Hell in Ipsi

Derrick Cane





          Derrick Cane moved silently across the dark baseball diamond in Fog Island Park. The figure he was following showed no sign of slowing or stopping. Passed the playground, through the picnic area, and down to the banks of the river the shadowy figure went. Derrick watched from behind a tree as the figure pulled out a bottle of something and tilted it in a long swig. Derrick could see him clearly now in the moonlight, an old grizzle chinned man that smelled of dirty socks and weeks of no contact with soap. Derrick smiled. This was perfect. The full moon gave him all the light he needed. Time for fun. Derrick stepped out from behind the tree and ran straight at the bum, snatching the man’s hat off as he went by. The man was still in mid-swig as Derrick went past, and he never caught so much as a glimpse at his assailant. Derrick watched from a few yards away as the man turned in circles trying to find his hat. As he watched, Derrick’s eyes flickered from brown to yellow, coarse black hair began to sprout from all over his body, and he could feel the now familiar feeling of his bones elongating and resetting. He could feel his teeth being pushed out as newer, longer, sharper ones came in. Strength the likes of which normal men could only dream flowed though his body, which was now taller, wrapped in muscle and covered in fur. Derrick could now see in total darkness and hear a pin drop fifty yards away. He could smell the onset of fear from the man he was stalking. And he was hungry. Playtime was over. The Derrick-thing rose to its full height and growled at the unlucky fellow down by the river. The smell of alcohol and fear filled his nostrils.

The man-meal turned and ran. If his mouth had been made for it, the Derrick-thing would have laughed. The Werewolf teased himself by waiting until the man was half way across the park before letting himself go.  The werewolf launched itself across the park, bounding off trees and streaking throud shadows leading into a leap that landed it squarely 50 yards in front of his prey, still far enough away that the man couldn’t see that the threat was now in front of him instead of behind. The Werewolf crouched down and waited.





                Heart pounding, the old drunk that all the folks in the small city of Ipsilanti, Michigan called Big Mac ran for his life. He occasionally looked over his shoulder but saw no sign of the monster behind him. He was almost out of the park. He swore to God that he was through drinking and he would get a job if he could just make it out of the park. He began to slow down and think he had made it as he neared a streetlight. He was wrong.

Maybe twenty feet from that saving pool of light a  shadow rose from the ground yellow eyes glaring, drool dripping from fangs six inches long, with matching claws. Big Mac almost got out a scream before his head was bitten off.







The Cops





          Detective Mark Born covered what remained of Big Mac aka Steven Thomas and stood up. He was a big man. Six feet three at two hundred and ninety pounds. Born had worked homicide for five years in Detroit before he transferred to Ipsilanti two years ago. He thought he had seen it all in the big city, but this was by far the worst thing he had ever come across. The skull was in pieces, as were the arm bones and leg bones. Most of the flesh was gone. The internal organs were gone. What was left was torn apart. Born fought to hold his breakfast down. The medical examiner said the man had been eaten. Alive. Strange hairs and stranger footprints had been found at the scene.  Some school kids cutting through the park had found the body around 7am that morning. It had been a circus since then. A large crowd had gathered, and the newsies had gotten here almost as soon as the police. Yellow tape cordoned off the scene and along with the few uniformed officers that could be spared, held off the crowd. Born scanned the onlookers. Mostly school kids, folks from nearby businesses, and all of    Mac’s fellow homeless drunks, along with the news crews. While scanning the crowd, Born saw another police car pull up, and recognized his partner Detective Sam Tabanski, “Tab” to one and all, climb from behind the steering wheel. Tab was an inch or two shorter than Born, deceptively thin, with a wirely muscular build that can only be seen when his clothes were off. Born began making his way to meet Tab, stepping to the yellow tape and ducking under it. As he headed towards his partner, a young woman grabbed his arm.



              “Excuse me, but what happened to that man?” she asked in a shaky voice. Born turned to her, prepared to give her the old we are still investigating line, until he saw her face. Long red hair fell down her back; electrifiy blue eyes gazed into his. Skin like porcelain with a slight tan, smooth as glass. Born felt a tug at his heart, even though he had to be ten years her senior.  As he began to tell her what he knew so far, Tab bumped into him and pulled him along, saying,

                      “ Let’s see what we got, partner!”  Born blinked as he realized what he was about to do, and allowed himself to be led away. As he turned to Tab, he found his partner staring at him with a half smile that meant Tab was only half joking.

                      “ She is too young for you, and you know it. Tell me what we got here.”  Born began explaining about what he had so far, but as he talked he glanced back at the young woman, only to find that she was gone, as if she had never been there.







