

ANCIENT AWAKENING

The Ancient: Book One

By Matthew Bryan Laube

Smashwords Edition.

Copyright 2011 by Matthew Bryan Laube

For more go to:

www.ancientawakening.com

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Seven are they! Seven Are They!  
In the Ocean Deep seven are they!  
Battling in Heaven seven are they,  
Workers of evil are they,  
They lift up the head to evil, every day to evil  
Destruction their work.  
Of these seven the first is the South Wind  
The second is a dragon with mouth agape  
From which flames leap  
The third is a grim leopard  
That carrieth off children  
The fourth is a terrible serpent  
With many heads  
The fifth is a furious beast  
That none can restrain  
The sixth is a rampant  
against god and king  
The seventh is an evil windstorm  
That none can with stand  
Baleful are they, baleful are they.  
Seven are they, seven are they, seven twice again are they.  
May the spirits of heaven remember, may the spirits of earth remember.

\- The sixteenth tablet of the "Demon Series," translated from Sumerian, dated 3100 BC

## Chapter 1- Miller

Oculus ex Inferni – Symphony X – Paradise Lost

Outside of Vannes, France - 1908

The monsters were out there, just beyond the bonfire's light. Dallas strained his eyes to make them out at the top of the hill in front of him. He counted six werewolves at least, prowling just out of view. For any other group of men this would be something truly terrifying; for Dallas' group of soldiers, it was Wednesday. They were "The Terrible 13th," a unit that didn't strictly exist in any army. Instead, the unit was made up of various volunteers from around the world. Most of the men were English, a few were French, and two were Russian. For the first time last year, an American had joined the group. They had the dangerous and highly classified job of dealing with those things that were not supposed to exist-werewolves, vampires, demons. The list was long and not particularly pleasant.

"At least six of the wolves," Dallas said to the old man.

The old man was staring up at the night sky. That mad grin he always wore was plastered to his face. "Seven," he said, "but those are not the ones we need to worry about."

That bothered Dallas. When the old man was nervous, it meant something. Dallas had been working under Joseph Miller for about a year now. Because of him, Dallas had seen some terrible and wonderful things, none of which he had believed possible just a short twelve months ago. Dallas had been recruited as an explosives expert. Miller and Dallas had hit it off. Something about the Texan's hard-living manner seemed to mesh well with the old man's point of view on life. Although he kept no second in command, Dallas had quickly become Miller's go-to man.

"Dallas, there is a demon out there, one of the Fallen. You might say the king of them all." Miller looked directly at Dallas, his face suddenly becoming grim. "When you see him, you pull these men back. This is not something that you can help me with."

"Yes sir," Dallas responded, glancing back up the hill. "Well, do you think we look enough like a tasty doggy treat?"

"Oh I think we will do." Miller's eyes lit up at Dallas' attempt at humor. He was a big man with long white hair, wrapped into a ridiculous looking ponytail, and a white beard. He looked maybe 60 years old to Dallas, but moved like a man in his 20s.

The Thirteenth had made camp directly at the base of a hill. This was, tactically, an unwise move, but then they were not fighting a traditional war. Behind them, they had built a huge bonfire that lit up the night. In front of them, they had hidden an extra surprise under a tarp. Dallas was never sure how the old man knew where to set up, but he was never wrong. Sure enough, a few short hours after making camp, he began to notice the hulking shapes of wolves shifting in the dark.

"All right lads, listen up," Miller shouted. His accent was almost Scottish but not quite, like he was pretending. "There are some big bad beasties out there tonight. They will be down here shortly for dinner. You know the drill at this point. Stay sharp. The big one, leave to me. You will know him when you see him." The twelve nodded in agreement and readied their rifles. They had done this before.

As if the monsters knew they were ready, they suddenly attacked, seven wolves running down the hill, side by side. Dallas could see them clearly now under the moonlight, six males and one female. Looking at the figures running at him, he couldn't help but struggle again with the question. Why did they call them werewolves? The huge figures, while covered with thick black hair, looked nothing like wolves. Rather, they reminded Dallas of the apes he had seen in a book he had once read about Africa. They looked like immense men with huge claws like five large knives sticking out of each hand. Even the one that had been a woman was at least twice the size of Dallas. She still wore the remains of what appeared to be a pink dress. Most disturbing, though, were their eyes, black and empty things, reflecting the light from the bonfire.

As the werewolves bore down on them, Miller shouted, "Now!"

Dallas brought the plunger down, igniting the explosives he had set into the hillside just hours before. The hilltop seemed to jump under the wolves, tossing them into the night sky. Three of them appeared to come apart in the air. A fourth crumpled into a ball and skidded to a stop. The remaining three carried on down the hill, undisturbed by the deaths of their comrades. Dallas could clearly see the white foam streaming out of their mouths.

"Shields!" Miller shouted. The men grabbed their huge metal shields, the likes of which Dallas was sure had not been used since medieval times. They drove them into the ground just as the wolves reached the first row of men. Not even this form of protection could slow the wolves down, however. The lead wolf's claws knocked three men aside with a single swipe. The female pounced on one of the fallen men, tearing at his shield.

"Down!" Miller yelled. The rest of the men dropped, covering their bodies with their shields. With one smooth motion, Miller removed the tarp in front of him like a magician revealing his next big trick, and lit the fuse to the short-barreled cannon. Dallas covered his ears and opened his mouth to better handle the shock of the blast. The wolf-man in front of the cannon seemed to pause for a second, as whatever remained of its human mind recognized the device. Then it vanished in a red mist as, with a huge boom, the pellet-shot fired on it almost point blank. The force of the cannon made Dallas' teeth ache. The she-wolf was caught by the edge of the blast. She spun around, her arm a mangled mess, and fell to the ground. Several pellets bounced off the men's shields, which were now covering their bodies as they lay flat on the ground.

The remaining wolf seemed to pause for a second to note his missing siblings. Seeing Miller, the only man standing, he dove at him with a howl. The old man was ready though, and simply side-stepped the beast, drawing a large and ancient looking broadsword from a sheath on his back. Using the momentum of his step, Miller spun around and brought the sword through the wolf-man's neck, slicing his head clear off his shoulders. Black blood spurted from the wound as the head hit the ground and the wolf's huge body toppled over. Then the she-wolf was on her feet again, managing to tag Miller in the back with three of her claws. Miller stepped forward, away from his attacker, but tripped over the newly-dead wolf's head on the ground. Recovering in mid-fall, he spun to face his new opponent, drew a pistol from his belt, and fired one clean shot before landing on his back. Dallas heard the old man grunt with the pain as he landed on his shredded back. The she-wolf stepped back. The bullet had passed straight though her eye, leaving a gaping black hole. For a second, the wolf rocked back and forth on her heels, stunned. Then, with a sickening "pop", black fluid seemed to leap out of the wound, reforming the missing eye.

Dallas was back on his feet. Tossing his metal shield to the side, he drew a saber from his hip and slashed at the she–wolf's back with all the might he could muster. The blade struck the creature's shoulder and stuck. Freddie, an Englishman from London, was in front of the wolf. He drew an axe and drove it deep into her chest. She screamed with rage and gored Freddie with one huge claw. The man fell back, a large chunk of his face torn open. The she-wolf then turned to face Dallas, moving fast enough to rip his saber from his hands. He cringed and backed away. She was a truly terrible creature. The fact that she had at one point been a woman, maybe even an attractive one, made it somehow worse. Here was a creature of beauty, twisted and misshapen into the stuff of nightmares, and she was hungry. It took all his strength of will not to turn and run, which he knew would mean certain death. Instead, he continued to step back as the wolf advanced, arms in front of him as if trying to calm the creature. "Um, sorry about this miss. I'll just be going," he joked. She wasn't listening.

"The head, man, go for the head!" Miller's voice came from behind the creature. A second later, the edge of Miller's broadsword flashed though the wolf's neck. The wolf seemed to freeze for a moment and then her head simply rolled off her shoulders, dropping at Dallas' feet. "It is the only way to kill them. How many times do I have to repeat myself?" Miller seemed to stumble a bit, as if the sword he always carried was suddenly too heavy. Turning away from Dallas, he shouted to the men, "It is a fine start, people, but our work is not done. Time for clean-up. Make sure that they stay down. Medic, take a look at Freddie." Responding to his words, several men pulled axes from their packs and went at the messy work of dismembering any werewolf that looked like it might still get up. Staring at Miller's back, Dallas noted the blood flowing freely from the new scratches. "James can look at that for you, sir," he said, referring to their medic. "It'll be fine. The big one is still out there."

Miller grinned at him. "Trust me, it takes a lot more than such scratches to slow me down."

At the sound of a woman's voice, Dallas' attention snapped back to the hill.

"Oh thank God, those beasts were about to kill us." The woman was speaking in French, walking briskly down the hill towards their group. She had an almost eerie sense of calm about her. Even in the dim moonlight she was striking. Dressed in fine silks, she appeared to be a noblewoman or at least a rich man's wife. The men all stopped, distracted by her beauty. Everyone, that is, but Miller, who raised his pistol and shot her.

Dallas was stunned for a moment. The woman, however, did not crumble as the bullet struck, only missing a step before quickening her forward pace. Miller fired three more shots and broke into a jog. "Get away from it!"

The men were sluggish, as if coming awake from a dream. At last becoming aware that something wasn't right about this woman, they began to raise their axes. Closing in, the woman shrugged off Miller's bullets and opened her mouth wide as if to scream. Instead, a huge black tongue snapped out of her mouth like a lizard's. It wrapped itself around one man's throat. Instantly, the man stiffened and then appeared to shrink as the woman sucked the life from him.

"Vampire!" Miller shouted, "Vampire!" The woman's arm seemed to double in size. She used this club to swat aside a man who was trying to save his friend. More bullets struck her, and then an axe, but she simply grinned an unearthly smile as she finished her meal. Then Miller was there at her victim's side. With one smooth motion of his sword, he sliced the tongue in two with. The man dropped to the ground as the vampire screamed, black blood gushing from her mouth. In an instant, several men were upon her, chopping away with their axes. Her shrieking ended with a gurgle.

Miller strode past the men exacting their vengeance and up the hill into the darkness. Dallas did his best to follow. Several feet beyond them, a man was waiting in the dark. In the moonlight, Dallas could not make out his features. Keeping in mind what had happened with the woman just moments before, he unsheathed a long dagger with his left hand from his belt.

"So you are the Ancient One," the man said. His voice seemed to shake in fear. Dallas raised his pistol. He knew it would do little good, but it made him feel better. His other hand still held the dagger.

"I am," Miller said, stopping before him. "And you are the demon Asmodai, the last of your kind. I have searched for you for many long years. Tonight, I end this." Miller towered over the strange man in the darkness.

"You may be right, old one, but know this: I can never truly die. Even if you win this battle tonight, in time I will rise up again..."

"Yes, yes I know!" Miller cut him off. "A great evil that will retake the earth from the filth that is humanity, and not even I can stop you. Do you have any idea how many times I've heard this speech? Demon, you need a new line!" Miller raised his broadsword and lunged at the smaller man, who sprung backward and out of reach with an incredible leap. The man seemed to smile, although Dallas could not be sure in the darkness.

"It is not that easy, old one." With that, the man seemed to explode. He tore at his chest, ripping through both cloth and his flesh, revealing dark black scales. His mouth opened impossibly wide, his jaw seeming to melt, and a huge black head rose out of his throat, snout first, followed by a long neck. It tore the remaining flesh of his face to shreds. Huge black wings emerged on his back and his hands exploded into massive talons. The monster seemed to stretch and stretch, tripling its size in seconds.

Dallas pulled the pistol's trigger, backing away from the still-growing beast. Although Miller had called it a demon, it looked more like a dragon from an old storybook, complete with wings and snout but oddly missing a tail. It stood like a man on its massive legs and must have been 10 feet tall! Miller seemed unimpressed.

"Aye, you are a big one. Good, I like a fair fight."

Miller charged the beast, not flinching for a second. He dodged the first swipe of its massive talon, rolled between its legs, and slammed his sword into its back. The dragon roared in pain and leapt into the air, with Miller still clinging to the embedded sword. The two figures rose high into the air over the hill.

Dallas stood below, watching in terror. He did not notice that he was still pulling the trigger on the pistol, although he had long ago run out of bullets. Several men raced to his side, raising rifles at the sky, trying to track the monster.

"My God, was that really a dragon?" he asked no one in particular.

The demon reappeared, swooping low over the camp. Miller was still hanging on. In fact, he had somehow managed to move up its back toward its head. The monster was spinning madly, trying to shake him off. Then they were gone again, disappearing into the darkness. Belatedly, several of the men fired their rifles.

"No! You'll hit Miller!" Dallas shouted, becoming aware of his surroundings once more. The men lowered their guns.

"Follow me, back to the cannon. Once Miller gets clear, we're going to need to hit that thing with something big!" Dallas ordered. The chain of command after Miller was a bit unclear, but no man argued with Dallas and they all took off, heading back to the base camp at a run.

Somewhere in the darkness above them, the beast screamed. The sound of it made Dallas's head ache. Everyone froze, looking up at the night sky, trying to find the source. Then, the monster dropped out of the sky, smashing into the ground like a cannonball. The troop of men again reversed course, racing back up the hill to the crash site.

Something grabbed Dallas's leg as he ran by. A werewolf, blown farther away than the rest of his pack by the initial explosion, was still very much alive.

"Help me. Please help me," it begged in French. Dallas reached for the now-empty pistol and paused. The werewolf's eyes were a bright and very human-looking grey, instead of the pitch black that they normally were. Dallas pulled his leg free but did not strike the wolf, suddenly unsure of what to do. Instead, he ran on up the hill to check on Miller.

Arriving at the crash site, he pushed his way to the front. The monster was most certainly dead, its head attached to its neck by only a few strings of flesh. Black blood still pulsed from its trunk. Miller must have somehow managed to cleave its head off in mid-flight. But where was he?

"He's here!" someone shouted. The men turned toward the voice. Miller had been crushed underneath the demon's massive bulk. Blood ran freely from his mouth. He laid still, eyes staring blankly at the stars above in the night sky.

## Chapter 2 – Arrival

Trouble In Paradise (Variation on a Theme) – Unkle – End Titles...Stories for Film

Someplace in New Jersey - Today

He was staring up at the stars as if waking from a dream. He had been dead, he was sure of that. For him, being dead was no new experience, but the act of dying was not what he considered a good time. Being dead was not awful. It was not cold, it was not dark. There was no bright light, at least not for him. There was simply nothing, and nothing was not so bad.

Then just like that, with a blink, he was back. He never understood why or how, but there was no arguing against it. For thousands of years, he had been mankind's protector. He had had many names throughout time. He had been Gilgamesh, Orion, Beowulf, and Theseus. In China he had been called Lu Tung-Pin, the great slayer of dragons. The demons called him "The Great Hunter" and "Ancient One." In recent times, he had taken the name Joseph Miller. The demons would appear and he would be reborn and hunt them down. It was the natural order of things. Perhaps it was done to strike some kind of balance between good and evil, or maybe some god just found it amusing to toss him at the monsters of the world again and again. He supposed it was a curse of sorts to never truly rest, but it rarely bothered him. After all this time, it was just what he did, what he was, as natural as breathing. Maybe it had driven him mad long ago and he no longer noticed. One of the two.

He took a long, deep breath and his face twisted in disgust. The air tasted terrible here, like his time in London, and the smells were all new, and not exactly pleasant. Looking around, nothing resembled the things he had seen in all of his many years. Huge buildings of glass, like giant trees, sprung up in every direction. "Well, well, this should be interesting," he thought, and took his first step forward.

A loud screeching noise filled his ears as a huge metal beast sprang at him, striking him full on. As he felt the darkness retake him, he thought, "This is not starting well."

*****

The truck driver didn't see the small Hispanic man until it was far too late. "Why was the idiot standing in the middle of the road past midnight? Fool deserved to be hit by a truck," he told himself as he dialed 911.

## Chapter 3 – Ann

Lotus – Tristania– Illumination

In her dreams, all she could hear were the drums.

All she could see was darkness.

All she could feel were the snake's dry scales against her flesh.

Ann woke with a start and thrashed wildly about the bed, trying to break free before realizing she was alone on her couch in her living room. Safe. The dream faded quickly. Her head pounded and her stomach again had that tightness that had been so common of late, the feeling that her muscles were twisted in knots. Enough with the nightmares!

"Ugh," she said to herself, "No more all-night movie marathons for me." She had inflicted herself with some modern Sci-Fi channel "classics," including "Girlsquito" and "Raptor vs. Rattlesnake," in an all-night girl geek-out with her friend Lizzie. It was not a typical girly thing to do, but Lizzie was hardly typical, and of late Ann couldn't handle sappy dramas. So, bad sci-fi it was. Ann was not supposed to drink, as she was taking large dosages of antibiotics to help fight off Lyme disease, but Kahlua mudslides were required to deal with such terrible movies. Her head spun and her stomach churned, reminding her far too late just how bad of an idea it had all been. It had been fun while it lasted, but she was going to pay for it today. She struggled off the couch and headed to the shower.

Lizzie was apparently long gone, off to do God knew what. Lizzie was a computer programmer who had struck it rich years ago with some minor but useful piece of software and now drifted through life doing whatever she pleased. She liked to slum with her poor student friends from time to time, and as long as Lizzie was buying the drinks...

Ann quickly showered and dressed. After a quick glance, she studied herself more carefully in the mirror. She was a short girl with long blond hair, and was far, far too skinny, according to her friends and family. Now though, looking in the mirror, she looked old, her face swollen and puffy. Her hair just did not want to lie correctly. It shot off in random directions, giving her the "stuck a fork in an electrical outlet" look. She fiddled with it for a long time before giving up and just forcing it into a long ponytail.

She managed to down some toast without vomiting up a lung and used some day-old coffee to knock down yet another horse-sized dose of her meds, plus a handful of Motrin. She spent a minute just staring out of the one nice part of her tiny seventh-floor apartment - a large window through which she could make out most of the New York City skyline. Then, grabbing her coat and her phone, she was off to another fun-filled day at the lab.

Outside it was a clear, cool spring day in Newark. The sun did little to lift Ann's spirits and she dug in the pockets of her oversized coat for her emergency hangover sunglasses. For two years now, Ann had been a full time PhD student at the College of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey (CMDNJ), studying biology. It saddened her to think that her whole academic career had been built around her high-school boyfriend, Keith, who was a doctor. He had dumped her just six months ago, leaving her somewhat adrift in life. That was, of course, until last week, when sparks flew between them again, leading to what she hoped wasn't just a one-night stand.

She checked her phone. Keith had not returned her calls, or her emails, or her text messages. It had been a full week! The jerk could at least let her know he had made it home okay. Was Keith really so cruel that he would do this to her again? Their first breakup had been devastating, tearing her whole life into tatters. Well, that wasn't going to do. If she was going to be miserable, so was he. He worked just across the street in the College Hospital emergency room. There was no hiding from her. During her lunch she could just drop by and have a word. "Yes," she said aloud, a grin covering her face for the first time this morning. "That would be just fine." The decision made Ann begin to feel a little bit better.

Newark was not normally the prettiest of cities. In April however, flowering trees on almost every street would come into bloom. The city itself was going through a rebirth. In recent years, a new mayor had begun turning the city around. The crime rate was down, several large office buildings were being built, and many of the older, ruined buildings were demolished. The city's skyline seemed to change almost daily.

Something that had not changed in the city was the homeless. One particular old, blind, and homeless black man had recently taken up residence in front of a closed-down movie theatre on Ann's way to work. He was the strangest man Ann had ever seen. He wore a suit that was extremely old-fashioned and incredibly dirty, complete with a bow tie that at one point, many centuries ago, may have been red. On his face were dark sunglasses, hiding ruined eyes that Ann would sometimes get a glimpse of as she passed. He had a thick wooden cane always by his side as he lay sprawled out in front of the old ticket box. He must have been quite tall, as his legs seemed to go on forever, but Ann had never seen him standing. In front of his usual resting place, he had placed a ruined top hat, which held a few pieces of loose change. Next to the hat was a cardboard sign. This sign changed every day. Today, it said in shaky black ink, "I believe in angels" with a little winged stick figure. Every day he sang the same song. When Ann got close enough she dropped a dollar into the hat.

"Good morning little sister!" he said in a low, scratchy voice.

"Good morning," Ann said as she passed, quickening her step a bit.

"May I just say," the homeless man continued, staring at nothing in particular, "you look positively radiant today." He then laughed a low, sickly laugh. He had never said anything to her before and Ann found the whole experience creepy. She would have to find a new way to work.

Ann arrived at the lab of Dr. Larry Conners. He was Ann's advisor and a nice guy, but a bit of a has-been. He was older, maybe in his early 50s, with just a few strands of white hair combed over in a feeble attempt to imitate a head full of hair. He was missing a large chunk of his left arm, due to an alligator incident years ago. Still, at one point he must have been someone important, because he still had funding for real cancer research.

Entering the lab, Ann saw Wen Li, Dr. Conners' other PhD student, talking to someone Ann didn't know. Wen was a Chinese man of about thirty who was frustratingly intelligent. He was also always extremely happy, which made it hard not to like him. They were conversing in Spanish. Ann wondered to herself how many languages this man knew. She knew that he spoke several dialects of Chinese, perfect English, and now Spanish. She was jealous.

Seeing her enter the room, Wen gave her a friendly wink. Attempting not to disturb the discussion, Ann went directly to her bench and began to prepare for the day's work. She opened her lab journal and scrawled the date on a blank page. She noted that she had not actually written anything inside in several days. She promised herself she wouldn't let Conners sere her slipping like this.

In time, Wen and the stranger's discussion came to a close and the slim, energetic man bounced across the floor to say hello.

"Ann Melakh, you have killed my father, now prepare to die!" He took on a fencing stance and mimed running Ann through with a sword. Despite herself, she grinned.

"So you liked it then?"

"The Princess Bride? How could I not? And my daughter loved it!" Wen's face nearly split in half with his huge smile.

"I'm still kinda surprised that you'd never seen it," Ann shot back.

"Believe it or not, I have not seen every American movie ever made. Now it's my turn to pick the movie. Have you ever heard of 'Drunken Master?'"

"Umm, a kung fu flick? You know I'm a girl, right?"

Wen pulled a DVD out of his lab coat. "Try it. It's a very young Jackie Chan. My wife says he was very hot."

Ann took the offered DVD between thumb and index finger, keeping it as far away from her person as possible, as if it smelled bad.

"If you say so. Hey - what was that all about?" Ann gestured towards the place where the stranger had been. "You know Spanish?"

"Of course I speak Spanish. I don't know how you function only knowing one language. And that was housekeeping."

"Housekeeping?"

"Yes. It appears our employer recently fired our regular janitor. He stopped showing up to work a few days ago and the good Dr. Conners took offense."

"Hmmm, I had noticed it was a bit messy in here." Ann eyed her overflowing garbage can.

"So that was our new janitor and I was just introducing myself."

"In Spanish? You suck-up."

Wen looked a bit sheepish. "By the way, Conners was looking for you before."

"Really? Thanks, I'll check in with him in a few."

A few minutes later, Ann slipped into Dr. Conners' small office.

"What can I do for you?"

The older man looked up from his work, giving her a dry smile. "Ann, ah good. I wanted to ask how you were coming along with Dr. Dupré's sample."

"The lily? I'm pretty much nowhere. It seems to be just a regular old lily. Are you sure this Dupré lady isn't just messing with us?"

"Oh, quite sure. Dr. Dupré was my mentor many, many years ago. She's done some pretty amazing research. If she says that sample is something useful, then we need to take a look."

"She was your mentor? That must make her, like, ancient..." Ann trailed off, suddenly realizing how rude she was being. "I mean, not that you're old. I'm just saying..."

Conner waved a dismissive hand at her. "Don't worry about it Ann. In truth, she does have to be getting up there. She wasn't exactly young when she was teaching. I had expected her to retire a long time ago. Still, the research could mean some new funding for us, which is always a good thing."

"And she knows we don't usually work with flowers?"

"Ann, this is a special one-time deal, and I'm letting you take care of it for me. She's actually coming here in person to talk about your research, so do your best with it, okay? If you get stuck, maybe ask Wen to help."

Ann sighed. "Of course. I'll do my best." She left the office.

Back at her bench, she took out the sample and looked it over again. It appeared to be a normal lily, its petals already turning black and wrinkled. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she half remembered a nightmare about the flower. There had been something dark and sinister about it.

She really had to lay off the late-night horror films. She placed the sample to the side. Like all great procrastinators, she planned on doing something about it later and never did.

When noon came at last, she headed across the street to the hospital. College Hospital was a bland concrete structure with dark blue tinted windows. Ann had always wondered why people didn't make hospitals look more inviting. At least for her, they always seemed to hold a sense of dread. It probably had to do with all the dying people.

She snuck in the ambulance entrance, something she wasn't really supposed to do, but then again, rules were for those who got caught. She had been here many times and several people knew who she was. She waved to a few EMTs on the way in and headed to the emergency room reception area. Stacy Kline was working at the front desk. A nurse in her early 40s, she had always been friendly enough.

"Hi Stacy, is Keith around?"

Stacy looked up from some papers she was sorting.

"Little Ann! Long time no see. You and Keith dating again?"

Ann blushed a bit. "Well actually sorta. At least, I thought so." She paused, feeling a bit sheepish talking about this with someone else. "I'm actually going to try and find that out today. Is that too much information?"

"Ah," Stacy said with a grin, "I'm not getting involved. Just try and keep the drama off hospital grounds."

"Yeah, like that's possible with the hours you people work," Ann grinned back. "So, have you noticed him sulking about?"

"Dr. Malone was here earlier. However," Stacy leaned forward and lowered her voice, "don't let him know I said that." They shared a conspiratorial grin.

"Lab rat's honor." Ann waved as she took off down the hall.

It seemed to be a really slow day, and Ann passed very few patients as she made her way through the long tangle of corridors. She glanced in each room that she passed for signs of Keith. Not seeing Keith on the first floor, she went up one flight of stairs. In one of the rooms, she noticed a friendly face.

"Cynthia!" The plump older woman looked up from a patient's chart.

"Little Ann! How are you?"

She raised her arms in the universal sign, showing that she wanted a hug from the older woman. They shared a quick embrace. Cynthia was a tech and a near-stereotypical older Irish woman. Her hair was curly red with just a bit of white mixed in, and her face was covered in freckles. She was on the plump side, free-spirited, and loved to hit the bars with her husband, Scott. Ann and Keith had gone on quite a few pub crawls with the couple but could never keep up.

"Oh, sorry," Ann said, noting the unconscious man on the bed.

"Oh no worries, he's out cold. He was admitted a few days ago. Hit by a truck and on enough drugs that he won't be waking up for a long time. A good thing too."

Ann inspected the short Hispanic man. His left arm and leg were immobilized in casts that were wired in place. One of his eyes was covered and enough bandages were wrapped around his chest to give the impression of a mummy.

"Ouch," Ann said, "That had to hurt." Looking at the man, she thought he looked very familiar, although she couldn't quite place him.

"I almost socked Dr. Malone when I heard what he did to you." Cynthia threw a punch out in the air, somewhere above Ann's head. "Men are beasts. Monsters, I tell you! But why are you here? Did he come to his senses?"

"Well," Ann began, "I thought so. We kinda had a thing last week..."

"A thing, eh?" She nudged Ann in the ribs a bit and then sighed. "Ahh, to be young again."

"... but then nothing all week."

"That dog. That low dog." Cynthia shook her head.

"Hello ladies," said a voice from behind. Both women jumped and turned toward the patient, who was very much awake. They stared open-mouthed at him.

"I am sorry. Where are my manners? Was I interrupting?" he continued. His accent was strange, almost Scottish but then something else. Ann struggled to place it. It was like one of the characters from the Lord of the Rings doing a bad Sean Connery impression.

Cynthia recovered. "Oh no sir, we were just chatting a bit. We didn't wake you, did we?"

"Oh yes, but that is fine. I think I have been sleeping enough of late," the man answered back. He seemed to notice his surroundings for the first time. "Would you mind telling me where I am?"

"Of course, you're at College Hospital in Newark."

"Newark?" he asked. Ann and Cynthia exchanged glances.

"In New Jersey," Ann offered.

"Jersey?" The man seemed to chew the word in his mouth for a long moment. "Oh, New Jersey. In the Americas." He put on a broad smile and grinned at the girls. "That is fine. I have not been here in, oh," he paused, "you cannot imagine how long."

The Americas? Ann thought that bump on the head must have done some real damage. "Are you from Scotland?" Ann asked.

"Oh no," replied the man, "Africa originally, but I spent a lot of time in Scotland over the last, err, several years. Lovely place!"

Cynthia cut in, trying to get to her job. "I should get you a doctor in here." She keyed the intercom. "This is room 269. Can you page Dr. Black? Her patient is awake." She looked back down at the strange man. "Sir, what's your name, and do you have any folks that I should have a nurse contact?"

"Oh, how rude of me. Joseph Miller, at your service, ladies."

Ann giggled a bit at that. There was something truly goofy about this man. Her giggle only made the man's smile broaden. "Is my name amusing to you, lass?"

"Oh no. Sorry." Ann looked down at the floor.

"Mr. Miller, do you have any health insurance?" Cynthia asked.

Miller seemed to consider this for awhile. "I don't think so. Should I?"

"Ann, you stay here, I'm going to see if I can find Dr. Black," Cynthia said, heading out the door. As she passed Ann she added under her breath, "and maybe get someone from the psych ward up here for this one."

"Umm, sure." Ann grinned and shrugged. It wasn't like she worked here, but then this guy wasn't in any shape to hurt her or anything. "Let me know if you see Keith though!"

With Cynthia gone, there was an awkward silence as Miller grinned at Ann.

"Husband?" Miller offered.

"What?"

"This Keith fellow..."

"Oh no, he isn't even much of a boyfriend anymore," Ann said bitterly.

"Fantastic," Miller said. The grin did not move from his face. It made Ann very uncomfortable. Was he hitting on her?

Dr. Vanessa Black entered the room, nodding a curt hello to Ann. She was a tall, dark-haired woman who was smart, sexy, witty...and a complete bitch. Ann couldn't stand her. She was very happy to make room for her now though. It was good to put some distance between her and the strange, broken man. Doctor Black went through a series of tests, asking Miller various questions. Miller answered them all in his own vague way, suddenly seeming less playful. He stared at his doctor like a hungry wolf. Ann waited until the doctor left and then, letting some disgust creep into her voice, she said to Miller, "You really shouldn't stare at women like that."

Miller seemed to jump a bit, as if switching gears in his mind. The grin reappeared on his face. "I am sorry lass, you speak true, but although it's been a long time since I have been with a lady, you misunderstand me."

"Oh really?" Ann crossed her arms on her chest, trying her best to look stern.

"Oh yes. You see, lass, that's no woman."

Ann gave him a sarcastic smile. "Right..."

Miller looked defensive.

"She is one of the 'Fallen.'"

"The what?" Ann asked.

"A demon."

## Chapter 4 -Samson and the Wolf

The Mark Has Been Made – Nine Inch Nails - The Fragile

He was awake. He wasn't sure why yet, but he was. It wasn't the usual nightmare. He was sure of that. Mike glanced at his wife's spot on the other side of the bed. It was still a bit of a shock seeing it empty, even after six months.

Then, the baby monitor on the nightstand grabbed his attention. From it, Mike could make out a faint scratching noise. Odd. What would make that noise? He struggled over to the nightstand and slowly cranked up the volume on the monitor.

A woman's voice drifted through, at last loud enough to make out.

"Help me. Please help my baby!"

Electricity seemed to snap down his spine. Someone was in Sam's room. "Oh God," he whispered. He threw himself out the door of his bedroom and down the short, narrow flight of stairs to the first floor. "Oh God, oh God, oh God..."

His body was moving much faster than his mind, the fog of sleep slowing his wits. Someone had gotten into the house and was now doing God-knows-what to little Sam.

He rounded the corner to Sam's room and threw the door open to see...nothing. The boy was sleeping peacefully in bed. Mike stared for several minutes, watching his young son breathe. He glanced at the matching baby monitor that sat on his son's nightstand. It wasn't on.

"Damn, I forgot to turn the damn thing on. Hell of a father I am," he said to himself. But where had the woman's voice come from? He knew he hadn't dreamt it. Racing back up the stairs, he confirmed that the monitor was still getting a signal from somewhere.

"Please..." the woman's voice was back, seeming to trail off. Turning up the volume, he could hear a terrible gurgling noise.

