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I pulled my pistol and shot him in the knee. He went down hard, and I turned the gun on Constance. Her face went slack, and I tried hard not to feel anything about that as I kept the gun steady.
This was the old Lee, but still me.
"You were right," I said. "I was one of the men empowered to hunt things like you. Then a pack of vampires caught me and hung me. I died, but I didn't stay that way. I've tried to leave that life behind, but you're right, Constance. Blood always finds blood."
"Don't you dare!" Marie screamed at me. "She is my sister! Mine! I control her, not you!"
The bushes parted behind Marie, and the hellhound rushed forward.
"That's a good story," I said. "Tell it to the demon who took your soul in trade when you get down to hell."
I pulled the trigger. It was like lightning flashing out over the Pacific--a tenth of a second of violence, then stillness.
Constance lay on the ground, a little smoke curling from the hole in her forehead. Marie let out a short scream, and then she was still as well.
A pair of small feet in roughed-up men's boots came to stand next to mine. A match flared, and I smelled the sticky, pungent waft of a hand-rolled cigarette.
"You know I'm going to have to tell my bosses about this," Ava said, exhaling. "But since I collected on Marie, you'll probably have a few days' head start." She looked up at me. "So, you're a hunter."
"Was," I corrected her. "When I was alive."
"Ever kill any hellhounds?" she said.
I met her eyes. "A few."
She snorted. "Be out of Los Angeles when I come back here, if you like . . . well, not being alive, exactly. Whatever you call this."
"It was a demon," I said. "Ancient. Lived under the mountain where they buried me. I died and I saw a long hall, man standing at the end all in black. I couldn't see his face. He brought me back. Still not sure why."
Ava ground her cigarette out under the toe of her boot. Behind us, Tom Mason whimpered softly, but otherwise the air and sea were still. "All of us have that hallway, Lee," she said. "Every one of us that's crossed over and come back. Only way you're going to have any peace is to look the man in black in the eye."
She left, on two legs or four, I wasn't sure. I left, too, after a while, and drove, feeling like a gold-plated bastard. I couldn't let Constance stay alive. Not with the risk her ability posed to everyone. Next time, it wouldn't just have been a brothel. It could have been a whole apartment building, a block, a city.
Ava, too. Her time would come. I wouldn't let her live, but I might give her a fighting chance. I owed her, after all. She'd reminded me who I was, even though I'd tried to paint over it for the last decade with the booze and the hiding. I was a hunter. That was why I was still here. And the first thing I tracked down was going to be the demon responsible.
DOWN WHERE THE DARKNESS DWELLS
JOSEPH NASSISE
In the world of the Templar Chronicles, a resurrected Templar order is tasked with defending mankind from supernatural threats and enemies. One of the recurring villains in the series is the necromancer Simon Logan, leader of the Council of Nine. Logan is an acolyte of an even greater threat, the fallen angel Ashereal, also known as the Adversary. "Down Where the Darkness Dwells" reveals how these deadly and dangerous individuals came to be allies . . .
The cave gaped like an open mouth, and staring at it, Simon Logan had no difficulty understanding why the local tribesmen regarded it with superstitious dread, thinking it an entry to hell itself.
Then again, he, like the others with him, knew all too well that some superstitions were rooted in truth. It might not have been hell they were descending into, but all their research suggested it just might be close enough.
"Well? What are you waiting for?"
Logan took a moment to arrange his features into an approximation of pleasantness before turning to face the speaker. Jonathan Hale was a tall, hook-nosed blond with an air of superiority matched only by his power over the dead. He led the necromantic Council of Nine with ruthless efficiency. The mages in his inner circle were powerful sorcerers in their own right, though none equaled Hale's ability. One day Simon hoped to join their ranks. For now, however, he had to be content with serving as an acolyte, learning at the knee of men like Hale until his own meager powers grew into something more tangible.
It was a necessity, but Logan didn't have to like it.
The team was here in the jungles of Honduras hunting for an artifact of considerable power known as the Necklace of Yum Cimil. They'd landed four days earlier at Toncontin International Airport, where they were met by the guide Hale had hired to take them into the interior. They'd loaded their gear into a pair of off-road vehicles and driven for hours before camping the first night at a small village outside of Azacualpa. Then, at dawn the next day, they'd made their way on foot into the jungle. Three days of hiking through difficult and dangerous terrain had led them to this cave hidden in a thicket of mangrove trees.
It was Logan's job to lead them inside. Not because he had any particular experience in spelunking; no, that would have been too logical for a man like Hale. Instead, Logan had been selected to lead the group for the simple reason that he was the most expendable. Cave fodder, so to speak. If anything were to go wrong, Logan would be the first to tangle with it, giving the others time to react or retreat.
And he wonders why I'm reluctant to get under way, Logan thought. Still, he'd agreed, and there was nothing to be done about it now but shoulder on.
He spoke a word of power and watched as the end of the torch he carried burst into green flame. The arcane fire would burn brighter than normal flames but wouldn't give off the heat or smoke that were the by-products of a traditional torch.
