by Brian Rella
All the shelves were empty. Frank made his way up and down the rows to be certain. No books. No Arraziel.
He went back through the curtain and through the door to his right. Stairs led down to darkness. He raised his hand and the ball of light floated from the center of the room to his palm. Must crept into his nose as he descended the stairs.
The basement was empty as well, the concrete floor dry and clean.
He heard something dripping, toward the back-right corner. He moved the light in that direction and saw a small drain in the floor with some tubing connected into what looked like the town’s main sewage system. Frank raised his hand higher and moved toward the corner. He squinted and saw water stains on the bottom wall and floor but nothing else.
As he turned to head back up the stairs, he heard a whisper behind him, and an acrid smell stopped him in his tracks.
Glancing back toward the plumbing, a faint glow appeared on the floor. The glow grew brighter, spreading out of the drain in the floor.
Frank’s reaction was instantaneous, his motion smooth and practiced. Making a fist with each hand and placing his hands together, he said, “Es’ nahfth’ fal!” Blue light spiked between his clenched fists and rose above his hands, forming a glowing katana, its blade pure energy.
Come out, come out, wherever you are…
A screech came from the drain and a gust of hot air from the corner of the room blew his shoulder length hair behind him and extinguished the ball of light that hung in the air. He raised his sword and crouched reading himself for a fight. The blue light radiated from his blade, casting thin, dark shadows around the room. He moved cautiously across the floor and toward the drain.
A low hum emanated from the drain. The sound warped and pulsed and the drain rippled, like a pool of still water disturbed by a pebble. A sulfur smell filled the air and something moved in the rippling ground, with wave-like rhythm, and a crunching sound, like electricity, echoed in the basement.
A torrent of purple light plumed. The electrical sound became a cacophony and a large shape shot into the air, attached itself to the ceiling, and hung there like a purple pupa.
The pupa swelled and several lumps poked at the outer membrane violently before bursting open with a spurting sound. Several blobs attached to the back wall of the room.
Frank counted six. This can’t be good. They began to shift and take form as Frank moved forward aggressively, intent on destroying them before they could completely form.
The creatures were three feet long, with arms and legs of equal length. Their black bodies gleamed with violet gloss and networks of green veins coursed underneath their skin. Their skulls were shaped like a dog and when their mouths opened, long, red tongues, forked at the end like a snake, flicked at Frank.
Imps.
Frank raised his sword and cut through the air. He slashed at the imp closest to him, severing it at its torso. The imp sizzled and turned to a pile of glowing ash on the ground. The rest of the group hissed in unison, and skittered away, their nails scratching on the concrete floor.
The remaining five spread apart and angled their attacks. Frank’s movements became rapid and jagged as he dodged their deadly strikes and countered with his own.
One leaped from the floor to the wall to the ceiling, hanging upside down. It lashed its tongue out at Frank, and then sprang at him. Frank spun away and the imp missed. Frank slashed downward finishing his turn, his riposte splitting a second imp attacking from the floor.
Another imp lunged. Frank’s katana was a blur through the air as it removed the head of the attacker, sending a screech through the basement and glowing ash sashaying down to the floor.
Frank gathered himself in an open stance, his sword blazing with energy behind him in one hand, the other hand in front of him, watching the remaining three imps leap at him at once. He moved to his right, his blade scorching and hissing as it cut through the outside attacker, decapitating the imp in midair. He partially blocked the middle imp with the flat of his sword, but caught a claw on his forearm that sent hot fire up his arm and blood gushing from the gash above his wrist.
“Siq’estros Fa’!” he shouted, raising his right hand to his side. A blue, spiral-patterned energy field formed around him, blocking the attack of the third imp. It bounced backward and to the floor. As the temporary energy shield dissolved, Frank had enough time to recover and ran toward the wall as the imp that had clawed him came in for another attack.
He dodged and ran up the side of the wall, pushing off it with his feet and spinning through the air, parallel to the floor. His katana whispered through the air, eradicating the imp with a slice to the chest and then removing its legs.
Frank landed on his feet, bent at his knees, his sword above his head, poised to strike again.
The remaining imp’s eyes glowed green and it hissed at him. “The sssssssun is setting, Frank Bisshhhhop. He will return darknesssssss to the world oncccccccce more!” the creature howled at him, then bounded on all fours toward the portal it came through. Frank pursued, but not before the beast leaped back into the vortex, the portal closing behind him.
“Bring it,” Frank growled at the closing hole, his katana evaporating before him. He stood tall, glowering at the place where the imp had disappeared.
So, it begins…
He glanced at his wound, watching it heal and close. Turning on his heel, he made his way back up the stairs. He had another stop to make tonight.
The coroner.
11
FRANK
October 14, 1983
Hudson Highlands, New York
Shizu leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands in front of him. He scanned everyone seated around the table.
Frank’s mother and father shifted in their chairs. David was hugging his mother’s shoulder, staring at the wall with three fingers in his mouth, making a soft sucking sound.
“Young one,” Shizu said, turning to Frank. “You have a gift. You are a Watcher.”
