Lucifer bellowed furiously, the scene changing immediately from one of beauty to one of immeasurable horror. The sand split and spewed forth stewing rivers of feces. The sky cracked open and rained torrents of blood. A score of beasts rose up from the mounds of excrement that now scattered the beach, and the rush of the surf became the grinding of machinery. Vain glanced toward the sound and saw piles of human bones, some still wrapped with decaying flesh, being devoured by huge crushing machines, hundreds of smiling human teeth arrayed on rollers.
The assassin turned back to where Lucifer stood, only now the image of the beautiful man was gone, replaced with a figure who towered almost eleven feet. Gnarled muscles burst forth under the corpse-gray skin of the beast’s limbs and torso. Enormous claws grew from the fingers of each hand, glinting wickedly sharp. The creature’s head no longer bore any resemblance to that of a man. Broken like a jackal’s skull, fangs the size of daggers filled the gaping maw, while the ears were stunted, but sharp. There were no eyes, only gaping sockets that constantly dribbled blood across the cracked skin of the cheekbones, down the neck and chest of the beast.
“Now you see the true beauty of the Master of Hell,” roared the beast. “Make the most of it, Dark Man, for it is the last thing you shall ever see. You spurned your chance to rule at my side, now your soul is forfeit, for I will ensure it is destroyed utterly. Soon there won’t even be a memory of the assassin named Vain. Do you have anything else you’d like to add before I devour your essence? Say something funny now to Satan, Lord of the Underworld!”
“I do have one thing to say,” said Vain calmly. “You’d better let me go if you want to live. If you kill me now, be assured your end won’t be far behind.”
“Ha! You think I am scared of the power of the Glimloche? I who created that cursed thing with my own essence?” Satan grinned maliciously. “The thing inside of you is me, you fool! How do you think I was able to bring you to this place? You cannot hurt me with myself. Now prepare for oblivion.”
“If you kill me, the boy will be sacrificed.”
Satan burst forth with a loud mocking laugh. “You think I care about some stupid brat? I hope he dies in torment, cursing your name.”
“If he dies, Sordarrah goes free to conquer the human realm. He will then be more powerful than you, and I would guess he might soon return here to visit his revenge upon you. I imagine he won’t have too much trouble achieving it.”
Satan’s expression darkened to one of utter malevolence. “You think you have outsmarted me, don’t you, mortal?” he scoffed. “Well, human, return to Earth with this knowledge. I can always get to you while you carry the Glimloche. Once you have saved your little boy, I will drag you back here screaming, and you will experience an eternity of suffering the likes of which no mortal has ever known.”
“I think I prefer your threats to your promises, you ugly gray bastard.”
“BE GONE!!” thundered Satan, and Vain vanished.
Chapter Fifteen
Death
Squirrel was going to die. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that his shitty life would soon come to an abrupt end. And the worst thing was he didn’t want it to finish. Sitting in the freezing, dank room of the house, he began to consider all of the things he had done wrong in his life.
He sat, trapped in his thoughts, for a long time.
He remembered how he had stolen money from his family. He’d used the cash on one of his first schemes to make money, and had succeeded admirably, but his father couldn’t see past the fact that he had stolen from his own blood. Gary had been disowned, his father telling him he’d disgraced the family, proclaiming he no longer had a son.
Those words haunted Squirrel for years and had driven him to strive for greatness. Deep inside, he’d always wanted to return to his family and show them what a success he had become. He’d imagined perhaps if he’d walked up to his father with a wad of cash the man would’ve thrown his arms him and told him what a fool he had been.
I was the fool, he thought bitterly. All I had to do was apologize and swallow my pride. He would have taken me back, and I could have hugged him, and everything would have been okay again. Now I’ll never have the chance.
Squirrel’s reflection ruptured as the door to the room burst open and five men walked in. Squirrel scrutinized them all closely, trying to determine the leader of the group, and thus the one to whom he should direct his pleas. Though certain of his doom, he wouldn’t die without at least trying to save himself.
Why save yourself? What possible reason is there for you to live? You are a bum without a single soul to mourn you when you die.
He had no answers. After a life full of failures he realized that if he had another chance he would do it all differently. He would sober up and take his existence seriously. Nobody owed him anything in this life, and the sooner he understood this and woke up to his situation, the sooner he could get himself back on track.
Well he had woken up.
Regrettably, he’d woken up at that unfortunate instant when it no longer counted.
All five men looked to have been broken from completely different moulds, but were all somehow similar – a dark presence in their eyes perhaps. Squirrel noticed that one of them, a black man, he had seen somewhere before. Upon closer inspection he realized that the man appeared subtly dissimilar from the others, and Squirrel racked his damaged brain to establish the difference.
Scanning the entire group, Squirrel noticed that the other four men exhibited parallel energies. Only the black man stood out as faintly different. Although he wore the same cloak of power, this man seemed to lack the same conviction the others possessed. His eyes were downcast instead of glaring with arrogance.
He almost appeared to feel shame.
Perhaps I can use this against them, thought Squirrel. Perhaps there is a rift here that I can turn to my own advantage.
