Chapter 9

“Where do you keep your cattle at night?” Eron whispered.

“There,” Wytchraven pointed into the darkness. “Why?”

“That feeling connection you got? Is it pulling you in that direction?”

Wytchraven’s face scrunched up with concentration. “Hard to tell. It’s kinda vague… but… yeah.”

“Okay. I’m hearing a lot of distressed mooing and running around like crazy.”

Eron had to slow down so that Wytchraven could keep up. By the time they reached the fenced-in area the horrible ruckus had gone silent.

Wytchraven shined a lantern over the scene. She regretted it instantly. Over a dozen cattle were scattered in pieces. The grass looked more red than green.

“This doesn’t make sense…”

“Yeah, why kill them all?”

Eron shook his head. “Not that. I should’ve heard it ripping the cows apart. Except, all I got was the poor bastards mooing and stampeding.”

“Where did it go?”

“Either it killed them all to lure us into a trap or it got really hungry,” Eron said. “I’m leaning toward the former. Get your spells ready.”

Eron scanned the paddock.

The bodies were still warm. Steam rose in the cool night air.

One of the cows was still alive despite the gaping gash in its underbelly. The poor thing’s legs kicked and twitched.

Eron jumped over the wooden fence.

“What’re you doing?” Wytchraven had to carefully climb over as Eron waited.

“Seeing if I can spot a trail like before. Shouldn’t be too hard with all this blood.”

Eron cautiously approached the dying cow. He wanted to put it out of its misery.

“Poor thing,” Wytchraven said as she tried to avoid stepping on any blood and guts. A wasted effort.

The cow’s eyes stared at nothing. Its mouth hung slack while its tongue lay limp in a puddle of blood. Its legs continued to kick and twitch with a vigor that seemed out of place.

Eron caught movement in the cow’s stomach. The intestines shivered a moment. He wouldn’t have caught it if he wasn’t keyed up for the fight he was chasing.

Eron tensed. His senses warned him an instant before the cow exploded in a shower of blood, guts and meat chunks.

He punched out reflexively. His fist connected with something hard and sent it flying back out of the reach of Wytchraven’s lantern light.

Eron spat out cow blood and bits. He really needed to learn to keep his mouth closed. That’s what he got for being a mouth-breather.

“Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!” Wytchraven had been spared the brunt of the spray thanks to standing directly behind Eron.

Eron ignored her. He strained to listen for the evil entity. Nothing.

“There!” Wytchraven thrust her wand out to the left. “Hex Bolt!”

Eron saw something like a tiny shadowy bird fly out of the wand’s tip. The black, smoky wisp moved about as fast an arrow and created a brief flash of light when it hit the ground.

Wytchraven continued to spin and shoot wildly.

Eron had to duck to avoid getting one to the head.

He timed Wytchraven’s next blast. Easy enough when she moved in slow motion to his eyes. He dashed out of the light’s circle and plowed into a blood-covered man. A naked, blood-covered man.

Eron didn’t recognize the face, but it had to be Tony. Whether it was really Tony was an open question.

The man spat in Eron’s face with a look of pure, feral rage. He punched and clawed wildly.

Eron felt the sting as fingernails somehow managed to scratch his bulletproof skin. He grabbed a wild slash and clamped a vise-like grip around Tony’s wrist. He squeezed hard and felt bones crack.

Normal human bone would’ve been pulverized under the pressure Eron exerted.

Tony was a lot bigger than Eron.

Eron’s uppercut nailed Tony between the legs. He felt the man’s nuts burst on his fist. It was both disgusting and satisfying at the same time.

The punch lifted Tony up in the air. High enough that his flailing foot kicked Eron right in the face.

Eron’s head whipped back, but he kept his grip on Tony’s wrist, which allowed him to slam Tony into the ground.

The impact sent a small tremor beneath their feet.

Eron pulled on Tony’s wrist to whip him back up again, but his grip slipped off. He stumbled back. His hand was slick, wet. He looked at it. He held a patch of bloody skin.

Tony’s wrist and hand were skinless. Raw muscle was visible, blood dripped.

Eron was stunned as the skin on Tony’s arm flowed down to cover his raw hand.

What kind of horror was Eron dealing with?

“Get down!”

Eron dropped to the ground.

Wytchraven chanted something he couldn’t understand.

He felt feathers rustle his hair.

Wytchraven had thrown her bundle of crow feathers and they had turned into miniature versions of crows.

The miniature crows cawed madly as they swarmed all over Tony.

“What is that spell called? Like, Murder of Crows, cause if it isn’t, it probably should be.”

Wytchraven blinked. “I don’t have a name for it. It’s different from regular spells.” Sweat beaded her forehead. “Now, please don’t distract me. I have to concentrate.”

