If that was the reason, Sabastin had never met Mr. Murphy. If Ian was in that position, the first thing he’d have done was make himself as comfortable as possible, thereby ensuring his daughter woke up the moment he sat down.
Ian smiled at the man, but Sabastin barely looked up after his initial acknowledgement. His face was sunken, and his eyes were dark and almost unseeing. Several days of splotchy growth marred his scarred cheeks, giving Ian the distinct impression that one of the main reasons the man was normally so clean shaven was because he couldn’t grow a proper beard. Whether he had genetics or the copious amount of scar tissue to blame, Ian wasn’t sure.
“Hello, Sabastin. It’s been a while,” Amy said, stepping out of the doorway and approaching the man with careful, measured steps. It was almost as if she expected him to either bolt or attack if she moved suddenly.
“Has it been?” Sabastin replied, voice hollow and empty. “I’ve sort of lost track.” He gestured weakly with one hand, indicating his daughter who lay perfectly still beneath the sheets. In fact, if it wasn’t for the barely noticeable rise and fall of her chest, Ian would have assumed she was dead.
Tubes filled with liquids every shade of the rainbow were attached to her body, and little monitors beeped and buzzed, showing indications of life. Still, he was reasonably sure the human heart was supposed to be beating at more than fifty times per minute. Then again, he wasn’t a doctor. Maybe that was normal.
“No change yet?” Amy asked, placing one hand on Sabastin’s shoulder. The man looked at her delicate fingers like he was being touched by a red hot poker.
“None.” Sabastin looked away, focusing back on his daughter. “No matter what I do, she remains like this. I know she’s in there. She just won’t come out.” Sabastin slammed one fist on the edge of the bed in sudden rage, and the sound echoed across the tiny room. “Why won’t you come out, Lillim? Do you hate me so much?”
“I’m sure she wants to come back, Sabastin. I’m sure at this very moment, she is fighting with every ounce of her being to come back to you.” Amy’s voice filled the room like a warm springtime breeze on a freezing cold day. A sense of calm fell over Ian as he watched the hard lines on Sabastin’s face relax. Was Amy using her power to calm him? Ian wasn’t quite sure, but it definitely seemed like it.
“I don’t think you’re right.” Sabastin’s shoulders slumped. “I think there’s something going on in her head that she wants more than she wants me.”
“I don’t know why you keep saying that,” Amy replied, moving between Sabastin and the bed. It was a tight fit, and she barely squeezed into the space.
“Because she woke up, looked right at me, and fell back asleep.” Sabastin kept staring at Amy like she wasn’t there at all, like he could see straight through her. It was sort of eerie.
“Ian, is that true?” Amy asked, shifting her gaze toward him. An uncomfortable feeling crawled over his skin as he reached back into his memories, trying to recall what happened after Amy left Jormungand’s demon world. The events snapped into focus in his mind’s eye.
After Amy stepped through the portal that would transport them out of Jormungand’s lair, Ian had struggled with getting Kim to actually leave Malcom’s body behind and come with him back to earth.
He’d even offered to take the corpse back with him, but Kim had refused for some reason she never explained. It was only then that she’d finally agreed to leave. Unfortunately, Kim had made it less than a dozen feet before Thor’s hammer, Mjolnir slipped from her hands, hitting the dusty earth with an empty thud. He’d bent to pick it up when she’d gripped his wrist, stopping him.
“No,” Kim had whispered. “It needs to stay with him.” She nodded toward Malcom. “He’ll need it more than us.”
Ian hadn’t argued. In that moment, Kim was a stubborn two-year-old. If he had to leave Thor’s hammer behind to get her to come back with him, he would. Besides, he had no use for the hammer of the gods.
“Okay,” Ian replied, forcing Kim to take another step toward the pulsing portal. “But I need to bring her back.” Ian gestured at the girl who had once housed Jormungand’s spirit. She lay on the ground beside Malcom. Her chest was caved in, and there was so much blood, Ian didn’t think she had been alive.
