Red Moon Curse

                                                Chapter One:          

              As the moon rose high and full into the night’s sky a lone figure stepped out onto the tower’s precipice. He was a tall man of regal bearing in the prime of his life dressed in a white silk suit. His long red hair hung in a tight pony tail that fell to the middle of his back and his piercing green eyes surveyed the cityscape that spread out before him. He smiled cruelly as he looked out over the city and the tip of a fang was betrayed.
         The wind blew up cold and harsh around his frame but he had lost the ability to feel its cool kiss long ago. However the wind could still invoke a variety of sensations within his soul, such as it was.
         Sirens, screams and the collective beat of over five million human hearts all played a cold symphony to him. If he concentrated hard enough he almost fancied he could make out the cruel individual heart fade into nothing and then be quickly replaced by the explosion of a new one.
         But the city’s breath carried more than sounds and he became keenly aware of a variety of odors. Of all the city’s scents fear was the most prevalent. The fear of dying especially so. It is what drove the lives of the people below him and rose up from the streets like corpse gas, overpowering all other save one… blood. Blood was the one that interested him the most, he craved it like a man dying of thirst in the desert and just as it had a thousand times before the bloodlust threatened to overwhelm him.
         He quickly removed his right glove and shoved his hand into his suit’s pocket, tightly gripping the crucifix within. The pain was almost unbearable as his undead flesh was seared then charred… but the pain had served its purpose yet again and the bloodlust began to fade. The pain also cleared his mind and he noticed something that had hidden itself in the embrace of the blood, the stench of black magic.
         Somewhere someone had opened themselves to Mephistopheles’ corruptive touch and was working fell sorcery.
         In HIS city!
         As if in answer to its siren song Samuel Magnus, ancient vampire and skilled sorcerer, stepped off the ledge and fell to the streets below.

