Necromanson (Beta) Chapter 17 (Patreon)

The drive was silent, each of them apparently lost in their thoughts. Henry glanced outside the window, and saw the clouds forming an indistinct spiral, centered on their destination. His heart started to hammer a steady rhythm as he experienced a cold sweat.

“You never truly get used to fighting for your life, you simply get better at hiding your unease,” Nakayama said quietly, following Henry’s gaze.

Sam reached back from the driver’s seat with two small crystals in the palm of his hand. “Take one each,” he said, waiting for them to retrieve the stones from his hand. “If either of you get within ten feet of Manson, smash the crystal with whatever you have on hand. Side effects may include bursting into flame, sudden enlightenment, transmogrification, or a slight warping of reality. The closer you get to the bastard, the better. Ten feet is the minimum. If you smash it against his ugly mug, bonus points.”

“It will be harder than you might think, Sam,” Nakayama said, rolling the crystal between his fingertips. “There will be enthralled woman and men who are slaves to their desires protecting him.”

“I saw thousands literally worshipping him,” Henry said. “How do we get past all that?”

“Not a problem,” Sam said. “We have the perfect bait.”

“You mean me,” Henry said, tucking the crystal into the sleeve of his shirt.

“For some reason, he really wants to get at you,” Sam said, his eyes returning to the road as he drove. “So we’ll wave a big juicy Henry steak in front of him.”

Henry nodded, swallowing down the animal inside him scratching away at his stomach, trying to escape the situation. He took a deep breath, and opened the spellbook he had taken from the mansion, dedicating himself to committing his Backup Plan to memory. In Henry’s mind, his young tree swayed in the breeze, and the pastoral land around it came into focus, sharpened by his desperate need.

Henry was started out of his mind’s eye when the limousine jerked lightly as they came to a gentle halt in front of the Yellow River Condominium, the deathtrap that he had helped make a reality. Henry opened the door, and stepped out into the street. He could feel the difference in the air, now. A looming absence permeated the air, prickling his skin and making his breath catch in his lungs. Henry put his hand over his mouth and coughed as the air pricked his insides, making them feel like they were rattling around inside him.

Sam and Nakayama watched Henry’s reaction with bewilderment on their faces. “Something wrong, Henry?” Sam asked.

Henry glanced at Sam through teary eyes. “You can’t feel that?” he asked. Sam shrugged, and Nakayama shook his head, his brows drawn together severely.

“Mr Stein, it is possible that you are more sensitive to this place due to your previous exposure. You may be experiencing the reverse osmosis I described,” Nakayama said. “You’ll be suffering as long as you stay here, we have to act with haste, or withdraw before you become incapacitated.”

Henry shook his head, stifling a cough. “We’re going in.” Henry saw a girl in tight jean shorts and a colorful tank top stride up to them, a valet hat pinned into her hair.

“I’ll park your car gentlemen,” She said, receiving the key from Sam. “Are you here for the Council’s summons?” Sam nodded. “The reception is in the dining hall, in the east wing, third floor.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Henry said, taking the lead, and walking through the sliding doors. The lobby, once slick with the blood of twenty armed men, was clean, and men and women went about their day, laughing and chatting. Henry’s eyes narrowed as he did a quick head count. It seemed as though the women outnumbered the men at a roughly five to one ratio. The men were lean, weathered, and scarred, many showing the hollowed cheeks of drug abuse. The women were young, runaways and high schoolers predominately, laughing and dancing happily, unreasoning contentment showing in their persistent smiles. Their eyes passed over Henry as though he didn’t exist in their minds, greatly at odds with the men, who watched the three of them with animalistic intensity.

Henry wordlessly guided the two with him to the elevator, shrugging off the stares of the men in the lobby. The elevator door opened, and the three of them entered.

“That’s some creepy shit,” Sam said as the elevator carried them away from the lobby. “Reminds me of the blood sacrifices back home.” Nakayama grunted, his eloquence waning. An awkward silence dominated the elevator, until the doors opened again with a ding! Henry stepped out into the hall, the tickle in his lungs growing stronger.

