STEVE: Hunt 9

Steve sat in his vintage Firebird, parked across the street from the warehouse. He stared at it through the windshield and cracked his knuckles again on the steering wheel. For the first time since he’d started this gig, he felt a flutter of nerves in his gut. He looked down at the crumpled piece of paper on his passenger seat.

Summoner — 70k — Start with the Celestial Guild

The Celestial Guild, it had turned out, was a collection of stuck-up wizards that met up in exclusive bars and restaurants that used words like “deconstructed”. Tracking them down had been surprisingly easy, and they’d been all too happy to point Steve to this warehouse buried in a labyrinth of industrial spaces at the edge of the city. Apparently, they weren’t happy that someone was using magic to reach out across the infinite void to call infernal spirits. They weren’t upset enough to actually do anything about it, but that seemed pretty on-brand for this collection of egotistical academics.

Steve had done eight jobs for his mysterious bosses and had crushed every single one so far. Shadow-walking forest monster? No problem. Living tractor on a murder spree? Weird, but nothing he couldn’t handle. This, however, was going to be his first actual human being, and that had him on edge. People were unpredictable and that made them much more dangerous than anything with fangs or claws.

The bounty hunter got out of the car and drew his revolver. No point in delaying the inevitable. Who knows what would happen if he left this guy to his own devices — and if Steve didn’t stop him, who would?

A brilliant flash of orange light erupted from the windows high up on the walls of the warehouse along with a shockwave that was powerful enough to shatter the glass, sending it raining down on the asphalt below. With the windows open, Steve was surprised to hear not one, but several frantic voices yelling inside.

“Would you hold still?”

“I need the water!”

“That’s not important right now!”

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to–”

And then the angry roar of something else entirely split the air.

That was his cue. He sprinted to the nearest door and pushed it open with his shoulder, gun level and ready to put a very big hole in the first thing that moved. Even given his short time hunting monsters, Steve was not easily shocked. But what he saw in that empty warehouse was a lot to process.

A circle of glowing runes was drawn on the floor, sparkling with crimson bolts of electricity and filling the space with arcane energy. Just being in the room felt like standing next to a subwoofer at a concert. In the middle of the ring was a man dressed in full clown attire. The makeup, the bright shirt, the shoes…the works. Despite the wide smile painted on his face, he looked very, very scared. This was understandable, as hovering above him was the translucent apparition of a horrifying monster. Jowls of skin hung low off its face, with two huge tusks protruding up and out of its mouth. In place of arms, it had horrific blades of serrated bone that bent back in on themselves like a praying mantis from hell. The spirit’s body faded away into nothingness at the waist as it hovered over the terrified clown.

Two men in priests’ robes were moving swiftly around the circle trying to contain the situation. One looked like your typical member of the clergy: white-haired, bent over, and a bit frail. His counterpart, though, looked like he retired from professional football to follow God. He stood at least 6’3 with broad shoulders and sleeves rolled up to reveal bulging biceps. The big one was keeping the demon’s attention while the smaller man desperately rifled through a bag on the floor. The floating monster was taking swipes with its massive bladed arms but stayed rooted to its spot in the circle. Everyone was a bit too preoccupied to see Steve enter.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” The clown cried. He turned from side to side and the drooling phantom above him did the same. They were clearly bound together, but Steve wasn’t sure which of them was in control.

“Where is the water?!” The little priest yelled again, his voice muffled from within the bag.

“I told you, it’s not that kind of demon!” The big guy called back over his shoulder. “Kick my bag over here, I have something we can use.”

Steve sprinted over to the circle and skidded to a stop next to the big man trying not to get decapitated. “Don’t worry boys, the cavalry is here!” he bellowed, feeling like a superhero. He fired twice at the head of the hovering monster. The bullets found their mark in a cardboard box on the other side of the warehouse, but the creature was unfazed.

The priest glanced down at Steve and shook his head. “I don’t know who you are, but a good rule of thumb is if you can see through it, you can’t shoot it.

“Oh.” Steve deflated. “Yeah, uh, I guess that makes sense.” There was an awkward pause in the chaos. Steve stuck out his hand. “Name’s Steve.”

