Thorn American Demon Hunters

1. Auflage 2018
ISBN: 661-000012139-7
Verlag: Molten Universe Media
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 229 Seiten

Hank knew the truth...
Nothing lasts forever. Not even death.
So what was he doing inside of the abandoned observatory?
He didn't want to believe his wife was dead-didn't want to live his life without her. Their son needed his mother, didn't he?
The townsfolk had scared the children away from the observatory for decades, the one next to Lakeview Cemetery. Pure horror, they'd whispered. They said, 'Satan himself wouldn't walk through that graveyard.' And yet the black magic rising from the cold earth always seemed to beckon...
Hank had been raised a good Christian. He knew better.
But what if he could bring her back?
They didn't understand.
He was the one who lost a wife.
Their son had lost his mother.
In the name of love, he'd bring her back. No matter the consequences.
You'll love this horror novel, because none of us know if we'd raise our loved ones from the grave-until we can.
Fans of Supernatural and Lucifer will love American Demon Hunters.
Get it now.
'Thorn is the new, fresh face in horror and dark fantasy.'
JA Konrath (aka Jack Kilborn)

Autoren/Hrsg.

Thorn, J.

Leseproben

February 26, 1971 Ancient sorcerers and shamans could raise the dead, but only a modern man of science could make them alive again. Dr. George Singleton was smarter, he did the research. The man believed he could apply the scientific method to the arcane texts, which would bring his fiancée back from the grave. Singleton spent weeks sketching out the process in his notebook. He’d draw a map of the stars as they appeared on the night Mary died—a star chart. He would then recreate what he had called a “death map” on the wall of the university’s observatory. The building mystified him, beyond the massive lens and gears that pointed it at the most distant reaches of the galaxy. He understood its power but not the source of it—much like the spiritual energy flowing from the Egyptian pyramids. George considered himself lucky the observatory could open a portal to the land of the dead, and that it existed here, in the small town of Cleveland Heights. From what he found in the research, the procedure for raising the dead—a “summoning”—was almost impossible to do beyond the first anniversary of the person’s death. The presence of friends and relatives of the deceased created a cosmic amplification that would help pry the portal open and let the dead through. He’d found the historical narratives. Horus, Lazarus, Romulus—even Jesus. They all returned from the dark void of death. In many cases, the dead came back with their minds foggy and their bodies sluggish. But over time, they could re-enter this world and live the rest of their natural life the way it was supposed to be, spent aging with loved ones and friends. But it wouldn’t happen that way. Singleton was about to learn what the ancients had known: Some fates are worse than death—best to leave them to their eternal rest. He drew the equations on the wall in chalk beneath the observatory’s open dome. Fred and Martha Siszak stood in silence. Martha squeezed her husband’s hand and used the other to caress the underside of her pregnant belly. Fred looked at Singleton, his boss, and shook his head back and forth. The man had no friends or relatives he could ask here tonight. Only an employee and his wife. The doctor convinced the Siszaks he could bring his deceased fiancée back from the grave using a combination of astronomy and black magic. All he had to do now was draw her star chart on the wall and read the incantations and they would be reunited. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Fred. This is not right.” Fred looked down into his wife’s face and nodded. He let go of Martha’s hand and smoothed the front of his blue, collared shirt with both hands before stepping toward George. “I think we should talk about this more. You asked us to come and pay respects to Mary, that we could help settle her spirit. But now I’m not sure what you’re doing or why we’re here.” George’s head spun around while his arm kept moving, fingers clutching the chalk that drew more mathematical equations on the wall. “This is my research at my university. I won’t let a janitor and his wife tell me what to do.” “This is not research. It’s sacrilegious. Evil.” George stopped writing. He spun and stood nose to nose with Fred while Martha stayed in the shadows. “Mary was my fiancée, goddammit. So you shut your mouth. If it was her,” George said, his eyes moving to where Martha was standing, “you’d want to do the same thing.” “I would not—” “Bullshit, Fred. Don’t lie to me.” Fred sighed and nodded. George went back to the wall and his mystical equations while Martha appeared on Fred’s right. “I can’t stop him,” Fred said to his wife. “He’s going to bring her back.” Martha shook her head. Words couldn’t prevent what was about to