It must be another baby monitor running on the same frequency nearby. It had happened before. Here in the suburbs of New Jersey, the houses were more than close enough for that. The house that made the most sense was Ted and Susan Zhang's, a Chinese-American couple who had a girl just a little younger than Sam and lived directly across the street. The couples were close friends and when the Zhangs found themselves pregnant, Mike and his wife Melissa had recommended several items, including the baby monitor.

Was it any of his business? The woman, who had to be Susan Zhang, sounded hurt. Well, he was a police officer, even though he had not done much more in his short career than traffic duty. "To protect and serve" still counted, though, even in your pajamas in the middle of night. And if his neighbor was hurt and he did nothing, he would never forgive himself.

He picked up the phone on his stand and quickly dialed his neighbors' number. Four rings, then the click of the answering machine. Okay, so much for the easy way. He grabbed his coat and then, on a hunch, took the hand gun from his room and pushed himself out into the cool spring night air. Outside, the moon was as visible as a fingernail, failing to do anything useful even though the sky was clear. In the electric light of the street lamps, all of the houses looked the same, like in that old episode of The Twilight Zone. Mike took a moment to organize his thoughts. Would he just knock on the door and explain that he had heard someone asking for help on his baby monitor? Yeah, like that would fly well.

As he crossed the street, Mike thought back to a few days ago, when he had last seen the Zhang family. It had been a bright spring afternoon. He had just pulled up to the house after picking Sam up at his in-laws and was helping him out of his booster seat in the car. Sam noticed the Zhangs across the street.

"Sally!" he shouted and waved. The girl was out with her father taking a walk. She giggled in the way that toddlers do and waved back at Sam. Sam made a dash to cross the street, but Mike snatched his hand.

"No crossing a street without an adult," he said and together they walked over to their neighbors. Once they had reached the other side, a game of tag started, with Sam as "it." The kids ducked in and out of their parents' legs, screaming and laughing. "The toddler screech," Melissa had called it.

Ted had a cast around his hand. Mike pointed it out. "Everything alright?"

Looking down at it Ted said, "Oh it's nothing big. Fell down the stairs and busted my hand. Ended up in the emergency room this morning. Hurt like hell."

After more small talk, Mike picked up Sam to bring him home and inflict more of his terrible cooking on him. The Zhangs had seemed fine at the time. Now, in the chill of the night, Mike's concern grew for his neighbors.

Mike bounded up the short flight of stairs that led to the front door of the Zhangs' small two-story home. As he reached the top step, his shoes crunched on glass. The house had two doors - a screen door that was half glass and half metal screen, and a sturdy metal door behind. The glass of the first door was shattered, with pieces lying as far as several feet away. He made to reach for the doorbell but then noticed that the metal door was open as well, just a crack. Something was definitely wrong here. Mike pulled his revolver, a strong sense of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. After several deep, calming breaths, he carefully pushed the metal door open and slipped inside.

Mike thought back to his detective studies. He had tried to take the detective test several times, but had yet to pass. Still, some of what he had learned came back to mind. This had to be a break-in, but the glass on the front step would imply a "break out." Someone had broken the glass on their way out, which didn't make much sense. Maybe they were leaving in a hurry and had come in through another point of entry, perhaps a window that had been forced open somewhere in the house. If so, the chances were good that the perp was long gone. He kept the gun out, just in case.

"Ted? Susan? It's Mike," he called out into the darkness of the house. Then, thinking better of it, he followed up with, "This is Officer Samson." There was no answer. He had been in the house several times and knew the little girl's room was upstairs, so made that his first destination. Moving slowly in the dark, he found the light switch and flicked it quickly to the "on" position. The sudden light was blinding and it took a few painfully-long seconds for his eyes to adjust. A look around revealed no armed criminal in waiting. The house was generally quite neat. Mike noticed that the front door had been knocked out of its frame a bit. The plaster around the door was destroyed and the frame could plainly be seen under the wood trim. That was really odd. Very sloppy yet extremely strong thieves.

Mike made his way upstairs, which was a mess. Something had definitely gone down here. The light from the street poured in through a broken window at the end of the hall. Clothes and furniture were tossed about and there were dark stains on the floor which Mike was pretty sure were blood.

Mike could sense that something terrible had happened here. He poked his head into the first room, a bathroom. It looked generally normal, apart from the hideous pink and black floor tile. The next was a bedroom. It was a bit disheveled but much better than his room at the moment.

The last room in the hallway was the kid's room, made obvious by the various toys that were scattered in the doorway. The sense of dread that had been slowly building in him reached a screaming pitch.

The room was dark as Mike entered. Feeling along the wall, he found the switch he was looking for. The light snapped on, and Mike almost vomited. He had witnessed some terrible car accidents in his time, seen his fair share of mangled, mutilated bodies, but this was so much worse. Susan lay sprawled on the floor, covered with blood. Her torso had been torn open and, judging by the amount of blood around the room, she had taken a long time to die, crawling towards her child. Worse still was the tiny body that lay sprawled on the child's bed. Most of the flesh was gone, revealing a tiny white skull. Only the right hand of the little girl remained unmolested, standing out as proof that this pile of flesh and bone had once been the little girl he had seen in the sandbox, laughing with his son.

"Oh God." Mike's courage broke and panic took him as he dashed down the stairs, away from the nightmare. He would have kept running, but once outside he spotted someone standing in the middle of the street. Mike skidded to a halt and drew his gun, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Freeze! Police!" For a second Mike and the man stared at each other. The man was not much taller than Mike, but was built like a bodybuilder. His hair stuck out at all sorts of odd angles and he seemed to have long knives attached to his fingers, which looked like inch-long claws. Terror ran up and down Mike's spine again as the man charged at him like some kind of crazed animal. A strange howl erupted from the charging beast-man. This had to be the thing that had so brutally murdered his neighbors. That thought, and the fear that followed, made Mike pull the trigger of his gun, not once but three times. The bullets all found their marks. Mike was a decent shot and the range was short, but the man didn't slow. He collided into Mike, knives biting into flesh, pinning Mike's arms against his chest and driving both men to the ground.

For a second, the attacker paused and Mike could see his face clearly. It was covered with wiry hair and the teeth were all wrong, but he could see that it was Ted. The most disturbing thing was his eyes, which were a solid black. Like pitch. Ted growled and brought a hand up to strike. It was covered with the remains of his cast. Mike screamed as he realized that the blades he had seen were not knives, but claws that were digging into him. The fear gave him strength, and he bucked and kicked. Mike managed to bring his hand, still carrying the gun, straight up to his chest. As Ted's claws came down, he pointed the barrel of the gun at his attacker's chin, firing it just as the claws dug deep into his chest. The bullet tore though Ted's chin, through the entire length of his head, and blasted out of the top of his skull in a spray of brains. Ted made a choking noise and rolled off of Mike.

Pain radiated all over Mike's body and blood gushed from his chest. It took him a few moments to notice that he was screaming and few more moments to make himself stop. He glanced to where Ted had landed, but he was gone.

"What the hell?!" he shouted, once again raising his pistol. There was nothing there but a trail of what Mike assumed to be blood. A million questions ran through Mike's fear-ridden brain. Had that really been Ted? If so, what the hell had happened to him? How the hell did he get back up after having his brains blown out of the back of his head?

Mike struggled to his feet, one hand still pointing the gun out at the darkness, the other pressed against the cut on his chest, trying to keep pressure on the wound. He limped toward his house. He had to get back to his son. With several painful steps, he managed to cross the street. He fought with the lock for a bit before managing to throw the door open and push through. Spinning around, he slammed the door and locked it again, and then dashed back to Sam's room. The sight of his sleeping son, breathing quietly, calmed his mind a bit. He slid down onto the floor, suddenly remembering his wounds. They throbbed. He needed to call this in and then he needed to see a doctor. Then maybe he would have a nice mental breakdown. He got up and made the call.

"This is Officer Mike Samson." He gave the woman on the other end of the phone his badge number. "I need to report a double homicide." He gave the address.

"Officer Samson, we have a car heading there now," the woman's voice on the other side stated. Hanging up, he headed to the bathroom, stripped off his shirt, and quickly bandaged his cuts. He could see the lights from the arriving squad car outside. He would deal with them in a moment. First, though, he crawled into his son's bed and held him, tears rolling down his cheeks.

## Chapter 5 - Monsters

A Horse Called Golgotha – Baroness – Blue Record

Catharine's first two days on the job for FedEx had been pretty rocky. She had dropped packages, gotten lost twice, and fallen down a flight of stairs. Still, the job had been a stroke of good luck after a string of terrible disasters. No one wanted to hire a junkie, even an ex-junkie. An old high-school friend she had bumped into at church had pulled some major strings for her. Yes, she had been to church, and how funny was that? But she had a lot to repent for and if she was going to turn this worthless life around, it seemed like a good place to start. Her manager had been the one that had interviewed her, and he had somehow managed to see past her messy dreads and nervous stutter to find someone worth hiring. She was determined to prove him right.

On the third day, when she arrived at College Hospital, she was having a better time with things. The box for the delivery at this address was quite heavy and she made sure to strap it to her little cart correctly. There would be no dropping this one. With her luck, it was probably some cure for an incredibly rare disease and dropping the box would mean a roomful of kids would die. As she weaved her cart through the hospital entrance, her mind came up with more and more incredible items that could be in the box. The last of these was a new liver for the President of the United States, with her screw-up would mean the downfall of modern western civilization.

As she approached the front desk, a nurse noticed her.

"Package delivery," Catharine said in her most professional voice.

"Oh, I bet that's our new coffee machine. Hey Mary, can you show her where to store this?"

"Sure thing." Mary was a tall, good-looking white nurse who had been busy chatting with a handsome doctor. Heck, the pair looked to be right out of some soap opera. Mary waved her over to a nearby elevator and Catharine followed. She struggled to get the box through the door before the elevator doors clamped shut. Can't ruin the coffee maker, doctors need their caffeine. She still had the lives of hundreds of people in her hands. She smiled at the thought.

Mary made no attempt at small talk as the elevator descended one floor, so Catharine kept her mouth shut as well. She figured that was the professional way to go. When the elevator doors opened, Mary stepped out and waved her on.

"This way."

Catharine again struggled with the cart and then followed the nurse down the hall and into a sort of break room. "It'll be fine in here," Mary told her.

Catharine began unstrapping the box from the cart, and as she did, she noticed that the nurse was standing far too close to her. It made her uncomfortable but she tried to ignore it.

"Umm, sign here."

"Of course," Mary replied, scrawling something on Catharine's data pad. Handing it back, she said, "Now let's see what we can do with you." She stepped in closer, lightly brushing Catharine's cheek with a perfect hand. Her eyes locked with Catharine, looking somehow hungry.

"Look, I don't..." Catharine began to argue.

"Ssssh," Mary stopped her. Catharine knew she should step back, get away, and yet she couldn't. There was something odd about this woman, something horrible in that perfect face.

She felt a strange panic rising up in her stomach. Some small voice was telling her to flee, but she could not seem to bring herself to run. Suddenly and violently, the nurse grabbed the back of her hair and pushed their mouths together in an awkward kiss. The nurse pushed Catharine's mouth open with her tongue. At last coming awake, Catharine tried to break free, but the nurse's grip was too strong. There was a sound like a wet cough and something slimy filled her mouth! Catharine at last pulled away and started to gag as whatever it was slid down her throat. She fell to the floor, trying to scream as she stared up at the nurse, but couldn't get any air into her lungs. The nurse stared back, stroking Catharine's hair. Her eyes were perfectly black, as if filled with ink.

"There, there, it will be alright in a minute. Welcome to the family."

And then she could breathe again, as whatever it was traveled back up past her throat. She did not waste time on screaming and instead struggled to her feet and ran. She moved faster than she ever had in her life, out of the door and down the hall. She collided with a woman on the way, but picked herself up and kept running.

She ran and ran, bursting out of the front doors of the hospital. She charged toward her truck, tearing the key out of her pocket. She slammed the key into place and gunned the engine...and then stopped. What was she doing? She couldn't remember. She shook her head. She must have nodded off for a second. She couldn't be doing that. She had more work to do. She did feel good though. In fact, she felt better than she had in a long time.

*****

Ann did not find Keith that first day, nor did she find him the next. The people at the hospital all said that they had seen him around recently, but none could say exactly when. It was driving her crazy. Near the end of her second tour of the hospital, she once again passed Mr. Miller's room and was drawn inside.

"Miss Ann." The sound of his voice made her wince a bit. She was unsure what to make of him. Somehow he managed to creep her out and make her laugh at the same time. And then there was the whole demon speech from yesterday. She also couldn't shake the feeling that they had met before

"Hiya," Ann said, and gave him a halfhearted wave.

"Come over here. I have something amazing here," he said, quickly waving his one good arm, beckoning her. He reminded Ann of a four-year-old who wanted to show off his latest toy. "Look. Look. Look." He pointed to a television screen showing the hospital welcome screen. Relaxing photos of happy doctors and patients moved across it.

"Um, so?" Ann asked, a bit baffled.

"The pictures. They move by themselves! No moving parts whatsoever. It's brilliant!"

"You mean the TV? You've never seen a TV before?"

"No, never. Are they common? What fantastic things! I was impressed with the electronic candles but when the nurse turned on this box..."

"You really don't get out much do you? Look, here, let me show you." She snagged the remote from the bed-stand and changed the channel. A talk show was on.

"Ah. It has more than one picture? Wait, are they actually inside there?"

Ann shook her head. How could someone not know what a TV was? "No, it's television. It's a show recorded someplace else and then played back here."

"Like a camera with moving pictures." Miller was breathless. "How many shows can it do?" He said the word "shows" slowly. It must have been his new word of the day.

"Oh, sometimes hundreds at once."

Miller's jaw dropped. "That is truly amazing! Now if it could only make sound. Music maybe."

Ann rolled her eyes, smiled, and pushed up the volume.

Miller gasped.

Ann sat down in the empty chair by the bed and for a moment they sat in silence, absorbed by the TV.

"Thank you for showing me this," Miller said.

"Oh it's no trouble. I figure one of the nurses or techs would have shown you. No kidding, you've never seen a TV before?"

"I do not 'kid' you. This is a first for me." He paused, glancing back at the screen. "People must never leave their houses!"

Ann shrugged. "Actually, that is kind of an issue."

"I guess that I missed it. I have been away for a bit."

"Really? How long?"

"Let us just say a long time and leave it at that." Miller's grin was back on his face.

"Right," Ann said, "Whatever. Look, I have to go. Apparently, I've become my ex-boyfriend's stalker and I need to finish up my rounds."

Miller's face was suddenly serious. "Ann, you will think I am mad for this, but please do something for me."

"I make no promises, crazy man."

"Just stay away from Dr. Black. She is very dangerous and it would be a shame for a nice young lass like you to be injured." There was genuine concern in his eyes. "Perhaps stay away from this whole area for a few days."

"Look, I've known Vanessa Black for a few years now. She's a bitch, but she's harmless."

"Take my word, Ann. That person you knew is no longer with us. Just give her some space." He tapped the cast on his right arm. "I'll handle her in a few days, once I get this off."

Handle her? Good lord, this guy should be in the psych ward. She stepped away, wondering for a moment if you could catch crazy.

"And on that bizarre note, I'm out!"

She gave Miller a quick wave and dashed out of the room. She wondered why she had stopped there in the first place.

Moving on down the hall, she poked her head into the last few rooms with open doors. This was getting crazy. She was becoming a stalker. Obviously Keith was hiding from her, and if he was too much of a coward to face her, what could she do?

"Okay then, one more floor and then back to work, and Keith Malone? You're dead to me."

It wasn't the "great telling off" that she had planned in her head, but it would have to do.

She headed past a nurses' station where Vanessa Black was talking to a nurse. She paused, wondering if she should warn her. Just because she really didn't like Vanessa didn't mean she wouldn't feel horrible if, a few weeks from now, crazy man managed to get out of traction and attacked her, thinking she was some kind of monster.

"Umm, excuse me Dr. Black. I think you should know something."

Vanessa silenced her with an open hand and finished talking to the nurse. They were chatting about American Idol. For a second Ann considered storming off but then held her peace. Finally turning to Ann, Vanessa said, "Now Miss Melakh, what can I do for you?"

"Look, I just wanted to warn you, the patient in room 269..."

"Let me stop you right there." Again Vanessa put her hand in front of Ann's face. "I've heard you're looking for Dr. Malone. I know you and he had a relationship in the past. However, this does not give you the right to run around my hospital bothering my staff and my patients."

"Hey, listen, you..."

"No. You listen," Vanessa shouted, the anger slipping into her voice. "If I see you in here one more time, I will call security and have you dragged out of here." The sentence seemed to end in a snarl. The two women stared at each other..

"Fine," Ann turned to leave, "Bitch." She stormed to the nearest elevator, pushing past the two nurses getting out. As the doors closed, Ann gave Vanessa the middle finger and slammed the button, not for the ground floor, but for the basement.

"You won't be rid of me that easy."

She had actually never been in the basement. She had first imagined that Keith was just working, not avoiding her, but now she was going to widen the search a bit. The elevator stopped and as she stepped out, another woman plowed into her. They tumbled, forming a mass of arms and legs on the floor.

She was young, dark-skinned, and a bit overweight. Her hair was done up in dreads and she wore a FedEx uniform.

"Are you okay? I can..." Ann asked, pushing herself up and offering the woman a free hand.

The woman ignored Ann and dashed down the hall. Ann watched her run, heading for the stairway. Turning around, she caught sight of a familiar-looking nurse who winked at her, waved, and entered a room on the right. Glancing back and forth between the fleeing figure and the nurse, Ann shook her head.

"Okay, that was odd," she said aloud.

Heading down the hall, a bit shaken, she noticed two orderlies farther down the hall. The two massive, hairy men nodded at her as she passed. Their huge uniforms could barely contain them, as if they had shrunk in the wash.

"You new here, fellas?" she asked in passing. The man on the right, who looked vaguely Asian, simply grunted. "Not much for talking then. I'll just move along."

This looked like a psych ward. At least that's what her extensive movie-watching experience told her. Mean-looking orderlies? Check. Lots of rooms with locks on the outsides and windows to peek in through? Check. Crazy people, like the woman by the elevator? Check.

She glanced into a room at random. Through the window she could see a man in a _straight jacket,_ drooling. Double-check. There was no way Keith was hiding here. It was way too creepy for that big chicken. Ann decided to turn back.

Just as she was about to head back to the elevator, something slammed hard against the door of one of the rooms, making the door vibrate in its frame. Curiosity got the better of her and she walked down the hall and put her head to the glass.

"Oh my God."

Inside was a man, or at least something like a man, completely naked. Black scales like a snake's covered most of his chest and shoulders. One arm was massive, its knuckles dragging on the ground. Foam sprayed from his mouth and his eyes were jet-black. From his back jutted one massive bat-like wing, which flapped aimlessly. The man-creature, whatever he was, was in a rage. He smashed the door with his oversized fist, tossed himself to the ground, and then flung himself against the door again. He seemed to be screaming, though the room was apparently soundproof, as no noise reached Ann's ears.

She stared, wide-eyed, at the thing. Was it a man with some kind of new disease? Was this even possible? A wing?

Suddenly, someone grabbed her shoulder and flung her back, slamming her into the wall across the hall. Black spots briefly blurred her vision. When they cleared, Vanessa Black was over her, her face misshapen with rage.

"Vanessa, what the hell...urk," Vanessa's right hand latched on to Ann's neck and lifted her off the ground. The wind had been knocked out of her and her lungs instantly started to burn. Her feet dangling, she grabbed Vanessa's arm, desperately trying to get free and breathe.

"I know what you're doing," Vanessa said, "and he is mine. Mine!" The "mine" was more scream than speech. Vanessa's hand suddenly seemed to bulge and the skin split. Underneath, Ann could see the same black scales that the man in the cell in front of them had. Vanessa growled and tossed Ann down the hall. She flew a good fifteen feet before hitting the ground and skidding to a stop.

Ann lay on the cold floor for a second, panting. Vanessa was standing over her, her hand now a huge black talon. She rubbed her claws together, creating a sound disturbingly like nails on a chalkboard.

"Be happy the law keeps me from killing you."

Vanessa's words seemed to knock Ann out of her shock. To put it plain and simple, she lost it. Picking herself up, she took off at a mad sprint down the hall. There was no screaming. She didn't have air in her lungs for more than running. She ran past the two orderlies, who had watched the exchange, unimpressed. She ran past the elevator and made a sharp turn at the stairway, flying up the stairs two at a time, following a similar path to the woman before her. She didn't stop running for a very long time.

In Ann's panic to escape, she did not notice the extremely tall blind man in the old suit and ruined old top hat leaning against the building. As she ran by, a large, toothy grin appeared on his face.

## Chapter 6 - The Morning After

Colours – 2 Pie Island - 2 Bit Pie

Mike hadn't slept that night. The first officers on the scene were a man and a woman. He didn't know the man but had met the woman, Jones, before. He did his best to explain what he had seen and done. His story sounded crazy even to himself, so he could imagine how bad it sounded to them.

"So you heard one of the victims on your baby monitor. Does this happen often?"

"We had recommended the same monitor to them, so it makes sense. It's what happened tonight."

"And you think the man who attacked you was the husband, Ted Zhang?"

"Honestly, I don't know. His face looked like him, yes, but the build was all wrong. Maybe..." he paused, trying to make some sort of sense of the memory, which was more like a nightmare. "Maybe it was his brother, although I didn't see Ted's body in there." At the time, he had been so sure that it was Ted.

Little Sam stood next to his father, his "Toy Story" pajamas covered with a blanket. There was no way the kid could walk without tripping, but then Sam was so out of it from being woken up in the middle of night that he hardly moved. Mike wasn't letting him out of his sight now. Not with whatever, or whoever, it was still out there.

"And you shot him?"

"Oh yeah, four times. The last hit him in the head."

The male officer shook his head. "Right." The word had a mocking tone to it. "I don't think you walk away from that one. I think you missed and scared him off."

Mike tried to make what happed seem rational, at least in his own head. "I think the guy was high on something, some messed-up sh..." He glanced down at Sam. "Stuff."

"Well, judging by that little horror movie across the street, there was something obviously wrong with the guy." All three officers were silent, replaying the scene upstairs in their heads. Mike felt a bit nauseous.

More officers arrived, along with an ambulance, although it didn't do any good for the Zhangs. They asked more questions, which Mike tried to answer. He was coming down from his adrenaline rush and it was making him feel sick and sleepy. The cuts on his chest throbbed and he could feel blood seeping through the bandages. Eventually he gave up and asked if he might get some medical attention himself. One of the EMTs looked his chest over.

"Looks pretty deep, I think you're going to need stitches at least. Why don't you take a ride with us? We'll patch you up good."

Jones, who had been following him and Sam around and generally being as helpful as she could, spoke up. "Why don't you and Sam go? I can handle this here. You just meet up with us at the station in the morning. I'm pretty sure you know where it is and I'll still be on shift." She smiled at Mike. It was a friendly smile but there was a bit too much pity in it.

"Sure, thanks. I need to call my in-laws to pick up Sam, but they can meet us at the hospital. Which one are you taking me to?" he asked the EMT.

"College."

## Chapter 7 - Lizzie

Shiller – Ratatat – LP3

Lizzie was sitting in front of the computer when the phone rang.

"Lizzie! Lizzie!" It was Ann, and something seemed to be bothering her.

"Hey, girl."

"I need help. I think something ate Keith."

"What? You're not back together with that spineless dweeb are you?"

"No. Well...yes. Well, we had a thing. But look, that's not important..."

"A thing? Don't tell me you got laid and didn't tell me."

"No. Well, yes, but just listen..."

"We've been through this Ann. The guy is no good. He's going to keep stringing you along. Now if you want to use him for a little action on the side, I can understand that..."

"Will you please stop being Oprah?" Ann raised her voice, cutting Lizzie off. "Look, something happened. It's really freaking me out, and I need someone to tell me I'm not crazy."

"Oh, you're not preggers are you? It takes more than a week for those tests to tell you anything, you know."

"No. Just shut up and come get me. I need a ride. I don't have taxi fare, I'm in downtown Newark, and it's getting late. Pick me up off Broad Street by that Army surplus you got those fancy boots from."

"Ann, I'm kinda in the middle of something here."

"This is way more important than any stupid World of Warcraft raid." Ann hung up.

Lizzie swore to herself. Putting down the phone and picking up her headset, Lizzie said, "Sorry guys, family aggro. I gotta bail tonight." Her announcement produced a chorus of male voices, their disappointment ringing clear as a bell in Lizzie's ear.

Had it been anyone but Ann, she would have told them to go screw themselves. But poor, sweet, naive Ann was her oldest, closest friend. She had been her only friend in high school, before the money, before the surgery, before the expensive personal fitness trainers, before she had become the successful chic-geek she was today. Back when Lizzie had been the fat, shy Asian kid, Ann had been there, solid as a rock through many of Lizzie's bad times. Now after all these years, it was Ann who needed the support.

Of late, Lizzie had spent a lot of time worrying about her friend. The break-up with that deadbeat Keith had crushed her. Lizzie had thought that Ann was finally starting to recover but this last week she had been so distant. It explained a lot that Keith was back in her life. On the phone now, there had been real fear in Ann's voice. That was unusual.

She tossed a beaten leather coat over her "Rogues do it from behind" t-shirt and strapped on her Army boots. Grabbing the keys to her Honda she headed out.

Lizzie lived in Springfield, New Jersey, which was far enough away from NYC for her. She had her space in one of the better neighborhoods, but close enough that she could be in Manhattan for business reasons in under an hour. It took her about 20 minutes to get to Ann, who was right where she said she would be. She was pacing back and forth and looking an awful fright. Lizzie pulled to the curb and popped the locks on the car.

"Oh thank God," Ann said, getting into the car. She reached over and hugged Lizzie.

"Ugh! You smell like shit, girl. What have you been doing?"

"A lot of running, actually," Ann answered, letting her friend go. "I owe you huge for this. Something amazingly messed up happened."

"Look, just calm down. You need a drink or something?"

"God yes, strongest thing you can find," Ann paused and grinned. "You're buying, right?"

"Ugh. I'll put it on your tab."

"Good, then let's go. The farther from this place the better."

The name of the restaurant they ended up at was "The Office." Lizzie knew the bartender there well, Ann did too, and they had great burgers. Lizzie generally hated public places, but this one was okay, as long as she didn't have to talk to anyone.

Ann hadn't said much on the way there. She claimed she needed a stiff drink before she could even think about it. They ordered dinner, Lizzie ordered her usual Grey Goose martini, shaken not stirred, and Ann got a whiskey, neat.

"Whiskey? Really?"

"God yes, can't stand the stuff." Ann pounded it down the instant the waiter brought it and after gagging for a moment ordered a second. Lizzie stared at her friend.

"Aren't you supposed to avoid drinking on your meds?"

"After this afternoon, I'm drinking every day for the rest of my life."

"You aren't going to try to kiss me again, are you?"

"What?"

"The other night, when you were wasted on mudslides, you tried to lock lips with me."

Ann was horrified.

"I'm so sorry. I don't remember that at all."

"It's okay. I am pretty stunning." Lizzie gave her a wink and then turned serious. "This drinking is a new side of you. What's going on?"

"I..." Ann started to explain, and then stopped. "I don't know where to start. Look, this is going to sound nuts."

"Try me."

Ann rubbed her face for a minute. When the waiter came back with her next drink, she threw the whole thing back again. "Look, can I just get two more of these? Save you a trip." She held up the glass to the waiter, who scurried off to fetch more booze. Again turning her gaze to Lizzie she asked, "What do you know about demons?"

"Domains? Oh a shitload, you know me. Ultra geek girl to the rescue."

"No, demons. Like fallen angels out to capture men's souls and such?"

"Oh." Lizzie took a sip of her drink. "Nothing much, really. I mean, nothing much outside video games and movies. Why in God's name would that matter?" The waiter appeared, this time with double the whiskey.

"Ha! Good choice of words there, but I'm pretty sure God has nothing to do with this." Ann began to sip her third whiskey, cringing at the taste and no longer drinking like she was pledging to a frat. "This is going to sound nuts, I mean downright bat-shit insane."

"Just spit it out!" Lizzie let her frustration edge into her voice.

"Okay. Well, you know about my, err, event with Keith about a week ago, right?"

"I do now. I knew you were down about something the other night. I guess you're not back together then?"

"I'm not sure. We had a great time that night, slept together, you know, the works, but in the morning he was long gone. No note, no phone call, nothing. So I gave him a few days. I thought maybe something came up at the hospital. Whatever. Anyway, a few more days and still no call. I left him messages on his phone, wrote him emails, even stopped by his place once. Nothing. So yesterday, I get the big idea of going to the hospital and confronting him, really giving him a piece of my mind."

"Everyone thinks they've seen him recently, but no one knows where he is now. So, I kick around the place, run into our old buddy Cynthia, you remember her."

"Older Irish chick, can drink any man under the table."

"Yeah, that's her. Anyway, she's working on this patient there. Guess a truck put him into traction or some such thing."

"Ouch!"

"Again, anyway, the guy wakes up and he is fricking crazy. He talks like Sean Connery, or maybe Patrick Stewart, but he's this little Mexican guy. He takes one look at his doctor and says she's a demon. So I'm like, whatever, crazy guy."

"Which doctor?"

"Vanessa Black." Ann paused a bit after saying the name and shivered.

"Oh yeah, I met her once. Hot," Lizzie said. She did not know for sure, but suspected Vanessa and Keith were friends with really good benefits. Ann still seemed oblivious to this fact and Lizzie was not about to break the news.

"I...well I guess. Anyway, she's a complete bitch and apparently the crazy guy has her dead to rights, 'cause she either is a demon or has the world's must frakked up rash ever. Speaking of rashes, does my neck look okay?"

"It does look a little red, now that you mention it."

"The demon lady tried to choke me out."

"What?" Lizzie almost stood up.

"Yeah, then tossed me a good 15 feet. I'm going to be bruised."

"Wow, what? Slow down, this conversation just took a left turn. I'm not following you."

Ann explained the whole confrontation with Vanessa Black, the threats to have Ann removed from the building, and her trip to the basement of the hospital. She told Lizzie about Vanessa's remarks about Keith and her mad run out of the building. Lizzie fidgeted a bit in her seat.

"Look, I don't think Keith did leave me, well, not for the second time. I think Vanessa ate him or has him under a spell or something. Well, I don't know what happened, but I know I'm worried about him."

There was a long pause as Lizzie stared at her friend. Was this what a nervous breakdown looked like? At last she said, "Um, honey, I don't know how to say this, but half that shit you just said is impossible. Also, the whole stalking thing? Sad."

"I know, I know, and if I hadn't seen that talon thing grow out of her arm, I wouldn't believe it either. I mean, it was bigger than my head." Ann spread her hands to show just how big. She was beginning to rock a bit in her chair, her words slurring together. "Have I gone crazy?"

Lizzie stopped for a minute, and rubbed her chin. The answer that immediately jumped to mind was yes. She took a deep breath. "Did I ever tell you the story of how I got the name Lizzie?"

"Umm no, I don't think so."

Their food arrived, and Lizzie paused to grab a bite. Ann attacked a salad as if she hadn't eaten in a week.

"Well, when my parents left Korea when I was ten to come to your messed up country, of course no one could say my name. Goddamn Americans. Anyway, I decided I needed a name you people could pronounce. Back in those days, I never left the arcades and I was the only girl there. There was this game called "Rampage." It had the only female character I had ever seen in a video game and she turned into a giant lizard and trashed cities. Well, besides Miss Pac-Man, but she was a bitch and the yellow thing seemed like a terrible stereotype. Anyway, her name was Lizzie and I wanted to be just like her. So during class, I used to imagine I changed into a giant lizard and ate all the rest of the kids in the class."

Ann giggled a bit. "You know, when you told that story, you got a bit of your old accent back. You sound like that character from Mad TV, Ms. something? Swan? Also, you may have some aggression issues."

"Oh, screw you." They laughed together for a minute.

"So, what does this have to do with my adventure into the Twilight Zone?" Ann asked.

Lizzie squirmed in her seat a bit. "Well, you know, when I was going through that rough spot after my parents...passed, there was a time," she paused again and blew out a long breath, "There was a time when I thought I could really turn into a lizard and..."

"Is this your bad acid trip story again?"

"No, well yes, but I know sometimes you can get carried away with..."

Ann interrupted. "See? Now, I knew you wouldn't believe me. I mean, I can't blame you, I don't believe me either. You going to finish that burger?"

"Um, no. Go ahead. Well look, you are on these new meds."

