by Alan Baxter
‘Why don’t you practice the magic, as you call it?’ he suggested. He certainly didn’t want Samuel to ever get too proficient at manipulating energy, but Samuel didn’t have that long anyway. It might ease the tension, give him confidence. The more confident and sure of himself he felt, the safer they would be from Satan’s distractions.
‘Like what? I can’t light any candles in here.’
‘Remember, Samuel. You can do anything.’
Samuel was thoughtful for a while. Then he said, ‘Remember that Stephen King book, Carrie? This chick with all these powers of telekinesis and pyrokinesis and shit?’ Isiah nodded. ‘You’re effectively telling me that all that stuff is real, right?’
Isiah laughed. ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to suggest that a Stephen King novel was real, but the events portrayed in there are feasible. It is possible to demonstrate abilities like Carrie. And then some. Why?’
Samuel looked at the small, clear plastic cup on his seat back tray. His brow creased as he concentrated, staring at the cup. Isiah could feel his will building again. It was frightening how powerful this man might get if he had the chance. Isiah had to keep reminding himself that Samuel would never get that chance. His days were more than numbered.
After several minutes the small cup began to tremble, just a vibration. ‘Can I really pick this up?’ Samuel hissed from between clenched teeth.
Isiah nodded. ‘Certainly.’
After a moment more the cup lifted from the tray top, just a fraction, wobbling around an imaginary axis. With a rush of escaping breath Samuel collapsed back into his seat, the cup clattering back to the tray. ‘Shit, man, that is hard!’ he exclaimed.
Isiah smiled. ‘Of course it is.’ One day, given the time, Samuel would come to realise that it was only hard because he believed it would be. Isiah wondered how long it would take Samuel to get dangerous if he had the chance. ‘You’re a man of contradictions, aren’t you, Sam.’ Statement.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’re a classical character in some ways, the coward specifically. But you also have enormous innate talent and a remarkable propensity for evil.’
Samuel shrugged. ‘I’m not a coward. But so what?’
‘Why?’
‘Why what?’
Isiah shifted in his seat. ‘Why are you such an arsehole?’
Samuel laughed. ‘Say what you mean, man, don’t beat around the bush!’
‘Seriously. Why?’
Samuel shrugged, his smile fading. ‘I dunno. I just get off on it. A lot of people try to get all psychological with shit like this. You know, troubled upbringing, divorced parents, childhood abuse. All kinds of stuff. It’s all a load of horseshit.’
Isiah raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah. I had a good upbringing. I had good parents, they stayed together and loved each other. They loved me. They treated me well, we had fun, we weren’t too rich or particularly poor. I was well educated, did pretty good in school. But I was always a bit of a loner. Then I discovered that I liked the darker things in life. I remember I saw some footage from the war, taken by these guys with old style cameras. It showed these guys running and getting mown down by bullets. Then there was a dead body lying on the ground. It got caught in the crossfire and kinda jerked and twitched. I wasn’t horrified or disgusted. I wondered what it would be like to do that myself.
‘There were lots of incidents like that. And I loved horror movies. I liked to lie and cheat and steal. I liked to have power over things. Animals at first, then people. But I soon realised that was all kinda grotesque, amateurish, you know?’ Samuel looked at Isiah. Isiah stared back, expressionless.
Samuel took a breath. ‘I started to study the occult and the dark arts. I was trying to find something superior, something higher than the basest acts of meanness and nastiness. I started to analyse what I did and make an art of it. But the evil didn’t come from anywhere, it was hardwired into my brain. It wasn’t the result of anything.’ He shrugged. ‘Just born that way! Then I was found by the Sorcerer. You know the rest, more or less.’
‘So you think your evil desires are just... what? Genetic?’
Samuel smiled. ‘Yeah. Don’t buy all that psychological bullshit, man. It might be true in some cases, but most evil bastards are just born bad. Politically correct bleeding heart liberal fuckwits call them sick nowadays, but they’re evil. Right to the blood and bone, they were born evil.’ Samuel was staring at the cup on his tray table again, lost in his own reverie.
‘What happened to your parents?’ Isiah asked. ‘Are they still around?’
