Dante & The Dark Seed

by C. J. Pizzurro

  The Ashy One, Asmodeus, hasn’t made itself known to me again. Meeting him was by far the most perplexing oddity of my life and, while I should be terrified knowing he will one day show up out of the blue, I am not. Not even in the slightest am I fearful. On the contrary, if I’m full of anything, I’m full of regret that I hadn’t taken full advantage of the situation. The being was capable of making my gun dissipate with the simple flick of its ashy wrists. He showed me what I alone could not remember and then breached a veil into another world not belonging to us. I can only imagine what could happen by having an alliance with entities of the sort, but yet again, here I sit wondering what Dante would think.

  Also, I find myself understanding how Scrooge must have wondered when another unknown spirit showed itself and illuminated him of the events of the past and/or future, or better still, different perspectives of the present. My instincts tell me that it certainly wasn’t the first time and the probability of it being the last is anything but a non sequitur.

  With the last scribble of Dawayne’s pen, he noticed a shine, so he blew on the paper. The sun had begun to set, so Dawayne closed his journal and went inside. Many of his mother’s things had been thrown out already. Dawayne found it amusing that his friend hadn’t suspected a thing, and the home was now much easier to traverse, not having to sift through her garbage. All he could think about was how much Dante wanted to believe the best in people even though the evidence proved contrary. I was really quick to clean her filth out, but he never wanted to imagine that I could do what I’ve done.

  He opened the fridge. A smile grew, gazing into the cornucopia, daydreaming of how much better his life would become now that no one was encumbering him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Necklace

  A black Bentley pulled up to a gate with a large, golden letter M across the front. There was a small gatehouse with a white roof and golden owls adorning each corner of its roof. On each side of the gate were venerable, massive, stone walls, covered in moss, looking fluorescent in the light.

  As the car stopped, the guard from the gatehouse greeted him. Not recognizing the vehicle, the man in the black Bentley window lowered his window.

  “How may I help you?”

  Shrouded in the shadow, the man leaned forward so his face could be seen.

  “Oh! My apologies, Mr. Tropfin, I’ll open the gate for you right away.”

  Rip leered at him as he ran. “Tim!” Rip roared.

  Tim ran back to Rip’s car.

  “I only drive two cars here, make it a point to remember mine or you’ll just make yourself look like a fool again.”

  Tim swallowed, as Rip drove through the gate. “Won’t happen again, sir!”

  “What an idiot,” Rip scoffed, driving into the dense woods. There were only a few places in all of North Carolina with an old-money appeal, but this estate was built to have an ancient money appeal. The collective foliage blotted out most of the sun’s light, letting only slivers touch the ground. Some of the trees were hundreds if not thousands of years old. There were mighty oaks that were as wide as some parts of I-40.

  Rip would never bite the hands that fed him, and feed his family well, they did. But after his last meeting with his colleagues here at the estate, he no longer knew of where he stood amongst them, and hoped his shortcomings were superseded by what he had done to advance their cause.

  As the year came to a close their coffers would be replenished, and the same would go for Rip after filling the requirement for harvest. Ahead of him, there was enough light coming through the canopy to see a golden pyramid had been installed atop a brick foundation. There was a matte black letter K beneath it, and a sphinx cast in limestone on each side. Looking regal, each one had their paws crossed.

  Rip began seeing cars belonging to his cohorts. The estate had most of its original bones for the past six generations, but its latest inheritor had paid top dollar to erect walls of dirt to surround it. And, with the forest being so dense, the manor couldn’t be seen until he drove closer. Seeing who Rip called “friends,” he got out and made his way inside with them.

  • • •

  A black SUV crept to just outside the view of the camera at the front gate. It was Adel Saleh, looking as buff as he had on the force.

  Tim rose from his seat and left his post to see who it was.

  Adel put the car in park and got out, waving his hands. “I need some help!” he shouted.

  Tim shook his head but jogged closer anyway.

  “I need some help. Can ya help me?” Adel asked as Tim inched closer with trepidation.

  “What do you need, sir?”

  “I need you to tell me everything you know!”

  Adel balled his hand into a fist and threw it one violent time into the side of Tim’s head, knocking him out. Before Tim could even hit the ground, Adel caught him and threw his limp body in the back seat, then peeled off in a hurry.

  • • •

  Unaware of the incident out front, the men kept up with the pleasantries making their way through the corridor into yet another grand room where black cloaks were draped. Around their necks hung a golden necklace and pendant, each with a detailed seal upon the front.

  They left the room side by side, making their way into another space through a door-less limestone entryway. It reeked of musk and iron. Entering the room, they gathered around a large, stone ceremonial collecting bowl, already full of a dark liquid with a metallic sheen. Above it, was a metallic, medical-grade, angled table with leather straps, one for each limb and a strap at the bottom. But the strap nearest the bottom was darker than the others.

  Like the entryway, the walls were barren stone. At the corner nearest the door, in sparse light, the black and gold grandfather clock tolled six. The men widened their stance, and no less than six seconds after the clock tolled, another cloaked man entered. He was followed by a cloaked feminine figure, and, beside her, was a girl no older than nine shrouded in the shadows. Walking into the light, the blonde-haired girl held on tight to the woman’s hand, struggling to hold herself up.

