Then Hell Followed (Journeyman Book 5)

by Golden Czermak

  “Ah shit,” he said uneasily, knowing exactly where he had ended up.

  “Why did you follow here to the Astral Plane?” came Charles’ voice, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Because it's not every day ya see your dead father standing in front of your childhood home, a place that no longer exists.”

  “But this is a dream, isn’t it?” Charles asked. “Anything is possible within dreams.”

  “That doesn’t make these feelings any less real,” Gage replied without a lick of hesitation.

  As if that was the correct answer his father came into view, embraced by one of the nightmarish creatures that inhabited the realm. Its throng of hands was groping, invading places they should not go.

  “Dad!” he exclaimed, rushing toward him once again at full speed. Instinctively, he reached for a weapon – machete or pistol it didn’t matter – but found himself without either. Nonetheless, he stayed on course. “Dad! Hang tight! I’m gonna get you out of there!”

  “Gage! No!” Charles shouted, his voice was strained by the excessive compression. The forewarning was enough to make Gage stop just before he touched the creatures. “You know it is too late for me.”

  “It’s never too late dad!” Gage shouted. “Never!”

  This is the quality we seek…

  The visage of his father cracked, the flakes peeled away by the army of hands until Death himself was revealed beneath the skin. He was a shriveled and crusted wreck himself, and Gage could feel that something was wrong. In the reaper’s right hand was his scythe, shining and powerful.

  Death thrust it straight at Gage and he snapped his eyes closed, the last thing he saw being the silver streak heading his way. However, there was no searing pain of metal entering flesh, no need for a scream of agony. Slowly opening his eyes, Gage saw that Death was holding the blade out, as if offering it to him.

  “Gage,” Death said in a reverberant voice, “our world now hangs on by mere threads, shaved down by the demon Dajjal and his irrefutable obsession with suffering. The death of life is all he pursues and he will not stop until it is all he obtains. If all of creation falls into the nothing, then…”

  “There won’t be anything left worth fighting for!” Gage finished. “Dreams like the one we’re in now: gone! Hope like Joey and all the other Journeymen out there carry in their hearts: gone! Every goddamn thing I care about: gone! Dajjal has to be stopped!”

  “So tell me this, Man Who Does Not Fear Death, are you the one to do it?”

  “Damn right I am,” was Gage’s answer.

  Death had to be sure.

  “Words are easily spoken, but are you prepared to accept what is required for this to happen?” Death asked him frankly. “You know that in order for all to be saved, some will inevitably fall.”

  Gage sighed profoundly as he looked out to the distant horizon, shining with lighting and ethereal light.

  “Some already have.”

  Death nodded.

  “Yes, and more will…”

  Gage turned, looking into Death’s sunken eyes. They were so far back in his bony sockets that they were just pinpricks of light at the end of a distant tunnel. Gage had managed to oppose the urge to grab the scythe, but ultimately something compelled him to hold out his own hands beneath the handle.

  “If you don't remember anything else from our meeting,” Death said to him grimly, “remember that in order to see it through, it must first end… By taking this blade you are placing your trust in me, as I am you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Gage wanted to know but the blade dropped into his waiting hands without an answer.

  When the weapon met his skin, Gage awoke with a start back aboard the Odyssey, discovering that he had dreamt the entire thing.

  “Gage, ya gotta lay off the soda and stick with liquor,” he said to himself. “That was some fucked up dreaming.”

  He moved to place his head in his hands then give his hair a quick rub, but when he sat up the blankets pulled away from the area close to his pillows. There, gleaming in the moonlight was a silver blade.

  “The scythe! What the fuck?” Gage asked himself, finding the last of the Solomon Six casually lying beside him in his bed.

  He even took to pinching himself, wincing during the process.

  “Ouch! Damn, your obviously awake big guy,” said Gage, cautiously moving his hand over the blade. He couldn’t feel anything out of the ordinary, nor sense anything untoward. Even the amulet and rings were silent.