Samuel shook his head. ‘No. They died in a car crash when I was nineteen.’
Isiah nodded. ‘And you don’t think that had any effect on you?’
Samuel laughed. ‘Of course it did! I got the house and their money.’ He grinned maliciously. ‘That’s why I rigged the car that night before they went out.’
Isiah sat back heavily in his chair, taking a deep breath.
It was quiet for a while, the constant hum of the aircraft and the murmur of occasional conversations the only sounds. Strangely peaceful. When they were only a couple of hours from Guatemala City Isiah decided to explain his plan of action to Samuel. ‘Okay, here’s the plan for when we land.’
Samuel had an expression of barely controlled fear stamped on his features. ‘Listen, man,’ he said in a shaky voice, ‘I’ve been thinking. Why don’t we just travel to this place using your magical teleport thing. Like that shit we did before. I’m willing to take the risk.’
Isiah shook his head. ‘I’m not.’
Samuel’s face was pleading. ‘Isiah, I don’t know how much more of this I can take.’ His expression turned disgusted as he frantically brushed at his trouser leg, trying to knock away the huge, slimy spider that was crawling towards his lap. Isiah burned the image away before Samuel’s whimpers attracted attention.
‘Samuel, you have to relax.’
Samuel snapped his head around to stare Isiah directly in the eyes. ‘Fuck you, man! How the hell can I relax?’
‘There are rules at play here. On this plane we’re safe, apart from psychological attack, and that’s all this is. All the time we are together here I can protect you and we’ll be okay. When we land, we’re going to be hunted with a vengeance once more.’ Samuel winced. Isiah held up a staying hand. ‘That’s the reason that I need to explain the plan to you. We’re going to skip the Devil between flying and landing.’
Samuel rubbed at his temples with tired hands. ‘But why can’t we teleport?’
‘It’ll kill you.’
‘Why?’
Isiah sighed. ‘All right. Because your average mortal frame is not conditioned for it. Remember I told you what magic was? Simply manipulating the energy that binds and flows through all things?’ Samuel nodded. ‘Well, the more of that manipulation that you engage in, the more practice you have, the more things you can do. In essence, the more energy you can contain. In so doing your body becomes conditioned to the flow of energy, as does your mind and subsequently you can handle more still. It’s an exponential thing. Now, teleporting, as you called it, is a very difficult thing, extremely hard. It takes a lot of practice, a lot of knowledge and a huge amount of energy. My body is well conditioned to that energy and it therefore does me no harm. Your body isn’t. When I teleport us both I’m subjecting us both to enormous levels of energy, fantastically strong forces at an atomic, molecular level. My body is strong enough to withstand and channel that. Yours isn’t. That energy would tear you apart like a paper house in a hurricane.’
‘But we did it before.’
Isiah nodded. ‘At extreme risk. I had to get us out of there. We only went a very short way and your body was fit and strong. It was a calculated risk that paid off. But I can see it in your cells, Samuel, the damage is there. One more flood of energy like that and you’re done.’
‘But if I practice then I can get strong enough to handle shit like
that?’
Isiah nodded.
‘Stuff like lighting and putting out a candle?’ Samuel asked.
‘Sure. That’s where it all begins. A champion weight lifter starts off with small dumbbells.’
Samuel nodded sadly. ‘I guess there’s not enough time to get in shape.’
Isiah laughed. ‘It takes decades, Samuel.’
Samuel reclined his chair and leaned back, one arm draped across his eyes. ‘So what do we do?’
‘Well, we have a few problems to deal with. Firstly, Old Nick is here, waiting. Fortunately he’s found a young girl to play with which means he’s not paying attention to us right now so we can talk.’ Samuel looked to where Isiah indicated to see a young girl a couple of rows further back. She was reclined in her seat, a blanket over her, pulled up under her chin. She was very subtly writhing in her seat, fast asleep, smiling serenely. Samuel could see ripples of movement beneath the blanket. He closed his eyes, sat back again. Isiah went on. ‘You see, he thinks he’s got us. He’ll wait until the plane lands, follow us through the airport, then take us on in a quiet corner somewhere. He’s relaxed in his confidence and that’s where we’ll catch him out.’
