Anathema

by Bruce Talmas

  This time, he went for a direct thrust to my midsection. It wasn’t his style, and caught me off guard. I could block the attack, but that would leave me defenseless against his free hand: a big, meaty hand that could do real damage if I didn’t defend it. Instead, I chose to take the blow from the scimitar. It was a curved blade and not meant for thrusting lunges, so I got off with just a shallow puncture and a little slice across my ribs. It stung like the dickens, but was a negligible wound at best. Belial immediately spun into a sweeping off-center attack that would have cut me in two if I weren’t already in position to defend. I took the full force of the blow from the scimitar with the Masamune, then I slid it out of the parry and aimed to bring my sword down directly onto his hands.

  Belial was a nimble devil, though, and he dropped his hands below the arc of my attack, leaving my sword to smash harmlessly into the wooden floor as Belial rammed his considerable mass into my side, leaving me flailing and falling and unable to counter. He raised the scimitar for an overhand attack that would have delivered a fatal blow, but I regained my balance and swept the Masamune into his scimitar from the side. The flat edges of both swords canceled each other out, but the force of the blow sent both weapons flying out of our hands.

  Belial immediately dismissed the blades and came at me with both hands grasping to find purchase around my neck. He got a good grip with one hand, but I got my arm up in time to block his right hand. With just one hand around my neck, he couldn’t choke me out. He could, however, dig into the flesh of my neck with his fingers. It wasn’t a vital area, so I allowed him his minor victory and simply dealt with the pain as I planned my next attack.

  As he continued to dig with the fingers of his left hand, he disengaged with his right hand, leaving me off balance. He took the opportunity to force me backwards against the wall of the barn, his left hand still digging into the fleshy part of my throat. As I struggled in vain to resist his superior strength and bulk, Belial pulled back his right hand and went for a solid punch to the gut.

  Or so I thought. As I received the blow, I realized that it hadn’t been a simple punch. Agony speared through my guts as a long blade entered my intestines and began to do all kinds of damage that I’d have to take stock of later…if there was a later.

  Belial grinned at me as he pushed the rest of the blade upwards through my torso and into my chest. Blood spilled out from my mouth, and I could feel my organs struggling to heal themselves of the damage the blade had done. My failing strength was simply being used to keep the rest of the blade from ending me.

  He was now up against me, his head on my shoulder as he fought to drive the blade the rest of the way home.

  “I know, I know,” he said, almost soothingly, his voice a whisper as his lips were right against my ear. “It’s not fair: I have claws and you don’t.” I tried to respond, but my voice was just a bloody exhalation. Words were hard to come by. “But no one ever said life was fair,” he said.

  I knew it would be fatal if I let the claw enter my heart, but I was quickly using the last of my strength to keep that from happening. The blow itself might not kill me, but it would leave me defenseless for Belial to finish me off at his leisure. I tried to talk, but again nothing except pained breath came out.

  “What is it Jacob?” asked Belial.

  “No one ever said…” I began, then lost the thread as I labored for air. “No one ever said,” I tried again, “That I didn’t have claws.”

  With that, I left his arm go and let his claw enter my heart. I flexed my wrist and heard the satisfying rasp of steel as Gaap’s blade ejected from my sleeve. I didn’t wait to see if it was fully unsheathed. I simply aimed for Belial’s head and swung with all the energy I could muster.

  Gaap’s blade entered Belial’s skull right through the forehead, in between both eyes. I felt the satisfying thunk of a skull being pierced as the blade broke through and entered Belial’s brain. If he was aware enough for any witty comeback at that point, it didn’t matter. Gaap’s claw had severed any synapses that might still be firing. Belial fell to the floor, and I went with him. A satisfying snap accompanied our fall as Gaap’s claw broke off in his head.

  I attempted to get back to my feet, knowing that any of the Satanists that got past Gaap would be descending upon me to finish me off. I managed to get to my knees before my strength gave out and I fell comically onto my side. I rolled onto my back and watched upside down as Gaap completed his masterpiece.

  God bless his murderous rage, I thought as the last of the Satanists met their quick but painful end.

  The Hellfire had started a very earthly fire in the barn, and now both types of flame fought to start a conflagration in the hay and old wood. I looked desperately around for Katie, but she was nowhere to be seen. The Masamune was a few feet away from me at that point, so I reached for it and used it as a crutch to get me back on my feet.

  I took stock of my surroundings, happy to see that the only living beings left in the barn were me, Gaap, and Katie. She was huddled by the door. I limped over to her to shield her from the flames. I didn’t know where Faustus was, but I prayed he was burning somewhere in the barn.

  “Gaap!” I yelled. He lumbered over to me. “Get her out of here!” I screamed.

  “I saw what you did to my claw,” he said, then threw himself into a part of the wooden wall that was already on fire. After a couple attempts, he broke through. He grabbed Katie, and they both flopped into the yard outside. I tried to follow, but by now was surrounded by fire and out of energy.

