Enclave

by Brandon Varnell

  His breath caught in his throat. Terror caused his heart to hammer against his chest, threatening to break out of his ribcage. What the hell was she doing here?

  “Christian wait!”

  Christian did not wait, nor did he listen to Heather’s continued shouting as he shoved his way out of the mishmash of bodies. He burst out from behind the tarp and charged down the passage where the sound of feet hitting sediment rang out along with the loud, terrified screams.

  Behind him, the sound of the tarp being shoved aside alerted him to Heather and the others following him. From the loud and colorful language, Heather was not pleased.

  He didn’t care.

  His guns, already in his hands, unleashed their entire payload into the backs of the goblins the moment he could see them, forewarning his enemies that he was upon them. They turned just as he unloaded and reloaded his guns. He unleashed another barrage of hot iron into their ranks, only stopping when his guns clicked empty.

  Out of ammo and now too close to reload in a timely enough manner to be effective, Christian elected to holster his guns and unsheathe his swords. He did so by yanking the weapons out with startling violence and turning the entire movement into a slashing attack that sliced straight through the shoulders of two goblins. The bodies, cleaved from their shoulders down to their hips, fell back in a spray of gore that coated Christian’s clothes and made the floor appear as if a mad painter had taken buckets of red paint and blew them up with a shotgun.

  Heedless of the thick, viscous carmine liquid coating of clothes, of the horrid scent reminiscent of fifteen-year-old shoes filled with raw meat, Christian threw himself into the horde, slashing and slicing and fighting his way through them. He moved with a sense of reckless desperation. His blades flashed out, the movements graceless and brutal. There was no sense of style to his attacks. His favored style, the one that made him so deadly on the field of battle, was nowhere to be found.

  He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to him except reaching the voice that was even now screaming in his ear, the voice that belonged to the person he cherished more than anything else in this world, the voice that was now shrieking in a combination of undiluted fear and pain.

  Christian reached the voice, ignoring the stinging pain from several lacerations that ran along his arms and torso, and of the blood flowing from his wounds that mixed with the goblin blood soaking his clothes.

  Lilith was lying on the ground, holding her left leg, which had copious amounts of blood pouring from it. She was surrounded by several goblins, one of whom held a knife covered in thick, dark liquid. Lilith’s blood.

  “They’re attacking her...”

  Christian saw red, and not just in a figurative sense. Red, red, red, everything was red.

  Ripping off the goggles, his vision became sharper, more precise. The green film of the night vision goggles was replaced by a murderous crimson. Everything he perceived was red, shades of blood that dabbled with lighter shades almost but not quite reaching the color orange.

  “They’re hurting the person you love. You’re not going to let that stand, are you?”

  Moving with more speed than he ever had before, Christian bull-dozed right into the midst of goblins attacking Lilith with a furious roar. Before they even had time to be startled, Christian’s first target, the goblin with the knife, found his knife hand removed when Rafael sliced through the flesh of his forearm with so much ease that the skin, bone, and muscle might as well have been made of cardboard. The hand flew off, the knife going a separate direction. The stump spurted, releasing the goblin’s lifeblood onto the ground.

  “Of course, you’re not. These monsters hurt her. You want to kill them. It’s only fair. They’re trying to kill your woman. They must repent with their lives.”

  As that goblin squealed, a sound not unlike a dying pig, Christian spun around. He moved his body in an arc, extending Rafael and Michael. Michael’s dark blade severed a goblin’s head. At the same time, he used Rafael parried a thrust aimed at his side, moved the attacking weapon―a dull and rusty sword—aside, and then he thrust it forward, piercing that goblin’s chest, right in between the third and fourth scapula.

  “Do not worry. I will grant you the power you need.”

  A yank of the blade freed Rafael from its place in between the rib cage, dark crimson spraying free. Before the goblin corpse could fall to the ground, Christian pounded the dead creature’s chest with a swift and powerful heel kick. There was a concussive noise, like a miniature shock wave, and then the dead body was sent flying into the goblin that was behind Lilith and set to bash her head in with a club. That goblin went down in a heap of limbs and, before it could stand up, Christian whipped out Phaneul, loaded it, and unloaded a bullet right between its eyes.

