by Mink, Jason
"Open your eyes, Sister Io," a voice whispered in her ear.
"No."
For what seemed like forever there was nothing but the sound of the ocean.
"Why?"
Annie felt the wind pick up slightly. The sensation of the sun on her skin grew warmer, the previously-subtle scents more concentrated.
"Why would I need to? I know this place like I know my reflection in a mirror."
Another pause, but this one shorter.
"But do you not wish to have it again? You can dwell here forever, find the peace you seek in your own past…"
Annie's body grew heavy, damp with sweat. Her tongue swelled with the taste of salt but she interrupted the voice as it spoke.
"You can't give this to me. It's already mine."
"But to you it is only a memory."
A sense of nostalgia swept over her, as the tide washed around her feet. She knew, deep down, that she did want to open her eyes, that she desperately wished to gaze across the placid surface of that ocean one final time. But she knew to do so would be folly.
"A memory of my childhood is all it can ever be. That's okay. I don't need to live in it.
"You would deny my gift to you?" the voice asked, now loud, hot in her ear. The pressure to look was becoming unbearable, all of her previous impressions amplified ten-fold.
"You can't give me what I've already left behind! Even I know there's no going back. "
And while the sense of external oppression continued to grow Annie felt as though a great weight had been lifted. While she had understood the truth in the words she had just said she had never been able to accept it in the way she could now. It was a hard-won revelation, nothing that anyone might give her, and it was all her own.
"If that's all you have then go away. I'm not impressed."
There was a brashness in her words, a confidence that seemed to enrage the presence beside her. A blast of scalding wind hit Annie, bringing with it the stench of ruination and doom. The sand beneath her feet shifted, was suddenly alive and writhing with countless stinging things. They quickly entangled her ankles, punctured her flesh in a dozen places. Annie heard herself wail, the pain unspeakable, but kept her eyes squeezed shut. The surf slammed into her then, sweeping her under the tide. She hadn't had the chance to hold her breath and felt the sea-foam fill her mouth and nostrils. Painful seconds passed, until at last the tide was swept out again. Something grabbed her by the hair, yanked her up into a standing position.
"LOOK!"
Annie felt her skin burst then, as the hundreds of lids that slept beneath her flesh snapped open. Enraged, she gazed upon His presence.
~*~
Ashton stood on the veranda and watched the sun rise.
"More wine, Brother?"
He turned to Zak and smiled. "Please. Mine seems to have evaporated."
Zak filled his glass then set the bottle on the railing beside them.
"That's one hell of a sunset," Zak said, following Ashton's gaze.
"Sunrise, actually," he gently corrected his friend.
Zak shrugged. "So who's counting?"
"Not me. Not anymore."
Just then Chloe was there beside them. She wrapped herself around his arm and purred into his ear.
"So this is where you've been hiding yourself," she said with mock accusation. "Why don't you come and join the party?" She turned him from the glowing sky and towards the open veranda doors.
The room was full of revelers, dozens of people dressed in the formal attire of an earlier time. All were laughing, carousing, spilling more champagne than they drank. Ashton recognized faces old and new: there was Gisarme Duarte, who had cornered Erica in order to recite his latest poem. Wilma Randolph sat at the center of a circle of admirers, among them Adam, William Bell and Father Barlow. Old Sally Mae Cresker was dancing a wild jig, encouraged by members of her congregation. Her colorless stick-legs flashed and spun through the smoky air to the music of iFFF, who played a bizarre atonal European folk-melody upon the shadowed stage. A number of children ran recklessly through the gathered party-goers; though they also wore little tuxedos and chic dresses, hand-painted FUN BUNNIES masks hid their faces. Over by the bar Michael and Marie Shea were having a merry discussion with grandfather Wertham, who caught his eye. He gestured him over, but Ashton only smiled. Chloe nudged him.
"Aren't you going to go in?"
"Sometimes I like the party better from the outside," he said, leaning against the railing.
"But isn't this what you want?" Chloe asked.
