Ruin, The Turning

by Lucian Bane

  “You really don’t need to show us.” Ruin placed his arm across Isadore’s body, like a second seat belt.

  “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” The person continued to ignore Ruin. “You going to tell me why you two are walking? And where’s your vehicle?”

  Silence came next and Isadore cleared her throat. “We…we like to walk.”

  “You think it’s a coincidence that I happened on this road you two were on?” The person looked from them to the road like the very idea was preposterous.

  “Are you saying it isn’t?” Ruin said.

  The guy pointed his cigarette at Ruin. “You, mister…” he nodded and pointed more, “you’re different, to say the least. And I honestly don’t normally butt my nose into other people’s affairs, but something is telling me that you and I are connected with a purpose.”

  Isadore leaned forward and gazed at the man, waiting for clarification to those odd words and the convicted way he said them. But they never came. “Connected how?”

  “Not you,” the person said, dismissing her. But it was the way he said it. Like she were being spared.

  “We’re not connected,” Ruin said, seeming to take it as an insult.

  “Ohhh, I am pretty sure we are, yes.”

  “I’m pretty sure we’re not,” Ruin replied, just as firmly.

  The man suddenly hit the brakes with all he had, grabbing hold of the steering wheel, jolting Isadore against the seat belt.

  “Holy shhhhite!” he gasped, head whipping back and forward as he searched the road, throwing off his seat belt and racing out of the car.

  Ruin tapped Isadore rapidly. “Let’s go, something’s not right.”

  “What? What’s not right?” she hissed, undoing the seatbelt as fast as she could.

  The man walked along the car and pointed. “Do you not see that? What is it?”

  Isadore looked at the vehicle, not seeing anything while Ruin took her hand and looked all around.

  “It’s…it’s like ink,” he whispered.

  Ruin jerked his head to the man. “Ink?”

  “Yes! Black ink!”

  “What did you see?”

  The man yanked his shades off, unveiling brilliant green eyes that seemed to… Isadore looked at Ruin to see if he notice how they matched his.

  “What did you see!” Ruin hollered.

  “A man!” He pointed to the front of the car. “Standing in the road and I-I hit him! And now there’s ink everywhere!” He covered his mouth with a hand, the glasses trembling. “Jesus.” He turned a frantic gaze to Ruin and pointed to him. “You. It’s you. Who are you and what the… ffffrack is going on?”

  “I don’t—

  “You lie!” he yelled. “I see you!” he jabbed his glasses at him, his hard gaze fixed, slowly approaching. His green eyes darted to Isadore then. “Does she know?”

  “Does she know what?”

  He looked at Ruin, stopping a few feet before him before muttering quietly. “Does she know what you are?”

  Chapter Four

  Ruin stared at the person before him, wishing for the tenth time he knew what they were thinking, feeling. But his usual ability to discern those things was gone. And what was in its place did him no good. The most he knew about this person was that they were not lying and death surrounded them. He could actually smell it.

  And he also knew that there was something about them that he didn’t know. That’s what he knew, which was useless. He knew exactly and very perfectly that he didn’t know something. Like a taunt. For his deal he made with the devil.

  He had nothing to hide from this… human? He was no longer sure about that. Maybe that’s what he knew that he didn’t know. But what all did this being know? “I’m a Carnificem. An angel of judgment.”

  He left off the execution part for now and watched his reaction. It was not what he’d expected. Those eyes, such a brilliant green, narrowed on him with suspicion. “That’s not all. What else aren’t you telling me?”

  “How do you know I’m not telling you things?”

  “Because I see things, I told you.”

  Did he see…Ruin’s other form? Shit. That part he didn’t want Isadore knowing. “I took an assignment.”

  “You took an assignment?” The green eyes slowly moved to Isadore. “From who?”

  “There’s a man named Caliber,” Isadore said. “He gives him assignments and he does them.”

  Ruin held his mouth shut, watching the emerald eyes assessing him. “And… this Caliber gave you an assignment?”

  “Yes,” Ruin muttered.