Henry resisted the urge to cough, and walked to the chintzy fake wood double doors that lead to the reception hall for businesses on the third floor. It was no surprise that the building was mediocre by every stretch of the word, It was never truly meant to house the living.

Henry took a deep breath and swung the doors open, and noise washed over him. Hundreds of men and women had gathered at the summons of the Council, food and wine had been distributed around the room, and the party sounded jovial, but Henry caught glances from the corners of his eyes that lasted just a little too long, sweat beading the brows of otherwise relaxed wizards. Henry glanced around the room, but couldn’t make out a single focus, telling him that everyone had received the ‘No Weapons’ mandate.

That didn’t mean much. Wizards were the kind of people who would rather hide a spare focus beneath their skin than be without one.

Henry took a deep breath and strode forward. Bait needed to be visible. Henry reached out his hand and shook a nearby wizard’s hand.

“Hi, I’m Henry, I killed Zack Landon.” As the man’s face blanched. He shook another hand, repeating himself, until he found himself at the center of an empty space, the party going on around him magically kept at a distance by fear and uncertainty.

Standing as he was in unoccupied space, Manson spotted him quickly. “Henry!” he shouted jovially as he slid through the crowd, coming to stand in front of him. “I never thought I’d see you here tonight!” He stepped close and clapped Henry on the shoulder. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, actually.” As manson spoke, he flashed a grin that revealed inhuman teeth for just a moment. If Henry hadn’t known what he was dealing with, he would have sworn his mind was playing tricks.

Henry opened his mouth to speak, and flipped the crystal out of his sleeve. “Same here,” Henry said as he slammed the crystal against the monster’s forehead with everything he had, channeling force through his hands to shatter the crystal into dust.

Manson reeled back, his eyes wide, as the light green dust of the crystal spread, filling the air. A palpable weight filled the room. The air became thick, and Henry finally was able to breathe deep in the tainted atmosphere. Manson jerked his head forward, fixing Henry with a vicious glare as his bones rippled beneath his skin.

“You little shit,” Manson said, his voice growing deeper. Manson’s shoulders burst through his shirt, and all hell broke loose. He took a swing at Henry with a rapidly elongating arm, newly formed claws slicing through the air. Henry threw himself backward, slamming against the ring of spectators.

“Just a bitch like everyone else who lived here, you think you’re up? I’ll let you see what I’m like from the inside.” Manson’s rambling words slithered through the room as wizards scattered in every direction, Henry regained his feet, glaring at the monster bursting from its camoflauge.

The creature loomed over the crowd, its head nearly brushing the ten foot ceiling. Its eyes were fixed on Henry as it bared teeth wet with thick saliva. “If you had any idea who you are, you’d know why I own you,” It said as it leaned forward, its clawed hand big enough to wrap around Henry’s torso. Henry threw himself to the ground to get out of the way, and a light breeze ruffled the hair on the back of his neck as the man-sized hand sailed above him.

On instinct, Henry threw himself sideways, and five spear-like claws sunk into the wood floor behind him. Henry scrambled to his feet, his shaking peripheral vision assembling a picture of the pale creature tugging its claws from the floor as Henry broke into a sprint. A nearby wizard slipped a focus from their sleeve and pointed it at Manson, their features serene as they focused.

Ravens with unnaturally sharp beaks manifest around Manson, pecking at his eyes. Manson wildly flailed, and managed to bash a few of the birds against the wall, but they got back on their feet and rejoined the fray, slashing and pecking at the monster relentlessly. The young wizard who cast the spell watched with apparent satisfaction as the monster stumbled about the room, wildly swinging its arms.

Henry shouted out a warning, and the man’s eyes met Henry’s for an instant before a wildly swung backhand propelled the corpse of the former wizard through the thin walls of the meeting hall, leaving only a smear of blood around the edges of the hole. The monster peeked out from beneath its hand and grinned when it saw that the birds were gone. “Distractions, leeches, sucking away at things that aren’t yours,” it said, turning its smile toward Henry.

The dead man’s colleagues mustered their courage, and three of them stopped and leveled their smuggled weapons at the monster. Bursts of fire and shadow leapt from the lenses in their hand, and a beam of light carved the monster from his neck to the bottom of his ribs, while leaving the building behind him unharmed.