“She’s gone, Ian. She should stay with Malcom. Keep him company here forever.” Kim pulled away, and as Ian watched her go, he gritted his teeth together. As much as he felt Kim was right, he had made a promise to Sabastin. He would bring back the man’s daughter. It wouldn’t amount to much since she was on death’s doorstep, but it was something. That had to be better than nothing.
Kim stepped through the portal, vanishing in a flash of silver light and leaving him all alone in the desolate wasteland. The wind whipped by him, carrying with it the metallic scent of blood as he stared at the girl’s battered, broken body. He bit his lip, chewing on it as he thought. Maybe it would be better to leave her.
“Just give me a sign,” he muttered to no one in particular, and as he said the words, the girl’s eyes fluttered open. They were blank and unseeing, but it confirmed one thing. She was alive. He couldn’t leave her here to die.
Ian rushed toward her, scooping her up in his arms. “I’ll get you back,” he whispered, pulling her close to his body. Her pulse was so weak, her breath so shallow, he knew she didn’t have long. He raced back through the portal, and when he’d emerged, Sabastin had been standing there. Tears filled his eyes as he tore his daughter from Ian’s grip.
As Sabastin dumped her into the regeneration tank, the girl’s fluttering eyes seemed to see him for the first time. And then she shut her eyes.
Ian shook the memory away, and the room swam back into focus. He looked away from Sabastin’s daughter and stared at Amy. She had a worried expression on her face, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe it away.
“When I brought her back through the portal, she opened her eyes. She may have seen him.” Ian gestured pathetically at Sabastin. “But I couldn’t tell you more than that. I left just after.”
“She never opened her eyes again, Sabastin said as he reached around Amy and took his daughter’s hand. “Why did you never open them again, my Lillim?”
“She’ll wake up, Sabastin,” Amy said, kneeling down until she was eye to eye with the seated man. Slowly, she reached behind her and placed one of her hands over the one Sabastin had used to clasp his daughter’s hand. “I can feel her in there, struggling to get out. She just has things to deal with. It is not like she can just wake up and be okay. It is not that simple.”
“It’s been weeks,” Sabastin growled, and Ian got the distinct impression this was a familiar exchange between the two.
Amy smiled, and the sight of it, while lifting Ian’s spirits, did nothing to encourage the old man. “Time is flowing differently for her.” Amy reached out, tracing her index finger over the girl’s forehead, and a flaming hourglass appeared in the air. Molten sand filled the bottom two thirds of the glass while about one third remained in the top. Ian wasn’t sure how Amy had manifested the hourglass, but one thing was for sure, she had some tricks up her sleeve. “She is only part way through her journey. Give it some more time. She is closing in upon the finish line.”
Sabastin huffed and waved one scarred hand through the air, banishing the hourglass. “Easy for you to say, Amy. You are not the one who has to sit here and watch her lay so still she is practically dead. I am supposed to protect her, to keep her safe. I have already failed at that.” He shook his head. “How can I be expected to sit here and wait?”
“You used my real name,” Amy mumbled, almost so quietly Ian didn’t hear it. And while Ian wasn’t one hundred percent positive, he was pretty sure he’d never heard Sabastin address any of them by their names. He had always called them by their mantles. Amy was Bellum, the horseman of War, and he was always Fames, the horseman of Famine.
“I thought it was about time,” Sabastin said, shaking his head one more time. “You are more t
han your mantle. You both are. I should know that.” He got to his feet, careful to avoid knocking over his chair or bumping into Amy. “Just like how my Lillim is more than the sum of her powers, so too are you both.”
“She will awaken soon,” Amy said, pulling Sabastin into a hug. “I promise.”
“I believe you. And if I were truly brave, I’d read the date you circled in the calendar for me. The one upon which you swore she would awaken. If only to give myself some hope. I have not done so because if that date passes, and she does not awaken, I don’t know what I’ll do. This is better for me. Every day could potentially be the right one, and I won’t know if the day of awakening has passed.” He released her and moved toward Ian, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “So why have you two come to me? Something distracting, I hope.” He gestured at Amy. “If it was just her, I’d think this was a personal visit, but your appearance here changes things… Ian.”
