GS Chapter 1

 

Chapter One

Friday, December 7^th

Six foot tall speakers stood prominently at each corner of the club’s floor, the large circular cones on the speakers’ face visibly thumping in time with the soulful crescendo of the vocals declaring, “This is God’s house!”

He smirked at the irony as he looked around the club reminiscent of a medieval hall. This was no Gothic Cathedral. Strobe lights pulsed through the darkness illuminating sheets of cheap black satin hung from the ceiling, framing vaulted archways. The environment was hypnotic and sensual as the sweet scent of artificial fog perfumed the air.

Around the bar, large, heavy wooden chairs with harsh angles served as barstools. The walls were painted black with some areas bathed in black light to illuminate the club’s gothic-style insignia. Up above, gargoyles perched on overhead ledges, their distorted smiles mocking the people below, and up higher were fake flying buttresses giving the illusion of curvature and height to an otherwise flat roofline.

“God’s house.” He mumbled absently.

Music thundered within the converted warehouse, rumbling the walls with the deep beats of booming bass, driving the music and the people in ecstasy. His ability to see beyond the physical world revealed a crowd bathed in a grey haze. Auras that would normally burn bright were obscured by taints of synthetic toxins flowing through their bloodstreams.

Heterochromic colored eyes -- one blue, one green, both gleaming with dutiful purpose swept over the ever growing crowd with full attention, watching in silence, an invisible sentry hidden in plain sight.

Impatience gnawed at his gut, the night was growing late and the crowd was getting thicker, making it more difficult to see. He moved within the shadows of the club, keeping a low profile, as he made his way to a set of stairs. He flicked a makeshift sign warning VIP Room, Under Construction. The little cardboard notice spun haphazardly on its damaged stand, nearly toppling over.

He went around the sign and ran his hand on top of the railing, making his way up the stairs. He turned his head toward the crowd, not wanting to lose sight of any activity. Somebody here was his target, but who? The Elders had put a priority on this task. He didn’t understand why, but he tried to tell himself it didn’t matter; he had his orders and that was what was important. He had a job to do.

The second floor opened to a wide open space, with one wall covered in thick plastic that billowed from the exposed air ducts above. A pony wall overlooking the main floor would be the perfect vantage point to the club below. Curling his fingers over the wooden balustrade; he could feel the wood vibrating from the music, grating at the woodsy fibers as much as it grated at his patience.

Near the entrance of the club, he spied a group in conversation -- four females and three males. They had just arrived. Three of the women seemed to have attached themselves to the men; the fourth woman stood back, arms crossed over her chest, her energy crackling like tinder.

He watched the group with more interest, especially the fourth woman.

Her aura was incandescent and her energy carried a unique signature only present to those of his kind.

The corner of his lip rose in amusement. Target located.

“She’s here.” He tapped on a small silver disc on his jacket lapel. The com-disc buzzed as he readied to make his approach, watching the fourth woman with heightened interest. She was beautiful. All Anakim women were. This female contained fire behind her delicate features and those hypnotic cat-like eyes. “Damn it.” he stopped, gripped by a tightening in his gut.

The energy in the club was shifting. The air was growing thick, heavy, forbidding.

He stepped into the shadows of the second floor, closed his eyes, and willed his light to gather to his chest; light that was fed by the same unique energy that sparked within his target. The energy swirled inside him, a fast moving centrifuge, preparing to dislodge from his body into a pulse of the purest white light.

The light hovered momentarily in front of his face, seeking out his life force, and connecting with his essence. Glowing bright and throbbing in time with his heartbeat, it disappeared and reappeared in the center of the club’s ceiling, working to detect and seek out the disturbance he was feeling, serving as a remote probe to reach out to every corner of the club to explore areas he physically could not.

A gap had appeared, expanding and coalescing to serve as a doorway for dark energy to enter into this world. The hell mouth was hidden behind the large speaker on the eastern wall of the warehouse.

Stop it, he commanded the probe.

The light grew and ebbed becoming liquid in its ability to transform and reshape itself over the gap. The void resisted, pushing back, its murky blackness stretching and folding upon itself. The struggle between light and dark energies crackled in the air.

