unnoticed.”
Thirty feet away the Sergeant heard the sound of automatic fire. A veteran of countless combat tours, he didn’t need to ask any questions. Right away he knew the weapon being fired didn’t belong to his men. He looked down at his P-90 and then tossed the weapon to floor. The three squad members with him, one by one did the same with their guns.
“I don’t know who this fuck is,” the Serge began taking off his shirt, “but I know what he is, and so do you.”
“Meat, meat, meat,” The soldiers began to chant as they all grew, bursting shirt buttons, and snapping through belts like dry rubber bands.
Upstairs the Captain and Senator Devlin watched the view screens as the remains of the Spook Squad took on their true forms.
“That’s one rather large wolf, Captain.” Howls began to echo through the halls as the wolves and a lone goblin raced through the corridors and along the walls toward their prey.
“The Sergeant is half werewolf and half Orc. Naturally his mother, who had to deliver him in her human form, didn’t survive his birth, but I think the Squad did a good job of raising him.”
******
The Hunter heard the howls too. He reached down and picked up the 9mm. “They’ll come at us hard and fast. Stay behind me.” He felt a soft kiss on his cheek. “Alternate between silver and incendiary rounds,” he said to the Colt.
The Hunter threw off his coat and stepped into the hallway. Almost immediately the pounding of paws and scrapping of claws filled his ears.
A large grey goblin skittered along the wall at a fantastic rate. Its long claws dug in the dry wall allowing it to seemingly defy gravity.
He pulled the trigger on his 9mm. The Goblin seemed to dance between the rounds as they smashed into the wall. The Hunter tried to bring the Colt to bear, but the creature leapt within his guard, and knocked the Colt from his hand. Both man and beast slid back along the marble floor. Razor sharp claws ripped into the Hunter’s vest. With one hand, he held the creature by the neck as it struggled to sink its teeth into man flesh. The Hunter jabbed the barrel of his 9mm into the goblin’s gaping mouth. For one brief moment its black eyes turned bright blue and looked into the Hunter’s brown eyes, as its human mind registered what was about to happen.
The back of the creature’s head exploded onto the white walls, creating a mosaic of evil colors. The Hunter pushed the quickly changing carcass to the floor.
“Are you all right?” Jessie asked. The Colt seemed to float in midair as the invisible woman handed it back to its master.
“I’ve been through worse.” The Hunter dropped the empty handgun. “Let’s kill them all.”
The Hunter and Jessie made their way into a large dining room. Loud howls reverberated around them. Two wolves jumped on the far end of the dining room table and ran towards the Hunter with jaws wide and red tongues wagging.
“Stupid.” The Hunter raised his M-16 and cut them into pieces. When the shooting stopped a haze of smokey brimstone formed a cloud over the table. “That was really dumb…”
“Samuel.” Jessie’s screaming warning came too late. The Hunter turned just as a mountain of rage, fur and teeth descended on him. The Colt hit the floor and slid to the wall. The Hunter, not a weak man, tried to hold off the beast, but he was still a man, and the Serge was beyond his power. The Hunter screamed in agony as the Beast bit into his left arm. Thick, sharp, six inch fangs ripped apart muscle and penetrated bone. Like a child pounding on a giant man the Hunter's blows thudded harmlessly off the monster’s hide.
Rank, hot and sticky saliva splashed across the Hunter face as the wolf chewed up his arm and into his shoulder. The pain in what was left of his arm had ceased as nerve endings vanished down the beast’s gullet. The heavy bullet proof vest slowed the creature’s assault as its teeth fought with the armor.
In his mind the Hunter saw the images of his long lost mate and his son. He felt sorrow and regret at having failed them. With his death they would become just two more souls for Azazel’s collection. Unable to move, the Hunter looked up to see the huge jaws of the Serge open wide. It would easily take in his head with one bite.
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
At the view screens the Senator and the Captain high-fived each other in celebration. In that moment, they were just two men watching a boxing match on TV, and their fighter was about to win by a knockout.
