INFESTATION: Agent of S.P.E.A.R. #1

III. HELLSPAWN

There was a long drawn out silence. After a few minutes, I heard St. Clair approached us from the bushes. I saw the man himself, hauling something from the darkness. I pointed my flashlight on it and something red and covered in smoke squirmed and writhe in his grasp. I could barely make out its outline but I know the creature was dangerous. And St. Clair did his best to handle it.

Doyle stood up. "Well, look at what ya got there." He pointed the flash light towards St. Clair. Then I recognize what the man was holding. Up until that moment, I've only read about them in books and old archive records in the H.Q. Seeing it up close was sobering. I didn't know what to say or how to react.

"An imp," St. Clair said when he noticed my face.

The agency has an extensive record when it comes to paranormal creatures, but unfortunately it did not extend to semi-corporeal beings like imps. For what I could remember, the one before me was a juvenile one– about two feet tall, tail and wings aside. Maybe half a millennia old or maybe more if I base my guess on Poe's taxonomy but I could be off with the estimate. Its red and thorny skin made it looked like a macaque with chicken pox. It struggled as St. Clair held its neck muscled. It also gave out a peculiar sound that was a cross between a hiss and growl. And as it saw us its cry became louder and louder.

I tried to hold it. I didn't know what I was thinking, all I knew was it wasn't exactly outrageous if consider how rare to see a living imp outside its habitat.

"Whoa, come on don't be rude," St. Clair said as the imp's tail lashed like a whip. He turned his arm to the side as I backed away to avoid the creature's sudden display of violence. I sighed, thankful to the veteran agent's quick thinking. Bit then it started speaking in tongues mimicking a girl's voice.

Goosebumps stood at the back of my neck. I tightened my grip on the gun holstered in my side. It was fucking creepy. I only understood some bits of what it said, most of it Aramaic and maybe some bits of Greek or Latin? It spoke about death or dying or something like that. I couldn't make anything out of it. Then, it turned its gaze towards me. Its piercing unearthly yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. My knotted throat throbbed. It didn't look happy to see us.

It began speaking again and Doyle tried to translate it. He was even kind enough to mimic its child-like voice. I shook my head. Mocking the abhuman entity seemed foolish for me and a bit unprofessional for an agent of his level.

"The master well not be pleased with you."

St. Clair gripped its neck harder. His bone rings glowing green, forming tendrils that snaked through the imp's body. The imp's thrashing subsided, leaving him frozen like a corpse as St. Clair displayed his power.

His relic enabled him to restrain a Specter class entity, neat.

"My master will come...he will punish. He will maim. He will be happy.

"Master?!" Both St. Clair and me chorused.

"Someone sent you here?" I added.

"Must go back to guarding the hole." The imp made itself smaller as its malicious leer turned to horror."-or the master will use his wretched cane. Free me at once humans. Free tue servant or suffer the master's wrath."

Suddenly it spat, disgust clear in his tone as it grumbled a mish-mash of curses in different languages.

"You don't really have the right to demand tings," I said.

"Tell him I'll let him go if he leads us to his master," St. Clair said to Doyle 

"Or at least to the place his guarding," I added. The imp agreed or so, Doyle said, after a few minutes of severe coercion. But the agent warned us to distrust everything it said. Specter class entities were often characterized as mischievous if not outright manipulative. Amongst all abhuman, it should the most degree of complex thought.

After arguing the merits of following the imps words, we decided to walk along a narrow trail that led to the foot of mount Kadong. The place we arrived in was an abandoned mining site. The typical one you see in countries with reach natural resource.

We then agreed to let Doyle scout it first for any traps before entering its gated perimeter. You could never trust an imp after all. With the limited sentience it had, he may have prepared a trap for us. After five minutes, Doyle signaled us to come in. Two Backhoe, a pair of excavators, a t couple of ruck, and an assortment of shovels, cables and wooden crates littered the place. Two muddy path wind through the site, one led towards a hut crudely built, the other towards the gaping mouth of a tunnel at the side of the mountain.

Things went grim all of a sudden as we went through the site. Bodies were scattered around it, seven of them in total. There were no fatal wounds on their bodies. They just died, skin gray and leathery like their essence were sucked dry. I glanced at the imp as it smiled bearing all its tiny sharp teeth. Did it do it? Was it proud of what it did?

St. Clair leaned towards one corpse. "Are they the villagers?" He was drenched in sweat, hand trembling in fatigue. One of the drawback of using a relic like his was that it needed energy to sustain it and the only source was the user's own. Controlling and concentrating was another story that's why you don't just give relics away to field agents.

"No, it's not them," I said as I turned one of the bodies. One of them wore a mud slicked shirt with a logo, a fist with rays of light coming from it.

"Thunstone Corp., professional miners." I took the dead guy's wallet. It had an I.D. and a piture of him with his family. I shook my head and cursed. "Michael Herman Mignola, American, married." I handed the I.D. to Doyle and sighed.

I then went towards St. Clair as though my feet had a mind of their own. The next thing that followed even surprised me. With a shaking hand, I clicked the safety off and leveled the Glock's barrel to the imp's head. I could feel the blood draining from my face. I was furious even though I didn't know them. Know all of its victims. It really angered me how it could kill without remorse.

"Who sent you here?" I said to the imp. "Speak, dammit!" I struggled to hold the gun upright as my hand trembled. "Someone sent you to kill them, right? Who?" The piece of shit just sniggered as it gave me a darkened gaze. I smacked the imp in the face so hard, lancing pain danced down my wrist. I knew it wouldn't do it any harm, but I was tired and angry. St. Clair didn't react as another blow landed on the imp. He didn't even move as I struck the dumb thing over and over again until I could barely catch my breath.

Was I overreacting? Yes. Did I care? No.

"Back off, rookie," Doyle finally said, plactong himself in between me and the creature. "I said...back off!" He pushed me and I finally relented.

He turned to the imp. " You think your getting it easy? Guess again." He then took a bunch of dried flowers from the pocket of his cargo pants. "This is Arbutus." The imp cringed at its sight. "This'll do to ya what ya did to those folks over there."

St. Clair raised the imp higher. The green glow from his rings dimming a bit. The imp started whispering again his child like voice, faint and eerie.

Doyle and I moved closer to hear it. The closer we got the fainter his voice became. Then, I realized that the imp was looking pass me. Suddenly, I recognized the words from its fanged mouth and recoiled from the creature.

"What did it-" Doyle's question was cut abruptly by the imp's shout.

"RUN YOU FOOOOLS!" is shrieked as it convulsed maniacally.