*          *          *

         Magnus landed softly in the relative seclusion of an alleyway and moved to its mouth, seeking to join the throngs of people that prefer to walk the night. He smiled in spite of himself, “If only they new what monsters walk amongst them... and what monsters dwell within me.”
         He quickly pushed this stray thought aside, there were more pressing matters to attend to and he began to focus on his hunt. With the practiced ease of centuries Magnus called upon a miniscule portion of the arcane energies at his disposal and instantly his already acute senses were further heightened. The scent of the dark magic was like the stench of decay, it hung in the air so obviously he was almost surprised the humans around him were ignorant of it. It was child’s play to home in on the magic and track it back to its source. Central Park.
         The park was nearly deserted; only vagrants, ‘bangers and the occasional fool came here at night making it the perfect place for a would be magician or cabal to perform some foul ritual without fear of discovery… it only took Magnus a few minutes to find his quarry.
         There were six of them, four men and two women. They were naked despite the chilling bite of the winter air, revealing the bizarre markings and tattoos that covered much of their bodies. They were mystic sigils designed to amplify the latent energies that all humans posses. He had seen these types of symbols a thousand times before. Normally they were used by lesser spell casters, witches or priests of old religions long forgotten by modern man; generally harmless in their own way. These symbols were different, twisted by demonic influences that not only amplified a persons energies but also made them host to lesser demons, the unclean spirits that tormented humanity as the lap dogs of Lucifer.
         It was the influence of these unclean spirits that forced these fools to dance around a large black stone which emanated evil. A Reaping Stone, a maleficent artifact spawned in the very pit of Hell itself which would bind the soul of anyone unfortunate enough to be sacrificed on it into eternal servitude to whom ever or what ever offered the victim up. He had seen rituals like this centuries ago performed by pagans too foolish to understand the powers with which they toyed. He might have found the whole scene laughable were it not for one thing, the young man they had bound to the rock.
         The boy was small but obviously in his mid to late teens. His shaggy black hair was matted down with sweat and his eyes burnt like torches as his lean muscled body struggled violently against his restraints. His captors, not much older than the boy by the look of them, took great delight in his turmoil and mocked him as they continued to dance.
         Magnus was about to make his move when a seventh figure he had not detected before appeared from behind the stone. It was dressed in a voluminous red and black robe that covered him from head to foot. It was also much larger than the others, standing nearly eight feet tall and possessing considerable girth yet it moved with cat like grace. The newcomer took a place in front of the captive teen and raised its arms, signaling the other to stop their dance. His robes draped down his arms revealing the gray pallor of his skin and the gruesome talons that crowned his fingers.
         “My children!’ the words oozed out from the darkness of the creature’s cowl and reverberated unnaturally, causing his followers to roll around in a masochistic frenzy. “Tonight the one promised us by He Who Drowns in Blood will shed this pathetic flesh and become our juggernaut!” the cultists writhed in blissful agony at his every word and howled in exaltation as he finished.
         Magnus knew immediately that this creature was a ghoul. Once it had been a man that served the Princes of Earth long and faithfully, now it had been rewarded by having its soul rent from it’s body and filled with a fraction of demonic power. If there existed any creature more damned than a vampire here it stood before Magnus. The ghoul turned to the boy and cut a deep gash above his heart with its talon, he howled in pain and the creature cackled at his agony. “Now you shall shed this form bo…”, the ghoul stopped mid-sentence.
         Hair was beginning to sprout all over the young man’s chest and his muscles had begun expanding causing his binds to creak in protest as they strained to hold. Snarling in pain or ecstasy his face contorted unnaturally, elongating into a canine snout and great fangs tore through the gag that had previously kept him silent. As the ropes finally broke the boy turned wolf threw his head back and let lose a blood chilling howl to the moon. A moon that was no longer ivory white but a deep sanguine.
         The werewolf wasted no time and lunged for the ghoul’s throat, the demon had to use all of its considerable strength to keep the beast’s fangs from clamping down.
         Magnus could wait no longer and leapt out of the shadows, his own clawed hand striking one of the panicked cultists in the chest tearing a deep furrow in his flesh, putting an end to his fear permanently.
         The two females stood back from the melee and began to chant rhythmically in some ancient tongue as the remaining three men rushed at Magnus. He kicked high at the lead man and connected solidly with the cultist’s chin his head snapped back violently, an audible crack told Magnus the neck had broken. The other two leapt upon the vampire as their companion’s body went flying past them. He could feel the magic the women were working begin to take affect as his limbs became slow to react and refused to block the blows his other assailants rained down on him.
         Normally such attacks would break like water against the shore but these cultists had apparently spent a great deal of time debasing their flesh and their blows carried the weight of magic behind them. Luck was on Magnus’ side as he saw the ghoul throw his foe away and into the two witches, breaking the mystical chains that had bound him. He lashed out with his talons and tore one man’s head from his shoulders. He quickly grabbed the other by his throat, lifting him off the ground. For an instance the urge to feed reared it's ugly head and he almost bit deeply into the man's exposed flesh.
         “NO!”, Magnus‘ eyes flashed a deep crimson as he beat back the beast within, the night air was filled with smoke and the stench of brimstone as he cast his spell, “By fire be cleansed!” The man shuddered and twitched violently as magic flames consumed him from the inside out. Finally the body burst into flame and crumbled to ash at Magnus' feet.
         A meaty fist slammed into the side of Magnus’ face throwing him several feet away to the ground.
         “Interloper!” The ghoul’s voice cracked like thunder over the screams of the two girls as the werewolf tore them apart. It advanced on the stunned vampire, grabbing him by the front of his vest and threw him into the Reaping Stone.
         “You have spoiled everything, the Master will not dine at my table tonight!” It moved with unnatural speed and drove its fist into the stone where Magnus’ head had just been, causing it to explode.
         Magnus lashed out with a vicious back hand, striking the ghoul in the chest, “I will soon send you to your Master’s table demon!” the ghoul staggered back into the waiting claws of the werewolf. The beast howled as it tore large gashes into the ghoul’s body faster than its unholy ability to heal, the demon’s howl of agony almost matched its assailant‘s howls of exaltation.
         A bright flash blinded the werewolf and it was thrown clear of the ghoul as a bolt of lightning flew from Magnus’ hands into the demon. The ghoul rose slowly as Magnus walked towards it, ghostly blue fire creeping in his wake. The flames slowly encircled the two adversaries bathing them in unnatural light. The ghoul’s eyes shown brightly from underneath its cowl and betrayed an emotion the demon had not felt since its transformation. Fear. For the first time in a hundred years the cold fear of death consumed the demon and it spoke quietly to the grim figure stalking towards it, “who… what… are you?” The blue flames continued to surround the ghoul and like the spokes of a wheel great tongues of fire converged on the demon.
         Magnus smiled as the demon screamed, “I am artisan of your demise.” his voice carried softly over the sound of the fire as in hungrily devoured the ghouls demonic essence and its flesh. It was the last thing the demon heard just before the magical blue flames burnt it to ash.

*          *          *

         Magnus walked around the battle field checking to ensure the fire had consumed everything that had been profaned by the touch of black magic. His spell left little for anyone to find later on which was for the best, he was not the only hunter of evil in this city and he had enough problems without carelessly leaving some clue for amateurs to find trace back to him. He did, however, take the time to bury the bodies of the cultists. A simple act that brought him little peace but they deserved a proper burial if nothing else, “May God have mercy on your souls, its your only hope.”
         This final task completed his thought turned to the young man he had saved from being sacrificed on the Reaping Stone. The boy had run off while Magnus had finished the ghoul and he sighed as his thoughts turned to the new hunt that now faced him. He muttered a quiet prayer to God for strength and crossed himself, an act that pained him physically like the touch of a crucifix but it helped to focus his mind on the task at hand.
         “Tomorrow night I will have to find you boy and save you from yourself.”