“Well, worm,” enunciated the leader calmly, “it has come to our attention that you have been inquiring about our establishment here on behalf of an assassin named Vain.”
Squirrel simply stared back at the man.
“Do you intend to just sit there?” growled the man, momentarily losing his aura of benevolence. “Answer the question.”
“I-I’m sorry, s-sir,” stammered Squirrel. “I didn’t realize it was a q-q-question. It sounded more like a statement of fact.”
The man chuckled softly. “I forgot I’m dealing with a liquor-ridden parasite. I shall try to make things simpler for you. Where is the Dark Man?”
“I-I don’t know, I swear it.”
The man looked back at the black man who nodded slightly. So, thought Squirrel, this guy knows when I’m telling the truth.
A sharp slap to his cheek made Squirrel realize he had been looking away from his interrogator and he quickly brought his attention back to the man before him. “I’m sorry,” he whined, deciding to try to push a wedge between the two. “I thought he was going to talk to me now, given that you had to look to him for permission and all.”
A faint hint of surprise quickly crossed the black man’s face, suddenly replaced by a flicker of anger. “He is trying to manipulate us against each other, Empeth. He’s not stupid; he just looks it.”
Squirrel’s shock must have been evident, for the one named Empeth chuckled softly turning back to his face. “Do not be alarmed, little Squirrel,” he said coldly. “Sekiel can read your thoughts as clearly as if you were committing them onto paper.”
“Then why ask me questions?” Squirrel retorted, bitter anger at his dilemma fuelling a new-found courage.
“Some things are easier to see than others. For instance, we found you easily; like a hippo at a dog show. Yet we cannot seem to find the assassin, no matter how hard Sekiel tries.” A slight inflection of contempt coursed through the tone, sparking a raised sneer from the one named Sekiel.
“Alright,” whispered Squirrel, “since he knows when I’m telling the truth, I’ll tell you this. I
don’t know where the Dark Man is, but I do know what he is. He is death, pure and simple. You think you are hunting him, but that’s an illusion. He will come for you and you will all die. That is what he does, and he does it very, very well.” The words were uttered with quiet confidence, and the others did not need Sekiel’s powers to know Squirrel spoke the truth.
“How does the Dark Man know we are here?”
“I don’t know,” said Squirrel, but suddenly the image of the beautiful man flashed through his mind. He tried to suppress it, but knew he was too late.
“Gabriel!” yelled Sekiel in alarm. “Gabriel is here! He is the one with the assassin!”
“Who is this ‘Gabriel’?” asked Empeth.
Sekiel glared at him with undisguised scorn. “He is what you humans have dubbed an archangel.”
Empeth looked at Sekiel quizzically before laughing contemptuously. “You mean a creature with wings in a sheet who sits on a cloud playing a harp?”
“He is far more than that, human,” spat Sekiel. “He is a force of power not unlike ourselves. In ethereal form he could easily wipe you from this planet, continuing to play his harp while doing so.” The three others appeared alarmed, and Squirrel felt a small burst of triumph. He had made his enemies feel fear.
Empeth merely shrugged. “If he could have done this as a human, he would have by now. Perhaps he is, like yourselves, impotent in this realm.”
Fury flashed across the faces of all four men, and Squirrel savored the thinnest streak of hope that they might attack the one called Empeth. Slowly, however, the men managed to conceal their emotions and once more stood unified.
Empeth returned his attention to Squirrel. “What else can you tell us of value, little Squirrel? Are there pixies traveling with him also? Or possibly he has an army of leprechauns following him, all carrying pots of gold with which to bribe us. Perhaps the assassin is riding upon the shoulders of a giant Cyclops. Maybe then these Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse can put on their Sunday dresses and run off into the hills as I know they want to.”
“You go too far, human!” roared Sekiel.
As one, The Four advanced on Empeth, emotion raging in their eyes. Forces exploded within the small room, and Squirrel squeezed his eyes shut until the light dimmed enough for him to look again.
Empeth briefly flickered within an ebony blaze, and suddenly an enormous burst of energy exploded from him, hurtling everything else forcibly away, Squirrel included. He caught a final glimpse of Empeth rising from where he had crouched in the flames. The room started to fade.
A small flicker of light grew in Squirrel’s vision until he felt certain he would be blinded, and yet he sensed no pain. A figure approached him slowly, gliding through the gloom, until he could make out the features of his father, who had died years before.
“I’m proud of you, my boy,” he said, and Gary O’Rourke felt himself filled with a sense of absolute contentment.
The prodigal son was home.
* * * *
Empeth rose from the ground and approached The Four where they lay crumpled in a heap against the wall of the room. Rage engulfed his being and he pondered destroying them; he could have easily smashed their essence if he wanted to. Unfortunately, he also knew that with the Dark Man still breathing he would most likely need all of them in corporeal form to assist him. He could not complete the ritual and fight at the same time, especially if Vain had acquired the Glimloche.
Seething, he bent down to the now conscious form of Sekiel and whispered, “That was merely a warning, you fool. Did you think my abilities would remain static over the centuries? The blood of nations has fed my powers to the stage where I could now destroy the very heavens. If you try to come at me again, I will devour your soul and those of your brothers. Do you understand?”
