Sanctuary

by Joshua Ingle

  Regardless, Thorn had faced a dilemma. Using his new body to kill the humans and prove his wickedness to the Judge would have let him keep his life as a demon on Earth, but would have compromised his newfound morality. Yet he dared not use the body to aid the humans, for then he’d be just as susceptible to demonic attack as they were. That left him only one choice: to abandon the body. Or so he’d told himself. But if he was being honest, the truth was that the idea of becoming human had terrified him, despite the fact that he’d wanted it for so long.

  So Thorn, as a human, had hopped into a dumpster outside the condo and lit the garbage aflame, then willed his spirit out of his body. As soon as he left it, his body’s arms and legs had tumbled into a heap in the midst of the other trash. But the heart kept beating. Even without its spirit, the body had continued living. Until the flames reached it, and it burned. Thorn hadn’t even thought about how useful the body, if dead, might have been later tonight. He’d just wanted it gone. He didn’t deserve it.

  On Earth, Thorn had wondered why so many demons were afraid of Sanctuaries. And now that he’d seen one for himself—and one full of demons at that—the place was like a violent free-for-all. Any demon with half a brain could wreak enough destruction here to earn him glory for decades. To deprive an entire life of its purpose before it was even born… that was surely a major achievement. Back when Thorn was as depraved as his peers, he’d have traveled to a Sanctuary in a heartbeat, if only he had known that carnage here came so easily.

  So why had the word not spread? Why didn’t demons while away their days killing people in Sanctuaries? Before tonight, Thorn thought it had to do with the occasional demon who never returned from a Sanctuary, or the mysterious and crippling melancholy of many others who did, like Xeres. Most who returned never spoke of their experiences—what had happened to them remained a mystery—and so other demons assumed the worst. But now Thorn knew the truth of why they wouldn’t talk. Those demons had tasted humanity in their respective Sanctuaries, and it had shaken their views of the world.

  “You were human?” Marcus threw Thorn an incredulous glance as they drifted past Cole’s closet. “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why didn’t I become a human? Or any of the demons outside?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You seem desperate to convince me of your fanciful view of the world, Thorn, but not too knowledgeable about your own opinions.”

  I should’ve known he’d think me mad. Thorn hoped against all odds that Marcus would at least listen to a plea for the humans. “Yes, I’m crazy. I’m renegade. I deserve to die. So take me, and let the humans live.”

  Marcus merely laughed a little: barely an exhale. No doubt he or the Africans would murder Crystal and Cole as soon as Thorn was dead. Or perhaps sooner.

  “I thought about it, you know,” Thorn said. “Killing the humans. I stood over Crystal as she slept. Felt the child inside her. It was so easy to put her in a trance, lead her downstairs, to the pool, underwater. I exposed her to all the glorious distractions, and she was oblivious that she was drowning. But then I looked into her eyes, and I saw… I saw…”

  Amy.

  “I saw a mind that could be equal to my own, in another life. I couldn’t go through with it. I took her back upstairs and sent her off to sleep.”

  “Because you’re weak.”

  “Because unlike you, I realized that I don’t need God’s approval in order to be good. So what if He won’t forgive us? So what if He wants to banish us to Hell? He’s not the only source of goodness in the universe. You, and me, and the army outside—we can choose what’s right out of our own free will.”

  “You’re psychotic.”

  “Yeah, I said it. Free will. I think we have it. I think we’ve had it all along, no matter what our beloved Heavenly Father tells us. And I’m through with letting ancient and outdated spite for God get in the way of my own damn conscience. Fuck Him. Fuck you. I’m gonna do what’s right.”

  Thorn hadn’t expected to grow so agitated. His lack of composure had likely heightened Marcus’s condescending view of him, but regardless, he’d said what he’d needed to say. He calmed himself and looked away, refusing further eye contact with the brute.

  They rounded a corner into the master bathroom. Despite dim lights in the ceiling, its walls were lit mostly from beneath. At the far end of the room rested a large bathtub. Thorn followed Marcus toward it, feeling both anger and pity toward him for remaining so unaffected by his pleas.