The room was silent. Then, “What’s a Watcher?” Jason asked.
Shizu met Jason’s eyes. “This will sound unbelievable to you, but I assure you, I speak the truth.
“Frank has powers that come from ancient cosmic beings that once inhabited this world. His power is energetic and comes from the Universe itself.
“He is physically stronger than a normal person and can heal rapidly. As he grows, his strength and powers will grow too. If trained, he can manifest his power and direct it, as you saw us do today. He can use this power to see others like him, and other beings we call the Fallen. He can also use his power to travel to the Realm of the Second Death where the Fallen have been imprisoned for millennia.”
“What do you mean cosmic beings?” Robin asked. “What is the Realm of the Second Death? Who are the Fallen? Are you saying my son is an alien or something? What the hell are you—“
“Watchers have the blood of the Fallen flowing through them. We are part human, part cosmic being.”
“Mommy, am I part alien?” Frank asked.
“You are not an alien!” Frank’s mother said, pulling him to her with a horrified look on her face.
“You are not an alien,” Shizu said to Frank, and then turned to his mother. “Robin, for now, just understand that your son is special. He has gifts that few others have. That is why Glak'xhohr attacked your family. Because of your son’s powers.”
“I don’t understand. I watched Robin give birth to Frank. He is not a…a…a cosmic being. This makes no sense. Why did those things attack us? Why my family?” Frank’s father asked.
“We are at war,” Maza said. “The Fallen, their kin, and their human cults attack Watchers all the time. They see us as jailers and obstacles in the way of their return. We are targets.” Maza turned to look at Frank.
Frank felt everyone staring at him. He looked at his mother and met her eyes. Tears streamed down her face. She put her hand on his shoulder and p
ulled Frank to her chest, then looked at her husband.
“Jason?” she said.
“I don’t – ” Jason said.
“Your son is a Watcher,” Shizu said. He looked directly at Frank and his face was kind and sympathetic, like he knew something Frank didn’t know and was sorry he was going to learn it.
Frank’s mother tensed and stood, David still on her shoulder. Her face grew furious. “My son is not a…a…Watcher or whatever. And this is crazy! This is madness. What we saw today was not real. It was some kind of trick. Some kind of illusion and I will not have any more of this talk around my boys.”
She turned to Frank’s father. “Jason, we are leaving.”
Jason looked at her, unsure of what to do. His mouth hung open and, realizing it, he closed it abruptly, clacking his teeth together. He frowned and then looked compassionately at Frank’s mother. “Robin, let’s hear what else they have to say.”
“I will not sit for this!” she said. “Jason, this is…is…”
“Robin,” Jason’s voice was soft and gentle, almost a whisper. “Please,” he begged.
Robin huffed and sat back down, staring into space. Jason put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her close in a hug. Frank and David were between them. Frank stared at Shizu, his lower lip trembling. He hugged his dad and mom.
Shizu gestured at the warriors gathered in the room. “We are The Order of Watchers. There are other members of the Order around the world, all trained in the knowledge of these beings, and sworn to protect this world from the Fallen and the Realm of the Second Death.”
“And you want my son to join you?”
“We are at war, Jason. The Fallen see your son as a threat, just as they see all Watchers as a threat. They wish to destroy us all and devour the light of this world. Chaos, death, and destruction is what they crave and how they live. We have sworn to fight them to the end, of their days…or ours. Like it or not, Frank is a Watcher and a part of this fight.”
Sometimes I play war with David, but that’s just pretend. This seems real.
12
JESSIE
October 17, 2015
Chicago, Illinois
Jessie didn’t remember leaving the Water Tower Place Mall. Outside, the long shadows covered the streets as the sun faded. Her stomach growled, but she had no desire to eat. Putting one foot in front of the other, she walked along North Michigan Avenue, the buzz of the city tingling on her skin, the late afternoon traffic of people and cars a cacophony between her ears.
Conversations went on around her as she drifted in a fog of thought up one of the greatest shopping streets in all of the world. The words of the deep ominous voice inside her head played over and over. Princess… A gift… More to come.
Where had this voice come from? She heard it clearly inside her head, but it wasn’t her voice. How could that be?
Have I snapped? If I have lost my mind, would I be asking myself if I was crazy?
She strolled with no purpose other than to keep moving forward and away from something she wasn’t ready to face. She had no idea what was happening to her, and not knowing frightened her.
Her thoughts drifted to Arraziel, the demon she now commanded, and what she had done with her powerful…accomplice. She did not fear Arraziel. If he had wanted to hurt her, he could have. No, he was hers to command and that was powerful and comforting.
What she had done to her mother, Marie, and Steve didn’t scare her either. They had meant to harm her. It was her or them. There would have been no way out of the life her mother was creating for her. Her mother would have let the abuse go on for years. She was sure of it. Maybe her mother hadn’t paid attention to the signs or she hadn’t cared or was blind to it, but in any case, she had put Jessie in danger, and Jessie realized that. She had not protected her own flesh and blood. She had invited the violence closer, in fact. Jessie was not sorry for what she had done. It was her or her mother and, instinctively, Jessie had chosen herself.