Daisy Holcomb



               

                Daisy Holcomb was only slightly pissed that the cop couldn’t tell her anything. She knew she had him in her palm until the other fucking cop interrupted. No matter, she knew what was going on, from her readings, and it played right into her hands. A Werewolf was loose in Ipsi! What better luck could she have? She had to catch it before someone killed it though. It would make a great pet. Daisy laughed out loud as she walked into the sub shop where she worked part time making sandwiches to feed the hungry masses. As she stepped behind the counter, her co-worker, a boy named Sean Meadows, who secretly, he thought, had a overwhelming crush on her, blinked rapidly and nodded to the back office. Daisy smiled at him, not catching the hint, and headed to the time clock to punch in. Where she ran face to face into the manager, Mr. Hardass himself, Gordy Palm.



                  “ You are ten minutes late, Ms Holcomb.” He said in a stern voice. “ This is the third time this week. I’ll need to see you in my office.” As Gordy turned for his office, Daisy glanced at Sean, who looked sheepishly back at her then dropped his head. She would deal with his failure later. She followed Gordy into his office and closed the door. He sat behind his cluttered desk, leaned back and steeple his fingers in his speech-giving pose, and opened his mouth to speak. Daisy cut him off.



                    “ Shut up.” She said briskly.

                    “ What?” he said unbelievably. Daisy took off her coat, revealing a body, even in the work shirt and polyester pants that were her uniform, which men dreamed of. She walked over to Gordy’s desk, leaned over, revealing her ample chest. 



                        “ Look at me.” She said. Gordy tore his eyes from her chest and looked into her eyes. She had him. Her eyes flared, the blue filling Gordy’s mind, wiping out all thought. Daisy talked for five minutes, implanting instructions for what she wanted him to do for her for the next week, along with visions of the horrible things that would happen to him if he failed her. She topped it off with visions of the hottest lovemaking that she thought he could stand and still function properly. She laughed to herself as she watched him enjoying the last part so much he came in his pants.

Ten minutes after the door closed, Sean saw Daisy walk out like she owned the world. She walked up to him as customers came in.



          “ I gotta go, Gordy is calling Sue in to cover for me. Um, how about we do something tomorrow night?” She tilted her head and stared up into his face, eyes shining.





              “ S-s-sure!” he said color rushing up his neck. Daisy smiled, bid him goodbye and walked out of the shop. She felt so good she wanted to skip. How good was she? This was a dream come true. She knew she could get anything she wanted if she wanted it bad enough, but she had had no idea things would come to her this fast. Her mind went back to the werewolf. What or who would stand in her way of tripling her power if she had an unstoppable assassin at her command? Ipsilanti would be home base, and she would need to run the town with absolute control, and she had a plan for that. Who would then be able to stop her from becoming one of the most powerful Witches in the world?





M’vilitz





              As Daisy Holcomb worked her magic on Detective

Born at the murder scene, M’vilitz looked on also, through the eyes of one of the homeless onlookers. M’vilitz didn’t like this body. It’s physical limits where many; it had problems breathing the atmosphere of it’s own planet, it vacated it’s bodily fluids when not wanted, to the distaste of others, and it needed a nasty liquid and some kind of controlled substance called crack almost all of the time or it couldn’t function. Most of the time M’vilitz just let the poor creature operate on it’s own, going about it’s daily routine like nothing was special about it. This allowed M’vilitz to rest. The creature did not even know another being had inhabited it, and it attributed its memory loss to the horrible liquid it consumed and the crack it smoked. M’vilitz could acquire another host body at will, but it was tiring, and the better shape the host is in the harder they fight when he took them over. M’vilitz was not worried at the moment though, he had time to find the power source he needed to get his ship going, and his people would find these soft, controllable humans very interesting, maybe enough for an in-depth study, or an occupation of the planet. His crashing here might have been destiny. His finding this planet could elevate him high amongst the powerful of his world. Oh the things he would do with such power! But first he had to get off of this planet and report his findings. He needed just a small part of the crystal called Xithra, and he could feel it’s presents approaching him from afar. M’vilitz turned his attention back to what his human was doing. While thinking on all that would or could happen, he had let the human have control of himself and the poor creature had gone from the crime scene, into a residential area, and broken into a house. A house where criminals sold mind-altering substances to others. The dumb human had crawled through a window, into a basement, made all kinds of noise, and now found himself surrounded by four other humans, one with a projectile weapon pointed at him. M’vilitz assumed control of the humans body instantly. All four of the humans seemed to be of a young age, and similar height and build, though they’re colors were different. The leader, a white one with a large chain of gold around his neck, raised one of the weapons and leveled it at him.