  Marcus tapped at the tub’s faucet handle. His hand did not pass through it, but neither would the handle budge. Whatever Marcus had planned, Thorn guessed this was his final shot at reasoning with him. Pity won out over anger and fear as Thorn tried one last time to reach out to this demon who he’d once called his brother.

  “God told you that you’re dysfunctional for rebelling against Him. You’re not, Marcus. All you did was make a choice.”

  “A reasonable choice,” the Judge said solemnly. He drifted next to Cole.

  Thorn turned to address his former co-ruler of Atlanta. “Indeed, it was reasonable. I made the same choice.”

  “And we can’t go back. So we should embrace the fight against the Enemy. It’s the only way.”

  “You stand with Marcus, then?”

  The Judge hesitated, but soon he nodded his affirmative. Thorn glowered.

  “Betrayal stings, doesn’t it Thorn?” Marcus said. “I know how that feels. A little Rat betrayed me once. Twice, actually.”

  “Just because I agree with you doesn’t mean I think Thorn should die,” the Judge said to Marcus.

  “Death is the only fate for which traitors are worthy.”

  Marcus’s words silenced the Judge, who again backed off to a corner of the room, watching, listening.

  Thorn resumed his pleading, but this time he spoke to both Marcus and the Judge. “Even if you believe we can’t go back on our choices, you have to see that the humans can. In spite of their mistakes, they can live good, full lives. Even here, even now, Crystal and Cole have so many options.” And Cole was inching closer to the bathtub, at Marcus’s behest…

  “But you only have two options, Thorn,” Marcus said. “You can die a coward. Or you can kill them, and die a demon.”

  “I will keep them alive until they pass their test.” Thorn’s statement sounded more like a threat than he’d intended; Marcus’s calm, confident, yet arrogant demeanor always got under Thorn’s skin.

  “Passing tests is not in their nature.”

  “If that’s the case, why don’t we just let the Sanctuaries be? Leave the humans to fail and die?”

  Marcus briefly tensed at this remark, but quickly regained his facade of tranquility. He reached a hand into Cole’s mind; the blind playboy bent down and turned on the bathtub’s faucet. Crystal asked what he was doing, but Cole said nothing.

  Marcus’s hand remained in the boy’s mind as his eyes turned to Thorn. The hostile gaze said: Checkmate. “The Enemy uses this place as a testing chamber, correct?”

  Thorn nodded, and watched Crystal shake Cole’s shoulder as if trying to rouse him from sleep.

  “Let’s run a little test of our own,” Marcus said. “You say these people can become good. You say they’re worth saving. You, who have been on Earth as long as I have, and have seen every depth of human selfishness… You say this.”

  “I do.”

  Marcus actually smirked. Not a maniacal, villainous smirk, as Thorn had seen from Wanderer, but the much more menacing smirk of someone who’s achieved a victory of which his adversary is not yet aware. A steady stream of water continued spluttering into the tub as Marcus spoke.

  “I liked the human whose body I stole. This… Brandon.” Marcus stared Thorn down, and Thorn was too afraid to look him in the eyes. “Everything burns, Thorn. Everything, everything, everything. Even you. Even if Crystal and Cole live to burn another day. There is no happy ending. So we might as well embrace v
ice and conquest—and greatness!—while we’re here.”

  “We can choose to evolve past that,” Thorn said. “Just like them. You could join me.” He frowned at his own desperation. He detested Marcus and his actions now more than ever before, and asking Marcus to join him went against all his demonic instinct, especially his pride.

  “Your plight is pointless,” Marcus sneered. “These two lives will be inconsequential on Earth, yet you, the Thorn of Constantine, a once-mighty demon, are trying to save them. You must be ashamed of how low you’ve fallen for these animals. And it’s only two of them. Two—out of billions!”

  Thorn was terrified of his impending death, but he would not let this brute assume that he felt shame. On the absolute contrary: Thorn was proud of the demon he’d become. He steeled himself and mustered the nerve to return Marcus’s haughty gaze. Two out of billions? “So were we.”

  Marcus’s smirk vanished, and he seemed a small bit surprised. He nodded slowly. “Suit yourself.”

