The Massacre at St. Stephen’s

Here is an old short story I wrote. Always interesting to see where you've come from. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

   Detective Solomon Alighieri gasped under the gooey dead flesh smothering his senses. Coughing up what he hoped was not his blood the swarthy second generation Italian pushed up out of the mound of limbs. He immediately had to fight back vomiting all over his gore covered leather jacket.

   Corpses were strewn together into monstrous effigies baptized in blood drowning the tight crypt the detective had been tossed into. Goat heads covered the stoic marble busts of nameless saints and Greek heroes that once decorated the solemn room. The chamber must have once inspired beauty, but now all the detective felt was churning revulsion in his guts he hadn’t felt since the mafia body dumping incident at a slaughterhouse.

   At one time a single small colored window would have let a tiny halo of light on the central coffin, but now blood smeared dark and thick blocked the sun’s rays. The only light came from flickering candles burning angry shadows across the walls. On top of another coffin was a splattered makeshift altar with half eaten hearts, brains, genitals, and fetuses of varying sizes.

   That made Solomon dry heave which meant he must’ve puked before being tossed into the pit of corpses. Well, that was something positive. Solomon wouldn’t be stuck telling the chief he’d retched up his insides all over a crime scene. It wasn’t one of his priorities at the moment though.

The detective figured he was going through a little shock otherwise he would’ve done more than cuss up a storm, and scramble out of the hole. It was as if the corpses hung on to him like damned souls climbing out of hell. Now that was a creepy feeling. Especially since it looked like human bite marks were on the organs and bodies.

   With a shiver Solomon scanned the room drawing his pistol. More curses ensued when he saw that a severed middle finger had somehow jammed itself behind the trigger. The loud snap it made after he broke the stubborn limb made him gag again. This was turning into a bad day. They’d been checking likely den sights for a local serial killer all evening, but he never expected Jezebel’s insistence to spit on her childhood church would’ve led to him becoming a victim.

   Wait, where was Jezebel? The thought sent a wave of panic through Solomon as he checked what was left of the corpses for her outlandish anti religious tattoos, dozens of piercings, and half shaved head. His partner really did everything she could to make herself ugly didn’t she? Not that it had worked. Natural beauty was a terrifying thing.

   A few seconds later Solomon was sure, or as sure as he could be, that his more senior partner wasn’t amongst the dead in the crypt. Hopefully that meant she’d escaped. Which was good, but now left the question of who or what had attacked them. 

   They’d both gone in after breaking a few windows to blow off steam. She’d wanted to piss on the angels which seemed a little gauche even for Solomon. He’d walked away, and that’s all he remembered.

   Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, the detective stalked to the door trying to ignore the desecrated dead he had to walk over to get there. It was locked, and made out of heavy wood that might as well have been solid plate metal. Now what?

   Solomon could feel dread growing inside his gut both at the thought of what could be outside the door, and at maybe being forced to spend the night in this tomb. His deep brown eyes eventually rested on one of the statues. The hard stone sculpter had goat intestines around its neck, but was spared the goat head on its bust showing a bearded man in classic Roman attire. He was pointing a stone finger to one of the walls in-between two coffins.

   Something bothered Solomon about the crypt floor over there. He looked closer, and was surprised to see the dust and blood were streaked almost as if the wall swung out like a door. Not knowing what he expected to find the detective began pushing on the stones and leaning on any ledge he could grasp. He kept it up till a clicking sound made him jump back with his service pistol at the ready.

   The wall swung forward showing a dark blood splattered passage that looked as inviting as a giant greedy leech mouth, but it was still better than the corpse filled crypt. Solomon nodded his thanks to the pointing statue, and took a second to read the nameplate. It simply said “Virgil”. What a helpful guy this Virgil was.

   Solomon pulled out his flashlight, and did his best to get the slippery gore off of its handle. He gave up with a grunt, then proceeded through the maw like passage. The dark tunnel soon turned into a narrow staircase with enough atmosphere to give Dracula a run for his money. 

All along the walls were verses such as “I will fear no Evil”, but were made eerie by all the blood splatter over them. Some even had body parts nailed over important words. Other scriptures had messages written in blood defaming any thoughts of hope or goodness in the world. Solomon wasn’t a religious man, but it still made his skin crawl.

   Eventually, he realized he was walking right under the flying buttresses of the old Cathedral he and his partner had been vandalizing. What was it called? It was something like St. Stephen’s, or one of those other long dead martyrs. It had closed down before Solomon had even been born, but its steep jagged steeples had always haunted him as a child. 

   A few steps past two more smelly fly ridden effigies Solomon came to a fork in the path. One led down a flight of stairs, and the other went straight ahead. Right in the middle of the fork was a statue of Virgil again. He was pointing at the stairs. Well, the old Roman hadn’t led him wrong yet.