“I was attacked by a god named Vidar. He broke me out of supernatural jail and said the wolf is rising and will consume the moon and the sun.” Ian shrugged because it still sounded ridiculous. That wasn’t to say he didn’t believe it, but he still found it difficult to swallow. Besides, he wasn’t keen on fighting a wolf large enough to swallow the sun. The creature’s jaws would have to stretch the whole of the heavens.
Sabastin sighed, and the sound rather than making him seem weary, seemed to energize him. “So Vidar is afoot, and the wolf is in play.” He shook his head, sparing one last look at his daughter. “Ragnarok is fast approaching. You two will have to stop it from killing us all.”
“Ragnarok?” Amy asked, one auburn eyebrow shooting up in confusion. “You mean the Nordic Apocalypse?”
“The very same, and we may have already started the chain reaction of events that will end the world.” He gestured at his daughter. “Jormungand has risen and was killed, and in so doing, we lost Mjolnir, and with it, the power of Thor. Their demise is one of Ragnarok’s most notable events.”
“I can retrieve the hammer,” Ian said, stepping forward and interrupting Sabastin before the man could continue. “It is not gone forever. It is not destroyed or broken. It just sits next to a corpse.”
“The hammer is not what is important. No weapon is greater than the hand that wields it, and unfortunately, with the loss of Malcom, the hand that wielded Thor’s power is gone. It is the same as Thor himself being dead.” Sabastin let out a slow breath. “No, that seal has been broken. The only thing we can do now is try to stop the others from breaking open and ending the world.”
“So what do we do then? How do we stop Ragnarok?” Amy asked, moving beside Ian and gripping his hand. Sabastin’s eyes flickered, catching the gesture. Ian half-expected him to say something about it, but when Sabastin caught his eye, he merely shrugged.
“The wolf, Fenris is likely trying, even at this very moment, to unfetter himself. If he succeeds, he will swallow the sun and the moon, plunging the world into darkness. Even if Odin, the king of the Norse gods, was around, he cannot stop Fenris. Odin is fated to try and fail. Vidar can stop the wolf’s rampage, but not until the death of his father fuels his need for vengeance.” Sabastin paused as if thinking to himself.
“Either way, we need to find Odin and set him against the wolf. If he wins, we win. If he doesn’t well, Vidar will get crazy vengeance powers.” Ian smiled, despite himself. “Seems like a win, win to me.”
“I wouldn’t worry about Odin. He is wise beyond all knowing. He will play his part when it comes to pass, but the best thing we can do is keep the wolf from getting free. If we can do that, we can postponement Ragnarok forever.” Sabastin nodded to himself. “That is our best bet for delaying the inevitable.”
“Delay? Isn’t there something we can do to stop Ragnarok?” Amy asked, squeezing Ian’s hand as she spoke.
“Ragnarok will happen. It is fated to consume the gods. I can’t say for sure if the sky will really be burnt to a crisp, or if they are prone to hyperbole, but one thing is for certain. The gods are doomed.”
“And why can’t we just kill Fenris?” Ian asked, glaring at the man. He was getting a little annoyed with the whole “we’re powerless to stop inevitable events” thing. He was one of the four horseman of the apocalypse. He was destined to stop apocalyptic events, and as far as he was concerned, this was something he could stop.
“Fenris’s death is foretold. He will die by Vidar’s hand. I suppose there’s a chance that if you confront the wolf, Vidar will step in and help you defeat him, but to do that Fenris would have to be free of his bindings.” Sabastin shook his head. “The magical rope binding him is so powerful it has its own name. It is called Gleipnir and is nearly impossible to break. That’s why Fenris has been sealed away so long because even his great strength cannot snap Gleipnir. Unfortunately, Gleipnir also deflects any attack made upon the wolf, making him virtually indestructible while he is wrapped within its golden threads. Surely you see the dilemma.”
“Are you seriously saying that to kill Fenris, we’d have to release him from his bindings, and in so doing, would likely hasten Ragnarok?” Ian glared even harder at Sabastin.
