Ruin Box Set 1-3

by Lucian Bane

  “Stop,” he said.

  Again, power was in the word and her body obeyed immediately. But still, her emotions were haywire and she still couldn’t think rationally, couldn’t think past the tremble inside, the gnawing that something was wrong, something was coming. It was as if her body knew it even if her mind didn’t and it was locked in preparation.

  Ruin walked to the television and watched yet another couple go at it, getting close to the screen like a transfixed child.

  That definitely wasn’t love, it was straight up porn, and her stomach knotted with disgust. Would he get the difference? His dick sure didn’t get it, it hardened until it pointed forward and his torso heaved with the arousal that clearly gripped him.

  “Why are there two women?”

  A furious jealousy took her. “So you like two women?”

  He looked at her, his eyes glittery green. “I never said that. I asked why there—”

  “I heard you.”

  “So why?”

  “Why do you care if there are two women?”

  “Should there be?” he asked.

  “You’re the judge, you tell me.”

  He watched the television again until Isadore’s jaw hardened. “Hard to think while you’re watching those tits I’m sure.”

  Again he looked at her, no, her chest. Comparing? Bastard. She wasn’t centerfold material, she knew that, and he’d no doubt honestly confirm it.

  “They’re nothing like you.”

  “You sound shocked.”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure why.”

  “You sound disappointed, too.” She studied her fingernails.

  “Why are you lying?”

  Of course, he’d know. “Well you seem disappointed, just saying.”

  “You’re trembling and still lying. Why do you lie so much?”

  His disgust infuriated her. “Well are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Can’t you read between one fucking line, ever? Do I have to connect all the dots together? I don’t have amazing tits, you don’t have to say it. I already know, no shame there.”

  “Turn it off,” he said.

  “No,” she raised both hands, “by all means, continue watching, you clearly like it.”

  “You’re angry that my body responds to it?”

  “Oh please,” she got up, stormed to the sink and began brushing her hair with angry strokes. “Your body responds because you like it.”

  “No, my body responds because I can’t stop needing to see your breasts.”

  “For what! To see exactly why and how they lack?” She hurried for the remote when she saw him headed toward her in the mirror.

  “No,” he said, watching her pass.

  “Sure.”

  “I hate it when you call me a liar.”

  “I never said that.” She grabbed the remote, clicked off the television, and sat on the bed.

  “And then you lie again.”

  The astonished naked man headed her way again. “Would you please get dressed!”

  “You made me orgasm. And then you left.”

  “Yes? You like that?” He stopped just before her and she stared up at him, using every bit of her willpower to keep from looking down at his cock in her face.

  “You know that I didn’t.”

  His dark tone ratcheted up that inner dread inside her. Like he’d finally figured something out. Isadore swallowed hard, still holding on to his gaze like a lifeline. “And you know that I don’t like when you do it to me.

  He gasped and guilt snaked through her at seeing the extreme . . . turmoil in the brutal lines of his handsome face. “You did it purposefully. And I don’t know what’s going on, Isadore. Something is wrong.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ruin turned away from Isadore, searching for his clothes. He quickly put the underwear back on, fear and dread pumping through him. Ever since he’d had the climax and she’d left, he’d been . . . not right, and he was only sure at this point, that they were in danger.

  Somehow.

  He couldn’t look at her. His body spun with strange sensations, terror, shame, confusion. She’d hurt him. On purpose. He paced before the bed, struggling to know what to do, know what to feel. His emotions raced like angry ants fighting for a carcass as he rapidly sorted through each feeling, needing to get to the reason for the growing dread in his being. Angry, yes, he was angry that she would do that, and surprised that she dared, even confused with why she did, but that didn’t answer the instinct that said . . . run. They needed to run.

  “You can’t be so shocked and upset Ruin, not after you did it to me ten times.”

  “Four,” he corrected, thinking. Why would they need to run, it didn’t make sense.

  “Right, so you deserved what you got. My question is, how do you like it?”