Manson idly picked up the woman who had nearly carved him in half, and his tongue flickered out, following the same line she had cut through him in reverse, slowly following the line back to her neck. She screamed as he used his pinky to break her focus holding arm, leaving it to clatter on the ground.

The assault of her compatriots did nothing to stop him, and when his tongue languidly made it to her neck, his mouth descended on her, biting off her upper body and swallowing without chewing. Manson shuddered as the sorceress disappeared down his throat. “Enjoy the view,” he said as he casually tossed her legs aside.

Manson’s eyes picked out Henry again, and he lumbered forward. “I hate to sound like a hopeless romantic,” he said as he took another swing at Henry. “But I want you inside me.” Henry slid beneath a plastic table and rolled out the other side as it crumpled behind him. “You complete me.”

The monster chuckled as it threw the table aside, chasing Henry further into the room. The wizards had rallied to a single purpose, and Manson was mired down by their assault as everything from bolts of lightning to screaming ghosts assaulted the pale creature. “AAAAAUUAAGH!” The roar of frustration shook the floor, and the monster curled in on itself, shielding its body with its massive hands, which began to peel away under the unified attack faster than they could regenerate.

Henry stopped and turned, watching the stalemate between the wizards and the monster. “How long is this gonna take?” Henry asked himself. He spotted Nakayama creating small beads of light that tore softball sized holes in the creature, and ran up to him.

“How long is this gonna take?” Henry shouted into Nakayama’s ear over the din.

“Fifteen seconds!” Nakayama shouted at he continued to shoot the creature, curled pathetically in the corner of the room. The air of the room was sweltering hot, and the corner Manson had curled in had begun to spout gouts of flame as the air shimmered with heat. “Give or take! We have to weaken him as much as possible before the magic runs out, exhausting him will help shred the separation between him and the atmosphere!”

A woman’s scream of rage caught Henry by surprise, and a weight suddenly toppled him forward as fists beat against the back of his head, jarring him. Henry flung himself forward, and he heard a dull thud from the woman riding his shoulders coming into contact with the floor. Henry looked down at her and recognized on of the girls from the lobby.

They streamed into the room, the young girls wildly throwing themselves on wizards and beating them with their fights while screaming in incoherent rage. The men who followed used the distraction to stab or bludgeon distracted wizards, before moving on to the next.

A thin, leather clad man, smelling of rotten teeth, stood only a few feet away, aiming to gut Henry while he was distracted with the girl. Henry stepped forward, pushing the knife out of the way and headbutting him as he stumbled forward. Henry’s forehead broke his nose, and he reeled back.

Henry slipped the knife out of the man’s hand and shoved it into the enemy’s neck. The man’s eyes widened as he ran away, his hand clutching the knife that had mortally wounded him. A flash of color flickered over his eyes, and Henry felt a sudden pressure against his neck. The girl stood behind him, grunting savagely as she tried to strangle him with whatever she had wrapped around his throat.

Henry caught sight of the girl when he turned his head, dyed hair, hovering around a hundred pounds. Zealotry gave her manic strength, but it wasn’t enough to overcome the difference in size. Henry leaned forward, bending his knees. The girl stumbled as he did, but didn’t lose her grip.

Henry’s vision was getting red around the edges when he enacted the second part of his plan. Henry flexed his bent knees and leapt, falling backwards on top of the little teenage girl with all his considerable weight. The thing around his neck slackened, and Henry stood to find the girl staring at the ceiling, desperately trying to breathe. A moment later she drew a shuddering breath as Henry slipped the rope from his neck.

Henry looked at the rope and blinked. It was pink and colorful. Looking back at the girl, he realized she was wearing a single Hello Kitty stocking, and the other leg was bare. Henry tossed the stocking to the trembling, motionless girl, before he looked for Sam. Across the sea of struggling forms, Henry saw Sam break a man’s neck by bringing his fist down on the guy’s skull.

Sam stood head and shoulders above the melee, targeted by wizards and Manson’s zealots alike as both a rallying point and a target. With his other hand he gripped a struggling girl by the waist and threw her back outside the room, where she slid to a halt. Henry turned his attention to Nakayama, where the old man was being pressed by three rabid looking men.