His energy seized, strangled by a surge of power flowing through the gap, strengthening the living portal to grow. In a flash, the gap exploded open, dousing all traces of the Guardian’s light. Jarron’s eyes shot open, as the extinguishing of his light ripped through his essence like a hot blade.

His heart clenched in pain, stopping him from breathing. Duty. Protect the innocent. Primal instincts, honed with years of training prepared him for a fight. A demon was about to break through the shroud of the human world and he needed to stop it.

His body functions slowed down to preserve his strength and stamina, infusing him with controlled calm even as his expression morphed to take on the cold impassive mask of an Anakim warrior.

The club needed to empty. Now. He threw a burst of energy underneath a ceiling sprinkler head. It sputtered and rattled, the thin pipes clanging over his head before it let loose a torrent of indoor rain.

Screams rose from the panicked crowd, instant pandemonium ruling the mindless, scuttling bodies below. He neared the pony wall, agitation building with the stampeding crowd. Protect the innocent. A delirium-driven rush was about to crash through one door.

He cleared his mind and focused. He gathered energy from the air and molded it to form a glistening sphere, its translucent shell almost invisible in the darkness. He released the orb into the crowd, curling tensed fingers over the railing. He watched the energetic ball sink down into the crowd, the intention of his gifted energy spreading through the disoriented mass of bodies below.

They calmed, dispersing coolly out the exits.

Relief spread through him. The club was almost empty.

From his periphery, he saw her inching against the wall, standing aside to let everyone else out. Her gaze fixed on the eastern wall, her brows tightly knitted with determination.

What the hell is she doing? He hiked himself on top of the railing. His balance perfect even on the narrow beam -- his sight locked on his target.

With one push from his strong legs, he launched himself from the second floor railing, landing without a sound in a crouched position in front of her. He stood up slowly, not wanting to add to her fright.

He considered her, reading her energy to make sense of her -- brave, stubborn, curious. He didn’t need to read her energy any further to know that she was also reckless and stunning in her soaked clothing, her chattering teeth, and the fear that she was attempting to hide.

She gasped, trembling hands flying to her mouth in shock.

Instincts fired up and his need to protect her took over. Heterochromic eyes slipped towards a back exit as he felt the presence of The Order nearby. He swooped down on his target, throwing her with ease over his shoulder, and fled with her.

Outside, two big men garbed in black tactical uniforms waited for his approach. A large blond with long wavy hair, slid the van door open behind them. “Jarron.” He moved aside, giving him access to the back of the van and where the leader of this unit sat waiting.

With a bow of his head, he handed over his target to Caleb, High Guardian of The Order. He dismissed himself quickly, leaving his target with his brethren. She would be safe with them.

The air was shifting. The demon was getting close.

He burst back in the club, sealing off all access behind him; his energetic barrier preventing any human bystander from wandering back in. He couldn’t take a chance on an innocent getting hurt. He couldn’t allow anyone to enter. The situation had become too dangerous.

The club was smothered with malevolent energy. The Darkness seeping from the hell mouth like living ooze seeking to suffocate human victims. The Darkness was a presence -- disembodied, dominating, an evil as thick and threatening as any demon. Like the one about to burst through the dark portal.

He took a deep breath. Patience, he thought, steadying the pace of his heart as he reached for the M9 holstered on his back -- a sleek, semi-automatic pistol that fit perfectly in his hands. He gripped the squared handle, his index finger, poised and ready to unload a full cartridge at whatever came out of the hell hole.

The opening was throbbing, undulating like a tube, readying to expel a demon into the world.

The sprinklers had finally stopped showering the club. He was sopping wet, his jacket lying heavily over his shoulder, his short hair, dripping water into his eyes. He stood in a pool of water, twisting his feet into the floor of the club. The concrete was slick, but he knew how to adjust his footing to the slimy surface. He hoped the demon wouldn’t.

A four-legged demon with rippling musculature on its front and hind quarters, burst out of the gap with a rush of wind trailing behind it. He fired. Following the arc the demon traveled over him.

