Perennial

by Potter, Ryan

  I have no answer for him.

  “He wouldn’t like it, would he, Alix? In fact, Clint Keener would probably give you yet another lecture about controlling your emotions and not overreacting to anything that happens to you in life.” Vagabond shrugs and brushes nonexistent lint from his suit-coat sleeves. “It’s good advice actually. As an undercover lawman, your father is a master of observing before reacting. I wish he had the kind of abilities required to join us.” He raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t. But you do.”

  “You’re telling me you have no idea who murdered William?” I ask.

  “Correct.”

  “It was Face,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Everything points to Face.”

  “Are you one hundred percent positive it was Face?”

  “Yes,” I say, but then I look away and shake my head. “Well, no, not really, but Face runs Perennial and Oval City. And he took Aruna from William and brainwashed her with that drug.”

  “So many pieces, Alix,” Vagabond says. “But you need to put them together to prove who did it.” He smiles again. “After all, William is counting on you. Friday night will be here before you know it.”

  “Screw you,” I say, jabbing a finger toward his face. “He said I wouldn’t like you. He said nobody likes you. I can’t believe you’re using him like this just to test me.”

  “William Weed was a worthless drug addict whose spirit happened to be in the right place at the right time,” Vagabond says. “I started scouting you the day you moved into his bedroom. I sensed you had the abilities needed to fight Fire. It took a few tries, but once William made contact two nights ago I knew you were special. You have no idea what you’re capable of, Alix. Solve his murder by the end of Friday. William will finally rest in peace, a murderer will be off the streets, and you will finally understand how powerful you are.” He clenches his fists and holds them against his chest. “I need you, Alix. London Steel needs you. Roman King needs you. Everybody who fights for Light needs you.”

  “No,” I say, swallowing hard and wondering exactly what he means by fighting against Fire and for Light. “I’m finished, Vagabond. Look, I feel bad for William, but as you just said, he was nothing but a worthless drug addict, right? This is not who I am. I’m Alix Keener, a gifted student and college-bound senior. I’m not Alix Keener, paranormal psychic and killer of fantasy monsters.”

  “I’m sorry, Alix,” Vagabond says. “But the blunt truth is that you’re all of those things.”

  There’s a long, tense silence during which we stare at each other and refuse to look away.

  “You told me to listen to three things,” I say. “You mentioned two. What’s the third?”

  Vagabond nods and smiles. “Well done,” he says. “You’re a good listener. I neglected to mention the third item on purpose, but now, since the satisfaction of solving a murder and helping an untold number of people fight evil in the future doesn’t seem to appeal to you, I’ll add one last reward.”

  “What is it?”

  Vagabond studies me for a few moments. Then, as if finally making up his mind, he takes a deep breath and says, “Alix, how would you like to see your mother one last time?”

  Just when I thought I was out of tears, fresh ones stream down my face.

  “You can do that?” I whisper.

  “I can do that,” he says, extending his hands toward me. “But you’ll have to earn it, so stop crying, pick up your knife, and take my hands. There are things you need to see and hear.”

  I wipe my face, grab the knife from the floor, and sheathe it in my pocket. Then I step toward Vagabond and place my hands into his. His skin is pleasantly warm.

  The last thing I see is his smile. Then everything flares to the blinding white light I’ve come to know so well.

  Episode 4

  Chapter 18

  Vagabond and I stand across from each other in a vast and seemingly endless expanse of clear and pleasant white light. The space is familiar. It’s the same setting where I’ve encountered William for the past two nights. Although we’re standing on something that feels solid, the surface is invisible. All I see is the wonderful white light in all directions.

  “Is this heaven?” I ask, adjusting my glasses and gazing around.

  Vagabond looks even more striking in this setting, his dark suit and deep-blue eyes in stark contrast to our white surroundings.

  “I suppose many people would call it that,” he says. “But you can get here without being religious.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “What is religion, Alix? Who created it?”

  “I didn’t know this was going to get so deep,” I say, smiling.

  “Your sense of humor is back,” he says. “That’s good. Look, you’re the gifted student. You said so yourself. Answer my questions.”

  “Religion,” I say, mulling it over. “Okay. I suppose people created religion to try to understand why we live and die, how we should behave during ours lives, and what happens to us when we die.”

  “Agreed,” Vagabond says. “Are you religious, Alix?”

  “I don’t go to church or anything,” I say. “But I believe in a higher power, and I believe there are positive consequences for good behavior and negative consequences for bad behavior. You know, the whole karma thing in Hinduism and Buddhism and how it can impact your next life. That seems right to me.”

  “So you were raised Christian but believe in reincarnation, then?”

  “I didn’t say that,” I say. “What I’m saying is that I respect all religions. I mean, when it comes down to it, all religions are basically the same. If you live a so-called good life, you can expect some type of reward when you die. If you live a so-called bad or sinful life, you can expect bad things to happen wherever you end up next.” I pause. “Actually, since all religions are essentially the same at their cores, I would argue there’s really only one world religion.”

