Hellboy and The Terror Island by Francesco Francavilla
The dead have highways, running through the wasteland behind our lives, bearing an endless traffic of departed souls. They can be heard in the broken places of our world, through cracks made out of cruelty, violence, and depravity. They have sign posts, these highways, and crossroads and intersections. And it is at these intersections where the dead mingle, and sometimes spill over into our world.
Purgatory was such a dreary plane, he knew that from his own experience. To enter Hell required guilt, however little. For Heaven, remorse. Since knowing neither he had been marooned for some time in that wasteland between love and hate, pleasure and torture, when young Craven came calling, wounded and thirsty for blood.
The bidding began. Millions of voices clamored to be heard. Deals were offered by Christie, Haigh, Shipman, poor simple Mr West, that impostor Chapman to name a few. But Saucy Jack’s was the most enticing by far.
Of course, what better instrument of revenge than the most notorious killer of all time?
Excerpt from Disturbing Events: Sunglasses After Dark
Clubbed to Death
by steven stark
Darren Reeve was flying.
His heart was racing in time with the staccato beat of the music and his pupils, big as buttons, were dazzled by the ever changing light as he moved on limbs filled with limitless energy. An unseen force was drawing him forward, carrying him through the sea of sweating flesh. It was a hand, a soft, sweaty hand half the size of his own. It was Jenny, all in black but for her thighs, her hands and her head, which in the random waves of darkness all appeared to be floating.
She was right, this was something else, as intense as anything he’d ever felt and yet it seemed to smooth out all the edges as well, remove all the fear, the insecurity, the paranoia he’d known for so long. She was dancing in front of him then, her pupils like buttons too, and Darren imagined fucking her, seeing her lithe body arching the same way when she came, or when she pretended to.
A smile, whiter than white under the UV light, then Jenny opened her mouth showing him she had another tab resting on her tongue. Darren’s eyes bulged, his lips trying to form words that can’t be sounded with a jaw in spasm, but she knew what he wanted to say.
‘Yes please.’
By the scruff of the neck she pulled him toward her firmly, a little too firmly, and pressed her wet lips to his. Open Sesame: Darren’s rebellious jaw suddenly gaped and as their tongues met they exchanged the goods. Hers probed his mouth a little further, making sure he’d received the gift, his second of the night, then she pulled away, danced off into the crowd without a word.
Darren swallowed and Darren followed but something was wrong. His head was hot, getting hotter, frying. He put a shaky hand up and wiped the slick sweat back into his hair, fingers finding the rapid pulse in his temple quite by accident. They stayed when he felt it, pressed hard as if attempting to contain a fresh sprung leak, and through them he could tell his heart had overtaken the music, running two beats to its every one.
Hand still pressed tight Darren began to stumble through the crowd, no longer flying, now quite certain he was falling.
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
The creature loosed a rasping roar and leapt from the stage into the middle of the dance floor, instantly crushing three revellers flat underfoot. The nearest human to the mess on the ground stared up at Belial in disbelief. Perhaps he was a friend, a relative, a lover to one of the squished corpses? It mattered not to Belial, who reached into the human’s mouth, seized him by mandible and maxilla, and wrenched.
Now they screamed.
Excerpt from Disturbing Events
Belial’s roar continued, its still rising pitch, causing all in the room to cover their ears in pain. Directly beneath him a short pile of corpses burst like bubbles, their fluids flooding out across the floor, touching and spreading around the trainers of the skinny lad, who paused at the sight. His face grew ashen and in his eyes there crept an utter despair, threatening to drag him down into insanity. Belial knew the look, having driven many mad in his youth. He’d since grown to consider madness an escape from the pain and acted quickly to snap his prey back into reality, thereby prolonging his own fun.
Excerpt from Disturbing Events
Falling into the kitchen Payne ripped open a drawer, scattering cutlery in every direction. A chef’s knife landed at his feet and he sank to his knees to retrieve it. In both hands he embraced the blade’s rust, its germs, its history, its future and aimed it at the source of his torment: his own eyes. He cradled it a while then, weeping as he did so. Another vision, one so terrible he could barely comprehend it, forced him to act and with an anguished battle cry he drove the blade deep into the socket and further into his own brain, taking it right up to the hilt. Blood spurted and squirted in jets from the wound while his jaw opened and closed reflexively, his ultimate gasp dragging blood into his lungs.
‘Kate,’ he gargled, his final word before loose fingers slipped away from the blade’s handle, limp arms flopped to his sides and his body collapsed face first to the floor, the impact driving the knife tip right through the back of his skull.
Excerpt from Disturbing Events
Keaton was gargling softly now, spluttering foam and blood. His fingers gripping the bark of the tree tore two handfuls from it as he suddenly spun on his aggressor. Gary recoiled, Keaton seemed taller now, more muscular, his movements assured, powerful and he stepped forward, arms wide, shoulders hunched. 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 mouth over his shoulder.
Quickly, Gary readjusted his hold on the gun, his finger slipping inside the trigger guard as a strange noise rose 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
Angela nodded. She staggered over to the rock, lifted it again and carried it back. She hadn’t the strength to raise it high anymore, so instead she held it over the demon’s head and, when ready, simply allowed it to drop. There was a hollow cracking sound, like a coconut breaking and the demon’s body jolted once then moved no more. Angela imagined that was how the bird had gone too. She didn’t dwell on it any further. There would be time for reflection later. If she escaped.
Excerpt from Disturbing Events
His mind willing, but his bowels threatening to evacuate, Payne cautiously approached the punch bag. Sweat drenched palms reached out and steadied the thing, it was heavy, even for a heavy bag. There was something solid in there too and he pressed and squeezed to try and determine what it was. Probing deeper his thumb caught something sharp and his hand quickly withdrew from the shock. In retaliation he lashed out as hard as he could and the bag ruptured upon impact, spewing its wet contents onto the floor like postnatal livestock expelling the afterbirth. Terror struck, Payne then slipped and fell back onto his behind while Jason Reeve’s mashed remains continued to splatter on the ground, splashing flecks of blood back at him.
Excerpt from Disturbing Events