  “We need to leave, something’s coming.”

  “What?”

  The air shook with a metallic creaking and Ruin dove for Isadore and covered her body. The power inside him seemed to freeze and he could only hold her tight as the world shook, then went to utter silence.

  “Ruin.” The sound of Caliber’s voice brought Ruin to stumble his way upright with Isadore. “Bad news,” he said, pacing while two other . . . things stood immobile to the right of him. Isadore hid behind him with her terrified whimpers filling the room as Ruin stared at what could only be considered freaks of nature. The smaller one resembling a man roasted to a crisp over a fire, stood before the other black hoofed beast standing on two legs with a head that resembled a concaved dish, his eyes bulging out of their sockets like the breasts of a woman with six seeing nipples and a hole for a nose, or maybe a mouth.

  “What bad news?” Ruin managed, fighting to breathe around the conflicting powers around him.

  “You’ve used your power for dark judgments seven times,” Caliber said, gruffly. Though he didn’t say it, Ruin understood he’d meant for non-appointed judgments. Caliber recited the rules like he was reading him his rights. “You are defined by how you use your power. You use it righteously and under my discretion, and you’ll be directed to do good, you use it any other way, you’ll be directed to do wickedly.”

  Ruin stared at Caliber. “Why didn’t you tell me this? And how were my judgments dark?”

  Caliber gestured toward Isadore with a flop of his arm.

  Ruin looked at Isadore who clutched his hand tightly. “She’s . . . ” he couldn’t say innocent, because she wasn’t. But how was she responsible for his judgment?

  “You’re tied to her, you know this,” Caliber said, annoyed. “I was rather hoping you’d get to the end of my little assignment before this happened.” He lowered his head and peered at Ruin. “You did not.”

  “And now what?”

  “Now you will be given an assignment.” This came from the man-being with the black crispy marshmallow skin.

  Caliber walked up to Ruin. “Turn.” Ruin did as commanded, the words holding enough power to not need his willing cooperation. “And you will want to do this of your own accord.”

  At hearing the warning in Caliber’s words, panic hit Ruin and he fought the power restraining him.

  The air rocked again with that ominous metallic groaning and Ruin saw that it came from the opened mouth of the beast behind the man-being. It suddenly leapt through the air and slammed into him, cratering the floor with Ruin’s back.

  “I did warn you,” Caliber said.

  Ruin roared in agony as the beast pressed its claw into his stomach and Isadore screamed.

  “Stand him up,” the first being said softly.

  The beast yanked Ruin and held him by the neck, squeezing until it felt like his bones would snap. There was no fighting the beast, there was nothing within himself that allowed it. He realized the beast had pressed his tattoos and paralyzed his power.

  “Does your pet mule have to be so pissy?” Caliber asked.

  “Ap
parently.” Ruin vaguely felt the man-being touching various tattoos. “Centuries deployed in the outer bowels of Hell does that to a poor soul. There you go,” he announced with a soft pat on Ruin’s shoulder, like he’d straightened his collar instead of detonating a diabolical mission inside him. “And her presence is required at this one.”

  Ruin collapsed to the floor and fought to get air, looking around for Isadore. She crouched in a corner with both hands over her face, small slits between her fingers. What would this do to her already fragile psyche? “Why is she required?” Ruin’s words came on ragged breaths.

  Caliber lowered a little, hands on his knees, peering at Ruin. “Because she’s yours.” He said it like an unfortunate deformity he was getting tired of explaining. “You imprinted on her, Padre. What’s hers is yours, what’s yours is hers. I was hoping you two would mesh a little better, but that idea was officially shot to shit the day you put your hands in the cookie jar.”

  “What?” he looked at Caliber, wishing he’d speak with words he understood. “Imprinted?”