“Gabe,” the priest replied. He quickly shook Steve’s hand, his eyes never leaving the hovering horror in front of them. “That’s Father O’Ryan back there.”

The terrified clown did a little wave. “I’m Frank!”

Gabe scowled. “Shut up, Frank. You don’t get to talk right now.”

Steve squinted behind his aviators, finally getting his head around exactly what he was looking at. “I know we got bigger problems, but why are you dressed like a clown?”

“It’s a long story. Can you please just help me?” Frank looked up at the thing levitating above his head. It returned his gaze and ran an impossibly long, slimy tongue across one of its tusks.

“It’s not that long of a story,” said Gabe. “He crashed a kid’s birthday party so he could steal some jewels he needed for the ritual. Kid’s dad is a black market dealer.”

“It worked to perfection!” The clown said, indignant. “No one suspects the entertainment!”

Steve crossed his arms and thought for a moment, reassessing the situation he now found himself in. “Ok. New plan: what if I shoot Frank? Seems like he’s the problem here.” He said it like a shade tree mechanic evaluating a faulty engine.

“No!” Gabe and the clown yelled in unison.

Gabe reached one hand over and pushed the barrel of Steve’s gun down. “Frank here is the only thing keeping that pride demon from fully manifesting. If he dies, it comes all the way into our world.”

“Pride demon?” Steve asked. Just once, he’d like to get the same monster twice.

Gabe’s eyes bore into the cowering man in the oversized shoes. “Yeah. It binds to hubris. Overconfidence. You know, like if you think you’re some big shot warlock and build a summoning circle with literally NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE DOING.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Ah-ha!” Father O’Ryan popped up with an ornate bottle of water with gold trim along the bottom and held it aloft triumphantly. He pulled the cork on the top and began jumping around, splashing it on Frank and the apparition like a Superbowl champion giving the team a champagne shower. “A taste of holy water for you, demon! Be gone! This water was blessed by none other than Saint—”

The monster reached out and slammed the back of its arm into the little man, sending him hurtling through the air. He landed hard on some boxes and was knocked unconscious.

Gabe barely dodged a follow-up swipe that would’ve severed a limb. “I told him it wasn’t that kind of demon! Listen, Steve, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Keep this thing busy for a second, I gotta go get something.”

Steve waved his gun in the air. “Busy how? Shootin’ and punchin’ is pretty much all I got.”

“Just keep it in the circle. As long as it doesn’t–”

A series of pops rang out, like a string of lightbulbs getting blown out in sequence. The pride demon had taken its blades and cut two large gashes through the ring that was binding it, destroying the runes. As it did, the crimson light faded and the once-humming energy of the room was snuffed out in an instant.

“Crap.” As a man of the cloth, this was probably as close as Gabe got to swearing. “Just keep it occupied. And don’t die.” He sprinted off to where Father O’Ryan had been searching for his holy water. Behind that bag was a much larger one.

“Don’t die. Got it.” Steve repeated as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

Frank stared down wide-eyed as his legs shuffled stiffly forward of their own volition. The clown was now no more than a marionette and the demon was pulling the strings. He stumbled toward Steve and the creature swung both its arms down like twin pickaxes. The monster hunter dodged just in time. The asphalt where he was standing cracked like plywood from the force of the blow.

Steve yelled at Gabe over his shoulder, “Oh, so I can’t shoot it but it can cut me clean in half? How’s that fair?!”

Gabe had pulled several metal components out from his duffel bag and was hastily assembling them. “There’s actually no consensus on that in the demonology community. Some believe that demons in their astral form can concentrate to briefly become corporeal. Personally, I think–”

“Forget it! I don’t care that much!” Steve circled around a rack of boxes and was playing a deadly game of whack-a-mole as the demon punched through them trying to reach him. With every swing, cardboard and debris filled the air. Someone was not going to be getting their Amazon Prime delivery on time.

Finally, the demon got frustrated enough that it changed tactics. It anchored both of its blades on the rack itself and shoved, toppling the whole thing over on top of Steve. The monster hunter was a bigger guy, but he tucked his arms in tight and somehow managed to squeeze between two shelves as the whole thing came toppling down in a deafening crash.