“Pretty much,” Sabastin replied, moving past them and heading out into the hallway. “But let’s consult the fates. Maybe they have an answer I’ve missed.”
“Is that likely?” Amy asked, releasing Ian’s hand and following after the man.
“Me being wrong? According to my wife and daughter, you have nearly a hundred percent chance of that outcome,” Sabastin said with a laugh as Ian watched them both disappear from view, leaving him standing alone with Sabastin’s unconscious daughter.
“I wonder what you would do if you were here, Lillim,” Ian whispered, staring at the girl for a long while. “Would you do what your father says? Or would you do something else?”
She didn’t reply, but Ian got the distinct feeling she was smirking at him as he walked out the door.
Caden 02:02
Caden fingered his stubby wooden pencil as he leaned against the gray cinderblock wall of the church. He was standing outside between two huge ash trees. The air was cool and crisp, making him glad he’d decided to wear his sweatshirt after all. If he’d had to wait for his dad without it, he’d have turned into a popsicle. If there was one thing he never really liked, it was the cold.
Initially he’d come outside with a couple others, but their parents had long since left while his dad was still inside doing only god knew what. This wasn’t a particularly odd turn of events and was one of the main reasons Caden didn’t like coming to church with his father.
After church, there would invariably be some sort of maintenance problem that would need to be fixed. Since his dad was a handyman of astounding skill, he’d often be roped in to look at a leaky faucet or a breaker that kept tripping. This time, he had ventured into the tiny kitchen to figure out why the oven wasn’t getting warm.
Caden leaned his head against the stone and stared up at the star-filled sky. Almost all the church lights were out, and since it was situated near the outskirts of town, he could see a lot more stars than he normally could when at home. It was almost pretty enough for him to have wanted to bring girls here, however, something about bringing a girl to his church to look at the stars didn’t seem like it’d make the best date. Besides, he had a reputation to keep up.
“Still waiting for your dad?” asked the gruff voice of Oski. Caden turned to look at the man who led the Bikers for the True God bible study group at the church as he approached, leather clad arms swinging by his sides.
Oski had to be in his early seventies with long gray hair tied back into a ponytail and an eyepatch over one eye. His skin was covered in weird runic tattoos, and he had ligature marks around his throat that had been long since healed over. Caden had once asked about them, but had only been told the pursuit of knowledge sometimes came at terrible costs. In fact, Oski was often full of more riddle than wisdom when he spoke.
The biker wasn’t p
articularly big, standing only average height and having a fairly normal build, but for some reason, Caden always got the impression he was a lot stronger than he appeared. Then again, most of the bikers were stronger than they appeared, so there was that.
“Yeah. I guess he’s trying to fix the oven or something.” Caden gestured toward the kitchen vaguely with one hand. “You know how it is.”
“Your dad does a lot of work for the church.” Oski moved to stand next to Caden and leaned against the wall himself. “Even though he does it for all the right reasons, one day he will likely look back and wish he’d spent more of his time with you.”
“Why do you say that?” Caden asked as a bad feeling fell over him like a dark shadow. “We have a lot of time left.”
“Do you?” Oski replied, a smirk appearing beneath his long white beard. “How do you know?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Caden asked, turning to look at the old biker. “Is there something I don’t know?”
“Many things,” Oski said, putting one boney hand on Caden’s shoulder. “There are many things you don’t know, and unfortunately, I don’t have time to teach even a fraction of them to you.” He glanced toward the sky wistfully. “No matter how much time you have, it’s never enough. At the time, it seems like you have an eternity, but in the end, you always wish you had just a little more.” He chuckled. “Do you know how many afternoons I’ve wasted doing things that won’t matter once I’m in the ground?”
“I think ninety-nine percent of the things we do won’t matter when we die.” Caden took a few steps along the concrete walkway toward the doors, leaving him standing beneath the ash trees as they swayed in the breeze.
“That is likely true,” Oski said, and his voice had a haunted quality to it. “I always wish I could have done something more, but alas…”
War and Famine: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Revelations Book 2) Page 5