Hellbound Twins

Mad Rage.

Chapter 15—Mad Rage

"Three weeks after Raziel died, we found ourselves in a town called Harlow. Population eight hundred. Contaminated: all of them. And the thing controlling them was waiting for us at the police station."

Three weeks gone.

That's how long we spent in a dingy motel on the outskirts of Billings waiting for things to quiet down. Three weeks monitoring the news. Cleaning our weapons. Sleeping in shifts. Avoiding any mention of Raziel.

Dad left four days ago.

He left a note on the nightstand. Three lines. *I'm looking for a way to stop the seals. Stay together. Don't do anything stupid.* Signed Marcus Voss. No number. No destination.

*Classic.*

Arthur crumpled the note and threw it in the trash without a word. I didn't say anything either. We know Dad — once he's made up his mind there's nothing anyone can do.

The next morning the first reports came in.

A town two hours away. Harlow, Montana. Population eight hundred. Reports of unexplained violence — people attacking their neighbors, their families. Injuries. Deaths. The authorities were calling it an epidemic but the word they weren't using was the one that came to my mind immediately.

Demonic.

---

We arrive in Harlow early afternoon.

The town looks normal from a distance. Wooden houses. A main street. A church steeple. The kind of place where nothing serious should ever happen.

But the streets are empty. Like something out of Zombieland.

"I've got no signal," says Arthur looking at his phone. "Network's been down since we passed the welcome sign."

I check mine. Same. Zero bars. Not even an emergency signal.

"Someone cut the antennas," I say.

"Or something's blocking the signal."

We park in front of the police station. A red brick building. Two patrol cars outside. A light on inside. We pull out our fake badges.

---

The sheriff's name is Caldwell.

Mid-fifties. Solid build. The kind of man who's spent thirty years in this town and thinks he's seen everything. He watches us walk in with our dark jackets and FBI badges like we're the last thing he needed today.

"Agents Mitchell and Michael," I say. "FBI. We're here about the illness."

He looks at our badges. Then our faces. Then the badges again.

"You're pretty young to be FBI," he says.

"We started early," says Arthur.

"We hear that a lot," I add.

Caldwell sighs. He gestures for us to follow him into his office.

---

Four deputies in the station and a secretary. All healthy — clear eyes, no signs of aggression. But tense. The kind of tension of people who haven't slept in days and know it's not getting better.

"First case ten days ago," says Caldwell settling behind his desk. "A farmer on the edge of town. His wife called us — he'd attacked his kids. When we got there his eyes were..." He stops. "Different. Bloodshot. He didn't recognize anyone."

"How does it spread?" I ask.

"Blood contact." His voice is flat. Like someone repeating information they don't fully understand yet. "A contaminated person wounds you — scratch, bite, anything that mixes the blood — you've got less than six hours before it starts."

Arthur looks at me.

I file that away mentally. Blood transmission. Six hours.

"How many cases right now?"

"We don't know." Caldwell puts his hands on his desk. "We lost contact with several neighborhoods last night. The network's down — someone sabotaged the relay antennas outside of town." He looks at us. "And this morning at dawn — people started blocking the exit roads." He shakes his head. "Like they were waiting for something to arrive. In thirty years on the job I've never seen anything like it."

"Contaminated?"

"Yes. Dozens. Organized." He shakes his head again. "Sick people organizing themselves — I've never seen that in my life."

I feel something cold slide down my spine.

Sick people organizing. A blood-transmitted disease. A town cut off from the world.

This doesn't look like a natural epidemic.

This looks like a demonic plan.

---

"I'm going to take a look around," Arthur says quietly, standing. "See how bad it is out there."

"Be careful," I say.

He takes the truck keys. He leaves.

I turn back to Caldwell.

"The first case — the farmer. Do you remember how it happened? What he'd been doing the days before?"

Caldwell thinks. "He'd found something in his field. A dead animal." He frowns. "Not an ordinary animal — that's what he'd told his wife. Something he didn't recognize. Black. Burned from the inside."

My stomach tightens.

"Did he touch it?"

"He buried it. With his bare hands."

