Goetic Justice 2

Haures seemed to be struggling against an invisible force, as if a strong wind was pushing it back, and it lunged to swipe at him with its massive paw. Ryan skipped back a few feet, knowing that this seal would not keep it away for long. It was a fully fledged Goetic demon, it would have taken an experienced summoner to call this thing into a circle and then reason with it.

The demon spat and hissed, droplets of its burning slaver landing at Ryan's feet and sizzling as they charred the grass. He shot it again, the gunshot ringing in his ears, and Haures shuddered. It didn't yelp in pain, nor did its furious expression change, its smoldering eyes glowing brighter as it bared its fangs at him. The bullets weren't doing much, but it was feeling them, it had a physical body that could be damaged.

Haures took a step closer, its face morphing into a disturbingly human smile as it realized that what limited power the seal had was wearing off. It licked it chops hungrily, preparing to pounce.

Instead it lurched, Ryan peeling his eyes away from the creature to see Nahash holding its tail like a rope. She was on her feet again, still corporeal, the wool on her neck and shoulder stained crimson on one side where the beast had bitten her. Her golden eyes were glowing like a pair of headlights, she must be mustering all of the energy that was available to her. Ryan could see smoke rising from her hands where they gripped the panther's long tail, its heat burning her palms.

She dug her cloven hooves into the soil and heaved, dragging Haures backwards and throwing it to the ground.

"Run Ryan!" she brayed, her usually musical voice taking on an eerie resemblance to that of a goat. He didn't need to be told twice, heading off back towards the parking lot as he heard the sounds of the scuffle behind him. He had to get to his car, perhaps he could outrun this demon if they couldn't defeat it. His instincts screamed for him to turn back and help Nahash, but there was nothing that he could do for her. He had no idea what two demonic entities doing battle entailed, but he had to hope that like with the shotgun, Nahash would only lose her physical form and not her soul.

He rounded the building and found himself in the parking lot again. He spied his car, changing course and running towards it. He reached out to open the door but quickly recoiled, the skin on his hand blistering as the metal burned him. He sucked in air through his teeth, his fingers throbbing, and then he was knocked back by a puff of dark smoke.

Haures appeared before him, Ryan scrambling to his feet as the demon snarled and snapped its jaws, standing between him and the car.

"Thy familiar is defeated, novice. I shall take great pleasure in rending thy meat from thy bones before I burn thee to a crisp. Beg for mercy if you think that thy pleas will move me. I have always been fond of theater with my meals."

It smacked him with its massive paw, knocking him on his ass and singing his clothes where it touched them. It could probably incinerate him in an instant with a plume of hellfire, but he had pissed it off, and now it was toying with him like a cat with a mouse.

Haures let Ryan rise to his feet again, then knocked his legs out from under him with a powerful swipe. The demon sauntered over to him as he lay on the ground, confident that its prey was overcome, that same disturbing grin twisting its feline features.

A sudden movement caught Ryan's attention, a black shape passing across the sky, blocking out the stars as he lay on his back on the asphalt. Not a second later there was a massive gust of wind that sent him tumbling, a hurricane force that buffeted the bushes and trees, followed by a tremendous impact that set off every car alarm in the lot. The flashing lights from the vehicles illuminated a truly monstrous, humanoid figure, its leathery wings folding into its back as it stood with one foot on top of Haures' writhing body.

It was ten feet tall at least, broad-shouldered and muscular. Two sharp horns sprouted from its head, curling into two enormous and ornate spirals, the unmistakable horns of a ram or an ibex. Dark fur grew all over its body, a shaggy coat of long, black hair that obscured many of its features. It had the long beard of a goat and massive, cloven hooves that tipped its ovine legs, not unlike those of Nahash yet far larger in scale.

Its head was that of a goat, with no human features to speak of, a third eye glowing like a hot coal in the center of its hairy forehead. It exuded power and menace as if an aura of dread surrounded it like a miasma, giving Ryan the distinct impression that this thing should not exist.

It was Azazel, the fallen Watcher, Patriarch of the Seirim.

The nightmare creature had crushed Haures beneath its hoof, the panther squirming and writhing as the asphalt beneath its body melted and steamed. Azazel released it, and the demon sprang away from the fallen Angel, glaring up at its trio of eyes. Haures was afraid, Ryan realized, wounded too by the looks of it. There was a nasty tear in its side where thick, glowing fluid that looked like magma was oozing forth.