  “An…assignment that involved you judging?”

  “Yes.” Again he left out execute and he prayed Isadore—“

  “And execute,” she added.

  “And execute,” he said dramatically. “And who was that… man I just hit and where is he?” He looked from Isadore to Ruin.

  “That was Scriber,” Ruin said.

  “Yes,” Isadore said. “Had to be. But why didn’t we see him? Is he hiding from us? Why would he?”

  “Hiding from you?” the guys wondered. “Why would this being be hiding from you?”

  “I don’t know,” Ruin said.

  Silence and then a quiet, “You lie,” from the man.

  “No, he can’t lie,” Isadore said.

  The perfect brows beneath the black cap rose gradually. “Ohhh?” The pensive green stare looked into Ruin’s again, assessing with open suspicion before gradual nodding. Meanwhile, Ruin tried to see deeper into this being, tried to see, feel, sense something. But instead it was the being that did all the information gathering. “I see.” He bobbed his head for a few moments before he turned away mumbling. “I see.” Like I really see.

  And what the exact hell did he see?

  “And who or what is this Scriber? Exactly?” The man remained with his back to them, hands propped on bony hips where an army belt strangled black denim to the narrow waist.

  “He’s…an angel of prophecy,” Ruin said.

  The man spun around, mouth hanging open with a mixture of shock and fear and…confirmation. “Prophecy? As in end time prophecy?” Ruin considered that accurate and nodded, which brought a shot of laughter from the man, hand covering his mouth as he paced in odd patterns. Ruin eyed him, waiting for what would come next but all he got was undiscernible mumblings. “I knew it,” he said louder, looking at the sky. “Gramma, I knew it. I told you.” He jabbed the shades in various directions. “Right, right,” he mumbled, “You told me, technically yes. No, you were right about that, you were, I give you that much.”

  Ruin glanced at Isadore who regarded the person before them with concern. The man suddenly spun and half ran at Ruin with his hand extended. “Sam. My name is Sam. Sam K. Jacobs.”

  Ruin regarded the hand, not wanting to touch him. “Okay.” He needed answers but not sure he wanted them. In front of Isadore. “So…where are you headed, exactly?”

  The man regarded Isadore then Ruin, that odd knowing coming into the green gaze. “I was headed to my safe house in Dexter.”

  “Safe house?” Isadore asked.

  The man didn’t take his eyes from Ruin. “That’s right. A safe house. In case I should find myself in the middle of some kind of end time prophecy.” He nodded now, a happy grin forming. “I knew it was coming. I knew it.” He pointed the glasses at Isadore. “People thought I was crazy. But unless the two of you are a figment of my imagination and my car isn’t covered in ink from a man whom you say is an angel of prophecy, and you!” he jabbed the glasses at Ruin now, “You being what you are and what you don’t want to speak about for some reason. Then I. Am. Right. Hot damn, I’m right!” He took his cap off and whacked it on his leg, then replaced it again, his grin at a thousand watts. With great enthusiasm, he half ran back to his car having another conversation with only God knew. He paused at the driver door. “Well let’s go!” he said, like they’d all just decided to partner up.

  “Go
where,” Ruin said. “And why?”

  “Go to the safe house and talk about what you’re hiding.”

  “He’s not hiding anything,” Isadore said, “why do you keep saying that?”

  “Let’s go,” Ruin said, pulling Isadore to the car. He was sure of two things. They weren’t getting rid of this person and it was time to come clean with Isadore. And a safe house seemed like a good place to do it rather than walking the road at night.

  ****

  “Welcome to my humble abode,” Sam muttered, shutting off the car. The small shack a few feet before them appeared to be slapped together by every material known to man. Wood, brick, metal, glass, you name it, the house had it. Shadows of an odd contraption loomed on the flat roof beneath the open canopy of trees. The entire yard seemed to be enshrouded by forest, at an equal perimeter.

  Sam undid his seat belt. “What you see here is an entirely solar sufficient homestead. Not one thing here runs off of manmade energy. All of it is powered by the sun, even the batteries. Water, heating, cooking, light. All of it.”

