Fallen Giant

by Monica Owens

  They stared at each other for a heartbeat. Two.

  Then Trish filled her lungs and let loose with a blood curdling scream that would no doubt bring Levi to her side.

  It lunged at her.

  Jagged fingernails scratched her cheeks as It grappled to cover her mouth. Trish fought It. She heard her jacket tear, felt the nails and teeth scrape over and into her skin. She wouldn’t stop screaming.

  Until It dragged her ever closer to the muddy pool, its filthy hands cramming her down into the space with It. Until the mud closed over her head and all screaming did was fill her mouth with mud.

  Then she was falling. On the way down she hit rocks, slamming her hand against a particularly sharp one, causing her fingers to immediately go numb. She hit the bottom, sand billowing up around her, her legs awkwardly underneath of her.

  Trish attempted to get up, especially when she heard a pair of feet hit the ground next to her. She looked back to see It, the thing that grabbed her and pulled her here. It stood tall, naked, and covered in blood and mud. She scrambled backward until she hit something solid, her hand numb and unusable. Her chest heaved when the thing came toward her.

  It lifted its nose into the air and sniffed.

  A low growl emanated around the room. “Ahh,” It said with a grotesque smile.

  Trish cradled her injured arm against her and shrank back.

  It lowered its head and sought her out in this deep cavern. The grotesque smile became a full-fledged grin.

  “Fresh blood,” It rasped out.

  Trish screamed as It came toward her.

  *****

  “I’m real sorry,” Colton said into Levi’s neck.

  Levi gave the kid a squeeze. “It’s fine.”

  Back at his vehicle now, Levi put Colton in the bed of the truck, where the kid immediately dropped down Indian style, his dog next to him. Off in the distance, Levi heard Trish talking to Kelly, but he couldn’t make out the words. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

  “What did she say that scared you?”

  Colton kept his head down, his eyes on his fingers knotted in his lap. “Nothing. I-I thought I saw something.”

  Levi lifted the kid’s chin. “What do you think you saw?”

  Colton blinked. “A bug.”

  “What kind of bug?”

  Colton shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it flew at me.”

  Levi glanced back to where Trish was now on her haunches in front of Kelly.

  “I’m sorry, Levi. My mom was crying—”

  “I’m not mad,” Levi interrupted. He turned back to the little boy and held up a hand. “But stay here and don’t move. Don’t go with anyone either. Henry, watch him.”

  Colton nodded, but Levi had already moved away. If there were bugs on that woman, Trish needed to get as far from her as possible. It was likely that Colton did see a bug but that the bug had nothing to do with that beetle back at Mrs Feeney’s. For fuck’s sake, there were a couple of dead bodies around here. There were sure to be loads of bugs.

  Trish got to her feet and wandered over to the burned out police car.

  Kelly remained, glaring at Levi as he got closer.

  Since Levi could see Trish, he decided to stop and talk to Kelly. Ask her what happened. What on God’s green earth was going on out here.

  “Kelly.”

  She didn’t respond. Her tears had streaked through her caked on makeup and yet she sat, not wiping away the moisture or the makeup.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t have to talk to you.”

  Levi studied her face. Blood glistened at her hairline and trickled from her nose. She didn’t seem to have any other injuries. How could the driver have been killed, but not Kelly?

  He glanced back at the truck, still jackknifed in the middle of the highway. He narrowed his eyes. Where were all the other cars? This highway wasn’t well traveled, but surely someone would have passed them by now.

  He turned back to Kelly, to her accusing and angry eyes. From the tissue in her hands a big ugly beetle came scurrying out and over her hand.

  Levi raised his eyes back to hers.

  “Mrs. Feeney had a hole in her backyard,” he said quietly.

  Kelly shrugged and looked away.

  “Lots of beetles and grubs and shit in it.”

  Kelly gave him no reaction.

  Levi leaned down. “They killed them all. Sprayed poison on them and sent them all back to hell.”

  Kelly’s head whipped around and she glared.

