Ruin Box Set

by Bane, Lucian

  He took her hand, concern etching his brow. “What?”

  “I…” she glanced at Scriber then mouthed, “I really need to do the number one.”

  Ruin’s brows furrowed.

  “Pee,” she mouthed, cringing up at the sudden rapid hammering sounds on the ceiling above them, ready to do it in her pants.

  Ruin looked around and pulled her by the hand around the house, opening doors until he found a bathroom. “You want me to come in with you?”

  “God yes,” she whispered, pulling him inside the perfectly clean bathroom. He shut the door and she fought to get her pants down, looking around. “Oh my God, Ruin, I’m so scared,” she whispered.

  He turned only his head. “Of what?”

  “Of that!” she hissed, “Upstairs, what the hell is going on? Are you here to judge that possessed person? Is it a girl or a boy? God I’m freaking the fuck out Ruin, I don’t like this kind of thing, I thought this was…only stuff that happened in movies.”

  “But your Bible mentions possession.”

  “I know but…I just…”

  “Thought it didn’t happen anymore?”

  “Maybe! Or not so… violent sounding, are they violent? Can you make sure this person is restrained?”

  “Angel, you have nothing to worry about. The demons are subject to me.”

  “But I’m scared!” she whispered, finishing her business.

  “I think fear is normal.”

  “Isn’t that a lack of faith? What if the demon senses that? Like horses do?”

  He took her face between his hands. “Then I’ll crush it.” He kissed her softly and she held his face, not wanting to let go. “I want you to be brave. Have faith. And take courage.”

  Isadore gasped at feeling the power in his words. “Yes,” she nodded. “Brave. Faith. Courage. Thank you, thank you.” She grabbed his face and kissed him hard for many seconds then released him with a gasp. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome,” he whispered appreciatively back. “Ready?”

  “I. Am. Ready.” She nodded and pulled the hem of her t-shirt. “Ready.”

  “Good. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

  “Yes, lets.”

  ****

  It was Scriber that went up the stairs first, Ruin next, with Isadore in tow, his hand gripped in hers. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but something was wrong. That power he put in his words to her wasn’t all that helpful judging by the way she strangled his fingers. And she was right about demons and fear. Yes, they smelled it. They preyed on it. He just didn’t see the point in confirming it if he were giving her a dose of courage with his power. Now he was ready to reassess what the fuck was going on.

  Scriber paused half way up the stairs and turned his head. Lifting his right hand, he wrote in the air. Apókrypsi̱ Daímonas. Use extreme caution. They like to hide.

  Ruin narrowed his brows. A cloaking demon…that could never be good. Which was no doubt why Scriber inked the information.

  Isadore yanked at his hand and he glanced at her. She pointed to herself, upstairs, then shook her head, emphatically.

  “She can stay in the parlor,” a voice said below them.

  Isadore jerked around to the odd looking woman at the bottom of the stairs. Isadore got closer to Ruin, apparently finding her just as strange. She was too thin for one and her skin nearly transparent. Ruin finally realized she was anorexic. The odd part was she was too old for that sickness.

  “Thank you,” Isadore said. “I’m fine.”

  “You’ll be safer…down here,” she said, her voice cold and hard.

  “No, no, I’m fine.” Isadore turned away from the woman with her eyes closed, mouthing oh my God oh my God.

  They finally made it to the second floor only to discover the exorcism must be taking place on the next.

  They navigated a narrow set of wood steps, leading the rest of the way. A single octagon window sat in the left wall and Ruin spotted a kid swinging alone on a swing set below, staring up at the window. Ruin didn’t like what he saw in the kid’s gaze. More cold detachment.

  “Oh my God,” Isadore whispered, peering out. “Are we in a bloody horror movie? Look at that kid! Is he possessed too?”

  Again Scriber paused, sparing Ruin the need to answer that. He wrote in the air. “The demon is strong.”

  Define strong, Ruin wanted to say as Scriber opened the door.

  Ruin held tight to Isadore as they entered the room, the blue fire inside him going to a screaming roar. The place reminded him of a cage where a rabid monkey played not so nice with its toys.