Eron eyed Tony and the murder of miniature crows. He moved closer, looking for an opening. One strong punch, maybe a couple, he amended, was all he needed.

Tony swung his arms wildly. Each time he connected with a crow it disappeared in a puff of black smoke to reveal a single feather floating to the ground.

Their numbers dwindled with each passing second.

Eron moved. He circled around and landed two crushing hooks to Tony’s kidneys. He focused on the punching power chain from his legs, to his hips, then shoulders and finally up his arms to his fists. Just like Cal had drilled with him.

Tony let out a pained grunt as he spun around with a wild backhand.

Eron’s shorter stature meant that he didn’t have to duck down too much. He landed another uppercut into Tony’s midsection.

The blow brought Tony’s head down.

Eron hit him under the chin.

Tony flew back and landed flat on his back. He sprang to his feet almost immediately and leapt at Eron. His body twisted and contorted in ways that weren’t humanly possible as he flew over Eron.

Bloody hands grasped and clawed at Eron’s face and head. He found himself flying upside down before he could react.

Tony had flung him across the paddock and only the wooden fence had slowed him enough so that he could dig his fingers into the ground and stop himself from continuing on for another dozen yards or more.

Eron was too far away now. He sprinted back, but he could only watch as Tony rounded on Wytchraven and charged.

“Hex Bolt!”

It struck Tony in the chest, but only caused him to stumble.

A crow cawed and dived at Tony’s face. This one was real.

Wytchraven took off as fast as she could toward Eron.

Tony snatched the crow out of the air. The bird pecked at his fingers. He tore its head off.

Eron could see the tears in Wytchraven’s eyes.

He was further away from her than Tony. They were about the same speed and even though Wytchraven was running for her life to him, he knew that he wasn’t going to beat Tony to her.

He could see Wytchraven stop. She closed her eyes and clasped her wand close to her chest. Her lips moved in a soundless chant.

Eron pumped his legs.

Feathers rustled in the wind.

He caught something in the air on the edge of his perception. Something significantly bigger than a crow. Dark, black as night. Wings that trailed wispy smoke. A beak like a sickle and claws like hooked knives.

The great black bird had appeared as if from thin air.

Eron’s superior senses told him that it was impossible. There had been nothing in the skies for hundreds of yards around. Tony’s presence must’ve scared off anything in the immediate area. They weren’t fenced in so they could move away.

Tony reached bloody fingers for the vulnerable Wytchraven.

The bird struck him like a missile and bowled him over to one side. It flapped its wings to stay out of Tony’s reach.

Eron followed it up with a flying tackle that sent both him and Tony skidding across the blood-slicked grass.

He cinched the mount and landed punches and elbows on Tony’s face with a frenzy.

Finally, he could put what Cal had shown him to use. Aside from mutant animals and inhuman monsters he hadn’t faced anyone deserving of his full power.

Eron pounded on Tony’s face for what felt like forever.

Tony’s face deformed under the relentless assault. His nose broke, cheekbones shattered, teeth flew, an eye burst.

Laughter brought Eron short.

He hesitated.

Tony was choking out laughter. A rictus grin revealed a bloody mouth and shattered teeth. “You’re strong. Mine now.”

Eron blinked. He missed the sharp-nailed fingers stabbing at his eyes.

His scream shook the sky.

Pain unlike anything he had ever experienced burned in his left eye.

Nails swiped at his throat. He felt the blood run down his bare chest. Hot like fire.

Tony hissed, but grabbed Eron’s face. Nails dug into Eron’s flesh as Tony forced him off and stood with Eron held an arm’s length away, feet kicking in the air.

“Flesh is me, mine. Stronger me, mine.” Tony hissed in Wytchraven’s direction. “Harvest thief later.

“Hex Bolt!”

Tony blocked the bird-like projectile with his free hand.

A mighty caw split the air.

Eron heard and felt a rush of feathers for a brief moment before Tony struck the great black bird aside.

Tony’s grip was like a vise.

“Run away, stealer. We, I… me take you later.”

Eron tried to kick out, but Tony’s long arms made it difficult to reach anything vital.

“Struggle, die, become we, I, me.”

Tony spun around and threw Eron.

He whirled around in the air. Up was down, down was up. He had lost all spatial awareness. It felt like he was in a nightmare, completely out of control.

Eron crashed through the roof of the processing plant. He slammed into a piece of giant machinery, a death dealing device for the unfortunate cattle that it serviced.

He hit the concrete floor with a thud. His breaths came in ragged gasps. He couldn’t see out of his left eye. It wasn’t blurry. There was just nothing.

Panic closed the walls around Eron’s mind.

No!

He wouldn’t allow it. He was stronger. He wasn’t weak. Only the weak surrendered to the fear and despair.

