Brethren

by Shawn Ryan

  "Stay away from him," Glendon warned.

  "Oh, I do believe you sound serious," Moloch answered. "How paternal."

  "Papa? Am I dreaming?" Cameron asked from the doorway. "Who is that strange person you're talking to?"

  "Yes, you're dreaming," Glendon said. "Go back to bed. Everything will be all right in the morning. I'll explain it to you then.

  "No, stay little boy," Moloch said. "Come here, I want to tell you a secret."

  Raising its arms in a friendly, inviting manner, the creature slowly walked toward Cameron.

  "It's a good secret. Don't you want to hear?" it asked.

  Cameron's eyes widened in fear and he ran to his father's side, hugging his leg with fierce tightness.

  When Moloch took its first steps toward Cameron,

  Glendon expected absolute terror to fill his heart. With the death of Adeleen, his son was all he had left, his only reason for living. And the boy was about to be torn from this world by a creature from another.

  Instead of fear, however, Glendon found only white-hot fury blazing in his heart, an anger so heavy and intense he thought his bones would break. Deep inside, he felt the fire burning out of control. A tingling ripped through his body.

  No one was going to harm his son. Ever. By God or by Satan, he would spill every last drop of blood from any man or beast who tried. The corona flared with a phosphorescent light, fed by the power of his conviction.

  "Stay away from him," he said and pushed Cameron behind him. "I warn you. Come no closer or I'll destroy you. I'll send you back in tiny pieces to whatever hellish bog you crawled from. Leave this world and live. Stay and I'll rend you limb from limb."

  Something in Glendon's voice made Moloch stop. It looked intently at him, studying him, sizing him up. A momentary expression of hesitation crossed its face. Then it sneered.

  "Merely talk," it said. "If you could've destroyed me, you would have. I think you're nothing but a charlatan and a buffoon. You may have the power, but you have no idea how to use it. I, on the other hand, have spent a lifetime with it."

  A shimmering green light burst forth around Moloch, turning the interior of the shed a sickening shade of putrescence. Even the beast's eyes turned a virulent shade of green.

  "Watch and grow wise," it said.

  Turning around, Moloch cupped both hands and scooped them deep into the forge, scattering red-hot coals along the earthen floor. Coals filled both palms as it clasped its hands together into a single fist. Red light spilled from between its fingers and mixed with the green nimbus surrounding its body, making its fists look like the heart of a diseased animal.

  For several seconds it stood there, tensing and untensing its hands, like a sculptor molding clay. Glendon stood in rapt attention, his left hand trailing back to rest on Cameron's shoulder. The boy stood frozen, peering around his father's waist.

  Moloch finally looked up and smiled, teeth glittering in the reddish-green light. From inside its hands came strange clicking noises mixed with a whirring buzz.

  "Look at my lovely creation," it said, opening its hands into a bowl.

  Glendon gasped and moved backward. In the process, he bumped into Cameron, almost knocking the boy down.

  A huge scorpion rested in the center of Moloch's palms. Mostly red, but flecked with iridescent specks of green, the arachnid was almost a foot long, longer if the segmented tail was included. Its eight legs twitched with evil energy and venom dripped from the inch-long stinger bobbing and darting on the tail's end. Its multiple eyes glowed with almost conscious intelligence and two monstrous pincers clicked with deadly intent.

  Adding to the horror were two dragonfly-like wings jutting from the middle of the scorpion's torso. They buzzed as the scorpion tested their strength.

  "Even in my world, these are considered dangerous," Moloch said. "Let's see what it can do here. I think your son will make an interesting experiment."

  "You'll have to get through me," Glendon said.

  "I don't think so," Moloch answered.

  Raising its right leg, the creature brought its foot down on the shed floor with a force that rattled the tools on the walls. A deep rumbling shook the rafters, sending cascades of dust falling in dry waterfalls. Holding tightly onto Cameron to keep them both from falling, Glendon thought his teeth were going to vibrate out of his jaw.

