Once again Azazel was summoned, this time by the spilling of blood; a stray dog’s, and as before the demon rose from a stain, taking on its consistency and color.
The witnesses were awed by the appearance of the crimson figure, which they took for illusion, and a ripple of applause went out, one that was dampened the moment Azazel spoke; his guttural, unnaturally deep voice invoking chills and a sensation later described as “like a spider crawling across the brain”. He immediately began striking deals and the unimaginative guests first asked for modest things, trivial things, still thinking they were part of a show. But as each wish was granted the requests grew more and more outlandish until eventually it dawned that this was no mere act, that they had genuinely bargained their souls and for petty pleasures, no less. Now they were caught, bound by contract to serve this demon, to follow his demands, to satisfy his whims.
And thus the Order was born.
Disturbing Events: Angel of Mercy
Angel of Mercy
“Every day is a good day when you run.”
Kevin Nelson
The dirt track was better; Paul from the office had been right about that. If there was one good thing to come out of the day it was that Angela could keep on running without worrying too much about her knees or her ankles. Not that she was old, just that at twenty nine, having been into running since her teens, the daily shock to her bones had taken its toll.
She’d learnt her lesson, bought better shoes, cut down to five runs a week and was now acting on the latest tip.
Yep, earth was better for running than concrete, but the uneven and unfamiliar terrain made things a little tougher in its own way, especially when fleeing for your life. Angela was already cut and bruised, her Lycra vest and shorts torn from having forced her way through brambles and dense growth. At least she couldn’t hear the voices anymore. Not like before when they were practically breathing down her neck. She figured it a good time to risk breaking into the open.
Thin branches snapped and coils of thorns were shed as Angela exploded from the crowded woodland back onto the dirt path without breaking stride. Her muscular thighs powered her on, her own heartbeat in her ears, her own breathing louder than the world itself. She was thirty seconds from the entrance, the parking lot and freedom when she heard them coming towards her from the opposite direction.
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Hellboy and The Terror Island by Francesco Francavilla
Probably my favorite from the Books of Blood
The best horror movie poster I have seen in years..
…and they go and ban it over here.
Keaton was gargling softly now, spluttering foam and blood. Again he convulsed, arching his back, gnarled fingers digging into the bark of the tree. They tore two handfuls from it when he spun on his aggressor.
In spite of himself, of the gun in his own hand, Gary flinched. Keaton seemed taller now, more muscular, his movements assured, powerful as he stepped forward, arms wide, shoulders hunched. Another step and Gary hit him with the butt of the gun, hard, as hard as he could, hard enough to drop any man to the floor, but Keaton’s head only turned with the blow, shedding foam from his lips over his shoulder.
Quickly, Gary readjusted his hold on the gun, his finger threading through the trigger guard while a car engine loitered in Keaton’s throat.
Slowly, Keaton turned back, grinning from ear to ear, his mandible extending as he did, extending way beyond what Gary had thought humanly possible.
excerpt from Disturbing Events
The hood shuffled closer, lifted the demon’s frail form with ease and carried him toward the altar. He held the creature as lightly and tenderly as possible, thinking only of how well he’d done, wondering what reward he might receive, what praise. He was about to speak again when, with a burst of infernal rage, the demon snapped at his throat, catching only lightly for a fraction of a second, so lightly that the hood barely noticed and didn’t realise any harm had been done until his legs gave way beneath him.
Three feet off the ground the demon was dropped, brittle bones snapping and splintering as it landed and the hood fell face first in the dirt, blood flowing like running water from his neck. Three bodies now lay in various states upon the mud, the wind still spreading the ashes of the fourth from the altar.
Excerpt from Disturbing Events
