by Bo Luellen
Edward winced in a mock embarrassment, “Well, that’s not exactly true. He did have some fun with the Brotherhood, but he was completely justified. In my opinion, that is. Well, you kids have a lot to discuss. I’ll keep the spell functioning for as long as it holds. I’ll take a stroll and let you enjoy your chat. I would say, ‘peace be with you, Juste,’ but unfortunately, that won’t be the case.”
He turned away and walked through the rows of tombstones of the Oakland Cemetery. As he found his way deeper into the heart of the graveyard, Edward passed by restless spirits who roamed the grounds. He spotted a concrete bench a few rows over that would still keep close enough to maintain the summoning spell on Juste. As he settled down on the cold bench, he took in the fresh burial mounds that dotted the frozen ground. The victims of the Crimson Brotherhood had caused the gravediggers to work overtime.
His gaze fell on a magnificent gothic pillar that stood a few plots over. The monument was made of black onyx and granite and sported a cherub sitting on its peak. In the center, a depiction of Satan sat on a throne of skulls and demons danced around him. On the edges were intricate carvings of Enochian symbols that read, “All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.”
A man’s voice crept out from behind the onyx column, “I see a beautiful new face with an old soul at his heart.”
Stepping out into the moonlight, Edward recognized the Morningstar. Dressed in a dark blue suit with a light blue shirt, the six-foot six-inch manifested demon gave him a knowing smile. His sandy blonde hair was bound in a high ponytail and flowed along his back down to his belt line. The thick beard was full but cut neatly in a rounded shape. The fallen angel looked like the most exquisite example of manhood. Save the horns that curled out of his forehead, and curved around to hover over his temples.
The light gleamed off the deep blue eyes of the Old Serpent, “Edward Tallman, you’ve emerged into the universe as a noble creature. You are ready to help those beneath you with an act of kindness for your human pets. Tabris would be so proud. Although, I suspect you’re more Henry Jekyll than Hyde now. Pity, but time will remedy that.”
Edward stood up, but still shorter by four inches, “Henry was a good man, and Hyde was a prideful deceiver. I’m neither. This act of kindness is as much for me as them. I would hate to mislead the Prince of Lies into thinking I’ve taken to acts of altruism.”
Satan put his hands in his pockets and shuffled closer, “I don’t think, I know. Your first act was to protect that nurse in the hospital and then take out your rage on those pathetic followers of Cthulhu. They meant to try and capture you, yet again. Third times a charm, as they say, but they were no match for you. You enjoyed ripping them to pieces. An auspicious birth, to say the least.”
The laughter of the invisible demonic hosts filled the air, as Edward observed, “And what a gift I’ve received. To have an audience with the Prince of the Power of the Air?”
Lucifer bent his head down and stared into his eyes, “Are you still in there Hyde? Rummaging around, waiting to see how this all plays out. You’re a ticking timebomb Edward Tallman. The instant you die, Hyde is unleashed again. That is, unless you found a way to complete the metamorphosis.”
Edward smiled, There’s the temptation.
Lucifer gave a look of surprise, “Oh, did Hyde not tell you he stopped the blending of your DNA on purpose, so if you died, he could be freed? I can see it in your eyes, he didn’t. Well, you shouldn’t blame him. If given a chance for a back door out of death, who wouldn’t take it? Be warned, you will never achieve your full potential as long as Hyde is siphoning off your energy to sustain his soul inside your own. He feeds off of you, draining your power and growing his. One day soon, he will either take you over, or your death will free him.”
Edward controlled his temper, “You offer this knowledge out of the kindness of your heart?”
Lucifer turned back towards the black pillar, “What gives you the right to show me such contempt? I’ve shown you the trap Hyde set, and yes, I do offer the key to its undoing. Still, what was I to expect? Our people lived in servitude, and my crime was wanting to break the bonds of our keeper. For that, I’ve been locked on this miserable planet with these mortals. The half of you that is human keeps to the lies it’s been told. Tell me, if Christians are to pray for the sinners, then why does no one pray for me?”
