By no means am I an educated man, but I knew full well that octopuses didn’t fly. Besides, the nagging in my chest? That was a pretty clear tell that I was dealing with something monstrous.

  I couldn’t see much—what with the tentacles over my face. Though I did spot the end of a great, big feathered wing. Each powerful flap pushed air with a whoosh as loud as a gale wind. Moonlight and darkness vacillated, making it difficult to tell how high or far we were going.

  Then, like Heaven blinked, the moonlight was gone. Vanished. Leaving us in absolute darkness. Wood creaked beneath heavy footfalls, and what sounded like claws scraped. Eventually, the tentacles unwound and the monster dropped me face first onto a heap of paper and floorboards. Reminded me of a makeshift bird’s nest. Perhaps because that’s exactly what it was.

  From what I could tell, we were in a room with heavy curtains draping to form one wall. The rest was plain, filled with garbage and tattered clothes covered in stains. No bones, however. Not a single damn one. As if this thing liked to eat its victims whole.

  I squirmed around until I managed to flip myself onto my back.

  The beast unleashed a wet, bubbling wail from where it perched over me. There were many chimeric Nephilim out there, though I’d never seen one quite like this. It boasted a body like an enormous lizard with a long, lashing tail, only two legs—with claws the length of a show pony—a crest of feathers that tapered down from its wings to a head like an eagle, and had one bulbous eye. It snarled from a beak colored more like metal than bone. And from that abomination, bunches of tentacles thrashed out like dozens of suction-y tongues.

  Being honest, this was the ugliest son of a bitch I’d ever encountered, and I was pals with a guy called Picklefinger.

  “Saints and Elders…” I said, spitting out mucus-like slime deposited in my mouth from the tentacles. “I don’t even wanna know what fucked who to make you.”

  I reckon it took offense to that, because one of the tentacular appendages raised me by the boot and swung me through the air, then slammed me back down in the nest. I didn’t feel anything, unlike my experience with Wendigo, but fragments of the bird’s home sprayed upward. It stomped over me with its massive clawed foot, getting pelted by pieces of its own home, trapping me like I was in a cage. More slime spattered over my face as the frilly ends of a few tentacles lapped across my face.

  Was it… tasting me?

  “Trust me, I wouldn’t make a satisfying meal.”

  Rolling onto my side, I stretched my bound arms while at the same time kicking one of the claws. Letting out a shriek, it shifted enough to allow me to get my knotted lasso under another claw. In a swift motion, I pulled, effectively cutting myself free. My wrists were ripped open along with it. Luckily, I couldn’t bleed out.

  That really pissed it off. Tentacles snared both my ankles. I quickly grabbed a shard of wood before it lifted me high into the air and stretched out its wings in what I imagined was a threat.

  Truth is, it was scary as all get out. Scant bit of good having free hands was gonna do me since good old Chapelwaite had stolen my firearms.

  I hung there, upside down, staring into a wide-open beak where I got a clear view of how a mouth full of octopi legs might eat.

  The sides of its beak clicked, and the entire maw detached, and its gullet expanded. I’d seen snakes pull a similar maneuver when devouring something oversized. Looked like I was about to become a deer.

  The base of the tentacles spread apart to reveal a spiraling kisser filled with thousands of razor-sharp teeth ready to tear me to shreds as it lowered me in.

  I waited until loose strands of my hair tickled the fangs before I jammed the wood-shard sideways into its throat. Another deafening wail coated me with spittle, and it jerked back, casting me airborne. I crashed into the curtain wall, but it didn’t come down. The fabric slowed my fall as it sagged, then tore, causing me to drop to the floor. Light flooded in and gave me a glimpse of the room beyond. By appearance, I was in the orchestra pit of a small theater, right beyond the front row of cobweb-covered seats. A huge chunk missing from the ceiling informed me how a monster the size of the chimera got in.

  Using the torn curtains, I pulled myself out of the pit and checked my surroundings. Ratty American flags draped from private opera boxes on either side. Nothing appeared to have been cleaned in years. Two ramping aisles led to a single exit out the front, and behind me, the floundering chimera used its own tentacles to snap the wood shard in half and flung it at me. The edge tore across my cheek before cleaving a seat.