Ashton nodded. "Of course. It's all I've ever wanted. It's what I was born for."
"I see there is no need to convince you."
The voice beside him was no longer Chloe's but, deep down, he knew it never was.
"Of course not. But thank you anyway. It is the perfection I have so long sought."
He looked across the crowded room, to where two men stood. Even with their backs turned it was clear some conflict was occurring between them.
"Your Brother Helios is an exceptionally-difficult man."
Ashton nodded, sipping his now-tasteless wine.
"Yes. But Brother Iris has always had a way with… difficult cases."
"Indeed," said the voice beside him. "Let us see."
~*~
Baxter watched as it all fell apart.
The manor went first, swallowing itself in a sudden violent collapse. For a moment it seemed as though the building was being gathered, folded into a jagged handful of peaks and angles; abruptly the towering mass was no more, reduced to a hole in the shifting earth before him. The semi-circle of trees that surrounded the building quickly followed suit, toppling in a domino effect. The air was filled with the sound of splitting timber and the scent of sap as the surrounding forest collapsed like a cheap theater set. His view now unobscured, Baxter could see the distant mountains already beginning to fall. They simply slid apart as if loosing their will to stand, slipping down into the valley with a deafening roar. It was happening all around him now, total and utter destruction as far as the eye could see. It went on forever; just when it seemed to be ebbing the sky went out, bursting in a rain of razored shards. As they fell they cut the world away, in the end leaving nothing but a raw, tattered void.
With a sigh Baxter began to put it back together. He'd lost count of his failures, knowing only that he seemed to get closer every time.
"What are you doing, Brother?"
Baxter ignored the voice, focusing on the task at hand. Sweeping the previous world's remains away he began again. Planting a seed of fire at the center of the whirling mass of potentiality, he carefully began to coat it with layer after layer of fine cosmic dust, over time crafting a minute sphere. The effort was exhausting but he knew he could not afford to pause, lest his creation be swept back into the void. He added more and more mass to the sphere, keeping it spinning as he did.
"Knowles!"
His concentration broken, Baxter's baby planet went to pieces.
"Damn it!"
Baxter turned away from his failed creation but found he could not escape the voice.
"What you seek to do is impossible, Knowles. You cannot restore your world; only He can. Join the others. Return to the circle! He commands it!"
Even though Baxter had never heard him speak, he knew the voice in his head was that of Clautney Iris. The old man had been tormenting him for what seemed like months in this void, the only thing in here other than himself. There was no escape from this place, save through the terrible old man, but Baxter had thus far managed to resist his will. He'd been determined to find his own way out, but it was clear the Magician at last had grown weary of his resistance. Something was happening to the blank expanse that always surrounded him, for the first time taking on a form and hue other than one Baxter had created.
The air seethed a nitid green. It filled his vision, a miasma of fever-dream boiling up all around him. There was nowhere to go, no up or down to the real
m he found himself trapped within. He could only scream, immobile before the kaleidoscope of horrors which opened out before him. Each vision merged into the next, etched in a jagged black across the shifting green's surface: a verminous moon leering down upon a black and broken corpse-world; vast burning deserts adorned with towers of jagged bone; a lifeless sea which surged and roiled in an endless midnight, its tide rising to swallow the stars themselves.
Baxter watched endless suffering inflicted only to break him, flickering images of robed figures torturing his family and friends. As they begged for his help legions of plague-mad revelers danced down the burning air, leading a circus of limitless atrocity. Slaves made to serve as horses pulled curtained carriages made of flesh and exposed muscle while others were caged, altered by costume or surgery to resemble wild animals such as snakes and lions. All shrieked, howled, banged out the incessant rhythm of the parade, their faces all different and yet the same.
"No…"
Baxter found himself reaching desperately to stay the maddening visions, trying to hold back the bile and endless corpse-tide but it was intangible, unreachable, filling the void around him. He was forced to watch as endless innocents were raped and tortured, consumed as food by flickering masses of shadow and light. He beheld nightmare gardens bloom within sewer pipes, pale flowers spreading to human skin, a rainbow of bombs falling from a hole in the sky.
