She watched Daucina take a crazy swing at the air around him in a futile attempt to strike out at the dark forms. The Shadow Devils, as Jacob had thought of them. But these were no devils, these were her allies. The lost souls of this forsaken place, taking whatever vengeance they could on the great figure that had turned on them so long ago. She watched in awe as His enormous form was swallowed in a whirling mass of darkness, with nothing more than an occasional flame popping up from the crown of His head.
Then her focus was back on her brother. Her sweet protector, who had never given up on her, never ran. Who had been there for her in all her times of need, since she was a babbling baby. She remembered how her mother told her stories of her older brother. How, even as a boy of only seven, he had insisted on changing her diapers. How he used to take over for dad any time he saw their old man pushing her on the swing. How he had shown her how to tie her shoes and to deliver a solid punch. He had always been there for her, in everything she did. Yet the one time he had truly needed her, she had arrived too late.
But she did arrive. She dove to her knees beside him, burying herself in the sand next to a giant puddle of half-congealed blood on the ground. So much blood. Thomas’s chin was at rest on his chest. Please don’t be dead, brother, please. I still need my protector. I’ll always need protecting!
“Fofee.” The word came out slurred and mangled, but she could see why. As he raised his head slightly to get the word out, she saw his face and let out a small, sharp cry of horror.
The left side of his face was a ruin. His orbital bone may have been broken, as the whole left side of his temple and cheek was purple and black and swollen to an absurd degree. So much so that his eyeball was hidden deep down in a hole created by the puffy flesh, the opening no more than the diameter of a dime. That wasn’t even the worst of it, there was a deep valley carved into the flesh running from the corner of the swollen eye down to the edge of his mouth. The cut was so wide his skin sagged apart and she could see flashes of white bone beneath.
“Fofee?”
He’s calling my name, she realized. Only he can’t say it right. Even as she watched him try she saw the ravaged cheek flex unnaturally, the valley opening wide and closing again, like a crazy clown’s laughing mouth.
“Thomas, I’m okay. You’re okay. Just relax. Don’t worry. Everything is okay.” Her words were getting increasingly hysterical the longer she spoke. She recognized it but couldn’t stop it.
Thomas’s hand reached out, first pushing through the thickening gel of blood on the sand, then tapping around at the ground, searching for something.
His club, she realized. He wants his club.
“Oh, Thomas!”
Tears came out in a rush as she watched her brother struggle to continue the fight. And what could she do without him? Surely if her brother, who was a large, powerful man in his own right, couldn’t prove a threat to this creature than she would be nothing more than a fly. What chance did she have?
“Rest now, Thomas. Please!”
She took the groping hand and brought it to her neck, cradling it for a moment, then placing it back in his lap. There it clenched open and shut, repeatedly, as if still trying to grab at a handle.
A sudden fury swept over her then. Her eyes snapped back up toward the monster who had turned her life upside down. Had taken her child, killed Bolo, and possibly her brother. Eyes blazed as she focused all her fury and malice on Him.
The spirits were still swarming at Him, but they seemed to have no other affect then to anger and slow Him up. Perhaps that was all that they could do. Perhaps they had only enough power in them for that. She would have to use the brief advantage they had given her, but how? What could she possibly do?
The old woman, Noni, was still by the fire, hands moving in and out of her little pouches so quickly they were a blur. On the ground were the weapons, club and axe lying mere feet away. Beyond that, there was nothing else. No other options.
Sophie left her brother and sprang to action.
42
She eyed the club, then the axe. Neither seemed to have done a whole lot to inflict damage on the God of this nightmarish place, but the axe had a more sinister look to it. She reached down to take hold of it, the weight feeling good in her hand, bolstering her confidence a small degree. Her thoughts turned briefly toward its previous wielder.
I’m doing this for you too, Bolo. For your wife and child. I hope your sacrifice wasn’t in vain.
