The Devil's Relic Chaper 1: Old Soldiers and the Young Servant

 James ran scared through the dark, through the lavish halls of the Franklin Manor to the comfortable parlor room decorated with retired flintlock pistols and old cavalry sabers. His breathing and the echoing thumping of his boots on hardwood floors pushed his panic further into the back of his dry throat until it felt like burning. He swallowed deliberately in-between two breathes, but his fight or flight remained. If only the rain and thunder would hide his sounds from the beast, which was surely behind him. He couldn't hear it pursuing him, but he imagined the shortest inch out vicious take-down reach.
    He rounded a corner with a pivot and a spin. He was didn't believe what his eyes were lying to him about the dark empty hallway. He dashed! The parlor door appeared as a goal at the end of a desperate race. He brought his knees to his chest with every adrenaline tempered stride. His hands resembled the knife hands of an instructing Sergent as he flung heave his shoulders with each pump of his arms. Hit breath coming out rhythmically like a numatic machine.
    He could feel it. Any minute now. Claws. Teeth. Tackled and rolling to the ground. No! He though. It mustn't happen!
    Then the door was almost in reach and flung himself at it. He twisted the knob and the parlor door took him insie like an ocean wave. He stomped the ground and lunged to close it behind him. He held his breath as he faced the room and a moment of hesitation. Which one do I pick and do I have the blessing of my host to violate his retired military affects? But he knew precisely that he wanted the cavalry saber with the pistol grip. He lost a second after closing the door before seizing the saber from the wall hooks. He discarded the scabbard with a single heave. The blade flashed some moonlight from the window and he slowly retreated into the corner.
    He was at last alone with his thoughts and a weapon. He needed to catch his breath for the moment that door came off the hinges. A flash of lightning came in. A few breathes later and he heard a distant crackle and a boom. He concentrated his gazed at that door and willed himself not to inevitably flinch. Moments passed in the long room with droplets of sweat streaking down the small of his back.
    James began to feel that sense of danger again, but it bid him to turn around and creep away from the window. Any moment, he thought, and the window will betray me!
    And from outside the room came a startling, distant sound like a  vase heavy with water crashing from waist high to hard floors. There was was the sound of a squeak after that, like a boot, and a crunch of glass. James pictured the beast searching with his nose, far more calmly than James, and he imagined the beast in the kitchen.
    James choked on his spit and spoke under his ragged breathe "He doesn't want to have the confrontation in the parlor. That's alright. This gives me more time." It meant more time for him to recover from his whirlwind sprint. "But..." he remembered, "Erin is hiding somewhere." A cold sensation went through his gut like a wave.
    He took an instinctual step forward out of his corner. He crept to the parlor door. He flicked away aniety in his hand with a saber flourish and it regrettably felt like a waste of precious strength. The door did not burst. He paused in front of it to listen. He reached. He turned the knob. He opened the door wide and gave it clearance. He looked down the hall. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light.
    The saber let James out of the parlor towards the kitchen. He pictured the poor trembling servant in her silly little apron. Then he imagined her lying in a heap with a pool of blood and lifeless eyes and a trail of blood leading away. I told her to hide, he thought. If she's dead, it's because I left her to corner herself, helpless and vulnerable. Did the beast chase the wrong prey!
    The kitchen had windows and a lot of white surfaces that showed any dark objects with stark contrast in moon light. He saw the vase and a shiny space of floor and a scattering of flowers. He felt the table with his fingertips as he walked past. He took up a piece of cutlery and gave it a toss forward. It clanged on the floor and bounced and slid ringing. The room which was ordinarily warm and busy felt drafty and void. He was keenly aware that some of the staff who manned this kitchen were already mauled and dead, never to warm this room again either literally or poetically.
    He found the open doorway to the dinning room and braced himself for a vicious tackle. He concentrated on her peripheral vision on his first step in and flung his head this way and that to clear the corners. Very good. Then a dark form moved on the other side of the long table. It was the same unnaturally tall, hunched and powerful man-shaped silhouette with a torn strip of shirt across its torso like a bandolier and ragged trousers.