"They're antibiotics! Not LSD."

Lizzie sighed. Oh Ann, she thought to herself, how can I fix you?

"Look, I'll tell you what," Lizzie said, "We'll go back to my place, I'll put on my hacker cap and see what I can find out about your missing man and maybe your demon doctor chick."

Ann slammed down her drink and gave Lizzie a huge smile. "You know, for an anti-American computer geek, you're not a bad person at all."

"Just don't tell anyone, ok?"

## Chapter 8 - Malpractice

On the other side – Delain – April Rain

Mike and Sam rode in the ambulance, Mike in the back and Sam up front with the driver. The driver must have done this type of thing in the past, as he had a whole speech pointing out all the various switches and dials for the boy. Mike didn't pay much attention. His mind just kept repeating the night's events. The first rays of sun could be seen through the rear window of the ambulance. He tried to block the scene from the bedroom out of his mind. Going over things wasn't helping. He had to think. He needed to figure this out.

The man-beast had to be Ted. Otherwise, where was he? The thing had been in the house, obviously. There were no signs of forced entry, besides the front door, which appeared to be more of a break-out, so the murderer had to be in the house. It was a like a bad movie with the wolf-man or some nonsense, but...no, that was impossible. There was no such thing as a werewolf. The moon wasn't even full. He smiled at that thought. It was insane. He was no detective, he just did speeding tickets, but this was something that he needed to figure out. Otherwise, he would go mad. One thing was for sure: he would take a few days to heal and then look into things himself.

If it had not been a monster, because there was no such thing, it had to be something else. Where did these legends come from anyway? He would have to check it out later. Maybe it had been some drug reaction. That seemed much more likely, but Ted had never struck him as a user. What about the last time he saw him? Mike thought back to the day in front of his house. Ted had been at a hospital. Maybe he'd had a reaction to a medication or something. It seemed far-fetched, but it was a lead. And as fate would have it, he was heading to the hospital right now. Maybe he could follow it up.

Arriving at the hospital, he met Melissa's parents in the emergency room. They were good people and he had become even closer to them now that Melissa was gone. He reassured them everything was fine and that he just needed some stitches, and told them that if they could bring Sam to daycare, it would help a lot.

He said his goodbyes to his son and checked in with the nurse at the triage desk. He briefly showed her his chest when she asked what was wrong. The blood was again flowing from under the bandages, making them a sticky mess.

"Ouch. What did that? A bear?"

"Um, no it was, ah, a very large dog." Mike figured that the lie was easier than the truth.

The emergency room was empty and, after taking a seat, he began to doze a bit. Even with the horrific images in his mind, the fatigue and blood loss were too much, and sleep slowly took him.

*****

Mike was in the patrol car when his cell phone rang.

"Hey!" It was Melissa. He was so relieved to hear her voice, although he couldn't quite figure out why.

"Hey baby, how's it going?"

"Just out in the front yard, playing catch with the boy." The image of Melissa and Sam playing together lifted his heart. "What are you up to?" Mike glanced around the car, looking over a report of a speeding ticket.

"Oh you know, fighting the _criminal_ masterminds of New Jersey," he quipped. "Sounds like you guys are having more fun though."

"You know it! Say hi to your Dad..."

Sam's voice popped into the cell phone, "Hi Dad!" and then was gone.

"Hey kid," he responded, but knew he was already too late. "Man, in a hurry as always."

Melissa's voice came back on the line.

"That's our little man, always on the move. Good catch Sam!" He could hear the game continuing as she spoke. "So, tonight for dinner, I'm planning..." She paused. "Hold on a second baby, we have a runaway ball."

"Sure, no problem." Mike busied himself with some buttons on his computer.

"Sam, stay out of the road. I'll get it." Melissa's voice was distant now, the phone away from her mouth. Another pause, then, "Geez, what is that guy doing?" Suddenly, there was the sound of screeching brakes and Melissa screaming. With a loud crunch, the phone went dead.

*****

"Melissa!" Mike screamed as he snapped back awake. That's not how it had happened!

He was still in the waiting room, still alone. Melissa was still dead. The dream, the daily nightmare, left him with an ache in his heart so deep a small sob escaped his lips. For awhile he did nothing but resist the urge to tear up. This wasn't the time or the place.

"You okay?" asked a sweet voice. Mike looked up to see a stunning nurse looking down at him.

"Yeah," his voice was choked. Then he added, "I'm good." He sounded much more like himself.

He tried not to stare at the woman. She was amazing. Tall, strongly built, full-figured, with long, dark hair. Everything combined to form a picture so attractive, even the scrubs she was wearing couldn't distract from it. It was like waking up from a nightmare to find an angel!

"Mr. Samson?" she asked politely.

"Yes that's me." He glanced to his left and his right. He was alone in the waiting room. Who else would he be?

"Follow me, please."

"No problem." He tried not to sound too eager. "Is this place usually so empty?"

"Oh, we've been pretty busy," she looked back and shot him an odd grin. It was a creepy expression, and suddenly Mike felt a bit uneasy. She led him to a room with several beds broken up by curtains.

"Let's get that shirt off and take a look." Mike obeyed, noting the pain in his shoulder as he removed the blood-soaked t-shirt.

The nurse began to clean the wounds. She didn't ask how he got the cuts, but just went about her business. Mike couldn't help but continue to notice how attractive she was.

"So, you're a police officer?" She started to glue the two deeper cuts, her touch oddly hot. He couldn't help but fidget.

"Yeah, just a traffic cop. A run-of-the-mill police officer. I might try for detective in...OW!" The nurse had actually pushed hard against one of the cuts. "In another year or so."

"I'm so sorry." Then, her eyes locked with his and sparks flew. "You might be very useful..." She ran her fingers slowly up his chest, sending little shocks of pleasure through his skin. This was suddenly going very differently than he had expected. He wanted this woman. He needed her. She grabbed the back of his head and slowly moved his lips towards hers. It seemed wrong somehow, but he was so light-headed, he couldn't think.

"I...I can't," he stammered. But it was a lie, he could. He had been so lonely without Melissa.

"Shhh," was her only response. Their lips just brushed and then...

"Let's see what we have here," said another voice. The nurse pulled back and snapped her head around, looking for its source. Mike stiffened, the spell broke, and suddenly, he felt confused. A female doctor, dark-skinned and pretty in a normal sort of way, pulled the curtain aside and stared at them both.

"Everything alright, Mary?" She gave the nurse a searching look.

"Of course, Doctor," Mary smiled back.

The nurse patted Mike on the cheek, and whispered, "I'll be right back, don't go anywhere." She opened the curtain and stepped out. Mike caught sight of a handsome man, right outside.

What the hell was that about? Mike watched her leave. Had she really just come on to him like that? That didn't really happen, did it? He could see the letter to Penthouse in his head.

Dear Penthouse, I never thought this sort of thing could happen to me, but there was this really hot nurse and...

No, there had been something very wrong about the situation. Something was odd about the woman. She had been so attractive, so amazing, yet Mike sensed that something was off.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Tyler. Sorry I took so long. Sometimes it seems like I'm the only one here seeing patients." She gave Mike a quick smile. "Let's see those cuts, Mr. Samson."

For a moment, the doctor inspected his wounds, and then started stitching them closed. After several minutes of poking him with the needle, the doctor applied new bandages.

"Do you mind if I ask where you got these? They look like a bear or something."

"Police business. I can't really talk about it."

"So you're an officer then." It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah. Look, I was wondering, is it possible to check if you had a patient in here a few days ago?"

"Well I'm sure I can't help. I've been away for a few weeks. First day back. I'm pretty sure you would need a court order to get any details, but they might be able to help you at the front desk." She quickly gave him directions and hurried on to her next patient.

Mike replaced his shirt, regretting that he hadn't brought a clean one. Heading back into the hallway, he made his way to where he thought the front desk should be. The halls were quite empty. Maybe it was just that time of morning. A movement caught his eye as he passed a room, and glancing inside, he saw two figures locked in a passionate embrace. He recognized the nurse named Mary and the tall male doctor. In the dim light, Mike could just make out the doctor's name tag.

K. Malone, MD

## Chapter 9 - Bad Dreams

Mokash – Vas – Feast of Silence

Ann could hear the drums pounding, so loudly that they seemed to rattle her brain. No matter how she covered her ears, the sound still made its way through. She stumbled through the darkness, struggling to cover her ears against the noise while keeping a hand out in front of her.

"Help me!" Keith's voice called out, sounding surprisingly clear despite the drums. "Help me."

"I'm coming!" Ann was yelling but couldn't make out her own voice. Suddenly, she tripped over something and landed flat on her face. Looking up from the floor, she found herself staring into the eyes of a giant black lizard. Ann screamed and pushed herself away, but it simply hissed at her and then made its way farther into the darkness. On her hands and knees she pushed forward, eyes darting back and forth for more lizards.

"Keith!" she shouted again, still not hearing her own voice.

"Here, Ann, I'm here. Save me please," Keith pleaded.

Abruptly, the ground underneath Ann seemed to tilt forward and she slid face-first down a hill. She tried to dig her hands in to gain purchase but fell faster and faster into darkness. Then, just as quickly, she was underwater. No, this wasn't water, but something thicker, like oil. Ann struggled to right herself and get her head out of the liquid, which turned out to be shallow. She found the ground with her hands and pushed herself up. Bursting out of the goo, she gasped, trying to recover lost air. She clawed at the gunk, trying to clear her face and eyes, panic rising. She found that she could stand, the stuff just reaching her waist.

"Well, if it isn't little Ann!" The voice was almost Vanessa's, although somehow deeper and more terrible. "You aren't looking for this, are you?" It was Vanessa, a monster version of her. Her head was human but her body was that of a black-scaled demon. Giant bat-like wings protruded from her back, and in one giant talon she held Keith by the neck. "Give us a kiss, lover," Vanessa said and raised Keith's head to hers. He did not resist, and just lay where he was. They kissed. "I told you before, Ann. He's mine. However, because I'm a nice person, I did bring some friends for you to play with." At her words, huge black snakes leapt up out of the black goo, coiling themselves around Ann. She screamed and tried to pull them away. She tried to wade forward but a snake had wrapped itself around her legs. Ann bucked forward and then managed to right herself, regaining her balance. She ripped off snake after snake, until one finally pinned her arms to her sides. Ann kept screaming, trying to break free, but its grip was like iron. Another snake had gotten around her neck and for a moment, locked eyes with Ann. Then it dove into her mouth, sliding its way down her throat.

Ann woke with a start, sitting up in bed. Sunlight filled the sparsely decorated apartment, giving everything a clean, pure look. Glancing around, she was stunned to find that she was in Keith's apartment, totally nude. Keith's sleeping body was next to her, his naked back showing clearly in the tangled sheets. A feeling of pure joy filled her heart. Everything was alright now. It had all been a strange dream.

"Oh Keith, honey," she said, tugging at his arm. "You would not believe the dream I just had."

He didn't respond. With some effort, she rolled him over to face her. His eyes were open and completely black and there was something dark and sticky oozing out of the corner of his mouth.

For the second time, Ann awoke with a scream, falling off the couch. On the floor, her body spasmed as her mind again tried to take in her new s _urroundings_. Her eyes darted around the room. She was at Lizzie's place. Safe at Lizzie's place. She heaved a huge sigh of relief and tried to stop _trembling._ _A nightmare double feature_ _._

It was still dark out and the clock showed 5:00 am. Ann was covered in sticky sweat and found 2 large clumps of her own blond hair in her hands. Ouch. She spent a few moments on the ground, trying to control her breathing. The nightmares of the past few weeks were getting worse. Always in the dark, with the drums, and always with those black snakes. What had that last part been about, in Keith's apartment? That had seemed so real. Which was worse, the nightmare or what had gone down at the hospital? Did that even really happen? Now she seemed unsure. Had Vanessa really started to turn into something else? Had there really been some kind of monster in that locked room? Looking back now, it was hard for her to believe. Something had happened though. She was convinced that whatever horror was at the hospital, Keith was involved. She needed to rescue him. Of that at least, she was sure.

Finally she stood, her mind made up. Her head hurt from the drinking the previous night, but not as badly as she had thought it might. Her stomach hurt too, but felt less like she was going to be sick and more like some muscle had tied itself up in a knot. She would find Keith and get to the bottom of this, even though it meant going back to that hospital. She shuddered at the thought but did not change her mind.

She found that she had no pants on and was wearing one of Lizzie's shirts. Lizzie was taller and broader than she was, so the shirt made for decent pajamas. She did not remember getting undressed, or much after the restaurant.

"Step one: find pants," she said to herself, "Can't save ex-boyfriend with no pants."

After gathering her clothes and spending some time in the bathroom cleaning up, she found Lizzie in her computer room. Lizzie's ears were covered by large headphones. She jumped when Ann tapped her on the shoulder.

"AHHHH!"

"Sorry. It's just me," Ann raised her hands in front of her, fending off Lizzie's defensive slaps.

"You scared the shit out of me!" she said, tearing off the headphones and sending a few more slaps her way. "How are you awake? You had enough booze last night to kill an elephant."

"Ah, come on. I wasn't that bad." Ann shrugged.

"You were. I thought I was going to have to hold your head over the toilet all night. You really aren't known for holding your liquor, you know."

"Well, I'm fine. Hungry, actually." Then, in a softer voice, Ann said, "Thanks for listening last night. I must have sounded like a crazy. I owe you huge."

Lizzie smiled. "Yes, yes you did. And I charge extra for getting drunk bitches undressed and ready for bed on my couch."

"You charge? I thought you paid extra for that."

"Bitch. See if I tell you what I learned about your monster doctor."

"OK, ok, I'm sorry. Thanks for that too." She gave Lizzie a little hug. "Did you find anything?"

"You're lucky you're cute," Lizzie grunted. "So first, this deadbeat of an ex-boyfriend of yours. I checked in on all his credit cards, no activity this week. Though for him, that's not all that strange. He must live in that hospital. Also, no bank activity and he's only been back to his house once."

"How do you know that?" Ann broke in.

"I hacked the security cameras outside his apartment like 3 months ago. You know, just for fun. Thought I might get some embarrassing shots of you begging him to come back. "

"Ouch. Now that was uncalled for," Ann shook her head.

"However, this one night, you should probably see." Lizzie brought up a screen, showing the parking lot outside Keith's place. A black Nissan pulled up and Vanessa Black stepped out of the car. She was dressed in an evening gown, dolled up like she was going on a date.

"What day was that?" Ann snarled.

"That was Saturday night. She looks pretty human to me. I mean if you were a demon, wouldn't you fly or teleport or something?" There was a mocking tone to Lizzie's voice.

"Um, yeah right. Maybe she's trying to stay undercover or something."

Lizzie gave her a long hard look. After a moment she turned back to her screen. "On to demon woman." She started again. "Let's see, 5'10", 36 years old, divorced, no kids. I have less info on her recent life. I know she's been at the hospital all week, except the one evening I have her on film." Lizzie sighed. "It's pretty obvious to me that she and Keith have a thing going on. Other than that, I can't really say. Look, Ann, there's nothing odd here." Lizzie's voice became soft, gentle. "Maybe the other night between you and Keith was a goodbye and now he's moved on. It's a really shitty way to go about it, but the guy was never the most..." she paused, searching for the word, "tactful."

"And so the whole monster in the hospital thing was?" Ann asked dryly.

"Well, maybe the patient you talked to got the idea of demons into your head, like a suggestion of sorts, and later on, when you had your little break..."

"Break? Like a breakdown? So now I'm crazy?" Anger began to boil up and out of Ann. Some of it was directed at Lizzie but she knew a lot of it was focused on Keith and herself. She glared at Lizzie, who put her head down, and let out a long sigh.

"Yes, well, just a little."

"What?" Ann shouted.

Lizzie put a calming hand on her arm. "Look, you took this whole break-up thing really, really badly six months ago. You've been depressed ever since. I think..." Lizzie paused. "I think you need help."

The rage came to a boil inside Ann. "Fine," she stammered, "I've lost it. Poor crazy little Annie's gone and lost her boyfriend and now she's seeing monsters. No, okay? Just no! I saw something, I'm not nuts, I didn't have any sort of a breakdown, and I was so over Keith!" She was shouting now. "There's something going on and I'm going to get to the bottom of it, without your help." She turned and stormed out of the room.

"Ann, wait..." Lizzie called, but Ann was done waiting. She ran out of the house, not turning back. She was doing a lot of running out of places lately. She might have to look into that.

*****

It had been an angry bus ride home. Ann had had to walk to the bus station, which was not far, but the buses just seemed to take forever. She hated buses and wished she could afford a car. They were slow, dirty, and filled with big fat hairy men who liked to hit on her or chat about the weather. People just wouldn't shut up and let her be. Today though, no one talked to her. Her black mood must have kept them away. She sat in her dirty seat and stared forward, giving the world her best "I will tear your head off if you come near me" look.

It was still morning when she arrived at her place. She quickly showered, dressed, and ate an apple. The food helped but the big knot in her stomach didn't go away. She had been trying to work out a rescue plan in her head but hadn't really come up with much. She decided that first she would visit Miller, the strange man at the hospital. He had said that Vanessa was a demon and might know more. After that, she planned on storming the place. Sadly, Ann didn't have much in the way of weapons. She felt like she should have some protection if it did turn out there were horrible monsters and demons running around the place. Maybe some holy water or garlic? No, that was stupid. These were demons, not vampires. What she really wanted was a big-ass gun. She had never had even the faintest desire for a firearm, but at the moment, carrying one seemed wise. The best she could do on short notice was a bottle of pepper spray. Maybe demons had very sensitive eyes? Ugh. This wasn't going to end well.

Horribly under-equipped, Ann grabbed her coat and headed out. It was turning out to be a sunny day, and she had the short walk there to try and psych herself up.

"You can do this, Keith needs you," she chanted to herself. Exactly how she was going to rescue him was still a mystery to her, even after she had opened the door to the hospital. She decided to keep her head down, walk straight to Miller's room, and make the next move from there.

Ann dashed past the front desk, though they took little notice of her. She quickly grabbed an elevator to the second floor and found Miller's room.

"So far, so good. No sign of ol' black scales," she whispered. Poking her head into Miller's room, she noted that it was empty. A quick blast of panic ran up her spine. She snagged a passing tech, a big man that she hadn't met before.

"The man in this room. Was he moved?" she asked.

"Miller? The one that was hit by a truck?" Ann nodded and he continued. "I'm sorry, but he passed away last night."

## Chapter 10 - Miller Time

Am I not Human – Two Steps from Hell –Invincible

Joseph Miller had been in the hospital for several days. He was quite impressed with it. Apparently, man had gotten by just fine without him. Had it really been over a hundred years? There had always been gaps, but none this large. They had made such progress. This "TV" was truly amazing, although he could follow very little of what it showed him. It was like a magic mirror into a world he no longer understood. But then, figuring it out was the best part, and he was dying to try everything. Perhaps "dying" was a bit too appropriate in his case. Unfortunately, the wounds he had received on his first night back in the land of the living were serious. The bones in his right arm and leg had shattered, as well as several of his ribs. At least, that's what the nurse had told him. Wounds like this took time for even him to recover from, although he healed much faster than normal men if he survived the initial violence.

There were demons here, and of course their offspring, the Cursed. He could see the dark mist that clung to them. He was so close, and yet could not make a move against them, or at least not yet. And so he waited and enjoyed the magic of the TV and healed. Nurses and doctors would come and check in on him from time to time. Some were human, most were not. After the first day, he paid them very little attention, transfixed by the television. This turned out to be a small tactical error on his part.

He registered the nurse that had entered almost unconsciously. His attention was wrapped up in "The Price is Right." He shouted out random numbers, trying to imitate the people on the show. He had no idea what it was about, but they all looked so happy to be there. He didn't acknowledge the nurse for a whole minute and then, at last, and far too late, he turned to face her.

She was a demon and a young one too, by the looks of it. No more than a few days old. Like all demons, who were vain and could shift shape, she had made herself quite beautiful. Judging by the look of her uniform, she had been a nurse until recently. She stood preparing some sort of device. There were so many in the room and Miller didn't understand any of them. The nurse was possessed by an ancient and terrible evil, which fed on man, woman, and child alike, and in a few days he would most likely have to cut her head off, but for now, he saw no reason to be rude.

"Well, hello there Miss. Care to watch this wonderful TV with me?"

She responded by jabbing something small and sharp into his arm. The world darkened around him.

"Actually, we're off to get a bite to eat." She grinned.

"So, no then?" he asked weakly, before falling silent.

*****

Time moved forward without him. It hadn't been long, not more than a few minutes. He was still on the bed, being rolled down a hall. It was not hard for him to feign unconsciousness, as half of his body still was bound by the thick casts and braces that had been used to reset his bones. A normal man would still be unconscious, and he had no intention of letting it be known he was anything but normal.

As he rolled down the hall, he considered his options. He was quite sure that his arm and ribs had mostly healed by this point, but was equally sure that his leg had not. Without a weapon and with one damaged leg it would be nearly impossible take a demon head-on, even a young one such as this. He would have to wait for his moment and hope that his luck would change. Otherwise, it might be another hundred years before he had another chance. God only knew what the state of things would be by then.

Suddenly the bed stopped.

"I have a meal for my brother," the demon-nurse said to someone. "Is he calm?"

Miller risked a quick glance. Two huge men were standing next to his bed. Wolves, and just like the demon, very young. This kept getting better. Things were further along than he had thought. He guessed that his holiday was over.

"For the moment," was the husky reply of one of the men. Miller tensed his stiff muscles, trying to ready himself for whatever came next.

"Perhaps cracking this one open will be good for him." He heard a door open and was wheeled into a new room. The smell hit him like a wave. The stench of death and decay assaulted his senses. The door was quickly shut and locked behind him.

Miller took a chance and opened his eyes wide. He was alone in a large white padded room. No, not alone. Someone or something was in the room with him. He sensed it but couldn't manage to see past his right arm, which was still locked into position on his bed. The first thing to do would be to stand up and see what was going on. He rocked back and forth, trying to tip the bed over. A loud slurping noise stopped him for a moment. "Well that's a new sound." He thought.

He began the rocking motion again. Whatever it was, it was coming closer. He heard the padding of feet and something heavy dragging along the ground. The creature was panting and something was dripping. Drool, perhaps? Fantastic!

At last, the bed rocked far enough to tip over and crash to the floor. Pain flooded his right leg. That one definitely needed a bit more time. The fall had freed his good arm and loosened up his right. He began fighting with the straps, keeping his legs in place while stretching his neck to try to see his playmate over the side of the bed. He could not see anything yet but managed to undo the belt at his waist. He then went back to freeing his right arm from the various bits and pieces that kept it locked into position.

Suddenly, a large black claw latched onto the side of the bed and lifted it straight up. Miller's arm came free with a snap but there was still a strap on his right leg that managed to hold it in place. His head hit the floor, while most of the rest of his body dangled in the air. He twisted again to try to see, helpless at the moment to do much else.

It was a horror that he had not had the pleasure of experiencing before. The one arm was a massive claw, as if borrowed from a larger demon, much older than this creature could possibly be. Most of the rest of it was young, and clearly male. The black scales on his arm stretched up to his shoulder, across his chest, and down his belly. His eyes were the black of those touched by the Fallen, but empty of intelligence. A long, black, barbed tongue hung out of his fanged mouth and drool ran down his cheek. Miller could see the very faint tracks of tears on the creature's face. Most of his hair had fallen out or been torn out, but some bits remained, sticking out in odd directions. One large wing twitched on his back, like something from a huge insect. He wore no clothes, and the spots where his remaining skin met the dark scales looked red and blotchy.

"Hello. Joseph Miller. A pleasure to meet you."

He started again, not feeling that he should be rude to this creature. He meant to keep this civil, at least until they started trying to kill each other. Perhaps someday he would find a monster who, instead of feeding on the flesh of mankind, enjoyed knitting.. This beast's only response was to lick the back of the bed. It made a slurping, scratching noise.

"Hmm. You seem to have me at a bit of a disadvantage."

Apparently not liking the taste of "ye olde hospital bed," the monster chucked it aside with inhuman strength. Miller, unfortunately still attached, was tossed along with it. He landed in a heap but managed to keep the bed between him and the monster. Pain exploded all over his body, but at least now he could finally reach the belt that stubbornly held him in harm's way. In a moment, he was free and pushing the bed away. Leaning against the wall, he managed to pull himself up to a standing position. His left leg was stiff but workable. He was surprised to find that he could put some weight on the right with only minor pain. Much better.

The demon-man was facing away from him now, seeming not to notice him. It howled and smashed its giant claw into the wall, tearing into the padding that covered the room. The black scales ran down most of its back, and several spikes poked out from its spine. In one corner of the room he noticed a pile of bones, which had been sucked clean. In some way, this comforted him. So many things had changed, but monsters' habit of piling up bones in their lairs had remained constant. Just like the good old days.

Miller focused on the new creature. It was as if a demon had miscarried as it possessed the man, creating some sort of mindless creature. This was something that, in all of his thousands of years, he had never seen. But then, he had been seeing a lot of new things of late. Why not new monsters as well? It seemed only fair. Apparently, in an effort to prove they could be a decent folk, the other demons were caring for this one like a sick sibling and he was meant to be lunch. He almost felt bad that he had to kill it, seeing as nothing similar had ever existed before. He did have a job to do, though. Thinking better of it, he hit on an idea.

"Lad, I think you and I can help each other out." The beast did not respond. Perhaps it could not hear? Finding an old bone on the floor, he picked it up and tossed it at the creature's back. It bounced right off. The beast spun around with a growl, at last taking notice of him. It howled and charged, its lopsided body lurching forward with impressive speed. Miller just barely managed to hop to the left as its huge black claw smashed into the wall. Leaning back, he drove an elbow hard against the side of its head with a loud crack. It staggered, but the claw embedded itself into the wall, and the beast could not move far. Its head seemed to flop to the side for a second, before snapping back up and locking eyes with him. To Miller's surprise, the eyes were now human!

"Please," it pleaded, the word slow, drawn out, and slurred as it came from its mouth, the long tongue making speech difficult. "Please kill me."

Miller was struck mute, a rare thing for a chatty man like him, and stumbled backward, falling over. There was still something human in there. This was impossible. Once cursed by a demon, there was no coming back. Or was there? Impossible! He thought about the trails of tears that clung to its cheeks. After all these years, had the rules changed?

"Good Lord," he stammered. The creature stepped forward and screamed. The noise started off almost human but then become an angry howl as the demon's eyes filled with inky blackness. Whatever part of the creature that was still human had left again. The beast started for him, lifting its giant arm as if to crush him into the ground. Recovering from his shock, Miller rolled across the room, briefly held up by the arm in the cast. This time the beast's claw missed him by some distance. Stopping at the wall on the other side of the room, he once again propped himself up and faced the half-breed demon. They stared at each other as Miller shifted toward the front door. Using the wall to help keep the weight off his injured leg, he moved very slowly, waiting for the beast's next move. He knew that if the black claw reached him, he would go back to nothingness, and then how could he watch more TV?

No move came from the beast. It stepped forward and then stopped, as if unsure. It seemed to be quite literally of two minds as to what to do next. At last reaching the front door, and not taking his eyes off the beast, Miller gave a quick polite knock to the small window and waved at the man outside the door.

"Hullo. Joseph Miller, nice to meet you." Miller grinned at the now panicked man. Turning to face the beast he said, "What's the matter, don't want your dinner? You're going to have to do a lot better than that!"

In response, it shuffled forward, dragging its oversized arm behind it. He hoped whatever was human in the creature wouldn't feel what was coming next. Miller didn't wait this time. At last putting weight on the bad leg, he went into a fighting stance, and drove the palm of his good hand forward, catching the beast full in the face. Black blood exploded from its nose and its head snapped back. Keeping the momentum going, he shifted his weight back to the good foot, dropped his weight and spun, sweeping out with the leg in the cast. He let out a loud yelp of pain as he made contact with the beast's legs. It collapsed to the ground.

Hearing the door click open, he kept the spin going, turning to face the door and hopping on one foot. One of the cursed men leapt through the door at him, trying to protect his charge. Moving with the new man's force, Miller placed his good foot on the cursed man's chest and dropped back to the floor, tossing the man over Miller's shoulders and right on top of the demon. The two collided, falling to the ground. Rolling to the right, Miller again used the wall to pick himself up and then hopped on his good foot.

The cursed man and the half-demon struggled for a moment, until the demon managed to snatch up the man in his giant claw, immediately starting to crush him. The man, who howled as he struggled to escape, began to grow, trying to change into his stronger, hairier, less-fun-at-parties form. The demon would have none of that. Its tongue snaked around the wolf's throat, tearing it open and beginning to feed off its blood.

"Ahh, that's a good lad." As Miller had hoped, the beast had no concept of friend or foe. Whatever was left of the human in him could enjoy the meal. "That worked well."

Then, a thought occurred to Miller. Hadn't there been two men at the door?

He turned to face the door just as the second cursed man charged in. Miller didn't have time to dodge the fist that swung at him, knocking him back. It was a good solid hit to his face. Reeling, Miller tucked in his chin and covered his face with his elbow as a second fist followed. He managed to partially block this one, but its force was still enough to drive him off his unsteady feet to the ground. He didn't fight the motion, and dropped straight down onto his back. The wolf-man stood above him, massive and powerful even in his human form. Once they transformed to beasts for the first time, werewolves never completely changed back. Most of them kept their huge muscles and height, making them formidable fighters in any condition. That is, of course, if one fought fairly. Miller drove his good leg up between the wolf-man's legs with all his might. The man seemed to buckle with the blow, releasing a soft grunt and falling over to his side before rolling into a ball and rocking back and forth. Miller slowly stood up and limped to the door. "Well, lad, this one here should make a fine dessert. I'll be back later for you. I promise."

The beast was busy tearing the first wolf-man apart, piece by piece. He no longer struggled, and was already quite dead. Miller closed the door behind him and, after a moment, managed to work the lock into place. He took a last glance through the door's window. The remaining wolf-man was getting back to his shaky feet and was staring at Miller. Miller gave him a friendly wave and walked away just as the huge black claw appeared above the wolf-man. From outside the padded room, Miller could just make out the soft crunch.

## Chapter 11 - Allies and Enemies

Deathzone – Apocalyptica - Amplified

Mike had gotten himself lost. He had taken a wrong turn someplace and was now wandering aimlessly. It wasn't completely his fault. His mind was still on that nurse, Mary, not to mention the shock of last night. He was also very tired.

Passing a nursery, Mike stopped and leaned on the glass. Inside, he saw several rows of newborn babies, each in their own little cart. On the front of each cart was a piece of blue or pink paper. The babies themselves looked tiny to Mike, and very angry. Not one was sleeping. Being a father, he knew that sometimes this was the case, but he thought it was odd that all of them should be awake.

"They're crack babies," a woman's voice said. Mike spun to find the source. It was a short blond woman. It looked like she was having a pretty poor morning as well. Her hair was a mess and there were bags under her eyes.

"I'm sorry...what?" Mike asked.

"Crack babies. They're all kids whose mothers are addicts. There's a program here for them. Junkies just drop off their kids, or even worse, have them here and then just leave without them. They don't have a real maternity wing here."

"Oh," was Mike's only response. The woman walked up to the glass and put her head against it, looking miserable.

"It's pretty terrible. The mothers are using while pregnant and it really screws up the kids. Some of them die, and none really ever recover," she continued. Mike didn't know what to say to that. It was horrible. There was a moment of silence while both of them looked at the struggling children. A great sadness hung over them.

"Um, are you ok?" Mike asked. The woman didn't lift her forehead off the glass, but moved her eyes to look at him. The position looked pretty silly.

"No, I don't think so. It's kind of a long story, and I don't think you would believe me."

"Oh, one of those," Mike responded. "I have one of those as well."

The woman straightened and gave him a stern look.

"I didn't mean it as a challenge, you know." There was another stretch of silence.

"Look maybe if you help me, I can help you," Mike started. "You see, I'm a bit lost and

you seem to know your way around."

"I don't think you could help me and, strictly speaking, I'm not even supposed to be wandering around here."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"Oh, that's that long story again." She paused and stared him up and down. "I'm Ann, by the way."

"Mike Samson," Mike said and shook her hand. "I'm just trying to get to the front desk. You see, I'm a police officer and I'm trying to..."

"Wait, you're a cop?" Ann interrupted.

"Well, technically off-duty at the moment, but yes."

"Maybe you can help me then." Her spirits seemed to rise. "I think something is going on here, in this hospital. My boyfriend, well technically ex-boyfriend, Keith, is a doctor here, and he's gone missing."