‘But, Isiah,’ Samuel whined, ‘he knows where we’re going! Don’t you remember? It was him that set me this task in the first place, he knows exactly where we’re headed.’
Isiah smiled. ‘You really should learn to have some faith in me, Samuel. Of course he knows where we’re going. And he knows where we are. Therefore, if we can lose him now he won’t waste time and energy chasing us around. He’ll go straight to the site of the dig and wait for you there.’
‘So what’s the difference?’
‘I can hold him up while you get the skull, then it’s all over.’
Samuel raised one eyebrow. ‘You can hold him up? Are you sure?’
‘Certainly. We’ll sneak into the site. He’ll be waiting somewhere for you. You head for the skull, when he attacks I’ll hold him up.’ At least until you’ve killed Carlos Villalopez. He wondered exactly when, where and how that meeting was going to happen. Hopefully it would not be long after they reached the site so that he would not have to hold on to Lucifer for too long. And hopefully, with the delays in the flight, they weren’t too late already. They still had to get to the site somehow.
Samuel heaved a deep sigh. ‘So how do we lose him now? Remember man, I can lose him. If he gets too close again, that’s what I’ll do.’
‘No, you won’t, Samuel. I will not have you killing any more innocents.’
Samuel’s expression was scathing. ‘Who the fuck is innocent these days?’
‘I’m not getting into that discussion with you. There isn’t time. Now shut up and listen. Right before we land he’ll come to us, to laugh and gloat. When he does I’m going to jump him. There’ll be a huge scrap, but you won’t really see anything, it’ll be fighting on my terms for a change. The result, however, will be much the same as the result of your rather more bloody magic. I’ll disrupt his presence here, his physical manifestation, cast him back down. He’ll be mad as hell, if you’ll pardon the pun, and come flying straight back at us, but it’ll buy us a short while.’
‘But what do we do in that short while?’
‘Well, we’re landing at Guatemala City. That’s a long way from the site we need to get to. The nearest airport to the site is Flores, so we have to get there, then head through the jungle to the site.’
Samuel’s eyes narrowed. ‘So we have a short time and we have to use it to get to Flores?’
‘Not exactly. We just have to get out of this general area, far enough that Satan loses our trail and has to start again. That’s what’ll drive him to go straight to the site and wait for us there. So we’re going to get out of Guatemala City as quick as we can by acquiring ourselves a small plane and its pilot to get to Flores.’
Samuel didn’t look convinced by Isiah’s plans. Isiah flashed him a big smile. ‘Don’t strain your brain, Samuel. Just trust me, okay?’
Samuel shrugged. ‘Like I have any choice.’
‘That’s the spirit! Now it’s going to take a huge amount of effort on my part to bounce Satan out of this plane, then I’m going to have to get us through as fast as possible to get a plane and get the fuck out of Dodge. I’m going to be expending a lot of energy, so just stay right with me the whole time. I’m trusting you to stay close and stay quiet. Think you can do that?’
Samuel nodded under his arm. ‘Yeah, yeah. You get him out of here for a while and I’ll feel a lot better.’
A heaviness filled the air. ‘Shit, game on. Be still, Samuel.’
There was the familiar deep, rumbling laughter as the Devil walked towards them along the aisle of the plane. None of the other passengers seemed to notice. He crouched down beside Isiah’s chair, one forearm laid casually along the chair’s arm. He looked past Isiah to Samuel, who sat staring dead ahead, muscles twitching in his cheek as he ground his teeth, determined not to look. The Devil smiled, broad, sharp toothed. ‘So, Interferer,’ he said, his voice heavy and black. ‘I think it’s all over, don’t you? Just let me take him now and save yourself any further troubles.’
Isiah turned his head to stare down at Lucifer. As a wide smile spread across his face his left hand shot out in a blur of movement, unbelievably fast, grabbing the devil’s face, his thumb and middle finger either side squeezing deeply into the temples, his other fingers clutching tightly. The Devil let out a cry of surprise, his own hand flying up, grabbing Isiah’s wrist.