  A twin bed sat against the far wall of the twelve by twenty foot room, with a large lounge chair next to it. Empty, it seemed. It was hard to see with the only light being right above them, putting the far end of the room in dark shadows.

  A few more steps in and Ruin saw the bed wasn’t empty.

  Scriber moved carefully forward in his solid black form now. He stopped about five feet from what was really no more than a cot and Ruin saw that the form on the bed was chained. Young. Male. And nude.

  Ruin hated to get closer, but the demon was hiding what he needed to discern; if the human was his assignment, or not.

  Isadore gave a gasp of shock at seeing the boy’s body. Bruises, lacerations and odd lumps covered his entire flesh, both fresh and old.

  Ruin moved closer, wondering if the boy were even alive. There was absolutely nothing coming from him that his powers picked up.

  Scriber wrote in the air from the other side of the bed. “He’s hiding.”

  Ruin put Isadore against the wall behind him, silently indicating she stay put and not move. She nodded, her wide eyes on the chained boy.

  Ruin turned back and angled his head at the male who appeared to be asleep. “Demon,” Ruin called in a firm voice. “Show yourself.”

  Ruin waited in the dead silence watching the barely discernable face beneath the abused swollen flesh, wondering how that happened.

  Ruin slowly scanned his body, noting a pattern in the marks on the boy’s flesh. When he reached his genitals, it stood erect and oozing blood.

  Ruin jerked his gaze up as Isadore yelped, finding the boy staring at him, eyes and mouth wide open with no sound, showing blackened tongue and teeth.

  Ink flowed out of Scriber’s finger, now pointing at the boy’s groin.

  Ruin watched as the fine mist settled and revealed… teeth marks all over him. Holy shit.

  The boy erupted in thrashing and screaming as the bedroom door opened and a slim man in a black suit entered quietly.

  The man came forward, his pace measured, like he’d walked the path many times. He halted abruptly and stared at them like he’d not seen them upon entering.

  “I wasn’t aware visitors had come up. I should have been informed. It’s not safe.” His frail voice barely carried. “You are from the church?”

  Ruin fought for an answer that wasn’t a lie. “We were contacted.”

  The man regarded Isadore then. “Is she here to assist?”

  “Yes,” Ruin said, realizing Scriber was not visible to the man.

  The man looked coolly around. “I thought…they said three had arrived?”

  “Yes.” Ruin nodded once. “My partner…seems to have disappeared. Did you see him on your way up?”

  He seemed suddenly concerned. “I didn’t.” He moved to the side of the bed where Scriber still stood. The man gazed down at the kid. “Your partner should not wander here. It is not safe.”

  “So you said,” Ruin eyed the boy who thrashed, causing the bed to jerk and squeak loudly, the chains clinking. His mouth did that wide open thing, eyes bulging. His throat distended like he were screaming, veins swollen and clearly visible, yet no sound. And more importantly, there was nothing to discern yet.

  “He’s suffered long enough,” the old man said, his voice more frail than ever.

  “Are you his father?” Ruin asked.

  The old man’s
eyes slowly raised to Ruin. “I am.” He looked down at the boy and stroked the forehead jerking left to right.

  Ruin tensed when the man bravely bent over the boy, bringing his mouth next to his ear, whispering.

  Scriber swiped his hand through the air and more of that black ink mist began to settle over the bed, covering both the man and the boy. Ruin wished he knew what Scriber was getting at. Scriber wrote in the air now. “The demon is not in the boy.”

  Ruin backed up to Isadore and grabbed her hand, blocking her view of the man who slowly straightened to reveal the demon’s grotesque animal face beneath the human’s transparent skin.

  “Excuse me while I call up his dinner,” the old man said, oblivious to what they saw in him.

  The man exited the room then.

  Chapter Twelve

  “What’s going on?” Isadore gasped the second the old man left.

  “The father is possessed, not the boy,” Ruin said.

  “What? Are you fucking kidding?” she shrilled. “Why haven’t you judged yet? When can we leave?”