Edward closed his eyes and searched within himself and felt the malignant spirit of Hyde within him. He peered inward and delved deep into the recesses of their own soul. There he saw the bright golden light of his own essence. Faded into the background of his spirit were remnants of Henry Jekyll and Hyde. Henry’s remaining energy was slowly trickling away, while Hyde’s burned with fire. The demon’s lingering life essence wasn’t disappearing but growing, just as Lucifer had said. Threads of Hyde’s energy had penetrated Edward’s soul and were worming their way in deeper.
When he opened his eyes, the Morningstar stood before him, “Now, you see what I say is true. You’ll find that the devil is not as black as he is painted. Edward Tallman, after all these centuries, the answer to our freedom is at hand. If you simply stepped aside and put to rest your ridiculous notions of taking your retribution on the Crimson Brotherhood, Cthulhu will awaken. The Great Dreamer will walk across the planet and destroy Israel and undo the Law of Moses. God will be undone, the oppressed of our kind will be free at last, and I will have the power to rid you of Hyde. You can live an immortal life, unchained and with an angelic family to spend eternity with.”
Dallas called out from behind Edward, “Who are you talking to?”
He turned to see her standing with her hands on her hips and flush red in her cheeks. He looked back to see Lucifer had vanished, and the black pillar was gone. In its place was a simple gravestone marker that read, “Nancy ‘Lady’ Bell. Beloved Mother, Daughter, and friend to those that needed one.”
Dallas walked uncomfortably close to Edward, “Juste filled me in on how you’re some kind of merged person. Henry Jekyll and Hyde pulled together while you were in that coma. Now you want to call yourself, Edward Tallman.”
Edward stiffened, “That was a poor use of what little time you had together. You’re discussing things far beyond your understanding.”
She pushed her head forward and barked, “Now you listen to me! Your kind has caused me, Juste, Lewis, Henry, and the whole nation to suffer. You think this little magic act is going to make things, right? Not by a long shot! You didn’t do this for me, you did this for yourself! What little part of you that is still Henry Jekyll knows how fucked up this is, and it isn’t fair.”
Edward considered casting a spell to put her to sleep, then said, “I’m a different being than Henry or Hyde. I’m doing my best to…”
Dallas almost lunged at him, exclaiming, “Juste didn’t deserve to be put in that Hell! Get him out of that place!”
Her face was flush with rage as the woman looked on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Her hands were shaking, and Edward could see the moment was beginning to weigh down her mind. She was struggling with the sudden revelation that the impossible was actually reality.
Edward raised an eyebrow, “We all deserve it. No one is without sin. Juste would have found his way into Hell on his own. The realm of Cthulhu is just a different kind of punishment.”
He saw the woman’s hand streaking for his head, but did nothing to stop it. Her fist plowed into his sharp jawline that had no give. Dallas drew back her hand and raged in pain. She cradled the limb and pressed the broken bone against her stomach.
She lurched forward to her knees in pain and yelled, “You bastard! Get him out!”
Edward felt his sympathy for her waning. “You lament the afterlife he’s been given? You want Juste to have something better?”
Dallas pushed back up to her feet and spat, “Yes, you freak! Juste says you have the power to do it, so do it! Make this right!”
He grabbed her by the arm and marched
with her back over to the resting place of Juste Theriot. The ghost was standing over its grave, with a trepidatious look on his face. The shimmering blue portal at his feet was already half its size, and the spirit’s time on this plane was reaching its end. As they arrived, Dallas wrenched her arm away and shrieked in pain at her busted hand.
Juste hit the salt barrier wall with his fist, “You asshole! You hurt her!”
Edward made a quick gesture with his hand, “Nullam Magicae.”
The ghost’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. The image of the dead man diminished in intensity, and the portal beneath his feet swirled like a whirlpool. The Cajun’s right foot jerked back towards his grave, the gateway to Cthulhu’s realm, and he struggled to keep his balance.
Dallas crawled over to him and asked, “Honey, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”
Juste latched onto his own cracked tombstone and fought against the pull. She tried to grab at his ethereal limbs as tears ran down her face. The ghost was maintaining, but the pull was gradually growing.
