Monday, January 7, 2013

The Hit

The demon got to his feet, standing over his victim and staring down at him appraisingly as though he'd wanted to admire his gruesome handiwork from a more flattering angle.  Seconds later, I hit him.

I tackled him in a flying leap at full speed, shoulder thrown into it and everything.  I hit him as hard as I possibly could.  I hit him so hard that, despite the fact that somebody had just been murdered by a hideous creature, one guy who I was pretty sure worked for the funeral home couldn't help but let out a low whistle and murmur, "That's gonna leave a mark." I hit him so hard that when we hit the ground we could have left a crater. 

I hit him hard enough to effectively take the fight out of him.  When we rolled to a stop twenty feet from where I'd made contact, he was wheezing.  Straddling him, I pinned him by the shoulders.  "You're not escaping me this time," I assured him. 

I prepared to teleport us back to Hell.  But a shriek from behind me broke my concentration.  It was the mother of the murdered mourner and she was sobbing his name entreatingly, as though she could call him back from the dead.  The name she was calling was Quinn.

I took a closer look at the body.  His face was badly sliced, burned and splashed with blood, but it looked to be him--one of my murderers.

And he was definitely going to Hell.

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