Demon Hunter: Apocrypha

[Wyldwraith]

The sauna-like heat and humidity of the heavily overcast day cast an oppressive pall over the deserted streets, sidewalks, and nearby marina of the small Atlantic seaside town. Even for a Florida summer the heat was unusually intense, while the absence of the slightest hint of a breeze gave the air a flat; dead feel, filling the town with the composite reek of salt, stagnant water and rotting vegetation. The stillness had become so all-encompassing that by the time the midnight blue, late-model BMW turned down the town's main thoroughfare, the very motion seemed a violation of sorts.

As the vehicle passed, most would have missed the subtle motions of a swaying window shade or a single window-blind snapping back into place. Most, but not the driver of the BMW concealed by darkly tinted windows. The suspicious, furtive observers only served to confirm what years of experience and natural instinct told him. Something was very wrong in this unremarkable little backwater. After three more turns onto ever more rundown side roads, the dark blue luxury sedan finally slowed in front of an unremarkable ranch-style one story house. From the patches of gray cement visible where the stucco veneer had flaked away to the long streaks of dark mildew below the broken gutter bordering the roof and at the two bottom corners of the large dirt-shaded picture window, the visual impression that struck the driver as he parked in the cracked and stained driveway was that of a gore-stained cyclopean eye socket. With glass crunching beneath his carefully polished black steel-toed boots, the next thought of the case-carrying man was tinged with a weak sort of revulsion and weariness. "The ruptured eye socket of a cyclops? That's what I see when I look at a big dirty window? God I need a vacation" the well-dressed, dark-haired young man thought.

Skipping the pretense of social decorum, a single well placed kick just above the door knob caused the cheap prefabricated door to buckle inwards with a splintering crunch. Case in one hand and the other beneath his exquisitely tailored dark gray coat, the man nonchalantly waltzed into the dim living room like he owned the place. What he saw and smelled, expected as it was, brought a lip-curling grimace of disgust to the face of the well-dressed and immaculately groomed young man. One glance and whiff of the house's filthy interior was enough to convince the man he'd come to the right place. Face impassive, he continued on deeper into the home in search of his quarry. Other than to step over or around rotting streaks of old feces and partially dried pools of black-and-green vomit, the case-carrying man ignored the filth that saturated most of the floor, walls and furniture. He was nearing what appeared to be the master bedroom when he made a far more grisly discovery.

The body appeared to be that of an adult woman judging by the torn clothes and width of the pelvis. Such generalized cues were needed since the head, arms and legs had been torn off and were nowhere to be seen. Even worse was the precise way the breasts had been excised. Deep, perfectly circular holes made it appear as if the victim's breasts had been scooped out of her chest. The long curving gash in the victim's belly completed the killer's sick joke, as the crude smiley-face carved into the bloated and decaying torso stared sightlessly upwards at a blood-encrusted ceiling. Shaking his head at the savage pleasure the killer had obviously taken in the depraved murder and desecration of the body, the pale; dark-haired young man paused to take in the sheer destruction which surrounded him, before his gaze settled on a small but significant part of the living room. Untouched amid the devastation and filth, it was obvious the killer was sending a message. One that the investigator heard loud and clear.

Above the shattered television hung the carefully arranged photos of proud and happy moments in the lives of the family that lived and died here. Surrounded by these many framed photographs was the much larger family portrait. The young man looked long and hard at the smiling faces of parents and children alike, understanding the portrait and other photos had been left intact because it pleased the killer to leave intact a visual record of the family destroyed by its murderous hate.

Reaching his destination, the man raised his left hand and held it close to the surface of the door. Biting cold seeped from the room beyond, in sharp contrast to the suffocating heat of the rest of the house. Inhaling deeply, the unusual young man's discerning sense of smell picked out the hint of acrid sulfur from the eye-watering stench of rotting flesh, congealed blood and raw filth blanketing the house's interior. Withdrawing a large silver coin with strange symbols and characters etched on both sides from an inside jacket pocket, the young man gripped the coin firmly between the thumb and middle finger of his left hand. Setting down the case he'd clutched since exiting his car for the couple of seconds it took to grasp the doorknob and open the door, the grim-faced investigator grabbed the case by its handle and quickly stepped inside the bedroom.

The gust of sub-zero wind that met his advance had no visible source, yet it buffeted the man as he moved deeper into the frigid bedroom. Steady breaths were readily visible due to the unrelenting cold, but the investigator's attention was focused on assessing his surroundings and keeping a watchful eye on the room's solitary inhabitant. A single glance about the bedroom revealed that all the light fixtures had been systematically destroyed, while filth-covered sheets and blankets had been used to thoroughly cover the windows. A second look confirmed the man's initial impression that sections of flesh-stripped bones, probably from the dead woman's missing arms and legs had been used as crude spikes to nail the blankets and sheets over the bedroom windows. Like the rest of the house, every flat surface of the room had been smeared and sprayed with his quarry's piss, shit and multicolored vomit. None of which was as obscene as the revolting creature in the center of the room. From the moment he'd stepped into the room this was where the bulk of his attention had been fixed, yet the young-looking investigator took great pains to behave as if he hardly noticed the unholy thing inhabiting the twisted, diseased-looking and filth covered body of the once pretty strawberry blond-haired, blue-eyed teenager that had smiled down at him from the family portrait in the befouled living room. The portrait that had been given pride-of-place at the heart of the carefully organized display of photos that now memorialized the once happy family. Finally allowing his gaze to openly settle on the monster that had destroyed them, the highly trained investigator felt something besides the sick weariness that had dogged him for some time.