Turning back toward the whirlwind of activity, she saw that Daucina was winning through. The spirits that were moving about him in such mad aggression before were now somehow diminishing. The dance was slowing and the dark forms, looking more faded then when they started were beginning to drift slowly away. Both arms of the island God were visible now, swinging madly. As the spirits were obviously losing power, His efforts didn’t appear to be flagging at all. Her allies had accomplished nothing more than a brief delay. She had to make it count.
One long, heavily muscled leg stretched out behind Him, emerging from the ten or so spirits that were still in the fight. Her eyes trailed down the leg and to the ankle, where the Achilles tendon flexed out. She thought briefly of how the tendon had earned its name, being the weak spot that had brought down a great hero, and she made her decision.
Moving forward with deadly determination, she gripped the wood handle of the axe in both hands, took a giant step forward, and brought the obsidian blade down in a ferocious thrust. In that one swing went all her rage and desperation. There would be only one chance, one blow to do what damage she could. It obviously wasn’t a death blow, but it didn’t seem like a death blow was a possibility. What she was after now was a crippling effort. One that would allow them time to escape. She hoped it was enough.
The blade arced through the air, creating a blur of dark intent, and met with the heart of that taught tendon, right on the mark. She watched in wild glee as the honed edge bit into the flesh, penetrating for the first time, as far as she could tell. A great cry raged through her head, causing her to let go of the weapon and grab for her ears, though she knew from experience it would do no good. Daucina’s back arched stiffly and He went to one knee, the last of the spirits being shed away to drift off into the jungle from wherever it was that birthed them.
Sophie watched with wicked glee as the God before her fell further forward, His body supported now by His right arm in the sand as His left reached back to grope for the object that had finally proved He could be hurt.
She froze, watching Him in dread fascination. The small victory she had won was short-lived. This wasn’t a death blow, only a brief deterrent. Likely, He would simply recover and His rage would be terrible to behold.
The flames of His crown bent up toward the sky as His head drooped down. Then He turned the horrible, twisting vortex of a face toward her. For a moment, He was framed in the center of her vision. Everything around her became as clear as crystal, time slowing and her eyes missing nothing. Noni, blowing one of her magic powders over the solitary form of the last remaining spirit of the island, who seemed to grow darker and vibrate in response, the ring of trees and flowers surrounding the beach and lake where her and Jacob had once made love and conceived a child. The flowery blooms of greens and reds and yellows popping out from the backdrop with amazing clarity. The ripples of the water to her right reflecting the hot light of the sun like a pool full of priceless diamonds. Each grain of sand formed in fine detail, building one upon the other to form the ground beneath her. She retreated and dropped onto that sand beside her brother, waiting to see what would come next. Expecting death for them both.
“Fofee?” Thomas was still conscious and his head remained drooped to his chest. A string of blood and saliva stretched down from one corner of his mouth all the way to the ground.
“It’s okay, Thomas. Just relax. It’s over now.” Or will be soon, she said to herself. There was nothing left she had to give. She had hurt Him. A small but meaningless v
ictory that had provided her a momentary charge of jubilation, but now she was back in reality, and her spirit seemed to have retreated. She felt like her brother’s life force was slowly diminishing before her eyes and she wouldn’t let him leave this world alone. Sophie placed one arm lovingly and gently across her Thomas’s wide shoulders.
The great, flaming head of Daucina was still directed squarely on her as he crawled forward, dragging His crippled leg behind Him, the axe lodged in the flesh and bending and swaying with each movement. She watched Him come with a detached fascination, wondering if she would feel anything. The dark void of the face grew closer, mesmerizing. Some deep part of her being cried out at that.
What are you doing? You’re giving up? He’s tricking you, goddamnit! Fight back!
For a moment, she almost did. Her brother’s voice slurred out again, almost getting her to redirect her attention.
“Fofee? Helph. Helph me.”
Oh Thomas! Ever my protector, and now, when you need me the most, I’ve failed you.