As they both smiled at each other, a bright light filled the screen. When it faded both men stared in amazement at the heavenly sight of a totally nude and stunningly beautiful Jessie standing before the beast and the wounded Hunter.
Smiling seductively she lifted her arms out to the beast and softly began to sing.
Come with me, and know my love.
Have delights from heaven above.
Oh, join with me, and know pleasure.
I will be your heavenly treasure.
Come with me and know my love.
Come with me and know my love.
Come to me and cease your fight.
Love with me throughout the night.
Take me as your loving mate.
Hurry my love, do not wait.
The Sergeant, who was now more beast than man was not completely compelled by Jessie’s hypnotic commands, on that regard, the Senator had been right. Unfortunately the pure beauty of her body, and the paranormal feminine pheromones she exuded were too much for the beast in him.
With eyes locked on Jessie the wolf raised itself off of the Hunter. Slowly his member began to unsheathe itself as his animal instinct to mate consumed him.
“Oh, my,” Jessie gasped, at the sight of its twelve-feet-long and five –feet-wide shaft. The monstrous pulsating organ stood out proudly and pointed directly at its target.
Her gaze shifted from the towering wolf, down to the prone form of the Hunter. She briefly looked into his mind. There she saw the images of his late wife and son. His thoughts reminded her of her own abandoned husband and baby girl, Penny. For the love of the Lord, and their safety, she left them some thirteen years ago. It was a hard sacrifice, and she was about to make another. I do this for you my love, my brave hero.
With a come-hither wave of her small white hand, she slowly spun around, and lowered herself to her hands and knees. She closed her eyes so she would not see, but her ears heard the beast slowly approach her from behind. She flinched as its cold nose and brisk whiskers brushed against her delicate regions.
******
Upstairs the Captain and the Senator could not pull themselves away from the screen as the wolf carefully licked and nuzzled the woman.
“He wouldn’t.” The Senator shook his head. “Not now when we’re so close. Go down there and stop him, Captain.”
The Captain chose to ignore the man, and continued to watch the x-rated scene unfold. He knew all too well the Sergeant was in full wolf mode, and if one valued his life, which he did, one never interrupted a werewolf in heat.
“Fear not, Senator. I doubt the woman survives this coupling and then we’ll…”
*****
Just as the beast began to mount Jessie, a cry rang out, and on the screen the men watched in horror as the Hunter with one arm, rose above the distracted wolf, and drove a six foot silver spear into its back and through its body, just missing the smooth buttocks of Jessie below. The woman quickly rolled away from the thrashing creature as the Hunter leaned heavily on the spear.
As the creature died, the Colt/spear began to vibrate as it absorbed the monster’s tortured soul. Jessie stood by, regal in her nudity, and watched as the Hunter’s nearly devoured left arm reformed before her eyes.
“Are you…okay?” asked the Hunter.
“Yes, I am… unspoiled. You have perfect timing, Samuel.”
*****
The Captain began shaking his head in disbelief as the Sergeant’s body, in death, reverted to its human shell.
“That’s it. This guy ain’t human. We’re pulling out.”
“No, Captain, we stay and fight. I’ve told you already that my cargo cannot yet be moved.”
“I’ve read your file, Senator; you’re a talker and dealer, not a fighter. We need to retreat and regroup.”
The Captain picked up his radio. “Command one to Black Eagle. Need immediate dust off at…Ah.”
The Captain looked down at the point of a wooden stake protruding from his chest.
“I’ve read your file too, Captain, and I believe this will send you to whatever hell your kind goes. The stake hit the floor as the Senator brushed dusty remains from his tie. He quickly turned and headed to the back room and his hostage. The Captain was right about him. He was no fighter, but already he had the beginnings of deal forming in his twisted mind. So absorbed was he, that he failed to notice a strangely shaped shadow in the far corner of the room, where there was no object or light to cast it.