  “I see,” Vagabond says, scratching his chin. “Very nice, Alix. You’re even smarter than I thought. This is good.” He pauses, thinking. “Here’s a scenario to ponder. What about the few remaining primitive rainforest tribes out there? They’ve had little to no contact with the modern world and therefore know nothing about organized religion outside of their own nature worship. Or maybe they’re just trying to survive and don’t even think about what happens when they die.” He holds out his arms and gestures around the wonderful space. “Can people like that—people who don’t know about our notions of heaven, hell, gods, goddesses, demons, and devils—get to a place like this after they die?”

  “Sure they can,” I say. “Let me put it this way, Vagabond. People have been around a lot longer than organized religion. In my opinion, it’s all pretty simple. If you’re a good person, good things happen to you when you die. If you’re an evil person, you can expect to be haunted by evil for eternity. I don’t care how many gods somebody does or doesn’t believe in. Every sane human understands the difference between good and evil—even primitive rainforest people; even the earliest humans for that matter. So yes, I think everybody is capable of living life in a way that makes it possible for them to be in a place like this when they die.”

  “What about atheists?” he says. “Those who reject the idea that gods and goddesses exist?”

  “Atheists?” I say, raising my eyebrows. “I think atheists are misguided. We should bring all of them here to prove it.”

  Vagabond breaks into laughter and claps his hands several times, applauding my joke, I suppose.

  “Oh bravo, Alix,” he says. “Bravo indeed.”

  “Okay,” I say. “So what’s with the religious line of questioning?”

  “Right,” he says. “Basically, everything you just said is correct. But allow me to make it even simpler. Two forces drive the universe and have been in constant battle since the beginning of time. Humans have put many labels on these two forces in an attempt to understand and explain them throughout history, but
as you just said, when it comes down to it, it’s pretty simple. You know what I’m referring to, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Good and evil.”

  “Bingo.” He clasps his hands together in front of his waist again. “Good and evil. Humans are interesting, Alix. They tend to think they’re the most important organisms in the universe, but when it comes to the big picture, people are nothing but specks of dust in a massive cosmic landscape. But,” he says, pointing at me now, “there’s one thing about your kind that forces me to keep a constant eye on you.” He pauses. “Would it surprise you to learn that human beings are more susceptible to evil than any other form of life in the universe?”

  “I’ve never really thought about it like that,” I say, finding it fascinating that he just confirmed the existence of extraterrestrial life. “But I can’t say it surprises me. Not after seeing Oval City tonight.”

  “Ah, Oval City,” he says. “We’ll get to that sickening pit in a moment, but let me ask you another question. Do you believe in demons, Alix Keener?”

  I think back to the horrible beasts I saw during my reading on London, and it’s as if I can still smell and feel the cat-beast creature I destroyed only minutes ago.

  “After today, Vagabond, I think evil takes many different forms, including demons, yes.”

  “Be careful,” he says, serious now. “Demons aren’t just a form of evil, Alix. Demons are the source of evil. You must remember that. From now on your life depends on it. Allow me to phrase it another way. I can tell you for a fact that demons are responsible for every evil act in human history. Who is the most evil person you can think of, dead or alive?”

  “Adolf Hitler,” I say, needing no time to think about that one. “Or if you need somebody more recent, Osama bin Laden.” I squint and adjust my glasses again. “Are you trying to tell me those guys were possessed by demons?”

  “Yes,” he says. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. You love history, so here’s some interesting information. If you do the research, you’ll discover that the concept of demonic forces causing evil is found in every human civilization in history, going all the way back to ancient Mesopotamia, the world’s first civilization. Demons are real, Alix. They’re here. They’ve always been here. And they want one thing. They want power over as many human souls as possible.”

  “Demonic possession,” I say, nodding. “I read somewhere that demons thrive and gain energy by taking over the minds of humans.”

  “Precisely,” he says. “Demons prey on human souls and cross over into the earthly realm via portals. Portals are two-way highways between the Fire world and yours. Thankfully, demonic portals are rare, but the longer they remain open, the more damage the demon or demons can do. Demons would like nothing more than to possess every human being on the planet and use Earth as a breeding ground for evil.” He pauses. “My job is to make sure that never happens.”

  “Hell,” I say. “The Fire world. That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it?”

  “You’re using a Christian reference, which is fine, but remember what you said a minute ago. At their cores, all religions are the same in that they recognize good and evil. Demons are universal, Alix. They don’t discriminate according to religion. Demons want human souls, plain and simple. Christian. Muslim. Buddhist. Hindu. Shinto. Pagan. It doesn’t matter.” He gazes at his shoes, thinking. Then he says, “Unfortunately, all the years of fighting between religions have made humans easier targets for possession. I’ve never understood why you people fight wars over religion. Demons love it when humans go to war. It’s like recess for them. You’d be a much stronger lot if you could all just get along. Trust me.”

  “If portals are so rare,” I say, “how do they open in the first place?”

  “Good question,” he says. “The answer is simple. Portals open when humans get stupid and summon evil. Sometimes it’s an accident, like when a séance gets out of control and the person conducting it doesn’t know how to handle the situation. Usually, though, ignorant humans open portals on purpose. Satanism. Ouija boards. Black magic.” He shrugs. “Things like that.”