    "What's that?" Its voice was a growl. James presented the sword forcefully, but his voice cracked "I made a trip to the parlor!" His knees betrayed him and he stance displayed bravado. He was immediately acutely aware of his shaking legs.
    "I can smell your fear." The beast laughed. He inhaled deeply. "You ought to kill yourself on that sword to spite me."
    "I warn you," James feigned intensity.
    A moment passed. The beast was entirely still. "Well. What's your warning?"
    A very distant thunder rolled while James thought. He searched his mind for something powerful, for something intimidating, for something sharp. He found nothing he was proud of. Just the silly words of young soldiers cursing other young soldiers before dying or killing. He felt as though too much time passed and his opportunity to threaten the monster effectively had passed, so he said nothing and waited.
    "I have overcome my battle fatigue. In this form I have piss and vigor again." The beast said. He stepped into the square of moonlight and his fur covered body was clearly that of a man with an animals mouth. He had remorseless eyes now. "And looking at you I realize now that Brent Keen was truely dead since the war. I became a shadow of a man, like you James. You're a coward. You shared with me as much. How you miss sleeping with a rifle. How you sense danger whenever you turn a corner. I used to be like you, then I traded my immortal soul for peace."
    "You call this peace? I call it blood lust. You call yourself a man!"
    "NO! Not a man. Not anymore. I have transcended!" The beast formerly Brent presented his full height and opened his arms. "The power of the devil's relic! I'm invincible!"
    James gulped.
    Brent pointed a clawed and massive finger at him James. "I've saved you for last."
    James gulped again.
    "Aren't you the last one?" He swung his head and sniffed one long prominent sniff. He closed his fierce and blue eyes in concentration. He grinned. "You're not the last one yet, are you? Do tell, who's left?"
    "Brent, why!" Anger rose from his stomach like fire. James gritted his teeth, furrowed his brow, and flared his nostrils.
    "For the thrill." The beast grinned. "This is better than making love with three women!" Brent flexed every muscle and curled his powerful claws.
    James seethed. A moment of silence passed. A little laugh hissed slowly out of Brent as he turned and raced away.
    "Bastard!" James took off after the beast and his first steps were angry stomps. He sailed through the dinning room and passed through a door than another room than into the hall. He skidded to a halt and surveyed each direction. "Brent! I'll test this edge on you, you bastard!"
    In the distance, he heard a delighted and beastly "that's the spirit!"
    James ears honed in on the source and the chase was on. He bolted yet again. He crashed through a door and kept going. He found the servants quarters. The small, messy little room of the young servant girl. Garments were strewn about. A wardrobe was turned over. A mattress was crooked and folded.
    A clatter of miscellaneous objects and a crash came from elsewhere and James was away again. He smacked the door frame with the saber on his way and it rang as he sprinted the length of another hallway. He ran past a smear on the wall with a twisted corpse underneath it. He felt his heart flutter when he rounded a corner. Stomps and more clatter. A smash. A crash. A high pitched yelp. James entered the grand foyer like a he was escaping fire.
    The beasts shadow left the room. James charged instinctively. He hit a large, hairy statue. A final sound like growl was silenced by a buried saber in it's body up to the hilt. James had unintentionally did his job. He The smelly, towering form wobbled. James to a step away from the saber handle and dove and rolled out from under a great big collapsing brute.
    From a mountain climbers position on the floor he looked over his shoulder at the beast and searched it thoroughly for signs that it was definitely not alive. Finally, he heard the breathing of someone else over the sound of his heart in his ears. His eyes darted to a short, petite woman with wide eyes on her knees in a bloody apron.
    "James?" Erin whispered cautiously. She was alright. James crawled a few paces than pulled himself to a kneeling position over the beast.
    Brent's beast face was twisted in agony, his head was bent back, his back was arched. James realized this was position was because of the blood streaked 15 inch blade sticking out of his chest.
    The beast's body was entirely tense. It violently settled and spasmed and settled finally. Brent's eyes rolled and found James'. Then they turned cloudy.