  “Don’t let up. Make them suffer.”

  By that point in time, the succubi that Christian had been with reached the horde and crashed into them with the fury of a raging tempest, a maelstrom of incredible power. The succubi’s formation, shaped like an arrow pierced deep into the mass of enemies, and then spread out to push the goblins back. They sliced through their adversaries with swords and daggers and dirks of all kinds. Blood sprayed out of large wounds, enemies found themselves being cut apart, dozens of lacerations appearing all over them.

  “That’s right. Keep at it. Let them know your fury. Let them feel your rage. Do not allow their attack on your woman to go unpunished.”

  Christian ignored the arrival of the succubi, for the most part, only taking abstract note of their presence on the battlefield. All his attention was focused entirely on the goblins before him, the foolish, heathenistic beasts who dared to attack his Lilith. He was going to kill them. He was going to slaughter them. He was going to massacre them in such a way that their blood and organs painted the walls, the floor, and the ceiling.

  “Kill...”

  “Kill them...”

  “Slaughter every last one of them!”

  And he was going to enjoy it.

  Letting out another roar, one that contained all his anger and rage at these monsters, Christian began hacking away. Each brutal slash was unsophisticated and unrefined, containing none of the technique, elegance, and finesse of his normal maneuvers. Not that grace mattered here. When each swing struck something, supple poise and nimbleness meant little. A limb would fall either way.

  Christian watched, smiling as Rafael carved a deep, bloody furrow into the chest of a goblin. It screamed its agony to the world before the harsh, guttural noise was abruptly cut off when Michael removed the goblin’s head.

  He spun, then, lashing out at another enemy, hacking off the creature’s arm before sinking the other sword tip first into its torso. With a grunt of effort, his muscles strained, and then he tore the sword through muscle and bone with savage simplicity. The goblins upper torso was cleaved from its lower torso, the two halves flying in opposite directions.

  A deep, aching pain spread out from his left arm as it was hit by something hard. He could feel the humerus bone break. He could also feel as the two broken halves were snapped back together less than a second later. An unpleasant feeling that caused lances of agony to jolt up his arm, but one that his anger made easy to ignore.

  He turned toward the one that had attacked him, a goblin with a club, wearing nothing but a loin cloth. It had a stupid look on its face, but then, most goblins did so that wasn’t surprising. He swung Michael upwards in a diagonal slash from its position near his hip. The blade etched a long, deep trench into the goblin’s torso. Dark plasma spouted out of the wound in an almost graceful parabolic arc before painting the ground in splatters of vermillion.

  Sharp pain stabbed at his back. Something wet began flowing, blood. His blood. Bellowing in outrage, Christian twirled around and smashed the pommel of Rafael into the nearest goblin’s face. His blood sang with joy as he felt bones crunch under the savage assault. He could see the nose shattering, the face caving in as the bones in thei
r skull were crushed. He was sure that attack had also destroyed the beast’s brain, as the thing dropped backwards, twitching once before going still.

  His teeth bared, Christian’s challenging call echoed throughout the tunnel. The nearest goblin turned its head. That same head was split down the center when Christian swung Michael downwards. The ground became coated in carnelian fluids again as the swing continued, cutting through the rest of the monster’s body.

  Christian, his breathing heavy and his shoulders and chest heaving, glared around for more enemies to butcher. When he realized there were none left, he gritted his teeth. Anger was still coursing through his system, violent and uncontrolled. He wanted more blood. Needed more. Only there wasn’t any more enemies that needed to die. Everything he could kill was dead.

  But no. That wasn’t quite true, was it? He could kill those women, too. They were up for grabs. It would be easy. So easy. All he needed to do was charge them. He could cut them and slice them and rip them apart to his heart’s content. He could―

  “Ch-Christian...?”

