by Amanda Churi
“I… Guess?” I responded unsurely, rereading the paragraph. I had never heard of anything like this; no one had ever mentioned it. Kevin only stressed to me that, as a demon, all I would be capable of was destruction; he never really told me anything besides the physical and mental side effects. As much as I did not embrace my demonic identity, a small part of me definitely found this to be a unique perk to the many downsides I saw.
“It just says ‘disguised portals,’” Mabel pressed, baffled that there seemed to be nothing more on that particular subject. “Maybe it doesn’t say exactly what they are because it doesn’t want mortals to abuse that.”
“Mortals could abuse enough by simply reading this,” I countered, an entranced tone resting in my throat. I looked at Mabel, intrigued as I remembered the unique experience I had our first day of training—when Seek pushed me to the limit, and I saw that her “light” was anything but that; it was souls, and I had both seen and heard them. And Calla in Pikë… That must have been her Eyla. She said that I called on her; I was angry and cursing her for what she had done, but she had allowed me to speak with her.
I didn’t know it then, but I knew it now; I had somehow crossed into the Spirit World several times.
“I don’t know how to cross dimensions,” I admitted, rising to stand in front of Mabel, leaving her to hold the book. “But… I have been in the Spirit World before.”
Mabel looked surprised—well duh, she should be. Even I was. “Really?”
I nodded. “Y-yeah! It’s weird, though; you’re still on Earth, but… It’s like there’s a whole nother world around you!”
She rested her face on her hand, not sure what to say to that for a minute. “But what benefit does the Spirit World hold to you?” she questioned. “Better yet, you had to get there by accident. Let’s say there was a certain helpful quality to it; how could you get there if you really needed to?”
“Uh…” Now that was a valid point; I wasn’t sure if it did have any use. “Maybe that’s something else we can read about?”
“Or, considering that Pinion did away with those pages, maybe I can help.”
I whipped my head to the door just in time to see it part. Virgil stood in between the retracted plates of steel, his arms folded and red pupils dilated, clashing against the ring of oil surrounding the heinous pool of blood that never took its leave.
“Does everyone’s handprint work on our door?” Mabel exclaimed, gawking as Virgil invited himself in.
“Considering the circumstances, basically,” Virgil replied, trying to hide his amused smirk as Mabel’s face gnarled in repulsion.
“What if I was changing or something?”
“No show we haven’t already seen,” he answered flatly, perfectly composed as he sat down beside Mabel.
“WHAT?!” Mabel squealed, throwing her hands into the air and springing off of the bed, creating some much-needed distance. Her face drained of all life, a ghostly hue so potent laying claim to her cheeks that I was practically waiting for her to faint.
Not to say that I wasn’t creeped out as well; I was very much, but her emotional episodes were just having less of an impact on me these days.
“What are you talking about, Virgil?” I began, ignoring Mabel as she attempted to turn into a puddle and sink into the floor.
“I’m talking about giving you a bit of knowledge as to what the deal is with those spirits,” he restated, leaning back on his palms and smirking. “Not to say I’m an expert, but I know a thing or two. Sorry that Pinion’s just making it so hard for you to figure it out; she’s a bit tough skinned, especially if you’re on her shit list.”
“I’ve noticed,” I grumbled.
“Seriously, how much have you guys seen?!” Mabel squawked, refusing to engage in the more important conversation.
Virgil rolled his eyes. “Ignoring the self-conscious female with a birthmark on her right breast—“
“WHAT?!”
“You’re wondering how the Spirit World is useful, boy?” he continued, dismissing Mabel’s tantrum. “Let me tell you right now, it is possibly one of the greatest gifts you could have.” He made himself perfectly at home, crashing into my mattress, while propping his head up with my pillow and whisking a flask off of his belt.
“How so?” I pressed with interest.