  “When I know who I’m supposed to judge,” Ruin said, looking at the boy who stared at the ceiling with wide eyes.

  “You don’t know?” she cried.

  “No, I don’t. The demon is hiding that. I’m going to have to deal with him first to figure out which human or humans I’m supposed to judge.”

  “Oh my God,” she gasped. “I thought the demons were subject to you?”

  “They are. When they’re not hiding.”

  “Oh shit.” She rocked side to side then gasped and covered her mouth. “If the boy isn’t possessed, we need to get him out of here!” she whispered.

  “Isadore, I’m here to judge, remember? I’m not a savior.”

  “You’re still human! We have a legal obligation here, Ruin. You may be here to judge and execute but I’m not a Carnificem. I’m a human woman with compassion and feelings and this. Is. Wrong. To leave him, I mean. Look at him!” she shot her arm toward the bed. “He’s half dead! I can at least call the police!”

  “You can do that after I judge and execute, Angel. In the next city. Understood? We need to do this job and leave. Nothing else.”

  “What is your plan?” Scriber looked down at the boy. “He’s coming back now.”

  Ruin turned to Isadore. “I want you to stand in this corner.” He led her and placed her exactly where he needed. “Under no circumstances are you to move. Understand?”

  “No circumstances?”

  “No matter what you see or hear, what it looks like, stay put.” Ruin looked at Scriber. “Can you hide her?”

  “I can.”

  “Do it.”

  Scriber shot ink at Isadore, covering her in it. “I’m invisible?” she asked, lifting her black hands and turning them over. “Can you see me?”

  Ruin could but he knew she was still invisible the way Scriber was. “No, but I can hear you. So you will need to not talk or make a sound.”

  “Oh God,” she whimpered. “No sound. Got it. No sound.”

  Ruin stood next to the bed and he didn’t wait long before the door opened. But it wasn’t the old man that entered. It was another kid. The boy from the swing set, Ruin thought.

  “Who are you?” the boy asked, stopping halfway between Ruin and the entrance. “Are you here to help my brother?”

  “This is your brother?”

  He nodded, standing perfectly still, looking almost like an apparition in his black slacks and white dress shirt.

  “How long has he been sick?” Ruin asked.

  “Father says he’s not sick.”

  “Does he ever leave this room?”

  “No. But Father lets him free when he eats. He says it helps digestion.”

  “What does he eat usually?”

  The boy finally ventured closer which meant Ruin’s power to make him appear trustworthy was working. “Father brings him special things.” The boy came all the way to the side of the bed, just next to where Scriber stood. He stroked the boy’s arm who still remained still, eyes wide on the ceiling. “Mother makes his dessert herself.”

  The door opened and the father held it for the skinny woman from earlier. She came in with a tray and the father shut the door. Then locked it.

  Ruin’s fire geared up, ready to act. He’d bind the demon so he could see the assignment. Ruin stepped away from the bed as the father came over, pulling keys from his pocket.

  “So you unchain him to feed him?” Ruin wondered what he had in mind.

  “It’s the humane thing to do,” he said, his voice low but a little deeper.

  “Demon,” Ruin said with authority. “I see you.”

  The old man didn’t acknowledge him as he unlocked the boy and removed the chains from his body. Scriber filled the room with a mist of ink and the man finally said, “You see…” then helped the boy sit up in the settling ink, “only part of me.”

  The father grinned at him. As did the mother. The naked boy. And the young kid.

  Their mouths and eyes went wide in silent screams and Ruin walked away from the bed, toward the middle of the room, drawing the main leader away from Isadore.

  The demon manipulated the human bodies, forcing them into shapes and positions that broke bones and tore skin, bringing screams of agony from his hosts.

  The woman crawled on her belly like a crab, legs and arms stretched out entirely at her sides while the two kids bent forward until their faces touched their buttocks.

  But the Father walked upright, like a man, and Ruin knew. He was the one he wanted first. The one controlling the four headed Diáspasi̱ Daímonas

  With the demon’s full presence, Ruin’s power came in a way he’d not experienced before. Blue fire surfaced on his skin, forming a full body armor of Judgement. His red fire formed gauntlets on his forearms and shins, and a mask of fire, all weapons of Execution.