  It screeched—a bone-chilling sound—and charged at me. I can’t properly describe what that looked like, all sorts of squirming appendages slapping and flapping. Sounds comical, but let me assure you, it was not. I scaled a seat and jumped off with the end of the curtain still in hand. As I whipped around, I dragged it across, doing my best to aim for the creature’s sole eyeball in hopes of blinding it.

  Tentacles and claws ripped through fabric like parchment. I’ve said I don’t like running from a fight, and that’s true enough, but when you’re faced with a mammoth this size and possessing this sort of aggression, your best bet is to regroup. So, I bolted up the aisle for the way out.

  In the past, the threat of Heaven’s judgment would have encouraged me to stick around. But Shar wasn’t in charge of me anymore. I didn’t need to kill it. That wasn’t my job. Not anymore.

  Escape was so very near when it propelled its sinewy body with unbelievable speed and landed on the mezzanine above me. The ceiling creaked, sending particles of dust and bigger debris crashing down around me. A single flap of its giant wings stirred the air, and I once again found myself fully in flight, soaring backward across rows of seats, head over heels.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  From its perch, the chimera’s tentacles shot out at me. I stayed low between the seats, crawling while tendrils whipped over me. I nearly made it to the other aisle when colossal suction cups gripped the seat blocks with a loud squelch. A roar and a tear later, and both seats and bases tore free and exposed me.

  I pushed myself upright and made to dash, but it was too late. Multiple tentacles wound around my legs, arms, and neck—the beast taking no risks this time. It bounded down from its vantage and carried me until my back slammed against the rear wall of the stage, right over its nest where this whole song and dance began.

  “Enough!” someone shouted.

  The chimera’s tentacles retracted to pull me toward its globular eye, then pushed me back hard enough to crack brick.

  “I said, enough!” A high-pitched whistling sound caused the chimera to recoil like a chided pup. Tentacles continued to hold me, but it dropped to its belly and lowered its head toward the floor in submission.

  Over its spine-ridged back, I watched Chapelwaite calmly enter the room while removing a whistle from his lips. Gone were the top hat and suit. Now, he wore all black with a robe and hood—like when I’d first encountered him in Crescent City. Like a Judas cultist, upside-down cross hanging proudly from his neck.

  All that was missing was the mask. But to my mind, this piece of shit wore more than enough of those.

  “Good boy.” He held a rope with a bleating goat on the other end of it.

  “Boy, huh?” I croaked as my throat was constricted. “How’d you find that out? Checked it for a dick?” The tentacle tightened. Too bad the thing was too stupid to know it couldn’t asphyxiate me.

  Chapelwaite smirked. Then, with a firm tug, he led the goat out in front of him, and gave it whack. The poor thing scrambled down the aisle, straight to certain death. The chimera detached all its tentacles from me except the one around my neck and sent them hurtling at the goat.

  The thing stood no chance.

  Several of the gigantic tongue-tacles slurped it on over, and then, directly in front of me, began the slow, agonizing process of inserting it into its maw. Thankfully, it went headfirst so I didn’t have to listen to the little bleating cries for long, but that was a small silver lining.

  The entire display was so abhorrent, I couldn’t look away even though nothing was stopping me. Its spiraling teeth literally ground the goat down, blending fur, skin, and bones into a paste. The back half of the goat fell to the ground at my feet, while the chimera shoved the front half down its throat.

  “Are you enjoying the theater?” Chapelwaite asked. I’d been so entranced with gore, I hadn’t even realized he’d joined us on the stage. He pointed to one of the dilapidated opera boxes, now even more destroyed after the chimera’s rampage. “President Lincoln was shot right up there, you know. They stopped putting on performances ever since. But it still has its uses.”

  “Hiding monsters?” I growled.

  “Preserving secrets. I hope old Snallygaster wasn’t too rough on you while I cleaned up your mess.”

  He gave his whistle two quick blows, and as if the creature had no choice but to obey, the tentacle unwound from my neck. The chimera—apparently named Snallygaster—then snatched up the remainder of the goat meal to its nest where it continued to feast.

