“A message from whom?” asked Vain.
“That is hard to explain through a door, Dark Man. Won’t you let me in? I can assure you I am not your enemy.”
“Well, that makes me all tingly inside,” grunted Vain. “But somehow I don’t feel like receiving any messages today, especially from the recruiting officer for the gay Mardi-Gras.”
“I don’t understand this term ‘gay’,” the young man’s voice mused from behind Vain. The assassin jumped around in shock and aimed his weapons toward where the messenger now stood in the center of the room. “It has been used against me several times now and I am beginning to think it may be offensive.”
“It depends on your point of view,” said Vain steadily, trying to slow his unusually fast heartbeat. “If you like chewing on cock and getting jammed in the ass, I guess it’s a pretty fair term. If you don’t, it simply means you’re just a big ol’ freaky pretty boy who looks and sounds like he’s a poo-puncher.”
If Vain had been expecting an angry response from the young man, he was disappointed by the reaction his unexpected companion conveyed.
“Ah, yes,” the young man said, sitting on the edge of the bed, a soft plume of dust rising from the mattress. “If I understand you rightly, what you mean is an attraction to the same sex. I seem to recall the ancient Greeks used to indulge in such practices; it seemed far more acceptable by society at the time.” He appeared thoughtful for a moment, his expression unreadable.
“You will have to forgive me Dark Man, but returning to flesh after such a long time has left my memory rather jumbled to say the least. However, let me assure you I am not going to – how did you say? – ‘punch your poo’.”
“Who the hell are you?” growled Vain incredulously.
“As I said,” pronounced the young man serenely. “I am a messenger. A messenger and a guide. I am here to help you save the Avun-Riah. My name is Gabriel.”
“What’s the message?” asked Vain, his pistols still pointed at the young man’s heart.
Gabriel stared silently at Vain for a moment, his expression impossible to read. “My message is this: Put aside your anger and your lust for vengeance. Only with a pure heart can you forgive yourself and your enemies. In the end you will find that the weapons of the enemy are useless, and only by embracing him can you hope to defeat him. This is the one true way you can ensure the survival of the Avun-Riah and in turn all life as you know it.”
Vain absorbed the words and said nothing. When he did speak, his words were filled with scorn. “What the fuck are you talking about? ‘Embrace my enemy’? Sure. Right after I rip out his heart and shit in the hole.”
Gabriel shrugged. “I am charged only with bringing the message, not ensuring you believe it. But when the hour has come for you to decide, remember those words or else all is lost.”
“Who is this message from?” asked Vain, moving slowly toward the young man on the bed.
Gabriel sat silently again, but finally he shrugged and said quietly, “These are the words of the one you know as God.”
“Ah, well of course they are,” muttered Vain. “Everybody else is at this bloody party, it’s about time God turned up to poke his nose in. And who the hell are you, some sort of fucking angel I suppose?”
“In a manner of speaking... yes.” Gabriel smiled. “Although it is not what you think. I am not like a person flying around the clouds with feathery wings and a halo.”
“Really? Well you fooled me,” Vain sneered dryly.
“Your sarcasm is not needed, Dark Man,” Gabriel advised.
“No it’s not, but I like to chuck it in there anyway. It adds effect for when I do this.” Vain fired both handguns directly at Gabriel’s torso. The bullets flew toward the younger man, but suddenly slowed before stopping about an inch in front of his chest.
“Why did you do that?” asked Gabriel evenly. “I would have thought by now you would realize how useless your weapons are in this encounter.”
Vain flung the worthless guns aside and snarled, “I just had to make sure. But don’t worry; I’ve got something else for you and your boyfriend Empeth.”
“Empeth?” began Gabriel quizzically. “He is our enemy. Not –”
His words were ripped away as Vain unleashed the power he had silently been gathering within himself with the aid of the Glimloche. Flames of ebony ripped from Vain’s fingers and into Gabriel, flinging him from the bed and pinning him easily against the wall.