He flipped up the top of his flask, breathing in the heavy, iron-rich blood before trapping the spicket, taking a nice, long, lavish swig. He exhaled graciously, smacking his tongue and swiping it over his dark lips to make sure he collected every drop. “Well, you see, Hell and Heaven are mere stories now,” he elaborated, “and that should raise a question for you. When people die, where do you think their souls go? Do you think that they simply disappear?” He snorted. “Of course not. They are all around us. There is no place for them to go; they become Eyla, who wander without purpose.
“Eight hundred years, boy. Eight hundred years of souls just treading the land and not having a damn thing to do but exist.” He stiffly sat up. “Good thing we aren’t Seek. Bless her; she’s got to see those poor, suffering things all of the time. Could you imagine what it must be like for her when she is outside? Here, underground, she’s mostly shielded against those not one with her skin, but it’s a free for all out there.”
I folded my arms, not understanding the point of this fateful encounter. “You definitely aren’t making this sound like a gift.”
“For Seek, no—it’s her curse. You, however… You only see those who allow you to. Eyla, they are the coat of Death himself in this putrid land. They have eyes throughout the whole empire, but they cannot convey their findings to us; besides Seek, they have no way of communicating, and she can rarely peek into the cities since her blood is so longed for. Now, however, we have you. There are billions, maybe trillions of spirits out there, Eero… All that they need to do is learn to trust you, any of them, and we can easily tip the way that this war is leaning.”
“And how do I do that?”
Virgil’s shoulders slumped forward, his gruff hand gripping his flask tighter as he debated whether or not to take another shot. “Well, you know how people say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes?”
I slowly nodded, vividly recalling my run-in with the end at Elip’s hand.
“That is an indisputable fact, in my opinion,” Virgil declared. “Do you want to know why this is so enticing for me, Eero?” He waved the flask in front of his face to emphasize what he was talking about. “I’m not a demon by any means, but I’m certainly not a normal human anymore…” He chuckled darkly, taking a heavy dose of plasma before continuing. “I’m not a Player; I’m not a Bot. I am just me—a Glitch like no other because of those fuckups.
“I was one of the first to be captured when the Proxez began looking into the idea of a Bot. I had been causing a bit of a stir in Velhm, my home district, and they decided that my body and mind would be a fair compensation. I don’t have the slightest idea of what they screwed up in my head; they put me under, and I know that I was reworked somewhat, but there must have been a large fault in their code because I woke up in the middle of my surgery, and I was… An animal at heart—a predator.
“I needed blood to quench my twisted stomach… I needed the pleasure of turning their syringes and knives and needles against them. Nothing else…
“I slew everyone in that dastardly room and then some—every scientist and medic and anyone else in my way. I was so high off of rage and adrenaline… I couldn’t go down. I should have died; I should have been caught and killed, or even bled out, but I didn’t. I only escaped because the Proxez had begun gathering up children in preparation for the new race of Bots, and security was a bit lighter. Still, I just barely slipped out… And they miraculously never caught me since their priorities were so scattered at the time. My strength and endurance have drastically hindered since, but my affinity for blood has remained, as well as the little boost it gives my muscles and wits.” He referenced me with h
is hand. “But when they knocked me out, for the first and last time, I did see them; I did see the Eyla…
“There are so many of them that they poison the air; they lurk across the earth and over every building like a crushing, never-lifting fog. They no longer search for hosts; they just want their existence to cease… For everything to be over and done with so that they can escape their curse.”
He pointed to my necklace, and I instinctively looked down at The Star of David. “You may not have realized it, but I have, as has Seek. There is a reason your necklace did not disappear with the altered timeline. There is a reason you have the tattoo of your deceased friend.”
He rose to his full height, my eyes following him as I subconsciously caressed the last gift of my fallen friend in my cold hand. “You were bound to your friends in the past in order for the six of you to elude time… And you, regarding your origin and capability to hold souls, kept theirs instead of letting them go free when they perished.” He took a step forward, resting his large hand on my shoulder as a chill swept over my skin—a quake rocking every bone and singeing every nerve as I listened to his revelatory words. “They aren’t gone, Eero,” he whispered. “Maybe in life, yes, but their souls… They still live in you, and they may be the very ticket needed for you to gain the trust of so many others.”