"Missing? Have you put in a missing persons report?"

"No. Until yesterday I thought he was just avoiding me. But then I saw something." She stopped and rubbed her hands together. "Look, you're not going to believe this part, but I swear it's true."

Thinking back to last night's little nightmare, Mike said, "Try me."

"Down in the basement, there's this, like, psych ward or something. And there's a monster in there." The hair stood up on the back of Mike's neck. He couldn't call her a lunatic. Last night he had seen a monster as well. Maybe it had been Ted, doped out on something, but then again...

"A monster? What kind of monster? It didn't happen to be really hairy with big claws like knives sticking out of its fingers, built like an ape?"

"Umm, no." She scrunched up her face at him. "And that's stupid. No, it was this demon-guy thing, all black and scaly with this one huge arm and a bat wing sticking out of its back."

Never mind. She was a lunatic.

"So wait, my monster is stupid and yours isn't?" he asked.

"Well, no, I mean, wait...you didn't actually see something like that did you? I thought you were just making fun of me."

Mike came clean. Maybe he had gone crazy too. "Oh yes, I did." He lifted his shirt to show the bandages across his chest. "Sucker ripped me up pretty good too. I shot him in the head. It didn't even slow him down." Ann's eyes widened. "Worse yet, he ate two of my neighbors. One was this sweet little girl that used to play with my son."

"Are you serious? You're not shitting me 'cause I started talking about monsters, are you?"

"No, I'm dead serious. I don't think I would have ever even considered telling you if you hadn't started to talk about monsters. Maybe it was a werewolf."

"Except," Ann added slowly, "there's no such thing."

"And there's no such thing as a demon-guy thing either, although I give you points for being more original with your monster."

Ann gave him a sour look. "Yeah, sorry. Look, there's more. One of the doctors here, she threatened me and smacked me around a bit. Her hand went all black and scaly and grew huge. It just, like, burst out of her skin. I think she has my boyfriend, Keith, captive someplace."

"Wow," Mike said, "that does sound a little crazy."

"Says you, werewolf boy." Ann balled her hands into fists and punched the wall. "To top it off, I think patients are disappearing. There was this one guy, named Miller. He took one look at the doctor and knew she was a demon. I think they killed him off to hush things up."

Something clicked in Mike's mind. "Wait, your ex, he's a doctor here named Keith. He's not Dr. Malone is he?"

"Yes, yes that's him. Did you see him?"

"Yeah just like 30 minutes ago, he was..." He trailed off, not wanting to add "making out with an incredibly hot nurse." He couldn't tell her that. Instead, he finished with, "downstairs in the emergency room."

"I have to find him." Ann turned and headed down the hall.

Thinking for a moment, Mike yelled, "Ann, wait!" She turned back to face him, looking like she was about to cry.

"I know it sounds nutty to you, but I need to work this out too. Something is happening here!" Ann said, her voice shaky.

Mike jogged a few steps to her side. "I think you're right." He still thought she might be crazy. "Let me help."

Ann gave him a warm smile and, with a nod of her head, said, "Thank you."

*****

Joseph Miller knew what a lift was. He had seen one in Saint Petersburg many years ago. He even understood the general concept of how it worked. This did not mean that he had any idea of how to operate one. After leaving the two wolves alone with their dinner date, he had limped off in the direction he was pretty sure that he had come in, only to be stopped in his tracks by the stairs. In his current rather itchy state he could not even manage to take the first step up. His injured leg could not support enough weight to move up to the next step. The hero of ages had been stopped in his tracks by stairs. Miller got a good chuckle out of this.

So here he was at the lift. He stared at the door for some time. There appeared to be no handles, just a small arrow to the right of the door that pointed up. He understood that it went up, but how should he open it? Perhaps if he just asked?

"Excuse me, fine, uh," he lacked the words, "contraption. Would you mind taking me to the next floor?"

The door did not respond. He knocked politely. Still the lift stayed shut. He tried to pry the door open with his free hand. It did not move an inch. He shouted. The lift ignored him. Frustrated, Miller leaned on the wall to the side of the elevator and let out a long sigh. The TV had been so much easier.

Suddenly a bell dinged and the doors to the lift slid open. "Aha!" Miller cried, limping his way inside. Perhaps the door had finally found him worthy. He was not was about to question his change of luck. He leaned hard against the wall of the lift, taking the weight off the bad leg. It still hurt to walk but he had dealt with worse in the past. Glancing around the inside of the lift, he found it to be empty except for a panel of numbers on the wall. Was it as simple as pressing a number? The doors closed again as he pressed a number at random. The number lit up at his touch, and he felt the lift move up.

"Fantastic!" Miller grinned to himself, once again taking his place against the wall at the back of the lift. Now he needed a plan and weapons. Also, a few more working limbs would be helpful. If he could find a way to free his arm, it would be a great help. But where to start? He knew nothing of this place or time. He needed help.

As if heeding his call, the elevator stopped. Before Miller could begin to move out, two figures entered the lift. One was an attractive, dark-skinned woman. The other was the demon that had tried to feed him to the beast downstairs.

This was awkward. He tensed, ready for battle, but the two were in the midst of a conversation and did not seem to notice his presence.

"Mary, I have to say, you look amazing!" the dark-skinned woman said.

The demon smiled almost shyly at her in response. "Thank you, Martha."

"I didn't even recognize you. I was only in Cardiff for two weeks. It's like you're a whole new person. Where did you get your work done?"

"My work? Oh yes, here actually. If you like I can introduce you to the doctor who did it." The demon grinned at its little joke. There could be no mistaking its intention. It planned on eating this woman or adding her to the brood. Miller would have to stop the demon here and now, but how? He had only just managed to avoid the crippled one. What could he do in such a tight area? At last the dark-skinned woman called Martha seemed to notice him.

"Sir, are you supposed to be out of bed?" There was a look of concern on her face.

"Of course, lass. I'm just out for a bit of exercise. Good for the blood." He smiled at her, but couldn't hold onto it as the demon's eyes focused on him. Uh-oh.

"You? But how?" it stammered. Miller braced himself. Maybe if he moved fast enough he would have a chance. The demon suddenly lurched forward, so violently that Miller paused in his offensive. It seemed to be hearing something Miller could not make out.

"Arrrgh! Not now!" It held its head in its hands. "It is too early. That idiot!" The lift dinged again and the doors slid open. The demon stepped into the hallway. "No matter, I'll still have you two." It reached for Martha and Miller. He sidestepped the grab and tried to get a grip on Martha, but he was too slow and before he could get to her, the demon had her by the throat and was out in the hallway. He followed, intent on rescuing the woman, but as he made it out of the lift they were already far down the hall. In the time it took for another few of his limping steps, the demon and the woman had vanished.

*****

"Is it just me or is this place, like, empty today?" Ann asked Mike as they reached the first floor.

"It does seem kind of quiet for a hospital," Mike agreed, "but it's early in the day. I would imagine it gets busier in the evening."

"I'm not so sure about that. I've been here plenty of times."

Mike had a loose idea of how this was going to go. They would find the boyfriend hanging out, there would probably be some harsh words, maybe some slapping, and then he would try to take Ann to her home. Maybe have her see a doctor. But what if there really were demons running around the place, or werewolves for that matter? No, such things were impossible. There had to be another answer. Ann seemed nice enough, but troubled. She looked a bit ill and her hair was a mess. She wore an oversized coat that hid her frame and she constantly had her hands in her pockets, fiddling with something. She didn't paint a portrait of sanity. But then he must look like hell too. He still had blood all over his T-shirt.

They entered a long room filled with beds and curtains on the walls that could be drawn around them to give each patient some privacy. It was very similar to the room he had been stitched up in. A part of him really didn't want to meet Mary the nurse again. He was almost ashamed to admit it, but there was something about her that scared him a little.

Ann peeked her head through the first curtain. "Nope." Mike looked in after her, to find an older woman asleep. He quickly closed up the curtain.

"Ann, we can't just disturb these patients until we find your doctor. Don't you think it's a little rude?"

Ann stopped in front of the next curtain and gave him a hard look. "Mike, this is a life-or-death situation. At least," she fidgeted a bit more with her hand in the pocket, "I think it is." She looked down at the ground, then gathered herself up and threw open the next curtain. Not seeing what she wanted, she moved on.

Mike followed her and closed the curtain, but when what was behind the curtain registered in his mind, he opened it again.

"Ted?" he asked the man on the bed. The figure shuddered briefly and turned towards him. It looked so much like Ted, but this man was taller and had a bigger build. Not quite the hulking mass that his "werewolf" had been last night, but still impressive.

"Mike? Mike Samson?" the man asked weakly. His voice was very quiet. It was Ted! Mike stood dumbly in front of the curtain. Ann pushed in behind him, suddenly interested.

"You know this guy, Mike?" she asked. The question was enough to knock Mike out of his stupor.

"Yeah...at least I think so."

"Mike, have you seen my girls?" the man who might be Ted continued. Ted always referred to his wife and daughter as "his girls."

"I..." was as far as Mike got. How could he explain to his neighbor and friend what had happened? The man's loss made him want to cry right there. Worst yet, it echoed with his recent grief. He knew about death and broken families all too well.

"Hi Ted." Ann stepped in. "I'm Ann, a friend of Mike's. We just met actually, but I'm terribly interesting, so I'm sure we'll be good buddies." Ted cradled his head and winced. Ann continued, seeming not to notice. "Can you help us? We're looking for a doctor. Tall handsome white guy, name of Malone?"

Ted moaned and held his head in his hands, rocking. "I'm sorry, I..." His words were slow and he stuttered. "I haven't seen him. Mike, have you seen the girls? Did you bring them here? I have this terrible..." he moaned again, "headache. Ugh, like you wouldn't believe." He lay back down on the bed. As he did, Mike noticed a large, fresh-looking scar right below his chin. It was in the exact spot that Mike had placed his gun and pulled the trigger, just this morning.

"Oh my God..."

It had been Ted. And Ted was a werewolf. How else could he survive that shot? He had killed his wife and daughter and had no memory of the event. The horror of the situation stung Mike down to the very root of his being. To find your family violently murdered was a nightmare above all others. To find that you were the murderer was something beyond any bad dream he had ever imagined.

Suddenly, the curtain behind them was flung open.

"Miss Melakh! What did I say I would do the next time I found you in my hospital?" It was a doctor. She was tall and beautiful like the nurse, but somehow much more frightening. Her voice was stern, like she was lecturing a toddler. Ann jumped at the sound of the woman's voice and turned to face her. For a moment there was a stunned silence, as the doctor glared at Ann with a look that Mike was sure could kill small animals. Ann was shaking like a leaf.

"Excuse me doctor." Mike started with his cop routine, but had trouble finding his usual authoritative tone of voice. "Miss Melakh was just helping me find a patient."

"And you are?" Her words were icy.

"Officer Mike Samson." He flashed his badge quickly, just as he had seen cops do hundreds of times on TV. It was actually kind of fun. This seemed to take her down a notch.

"Oh, well Officer..." Just then, Ann came back to life again, tearing some sort of spray can out of her pocket and sticking it in the doctor's face.

"You can't have him, you demon bitch, but you can have this!" Ann pushed the spray can's release, puffing a fine mist directly into the doctor's eyes.

"Ann, no!" Mike called, pulling her away far too late. The doctor screamed and clawed at her own eyes. The scream turned to a shriek, as if Ann had lit the doctor on fire. Black ooze ran out from underneath her hands.

"God, Ann, what the hell did you do that for?"

"Mike, just look at her," Ann stammered, staring at her victim. Large chunks of the doctor's flesh were dropping to the floor. Her screaming was becoming something far less than human. The doctor seemed to expand then, like a strange balloon. The lights flickered, on and off, and then on again.

"Ann, what the hell was...?" Mike's question died on his lips. The doctor looked up at them, her formerly pretty face unrecognizable, replaced by something only vaguely human in shape. It had a flat nose and pointed ears and was covered in black scales. The eyes were as black as Ted's had been. They did not look at Mike and Ann directly. In fact, they stared blindly at a corner of the room.

"Kill them!" the thing growled. Mike glanced back at the bed as Ted began to convulse, foaming at the mouth. The muscles in his arms and chest expanded rapidly. Mike pulled Ann away as he stepped back, unable to take his eyes off of the transformations that were taking place.

"Oh hell," he said.

"I second that," Ann muttered in a low shocked voice, "Time to go." She turned and ran. Seeing the wisdom in this, Mike followed her example. They took off at a sprint, away from the demon woman and wolf-man.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God," Ann chanted.

Suddenly, another curtain was torn open in front of them, and a huge black man stepped out. Just like Ted, he was growing in size. Dark black hair was sprouting up along his arms. He staggered toward them slowly, like something out of a terrible zombie movie. Ann screamed and lost her footing, but Mike scooped her up with one arm and kept running to the hallway beyond. They could hear the demon woman screaming behind them.

"Kill them!"

Mike did not turn back. He took the first turn that they came to found, and then took another. He needed a gun. A big gun, and a SWAT team, and an army, and maybe Chuck Norris.

He skidded to a stop, narrowly escaping a collision with a woman running in the other direction. Though she said nothing, her face was a mask of terror as she fled past them down a third hallway. Seconds later, another werewolf leapt from a doorway. Mike jumped at the sight of the new monster, quickly turning to follow the fleeing woman.

The little threesome fled down two more hallways. The monsters were behind them but seemed to be losing ground. Mike slowed for a second and put Ann back onto her feet.

"Thanks," she said, before they both took off running again. Then, the sight ahead of them slowly pierced his panic-stricken brain. It was the front desk. A nurse stood at the desk, staring down at something on her desk. They were so close to the exit, just a few feet away.

"Lady, run! Something..." Mike didn't bother finishing the sentence though, noticing that the nurse's eyes were a familiar black color. A low growl was coming from her throat. She suddenly spat something out, her body beginning to spasm. It took several moments for Mike to work out what had come out of her mouth. It was the woman's teeth, all of them, sitting in a pool of blood on the desk. The sight stopped him in his tracks for a moment, before Ann's voice snapped his attention forward again.

"Mike, help!"

Two more werewolves had appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the woman who had run with them. Ann, in what Mike could only imagine was a fit of madness, charged one of the beasts, slamming her fist hard into its face. To her credit, the monster stopped in its tracks, a dumbstruck look plainly visible through the extra hair and fangs. "Well, if she can do it..." Mike thought, following her lead and slugging the nearest wolf-man as hard as he could. He was a little surprised when the beast staggered and released its victim. The woman was free for a second and Ann reached over to help her up.

"Come on!"

The ex-nurse from the front desk was upon them now, her mouth full of long, sharp fangs. She smacked Mike aside with one glancing blow and went right for the woman, who was still struggling to get up.

Reeling from the blow, Mike could do nothing to stop the nurse from picking the woman up and running with her. The woman at last made a sound, a cry for help, as the wolf-nurse tossed her over her shoulder like a bulky gym bag. In the meantime, Mike's boxing partner had recovered and was going for a little payback for the punch to the face. It dove at Mike but, by luck, missed when Mike ducked.

"Mike, this way!" Ann was reaching for him. He grabbed the hand she offered and together they were on the run again. A few steps In front of them was a door marked "Stairs."

"No Ann, we have to save her before we get out!" Mike yelled in frustration, noticing the increasing distance between him and the escaping ex-nurse. His noble intentions were quickly abandoned, however, when he noticed yet another werewolf bearing down on him. He quickly followed Ann through the door to the stairwell and swung it closed behind him, hard. It connected with their closest pursuer, giving off a satisfying crunch.

Ann was ahead of him, heading up the stairs. "This way. Move!" she shouted, like he needed to be told that it was a good idea. He bounded up the stairs two at a time, fear erasing any memory of his injuries.

On the next floor they burst through a door and ran down a new hallway. After a moment, noticing no pursuit, they slowed.

"Ann," Mike panted, "can you find us another way out of here?"

"Not without Keith!"

"What? Are you insane?" Mike shouted. He grabbed her arm, wanting to shake some sense into her.

"No, look! Now I have proof that something horrible is going on and I'm not a loon. I have to find him!" There were tears in her eyes. "Please, Mike. Please. You and I are his only chance. And I love him," she pleaded.

Mike frowned and shook his head. "But what can you and I do against those...things, whatever they are?"

A growl from down the hall ended the conversation. At its end, a werewolf was sprinting towards them. It was huge, far larger than Ted had been. Foam streamed out of its fanged mouth and huge claws jutted from its fingertips. It still wore pants but its shirt had been torn apart by its massive chest muscles. Once again, they broke into a run.

As they sprinted past an intersection, Mike caught an odd sight. While perhaps not as odd as the man-beast that was chasing them, it was enough to catch his attention. It was a small Hispanic man, in a hospital gown, leaning against the wall. Both his right arm and right leg were bound up in large casts and he looked ready to pounce on something. He winked at Mike as they ran past.

"Look out!" Mike shouted, but the man ignored him. As the wolf-man passed the man, he spun out from his hiding place and smashed the arm with the cast into the creature's face. There was a loud crack as the wolf-man was knocked to the floor. The man quickly followed through, bringing the cast down on its head two more times. The first time there was another thunderous crack, and the second, a wet crunch.

Mike grabbed Ann by the arm and they came to a stop, turning to look at their savior. As they walked toward him, the man worked on pulling apart the remains of his cast..

"Ah, thank you sir," the strange newcomer said to the downed monster. "I've been trying to get that off for quite some time. Amazingly itchy."

"Mr. Miller, is that you?" Ann asked as the pieces of the cast fell to the ground. Miller rubbed his arm. The skin there was a bright pink. He turned toward her and gave her a friendly wave.

"Miss Ann!" He had an odd, almost Scottish, accent.

"I thought they got to you," Ann replied. "I thought you were demon food or something."

"Oh they tried. As it turns out, Scottish food is terrible." He grinned. There was a long pause as both Mike and Ann tried to figure out what he meant.

Miller ignored their confusion and gave Mike a once-over. "Joseph Miller, a pleasure to meet you." He put the hand of his recently-freed arm out to shake. Mike slowly took it, confused by the odd man but happy to have the help.

"Mike Samson."

"Samson? Fantastic name!" Miller smiled and slapped Mike on the back.

"Is that thing dead?" Ann asked, kicking the wolf-man a few times.

"Oh, most likely," Miller said. "Generally, crushing their skulls works fairly well. It's a bit less effective than chopping off their heads, but I really don't have any better tools at my disposal at the moment."

"What exactly was it?" Mike asked.

"Oh, that's a lesser demon spawn, commonly referred to as a werewolf. Although where the actual wolf reference comes from, I have no idea," Miller continued, as if describing a type of mold, or a model of vacuum cleaner. "Generally quite vicious but not really dangerous unless in packs."

"Miller," Ann asked, staring at his arm, "how did you do that with your arm? Cynthia said it was shattered."

"Oh, that." Miller looked a bit embarrassed. "I heal much faster than you regular folk."

"You're not one of them, are you?" Ann asked. Mike wasn't sure if the "them" she was referring to meant demons or werewolves.

Miller laughed and then, with a grin, answered, "Lass, I'm not one of them. I'm the one that hunts them."

## Chapter 12 - Lawyers, Guns, and Money. Well, Guns Anyway

Lawyers, Guns, and Money – Warren Zevon – Excitable Boy

Quite some time ago, Ann's mind had reached its maximum level of tolerance for freaky shit. The fact that she had not simply rolled up into the fetal position at the sight of Vanessa's true face was nothing short of a miracle. She was so far past losing it, she was almost giddy. When the little Hispanic guy who had been hit by a truck just days before (and was probably loaded with pain killers) was up out of bed, walking around and beating a mythical beast to death with a cast he apparently no longer needed, Ann almost giggled. She knew this was not the right reaction, but what could she do?

Ann was relieved to see Miller alive, until she was reminded just how nuts he was. Then again, the world seemed to have recently gone mad, so maybe that worked. Lyrics from an old song popped into her head. You may be right, I may be crazy, but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for.

"So you're some kind of demon hunter?" Mike asked. The big guy seemed pale. He had wanted nothing more than to run the hell out of this place and maybe that was the smartest thing to do.

"Aye, something like that. But I've been out of the game for some time, and things may have changed. Now, while I do love to chat about myself, I think it's wise for us to retreat and find some supplies." He looked himself up and down. "And maybe some pants."

"Supplies? Like what? An army?" Mike raised his voice. "I say we get our asses out of here while they're still in one piece."

"Not without Keith," Ann said firmly. She had come this far, and heck, now she had a professional demon hunter on her side. She briefly wondered where you went to school for that? Transylvania?

Miller rubbed his chin. "Yes, I'll do what I can to help you, lass, but what we find may not be pleasant."

"Are you crazy? Did you guys see that thing? And that other...thing?" Mike asked. The lights in the hallway flashed off again and then came back on.

"Look Mike, thanks for trying to help me, and you don't have to stay, but I need to find Keith. I'm not leaving until I do. It seems Mr. Miller here is going to help me out."

For a second Mike just stood there and fumed. Then he kicked the wall and shouted, "Fine! If you idiots want to die, I can't stop you." He made no move to leave.

Miller turned to Ann and said, "Ann, I am going to need some weapons if we are to survive this."

She thought hard. "Well, there's a security station down the hall. We might be able to find something there."

"Good," Miller said. "Lead the way." They were off down the hall.

Mike glared at them. "Damn it, I can't just leave you two here."

Suddenly, they heard a crashing sound from the direction that the wolf-man had come, as if the ceiling was collapsing. They turned to see what Ann assumed was a giant black demon making its way around the corner. It moved slowly, as it was far too big to fit into the hall. Its pointed horns dragged against the ceiling, smashing lights and knocking down tiles. It had the head of a bull and giant hooves for feet. Its body was a huge mass of muscle and black scales. The creature seemed to be blind and was smashing into everything in its path.

"Melakh! I'm going to rip you into little shreds!"

"Good Lord, it's Vanessa!" Ann was stunned for a moment.

"Was Vanessa. How odd. It seems to be blind." For a moment, Miller's voice sounded solemn, as he inspected the creature. Then, far too cheerfully, he yelled, "Run for your lives!" and broke into a run. Mike quickly passed the limping Miller, who was following Ann down the hall. She led them through two more rights and a quick left, arriving at the security station.

It was a tiny room, just a bit bigger than a walk-in closet. There was a desk covered with monitors on one side, while the other side held a simple coat rack. On a third wall stood several lockers. A security guard was pulling off his coat. He looked up at them as they entered.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes," Miller said, picking up the man by his shoulders and shoving him into the hallway just as the massive demon turned the corner.

"Mother of God!" the man screamed, as Miller pulled him back inside and slammed the metal door shut. Mike grunted as he shoved a metal cabinet in front of it. The extra precaution made sense, but was the door demon-proof?

"Now that you've seen our problem, can you spare any weapons?" Miler asked.

"My God, what the hell was that?" asked the security guard.

Ann put her hands on his shoulders and shook him. "Focus, buddy. That thing is going to be at our door very shortly. We need something to stop it from eating us."

The man's obvious fear made her feel a bit better. It was not unreasonable to simply want to run away screaming.

"Uh..." his eyes darted wildly around the room, at last stopping on a cabinet.

"Here?" Miller asked, beginning to shake the cabinet. Suddenly, there was a bang at the door. Mike braced the cabinet blocking it with his body.

"Melakh, I can smell the cop's blood in there. This door won't stop me!"

"Be right with you!" Miller responded, sounding calm and polite. Returning his attention to the guard, he said, "I don't suppose that you have the key for this?" Just then, the door seemed to hop out of its frame, briefly knocking Mike back.

"Anytime now!" Mike shouted at the security guard. He was fiddling with his keys, but dropped them as something huge hit the door, bending it slightly. Ann snatched the keys from the floor and quickly worked out which one she needed. She flung the cabinet doors open to reveal two shotguns and several boxes of ammunition.

"Shotguns?" Mike asked, still leaning his weight against the door. "And combat ones at that. Isn't that a Mossberg? A bit much for a security job."

The security guard only shrugged. "It is Newark."

Leaving his spot at the door, Mike snatched a shotgun out of the cabinet and did a quick ammo check before giving it a pump.

"Those won't help much. You need a sword or an axe," Miller pointed out.

"They make me feel a lot better. You know how to use one of these?" he asked Miller.

"Not exactly the shotguns of my time, but I am a fast study."

Once again the lights flickered, the computer screens in the room dimming with the power loss. Then, just like the last two times, the power came back on.

There was another loud bang, this time at the wall next to the door, which suddenly splintered, long cracks running from the corner of the room to the edge of the doorframe. This was instantly followed by another blow. Brick and plaster exploded, showering Ann in dust and pebbles. She couldn't help but let out a little scream as a huge talon pushed its way through the new hole in the wall. Mike shoved the shotgun point blank at the talon and pulled the trigger. The demon's hand exploded into black chunks. In the closed room, the sound of the gun was even louder than the beating on the door, and Ann slapped her hands over her ears. Black blood from the demon splashed over the front of her coat.

From outside came a loud howl and the bloody talon was quickly pulled back out of the room. Loud crashing noises accompanied the beast's retreat down the hall.

Miller whistled, clearly impressed by the shotgun's effect. "I stand corrected." He picked up the other shotgun. "Show me how it works."

Ann turned back to the security guard. "Can you call for help?"

"I...I...yes." He started pressing buttons on a phone on the wall, and then paused to look back up at Ann. "But what the hell do I tell them?"

Ann shrugged. Massive bear attack probably won't cut it.

"Tell them there's a group of armed gang members shooting up the place. They'll believe that and come with the heavy equipment," Mike broke in, before continuing to show Miller how the shotgun worked. It was handy having a cop on your side, even if he had wanted to run away. To be fair to Mike, he was handling himself pretty well.

Ann looked down at a row of security screens. Those that had not been destroyed by flying debris were flipping through camera views from around the hospital. Several showed werewolves roaming the halls. One was dragging an unconscious man across the floor. "This place has gone to the dogs," she joked, trying hard not to break into a panic.

"You have a very odd sense of humor, lady," Mike noted while stuffing ammo into the pockets of his jeans.

"It's either that or the fetal position."

Mike nodded. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

The security guard jerked the phone away from his head. "It just went dead!"

Of course it would just go dead. Ann had seen this movie before.

"Did you get through?" Mike asked.

"Well, I started to, so they do know something's wrong."

Miller pushed his way between them. "What's your name, son?" he asked the security guard, who gave the seemingly much younger man a hard look that lasted a moment.

"Bill Tirhsred," he responded.

"Joseph Miller. Welcome to the good fight." They shook hands.

"I just got here for my shift, thought it was odd no one was around," Bill said. He was a slightly bald, middle-aged man. "What the hell was that thing?"

"A demon, apparently," Mike responded.

"That's Vanessa Black, one of the doctors here. Apparently she's been infected or cursed with something."

"Dr. Black? Tall woman with really nice..." he looked over at Ann, "...hair?" he finished lamely.

"Yeah, that's her. And she's not alone. A bunch of patients seem to have the same problem, except it's making them big and furry with claws," Ann explained.

"Wait," Mike put up a hand in warning. "How do we know this guy is human?"

Ann nodded. It was a fair question.

"He is as human as you are, Mr. Samson," answered Miller.

"How do you know?" Ann asked.

"Trust me, I've done this before." Miller grinned.

"So you've been trapped in a hospital with a gaggle of werewolves and a demon?" Ann raised an eyebrow.

"Well not this exact situation," Miller waved his hand around the room, "but similar ones."

"Does anyone have a cell phone?" Mike asked.

"Here." Ann tossed her phone over to Mike. Snatching it out of the air, he quickly dialed and put the phone to his ear.

"This is Officer Mike Samson. I need to report an emergency, my badge number is..."

Miller tugged on Ann's arm, stealing her attention away from the phone call. He whispered in her ear. "What did you see before we crossed paths?"

Ann shrugged his hand off of her arm. "I gave that bitch, Vanessa Black, a taste of this pepper spray and she went all...demony? Demonie? Demonic, that's the word."

"Pepper spray? A weapon of some kind?"

"Umm, yeah, it's like an anti-rape thing, you spray it in their eyes and it burns them."

"Hmmm." Miller rubbed his chin again.

"Why? Is that important?"

"Have you ever hit a bee hive with a rock, Miss Ann?"

"No, what kind of a stupid question is that?"

"Well you just did. This hospital is the hive and that doctor is the queen. When you hurt her, you woke up every cursed creature nearby."

Ann went a bit paler. "So all this chaos was my fault?"

"Well, yes and no. Chances are, this was going to happen soon enough, and you just moved things forward a bit. Don't worry about it." He shrugged. "These things happen to me all the time."

Mike snapped the phone closed. "I got through. Help is on the way, but there was some kind of odd static."

There was another thump at the door. This one was not nearly as loud, but a little scream of surprise popped out of Ann's mouth.

"What now?" Bill looked toward Miller.

"Wolves this time, I think. I believe Mr. Samson did enough damage with his wonderful new toy that our demon friend has sent in the reserves."

A furry and clawed hand reached through hole in the wall. The four of them stood against the wall to get as far away as possible from the new invader. Mike breathed out hard. "Not again."

The pounding on the door continued. It sounded as if many fists were knocking at once.

"Everyone, this is how it is going to work." Miller pumped his shotgun for dramatic effect. "Our mission here is a rescue one. We are to find as many people as possible and get them out. We also aim to keep you three alive."

"Just the three of us? Not you?" Ann asked. Miller grinned that stupid, crazy grin.

"I always make it out alive." He paused for a moment, as if mulling something over. "Well, almost always," he corrected. "Your job is to help any curse-free humans you find, and maybe..." Miller paused to look down at the hospital gown, "to find me some pants. Leave the monster killing to me. That includes you, Mr. Samson." Mike nodded at that. "Try to avoid the wolves as much as possible. The demons are the real threat. If you do need to take down a wolf, aim for its head. I am not sure how well these shotguns will work against them, but I have high hopes." There was another louder bang on the door as several bodies hit it at once. "Everyone against this wall here. Let them open the door. I'll make a path out for us once they enter. I expect it to get very messy, so Miss Ann, you may want to cover your eyes."

"Bite me, Miller. Give me something to hit 'em with and I'll be right there with you." Ann's tough talk sounded a bit weak, even to her own ears.

Miller gave her a smile. "Good lass. Well put."

Mike spoke up. "Is there any way to turn these people back?" There was a bit of pleading in his voice. "I mean, these are innocent people, infected with some sort of disease. Maybe there's a cure."

"Mr. Samson, while I have no idea what the word 'infected' means, I assure you that we will do what we can for these people. Our first task, however, must be for you to survive." Miller paused. "Now, any other questions?"

There was another slam at the door. It was beginning to buckle. Bill meekly raised his hand. "Can I have a shotgun?"

"No!" Miller and Mike said at the same time. There was a moment of silence between them as they all looked at the door. Another crash and the frame was pushed further out. A clawed hand appeared at the top of the door. Another bang, and another. Bill let out a small whimper and Ann's already-cramped stomach spun.

Suddenly, the door fell into the room, taking a chunk of the wall with it. Three werewolves spilled into the room, hopping over the cabinet, clawing and howling their way into the room. Ann noticed with a shock that the lead wolf was the little old lady they had found asleep in one of the emergency rooms. Her green hospital gown still clung to her, though the sleeves had been shredded. Her gray hair shot out in wild directions. Miller stepped forward and fired his shotgun directly into her face. Her head exploded in a horrible red mist, like a rotten pumpkin.

Ann screamed. She couldn't help it, but didn't look away. Mike stepped forward and shot the second wolf, but missed the head, instead catching it in the chest and knocking it straight back into the hall, taking down a third wolf on the way.

"Move!" Miller commanded. It became obvious Miller had spent a lot of time in charge. He barked the order with such authority in his voice that there was nothing else to do but follow. Mike took the lead, with Ann and Bill following and Miller watching the rear. The wolf at the bottom of the pile was struggling to get free but Miller quickly stopped him with another blast of his shotgun.

"Fantastic weapon!" he beamed, his grin growing wider.

"Where to, Miller?" Mike shouted back. Apparently his desire to run like hell had left him. Ann was glad for it. He seemed more competent than Bill, who was quaking like a leaf and waving his little handgun around in front of him, but far less insane than Miller.

Miller pumped the shotgun and hobbled forward. "Room-to-room search. Might as well start with this one on your left."

Mike obeyed, and took cover next to the doorway. He nodded at Miller. "Monster hunters first."

"Aye, that's a bright lad." Miller limped past him and moved to give the door a kick, but then thought better of it and slammed it open with his left hand. Ann held her breath as he walked in, but there were no gunshots. His voice came out shortly after. "Empty."