Bullet after bullet ejected from the barrel, the steady reverberations, vibrating through his arm, like a dull kick. The sharp smell of gun powder hung in the air, a welcome change taking over the musty smell emanating from the wet and dirty fabrics around the club.

He swore under his breath as he watched the spent casings bouncing off of the creature’s thick, smooth hide. The staccato pinging on the concrete floors, felt like bells tolling a warning.

The beast had reared back, its hind quarters crouching to leap at him. The beast snarled, upper lip convulsing in undulating waves over mucus covered fangs. As if it wasn’t strong enough, the beast pulled from the Darkness, doubling the power radiating from its pores. The Shadow Beast looked down on him, contempt filling the black eyes as it charged forward, intent on slicing him open.

The beast slid past him, the slickness of the floor working in his favor. The beast crashed into the bar, the solid oak counters splintering on impact. The Shadow Beast reared back on its haunches, digging in its large claws to stop from the slip-and-slide like floor. The beast sent a bellowing cry overhead; the haunting howl a sonic weapon, exploding the club’s faked structures in thunderous waves of destruction.

The Guardian stepped back, his expression impassive, though he anguished over the realization that the beast was a Major Demon. Impossible.

The demon beast charged after him, moving faster than before. It was adjusting, learning, calculating, as it gunned for him, swiped its claws at his chest, sliced through his shirt and sheared his flesh.

Crackling wood popped and groaned above him. He whipped his neck to look up; faked buttresses, and smiling gargoyles, dangled precariously from badly damaged supports. Light fixtures burst and live wires dangled down hovering dangerously close to the pools of water spotting the club floor. The wires were a curtain of electricity, sending charged sparks of red drifting toward him.

The creature eyed him, eyes glowing white, its muzzle twisted in anger. It charged toward him again, legs pushing with raw power. It leapt, its trajectory perfectly angled for him.

Let’s dance, demon. With a flick of his wrists, matted silver sheaths slid out from underneath his sleeves, the scraping sound of metal on metal electrifying his spine and prickling his senses to ready for a strike.

He waited, stance wide, blade tips pointed behind him, his fists clenching and unclenching around the grips. With a twist of his torso, he evaded the demon by mere inches, his momentum spinning him on the ball of his feet.

The beast hit the wall, the glowing eyes momentarily going dark. The large haunches stumbled back, its balance disturbed only for an instant. It roared frustration and anger heating the energy around it. Mucus dribbled in thick strings from its fangs as it leered at him, regarding him with more scrutiny.

Baring large fangs, its tar like muzzle gnarled around a protrusion on its menacing dark face. Needle sharp fangs separated top from bottom as the dark beast prepared for its next move. It wasn’t going to charge.

Jarron’s eyes grew wide as the first waves of the creature’s aural shockwave rippled through him. Shit! He lunged to the side, but the tremoring waves spread too wide and too fast. The force was inescapable.

He dropped heavily, a pained grunt escaping him.

He’d lost a blade, knocked out of his hand by the obliterating energy that smashed through him. Everything swirled around him, his vision going hazy from the blow, and the undeniable pain now shooting through his shoulder and down his back. His shoulder lay limp on his side, broken and useless.

He waited.

Jarron held on to the remaining blade in his right hand, his double-edged blade, best suited for close proximity combat. He’d fashioned it after a Japanese Kodachi, making it as lethal and sharp as a Katana, but modifying the length to better conceal the weapons underneath his sleeves. He never went anywhere without the blades strapped to him arms, hidden in an encasement activated by a simple kinetic flick of a muscle.

The razor edges glinted as he spun the streamlined hilt around his palm. He knew exactly where his hand needed to be to give him the best grip. There would be no wasted movement. Swift, fluid, exacting.

He was one with his blade, and he knew which way to turn his wrist and his hand to angle for a stab, a slice, a cut, or a kill. He knew how much pressure was needed to inflict damage and either allow survival or deliver an immediate death.

He pushed up from the floor, the pain feeding his fury. At another place, another time, he would have buried the anger consuming him. It had always been about control and keeping a level head during the heat of battle. When the lines between protection and blood fed persecution could easily be crossed, but not tonight and not now.

