Grave Matters (15 page)

by
Mark Helwig

A Denver Beck Short Story

**Set three years before the first book in the Demon Trappers Series**

August 2015

Atlanta, Georgia

Denver Beck knew he had to prove himself on this run, or call it quits. Every apprentice demon trapper faced this test: today he would trap his first Grade Three demon. If he succeeded, he would be one step closer to becoming a journeyman trapper. If not, he’d have proved so many people right — that he was nothing more than a waste of space.

For the last few months he’d been under the watchful eye of a master demon trapper, learning the ins and outs of the trade. In truth, Paul Blackthorne was more like a father than a teacher, a role that began when they’d first met in Paul’s high school history class. Beck had always respected the man, an easy-going widower in his early forties. Even after Paul had lost his teaching job and become a demon trapper, their friendship continued. Now it was Beck’s chance to show him just how good he could be.

Though Hellspawn could be found anywhere in Atlanta, they liked to congregate in the Five Points area just south of downtown. The trappers, a mismatched crew of men from all walks of life, called it Demon Central. It was the best place to find one of Lucifer’s more ferocious Hellspawn, a Gastro-Fiend. Threes, as the trappers called them, were dedicated killings machines.

He and Paul had been called out to trap such a beast. As they descended the first of three lengthy escalators into the depths of Peachtree station, Beck shifted the strap of his heavy trapping bag to keep it from digging into his shoulder. It was loaded with the usual trapper supplies: a two foot length of steel pipe, a bag of chicken entrails, magical spheres and a few bottles of Holy Water. With the heat, the chicken was beginning to smell.

From below them came the characteristic whine of one of the trains entering the station. Though the city was bankrupt, the MARTA trains kept running, though erratically. The Peachtree station was on one of the main railway lines, located underground in the heart of the city.

The August heat made his tee shirt stick to his skin. Beck skimmed a hand through his military-style short blond hair. He had a history with this particular station and it hadn’t been a good one. The last time he’d been here he’d tried to trap a Pyro-Fiend, a fire-loving demon. He’d seriously botched the capture and a Hazardous Materials (Hazmat) team had been summoned to deal with the cleanup. Both he and Paul had taken a lot of grief from the Demon Trappers Guild for that screw up. It had nearly cost him his apprentice licence.

If he screwed up this time, he was history.

Why am I doin’ this? I gotta be crazy.
Unfortunately there wasn’t much else a twenty-year-old veteran could do unless he wanted to break the law, or live on the streets.

A kid on the opposite escalator let out a war hoop and Beck instinctively crouched down, his heart pounding and his mouth dry. When he realized the source of the noise, he rose to his feet, feeling like a fool.

He’d only been home from the Middle East for a few months. Everyday noises, the kind that other people ignored, he had to process through his war-heightened senses. He found himself automatically scanning faces, looking for enemies, folks who might want to shoot him in the back or trigger a cache of explosives.

In Afghanistan, that extreme caution had saved his life. Though the war was supposedly winding down, there was always someone who’d love to kill a bunch of Americans, especially if they wore uniforms. On one afternoon, a roadside bomb had come very close to killing him.

No matter how he tried, Beck was still too keyed up to let down his guard.

His mentor noticed. “The only bad guys here are the demons,” Paul said softly. “No need to be so jumpy.”

“I can’t help myself. It’s the way I am right now.”

“It’s not a bad habit, Den,” Paul continued, “it’s just that it takes your attention away from the real threats.” His friend smiled at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.”

“Glad one of us thinks so.”

The Guild categorized demons according to their lethality and their general intelligence. Fortunately Gastro-Fiends weren’t that bright, but they made up for that with pure ferocity. Threes stood at about four feet tall, their bodies covered in fur, usually solid black. The younger ones were plump and had a single row of teeth, both top and bottom. The mature ones had more teeth and highly aggressive.

Though Paul wouldn’t let this thing eat him, but there was nothing to stop it from ripping out Beck’s entrails before his friend nailed it with a Holy Water sphere.

