Devils Rising

By Jason Halstead

Andy was a kid with a missing father. Allen was a father that often went missing. One a geek,
the other a warrior, the two have nothing in common except their amazing abilities to run into
trouble with demons. Brought together by a man with an unknown past and motives, they must
fight to end the demon hordes ravaging the southeastern United States.

If the odds aren't bad enough, even the entire Host of Heaven won't be able to save them if
Tam'rah, the daughter of Satan, gives birth to her unholy offspring.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Novel Concept Publishing LLC
• Release date: Mar 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311973641

Jason Halstead

Jason Halstead has always had colorful stories to tell. At an early age that creativity usually resulted in some kind of punishment. At long last he's come into his own and has turned his imagination into an asset that is keeping thousands of people entertained. When he's not writing Jason spends his time with his wife and two children, trying to relive his glory days as a powerlifter, or developing new IT systems for his dayjob. He enjoys reading and responding to fan mail as well, so if you liked any of his books, don't be shy! Sign up for his newsletter, find him on the web at http://www.booksbyjason.com, email him at: [e-mail], or follow him on Twitter: @booksbyjason.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Well, aren’t you an odd one? a deep voice floated through the night to reach Allen’s ears.

He moved on reflex. He hadn’t heard anyone or anything out there. He hadn’t sensed one of them, either. What was sneaking up on him?

His right hand tightened on the hilt of his old style short sword, while his left brought up his .45 pistol. Man or monster, he was prepared for both.

Show yourself, he growled. The flickering light from his campfire was too dim to pierce the gloom far beyond his makeshift shelter. He kept his fire small to be less visible even though he suspected some of the creatures out there could see beyond the scope of normal humans.

Didn’t mean to startle you, an older man said as he came into view. He had on a light blue button-up shirt that was stretched taut across a large chest. His legs looked thick and sturdy beneath dark gray slacks. He had his hands up in a placating manner. I was just hoping to share your fire.

Allen didn’t trust him. The only humans this far south were either slaves, dead, or possessed. People called the monsters demons, but he knew better. There was no God, there couldn’t be, so how could there be demons? No, these creatures had to have come from some other world, or some other dimension. One slave he’d talked to claimed to have seen the portal they were using to enter this world.

The older man didn’t look like a slave. His clothes weren’t torn and threadbare. He looked to be quite healthy, despite his graying hair. All the slaves he’d seen were just as worn as their clothes. Men this old didn’t live long down here.

That meant only one thing. This man wasn’t human anymore. Allen's fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword but he didn't move. Something was off about the man, but he wasn't sure what it was.. Allen could always sense when he was near one of the creatures that somehow took over a human and wore it as a disguise. It was something in the way his skin crawled when he was around them. This man had a soothing presence about him.

Who are you? Allen asked after a few moments of silence. The other man stayed back, not coming any closer.

How rude of me. My name is Adam Michaels. I’m a warrior, like yourself. Pleased to meet you. He held his hand out, but Allen ignored it. Allen hated mysteries. This man was an unknown and, despite his calming presence, he wanted to stay on guard.

What do you want? Allen pressed, still trying to understand.

What do I want? Adam repeated the question. Why, I want to meet you, Allen Lancaster.

Allen brought his pistol up and sighted it on the man’s head.

How do you know my name? Who told you? Allen’s finger applied pressure to the trigger, ready to squeeze at any moment. It was possible that his wife had sent the man. Had their son, Tom, had another episode?

But it was equally possible that this was a new type of monster he hadn’t come across yet. One aimed at soothing him, until it could get in close. Allen wasn’t afraid of the monsters. He hated them. Despised them for what they’d done to his sister and her family. A lack of fear didn’t mean he was foolish about killing them, however. He didn’t take any chances.

Let’s just say we have a common friend, the man hedged. Though you haven’t talked to him in a while.

Did my wife send you? Did Jessica send you? Allen pressed.

Your wife’s name is Angela, Adam said, still never losing that infernal smile. Jessica was your sister. No, neither of them sent me. I’m here, because I’m curious about you.

Allen still wasn’t sure about this other man, but his influence was starting to calm him. And he somehow knew the right names of his family. He should be upset, or alarmed at the least, , but he was finding it difficult to bring up his ever-present anger.

Why would you be curious about me? Allen lowered the pistol, but kept a firm grip on both weapons.

Mind if I sit by your fire? Thanks. Adam walked over and sat across from where Allen still stood. The older man indicated for him to sit. Allen walked over before he’d properly formed the thought to obey. He thought for a second to stop, but decided to see where this went. Adam waited for him to be seated before talking. I’m curious about you, Allen. Not many people can do what you can.