Sekiel sat stunned on the floor, nodding silently and watching his brothers regain consciousness. He had not imagined Empeth’s powers had grown so strong, and wondered if his master knew. Fear filled him as he stared into Empeth’s eyes and saw how close he remained to oblivion. “I am sorry, Lord Empeth. We are all sorry. It will not happen again.”
Empeth spat on the floor and looked to where Squirrel lay motionless in the corner. His legs still rested across the room where he had originally sat before the battle. Sliced cleanly through the abdomen, the little man’s torso had been thrown eight feet, while his legs had not moved an inch.
Cursing, Empeth moved to the little man’s body and looked at his face. Curiously, despite the obvious horror of his demise, Squirrel’s face held an expression of absolute harmony, tinged with a slight touch of what looked to Empeth like victory. The drunkard had proven more trouble than he had been worth, despite the information about the so-called archangel. They would have discovered this sooner or later anyway.
Empeth knew they had nothing to fear from the Dark Man or his ethereal ally. Empeth’s own power had grown so mighty that he could easily defeat both of them without even breaking a sweat.
Originally, his strength had come from the Glimloche, which he had been gifted with by a strange figure, promising him absolute power to protect his Avun-Riah so long ago. After that fiasco – how could he have cared about that bearded fool? – the potency had grown within him, casting aside the foolish beliefs he’d once held. The only thing that mattered was more power. The Glimloche had eventually become difficult to control and extremely constricting within him, thus he had sought out other sources of strength. Finally he had come across the original scriptures relating to Sordarrah. Within these he’d discovered the ability to absorb the souls of mortals into his own, thereby increasing his strength exponentially.
Eventually, the energy coursing within him had grown so immense that he found himself able to cast the Glimloche from his soul, and it had disappeared without a trace. Power intoxicated Empeth, and Sordarrah had promised him entire worlds if only he aided the Lord. Sordarrah needed a mortal, his own underlings not as potent as Empeth in this realm.
An easy decision.
Now the assassin was coming with an angel to thwart his dreams. He did not fear them; he would crush them easily. No, what Empeth feared was perhaps the two would somehow find a way into the mansion and manage to disturb the sacrifice of the boy before the ritual to resurrect Sordarrah completed.
This would be unacceptable to his Lord, and Empeth knew failure this time would result in his destruction. He had only narrowly missed being consumed by Sordarrah the last time, and his punishment had been severe indeed. Even now, so many years later, he winced at the memories that flooded back from that time of suffering. Regrettably, the same bonds that allowed him to absorb the powers and strengths of others also bound him tightly within Sordarrah’s grip. He could not – as yet – get free.
He would not fail this time. Already he had recalled all of the Souls of Sordarrah to within the mansion grounds. Almost a thousand followers were crowded into the rooms and lower levels of the building, ready to be fodder for either Empeth’s spells or to sacrifice their lives fighting the Dark Man – draining the strength of the Glimloche. Outside the grounds, Empeth had conjured an incredibly powerful spirit spell. Any being of power crossing into the grounds would be instantly destroyed. Unfortunately, the spell itself would probably also be destroyed, but with the assassin and angel gone, Empeth felt confident nothing else would be able to interfere.
There is nothing to fear, he told himself, but still he sensed a gnawing in his chest and a tightness in his throat that prefaced panic. The little informant had been so sure in what he said, probably the only thing he had ever been certain of in his entire life. The image of victory upon his scorched features as he lay in death still taunted Empeth. He wondered again: Who is the Dark Man? Squirrel had said he was death, but had he meant it figuratively or did he mean that the man was actually Death?
Empeth pushed away the problem, but the words kept echoing in his mind.
He is death. He will come for you and you will die.
* * * *
Vain roused slowly from a deep slumber, roughly shaken awake. Opening his eyes, the vestiges of his meeting with Lucifer still clung heavily to his mind. Gabriel shook him again and he gazed darkly at the archangel.
“Something terrible has happened, Dark Man,” gasped Gabriel hurriedly. Vain sat up and glared at him, a feeling of unease stirring at the memory of Lucifer’s warning.
Forcing it aside, Vain enquired calmly, “What is it?”
“Squirrel is dead. Empeth and The Four captured and killed him.”
Vain silently absorbed the information and felt a cold fury building within. Squirrel had never been what Vain would call a friend – the assassin had no friends – but the little man had been a single constant in his life of irregularities. He had always known the information he got from Squirrel could be trusted, and that the informant would never lead him into a trap.
For all appearances, the assassin was the closest thing to family the little man had, and now he had been killed trying to gather information for the Dark Man. A strange feeling welled up within Vain and it took him a moment before he recognized it as guilt. If he hadn’t asked Squirrel to gather information about the house, the little man would likely still be alive. It did not matter that he had been doing it for money; all that mattered was that he had been doing it for him.
Vain couldn’t recall being unhappy about the death of anyone, but he felt regret now – regret, and rage. If he hadn’t had enough reasons before to destroy Empeth, he now had one more.
“How do you know?” queried Vain.
“I linked with him when we met the other day and have been following him mentally ever since, in case he betrayed us,” said Gabriel quietly. “He did not.”
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