Eron felt at the slice on his neck. The wound had already stopped bleeding. He reminded himself that he healed faster than humanly possible. He wasn’t necessarily going to be blind forever. He knew that time in the sun would go along way at fixing his injuries.

The problem was that it was night time. His energy expenditure had already been greater than at any other time in the past. He felt weaker, tired.

Eron climbed to his feet. He moved his limbs experimentally. Nothing seemed broken. Although that could’ve been adrenaline.

Did he even still have adrenaline?

A question for another time.

Because he didn’t have any at the moment.

Tony barged through the thick wooden wall near the entrance of the processing facility.

Eron ripped a thick steel pipe from the machinery next to him and threw it.

Tony was caught off guard.

The pipe’s jagged end impaled him in the stomach and sent him back a dozen feet.

Eron attacked. He jumped across the distance and landed in front of Tony. He grabbed the pipe and used it to batter Tony into the floor and up against the heavy equipment in reach.

Tony’s bones broke under the assault, but healed rapidly. He pulled himself up the pipe until he was in reach of Eron.

Eron moved too slowly to avoid Tony’s grasping hands.

Tony grabbed him by the ears and landed a headbutt that echoed out into the huge space like a gunshot.

Eron saw stars and multiple Tonys as the man, the evil entity, pulled the pipe from his stomach and wound up with his best home run swing.

Eron went flying for the second time. He hit some metal scaffolding at the ceiling and crashed back down to the floor with a thud.

Tony was waiting for him.

Eron blocked another swing. The metal bent around his arm. He tore it from Tony’s grip, but left himself open.

Tony dashed in and grabbed Eron around the face. His free hand stabbed over and over again into Eron’s bare stomach.

The evil entity’s frustration grew as Eron’s flesh proved resilient. All he managed to draw were tiny pinpricks of blood.

Eron punched and pushed desperately, but his strength was waning.

He couldn’t stop Tony from grabbing his jaw and forcing his mouth open.

“Be mine, we, you, me, I…”

Eron gagged as bloody fingers fondled his tongue.

“Together strong.”

It can’t end like this! Eron raged. His heart beat rapidly. The heat built in his chest. He actually felt it travel up to his head. His one working eye, blocked by Tony’s hand, suddenly itched, maddeningly, impossible to ignore or endure. He felt like bursting. Something instinctive told him that the energy needed release. It won’t end like this!

He scratched the itch.

Heat erupted from his eye.

Tony recoiled and screeched as the flesh of his palm flaked away, blackened, charred, dead.

Eron looked right at Tony’s face.

The air scorched, tiny flames and smoke connected Eron’s eye to Tony’s body.

The evil entity tried to take cover, but Eron was just as fast. There was no escape.

Tony’s skin charred and blackened with surprising speed under Eron’s assault.

Tony stumbled and fell as Eron poured out everything he had.

Until the beam of invisible heat abruptly cut out.

Eron gasped and dropped to one knee.

“Oh my god! What was that? Was that heat vision? Why didn’t you do that sooner?” Wytchraven appeared with her wand in hand and pointed at the smoking mess that was Tony.

“Didn’t know… could do that…” Eron huffed.

“Is he, it, dead?”

Eron shrugged. He was too tired to answer.

Tony answered for him.

No, not Tony… his skin.

It was charred, but in a disgusting display of pure horror it leapt off the body and grasped on to Eron, trying to smother him like a living blanket.

Eron tried to push it away as it knocked him on his back, but he was running on fumes. He could feel the skin molding itself to his own.

Indescribable pain filled Eron’s every thought.

Mine, you, we, me, I.

“Fire! Burn it!” Eron cried out desperately to Wytchraven.

The young woman ran away and Eron despaired.

You, we.

The voice in his head grew insistent as it started to sound like his own voice.

“No! Damn you! Get off me!”

Eron ripped chunks of skin off with herculean strength, tearing some of his own in the process. He was beyond the pain now. “I’m not going…” he said through grit teeth. “Die… first…”

Easier said than done.

Dimly he heard steps, running, frantic, approaching.

He felt liquid splash all over him.

He smelled oil.

“Are you sure about this?” Wytchraven’s voice shook. The young woman was horrified.

“Do it!”

Wytchraven chanted something Eron didn’t understand. It was only a few words, a couple of lines, but it felt like she took forever.

Until he felt a warmth was over his body and the evil entity’s skin.

It tried to pull away as the fire consumed it.

Eron grabbed it close to him. He could see a dozen screaming faces in the skin. Joined together in anguish. The last face was Tony’s.

The blackened skin turned to ash.

The voice in Eron’s head that wasn’t his was finally silenced.

Eron lay in the heart of a raging fire. The warmth comforted him. It did nothing to heal his wounds and trauma, but it let him close his eyes and rest.