  Deep, deep inside her, Levi saw the red flame in her eyes.

  He straightened and moved away from Kelly. “Trish!”

  A hand stopped him. A big, male hand with long fingers planted itself right on his chest. Levi stopped, but only because the figure next to him could still be seen by Colton. The majority of it was still in Kelly’s shape and form, but the hand was not hers and the voice that came out of her did not belong to a twenty-something female stripper.

  “You should stay here,” the form of Kelly said.

  “Did you kill her?”

  “I’ve killed a lot of people. Be more specific.”

  Levi balled his hand into a fist and sent a right straight into Kelly’s nose. She stumbled back and her form shivered.

  “Motherfucker!”

  “Trish!” Levi shouted.

  Now there was no shimmering mirage. Now the form of Kelly had been discarded, her skin dropped to the ground like old clothes. Stepping from her flesh was none other than the fallen Orrie had told him to look out for. Olivier. With a bloody nose.

  Olivier launched himself at Levi.

  The two men hit the ground rolling, punches thrown. Olivier had no face, but insects streamed out of where a mouth would have been. Levi gathered the power he had, all of his immense strength and the souls of all those he’d committed to wander forever. He threw all of that at Olivier.

  Levi staggered to his feet, dragging Olivier with him. He wanted to move back further so Colton couldn’t see, but he knew that poor kid was fucked up beyond repair.

  “Trish!” he shouted again.

  Olivier laughed, the sound hollow and evil.

  Levi swung around and glared at his enemy. “What.”

  “You know she isn’t safe in there.”

  “Are you killing these people? Did you kill the sheriff?”

  “What can I say? I’m a talented guy.”

  Levi shook Olivier. “What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck is up with this whole town? Have you fucked with them all?”

  “You don’t deserve to know,” Olivier sneered.

  “I came to help Trish.”

  “You think you can help these people?” Olivier demanded. “You think you can do something? You can. Leave. Leave like you did before.” Olivier shrugged out of Levi’s hold. “How easy was that? Pretty damn fucking easy, Leviathan. So do it now. Walk away.”

  Olivier knew how to hit close to home. He knew all the fallen angels’ secrets. Levi may have destroyed souls in hell when they tried to leave, those souls may forever be imprinted on his body, but the truth was, they weren’t the ones that had damned him.

  “Yeah, you remember how easy it was,” Olivier prodded. “Do it now. I’ll let you take the kid, I’ve got no beef with him. Then move along.”

  Sweat dripped into Levi’s eyes. Memories assailed him. Memories of so long ago and far away. Memories of a time when he did walk away. When he didn’t save people because he hadn’t deemed them worthy of saving.

  He blinked and shook his head.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Olivier encouraged. “Remember how easy it was.”

  He’d been in what was now modern-day Mongolia. Several other fallen had been there, too. Only they hadn’t fallen yet. They were still heavenly beings, soldiers watching over the Chosen Ones. There’d been a massive army a day’s ride from the village, coming to slaughter every man, woman, and child. He and the angels there had kn
own the army was coming. One of the angels with them had the power of premonition. They could have easily stopped that army. Told the villagers what was coming.

  But they hadn’t been allowed to intervene. Their job was not to intervene, it was to guide. They hadn’t told the leader of the village. When arrows started flying, he and the other angels had turned their backs.

  Turned their backs.

  “Walk away now,” Olivier said. “Just walk away. You’ve got the boy. Give me everyone else.”

  “I’m not the same person,” Levi growled.

  Olivier cocked his head. “Aren’t you?”

  Levi tackled Olivier. No warning. Levi landed on top of Olivier in the sand. Olivier might not have a face per se, but he had a head and Levi took advantage of his position to throw punch after punch into it.

  Olivier tossed an uppercut into Levi’s jaw and the latter saw stars. He wavered, not for long, but long enough. Olivier head butted him and Levi lost his balance. He was quickly taken over, quickly pounded into the sand, dirt, and mud around them. His fists weren’t fast enough, Olivier had gotten strong down in hell. Levi jabbed, Levi blocked, but Levi was getting tired. Olivier laughed above him and Levi saw the blade Olivier carried with him at all times. The blade that would sink deep inside him and pierce his soul. This blade had sent angels to hell for millennia.