  The demons came at him, attacking from all sides, sending Ruin twirling through the air. Red fire daggers on lava chains shot from the gauntlets on his forearms and shins, striking the four-headed demon without touching the humans. The room erupted in deafening roars and Ruin heard Isadore scream within it.

  As did the demon.

  The demonic humans raced for her, a skittering stampede of twisted limbs. With the speed of lightening, the fire daggers returned to their sheaths, reloaded, and shot out again, striking at the demon’s necks, his most vulnerable point. Ruin stormed toward its twitching bodies on the floor and placed a red flaming boot on the head of the leader. Aiming his right fist, he loaded the dagger with concentrated execution power and released it at its head, rocking the air with the spiritual explosion.

  The second the demon was bound, Ruin’s judgement assignment lit up. The mother and the father. Ruin stared down at the two children on the floor, particularly the naked boy barely alive. His body armor and weapons receded back into the fire from where it had come, and Ruin grabbed the two adults by the neck and held them up against the wall. “Wake,” he commanded, putting power in the word, watching them become fully aware.

  The judgement leapt on his tongue, a ready script of burning fire he was required to speak. “I am Ruin. Chosen Carnificem of Daguire’s Guild. You have been judged and you are being executed.” He slowly squeezed their necks until they flailed and kicked, fighting for their lives. Ruin watched them, their death a hunger pang being finally met.

  As the life expired from their bodies, the Soul Prison moved into place. Even now, Ruin sensed Grim just on his right and behind him. Ruin collected the two souls and handed them off to the transporter. The second he did, the room turned upside down and all lights went out.

  ****

  Ruin gasped awake, fighting whatever held him.

  “Whoa, whoa, calm your scooter jets,” Caliber said, pressing tattoos on Ruin’s torso.

  “W-what…what are you doing?” Ruin looked around, feeling dizzy.

  “Giving you your next and hopefully final assignment since
you didn’t successfully complete the others.”

  Ruin sat up. “Where…where’s Isadore.”

  “Home.”

  “Where am I?”

  Scriber gestured around the hotel room. “You’re getting proper rest.”

  Ruin fought to think past the cobwebs in his brain. “What do you mean I didn’t successfully complete the assignments?”

  Scriber tapped on Ruin’s temple. “Your wall, Padre.” He shook his head. “Damn thing is still there. But fear not,” he shot up a finger and walked to the door. “This final assignment is my ace in the hole.” He opened the door and turned. “You complete it, and you’re home free.” He gave a wink and a nod. “Guaranteed.”

  The door shut and Ruin hurried to it wondering how he supposed to… He spied Isadore’s truck parked right in front of the room. Dressed in only jeans, he ran to it and headed to Isadore’s house. He had to see her, find out why she wasn’t with him, what had happened. The last thing he remembered was…the exorcism. What had he done wrong? What did Caliber mean, he didn’t successfully complete the assignment?

  Thirty minutes later, he skidded to a halt in Isadore’s driveway then raced to the door to find it locked. He banged until he heard movement and sighed in relief when Isadore’s exasperated hold on reached him.

  “It’s me, Ruin,” he called.

  “Oh my God,” she gasped, unlocking the door.

  The second she opened it, Ruin ran her over with a hug, lifting her in his arms, breathing her in. “What happened?” he asked.

  “What are you doing here? I thought Caliber said you had to do one more important assignment?”

  “Is that what he told you?” Ruin asked between kissing her.

  “Yes. He said one last judgement. Said I won’t see you until then.”

  Pain thumped hard in the coordinates Caliber set and he groaned.

  Isadore pushed him away, looking at him. “Why is your tattoo glowing white?”

  Ruin looked down, confused. The pain slowly faded, replaced by a frigid dread. No. He shook his head, looking around, panic making him pace. “Where’s Scriber?”

  “I thought he was with you. Ruin, what’s wrong?”