The next four rooms were empty as well. Each time Miller went through a door, Ann cringed and the twist in her stomach worsened.

"Where is everyone?" Ann asked.

"No place good," Mike grunted.

"Aye," Miller put in, "Something very odd is afoot here. I couldn't be this late."

Ann wasn't sure what to make of that, but so far only about half of what Miller said made sense, even on a good day.

"I only passed one person on my way in. I thought that was strange," Bill added in a shaky voice.

Miller stopped abruptly. "Well hello, beautiful!" He whistled. On the wall, behind glass, hung a red fireman's axe. Miller smashed the glass with the back of the shotgun and pulled it out. Moving the gun to his left hand, he hefted the axe with his right, trying to get a feel for the weight.

"What are you going to do with that?" Mike asked.

The old grin crawled back over Miller's face. "Oh, I think it will come in handy."

They repeated the same exercise in every room. Miller entered first, with Bill behind him and Mike and Ann watching the door. Ann had her pepper spray ready. It was no gun but had worked so well on Vanessa that it had to be better than nothing.

A few seconds after entering the fifth room, Miller let out a loud "Ah ha!"

"What is it?" Mike shouted as he spun around the corner, Ann close behind.

"Trousers!" Miller was ecstatic. They had entered a locker room of sorts. Clothes lay tossed about the place. Miller was holding up a pair of green scrub pants. Ann quickly averted her eyes as, with one smooth motion, Miller ripped the hospital gown off.

"To finally get out of that dress!" There was a bit of banging around as Miller struggled with the scrubs. Ann turned around again after hearing a loud rip. Miller had torn off the one leg to make room for his cast, but otherwise he was decent. He shuffled through the room looking for something else to put on.

Ann marveled at the fresh scars on the man's chest and arm where he had been hit by a truck just a few short days ago. Although the flesh was still the bright pink of the newly healed, there was no swelling at all. It seemed impossible, but following the laws of reality didn't seem to be all that popular today. Miller noticed her stare and stopped.

"Try this," Bill said, tossing him a shirt. It was a white t-shirt with the words "New Jersey Devils" on the front.

Miller shrugged it on. "It will do. Many thanks." He evaluated his new outfit. "I look much improved. Wait..." He dug into the pockets of his new pants. "What is this?" He pulled a blue pen out of his pocket and held it up for the others to see. "A medical tool of some kind?"

"That's a pen," Ann said, barely managing not to add "idiot."

Miller's face fell. "Oh, that is far less useful. Still, it is a rather nice pen." He shoved it back into his pocket.

"Someone was certainly looking for something here," Mike said after a few minutes of rooting through the open lockers. Each door had been torn clean off the hinges.

"Someone not human, by the look of the lockers," Ann noted. "How many of these demon-things are there?"

"They call themselves the 'Fallen.' There are always seven," Miller said, retrieving his gun.

Mike picked up the thread. "So we know that Dr. Black is one."

"And a nurse named Mary as well," Miller continued.

Mike gulped. "Mary? Damn I knew there was something off about her."

"You know her?" Miller asked.

"Yeah, let's just say she tried to get, err, personal with me earlier. I guess I'm glad we were interrupted."

"Aye, so am I. Otherwise we wouldn't be having this lovely conversation. You would be one of them." Miller jabbed a finger out toward the hallway.

"Well, great," Bill put in, a sarcastic edge creeping into his voice. "Now we just have to work out the final five."

"Four," Miller announced. "I know of one more."

Mike somehow found a way to turn even paler as he digested what Miller had told him. Then something seemed to dawn on him. "Wait, I was attacked by a werewolf earlier." He lifted his shirt up to show the fresh cuts. "Does this mean," he stuttered, "does this mean I'm going to become one of them?"

Miller laughed. "Hah! Lad, that is the most ridiculous thing that I have heard in some time. If it was that easy, everyone would be cursed. Where on earth did you get such a ridiculous notion?"

Mike pulled down his shirt, looking rather stung but relieved. "I just...well you know...the movies and such."

Ann backed him up. "It's like a classic werewolf movie. A guy goes out for a hike in the woods, gets bitten, eats all his friends. You know. It's how the legend goes."

Miller laughed. "These movies are like the shows on the TV? I have to see one! They must be fantastic!" Miller seemed to notice the stunned looks on the faces of the others, and dropped the subject abruptly.

"What's with those eyes anyway?" Ann asked. She shivered.

"The mark of the Cursed. Well, one of them, anyway. All those touched by the Fallen have it, though wolves and vampires can hide it for short periods in their human forms." Ann saw Bill jump a bit at that.

"Wait! Vampires? Those are real too?"

Miller laughed again. "Sadly yes, but again, the stories about them are completely incorrect. Some poor sod wrote a book about them where they had pointy fangs and could turn into bats or some such nonsense."

"Wait. Vampires don't have fangs? Then how do they suck?" Ann asked.

"I hope for your sake you never have to find out. Filthy creatures. They should never be trusted."

"So if there are seven 'Fallen'," Mike said the last word slowly, trying to get a feel for it, "How can the four of us possibly do anything against all of them?"

"It is no small task, Mr. Samson. We do have a chance, however. The demons here are young and not yet completely themselves. Once they have had enough time to feed and grow, they will become even more unstoppable."

"That was pretty much the opposite of reassuring. Thanks, Miller," complained Ann.

A brief silence fell on the room until Mike broke it with a question. "I wonder if the Newark PD is here yet?"

"I don't know. Everything seems so quiet. Let's see if we can find a room with windows and take a look around," Ann suggested.

"Aye. Let's head out to the next room. Keep your eyes open." As if hearing him, the lights went out. This time, they stayed out.

*****

It had been a particularly rough shift. Officer Jessica Jones was trying to keep herself going for as long as possible. She knew that once she stopped and curled up in bed, the image of the mutilated girl would come back to haunt her. She had never seen anything like it and hoped she never would again. Poor Mike Samson had known the people, discovered the body, and even seen the perp.

She was in her patrol car, filling out more paperwork when the call came in. "Gang shooting at College Hospital."

"College? Isn't that where we sent your buddy Samson this morning?" Andrew Fox, Jessica's partner, asked. Andrew had been busy snacking on a doughnut. This habit of his made Jessica's eyes roll. She only ate fruit on the job, just to break with silly stereotypes.

"Buddy? I know the guy, ok? He's a fellow officer, and I heard he lost his wife in some sort of accident a few months back. I just feel for the guy, you know?" She had truthfully only met Samson a few times and had really only spoken to him at length once at a Christmas party. His son, Sam, had been there, and had been the one to make the lasting impression on her. "We should check this out. It's not far from here."

"Jessie, our shift ended an hour ago. We need to go home. My wife is going to kill me as it is."

"You know you don't want to go to bed anymore than I do."

Andrew sighed at that. He had three little girls at home, all at school by now. "No, not really. Okay, let's go."

The hospital was only five minutes away and when they arrived, four other squad cars were already there. The other officers were getting out of their cars. Jessica and Andrew quickly hopped out to join them.

"You guys still on shift?" someone asked Jessica.

"Yeah, a bit of overtime. What's the situation here?"

"We're still working that out. There's no response from the hospital front desk at all."

"Not good," Andrew grunted.

"We received a call from a security guard and from one of our own, Samson." Jessica started at the name. Damn, she had hoped he would be home by now.

"But no gun shots, no hostages, nothing?" Andrew asked.

"Not yet. I'm guessing we're going to have to take a look," the officer said. Several more officers had drawn guns and were approaching the front door. Jessica made to follow them.

The inside of the hospital was dim. All of the lights were out, except for one that was hanging from the ceiling by a cord, flickering on and off. As the officers moved through the front doors they saw no one. The place was a mess of papers, overturned chairs, and garbage tossed around the floor. The sunlight of the front windows only just penetrated the darkness of the waiting room. Beyond a certain distance, darkness filled the area like a pool.

"No one home," Andrew whispered, his gun out and pointed forward into the darkness.

Another officer raised his voice. "This is the police! Is anyone here?"

Jessica flinched at the sudden noise. "Great. Just let the bad guys know what to shoot at," she muttered under her breath.

No shots came. There was nothing but terrible silence.

"Looks like we're going to need to go further in. Someone see if they can fix the lights." The man who spoke appeared to be the officer in charge.

Jessica pulled out her flashlight and followed the others deeper into the building. She kicked at the random papers and hospital equipment that was scattered across the floor. She found a rag which, on closer inspection, turned out to be the top of a nurse's uniform. It was so badly shredded that it took her some time to recognize.

"What the hell?"

Somewhere in front of her and to the right, a man screamed. The sound cut through the silence like a knife. Andrew yelped and everyone pointed their guns in the direction of the noise.

"I think it was over here," she waved the flashlight to her right. Several officers rushed to her side. Taking the lead with her gun in one hand and her flashlight in the other, she moved quickly. She could not understand how it was so damned dark in here in the middle of the day.

She entered the room that she believed the sound had come from and started to cover as much area with the small beam of her flashlight as possible. Something wet caught her eye and she flipped back to double-check. It was blood all right, and it looked like it was coming from...she panned the light over to the right. It was one of the officers that had walked into the building just a few moments before her. Or, to be more precise, it was his body. His empty eyes stared blankly at her from across the room. She moved the light just a little to the right, and revealed someone chewing on the body.

"There!" she shouted. Several of the other officers pointed their lights at the same spot. It looked like a young boy, but he was horribly misshapen. He was very broad across the chest and his arms were large and covered in hair.

"Freeze!" someone shouted. The boy's eyes snapped up at the sound of the voice and looked in the general direction of the officers. His eyes were empty, black pools. He hissed at them like a big angry cat and jumped to the right.

"Good God, what's wrong with him?" someone shouted, as Jessica desperately tried to follow the boy with her light. He moved incredibly fast. Her light exposed two more creatures like the boy. These were bigger, obviously adults, with the same black eyes glinting in the dark. Another officer to Jessica's right yelled and fell over. Guns fired into the darkness as more screams rang out. With her flashlight, Jessica tried to find a safe target. An officer was being dragged away by one of those things. She squeezed off four shots, three of which hit the creature. It jerked with each hit but did not stop dragging the officer away. At that moment she felt a hand grab her ankle. Jessica dropped the beam of light to see what had gotten hold of her. It was Andrew.

"Jessie, help," Andrew pleaded, "One of them has my leg."

"I got ya, buddy." Biting the flashlight in her mouth to free up a hand, she reached down and tried to pull him up. The creature was too strong.

"Aggh! It's ripping my goddamn leg apart!"

Jessica fired a random shot into the dark where she thought the creature was. It had no effect. Moving the flashlight with her teeth, she found the beast's head. It looked like a cavewoman. Jessica lined up her shot, fired, and hit the creature in the bridge of the nose. Its head snapped up and it howled in pain. Andrew came free and tumbled back through the door with Jessica. The force of the fall was enough to knock her flashlight free of her teeth and it dropped, rolling across the floor.

She picked herself up and grabbed at Andrew's shoulder to drag him away, but something else got to him first, yanking him hard into the darkness. He was gone instantly.

"Jessie, help..." the sentence ended in a horrible gurgle. Jessica turned to run back into the light. As she did, she snatched out her radio and began shouting into it.

"Officers down! I have several officers down. There are some kind of creatures here, maybe, I don't know..."

Something knocked her down, ending her sentence. Her radio flew one way and she flew another, spilling onto the floor. She rolled over quickly and tried to stand back up. Now, back near the main entrance of the hospital, she could see her attackers. They were flowing out of the darkness like water. There were too many of them, furry beasts with black eyes. Some had clothes on and were dressed as doctors, nurses, EMTs, and regular street folk. They surged forward like a terrible tidal wave.

Jessica managed to scream just once before they reached her.

## Chapter 13 - Darkness

The Four of Us Are Dying – Nine Inch Nails – The Slip

"Great," Mike said. "This just keeps getting better and better."

He still wanted to run, to just get out. He was all Sam had now and he was sure as hell not going to let some insane people drag him away from his real responsibilities. On the other hand, innocent people here needed his help. It was, in a way, his job. And, like it or not, he had formed a bond with these people. Their best chance of living through this was to stick together. At least now he had a gun that seemed to do something against the wolf beasts.

"Give it a sec. The emergency lights should kick on automatically," Ann said. Her hands were still deep inside her huge coat. The crazy girl look had gotten worse over the last hour or so. She looked like she was ill, but then, that's pretty much how Mike felt as well.

"Any second now," Ann continued. Several moments passed. "Well then, maybe not."

Bill snapped on a flashlight. His hand shook terribly. Of all of them, he seemed to be the most terrified, and he hadn't even witnessed the doctor's transformation. That in itself was a nightmare that Mike was pretty sure was going to replay in his mind many, many times.

Bill gave the impression that he was going to bolt off screaming in at any minute. But, so far, to his credit, he had kept it together.

"An electric torch! Brilliant! I don't suppose that you have any more of those?" Miller asked.

Bill shrugged. "Nope. Sorry."

Mike couldn't make sense of Joseph Miller. He looked like a guy in his early 20s. Hispanic, maybe Mexican? But he spoke and acted with the confidence of a much older man. He also seemed to be unaware of pretty basic things, like flashlights and how pants worked. He handled himself well in a fight, and for that Mike was grateful. He seemed to know a lot more of what was going on around here than anyone else. Mike was planning on having a long talk with Miller if they got out of this, preferably at the police station.

"Okay then, let's start moving. Mr. Tirhsred, I am afraid you're going to have to take the lead this time. I'll be right behind you." Bill gulped hard at Miller's words, but led the way out of the room.

The sudden darkness of the hospital unnerved Mike. There were not many windows and the ones there were didn't seem to let enough light in. In the hallways, the dark pools between doors held a deep sense of dread. Mike needed a distraction from his fear.

"Miller, what else can you tell me about these werewolves?" he asked. They had formed a line, with Bill and Miller at the front, followed by Ann. Mike was at the back, attempting to stare into the darkness behind him and the faint light ahead.

"Well, as I mentioned, I am not sure where the wolf part comes from, although I believe they are the root of much of the werewolf lore. I can assure you that they do not become wolves."

"They look like cave people, well a bit, anyway. Like people that have devolved or something," Ann chipped in.

"Cave people?" Miller asked.

"Yeah, like Neanderthals, ancient men. Although the bone structure isn't right exactly, they seem to have increased body hair and muscle mass, but fewer cerebral capabilities. Not sure about the claws though, that's certainly not from anything I've seen in the history books."

"Miss Ann..."

"Just Ann please, Miller," Ann cut in.

"Ann, then. I had heard some talk back in the 1880s that there was a race of men before our current one. I had thought it nonsense at the time."

Had he said1880s?

"The thing that really gets me is how quickly they..." Ann hunted for the right word, "transform, I guess the term is. That amount of cell growth, it's just not possible."

"I think someone missed the 'super' part in 'supernatural'," Mike jumped back in.

"No, really, it would take a massive amount of energy."

"Energy?" Bill asked.

Ann continued. "Well, food. Ok, let's say that this is some kind of virus. Maybe it's possible that this virus is rearranging people's DNA. But even with that, to completely transform a person's body in a matter of seconds..." She trailed off, lost in thought.

"You a doctor or something?" Bill asked, not looking back.

"Scientist, actually. Well, PhD biology student," Ann answered.

"Come on. There's another room up here." Miller again took the lead, pushing the door open. This time Bill was right behind him with the flashlight. It turned out that it wasn't needed, as the room had a row of windows. Mike rushed into the room and stood in the weak sunlight. His sense of panic died back down. Then he thought of his neighbor.

"Is there any way to help them? Like, cure them, I guess?"

Miller let out a long sigh and then started to explain slowly.

"It is possible to free the Cursed from their demon masters, but they do not become human again. They remain forever cursed. They live out their remaining years misshapen. Worse yet, they recall everything they have done while under the Fallen's control. It is not a fate that I would wish on my worst enemy."

"But how would we free them?" Ann asked.

"Ah, that's no easy task either. You need to kill the demon that cursed them."

"So if we could find the demon that infected...err, cursed these people, they would at least stop trying to kill us," Ann said.

Mike swallowed hard. Could he free his neighbor Ted, and condemn him to hell on Earth, with the knowledge of what he had done to his own family? No. He decided he couldn't do that to anyone. Better to be dead than live through that torment.

"So if there are these demons, vampires, and werewolves out there, why don't we hear about them all the time?" Bill asked.

"A fair question. What do you know about locusts, Mr. Tirhsred?"

"Um, the car?" Bill responded.

"I think he means the insects, not Lotus," Ann said. "Don't they only show up every few years or something?"

"Exactly, Ann. Demons are like locusts, with a slightly longer cycle. This room is clear. Let's keep moving." Mike was sad to leave the light behind.

"How long is a cycle, Miller?" Mike asked, once again stepping into the darkness. Bill turned back on the flashlight.

"Well, there seems to be a range. The last one started in 1793, I believe."

Ann whistled. "That kinda makes sense. Every few hundred years they show up, do some damage, make some famous fairy tales, and then die off somehow."

"Aye, you have it right, lass. Usually I'm the one that kills 'em. Generally with help."

Now it was Bill's turn to laugh. "You? That would mean you're like, 300 years old or something."

"Oh, much, much older than that," Miller responded.

"How old are you?" Ann asked, apparently ready to believe the delusional man.

"Let us just say I could almost give your ancient race of man a bit of competition."

"Are you even human then?" Bill asked.

Miller stopped and turned to face them. For once his grin was replaced with a hurt look. "Of course I'm human! Just not..." he waved his hand around at the three of them as if he was having problems remembering the word. "Mortal."

"Hey! Over there!" Bill cut in, his voice shrill with panic. "Something moved!" He started to wave his flashlight around the room, trying to catch whatever it was with the beam. Suddenly, something collided with him. The flashlight in his hands spiraled down the hallway. "Help!" he screamed, as the thing lifted him into the air. Mike dove for the flashlight, but in the few seconds it took him to pick it up, Bill had already been carried halfway down the hall.

"Damn!" Miller shouted, "I can't get a good shot." Mike trained the light down the hall, and was just able to make out the fleeing werewolf's back. Miller squeezed off a shot and the werewolf stumbled but did not stop. Miller took a few limping steps forward, giving chase. "Samson! Go slow him down! I cannot move that quickly!"

Not thinking, Mike did exactly what he was told. He sped after the werewolf, trying to keep the fleeing creature in the flashlight's beam. The beast was made easier to track by Bill, who was screaming his lungs out, sounding more like a teenage girl than a grown man, not that Mike blamed him.

The werewolf cut left through a doorway. Mike followed it, entering a stairwell. It was pitch-black. Using the flashlight, he quickly found the beast just 10 stairs below. Apparently Miller's shot had done some damage, as it seemed to be slowing down. Mike considered how to take the werewolf down while it still carried Bill. A shotgun was hardly a precise weapon. Mike could only think of one tactic that might work without killing Bill, and 'might' was the key word. He dove down the stairs three at a time. Then, closing the distance, Mike tucked his weapon and flashlight to against his chest and jumped. He connected with the wolf's back in a flying tackle. Bill, Mike, and the beast tumbled down the rest of the stairs in a confusion of arms and legs. At the bottom of the stairs, next to the doorway to the hall, Mike freed himself from the tangle and grabbed Bill with one hand while attempting to aim his gun at the wolf with the other. Bill came partly free and Mike shifted his weight to get a better grip. Suddenly, a large furry hand wrapped around Mike's chest and pulled him into the hall. The shotgun was knocked aside and Mike was slammed hard against a wall. Here, some sunlight snuck in from beneath one of the doors, and Mike could see without the aid of a flashlight. He stared directly into the black eyes of his neighbor, Ted.

*****

Miller did his best to follow the wolf, Bill, and Mike. He cursed his shattered leg once more as he limped along, moving as quickly as he could. Ann stayed behind him. Reaching the door that his companions had recently passed through, he paused.

"Ah stairs, my old nemesis," Miller said.

"What? What are you waiting for?" Ann yelled. Miller looked at the shotgun in one hand and the axe in the other. He passed the gun to Ann.

"Lass, would you be so kind as to hold this for me?"

"What am I supposed to do with it?" Ann demanded.

"Just hold it. It looks lovely with your," he paused, looking Ann over, "trousers." Miller then hopped down the first stair, holding onto the railing and using the axe, blade down, as a sort of crutch. Seeing that this seemed to be a manageable mode of transportation, he repeated the maneuver as rapidly as he could down the rest of the stairs. The vibration was not kind to his wounded leg, but speed was of the essence.

At the bottom of the stairs, he found the wolf that he had wounded, still trying to drag Mr. Tirhsred away to whatever den these creatures were using. The man was still screaming like a wee girl, which Miller found shameful, but his task was not to judge. He was here to rescue. Miller swung the weapon up by its handle, catching the wounded wolf under the chin. Its face split, a fountain of black blood spraying Mr. Tirhsred. Ann let out a short scream and turned her head away.

"I do apologize for the delay. I got here as quickly as possible." Miller lowered a hand to Mr. Tirhsred, who was still in too much of a panic to take it.

"Mike? Where's Mike?" Ann shouted, coming to her senses.

Where was Mike? That was certainly a good question. Miller limped into the hallway to see him pinned against a wall, locked in a contest of strength with a werewolf. His arms were at the wolf's throat, trying to keep its deadly fangs away from his face. This was not a contest that Mike could win and Miller knew he had precious little time to act. He threw the axe overhand and prayed that his aim was still true after all these years.

It struck the wolf in the center of the back. The thing let out a howl and released Mike, who dropped to the floor.

"Ann! Gun!" Miller commanded. Ann, who was still in the hallway seeing to Mr. Tirhsred, stumbled a bit at this request. She tossed the gun in the air but it did not quite reach Miller. He flinched slightly, but the gun did not fire when it hit the ground. She would need to work on her throw. Miller snatched the weapon off the ground and raised it in the direction of the beast. The wolf, bested, was long gone, leaving behind a bloody axe and a winded Mike.

*****

Ted was long gone, wounded by the look of it. Mike considered following his neighbor but he was unsure of whether he could be trusted to put him out of his misery. Besides, to separate from the group at this point would be suicide. He had learned something from years of watching horror movies as a kid. He glanced up at Miller as the wounded man approached. "Thanks. It almost had me there,"

Miller waved a dismissive hand at him. "Think nothing of it, lad."

Mike picked up his gun and quickly walked over to Bill. "Bill, you ok?" Bill had not stopped screaming. "Bill, it's ok. It's dead now."

"Is Mr. Tirhsred hurt?" Miller asked.

"Aaagh!" was Bill's response.

Ann was beside Bill, trying to calm him down. "Sshh, it's ok Bill, you're going to be ok." She squeezed his hand to reassure him.

"I think he's just in shock." Mike gave him a gentle slap. "Pull it together."

After a few moments, Bill managed to move from screaming to manic panting. Mike got up and started looking around for the dropped light. He found it just as it made a loud crunch under his foot.

"Shit!"

"What?" It was Ann's voice.

"Flashlight's broken." He picked up the crushed flashlight and tried to switch it on and off for a few seconds.

"Help me get Bill into the light," Ann said.

"Yeah, okay." Miller took the lead while Ann and Mike dragged the still-panting Bill behind them. The next door was close by and easy to make out by the weak sunlight that peeked out from under it. Sliding Bill near to the wall, Mike took position next to Miller, ready to back him up. As before, Miller slammed the door open and charged in. A new voice screamed from inside.

"Please don't hurt me!" It was a woman's voice. Mike charged into the room to see Miller covering a middle-aged, red-haired woman with his shotgun.

"It's okay, we're the good guys," Mike said. He walked out of the room and helped Ann drag in Bill.

"Cynthia?" Ann asked.

"Little Ann?" the woman responded. The two women hugged, tears visible on both of their faces.

"I was so worried that you didn't make it," Ann said, still hugging the older woman.

"Ann." It was Miller, his voice low and menacing. "Please step away from her!"

"Miller? What's wrong?" Ann said, not letting her friend go.

"She's cursed."

"What?" Cynthia asked. "Wait, aren't you the guy from 269? Didn't you die?"

"Aye, technically. Many, many times over, but I always get better," Miller said, and pulled at Ann's arm, still training the shotgun on Cynthia.

"No, no, no, she's fine. Look at her, she's right here, no crazy black eyes, no claws!" Ann was sobbing.

"Miller, are you sure? How can you tell?" Mike cut in. Was Miller insane? She looked fine to him.

"Why isn't she all furry like the rest of 'em?"

"Ann, think about it. The one person we find happens to be a friend of yours? She is a trap."

"Listen boy, I think you're still confused from that truck hitting you," Cynthia said. "Let's talk about this."

"No, I don't think so." Miller pumped the shotgun and drove it into Cynthia's face. He pulled hard on Ann, finally tearing them apart.

"NO!" Ann shouted. Cynthia fell back with a whimper. She brought her hands up to protect her face.

"Miller, stop!" Mike raised his shotgun.

"Stay calm!" Miller raised his voice. It held that tone of command again. "I'm not going to shoot her. Not yet anyway." Mike relaxed a bit, but still kept his gun trained on Miller.

"Miller, please. If it was a trap, why isn't she changing now?"

"I am not sure, but I can see the curse on her as plain as day."

Ann looked hard at her friend, tears streaming down her face. "No, it's just Cynthia. I'm telling you, she's human."

"And I say she is not."

"Ann, don't listen to him. You know he's crazy, we joked about that," Cynthia pleaded.

Bill moaned from the ground in the corner. Mike lowered his gun, and approached Miller's side. "Miller, I know you think you can tell, but she looks perfectly normal to us."

"Trust me, Mr. Samson, something is very wrong here." To reinforce his intentions he poked Cynthia with the barrel of the shotgun, producing another whimper.

"Miller, stand down, man! I can't let you go threatening innocent people," Mike shouted, stepping closer to Miller.

"Listen to Mike. She's my friend!" Ann pleaded.

"You do not understand," Miller shouted. "Just because she looks human now does not mean that she is." He lowered the gun and gave Mike a shove. "Stay back!"

Mike was knocked a few steps back. Miller had lost it and was going to shoot the woman. He needed to stop him.

"That's it, you lunatic!" Mike rushed forward and slapped the shotgun up out of Miller's hand, then drove his shoe into the man's cast. Miller howled out in pain and stumbled back. The shotgun rattled to the floor. Mike threw his arms around Miller, attempting to pin him down.

"You idiot!" Miller yelled, "You have no idea what you are doing." They rolled on the floor for a moment, both struggling to gain the advantage. Mike was surprised by how hard it was to pin the wounded man. Every grip he tried, Miller countered instantly.

"Samson! Do not make me hurt you!"

Somewhere in the back of Mike's mind, he registered an odd slurping noise. Ann was screaming. Instantly, both men stopped their fighting and looked up.

"Cynthia, NO!" Ann cried.

Cynthia stood over Bill with her mouth open unnaturally wide. A long, black tentacle-like tongue hung out of it. It had wrapped itself around Bill's neck and appeared to be sucking. For a moment everyone stared. Noticing the attention, Cynthia looked back up at them, seemingly ashamed. The tongue-like thing disappeared back into her mouth.

"I'm sorry, were you going to eat that?" she said.

Mike and Miller exchanged a brief glance. Mike rolled one way, Miller rolled the other, both reaching for their guns. They brought them up almost simultaneously and fired. The distance was not quite as close as Mike would have liked with a shotgun, but both shots hit Cynthia, sending her sprawling. Her chest exploded in a black mist. She let out a scream, rolled on the floor, and then was back on her feet, taking off in a run down the hallway.

"No, not Cynthia, please..." Ann choked as she wept. She slid down to her knees, and laid her head against the wall, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Mike bent over Bill. The security guard was definitely dead, his flesh a dull white. His face looked sunken and his neck was crushed and covered with small cuts. Mike cursed and turned to Miller.

"I take it that's what a real vampire looks like," he said. Miller nodded. "Did you know?"

Miller looked grim. "Not exactly, no. I could see the curse but couldn't tell the kind. She might have been a wolf that just had not changed. Or she could have been something new. Demons can be pretty creative."

"And it's still out there..."

"Aye. Vampires are much harder to kill and far more intelligent than any wolf."

Mike looked back down at Bill's body. "I'm so sorry, man. This was my fault." He looked back up at Miller. "I should have trusted you. It's just so..."

"Say no more." Miller gave him a hand, helping him to his feet. "You thought you were doing the right thing. I know this is hard to accept. To your credit, it was a brave thing you did." Miller winced a bit. "Just please don't kick me like that again."

Mike couldn't help but thinking that maybe Miller actually was what he said he was. "What should we do with him?" Mike asked, pointing back down at Bill.

"We cannot do anything for him, although I am a bit worried about her." He pointed to Ann, who was still leaning against the wall, crying.

Mike walked over to her. "Ann?" He almost asked if she was okay. She obviously wasn't. "Is there anything I can do?" Ann just shook her head.

"How are you for ammunition?" Miller asked. Mike rooted through his pockets, finding four more shells. He tossed two to Miller and loaded the others into his own gun. Only four more shots. Things were looking grim.

"Miss Ann, we have to go." Miller's voice was low and respectful. He put a hand on Ann's shoulder. She shrugged it off and wouldn't look at him. "I am sorry about your friend. I know how terrible it is to lose someone you care about like that."

"Really?" Mike asked.

"Oh yes, I've lost a wife and two sons to the Cursed. Well, more in the past thousand years, if I think about it."

Mike shook his head. Just when he started to think the guy was sane, he went and said something like that. "Ann, he's right, we need to get out of here." She ignored him. "We need to find Keith."

She snapped her head up at that and looked at him hard. "I don't know..." she sniffed. "I don't know if I want to find him. He could be...could be," she pointed down the hall, "one of those!"

"I know, but we need to try, don't we?" Mike followed his instinct and put his arms around her in a hug. She didn't resist, and instead dug her face into his shoulder and wept. Mike scooped her up with one arm.

"I'll carry her for now."

"Aye," Miller nodded. "I think it best if we keep moving."

They headed back out into the dark hallway. Without Bill's flashlight, it was slow going. Dim light came in through the doors on the right, but at times the hall was close to pitch-black.

After walking for a few minutes, Ann began to struggle in his arms. "It's okay Mike, I can walk now. Thanks." She gave him a light kiss on the cheek as he put her down. She swayed a bit at first, but gradually became steady. "You're right. I still need to find Keith, one way or the other."

"Here," Miller said, "Take this." He gave Ann the small pistol that Bill had been carrying. "If you have to use it, aim for the head. It won't do more than slow them down, but maybe it will buy you some time."

"Thank you," Ann said, stuffing the gun into one of her front pockets.

Together, the three of them made their way through the darkened halls. They checked two more rooms. Both were empty. Mike enjoyed the brief sunlight both times. In the hallways the darkness was suffocating, as if the air was too thick. The rooms were better, although still a bit dim. He could see the sun clearly through a window in a cafeteria. It was fairly low in the sky, meaning that it was still before noon. So much had happened in such a short period of time. It took his breath away.

In the empty cafeteria, while he was briefly enjoying the sunlight, he heard the first gunshots.

"What's that?" Ann asked.

"Small arms fire," Mike responded, trying to sound professional. "Maybe it's the police, finally."

"Aye, I bet they are going to need help as well. Let's see if we can find them," Miller put in.

They all headed back into the dark, Miller in his normal spot in the lead. This time, they did not stop to check the doors they passed. Instead, they rushed toward the sounds of fighting, almost at a run.

"I think we're getting closer to the main entrance," breathed Ann, "although it's hard to tell in this light."

Miller slid to a stop and put up a hand. "Hold!" Mike and Ann obeyed, nearly tripping over each other.

"What's wrong?" Ann asked. Miller stared ahead into the darkness. Mike followed his look.

"It's darker here," Miller observed. "Something feels off."

"It looks about the same to me," Mike offered.

"No," Miller spoke slowly. "Definitely..." He trailed off, raising the axe in one hand like a shield in front of them. Mike focused hard on the area in front of them.

"I don't see..." No, he could see. Little black pools reflecting the faint light from behind them. There were too many to count. They were eyes!

"Mike, Ann, run!" Miller shouted.

They were wolves, so many wolves. They seemed to pack the hallway, waiting in the dark, not making a sound.

"Oh my God," he mouthed.

"Go!" Miller yelled, "Now!"

Mike grabbed Ann's hand and they turned and ran. He made sure to keep his body between her and the pack. Ann, for her part, was zigzagging, taking a right, then a left, with only the pale light from underneath the doors showing her the way. Mike split his focus between her feet and their pursuers. After a few moments, he shouted, "Wait!" and they skidded to a halt.