  Her pupils were the size of nickels, as she was brought beside the table and left to stand on her own. She wobbled standing there, unaware of the gravitas as she gazed up to the light with the faintest of smiles on her face.

  The male figure raised his hands, looked around the room, drawing breath. “Normally, I’d offer you the pleasantries of bearing witness to the offerings we gave earlier today, but we’ve had to accelerate our plan, and here we are with the seventh offering to our ally below in hopes that he will grace us with his presence.”

  Together, the man and the woman lifted the girl, spun her around then strapped her in with her feet pointing toward the heavens. With her head pointed toward the bowl below the cloaked man tightened the darkened strap around her forehead, and even still her face bore a smile. The woman knelt, pulling out a knife from underneath her cloak. It had an ornate design with a hilt of carved bone with blots of brown stains. The blade too was ornate with a curved edge, reflecting light throughout.

  Seeing that his partner was ready with the knife, the man raised his hands once more facing the cloaked men.

  “Lord of lords, fire of fires and keeper of secrets, we summon thee unto our realm. Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Oh Infernal One. ASMODEUS! We offer this child and her blood to you in hopes you will endow us with your wisdom, OH, LORD OF LORDS!”

  The men summoned from their bellies a guttural tone. Slowly, they sang the name of the lord they wished to summon.

  Their collective voices reverberated, making the walls vibrate. The woman raised the knife to the girl's throat.

  The men chanted louder.

  She then cut the girl from ear to ear, further filling the bowl beneath the table. Her smile faded and the man pulled the lever. The stone bowl tilted emptying itself of its contents into the lined striations in the stone, and what light was left in her eyes, faded.

  As the blo
od flowed through the ruts, it began to glow with the same light of those offered that day. The light then changed, making the blood glow like embers as it coursed down the track, illuminating the room. The men quieted as they watched the blood work its way around the last few ridges until it collected into pools six feet apart. As it commingled and the last of the remaining fluid ran through the ruts like coal, it changed to an ashy grey.

  A speck of a wisp appeared in the air between the dimming pools. The wisp expanded and, like a bog, the wisp spread, filling the room. At its center, a gray, oversized hand appeared, then another. Parting the wisp like a curtain, the tips of Asmodeus’s horns appeared. He stepped through in all in his sooty glory, towering over everything in the room.

  His eyes were as pitch black as a black hole, consuming the light. The man, who was Master of Ceremonies, raised his hands in praise. “My Lord! Thank you for gracing us with your presence!”

  Asmodeus took a few steps forward, staring at the girl on the table. “You really did rush the offerings today, didn’t you? I relish in seeing them when you convene with me.”

  The Master of Ceremonies stepped forward. “I apologize my Lord I….”

  Asmodeus held up his hand, scoffing. “Let me guess, your timetables have moved up.” Asmodeus walked toward them and, upon waving his hand, diminished in size as the men came to meet him.

  “Yes, my Lord, one amongst our ranks has continually failed to protect the order of things.”

  “Was it not my idea to go on the offensive and just kill him?” Rip asked.

  The MC jerked his eyes from the Dark Lord. “This is about much more than Adel!”

  Asmodeus stomped his foot, shaking the floor beneath them. “Are you done, humans?”

  Rip stepped forward facing Asmodeus. “My apologies my Lord.”

  “Let’s just stop wasting time, shall we?”

  “Yes, my Lord,” Rip said, taking a step back.

  “What has become of the girl?” Asmodeus asked.

  “She is alive and well, still in the care of her family. The necklace was completed by our blacksmith this morning. We thought it might be best if one of our own gives the necklace to the boy as a gift, through the mail.”

  “So progressive you think your straight-forward approach is. That won’t get you anywhere, fools,” Asmodeus scoffed.

  “What would you recommend we do, Dark One?” the MC asked.

  Rip suggested, “I could give the boy the necklace.”

  Asmodeus laughed. “So quick to forget the last time you encountered him, he came close to ending you, didn’t he? If given the opportunity, he’d surely relieve you of that empty vessel between your shoulders.”

  Rip stepped forward. “I haven’t been able to forget that day, my Lord. But I know he wasn’t able to that on his own. Every human before him was easy to discard. His eyes were as black as yours….”

  The rest of them heard the stories but never thought that Rip would have the audacity to respond to the Ashy One as he had. Aghast, they stepped back.

  “Oh, how I love when humans stand up for themselves. You think yourselves so important and yet have no idea what plans have been made for your kind.” Asmodeus leaned forward, looking Rip in the eyes. “If I had my way, I’d snap each of your necks, but I, too, need earthly allies.”

  Asmodeus turned his back to them.

  “The boy is no different, long have we been watching him. So, who are you to think that you could snare one of our own?

  Rip removed his cowl. “We had no idea.”

  “Ha, seldomly, have you any idea. Do you think keeping humans ignorant has been easy? Eons it’s taken to mold them into the flock they are, but there will always be those that fight back, the disgusting light-filled variety.”

  Rip stared at Asmodeus remembering the day Dante’s eyes illuminated as he left the confines of his chains.