"NO!"
For one moment there was a pause in the chaos, a ripple of stillness that spread across the liquid-green. Then the madness redoubled, a tide of malignancy that surged over him, sweeping him into an ocean of hellish impressions; Annie, her veil of eyes shredded, blind and alone; Chloe, a brittle thing of ice afraid to move; Zak becoming a creature of the forest and slaying Adam in a blood-mad frenzy; Erica being subsumed into the fruiting-body that now was Clautney Iris, drawn back behind the panel and into his smothering embrace. Ashton smiled as she screamed, his long crooked teeth scissoring open and closed. He turned to him and Baxter was falling then, dropping into the yawning chasm that opened out below. Reflexively he reached forward and to his surprise found Ashton's extended hand.
"It is done!"
Then Baxter was back with the others, floating roughly a foot above the parlor floor. Tricked. He'd been tricked...! He tried to draw back but it was already too late. All seven had again linked hands; the Circle was once again complete. Ashton spoke and the world burned.
TWENTY-ONE
NOW
"Take it!"
Daniel refused. "Keep your weapon. I don't need it."
Zak glared at the bearded stranger. "What is with you, anyway?"
Wordlessly Daniel opened his long coat, to reveal a home-made vest of duct tape and explosives.
"Sixteen sticks of dynamite attached to a trip-switch at the tip of my fingers. I pick my nose and you, me and the top of this mountain are vapor." Zak just shook his head.
“We don't need your dynamite.” To make his point, Zak fished the small sack from out his pocket and Baxter's eyes widened. "The artifact! Where did you get it?"
Zak smiled. "Believe it or not, I found it in the study. I guess Ashton got over-confident and just set it aside," he said, fingering the pouch. Daniel looked at Zak appreciatively. “That's all well and good, son, but that artifact is for preventing the crossing. Paq'q is already here.”
Zak's face fell, but Daniel kept talking. “It still has power, though. In the hands of a believer it can be... devastating.” Daniel hurriedly explained how it might be used and Zak nodded. He loaded the bow for Baxter, then handed it and the quiver over.
"Go on. I'll see you back at the manor." With that the two men left Zachary Andello alone on the hill to meet his fate. It started to rain just then, a sudden violent shower that swept across the desiccated garden. Baxter and Daniel hurriedly made their way back to the manor, re-entering through the open foyer doors.
"Damn it!" Daniel suddenly said. "We still don't now how to get down into the damn cavern!"
"Ah, shit," Baxter said, more than a little embarrassed. With all of the excitement he'd forgotten to ask Zak for directions.
"We have to find Annie and Erica. They'll know."
Outside, Adam had finally reached the top of the hill. He was flushed, breathless, and entirely surprised by who he found there. It was Zak, leaning idly against a warped and leafless bough.
"You've lost a step, brother," Zak said, considering the winded man. Though exhausted, Adam put on his best front, trying to catch his breath while steadily moving closer.
"You sound like you're happy about it. You know, after all of this, I'm gonna have to kill you."
Zak chuckled. "Is that so? That's fantastic, it really is. But before you do there's something I want you to have."
Adam faltered, suddenly wary.
Zak laughed again. "Don't worry. No one's gonna jump out and get you. It's just us. Listen. Do you remember that old man who came up to the manor seven years ago?"
Adam narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. What about him?"
"His name was Michael Shea. He was an amazing man. A stubborn, hard-nosed bastard, but amazing. Anyway, we got to talking once and I told him about you and your fascination with Clautney Iris. He gave me something to give to you." Zak held up the small leather pouch.
"What is it?" Adam asked, inching forward. He was within ten feet of Zak now.
"What if I told you it was Clautney Iris' pinky ring?"
Adam stopped. "I wouldn't believe you."