happen. Fred walked to the door and grabbed the end of a baseball bat leaning against the trim. He gripped the Louisville Slugger with both hands, hoping it would be enough of a weapon to protect Martha from whatever was coming. Fred stood near the doorway while Dr. Singleton initiated the ritual. “From the stars we come and hence we shall return. Unite the living with the dead and save us from an eternity in the urn.” George paused and then spoke once more. “I give you the chart inscribed by the summoner.” A cold wind blew out the ceremonial candle as the floor vibrated with an unseen energy. A gray haze appeared above the opened dome ceiling of the observatory. The telescope protruded into the night sky like a fang. Fred, Martha and George watched as the haze coalesced into the form of a human. Within moments, Mary, Dr. George Singleton’s deceased fiancée, stood beneath the telescope at the top of the spiral staircase. Singleton gasped. He walked toward the staircase and started to ascend when Fred stuck out his arm to stop him. “Wait,” Fred said. Martha stood fixed to the floor, her mouth hanging open. Mary walked down the spiral staircase, wearing the same white dress she wore in her casket. Her long, dark hair sat upon her shoulders and spilled down her back. Singleton’s mouth moved, yet he did not speak. As Mary rounded the last spiral of the staircase, the hazy glow dissipated and she stepped to the floor, barefoot and corporeal. “Why did you do this, George?” The lights in the observatory flickered, making movements appear like an old movie on a broken projector. Martha stood one moment, but the next time Fred looked at his wife, she was crumpled to the floor in silent tears. Fred saw Mary and George speaking but he could not hear what they said. Mary turned away from George and faced Fred, her eyes blackening and her lips turning up into a nefarious smile. Clumps of hair slid from her skull and fell to the floor. Fred took another look at Martha. He raised his arms as though he was buried beneath an icy avalanche. “She is my eternal love,” George said. Fred lunged forward, one hand on the bat and the other reaching for George. He grabbed the scrawny scientist by the arm and threw him against the wall, Singleton’s white coat now soiled with black smudges from Mary’s embrace. The dead woman rose up and glared at Fred, her eyes red and her greasy skin pulsing as if her veins were about to explode. She began to chant indecipherable words, her hair now completely gone and her stomach bulging like a balloon. The white dress slid from her body and she hunched over, turning her head sideways. The demon grinned at Fred. “I’m taking you all to Hell, where you belong.” Fred brought the baseball bat up and gripped it with both hands. He heard Martha sobbing in the corner, while George continued to mumble. “You summoned me. You brought me here,” she said. “You cannot stay,” Fred said. The floorboards rattled as the demon that was Mary approached Fred. Saliva dripped from her mouth in slimy, green strands. “I’m here because you opened the portal. Others shall follow,” she said. George stood and piss dribbled down his leg. He ran a hand over his widow’s peak, removed his black rimmed glasses and tucked them into a worn pocket on the front of his lab coat. Fred waved the bat at George and forced words through the tiny gap in his front teeth. “That’s not your fiancée. We have to destroy that thing.” Mary turned her bulbous head to Fred, black eyes inside a hollow face, skin a sickly bluish-gray. With a mouth too tight to hold all of her thin, pointy teeth, she spat at Fred. Green mucus that smelled like an infected wound sizzled on the floor. “I’m going to feast on your unborn child.” Fred stepped forward and brought the baseball bat up behind his right ear. He swung as hard as he could. The Louisville Slugger struck Mary on the left ear hole. She stumbled and Fred raised the bat again when George stepped between them. “Don’t hit her.” “That’s not Mary any more,” Fred said. George laughed and shook his head. “What the fuck do you know about her? She’s dead. Do you know what it feels like to lose the one you love more than yourself?” George asked, pointing at Martha. “You don’t because she’s standing right there, carrying your child.” Fred looked at George and then back to Mary. She sidled up to George and was now whispering in his ear, a forked tongue caressing George’s earlobes like a sultry lover. “That’s not Mary,” Martha said. George turned to look at her, a greasy smile on his face. “Shut up, Martha. You shut your fucking mouth.” “Don’t talk to my wife that way,” Fred said. The demon before them stretched its neck and roared. Fred put his hands over his ears but George remained unmoved, as though his dead fiancée was singing a joyous melody. “You brought Mary back, but she has turned into a demon and must be destroyed. We’re not supposed to be able to bring our dead back. We’re not godless,” Fred said. “God is...