   The detective went down the creaking rotting stairs grimacing with every step. He could only hope that the sound didn’t carry too far. At least there were less of those bloody inscriptions down this path, but stentch and flies were relentless torments. He’d just given up swatting a particular nasty fly from his blood soaked face when he heard voices talking in harsh almost inhuman tones filtering down the passageway. The echoes made him think they must have been coming from the main sanctuary.

   Thinking of Jezebel, Solomon picked up his pace following the sound till he burst out of a doorway leading to the oddly pristine pulpit. Pointing his weapon forward he scanned, and found his targets. He yelled in true classic cop fashion, “Freeze!”

   Right after as the last notes of his practiced shout left his lips Solomon almost dropped his pistol. There, right over the altar was what looked like a spider the size of a horse, but on further inspection was in fact a woman with the lower body of a monstrous black widow that would have put a water buffalo to shame. Solomon was sure he’d never seen this arachnid in biology class.

   The female half was gorgeous and terrifying. It had eight pupiless blue eyes dotting their way up its pale forehead which really gave Solomon the chills, but its hair was gorgeous, silver, and just covering the set of cross earrings popping out of its pointed ears in subtle bueaty that countered the grotesque aspect of her image. In the monster’s human hands it held a squirming figure. It was Jezebel, and it looked like she was being strangled.

   “Drop her,” Solomon growled. He was amazed his voice didn’t crack as the spider woman turned its gaze his way. Lucky for him the giant spider bits didn’t move. The detective wasn’t sure if he could handle those parts. It also helped that the woman half was wearing clothes. 

   One less distraction Solomon had to worry about. That said, its clothes were pretty distracting. The beast wore a shirt with a picture of Che in a sassy pose with the inscription written under it saying “Communism is for Fags”. Solomon would’ve laughed if he wasn’t staring at a half human freak of nature.

   “What are you doing you useless idiot shoot it!” Jezebel gurgled angrily. Yeah sure shoot it, get it mad, and it snaps your neck. Brilliant Jezebel, just brilliant Solomon thought. He’d have to use a little more tact than that.

   “Drop her now. I won’t shoot you if you don’t hurt my partner,” the detective could see Jezebel rolling her eyes somehow looking more annoyed with him than scared of the monster slowly breaking her neck.

   “What is your name young one?” Solomon recoiled at the spider’s gurgled voice. Somehow he didn’t shoot it, or her, or whatever it was.

   “Solomon, you?”

   “What are you asking its name for? Just shoot it you moron!” Jezebel screeched in her most piercing voice that always made Solomon wince. Her eyes were bulging wildly marring her pretty face. It was jarring, but the detective ignored her. She was being choked after all. Solomon instead concentrated on the spider that seemed deep in thought. A second later it answered.

   “I’m called Wisdom,” Wisdom? Was that a spider name, or something?

   “Alright Wisdom, drop my partner.”

   “No, she’ll kill you.”

   “Right, I’m going to kill him. Not the giant spider monster. I tell you what, if your Wisdom I’m Folly now shoot her Solomon!” Jezebel was screaming again, and making the most exasperated face Solomon had ever seen. Her eyes were bulging even wider somehow. What was she trying to do? Get herself killed?

   “Jezebel shut up.”

   “What did you say to me? I’m the senior detective here, not you now shoot her!” Solomon made a face worse than when he’d found a maggot in his sandwich last week. She wanted to have a power trip now? Lord over her seniority while she’s being strangled by a half spider half woman spawn from hell?

   “She isn’t what she seems Solomon. Listen to Wisdom,” the detective cocked an eyebrow at the spider. That was crafty.

   “Nice word play. Now drop her ‘Wisdom’,” The spider hybrid sighed the most feminine sigh Solomon had ever seen. It could’ve made a man swoon if there wasn’t eight eyes on that head of hers. Still, she seemed much more appealing than Jezebel did right now. His partner was literally foaming at the mouth at this point. The sight was enough to make Solomon think the spider was right about her. At the very least he was having trouble thinking of Wisdom as an “it” at this point

   “Have you noticed that I couldn’t fit into the chamber behind you? How could I have dragged the bodies into the pit?” Solomon blinked. That’s right, there was no way she could’ve gotten into the crypt with that spider body of hers even if she went the normal way. Did that mean she had an accomplice? Solomon hesitated wondering where this second killer could be. Jezebel clearly mistook his silence for capitulation.

   “You sorry sack of a man! You’re going to listen to a monster? Shoot her! Shoot her or I’m going to get your ass fired, and you’ll never work in law enforcement again! Do you have any balls? Sack up and save me you absolute idiot!” Jezebel spat, and twitched like a crushed snake. The sight made Solomon want to gag. It was almost as bad as seeing those corpses back in the pit. Her eyes seemed so unnatural and raving, but she was still his partner. He’d figure this out later.