  With only one thing left to do, Gage grabbed it, wrapping his fingers around the handle. Suddenly the entire thing surged with energy, getting hot to the touch yet he couldn’t let go. Right before his eyes the weapon let loose a high pitched whine and transformed, shifting into a razor blade, before growing into a dagger, then expanding itself it into the shape of Gage’s favorite serrated machete.

  He watched in awe, abruptly feeling like he was being watched himself. Glancing over, his green eyes met Adrienne’s. She had woken up, likely after he pinched himself.

  “Gage?” she said with trepidation, “Is that what I think it is?”

  He nodded, mouth hanging wide open.

  “Yeah Ady… it’s the last treasure…”

  AS MORNING ARRIVED, Gage had managed to oversleep and due to that predictable slip-up, there wasn’t time to discuss the final weapon against the Noctis landing right in his lap just a few hours before. Not that he and Adrienne hadn't already started to, but the clock had beaten them for now.

  Gage slid out of bed onto his still groggy feet, arguing with himself on where to store the scythe until the team could meet and have a proper discussion about it. Should he keep it with him, or stow it away in secret in his quarters?

  He leapt from one side of the proverbial fence to the other. At last he hastily decided that in the interest of not rousing suspicion – taking a weapon down to this meeting with the Fullers might do just that– and preserving secrecy that he even had the thing, he would keep the blade on the ship.

  Opening the bottom of his chest of drawers, he set the scythe inside and watched for a few seconds to see if it changed shape again. Satisfied when it stayed in the form of his machete, Gage pushed the door closed and returned to his silent rush to get ready.

  Adrienne’s normally inquisitive self was oddly quiet, too; the forthcoming duties they were undertaking no doubt the cause. Gathering their last few belongings, the two left the room en-route to the forecastle.

  A short time later and with a characteristic bang, they both materialized, hand in hand, at the base of a shallow hill in the midst of a dense forest. The dawn light trickled in from all directions as the two set off eastward, still silently lost in their own thoughts. Grass and spongy moss bounced beneath their feet and the weather seemed to mock them with its niceness, which was in direct conflict with their somber mood.

  They ventured in the same direction for at least ten minutes, the land rising steeply in parts, until they came upon the smallest of clearings at the top of a high mountain. Beyond, the sun had peeked over distant shades of purple and blue majesty, its warm light caressing Gage and Adrienne as they stepped out from the canopy to join those that had gathered there.

  Ty and Joey had taken up on a large boulder overlooking the brightening landscape, sitting side by side in idle discussion.

  Seth and Kyle had also come, wearing long jeans for what had to be the first time given the look of discomfort in their faces.

  Gage was grateful that they agreed to allow Marcus to be buried on their crew’s land, and he wasted no time showing his appreciation to the two burly men by giving them each hugs worthy of their bear shifter nature.

  In the center of them all stood a simple cross, roughly hewn from hemlock. Along its surface interlaced wards were carved, patterned so that as one stopped working the next would activate, keeping the gravesite both hidden and preserved for the next hundred years.

  “Thank ya so much for this,” Ga
ge whispered to Seth, whose blonde hair was notably longer and messier than he last remembered.

  “We told you that you're family,” Seth replied. “Part of our crew, always.”

  Kyle grunted in agreement, folding his muscular arms.

  “And with the coming of the final battle,” he said, “the shifters will be ready. When it is time, we will be there.”

  Gage smiled at the sentiment, unsure of what else to do to express his thanks.

  “Good, as I'm sure the Order will be pulling out all the stops on that front. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

  “Can’t wait,” Kyle said, looking eager. “Especially if we’re there beside you.”

  Gage thumped Kyle on the shoulder and Kyle, not to be outdone, returned the favor slightly harder.

  “Couldn't have picked a more gorgeous spot,” Seth said, interrupting the two. “Father cherished this view for as long as I can remember. It's the perfect place for Sheridan to slumber.”