  “The boy Dawayne is closer to Dante than any of you will ever be. And, alone, has the greatest chance to subvert the enemy.”

  “What would you recommend we do then, my Lord?” the MC asked.

  “Where is the necklace?”

  An unknown member scurried off, and came back, bowing before handing Asmodeus the necklace. It was a dark metal that had innumerable star symbols with a green orb at its center. The pedant was emerald green with black veins.

  “We built it to the specifications, Dark One,” the person said backing away.

  “Good, good…then everything should so go as planned once the boy gives it to her. Are there other concerns that require discourse before I depart?

  Confused, Rip asked, “And how will you give the boy the necklace?”

  “The boy is rather fond of me, so I will.”

  “Very wise of you, Dark One,” Rip said noticing the MC’s glares.

  “My Lord…” the MC said.

  Asmodeus looked unto him.

  “…My Lord…WE have no other pressing matters to discuss. I trust you’ll be available via black mirror if anything arises.”

  Rip glared back then put his cowl up, walking through the group toward the door.

  Asmodeus looked to Rip then the MC. “You humans have always surprised me with the depth of control you say you want, and yet you squawk amongst each other like so….”

  Rip stopped amongst the crowd, listening.

  “You may be surprised with what you could accomplish when you work together or would you rather liken yourselves to the discourse of Cain and Abel, beating the other over the head. You decide, humans.”

  Asmodeus walked back toward the wisp and into it, disappearing from sight. The wisp dissipated, darkening the room once more.

  Rip kept walking, muttering under his breath, “I don’t need this crap. I’ve done enough for them.” Rip broke free from the group and had begun making his way toward the entryway.

  “Brother Rip!” the MC shouted.

  Rip stopped.

  “The Ashy One is right, Rip.”

  Everyone turned to Rip, after paying him no mind just a moment ago.

  “We have been too hard on you, Rip. I’ve forgotten that you have been on the front lines for so long, acquiring ingredients.” Rip turned around and, with his face still shrouded, he smiled. He had been hoping to catch a break today and catch a break, he did.

  “Come, brother Rip,” the MC said, offering his hand in friendship.

  The sea of black robes parted for him to, once again, make way to the front, so he went and stood next to the Master of Ceremonies. “Now I know we’re not all the forgiving bunch, but who are we to cast aside exhortation from a being that has seen the rise and fall of man on many an occasion. It is because of the other faction that you have failed, I see that now. Where you fail, we fail.”

  The Master of Ceremonies looked around, then grabbed Rip by the shoulder. “…We pull and they push. They always will, as will we. Adel is our problem, so we will no longer expect you to take care of it by your lonesome. What has happened, happened, and there shall it remain.”

  There was newfound energy in the room that was not there before the Ashy One's words, but in their minds, the words had long since been warranted.

  “Well, enough of that,” the MC said, pulling a walkie-talkie from his hip, shooing everyone but Rip and the woman away. “Tim, come in.”

  • • •

  Adel drove down the road like a man possessed through the thicket of trees ranging in shades of yellows, reds, and evergreens. With both hands bare knuckling the steering wheel, he looked behind him trying to stay on the road, hoping that he hadn’t killed the young man.

  “Wake up!” Adel yelled.

  Tim began to stir.

  Adel kept his eyes on the road, belting, “WAKE UP!”

  “I’M UP, I’M UP! JESUS! WHERE THE FRICK AM I?”

  “Oh, thank God I didn’t kill you.”

  “Same question, where the frick am I?!”

  “You’re in my car, what does it look like?”

  Adel fo
rgot for a moment that he wasn’t a cop any longer. No matter what Tim knew, he was well within his rights to press charges.

  Tim tried freeing himself of the zip ties around his wrists.

  “Hey, I’m Adel Saleh, former Police Chief of Pittsboro PD, I apologize but I need you to tell me about the people you work for.”

  “I don’t know about you, Mr. Adel, but if I tell you anything, I’m as good as dead.”

  “Why do you think I want you to tell me what you know? I want to stop these people from hurting anyone ever again. Tell me what you know. You look like the kind of guy who wants to do the right thing.”

  “Was punching me the right thing?”

  “Listen! I’m sorry about that, I am, but one of those people took my son and God knows however many kids. He let my kid go for some reason and now that I know he’s safe, I’m coming for every single one of those kid nabbers…every single one of ’em.”

  Tim saw how serious he was, recollecting the immeasurable horrors he had seen throughout his life. Maybe Adel was the one who could put an end to all this.

  The sound of static filled their ears.

  “Tim, come in.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Dharma Be Damned

  “Tim, come in.”

  Both Tim and Adel’s eyes widened. In his haste, Adel remembered that he hadn’t searched Tim before tossing him in the car. So he jerked the wheel, almost veering into a loblolly pine, stopping with a few feet to spare.

  “Don’t say anything! Not a peep!” Adel yelled.

  With the adrenaline coursing through Tim’s veins, wide-eyed, he hadn’t thought to tell Adel his intentions before he leaped out of the car. Adel’s eyes hadn’t lost their intensity as he flung the back door open and started patting Tim down.