The World Ends Tonight

by Wood, Rick

  Even so, Martin felt a pang of jealousy.

  They were still living out their lives, exploring their youth, taking the time to discover who they were. If they did something dickish, it would be all right, because “they are just kids.”

  Such reasoning didn’t apply to Martin.

  Not anymore.

  He couldn’t be just a kid. He was only just approaching eighteen, but had a responsibility that no adult in this world could understand.

  He dragged himself reluctantly back to his feet.

  If at first you don’t succeed…

  Once more he rapidly rotated his arm, creating a circle, making the elements fit just right. Then once he had a perfect solid base of gold, he threw the circle forward, watching it crash into the bench and smash the final remains to oblivion.

  …then scream and cry and tell everyone to fuck off.

  What if this had never happened? What if he had never gone to Eddie about his mother? What if Cassy had never come to him and placed this burden on his shoulders?

  What would he be doing?

  Intimidating some old lady. Starting fights with anyone who gave him a dodgy look. Convincing himself that he didn’t need stupid, pathetic school.

  Yes, this was a horrible fate, but at least it stopped him from being a dysfunctional yob.

  Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to go back to ignorance… To deny that any of this was real, to return to his incessant prickishness, to continue hating everything and everyone. To be able to throw a teenage tantrum, kick off at a teacher, shout at everyone that it wasn’t fair that he was being made to learn maturity.

  He would never have had to witness death. He would never have had to see Father Douglas’ demise, Jenny’s body being ripped apart, or the violent end of the entire army they had gathered.

  An army.

  What a mistake.

  This burden was his, and his alone. Derek was a huge support, but even so, ultimately, it was up to him.

  Heaven conceived him.

  No one else.

  So he needed to get a grip.

  Stop daydreaming ridiculous fantasies.

  It was over.

  That old life was over and he could never go back.

  This was his life now.

  Waiting to fight.

  Waiting to die.

  Or, just waiting.

  “Fuck it.”

  He lifted his arm out and began the circular motion once more.

  7

  Eddie’s mind spun with empty thoughts, absent ideas racing manically around his vacant mind.

  He had no idea how long he had been lying there, but he knew that it was making him go crazy.

  As he imagined the devil would be intending.

  His back ached less, as if he was getting used to the uncomfortable bumps he had been laid upon. He didn’t know what was worse; feeling the pain, or being there for so long he became accustomed to it.

  What struck him most was the complete absence of anything. No stimulus, no interaction, nothing to do but sit and ruminate – it stirred his mind into a fever. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose his sanity.

  If he had sanity.

  Does a soul have sanity?

  Yet another thought that could swim around its mind until it drowned in the sea of unanswered questions.

  A faint whirring attracted his attention. A small spinning from behind his head.

  He sat up, opened his eyes, and peered at a small image unfolding before him.

  Upon this screen was a field. The weather was torrential, rain beating furiously down upon the soggy grass.

  But the lightning and the thunder rumbles weren’t what attracted his attention.

  The screen was through the eyes of something. Of someone. And beneath these eyes were a mass of people, full of supernatural gifts, hurling different spells at him, conjuring vast amounts of elements, bombarding him with everything they had.

  Before he had been able to muster an idea as to what this screen was, it had shot forward and wrapped itself around Eddie’s eyes. Eddie could now see through the screen as if he was physically in it.

  Because he was in it.

  At least, part of him was.

  His hand reached out, revealing a sharp claw, bigger than several human heads. Below this claw was a mass of puny humans, all of them fighting, attempting to oppose him.

  He resisted anything they threw at him with tedious ease. His claw swung down in retaliation and swiped through several throats, splattering blood into the rain as the bodies turned limp.

  This was him.

  He was doing this.

  He could feel it. Every swipe he took, he could feel the soft tissue of their throats ripping at the tip of his fingers. Thick, red blood seeped through his claws. The stench of death was overwhelming.

  And the rage.

  It soared through his body like a hundred volts of electricity, purging him of any positivity, soaking him until he was drenched with a detesting of everything.

  It belonged to him. All of this belonged to him. This body, this anger, these raging thoughts – they were his.

  Eddie ripped himself away from the scene that had wrapped itself so securely around his face, diving to the floor, doing all he could to tear himself away from the trance.

  He lay on the blank floor shivering, covering his head to protect it from being consumed by this vision again.

  He knew what it was.

  He knew he was looking through the eyes of the heir of hell. He knew he was slaughtering innocent people with the ease of slicing butter. He had no control. He was in there, feeling everything, but in the backseat; whatever was driving him was not of this world. It was something completely and entirely evil.

  But how many did I kill?

  As if something wanted to torture him with the answer, the screen changed. Eddie lifted his weak head, ignoring his painful migraine, and watched, allowing it to wrap around his vision once more.

  It was done. Now it was a sunny day and the field was covered with bodies. A few of the corpses were intact, but most weren’t; it was like a butcher’s bin. Body parts, bloody heaps of unrecognisable limbs, dead rips of skin. Everything was unidentifiable. And he had done all of it.

  Derek.

  He saw Derek traipsing despondently through this field, looking around himself, recoiling at the horror.