  “How do portals close?” I ask.

  “I’m afraid it’s even harder to close a portal than it is to open one,” he says, a troubled look on his face. “Alix, the only way to close a demonic portal is to destroy the leader demon who is using it.”

  “That thing I just killed,” I say. “The freaky human-cat hybrid. Was that a demon?”

  “Yes,” he says. “A minor one. A type of scout, really, not even close to a leader demon. That particular type is known as a Brawler. You’ll meet others soon. Heaters. Crawlers. The whole lot. Anyway, that nasty little Brawler was testing you. You did well, but it tricked you. Now the leader demon knows you have powers and can actually use the knife. In a way, the weapon was made for you. You didn’t get it by accident. I can assure you of that.”

  “Oh my God. Face,” I say, thinking back to my fight with Aruna. “Aruna said he had powers. She said she didn’t think he could die. She also said he wanted me to have the knife. I thought she was just saying that to intimidate me, but she was serious.” I press my fingertips against my temples as it all sets in. “Vagabond, Face is the leader demon, isn’t he? The portal is somewhere beneath Oval City. London basically said bad things happen in Oval City because it’s evil, and I sensed evil below ground when I was out there tonight.”

  “You’re doing well, Alix,” Vagabond says, looking pleased. “Pieces are coming together, aren’t they?”

  “Perennial,” I say, thinking hard. “Lewis said it’s the most addictive drug he’s ever tried and that it’s about to go viral.” I stare at Vagabond as the realization strikes. “Perennial is how Face controls people.”

  “Who’s Lewis?” Vagabond says, squinting.

  “A guy from school,” I say. “Lewis Wilde. He knew William. He’s a friend of mine.” I find myself imagining Lewis’s soft lips brushing against my neck. “Well, more than a friend, actually,” I add, feeling my face turn red.

  “I see.” Vagabond looks concerned. “My advice is to not trust anything or anybody except your abilities.”

  “London said the same thing.”

  “Good. I trained her well.”

  “Vagabond, do you think the real reason Face created Perennial was to make it easier for him to possess souls?”

  “If that’s the case, then we have a major problem, don’t we? Imagine a possession drug like Perennial spreading worldwide.” He shakes his head, clearly horrified at the thought. “It probably comes as no surprise to learn that certain people are easier to possess than others. For example, you and your father are good, tough, disciplined, strong-willed people. Demons steer clear of folks like you. Demons are like wild animals on the hunt. They don’t like to waste energy, so they look for easy targets. Sometimes they get hold of somebody for a long time. You mentioned Hitler and bin Laden. They’re good examples of long-term possession. Serial killers fit that mold too. But what about the faithful husband and father on Main Street, the one who hasn’t done anything wrong in his life but one day has too much to drink and hits his wife? Sure, he feels awful about it afterward and swears he’ll never do it again, but the fact is that he did it. And how does he explain his behavior?” Vagabond shrugs. “The answer, Alix, is that he can’t explain his behavior. Why? Because the man experienced short-term possession. A demon momentarily hijacked his soul and moved on after the evil deed was done. That’s how the vast majority of possessions work. They’re temporary, short-term events.”

  “Like when a drunk driver collides head on into an oncoming car and kills an innocent mother and wife,” I say, looking over his shoulder and remembering.

  “Your mother’s death,” he says. “Yes, the man who killed your mother was experiencing short-term possession. Don’t get me wrong. That doesn’t excuse his behavior. It just goes back to what I said about strength and character. That man had weaknesses that allowed a demon
to get to him.” He gazes down for a moment before looking back at me. “I’m not trying to sound insensitive, but it’s actually a good thing that most possessions are short term. It means the demons have to constantly jump from soul to soul. That’s why true evil has never taken over the entire human population. You’ll be happy to know that although good and evil are everywhere, good has a much higher winning percentage.” He offers a sympathetic smile. “It’s the rare long-term possessions that worry us.”

  “And if Perennial spreads worldwide,” I say, imagining the horrible scenario, “it weakens God knows how many human minds, ruins lives, and makes its victims perfect targets for long-term demonic possession.” I cover my mouth with my hands. “That’s what Face is really up to, isn’t it?”

  “Possibly,” Vagabond says. “And if Face succeeds, evil wins and the entire human population becomes nothing but weak, helpless cattle under the control of barbaric demons.”

  “A breeding ground for evil,” I say, recalling his earlier comment.

  “That’s right,” he says. “Earth becomes a breeding ground for evil. A sort of home base for the Fire world.”

  “But why me, Vagabond?” I ask, puzzled. “Why London? Why Roman King? Why us?” I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath. “I understand that you’re not human. I also understand that you’re one of the good guys. So why can’t you, and the others like you, just team up, kill all the demons, and call it a day?”

  “I wish it were that easy,” he says, “but demons have one huge advantage over us. Alix, I’m a messenger for something called the Army of Light, a type of otherworldly network that’s been at battle with the demonic Army of Fire since the beginning of time.”