                       

                        “ I said what you doing in our house, crack head?” said the white one.

                          “ yo,” said one that was slightly darker than the first, “ yo shoot his ass homes!”  Whitey raised the pistol and fired. The bullet took M’vilitz in the shoulder, knocking him backwards to the floor. Blood poured from the wound, and M’vilitz lay still. Whitey laughed, joined by his gang members.



                  “ Fuckin crack head! Got ya cap twisted!” laughed Whitey, a.k.a  Smoke.

                    “ Righteous blast, homes!” said Pablo, his accent thick. Rick, only fifteen, and Joe, a Jamaican, looked on as if it happened every day.



                    “ What to do with the body?” asked Joe.

                    “ Put it in the dumpst-“ Smoke started to say, but the words stuck in his throat. The others followed his gaze to see the crack head standing there bleeding, with his eyes glowing green.



        Smoke didn’t know what green eyes meant, but he had the answer. He raised the gun and pumped two more slugs into the crack head’s chest. The bum took both slugs like it didn’t feel it. The thugs looked at each other and simultaneously decided it was time to leave. They’re minds told they’re bodies to turn and run, but they found they couldn’t move, struggle as they might. M’vilitz walked up to them and looked each one up and down. A lesson would have to be taught here. M’vilitz stepped back and revealed himself. He didn’t have to come out of the body physically, but he did it for effect, plus the projectiles were killing the body anyway. The frozen thugs watched in horror as the crack head’s head exploded, spraying blood and gray matter everywhere. Tentacles boiled out of the neck of the dead man, a mixture of blood and pale white slime covered the red-gray mottled skin of M’vilitz’s body, which grew from just tentacles to a large round mass of pulsating flesh. No eyes or ears or mouth could be seen. He was out. Six tentacles leading to the blob of a body, hardly seeming to  have been able to be stuffed into what was left of the crack head’s body. M’vilitz let the sight of him terrify the humans a while longer, then he moved slowly toward Smoke. Smokes eyes widened as the alien drew near. Suddenly, tentacles whipped to the right and left, slamming through the lips and teeth of Joe, Pablo, and Rick. They’re eyes exploded from they’re skulls, the tentacles blasting from the back of they’re heads. M’vilitz let the bodies fall, and slid closer to Smoke. The slimy tentacles wrapped around Smoke’s body, and M’vilitz entered him.





Johnson Long

     



                  The large bus was comfortable as hell. Outfitted as a rolling campaign office on wheels, it had every amenity. And that’s the way Johnson Long liked it. Soon he would be Governor of Michigan, but that was just a stepping-stone, he was already the most powerful man in the state. He had higher ambitions, on more than one level. Today Michigan, tomorrow the country. The thought made him smile, like when he heard his campaign slogan chanted by the crowd. “ Can’t go wrong with Long! Can’t go wrong with Long!” But even the power he would enjoy as President held nothing compared to the power he held as a Mage! On Cinco demayo, he would be in Ipsi campaigning for votes, but he would also be there to accept gifts from three young witches, as is his due as Most Powerful, and he had no doubt the ladies would lavish they’re womanly charms on him also. It was always so. How else but power could a balding, beer-bellied 40 something man with an ugly black mole on his forehead get laid by model type chicks? Power. He reached up and rubbed the warm pulsating stone that hung by a silver chain around his neck. Black as Onyx, light as tin, and containing a power that tripled the wearers, it was his prize possession. Johnson kicked his feet up and reached for the glass of twelve-year-old double malt scotch he’d been sipping and reclined. Life was good.





The Cops



                Born shook his head. He was investigating his third murder in as many weeks. This one was not like the one in the park, nor was it like the one last week, the three gang bangers ripped up in an abandoned house. This was some poor slob that got sacrificed to some pagan God, or maybe the devil. He, too, was found in an abandoned house, but he wasn’t ripped up. Spread eagle on the floor, naked, in the middle of what looked like a pentagram, the young man had his heart cut out of his chest. It turned out his name was Sean Meadows, and he lived on the north side of ipsi with his mother, who didn’t know the boy was missing until his boss called and said he didn’t make it to work. Born went to the sub shop were the victim had worked, and when he walked in, he found himself eye to eye with the beautiful young woman he had seen at the park crime scene. She batted her eyes as he asked for the manager, and before he left, she got his card and promised to call him with any information she could think of to help him out. He hoped she would call, young though she was. He felt damn near helpless around her, and liked it.







Things are picking up



              Johnson Long arrived in Ipsi and took up residence at the Marriott in its most plush suite. Tomorrow the crowds would cheer his name. Tomorrow night three witches would shower him with praise, gifts, and sex. He was supposed to be there to bless the local covenant of witches, which was a joke, the three hardly saw each other, unless orders came down the line for them to do something that took all three. But no matter, it would be all about him. The pace of things was really picking up.