I stand slowly. I walk to the window. The main street is still empty. A few abandoned cars. A broken shop window further down.

An animal burned from the inside. Left in a field. Like a seed planted in the earth.

Someone had prepared this. Carefully. Methodically.

Not Azazel — that's not his style. Azazel works big. Massive. Armies.

No — this is someone more precise. More surgical.

A prince of hell.

---

Caldwell's radio crackles.

Arthur's voice — tense but controlled.

*"Elijah. I've got a problem."*

I grab the radio. "What?"

*"There's a roadblock at the exit. And now there's one at the entrance too. They've closed the loop."* A pause. *"And they're moving toward the center of town."*

Caldwell jumps to his feet.

I look out the window.

At the end of the main street — silhouettes. A dozen of them. Moving slowly. Bloodshot eyes. Empty faces. Some carrying iron bars. Others with farm tools.

Then to the left — more silhouettes.

Then to the right.

From everywhere.

"They're surrounding us," says one of the deputies behind me. His voice trembles slightly.

*"Elijah,"* says Arthur over the radio. *"I'm coming back to the station. Lock everything down."*

I watch the contaminated converging on us from every direction. Slow but determined. Like someone was guiding them. Like someone had given them a simple clear order.

Bring back the living.

"Lock the doors," I tell Caldwell.

He hesitates a second.

"NOW."

He gives the order. The deputies move. Locks click. Shutters close.

Arthur bursts back in thirty seconds later. He slams the door behind him. He lays salt lines at the door then tells the others to do the same at every window and the parking lot entrance.

He looks out the window at the contaminated closing in.

"What the hell is this," he murmurs.

I move close to him. I lower my voice so Caldwell can't hear.

"It's not a natural disease," I say. "It's a weapon. Someone created it. Someone planted it here deliberately."

Arthur looks at me.

"Who?"

I think about the animal burned from the inside. The blood transmission. The way the contaminated are organizing like an army.

"A prince of hell," I say. "One of Lucifer's generals."

Two seconds of silence between us.

Outside — the first contaminated start beating against the walls of the station. Slowly at first. Then harder and harder.

The building trembles slightly.

Caldwell looks at us both.

"You're really FBI aren't you," he says.

Arthur and I exchange a look.

"No," says Arthur. "We're monster hunters. And yes — it's real. Vampires, ghosts, demons. All of it."

Caldwell stares. "So demons are actually real? What's your name — your real name?"

"Voss," says Arthur. "We're the Voss family."

"We hunt monsters," I confirm. "Now wait—" I stop. "The noise outside. It stopped. Is that normal?"

Before anyone can answer I glance out the window.

A man stands alone in the middle of the street.

Expensive suit. Luxury tie. Yellow eyes.

He's not moving. Just watching the station.

Then he speaks — loud enough that we can hear him through the walls.

"My name is Adan. I am one of the princes of hell."

Caldwell goes pale. "Who is he talking to?"

"Us," I say.

Arthur opens the window slightly. "What do you want?"

"Just to talk," says Adan calmly. "You have something that interests my master. Lucifer."

The sheriff turns to us. "He's talking about the devil?"

"Yes," I say. "He's imprisoned — like the Bible says. We'll explain later."

I look back at Adan through the window. "We don't have what you're looking for."

Adan smiles slowly.

"Your brother knows exactly what I'm looking for."

Silence.

I turn to Arthur.

"What is he talking about?"

Adan's smile widens. "Oh — you didn't tell him that you're the perfect vessel for Lucifer? Oops. I've said too much."

The silence that follows is different from all the others.

I look at Arthur.

Arthur looks at the floor.

"Raziel told me," he says quietly. "I didn't think it was real. I didn't want to worry you." He looks up at me. "But I'm your little brother. We should have talked about this—"

"We will," I say. My voice is flat. "Later."

Outside Adan straightens his cuffs.

"I only came to talk. Let me in. Your little traps won't hold me for long. I'm stronger than that."

"Tell us your plans first," says Arthur.

Adan tilts his head.

"Smart. Buying time." He pauses. "Very well."

He smiles one last time.

"Attack."

Hellbound Twins

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