Chapter 3
She enters the crime scene with a shiver of something she cannot name. It is a sister to dread, that deep primal emotion that reason cannot suppress. John is sitting on the only clean patch of carpet. His eyes look a little crazed and he is shaking slightly. His body was tense, muscles aching from being held so taut. After Chas' death, he was still doubting his abilities. His confidence was low. There had been no routine exorcisms for him to re-build it on. Now he knows why. The demon they're up against wouldn't allow something like a possession ruin it's plans. Suddenly, he longs for a stiff drink and a cigarette.
"What are we dealing with?" She asks him quietly.
He takes his time answering her, choosing his words carefully. Partly, he doesn't want to scare her. If she's running scared, she's more likely to run into trouble. Mostly, he needs to keep some semblance of control. "It's an old demon race, a strong one, called the Agvi." A pause, and he continues "They inhabit the lower reaches of hell, the part that only the most evil humans are banished too, murders, rapists, the like. They have immense power down there, but it fades up here. By all accounts, they're empaths, and they rejoice in their victim's pain as they kill."
"How do we kill them?" She asked, sitting next to him so that their hips and legs touch. He relaxed ever so slightly, letting a tiny amount to tension seep from his body. His hands rest on his legs, balled into loose fists. She longs to cover one with her own, but doesn't know how he'll react to the contact. Mentally sighing, she covered his left hand. To her surprise, he hangs on to her.
"Not them- it. The minions of the Agvi can't break through into our world. Only their… king can." Something in the way he says it gives her the chills. He's not sure that king is the right word to use. It gives the demon some kind of regal bearing, when it is anything but regal. He can think of a thousand words to describe the monstrosity, and non of them are adequate to make her understand. He needs her to understand what is coming after him. If she does, she'll leave him and be safe. He wants her to be safe.
"No-one knows how to kill the king. It's never even been attempted." He can see the question forming in her eyes and knows before she does what it's going to be. "It always kills first." He says, clarifying what he meant.
"So what exactly are we up against, physically?" She asked, not sure that she really wanted to know.
He frowned, trying to remember the scraps he knew. "They're about eight feet tall. They're scaled, and the scales have razor sharp edges. They have large sharp claws." He reached the limit of his knowledge and stops talking.
He was scared. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but after seeing what had happened to those other men, it was a simple fact. He glanced around the room, suddenly taking in where he was. He felt sick and needed to get outside the apartment. Those pale blue walls seemed to be closing in on him. Standing, he raced for the door and bolted into the night. The door swung into the wall in his wake.
Like a startled deer, she scanned the room without moving. When she knew it was safe, she stood, automatically reaching to stop the door swinging into the wall. The noise was like a tap dancer on her frayed nerves. Stepping through the door, she closed it behind her, not bothering to replace the crime scene tape. As soon as you got close to the door, you could feel the malevolence of the act that had been committed inside. It was a far more effective deterrent than any amount of tape.
She finds him standing in the cool night air, facing the car his forearms braced on the cool roof. It's starting to rain, a heavy drizzle that resembled mist more closely than rain. His jacket is soaked, and droplets hung in that thick dark hair. She can't tell if the moisture on his face is rain or tears. Most likely, it's both. She laid a hand on the back of his neck, leaning closer to unlock the car door. He watched carefully as she walked around the front of the car and got in. She looked beautiful to him, just as she was with no make up and with her hair damp from the rain.
"So what now?" She asked, sliding the key into the ignition but not turning the key to start the engine.
"I think that this demon is going to keep killing until he's given us the whole sentence. We find out who lives in the city and has the same initials as I do." A heavy sigh punctuates his sentence "Then we pick one and hope it's the right one."
She twists the key, starting the engine "We should warn them."
"Why? Without my help, they don't stand a chance. Why panic people when it won't do any good?" A moment passed, and he said "Angela, I know it's not a good plan, but it's the best one I have." The way he says it makes it sound almost like an apology.
She glanced at him, taking her eyes off the road for a second. When she turned them back, all the colour drained out of her face. Her mouth stretched open in a wordless exclamation of absolute horror. John followed her eyes, and even after all that he had seen, the sight in front of him left him shaken. A huge horned head hung over the roof of the car. Blazing orange eyes, like embers on a nuclear fire, stared into the car. It was the stuff of nightmares. The tips of those monstrous claws hung inches below the top of the windshield.
Each one looked to be as thick as her wrist. The ends glowed, even in the erratic light thrown by the street lights. A ridged brow hung over those awful eyes. He couldn't see a mouth, but guessed it would be full of razor sharp teeth. The nose was like nothing he'd seen before. The separate nostrils had merged into one, deformed hole. It looked big enough for a man's fist to fit inside.
Instinct was screaming at both of them to do something, anything, but both are frozen in their seats by the terrifying sight. John can feel his breathing and heart rate speeding up, courtesy of adrenaline. Angela is already breathing much too fast. The fear that the demon inspired was awesome. Just being in the close proximity was enough to make him perspire.
Those damn claws disappeared from view and both knew what was coming. They duck as best they can inside of the car. A claw slammed through the roof, sliding through the bullet-proofing like a warm knife through butter. It came through in the middle of the car and John got the feeling that this was a warning, not an attack. The predator was marking it's territory or staking a claim.
An idea is brewing in the back of his mind. It's not original, but it's damned effective. He almost laughed at the simplicity of it.
"Brake!" He shouted. By reflex, she slammed both feet onto the brake pedal. The car skids a little on the slick street. The king of the Agvi is thrown from the roof. An unholy scream came from it as the claw in the car roof is torn free from it's hand. It skids along the road, throwing up sparks as the tough hide scraped the asphalt. It stands and snarls at them, not daunted by the fall. Green blood flows from the wound, pooling on the road. The blood steamed as it came into contact with the water.
The Agvi king runs towards the car, each step sending a shudder through the road. Angela scrambled to get the car into reverse. The gears stick and grind hopelessly as she struggled. With each second that passed, the Agvi king gains on them. With a wrench, she jams the gear home and floors the gas, sending the car shooting off down the road. She wasn't aware of it, but she was praying, words tumbling from her lips in a constant stream. John sits silently in the passenger seat, knowing that there's nothing he can do just yet.
It caught them, launching itself in a great leap that ended on the front of the car. The car is the one to give way, crumpling like a wet tissue under the impact, which doesn't phase the Agvi king. In fact, it seems pleased at the destruction. With a blinding flash, it disappeared, leaving them both stunned in the wreck of the car.