  Gage noted a few other shifters a little further away, all equally as depressed though he had not met them before. One looked remarkably like Seth, his spiky blonde hair wafting in the mountain air.

  “Others in your crew?” Gage asked the brothers.

  “Yes. There would be more of them, but the rest are off dealing with those other shifters still in our territory,” Seth told Gage with a hint of animosity.

  “We are hoping to put an end to this feud,” Kyle picked up, “at least until this crisis with the demons is averted.”

  “Goin’ well?” Gage asked, trying to determine what their expressions meant.

  “No,” Kyle replied gruffly, lowering his arms and sticking out his chest proudly. “But that story is for another time and place. Right now, we are here for you and yours.”

  Gage nodded and they all encircled the marker, heads lowered.

  “I think that most of us said what we needed to already at the funeral or wake,” said Gage, “but with us all here Marcus, your closest of friends and family, I just wanted to tell ya that you're gonna be missed. You've left a pretty big hole in all our lives and it's gonna take some time for that void to be filled. If ever.” He sighed. “That's all I've gotta say right now, because I can't be losing it front of those bigger bear dudes over there.”

  There was light laughter amongst the gathering, mixed in with the sniffles and tears.

  “Anyone have anything else they wanna say?” asked Gage.

  Nobody did; the final realization having sunk in.

  With that, Gage grabbed Adrienne’s hand and wrapped his arm around Joey, turning so they could all watch the sun rise together.

  The shifters then transformed into their beast forms, each and every one howling in lament for one of their fallen crew.

  GAGE FLUNG THE machete on the galley table, Ty and Joey watching as it clanked then came to rest on the wood.

  “Sooo, what you’re telling us is that your big knife is, in fact, the final key to stopping the demons?” said Joey, sounding highly skeptical. The blade on the table looked exactly like the one he had kept in the old GMC’s lock box for the past couple years.

  “Well when said like that,” Gage replied, “ya make it sound like I’m nuts.”

  “We don’t think that at all,” Ty chortled as he took off his leather jacket, reaching for the blade. “Plus, that compass Adrienne mentioned is back in New York, so we can’t use it to verify.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ to verify,” Gage insisted, “it is what it is.”

  Grabbing hold, Ty didn’t feel anything otherworldly in his hand. In fact, it was so mundane that the tiniest notion of Gage getting into the whiskey due to all the recent emotional highs and lows crossed his mind.

  Ty set it back down, hiding his thoughts well, and infuriatingly Gage picked it back up immediately.

  “Fine, I guess I am gonna have to show ya.”

  Holding it out in front of him, Gage closed his eyes and after a few embarrassing minutes, the blade hummed and altered its shape to become a dagger, then a long sword before shifting back to the machete.

  Gage opened his eyes back up, giving everyone a ‘so there’ glance.

  “Well alrighty then,” Joey said with surprise, tossing his arms in the air. “Why didn’t you just start out the conversation with a demo of the magical Swiss Army knife?”

  Gage grumbled something under his breath as he set the blade back on the tabletop. Joey blushed and Ty was glad he didn’t hear what was said.

  “Alright, so if this thing is the blade…” said Ty, lightly stroking his beard.

  “Oh it IS…” Gage clarified.

  “Since this thing is the blade we need,” Ty started again, “why did Death just give it to you? Why now? I have to say Gage: I have way more questions than answers.”

  “Me too,” Adrienne nodded, highly suspicious of Death’s motives. “I mean baby; Ty has a point. Death could have given us the weapon at any point in time. It would have been handy when you were in Jötunheim, right? You would have been able to get the Crown instead of Dajjal…”

  Ty nodded but Gage did not.

  “Y’all weren’t there,” he said. “Marcus and I were up against DJ, that other Hell Knight, and the king of the frost giants. I don’t know how the blade would’ve turned the tide against those odds. It might have helped, but it might have just increased the risk of losing all six treasures before the final battle.”

  “That means we would have lost you too,” Adrienne pointed out and the group fell silent.

  “Back to Death’s motives,” Ty directed, “did he mention or say anything to you of significance?”