  If Marcus wanted a test of the humans’ quality, a test he would get. After all Thorn had been through these past three months, and all that he’d learned, he was eager to prove Marcus wrong. Besides, his only other option at the moment was to fight Marcus to the death: a fight Thorn was far from sure he could win, especially in his current wounded state.

  “I need to be in a body so I can keep Crystal at bay.” Thorn turned toward the doorway, then drifted out of the bathroom.

  •

  With great disgust, Marcus watched the coward leave the bathroom. The Central African demons regarded Marcus enviously from outside the windows, and most followed along with Thorn as he disappeared down the hall. Marcus and the Africans weren’t exactly on good terms, as he’d invaded part of their territory with an army on loan from his leader last year. But they could be trusted to let him know if Thorn tried anything suspicious while out of Marcus’s sight. They wanted Thorn dead as much as Marcus did.

  But Marcus didn’t only want Thorn dead; he wanted him to suffer, too. Thorn had become even more corrupted by his dangerous new ideas than Marcus had guessed. The fool wanted to live and die by his own selfish rules, so he’d invented imaginary truths to facilitate his new worldview.

  But the Enemy had cast the demons out of Heaven. The Enemy continued to wage a silent war against demonkind. These were facts, and Thorn could not change them to suit his new conception of God. The evidence lay solely with Marcus.

  Marcus wondered what his leader would think of these new developments. No doubt he’d be furious that Marcus had been unable to kill Thorn until now. But it’d only be a few more minutes… and Marcus’s leader knew better than anyone how old grudges went. He would understand.

  “Cole, what’s going on?” the human girl asked as Marcus reached deeply into the human boy’s—Cole’s—mind. She prattled on and on about love and fear and safety, but Cole’s ears remained deaf to her. Marcus gazed into Cole’s mind, and Cole’s mind gazed back.

  “Brandon?”

  Marcus smiled warmly at him. “Yeah, man. Come here. I’ve got something to show you.”

  “I can see you.”

  “Of course you can. New medical procedure. We got your sight back, remember?”

  Cole reached out to touch his old friend, but Marcus stayed just out of his reach. Cole blinked several times, his shock at his restored vision plain on his face.

  Marcus felt around Cole’s head some more, grasping in the darkness. The human mind was infinitely mysterious to him. What wonders—or horrors—had the Enemy hidden inside? Humans were obviously intellectually inferior to demons, yet remained so “special” to the Enemy. Why? Marcus wished he could probe deeper to find out. Even the vision of Brandon that he was giving Cole now was rudimentary stuff, yanking Cole’s mind from place to place instead of subtly probing its depths. Even in a Sanctuary, it appeared that demons did not have that power.

  Cole looked overjoyed, so Marcus placed his arm around Cole’s shoulders to heighten the illusion. “Over here.” He gestured toward the full bathtub, and Cole followed.

  “Brandon, this is incredible. I can actually see the water.” Cole ran his fingers through it and smiled at Marcus. The wavering liquid reflected its many ripples up onto his skin.

  “Come into the water,” Marcus said. As Cole stepped over the rim of the tub and eased down into it, he briefly looked upward, at the spot where the human girl stood.

  “Cole…” she said fearfully, just as his head went under.

  •

  Thorn stretched Virgil’s rigid body. Come on, my friend, just get me through a few more hours. The cadaver was growing increasingly difficult to control.

  He dragged the police officers’ bodies toward the elevator with his non-broken arm. Brandon’s body as well. Anything that another demon could use to influence the physical world could not be allowed to stay up here. He briefly considered switching out Virgil’s wrecked body for one of these fresher ones, but just as quickly dismissed the idea: he didn’t want to frighten Crystal, especially given what was about to transpire in the bathroom.

  From outside the windows, his foes scrutinized his actions, confusion written on their faces. They didn’t appear to understand why Thorn was sequestering the bodies in the elevator. Good.

  •

  Cole was submerged in nothing more than a bathtub, but it might as well have been an endless watery abyss for how little he was aware of his surroundings. Marcus’s grip on his mind was like a vise, and Cole caved to every illusion Marcus paraded before him.