“You... must... stop!” gasped Gabriel, struggling against his bonds. “You... know not... what you are... doing!”
“I know exactly what I’m doing, asshole,” snarled Vain. “I’m getting rid of one enemy before I go after your friends. But don’t worry; I’m not going follow your stupid message. I won’t embrace you, just kill you.”
Suddenly, white flames exploded from Gabriel’s chest and pushed back against Vain’s dark blaze. The two forces struggled momentarily for supremacy, but finally Gabriel let out a roar of power that crushed the Glimloche’s fire and flung Vain violently back against the far wall.
Gabriel came to stand over the Dark Man’s crumpled form, snuffing his own power and extending his hand to the assassin. Vain stared at the offering blankly, pushing it aside and climbing to his feet on his own.
“Some weapon that turned out to be,” he muttered softly, brushing the crushed plaster from his right shoulder where he’d connected with the motel wall.
“I am fortunate that you are unskilled in the use of the Glimloche,” said Gabriel calmly, although his eyes betrayed his alarm. “Otherwise I might not be around to assist you in your search for the boy. I hope you believe me now when I tell you again that I am here to assist you. If I were your enemy, you would be dead now.”
Vain nodded hesitantly. “If you want to assist me,” said the assassin warily, “you’d better teach me how to control this damn Glimloche. For a moment there I thought the two of us would end up as toast.”
Gabriel grinned before sitting once more on the end of the bed to begin the next part of his duty.
The last duty he would ever perform.
* * * *
Vain fled, terrified, up the craggy road, stumbling occasionally on the cracked and broken surface.
Everything around him lay dead. Not a scrap of life could be seen as he made his way clumsily up the shattered mountainside and away from whatever chased him. His limbs leaden and slow, his movements uncoordinated and awkward, a far cry from his usual sleekness.
Huge black rocks lay strewn before him, and he clambered slowly around and over them. Dark clouds loomed seemingly just above his head, leaving the air gray and colorless. His own skin bereft of life, even the blood that dripped from his scraped hands fell black upon the dead earth below him.
“Why do you run from me?” whispered a cold voice from behind him. Vain glanced around furtively, but saw nothing.
“You cannot escape me, you know,” hissed the voice, this time from his right. Vain cried out in unaccustomed panic and leaped forward, continuing his clumsy climb up the broken road. Looking ahead, the vast emptiness continued, stretching eternally onward and he wondered how he had come to this place. The mountain stretched upwards forever, the thin black strip of road winding steeply toward a peak that would never materialize.
And who or what was chasing him, sucking his resolve and making him feel such terror?
Vain was no stranger to fear, perhaps the greatest ally he had. When controlled, it gave strength and focus to its user, keeping him alive when he might otherwise fail. But this... this wasn’t the fear he felt accustomed to. Like a blaze flaring uncontrollably in a room full of dry wood, it swept all of his skills aside and left him naked and vulnerable to his enemy.
Who could instill fear like this into the Dark Man?
“You know who I am, assassin. Why do you not acknowledge me?” whispered the voice in his left ear, so close he could feel the breath of the speaker upon his neck.
“I
do not know you!” screamed Vain as he swung around to empty air. “Leave me alone!!”
“Never,” taunted the voice calmly from just ahead of where Vain now cowered.
The Dark Man gazed into the cold eyes of the figure standing before him and cringed. Evil seemed to ooze from his pores, and Vain tried unsuccessfully to stand and face him. Falling to his knees once more, the assassin searched inside himself for the fearlessness he once found so familiar, the calm confidence in his own abilities that made him such a deadly hunter of men.
But there was nothing.
“You see,” spat the stranger. “Without me you’re nothing but a scared, weak, little man. And yet you still try to escape me. Why? Why deny yourself the power I bring you?”
“What power?” cried Vain.
