Ruin Box Set

by Bane, Lucian

  “I think the driver is still in there. And five more kids.” This from a woman on the phone. “I just talked to the school, there were supposed to be twenty passengers.”

  “Is somebody alive in the car?” Another man called.

  The bus lurched again and the crowd screamed. “It’s gonna go over, oh my God.”

  Ruin moved to the other side of the bus in time to see the driver unconscious on the windshield.

  “Oh my God, somebody’s alive in that car,” Ruin heard a woman say. “She’s trying to help. Somebody help her.”

  The bus slid more, the sound of metal grinding loudly. The few more feet put the leverage in the negative and the crowd screamed as the bus fell.

  “Oh my God, oh my God,” filled the air as Negotiators flew down to the falling bus while Ruin waited for the verdict on the last two souls.

  “The car is going to fall!” somebody cried. “She’s in there, she got in. She’s trying to get somebody out.”

  Ruin moved toward the car, finally getting the verdict. It was the two in the car. A woman and child. Judgement was final. He had to decide how to carry it out, if the car fell, it’d…

  “She’s got the child!” somebody gasped, pointing at the car.

  Ruin finally stared, his blood freezing in his veins. Isadore was in the car, holding a child.

  “Help me please!” she called.

  Ruin ran to the car and reached his hand even as it lurched over the side. Isadore screamed and fell back, hitting the windshield. Ruin grabbed hold of the tire as it went over the side. Panic seized him as he stared at the nightmare from the night before, Isadore’s screaming face falling, reaching. Just before the car hit, Ruin caught sight of a black net. He looked around and saw Scriber, standing on the ledge of the bridge, looking down.

  He’d stopped it.

  Ruin jumped over the side and landed feet first in the water, several yards from the car. The net was gone and the car was sinking quickly. The tow back windows were open and Ruin climbed in and grabbed hold of an unconscious Isadore and swam with her to safety as the car went under. Once he had her on the bank, she was awake and fighting.

  “He’s in the car, he’s in the car, help him!”

  Ruin took one look at her pleading gaze and swam back to the car. He knew even as he did that he wasn’t allowed to save, he was not a savior. He was a Judge and Executioner. Negotiator’s saved. He looked around and there were none in sight. The decision had been made.

  Ruin dove under the water and found the car. The child was drowning and the mother was already dead. Fuck. Ruin swam into the car, fetched the woman’s soul, pulled the boy out, and swam up with him. He hauled him to the bank to a sobbing and grateful Isadore.

  Ruin laid the unconscious boy gently on the ground. He’d taken in a lot of water and Isadore pushed Ruin aside and began trying to resuscitate him. Meanwhile, Grim stood by gazing at Ruin after receiving the mother’s soul, his look not making him feel good at all. Even the dark eyes of Scriber could be felt from the bridge. He’d crossed a line. A serious one. Again.

  Ruin watched Isadore work on the boy even as paramedics hurried down the bank. Maybe she’d be unsuccessful.

  The kid sputtered even as he thought it and Isadore gasped a sob, thanking God. Paramedics took over and before he knew it, they were taking the boy into an airlift. And every foot away from the kid caused Ruin excruciating agony.

  “Thank you, thank you,” Isadore gasped, hugging him.

  Ruin groaned and they both stumbled their way up the bank, assuring the emergency personnel they were fine.

  By the time they got to the truck, the news was there, hurrying to speak to them. Ruin realized they were trapped there, the vehicle blocked in. A wave of dizzy hit him and darkness seeped into his vision. Grim was the last person he saw as the world went sideways. He’d gone to his spiritual form, and he gazed at him from those empty eye sockets, black smoke oozing.

  ****

  Ruin jerked awake and looked around.

  “Sorry, I had to wake you,” Scriber said. “She’s in the hospital with the kid.”

  Ruin realized the pain was no longer excruciating. “The kid?”

  “She wanted to be there.”

  Ruin let out a sigh and shook his head. “Why did you let her leave, I asked you to watch her,” Ruin said.