  I wiped slime off my neck as I settled onto my feet. “You interrupted the party.”

  “I hoped he might remind you of home. The West doesn’t have dominion over weird and deadly things, old friend. Snally here simply makes most problems go away.”

  I did my best to ignore the crunching bones, and glared hard at Chapelwaite. His entire demeanor had shifted, as if another personality accompanied the wardrobe change. Gone was the jaded, cranky federal official. Here stood the mysterious shadow agent.

  “Am I a problem?” I said plainly.

  “Are you a—” He laughed exasperatedly. “I had a feeling you’d show up here, and then you pull a stunt like that.”

  “If you were expecting me, then I’m right where I belong.”

  “Can the horse shit,” Chapelwaite said with a knife hand through the air. “I see a desperate man doing what he can to impress a lady. Where is the lovely Rosa Massey, by the way?”

  I shrugged. It wasn’t a lie. If Rosa listened like I hoped she would, she was my overpowered ace up the sleeve—no pun meant.

  “You only get the pleasure of my company today,” I said.

  He gritted his teeth. “Pleasure is for brothels. This is business. There’s no walking away from taking hostages in the heart of the damn capital! No pardons I can offer.”

  “Oh, someone as big and powerful as you?”

  “You’re forcing me to bury it all! And you…” He put on a sniveling voice. “Our carriage was attacked by brigands, and you escaped, never to be seen again. I barely got out with my life.”

  “The piss-pots here really fall for that act?”

  He raised a hand to strike me, then caught himself. Chapelwaite and I didn’t have a long history, but he knew my true nature. He may have served Judas, but that didn’t make him immortal. He was simply a man. Well-connected, but a man nonetheless.

  “Smart,” I said, then stuck out my hand. “Now, how’s about you return my things, and we have a nice civil discussion about why I’m here.”

  “We will have a discussion.” He removed one of my Peacemakers from his belt at the small of his back and held it up to admire. “One that’ll be about as civil as the war.”

  Chapelwaite went to hand over my gun, but as soon as my hand wrapped the grip, he tugged both it and my glove away. At the same time, he kicked a backstage lever just behind me.

  A cage dropped around me before I could do anything about it.

  “Piece of sh—” I started to say as I gripped the metal bars. Only searing, white-hot pain erupted on the palm of my hand. The cage was wrought from pure silver, enough surrounding me to singe my nostrils.

  “Well, ain’t you the cleverest fox in the den,” I said.

  He strolled around the cage, letting a single finger tap against each bar. “Judas learned good theater from the greatest performer there ever was. It’s all sleight of hand. Fear the beast.” Snallygaster emphasized his point by crunching a femur bone. “And ignore the show.”

  “I tried to be nice, Chapelwaite,” I said. “When I get out of here—”

  “You won’t. Capturing Black Badges and worse is what we do. To save your kind from your shackles, you must witness your own prison. Only then, might you accept the fruit of Judas’ offer.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen. I turned him down once alre—”

  Chapelwaite gripped the bars and glared in with dark eyes. “I’m aware, you arrogant fuck.”

  He gave the bars a shake, then backed away toward a closet at the end of the stage beside Snally. The beast paid him a courtesy glance as he patted its wet, spongelike tail on the way by.

  “Get the hell back here and face me!” I banged on the cage with my gloved left hand.

  He didn’t answer for a few seconds, then emerged holding a long cloth bundle under his arm. “Don’t worry, you are far too important to be left alone. I will wait with you.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “Judgment,” he said. “My master has decided to rescind his offer of mercy. You are to be destroyed, utterly and entirely. His will be done.”

  I chortled. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s impossible.”

  “Oh, we have our ways.”

  Chapelwaite knelt and unfurled the bundle, revealing a cluster of silver spears. How did I know it wasn’t just polished iron? You get a sixth sense when you’ve been both avoiding the stuff and using it as a weapon for so long.

  “You think I’m scared of a little silver?” I chided.

  “No.” He lifted one of the spears and pricked his finger with the tip to prove its sharpness. As he licked off the blood, he casually jammed it into the small cage and through my stomach.