  Pride lit his tone and Ruin had to know. “And you did this?”

  The man turned to him, looking offended. “Yes I did it. Surprised, I see.” He opened the car door and got out. “It’s really not all that complicated when you understand it.”

  Ruin and Isadore got out too and followed behind Sam up the neatly placed stone walk. “With various parabolic systems and Fresnel lenses you can harness the sun and convert it to just about any energy you need.” Sam opened the padlock on the front door and Ruin scanned the inky darkness, seeking for signs of Scriber or other dangers among the loud scream of crickets. There was a time he’d welcome the idea of having Scriber around, but according to his new body’s instincts, Scriber was all threat.

  Worse than that, his assignment for Isadore no longer bothered him. Because new ones had taken its place. And by the dark feel of it, Ruin was in for a fight. A fight from Isadore for one, because she had to be there and would not approve of whatever it was. And he knew by instinct that her presence was required. Her reward for the death insurance policy he purchased with the Devil. But there would also be a fight from himself. Despite being this other thing, he was still very much who he’d come to be through Isadore. And even though he wasn’t solid on who that actually was, he did know it conflicted.

  The door opened and Sam flipped on a switch, pointing to the light on the wall explaining how it worked and what it ran off of. They followed him through the small looking living room and into what seemed to be a kitchen where he pointed out the strange objects then demonstrated their function and purpose. At seeing Ruin eye the wall of boxes, Sam went from one to the other, pointing. “Canned goods. Dry goods. Anything that is unperishable, I have a two year supply of it.” He looked at both of them then, his green eyes bright. “You’re going to freak the frack out when I tell you this but…” They waited for the revelation as he eyed both of them. “I stacked supplies for three people.”

  Ruin waited for the good feeling that information should have given him, but no, nothing. Maybe there were no good feelings in this new body. The idea shot panic through him as he considered that. What about Isadore? He searched for his feelings for her and his alarm grew when all he found was a cold fear.

  “Do you have…a room?” Ruin asked, fighting his panic. He grabbed hold of Isadore’s hand and pulled her with him behind Sam who showed them around. The bathroom was the last stop in the two bedroom house. “Excuse us.” Ruin pulled Isadore inside and shut the door, backing her into the wall. He took hold of her face with one hand, staring, waiting for what should come.

  “What-what’s wrong?”

  Her fear licked along his body, making him hungry for it. “I…” he let his gaze roam her face, her mouth. “Nothing I’m just…” Ruin kissed at her mouth, softly, willing the desire that usually came from that. Oh fuck. She tasted… different somehow.

  He pulled out of her grasp and stared down at her. The look in her eyes said she wanted him. Wanted him to do things to her that…he didn’t want to. He clenched his eyes shut, focusing his mind on what was happening with his body. It…needed to do something. The assignment. He needed to do the assignment. That’s what it was, it was blocking his other instincts.

  “I need to go,” he whispered.

  “What? Go where?”

  “The assignment.” He gripped her face in panic. “I can’t feel you until I do it. It’s blocking what I feel for you.”

  Isadore grabbed his hands and stroked them. “Okay, okay. We’ll go, we’ll explain to Sam, he’ll be happy to oblige, I’m sure.”

  Ruin clenched his eyes shut. “I need to go, I need to do this, I can’t…I can’t feel you.”

  Isadore hurried them out of the bathroom and made the announcement.

  Sam stared at them with an armful of items. “An…assignment? What kind? Whoa,” he set the items on the table. “You mean like a judgment?”

  “Yes. And not a good one,” Ruin paced, raking his hand through his hair.

  “Did you tell her?” Sam asked.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Isadore said. “He doesn’t keep—“

  “Stop!” Ruin gasped.

  “So she doesn’t know about your deal with the devil?”

  “What?” Isadore looked at Ruin. “What…what is he saying?”

  “That’s not a good thing to keep from somebody you care for,” Sam said lightly, “just saying.”