Henry ran behind them and took the first one down with a sucker punch to the back of the head. The man collapsed to the floor like his strings had been cut. Nakayama saw Henry move, and blasted another with his signature snakes, causing him to collapse, shaking violently as his mouth began to froth. The third man, glancing nervously between the two of them, lunged toward the smaller man with a snarl. Nakayama moved, and Henry heard three distinct snaps as Nakayama broke the man’s arm in three places before he touched the ground.

“We gotta close the doors!” Henry said, pointing to the double doors where Manson’s worshippers continued to stream into the room, adding to the burden of the wizards who had to contend with them.

“Of course,” Nakayama said, nodding. He settled the orb of glass on his palm and exhaled as he focused and Henry watched the size of the entryway collapse as if it had always been so, replaced by a single iron security door, which slammed shut on the face of a girl trying to push into the room, launching her back out into the hallway. “Now they are trapped in here with us.”

A flash of pale flesh crossed Henry’s eyes, and a flickering light interposed itself between Nakayama and the monsters hand before he was propelled away, hitting the wall and collapsing to his knees. “You piggies are trapped in here with me,” Manson said in his monstrous voice that shook the floor and buzzed at the edges of Henry’s senses. His clothes had been completely destroyed by the sustained attack and he now stood before them without even the shredded pretense of humanity.

“Would you ever fuck a pig?” Manson said as he leaned over Henry, his arms spread to the left and right, cutting off all retreat. “Most people would be disgusted, say it was beneath them, but I’ve seen some real pretty ones that walk and talk.” Manson chuckled as he loomed over Henry, his thick drool pattering on the ground in front of him.

Henry smiled back at the monster above him, closed his eyes, and collapsed to the ground. “What?” Manson asked in confusion, looking down at his quarry that had simply passed out in front of him. Henry had fallen into a heap, and his smile had yet to leave his lips.

“What do you say,’ Halil?” Manson heard Henry softly murmur the words as though sleep talking in front of him.

“What do you say, Halil?” Henry said, smirking at the ghost in front of him. “Better make a choice fast. You said you hate me enough to disappear, but I’m not entirely convinced.” Halil’s face turned red with rage. The spirit’s face distorted beyond the limits of a human, eyes burning like embers. “I think you’re just greedy. You saw all that power, and you decided to take a chance on me saving my own skin, but now it’s a choice between nothing and oblivion. So what’ll it be?”

Halil’s features became catlike, and many jointed legs sprouted from an elongated waist. His bloody stump legs grew bone tails with stingers on them. Halil hissed and lunged menacingly, but Henry didn’t flinch. If Halil could have done anything to hurt him, he would have already. Henry took a step forward, mere feet from Halil’s fanged face. “What’ll it be?” Henry asked, taking another step forward, placing his face inches from Halils, staring into his burning eyes, feeling their heat on his cheeks.

The creature shook, and let out a rage filled yowl that sheared through the quiet of the void. Halil turned and attempted to lunge away, but Henry caught one of its insect legs, and the monster stumbled, allowing Henry to jump on top of it, pinning the vengeful spirit to the ground.

“What’ll it be” Henry shouted as the creature struggled. Henry felt a prick in his abdomen, and the world in his dreams became tinged with red as the pain began to roll over him. Halil screamed, and his thrashing died down, until he finally looked over his shoulder, the cat-face reverting to Halil’s for a moment, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“What is your wish?” Halil asked.

“Huh,” The pale monster muttered to himself as he withdrew a claw from Henry’s abdomen, blood flowed sluggishly from the puncture wound, and yet the man below him was unresponsive. “Way to kill the mood. Fucker is reading me like a book.”

Sam watched as Manson tried to wake Henry up, as he slowly pushed a claw through his stomach, and yet Henry did nothing. “The fuck is he doing?” Sam asked himself. A moment later, the quality of the air changed. The bolts of energy and summoned animals disappeared, and the battle between the wizards and Manson’s zealots became more of a brawl between a bunch of bookworms and teenage girls.

Sam almost caught himself laughing at it, were it not the pale form stooped over Henry, that had begun shaking. Its pale skin began to lighten even further, the flesh becoming translucent, with thick blue veins travelling the creature’s body.