"Ryan Cutter," Azazel brayed, setting the hair on his arms on end. Its booming voice had a flanging effect like two people were speaking at once, as if a man and a goat were sharing the same body. "There is a game afoot, and it would be a shame to see thee fall at the first hurdle."

Azazel put itself between Ryan and Haures, the demon panther shrinking back in fear. How would the creature respond? It was a Goetic demon, summoned and contracted for one purpose. Ryan had never heard of a demon failing to accomplish a reasonable task before, nor had he ever heard of them abandoning their objective, not when their contract was properly thought out.

"This mortal is my mark, Watcher. I have no quarrel with thee."

Azazel extended its furry arm towards the night sky, opening its thick, clawed fingers as if preparing to grasp something. Shadows were drawn to it, blacker than black, swirling like a whirlwind to create a shaft. They became solid, what looked like a wooden pole appearing before Ryan's eyes. It must have been fifteen feet long. The Watcher planted the haft in the ground, and then the tip burst into violent, roaring flames. It seemed to burn itself out quickly, leaving a glowing slab of metal in its wake, the molten material forming an axe head. It was a gigantic halberd, conjured from thin air.

Haures made to flee, but Azazel gripped the phantom weapon with both hands and drove its pointed tip into the panther's side. Magma spilled forth like blood, the demon yowling like a wounded cat. As its paws scrabbled to find purchase on the asphalt, Azazel raised the halberd above its head and brought the axe down on Haures' midsection. It dug deep into the ground, cleaving the demon into two clean halves. A look of horror was frozen on the creature's face as its smoldering eyes cooled and it dissipated into a smear of black ink.

His heart pounding in his ears, Ryan rose slowly to his feet, his legs trembling as Azazel turned to face him. The unholy abomination was grinning, baring its tombstone teeth as it examined him with its horizontal pupils.

"Consider thy favor repaid, Ryan Cutter. I am no guardian Angel, but I honor my debts."

He wanted to thank the beast, but no words came to him, the Watcher looming over him with that sardonic smile. Was this all merely entertainment to this thing? It seemed to have almost limitless power, it could probably tell him exactly what was happening and what to do about it. But Azazel would rather watch this all play out it seemed, and it sounded as if Ryan could no longer count on its protection.

"To thy vehicle, Ryan Cutter. Go to the forest. Thou shalt find safe harbor there, for a time."

Azazel began to laugh, the sound rising from deep in its throat until it became a baleful braying. It spread its massive, leathery wings, casting Ryan into shadow as it flapped them. It rose into the air, Ryan shielding his eyes from the powerful gusts of wind. The Watcher rose into the air and then vanished, shooting up into the dark sky so rapidly that he quickly lost track of it.

He was left standing alone before his car, only the cooling puddles of melted asphalt and the dead police officer who had been thrown from the window serving as proof that anything had transpired here at all.

Wrapping his hand in his sleeve, he gave the door of his car a tentative prod, feeling that the handle had cooled. He swung the door open, throwing his rucksack into the passenger seat and climbing inside. He fumbled with his car keys, then the engine revved to life. Fortunately, he hadn't forgotten them in the scuffle. He pulled out onto the street and sped away into the night.

CHAPTER 2: SECRET GARDEN

Fortunately, the strange absence of traffic and pedestrians had quickly abated, Ryan finding the usual bustle of the city almost as soon as he had left his block. He had been starting to feel as if he had been cast, alone, into some deserted alternate reality. There was anonymity in a crowd, safety. He felt certain that his pursuers would not summon demons in the middle of a crowded street.

Still, he was on edge. His eyes darted about nervously, wary of anyone who might be wearing a police uniform. He heard the sound of sirens when he was waiting at a red light, his heart pounding in his chest as his hand crept towards his rucksack where the gun was hidden. He released a long sigh of relief as an ambulance passed him by, off to some unrelated accident in the city no doubt.