And what exactly can I do? Allen asked, not willing to give away anything. This man already knew too much.

Adam looked at him expectantly, then sighed. You come down here every weekend. You come loaded to take on an army, but fight the demons instead.

Allen chuckled as the other man called the monsters demons. So he was one of those rubes that believed the media hype, huh?

You actually do pretty well, considering, Adam continued. Allen would consider his performance more than ‘pretty well.’ You take down demons, and come back every Sunday without even a scratch. You’re not even a believer. Are you just lucky?

Allen grunted. He hated that term. 'Lucky' is often something applied by someone looking in from the outside. I’m not lucky. I’m cursed.

Cursed, huh? I rather doubt that. You're forty-one and haven’t suffered the effects of the genetic disease you carry. Demons have a hard time hurting you, and you have a loving family at home.

What the fuck do you know? Allen demanded, his anger exploding. "My son is seventeen, and already has the shakes from Huntington’s disease. He got it from me. I gave him the disease that’ll screw up the rest of his life. My sister and her family were killed when those things boiled out of the Florida Keys. How is that lucky?"

Adam looked at him, unfazed by Allen’s tirade. I already told you. You have a loving family. Your wife loves you and takes good care of your son. How many people can say even half that much these days? Yes, your son is suffering, but you still have him. And your sister? She’s in the Lord’s presence. Don’t mourn her loss. Mourn the time you’re passing up with your family.

Outsiders looking in, Allen muttered.

Or a difference in how you choose to look at it. Adam replied. Truth is, I approve of what you’re doing down here. Even if it is pointless.

Pointless? Allen spat. I’m killing these things before they kill someone else. How is that pointless?

You do good work, but you’re not killing them. Merely sending them back to hell. Once there, they simply return to the portal and come back. It’s very hard to actually destroy them. Adam considered him for a moment. I suppose you do some good by taking out those who’ve possessed someone. It’s a lot harder to convince someone to let them in, than simply return through the portal. You’re reducing their spies.

Allen stared at the older man. He wasn’t killing them? They were returning? If Adam was right, what he’d been doing was pointless. Every kill meant nothing.

I could use a man like you, Adam continued talking. That is, if you really want to make a difference.

Huh? Allen asked, looking up. He’d been lost in his own thoughts. Pointless. Everything he’d been doing amounted to nothing more than saying, Boo, to the boogeyman. Every monster he’d killed returned through the portal to take out more people. More brothers, sisters, children, and parents were dying. He’d thought he was doing something. I’ve got to get home, he said, standing up.

I’ll be in touch, Adam told him.

He was about to tell him not to bother, but a growl in the night stopped him. His pistol was up and ready. Another growl sounded to the right. Then another to the left. They were surrounded.

I hope you meant what you said about being a warrior, Allen said without looking at Adam. He might be accomplishing next to nothing by stopping these beasts, but he still enjoyed testing his mettle against them.

The first one entered the dim light from his fire. It was one of the four-legged variety. It had a hard black carapace covering it and four eyes sitting above a mouth full of sharp teeth. Allen knew its weakest point as he took aim.

Those ones are fast, Adam said as he stepped up beside Allen. Where had he pulled that massive sword from? The thing glowed in the firelight!

Doesn’t matter, Allen said. It’s the distraction. The others hadn’t revealed themselves yet, but he could hear them out there, waiting. He fired two rapid shots, aiming for the thing’s head. He didn’t wait for the monster to crumple into dust, before dropping the pistol and swinging blindly to his left. Hopefully Adam could handle whatever came to his right. The thing had only been there to distract them while its companions attacked from the sides.

Allen's second foe screeched as his blade bit into the demon. This one stood taller than him by at least three feet, and had two sets of too-large arms. It didn’t have the protective carapace of its brother, but its skin reflected light off an oily substance that covered its body. Allen knew if he got any of that stuff on him, he’d itch for days.

The monster shrugged off Allen’s strike where it’d hit him low on its lower left arm. It lifted the upper arm and swung a meaty fist at him. Allen ducked. Not because the strike would have hurt him. He was somehow immune to physical attacks. He didn’t want to scratch his face off for a couple days.

Adam grunted as the blow struck him in the back. Allen wasn’t used to fighting alongside others. Well, if he couldn’t handle himself, then he had no business being down here. This was no place for those that couldn’t stand up for themselves.