  From the tip of Moloch's toe, a small crack split the ground, rifling toward Glendon. So, the beast plans to drop me into some hellhound crevice, Glendon thought. He tensed the muscles in his leg and tightened his grip on Cameron, planning to leap to safety when the crack opened beneath them. But when it reached them, the crack stopped. Glendon looked down in puzzlement. The split was no more than two inches wide. What did Moloch have in mind?

  The rumbling of the ground became an earthquake. The shed rattled and began to fall apart, unable to handle the stress of the shifting earth. Tools clattered to the ground, their nails shaken from the posts in which they were hammered. The forge began to split in several places. Coals spilled out in smoking mounds.

  With a violent rending, the two-inch crack at Glendon's feet broke wide open. Glendon thought he heard the earth moan in pain. Before he could think again, the crack became a three-foot hole with Glendon's toes resting on the outer edge. He tried to back away, but the edges crumbled underneath his feet. Unable to stop his fall, he shoved Cameron to safety and, grasping at the air, plunged into the hole.

  "Papa!" Cameron screamed.

  Desperately, Glendon flipped around, his hands shooting out to grab the lip of the chasm. His wrists popped as they took the full weight of his body, and his chest slammed into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He groaned in pain, but was able to pull himself halfway out of the hole, resting his upper body on the ground.

  Cameron rushed to his father, falling to his knees on the edge of the hole. "Papa! Papa!" he cried.

  "Cameron, get out of here," Glendon sputtered, using what little breath he had recovered. "Run away."

  "No, Papa," the boy said. "I won't leave you."

  "Such loyalty is touching," Moloch sneered. "But I'm afraid you should have listened to your father, boy."

  Moloch tossed the scorpion into the air. Its wings buzzed into activity and the scorpion sped around the shed in circles, picking up speed.

  "The boy," Moloch said.

  The scorpion turned in mid-flight and hovered for a moment, its pincers clicking in anticipation and its tail whipping back and forth in a blood frenzy.

  Then it attacked.

  On his knees, Cameron sat unmoving, his eyes wide and his fists jammed into his mouth. The scorpion was coming straight for him, its stinger aimed at his head.

  Glendon's right hand shot upward at the last second. The scorpion slammed into his open palm with a force that broke several bones in his hand. Prevented from hitting its target, the beast buzzed its wings angrily. Enraged, it clamped its pincers down on Glendon's index and little fingers. Blood flowed from the bone-deep cuts. Latched on firmly, the scorpion raised its tail and plunged the stinger deeply into the flesh of Glendon's wrist.

  The pain tore through him like a red-hot nail. He could feel the venom pumping into the wound and had no doubt that it would reach his heart within seconds. Cameron would be next. His boy would die.

  Anger once again flared within him. No! Cameron will not be killed! Glendon felt his blood boiling and an image formed in his mind. He saw the venom in his veins pumping back into the scorpion, along with a surprise of his own.

  Despite the pain in his wrist, he clutched the scorpion tightly, visualizing his desire. The aura around him brightened in intensity. The beast in his hand began to jerk and shudder, but Glendon held fast. The creature's pincers released his fingers and began snapping shut on empty air. The tail lashed about, stinging Glendon's hand and arm again and again but to no avail. From the scorpion's eyes, a blue-white light began to glow. The segmented body began to swell, its plates splitting with pops like broken tr
ee limbs. Glendon's fingers were forced apart as the beast grew in size. Just when he thought his hand couldn't hold it anymore, the scorpion exploded, raining gore into his face.

  Wiping the remains of the scorpion on the dirt, Glendon pulled himself over the edge of the chasm, his shoulders bucking with the effort. He rolled himself onto his back and sat up, breathing heavily. The cobalt aura slowly faded.

  "Well, well," Moloch said. "You're right. I did underestimate you. You have a certain, how should I say it—stubbornness—that I admire. But I tire of playing. If my powers won't kill you, perhaps something more concrete will. My guess is that you're too tired to do much about it one way or another."

  Bending down, Moloch pulled a twenty-pound hammer out of the dirt. It beat the head of the tool in the palm of its right hand a few times, testing its killing power.

  "Yes, that will do," it said and moved along the side of the crevice toward Glendon.