“The fiend could be hiding in the tunnels or on one of the trains,” Paul remarked, always in teacher mode. “How do you propose we find it?”

“Listen for the screams?” Beck joked.

“Sometimes it isn’t that easy.”

Then the screaming began.

“Ah, damn!” Beck said and took off at a trot, hurrying past other passengers on the escalator. Once he and Paul reached the platform, they found a knot of civilians all trying to get somewhere else in a hurry. The reason for their panic was about ten yards away — a Gastro-Fiend. This one was leaner, with thick muscles underneath the rank fur, and it sported two crooked layers of teeth. Six talons protruded from each paw and its eyes were laser red.

He’d seen them before, but Paul had been the one trapping them. Now this was his.

“It’s one of the older ones,” Paul warned. ‘It’ll move faster than you’re used to. Keep it away from the civilians and I’ll hit it with the Holy Water.”

Beck’s hands shook as he eased his trapping bag to the concrete. Adrenalin stormed through his body and he forced himself to take a deep breath. This was the part of the job that scared the hell out of him, and the part he lived for.

“You be careful, okay?” Paul said.

“Yes, sir,” Beck replied. He quickly removed pipe and the entrails, which would serve as bait. Paul already had a Holy Water sphere in hand, ready to deliver it the moment the demon went after Beck. If he hit the fiend in the face with the glass sphere, it would be rendered unconscious long enough to secure it. It wasn’t a perfect take-down system, but it usually worked. When it didn’t, trappers got hurt… or killed.

No longer fascinated with a trash container’s contents, the demon had taken an unholy interest in a teenage boy. The kid was busily snapping photos of the monster with his cell phone, no doubt to impress his friends.

Idiot!
“Get the hell away from it!” Beck shouted, already on the move.

Startled, the teen peered over his shoulder at him, a deer in the headlights. The fiend chose that moment to launch its attack.

Beck picked up speed, legs pumping in a bid to cover the distance in half the time. As he ran, he heaved the bag of entrails so it landed some distance to the left of the kid. The Three ignored it, homing in on the much larger meal.

Shouting to attract its attention, Beck put himself between the teen and the Three. He hip-checked the boy toward an open train car.

“Go!” he shouted.

The kid stumbled, hit the floor of the train and slid, his fingers still locked around the phone. Though the civilian was out of the way, Beck found himself out of position. He tried to turn fast enough to ward off the demon, but it raked his arm with its toxic claws as it charged by. He bellowed in pain.

With a startling crash, a Holy Water sphere shattered against the side of the train, splattering liquid and glass fragments in all directions. It’d just missed the demon’s head.

To Beck’s relief, the car doors closed and the train rolled of the station.

At least the kid’s safe.

Its departure distracted the fiend long enough for Beck to back away and assess the situation. The Three was doing the same as drool rolled down its chin. It glared at him with flame-red eyes. He flinched at the sight of his blood and flesh on the thing’s claws.

Beck tightened his grip on the pipe. It felt warm to the touch.

“Trapperrr!” the demon cried as it flung itself at Beck. He slammed at it with his pipe, but his timing was off. Instead of a solid blow, the Three hooked a paw around the weapon, using it to pull him closer. Before he realized what was happening, its teeth snapped inches from his neck, its foul breath scorching him as the stink of putrid fur filled his nose.

A glass sphere slammed into the demon’s shoulder, but it had no effect. Beck released the pipe and lurched to the side. Instead of dropping it, the demon sent the weapon flying across the open space directly at him. When he raised an arm to shield himself, it bounced off the bone, clipping his forehead as it passed. Beck’s head exploded in a burst of pain and he almost went to his knees. If he did, he was dead.

“Get out of the way!” Paul called out, panic in his voice now.

When Beck complied with the order, another Holy Water sphere flew through the air, but it missed. He grabbed up the pipe, but the fiend was already on the move, taking a running leap at him. They tumbled onto the concrete and rolled, their combined momentum carrying them off the platform into the dirty pit below.

He landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him, costing him precious seconds to regain his breath. Looking around wildly, he cursed when he saw that his pipe hadn’t made the journey with him. He also realized he was next to the covered rail, the one that supplied the electricity to run the trains. He quickly scooted away from it.

No wonder Paul hadn’t thrown another sphere, not with Beck so close to that massive power source. Get fried was never his idea of fun.

“Den?” his friend called out, his face peering over the edge of the platform. “You okay?”

Beck gave a nod and pulled up himself up, searching for the demon. It was about fifteen feet away, rising to its clawed feet as well. He was pleased to see it had taken some hurt: one arm was cut and dripping black blood.

A low rumble filled the station as a train arrived on the other side of the platform. That meant there were more people now, more chances for someone to get hurt. The demon raised its muzzle and sniffed the air, scenting fresh prey.

Beck backed away slowly. He was out of weapons, and if he ran, the fiend would just chase him down and rip him apart. If the demon followed him onto the platform, it’d get worse in a hurry. From there it had a couple ways to escape and a lot of people it could damage in the process. Even though the MARTA cops were trying to clear out the curious, folks weren’t moving. Not when there was so much drama.

I have to keep it down here with me.

Beck became aware that his friend stood just to his left, up on the platform.

“This pretty much blows, Paul,” he called out.

“I agree. I don’t have a good shot right now, not with you down there.”

“I know and if I crawl out, the demon will follow me right into the civilians.”

Paul turned and shouted at one of the MARTA cops, pleading with them to clear the platform. They were doing their best, but some of the passengers refused to leave, their cell phones out, just in case this turned out to be a graphic YouTube moment.

A plan began to form in Beck’s mind. “Give me my pipe and a sphere,” he called out.

“Water isn’t your friend right now,” Paul warned.

“I know,” he replied. It wasn’t the demon’s, either.

The requested items came his way, along with his friend’s worried muttering. Beck tucked the orb up close to his chest, and brandished the pipe.

The demon shifted it weight forward, a sign it was about to make another run.

“Chew yourrrr bones!” it yelled as it rushed him.

Beck struck it hard in the chest, and again, the thing clawed him as it passed, coming dangerously close.

Ah, hell.

Beck spun around and backed away, never having had the chance to use the sphere.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all.

As the train on the other side of the platform began to move out of the station, Beck shot a look over the demon’s shoulder. It was only a matter of time before one arrived on their tracks. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

He glanced up at the electronic billboard, hoping to see when the next train would arrive. The board was running an ad for some concert.

“Damn,” he muttered.

The demon was breathing heavily now and glancing repeatedly toward Paul and the platform. Instead of taking him down, was it weighing its chances of escape?

It was time to get the thing mad. If it was trying to kill him, it wouldn’t be thinking clearly.

“Hey, demon, how’s this goin’ for ya?” Beck called out. “Yer the best old Lucifer’s got?” He snorted. “No wonder they kicked his sorry ass out of Heaven.”

The fiend snarled at the mention of its master’s name. They hated being reminded they were nothing more than Hell’s slaves.

“Come on, dumbass. Let’s get this done. Or are ya afraid of one little trapper?”

The demon roared its anger, waving its arms in the air.

Now!

He sent the pipe end over end toward the Three’s head. It ducked, which was exactly what Beck had hoped. He ran forward, under-handing the sphere directly into the demon’s face. The sphere shattered, splattering the sacred liquid. With a groan, the monster crumpled onto its knees between the tracks, fighting to stay conscious.

A low noise brought Beck’s eyes up as a train loomed out of the tunnel on his tracks, so close he felt the pressure wave of air that rode just ahead of it.

“Den! Get out of there!” Paul cried.

Beck took a desperate leap toward the platform, his knees ramming into side of it as he tried to claw his way out. The horn split the air, followed by the shriek of brakes as the train operator realized the tracks weren’t empty.

Hands grabbed at him and pulled. Beck felt something tug on the back of one of his boots, nearly pulling it off. A high-pitched cry filled the air. For a second he thought it had come from his mouth. There was a sickening crunch and then the sound of fat sparks.