New Title 1 (9 page)

Twenty-Five

O’Rouke yanked his oil lamp away from the open case he’d found in the corner of the barn as soon as he saw what was contained within it.

This was why they’d come.

He lifted a stick of dynamite in his free hand and felt its weight. O’Rouke counted eight more sticks inside the case. Seeing those damned monsters chew on one of these firecrackers would be fun. Carefully, he placed the stick back where it belonged. They didn’t appear to be sweating, but his knowledge of explosives consisted of what he had heard in stories told by drunken miners and railroad workers during his travels.

He figured Nathan would know how to handle the stuff properly. The man sure seemed to know everything else. Even the way he fought was fancy. O’Rouke had seen the martial arts style Nathan used among the Orientals, but he’d never seen a white man use it, much less with such skill, until Nathan put him on his arse during their first encounter. His tongue probed the empty gums of the two teeth he’d lost in that fight.

A shuffling sound came from the hay loft above him. O’Rouke drew his pistol and held his lamp high to get a look at the area where the noise had originated. A rat ran across one of the barn’s support beams and he breathed a sigh of relief. Though he would never admit it to another living soul, he was scared. Horse thieves, drunks, even gunfighters he could handle...but demons from Hell? They really creeped him out and put him on edge. He holstered his gun and went to fetch Nathan.

He ran into Louis and the man dressed in black at the entrance of the barn. “Found it,” he boasted. “We got ourselves enough dynamite to cause them things a real hurting.”

He led Nathan to the crate of dynamite and watched as their leader inspected it closely. “This stuff is in pretty good shape. Shouldn’t be too dangerous to carry, but I would recommend not letting it get bumped around too much, just to be safe.”

“
Great,” Louis muttered. “Who gets to be the one to lug it into town?”

Nathan and O’Rouke both turned to him as he asked. The look on their faces spoke volumes. “I should have known,” he sighed. He grimaced at the container of explosives.

“
Sorry, Louis,” Nathan said, putting a hand on the near-sighted editor’s shoulder, “but you are the logical choice. O’Rouke and I are the better shots and we know how to handle ourselves in a fight. If it makes you feel any better about it, we’ll be doing our best to keep those things off of you while you’re tossing the dynamite sticks.”

Twenty-Six

Pastor Gregory had long grown accustomed to the lingering, hungry howls of the demons outside the church. It was funny what a person could adapt to, given enough time. His hope had been that the rising sun would drive them back into the darkness which had given them birth, only the sun never rose. It was as if time itself had stopped in its tracks and the night had become eternal. Still, he was not afraid.

“
God is good,” he said aloud as he prepared his meager meal of hardtack, stale bread and tepid water. He was grateful for the food on his plate, though he wanted a hot cup of coffee badly. Coffee was his one addiction and he drank too much of it on a daily basis. Being cut off from the caffeinated beverage without warning left him jittery and in a foul mood, despite his best efforts.

The front door of the church was almost gone. It hung on its hinges, a broken and battered mess of wood and splinters. It was only through the grace of God that somehow it still held the creatures at bay.

Most of the windows lay in sparkling shards on the floor. The demons outside, though they remained to plague him, had stopped their relentless attack on the building. Pastor Gregory bowed his head to say grace as a commotion began outside. The demon’s howls were joined by a chorus of similar cries that sounded like they were getting closer with each passing second.

Pastor Gregory set aside his plate of food. With the cross which once hung on the wall of his office in hand, he carefully peeked through the window closest to the main door. There were more than five dozen of the demons approaching from town to join the ones who sat watch over him. In their midst walked an angelic being, garbed in pure white, who glittered underneath the pale light of the stars.

“
Pastor Wayne Gregory,” the glistening man in white called, “Your faith is about to be rewarded!”

