by Lucian Bane
She suddenly jerked up in bed and he spun around. “What are you doing?!”
“I…” He suddenly found himself unable to utter the words checking on you. “I was watching you sleep.”
She gasped. “Oh my God! What did you see?”
“I…” Again there was no lying. “Saw your breasts.”
She sucked in a sharp breath.
“I’m…” He let out a breath of exasperation. “Want to say I’m sorry but I can’t seem to.”
“Because you’re not sorry!”
“That is absolutely correct.”
She stormed out of the bed and made her way around to look at him, holding her sheet tight. “And why wouldn’t you be? What is wrong with you?”
“I don’t know.” He did know if he looked at her that he’d do something worse, so he turned his head away.
“You-you come watch me, you’re not sorry, and ohhhh, now you can’t look at me.” She gasped. “And I’m just supposed to tolerate all of this?” she shrilled. “I’m supposed to be the all accommodating swamp slut host to the maleficent… hominid voyeur with the ever hard penis but not from ever touching it, are you seeing the freaky in this yet?” Her voice had gradually gotten higher and higher. “And for fucksake! What is your DAMN NAME?”
He looked at her, breathing through the need that had spiked to dangerous levels from her anger, and now her close proximity to him in only that sheet. “Back up, Isadore. Now.”
“Back up?” She stepped closer. “Well while you’re watching my tits, Mister, I was having a dream about a man who was in dire need and God told me to help him!” She nodded incessantly with crazy looking wide eyes. “That’s right, I was ready to get rid of you and so I go out of my way, go the extra mile and pray for your sorry ass only to wake up to you watching my tits!” she screamed the last.
“You…prayed? For me?”
“What?” Like that was the stupidest of stupid questions.
“Why would you even do that?”
“Because I’m Christian. That’s what we do, we pray for people who need prayer and you clearly need it, don’t you agree?”
“So…you believe in God?” Already his disgust had reached massive levels and he couldn’t even keep the sick reaction from twisting his face.
“I said I prayed and you’re asking if I believe in God? Are you stupid, JD?”
“What?” He looked perplexed. “JD?”
“John Doe, that’s your name until you tell me your real one. Right now. And don’t tell me you don’t know it, either.”
“What if I don’t know it?”
“Do you not know it?”
“I’m not sure what my name is.”
“Not sure?”
“Am I not speaking clearly?”
She pointed in his face. “Don’t’ get smart.”
“Isadore? If you don’t quit being this way with me, I’m going to remove your sheet and do things that will make you scream and I won’t stop until I’m done. I don’t even know what I’d do, but something tells me I’d take all the time in the world to figure that out until it’s entirely and perfectly done.”
She stood with her mouth open. “You’re threatening to rape me?”
“Forcing you to pleasure until you’re screaming for it is not exactly rape.”
She gave a huge exasperated single laugh. “Welllll aren’t you the perfect and astute virgin lover!”
Ruin closed his eyes tight and focused the ice in his veins to push back the heat. “Just ask me to show you, and I will. I may be a virgin, a first time lover, but every second I can’t do what burns in me to do, is an eternal fucking torment.”
She gasped and when he finally looked at her for fear of her silence, she just stared at him. “You said fucking,” she whispered, dazed looking.
Ruin jerked his head at hearing a distant sound, his senses suddenly amplified. “Listen,” he whispered.
“What? What’s—”
“Shh!” Ruin hurried to the window and placed his hands on it. The air beyond transferred into his fingers, carrying the sound he’d heard. He glanced at Isadore, the ice inside him becoming unbearably cold.
Isadore slowly came to him, eyes wide on his face. “You’re… skin is turning white.”
“Something’s coming.”
Fear struck her and he latched his hand to her arm, jerking back at feeling how hot she was. Or cold he was. “Don’t fear. Please.” He needed her to be calm, so he could keep control. Something said he’d need it.