He knew the route to the forest well, he had traveled it many times before, and after a short drive he was pulling up on the outskirts of the woodland. There were a few parking lots scattered about nearby, but he didn't want to draw any attention to himself. Someone pulling up at a national park past midnight was unlikely to have honorable motives. It was common knowledge that junkies and homeless people liked to frequent the forests, but it seemed that the presence of the Seirim had driven most of them out. Ironically, being infested with demons had made the park safer than it had been in decades, the myths and rare sightings spooking the vagrants and drug pushers.

Ryan drove his car up onto an embankment, turning off the engine and stepping out. He did his best to cover it with fallen leaves and sticks, trying to conceal its silver gleam from any passers-by. It wasn't so much that he was worried about it being stolen, more that he feared it would draw his enemies to him. If they knew where he lived, then they would probably recognize his car too. If they were as deeply embedded in the police force as they seemed to be, then they might even have his license plates on file.

Satisfied that his vehicle would be fairly hard to spot from the road, he set off into the treeline. There was an eerie quality to these woods now, and Ryan had to wonder if it was a placebo effect or if the presence of the Seirim tribe really was altering the environment. It seemed greener, lusher than the last time he had visited. There was more moss on the trees, more vines creeping along the ground and more colorful flowers sprouting everywhere that he looked. Even at night, the air was full of insects. Giant moths and fireflies floated about on the breeze, coalescing nearby as if to welcome him to their domain. He heard the hoot of an owl, looking up into one of the trees as he passed and seeing a pair of reflective eyes tracking him from a high branch.

He knew where he was going, he just had to follow the marks on the tree trunks that he had carved there himself a few weeks prior. There were sigils all over the place, all part of his scheme to feed new energy to Azazel and to free the Seirim from their bonds of servitude.

Ryan fiddled with the black ring on his finger, wondering if Nahash was safe and when she might manifest again. When Haures had been slain, the demon had burst into a smear of smoky ink, just like when Nahash had been temporarily dissipated by the shotgun blast. He was confident that she would return, but how much of her energy had she expended during the fight?

A strange mist seemed to hang over the ground in a thick blanket as he neared the clearing where he knew the Seirim tribe to reside. It was the heart of the forest, where all of the magickal energy collected. The fog grew thicker, seeming to form an opaque barrier. Was this how they kept unwanted intruders out?

It parted suddenly as if reacting to his presence, a sort of tunnel forming in the mist. He stepped through it, feeling a little apprehensive. He was on good terms with the Satyrs that inhabited the forest, but Nahash had always been with him on prior visits, she had always been able to curtail the wilder proclivities of her sisters. Even in Nahash's presence, they had made attempts to seduce him. The demons fed on the sexual energy of the mortals that they lured, enticing them with drink and revelry.

As Ryan stepped into the clearing, the mist disappeared, leaving a crisp, clear sky above his head that was dotted with bright stars. The forest here had changed dramatically since the last time he had seen it. The bare earth where he had drawn the summoning circle with salt was now covered in lush, green grass that rose to his knees. There were flowering weeds everywhere, foxgloves and daisies, ivy and bright purple thistles. The trees were coated in creepers that were also blooming with brightly colored flowers, forming an almost solid wall that ringed the newly formed meadow. There were thorns and bushes too, the barrier looked quite impenetrable to wandering hikers and curious mystery hunters.

He turned to look behind him, seeing that the mist had been shrouding a kind of tunnel of foliage that served as the entrance. He hadn't even noticed on his way in, it had all been rendered invisible by the rolling fog.

When he turned around again, there was a gaggle of Seirim standing in front of him, their amber eyes staring intently as they jostled for space. He did his best to hide his surprise. He felt naked without Nahash, vulnerable. But as long as he kept his wits about him, these creatures wouldn't cause him any problems. They were friendly and well-meaning if a little rowdy.

"Ryan!" the one at the head of the pack exclaimed, batting her long lashes at him. "You've come to visit!"

"Ryan is back!" her sisters chorused, peering over one another to get a look at him. They very much resembled Nahash, nude save for their white wool, their heads crowned with twisted horns whose shape and number were as unique as a fingerprint. They seemed to sense his dour mood, cocking their heads at him.

"Where is Nahash?" one of them asked, the others muttering and whispering as they echoed the sentiment.

"I...don't know," he admitted. "Something attacked us, a demon, and she disappeared. Azazel saved me, but I haven't seen Nahash for hours. She hasn't reformed yet."