"Where the hell is Miller?" Mike looked around.

"Maybe he couldn't keep up, with his leg?"

"No, I don't think he was planning on coming."

Suddenly, something smashed into Mike, knocking him to the floor. The shotgun dropped out of his hand with the force of the blow. A large gray wolf had him pinned, its claws digging into his sides.

"Mike!" Ann screamed.

Mike managed to get his elbow under the beast's chin, keeping the sharp fangs away from this throat, but he had no defense against the claws. He felt blades dig into his flesh for the second time that day. Then Ann was there, gun in hand.

"I can't get a clear shot!"

"Just shoot!" he shouted back, "Shoot!"

"Oh, the hell with this!" Ann took a running step forward and kicked the wolf in the head, as if punting a football. Its head jerked hard with the blow, stunning it. One second was all Mike needed to kick the beast off of him. With a neat roll, he snagged the shotgun from the floor and aimed it. The wolf was already pouncing again, but too slowly. Mike pulled the trigger just as the wolf was at the height of its jump, hitting it dead in the face. Its head reversed direction, spinning its body around, but its momentum was too great, and its legs still caught Mike in the chest. They fell in a heap.

"Mike! Are you okay?" Ann was there, trying to move the wolf's body off of him.

"Ugh...yeah, I think so, just a few more cuts. God, those things hurt." With her help he slid free from under the body. His shirt was torn to pieces, but then it hadn't been in great shape to begin with. His new cuts were not as bad as he had first thought. They stung but certainly didn't look fatal. He noticed that the wolf's body was still wearing most of a uniform. Apparently it had been another security guard.

"Help me check this one out. He may have more ammo on him." Ann helped search the body while Mike tore off a large swath of its shirt, which he tied around his chest as a makeshift bandage. Ann grinned at him.

"That's a nice look for you. It's almost a toga."

"Yeah, well, if this keeps up much longer I'm going to be running around here in my birthday suit."

"Hah, I bet it's not a bad view."

Mike flushed at that.

"Ah, there you are!" It was Cynthia. The woman was covered in dark blood, her clothes torn to ribbons.

"Ann, get behind me!" Mike pushed Ann behind him, and raised his gun. Cynthia stepped forward and in one fluid motion, struck Mike in the temple with her right hand. It was the hardest Mike had ever been hit in his life. Black spots blossomed in his vision as he was lifted off his feet and tossed into the air. He hit a wall hard and crumpled into a ball.

"Mike, no!" Ann screamed.

"Come on Little Ann, there's someone who really wants to see you." Mike heard Ann's gun go off as he struggled to fight the blackness. "Enough!" There was a sound like a slap, and then the gun hit the floor. The last thing Mike could make out as he fell unconscious was Cynthia dragging Ann away by her hair.

## Chapter 14 - Extreme Violence

Ladies and Gentlemen – Saliva – Blood-Stained Love Story

Miller stood alone against the darkness. It was better this way. Maybe Ann and Mike would escape, but he knew he had no chance if he tried to run. His damn crippled leg was just too much. If only he had had only a few more days to heal. Well, nothing to be done about it now.

It had been a long time since he had seen a pack this big. There had been a bad night in London, about 200 years ago, and he could never forget his short stay in India, but this was impressive. He counted at least 20, which was already without the several he had dealt with earlier in the day, but between the darkness and the relatively tight quarters it was hard to get an accurate count.

"Good afternoon gentlefolk," he said, "Joseph Miller, at your service." He heard a growl from somewhere in the crowd as they began to approach. It was as if his manners, always perfect, had awoken them from their slumber. It had been odd that they did not attack before. Why had they waited? There was something more to this and he strongly hoped that he would have the chance to figure it out.

"I think you have had quite enough to eat this morning," Miller quipped, as he surrendered a few more steps to their slow advance. He supposed that Ann and Mike had had enough time to get clear. There was no more reason to wait.

An ancient battle cry forced its way out of his mouth as he jumped forward. He was no longer sure what language it was in, but it was loud.

The pack surged forward like a furry tidal wave. For Miller, who had been in millions of battles in the past, time seemed to slow. Now, at last, he faced a real challenge. He fired his shotgun at the wolf in the lead, knocking several wolves back in the process. As he hobbled forward, he tossed the shotgun up, caught it with the same hand at the pump, pumped in the next round, tossed it forward, and caught it by the handle, firing again. Several more wolves were launched back. He knew he had one more shot. With the other arm, he swung the axe wide, not yet trying to hit anything, just making space. Wolves ducked and jumped, dodging the axe, but they did not close in.

Miller repeated his one-handed pumping trick, this time firing directly in front of him, blowing another three wolves back. He dropped the spent shotgun and gripped the axe with two hands. It was time for the messy part. Stepping forward, he again swung the axe, this time for the nearest wolf. Its head came off cleanly and was launched though the air. Miller ducked into a roll as several wolves dove for him. The now-dead wolf's body landed on top of him. He braced it for a moment, holding it like a shield. The wolves pounced on the body, thinking it was Miller, and he let them carry it away. Another roll brought him clear of the wolves and, using the axe as a lever, he sprung back to a standing position. He then plowed the weapon into the head of a wolf in front of him. It slashed through the monster's face and got stuck in the base of its spine. Moving forward, he pushed the axe down, bringing the dead body down flat with the ground. Then, he vaulted forward, freeing the axe from its victim and sending himself into another forward roll. He was clear of the pack and spun to meet them for another pass.

In trying to reach him, the wolves had collapsed into a confused, howling mass.

"Come on people, I'm over here!" After this he would have to come up with a name for his fine new axe. Wolfsbane? Perhaps that was a bit too much.

He took one step backward and lobbed another head off with a single swing. A wolf leapt at him, foaming at the mouth. Miller did not have time to pull back the blade of the axe, but still managed to deflect the attack with the blunt side of the weapon. Two more launched themselves at him. He hopped to the right and swung the axe again in a wide arc. It caught one of his attackers in the side of the face, splitting it open. Miller stepped back, his axe spinning again. He caught another wolf in the leg, and it fell, stumbling into another two. Miller quickly finished off another and kicked its body into the remaining wolves in front of him.

He continued his bloody work as more wolves freed themselves, attempting to charge at him by leaping over the bodies of their fallen pack-mates. Miller was faster than them all, killing at least one and dodging the rest. Black blood pooled across the width of the floor. It was quickly becoming so thick that Miller's bare feet were sticking to the floor. What he wouldn't do for a good pair of boots!

In that instant, the lights came back on. Both Miller and the wolves froze for a long moment. It was an odd red light, but it was welcome. At least he could see his handiwork. The wolves were in a tangled mass, some dead, some alive. Several pulled themselves free, but by now it seemed that some semblance of fear was beginning to dawn on them. Their numbers had been too great for the narrow hallway and they simply could not get around their own dead quickly enough to reach him without feeling the touch of his axe. After a few thousand years, Miller had gotten pretty quick with an axe.

Behind him, he could hear the sounds of fighting and men screaming. He was getting close to their original goal, which meant that very shortly he would either be surrounded or have new allies.

The pack was thinning at this point. He had lost count of the dead. The row of bodies marked his path backwards. Suddenly, his cast hit something heavy and he fell, dropping the axe. Instantly, there was a wolf on him. Claws penetrated his chest and fangs dug deep into his shoulder as the wolf took vengeance for its pack-mates.

"None of that!" Miller shouted. The palms of both of his hands shot forward and clapped over the wolf's ears. It howled and rolled off. He caught another wolf by the throat in midair as it tried to attack and snapped its neck with a quick jerk. He let it continue its trajectory, hitting a third wolf. Then, he snatched the axe off the ground and brought it down on the head of the wolf that was still cupping its ringing ears.

He quickly glanced at what he had tripped over. A man in blue lay sprawled out in front of him. Miller did not have time to check if the man was still alive. He was too busy trying to work the axe loose of the wolf's head. His chest was a bloody mess, the bite mark on his shoulder being particularly deep. Looking behind him, he could see four more wolves approaching him tentatively. He chuckled. They could be taught, and he had taught them fear!

The axe was stuck. A trickle of panic crawled up from some dark hidden part of his mind. He grunted with his growing effort but the axe would not budge! He forced down the rising panic. There were only four left. No need for an axe.

The wolves smelled the hint of fear and approached more confidently, foam dripping from their fanged mouths.

"Come on then." Miller abandoned the axe and waved his opponents forward. The first raised a clawed hand, preparing to slash. It had been a tall red haired woman, and was now covered in red fur. None of her clothes had survived the transformation, so Miller had no clue as to who she may have been. He focused only on her advance, readying himself for her blow.

All at once there was a sound like rapid thunder and the wolf's chest exploded. Miller tossed himself flat on the floor as the other three wolves were cut down by what might have been gunfire. Two men dressed in blue appeared from behind him, firing the meanest looking guns he had ever seen. He stared in amazement. What awesome weapons. Of course, man had always been good at finding new ways to kill.

"A survivor!" One of the men shouted. "Sir, are you alright?"

"Aye!" Miller said, grinning at them. "You have fantastic timing!" Without further ado, the axe fell free of the wolf's head with a clunk.

"Wait, did you do all this?" one of them asked. He was a huge man who whistled while surveying Miller's handiwork. Suddenly, the red-haired female leapt up, charging the man, the wounds on its chest already closing. Miller snatched his trusty axe and tossed it from a sitting position. It hit the wolf, splitting its head open. The big man shuddered, staring as the wolf crashed to the ground.

"I suppose that it was my handiwork, yes." Miller grinned.

## Chapter 15 - Lovers

Deceiver – Stream of Passion – Embrace the Storm

Mike was sure that he hadn't been out for more than a few minutes, although in the dark of the hallway, it was impossible to tell. He struggled to his feet, every inch of his body aching with cuts and bruises. It had not been his best day. That was for sure, although, thinking back, it had not been his worst either. Just very close to it.

"It's all right Ann, I'm coming for you," he said aloud, more to convince himself than anything else. He broke into a shambling run, head throbbing with each step. Where to find them?

Passing a stairwell, he paused, hearing voices.

"He asked me to bring her to him." It was Cynthia. Mike stepped into the stairwell as quietly as he could manage. Sticking his head over the railing, he could barely make out the exchange.

"I don't care what he said. This is the one that hurt me!" another voice hissed. Mike couldn't be sure but he thought it might be the demon doctor that had started this whole mess. Unexpectedly, the hospital's emergency lighting snapped on, filling the stairs with red light. Mike quickly ducked his head back. It took him a few moments' concentration to make out their speech again. He caught the demon's voice first.

"The police must have repaired the emergency generator. We'll have to go shortly."

"Mary's pack will keep them at bay for a long time. I must deliver this one."

Mike chanced another look. He could make out Ann's unconscious form at the bottom of the stairs. Cynthia was just barely in view through the doorway, and she had a hand full of Ann's long hair still clutched in her hand. Ann was not moving.

"No, give her to me," the demon hissed. Mike could not see her from his vantage point.

"I cannot disobey..." Cynthia's voice was cut off as a huge black talon snapped around her head and pulled her out of view. Mike took off down the stairs but could not reach Ann before they disappeared. He ran down the stairs to a door and peeked around its frame.

The demon was there, holding Ann upside down by one leg and shaking her.

"Ahhh!" Ann woke up. "What the hell?"

"Wakey, wakey little one," the demon said.

"Vanessa?"

"Oh yes. We finally meet again."

"God, Vanessa, you've really let yourself go. You've gained a ton of weight and your skin is terrible." Ann sounded oddly calm. He was sure that it was a bad idea to make the demon-woman angrier.

"Hah! Witty little thing. Let's see how funny it is when I pop your scrawny head off." Mike stiffened. It was now or never. He hoped a few point blank range hits with the shotgun would scare off the demon, but had no way of knowing for sure. Then, just as he was about to jump out and start blasting, he heard something else.

"Vanessa! You will not touch her." It was a man's voice. Mike stole another quick look and saw the male doctor from earlier that day striding towards the demon.

Keith Malone was a tall, handsome man. He seemed an odd pairing for Ann, who was small and not particularly good-looking. He fearlessly strode up to Vanessa.

"What do you think you're doing? You will not break our laws." With that, he backhanded the demon. Vanessa was thrown up into the air by the force of the blow, dropping Ann. She smashed through ceiling tiles and left a huge gash in one wall as she toppled over. Keith was not done. He walked over to the fallen Vanessa and grabbed her by the throat.

"You will do as you are told, little sister." At his touch, the demon seemed to shrink and fold in on itself. Human flesh appeared around its chest and crawled out over its body. The horns shrunk and vanished, replaced by brown hair. In mere seconds, the demon had fully returned to the very naked form of Dr. Vanessa Black, and was struggling to escape Keith's iron grip.

"Brother, she blinded me. She hurt me," Vanessa hissed.

"Bah! You have already healed." He tossed her aside. He approached Ann, who was struggling to sit up.

"Keith?" she asked meekly.

"It's me Ann, it's really me." He bent over to help her stand. "It's so good to see you again."

"Keith, what's going on here?" Mike was wondering this too. "You look different."

"Oh Ann, I have so much to show you. We've worked so hard to make this surprise for you today. Although," he gave Vanessa another dirty look, "it would have been a much simpler matter had our sister not thrown her little temper tantrum."

Keith walked over to the crumpled form of Cynthia, who had been thrown to the ground. She lay on the floor with her neck broken, eyes staring at her shoulder blades. Keith picked her up and, placing his hands on either side of her head, gave her a tug. Her head snapped back into place with a loud pop. She smiled at him. "Thank you, father," she said.

"Look Ann, it's your friend Cynthia! She was hesitant to join our family at first but now I think she's quite happy here." Cynthia bobbed her head up and down in response, like an overexcited puppy.

"Oh yes, father, very happy."

Mike was pretty sure that this ruled the possibility of any of them being human. He could read the deep sadness in Ann's eyes. Her shoulders drooped and her arms hung limp by her sides. Had she given up? He had to get her out of there.

"Oh Keith, what have they done to you?" Her voice came out as a croak.

"Done to me?" Keith asked. "Done to me? Oh no Ann, it's what I did to them." He threw an arm around Cynthia's shoulder and motioned Vanessa to him, putting his other arm around her. Vanessa gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek. "It's our family, Ann. I made this family for us. It's like we always wanted."

Ann's mouth hung open, stunned.

"What are you talking about?" There was anger in Ann's voice. "I wanted babies with you, the key word being 'wanted,' as in past tense, as in before you dumped me six months ago!"

What was Ann doing?

Keith paused for moment and then smiled. "Of course you're upset. But I have so much more to show you. Come see! You're going to love this!" He shrugged off his posse, waved Ann forward, and marched off down the hall. Both Cynthia and Vanessa stared at her.

"Ok, ok, I'm going." Ann shrugged and followed Keith.

Mike waited until they were out of sight and followed from a safe distance. He watched the four of them walk down the hall, stopping into what Mike could only guess was a large storeroom. He counted to five and then raced to the door and poked his head in. He stifled a gasp as he realized that there were at least thirty people huddled together inside. He recognized Dr. Tyler, who had treated his cuts just a few hours ago. She was bound and gagged, and appeared unconscious. He also recognized the nurse, Mary, who stood guard over some people that Mike guessed were hostages. She looked particularly unhappy with her task.

"See?" Keith began. He pointed to the gathering of people. "All for you. You will be my queen..." He spun back to face Ann.

"Err, what am I supposed to do with them? Start a football team?"

Keith's face fell. "No, silly, they're here for you to eat."

"Eat?"

"Of course," Vanessa put in. "Unless you think one is worthy of joining the family."

Keith put his hand out to Ann. "Join us. Be with me..." he paused dramatically, "forever, my love."

Ann froze, staring at the offered hand. She had no sarcastic remarks left. Mike could see that she was actually considering the offer. Was she really that lonely, that desperate to be with him again? Mike thought back to his wife. Wouldn't he be tempted if he could somehow undo that one terrible night six months ago and be with her again? Tempted? Hell, he would sell his soul. Perhaps that was a poor choice of words.

Ann reached out slowly, and then her eyes fell back to the people restrained in the corner of the room.

"I...I can't," she said. "I loved Keith with all my heart, but you're not him." There was a moment of awkward silence as the three monsters stared at Ann, stunned by her rejection.

"Ahhhhh!" Mary shouted, breaking the silence. She collapsed to her knees. "He is killing them. Killing them! My children!"

Vanessa rushed to her side. "Sister, what is it?"

"That man. That man that came with her!" Mary pointed at Ann. "He's killing my pack. My whole pack! By himself!" Mary sobbed. "My children!"

"Umm," Ann spoke up, her voice regaining its mocking tone. "That would probably have to be Joseph Miller. Apparently he does this for a living."

Mike smiled to himself. He was relieved to hear that Miller was alive and kicking a fair amount of ass. Now, if only he could get Ann out of this, alive and still human.

"What? Who is this Joseph Miller?" Vanessa cried, with such fury that Ann took a step back.

"OK, ok, no need to shout. He says he's a professional monster hunter. Been doing this for long time." Ann shrugged. "He seemed to know his stuff. He managed to take out several of your furry people even with his leg in traction."

"I sent those children to bring you to me! They wouldn't have hurt you!" Keith seemed angry now. "You even shot your good friend Cynthia when I sent her. What's wrong with you?"

There was a sob from Mary's corner. "Gone! He has killed them! So many dead."

"Do you think this Miller is..." Vanessa began. Mike could see the fear creeping into her eyes. "Do you think he might be the Great Hunter?"

"No! Impossible!" Keith said, "There is no way he could find us so quickly." He paused, thinking. "But the name, the name sounds familiar..."

"The great what?" Ann asked. The demons ignored her.

"I say we find this Miller and avenge the pack's death!" Vanessa snarled, "He cannot possibly stand against the three of us."

"Oh, he can and he will," Ann put in. She was trying to sound tough, but failing. Mike thought she should just stick to sarcasm.

"Ann's right," Keith said.

"I am?"

"The ancient one has plagued our race since the dawn of the humans. If we strike him down, he will just come back the next day with a new face. No. It's better to retreat for now and build our strength."

"You coward!" Vanessa yelled, "I say we fight!"

"My sister is right for once," Mary said from her spot on the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He needs to pay for what he did to my children!" she howled. Black scales appeared as her skin stretched tight in demonic growth. Mike turned his eyes away. He had no desire watch yet another gruesome transformation. This was the one that had tried to kiss him earlier. He shivered at the memory. He heard the Mary-demon howl, and had to look.

Mary was a very different looking monster from Vanessa. For one, he could tell that she was female. Although she was at least a foot taller, she kept all the curves that made her so stunning as a human. Now, though, they were just creepy. She still had hair, but it was thick and strangely corded. Her eyes were the black pools. On her back were bat-like wings, ridiculously small in proportion to her demon size.

"I will rip his heart out and feast upon it!"

Mike wondered why they needed to talk like that.

Mary stormed out of the room, heading directly toward him. Mike sprinted down the hall and slid around the next corner like he was stealing first base. He didn't pick himself up off the floor but lay still, trying to control his breathing. After a moment, he crawled over and glanced around the corner, just in time to see both Mary and Vanessa heading into the stairwell and up the stairs. It looked like Miller was about to have his hands full.

He waited until the count of five and dashed back up to the storeroom where he had last seen Ann, only to run headfirst into Keith. Smacking into the man was like hitting a brick wall. Mike bounced back and landed on his ass, once again dropping his shotgun. He was going need to tie that thing on.

He looked up to see both Keith and Ann staring down at him.

"Who is this one?" Keith asked. His voice was low and dangerous. "Is he one of yours?" He had a tight grip on Ann's arm. It looked uncomfortable.

"Mike! What are you doing? Run, you idiot!" Ann shouted at him. Mike pushed himself back with his hands, sliding across the floor. One hand reached the gun, which he snatched and raised to fire. Keith was too fast for him. He smacked the weapon out of Mike's hand and sent it clattering down the hall, out of reach.

"Well now, maybe this is why you are so hesitant to join me. This...human." Keith bent over him and seemed to be sniffing him, as if he was a flower or something.

"Him? It's not because you're a crazy demon feeding off innocent people? It's because of this guy? Keith, I met him like three hours ago. He's just overly heroic. He's a cop. It's his job." Ann tried to break his grip but Keith held her still. "Keith, you're hurting me."

"I'm hurting you? Hurting you? I have done so much for you! I built a family for you. I was creating an empire for you. But you reject me for this, this human!" Ann stared back at him. Mike started crawling very slowly down the hall toward his gun.

"No really, I just met the guy. Honestly, he's not even my type. And how can you be jealous after you dumped me? After I spent all week looking for you? Why didn't you come to me? Hell, you could have just emailed me that you were busy and we could do lunch in a week or so, once you were done enslaving mankind."

"Shut up!" Keith snapped. "I was busy making this," Keith motioned to the hall around him, "something worthy of my queen!"

Mike was nearly at the gun. Ann just had to keep him talking a little longer.

"Next time, maybe just send some flowers!"

"You mock me!"

"Yes! Absolutely I mock you!" Ann was crying again, but her eyes were filled with determination. "I've seen so many horrible things today, so many people dead. Cynthia a monster, that bitch Vanessa, who I always knew you had the hots for, some kind of demon. And sweet little Mary, transformed into some kind of demonic playboy bunny." She sucked in a breath and readied another barrage. "I came here looking for you. At first it was because I thought you had ditched me again, but then because I thought you were in danger. And," she sobbed, "I loved you. The old you. Not this thing you've become. What happened to you, Keith? Is there any small part of the human you were still in there?" There was a long silence as Keith and Ann stared at each other.

Mike dove for the shotgun.

"I am only what you made me to be, Ann," Keith said finally.

Mike was up and charging back at them. Go, go, go!

"What?" Ann said, her voice small. They both turned to face Mike at the same time.

Mike fired his first shot, catching Keith in the belly. Black blood gushed out and he was knocked backward, releasing Ann. Two shots left. Mike pumped the gun and fired a second shot, advancing at a run. This time he hit Keith in the face, throwing him to the floor. One more shot. Keith's body slid to a stop and Mike followed it. Standing above Keith, he put the gun into the remains of his face and pulled the trigger. It made a loud click. He had miscounted!

"Stop!" Cynthia was coming around the corner. He tossed the gun to the side, turned, and ran. Behind him, Keith let out a low gurgle, which was followed by some popping noises. Mike didn't have to look back to know Keith was still alive. Ann stood there, stunned, looking at him. Mike grabbed her by the arm.

"Run!" he shouted. It seemed to bring her to her senses. She sprinted with him.

"Mike, we have to rescue those people!"

"First we have to get away from your ex and the lady who eats people with her tongue!" There was a deafening roar from behind them. Keith was really pissed now.

"Shit, is he still alive?" There was a loud crash and the sound of glass breaking.

"I'm going to say yes. And we've made him very, very angry," Mike yelled back. He threw himself up the stairs two at a time, promising himself that he wouldn't look back.

## Chapter 16 - Mad Scientist, Anyone?

Formula for Fear – Hybrid – Disappear Here

Dr. Larry Conners was mad. As he stood at the side of the road, waiting for what was probably one of the most important meetings of his scientific career, he wrestled with his anger. More accurately it was what should have been one of the most important meetings of his career. Now it was going to be a disaster. To be fair, he was mostly mad at himself for putting his faith in Ann. She had been such a promising young scientist, bordering on brilliant even a year ago. But then her personal life had fallen apart and, with it, her work.

Dr. Renée Dupré had been Larry's mentor many years ago and had helped him a great deal with his funding issues. She had been old then, and must be ancient by now, but was still a leader in her field. When she had sent her sample to Larry for his opinion, he'd seen the opportunity to impress his old teacher. Ann had been given the package and begun the basic work, just as she had been doing for the past two years. She had seemed to be almost finished, just in time for the meeting with Dr. Dupré, when she vanished. She had gone out for lunch the day before and simply not returned. Worse yet, this morning when Larry had gone to check on the sample, which was some type of rare lily, it was gone. All that remained where it had been stored in the refrigerator was some dark black sludge. Now he and Wen Li had to meet Dr. Dupré without Ann there to present her research, and without the original sample. He hoped that she had been meticulous in recording her results in her lab notebook. When Ann did show up, there was going to be quite the reckoning.

Larry glanced up at the blue sky and then down at his watch. The day was cold for spring, but the sun was out in full force, so that if you stood in its light it was almost comfortable. He and Wen had been waiting out in front of the building containing their lab for about ten minutes. Something was going on at the hospital on the other side of the block. A few police cars were parked out front, their lights flashing. Larry's mind registered this, but his attention was focused on the direction from which his guest would soon be appearing.

A white van turned the corner, slowed, and then stopped in front of Larry. Out came the tallest Asian man he had ever seen. The man seemed to unfold himself as he exited the van. He wore a neat black suit and dark glasses that screamed "federal agent." His look was solemn as he shut the door behind him. That changed in an instant, when the man snapped off his glasses and gave both men a warm smile. It instantly made him seem friendly, despite his huge height.

"Hello there. You must be Dr. Larry Conners. I'll have Dr. Dupré out in a second," he said, and began to slide open the large van door.

"I am. And you are?"

"Agent Takahashi is my caregiver these days," said the old woman, as the door slid open. Inside, the considerable frame of Renée Dupré, almost completely unchanged with time, could be seen. She was sitting in a large, complicated-looking wheelchair. The woman was oddly broad, with outsized hands and a wide face. Her eyes were brown, almost to the point of blackness. Most of her figure was hidden by the many, many blankets heaped on top of her. "It seems that your federal government likes to make sure I'm quite well taken care of."

A ramp extended automatically from the van and down the wheelchair came, giving the old woman a bump as the wheels hit the sidewalk.

"Conners, time has not been kind to you." She looked Larry up and down, her eyes landing almost with an audible thump on his cane. Larry tried to smile.

"No, I guess that it hasn't. It apparently hasn't affected you at all though. You look exactly the same as you did twenty years ago."

"And I see that you are still a suck-up." The words were cruel but there was a lightening to her features which led Larry to believe that she was trying to be funny.

"Now, I believe we have business to attend to inside," she continued. She gave Agent Takahashi a hard look. "John, I'm with an old friend. Why don't you stay with the van?" She did not wait for his response. "Conners, let's see this lab."

Larry looked from the agent to the old woman. There was an odd tension between the two.

"Of course. This way." Larry waved her to the front door.

Out of the corner of his eye, Larry saw Wen step up to the tall Japanese man and ask the agent, in a quiet undertone, "Why is she under federal protection?" John Takahashi looked him in the face, and then flashed that easy grin.

"Well, I'll tell you this much. It's not because of her sparkling personality."

*****

In the elevator, Larry introduced Wen to Dr. Dupré.

"This is your only lab assistant at the moment?" she asked. She gave Wen the same long, cold stare that she had given Larry only moments before.

"Yes, at the moment. Wen is a PhD student here at CMDNJ, quite bright." Larry nodded with the compliment and Wen responded with a thankful smile.

"At the moment?"

"Well, I did have another young woman working for me but I recently had to let her go." By "recently," Larry meant the next time he saw her. Dr. Dupré grunted something under her breath that Larry didn't make out.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, nothing at all. Just clearing my throat."

The elevator doors opened and Larry stepped out.

"Just over this way," he said, leading the wheelchair and Wen out into the hallway. He took the next right and stepped through the door of the lab. "And this is home." He smiled at Dr. Dupré as she entered the room. She ignored the smile, craning her neck around to Wen as he entered.

"Would you mind closing that door behind you, dear? There is a bit of a draft."

"Of course, doctor," Wen responded, shutting the heavy door behind him and making his way past the wheelchair to join Larry.

"Now, if you don't mind if we cut to the chase, I would like to see the lily."

Larry and Wen exchanged worried glances. Larry gave a nod, and Wen went to retrieve the empty container.

"Well, you see, there seems to be some..." As Larry turned to face the old woman, he noticed her pulling a large gun out from under one of her blankets. The sight was so out of place that he simply stopped talking, staring as the woman aimed and fired at Wen. The gun made almost no noise but the bullet must have been huge. Wen's head exploded like a water balloon, splattering his brains in every direction. His body remained standing for a second in mid-step, blood pumping out of the stump of his neck. Then it collapsed to the floor. Larry screamed.

"Hmm...human," said Dr. Dupré, "That's very disappointing. I was sure that he was the one." Then, the gun was pointing at Larry.

"My God," Larry stammered at her, "Why..." He couldn't finish the question, and trailed off, staring dumbly at the woman.

"Oh, it was nothing personal," she said. Then, pulling off the rest of the blankets, she stood and stretched. "Well, I guess it is rather personal, in a way. Nothing against your student. You see, I didn't think he was human. Good God, how I hate that chair. I can't wait until I can ditch this old lady routine."

Larry caught his breath back again for a second. "But how...why?" His brain was working its way out of shock and into pure panic.

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Larry, since I know you won't be telling anyone." She walked over to him and gave him a hard shove, knocking him to the floor.

"How old do I look to you? Go ahead. Guess."

"What? Why should I care how old you are?"

She poked him with the gun, the tip of its long silencer still hot. "Just guess," she said, her voice low and menacing.

"75?"

"Not even close." Dr. Dupré seemed to be working herself up for a show. "I'm 138 years old. Not so bad-looking for the world's oldest living woman, right?" Larry did not respond. It was, of course, impossible. She was surely insane.

"Does it sound crazy? No, it's true. And oh, it gets better." She grinned, and then seemed to reconsider. "I'll spare you the details. Let us just say I've been working on my current project for a very, very long time and now it seems to have gone slightly askew. A shame really, but it turns out that even we of the Cursed still can get a bit senile with age."

The Cursed?

"What would you say, my dear student, if I told you all the stories of monsters were true? What if I told you that werewolves existed, and vampires, and demons? Why, pretty much every story ever told about things that go bump in the night has been based on some truth." She stared hard at Larry, waiting for an answer.

At last he picked up his cue. "I would say you're pretty crazy." His response was weak but it was hard to talk at all with that big gun pointing at him.

Dr. Dupré coughed out a laugh. "Ha! Of course you say that. It's been a hundred years since they walked this earth. Much longer than that since they did so in any large number. Too long for anyone to remember."

"So they went extinct?" Larry asked. He had to keep her talking, there had to be a way out of this.

"You might say that. But you're missing the best part. What if I told you that I had found a way to bring them back?" She seemed to bounce with excitement.

"Why...why would you want to do such a thing?"

"Oh, that's a long story. Let's just say I did it for love. Anyway, amazing creatures really. If my theory is right, they can rebuild themselves completely from just one single cell, much like a starfish. Of course, it's less of a cell and more like a virus."

"You mean werewolves?"

"No, silly boy, we're talking about demons."

Oh, of course, how silly that was.

"Still, the plan wasn't to have them just run around New Jersey unchecked. They tend to, well, eat people, and that's never really a good thing. Now, since my 'help' seems to have wandered off, I'm here cleaning up my own mess."

Larry shook his head. "I'm not following you. Why come here? Why kill Wen? What did he have to do with your monsters?"

Dr. Dupré let out a long sigh. "I don't remember you being this slow when you were my student. The sample, Conners, the white lily. It's actually a very clever delivery system."

"For what?"

"For the demon seed!" She said it as if talking to a child about the number ten coming after nine.

"The what?"

"The demon seed. You see, demons require a host. Preferably a human one."

"So the plan was to infect me and my lab assistants with some sort of disease?"

"Not a disease, a life form. One that hasn't walked the planet in a hundred years. One that will change science as we know it."

"A life form that eats humans?"

"Well, among other things, yes. I didn't say it was the perfect plan. You have to believe it was nothing personal. You are going to die, but it's for a very good cause. Sadly though, before you go, I am going to need the name of that other lab assistant. She has to be the one."

It was Ann she was after, but Larry couldn't begin to imagine why. Dr. Dupré moved closer still until something caught her eye. Guessing at what she saw, Larry tried once more to distract her.

"So you kill us all in the name of science?"

She ignored him. "Ah ha!" The old woman picked up a notebook from the counter. "The lab journal of one Ann Melakh." She held it triumphantly up to Larry, and then turned solemn. "No, this isn't about science. It's about my husband."

The cough of the silencer was the last sound Larry heard.