“Are you serious…?” Mabel piped up quietly, the startling new information causing her to associate with her stalker once more.
“Yes,” Virgil said. “I’m not sure how… But he needs to reach out to your friends and convince them to help; with all of those damn fledglings awake, your friends are impaired from doing much besides resisting their onslaught as they go for your human soul. That’s got to change.”
I shook my head, not knowing how to respond. They were still there… After all of this…? And demons or no demons, they hadn’t found out how to push past the barricades? To talk to me and help me through this terrible time? To just talk to one freaking Eyla and tell them to throw me a bone?!
A growl rose in my throat, my muscles contracting and throbbing as my fist yearned to implant itself into something—specifically one of their faces. I would have gone to the ends of the Earth to help them if the tables were turned! Why wouldn’t they do the same?!
“Eero…” Mabel warned cautiously. She took a step in my direction, my feet forcing me back to maintain the distance. I didn’t want to hear what she had to say. She didn’t trust me either, and I didn’t want any more games with my emotions being the chips gambled against. I was sick of it… Sick of everyone and everything.
“No,” I interrupted, my growl churning and seething as I threatened to detonate on the spot. “I want some peace and quiet.”
“Come on…” she prodded pleadingly, walking past Virgil to approach me, who remained stiff, prepared to pounce if needed as he watched my last line of defense fall.
“No!” I roared, my vicious eyes illuminating her startled face. “I’m tired of being so lost… So confused! SO BETRAYED!” Letting out a cry of rage, I grabbed Ryze’s emblem, yanking on it with as much force as I could muster and snapping the leather strap, throwing the star to the floor and crunching it under my heel as I changed its shape.
“Stop it!” Mabel scolded, running up to me and shoving me fiercely in the sternum, causing me to totter back as she delicately scooped the warped star into her small hands. “You want to know what’s keeping you part human?” she hissed, flames dancing in her eyes. “Suppressing some of your demons despite the circumstances?” She thrust The Star of David in my direction. “This. Them. Those traitors are helping your human soul fight the demons! You just calm down and think about that! They would never betray you!”
“No…” I argued. “You’re wrong. Everyone does somehow, someway, you included, and I’m tired of it, Mabel! I just want to know the truth!”
Mabel winced, taking a large breath in before continuing in a frail voice “…About?”
I grunted as I looked away from her, facing the wall. “I don’t know…” I conceded, angry, sad, and broken all at the same time. “About just what’s going on inside of me? What’s happening out there in the real world? What to do?” I lowered my chin, my eyes dulling as I began to get a grip once more. “About where everything goes from here… And what we are about to be up against…”
She inhaled tensely, the sharp suction of air causing me to look back instinctively. Her face was stone, unreadable, but it came off as though she had to remind herself to breathe. “Funny you should bring that up,” she whispered under her breath.
Both my interest and caution spiked. The way she spoke… “Mabel, what is it?” I asked firmly, hoping she would just spit it out.
Mabel warily looked at Virgil, who was continuing to quietly observe the scene, before she returned her focus to me. “You have a symbol for each fallen Resistance member… It’s a bond that can’t be broken, and your piece from each signifies they are still there.”
I snorted. “So?”
She swallowed heavily, hardly able to think, let alone say what realization she came to as she looked down at Ryze’s star in her hand.
“Then why don’t you have a mark for Tah…?”
Thirty
The Blue Roulette
He stormed out of the pub, slamming the door behind him. Never… Never could he have possibly imagined that his queen would express such disrespect to an unwronged civilian. Some persons of royal blood always saw the peasants as nothing more than feces on the heel of one’s foot, but that was not how he had perceived his rulers until as of late. Now he, much like the majority of the Returned had speculated previously, was certain that Queen Lucy was no one they could trust. She reeked of evil from every pore, and now, King de Vaux had grown his own stench as well.