  So this is how it ends, I thought. In fire, not ice. It was probably for the best. Gaap would probably kill me for Summoning him and breaking his blade anyway.

  The flames started doing real damage, and I responded by laughing to myself. In my mind, it made perfect sense, but I probably sounded like a maniac. I could feel my consciousness leaving me, but couldn’t bring myself to care. The flames fought their way toward me, and I was powerless to flee from them.

  Then a presence announced itself behind me. I turned to see Abaddon/Junk standing over me.

  “Just let me go, for fuck’s sake,” I mumbled.

  “You opened the door to Hell,” the Angel said. “Only you can close it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your blood opened the door. Only your flesh can close it. Did you think it would be otherwise?”

  “Really?” I asked. “I haven’t given enough?”

  The Angel laughed, and for a moment I saw my old friend in his eyes. “Trial by fire, Jacob. That’s the only way to end this.”

  I squinted at him through the flames. I couldn’t tell who I was talking to.

  “If that’s you, Junk, I’m gonna kick your ass if I live through this.”

  The Angel smiled and nodded. I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t care. There was only one thing left for me to do.

  I moved back to the pentagram, where the Hellfire was swarming around the regular earthly fire, refusing to be outdone. I could feel it licking at me hungrily. I looked back at Abaddon.

  “You sure about this?”

  The Angel nodded. There was my answer. Sacrifice myself to save humanity. I didn’t know if they were really worth saving, but it wasn’t my call to make. It made for a fitting end.

  “Tell Junk I’m sorry,” I said to Abaddon. He nodded again. It was as close to closure as I was going to get.

  With a herculean effort, I made the final few steps to the flaming pentagram. I stood over it, feeling the heat of the Hellfire trying to reach me, and said the first prayer I could remember ever saying.

  “Make this worth it,” I pleaded, and I threw myself into the fire.

  As I looked back, I could see the last standing structure of the barn give way. I heard and felt it fall, but it meant nothing to me at that point. The Hellfire had already gotten hold of me, and I could feel it taking me from this world. The last of my flesh gave up the fight, and I let the Hellfire in to consume me.


  It wasn’t worth it.

  Epilogue

  The old man climbed the stairs to the nondescript townhouse on the edge of Highland Park. He looked feeble, but he ascended the concrete stairs with a grace that belied his age. He gave three quick knocks, waited a moment, and then gave one last sharp rap to the heavy oaken front door. After a moment, the door swung open.

  “You look like hell,” said Rose.

  “So do you,” replied Vickroy.

  Rose smiled and stepped aside to let the old priest into the building. Though finished, the townhouse had sparse furnishings. A couch in the main room and a card table set up in the kitchen. There were appliances in the kitchen, but they were outdated and unused. Vickroy took off his hat and hung it from a hook inside the doorway.

  “How is he?”

  “He’s alive.”

  “And Katie?”

  “She hasn’t left the house in two days.”

  “Take me to him.”

  Rose led the way up a flight of carpeted steps to the second floor. Gaap and Barney were sitting on either side of the bedroom door at the far end of the hallway. Rose nodded to them and they nodded back. No words were exchanged. It had been that way for the last two days. No one spoke unless it was required. It was like a museum. Or a mausoleum. Somewhere the dead would go.

  Rose opened the bedroom door, but didn’t step inside. No one had gone inside since they’d first arrived. It was only fitting that the priest would be the first.

  Vickroy walked inside, and Rose shut the door behind him. The bedroom was bare, except for a single chair that sat in the middle of the room. On it sat a figure from nightmares. A bleeding skeleton bathed in the sickly luminescence of Hellfire.

  “Hello Jacob.”

  There was silence for a long while, to the point where the priest wondered if he’d regained his hearing yet. “Hello Father,” he finally said.

  “How are you?”

  “Peachy,” the figure replied. The word was distorted, spoken through a lipless mouth.

  Gaap and Abaddon had retrieved Jacob’s remains from the fire two days prior. In that time, Jacob’s restoration had been slow going. All of his skin and hair, plus most of his muscle and other tissue, had been destroyed by the Hellfire. Despite the lack of features, Vickroy could read the agony in Jacob’s face. He had been brought back from the edge of death. Or maybe he had been dead. Either way, he had a long road ahead of him.

  “Vassago sends his regards.”

  The seated figure simply nodded. Words were chosen wisely when you had no lips and barely a tongue to speak with.

  “So what’s next for you?” Vickroy asked.

  A long silence followed the question once again. “I took a job I didn’t get to finish. I still have a Magician to find.”

  “Forgive me for saying, but you don’t seem quite up to it,” replied Vickroy. “How long do you think you’ll be like this?”

  The bloody figure laughed. It was mirthless and cold, understandable given the situation. “The last recorded case of something like this happening, it took three days. For me, I might need a week.”

  Vickroy nodded. “And then what?”

  “And then? Well, then I have an Angel to kill.”

  COMING SUMMER 2017

  Part Two of the Anathema Trilogy