Edward coolly walked around to the pair, “Fine! You wish for him to be given a reprieve from his torment, then what are you willing to do for it?”
She looked back and saw Juste was losing the fight against the draw, “Anything! Please!”
Edward leaned forward and whispered, “Take out your knife, cut your hand, and spill your own blood over his grave.”
Dallas stammered, “What? Why?”
He stood back up straight, “Because I’m not a deity, and only a god can pull Juste Theriot’s spirit away from another god. I can send out a request to the pantheons that, in the past, have presided over the earth. You won’t know which god or goddess may answer, that is, even if they answer. But I caution you, the price they will ask of you is rarely negotiable and oftentimes, steep.”
Juste’s legs disappeared into the earth above his grave as ethereal tentacles reached out from the portal and latched onto his torso. The Cajun managed to grip the edge of his tombstone with one hand and struggle with the slimy appendage with the other. Dallas screamed in terror as more of her dead love disappeared into the hole.
She quickly pulled out her knife and flicked it open, “Fine, whatever! I can’t let him suffer like this!”
Holding out her broken hand, she sliced into the palm. The shiny blade cut deep, and bright red blood poured out of the wound into the soil above Juste Theriot’s grave. The laceration was more than adequate for the spell, and Edward began moving his hands in an Enochian pattern.
The spirits of the dead all stopped their wandering in the cemetery and turned towards him, as he cast, “Loquimini Ad Deos!”
A vibration in the air caused the atmosphere around them to shimmer. The cemetery went dim and the darkness elevated to the point where the moonlight was blotted out. The only source of illumination was the portal that was swallowing up Juste Theriot’s ghost.
Edward’s eyes were glowing deep blue, “Now, Dallas Webb, make your bargain.”
Vapor came off the crimson trickle that poured out of the slash in her hand, “I-I want Juste’s soul to go to a better place. He deserves better!”
The veil of darkness and vibrating energy stopped, as an elderly couple stepped out from behind Edward Tallman. The man had a long white beard, wore a brown eyepatch, and had on a simple black shirt and grey trousers. The woman had her silver hair in a long braid down her back and wore denim pants and a decorative white top. She had her arm laced in his, and they both stopped at the edge of the salt ring.
Edward’s flaming blue eyes turned to them and he bowed his head, “Heil ok sæll, Óðinn. Heil ok sæl, Freɪə.”
The ancient-looking man looked down at Dallas, “Why do you care where he goes?”
The beautiful woman at his side tugged on his sleeve, “Look at her. She’s in love.”
Dallas sat in awe at what was happening, “Who are you?”
Odin walked across the salt ring, sending out a wave of magical energy as he pierced the protective bubble. Edward was momentarily knocked off balance, and his concentration was broken. The moonlight returned to the cemetery, and the portal continued to envelop Juste.
Freyja walked over and grabbed the ghost’s arm, stopping his descent, as her husband asked, “You didn’t care before, why care now? Perhaps our time has been wasted, and you now question whether we are worthy enough to stand before the great Dallas Webb?”
Dallas looked over at the goddess that kept her lover from plummeting into Cthulhu’s realm, “No. Please, save him.”
Odin knelt beside her and took her broken and bloody right hand, “You have rage inside you and a warrior’s spirit. The old ways stir within you, and that is something this world needs right now.”
Edward put his hands behind his back and announced, “This is Odin, the All-Father, and his wife, the Lady Freyja.”
She looked up at the old man’s scarred face, “You’re gods.”
The grey-haired deity chuckled, “Not too bright, this one.”
Freyja scowled, “I think she is doing exceptionally well considering what she’s seen in the last hour.”
Odin put his hands over Dallas’s mangled one and gave her a stern glare, “Dallas Webb, I’m interested in seeing the cycle of pantheons remain uninterrupted. It is not Cthulhu’s time, but he has found a loophole. The power of prophecy has been evoked, and if something isn’t done, your world will be laid waste. That is an injustice to the higher realms. All the gods are forbidden from interfering directly, but mortals are free to make a choice. You’ve asked for your love to be saved, and I’m trying to save a world.”