  It's right, Glendon thought. I am too tired to do anything about it. My arms feel like leaden weights and my legs are like willow limbs. I can't concentrate. I can't even raise the protective aura.

  Cameron threw his arms around his father, holding his tiny cheek next to his father's beard.

  "Papa, do something," he cried. "It's going to hurt you."

  "Stand aside, boy," Moloch said. "Your turn is coming soon enough."

  Moloch raised the hammer above its head, the muscles in its arm rippling with the weight. Glendon had no doubt it could kill with one blow. He refused to close his eyes, however. By God, if he was to die, he would die defiant.

  "No, you stay away from my papa," Cameron cried, standing up. "Don't you try to hurt him."

  The little boy jumped between Moloch and his father. A wave of nausea and pride enveloped Glendon. He tried to pull Cameron out of harm's way, but when he lifted his arms off the ground, he tumbled backward like a bag of barley. Oh dear God, he cried to himself, let him die quickly and painlessly. This time, he did close his eyes.

  From the blackness behind his eyelids, he heard a scream. Yet it wasn't the high-pitched scream of a little boy. It was a scream of pain. And it was from Moloch.

  Glendon opened his eyes and saw a miracle.

  Moloch was standing in the shed, swatting at what looked like a thousand tiny blue-white fireflies swirling about its body. They were stinging the beast, over and over. They covered its eyes, its torso, its legs and arms. Each time it swatted a hundred away, a thousand more took their place. Thousands of bloody knots were forming on its body.

  But where are they coining from, Glendon thought. Who… ?

  He looked at Cameron. A blue-white halo surrounded the boy, who stood inside with a look of sheer hatred on his face, a look directed at Moloch. From inside the aura, thousands of fireflies emerged each second, winged vengeance from his son's nest.

  "Bastard child," Moloch screamed. "I shall kill you and eat your heart. I shall rip your eyes out and shove them down your throat."

  Cameron didn't hear. His eyes were fixed on Moloch and a smile creased his childish face.

  My God, Glendon realized. He's enjoying this.

  Glendon crawled to his son and clasped his arms around the boy's waist. The boy didn't seem to notice. His full attention was on Moloch.

  Now is the only chance I'll get, Glendon thought.

  He pulled his son close to him, closing his eyes and clearing his mind. He pictured the two of them together, one body, one mind, one purpose. With a rush that took Glendon's breath away, he felt his son enter his body, a glowing, exuberant mass of unbounded energy. Glendon's heart raced with unfettered joy. He and his son were one, now and forever. Even after they parted, they would still be one; nothing could remove this feeling.

  There was no time to revel in the pleasure.

  Cameron, Glendon said without speaking.

  Yes, Papa.

  Do you know what we must do?

  We must get rid of this awful beastman.

  That's right. Do you know how?

  No. But you'll tell me.

  Concentrate on making it disappear. In your mind, watch it fade away like smoke in the breeze. You must concentrate very hard. Can you do that?

  Yes, Papa.

  Together, their minds joined and attacked. The fireflies disappeared, leaving Moloch free for a moment. Grabbing the hammer, it started toward the pair, but only managed two steps before it crashed to its knees.

  "Nooooooo," it screamed. "You can't. I won't let you."

  It flung the hammer, but the tool bounced harmlessly off the corona surrounding Glendon and his son. As the hammer tumbled into a far corner, Moloch began to dissipate. First its arms became transparent, then its legs, then its torso, and finally its head. The last thing to fade from view was a pair of flaming silver eyes and a glowing M-shaped scar.

  "Medlocke, you are not rid of me," came a rapidly fading voice. "I'll have you dead. And if not you, then your son. Or his son. I shall not rest. If it takes eons, I shall not rest until I bathe in your blood."

  Then it was gone.

  Chapter 25

  « ^ »

  Stephen sat back and looked at his watch. The story of Glendon had taken almost two hours. Detailing Moloch's visit to his bedroom a few weeks before took another thirty minutes. His jaws ached.

  He glanced at Jason and Alex, still sitting next to each other on the edge of the bed. Their hands languished in their laps and their faces looked as if they were fighting severe bouts of indigestion.