  “You ready?” Olivier asked with a grin in his voice.

  Levi thought about Trish. Thought about Colton. Even the guys back in Vegas floated through his mind. And as that blade came down toward his chest, Levi decided he wasn’t ready to go anywhere.

  He wolf whistled and grabbed the blade with both hands. He didn’t see it, but he felt the surprise move through Olivier.

  “I’m not ready yet,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “And I won’t let you destroy people I love.”

  Levi heaved himself upward, causing Olivier to slide to the left. The blade cut into his palms, blood dripping on his jeans, shirt, the sand around them. The pain was immeasurable, but Levi didn’t care. Olivier wasn’t sending his soul into nothingness. Not today.

  A black streak came bounding toward them. Front paws struck first, then huge jaws. Olivier shouted, but Henry had already taken him down. Levi struggled to his knees and grasped the sword now lying on the ground. Henry held Olivier by the neck, blood on the dog’s jowls.

  “Let him go, Henry.”

  The dog obeyed, but Levi now stood, the blade poised above Olivier’s chest. “Go back to where you came from,” Levi said, pushing just enough so the blade pierced Olivier’s chest. “Whatever you’ve got going on here is over.”

  “It isn’t over.”

  “It is now.”

  A face put itself together where Olivier had none. The eyes were narrowed and the nose was blurry. But Levi looked into those eyes, deep inside, and knew this wasn’t over. Not for Olivier. He might stop him now, but he wouldn’t stop him forever. Not unless he plunged this blade into the other fallen angel’s chest.

  Levi pulled back, readying the blade.

  Olivier bubbled up, the face trembling, and he split into a million pieces. Beetles, wasps, centipedes scurrying away and down into the sand.

  Unable to stop, Levi stabbed the blade deep into the sand at his feet. He caught several legs and wings, but the majority of the bugs bustled off.

  Levi stood, his chest heaving. Goddamn Olivier.

  Henry whined and danced from foot to foot.

  “Go back to Colton and stay there,” Levi rasped.

  Henry had just loped away when Levi heard screams. His head jerked up toward the glen between the rocks.

  Trish.

  He took off running, the blade still clasped in his bloody hands, hoping he wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mayor Elliott couldn’t get a hold of Mrs. Feeney or the Thompsons. He’d watched the two deputies run hell bent out of the sheriff’s office only minutes before. One of them cradled Jeannie carefully and got her in his car. Both had burned rubber getting out of the parking lot.

  Now no one was answering their phone.

  His secretary hadn’t shown up to work.

  The post office across the street remained closed.

  Had Olivier begun his endgame?

  Mayor Elliott decided that he had. He moved quickly, out the door and down the stairs. Straight to his vehicle and over to the house Olivier normally used when he was in town.

  For some reason, he hadn’t used it this time.

  Elliott swung into the driveway, noting that the big truck Levi normally drove was not there. How stupid was that son of a bitch that he was staying on the same property Olivier had made all his plans on? Elliott enjoyed quite a laugh about those circumstances over his whiskey every night.

  He squelched the thought that he had been the one to bring Levi here. If only Olivier had told him that he knew about the murders out in the desert, well, he wouldn’t have called in the cavalry, so to speak.

  Olivier was a crafty fellow. But the mayor didn’t need him. Not for this.

  The mayor had grown up here in Magnolia. His parents, the Feeneys, and the original Thompsons moved here from Mississippi. The land had been cheap since the area was so hot and dry and the three families had snapped up as much of the land as they could. Before the mayor had been born, other families from Mississippi had joined them and the little community of Magnolia began to flourish.

  Until Olivier came to town.

  Elliott got out of his car and slammed the door. Most times he didn’t blame Olivier for what this town had become, but today…well, today he did blame him. He pulled out his keys and went into the small, three bedroom ranch.