Immediately the Seirim closed in around him, the buxom creatures boxing him in and reaching out to stroke him with their clawed hands. They ran their fingers through his hair, patted his back, resting their hands on his shoulders as they cooed sympathetically.

"Poor Ryan, poor Ryan," they muttered in concert. They took him by the arms, guiding him over towards the center of the clearing. Where a moment ago there had been a meadow of green grass, now there was a roaring bonfire, as if it had been conjured through some sleight of hand trick. He felt its warmth as he neared it, the crackling flames sending their glowing embers floating up into the sky. The group of Satyrs sat him down on a nest of plush pillows a short distance from the stones that ringed it, dry and comfortable despite the dew and condensation that wet the grass. A couple of them sat beside him, their longs legs trailing off into the foliage, treating him as if he were distraught and inconsolable.

In reality, he wasn't. The immediate danger had passed, and although he was worried about Nahash, he was confident that it was just a matter of time before she materialized again.

He had to keep his wits about him, these Seirim could be mischievous and tricky if one allowed themselves to be led around by the nose. One of them emerged from the group holding a steaming mug between her hands, as much a bowl as a cup, made from some kind of resin or clay.

"Drink this," she said, "it will warm you."

The sisters that were sat to either side of him were rubbing his back and shoulders as if trying to stave off a cold that wasn't really there. It was a cool night, but the temperature wasn't nearly low enough to be bothersome.

"Poor Ryan has been left without his bride," the one to his left said, "we must comfort him until she returns."

They placed the bowl of warm liquid in his hands, he could feel its heat through the clay. He gave it a tentative sniff, noting the presence of various herbs and spices.

"What is this?" he asked skeptically, "soup?"

"Yes, aren't you cold?" one of them replied. It was more of a suggestion than a question, and Ryan began to feel a little drowsy. He had been with Nahash long enough to pick up on the sensation of having his mind messed with, the Seirim were attempting to influence his senses.

He began to shiver, the temperature seeming to plummet until he could see his breath misting, sparkling frost covering the blades of grass that surrounded him. The warmth of the fire seemed to fade as if it was receding away from him. It wasn't real of course, it was all the Seirim's doing, and he willed his eyes to look past this mirage.

The frost faded like a blind spot in his eyes, one of the Seirim that was draping her long arm across his shoulders grumbling in disappointment.

"Relax Ryan, be at ease. Won't you let us comfort you?"

There was another wave of dizziness as the demons pooled their powers, the vision and the sensation of cold growing clearer and stronger. Icicles clung to the branches of the trees that ringed the clearing, the once roaring bonfire now nothing but a pile of ash and cinders, the chill air stabbing at his exposed skin like tiny knives. He leaned towards the nearest Seirim instinctively, trying to escape the cold, and she took him in her arms.

Much as Nahash liked to do, she sank her fingers into his hair and pulled his face into the soft wool of her chest, just above her generous bust. She stroked softly, cooing, her warmth and softness hypnotizing. She smelled so good, earthy and fruity as if she had used the berries and flowers of their forest enclave to create a sweet perfume. It was intoxicating, Ryan breathing in lungfuls of the scent as her fur tickled his nose.

The second Seirim pressed against him from behind, her large breasts squashing against his back, the supple flesh cascading over his shoulders as she joined her sister in their embrace. The air was frigid, and the warm bodies of the Satyrs were his only refuge. He rubbed his cheeks against the delicate fur as he his face sank into it, so deep and welcoming. More of the demons crowded him on the plush cushions, warm, inviting bodies shielding him from the cold.

They were so kind, so concerned for his well-being, doting him on him as he felt smooth skin and feathery wool envelop him. It seemed as if the entire tribe had joined him on the cushions, the warmth that they radiated making him sleepy and compliant. One of them was stroking his hair while another massaged his shoulders, kneading the stress out of his muscles as he leaned back against her.

There were a dozen roving hands on his body now, stroking and cradling, slipping beneath his clothes. He exhaled a plume of condensation along with a sigh, feeling someone pull the collar of his shirt aside and plant a lingering kiss in the nape of his neck. He couldn't seem to see what was happening, as if he had extreme tunnel vision. All he was able to do was focus on the sensations that were assailing him, amplified as if he was wearing a blindfold.