Demonic by Jeff Strand

Author:Jeff Strand [Strand, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-01-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

I really hoped that the four new cops didn’t shoot me. From an objective standpoint, if you were trying to determine who the bad guys were, you’d go with the people wearing devil masks. Yet, I was the one who’d shot a couple of them, and I was about to start slashing my way through the crowd with a machete, so I had to make peace with the idea that I might take a bullet any second.

Quinn got out of the car and stood behind me.

We weren’t quite surrounded, because several of the demons had turned their focus to the cops. The cops were yelling the same stuff we’d been hearing about dropping our weapons and getting down on the ground, or they’d shoot. Nobody listened.

Then one of the demons, the one closest to the cops, did drop to his knees. After that, he leaned forward, lying flat on the sidewalk. I assumed that he simply didn’t feel like getting shot…until he started doing push-ups. The asshole was just trying to be funny.

I slashed the machete back and forth as if I was trying to clear a path through the jungle. Quite a bit of blood sprayed, but no limbs or heads fell onto the lawn.

“Cut off his arm!” Quinn told me, pointing to the demon who’d smashed the front windshield. He stepped on Penter’s body, which made a wet squishy sound as his foot sank into the dead cop’s mangled chest.

I swung the machete at him, aiming for his elbow. Direct hit. I lopped the lower half of the demon’s arm off, and he threw his head back and bellowed in pain.

“His other arm!” Quinn said. “The one with the bat!”

Oh. She wanted his bat. Duh.

The demon was so busy reacting to his spurting stump that he didn’t make any real effort to dodge my next swing. I hit his other arm at the elbow—I was getting good at this—and both his arm and the aluminum baseball bat fell onto the grass.

Quinn picked up the bat. She didn’t thank me, but to be fair, there wasn’t really time for manners.

Gunshots. The cops, realizing that the devil-masked maniacs had no intention of getting on the ground as requested, had opened fire. They were, for now, firing warning shots into the air, but that wouldn’t last.

I swung the machete at a demon whose cheap plastic mask was the comic character Hot Stuff the Little Devil. I was trying to cut his head off, but he ducked, and my blade sailed harmlessly over his head. I swung it back, and this time it connected. It got him on the side of the head, and it wasn’t a very good hit. All it really did was sever the string that held the mask in place. The mask fell away.

Underneath, his face was a blur.

Or, maybe not quite a blur. More like it was shifting. The glowing eyes remained in place, but his other facial features were moving. Changing.

“Ignore that!” Quinn shouted.

I very

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