  The place stunk of stagnant air. Elliott didn’t know where Olivier was staying while here in Magnolia. Honestly he didn’t care. Now that the end of the plan, and this town, was near, the mayor just wanted it over.

  Olivier showed up when the mayor was still in short pants. He remembered the day the tall, handsome stranger strolled into town. There’d been a picnic and Lester Thompson and him had been playing tag. Lester Thompson was now mourning his heathen son, but that was neither here nor there.

  The adults and Olivier had talked well into the night. The mayor’s father had helped the kids pitch a tent and they all found their way there to sleep in a huge pile. But Elliott had stayed awake, keeping one eye on the adults and the new, strange man.

  The new, strange man could do new, strange things.

  The town changed.

  All the kids were pulled out of school. At that time, something like that was unheard of. Quietly, more families from Mississippi arrived and marriages between teenagers were arranged. If someone local tried to move into Magnolia, well, they were sent on their way.

  Mayor Elliott, who was only known as Charlie at the time, didn’t understand what was happening in his town, but he did know that Olivier was the catalyst. And even back then, at six years old, Charlie wanted in on the action.

  He was eight when he first saw Olivier take off his face.

  He was ten when he first saw Olivier kill a man.

  He was thirteen when Olivier found out.

  The mayor moved through the kitchen, stark and empty, and into the hall to the bedrooms. There was the chirp of crickets and the hum of wings beating, but other than that, the house was silent. All three bedroom doors were closed. The mayor paused before the first one. He took a deep, steadying breath and twisted the knob.

  No one ever wondered why there were no cemeteries in Magnolia.

  Then again, there was no one new to wonder.

  Bernard Charles Elliott stood in the doorway and took another deep breath. Seeing your kin lined up along the walls always did take you down a notch. He moved in slowly, so as not to alarm any of them, and smiled around the room. Eyeballs spun in their sockets to watch his movements so he was sure to remain where they all could see.

  “Surprised to see you all here,” he said conversationally.

&n
bsp; Which was true, actually. If Olivier had begun the final piece of the puzzle, none of these corpses should be here.

  “Surprised to see you here,” came a deep voice behind him.

  Elliott clutched at his chest and spun around. Olivier stood in the doorway, bloody and disheveled. He even had on a face.

  “You scared me,” Elliott said quickly.

  Olivier looked around the room, the murder in his eyes apparent. “Didn’t intend to.” Now he returned his glare to the mayor. “We need to talk.”

  Elliott watched this strange, mysterious man walk out of the room, expecting him to follow. A shiver of fear passed through him and he met the eyes of the man closest to the door. A man he’d loved and feared. His father. Still alive. Decrepit and old, his hands gnarled and his legs twisted. But still his father.

  “Charlie!”

  The mayor jumped, startled. Very rarely did Olivier call him that. He scuttled out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

  Elliott found Olivier in the living room, tying a tourniquet around his thigh. “Olivier?”

  “What were you doing in there?”

  When the mayor had been thirteen, Olivier had caught him in a bedroom, too. Only then, Charlie had been traumatized by the sight of a corpse, still alive, but not breathing. Even though he’d been thirteen, Olivier had recognized someone to help him in his quest. So he’d explained, and shown, Charlie what he was and what he was doing.

  But this was a decidedly different Olivier and a decidedly different Charlie.

  “I thought you’d begun—”

  “I told you,” Olivier cut him off harshly. “I’ll begin when I begin. Don’t ever go in there again.”

  The mayor said nothing, just watched as the tourniquet was pulled tighter and tighter. Finally the blood stopped trickling and Olivier slumped back against the wall. The face shimmered and nearly winked out, but it stayed in place.

  “The sheriff—”

  “He’s dead and I took care of the fallen angel and the detective. You’re welcome,” Olivier hissed.

  The mayor bit his lip.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, I just…”

  “What?” Olivier demanded again.

  The mayor cleared his throat. “My secretary didn’t come in to work today.”