  So much death.

  Derek couldn’t see him.

  Derek didn’t know he was watching, hiding.

  Derek paused, closing his eyes, dropping his head. Like looking at the suffering was too much. Like he couldn’t bear to see it.

  Like he couldn’t bear to see what Eddie had done.

  The man he had trained. The man he had nurtured, taught, watched evolve into a powerful soldier of good. Now the cause of so much pain and misery.

  It was more than Eddie could take, and he was about to look away until he saw that Derek wasn’t alone.

  Someone was there. Someone bright. An elegant, white dress folding their body into beauty; long, blond hair, a beam of positivity.

  She wasn’t of the mortal world, Eddie could see that.

  Then he realised. He knew who it was.

  The girl who died when he was a child. The girl he had freed from Balam. The girl who had set all the terrible events of his life in motion.

  “Cassy…”

  Now there she was. A grown woman, except… she was more than that. Accepted by heaven as a soldier for good.

  Working with Derek.

  Working with Derek in the fight against humanity.

  Working with Derek, against Eddie, in the fight against humanity.

  His heart stung. He collapsed to his knees, unable to control tears from escaping his eyes.

  The little sister he had loved so much. He’d lost her as a child. He had fought to save her. He’d battled for her soul, to have it freed from hell.

  Now she was taking the last stand against the brother who had d
one everything for her.

  Because she knew it was right. Because she knew that it was what this Eddie would want her to do.

  And he did want her to.

  He wanted her to make him stop.

  “No more…” he whimpered, wanting to go back to the monotonous absence he had been suffering. To return to the tormenting, vacant room so he didn’t have to watch those he loved weeping over the mess he had made.

  Anything but this.

  Anything to relieve this pain.

  But he could not escape it. Everywhere he turned, her torment was decorated over his vision. Her face as she cried at the anguish caused by him.

  “Cassy, it wasn’t me!” he begged, wishing she could hear her.

  Her head rose. A flicker.

  As if she was reacting.

  As if she had heard something.

  “Cassy? Can you hear me?”

  She froze. Her eyes widened. Something was taking hold of her.

  “Cassy!” he cried out with everything he had, his vocal cords straining under the pressure of his scream. “Free me! I’m trapped, I’m here!”

  The image disappeared. As if someone could see what was happening.

  The sounds, the feelings, the smells. It all went. Eddie was back to the dungeon again.

  He didn’t know if she had heard him.

  But it was worth a fraction of hope.

  8

  The field was stained with the remnants of loyal fighters. Everywhere Derek looked he saw death, torture, and mayhem. He tried to raise a mental barrier to it, conceal his emotions, put a block on his emotions.

  But it was tough.

  It was so, so tough.

  Walking amongst the remains was unbearable. He’d had the call that morning that the church was sending people to conceal it, to cover it up. To make sure no one went near it. The authorities had been paid enough to keep the public away, and Derek expected them any moment.

  But part of him wished they didn’t arrive.

  So what if everyone saw this? Surely people should know what was coming, and what they were up against.

  If only to ensure that they knew the devil was real, and that he was coming – so very, very imminently.

  “Hi,” came a soft feminine voice from behind Derek. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. He remained dawdling, stepping over a mangled bloody lung, between a contorted leg, until it was too much. He had to look up to the sky, if only to stop looking at the destruction spread across the field.

  “Do you know what I don’t get?” Derek began, turning to Cassy, her angelic state shining over the darkness of the field. “Is why your stupid God allows this to happen.”

  “It is unethical to mess with free will.”

  “Unethical?!” Derek exploded. “You’re talking to me about what is unethical? Standing by and watching people fight in his name when he could bloody do something is ruddy unethical!”

  “Derek–”

  “And then your stupid head angel comes down with plans to evacuate when all of you could come down and fight and rid us of this damn mess!”

  “Derek, calm down,” Cassy spoke, not raising the temperature of her voice one bit. She placed a reassuring hand on Derek’s back, watching his face tear with emotions he couldn’t handle. “This isn’t you.”

  “I have been here for years, doing his work, and I have said nothing. I have called on him to remove demons from innocent people’s bodies. Why do I need to do that? Why do I need to call on him to do this, when he could so easily do it himself?”

  “But he has fought back, Derek. He gave the world you. And Martin. And sent me to guide you. That is him playing his part, and it is quite a stretch as to what he could do without messing with free will.”

  Derek shook his head, turning his angry eyes to Cassy’s elegant gaze.

  “It’s such a cop-out.”

  “Derek, please don’t let this get the better of you. You’ve been a strong and stable leader. For all of us. Myself included. You need to keep the faith.”

  “Keep the faith?” Derek echoed, disdain soaking his voice.

  “You’ve got to–”

  Cassy’s eyes grew wide and she grasped her chest as if she’d just taken a heavy punch in the gut.

  “Cassy?”

  She fell to her knees, her eyes practically bursting out their sockets, reaching out a helpless hand. Derek rushed to her side, placing a hand on her back, trying to steady her, but the pain was evidently vast.

  As she scrunched her face and her body up, battling the agony, she moaned an exasperated wail.