“Get dressed. Now.” He turned her toward the dresser, shoving a little. Another something said he needed to cover his tattoos and he stormed to her drawers, searching. Yanking out a pretty large looking t-shirt, he forced his body into it. “Meet me downstairs.” He hurried to ensure everything was locked down tight. But the feeling in his body said that whatever was coming was coming. And coming to him. And it seemed to call to that mysterious cold inside him. Too many mysteries to unravel.
He paced up and down the kitchen, listening with his heightened senses, measuring the distance of what was coming. It came at a slow speed, walking. Perfectly calculated steps. Judging by the sound of the gravel in his ears, it was a tall man with a size twelve foot, bearing the weight of two-hundred twenty-seven pounds of solid muscle. Ruin discerned a discrepancy in the weight ratio and paused in his pacing. He carried something.
Isadore came down the stairs in his peripheral vision and Ruin whispered, “He’s here.” Putting his finger to his lips, he pointed to the door.
Isadore crept to the mantle next to the wood stove and slowly retrieved her shot gun off of the rack just as three measured knocks sounded on the wood door. She drew her brows together in puzzlement as Ruin walked to the door, holding his hand up when Isadore shook her head. He nodded to her, trying to convey he had to. He was supposed to.
The deadbolt released with a thonk and the door opened with a deep creaking. The figure of a tall man, his front shadowed by the dense swamp night, filled the entire doorway. “I’m looking for a man.”
The hard grate of his voice certainly matched his size and Ruin couldn’t resist the compelling and foolish words, “Come in.”
The man stepped forward into the light, ducking slightly as he entered the doorway. A black wool coat brushed the floor as matching knee high boots thonked ominously against the wood planks as he moved to the center of the room.
“I’ll put on coffee.” Isadore hurried to the kitchen, taking a wide arc around the man to get there.
“Much obliged, Ms. Isadore.”
He knew her name. Ruin closely watched the hard gray eyes that matched scraggly hair, laying in disarray on broad shoulders. Moving in a slow circle around him, Ruin didn’t miss that those eyes watched him too. “Are you carrying anything?”
A silver beard neatly covered his chin and obscured his mouth, until he smiled. “Does it look like I’m carrying anything?”
Ruin noticed the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you?”
The man slid aside his coat and reached behind him, producing a hunk of onyx metal in the shape of a crude knife. “Only this.” In a flash, he threw the knife into the door and a light exploded into the room. Isadore screamed and things crashed to the floor, with Ruin gasping for breath on the floor.
The man walked over to him then. “Yep. You’re the one I’m looking for.” He held a hand out to Ruin and again, he was compelled to act contrary to his instinct.
Pulling him to his feet, the man pointed to Ruin’s torso. Ruin realized the t-shirt was gone and the tattoos on his body glowed white.
“Sorry it took so long,” the man mumbled, twirling his fingers over the tattoos like he was making a selection. “Damn Olethros are like cockroaches around here. I did my best to remain concealed,” he touched several tattoos like they were buttons, finger roaming over them, “but no guarantees I wasn’t followed. There, that should do it.” One last press on a tattoo and Ruin suddenly had exact coordinates to a locat
ion, burned into his brain like a beacon.
Ruin stumbled back in confusion, fear, and a million questions. “What is that, what are you—“ he couldn’t seem to breathe and speak now. “What am I?”
“Woe,” the man said.
Ruin gasped, not getting him. “Do you mean whoa, or woe.”
The man stepped back with his hands on broad hips, and angled his head. “Kind of both, I guess. Now, time to take a breath. I just gave you the coordinates to your first assignment.” He pointed to himself. “I am Caliber Creed, Messenger of the seventh district in the third heaven. And you, are Ruin, the chosen Carnificem, and woe is what you’re all about, it’s your purpose. Doom and gloom.” He shot his arm out and peered down at a watch on his wrist, “And you’re late to your first party. Sorry about the mess, Ms. Isadore,” he headed to the door. “But I had to make sure he was the one.”