Strong legs powered him forward toward the demon, taking him within a breath’s reach of the foul creature’s mouth. He angled back, dropping to his knees, letting his momentum carry him underneath the creature’s belly.

Wringing his lean, tight hips to the left, he jabbed the blade’s tip straight for the creature’s heart.

The demon roared and leapt forward.

If it got a chance to release another wave of sonic terror, he would be done for. His blade should have penetrated and sliced the demon’s heart in two. But the hide was impenetrable, a dark armor of connective tissue tightly wound around the beast.

The beast was charging him, its velocity, blurring the shadowy form to near invisibility. He couldn’t dodge the attack and the creature was on him before he could flinch. Rib bones caved in, compressing his lungs and his heart. Loud pops of breaking bones and tendon slammed him. Intense pain surged from his back and shot through his chest, searing his breath in place, making his vision go white.

With a pained roar, he rose from the floor. He needed to end this. The fingers of darkness were upon him. Death was coming; invited by the damage he knew was leaching on his life force. The beast had to be overcome, regardless of the cost.

He would die, but it was a small price to pay to rid the monster from this dimension.

He closed his eyes and willed power into his light, feeding the energy with everything he had. He would have to tap beyond the limits of his life force to make his plan work. The light bloomed, pulling his broken ribs outward before flying to the ceiling. The light formed into an orb, brilliant and blinding -- white purity. It pulsated and grew, harnessing power from everything it touched.

Stop the beast. Jarron willed all his remaining energy into his light, diverting the last of his power. He needed the orb to overload, to reach critical mass and, when it did, the warehouse and everything in it would be destroyed.

White Purity throbbed above him, tendrils of liquid sparks shooting from its core. The tendrils sought out the demon’s dark energy like a tree root in search of moisture, wrapping around it, crawling over it until it found a weakness in the creature’s armor. Heat radiated from the tendrils of light, its fluid form, solidifying into thin, elongated spikes of light, sharp and piercing with hungry vigor to tap the beast’s dark fount of powers.

The beast roared in pained fury. This was an invasion it did not anticipate, its strength waning while White Purity’s multiplied into a volatile mix of light and dark powers, obeying his last command.

His energy was connecting with that of the beast. White Purity, keeping them held together. His heart clenched with the overwhelming dread that flowed into him. It was coming from the beast, and the heavy darkness of the beast’s life force. Shadowed eyes, locked on to the beast stumbling around like a drunkard. The beast was impaired and clueless to the connection tethering their energies together.

He had to sever the link, but not before he could use the connection to his advantage.

Everything slowed as time and reality bent unto itself, allowing him to see beyond the limitations of his physical sight. The beast no longer appeared solid in form, but a nebulous black mass. The murky mass ebbed, and in the place where its mouth would have been, a grey shadowy film floated, his light concentrating his focus on the weak spot.

His vision snapped back and he was looking at a charging beast bent on his death. It was on the attack -- jaws open, fangs dripping with clear liquid. He lunged for the creature, the hilt of his blade tightly gripped in his tremoring hand.

Guardian and demon collided in midair. Jarron’s arm deeply buried within the beast’s mouth, his blade skewered through a soft spot behind the eyes and into its brain.

The beast howled, accursed in agony as it fell on top of him. It snapped its jaws together, its fangs piercing deep onto his arm. He pulled, feeling his skin and muscle rake off with every tug. Unafraid, he would risk the loss of limb in exchange for freedom, but it was useless.

He was trapped.

The warmth of his blood, cascaded down his arm and onto to the floor, pooling around him, carrying him into oblivion. Calm descended over his senses filling him with peace as his eyes grew heavy.

He could hear his heartbeat. It was slow, haunting in its pace, a sure lament to death.

****

Caleb watched Jarron run back to the club. His target, safely handed off. It would have been mission accomplished, but something was drawing back his friend.

He looked at the woman in his arms. Beautiful, even if she did look a little green. “All your questions will be answered. My name is Caleb. These are my brethren. We mean you no harm.” Her eyes were widening, the look of shock descending over her. She was about to scream.

He pressed his lips together as he placed two fingers gently on her forehead. “Sleep.” His voice was almost a whisper, as he took care to set her down on the van floor.