  “Like a newborn imprints on the first thing it comes into contact with, Isadore was that being for you. You’re stuck with her. And with every amaaaazing event that enraptures your brain, your powers are hijacked and defined. The mess resembles a pot-bellied pig inflated with an intestinal parasitic disease being poked with a pin. I’ve never seen anything like it, what the two of you make together.” He flicked his finger between them.

  The being before him chuckled. “And to think you had high hopes for him.”

  “Excuse you,” Caliber put his fists on his hips, shoving his coat tails behind him, “but I don’t see a fat lady in here singing yet unless we’re counting that tub of demonic lard you call a pet, Mr. Pilot.”

  The beast barked and it sounded like banging metal in Ruin’s brain, causing even Caliber to wince in agitation and point at it. “Do it again and I’ll find a rogue planet to bury you in after I remove your demonic entrails from that mishap on your face called a mouth.”

  The beast settled down with maybe a growl that amounted to the sound of surf hitting a metal shore.

  “I’m sure I’ll be back with another assignment,” the man-being said.

  “I’m sure you won’t.” Caliber aimed a brutal look at Ruin. “He will be minding his good-boy manners from now on.” Ruin was still too full of questions to speak and he really didn’t want to in front of the one Caliber called Mr. Pilot. Something told him everything he said counted with him. And not in a good way. The man-being turned and casually stretched his hand out, opened a door in the air and walked through a square of darkness, the other beast following until the room stood as though nothing was amiss.

  Caliber let out a huge sigh, walked to the large chair in the corner and sat heavily. “We need to talk,” he announced, his deep voice low and gravelly. Ruin regarded Isadore who came cautiously out of the corner. He held his hand toward her and she regarded it like salvation and latched hers in his. The second their hands connected, he understood what she was to him clearly. She was his. To protect. Shelter. Defend. He wasn’t sure why though, but he was too grateful for that revelation to care about the remainder for now. “The tattoo is red,” Isadore whispered, leaning to look at his torso. Ruin grabbed her hand before she could touch it. He didn’t want her getting close to anything that being was a part of. He didn’t want her near that being in fact. He knew instinctively that he was bad for Isadore. Which made him bad to Ruin. “The tattoo is red because it belongs to the fire,” Caliber said. “It’s time for your next portion of knowledge concerning what’s going down.” They both looked at him and waited, but for the first time, Ruin was not eager to learn. “As you know, you’re a Carnificem. Your job is to judge and execute. What you may not know is that Carnificem’s are not supposed to take human form. That’s why I’m here. As the White Guardian of the Chasm, I tagged you when The Fisherman caught you.”

  “The Fisherman?” Isadore echoed.

  “Caught me?”

  Caliber sat back and crossed his leg, elbow on armrest, pointer finger on temple. “The Fisherman is a Venator, which is like a spiritual hunter if you will. They are commissioned to scour the world for special souls, ripe to be formed into tools that would benefit humans in matters that uphold goodness. But for every Light Venator, there is a Dark Venator. They too search for special souls, but with the intention to use their natural gifts for evil. Multiply your gifts times ten, and you can guess why you’re on the “most wanted” list of Venators, since Jesus Christ set foot on this planet.” Caliber leaned forward now, elbows on knees, his large hands laced together as if in prayer. “Since Dartwo, the Light Venator caught you, he had first rights. But since you’re not entirely human, you fell into my jurisdiction as well. And as the White Chasm Guardian, well, I have seniority over the matter, good thing for you.”

  The need to protect Isadore grew as he listened to Caliber. “Why am I a human?” was the main question burning up his brain as he snaked an arm around Isadore and held her tight to him.

  “Part human,” Caliber stood now. “With a mission.”

  “Which is?”

  Caliber wagged his finger as he paced now. “Wrong question. Can’t answer that one.”

  “The mission is for the humans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who sent me?”

  “God did.”

  “God?”

  “Her God, to be specific,” he nodded his head toward Isadore.

  Astonishment and confusion rushed in. Her God. The words did strange things to him. None of them good. “I told you He was legit,” Isadore muttered.