  Gage tried to remember, the vision’s images and words coming and going.

  “He mentioned something about death of all life bein’ what Dajjal wants,” he remembered, “and he won’t stop until he achieves that goal.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Adrienne said. “Well I think that part is self-explanatory.”

  Joey nodded, as did Ty.

  “Maybe he figured it was time to intervene, now that Dajjal managed to nab one of the items,” Ty said. “And he may be tired of all the excessive death and devastation.”

  “Aren’t we all,” Joey muttered, regarding his missing fingers; a low grumble punctuated his sentiment. “Did he say anything else?”

  The big guy made his way over to the sink, propping himself up on the countertop. As he searched his mind, Gage suddenly looked as if a light bulb had turned on.

  “He did say something pretty cryptic; strangely I remember it clear as day now. It went something like: in order to see it through, it must first end. Any ideas what that could mean?”

  Joey mouthed the statement again while Ty leaned back in his chair.

  “Why are all these cosmic beings so cryptic?” Joey asked rhetorically. “I mean, they do know we like to keep things simple.”

  “What must end?” Adrienne asked. “Did he elaborate?”

  “Nope, the bastard ignored me when I asked and just dropped the scythe in my hands. Right after that, I woke up.”

  “Well, if I were to hazard a guess,” Ty said, “I would suppose the first part would mean the effort to stop the apocalypse; to me that rings loud and clear. Now the second half is where I start to get nervous – this is the Grim Reaper we’re talking about after all. Like Adrienne asked: what must end, exactly? The fighting, you, all of us?”

  Joey plopped his elbows on the table, exasperated and muttered, “Why can't any of these higher beings speak in plain ol’ English?”

  “They do it to vex us mere mortals,” Adrienne stated with mock arrogance.

  “AKA confuse the shit out of us,” Gage translated for Joey, a little slow on the uptake that night.

  “Not to mention hide their true intentions,” Ty added on, much to the agreement of the others. “I’m drawing blanks right now. I mean, we're trying to wrap our heads around the thoughts of a being who has existed for what, all time? Ugh. I don't know about any of you,
but the past few days have really drained me. I'm going to get a bit of fresh air.”

  Ty got up and snagged his coat, giving everyone a cordial glance before heading out of the galley.

  “Ty’s not wrong about that,” Adrienne said to Gage, who was looking a little worse for wear himself. “I’m not so sure you can trust Death fully.”

  “Oh I know,’” Gage replied, staring at the blade, “and that makes me really nervous.”

  “GODDAMMIT MARCUS!” Ty shouted as he burst on deck, throwing his coat sloppily over his shoulders as he marched over to the barriers. Kicking one of the vertical supports, he slammed his forearms on the handrail and cried. “You just couldn’t listen to me, could you? We could have found a solution, a way to save you and Joey without you having to…”

  The deck creaked, indicating he was not alone.

  “Gage,” Ty said without looking, “Sorry to have left in a hurry, but I really could use just a few minutes of alone time.”

  “Trust me when I say I know exactly what you mean,” Joey answered, dressed only in a white tank top and jeans. He crossed his arms loosely as a frosty draught passed over him. “Left my coat down in the galley chasing after you. You’re quite quick when you want to be.”

  Ty looked at him, at first angry that he wouldn’t leave but upon catching a glimpse of his own brother’s eyes looking back at him, calmed down.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, “I thought you were someone else.”

  Joey knew that he was referring to Gage and his stubborn ass, but knew that Ty had come out there to think about someone in particular – the same one haunting his mind.

  “You’re thinking about him, are you?” Joey asked.

  “Marcus?” Ty asked softly, eyes too sad to look up. “Yeah.”

  “I am so sorry that he’s gone,” Joey said, his eyes starting to glisten from welling tears.

  “It’s not your fault; Marcus made that choice himself.”

  “But he had to make that choice because of me,” Joey retorted. “For that reason, I feel sorrier than you’ll ever know.”