Retreating deeper into the church’s main aisle, between matching rows of pews, Pastor Gregory prepared for the worst. The front door fell from its hinges as the man in white swaggered inside. As he crossed the threshold and walked toward Pastor Gregory, his illusion of graceful divinity fell apart. His white clothing smoked as patches of it began to smolder and his tanned skin melted away to reveal snake-like skin in place of flesh. The red glow of his eyes illuminated the horror that was his face, and when he smiled again, his teeth were sharp, pointed, jagged things like those of a rabid dog which had gnawed its way free of some mighty chain.

Pastor Gregory fought down the fear growing within him and stepped forward to meet the demon. He thrust his cross forward. “In the name of the Lord God almighty, I cast you out of this place!” The demon-thing threw its arms over its face to ward off the power of the cross. Pastor Gregory pressed his attack, moving closer still. “In the name of Jesus, begone!”

The thing peeked between its lifted arms and snickered at the pastor. “Just fooling,” it laughed and grabbed the cross from the man of God’s hand. Pastor Gregory saw the demon’s hand catch fire as it held the crucifix. It cursed and hurled it across the room.

Pastor Gregory heard the cross strike the far wall of the church and clatter, useless, to the wooden floor. The demon’s eyes glowed a darker shade of red as the flames on its hand were extinguished. Cradling its wounded extremity to its stomach, it glared at him.

“
That wasn’t very nice,” it spat, his words devolving into a hissing noise when they stressed the ess sound. “I came all this way just to see you and you burn me. I was going to kill you quickly, but now I think a bit of suffering is in order.” The demon thrust its hands out from its sides, its arms spread long like the savior on the cross.

An unseen force blew the church’s walls and roof apart. The church’s structure flamed as it fell, becoming nothing more than ash before any of it ever touched the ground. The last bits of the debris drifted over Pastor Gregory like a black snow. The demon marched itself to Pastor Gregory, lifting him from what remained of the floor by this throat.

With the church destroyed, the demon’s foppishly handsome features returned, though they carried a hard, sinister edge. Lee’s white gloved fingers dug into Pastor Gregory’s flesh. “Your god is strong little man,” Lee hissed as a forked tongue darted from his mouth to stroke the pastor’s cheek. “But in this world, I am stronger. He gave it to us when we were cast from the heavens and I...I am going to make this world into such a likeness of my L

ord Lucifer’s dreams that not even God will be able to ignore the blood and flames!”

The pastor watched as the man in white held up the hand that had burned and showed it to him. “See, it’s all better now. Your effort was wasted—just as your faith is!”

Pastor Gregory twisted in the demon’s hold and spat into its face. Lee flung him into the waiting arms of his hungry, soulless children. Pastor Gregory felt dozens of cold, grasping hands pulling him in different directions. He screamed as one of his shoulders dislocated. A set of yellow teeth tore a chunk of meat from his thigh and a clawed finger poked his left eye from its socket to bob by a purple vein against his cheek.

The man in white waded into the ranks of the lesser demons and yanked him free of them. “It’s not time to die yet, Wayne,” he chided the pastor. Lee carried him to an enclave behind where the church had stood, and let his children hold Pastor Gregory against a tree with his arms spread and his feet pressed together.

Pastor Gregory watched in horror as Lee snapped off one of his own fingers and straightened it as another grew back to take its place. Lee removed two more fingers in this fashion before his attention returned the pastor. He plunged each of them through Pastor Gregory’s hands and pushed together feet, crucifying him on the tree. Pastor Gregory wailed and moaned with pain. Finally, Lee turned his back to the religious leader and motioned for his children to depart. They left Pastor Gregory to die as his savior had so long ago.

Twenty-Seven

Two hours later, O’Rouke, Nathan and Louis rode into Reaper’s Valley. The streets were empty except for the rotting bodies of the dead. The trio galloped up to the saloon and dismounted.

O’Rouke clutched a Winchester tightly in his sweaty palms and a pair of double barrel shotguns were strapped to his back. Louis wore a revolver in the holster of the new gun belt about his waist and held a stick of dynamite ready to be lit at the first sign of trouble. Nathan’s custom-made Colts were in both hands as he led the way into the saloon. The saloon reeked of stale blood, brimstone and human waste. The sheriff nearly gagged as he caught a whiff of it. There was no sign of Legion or his minions.