She was not frightened of them coming after her, either. They couldn’t even if they wanted to, and Jessie had made sure they wouldn’t want to ever see her again. Marie and Steve were monsters more than Arraziel was, and they deserved what they got. It was justice.
She passed a sign advertising an observation deck and crossed E. Delaware Street. Westin Hotel. Jessie thought a room and a bed sounded good. The long day drained her and she recalled she hadn’t slept except for the nap on the plane. Sleep would be good.
But could she afford a room? She had a little cash in her pocket and Karen’s credit cards, but one was already at its limit. Was there a limit on the other card too? Would she get declined? A sudden pang of fear raced through her. Where am I going to sleep tonight?
This way, Jessie. We have friends here, the dark voice in her head said. It was leading her somewhere. She followed, trusting it would take her somewhere safe, somewhere she could rest.
She continued down North Michigan Avenue for half a block.
“Good evening, Jessie,” a woman said. Jessie turned and a woman in a business suit stood in front of her. Her outstretched arm invited Jessie into a building. “We have a room for you upstairs,” she said, her white teeth gleaming.
Jessie looked at the sign on the building wall. The Four Seasons Hotel. “I don’t…” she started. “I can’t afford…”
“It’s all taken care of, miss,” the woman said. Jessie took a few steps closer and the woman led her to the front doors. “This way, please.”
Go, Jessie. She is a friend.
Jessie followed and entered the hotel. She stared at the woman as she pressed the button to the elevator going up. The elevator dinged and the doors opened with a whoosh. The woman put her arm in front of the door to prevent it from closing. Jessie stepped in and locked eyes with the woman, confused.
She stepped into the elevator and pressed the L button, nodded to Jessie, and stepped out.
“Enjoy your stay,” she said as the doors closed, and Jessie was gently lifted up to the lobby level of the hotel.
13
FRANK
October 20, 2015
Beauchamp, Louisiana
Frank slid into his Mach 1 and pulled up the coroner’s address on his phone. It was a short drive from town on Route 881, just down the road from the hospital. The moon was high and ominous and the temperature had dropped.
Another hour and he’d have the answers he needed. Then who knew where he would be headed? If Olga was dead and the Arraziel book in the hands of a cultist, something big and dark was stirring – bigger than anything he’d experienced since he was a kid.
If Olga was dead. He felt it in his bones; he knew she was. Brennan felt it as well, he was sure. This trip to ID the body was just a formality.
Chaos was coming with great force and fury. Someone or something was at work behind the scenes. The growing darkness in the world was palpable, and Frank feared…what exactly? The return of the Fallen? Or something else?
Something bigger, his gut told him.
He rolled to a stop a few hundred yards up the street from the coroner, cut the engine, and sat, watching. Coroners kept strange hours, especially during a murder investigation. He didn’t want to walk in on someone doing an autopsy or have someone walk in on him.
When he felt comfortable that no one was around, he exited the car, making his way on foot through some trees and around the back of the morgue. The back door was locked, but that was no problem for Frank.
Inside, Frank cast a small light and followed the signs on the walls to the autopsy rooms. There were two autopsy rooms in the south side of the building. He peered through the safety glass of the pale-green door to the first room. A lump, about the length of a person, lay on a stainless steel table under a white sheet. He pushed on the door and it opened.
The room smelled of chemicals and entrails. The floor was white tile and the windowless walls were the same pale-green as the outside hall. Body drawers lined the wall to his left. T
he room was eerily silent, until Frank flicked on the overhead fluorescent lights, which hummed softly. He stepped toward the table, his muscles tensing. He had a bad feeling at what he was about to see, and his stomach turned his last meal over, making him feel slightly nauseous.
He pulled the blanket back.
Olga Platt, Watcher over the book of Arraziel for almost thirty years, was dead.
Christ. Whoever did this had mutilated her.
Her scalp had been pulled back and her white skull exposed. The partial removal of the scalp had pulled the skin of her face, distorting her features in a twisted grimace. Frank winced at the sight of her, forcing himself not to look away, absorbing every detail of her deformed, gory expression. He had only met her once at a gathering years ago, and hadn’t seen her since. He remembered her laughter and cheeriness, always positive and upbeat. She had loved her job.
Now look at her. The smile he saw was a grotesque perversion of his memories.
He pulled the blanket back further and looked at the rest of her.
Her torso had been crushed and her innards pushed to her upper and lower extremities. She looked misshapen, like a tube of toothpaste squeezed in the center.
Frank bowed his head, a flood of emotions running through him. Sorrow, disgust, anger, frustration, and fear filled his mind all at once. He fought back the urge to puke.
She had given her life to protect the book of Arraziel from the whackos out there, and this is how she had ended up.
He vowed to avenge her. She was a sister of the Order and he would bring whoever did this to justice.
Who did this?
That was the question. He had no clues, no next step. Who had done this and where did they go?
There was a chance that he could get some help, so that he wouldn’t be searching for a blade of grass in a meadow.