  No doubt it was tough to digest, Stephen thought. Like swallowing a nuclear bomb. One explosion and wham! your whole world was gone and another—one that was a helluva lot more dangerous—was in its place. But to let Jason go on uninformed was even more dangerous. Stephen wanted desperately to protect his son, but it seemed the best protection was to throw him into the wide-open truth. If you were blind, walking into a pit of snakes wouldn't scare you, at least until the first one bit and you didn't know what it was.

  Stephen shrugged inwardly. Everywhere he turned things sucked.

  "Any questions?" he asked.

  Alex said nothing, but her face told a story of confusion and awe. Jason's expression traveled from perplexed to blank to stunned. He opened his mouth to speak, but uncertainty brushed across his eyes and no words came out.

  "That's the most fantastic, unbelievable story I've ever heard," he finally croaked. "I don't know. I just don't know what to believe."

  "Believe it," Stephen said. "It's all true. What happened here last night should be all the proof you need. But if you need more, just look at where your door used to be."

  Jason looked at the doorknob sticking out of the blank wall. Behind him, Stephen made a quick sweeping gesture with his left hand. With a hiss and a quick, cobalt flash, the door reappeared.

  Jason shook his head. It was all too much. He felt his hands moving fitfully from his knees to his face to his chest, touching, resting only for a moment before darting somewhere else. He felt them, but was unable to control them.

  "So what now?" Alex asked.

  "Now comes the hard part," Stephen said. "I have to train you, Jason, as fast and as thoroughly as I can. You have power. Judging from what you told me about last night, you have as much or more than anyone I've ever heard of in our family. But it's undirected, unfocused. You don't have any idea how to use it.

  "Last night was pure instinct. That will only get you so far. You need to harness your power so you can plan strategies. Moloch is well aware of your limitations and it will plan its attack around them."

  "How much time do you need?" Alex asked.

  "A lifetime," Stephen sighed. "But I figure we've got a few days. After the licking you gave Moloch last night, it's probably conserving its power for a while. We need to start as soon as possible."

  After some discussion, it was decided that Alex would go to her parents' house in Montgomery to keep her out of harm's way. Stephen surmised that Moloch would concentrate more on him and Jason, as long
as Alex was out of the picture.

  He and Jason would need someplace secluded, Stephen said, and Jason immediately thought of Badger's cabin on Lake Altoona. He called police headquarters. Badger answered.

  "Hey, bud," Badger said. "Your dad okay?"

  "Yeah, he's fine, just resting," Jason now said. "Listen, pal, some important business… family business… has come up and I need a favor."

  "Fire away."

  "Can I borrow your cabin for a few days? Dad and I have some things we need to discuss and we need peace and quiet. It's really important. That's why he came down so suddenly."

  "Well, yeah, sure. It's yours for as long as you want," Badger said, hesitation in his voice.

  "What's the matter?" Jason asked. "You seem unsure."

  "Have you cleared this with Silverman?" Badger asked.

  "Not yet, I figured I'd talk to him after I got off the phone with you."

  Jason paused.

  "But that's not what's really bothering you, is it?" he asked. "C'mon, Badge. What is it?"

  Badger was silent for a moment before speaking. "I don't know, Jazz," he said. "This investigation is real hairy. You know that. Everybody and his brother is breathing down our necks, demanding a suspect. Newspapers and TV want daily updates. Residents are calling just to find out what we know. And the politicians around here are getting really antsy. You know Quintard would just love to nail our asses to the wall. He's already making a lot of huffing and puffing noises. I got a feeling he's wearing something up his sleeve, and whatever it is, I know it won't be good for us."

  Badger took a sip of something. Jason assumed it was coffee.

  "And the nuts are starting to crawl out of the woodwork to confess," Badger continued. "I know it only takes a couple of seconds or a little research to knock holes in their stories, but it's just one more piece of shit to deal with. I don't know, Jazz. Now seems to be kind of a bad time to take a break. It's getting to be almost like a witch-hunt around here."

  Jason's eyes widened at Badger's choice of words, then he relaxed. No need to get upset. His friend was understandably nervous and just letting off a little steam. Jason knew that Badger wanted to solve these murders as badly as anyone.