Zak smiled wider. "Well, that's always been your problem, hasn't it? You just can't bring yourself to really believe in anything. Even yourself."
For a moment neither spoke, with only the wind to echo their silence.
"Here, check it out," Zak tossed the sack to Adam, who caught it reflexively. A sudden bolt of lightning cleaved the hill's peak then, sending a plume of dirt and smoke twenty feet into the air. Zak was thrown forward by the force of the blast, sent tumbling down the shattered slope. A rain of hot stones pelted him as he rolled down the hillside, blistering the flesh where they struck. He struggled to catch his breath but the air was acrid, filled with dust and scorched ozone. Unsteadily Zak staggered out of the choking cloud and into fresher air. What was left of the hilltop was shrouded in smoke. Small fires burned in places where the wind had deposited smoldering leaves but nothing else stirred, the fire from above cleansing the earth of all but the memory of Adam Knox.
"Goodbye, Fenris." Zak limped off towards the manor.
~*~
The two prowlers were surprised by the loud explosion.
"Looks like I'm not the only one blowing things up tonight," Daniel said, pushing open the study doors. They were halfway across the room when without warning Baxter sagged. The old man stepped forward and deftly caught him, mindful of the loaded crossbow. "What's wrong?"
Baxter tried to speak but his throat had gone bone-dry. He hurried over to the large stone fireplace, stopping before the thick wooden panel.
"Step back."
Daniel did not ask why. There was something in Baxter's eyes, a black dread mixed with barely-contained rage. He watched the younger man reach down and flip a switch within the hearth, stepping back as the fireplace panel swung open. The horror was revealed then, a gray twisted face of impossible shape and proportion. Quickly stepping forward, Baxter placed the tip of the crossbow bolt between the bloated monstrosity's eyes and fired. There was a papery tear and the bolt vanished into the misshapen form, clinking impotently as it struck the stone of the fireplace behind it.
"What the fuck?"
Looking closely it was clear something had happened to Clautney Iris in the seven years since Baxter had first discovered him. Nothing remained but a husk, an empty shell devoid of the mordant life that had fueled it. Enraged, Baxter punched through it. The crust crumbled effortlessly - for a moment the swirling dust took on an iniquitous cast, assuming the shadow of a long-forgotten shape. Then it was gone, nothing but powder upon the dirty floor.
"We're done here."
Baxter re-loaded the crossbow as they left the brightly-lit room, slipping back out into the hallway.
"Where now?"
"Nowhere. You've reached the end of the road."
Both men turned, were startled to see Ashton patiently waiting for them. Metathias stood at his master's side, the massive elephant gun trained on the two of them.
"Put down the crossbow, please. I think it's caused enough damage for one night."
Baxter did as he was told but his mind was racing. He looked at Daniel, who only smiled.
"Introduce me to your friend, Brother," Ashton said, drawing close. "I like to meet those who enjoy the manor's hospitality."
Daniel stuck out his hand. "I'm Daniel Shea, sir."
Ashton looked from the older man to Baxter and back again, amazed.
"Shea? Shea! Oh, you can't be serious!" he roared with laughter. "But of course you are. It only makes sense…" He bowed his head reverently. "It is Paq'q's will that you be here, to atone for your family's sins against mine. He wishes to gaze upon you when He wakes, to make you the first of the new breed. It's all so perfect!"
Before Ashton could gloat any further, a robed figure sprang from the darkness, a rusty shovel in his white-knuckled hands. Zak swung wildly but the heavy blade found its mark, cleaving Metathias' skull cleanly down the middle. With a wheeze the manservant dropped, the top of his head splitting open as he did. The impact sent his corrupted knot of brain bouncing across the hardwood floor, skipping as a well-thrown stone might. Unsentimental, Ashton wrested the massive hunting rifle from the manservant's now-lax fingers and turned, firing both barrels at Zak. The blast hit him square and Zak's head and chest vanished in a cloud of crimson mist. He hit the ground already dead, his shovel clattering to the floor beside him.