CH 23 - Fight or Die

“Denke, the beast is hungry, I think.”

Karl Denke cursed and jerked on the chain attached to the spiked, metal collar around the Hell Hound’s neck. The beast had the scent of their prey now and muscles coiled beneath it’s hairless, black hide with the urge to be let loose. Saliva dripped from sharp, yellow teeth in anticipation of the kill.

“Yes, it is.” He looked around and nodded. “The trail is fresh. Our prey is heavily burdened and has grown weak. It won’t be long now. We will feast soon enough, beast.”

The hound wasn’t the only one slavering in anticipation. In all his time in Hell, Denke had never had the opportunity to feast on Succubus flesh. Would it be tender? Would it taste sweet?

Soon, he thought with a smile of anticipation. Very soon now.

The five lesser servants assigned to assist Denke in his hunt fingered their weapons in savage anticipation. Their hard, human eyes scanned to the left, right, and rear of the Prussian Butcher, always vigilant for threat or opportunity. Three men and two women proudly bore a mark of ownership burned into the right cheek and scars from many battles fought on their demon Master’s behalf. Each wore a large backpack stuffed with survival gear.

The clawed footprints of the lavender Succubus led them to, and vanished at, a sheer wall of rock. Vines and scrub brush clung to the weathered stone in tangled patches. Nothing moved except the wind.

“Where did the bitch go?” Pierre asked.

“Quiet.” Denke rumbled and looked up the cliff. “We’re close. I can smell her fear. Drop the packs. Weapons only from here. Billy, climb up and see where she might be hiding. Pierre, search around and make certain she did not double back on here trail. Everyone else, stay alert for an ambush.”

Billy began to climb. He vanished over a ledge only to re-appear moments later. “There’s a cave entrance up here.”

“Ah,” Denke smiled. “I have you now, little bitch, and whatever it is you are trying so hard to hide. Up we go. Quick and quiet now.”

“Not you, beast.” Denke jerked the snarling Hell Hound back. “It is stealth and surprise we need now. Your part in this chase is over. No one gets to eat my prize except me.” He hooked the chain leash to a metal spike and, with one massive blow of a hammer, drove the spike deep into the ground. “That should hold you,” he laughed ad pointed. “Sit.”

The beast snarled at him, then sat.

“Stay,” Denke ordered and climbed up the ledge.

The way was narrow. The half dozen hunters had to climb up and duck into the dark crevasse one at a time. Denke went last, struggling to squeeze his armored bulk through the break in the rock.

He gestured for Pierre to lead the way. The ground immediately sloped downward, ever deeper into the earth, and into unbroken darkness. Pierre stared into the thick blackness and felt dread coil in his gut. He didn’t like this, not at all, but what choice was there? The way back was blocked by the rest of his team and their demon Master who would suffer no reports of cowardice from his servants.

None of them had counted on cave diving when this chase had begun. Without lights, there was nothing to do except shuffle forward through the unbroken black, one step at a time. Pierre took a step, and another- right into a sudden, sharp drop. Before anyone knew what was happening, something jagged speared through the sole of his boot.

Denke heard the rattle and thump of Pierre crashing to the ground. A blood-curdling scream of agony exploded through the darkness, battering painfully at their ears in the tight confines of the tunnel. Denke pushed forward to lean past Sonja. A match flared bright yellow in his fingers.

Billy looked down and recoiled at the sight. “Bloody fuck!”

The lead hunter lay in the dirt of the narrow passage. His left foot was ankle-deep in a hole and bent at a grotesque angle. The fluttering light reflected off of ragged flesh and the white shine of jagged, shattered bone. The mist that was his life force seeped out of his foot and ankle and that wasn’t even the worst of it

Metal needles sprouted from Pierre’s face and hands, including one that had pierced his right eye. All around where he had fallen, a small minefield of ash-covered needles sprouted point up out of the ground. Writhing in screaming agony only embedded more needles into his flesh.

“End that noise!” Denke bellowed over the echoing screams from his position in the back of the line. Billy raised his hand ax and drove it down with all his strength. The screaming stopped.

Denke laughed, a bubbling and cruel sound. “Aren’t you just the clever, tasty, little treat? I will savor every bite of your delicious flesh.” He gave Billy a hard shove in the back, then pulled his goggles gown to protect his eyes against any other potential traps in the tunnel. “Keep moving. We will loot his corpse of gear on our return.”

Billy was less than eager to lead the way further into the narrow darkness but he reluctantly complied. They each stepped over the body and moved forward, kicking needles aside and testing each step carefully in the black. Denke wasted a match after expensive match to provide some small measure of light, growing angrier with his mounting costs as each one flared and died. Sweat trickled into Billy’s eyes and down his neck as he imagined new horrors with every step and labored breath.

Finally, just ahead, beyond a turn in the rock, he saw a spill of orange light. A glance at his feet revealed no more dangers. Spear held at the ready, he stepped out into the cavern, certain that the worst was over.

A rope snapped up out of the dirt, inches from the right side of his face to something above and behind. The man turned as liquid splashed down on his head, stinging his eyes and reeking of spearmint. From the back of the group, Denke could just hear what sounded like the spark of a match.

“Oh shit,” Billy moaned. And then his world was fire.

Logan knew the enemy was close when he heard the first man scream. One down, I hope. He thought. Six to go.

He looked over to Beauty and Karen, both crouched behind the cover of rock. “Remember the plan.”

“Logan...” Beauty snarled.

“No, Beauty! No more talk. You’re still too weak for a pitched battle, and if they get through me, you are our last hope.” He didn’t say out loud what they were all probably thinking. Because I will likely be dead. “Stick to the plan.”

He hurried to get into position. With any luck, the spiked trap and the minefield of needles he had planted in the dirt would slow them enough to give him time to be ready. Logan moved in a fast combat crouch behind a thick spire of stalagmite where all of his chosen weapons of war were carefully arranged for easy access.

The first to step into the orange light of the cavern was a servant according to the tattoo on the man’s right cheek. And yet, despite being little more than property himself, the man was vastly better equipped than any demon Logan and Beauty had previously fought.

A brown, leather, combat vest, with many loops and pockets for equipment, protected his torso over a long-sleeved, rust-colored, shirt. Pants of the same color were tucked into stout, weather-beaten, brown leather boots. A dagger hung from his right hip. On his left hip was a holster. In one hand was a short sword. In the other was what Logan had feared, a pistol. A pair of brass goggles perched on his forehead over a leather cap meant to shield his skull from injury.

Not this time. Logan pulled on the first rope. It snapped up out of the dirt he had hidden it in, pulling the leather bag from a narrow ledge in the rock above the cavern entrance. The rotgut liquor splashed down. Logan thumbed a match to life, lit the cloth wrapped rock in his other hand, and threw.