  “She’s a grown woman with a free will. There was no stopping her when she saw that kid in the car.”

  Ruin slammed his palm on the steering wheel. “Fuck!” He rested his forehead on it, the irony burning him. “Now I have to go in that hospital and finish the job.” He looked around, then at Scriber. “And you know what? For the first time in my short existence, I really hate my job.”

  Ruin opened the truck door and got out, hurrying toward the hospital, his assignment pangs guiding him with Scriber in tow.

  In less than five minutes, he located Isadore, standing in the hallway, staring through a glass, biting her thumbnail. Ruin paused at feeling it. Power. Power all around her, pulsating in hot waves. “What…” he glanced at Scriber.

  “She’s praying.”

  “Great,” Ruin muttered. Kill a kid and crush her faith, all in one move. Bravo.

  She turned and gasped, her face lighting up at seeing him. Running over she gave him a hug. Despite the reality, Ruin wrapped his arms around her, so glad she was okay and alive. “He’s doing great,” she whispered. “They said I can visit him when he wakes, I’m just waiting.”

  “Isadore, I need to talk to you about him.”

  She pulled back and searched his face. “What? What’s wrong?”

  Ruin glanced around and Scriber took interest in something a few steps back. “The boy… was one of the judged.”

  Her brows furrowed. “What? No, he’s fine,” she said.

  “Because I saved him,” he whispered, shaking his head. “And I wasn’t supposed to.”

  Her jaw suddenly dropped in abject horror at the idea. “What? You were supposed to kill that innocent child?” She stared at him in outright shock. “No! No that can’t be right, he’s innocent!” she hissed, pointing at the door.

  “I never said he wasn’t innocent.” Ruin held up his hands, ready to reason with her.

  “Then how can you execute him!”

  Ruin stared at her, feeling the answers at a very intimate level. He fought for the right words and then recalled a scripture she might know. “The righteous perish, and no one takes it to heart; the devout are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil.”

  Ruin watched her face as she digested that. She covered her mouth and shook her head a little then leveled bright blue eyes brimming with tears on him. “So you’re…saying he’s being taken to be spared from evil to come?” she barely whispered.

  Ruin grabbed hold of her shoulders. “Angel, listen to me. I have a theory. Are you listening?”

  She nodded, not looking up, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m listening.”

  “Your God? He’s either good or He’s not good. He can’t be both, do you understand me? So if He’s good, then He’s good, and you can’t doubt that just because some things happen that you don’t understand. Are you hearing me?”

  She nodded a few more times then threw her arms around his neck, sobbing. “They said he has no other family and would likely go into foster care,” she cried bitterly. “He has nobody. He’s only six, Ruin.”

  Ruin hugged her tightly to his body. “I’ll make it quick, Angel. He gets to be with his mother, too.”

  “He does?” she sobbed.

  “Yes, yes. I’m sorry that I have to do it.”

  She nodded and turned away, waving a hand. “Okay, okay. Do what you have to.”

  Ruin took a deep breath and Grim suddenly walked up from behind.

  “Wait!” she cried, spinning around. “I need to just say goodbye.”

  Ruin nodded. “Try to hurry.”

  She stared at him unt
il he felt like a fucking monster. “How will you do it? Can you do it while I’m holding his hand?”

  “It may look bad,” Scriber said.

  They both paused and looked at him.

  “He’s doing well, it will look suspicious if he passes after you both are with him.”

  Isadore clamped a hand over her mouth and nodded, tears streaming again. She looked through the window on the door then spun away, heading down the hallway.

  Ruin watched her go then mouthed to Scriber, pointing. “Follow her.” The Soul Prison moved into place and his power geared up. In one moment, he captured the boy’s tiny spirt, housed it, and delivered it to Grim who nodded and disappeared.

  Ruin hurried to find Isadore, catching up to her and Scriber in the parking lot. Pain slammed into his gut at finding her in his embrace, her arms around his neck. As though sensing him, she looked up and turned away, heading for the truck. Ruin hurried after her, eying Scriber with a deep scowl as he passed. He knew the being had done no wrong, but that didn’t lessen the urge to rip his head off.

