“Those scriptures have not depicted them when they lose hope. Nor do they show how they get scared like mice and scurry about to find a place to hide as soon as they encounter death. No. It’s not written. What is written is that they fight. They don’t care what the outcome will be. They fight, not to win, not to lose, but because that’s what they are supposed to do.
“I come here for the first time and see crushed souls. I pity you. You have lost people, many whom you’ve admired.” His eyes shot toward Ivy for a moment as she stood there with a stunned expression upon her face. “You loved. You cared. I know. I am not the kind of person who would understand things like that. But remember one thing, instead of losing hope and sitting idly in the face of such adversity, you can take revenge. Instead of lamenting the deaths of the fallen, you can fight for your loved ones.
“The gone shall not stand a second to see you crying like this, because they know and believe that you will avenge their deaths. Lucifer Morningstar – the devil, the fallen angel is the god of evil. He might be able to crush your lives and your bodies. But he will never be able to crush your souls.
“No. No. Not souls, never souls. A soul is what makes us – not Nephilims or humans, but men and women. He should know and he should be warned. He should be scared because we are coming hard. With our soul’s tremendous power and incurable hope, we shall fight. Nephilim or not, we shall fight until he slips into an everlasting sleep.”
Everyone was stunned. The tears had frozen. Everything seemed still and serene. Even the river and ocean seemed less violent. The powerful words that came out of Caspar’s mouth were strong willed, though harmless in themselves.
“You don’t know the feeling of losing someone,” someone said.
“I might not know it, but if I were to, I would make sure the one I lost gets revenge in their next life.”
No one said a word.
“Ivy, I think, I am ready to go,” he replied softly.
A hand descended upon his shoulder and prevented him from walking away. He turned to find Cassius staring at him. The expression upon his face was different than before. Harsh words had crossed the path of their conversation.
“Son, the burial is not over,” Cassius said, determination glinting within his eyes and he pushed him toward the crowd once more.
Caspar was able to witness the procedure for the burial of their dead. First, each family member stepped forward and presented something to the deceased such as a hat or a sword or some pendant the decease used to wear or used to have. The items were laid across their chests or on their foreheads with a bronze coin on top of it. It was said the coin would be used in the afterlife and the belongings would act as clothes for them. Nephilims believed in the afterlife and of resurrection, unlike Caspar, who believed that everyone has just one life.
When the process was completed, families pushed the tablets into the ocean. Ivy and Caspar pushed Ryun’s tablet into the blue skittering ocean alongside Ryun’s brother and sister as his parents had died. The tablets floated for sometime, but slowly, they began to sink as if water seeped into their pores and pulled them down peacefully.
Cassius came to stand beside Caspar, his robe fluttering across the ground. He pulled him away from the crowd and whispered into his ear. “Some don’t believe in what you say and think it is better to be on Lucifer’s side.”
“To everything, there is an opposition,” Caspar said.
“Exactly, but . . .” He gently rubbed the tip of a finger across his lip. “Some truly believe in this...in you. I am one of them. I am the leader, so I’ll try my best to gather as many Nephilims to this cause as I can. Many will not agree. There’s not much that I can do, though, I’m afraid.”
“At least you are trying,” “What should I do, then?”
“Take as many Nephilims with you and increase the security on demon sightings. Lucifer will be on the lookout for ways in which to bring about the Apocalypse, to immanentize the eschaton. You have to be ready. Whenever I am in need, you should be there.”
“Yes, sure.”
Caspar acknowledged him with a quick jerk of his head and moved away. “Thank you,” he said.
He stopped within his tracks. “What?”
“Thank you for bringing back a part of what we’d thought was lost.”
He regarded Cassius intently. Unwittingly, he’d changed many Nephilim lives in giving them hope to fight the fallen angel. He nodded briskly and hurried toward Ivy as she spoke to Ryun’s brother and sister, Quart and Daisy.
“We should go,” he replied as he tugged upon the back of her dress.
Ivy waved farewell to few people. They made their way set back to the station. The green door closed behind him. She walked toward a bench and sat down, taking a deep, unsatisfying breath.
“That was bad.”
Caspar stood nearby with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You don’t want to go home?”
“I am feeling out of sorts right now,” she said and massaged her forehead. “I need some entertainment, something that’ll cool me off.”
“When I am frustrated, I get naked.” Caspar smiled.
“That’s not really appropriate for this kind a situation, don’t you think?” she asked, the hint of a smile playing about her lips.
Caspar looked around. The station was empty. Even the sounds of the train were now inaudible. He brought his hand forward. “Take my hand,” he suggested as his smile dissipated.
Confused, Ivy took his hand. He jerked his arm and pulled her forward. Their bodies met. Mere seconds passed they took note of the close proximity between them. His expression didn’t waver. She was both amused as well as nervous. She wanted to ask what as going on, but no words slid past her cherubic lips.
He slowly curved a hand around Ivy’s back, feeling her rhythmic posture through the fabric of her dress. He wrapped his other hand about her waist and held her tight, momentarily cutting off her air flow. She yearned to take a deep breath, but found herself blushing instead.