****
After he consumed an entire fruit basket on the way, Jessie and the Hunter entered the Senator’s upstairs office. They came face to face with the man himself and his captured prize.
“Mother,” Jessie said upon seeing the bound and gagged woman who looked like a younger version of herself.
The Hunter noticed the resemblance too, but ignored it for the moment. His trained eyes quickly scanned the room. He noted the absence of any windows, and the stake on the pile of dust in front of a monitor.
Jessie took a step towards her mother.
“Not so fast.” The Senator produced a golden blade covered in Angelic script. He held the blade to the Angel’s neck. “It’s called a Divinity Blade and it cost me quite a bit to secure. Besides its cost, it is quite effective at killing the hosts of Heaven.”
“What do you want?” Jessie asked. She was still nude, but in no mood to be seductive.
“The deal is simple. I walk out of here and when I’m safely away. I will release Gabriel. What do you say, cowboy?”
The Hunter stared into the dark eyes of the Senator. In those he saw a being that could not be trusted, but more importantly, he saw fear.
With a speed he rarely displayed, the Hunter drew the Colt. The Senator, more than human, but afraid, did what all cowards do when faced with death. He closed his eyes and shielded his face with his hands.
The Hunter fired once. The incendiary shell hit just below the Senator’s hand into his wrist, severing it completely. Blood and bone fragments flew as his hand and the Blade fell to the floor.
Jessie was on them both in seconds. She kicked the screaming Senator in the chest, sending him spiraling backwards. She snatched her mother in her arms, and in one movement she snapped her mother’s bonds off, and slapped her hand over the charm on her neck. Both she and the angel vanished into thin air.
Slowly the Bounty Hunter walked over to the bleeding and sobbing man. He did not have anything personal against the pitiful man, despite his trying to kill him. The way the Hunter saw it, his role in the sad affair ended the moment Jessie disappeared. But still, there was an old saying about never leaving an enemy alive, and a man as powerful as the Senator was too dangerous to live.
He pointed the Colt at the cowering man’s head. “Nothing personal, just being prudent.”
He pulled the trigger and… nothing happened. He pulled a second and third time and still the Colt would not fire.
The lights in the room began to flicker and out of the shadows the sound of laughter echoed. From the far corner a smiling Azazel emerged. Dressed in all black, leaning on his ever present, thought not needed, cane, the being seemed to always be ready for a funeral.
“Son of Danyul, your life is now mine to steal
In exchange for your soul, I offer you a deal.
In my service for all time you will stay.
Answer quickly for there is no other way.”
The Hunter stood back and watched in silence as the half-angel signed his soul over to Azazel. As quickly as that, it was done. The man’s severed hand was restored in seconds. He stood up and bowed his head in subservience to his new master.
The ancient demon slowly walked over to the fallen Divinity Blade. The knife lifted from the floor and floated up to his outstretched hand.
Looking at the Hunter he spoke,
“Such a nasty and dangerous little golden blade,
But In your service to me it may be of some aide.”
A wicked smile graced his red face.
“Oh, then again, it may put foul thoughts in your mind.
I would hate to be stabbed by you from behind.”
The demon slipped the blade into his pocket and walked with Devlin into the corner shadow where they both faded away.
The Bounty Hunter slipped the Colt back into its holster. He took a deep breath, and then walked out of the silent tomb. Back in his car he heard the distant, yet familiar, sound of police sirens. As usual it was his signal that is was past time to leave.
In a few minutes he was headed south on Lakeshore drive. He didn't know if he would ever see Jessie again, perhaps she made it to Heaven. He knew that was not an option him. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but guessed south was as good a direction as any. He had no doubt that sooner or later the Colt would signal a new bounty from Azazel. For a Bounty Hunter the road and the hunt never end.
| Author Notes | I thank you all for joining me on this wild ride. I hope will enjoy the Red Hood saga, beginning with: A Red Penny. Who knows maybe we'll see the Bounty Hunter again. |
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