## Chapter 17 - Out About

Sanguine – Ars Arcana – The Savage Tongue

Miller leaned hard against the wall. Most of his minor scratches had already stopped bleeding, but his leg ached, and the bite on his shoulder was going to take a while to heal. One of the two soldiers was talking into a little black box. Something about finding a survivor, which meant him, he guessed. It was something he was good at, surviving. What he wanted was to rest and let his body finish healing. Another two days maybe, that's all it would take. But there were more people in here, alive. There were still Mike and Ann to find. He hoped that they had run away and were safe somewhere, but he knew that Ann would be stubborn about finding Keith. Miller was sure that that would not end well. Perhaps Samson could talk some sense into her.

He had taken the time to finish off the last of the wolves. His axe, now stained completely black with blood, had quickly made sure that they would not be attacking anyone else. The soldiers did not seem willing to listen to him, although they did not stop him from finishing his gruesome task.

Just then, he heard a noise from down the hall, something like scratching, a steady rhythm. Like claws on stone. Miller knew the sound well. The parents have come out to join them.

"Sirs, if I could have your attention for just a moment. We are about to have guests. I suggest you ready those fine weapons."

"What?" the black soldier asked. "More of these furry things?"

"Oh I don't think so. Those don't tend to make any noise. No, these are much bigger and meaner."

The man gulped and checked his gun. His companion looked a little less impressed but stared down the hallway nevertheless. A moment passed, then another. The sound was slowly becoming louder.

"I do hear something," the second soldier said. Then, from around a corner stepped a female demon. It was certainly not the biggest he had seen. Oddly enough, she still had a mostly human shape.

"What the hell is that?"

"I think it's a woman with...wings?"

"Lads, you are going to want to shoot that. I suggest aiming for her head. They do not die easily unless you can get that head all the way off." Both men glared back at Miller.

"Just a suggestion. I do this often, you see."

"Listen freak, you and I are going to have a long talk once we get you out of here."

"Less talk, more bang bang." Miller gestured to the demon. He readied his axe but eyed the guns with envy.

"Freeze!" said a soldier.

"I highly doubt that that is going to work," Miller sighed. The demon stopped advancing. "Oh, well, would you look at that." Its chest seemed to grow as it sucked in air, and then it opened its mouth and screamed. All three men dropped their weapons and clamped their hands over their ears.

A Banshee! Oh, how he hated these creatures. They made his ears ring for weeks. Still, he had an easy solution that he was dying to try out. He just needed to get to one of those fancy quick-fire guns. Of course, this was easier said than done. He walked forward slowly, approaching the first man. He knew his inner ear was not to be trusted and it took all of his focus to continue moving in a straight line and not stumble. With each step, the noise grew louder. His teeth rattled. His ears bled. Two more steps. His vision began to blur and grow red. Were his eyes bleeding? One more step. He lowered his hands from his ears and reached for the gun, noting how slick they were from his blood. He fumbled briefly but managed to get a good grip on it. The gun fired silently as he pulled the trigger. The kick was amazing, making it impossible to aim. Miller tried again, bracing the gun on his shoulder and firing. Again, the kickback was too much for him to control, but this time at least one round hit the demon in the chest.

Air hissed out of it, and the scream stopped.

"Thank the Lord." Miller stood up and took a proper second to compose himself. The last shot had bruised his shoulder, so this time he placed the gun against his right breast, and got a good strong grip. He held the trigger down. The demon was readying for another yell when the first bullet hit it in its right leg. Miller moved the stream of bullets up, hitting the creature's belly, chest, and, at last, head.

Black blood exploded out of the demon as each bullet hit, making the creature appear to dance a jig. Finally, the gun clicked empty and both the demon and Miller collapsed to the ground.

Miller's world was pain. His ears rang out with a single note that droned on and on. His jaw hurt and his vision was blurry. He took a few seconds to wipe the blood from his face and then inspected a nearby soldier. Amazingly, he was still alive and breathing steadily, but blood was streaking out of every opening on his face. He would live but probably never hear again.

Miller crawled to his axe. He wanted to finish the demon here and now, and then rest for a few moments before trying to find Ann and Mike. Using the axe to steady himself, he again got to his feet, cursing the crippled leg that made him so slow.

His hearing had not recovered, so he could not possibly have heard the approach of the huge demon that had once been Dr. Vanessa Black. He heard only ringing as she wrapped a giant talon around him, but he sure as hell felt it. The demon hit like a tidal wave, sweeping him away.

He still had the axe, but it was pinned to his side and he was far too weak to break free. The demon brought him up, inches away from her face. She was shouting something, and in fact seemed rather distressed. He shrugged.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot understand a word you say. Your sister there has broken me." He nodded to the still form of the banshee. The response was full of rage but still completely unheard. The demon lifted Miller over her head and prepared to smash him against the floor. Instead, something struck the demon in the chest, forcing her to step back. He could not hear the gunfire, but felt the force of it. More of those rifles. Brilliant things.

Miller was dropped like a child's broken plaything. Pain lanced through him as he landed face-first on the floor. He felt his collarbone crack and his vision flashed with blue spots. For a brief second, darkness took him.

Then he was back, watching the boots of several soldiers stream past him. He wanted to thank every one of them for saving him a trip back into the darkness. Perhaps he could buy them all a drink at the local tavern when this was done. Did they still make mead? At the moment, he would settle for ale. Even water would do.

He lay still for a long time, trying to gather the strength to get back to work. It did not come. Pain rolled though him in waves, each one just a mite weaker than the one before it. He needed time to heal. Just a few minutes.

The building shook him back to wakefulness. He could hear something. The single note humming in his ears was already beginning to fade. He heard more gunfire. Men screaming. Debris was everywhere. He looked up to find the soldiers and demons both gone. In the distance, however, he could see Mike and Ann running in his direction. Thank the Lord, they had made it. Ann ran past him but Mike stopped and waved her back. He was saying something but Miller could not make it out. He shook his head no. Samson glanced back down the hall, then back at Miller. Ann was suddenly above him looking concerned. She was a good lass. Dirty mouth, but brave. He liked that. Far too skinny though.

Mike and Ann each grabbed one of Miller's arms and began to drag him forward as his world faded away.

*****

Ann and Mike had seen the men battling the demon. It appeared to be an entire SWAT team. Vanessa had been about to toss something at them but had been struck by machine gun fire. The guns did not seem terribly effective against the giant demon woman but she did drop whatever she had been carrying and step back.

Ann had told Mike that the main exit of the hospital was straight ahead, right beyond the huge angry demon lady, who had demonstrated a strong dislike for Mike's traveling companion. They had been about to turn and try another exit when the gunfire caught their attention.

"Sounds like back-up has finally arrived," Mike muttered from his hiding place around the corner.

"About time," Ann agreed.

The bodies of the wolves were everywhere. Most were missing their heads, while some were still attached, but split like ripe pumpkins.

"Damn, Miller did all this with an axe?" Mike whispered, clearly impressed.

"The man loves his work," Ann whispered back.

Some distance in front of them, Vanessa backed away from the machine gun fire, covering her face. She picked up something and began to drag it behind her. It was the demon Mary, looking quite the worse for wear. Her face and chest had been torn apart by gunfire. Miller's work? Maybe the SWAT team's? Impossible to tell. Vanessa squatted down and then jumped straight up, smashing through the ceiling and disappearing onto the floor above. The police officers were driven back as the ceiling caved in.

"Now!" They ran forward, before the dust had even begun to settle. In front of him, Mike could see the afternoon sunlight streaming in through what was left of the front lobby.

As he ran to the exit, one of the bodies on the ground moved. It was Miller! Mike skidded to a halt next to him. "Ann! Wait!" Miller looked terrible. His face was covered in blood, and his neck seemed to be at an odd angle. He was alive though, his strong blue eyes focusing on Mike as he moved closer.

Miller tried to raise an arm, as if saying hello, but it flopped limply back to his side.

"Miller, are you alright?" Stupid question. Mike noticed the blood coming from his ears. "Can you hear me?" Miller shook his head slowly. "Ann, help me drag him out of here."

The ground shook again. Mike had a feeling their time was running short. He wasn't sure why, but it was clear in his mind that he had to get Ann away from here.

"God, is he still alive?" Ann asked.

"Yep. He's supposed to heal fast right? Isn't that what he was bragging about when I first met him?"

"Maybe." Ann glanced back nervously the way they had come. She grabbed an arm and began to pull Miller's body towards the exit. Mike followed suit, stopping for a second to recover Miller's bloody axe from the floor in front of them.

They dragged Miller forward as fast as they could manage. Wreckage and bodies were everywhere. There had been a hell of a fight. After the carnage, the sunlight might have been the most beautiful thing Mike had ever seen. They approached the front doors.

At the doors were several members of the SWAT team, who raised their weapons the moment they saw them.

"Freeze!" one man shouted, the edge of panic in his voice clear to Mike's ears.

"Do as they say, Ann," Mike whispered, "I imagine these guys are a bit jumpy."

"And we aren't?" Ann shot back, raising her hands. Mike laid Miller down on the floor and followed. Two men approached, assault rifles raised.

"Officer Mike Samson," Mike said, "If you let me reach into my pocket I can show you my badge." At the sound of Mike's voice, the men seemed to relax a bit.

"You look human."

"Thanks," Ann quipped, "we try."

"We are not..." How should he put it? "Infected," Mike tried. "We're survivors. There may be a few more back there. We could only carry our friend here." Mike pointed to Miller's still body. One of the men, a tag on his chest reading "Johnson," gave Miller a quick once-over.

"This man needs a hospital..." he said, catching himself and then lamely adding, "Another hospital...medical attention."

"Yes, but I believe this man and this young lady may have information as to what's going on in this building," Mike responded. He glanced back at Ann, trying to look reassuring. "Of course, I don't think the lady is at any fault. We just need to get them someplace safe away from here, where maybe we can work out some answers."

Johnson looked at Mike and the other two in his party. "Ok, we can bring them over to the precinct. Do you think this is a containment issue? Biohazard, I mean?" Johnson asked.

"I don't think so." If he was wrong he would be really screwed by now. "I'm not sure...There's another group of survivors downstairs. If you can get a team of men together, well-armed, I can lead you to them."

"Mike, no!" Ann cried. "You can't go back there. Come with us. You can't go back down there with those...things."

Mike again turned to face her. He could tell she was breaking. Whatever last bit of strength had been holding her together was dwindling.

"I can't, Ann. You were right earlier. I can't just leave. It's my duty to help those people down there, to work out the truth, to see what's going on here. I might be the only one that can now." Mike glanced over at Miller. His eyes were still open but the sharp focus from before was gone.

"No, I was wrong," Ann sobbed, "Sometimes," she fell to her knees, "Sometimes the truth is so much worse. Come with us. You've done enough. Please," she pleaded. It was tempting.

Mike bent down to look at her eye-to-eye. It was funny, he had only known Ann for a few hours but they already had a tight bond. They had been through hell together.

"I can't do that Ann. Look," Mike reached into his back pocket and dug a business card out of his wallet. "This is my contact info. When we get through this, I'm going to come looking for you. We'll work out what's really going on. Me and you. I promise, OK?" Ann sniffled and tried to put on the sarcastic smile she used when she wanted to sound tough. She couldn't quite pull it off, but managed a weak "OK" and took the card. She looked paler and was shaking quite a bit.

They were separated then. Mike and the man named Johnson went to find his superior. Ann, with the help of two other SWAT members, brought Miller out to a squad car. Mike didn't pay attention to the car or where it went. He was focused on getting up the nerve to go back into the hospital and rescue those people. It was no small task.

Captain Habermathy was the man in charge. Mike knew the face, but had never spoken to him. The Captain nodded to him as Mike approached.

"You Samson?" he asked.

"Yes sir."

"You called this in?"

"I did, although I'm still not sure what to call it."

"Any idea what the hell is going on here?"

Mike ran it over possible answers in his mind. You see, sir, there are these demons that are reborn every couple hundred years that take over people's bodies, and, oh yeah, eat people. Mike didn't think it was the way to go.

"Not sure sir. People inside seem to be infected with some sort of disease. Makes them extremely violent." That was a start. Was it lying if the truth was this crazy? "There are people down in the basement that are not infected, but guarded by," Mike paused, "some extremely dangerous people."

Habermathy gave Mike a strong look. It was clear the Captain wasn't completely sure what to make of Mike's story.

"I can believe the dangerous part. I've lost contact with almost every officer that's stepped through the front door. What can you tell me about the inside?"

"It's a madhouse sir. Bodies everywhere. We searched the first and second floors ourselves and didn't find any other survivors, but the group in the basement is large and some may be hiding higher up."

"Are these other survivors hostages? What do these 'extremely dangerous people' want with them?"

Mike didn't hesitate. "Food, sir. They plan to eat them."

The captain just stopped, stunned. Mike didn't blame him. But while he had the guy on the ropes, he might as well finish him off.

"Captain, there is one other thing. There are things inside that I can only describe as monsters. I don't know if that's how this infection works or what. I know they used to be people, doctors and nurses, but they aren't anymore. I know it's hard to believe..."

The captain seemed to recover. "Less hard to believe than you might think. You're not the first person to talk to me about monsters today."

Mike let out a little sigh of relief. He had expected to be called crazy. Johnson reappeared by Mike's side, passing him a bulletproof vest.

"Here, this might help," he said.

"Thanks."

"OK, you and Johnson here will push a second wave into the building. Get to those survivors and then get out. I've already called the National Guard in on this and the FBI. At some point very soon, things are going to get out of our control. Until then we need to save as..."

He was cut off by sudden screams from the front door. Three officers dashed out in a full run. The last one out the door only made it a few feet before bursting into white flames. The noise that came from the burning man was drained of humanity. It only lasted seconds before the man stopped running, crumbling into a pile of charred bone.

Everyone seemed to freeze in place, horrified.

"Good God!" someone said. It may even have been Mike. He wasn't sure. Then, the front doors to the hospital exploded, sending glass and metal flying in all directions. Something large, black, and snake-like was suddenly in front of them. It had a huge head like that of an alligator and the body of a snake. Two thick arms jutted out at its sides. It coiled and leapt into the air, unfolding massive red wings. Mike was sure that it was another of the Fallen, and based on the two large bleeding gaps in its trunk, it was Keith. Mike's shotgun had left its mark after all.

For a moment, it hovered above them all like a dragonfly on steroids, and then spit a trail of clear fluid from its mouth, which splashed out in an arc through the officers.

Mike was one of the first to recover. "Don't let it touch you!" He grabbed Johnson's arm as the spray covered a car in front of them. Several drops hit the captain's back as he jumped aside. There was a long pause as nothing happened.

"Did it just piss on us?" Johnson asked.

Suddenly, flames burst from everything that the fluid had touched. The car, less than ten feet away from Mike, exploded into a ball of fire, tossing the three men into the air.

For several moments there was mass confusion. People were screaming and running. Some were on fire and others had been thrown to the ground by the explosion. Someone had the good sense to shoot at the demon. Mike, for his part, was winded. His ears rang from the explosion and he could feel new burns on his arms. Johnson was trying to help him up. The nearby screams made any sort of communication between the two men impossible. Johnson had him and was pulling him away from something. Getting to his feet, Mike managed to glance over and see the captain, completely engulfed in flames. Thrashing about blindly, his flesh was dissolving.

"Jesus," Mike stammered. He had thought Vanessa's transformation was the most terrifying sight a man could see! Turned out there was always room for improvement.

Above, the demon darted forward with impressive speed, ignoring the chaos below. Apparently, it had someplace to be. Mike had one good guess where that was. It still wanted Ann. But why?

Pandemonium swarmed as Mike watched the form of the monster disappear from sight. Someone was attempting to extinguish the flaming car behind him. Several officers were firing guns at where the demon had been. Johnson was trying to say something.

"What?" Mike asked.

"That thing will light up the city. We have to stop it."

Mike didn't answer for a long moment. The truth of what he was going to have to do dawned on him slowly.

"No. You need to go rescue the hostages. They're down in the basement. First stairwell, make a right, big storage area. You can't miss it." Mike began to walk forward. He stopped at a nearby police car that was still in one piece. Someone had left a shotgun on the hood.

"What are you going to do?" Johnson asked.

"I know where that thing is going and I think I know the one man who might be able to stop it. Besides, there are more of those things in the hospital." Mike eyed a motorcycle a few yards away. It was far enough from the fray that he could get it out of here quickly. He dashed over to it and found the key still in the ignition. The bike came alive with a growl. He gave Johnson one last look over his shoulder. "Good luck, Johnson."

"You too," Johnson said. "You're going to need it."

*****

Ann wept. Here, in the relative safety of the squad car, the events of the last twenty-four hours finally caught up with her. She grieved for all the good people who had died in the hospital, and for Keith and Cynthia. Even if they still were alive as the empty puppets of some ancient evil, it was a far worse fate than death.

She had insisted on sitting in the passenger seat, putting on a strong act for the officer driving her to the station. He seemed relieved to get away from the action. Miller was sprawled across the back seat, muttering to himself. The "immortal" was in bad shape, but the constant jumble of words pouring out of his mouth told Ann he was still breathing. Once Mike was away and the car safely on the road, she had collapsed into a whimpering puddle. She had earned it.

Ann thought the name of the police officer driving the car was Carl. He was just a kid, younger than herself. He tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, which she did not reject or acknowledge. Then, his sudden swearing brought her out of her trance.

"What the hell is that?"

Ann's head snapped up. Through the back window, she could make out a demon winging its way toward them. She hadn't thought it possible but this one was even uglier than the last. It had the body of a snake, and looked almost like the dragons in Chinese parades. It slithered as it flew on crimson wings. It was catching up with them fast.

"Lizzie always told me he was a snake."

"What?" Officer Carl stammered, panic making his voice squeak.

"I think it's my ex. You'd better floor it." Carl was already on it, the squad car leaping forward, sirens coming to life to warn the traffic ahead of them.

"Oh my God!" the policeman shouted, but continued to stay focused on getting them out of there as quickly as possible.

"Miller!" Ann pounded on the wall of Plexiglas that separated the front and back of the car. "We need you!" Miller seemed to look at her then, the blue eyes focusing for a second.

"Who is Andres Soliz?" Miller stammered, a look of confusion on his face.

Desperation boiled up in Ann. "Focus, you jackass." She pounded on the glass. The force of her blow caused a small crack to appear. "What?" she asked, eyeing her handiwork. How had she done that? The car jerked hard to the right, snapping her attention back to the situation, and tossing her into the door. It jumped down a side street, tires screeching.

The demon took the corner as well but misjudged the space a bit, smashing its wings into a hot dog cart on the side of the road. The beast spun up into the air, then arced back down, bouncing on the ground, until it skidded to a stop.

"Yes!" Ann shouted, "Apparently he can't corner to save his life! Nice driving!"

"Thanks." Carl did not look at her, but continued to put as much distance between him and the demon as possible. "How did it find us so fast?"

Ann shrugged. "No idea." She continued scanning the sky. Then she noticed Miller staring at her. His voice was weak when it came.

"Ann? Where are we?"

"You finally back with us Miller?"

"Aye. I woke up bouncing off this clear wall between us. What is this?" He tapped on the wall.

"We're in a police car, heading to safety." She hoped that was true. "Someone was following us." Her eyes lifted to the sky to give Miller the clue as to 'who' she meant.

"They could be after me," Miller said. "Are we inside some sort of carriage?"

"It's back!" Carl yelled.

Sure enough, the flying snake-demon was diving out of the clouds again. Ann noticed that it had two spindly arms. Its speed was incredible. "Turn!" she shouted.

Carl weaved the car back and forth instead, which didn't help. The demon smashed into the roof of the car.

*****

Mike had no problem following the beast. He weaved through traffic quickly. This was his city and he knew every last street.

The demon suddenly dove down to street level. Mike could guess why. It must have spotted the police car carrying Ann. Cutting hard, he took a right turn the wrong way down a one-way street. He nearly ran head first into a minivan, just barely missing it. He ended up on the sidewalk, forcing an old man to dive out of his way.

At the next corner he cut left, just in time to see the demon take a right. Mike gunned the throttle and charged after it. He heard a loud crash and a howl as the monster hit something big. As he rounded the next corner, leaning the bike far too low in order to make the turn at speed, he saw the beast shoot back up into the air, vanishing. Ahead, he made out the flashing lights of the police car.

He noticed a hot dog cart that had been launched into the storefront behind it. People were rushing out, pointing to the sky and helping others up. It must have been what the demon had hit. Demon Stopped by Hot-Dog Vendor. Now that was a headline.

Maintaining his breakneck pace, he reached the end of the street, taking yet another right. The police car was moving fast, but he had it in sight now. If he could catch up, he would...well, he would do something.

He followed the car through more turns, attempting to make up the distance. The demon seemed to fall out of the sky in front of him, throwing its wings out for a moment before hitting the ground and leaping forward at an awesome speed. The car weaved left and right but the demon sprang onto the roof, smashing the siren and rear window in the process. The suspension of the car bottomed out for a moment, throwing sparks and slowing the car down.

Mike had the bike going full out and finally started to catch up. He slid the shotgun out from the saddle bag. He would need to get very close and be particularly lucky for this to do any good. Luck wasn't really his strong point.

Mike inched closer to the car, trying to avoid both the swinging tail of the demon and the weaving police car itself. The demon had smashed through the driver's side window and was reaching inside. By some miracle, Mike managed to pull to its side. He raised the gun up to the demon's head and said "Hey ugly, remember me?" He pulled the trigger. The left side of the demon's face exploded into black pulp, taking the left eye and a good part of the jaw with it.

Of course, this was not a wise move. Unfortunately, unlike what the action movies Mike had always loved suggested, firing a shotgun one-handed while driving a motorcycle at high speed was not a safe or practical maneuver. The recoil from the gun was enough to jerk him hard to the left, which cut the wheel right, directing the motorcycle into the side of the police car.

This sent Mike forward over the handlebars, over the hood of the police car, and onto the very hard concrete. In the flash of time that the fall took, Mike only had time for one thought. A helmet!

Then, it was over.

*****

A black clawed hand burst through the driver's-side window, showering Carl and Ann with glass. It went right for Carl's chest, cutting huge gashes in his flesh. The young officer screamed but held on to the wheel. He was weaving madly, trying to shake the monster off the car. Ann dove for the demon's arm, trying to pull it off Carl. She noticed that they were slowing down but couldn't worry about that. The demon had too good of a grip on Carl's chest. To his credit, he kept on driving, screaming wildly in pain and fear.

Suddenly, Ann noticed a motorcycle pulling alongside of them, the rider wearing torn jeans and a black vest. Mike?

It was Mike Samson, playing hero. He had a shotgun and was pointing it toward where the demon's head should have been. The gun went off and two things happened. Mike's motorcycle hit the side of the car, launching him forward, and the demon was blown off the top of the car. Ann grabbed the wheel to stop the car from hitting Mike. Carl slammed on the brakes and Ann was thrown forward against the dashboard. The car slid to a stop, maybe fifty yards beyond the still body of Mike Samson and the twitching, screaming demon.

It took a few seconds for the earth to stop spinning. Then she heard a familiar voice.

"Ann!" It was Miller. "Ann, you have to get away. Let me out, I can slow it down." Ann sat up, now in Carl's lap.

"You ok?" she asked the officer. But he was about as far from "okay" as he could be. Empty eyes stared back. Carl was dead. His chest was crushed and blood poured out of his mouth. For a moment, she stared at the latest innocent person who had died helping her.

"Ann. Please, for God's sake, woman. Help me out."

Her response started low but rose as rage overtook her. "No. No one else dies today. Except for that thing!" She pointed at the demon, still howling in pain and holding its face with its two clawed hands. It was a very human-looking pose. "I'm sorry about this, officer." Ann unsnapped Carl's seat belt, popped the door open and pushed the lifeless body out. "Miller, hold on to something!" She snapped the seat belt back on herself and gave the car some gas. She drove about 100 yards forward, braked hard, and made a quick three-point turn. She was now facing the demon again, who seemed to be coming to its senses. It noticed Mike's body on the ground in front of it and slithered over, lifting him up into the air. Ann wasn't sure if Mike was alive or dead, but there was no way that thing was getting him.

"Hands off!" She slammed the gas pedal down and the car was off.

"Ann, don't!" Miller made one last protest.

The demon didn't seem to notice as Ann approached. A large tentacle-like tongue slowly emerged from its jaw, wrapping itself around Mike's neck. Ann alternated between watching the speedometer and lining up her weapon. Ann, Demon Slayer. It had a nice ring to it. The car hit forty-five miles per hour before the demon noticed it. Its tongue went slack and its remaining eye turned on Ann. Its jaw loosened a little in surprise, and then the car hit it dead on.

The demon's snake body collapsed around the car's mass of metal. The head of the beast slammed down on the hood of the car, and a second later seemed to be sucked under it. The back end of the car launched into the air and it flipped over, landing on its roof and skidding forward several feet. Ann braced her hands on the ceiling.

In a moment, all was silent. Hanging upside down in the car, Ann slowly looked around.

"Ouch," Miller's voice came from the back seat, "This has not been an enjoyable day."

Ann laughed. "I hope that hurt, you son of a bitch!" She howled a victory cry.

"Yes," a new voice said, "Yes, quite a bit, actually." It was low and hard to make out but Ann knew it was Keith's. The demon ripped the door off the hinges and grabbed her with both hands.

Ann managed to scream just once before she was pulled out of the car.

## Chapter 18 - Fallen Down

Immaculate Crucifixion – Juno Reactor – Gods & Monsters

Panic, anger, and fear no longer filled Ann's heart. She was way past that. Now she felt an odd acceptance. She was not going to make it through this day alive.

She felt terrible. She was too weak to struggle in Keith's grip, not that it would have been wise to do so. His touch was hot, like he was feverish. Or maybe that was just how demons felt. They flew far above the streets of Newark, the sun high in the early afternoon sky. The view was quite nice, even if the circumstances of the little trip were not. She hoped Mike was okay. And Miller, although, from the sound of it, he was always okay.

Keith released her and for a moment, she again knew fear as she fell several feet to the roof of a building. She struck the surface hard and for a second, the world dimmed. Recovering, she tried to sit up, but her head was pounding too much. She had to lie down to keep from vomiting.

She thought she was hearing drums but realized it was her blood pounding through her ears, so loudly that it hurt. There was a bubbling noise from her right but she could not turn her head to see what it was. After a moment, Keith asked, "Why do you torture me like this?"

"Me, torture you?" Ann said weakly. It hurt to talk. Actually, it just hurt in general.

"Yes! I have done everything to please you. Everything to make my sire proud, to make her join me as my queen."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ann said. She was distracted by a tightness in her belly. It seemed about to explode.

"You! You created me! You brought me into this world and then you rejected me!"

"What? I did no such thing," she groaned. Suddenly, the tightness seemed to be relaxing, her muscles uncoiling.

"You lie!" Keith yelled. The pain was fading, but it felt like she was stretching. She moaned, again trying to sit up. She had more success this time and managed to pull herself up to face Keith. He was human-shaped again but still had the blast marks from Mike's shotgun. His face was a twisted black mess and a good section of his chest had been torn open. One good eye stared back at her.

"Keith. You're confused. That woman, Vanessa, she did something to you. Made you into this."

"Hah, my little sister did no such thing. Although she has been jealous of you since I sired her." A wet choking sound came out of his ruined face, which Ann assumed was a chuckle. "You honestly don't know, do you? You don't know what you are," he continued, becoming serious. "You are sick, just like little Jamie was."

"Jamie?" Ann thought back, she remembered a young intern by that name. He had started working at the hospital at about the time that Ann and Keith had broken up. Ann hadn't seen him in a long while, but that was not unexpected. Interns rotated in and out of the hospital. "What about him?"

"He's ill. Sometimes he still thinks he's human. Other times he's a mindless beast." Keith sounded downright grave at this point, concern for the young man in his voice. "I think the humans have done something to us or themselves, to help resist our seed." The pieces suddenly fell into place in Ann's head. The thing in the basement. That was Jamie.

"Your seed?" It felt like Ann's skin was getting too tight. She slid out of her coat, which was drenched with her sweat, and tried to stand.

"Our seed, Ann. You are one of us. The oldest of us."

"What? You're crazy..." She was on her feet now, her body shaking from the effort. She took a step away, but her mind was spinning. She remembered what Vanessa had first said to her, "The law doesn't allow me to kill you."

"Join our family," Keith had said. She had been compelled to take his offer. What was going through her mind? There had been all the dreams, the black scales and drums. She could hear the drums now, the blood thrumming though her ears. Good God, it wasn't possible, was it? Miller had said Bill was as human as Mike was. He had made no mention of her. Did he know?

Ann felt something rip on her arm, and her flesh tore away, revealing white scales. "No, it can't be," Ann muttered under her breath. How was this possible?

"See?" Keith's ruined faced turned up with a smile. "You begin to see the truth."

"No!" Ann stumbled back to the ground as her spine stretched forward. She felt the flesh around her stomach give way. "God no, this can't be real." Her shoulders spread apart, tearing both flesh and the cloth of her shirt. One hand suddenly doubled in size, the skin snapping away.

"No, I won't let this be true." Ann struggled to crawl forward.

"You cannot deny what you are," Keith said. "Join your family. Come to where you belong."

Ann was silent for moment as she dragged her shifting body forward. One of her sneakers popped open to free a clawed foot. She saw only one way to end this nightmare. "I will not become a monster," she said as she pulled herself up to the edge of the roof.

She had been right. She was not going to live through this day. With one long final stare at Keith, she pushed herself over the edge of the building.

Keith screamed and leapt forward, but was far too late. She closed her eyes as she dropped toward the ground, seventeen stories below, the air ripping through her few remaining strands of hair.

*****

Miller finally came to his senses and freed himself from the wreck of twisted metal. It took him several moments to gain the strength to get to his feet, the still-broken leg sending up shocks of pain in protest. He had to move faster. He had to get to Ann, to save her from whatever that demon had planned. Not far ahead, he noticed the still body of Samson on the ground. He quickly hobbled to his side, looking him over. He was still alive. Now for Ann. Where had the demon taken her?

As if on cue, a sudden movement caught Miller's eye. It took several minutes to work out that it was Ann, falling from the top of the building.

"No. No. No." He breathed and turned away, not wanting to see his new friend's end. He had seen so much death, but watching it happen to the people that you liked never got easier. He heard the body hit the ground with a strange metallic clank. Anger boiled up inside of him, anger at the demon, at this modern world, at himself for not doing more. He resolved to make the demon pay. He swept up a large shard of glass with one free hand and headed to the building that Ann had fallen from.

As if answering Miller's call for revenge, the demon dropped from the roof. It was now almost human, except for the massive wings jutting out of its back. Perhaps it planned to make some use of Ann's corpse. "We'll put a stop to that." He swore under his breath. Glass raised, Miller attempted to charge, limping as fast as he could. The demon did not turn to face him, instead standing motionless, black blood dripping onto the ground from its various wounds.

As he at last came into range, a battle cry escaped Miller's lips, and he brought his makeshift weapon to bear. He put all of his remaining strength into a blow aimed at the back of the demon's neck. The attack might have worked, had he been in better shape. The demon suddenly came to life, catching the "blade" with one hand and grabbing Miller's throat with the other. The move was either impossibly fast or Miller was moving much slower than he had thought.

"Gah!" was all that he could get out before his throat was forced shut. The demon screamed and tossed Miller into the air. He hit the concrete hard, falling again into darkness.

*****

The sudden pain of regaining consciousness was a welcome one. Miller was still among the living. All was not yet lost. He hung in the air, carried by the demon. It had him at arm's length and was inspecting him closely.

"Mr. Miller, I presume." Miller tried to respond but could only choke. For a moment, he coughed up blood. Then, recovering, he whispered an "Aye" through his blood-stained teeth. He looked the demon-man over. It had apparently not been a good day for it either. Several large chunks were missing from its chest and the left side of its face was a black, mangled mess. Black blood still oozed out of several wounds. Miller pondered why it wasn't healing.

It was then that Miller noticed how high up they were. Below him lay the city in all its modern glory. He had never seen such an alien landscape. Massive buildings of glass shot up everywhere, vehicles clogged the streets and the sky. He could see giant metal birds drifting in the distance, which he assumed were man-made. Directly below them was an enormous cathedral, all grey stone with green highlights. It stood out as something familiar in all this madness, reminding him of earlier centuries in England and France that had seemed only short weeks earlier. He turned his focus to the demon.

"Aye, I am Joseph Miller. You have heard of me?" He grinned. The demon man did not return the smile. Perhaps it was hard to smile with only half of its face left.

"Oh yes. We last met in France." It had started to remember then. How soon before it would remember its real name? For a moment, it said nothing, seeming to consider. Finally, it said, "I find it amusing that humans see hell as a place where the evil are punished by demons for their sins. It is ironic I think." He paused for a second, as if expecting a question. Miller just blinked back at him and said nothing. "You might ask why I find this ironic?"