  Then she froze. She uttered a quivering gasp, her lips shaking, her eyes open wide.

  “Oh, dear God,” she gulped. “Eddie…”

  Derek’s brow furrowed. He kept his arms around her, steadying her; but his gaze grew into a longing need to know what she was seeing.

  “Cassy,” she spoke, in a voice slightly altered, as if it was deeper; it was her speaking, but with a different tone entirely. “It wasn’t me.”

  She choked. Closed her eyes. Then opened her mouth once more.

  “Cassy, can you hear me?” she spoke in the same man’s voice.

  She fell to the floor, rolling around, groaning, then froze once more. Her eyes shot open.

  “Free me! I’m trapped, I’m here!”

  Derek recognised that voice.

  But no…

  It can’t be…

  Then, with a final flourish of her fluttering eyelids, Cassy fell flat out on the floor, her body no longer tense.

  “Cassy,” Derek prompted, kneeling beside her. “Cassy, are you okay?”

  She shook her head. “It’s Eddie…”

  She reached her hands out and used Derek’s body to help her clamber to her knees.

  “What about Eddie?”

  She ignored him. Instead, choosing to push herself onto her feet and aimlessly wander away, unconsciously stepping over various entrails. Her hand rested on her forehead, her eyes scrunching together as if dealing with a horrific headache.

  “Cassy, please,” Derek pleaded, walking after her. Whatever she had seen, he needed to know.

  If it was to do with Eddie, he needed to know.

  “It’s Eddie,” she tried to explain, stumbling over her words. “But not Eddie…”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It was Eddie’s soul, I’m sure of it.”

  “His soul?”

  Cassy turned to Derek, fixing her eyes on his, watching as his insides entwined into a sickening muddle just as much as hers had.

  “He – he’s there.”

  “There? Where’s there? Where is he? Is he going to do something else? Is he going to kill more people?”

  “No, it’s… not the heir of hell. It is Eddie.”

  “But Eddie is the heir of hell, Cassy.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “His soul still remains good. I’ve seen it.”

  9

  1 January 2000

  Millennium night

  “That the best you got?” Eddie taunted the demon before him with a cocky grin.

  Balam rose out of Adeline’s body, hovering in the air. Its three heads – that of a human, a bull, and a ram – each snarled and snapped at Eddie. Its human head lifted its frown into an aggressive growl, its bull head snorting readily, and its ram head beating against its own chest in desperation to kill this bastard.

  It had been a tiresome exorcism on the night of the new millennium, and Eddie was growing weary. But he knew that now he had ridded Adeline’s body of Balam, he could return Cassy from hell. There was no doubt Balam had Cassy’s soul, captured for torture, kept in hell for what Balam must intend to be an eternity.

  Eddie was determined to do this. Determined to save her from this prince of hell’s evil clutches.

  He would die before he gave in.

  Balam growled again. This time not to intimidate, but to show aggressive displeasure at being well-matched. Eddie had a
lready ridded young Adeline’s body of Balam’s possession and, for this reason, it felt increasingly weary. It had struggled to defeat Eddie and was giving its last attempt at fighting by throwing a series of flames forward.

  Eddie lifted his arms in a swiping motion and forced the flames to cease, to drop to the floor in a handful of ash. He threw his arms in the air, exploding a ball of wind before him, forcing Balam to thwack against the far wall, dropping to the floor pathetically.

  “Free my sister!” demanded Eddie, a scream filled with rage and resolve.

  He rose his arms, forcing Balam into mid-air, rotating and rotating its body, faster and faster, until the ram screamed, the bull helplessly snorted, and the human face begged for mercy.

  “Free my sister!”

  Balam’s body bashed against the wall, again and again. This would be too much humiliation for this proud prince of hell to take, and Eddie hoped this would be enough to open Balam’s clutches and to take Cassy’s soul back.

  “I command you, bitch of hell. Release her!”

  Balam screamed out, its voice getting caught on the wind of its spin. The room was a tornado of chaos, objects turning to weapons against Balam as they were caught in the middle of the whirlwind it created.

  Eddie chuckled as the ram head squealed in agony, enjoying seeing this thing suffer.

  “It is done!” Balam cried out.

  The body of Cassy rose out of his muscular, scarred chest, rising into the centre of the room.

  Balam did not stick around to see the two reunited, and neither would he want to. With a fit of aggression, his body instantly sank downwards into the ground. The room disappeared as it plummeted and plummeted, further and further, until it found itself slamming its aching back against a large stone, back in the pit of hell.

  It lifted itself off.

  It was livid.

  Fought. Defeated.

  Embarrassed that he’d had to free his servant.

  Back in hell to let the devil know that he had let heaven’s child go. That he had been defeated by hell’s own creation. That the prince of hell was not worthy of its king.

  The chains Cassy had been kept in lay absently without an owner across the rocky cliff. Balam had enjoyed torturing many souls across an eternity of human civilisation, but never had enjoyed torturing a human spirit the way Cassy’s had been tortured – after all, this was the daughter of heaven. Heaven’s conception, forced to face an eternity of pain.