Allen brought the tip of his sword up, aimed, and thrust it into the monster’s heart. Another known weakness. He closed his eyes to keep the ash from the disintegrating monster out. He expelled the air from his lungs as he stood up. Opening his eyes, he saw Adam bring his sword around in an overhead chop, cutting another of the fast demons in two while it was in midair. That sword had to be sharp to cut through the creature’s thick armored skin.

Allen saw where a hole was spreading in the back of Adam’s expensive looking shirt. That must have been where the demon struck him. Allen wondered what that stuff would do to him if he weren’t immune.

You might want to take that shirt off, Allen said. Something growled deep in the night. I’ll watch your back. Allen bent over and grabbed his pistol where it’d fallen to the ground.

I guess I’m going to see what you’re really made of, Adam said as he stripped off his smoldering shirt. Scars criss-crossed the man’s well-muscled chest and arms. Who was this man?

A second and then third growl joined the first. He wondered how long the old man would last.

Allen’s skin began to crawl, letting him know that at least one of the possessed ones were out there. They were the only ones that could physically strike him.

Allen needed to get back to his family, but this was looking to be a long night. Despite what Adam told him, Allen was going to kill as many of those monsters as he could.

Chapter 2

Jonathon's blue eyes smiled at Kathy from behind a pane of glass. The picture had been taken of him right before he’d been deployed, before she'd known she was pregnant. It wasn't until a few weeks after the soldiers showed up at her door that the morning sickness hit. She knew what their presence meant. He’d only been on the ground a few days, but that didn't matter. There was no sense of right and wrong in war. No concept of what was fair. The world was nothing but a game played by people with money and power, and she had neither.

Even now, a year after his death, that smile still brought tears to her eyes. Her fingers itched to turn the picture away or lay it down. She couldn't though, it would send the wrong message.

The creatures that many are calling demons, attacked a power plant in Northern Georgia late last night, The news played on the television. This marks the furthest north they’ve attacked. The president has called for an emergency session—

Kathy mashed the mute button. As if she needed one more reason to be angry with the world. In only a few months, the monsters pouring out of the Florida Keys had enslaved or killed all through Florida and into Georgia and Alabama. She’d heard the claims that religious artifacts were the only things holding them back.

Bull shit! Anger laced the thought. If they were really demons, weakened by holy items, then that meant there had to be a god.

There was no god. No high and mighty creature, benevolently watching over His children from on high.

Kathy couldn’t fathom what the rest of the world saw as a loving god. No god would take her husband away from her before he could ever meet his son. No loving god would then take that son away from her shortly after his birth.

The accident hadn’t been her fault. Some old lady who shouldn’t have been driving in the first place ran a stop sign. Kathy hadn’t even seen the car until the firefighters were extracting her. Her son was extracted in parts. The old lady turned out to be fine. She plead that she was upset by the news that day and missed the stop sign. That was the day news of the monsters in Florida broke.

Kathy realized she was pacing and stopped. She fell into the comforter and let the tears come. She was tired of putting on a strong front. Now, near the end, she allowed herself the tears she’d denied for too long.

By the time she looked up, the news had moved onto a weather report. Red words spread across the screen, ‘Hell on Earth,’ as record temperatures for this sweltering summer showed under each day of the week.

She was feeling that heat pouring in from the window she’d broken earlier. The glass littered her floor. If there had been a breeze, it would have moved the bit of cloth she’d left on a jagged piece still in the frame.

Everything had to be perfect. No one could suspect the truth.

She walked back to the kitchen and to the back door. She used her shirt to turn the knob and leave it ajar.

Another trip through the small house assured her that everything was in place. Everything except the jewelry she’d thrown away a week ago. Upstairs she'd knocked over some furniture. This had to look like a robbery gone bad.

She picked up her husband’s gun. She’d hated having the thing in the house when her husband was still there. Afterwards. . . well, even his side of the closet still held his clothes. His drawer in the bathroom still held what few things he’d left behind. She couldn’t bring herself to get rid of anything that was his.

The gun wasn’t much. Jonathon had called it a pea shooter, but it would be enough for what she wanted. She’d reported it stolen over a month ago.

Everything had to be perfect.

She unmuted the television, and sat down.

—attempt to negotiate with the demons has been met with violence. Their message is clear: bow before their queen or die. The news was talking about those things again. They might as well, there was nothing else going on in the world worth paying attention to.