He stepped back and gave her a little room. Soon, it all made sense. Caspar was making her dance. Comfortably and swiftly, he spun her about and pulled her
back. Their skins slowly and softly touched, passion flowing vibrantly between them. He reached out to curl his fingers about her cheek and cupped it gently.
“You are purposely taking advantage of me, aren’t you?” she asked. There was a naughty smile upon her face. “You are trying to touch me.”
“In my defense, your skin is touching me.” He winked. “When did you learn all this?”
“I’ve learned a lot of things, here and there.” “That’s impressive,”
“Are you entertained?”
“Yes, a lot. Thank you. Why are you like this, Caspar? You should see yourself right now. You are a totally different person. You are sweet and caring and you are lovable. Why do you act like a jerk in front of everyone else?”
Caspar’s expression remained cold and harsh. He refused to answer her questions.
“What’s the secret behind those golden eyes, eh? No one has golden eyes. What are you really? Why have you tread upon this path? Please, tell me.”
“I think this is enough for today,” he said and promptly released her.
He swiftly made his way toward the stairs. Ivy followed, pulling off her heels so she could walk freely. She grabbed Caspar’s shoulder and forcibly turned him about.
“Tell me, please, Caspar. What is it you hide? Eh? What is the big secret behind Caspar Socrates? Why don’t you unlock yourself in front of me?”
“I am already unlocked. You just don’t see it.”
“No. No, you are not.” She swept her warm gaze at him. “You think you are, but you aren’t.”
“Someday, you will know. Someday, when you see right through me and find...You will see it, but unfortunately that day is not this day. I am not just hiding one thing, but many. Things that cannot be revealed to you now.”
“I wish I could
say you are right.”
“Don’t wish. They never come true.” He hurried up the stairs, leaving the transcending beauty standing in the depths of darkness.
Vi
rgil’s Confession
Later that night, after Ivy had gone to sleep, Caspar found himself wide awake. His curly hair was ruined and his eyes were swollen and sunken deep into their sockets. He sat within his chair and rubbed his scalp as he lost himself in thought. He was tired and deprived of slumber. He wanted to sleep, but could not. Raindrops crashed down to the ground outside, falling with great force and causing much noise. Lightning accompanied the loud thunder at odd intervals.
He’d gone down to his study table, drawing forth small piece of paper, thick and crisp, with yellowish color curling its edges. He produced a pen and started scribbling on a white piece of paper, his eyes growing darker as every word his mind imagined was scrawled across the parchment. Another round of thunder swept past as the letter was finished. He slipped it within a small folder and carefully dropped it into the nearest drawer. His mind roiled as he recalled what he’d written.
Ivy,
You wanted to know things, things I have been too afraid to even face. Things I have locked within the castles of my mind that should never be ever unlocked.
I intend on telling you, just not yet. Soon. Sooner than you expect. You will know that I am not the jerk you think I am.
There’s always a reason for everything. Soon, you will know mine.
With his thoughts sealed away, for the moment, he made his way down the road. He would try to create several portals to different locations. He’d indulged in
sorcery and magic, which had given him a brief idea of what was true and what was not. A portal was a short passageway from one place to another in a matter of seconds.
He found himself practicing a new way to open portal through time and space the next day. His current objective was one of the most difficult occult practices to ever be practiced and only high ranking warlocks were able to do it correctly. Time and space is a place, an infinite place where everything is possible. Losing yourself in time and space is worse than dying, because it could result in leaving you stranded in the future or it can push you into the past or through an alternate dimension you may never want to go to.
A bad memory surfaced of a time and space portal he knew how to build. It had been years since he’d done so and he hadn’t tried it again. When he’d first attempted it, the disaster had changed his life and made him what he was now.
Caspar instructed Balthazar on how to properly create the portal. By swishing a seraph knife through the air, you could summon it, but doing so needed lots of practice even though it looked easy to do. Most of the time, the practitioner would get sucked inside the portal or would unintentionally bring someone out of it.
“What’s the purpose of this time and space portal, Caspar? Why did you create one?” Balthazar asked, rolling his cigar around his mouth.
“I have no actual purpose for it. This is just something to entertain me,” he
said.
“Oh, all right.”
“Balthazar, I want to ask you something.” Caspar brought his seraph blade down and walked to the window to face his reflection. The past few days had been
hectic. “I know you didn’t come with me because of that stupid superstition. I know you didn’t wait for me just because you wanted to have a nice afterlife.”
“No, no. That’s not true. What makes you say that, mate?”
“For several days, you have been smoking regularly. It is written in gargoyle norms that whoever invests himself in a mortals’ leisure such as smoking, drinking etc. will not have an afterlife and will die a horrible death. Yet you smoke all the time. That shows you aren’t superstitious and for all I know, you don’t give a damn about some afterlife.”
“Okay, I surrender. You are right.”