He was certain that both heinous beings were behind the downfall of his home. He would not let them get away with such a terrible act.
Several people stood outside, whispering to one another in abrasive sentences that contained much fright and uncertainty. The man could see with a simple glance that they were all Returned; they were trying to rip information from any who they found to be suspicious, and he knew, judging by the disturbing way that she had sauntered into his workplace, that the queen had not been spared of their tedious and self-reflective questions either.
Their eyes fell upon the bartender, who looked so enraged that he appeared to be capable of anything at that very moment.
“Jorge?” one of the men that formed the mob spoke up, cocking his head to the side as he evaluated the mental state of his friend. “Is everything alright?”
“No,” he growled, stalking towards them with a heavy sway in his step as the veins in his neck began to creep across his face, pounding stronger and growing faster than they ever had as they were fueled by pure rue. “¡Necesitamos hacer algo!”
“What are you talking about?” a woman repeated. “Why do we need to do something?”
“La reina confessed!” Jorge roared, stopping only a foot or so from the group of Returned. “She and Kevin are responsible! Reeve was right!”
An amused snort came from within the congregation of common folk. Baffled, many whirled around to face the unknown being, who had so openly brushed off Jorge’s accusations as though they held not a drop of moisture.
He sat under the overhang of a house, his legs and arms crossed as he claimed his place atop a crate, while his eyes bustled with gloat. His skin possessed such a ghoulish hue that not even a ghost would dare to venture near him; his eyes were too sinister, and his heart was too dark—an entity that was unpredictable in every fashion.
“Eh, what be ticklin’ your fanny, oi?!” an elder woman scolded him. “This be no laughin’ matter!”
The man ignored her ignorant words, bringing his head down and rotating his wrist in front of him so that he could clearly see the scar it bore. An unbreakable smile tugged at his lips, a rugged gash on his cheek swallowing any luminance that the fragile Earth cou
ld possibly give to the dark night.
“It’s actually a little amusing,” the man reasoned, continuing to marvel over the abrasion on his wrist as though magic swirled within his hand.
“You’re pulling our leg!” someone else exclaimed. “People are falling around us like flies! Are you against us too?”
Multiple heads nodded as one, and with the simple flick of a switch, waves of aggression battered the man, though he could not be bothered by their frazzled emotions—his soul was far too sublime compared to them in his eyes, because it was not a soul at all, and he never wished for it to be in the first place.
“No, I’m not,” he said with grand simplicity in spite of their eyes that tried to tear into him. “I told all of you from the start that following Reeve was the wise decision. I took her warning to heart.” He scoffed. “It’s a dying shame that you didn’t, because perhaps if you had took note of her words earlier, well…” His deep voice trailed away as his eyes scanned the streets befallen by death. “Perhaps many of your loved ones could have been spared…”
While some expressions were immediately strung high with guilt, others burned with rage in recognition to his ignorance. “Excuse us for siding with evidence…” someone growled.
The man chortled heartily. “I am not the one to apologize to; the dead are the ones who cry for your condolences. But you see, I dare say that this was the fault of all of us. Pure ignorance was not bliss, in this instance…”
An uncomfortable silence perched on the shoulders of the Returned as they reluctantly came to the conclusion that the words permeating their ears were, in fact, true. Had they been wise and adhered to the grave advice they had been handed so long ago, perhaps the violent spin of fortune’s wheel would have landed elsewhere.
“So, you say we should fight back…?” Jorge questioned. He did not know this man personally, but his reasoning made sense. Why should they stand back any longer and try to fight what was shining clear in their eyes? The decimation was climbing to bone-racking heights, and it was all too obvious that the queen had no interest in helping the less fortunate, but rather, she was out to destroy them. They needed to preserve what was left, and if it meant raising their pitchforks and fists to the face of a revolution, so be it.