There was little else to talk about these days. Even the cheerleaders she taught talked about little else. Sometimes her girls would become unruly, terrified about the stories coming out of that corner of the US. On those days she found herself trying to comfort them, never letting on how much focusing on their problems made her forget her own. In a way, they comforted her. Or at least let her escape for a short time. They didn’t need to know her problems though. They didn't need to be burdened with her sorrows.

Satellite imagery remains unclear. Somehow they have the technology to block us from seeing their plans.

Fight back? Kathy was tired of trying to fight back. As it always did when troops were mentioned, tears sprang to her eyes. How many of the soldiers dying down there had wives or mothers? Families who would never be able to hold their loved ones again?

Her vision blurred as tears worked their way down her cheeks.

Oh, Jonathon! I miss you so much. I’m coming for you, my love. Are you holding our son in your arms? He had your nose. I love you.

The contradiction of believing there was an afterlife, while denying there was a god never occurred to her.

Kathy gripped the pistol in her hands. She was proud of how steady her hand was as she brought the barrel up to her mouth.

She didn’t know if the investigators would be able to tell her emotional state when they found her, but she hoped that they would mistake her tears for fear, and not sorrow. This had to look like a robbery gone wrong.

Everything had to be perfect.

Was there anything she’d forgotten? She didn’t think so, but then again, she’d never done anything like this before. It wasn’t something you practiced.

Her thumb moved to the trigger. The metal in her mouth tasted bitter. It reeked of oil and old powder from the last time he'd shot it at the range. Closing her eyes, she tried to mentally prepare herself. Best to just get it over with. She wasn’t afraid of dying. She was afraid of living.

She applied pressure to the trigger. This was it. She was finally going to do it. After a month of planning and preparing, she was finally going to return to her husband and child.

Everything was perfect.

Someone knocked on her door.

Kathy’s eyes snapped open. Not now!

She stood, tucking the pistol into the back of her pants. She glanced at the glass on the floor. There was no way to hide it, and it would be obvious to whoever was at the door. Why now?

She had to move. She had to deal with whoever it was. And then, if she could hide things, she had to wait. More waiting. More time passed where she was forced to deal with all the lies and misery while her family was waiting for her.

The unwelcome intrusion knocked again before Kathy reached the door. She peeped through the spy hole and saw two well-dressed men.

She scrubbed her cheeks and tried to clear her eyes. Everything was ruined now.

Yes? she asked as she opened the door.

Hello ma’am, the taller one spoke first. He had short-cropped brown hair and his face was clean shaven. A white name piece poked out of a chest pocket. It read, ‘Elder John Wright’. What caught her attention most was the young man’s eyes. Blue just like her Jonathon’s. We noticed your window was broken and wondered if we could help in some way?

The window? Kathy asked, trying to gather her thoughts. Why does he have to have his name? Oh, no. Some kids were playing earlier and they broke it. Thank you, though.

She started closing the door. She couldn’t stand to see those blue eyes right now. Not after what she’d planned to do.

May we come in and share the word of God? the other missionary asked.

Kathy stopped. There is no God, she said, before she could think the words through. There never has been.

She tried to close the door again, but one of them put their foot in the way. Why couldn’t they leave her alone? They couldn’t know the pain their simple presence was causing her.

How can you say that? the second missionary asked. Especially in these trying times, we need to believe in the Almighty. Our faith will see us through.

Anger swept away her despair, burning it in her sudden wrath.

Because if there is a god, I hate him! He doesn’t deserve to be revered or believed in, she spat, opening the door wide. She glared at the other missionary. His name piece read, ‘Elder Luke Young.’ Would your god let so many people be killed by those things coming out of Florida? Would he take away a man before he even knew his wife was pregnant? Or take that baby away from his mother a couple months after he was born? If there is a god, he is cruel and spiteful.

Both men looked at her, their eyes wide and mouths slightly ajar after her tirade. She moved to close the door again, but Elder Wright spoke up first.

We are sorry to hear of your loss, he told her, sincerity framing his blue eyes. Jonathon’s blue eyes. May we come in and talk to you about how families can be together forever?

Kathy wanted to close the door. She ordered her arms to move, but those eyes stopped her. A fresh tear broke free. She turned and walked back into her house, leaving the door open.

Everything had been about to be perfect, but now it could never be again.

Chapter 3

A hard knock startled Andy out of his bed.

Wake up Andrew, or you’re going to be late for school, his mom scolded from the other side of his door.

He tried to rub the remnants of sleep from his eyes but it was a lost cause. He’d stayed up way too late last night on his computer.

He dressed, barely noticing if his clothes matched