“
Louis,” Nathan said quietly, “Check the upstairs.”

O’Rouke took a position that gave him a clear shot at the front door as Louis crept up the stairs to the second floor. “Where are they?” O’Rouke complained, impatient.

Nathan moved to the center of the huge saloon so that he could get a shot at both the rear of the bar and the main door if he needed to. As if in response to O’Rouke’s question, all Hell broke loose.

Demons came pouring from both sides of the saloon, snarling and screaming their rage and hunger. The lawman and Nathan opened fire at the same time. O’Rouke’s Winchester cracked, sending the fastest of the creatures coming at him straight back to Hell as a bullet blew out the backside of its skull. It toppled to the floor, tripping up the ones following it. Nathan’s hands were a blur as his pistols dispensed his own blend of righteous justice upon the pack of demons charging at him from the rear of the bar.

Seeing he didn’t have time to aim his shots, O’Rouke tossed his rifle aside and unslung his shotguns. He emptied the two double barreled weapons in a single, staggering blast. Three demons died as the heavy slugs ripped through their stolen bodies.

Out of shells, the sheriff dropped one of the shotguns and swung the other like a club. It impacted with the jaw of the creature leaping at him with the sound of crunching bone. The demon smashed into a table to O’Rouke’s left, its broken and disjointed jaw hanging open as blood bubbled from its mouth. The blow shattered the rifle’s stock, rendering it useless as a club, so the sheriff flipped it around in his hands and impaled the next demon.

As the broken shotgun slid into the thing’s chest like a spear, it grabbed at O’Rouke, slashing deep groves into the flesh of his arms through his jacket. The Irishman screamed, but held firm to his makeshift spear and twisted it inside the creature as it howled, its blood covering the front of O’Rouke’s shirt and hands. O’Rouke released the shotgun as the demon stumbled backwards, trying to pull the weapon out of its gut, and finally fell over. The sheriff drew his pistol like a professional gunfighter, but the remaining creatures were too close and too fast. He went down under a mass of clawing hands and gnashing teeth.

Twenty-Eight

When Nathan’s Colts clicked empty, twelve demons lay dead on the saloon floor. Only two of the ones who’d entered from the rear of the bar remained. He spun his smoking Colts into their holsters and held his ground as they charged at him. He caught the first one, using its own momentum against it, and smashed it into the bar behind him.

Its face crumpled inward from the force of the impact and Nathan left it lying unconscious as he turned to meet the second monster. With a swift kick to the underside of its chin, its neck was snapped in a single, painful motion.

Nathan knew he was far from being out of danger.

He jumped over the bar and ducked behind it. His fingers flew as he reloaded one of his pistols with a chamber of silver bullets, each with the sign of the cross etched into their tips. He finished just as the second wave of demons charged, fueled on by feasting on O’Rouke’s soul.

Nathan put a bullet into the first one’s right eye and rolled to his feet. He came up firing. Demons dropped like flies from his well aimed shots.

“
Enough!” Lee shouted as he entered the saloon. The final seven demons inside the saloon sunk to their haunches and sat like cowering dogs in the presence of a cruel and violent master. Nathan and Lee stared at each other across the bar in silence.

Twenty-Nine

L ouis had barely reached the top of the stairs when the demons poured in and the fighting started. Knowing he couldn’t use the explosives he carried without killing Nathan and O’Rouke along with the things, he had ducked into the closest room and shut its door after him. He let out a cry of surprise and fear when he realized he was not alone. A battered and bloodied young woman lay on the bed across the room from him. Louis saw at once that she was still human and rushed to her side. He knelt by her and stared at her with compassion, trying not to let the pity he felt for her show as he met her eyes with his.

“
Every thing’s alright,” he murmured, “We’re here to help.” Louis tried to remain calm even as he was on the verge of panic, not knowing how to handle the severity of her wounds. “What’s your name?” he asked her.