  His thoughts were arrested. They came to a screeching halt as a voice echoed in his ears. The voice was scared, maybe even terrified. There was a quiver, a trembling in the tone that denoted fear. But still, even afraid as it was, he knew that voice. Somewhere deep within his mind, past the maelstrom of hatred that had risen to the surface, he recognized it.

  The darkness from his mind receded. The desire to slaughter, maim, and relish in the feeling of his enemies’ blood staining his hands withdrew, slowly, until it disappeared altogether. And yet, while the hatred and yearning for blood and gore was gone, the anger was not.

  He turned around and saw Lilith, still lying on the ground, still holding her bleeding leg. She was staring at him, her eyes wide and round, almost too round to be even remotely human. Her mouth was agape, ruby red lips spread open to create an extensive space of shock and horror. Christian could probably fit his fist in her mouth it was so wide.

  The red came back.

  Lilith squeaked as Christian stomped up to her. He ignored the sounds of shouting behind him, of Heather calling his name. Without even stopping his march, he grabbed Lilith by the arm, ignoring her yelp as he hauled her to her feet and liberally dragged her through the cave. His ears were deaf to her whimpers, his body ignored her stumbles as he pulled her along behind him.

  They reached the entrance to the enclave, a small door made of wood. Christian kicked the door open, a loud bang resounding as it smashed against the wall. He proceeded through. Then he slammed the door shut with his foot.

  Lilith’s back was then pressed against the wall, his hands on either side of her body, his eyes locking her body in place, save for its leaf-like shaking.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he hissed. Lilith’s chest hitched, her eyes grew even wider. She didn’t answer, causing Christian’s anger to skyrocket. “What the hell was that? Why did you follow me?” Lilith still didn’t answer, though her trembling increased in intensity. “Answer me, dammit!”

  “Ch-Christian... I―”

  “Don’t realize how dangerous that was? How stupid? You could have been killed! Did you even stop to think about that? If I hadn’t heard you and arrived when I did, you would have been dead, just another statistic. Those goblins would have murdered you.”

  “I just wanted to help.” Lilith looked down. Several droplets of clear, crystalline liquid ran down her fair cheeks, dripping off her chin and onto the floor.

  For some reason, her words made Christian even more enraged. “Oh, you wanted to help? I see? So you thought you would render some aid? That you could actually do something to help us fight against those goblins? What a great idea. You really helped us out there. Truly, you were such spectacular help. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

  Maybe it was his tone of voice, or maybe something in Lilith just snapped at his thickly layered sarcasm, but when she looked up at him, her eyes, despite the tears flowing down them, were narrowed into a glare.

  “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Christian. It might not have been the greatest idea, but―”

  “It wasn’t a good idea at all! It was the furthest thing from a good idea!!” Christian all but roared as he smashed his hands into the rock wall, cracking it and causing Lilith to flinch. “It was the dumbest, most asinine idea I have ever seen. You’re not stupid, Lilith. I know this. How you could make such an unintelligent and brainless decision is beyond me.”

  The words, once again, caused whatever fear Lilith had at Christian’s actions to be driven back. “Then maybe you should try standing in my shoes for a change,” Lilith snarled at him. Christian felt surprised as the blond woman glowered, her eyes narrowed into a look that was fierce and determined, her teeth gnashed together in anger. “I sit around all day while you go out and fight, constantly putting yourself in danger. Do you know how worried I get? I’m always wondering if you’re going to make it back to me. Do you know how that feels? How much it hurts to sit there, twiddling my thumbs, waiting and worrying for you to return to me? It’s agonizing. Every time you go out, my chest aches! It hurts! Don’t you dare tell me that my decision was wrong when you haven’t lived a day in my shoes!”

  In other circumstances, Lilith’s words would have touched Christian’s heart, would have made his feelings for her soar. Not today. All they did in that moment was increase the rage he was feeling.

  “And you think that makes what you did any more intelligent? Lilith, you can’t fire a gun, you don’t know how to use a sword or even a knife, and you don’t know the first thing about combat. You have no talent when it comes to fighting. You’re absolutely useless in a battle. All you do is get in the way.”