“The power of death!” roared the man. “Look before you. This is your path in life. Your recent decisions have corrupted your power, tearing it to shreds and leaving you weak. You feel you have been evil. Well, maybe that is true, but everyone walks their own path in life, yours is simply darker than most. If you try to stray from this path it will shatter completely and leave you with nothing. You will never return to the life you lived before, accept it and walk with me down the Dark Path. You can be sure I will never leave you.”
“But... but who are you?” whispered the assassin.
“I am Vain,” whispered the man coldly. “And we are together on this Dark Path. Now and forever. You cannot escape me, no matter how hard you try.”
The Dark Man wailed into the cloud filled skies, the twin to his soul roaring with laughter.
* * * *
Vain awoke with a start, cold sweat pouring from his forehead. The dream slipped from his grasp even as he reached for it, and he found his memory of it receding. The one thing he knew, though, he would never be free from it, not until he ceased to exist.
Chapter Twelve
Know Your Enemy
Sekiel made no attempt to disguise his hatred, looking across the large mahogany desk to where Empeth sat. That this puny human should be placed in charge of their mission was grating enough, but with his new found powers in the body of Priest, Sekiel could feel the thoughts of the human, and soon realized that Empeth held him and his brothers in contempt. Confident his powers were greater than all of theirs combined, Empeth was angered that their Lord had considered it necessary for them to be brought in at all.
Empeth felt Sekiel’s hatred and smiled icily at the demon. At that moment, the demon almost forgot his Lord’s orders, and nearly leaped the table to tear out Empeth’s throat.
Almost, but not quite.
One did not forget Sordarrah’s orders easily when the result would be the flaying of his immortal soul over several centuries, followed by the end of existence. That was, if he actually succeeded in destroying Empeth – which remained doubtful. The man could tap into a source of power that Sekiel did not understand, and as such he feared it.
Sekiel did not fear pain, his entire existence had been filled with more suffering than any mortal being could understand. In human form, everything hurt for a demon. Breathing air was like fanning flames inside his chest, looking at sunlight brought the sensation his eyes would burst, and the sounds of everyday life were razors inside his head.
What Sekiel feared was an end to his existence.
Humans could not understand the terror a demon felt regarding death. Not corporeal death of the body, rather the end of immortality. Humans learned from their first breath that one day they would eventually die, which is why they had invented their stupid religions and the fables of a paradise awaiting them after death.
Stupid apes, all believing their foolish myths. Even Empeth had followed their God for a time, and look where he ended up. If a higher God existed, Sekiel had never found any real evidence to support it, and he had lived for eternity and seen to the edges of the all of the combined universes.
There could be no God but Sordarrah. He knew this, but at the same time a voice now seemed to be calling out softly to him from his subconscious.
What if you’re wrong?
Ever since he had taken over the body of the man named Priest he had been having such strange thoughts. He had access to the man’s memories and knew that he had – by mortal standards – possessed an incredibly high psychic ability. The strangest thing of all was that Priest had only used these powers to help other people. Such a concept seemed totally alien to a creature like Sekiel whose concerns centered around one person: himself. Even his so-called love for his Lord Sordarrah was based upon self preservation.
They will kill the boy. Help him!
The voice seemed to come from behind him. Sekiel spun around, but nobody stood there. Shaking his head softly he returned his attention to Empeth who now regarded him strangely.
Simple confusion. Once they accomplished their objective and destroyed the boy –
Help him!
– he would feel like himself again. Until then, he had to simply ignore the strange voices that were now invading his mind.
“You will release the Velearstk immediately,” stated Empeth suddenly, grinning widely when he saw the shock register upon the demon’s face.
“You mean a Velearstk surely,” said Sekiel, trying to push the fear from his voice.
Empeth’s smile vanished and he hissed malignantly, “No, I want them all hunting the assassin. I want no more mistakes. There have been far too many made already by you incompetent fools. I should have gone to Rome myself, but I thought a single mortal would not prove such a problem for The Four. Obviously I have been proven wrong. I had not realized you have all become so weak.”
“I should tear your heart out right now, you miserable worm!” growled Sekiel, rising testily to his feet.
