He pulled away, knowing fear for the first time in centuries. I followed him, driven forward in a berserk frenzy. I brought the ax down, chopping, hacking and stabbing against the withering mass. Overhead the black sphere was growing, now filling the whole center space of the world. I drove the Cursed One back, until he balanced precariously at the edge of the pyramid. I swung the blade up, tearing through the face, striking the ancient bone beneath, and launching the helmet into the air. It disappeared upwards, engulfed in the maelstrom of the artifact.
The Cursed One was defeated. Limbs severed, fluids pouring out, shattered skull dangling, he stood on the edge. In the distance the walls of the world were shaking. The created dimension had come loose from its anchor, and we floated just above the surface of Alabama. The ground behind the Cursed One faded away, trees and rocks dropping toward the earth below as the created world began to disintegrate.
The armored breastplate was a target. It beckoned me. I was sure in my knowledge that the organ keeping the unnatural thing alive was beneath. I could feel it beating.
HOW CAN THIS BE? IT WAS MINE. MINE TO CONTROL. YOU HAVE TAKEN IT FROM ME. I HAVE BEEN BETRAYED.
Boy, stop please. Control your anger. You know now who you are. This is not way to finish this. This is what she wants. This is what Old Ones want.
SPARE ME. PLEASE.
The blade impacted the ancient armor and easily pierced through. The pump that served as Lord Machado's heart was cleaved in two. I tore the ax free. An explosion of gas and liquid erupted out of the hole in the armor, spraying me in the face. I gagged as some of the stuff entered my mouth. Lord Machado toppled, and rolled down a level, landing in an oily clump. Some of his blood drifted upward, caught in the pull of the artifact. The droplets disappeared into the mighty sphere.
No. What have you done? Mordechai cried. You doom us all!
The words of Earl Harbinger, Hunters can't lose control. Got that? You never lose control.
I had said it to Trip myself the night he had talked me out of quitting. When I get mad, when I lose control, people get hurt.
I was the one. I tasted the foul blood in my mouth just as Lord Machado had tasted the copper in his own five hundred years before… What had I done?
"The sacrifice is complete," Koriniha said, her voice now clear.
I spun around, ax in hand. The priestess stood at the opposite end of the pyramid. One black arm encircled Julie's neck. A ceremonial dagger was pressed into her throat, unleashing a thin trickle of blood. I began to move forward, but the priestess pressed the knife harder and Julie cried out.
"That will be enough, Hunter," she said. The power of the Old Ones evaporated from my body. Suddenly I was dizzy and weak. Stumbling, I went to my knees, feeling empty without the power. "You've had your taste."
"Let her go," I ordered. Julie was frightened but angry. She fought against the priestess. Her chains had been broken, but she could not break free of Koriniha's steel grasp. The priestess was still a patch of oily darkness, but her features had changed to the point that she looked almost exactly like she had in the memory. The red eyes had been replaced with the cunning human eyes that I remembered. She was looking at something behind me.
There was a bellow, sounding even over the hurricane above, the battle cry of an unstoppable force. I turned just in time to see Abomination's blade tearing toward my throat. There was no way I would be able to move in time.
Koriniha's eyes fixed on the bayonet.
It stopped instantly, the edge pressed into the flesh above my jugular. Abomination vibrated, the silver blade dissipated friction heat from the sudden stop into my skin. The Tattooed Man looked at me, pitch black eyes wide in surprise, then down at the shotgun in his thick fists, then at the priestess. She glared at him, and suddenly he was slammed backwards as if hit by a truck. He rolled across the pyramid, instantly springing to his feet near the vampire's now skeletal corpse. Thrall lifted my shotgun, the skull image on his face twisting into grim determination. The black lines on his body moved in unison with the crackling energy above. He began to walk toward me.
"What took you so long?" the priestess asked nonchalantly.
"T'was a mighty werewolf about. There was a great battle to gain entrance to this foul place. Who art thou?"
She laughed. Julie cringed as the knife twisted against her neck. "Do you not remember me, Captain Thrall? It was I who led your general to his fate."
"Thou evil thing. I took thy life once. I shall do so again." Thrall's voice raised in volume and intensity. He changed direction away from me, now heading toward the priestess. "Thou stole the artifact from my hands. Thy minions left me buried beneath a mountain, but I will not die. I have vowed to keep the power from all. I have vowed upon the spirits of my Jarl ancestors. I have-" Koriniha's eyes narrowed and the Tattooed Man was again hurled through the air.
"Fool. I tire of you. Your use to us has ended," she hissed. He landed with a sickening thump. Abomination bounced out of his hands. "We needed you then. We needed a protector for the Kumaresh Yar, but no longer. Lord Machado had to work for it. He needed a nemesis. We could not just give him the artifact before the time was right. Thank you for your services, good Captain."
Thrall surged to his feet. He must have retrieved all of my weapons from the snow. He drew both of my.45s from behind his back and pointed them at the priestess, fingers seeking triggers. The priestess pushed them aside with a thought. Bullets struck the pyramid and ricocheted harmlessly into the distance. The STIs were torn from his massive hands and sent spinning away.
The unkillable man charged her with a roar. For five hundred years he had protected the device from any mortal who would dare to unlock its powers. He had sacrificed his life, always in hiding, constantly in battle, always struggling to protect the object from the minions of the Cursed One. It had been stolen once before with the help of the Nazis, and he had regained it. It had been stolen from him again by the hands of seven Masters. He was here to get it back, and destroy any who thought to use it. He was the Guardian.
But the Old Ones no longer required his services.
He stumbled to a halt, clutching at his face in alarm. "What foul sorcery is this?" he bellowed, and then roared in pain as the twisting magic tattoos were ripped from his body, taking parts of his flesh with them. "No! ARRGGHH!" He gnashed his teeth together in agony as his skin was torn off. The black curling lines snaked upwards, crackling into the black sphere, returning to their home. His clothing rustled as the blood-stained lines searched for an escape, poured through the fabric, leaving it clinging to the now blood-soaked form. He went to his knees, twisting and convulsing as he was peeled like a piece of fruit. I had to look away. I had never seen anything so horrible.
He fell onto his face, now all visible sinew and twitching muscle, barely conscious in a spreading pool of red.
"It must hurt. To be a mortal, and to be branded with such glory. Immune from age, sickness, death-" Koriniha appeared to be enjoying his suffering. "-only to have it all stripped away."
"What art thou?" Thrall gasped through his gash of a mouth, white teeth glistening in the pulped mass. The black had been torn from his eyes, and the things were now huge, milky orbs, quickly covered in blood. Eyelids gone, he could no longer blink it away.