"Oh, I see," Miller picked up his cue, baffled by the exchange. "Why do you find it ironic?" This was bizarre. Shouldn't the creature just kill him and get it over with? Miller was sure this was somehow television's fault.

"You see, my version of hell would be a kind of immortality, a cycle of constant rebirth, where I was born again and created a family, only to have them brutally murdered by the same man, who would, again and again, come for me and kill me. In time, I would be reborn again and the cycle would repeat itself."

Miller shrugged. "That does seem to fit the description, yes. Although is that what ironic means? I have always had some trouble with that word."

"It is ironic, because you are that man. You are my 'demon,' my tormentor, and this planet, this is my hell." He growled the last part.

Miller let out a weak laugh, which hurt horribly. "That is a pretty speech. How long did it take you to come up with that?" The demon man just stared at him. Miller could almost see the anger steaming off of it.

"I suppose this is where you tell me I've lost and send me screaming to my death?"

The demon smiled. Apparently he could do so. "Oh no, that's too easy. You see, I know your face now. Killing you won't stop you. At least now I know what you look like. Why should I lose that advantage? I will hurt you, but you'll live."

Miller was shocked. It was the most intelligent thing that a demon had ever suggested.

"But your friend," the demon continued, "What was it...Samson? I'm going to suck every last bit of marrow from his bones. You can count on that."

Miller stiffened. So it was to be his life for Mike's. That was not acceptable. He had failed too many people already. There had to be something he could do. He looked into the demon man's ruined face, staring at the one good eye. Why was it taking so long to heal? With his right hand he dug deep into his pocket.

"Lad, that is the single most intelligent plan your kind has come up with in at least a thousand years. I have only one question."

The demon seemed taken aback by this compliment. "Ask."

"How good is your sense of smell?" With that Miller ripped the pen from his pocket and jammed it into the demon's remaining eye, pushing it into the socket so hard that it completely disappeared into the skull. The eye burst and the now blind demon screamed, tossing Miller away into the open sky.

Miller had hoped to say something wittier. Like maybe "The pen is mightier than the sword." At least he had hoped for a "See you later." Instead, he just screamed as he fell, the moment of his previous death replaying clearly in his mind.

Death did not come. Instead, he smashed into the angled roof of the large cathedral he had seen just moments before. He bounced once and started to slide down the slope, throwing his hands out, trying to grab onto anything that might slow his fall. He failed, but as he slid past the edge of the roof, his right hand managed to find purchase on a loose tile. His broken collarbone screamed at the impact as his body came to a stop. For a moment, he hung in space, looking at the ground below, still a good fifty feet away. To his terror, the tile was slowly coming loose under his weight.

"Wonderful!" Miller went about shouting as many curses in as many languages as he could recall. Some of them had not been spoken in thousands of years. He was rather proud of his ability to swear, but that did not keep the tile from coming free. Once again he was falling. He hit a windowsill, then crashed through a paned glass window into the church below, hitting the ground with a solid thud. He thought of Samson and hoped he had done enough.

## Chapter 19 - The End and the Beginning

Will You Follow Me? – Rob Dougan – Furious Angels

The world slowly came back to Mike. He awoke to find it was dark, which instantly terrified him. Realizing he was in a hospital bed made it much worse. He panicked and tried to get out of bed, but his head spun too much. Panting, he lay back down and waited for the spinning to stop. On his bed was a sleeping shape that he recognized as his son.

"Sam!" He gave a shout of joy. The boy snapped awake and glanced around the room in surprise.

"Dad?" Then, after a second of focus, "Dad!" Father and son embraced for a long time.

"I thought you went away too, Dad."

"Never," Mike swore.

In time, a doctor came to check in on him, and Sam fell back to sleep in his bed. Mike stayed awake, too busy processing the events of the past day to find rest. He had learned and seen so much. He knew now that there were monsters out there, and not the human kind. He had seen the basis of the vampire and werewolf legends. It was all a bit much to take in. It had to have been an insane dream.

In time, he realized that he was at St. Michael's Hospital. They had found him in the street, unconscious. Besides several deep cuts, heavy blood loss, and a concussion, he was actually in fairly good shape. Obviously, with the situation at College Hospital, they were not taking patients there, much to Mike's relief. It would be a long time before he could set foot in that building again, if ever.

According to the news, a gas leak at the hospital had killed close to 70 people. Twenty-seven people were apparently rescued from the basement and had managed to escape unaffected. No mention was made of the demon flying through downtown Newark. It sounded like the weakest cover story Mike had ever heard. But then, the truth sounded even worse.

Mike had been in the hospital for a good twenty-four hours before they came to visit. Mike was watching "Power Rangers" with Sam when two tall men in dark suits and dark shades entered the room. Seeing them, Mike couldn't help but whistle the theme music from "Men in Black." One was quite large. The other was a much smaller man with a cruel scar on his cheek that started at his chin and made a line directly to his ear. The ear was missing its lobe.

"Mr. Samson," the scarred man said, "I'm Agent Smith from the FBI."

"Smith? Like in the Matrix?" Sam asked. The man stiffened for a moment. He responded in a voice so dry with sarcasm, Mike thought it might snap.

"Yes, just like the guy in the movie. We were wondering if we might have a word with you, alone, for a few minutes," Smith said, glancing at Sam and his grandmother, who were both sitting in the room.

"Of course. Sarah, can you take Sam to the cafeteria and get him something to drink?" She nodded, taking Sam by the hand and leading him out the door. As it closed behind them, Sam said, "But I want to see the secret agents!" And then they were gone. That put a smile on Smith's face, and he took a seat next to Mike's bed. Smith's backup remained standing..

"So, what can I do for you? I'm guessing this has something to do with a gas leak."

Another smile from Smith. "Yeah, you might say that. We understand that you may have seen some pretty strange things."

"Pretty strange doesn't even begin to cover it. The stuff of nightmares is more like it," Mike responded.

"Can you tell us what you saw?"

Mike licked his lips. Could he? Would it even make sense? He had to. The world should know, even if no one would believe him.

So he told them the truth, or most of the truth. He left Miller completely out of the picture, but told them all about troubled Ann, who was looking for her missing ex-boyfriend, and the things they witnessed together. He told them about the monsters' plan in the basement. He told them about their escape from the hospital. Finally, he told them about Ann's abduction.

"Did she make it?" Mike asked.

"Who?"

"Ann...Melakh, I think her last name was."

Smith flipped through a pad before answering. "Looks like we aren't sure. She's on the missing persons list."

There was a long pause, and then Smith spoke again. "I think you'll understand when we ask that you tell this to no one."

"Who would believe me? But I need to know that you guys are doing something. That you understand that I'm not just some crazy guy seeing monsters in the shadows."

"Well, I can't really release any details at this time, but we are investigating the matter. I've had a talk with your chief and arranged two weeks of paid leave for you." Smith stood up to leave. "Spend some time with your son and try to forget all this." With that, he and his silent partner left.

The next day, Mike went home and tried to get on with his life. Several of his fellow officers and friends had been killed by the "gas leak," and so he found himself in his dress uniform three days later for a large funeral. Jessica Jones was one of them, as was her partner. While he had not known her well, her death saddened him. He brought her a single white rose. While there, Sam and Mike also visited Sam's mother. As Mike did every time he visited his dead wife, he made the sign of the cross and asked for her forgiveness. Not that it ever helped.

And so, Mike Samson tried to move on. His nightmares were still the same nightmares, except that sometimes Ann would appear, or Miller, crazy grin and all. He didn't dream of demons or werewolves or vampires. His own monsters remained center-stage in his dreams. Maybe he felt that the things he had seen were too terrible to possibly be true, or maybe his mind just wanted to pretend the whole thing had never happened. For nine days, he managed to pull it off, even with the Zhangs' empty house across the street.

On the tenth day, there was a knock at the door.

"I think it is one of the joyless witnesses," Sam said, peeking from behind a curtain.

"It's Jehovah's witness, Sam." But it wasn't a Jehovah 's Witness. It was Joseph Miller.

He stood at the door of the house, dressed in beat-up old jeans, ruined sneakers, and a black t-shirt. He no longer had a cast on his foot, and in fact, looked as good as new.

Mike hesitated before opening the door. Having Miller outside his house was like having a visitor from another world, a flashback from the day things went mad. What would happen if he let this man back into his life?

Miller had saved his life; he could at least see him. Mike opened the door.

"Mr. Samson!" Miller's face split with that God-awful grin of his.

"Miller?" was all Mike said before the strange Hispanic man had him wrapped up in a hug, pushing himself inside.

"Oh, this is a lovely place you have here. And look! You have your own TV." Sam looked sheepishly at this new stranger in his house. They certainly didn't get much stranger than Miller. "And a boy! What a fine looking lad you are." Miller rustled Sam's hair playfully.

"Err, Sam, this is a friend of Daddy's. His name is Mr. Miller. Miller, this is my son, Sam."

Sam looked Miller up and down. "Are you a bum?" Sam asked. There was such an honest tone to Sam's voice that Mike had to laugh a bit.

"A bum? Is that good?" Miller asked, looking confused.

"It's your clothes, they just look a bit, err, dirty."

"Aye, well I obtained them from a kindly priest. Many things have changed but the good folks of the cloth are always there to lend a hand when in need. Too bad they are such prudes about the ladies. Otherwise I could quite see myself as a holy man. "

"Right. Look, I'm happy to see that you're alive, but what are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"Ah. It was easy! As I think you may have guessed, after our little run-in with," he looked down at Sam, "that rather rude fellow, I found myself a bit under the weather. Luckily, I managed to drop in at a nearby church, where some very nice folks took care of me. Once I had had a few days to pull myself back together, I expressed my need to find my long lost cousin, one Mike Samson. After a bit of doing, they kindly gave me a ride in one of those fine horseless carriages..."

"Cars, Miller, we call them cars."

"Cars. Right. I will remember that. In any case, they brought me here. As I said, good people. Do you have anything to drink? Preferably ale?"

"Umm, yeah, in the fridge, hold on. You'll have to deal with root beer. I don't keep alcohol in the house anymore." Mike motioned to the couch and moved to the kitchen. Miller took a seat and Sam followed his father into the next room.

"Mr. Miller seems kinda funny. And he smells bad."

"Yes, yes he does," Mike agreed. Of course, bathing habits had changed in the last hundred years. "Listen, why don't you play in your room? I think I need to talk adult stuff with Mr. Miller."

"It's not about sex, is it?" Sam asked.

"No, and what did I tell you about sneaking out and watching HBO after bedtime?"

After sending his son off, Mike returned to the living room. He tossed Miller a can of root beer. Miller caught it and stared at it.

"Err, need help?" Mike walked over to him and popped the can open.

"Ah, thank you." Miller took a quick slug, made a surprised face, shrugged, and drained the can.

"Before we start...Ann?" There was no need for a clearer question. The smile drained from Miller's face and he shook his head slightly. "No."

There was a long pause as both men stared at the floor. At last, Mike let out a shaky sigh.

"So what can I do for you, Miller?"

"Straight to business. I like that in a man." Miller grinned. "Well, to just come out with it, I am here to offer you a job."

"A job?"

"Aye. You have shown me that you can handle yourself," he paused, looking for the words, "under less than normal circumstances. I have need of a man of your caliber."

"I'm sorry Miller. I don't see myself doing the professional monster hunter gig. It's just not me. I'm a single dad now. To be honest, I've been thinking about retiring from the force, finding something safe. For Sam's sake."

"You have a fine boy there, Samson. I can see why you would say that. But men like you and me cannot give up the good fight. It is in our blood."

"Maybe in your immortal blood, but I have a child to look after."

"That is fine. I am not looking for another monster hunter."

"You're not?"

"No, I am looking for a guide. This world is a strange place to me. I need a local guide. Someone to show me how things work. Being in my line of business, it is handy to have a guide who is also a fair shot with a rifle."

"Look, I'm sorry. I still can't." Mike paused a second, and for once Miller did not break in. "I've tried to help with things before. Many times. And, well, I don't have the best track record. Look at poor Ann."

There was another moment of silence between the men. For some reason, Mike's eyes drifted across the street at the now-empty house of his neighbor. The massacre that had happened across the street would happen again. Shouldn't he try and stop it if he could?

"Aye, we did lose that one, did we not?" Miller said. Then he slapped his hands to his knees and got up. "But that does not mean that we get to stop trying. Those beasties are still out there, and they like to stay busy and do exactly what you saw the other day. Many more folk like Ann will come to the same end. That is, unless you help me stop them." Mike looked down at his drink. Miller tried again.

"We failed Ann and many other people in that hospital, Samson, you and I both. We must redeem our honor. Otherwise, those people died in vain." That struck a deep chord for Mike. Redemption? Was that even possible for him?

Mike could not believe it, but he found himself seriously considering Miller's request. He had to be crazy. After a bit more thought, he said, "Ok, Miller. You've got yourself a guide, but under two conditions."

"Name them."

"One. Sam always comes first. Always."

"I have been a father many, many times and would expect no less."

"Two. We find a way to help these people whenever possible. Most of the people who died in that hospital, at least the ones we killed, were just innocent people infected with some sort of..."

"Curse?" Miller offered.

"Disease or something. A lot has changed in the last hundred years, buddy, and we don't just go chopping people's heads off. We try to help them. There must be a way."

Miller rubbed his chin. "That is no easy task." He stopped and considered. "But I accept. If we can find a way to help the Cursed, then of course we will. The world has changed so much. Perhaps I should as well. Although I'll warn you, like the events of last week, sometimes it's us or them. And, in my mind, it's always them."

"Fine. Deal."

They shook hands. Miller grinned his mad grin and slapped Mike on the back.

"So it begins!" He laughed.

## Chapter 20 - Next Time

Bad Blood - Ministry - Dark Side of the Spoon

Catherine stared at herself in the mirror. She was going out dancing tonight. Dancing. Her. It just seemed so unbelievable, but it was happening. She had felt so good lately, like she was a whole new person. Except the hunger. She had been so hungry lately. Well, it was really nothing to be concerned about.

She had been slightly freaked out when she heard what had gone down at the hospital. So many people dead and she had only missed it by only twenty-four hours. For once, she had been the lucky one.

A little girl's squeal distracted her. Missy, her sister's six-year-old was chasing the poor dog again. "What a cute little girl she is." She thought to herself. "Why I could just eat her all up."

## Chapter 21 - Epilogue

It was warm in the sun. Well, warmer. The morning light crept into Ann's hiding place every day around eight o'clock. By then, she had already long ago returned from her nightly errands and was ready to pass the daylight hours sleeping as best she could. Since her transformation into, well, whatever she was, she never really felt warm. The sun helped a bit, though. She curled up in a sunbeam like a large white-winged cat and attempted to rest. Her dreams were filled with images of her pink flesh, her blond hair, and her friends, and of regular food. Her waking hours were the time of terror. In the darkness of night, however, the bright white scales were easier to pass off as skin.

Ann had done a piss-poor job of offing herself. While many people dream of sprouting wings and flying away, in her case it had happened. When she had fallen almost ten stories, her wings had emerged, catching the wind and slowing her descent. In the end, she landed in a dumpster. Of course. A fitting end to a depressing life. In reality, Ann Melakh had died that day. She could not stand to look at what she had become. She was covered in white shiny scales. Her fingers were long and narrow and ended in large claws. She had no hair anywhere on her body and was taller now, by more than a foot, with ears that came to a sharp point. She had not brought herself to look at her face in a mirror, but could feel the sharp, pin-like teeth that now lined her jaws. And her eyes! She could not bear to see empty black eyes on her own face. Her tongue, at least, seemed normal. She had not grown the large tentacle-like thing that the demons seemed to use to feed. In fact, one thing she had been surprised and pleased to learn was that she still craved normal food. She would have thought that she would develop a taste for human blood, or babies or puppies or something. Perhaps that came later? Or perhaps she sucked at being a demon as much as she had at being a human. Then there were the wings. Giant bat-like things that jutted out of her shoulder blades. Made of a fleshly membrane, they were incredibly flexible. She found she could wrap them around herself like a cloak or fold them flat against her back.

Her first few days had been a haze of pain as she adapted to the new body. She remembered very little of that time. In her first real recent memory she had already found this place, an abandoned factory off Broad Street. The other homeless folk that lived there gave her plenty of space, which suited her just fine. She had found an old coat which covered her wings, and an old scarf to wrap around as much of her face as possible. At night she almost passed for human.

The night before, she had walked into a 7-11 and stolen some generic brand of canned pork and beans. When the shopkeeper tried to stop her, she simply pulled the scarf down and smiled at him. He gave her no more trouble, and later she had feasted. Now, in the morning sun, she was as content as a snake on a stone. She had wrapped her wings around her and used the coat as a makeshift blanket. Comfy.

Then something poked her.

"Rise and shine, little sister," said a deep, dry, cracking voice. It sounded familiar. Ann jumped from her resting place and spun to meet the intruder. Her wings spread wide and she bared her teeth.

It was the tall blind homeless man from the street. Now though, the man seemed blurry, as if surrounded by a fine black mist.

"Whoa! Peace little sister. I'm not here for a fight." This did not make Ann relax one bit. She sensed something about the man.

"Who...what are you?" she stammered.

The man smiled. "Funny, I was going to ask you the very same thing. You can call me Abraham, and I think you know what I am." A long black tongue slithered out of his mouth to push up his top hat, and then slipped back.

"Demon," Ann hissed.

"Of a sort, yes, but I am not one of the seven. Oh no, not me, Madam. I am just one of their long forgotten children. Cursed by them, if you will, but no longer bound by them. I am a free agent."

"A free agent? You mean they don't control you anymore?"

"No more voices in this head. Well," the old man shrugged, "fewer." He leaned on his cane and laughed hard at that. "I bet you see their mark on me now though, don't you?" He raised his glasses, revealing empty sockets. Ann was repulsed. "I took out this mark but you can't hide from those with the sight."

"The mist that's all around you, that's what you're talking about?"

"Yes, the sight." Ann looked down at her own hands. She didn't see anything odd. Well, besides the white scales and claws.

"You see, I hunt the seven. It's a little side job I do, you know, till my singing career takes off. It's payback for what they did to me all those years ago."

"Wait, you hunt demons? Like Miller?"

"Miller? Oh, you mean the Ancient One. He still using that name? He isn't here, is he?" Abraham glanced around. How could he see?

"No, I don't think so. I haven't been in much of a hurry to find him either. I don't think we'll get along as well as we have in the past."

"That's wise. The Ancient One has no love for us Cursed. I try and stay out of his way.

But you, I think he is going to want to meet you. I think everyone is going to want to meet you."

"What do you want?" Ann asked.

"Want? Me? Just want to welcome you into the family. You see, I've been watching you for a while now. Truth be told, I was asked to kill you."

"What?" Ann backed away.

"Well, not you exactly, any of the seven that came out of that school. You were the only one I ever found there."

"Me? I'm not one of the seven. My boyfriend, my ex, he did something to me. Infected me with this..." Ann motioned at the wings on her back.

"Oh no, little sister," Abraham cut back in. "You were the one. Lilith, the queen of them all. The mother of them all too, if you like."

"No..." Ann started. "That's crazy."

"Oh it's crazy. I'll give you that. But it's also true. I saw her light flickering inside of you as you walked to and fro. Flickering and dying. The most amazing thing." The old man stepped closer and spread out his arms to the sky above.

"Somehow, you killed it. Somehow you stayed you. And that, little sister, is a first. No one has ever come back from being taken by a demon. A miracle! God be praised!"

Ann didn't know what to say to that at first. "So I'm not a demon?"

"I don't know. That's the fun part." Abraham smiled and tipped his hat to her. "You are something new. There isn't any demon mark on you anymore. You are clean. Pure. Which is why it's taken me so long to find you. To show you..."

Out of the hat Abraham pulled a small, dirty mirror and raised it to Ann's face. Her own blue eyes stared back at her.

"To welcome you to the family, little sister, and to welcome you to the war."

End of book 1

Joseph Miller will return in Ancient Enemies

To read more go to:

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Ancient Awakening 2nd Edition by Matthew Bryan Laube

Copyright 2009,2010,2011

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental...at least that's what they want you to think.

Special thanks to my readers Andy, Joel, Jay, Dad, Mom, Jen, and Chris. Above all, thanks to my wife and editor, Danielle.

Cover Design by Chris Laube.

Additional art by Mauro Balcazar.

"Seven are they" based on translations by R.C. Thompson, published in The Devils and Evil Spirits of Babylonia, London, 1903.

Print version 5.0

The following chapter is from:

ANCIENT ENEMIES

### Matthew Bryan Laube

www.ancientawakening.com

## Chapter 3 - Boys Night Out

It was Friday night in the city. Joseph Miller kept stopping to look at some new wonder and it was driving Mike Samson crazy. Mike had come to accept that his new "boss" had, in fact, come from 1908, which had been pretty easy to accept after coming to terms with the existence of werewolves, vampires, and demons. At this point, he was thinking he may have been off about the whole Santa Claus thing as well.

The third night of "hunting" had brought them to New York City. By "hunting", Miller meant wandering the streets, visiting bars, and hitting on woman. He was now ogling a large neon sign that showed a martini being poured. Moving to his side, Mike asked, "Miller, what are we doing out here again?"

"My dear Mr. Samson, as I have stated the last three times that you have posed the exact same question, we are looking for the Cursed," Miller said. He did not look away from the sign. "Truly amazing."

"Wait till you see Times Square," Mike pointed out. "Ok, yeah, I get it, but you really think 'the Cursed' are just wandering around the streets with nothing to do? And I thought you said the demons were most likely long gone."

"Oh, I'm sure the demons are 'long gone,' as you put it. They know I am here now. But their children are not quite as intelligent. If we can find one, perhaps one that hasn't been turned yet, we can use it to track its parents."

"Turned yet?" Mike asked.

"Turned."

"Please stop talking in bad horror movie clichés," Mike pleaded.

Miller ignored him. "Ah, this establishment looks promising." Miller pointed to a rundown looking bar stuck between a nightclub and an all-night grocery store.

"Here? Miller, if you want a bar, we can find a decent place."

"No, lad, this should do nicely."

Mike shrugged and followed Miller in. Inside it was quite full. There were a few young kids, probably with fake IDs, Mike thought. Vacation or not, he was still a cop. Some blue-collar folks were enjoying their Friday night. In the back, there was a jukebox, near which several people were dancing. The entire side of the building was one long bar, most of it covered with thirsty patrons. On the other side, toward the front, there were several booths occupied by couples and larger parties.

"Samson, procure some drinks. Ask if they have mead," Miller said, finding a spot near the front of the bar that gave him a fairly clear view of the back.

"Miller, no one has mead anymore. I'm pretty sure bars stopped having mead somewhere before the last crusades ended."

"Bah, fine. Just none of that Budweiser. I've had better ale than that brewed in old boots."

Mike shrugged and made his way through the crowd. He preferred to be the one that interacted with regular folks.

Miller, with his whole "man out of time" theme, managed to confuse and often offend pretty much everyone. Women were by far the worst, as times had changed quite a bit. After Miller had patted a woman's rear for helping him in Wal-Mart, Mike had to beg and plead with the woman not to press charges, explaining that his "cousin" was mentally ill. That whole trip had been a complete disaster anyway, but they had needed something for Miller to wear, other than the outfit that he had been given when he turned up at a local church. After being nearly arrested twice, and at last banned from the store, they had managed to get Miller some standard jeans/t-shirt combos. They had also found him some work boots, which he seemed to like, as well as a long, dark coat, which Mike thought worked with the whole monster-hunter theme. Now, Miller looked like nothing special on the street. A Hispanic man in his early 20s, not terribly tall or broadly built. Only the wild eyes, wicked smile, and almost Scottish accent told you there was something off about the man.

After a short talk with the bartender, Mike returned to Miller with the drinks. He gladly accepted his new beverage and took a long pull on the mug.

"Ahh, much better," he said.

"Good. Now as much as l like hanging out and drinking on a Friday night, why this bar?"

Miller looked at him thoughtfully. "Mike, you must learn to celebrate your life. There are two things that make this all worth it. Drink!" he raised his glass and his voice, "And women!" This little speech produced some giggles and outright laughs from nearby patrons.

"Miller, please don't get us kicked out of another bar for harassing the women," Mike pleaded.

"Bah, your women are far too sensitive. I only wish to show them my gratitude for sharing their beauty with the world."

"I don't thinking groping is the way to go for that," Mike broke in.

"Fine, fine," Miller said dismissively. "Actually, this time I was referring to a woman for you. Good God, do you need it."

"Hey!" Mike protested. Technically he was still mourning his wife. It would be inappropriate to go chasing every girl he saw. Besides, he knew he wasn't ready.

"Yes, you need to meet a fine lass who can teach you how to freeze..."

"Chill," Mike corrected after a moment, translating from clueless, "And stop trying to sound hip. It never works."

"I think you should go dance with her." Miller pointed to a woman who was dancing alone by a jukebox. She was brown-skinned, a little pudgy, and on the shorter side. Her hair was done in long dreads and she was dancing far too fast for the rhythm of the music.

"Yuck. Why her? Why not the cute blond over there?" Mike pointed subtly to a striking blond woman quite a bit younger than himself. Miller pushed Mike's extended finger back to the original woman. He leaned in close to Mike's ear and whispered.

"Because in about five minutes, that lass is going to become a wolf!"

"What?" Mike almost jumped out of his skin.

"Aye. She is the one I've been tracking for days. Do you think I just like hanging out in strange bars?"

Mike stared at Miller for a second. "Actually, I did. Miller, I'm not going to go over there if she's suddenly going to sprout claws and fur," Mike protested. He flashed back to an image of his neighbor, transformed into a raging monster, pinning him to the ground. He trembled at the memory. "Aren't you supposed to be the monster hunter? I'm just supposed to play sidekick."

"But lad, it was part of our 'deal.' You wanted to be kinder and gentler to the Cursed. Go find out something about her. Keep her talking and away from anyone else. And do not let her leave the dance floor."

"Why? You think it will stop her from changing if she stays in public?"

"Not at all. Mike, she's looking for someone to eat. That's why she is here. Well, not her, but that thing inside her." Mike gulped. "She's going to try to get someone to go someplace private with her so she can have a nice easy snack once she's..." he paused.

"Playing for the other team?" Mike offered.

"Ha! Yes that works." Miller gave Mike a little shove. "Go have a word with her. I'll be right here. Wait. First, finish your drink. I find it helps."

"Miller, I'm going to get you for this," Mike hissed. He slugged down his beer in one long shot. How did he let himself get talked into this? He put down his mug and began his approach. This is what he wanted, to help these people. Well, to avoid having to kill them. Still, he wished there was another way.

The woman was still dancing to her own rhythm. Looking at her closely, Mike noticed that she did have a pretty face, even if she was a bit overweight. It was mainly the spastic dancing and the sweat pouring off of her that was repelling the rest of the men. They just weren't drunk enough yet, he figured. Letting out a long sigh, he moved next to her.

"Hi," he said. He had no opening line and had not hit on a woman in 10 years. He'd forgotten how. He tried to break into a bit of a dance but all he could manage was a weak shuffle. The white boy shuffle.

"Well, hellooo," the woman said, sliding closer to Mike. Much too close for his liking. "Aren't you a cute thing?" Mike smiled at first but then remembered her goal and immediately felt a bit ill. "What's your name?"

"I'm Mike." He almost stuck out his hand to shake, but resisted the urge.

"I'm Catharine but my friends call me Kate. Will you be my friend?"

Mike was working hard to stay cool. His mind kept flashing back to the scene outside his home when he had met his first wolf. "Sure," he answered, giving her a weak smile. She moved even closer in reaction, almost rubbing her hips against him.

"Oh, I love the drums in this song."

Mike looked at the juke box. The song was "Tiny Dancer" by Elton John. He couldn't hear any drums. "Umm, yeah. Me too." He gave Miller a nervous glance. Miller just grinned back and gave him a thumbs-up. He hated that guy so much. "Can I get you a drink?" He'd do anything he could to get off the horrible dance-floor. He was pretty sure no one was pointing and laughing at his lame dance moves yet, but it was just a matter of time.

"Oh no, I'm just loving dancing right now. Although I am feeling a bit hungry." She smiled at him and again his stomach did a little flip-flop. They danced for a few minutes in silence.

"So, what do you do?" Mike asked, trying to take his mind off his terrible dancing skills and the looming near-death situation.

"Oh, I work for FedEx delivering packages. But I don't really want to talk about work." She grabbed his butt and pulled him towards her. She gave him a nervous laugh. "Look. This is going to sound really forward, but um, do you wanna go someplace a bit more private and, ah, you know..." she dragged a fingernail from his chest down to his belt buckle, "mess around a bit?"

"Hah, ah well..." He returned the nervous laugh. "That is pretty forward." . "Uh, well, my friend and I only got here a few minutes ago, and um, I really don't want to ditch him. He's new in town." He pointed at Miller, who waved at them both.

"Ooh, he's cute." She put her arms around Mike and said, in a deep, sultry voice, "He can come too." Mike could feel the heat coming off her in waves. She leaned forward as if to kiss him, but instead licked his chin. "Mmmm, you're a tasty one." Rubbing against him, she let out a little moan. "What do you say?" For a moment, Mike was too horrified to answer. Then Miller was beside him.

"Well, hello lass! Aren't you a pretty little thing?" he said. She giggled at his accent and seemed to stumble a bit. She pulled hard on Mike to keep her balance.

"Sorry, a little dizzy. Must be all the heat in here." The look she gave Mike was so full of lust that he somehow managed to blush a deeper shade of pink. "I think I might need to lay down a bit," Catharine said, sliding down to the floor. Her entire body began to quake and her eyes rolled up toward the top of her head. People turned to see what was going on.

"Is she ok?" someone asked.

"Just give her some space," Miller said. He put up his arms to push a few curious people back.

"I think she's having a seizure. Make sure she doesn't swallow her tongue," a man said. Mike grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back.

"Trust me, you really don't want to put your hand near that mouth." To Miller he said, "Don't we need to get these people out of here?"

"Worry not, Samson, I will make sure your new friend doesn't hurt anyone." Mike looked down at Catharine's body. Her eyes had filled with an inky blankness and foam was streaming from her mouth and down her cheeks.

"Give her some space!" Mike yelled, pushing people away.

"Oh my God, what's wrong with her eyes?" someone else screamed. The sound of tearing cloth brought Mike's attention back to Catharine. Her pant legs had torn open to make room for the huge masses of muscle forming down her legs.

"Oh, I hate this part" Mike said. Someone screamed. Catharine rolled over and spit out a mouth full of teeth and blood. Her spine suddenly stretched and the muscles in her arms expanded like balloons. The crowd backed further away, but did not run, caught up in the horrible spectacle. Mike kept his distance. Having seen this before, he did not want to watch it again.

In a moment, the beast that had been Catharine rose from the ground. Its hands were dripping blood from the huge claws that had just burst through its fingertips. New, sharp fangs stuck out of its jaw. It was taller than Catharine had been by only a few inches but it was no longer fat. Muscle rippled through its arms and across its stomach. Catharine's clothes had, for the most part, stayed together, giving the beast an almost silly "werewolf on the town" look. Its face was still mostly Catharine's, besides the black, empty eyes and the short fur that covered its entire body. It howled at the crowd that circled it, which gasped in response. For a second, no one moved. Then, the beast charged towards Mike and the crowd exploded in panic. Miller was thankfully fast enough to stomp down on one of the beast's legs with a steel-toed boot just as it leapt. The beast howled as its bones crunched. It fell face–first, inches away from Mike.

"Do not let it feed!" Miller yelled.

"Oh really? I was going to just let her nibble on my arm," Mike said. He moved farther away from the creature. People were running in all directions, screaming and trampling each other. Next time Mike would make the game plan. There had to be a better way.

The wolf limped toward the door, dragging its busted leg behind it. Miller let it pass, helping an Asian woman back to her feet.

Mike followed at a distance. The beast took a swipe at a passing patron, but was too slow to connect. It leapt at another man, managing to pin him down. Mike ran up and gave it a quick kick to the ribs, knocking the man free. It howled in frustration.

"Sorry, lady. None of that." Mike and the wolf locked eyes for a moment, before it fled through the door. "Miller, what now?"

"I follow it and make sure that it does not hurt anyone. You track us."

"Got it."

"Make sure you find us by daybreak!" Miller shouted.

Mike took off in the other direction, towards where the van was parked. "Ok, no problem."

"Daybreak, Samson!" Miller repeated once more, and was gone.