Then her thoughts of remorse disappeared as the black hole, ringed by licking fingers of flame, came to within a foot of her face. She saw only the swirling pit.
Then she saw Jacob, as he was that day on the beach when she had finally got off the island, running behind her toward her brother. She saw once more the cruel memory of her brother letting fly with the speargun, the bolt tearing into Jacob’s shoulder and driving him into the water. Then there she was, on the boat, hair whipping in the wind as she looked back at the beach while the vessel carried her away.
All this she knew, she didn’t need to see it. She had thought about it, relived the memory of it every day for the past nine months. But now there was more. Memories she couldn’t know because she hadn’t been around to witness them.
Daucina rising out of the water with the limp form of Jacob draped over his massive arms. Jacob reaching feebly up to grasp at the steel rod sunk into his chest. Daucina, swatting the groping hand away like it was a fly.
No, he wasn’t still alive. He couldn’t have been. I can’t believe that!
But she knew it to be true, she felt it in her heart. She had abandoned him, the man she loved. Abandoned him to some gruesome fate, she had no doubt. Her head wasn’t under her control anymore, with the power of the creature keeping her drawn on him like a tractor beam, but large, shimmering tears still escaped to tumble down her cheeks.
The torment continued as the show played on. Daucina walking up that stone flight of stairs leading to His temple. Dumping Jacob’s weakened body roughly upon the solid surface of the altar. The God looming over him, grabbing the metal bolt embedded in his shoulder and jerking it roughly back in forth, bringing great screams of pain from Jacob’s mouth. A cat, playing with a mouse. Enjoying the game.
The picture flew apart, like a jigsaw puzzle being tossed into a strong wind. It was all gone, but the reprieve from seeing the torture Jacob had gone through lasted only a fraction of a second before another one of those mind-splitting screams of fury lit up the inside of her head. A moment later she saw why.
Noni had come to the rescue again. Hanging in the air around Daucina was another yellow cloud, some strange concoction the witch had formulated, and its effects on the formidable God were astounding. As the tiny yellow particles alit on His dark black skin they began to hiss and crackle. It was the sound of water being sprayed into a hot, oiled pan. Daucina rose in a fury to face the tiny woman. The lone remaining spirit, who was previously as dark as a starless, midnight sky, now seemed to be possessed of the same yellow substance. The particles moved throughout its figure, swirling in such density that it seemed to take an almost solid form.
A whisper moved through Sophie’s mind and she became instantly calm. Her heart fluttered as she listened, but the sound lasted only a second. It was enough. Enough for her to know what this thing was. Jacob … Jacob …
She reached a hand out, wanting to grasp the form of the man she loved. To feel whatever was left of him. To get one more connection, no matter how small that connection might be. Then the spirit moved away quickly and the whisper was gone.
As Daucina bore down on the small form of Noni, the ghost of Jacob, which had previously hung back during the whole of the battle, now shot forward into action. It flew at Daucina, who struck out at it with almost casual disregard. Only Jacob wasn’t acting as the others had, those spirits who before had only served to delay and antagonize the cruel God. Instead, he went right for the face and the ever-twisting void it was made of. For a moment, the spirit of Jacob lost all form and became a small, tight cloud in front of the giant head. Daucina’s reaction was still almost nonchalant, as if the thing was of no concern. His movement still carried him forward toward the old witch. Then the cloud of Jacob shrunk, being sucked into that endless pit, and was gone.
