Vorgoth

By Razor Blade

The demon Vorgoth hates his job. He wants more out of life besides beating damned souls twelve hours a day and meets up with someone who changes his life forever. A small town country pastor decides to take on Lucifer himself when his wife and daughter die in a tragic accident and takes an army with him. Two staff from the local University are called when artifacts are found at a construction site that should not be where they are located. Three stories intertwine to resolve the conflicts between all. Follow the clues and see what happens to our anti hero demon on his quest for a better life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Razor Blade
• Release date: Apr 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463411100

Razor Blade

My first book was published 20 years ago and is on this site. It is called Morning Star. My style is over the top absurd and crazy, I can't write a boring book. I have explored many types of genre's and like to explore different ideas. My favorite subjects are religious in nature and often use God, angels and Demons as characters. I don't write cookie cutter books and I don't really read all that much. I am a creator more than a consumer. I know what I like and I don't feel I need to read other's works in order to plagiarize their themes and ideas. I don't agree that you have to be a reader to be a good writer, you just need talent and good imagination.

Book preview

Vorgoth

SMASHWORDS EDITION | COPYRIGHT 2018 Razor Blade

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Chapter 1

Melt down

The demon stood before the timeclock rubbing his hands together trying to warm them. He finished his hour long commute to the plant like he did every day in the dark, windy and freezing outside air. He wore gloves but the inside of his SUV never seemed to get warm enough to keep his fingers from becoming numb and it usually took a few minutes of holding his hands over the heater in the time-clock room before sensation returned. This morning snow fell from above intermittently blocking his view of the narrow road from his home to work. Ice often covered the roads making them slick and the hills he had to traverse made his knuckles turn white as he grasped onto the steering wheel for dear life. He had to take it a bit slower today but still managed to get to work on time.

The other demons in the time-clock room hung their coats and punched in leaving Vorgoth the last one to clock in. He hung his coat, picked out his time card and punched in. He returned the time card to the empty slot and left the room heading towards his station on the third floor in the main control room. The power plant was huge, with machines that surrounded him in all directions cranking, clanking and droning in a deafening cacophony of sound. Above him were huge pipes that ran the length of the building and surrounding them were hundreds of other pipes that ran throughout the plant entering and exiting the two foot thick basalt walls. The smell of sulfur emanated from the adjacent building where a small portion of Lucifer’s work was carried out by a specialized group of demons. The kind of work Vorgoth used to do before his promotion and what he now preferred to go back to---torturing abortionists. But not today.

On his way to the elevator, Vorgoth ran into a coworker he casually recognized but didn’t know personally. He nodded his head to greet the prong horned red skinned demon and moved on towards his destination. Vorgoth hated his new job and dreaded the start of his day. He entered the elevator and punched the button for the third floor and waited. The elevator rose up with a mechanical whine and stopped at the control room floor. The door opened where he was greeted by two armed security guards who he had to pass in order to get to the control room. It was all routine, he had done this many times before and followed the procedure without thinking.

Name, the security guard asked. The guard had ram horns, rough with pock marks, was a good hundred pounds heavier than Vorgoth and had the body of a well-muscled Greek athlete.

Vorgoth, he replied as he had done every day since he started working at the plant. His voice was low, graveled and thick. Vorgoth held up his security badge and the guard scanned the code with a wand. A beep indicated the scan was read and accepted.

Hold out your hand, the guard said.

Vorgoth had his hand out before the guard said anything and his finger prints were read by another machine. Again a beep sounded and the guard motioned for Vorgoth to move on to the control room. One last press of a button, a glance up to a camera up to his right and the door clicked indicating it was unlocked.

There was a space between doors at which Vorgoth had to stand and wait at for a moment before the second door would unlock. This was a security measure in case there was an attempted break in and a trap door could open dropping whoever was trying to break in to a secure holding cell below. A moment later he was buzzed into the main control room.

The room was filled with computer consoles and facility alert indicator boards on the walls that surround him on all sides. These indicators responded to the sensors throughout the power plant that let the workers in the control room know the health of the facility. On most days the panels were dark with a few green lights indicating the plant was online and working within set parameters.

The door to the control room clicked shut and an armed security guard approached Vorgoth. Without thinking he raised his arms to allow the guard to scan him for weapons with a magnetic wand. And as usual there was nothing to find.

You’re clear, the security guard growled and Vorgoth walked over to his station. It was shift change and there were protocols to go through before the other shift could leave. Only this time the demon he was to replace was acting nervous and fidgety, like he wanted to get out as soon as possible.

What’s up? Vorgoth asked the demon sitting in his chair.

Nothing, the demon replied. His name was Moras and he didn’t look familiar to Vorgoth.

I don’t think I know you, have we met before?

Moras hesitated. No, I got pulled here from another department, someone called in sick.

Hearing that someone called in sick, Vorgoth stepped over to the schedule and looked for his name. Written in pen beside his name it said that he would have to stay for two shifts to make up for a different sick call. Immediately he became angry and squeezed his fist in frustration. He hated his job and whenever he was forced to work a double it sent him into a rage. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself and slowly walked back to his station.

Is everything alright? Moras asked.

Vorgoth bit his lip and looked away for a moment. He looked back and replied, Yeah, everything’s fine. He was a terrible liar. How was your shift? Vorgoth asked.

Again, Moras hesitated and was almost defensive. I don’t really know, I’ve only worked in the control room a few times. I don’t really know the routine.

Looking around the room, Vorgoth saw the overnight staff and recognized most of them. They were all getting ready to go home from their shifts. Did these guys help you at all?

"No, not really,