“What is-is a…” she snapped her fingers.
“Carnificem,” Ruin helped, not wanting him to leave without answering his questions.
The man paused with his hand on the door. “It’s a kind of angel.” He opened the door then. “And I’ve reached the allotted words my message was to contain.”
“How do I know to believe you?” Ruin demanded.
The man paused without turning for several seconds, then finally lowered his head. “I am Caliber Creed. Messenger of the 7th district. Of the 3rd heaven.” His tone said Ruin had committed a grievous crime. “And now you’ll be blind through your first assignment.”
Ruin’s sight went completely dark and he gasped, reaching out with his hands instinctively. “When will I see you again?”
Isadore grabbed hold of his arm. “I’m right here. You seriously can’t see? Oh my God, that is harsh! He’s already gone, he just waved and left!”
“We need to go.”
“Go where?”
“To the coordinates he put into my head.” The power inside him swirled as though knowing it was scheduled to the job, and already geared up.
She gasped. “He really did that?”
“Yes, he really did. How am I supposed to do anything blind?”
“What are you supposed to go do?”
“I don’t… actually know.”
“Well, how will we get there if you can’t see?”
“This way,” he pointed. “We go this way.”
“Let me get the keys to the truck. You direct me. Hold on, stand still, don’t move.” Isadore hurried off. “I’ll drive.”
“Good idea.”
Isadore directed him in the dark, and soon he was able to use his other heightened senses to see enough to walk quickly. She guided him into the truck and she hurried around and got in and started it up.
Chapter Seven
They drove down the gravel road at a reckless speed, Ruin sensed.
“I can’t believe you’re going out dressed like that.”
Amazing. He couldn’t see but he could feel her eyes on him constantly. “I can’t believe you’re thinking about my body at a time like this.”
“It’s your tattoos that are so distracting.”
The ice spiked hard in his body. “I hate when you lie.”
“Well, it’s a big part of it.”
“That way,” he said, pointing left.
“There’s no road. Nope, wrong, here’s one.”
They drove around that way for nearly an hour then finally stopped when he sensed the coordinates near enough to walk to. “Damn!” he growled, “I can’t go without you! This is ludicrous!”
“Ludicrous?”
“By every word that is holy in that dictionary,” he grabbed his head, “please stop repeating me while I’m blind and a bit confused! I don’t know why you have to come, I just know you have to.”
“Well, I want to go, to help you. You don’t know what you’re even going to do.”
“Well, recall Mr. Caliber’s words,” there was no keeping the derision from his voice, “it’s going to be something woeful, and so, I’m not eager to drag you along.”
“Well, if you’re…some kind of angel, it can’t be too bad.” She opened the truck door, and he listened to her hurried steps around. “Here I am, coming to get you.”
Being helpless and dependent on her for such simple tasks, like an invalid, was infuriating. “You seem to take joy in my temporary handicap.”
“Not joy—”
“Lies. Why do you lie so much?”
“Okay fine, I like it. I think it serves you right for watching me while I sleep and not being sorry. And what a horrible name, Ruin! We should call you JD, just saying. Okay, I’m rattled, I’m freaking the fuck out, not gonna lie,” she whispered guiding him.
“You used fuck in yet another way.”
“Yes, I did. I still didn’t use up all the ways. And if I ever catch you watching me like that again, I will surely fuck you up, mister.”
He laughed that she’d done it again. “I can’t help myself with you, and I can’t begin to explain it, nor can I seem to apologize for it.” He focused on the feel of her hands on his arms. “Stop. I need to whisper in your ear.”
She obeyed immediately. “What?” she whispered as he leaned toward the sound of her voice. Putting a hand on the side of her head, he held her still and his lips encountered her temple. He slid them along her face, navigating his way to her ear. Her pulse raced where her hand rested on his other arm.
He was officially distracted with her explosive arousal. “You’re aroused again,” he whispered, trying to remember what he’d needed to tell her.