Isiah’s fingers pressed with immense force into the Devil’s face, his middle finger and thumb slowly sinking into the hollows of Lucifer’s temples, dark black blood leaking out, running down his cheeks. Satan’s own nails were drawing blood from Isiah’s forearm, Isiah’s skin taut and white under his grip. The Devil lashed out with his other hand, clawing for Isiah’s face. Isiah caught his hand with lightning reflexes, his hand wrapped around the devil’s closed fist, squeezing. Lucifer’s bones began popping.
Samuel leaned away from the two of them as far as possible, awed by the intense, silent battle taking place and by the coppery, charged sense of electricity in the air. He could feel both Isiah and Lucifer flooding each other with enormous quantities of energy, locked in a psychic wrestling match, though their bodies were immobile, like statues. Still nobody else seemed to notice.
Isiah let his energy build up, saturating the Devil’s physical body with it, taking advantage of the fact that Lucifer was less comfortable in a manifest form like this than he was in his own form. Isiah had caught him by surprise and had the better of him. Slowly Lucifer’s body seemed to swim and shift, every molecule losing cohesion. Isiah took a deep breath, concentrating hard. ‘Go back to hell!’ he hissed through clenched teeth and pumped a last massive surge of energy. With a blisteringly hot spray of particles the Devil’s body burst in every direction, a sound like rushing wind. Then silence.
Isiah collapsed back in his chair, his face running with sweat. He massaged his left hand. Samuel sat staring at the space where the Devil had just been, his eyes wide. ‘That was intense!’ he said, his voice awestruck.
Isiah concentrated on stilling his ragged breathing. ‘He’s a strong son of a bitch,’ he said.
Samuel stretched up in his seat, looked carefully around. ‘Is he really gone?’
Isiah nodded. ‘For now. We have a little while before he comes back. Like your spell, it buys us a little head start time. Only I didn’t have to kill anyone.’
Samuel shrugged. ‘There’s no way I’d be strong enough to do what you just did.’
Isiah looked at him for a second, his face sad. ‘That’s the whole point though, isn’t it?’ Samuel looked confused, but before he could speak Isiah raised a hand to silence him. ‘Shut up and let me get my breath back.’
A moment later the plane bounced to the ground in Guatemala City airport and taxied to the arrival gate. Isiah and Samuel shuffled along the plane with the other p
assengers and made their way through to the baggage claim hall. Isiah led Samuel off to one side. ‘Now stay close to me,’ he whispered. With that he stepped over the baggage conveyor and ducked out through the hole in the wall where the bags and cases would begin to appear any minute. Samuel, swallowing his surprise, looked furtively around before hurrying through behind. He dropped to the ground in a covered area outside. The stifling heat made sweat immediately start coursing down his back and sides.
Isiah stood just to one side, talking to two baggage handlers. By their blank expressions Samuel could tell they were being subjected to Isiah’s own unique mind altering techniques.
Isiah turned and motioned for Samuel to follow him. The baggage handlers simply stood still, staring at nothing, as they hurried past. They stuck close to the walls, keeping out of sight, as they made their way away from the main airport, heading for a smaller airfield beside it. There were several light aircraft, trainers, private jets, crop dusters even, ranged roughly around the area. As they approached a chain link fence Isiah gestured with one hand. The fence split from about six feet up to the ground. He ducked through, Samuel close behind him, panting for breath in the heat.
Isiah slowed to a walk, trying to look as though he was meant to be there, and headed towards a low building. Samuel followed his lead, began swaggering along as nonchalantly as possible.
A man in overalls appeared around the corner of the building, wiping his oily hands on an equally oily rag. He looked up as he saw them, said something quickly in Spanish. Isiah replied, his Spanish sounding like that of a native. The man looked suspicious for a second, then shrugged and continued on his way.
Isiah walked into the low building. It was dusty and dry, but the shade afforded a slight relief from the heat. He could hear laughter and conversation in a room up ahead. The room was a lounge sorts, several easy chairs and couches strewn around, a coffee machine in one corner. Several men sat around smoking cigarettes and talking loudly to each other. They fell quiet when Isiah and Samuel entered.
‘Good day, gentlemen,’ Isiah said in Spanish. ‘I take it at least some of you are flyers?’