“It’s working!” Sam shouted, beating a woman aside with his forearm. She slammed against the wall and gasped in pain as Sam walked past, toward the creature that shrunk before his eyes. It was still big, Still a Maculat Mulieres, but it was obviously no longer as strong as it had been. Sam leveled his focus on the creature and tried to cast a spell that would sever its head with an invisible blade, but in his mind’s eye, the blade was drawn to the ground as if by irresistible magnetism, or the force of an unstoppable river, flowing down.

Sam’s eyes widened, and the creature swung its claws at him, snarling. Sam threw his forearm, bigger than most people’s legs, in front of the blow, and he was tossed back against the buffet table, scattering wine glasses and food. Sam came to a stand, dropping his focus from trembling fingers as he attempted to stop the bleeding from four deep gouges in his forearm.

“I’ll get back to you,” Manson muttered, turning back to Henry, itching his transluscent skin, Manson looked up, and the ceiling was not nearly as close as it should have been. Manson looked back down at Henry, whose eyes were open. Manson lunged forward, a joyful snarl erupting from his throat.

Henry held up a hand, and the Maculat was bound in place. Henry climbed to his feet, holding his hand tightly over his stomach, where the puncture wound leaked blood between his fingers. Henry limped forward, and motioned downward with his hand, and the monster was pressed down to the ground.

“Eat you!” the thing howled. “You’re part of me! I’ll take you and be one whole!” Sam watched as Henry limped around the pinned monster, dragging his foot behind him, creating a circle out of the blood that flowed from his stomach.

The skin of the monster began to darken in patches as it wailed, turning black as they erupted into flame. Henry stopped in front of Manson, and crouched down in front of Manson, whose skin was beginning to boil and pop. “I’ve got something for you,” Henry said, and placed his hand on the thing’s forehead. Sam saw a faint glimmer of light pass between the two of them, and Manson’s eyes glittered with hatred.

“I don’t need your handout, you fucking-“ Manson coughed, and screamed. “I’ll find you again, I’ll come back, and I’ll tear all of you down, you fuckers! You’ll know it’s me! Every single one of you!” Manson screamed and railed at the wizards who surrounded them, watching silently as the monster’s struggles slowed.

“That won’t happen.” Henry muttered to himself, as he watched the creature dissolve into a burning black puddle, contained within the circle of blood. Henry stood, wincing at the ache in his stomach, and he turned to look at the surroundings.

Sam was wrapping his shirt around his massive forearm in a makeshift bandage, Nakayama was coming to his feet, wiping blood from broken lips. Around Henry, dozens of women who had until recently fought with feral intensity were in shambles. Some shouted for joy, some stared mindlessly at the walls, as if they had just woken up, and their brain had yet to click on, and a single girl wept in the corner.

Henry approached her, wincing as fire shot through his body, on the same side as the wound from Zack. “It’s over now,” Henry said. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“I know,” she said, sobbing between each word. “But I can’t go home either, I’m not…”

“Don’t be a bitch,” Henry said, and she looked up at him, startled. “You’ve got a good sixty years left to live, at least. Don’t sit there and tell me it’s all over when you haven’t even gotten started.” Henry glared down at the girl with short black hair, before his vision went white, and he sank down to his knees, finding a comfortable spot against the wall, his eyes drifting closed.

***Nick***

Nick watched the tall man who’d killed Charles die in front of her, and she found herself aimless. She’d had thoughts of revenge, even after her mind had cleared. She had been warped while she had been with Charles, but it had still been her, and a small part of her clung to that twisted, disgusting memory. But watching the man who had saved her cuss her out, and die left her feeling empty.

The giant with the eyepatch pushed her aside and began doing CPR on the ragged man, and Nick wandered away from the scene, no longer invested at all. She walked past the screaming, dancing and crying girls, walked down the concrete stairs of the fire escape, and emerged blinking into the afternoon sun.

Sixty years, Nick thought, rolling down her sock and revealing the number he had written in permanent marker on the inside. Enough time to make up for a lot of things. Nick smiled wistfully, and took out her last twenty, heading for the bus stop.