  By the time he made it to the truck, his anger had taken over his concern. He got in the driver seat and just sat there, staring ahead. His jaw ached from holding it shut so tightly since he’d seen her seeking comfort from another man. “Don’t put your hands on Scriber again,” he said as the being hopped in the back of the truck.

  She didn’t answer him and Ruin suddenly wanted privacy. Before he could voice the problem, the truck darkened a bit. Ruin glanced back to see a tinted something where the glass had once been. Curious, he reached with a finger and was met with a dense, transparent substance. Ruin forced aside the grateful feelings and looked at Isadore, needing to put words to the building frustration inside him. “Why are you angry with me?”

  “I’m not angry with you,” she muttered.

  Ruin felt the truth in her words. “What are you then?”

  She looked out the window shaking her head. “Hurt is all,” she whispered.

  Hurt. His anger returned and he chose his words carefully. “And you would get your comfort from another man?”

  “That bothers you?”

  Ruin met her teary gaze, noting the surprise in her tone. “Very much, yes.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  Her oblivion was sincere and Ruin was a little relieved she wasn’t trying to hurt him. “Because…” he looked forward now, contemplating, “I can’t stand another man touching you.”

  She nodded barely. “I understand,” she whispered. He regarded her at hearing her sincerity. “And I feel the same.”

  “You do?” Ruin realized he repeated her. “You…don’t want another woman touching me? Ever? At all?”

  She smiled a little and looked away. “Definitely not.”

  Ruin wanted to hold her in the worst way. “I need to feel you Angel,” he said softly.

  She regarded him, curious. “You need to feel me?” Like him needing her was news to her.

  He nodded. “Like I need to breathe.”

  She scooted over to him and he pulled her in his arms. Sensations flooded his body and he gasped, pressing his lips and face into the warm silk of her neck. “Isadore.” The whisper came on a shuddered breath as she slid her fingers into his hair and caressed his scalp. “I’m so sorry Angel. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry that I am what I am.”

  “Shhh….” She placed delicate kisses on his face. “Don’t you know how perfect you are to me? How so very perfect you are?” Ruin gasped in ecstasy, absorbing her words and touch, his hands finding what he had to have, her warm body. “It’s me that’s sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” She kissed along the edge of his mouth now. “I’m such a bitch and hypocrite. Of all the people I should be extra kind to, it’s you. I’m such a bitch,” she gasped, pushing his mouth open with her lips, kissing him more, her words winded now.

  Isadore fought to open his pants. “I need to suck you,” she whispered.

  Ruin’s breath shot out all at once as he looked around. The side windows were tinted dark and he wondered when that happened even as he helped give her what she seemed to desperately need. Then he remembered, just barely, “I…still need to judge.”

  She grabbed hold of his hard cock and sucked it deep into her mouth. The swollen head popped from her lips and she shot up to kiss him with a ravenous hunger. “Judge that,” she gasped, before diving back down on him.

  “Angel,” he groaned, rolling his hips and letting his head fall back.

  “So good,” she whispered between licks, sucks, and maddening flicks of her tongue, before consuming him until the head of his cock hit the back of her throat. Her desperate moans and grunts on him set his cock and balls on fire.

  He was already there. “I’m going to fucking come Angel,” he gasped, filing his fist with her hair and gripping the steering wheel. “Take it, take it all.” He pulled her hair hard as the light rake of her nails over his balls detonated his orgasm with that white hot insanity. He fought to open his legs, hissing and grunting like a scary animal, wanting to ram his cock hard into her body until she was lost with him. He realized as he came down from Mount Ecstasy that he didn’t like going there without her.

  But he also didn’t mind forcing her there while he watched, either. It seemed unfair, but to him, it was merely another route to another kind of heaven. And a necessary one.

  He realized she’d again taken his essence into her mouth. It astonished him that she would and liked it as much as he did. He loved sucking and licking the pleasure from her body, more than anything.