  Christian knew the moment he said those words that they were the wrong thing to say. The second they left his lips, his eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but a part of him already knew that it was too late.

  “Lilith, I...”

  Lilith’s eyes were already filled with frustrated and angry tears welled up. Her lips quivered, while small, sniffling sounds started escaping her. “So that’s what you really think of me?” Lilith’s voice, tainted with sorrow and something else, something that Christian could not identify but caused his heart to feel an acute sting all the same, filled her voice. “You think I’m useless? That all I do is get in the way? That I can’t do anything right?” Her shoulders, already shaking, began to tremble with greater magnitude. “I guess you’re right. Every time we’ve been in trouble, I haven’t been able to do anything. You’re always the one protecting me, always putting yourself on the line for my sake. All I do is stand there and watch as you get yourself hurt for me.”

  “Lilith, that’s not...”

  “I mean, it’s not like I did anything to help when you fought Damien.”

  Christian felt like a sledgehammer had slammed into his gut, all the air leaving his lungs.

  “And I was practically helpless against Asmodeus.”

  His knees began trembling, shaking as they weakened from her sharp, biting words, stained with the anguish of someone who’s love had just hurt her.

  “I suppose all I’m good for is sex, huh?”

  Lilith looked up at him, crying, small trails of liquid streaming from her eyes, creating a glistening trail across her cheeks. Her tears were like a blow to the face. They hurt far worse than any physical pain ever could.

  Christian tried to speak. He wanted to say something, to apologize. But he couldn’t. Something was lodged inside his throat. Maybe it was the guilt, or maybe it was just the last remnants of a fool’s stubborn pride. Whatever it was, it kept him from speaking.

  “This isn’t going to work, is it?” She smiled at him, and every negative emotion, all the anger, his wrathful displeasure brought about by a deep-seated fear for Lilith’s safety, evaporated faster than a winters breeze in the summer heat, leaving him feeling empty, save for a single emotion: regret. “You and I, we’re not working
out. I thought we would, hoped that we would, but the two of us, even if we’re genetically compatible, we’re just too different. We come from different backgrounds, different walks of life. We can’t even begin to understand each other.”

  Christian’s arms were like led. No longer able to bear their weight, he let them drop to hang limply at his side.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. The pain in her voice, an almost physical anguish that made Christian feel like his entire body had been split wide open, was too much for him to bear. “We should have never been involved with each other. All of this was a mistake.”

  Christian’s eyes opened wide. He opened his mouth to say something, to tell her that they were not a mistake, that even now, they could make things work out, but the words would not come. They wouldn’t emerge because he was a coward. Because facing death was nothing compared to owning up to your own mistakes.

  Instead of speaking, he tried to raise his hand, hoping to stop Lilith, but his arms would not move. He stood there and watched, silently, as the woman he had fallen in love with, betrayed his colleagues for, dedicated his life too, and cherished more than anything else in the world ran out on him.

  For a second, he stared at the door as it slammed shut. His mind shut down, incapable of remaining cognizant for even a second longer. He couldn’t endure the thought of what he had done, couldn’t withstand the guilt that threatened to consume him, nor could he begin to stomach the self-loathing that overwhelmed him like a deluge of sin.

  Rage overtook him after that. Anger, not at Lilith, but at himself. Choleric guilt overpowered his mind. Self-loathing overwhelmed his every sense. With an enraged scream, Christian slammed his fist against the wall, leaving a deep imprint in the stone.

  Not enough. The pain wasn’t enough. He slammed his fist against the stone wall again. And again. And again. The wall dented and cracked, and his fist bled and broke, and still he continued to crash his fist against natural stone. He ignored the carnelian liquid splattering against the wall. He couldn’t feel the pain as the knuckles as his fist broke, healed, then broke again. He could feel nothing. Nothing but the agony that was wrenching his heart, the suffering that came from the knowledge that it was his words that had driven Lilith away from him. He had let his anger get the better of him, let the worry that had been so hard to deal turn into the fury that had lashed out at the woman he loved, and now it was coming to bite him in the worst way possible.