  “Stop!” Ruin held his hand toward Sam then looked at Isadore. “It’s true. I had to or you’d still be burning in Hell if I hadn’t.”

  “Oh God,” she barely whispered. “W-what kind of deal, why, I mean why would I have to burn in hell, what did I do?”

  Ruin covered his face with both hands. “Not what you did, it’s what I did.”

  “What did you do?” Isadore whispered, sounding scared.

  “It’s what I didn’t do.”

  “I’d like to know too,” Sam said, curious, “I couldn’t see that far into what you were hiding.”

  “What didn’t you do, I don’t get it?” Isadore’s voice sounded weak.

  Ruin leaned over and held his knees, the dark feelings inside him getting hotter, thicker. “I disobeyed,” he gasped through the heat.

  “What…did you disobey?”

  Ruin was suddenly unstable and the darkness was hungry. Vengeful. “I disobeyed an order from your God!” he growled.

  “Oh shit,” Sam muttered. “That’s not good. You mean the God? The almighty—”

  “Shut up!” Ruin ordered, needing to tear his head off. “Don’t say it!”

  “Oh man,” Sam gasped. “Is it just me?” Sam stepped to the side then back a few. “Can you see that?”

  “See what?” Isadore sounded sick.

  “Okay, I take that as a no.” Sam continued to back up. “You can’t see the seven foot, black man with horns and red eyes and-and fire licking from the cracks in his skin.”

  “Oh God, Ruin.” The agonized words wrenched from Isadore. “What did you disobey?” she screamed.

  “To kill you!” he roared at her. “Your God wanted me to kill— my wife! My life!”

  Ruin slowly straightened as the darkness settled comfortably in his bones. “And I…disobeyed. Because I am loyal to my charge over you.”

  “Y-you chose…me…over God?”

  “Yes,” he whispered, hopeful that she understood.

  She shook her head barely. “Y-you can’t do that. Ruin, you can’t do that.”

  At hearing the impossible words he yelled, the sound of a wounded animal. He hurried out of the house before he hurt one of them. He felt her behind him, both of them, but Sam didn’t burn his skin the way Isadore did. And it felt just like he was being pursued by an enemy that he needed to crush. “Stay away from me!” he roared next to the car now.

  “But I have to come.” Her fear and desperation felt like gas on fire and he fell to his knees with the hunger to judge h
er on the spot. She was guilty. All her sins came before him, burning through his mind. She was filthy dirty, deserving of execution. Even as he thought it, he held his hand out toward her, warding her back.

  “Okay, um,” Sam began lightly on the porch, “does…does anybody happen to see the entirely black person standing right here? Anybody?”

  “Scriber?” Isadore gasped, looking blindly around. “Please help us, please.”

  “He says you can’t hear or see him,” Sam said. “He says it’s safer that way. And that I’m a link. I’m a link?” Sam muttered to his right. “Is that a good thing? Am I a good guy in this? I’m a good guy,” he gasped in relief, like they all held their breath for it. “Oh but he says the longer you wait to do an assignment, the more you’ll lose yourself to the darkness. That’s…clearly not good,” Sam added.

  “Is it true Scriber?” Isadore asked. “Did they order him to execute me?”

  “Yes,” Sam sounded amazed. “Yes they did he says.”

  “Oh God, oh God,” Isadore paced along the porch, her fear again licking along Ruin’s spine, drawing a hunger to hurt. “Why would they want that Ruin?” she cried.

  “Maybe because you lie so much?” Yes, that alone could do it. “We need to go now Sam.” He was ready to judge her now.

  “Yes sir.” Sam jumped from the porch and walked right up to Ruin, making him wonder why he wasn’t more bothered by him. He should be.

  “Scriber says it’s because I’m a link. Apparently my connection isn’t one that…provokes you in a negative way. But let me know if I do.” He held both hands up. “And I’ll give you sufficient space.”

  And why didn’t his presence provoke him in a negative way?

  “I’d rather not tell him that,” Sam said. Ruin waited for him to obey Scriber but he only shook his head. “No, not telling him that, I see no point.”