“So...What is the reason you accompany me in such dangerous adventures that could get you killed at any time?”
Balthazar scratched his rocky bald head. The gnawing sound of his claws rubbing against the hard stone was unbearable. Caspar twitched his eyes to bear it.
“The point is, my entire life, which is what...umm...Yes. For two hundred years, I have been called a loser and a coward. You know a lot about gargoyles, right? You must have the knowledge that gargoyles are warriors who fought in world wars, in civil wars, during the Black Death, and many other wars.
“They are strong warriors, protectors of kings. Even King Solomon used to have djinns and gargoyles as his executioners and hunters. My ancestors were actually the most powerful of gargoyles. They were considered to be of the Line of Gods due to their bravado.
“Everything went well. Their descendants were what they wanted to be, powerful, brave, strong, and courageous. Until I was born. They expected the same from me, but I – I turned out to be the biggest loser gargoyle that was ever born into their line. My grandfather hated me. My mother was the only one who loved me, but
she died. My brothers and sisters and all of my cousins actually laughed at me. On top of that, my father disowned me for being such a wimp.”
“No father disowns his own children for such a stupid reason,”
“Well, my father did. He didn’t care for me. A few years back, the witches trapped me and used me as a messenger to act between their coven and others until you freed me. I saw a sense of adventure in you and thought that perhaps my being with you might change my being a coward. For once, I want to prove to my dad that I am the son he always wanted. The son he always longed for.”
“You are helping us in saving the world. Your cousins, they are doing nothing. Actually, they wouldn’t even be aware of the fact that Lucifer has risen and is trying to bring about the Apocalypse. I just want to tell you, don’t try too hard to prove it to someone. Prove it to yourself. And when you know you’ve proved your worth to yourself, go to your father and tell him that you are the honorable son he’d always wanted. Tell him was never the honorable father you always longed for.
“Yeah, only if I am able to prove, right? Huh?”
“You have already proved it. Not to him, but to me and to yourself. Don’t wake up every day to prove it again someone, because some people don’t deserve it.”
To their astonishment, Death stepped out of the shadows. His staff was long and ivory, shining despondently. There were long shadows on his face, his weariness showing clearly. Tattoos glinted upon his bare chest.
“Capernaum has suggested that you two should come with me. He has someone you should meet,” he said.
“What has happened now?” Caspar inquired “It’s connected to Lucifer’s plan.”
Caspar and Balthazar turned toward each other until their gazes met. They nodded and approached Death.
“No, wait . . .” Balthazar sputtered. “What about Ivy?” “She’s sleeping,” Caspar replied.
“Let her sleep, then,” Death suggested. “After all, I don’t think she fancies torture chambers,”
***
Caspar found himself in a warehouse. It looked eons old with iron windows and a cluttered ground. The smell within was nauseating. Balthazar waved his hand about to show that the smell was nastier than his own. They followed Death inside to a small room. Two silver eyes shot up from the shadows.
Alarmed, Caspar clutched his cane and prepared to attack. A thin man wearing a pair of glasses stepped forward. His hair ginger and looked a tad papery as it draped about the rough skin of his face. Freckles were scattered across his cheeks and his eyes were bright. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of an old and unfashionable coat. It clearly showed that the man wasn’t familiar with his external surroundings. His pants were baggy and overgrown, hanging loosely upon his thin frame. He resembled a skeleton, of sorts, with its feet tucked into musty boots. He wore the façade like a loose robe.
“H – Hi.”
The man waved his hand around in the most simplistic manner.
Nothing hinted to any aspect of his dressing style or mannerisms. He looked meek, yet an intellectual aura surrounded him.
“I am Dr. Manning. Harvard Manning,” he said nervously. Caspar saw the sweat trickle down his forehead.
“You might be Caspar Socrates.” Caspar’s nose flared as the man spoke. “And you must be Balthazar. A gargoyle, that’s brilliant. Never seen one of your folks before, except in old cathedrals.” He stifled a laugh as he turned toward Death. “And you are Death.”
Shyly, he shook hands with everyone. He looked weak and tormented. Somehow it seemed to hide his true potential. He lacked the attitude of a gentleman and he smelled bad.
“Oh? Yes, I am Capernaum’s...Well, he calls me his assistant.”
“A human,” Death replied as his eyes roved across the other’s man’s stature. Harvard chuckled. “Not exactly a human. I was once and remember those
days well,” he mused. His eyes lowered as he walked to a set of metal doors. “I am more than that, I’m afraid.”
“How so?”
“I am a monster,” the doctor replied, unabashed.
“From the inside, we all are,” Caspar quipped. He was trying to find that which made Harvard different from himself.
Harvard opened the door. Caspar found himself in a small circular chamber. A fan hung lopsided above them, spinning and agitating the stagnant air of the room. The warehouse was attached to an electricity plant somewhere outside the woods. The room had a very high humidity level. Capernaum stood at the far end of the chamber. His eyes sunk deep down into their sockets and his lips trembled. He pushed back his black hair as it curled upon his forehead.
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