HELL'S ARCHITECT

Chapter 01: Feast and Blood

That wine cost five thousand dollars a bottle!

Elios swirled the dark red liquid in the crystal glass he held, staring blankly, as if looking at sewage water. He rotated the glass slowly, letting the light from the gigantic chandelier on the Sky Deck Ballroom ceiling reflect off its surface.

“Damn it,” he muttered softly, touching the small earpiece hidden in his right ear. “I could buy an entire orphanage in Sector 4 just with the money for one bottle of this crap. Target not sighted yet, Doc. Are you sure your intel is right?”

“Patience, Elios. The distortion signal is there. Don’t drink the wine; it ruins your focus,” Doc’s voice crackled in his ear.

Elios stood in the corner of the room, leaning against a sturdy pillar, trying to look inconspicuous amidst a sea of silk gowns, Armani tuxedos, and the grand robes of the Cardinals. Yet, Elios still looked like a vagrant who had wandered into the wrong event. His rented tuxedo was too tight across the shoulders, restricting his movement, and barely concealing the two M1911 pistols he’d smuggled in thanks to a military signal jammer in his trouser pocket.

A young waiter passed in front of him, his hands trembling as he carried a tray of caviar. Elios stopped the waiter by the shoulder.

“Hey, take it easy,” Elios said, snatching a piece of caviar and swallowing it. It tasted salty, like sweat and pretense. “Your hands are shaking. Afraid you’ll spill food on that Cardinal’s robes over there?”

The waiter swallowed hard, glancing nervously toward the center of the room. “That’s... that’s Cardinal Maelstro, sir. If I make a mistake, I could disappear.”

Elios followed his gaze. Cardinal Maelstro, a fat old man whose face was flushed red from drink, was roaring with laughter. The Cardinal’s hands, heavy with ruby rings, were busy groping the waist of a young girl who was forcing a smile.

“Relax, kid,” Elios patted the waiter’s shoulder. “That old bastard is too busy with crotch-grabbing to notice you. Get lost before you throw up watching all this hypocrisy.”

The waiter nodded quickly and vanished. Elios was alone again, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an old silver coin. A lucky coin or a curse coin. Depending on who was asking.

On the orchestra stage, a soprano was reaching the high notes of a Mozart aria.

“Magnificent!” exclaimed a nobleman near Elios. “A voice that touches God!”

“Or a curse on my ears,” Elios hissed.

Clink.

Elios’s silver coin stopped spinning on his finger. It dropped onto the carpet. Elios didn't bend down to retrieve it. He stared straight up at the fifty-meter-high glass ceiling. He wasn't looking at stars, but air ripples. A faint neon purple glow ignited, then faded.

“Doc, I have visual,” Elios straightened his back, his hand reaching beneath his tight jacket.

The soprano hit the highest note, a piercing C6.

And the Sky Deck ceiling exploded.

BOOM!

Not fire, but an explosion of air pressure. Five-centimeter-thick glass shattered, raining down on the orchestra like deadly diamond shards. The screams of music turned to horror.

From the gaping hole, thick black mist seeped in. And then, they descended.

Three figures.

Ten feet tall, pale gray slimy skin, tattered webbed wings, and flat, eyeless faces with vertical mouths full of razor teeth.

Winged Nightmares. Level A.

“Oh God! Protect us!” a woman shrieked.

One of the demons swooped down onto the stage. Its talons snatched the still-shocked soprano. In one motion, the singer’s body was split in half. Blood sprayed, drenching the violinist next to her.

Total chaos. The elite guests hit the floor, crawling, trampling each other, forgetting their noble etiquette.

Amidst the storm of terror, Elios walked against the human tide. He lit a cigarette with an old Zippo lighter, inhaling deeply to suppress the tremor in his hands. Was he afraid? Of course. Only a lunatic wouldn't be. But fear was fuel.

“The party’s just getting started, and you’re already leaving?” Elios muttered.

One of the demons perched on the piano turned its blind head toward Elios. It hissed. Its forked tongue tasted the air. The scent of threat.

Elios snapped his hands out. From beneath his jacket, two black M1911 pistols slid into his grip. Their barrels were etched with Latin incantations that glowed a faint blue.

The demon shrieked and lunged at Elios.

BANG! BANG!

Two shots fired. The silver-plated bullets struck the demon’s right wing, tearing through the membrane. The demon lost balance, crashing into a marble pillar.

But the other two demons attacked simultaneously.

Elios leaped onto a round table, kicking a plate into the face of one demon as a distraction, then jumping toward a low-hanging crystal chandelier. His hands gripped the lamp’s iron frame, swinging wildly.

He wasn't fast enough. The second demon’s claws grazed his leg. His trousers ripped and fresh blood streamed from Elios’s calf.

“Shit, you bastard!” Elios groaned, fighting the pain.

He twisted his body into an inverted position in mid-air. Classic Gun Fu.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Bullets struck the vertical eye on the second demon’s chest. Black blood spurted, sizzling as it burned the expensive carpet. The demon fell, convulsing.

Elios landed hard on the shattered grand piano, his injured leg throbbing violently. He rolled away, avoiding the attack of the third demon diving from above.

The demon’s claws pulverized the piano where Elios had been a second earlier.

“One more,” Elios gasped.

The last demon flew high, preparing to dive again.

“Oh, no. You don’t get a second turn,” Elios said. He spotted an expensive champagne bottle near his foot. He kicked the bottle into the air, then shot it just as it aligned with the demon’s face.

SMASH!

Shards of glass and high-pressure liquid exploded across the demon’s face, momentarily confusing it.

BANG!

A single bullet tore through the demon’s open mouth, penetrating to the back of its brain. The last demon fell, crushing an ice swan sculpture beneath it.

Silence returned to the ballroom.

Elios stepped down from the piano wreckage, wincing as he clutched his bleeding calf. He limped toward an overturned buffet table. Cardinal Maelstro was hiding there.

The old man had grabbed a young waitress—the girl he had spoken to—and was hugging her tightly as a human shield.

“Don’t kill me! Take her! Eat her!” Maelstro babbled at Elios’s silhouette.

Elios stared at the scene. His jaw hardened. His cigarette fell from his lips, crushed under his military boot.

“Let her go,” Elios’s voice was low. But it was more terrifying than the demons’ shrieks.

“You… you are from the Order? Protect me! I am Cardinal Maelstro!” He tightened his grip, his fingernails digging deeper into the girl’s arm until it bled.

“I said… let her go!” Elios’s patience snapped.

Elios raised his pistol. The black barrel pointed straight at the Cardinal’s forehead.

“You dare point a gun at me? I am God’s representative!”

The waitress looked at Elios pleadingly. That look… it reminded Elios of his wife, Lyra. The flash of memory made Elios’s finger twitch on the trigger.

“God’s representative?” Elios gave a dry chuckle. “If God saw you right now, He’d be ashamed to claim you as His creation.”

“There are many witnesses! The Church will not forgive you!” he threatened shamelessly.

Elios stepped forward. The tip of the pistol now pressed against the Cardinal’s sweating forehead.

Elios smiled grimly.

“Wait! I can pay! How much? A hundred thousand dollars? A million? Name your price!”

Elios looked at the waitress. “Close your eyes, Sweetheart. And cover your ears.”

The girl obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut tightly.

Elios looked back at the Cardinal. A cruel, twisted smile was etched on his face.

“Save your money for bribing the gatekeepers of hell.”

“DON’T!” the Cardinal screamed.

“You or the demons, it’s all the same.”

Elios pulled the trigger.

BANG!