“I’m…sorry.” The tiny whisper sounded sincere.
He slid his hand along her neck, wanting to touch the silk just briefly. It occurred to him it was the first time. “My hunger for you is distracting me.”
“Hunger?”
“Why do you constantly repeat me?”
“Sorry.”
The sound of his assignment reached him suddenly. A burst of inhuman wailing in the distance, followed by chatter and laughter. He suddenly realized what he was going to do there. “I know what I’m here for. Do not take your hand off of me the entire time. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her fingers tightening on his forearm. “What are you here to do?”
“Guide us that way,” he pointed. “I’m here to judge. And execute.”
****
Ruin made his way to the group of seven humans. Judging by the terrain, they were in the woods. The smell of fire reached him, along with other smells. Alcohol, sex, blood. And…animals.
“I see them, JD, a group of people. Men,” she whispered, “and they look dangerous.”
“Stay very close.”
Ruin’s body began to change as he drew close. He saw in his mind, fire leaving him in the form of a net until it covered the entire area in a flaming dome. He looked around.
“Can you see?” Isadore asked.
“I can see things. Nothing visible to you.”
“Oh my God. We’re here.”
“Who the fuck are you two? You look a little lost.”
“We’re not lost,” Isadore said.
“Shh!” Ruin fought to focus on what the fire and ice was doing inside him. The ice acted first, shooting forth into his veins and lungs, forcing Isadore to release him.
“Dude, what the fuck is yo problem, you sick?”
“You’re white,” Isadore whispered. “Even your hair. And your eyes, I’m scared.”
But Ruin was over taken with the words he had to speak. “The measure of your guilt has been weighed and now judged.” The sound of his voice was loud and strange. “My name is Ruin.” He took steps toward the seven bodies before him, outlined by light. “The power of Judgment and Execution are mine.”
“Okay you’re on fire now,” Isadore whispered, next to him. “Real flames. Purely impossible,” she sang lightly. “Oh shit, something’s coming out of your tattoos. JD, you’re smoking. Your tattoos are smoking…oh my God, the smoke is
alive!” she barely whispered.
Ruin saw what she did clearly. The wind around them swirled in a mix of heat and ice as the breath of The Foul Horses left his body, morphing rapidly into seven stallions of fire. The air ripped with their war cries, the sound of amplified and ominous violins. The demons governing the humans climbed out the tops of their head’s and raced forward to mount the fiery horses, becoming one with them. The seven turned to Ruin, eyes aflame with bright white fire. “Command us.”
Ruin did as the ice commanded. “They shall reap what they have sown.”
The horse demons reared up and ran forward, spewing liquid upon the humans, covering them in boils.
“For twenty-and seven days, they will suffer,” Ruin said. “Then death will overcome them.”
“You deaf man? I ask if you lost,” one of the men said, as they all laughed.
“We were just passing through,” Ruin said. He took Isadore’s hand and hurried away with her.
“You can see?” she whispered?
“I can see. I can fucking see.” And he meant that in every sense of the word. But he did not like one bit how well he could see and what he just saw.
The silence in the truck as they rode back told Ruin a lot. She was likely going to need medical attention after that. He finally broke the silence. “I want to do something for you when we get back.” More like he needed to. For her. Or him, he wasn’t sure.
“Oh?” she said, calmly. “What’s that?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Ah a surprise. I don’t really like those.”
“You’ll like this one.”
“Well I know I could stand a hot shower, that’s for sure.”
“I’ll do it after your shower.”
“You’re not going to rape me I hope. Ooook, bad joke.”
Ruin smiled, knowing she meant his definition of the word. “Only if you ask me to.”
She snorted. “That wouldn’t be rape then.”
“I could never hurt you.”
“Ohhh, I’m sure you could.”
“Not intentionally, no.”
“Yes, because you accidentally choked me, I know.”
A strange feeling assaulted him. “I’m sorry.” That’s what it made him need to say. Want to say.