“You don’t have the power, demon! If you did, I would have sent you back to Hell the moment you were reborn. You could explain to our Lord how you failed yet again in his quest to conquer this realm. I somehow don’t think He’ll be in any mood to buy your excuses this time – what do you think?”
Sekiel swallowed his rage and sat back down, clenching his hands into fists to quell the trembling from his surging emotions. Empeth was right, he lacked the power in human form to defeat their arrogant leader on his own, but once their mission completed, he and his three brothers would make sure this cocky creature vanished from existence once and for all. This knowledge helped him control his emotions, and gradually the trembling subsided.
“I am sorry, Lord Empeth, for my impertinence,” whispered Sekiel through gritted teeth while bowing his head in obeisance. “It will not happen again. But might I implore you to rethink your decision. There are thirteen Velearstk in Limbo, and just one could easily destroy an entire city if left unchecked.”
“It does not matter what happens to these pathetic mortals now,” said Empeth dismissively as he rose from his chair and walked calmly over to Sekiel. “All that matters is that the boy is not rescued by this Dark Man. It has come to my attention that he has acquired the power of the Glimloche. I do not want a repeat of what happened in Germany, so we shall release them all and fill them with the soul-scent of this assassin. He should be destroyed by tomorrow, and we can complete the ceremony to return our Lord untroubled. Why do you care what happens to this world anyway?”
Sekiel shook his head dumbly, unable to answer even to himself. He rose, turned on his heel and left the room. Stupid human. Playing with powers you cannot possibly understand. I yearn for the day when I will hold your bloodied heart in my hand, but until then I will play your silly game. Enjoy your time as master of the demons, Empeth, for it will be short.
He made his way to the lower levels of the ancient mansion. The old building seemed appropriate, considering those who chose to dwell there. Alas, it was awkward in situations such as this, where Sekiel had to get from the corner room of the top floor to the basement where he needed to enact the incantations necessary to release the Velearstk from their immortal imprisonment in
Limbo. He sent a mental summons to his three brothers to meet him there. It would take all of their powers combined to contain the furious energy released with the breaking of the seals that held the Hell-beasts.
Upon arriving in the basement, Sekiel found his thoughts wandering while he waited for his brothers. One of the few true immortals who still existed across all of the universes, he had seen worlds both born and destroyed, stars burst into life and flutter into a darkness so deep it sucked all other light into its desolate blackness. And yet, with all his millions of years behind him, he could not recall the moment of creation, when everything had come to be. This puzzled him, because he could remember perfectly any other moment in his entire existence with crystal clarity, like it had happened only yesterday.
He could recall a single moment when he was nothing, and the next he became something. He remembered his Lord Sordarrah’s first words to him, “You shall be my blade of impurity with which I shall smite Him.” Sekiel had never asked his master whom he had spoken of in that first meeting, but now he found himself pondering the words.
Originally, he had thought the words referred to Satan, but the centuries had passed, and he had not been used directly against the ruler of Hell, he began to think his master might have been referring to someone or something else. Could he have been referring to the one these humans called God?
God will forgive you if you ask Him, promised the voice in his mind quietly.
There is no such creature, if one existed, I would have found evidence of Him an eternity ago. Sekiel shook his head roughly, angry with himself for acknowledging the voice. Sordarrah was the only Lord, there could be no God.
He loves you.
Pushing the strange thoughts away roughly, Sekiel occupied his mind with his current situation. If only he could use his ethereal powers, he would destroy Empeth, and become the true leader of his destiny.
Unfortunately, undertaking such a plan would collapse the entire universe, and thus end existence completely for all time. Demons were only able to use their powers in the mortal realm when they were in fact mortal. The single greatest drawback of being an immortal. Sekiel had learned of the wars between the dimensions, but only through hearsay and innuendo, because the only beings who still existed from that time did not speak of such things. His own Lord Sordarrah had cruelly destroyed the last of his subjects to even mention the wars, and so none spoke of it anymore, even among themselves.
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