   “Drop her Wisdom.”

   “Solomon, did you see the bite marks? See my fangs? My bite would not look human,” Now that was a funny thought. Her fangs were different, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have an accomplice doing the biting. The detective fired a warning shot that echoed off the ostentatious sanctuary bouncing off the crosses and paintings scattered around the Gothic jagged walls.

   Wisdom dropped Jezebel, and held her hands up in surrender. Now what? Should he cuff her? What about all the spider legs?

   A blast shook Solomon’s world. Wisdom screamed as a chuck of her flesh blew out of her stomach and shirt splattering the closest crucifix with blood. She crumpled into a mountain sized ball next to the altar twitching madly before lying still.

   Solomon sat staring in a daze. Jezebel had his shotgun. When had she pulled that out of the trunk? A wave of disgust filled his body at Jezebel’s grinning face. It was too large. Her teeth human, but unnaturally massive and her eyes were so huge they seemed ready to pop out of her skull.

   Still shocked, Solomon turned back to what was left of Wisdom, and felt a strange overwhelming sense of loss. Like a close friend had died in a flash of lightning. Something so monstrous yet so beautiful gone made him feel as if the world had lost a precious treasure never to be found again.

   “Jezebel she surrendered why did you…” Solomon couldn’t finish his sentence. Before he knew it he saw Jezebel’s fist smack his chest, felt his ribs crack, and then buckle under inhuman strength. As if in a dream, he watched himself fly back, and through the thin screen of a confession booth.

   Solomon coughed up blood. This time he knew it was his blood. With a groan he sat up looking for his gun. On his right was a small bust of Socrates to his left a painting of St. Valentine. Good company to be sure, but neither of them had his gun.

   Solomon looked up, and felt a wave of utter panic, fear, and revulsion overwhelm him in a drowning man’s embrace. There was Jezebel. Her neck was warped into an impossible angle. Her eyes were practically exploding out of her head while her limbs were twisted backwards and shaped like horses’ legs. Her mouth was smiling so wide he could see her black tongue and gums. A sick giggle escaped her mouth as she lunged.

   A thought struck Solomon as this most terrifying creature out of his nightmares threw itself toward his face. He really should’ve listened to Wisdom. 

   That would’ve been a sad last thought, but an odd thing happened. Just before the beast struck she was pulled back. A looming shape of a spider filled Solomon’s vision dragging the monster back. A flurry of inhuman shrieks pierced the sanctuary’s stoic silence. Even in his broken state, Solomon could tell that Jezebel, as horrible as the beast was, stood no chance against Wisdom.

   The cries were silenced with a harsh crunch when Wisdom crushed the inhuman on the altar. With a blood splattered face filled with disdain, Wisdom tossed the broken fiend’s body aside. It landed with a splat under a crumbling painting of Archangel Michael trampling demons.

   Things got a little blurry for Solomon after that, but soon he realized he was lying on what passed for a lap on Wisdom. Through his pain he was surprised to see the terrible wound that had ripped through her stomach was completely healed. Then again, why not? With a day like this anything could happen.

   “What’s your name?” Solomon croaked gazing up at what now seemed to be the most tantalizing sight he’d ever hoped to see. Spider bits and all Wisdom was gorgeous. Though that could’ve been just Solomon’s wounds talking.

   “I told you my name Solomon.”

   “Wisdom isn’t your real name,” Another one of those enthralling sighs again. It made Solomon wonder how he could’ve ever thought she was the monster.

   “Wisdom is my middle name. My first name is Beatrice,” Solomon laughed at that.

   “Of course your name is Beatrice,” Solomon said before drifting off in Wisdom’s arms.

   Solomon woke with a start. He was alive, but he couldn’t move. No wait he could, he was just restrained. His eyes danced around the tiny hospital room, and wondered why there was no nurse. His mouth felt funny. He could use some water.

   “Nurse,” growled a garbled voice that made Solomon wince. Was that his voice? What was wrong with him? 

   He yelled a few more times, and was ignored. Solomon had almost fallen back asleep when the doors burst open letting in several cops with riot gear and submachine guns. That was weird, but not as jarring as the way they looked at him. They were scared, even terrified, which was weird since they were the ones pointing guns at a man tied to a hospital bed. Shouldn’t he be the scared one?

   “Solomon can you understand me?” Solomon perked up at the voice of the head detective.

   “Yeah boss I hear you,” Gah, his voice was still mangled and weird. It was almost like Wisdom’s voice. 

   “Why did you do it Solomon?” Head Detective Judas Mariah demanded, but stayed behind the SWAT cops looked as angry as Solomon was scared.

   “Did what boss?”