  A casual rap against the back glass interrupted her dramatic satisfied moans as she kissed softly up and down his length.

  Winded, Ruin pulled her up to him and looked into her eyes, his gaze roaming her face before kissing her, tasting himself on her lips. “That’s where I belong. All over you,” he whispered, stroking her tongue with his and then firmly sucking the tip. She gave a whimper, his promise of soon returning the pleasure to her clearly conveyed. “Until you’re pulling my hair,” he added, breaking the kiss and lightly pecking the tip of her nose. “And jerking and twirling your hips the way you do?” He put himself back in his pants, grinning at the flush in her cheeks. “I love when you do that.”

  Isadore only smiled and got her seatbelt on. “Are we done? With the homework?” she asked.

  Ruin sighed and shook his head, starting the truck. “Not yet. But the next one is not far I think.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Isadore followed Ruin and Scriber through the OCD paradise, feeling like she’d been transported back to an era when America was in the virgin bosom of prosperity. The extremely well kept two and a half story house reminded her of…a stage prop in a movie. It screamed perfection in all its facets.

  “So we’re just going to knock on the door? Can you do that?” Isadore whispered.

  Ruin looked around. “I’m not sure what’s going on. And this is the only way I know to find out.”

  “Wait,” Isadore said, “don’t you know what to do when you get to an assignment?”

  “Not always, apparently.”

  “And so you’re just going to knock on the door and what?”

  He shook his head, knocking again. “Not sure.”

  “Ohhhh k then, that’s not the least bit weird. The place creeps me out, I know that much. Everything is too perfect,” she whispered. “Only sick people are this perfect. Trust me I know.”

  Sudden loud banging, like somebody tumbling headlong down the stairs, made Isadore jump and grab hold of Ruin’s arm. “The hell?” she whispered as the banging grew louder then ended at the door with metal scratching sounds, like somebody fought to claw their way out.

  The three of them took a few steps back and the door jerked open to reveal a disheveled butler looking person, straightening his not so pristine black suit. “May I help you,” he gasped, his eyes wild looking and his perfect silver hair falling in clumps over his brow.

  “I’m here
to help?” Ruin said.

  He looked at the three of them, eying Ruin’s tats along his neck. Isadore noted the tremble in his hand as he swiped his hair along his forehead. “Help?” Dear God, was that vomit on his pant leg?

  “With…the problem you’re having?”

  Again he eyed them suspiciously. “Did the church… contact you?”

  “We were contacted,” Ruin said, nodding.

  The man swallowed visibly and swiped his tongue over dry lips, opening the door wider. “Come in then. There isn’t much more they can do.” He lowered his voice and stepped in closer. “I’m just the butler.” His chin quivered. “I’m not a priest. I can’t do this another day.” His cheeks shook with the brisk shake of his head. “I’m sorry,” he hissed, like guilt had been eating him up.

  “Of course you can’t,” Isadore said. “That’s why we’re here. To help,” she said, jumping when the air split with a shrill scream that morphed into animal growling sounds.

  The man began to breathe heavily, looking up the stairs. He made the sign of the cross, hand trembling with a violence now. “May God be with you,” he hissed at the stairs before turning eyes on them that had seen unspeakable horror.

  “An exorcism,” Scriber said softly then.

  “Yes,” Ruin confirmed, walking into the house.

  Isadore yanked on Ruin’s arm and hissed, “Exorcism? Are you kidding me? Here? In this house?”

  Ruin looked at her, his gaze cool. “Yes, Angel.” He glanced at Scriber. “Can you stay down here with her?”

  He shook his head. “Better not.”

  Ruin regarded Isadore. “Can you handle this? I have no idea what’s going to happen up there and I need you to know that.”

  Isadore jumped at hearing banging and wailing, followed by more growling. “What do you mean you don’t know what’s going to happen?”

  “I mean I don’t know how this is going to work, what’s going to be required, etcetera.”

  He said it casually and she wished she could borrow some of that confidence. “C-can you command me to be brave, to-to have courage or faith? Because I’m not doing well Ruin, not for this. And on top of that?”