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” Frank frantically apologized, unable to do much else.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re gonna be,” said Steve as he awkwardly hopped out of the rack. “Gabe, you almost done over there?”

“Indeed I am!” Gabe stood up holding what can only be described as a DIY flamethrower. None of the parts looked like they originally went together, a mish-mash of bolts and welding. The outside of the barrel was engraved with a series of runes, and at the end was a tube with a small flame dancing at the tip.

“Now we’re talkin’, padre!” Steve cheered. This priest was cool as hell.

Gabe leveled the weapon at the hoving spirit. “Get down, Frank!”

The clown hit the dirt as a tight jet of flame surged forward and through the demon. It swung around and roared, spinning Frank on the ground like a top.

“Didn’t you say you can’t shoot something that’s see-through? Steve called from a safe distance.

“I’m not done yet!” Gabe looked around and saw the holy water on the ground by Father O’Ryan. “This should do the trick.” Keeping the trigger pulled with one hand, he reached down and scooped up the bottle. The priest said a quick prayer and dumped the rest of the water into the flame. Instantly, the jet of fire turned a brilliant blue, bathing the room in azure light. When the blue flame blasted into the demon it went up like dry kindling. It roared, flailing its bladed arms in the air, and then evaporated in a burst of smoke and light.

On the ground, Frank’s oversized plaid coat was singed and smoking. He sat up and felt himself, searching for injuries. A look of total disbelief washed over his face. “I’m alive!”

“Not for long.” Steve stepped up behind him and poked the gun into the back of his head.

“Whoa, whoa!” Gabe slung the flamethrower up over his shoulder. “We’re good, it’s not coming back.”

“Yeah, but I got a job,” answered Steve. “And my piece of paper said summoner, not ghost demon. And that’s you, Chuckles.”

Gabe pointed emphatically at his white collar. “Look, man. I can’t let you murder someone. It kind of goes against my job description. Besides, they’re looking for a reason to kick me out and if this clown meets his maker that’s all they’ll need.”

On cue, Father O’Ryan sat up, bewildered. “You brought a FLAMETHROWER to an exorcism? Are you insane?” He pulled himself up onto his hands and knees and attempted to get up, his knees shaky beneath him.

Gabe ran over and hauled the tiny priest to his feet. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh, just you wait until the cardinals hear about this. A flamethrower! Never in my thirty years of service have I seen something so reckless! So irresponsible!”

“Hey, pipe down!” said Steve. “You weren’t getting anything done. If it hadn’t been for Gabe here, you’d be a shish kebab.”

But Father O’Ryan wasn’t listening. He continued his hysterical rant all the way out the back door of the warehouse and into the parking lot, where they could hear him shouting to no one in particular. Steve shrugged and pulled the hammer back on the revolver.

Gabe turned back toward Steve and clasped his hands together. “C’mon man. Please.”

Steve sighed and holstered his weapon. “Fine. I woulda been SOL if you hadn’t been here anyway. They don’t give me an instruction manual for these jobs.”

Gabe propped the flamethrower up on the ground and leaned on it. “Thanks, man. You really handled yourself back there.”

“Appreciate it! I’m still kinda new to this gig. Figuring out the ropes.” Steve broke out into a grin as an idea struck him. “Say. You know your stuff, carrying around ghost-busting gear and whatnot. Think you could show me a thing or two?”

Gabe crossed his arms as he thought it over. “I don’t know if that’s allowed. The guys in red might think of it as trade secrets.”

Steve tried a different tactic. “Can priests drink? I’ll buy you a beer for every trick you teach me.”

Gabe’s eyebrows went up. “Yes we can, as a matter of fact. And they’re probably gonna kick me out anyway — I’ve always been a little much for them.”

Steve laughed. “You don’t say?” He clapped the big man on the shoulder. “Well, you’re alright by me. Come on, I know a good place not too far from here.”

Gabe straightened up. “Sure, sounds good. So are you not going to get paid now? You’ll have to tell me more about this job.”

“Ah, it’s ok,” Steve replied. “Maybe they’ll give me like half-credit or something.” The two men headed out toward the door. Behind them, Frank scrambled to his feet.

“Hey, um, can I come? I don’t really have anywhere to go and this has been a lot and I could really use someone to —”

“No, Frank.”

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