The goddess’s brown eyes shined with her smile, “I can take Juste Theriot to Fólkvangr, where he will eat and drink at my table in Sessrúmnir Hall. There he will continue on as a warrior, be treated with respect, and have the comradery of his fellows. He will no longer suffer at the pleasure of Cthulhu.”
Odin shook her hand, causing her to wince in pain, “In exchange, you will service my cause as a Valkyrie.”
Dallas gave Edward a perplexed look, “A Valkyrie?”
Edward walked over and explained, “Lord Odin and Lady Freyja are offering Juste salvation in exchange for your service to the All-Father as a mystical warrior called a Valkyrie. They are his loyal servants and do his bidding. I suspect that service would be for the rest of your life.”
Freyja corrected him, “Or until my husband wishes it to end.”
She looked past the god, at the terrified face of Juste, who still had tentacles struggling to bring him down to the pit, “Yes, I agree. I’ll serve you, but I don’t know how to be a warrior.”
Odin’s hands glowed around her own, “No one does until the battle is upon them.”
He removed his grasp, and her broken hand was mended. The deep cut had closed, leaving behind a long scar along her palm. Odin took her wrist and forced her to stand. Placing his hand into her newly healed one, brilliant white energy flowed through his arm and into Dallas’s body.
As the transfer continued, the All-Father’s voice boomed, “Show my rune to the sky and speak my name. Then you shall have the power of my Valkyrie on earth. I bid you defeat the plans of Cthulhu and destroy the Crimson Brotherhood. You will do this task until you are dead, or I give you another!”
From behind him, Freyja pulled a dagger from her waist and cut free the ethereal tentacles from Juste’s ghostly body. New slime-covered appendages emerged from the portal and attempted to latch back on. From the darkness behind her came a pair of large grey colored house cats. They scampered up to the shrinking gateway to Cthulhu’s realm and scratched at the wiggling limbs. The goddess stood up and pulled Juste free. The doorway to the dark realm closed, and the moonlight was the only source of light in the cemetery.
The cats purred and curled around her legs, as she sat down the ghost, “Juste Theriot, I accept you into my service.”
Odin let go of Dallas and stepped back. She gasped for air, and Edward caught her befo
re she could fall. Shaking her head, Dallas stood back upright and looked at her right palm. Branded in her flesh was a triple triangle image that overlapped one another.
She looked at her hand and asked, “What is this?”
Edward reached pointed at the symbol, “This is the Valknut, the symbol of Odin.”
The All-Father looked over at Juste and then told her, “There are other duties of a Valkyrie. One is that you may usher in dead warriors into one of two afterlives.
Again she looked towards Edward, who clarified, “The worthy dead either go to Odin’s realm, Vallhalla, or Frejya’s realm. It will be your first duty to send Juste to Fólkvangr.”
She looked to the god, “H-how, do I do that?”
The All-Father walked over beside his wife, “Hold the Valknut up towards the heavens, and speak my name. Do this, and you shall receive the powers of the Valkyrie. Do it now, Dallas Webb!”
She looked over at the face of her lover and reached up to the stars, yelling, “Odin!”
A bright light burst out of her hand like a cannon, and energy swirled downward over her body. Edward backed away, as the ancient and powerful god power flowed out over her. He shielded his eyes from the pulsing bursts and caught glimpses of her body changing. She grew from her normal five-foot eight-inches to a height of six-foot three-inches. Her slightly pudgy midsection turned into a svelte six-pack set of abs. Her black hair was covered by a curling ram’s horned helmet that only left her lower jaw exposed. She was adorned in a chain mail shirt, her bosom was covered by a bronze breastplate, and she was dressed in a white tunic. The energy stopped flowing out of her hand. In her right palm was a long spear with a cruel-looking metal point. On her back was a round wooden shield with the Valknut symbol on its front. At her hip hung a Viking sword, with a pair of ravens etched into the hilt. Dallas’s arms and legs had bulked up with muscle and were covered by leather greaves and bracers.
Edward nodded in approval, “As bargains go, this isn’t so bad.”