Rage. The fires of which were fed by the sure and certain knowledge that the purely evil nature of the Infernal entity responsible for these horrors meant it would continue to inflict pain, increase suffering and cultivate violence, bloodshed and despair unless it was stopped. That thought was echoed a moment later by the sinisterly hissing voice that emerged from the bloodstained mouth of the possessing demon's current vessel. "Sso, have you come to prattle at me about your pitiful God until I finally grow bored and leave this ssweet, ssweet girl to find a new playmate priest?"

Seth said nothing as the demon continued its profane rant, though something dark and dangerous flickered in his eyes at the word "priest". A more cunning demon might have realized its peril, but the Defiler was as stupid and unimaginative as it was crude, which it had amply demonstrated by the all-too-obvious rampage that had begun the whispering in certain circles the investigator kept tabs on. Low-level demons like the Defiler often lingered over their "work" for days, as they moved on to terrorizing the neighbors once they'd used up their initial victims. Those fearful whispers had been what first lead the investigator south, until he'd gotten close enough to employ other more refined means to zero in on this location.

For a long moment the young-looking man with world-weary eyes did nothing but continue to stare at the monster before him. There was no warning, and no reply to the infernal beast's rant until Seth threw out his hand and flicked the coin he'd been holding with a well-practiced snap of his fingers. Its rapid spinning caused a low hum as the coin streaked through the air towards its target. Surprised by the sudden movement, the demon reacted too late to avoid the spinning projectile, which struck the forehead of the possessed girl and stuck fast with an angry hiss. Instantly paralyzed, the girl's body fell backward as her right shoulder struck the wooden headboard with an audible thump that caused Seth to wince sympathetically. A moment later the impassive mask was firmly in place once more as Seth lifted the case and set it flat on the corner of the bed as he quickly undid its clasp and threw it open to reveal a substantial arsenal of sorts, as well as a variety of strange-looking items. Donning the pair of well-worn gray leather gloves which sat on top of the remainder of the travel-case's contents, Seth was all business as he grasped the girl by each ankle and pulled the motionless body down into the center of the king-sized bed, then carefully folded boil and blister-covered hands to rest directly over her heart. Only then did he speak.

"I'm no priest demon. You aren't that fortunate. A priest would simply fling your wretched essence back to Hell, where you'd lick your wounds until you found another vulnerable soul to act as a doorway back to this world, allowing you to go on yet another rampage. Exorcisms are pointless, as you and I both know. If I were to drive you out, assuming the girl survived the misplaced guilt and self-hatred she'd torture herself with because of what you've done using her body would leave her a ready-made doorway for you and your ilk to exploit as long as she lived. Which probably wouldn't be long, given how often the real victims like her take their own lives and end up Damned chew-toys for you and yours for all eternity. No, I prefer a solution with a bit more finality. I'm going to destroy you demon, and send this poor girl's soul to be with her family. Now, if you have any final words, useless threats or desperate attempts to make a deal to save your wretched essence go ahead. I release the voice of your vessel" Seth finished explaining in an icy tone. Suddenly able to speak once more, the demon began the usual pattern of alternating threats, pleas and promises as the dark-haired man methodically continued his preparations.

"You..you can't do thiss human! Kill me and you kill the girl!" the demon threatened. After a single sharp glance at the mention of the young woman's death, all expression drained from Seth's face as he continued his methodical preparations. As he removed a long old-fashioned nail from a small leather pouch containing several others just like it, the demon let loose an earsplitting scream, a torrent of seemingly genuine tears, and a multitude of frightened questions. All of which was meant to convince the grim young man that the demon had fled its victim's body. Seth wasn't deceived, knowing the coin prevented his quarry from fleeing as surely as it kept the demon from moving its host body. As he carefully placed the point of the nail directly over the young woman's heart he finally responded.


"Threats and lies. Guess I shouldn't be surprised given the source. Time to pay for your crimes MONSTER!" Seth shouted, driving the coffin nail completely through both of the girl's hands and deep into her heart with one great blow. The body bucked once, and then again, before finally going limp as the mad light left her eyes, leaving them glassy in death. Passing one hand over them to close her eyes, Seth fought back the inevitable tears as he retrieved the nail, removed his gloves and returned everything to its proper place within the case. Last of all he plucked the coin from the now blemish-free skin and pocketed it as he grasped the case's handle and strode quickly from the room without looking back.

Miles down the road, and staring at the etched stone which had begun a slow counterclockwise spin at the end of the chain hanging from the rearview mirror, the hot, angry, pain-filled tears finally began to fall as Seth realized yet another diabolical entity had entered this world. Sick at heart over the apparent futility of his awful labors, the black-haired investigator turned onto the highway, heading for the closest thing he had to a home.