To Hell and Back Again Ch. 10 - Beauty's Return

He looked over to Beauty and Karen, both crouched behind the cover of rock. "Remember the plan."

"Logan..." Beauty snarled.

"No, Beauty! No more talk. You're still too weak for a pitched battle, and if they get through me, you are our last hope." He didn't say out loud what they were all probably thinking. Because I will likely be dead. "Stick to the plan."

He hurried to get into position. With any luck, the spiked trap and the minefield of needles he had planted in the dirt would slow them enough to give him time to be ready. Logan moved in a fast combat crouch behind a thick spire of stalagmite where all of his chosen weapons of war were carefully arranged for easy access.

The first to step into the orange light of the cavern was a servant according to the tattoo on the man's right cheek. And yet, despite being little more than property himself, the man was vastly better equipped than any demon Logan and Beauty had previously fought.

A brown, leather, combat vest, with many loops and pockets for equipment, protected his torso over a long-sleeved, rust-colored, shirt. Pants of the same color were tucked into stout, weather-beaten, brown leather boots. A dagger hung from his right hip. On his left hip was a holster. In one hand was a short sword. In the other was what Logan had feared, a pistol. A pair of brass goggles perched on his forehead over a leather cap meant to shield his skull from injury.

Not this time. Logan pulled on the first rope. It snapped up out of the dirt he had hidden it in, pulling the leather bag from a narrow ledge in the rock above the cavern entrance. The rotgut liquor splashed down. Logan thumbed a match to life, lit the cloth wrapped rock in his other hand, and threw.

His aim was good. Logan watched the man flail, burn, and fall.

Two down. Three to go.

At this angle, the enemy would have no good shot at him without stepping out in the cavern, and out of the cover of darkness. If he was very lucky, they would cut their losses at this point and retreat. If not, it would be two against one, as well as guns versus blades and dirty tricks.

Hope for the best and plan for the worst. Logan gave himself 50/50 odds to survive."Come get me, you fuckers," he growled. "I'm waiting."

Despite the words of challenge, Logan was worried. He had expected that the Hell Hound would be first through the breach to flush him out and buy time for the hunters to get into position to attack. Yet, the beast was nowhere to be seen.

The next one, a woman, hurtled into the room as if she had been tossed out of the tunnel. She was dressed in a similar uniform but held a pair of pistols and swept the barrels across the cave, looking for a target to kill. Fear and fury twisted the scars on her face. Lumbering out of the darkness, behind the human shield of his last slave, came a third, wild-looking man.

Logan knew, at a glance, that he was the real threat and immediately revised his estimation of what "wealthy" looked like here in Hell.

He wore a black jacket and pants embroidered with a fine silver border, and knee-high, black leather boots. A pistol was slung low on one hip like an old west gunfighter. A sheathed fencing sword dangled from the other hip. In his hands, pointing out over the woman's head was a handcrafted, bolt action rifle.

"Come out, little whore." The man's voice was the coarse scratch of rocks rubbing together. The business end of the rifle slowly panned across the shadow and stone of the cavern. "The time for silly games is over."

"Not quite over," Logan whispered. "Always remember to look up, asshole."

He tugged a carefully placed square knot loose. Rope slithered away as the weight of his final secret weapon hurtled down from above. The madman's eyes noticed movement and finally looked up.

The sack of flour struck the stony floor and exploded into a cloud of choking, white powder that rolled over both man and woman. Two voices coughed and cursed in anger.

"Now!" Logan shouted

Logan was up in an instant, their crude hunting spear in his hand. A hard throw sent it hurtling into the billowing cloud toward the smaller silhouette. A woman screamed and something metal clattered to the rocky floor.

From the other side of the cavern, Beauty threw their only other spear. It flew true. The female hunter tumbled to the ground. To the best of her limited ability, Karen whipped rocks out of a sling made from bandage and rope.

The hunter bellowed laughter, still coughing and waving one hand in front of his face as he stepped out of the cloud of powder. "You think to stop me with sticks and stones?"

"No, I don't."

Logan crashed into the man like a linebacker, shoulder first, and at full charge. The rifle tumbled away to strike a rock and fire off into the shadows. They hurtled to the ground in a tangle of limbs and fought as hard men will, with savage strength and merciless intent. Both drew knives. Fists hammered. Blades cut. Red blood and pale mist spilled across the floor as they fought to kill and fought to live.

Logan felt lines of fire tear across his ribs but the "fight or flight" rush of adrenaline kept the agony at bay. Long enough to get his knife hand free. He roared, spraying blood from his mouth and stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed.

The hunter bellowed in pain, slapping a hand against the life force boiling out of his neck. The other hand clenched around Logan's wrist and twisted until the knife clattered from his grasp. A backhanded blow snapped Logan's head to the side, stunning him for less than a heartbeat.

Long enough for Denke to draw the pistol from his holster.

They fought for control of the gun. The madman pursed his lips in a loud, piercing whistle. Something monstrous roared in answer from outside the cavern. A slow, savage grin spread across the man's face as they both heard the Hell Hound rapidly approaching through the tunnel. The barrel of the gun slowly inched down toward Logan's face.

His last thoughts were of her. I'm sorry, Beauty. I am so sorry!

"First I will take your life." Spit dripped from between Denke's broken teeth to splatter on Logan's face. "Then I will take your human woman as payment for your arrogance. The demon I will cook and eat for my dinner." The madman pulled the hammer back to fire.

Just as two hundred pounds of Hell Hound lunged out the darkness. Long, yellow teeth clamped down on Denke's neck and shoulder. The gun fired into the air sending a bullet to ricochet off stone walls. The hound snarled and shook the man like a rag doll. Bone snapped as the hunter screamed in pain and terror. Denke twitched and then was still as his life force bled out in a billowing cloud of mist.

The beast rose to its feet. Karl Denke, the madman once known as the Prussian Butcher, did not. Molten red eyes looked at Logan where he lay gasping and bleeding into the dirt. Logan braced himself to fight the beast with his last breath.

<Hello cousin. Grandfather Grizzly sends his regards.>

Logan was stunned to realize that he heard the words in his head, not in his ears.

"Logan!" Beauty called to him.

He looked over. Karen's hands were folded over her belly. A steady stream of ghostly mist poured out from between her fingers. Her beautiful dark eyes were wide and frightened.

"Logan?" she whimpered.

He watched her crumple to the ground.