            M’vilitz liked Smoke’s body better than that last one. Smoke kept in shape and didn’t drink or use drugs. In Smokes mind, M’vilitz kept running into a phrase Smoke told himself a lot.

“ Don’t get high on your own supply.”  M’vilitz had let Smoke lead him to Smoke’s own private pad, a small apartment sub-let from a crackhead he knew. He kept Smoke’s mind and mouth on a short leash, keeping him quiet about his homeboy’s and the alien in his head. M’vilitz longed for his own form and his ship, but he needed the Xithra stone to achieve all his wants. It had arrived in Ipsi earlier that day; he’d felt it as it came into the city. Tonight he would take it and be gone from this world, for a while, but he would be back. Things were picking up.







                  Derrick Cane walked down the main street in downtown Ipsi, looking at the decorations that were put up for the Cinco demayo celebration tomorrow. Derrick knew there would be drunken people all over Ipsi, especially in the park, his chosen hunting grounds. Yet even knowing this, he could not get as happy as he aught to be.  He’d had this strange feeling of dread come over him since this morning, and he couldn’t shake it. Worry though he might, he could not put his finger on the problem. Derrick shook his head to clear it. Derrick could feel his teeth growing, his hair was longer than last week, and he would hunt tomorrow. Things were sure picking up.





                Daisy Holcomb looked around. The old plant had gone out of business back in 2006, and it’s shipping dock made a great place for tonight’s ceremony. Listening wards and door lock spells had been put into place, though the lock spells would only hold a determined person for a moment or too, she didn’t expect any unwanted company, though the others here tonight might think differently. A few other spells had been placed in certain spots around the dock also. The place was set up nicely, with a pentagram drawn to perfection, with a bed, a couch, and a podium for the long-winded speech to Satan that the Most Powerful would want to give. But he wouldn’t be most powerful for long. For above loyalty and obedience, Satan loved intrigue and deception, and she would give him an eyeful tomorrow night.







And then they meet









            M’vilitz assumed total control of Smoke for the first time in a week. He looked under the stained mattress and pulled out the .357 magnum, loaded it, and tucked it into his pants. Without a second look, he headed out the door to follow the power he felt from the Xithra stone.





              Mark Born hadn’t been able to sleep since he had met Daisy Holcomb after her call last night. He’d met her in the park, not far from where the murder had happened. The meeting was hard for him to recall, he couldn’t quite remember everything that was said, but he had a strange urge to go to a location that made no sense to go to, but he knew she would be there, and he would too.







              Johnson Long waved as he left the speech platform. Everything was going just as he had expected. The crowd cheered him and yelled his name. He would be the next Governor of Michigan. As per his request, his limo was waiting to wisk him away to his hotel, where he would don his ceremonial gown, carry his staff, and openly sport the powerful black stone amulet around his neck. What gifts would the witches bring? What backstabbing deceitful things would they do? How sexy would they dress? He was ready to party.



                 

              Daisy knelt in a pentagram in the empty plating factory, but not the one she had drawn for the ceremony. She unwrapped the preserved heart of Sean Meadows, which she had taken from his chest while he still lived, and said a few words over it, and then she bit into it with the fervor of a starving man. The blood that ran out she carefully let run into three vials, which she stoppered and put into the pockets of her voluminous robes. Next she pulled out some hair, a present from the park crime scene from Detective Mark Born, though he wouldn’t remember stealing it from the evidence room and giving it to her. Hair from the crime scene. Werewolf hair. The hair she burned. She then poured the remaining drops onto her tongue, and called out.







                  Derrick Cane was sitting on a bench at the Cinco demayo festival, eating popcorn and waiting for late night to hunt when he got the strangest feeling he needed to be somewhere else. And fast. It was already dark, and any reason to change into his powerful Werewolf form was welcome with him. He walked off into the shadows of the park, and Derrick Cane disappeared.





                  The first to arrive was Penny Smith. She was an older witch than Daisy, but still considered young. She entered the ceremonial area, wreathed in protective spells, eyeing everything like it might bite. Dressed only in a cape with a hood and a shear camisole, she looked stunningly sexy. Daisy approached her, and began explaining how she had picked the spot, and how she planned to entertain the Most Powerful. Penny was well aware of Daisy’s power and didn’t trust her at all. Daisy walked over to were a bar was set up. She poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Penny. Daisy slightly turned her back to Penny deftly waved her hand over the glass of wine in her hand. Penny smiled to herself. Poisoned wine? That was all she could come up with? Penny Purified her wine with a small gesture of her own, took a sip, then turned to Daisy to ask if that was all she had, but the words stuck in her throat, which was constricting and choking her as she tried to breath. Her veins seemed to be on fire. The glass shattered as her fingers involuntarily flexed, and she dropped to her knees. Daisy walked over to stand in front of the dying woman.