  First, there was Brandon, Cole’s only friend, his eye restored much as Cole’s own eyes had been. He swam beside Cole, smiling with compassion, and led him to three beautiful women who were dressed in only the barest of swimwear. They caressed Cole sensuously, posed provocatively for him. They kissed each other, and Brandon, and him. These sirens of the deep led Cole upward onto the deck of his yacht—which was still underwater—where even more young women waited for Cole with drinks.

  Hedonism. It was one of the oldest demonic tactics, and it continued to be effective into the modern age. Forget your problems, your failures, your life, your future. Focus on the pleasure of the moment. Brandon had used this ploy to control Cole for years, so of course it was the ploy that Marcus tried first, and he was sure it would work. But after a few moments, Cole started to glance around at the girls, past the girls, searching for something more. Ah, that’s right. He was ready to quit this life at the start of the night. No matter. Marcus had many other tricks up his sleeve.

  He presented Cole with a video slot machine. The specter of Brandon swam around behind it as a vast underwater casino materialized around them. “Why’d you ever leave this behind?” Marcus said to Cole. “You found so much comfort in this.”

  Cole pulled the lever by rote. The machine was themed “Heaven and Hell,” so Cole focused on lining up the halos and the pitchforks in any possible winning arrangement. On his first try, five of the halos lined up in a row, and the machine erupted into a salvo of lights and bells. Brandon raised his arms and pumped a fist in triumph, then swam around to pat Cole on the back. A flurry of hundred dollar bills spat out of the machine and drifted through the water around Cole.

  Cole seemed pleased at first as the rush of a sudden win overwhelmed him, but he also seemed confused: maybe at how he’d won so fast, or maybe at how sluggishly he and Brandon moved through the water. Of course. His addiction is too far in the past. Addiction now will suffice no more than hedonism will.

  Still, thirty seconds had already passed since Cole had sunk beneath the water; another minute would finish him off. Marcus just had to distract him until then. Best not to focus on the past. False hope for the future will be more effective.

  As the whirlwind of gambling winnings floated around Cole, Marcus concocted a vision of an art gallery beyond, each wall lined with Cole’s paintings. Dozens of urbane patrons drifted around the flooded gallery, admiring Cole’s work. Cole grinned widely. Yes, he ce
rtainly likes this.

  Marcus stripped away one of the gallery’s walls to reveal a sold-out concert hall, every seat filled with an admirer eagerly waiting to hear Cole’s music. A grand piano appeared before him, and pages of sheet music drifted like seaweed above it, urging him to play them.

  Cole took a seat at the piano, and the massive crowd erupted into applause. His grin endured as he soaked in the adulation of his adoring fans. Brandon and his sirens sat in the very front row, cheering Cole on. To be loved. That’s all Cole really wants, Marcus saw now. That’s why he put up with Brandon. Brandon was the only person in Cole’s whole life who made him feel important. So now Marcus made Cole feel important too, and all Cole could do was take it in as the air escaped his lungs.

  Thorn entered the master bathroom, wearing Virgil’s body. Marcus gestured to Cole victoriously. The horror on Thorn’s face was priceless. “So easy to control him,” Marcus said. “A petty human mind.”

  Unable to hear Marcus, the human girl said, “Cole’s in trouble,” as if Thorn didn’t already know. Her dress was soaking wet; she’d been trying desperately to pull Cole up out of the tub, but Cole, under Marcus’s control, had resisted her easily. And now Thorn used Virgil to wrap his arms around the girl, restraining her.

  “What are you doing? Let me go!” She beat her hands against him, causing the broken bone in his arm to bulge beneath his skin, but he held her firmly. “You need to help Cole! Save him! I thought you said you were here to save us!”

  Marcus expected Thorn to keep a hard gaze on him and Cole throughout the ordeal, but instead Thorn focused exclusively on the human girl, Crystal. He rested Virgil’s head on hers and held her forcefully… but also lovingly. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he said to her. She kept hyperventilating, but she stilled. Only then did Thorn look up at Cole, ignoring Marcus and the Judge entirely. Repugnantly, Cole’s predicament seemed to pain Thorn just as much as it pained the girl.