For a moment, the great legs of Daucina moved forward, almost now upon Noni, but then a peculiar thing happened. His body jerked, came to a halt, and jerked again. Immediately the muscles began spasming and He was on his knees, clawing at His skin as if to peel it away. Sophie watched on in silent, hope-filled wonder. The sound of hissing water increased tenfold, the whole clearing of the beach was filled with it. Tiny yellow fissures began to appear all over Him, first on the back, then spreading out in a growing spider web of destruction. Everywhere the fissures spread the skin appeared to split and pop. Daucina continued to tear away at Himself, as if trying to excavate the source of His demise, but it did no good. Within moments His whole physical being was a network of yellow, nerve-like webs, from toe to flaming crown. Then the beast shot upright, back to His feet, and stiffened. His back arched, his arms spread out like a great eagle preparing to take flight, and His head tilted up toward the sky. The flames that once danced there flickered and faded, then were gone. As soon as they were extinguished, He seemed to erupt from the inside out. There was no blood, no chunks of flesh, nothing so gruesome. It was like watching a thousand pieces of black crepe paper being torn up and tossed into the air. He was simply obliterated.
Daucina was no more. What remained of Him, a thousand tiny pieces, drifted lazily on the currents of the island breeze and were carried away.
There was a bright flash to Sophie’s right. She looked and watched in stunned silence as the lamp, sitting alone and forgotten at the edge of the lake, gave out a brilliant flare then was dark. She moved to her feet and approached it, wary but intrigued. Slowly she reached out a trembling hand and touched the old glass and metal lantern. It was cold. She watched it for several more seconds, waiting in tense anticipation for something to happen, but nothing more did.
“Is it over?” She waited, for what she wasn’t sure. A response of some sort, from Noni, or from the spirits, or the island itself, but no response came.
As she turned back, she saw Noni bent over her brother, who remained in a slumped position, just as he had been ever since he was struck.
“Thomas!” She raced back to see Noni applying some black paste to a wad of moss and pressing it into the gaping wound until it was packed full. Then, the two of them together peeled Thomas’s shirt off and wrapped it around his head tight enough to hold it in place. One bright-blue eyeball peered back at her as she finished. The mouth, whose left side still drooped, but not so much now as it did before, worked in silence for a moment.
“Sophie.” Thomas reached a hand out for her and she grasped it. He’d be okay, she realized, maybe damaged, but alive. In a flood of relief, she wrapped her free arm around her brother’s waist, placed her head on his shoulder, and let herself go.
43
Sophie stood under the hot sun, feeling like her skin was baking, but it was a good feeling. A feeling of being alive. There was something immensely powerful in knowing she and her brother had escaped the steel trap of death. To realize she hadn’t truly expected to make it through even another hour on this Earth, then to be suddenly freed from those despairing thoughts.
All around her the island seemed
to be coming back to life. She noticed the clacking of the palm fronds dancing in the wind and the scurrying of a dozen small creatures moving through the fallen leaves at her feet. She heard the gentle lapping of water and the thunk of a fallen coconut striking the ground. Each sound was delicious. The sound of life moving on regardless of the insignificant actions of humans.
Her mind trailed off, thinking back to her first days here. How it had all started with tragedy, but out of that tragedy had arose a close bond with a man she had never expected to meet. That bond had flowered into a strong and powerful love. At that time, the island had been nothing short of paradise. Those blessed few days when the violent death of Chris had been buried deep and nearly forgotten. When her time with Jacob had run in a bubble, enveloping them and their little piece of paradise. At that time, the island was a beautiful place. The sounds of its native creatures, birds, reptiles, and even bats, had mingled with all the natural beauty to create a fairy tale. She had accepted then that Jacob was damaged but not threatening. He was a little lost and her love pulled him back from the brink of darkness. It was an almost maternal instinct that made her feel closer than it could have under any normal circumstance. Something like sharing a life-and-death experience with another person and coming through stronger and closer.
Then the tragedy had occurred. Jacob, stolen from her. Months of despair had followed and when she had been forced to return, the island had taken on a whole different aspect. The strange magic that came before was twisted into something dark and foreboding. The lake, the shadows, the very trees themselves seemed to be bent and twisted with their own inner menace. And at the heart of it all, the temple and the malevolent being that resided there.
Cave of Bones (Dark Island Series Book 2) Page 23