  Legit. Ruin took that to be a short version of legitimate. “Why would He send me?”

  “Wrong question again, can’t answer it.” Caliber’s tone indicated he was better able to answer questions asked by Ruin. Before he could fire away, Caliber added, “And you’re only allowed so many questions in a given time span.”

  Ruin put the brakes on his mind with that bit. Which was the best question and how many did he have left to ask?

  “Don’t ask it,” Isadore whispered.

  He regarded her. “Don’t ask what?”

  “How many questions you have, because it’ll be one of the questions.”

  He could always count on her to state the obvious. But the fact that she was utterly sincere made it difficult to be upset. “Any ideas on a question I should ask?” he whispered back.

  She thought a second. “Ask him why you can’t seem to understand simple concepts like love, I think it’s important.”

  “Important for what? Are you really thinking about the marriage thing at this time?”

  “I can hear the both of you,” Caliber cried, fists on his hips before them. He shot his arm out and looked at his bare wrist. “You have exactly ten seconds left to ask your questions.”

  Ruin snapped his attention to Caliber, thinking quickly.

  “Oh!” Isadore grabbed his arm. “Do you think you can you ask him if he knows my dad?”

  “Five seconds,” Caliber muttered, rolling his eyes.

  “What are you doing?” Ruin asked. “I need help!”

  “Sorry! Why not ask him what you can do to get your memory back!”

  “His memory is—”

  “That’s not my question,” Ruin cut in.

  “I realize that, but it’s hers.” Caliber raised both hands with his large shoulders in a shrug. “I told you what’s hers is yours and yours is hers, you should try listening when I speak. “So as I was saying,” he looked at Isadore now, “he didn’t lose his memory. He simply has none, he’s creating them now. He’s a new human. Like a baby.”

  “Oh,” Isadore said. “You said that earlier.”

  “Yes,” Ruin said exasperated, “he did, didn’t he?”

  “I forgot okay? And I never asked you to attach yourself to me like a larva, you did that! I’m doing the best I can here.”

  Caliber stood and Ruin hurried t
o him. “When will we see you again? When can I ask questions?”

  “Yes, when can we ask more questions,” Isadore nodded then regarded Ruin. “That’s a good question,” as though he needed her affirmation.

  “Isadore, let me talk, let me think!”

  She slapped her hands on her legs. “Fine.” She stormed to the bed and sat. “I’m just trying to be an encourager, a helper. And your Mr. Caliber just left.”

  Ruin growled at finding her right. “Damn! Damn, damn!” He paced a while then pointed at her. “Next time he’s here, you’re not talking.”

  “Well somebody had to—”

  “If you would shut up for more than two seconds, I might have. I can’t think around your constant blathering’s that are as useless as that . . . ” he gestured to her chest, “bra you wear.”

  She glanced down then back up at him, mouth as wide as her eyes before they slowly turned squinty with her finger aimed at him. “I am a scientist! I have eight million thoughts a second!”

  “Well must your mouth engage every single one?”

  “I could lose my train of thought!”

  “God forbid!” he cried.

  She nodded at him as he continued to pace. “Well excuse me for not being as bright as you Mr. useless bra parables.”

  “It was a parallel.”

  “It was stupid, is the point. And by the godblessit way, I’m waiting for an apology.”

  He couldn’t believe his ears. “For what?”

  “Not believing me about God, that’s what. Told you I was right.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her crossed leg bouncing over the other.

  “Well I’m sorry Isadore that I didn’t believe that you knew your God was real. I believe my faith wavered at your ignorance on so many spiritual fronts. You can’t fault me for not believing in something you can’t even explain.”

  She stood at that and put her hands on her hips. “If you’re referring to me knowing about love, I do. Don’t be mad at me because you can’t get it.”

  Ruin stormed to her. “What is love, Isadore? Is it going to the pool showing ninety-eight percent of your body to anybody who would look? Is it being with a man you don’t even know?”