"Grindcarver"

Grindcarver
A Special Edition Nick Shadow Short Story

The City can be a tranquil place at night. The soft glow of the street lights, the yellow shine of hotels and apartments lighting the night, it could all be very peaceful.
The thing with Atlantia nights, though, was that every so often the usual city lighting was disrupted by the flickering of flames and the sounds of rampaging werewolves, bloodthirsty vampires, or, in instance of this night, destructive demons.
A figure dressed in a black, worn leather jacket and jeans hurled through the air and smashed through a Plexiglas bus stop.
Nick Shadow rolled to his feet, the usually human-visage dropped to reveal a creature of nightmare. Black hair stood up in places, eyes where blazing with an inner fire. Eye-teeth where elongated and sharp, and bared in a feral grimace.
The white t-shirt he wore under the jacket was torn, but only a little blood flowed from what ought to be gushing wounds. A sleeve had been ripped off the jacket, and long claw marks ran down the back.
Nick reached down and picked up the ancient cruciform sword that had landed on the concrete near him and, swinging it around once, turned to face his attacker.
Standing around eight-feet tall, Grindcarver was not a demon to be trifled with. His eyes glowed with and orange intensity that matched Nick’s. His hair was stuck up at odd places, as if just gotten out of bed. His beard was reminiscent of a olden day’s metal musician. His build was stocky, but powerful. When he talked, his voice sounded like a cinderblock dragged across concrete, gravelly with a lot of bass.
Nick whipped a dab of blood from the corner of his mouth and glanced up at the demon.
“Nice shot. Anyone tell you that you look like a Metallica reject?”
Grindcarver let out a booming laugh, “Your mom looks like a Metallica reject.”
Nick shook his head clear of being thrown forty feet, and started toward Grindcarver again.
“Leave my mom out of it.”
He swung with the sword at the demon, only to find his blow stopped by a metal stop sign pole that Grindcarver had yanked from the ground.
The demon gave the vampire half-breed a questioning look.
“A sword? You think that will hurt me, foolish mortal?”
Nick held the gleaming blade before him and circled the hell-fiend with intent to kill.
“It was a gift from a friend. Belonged to a knight who fought in the crusades, blessed by the Pope and everything. I figure if anything is going to be able to kill you, this would do the trick.”
Grindcarver’s eyes narrowed with barely hidden concern.
“Oh, really? You don’t say.”
Nick seemed to roll his eyes slightly, “I didn’t? Whoops, I sure had me fooled.”
The half-breed lunged forward and jabbed the tip of the blade at the hell-spawn, causing him to move back a few steps.
In response, the demon sent a burst of hellfire at the half-breed.
“You think you can really beat me, you and your little blessed sword, Half-breed?”
“Maybe not with the sword, but I can beat you.”
Grindcarver showed his teeth in a nasty facsimile of a smile and held his hands away from his sides.
“Come and get me, Vampire.”
Nick met the demon’s grin, “Okay, Demon.”
He charged, swinging the sword before him like a scythe, driving the demon backwards, onto the sidewalk, and onto the steps of the building behind them.
“So, demon, let’s see how you fare on holy ground.”
Nick leaped forward and kicked the demon with both feet in the chest. A normal man couldn’t have dealt the kick Nick did, but with his supernaturally augmented strength he was able to kick the demon backwards, up the stone steps, and crashing through the doors of the large church behind him.
Grindcarver got to his feet and threw his hand out at the hunter. When nothing happened, he looked down at his hand, confused.
Nick walked through the smashed door, sword held at his side.
“What’s the matter, demon? Hellfire not working for you right now? I thought being inside a church would limit you some.”
Grindcarver snarled and lashed out at the half-breed, catching the hunter by surprise and knocking the crusader sword from his grip.
Nick rained down blows on the demon, his ferocity and strength driving the demon back farther into the church.
Down the center aisle they went, exchanging blows as they went. Nick managed to throw the demon again, and the hell spawn crashed through six rows of pews before sliding to a stop before the altar.
Grindcarver got to his feet again, “Well, you have managed to get us on equal grounds. Congratulations.”
Nick laughed harshly, “Heh, Demon, everything about you stinks. The lines, the outfit, it all smells… kinda like sulfur. Tell me, do you ever take a bath?”
He threw a round-house punch that cause Grindcarver to stagger again and, while he was off-balance, launched a powerful side-kick into the demon’s stomach.
Grindcarver was sent flying backwards, into the baptismal pool. A pool filled with holy, blessed water.
The demon screamed as the water burned into his skin. His flesh peeled back and off the muscle, revealing veins, tendons, and bone beneath.
As soon as he had delivered the kick, Nick had spun on his heel and ran back to the front of the church to retrieve the sword. Snatching it from the floor and running back with unnatural speed, he got there just as the Demon was managing to get to its feet.
He drove the sword into Grindcarver’s chest, straight up to the cruciform hilt.
The demon stared into his smoldering eyes and Nick leaned in close.
“I will see you in hell.”
The demon fell backwards, sliding from the blade and into the holy water. Nick stood over the pool, watching the demon’s physical body melt into a bloody sludge at the bottom of the baptismal.
He watched until the last bit of solid matter had dissolved into water. Then he turned and walked out of the church.
As he walked down the steps he paused and turned to look up at the cross at the top of the church. He smiled slightly, his teeth glinting in the darkness.
“Heh, maybe there is a God.”