   “You killed Jezebel! All those people in St. Stephens! Were you always that sick?” Solomon’s mind raced. Why in the hell would they think he’d done all that?

   “What are you talking about boss? Jezebel tried to kill me.”

   “Don’t you lie!” Solomon blinked at the force in his boss’s voice.

   “Just look, and tell me you’re not a monster.” Judas stepped forward and brought out a mirror. Solomon looked at it in confusion then jumped in horror. His mouth… what was wrong with his mouth? Where was it?

   Hairy spider fangs sprouted out of his upper neck and jaw. A long gaping hole marked his throat, but what was most upsetting was when Solomon realized he could move the machete sized fangs. His mouth had opened freakishly wide to support the inhuman shape. If he looked close he could see into his navel cavity from the inside of his throat. What the hell?

   “Yeah you see that? We see that too. The detectives all agree you are a monster.” Solomon blinked still reeling. Not only did he look like a distorted demon tarantula he was also being pinned for murder?

   “Wait boss I didn’t do it! Didn’t you see the human bite marks on the bodies? I couldn’t do that now!” It was desperate logic, but still logic.

   “Don’t you lie to me! We saw no such bites!” Solomon’s blood went cold as Judas’ eyes bulged. No, him too? How many cops, no, how many people were whatever Jezebel was?

   Solomon looked at each of the officers. How could he know unless they started going crazy? Then it would be too late. He had to get out of here.

   The detective ignored his raving boss as he tested the restraints, and found, to his astonishment, that they weren’t as strong as he had remembered them. To everyone’s surprise the one holding his right hand snapped. The room went quiet, and then Solomon broke his left hand free like the tight metal restraints were paper.

   A shot rang out. A flower of blood bloomed from Solomon’s hospital gown. It stung, but it didn’t hurt that bad. He looked up to see Judas pointing his gun at him. Three more shots tore into his chest, but again it didn’t drag him back to the bed. With mad strength, and unnatural speed Solomon lunged. 

   Instincts he’d never felt before dragged him forward, and into the bulging face of Judas. His new fangs sank into the man’s face burning his flesh with some putrid liquid secreted from his mouth. The horrid smell made Solomon’s eyes water. The blood filled his nostrils, and made his horrid new limbs twitch with glee. He really was a monster.

   The hospital room exploded in a hail of gunfire, but Solomon was already gone. He jumped out the window still letting these strange new instincts guide him. He fell eight stories slamming into the earth with a crunch breaking through a stone bench. With a glance Solomon saw he wasn’t hurt, and that the bench was meant to honor Margaret Sanger.

   He could see his fangs now. They were long and swaying with his breath. Screams erupted all around him as people ran in terror. Solomon ran too, and much faster than the humans around him.

   He didn’t know how long he ran, but when he’d stopped the sun was disappearing in a blood red haze. He was wearing pants now. No shirt though. Multiple gunshot wounds dotted his abdomen and all of them were sizzling. One by one the holes spate the bullets out of their bowels, and disappeared as if they’d never existed. 

   Solomon shook his head, and did his best to ignore the extra weight swinging out of his mouth. With great effort he dodged his reflection in puddles on the street, and after a time he realized where he was. Two more blocks, and he’d be back at St. Stephen’s Cathedral.

   Instincts took over again. Solomon jumped an inhuman leap up the walls of the pleasant neighborhood houses and quaint businesses. He clambered across the roofs like a giant spider in a horror movie. What had Wisdom done to him?

   With a final slam Solomon landed on the stone steps of the church its wooden front doors hanging off their hinges. Not knowing why, Solomon ran in past the police tape, past the crypt, and right into the sanctuary. He wasn’t alone.

   A man sat on the front steps of the stage. He wore all black and had a dark bandanna over his mouth with a red spider design flowing off the dark piece of fabric. He saw Solomon’s face, but didn’t run.

   That made the detective freeze. He wasn’t scared of him? 

   “You’re late brother.” The man’s voice was garbled giving Solomon that familiar feeling of skin crawling off bones. The dark dressed man stood, and pulled off his bandanna. Underneath the man smiled. A second later his grin changed. A large set of joker scars ripped open, and out from a hole in his throat came two giant spider fangs. Solomon would’ve gasped if his mouth and fangs would’ve allowed it.

   “You’re looking for Wisdom right? Come this way brother she’s waiting for you,” Solomon looked up as movement caught his eye. All across the roof were men with fangs, and women with half spider bodies. They mostly wore black, but at least one had the “Communism is for Fags” tee-shirt on. 

   “This way brother,” Solomon looked back at the man under the pulpit. He led him to a painting of the empty tomb with angels resting on the giant stone. A passage opened right on top of the tomb entrance. Solomon followed the path. Whatever his questions he just kept walking. He was on the road to Wisdom, and he was going to listen to her this time.