             

                  “ Purifying your wine didn’t work, did it, Penny? Oh, maybe because you were standing in an anti magic area. Helluva spell isn’t it?  Took a while to find it, and more to learn it, but I got it done.  I would ask you to die slow, but I have things to do.” Daisy dragged her body off to hide. She rushed back to be ready to do the same thing to the next witch.





                  Johnson Long entered the dock area cloaked in magic. He had spells of protection woven all around him. Protection from magic, from good, from evil, and spells to see in darkness, and to detect magic. To put on a display of power, he levitated himself three inches from the floor and floated into the dock area. He immediately perceived and dispelled the anti magic zone, Purified the wine and set warding spells of his own, even as he settled down in the seat of honor. Daisy flew into action. She pulled one of the vials of blood from her sleeve and hurled it at Johnson, who held up one hand and froze the vial in mid-air. Expecting this Daisy cast a Push spell at the vial, and between both opposing forces the glass shattered, and blood splattered on Johnson’s robes, just where Daisy wanted it.



            Johnson laughed, and stood to tower over Daisy.

            “You can do no better?” he sneered. “ Feel real Power now, Bitch!” Johnson raised his staff, the crystal ball on top of it glowing blue with power. Before he could strike, Daisy called out in a strange language, hands to the ceiling. Johnson’s warding spells shattered as someone strong entered the building. Johnson turned to face this new threat, and as he did so, Daisy conjured a fireball and hurled it at his back. The fireball hit Johnson but did no damage because of the protection spells, but anger at being hit made the mage start to turn back towards Daisy, a big mistake. The Werewolf hit him full on; no spell strong enough to stop its momentum had been used. The glowing staff fell from Johnson’s hand as he and the creature tumbled to the ground. Daisy scrambled over and lifted the staff, feeling it’s power. But all sense of victory left her as the building shook from a blast of power. A howl of pain came from the werewolf as he was thrown twenty feet away, fur singed and smoking. Johnson climbed to his feet, torn and bloody, clutching the black stone, a purple-black light pulsing from it, murder in his eyes. He turned slowly to Daisy, but stopped halfway, as M’vilitz entered the scene. The alien walked straight towards Johnson, never taking his eyes off of him, but still leveled his gun at Daisy and shot. Daisy spun in a circle and fell to the ground as the bullet took her in the shoulder. The staff went spinning from her hand across the floor. M’vilitz sent mind numbing waves of energy at Johnson, who wanted to act but was froze. His eyes bulged incredulously, since no spell should have worked on him. Who or what was this thing? M’vilitz never saw Detective Born until it was too late. Born shot M’vilitz straight through the back for daring to hurt his mistress. M’vilitz jerked forward, losing concentration, and freeing Johnson, who hit him with a blast of magic strong enough to disintegrate most of Smoke’s body, and forcing M’vilitz to come forth in his true form. As he boiled forth from Smoke’s remains, the werewolf slammed into Johnson again, latching on and doing terrible damage. Daisy used her good arm to raise the staff, and using it, hit both Johnson and the werewolf dead on, sending them against a far wall in a heap. M’vilitz whipped a tentacle around Born’s neck and entered him. Daisy screamed in pain and almost fainted as she felt control over Born snatched from her. M’vilitz felt the mind that had had control and knew it was the female. He raised the gun in Born’s hand and shot her in the center of her forehead.  A stirring sound across the room got his attention, and he walked over and found Johnson, struggling to breath, blood gurgling from his torn open throat. Born’s mouth opened and a tentacle shot forth and slammed into Johnson’s forehead and out the back. It got quiet. M’vilitz had survived the battle, but the Xithra and the werewolf were gone. It was hurt, M’vilitz knew, but not bad enough. He would have to find it and kill it to get the stone. He left the building, death and blood all over.



              Derrick Cane lay naked in a cardboard box in an alley, bruised, burned, but he could already feel himself healing. He fondled the stone in his hand. It was warm and he felt it helping him heal. And he felt the anger of the alien that wanted it. Derrick smiled. He would never give it up.





              Detective Tabanski walked through the dock area, wondering what the fuck he was looking at. A dead girl from the sub shop, and the man who was destined to be the next Governor of Michigan, also dead. Signs of fire and burning were everywhere, yet the building wasn’t in flames. And where the hell was Born?