Sirens wailed as emergency vehicles approached the perimeter of the club. More people were gathering -- some of them from club, others just nosy bystanders. He scanned the area for Jarron. He should have been out by now. Where the hell was he? “Nic. You and Ryder, take the target back to the estate. Adam, Marcus, Maya… come with me.”

The Order couldn’t be here when police arrived.

He stalked toward the building, careful to watch the ruckus nearby. It didn’t take long before he brushed against an energetic barrier around the club. Jarron. But it was wavering, faltering, the usually strong waves that came off of Jarron’s work was broken. Something was disrupting the barricade -- something strong.

Large back muscles constricted, pulling his shoulders back. Every part of him was bristling as his mind reached out for his friend and only reached silence. Caleb ran for an alley behind the building and broke through the protective shields blocking the back door. The energetic barricade collapsed too easily in his wake.

He had to hurry.

He ran for a hallway, reached the end, and was immediately succumbed by darkness unlike any he’d ever experienced before. The darkness dominated and encroached on every fiber of his being, dropping him to his knees in sheer agony.

“Caleb!”

It was Maya; Jarron’s second, rushing after him. He looked up, barely able to focus on her and the others as a wave of darkness pummeled his mind, making his vision fade to grey. “Go back!” He tried to warn them. But, they started dropping.

Jarron’s team was in trouble. He could hear them scream. Agonized, pained, and filled with terror. He fought against the pain crushing his brain to a pulp as a cackle drifted in the air. He strained to lift his head against an invisible force holding him down, his breathing becoming ragged, sawing with effort as he dug into the deepest recesses of his being to give him strength.

Hope shimmered within him with the points of light penetrating the curtain of darkness around him -- the brightness seeking him and the other Guardians out. White light. He focused all his energy on the light, concentrating on it, attracting the light to find him and the others. He felt its warmth approaching him, its purity containing him and he allowed its sway to embed into his mind.

The light broke through, releasing the foul energy that had him trapped. He felt the light vibrate around him, expanding to gain power over the darkness.

A chill came over him as the light began to flicker and fade and the fingers of darkness began to reach for him again.

He focused, feeling for the light that remained within his essence. He channeled the pure white energy, concentrated it, and grew the power within his mind. He could feel the energy of the light building, surging to propel his own powers into action -- souped up telekinetic powers to blow with devastating force.

Waves rippled out of his head like a halo, the destructive forces doubling with each deadly ring of energy. The waves crested, bringing destruction to everything it passed through, devastating everything in its path. Dust clouds rose, light and dark forces receded, leaving behind a quiet stillness, eerie and peaceful at once.

He rose, concern charging what remained of his energy. He could barely detect Jarron’s location. His friend’s cerebral signature was fading fast. He roused the others. “Let’s go. We need to find him. Now.”

The Guardians scrambled through the warehouse, bursting into the main room where the tangy smell of copper assaulted their senses.

Caleb’s stomach dropped, his breath knocked out of him at the sight of his brother in a pool of blood. He rushed to their fallen friend, throwing him over his shoulder. “Don’t die on me, Jarron,” he strained. He ran for the exit, quickly followed by the others.

The Guardians rushed out, Caleb’s mind reeling with fury over the state of his brother in arms. One thought aimed at the beast behind them and the carcass was blown to shreds, a mulch of flesh was all that was left behind. The dark bits would disappear soon enough, leaving the humans unaware of the dark presence that nearly killed them all.

“Don’t die on me, Jay.” He grit through clenched teeth as Markus drove and the sound of sirens faded in the background. There was finally some distance between themselves and the club.

Maya remained quiet, working diligently to bandage what she could. He’d been cut up bad; his arm looking like it had gone through a meat grinder. She looked at him, her eyes glazed with unshed tears as she tried to remain strong. “I can’t lose him, Caleb.” Her voice was a whimper.

The hum of the tires over the streets muted in his mind, becoming a lowly drone as he fought to keep

 Jarron’s brain active, keeping his friend’s life force from completely fading. “We won’t lose him,

 Maya. I won’t let it happen.”