Outskirts Press, INC.

Everyone has demons

The world sleeps quietly as an ancient evil draws near. The great prince of Hell, Andras looks to enslave humanity. Only Dorian Steel can save us now. Love, loss, and faith are the fuel that will drive him to either succeed or fail. How can a simple landscaper teamed with a sultry college professor and an overweight priest stop this day of reckoning? Psychic powers are a good start.

I was in bad shape. Upon the fall, my head struck the side of the stone table. Woozy, I looked up, only to find a menacing figure hovering above me. It was a mountain of fur. The black wolf’s muscles bulged with intensity and hunger, as it prepared to finish me off. The situation was hopeless. As drool from the beast’s mouth dripped down onto my torn and tattered shirt, I felt around in the darkness for something – anything. Death was imminent. The afterlife was nearing. As the black wolf brought his fangs down upon my neck, I pulled the trigger of the pistol that I’d fallen on seconds earlier. It was not a kill shot to the head, but he was hurt. The wolf leapt away in pain after taking a direct hit to the shoulder. Off in the darkness he went with a whimper. Before I could take a breath and celebrate this small victory, a set of razor-sharp claws dug into my back. Pulsating shock waves traveled down my spine. Bashir slashed at me with the cruelest of intentions. I spun around and tried to throw him off of me, but he held on like a vice grip. His fingers were gnarled but thick and his claws stretched from one and a half to two inches long. The blood was pouring fast. With each failed attempt to remove this parasite from my back, I grew weaker and weaker. Eventually, I caught hold of the bastard’s diminutive frame. I hurled Bashir over my shoulders and onto the hard dirt floor, but he had done his damage well to me. I was extremely dazed as the blood trickled down my spine from the wounds he’d inflicted. I was injured, but I still had some fight left in me. He scampered to his feet, smiling with my blood on his teeth. It was a standoff. He stared at me with wild eyes, eager to battle. I returned his gaze. I was now in survival mode. It was winner take all. The bottle of holy water was gone. The gun was a distant memory. I’d lost them both in the melee and there was no time to look for either. Still, I knew how to defend myself without the use of a weapon. My boxing skills were rusty, but they could be dusted off quickly. At that moment, I was ready to die. “Come on you son of a bitch!” I screamed. “I’m sending you back to Hell!”