by Wood, Rick
It was time to forget all those pointless things in life.
Those teachers can tell his parents he’s a lazy little shit. Fine. Who cares?
Those bullies can tell him he won’t amount to anything. Where are they now?
Those girls can laugh. Those friends can run. The shouting can get louder and it won’t mean a damn thing.
Because this was it.
This is what will define me.
“All right, you fucker!” Martin screamed out, hoping his taunt would be heard. “Come on then! Time for round two!”
He waited, allowing the rain to seep through his t-shirt and drench his skinny body.
“Come on, where are you?”
A figure appeared in the distance. Walking closer, a limping silhouette.
Martin glanced over his shoulder at Derek, who looked equally perplexed, also peering to see who it was.
Martin watched as this figure fell to its knees and clambered back up again. Something was attached to it. Something long and heavy.
It was Cassy.
As she grew closer, her face grew clearer.
But despite her inherent angelic grace, her face was bloodied. Mangled. Distorted. She was hurt.
“Cassy?” Martin shouted. He went to march forward, but a shout from Derek behind him kept him rooted to the spot.
“Don’t, Martin – wait.”
Cassy stumbled closer and, as she did, her body faded into view. It was wrapped in chains. Big, metallic chains that entwined around her chest again and again, with a longer chain leading into the darkness behind her.
“Oh my God, what happened?” Martin asked. Ignoring Derek’s shout, he ran forward.
“Don’t!” Cassy screamed, forcing Martin to stumble to a sudden stop. “It’s a trap!”
Martin frowned. A trap?
Surely if he was to fight this thing, there would be no traps?
He was ready to fight.
Straightening himself up, he sauntered forward with an air of arrogance, ready for this so-called trap.
A slow growl rumbled across the air, shaking any confidence he had willed to his mind to pour out into the puddles he stepped through.
“Where is he?” Martin demanded, doing all he could to sound strong.
“He’s–” Cassy began, but before she could complete her sentence she went flying backwards, back into the cloak of darkness, encompassed in the shadows behind her.
Martin didn’t move. He watched, waiting for the next taunt, or the next attack. Waiting warily for the next move.
Staring cautiously into pitch-black. Just waiting for whatever was there to appear.
He looked to Derek, who was the same; poised, still, wary.
The ground rumbled, trembling under a few thudding footsteps. A huge banging became louder, growing closer.
Then, from the shadows, it emerged.
The large beast with hooves, claws, fangs, razor-sharp spikes, and red demented eyes as big as Martin’s head.
In the heir’s hand was Cassy, held tightly by a claw that could crush her without any effort.
“Let her go!” Martin demanded.
Dripping blood and saliva, the heir’s mouth curved into an open grin, a few hearty chuckles booming out.
“You’ve gotten cocky,” the heir declared.
“Let. Her. Go!”
“Finally!” the heir sighed. “Enough of this waiting. Let’s get your death out of the way.”
31
Eddie thudded to the floor like his body was made of weights. His chest felt like it was going to burst. His head pounded, beating against the skull he knew wasn’t even there.
He willed himself out of it. Told himself to endure the pain. It wasn’t real.
He felt such agony when the heir was on earth. And, if the heir was on earth, Eddie knew bad things were happening.
He could feel everything. This was the piece of hell he was attached to. The link the devil couldn’t sever.
If he was the heir, he could see through his eyes. See what he was doing.
Only…
Did he really want to see that? Did he want to see the death and destruction being caused by… him?
He couldn’t deny that anymore.
It was being done by him.
Just, not the part with the soul attached.
Yes.
He reluctantly bowed his head.
I’m going to have to see this.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink. Sink out of his mind, out of his body, further into the vile casing of the heir. Allowing himself to see through the eyes of…
It was easier than he thought.
He was staring through the heir’s eyes within seconds. Feeling his stretched flesh encase his bones.
He was relieved that it worked.
That was, until he saw the scene in front of him.
Oh, God.
He felt something in his hand. Except, it wasn’t a hand. It was bigger than that. It was a claw. With sharp nails and…
Cassy.
His own sister.
An angel. Being disgraced, used as a taunt. A bloody, bruised face.
He waved Cassy back and forth in his hand, pulling on a chain in the other, a chain that led back to her. She was wrapped in restraints. And she was crying.
She was begging.
But not with Eddie. She was begging with something else.
With the boy in front of him.
Martin. The piece of heaven. The biblical piece of the rapture – this was the second coming of Christ. This child was that second coming. This was a child conceived by heaven, just as had happened two thousand years before.
The only hope humans had.
And Cassy was begging him. Begging him to do nothing. Not to accept the taunt. To let her die, to let her be shattered into thousands of pieces of bright light that would shine down on them like stars – as Eddie always imagined a murdered angel’s fate would be.
Except no angel had ever died before. They had fallen, but this could be the first…
Which, in that case, made it undeniable – they truly were losing.
Martin’s faced moulded into a snarl. Full of hatred against this thing before him.
Eddie didn’t want to look, but he had to.
He had to.
Because there he was, beyond Martin. The only man who had ever believed in Eddie.
Derek.
About to help fight him to the death. To be the last stand between heaven and hell.
To be the last person fighting Eddie, the man he had helped create.
Eddie fell out of the heir’s eyes, out of the heir’s body, falling back onto the solid ground of his cell. He couldn’t take it anymore. It was too tough.
Derek. The man who had trained him.
Now trying to kill him.
Except, he wasn’t.
Martin was the one fighting. Derek was further back. What was he doing?
Eddie leapt back to life, diving into the heir’s eyes once more.
Derek had items. What were they?
Eddie peered into the distance.
A cross. Holy water. A Bible.
Those were items used in an exorcism.
Why has he got items for an exorcism...?
It struck him, in a gratifying moment of realisation. Derek hadn’t given up on him.
He was trying to get to Eddie. He was trying to remove the soul, save him from where he was trapped, bring him back.
Oh God, Derek.
Derek did still believe in him.
But… how? How could Derek do that?
There was no way out.
Then he heard Derek’s voice. So faint that if he even moved he wouldn’t have been able to hear it.
“Eddie, have mercy. God, the Son, please give him safe passage in this merciless time.”
“Derek…”
Eddie held his position behind the monster’s eyes. The position where he planned to stay. He felt physically clos
er to Derek there – maybe that was where he needed to be to give the exorcism the best chance of working?
He felt invigorated. A new lease on life, a spurt of energy firing through him like a jolt of electricity.
If he could see through the heir of hell’s eyes… Then surely… Surely…
Could he do more than just see?
Could he alter the heir’s actions? Even take over completely?
After all, it was him. He was seeing through his own eyes, it was the body he belonged to.
He clenched his fists. Held his arms out in the position of the beast, tried to move them, put all his energy into it, urging himself on, willing himself to do it.
But it was no good.
The claw tightened around Cassy and he felt there was nothing he could do.
32
Martin whipped his hands around in circles, furiously beating the air until flickers of gold began to generate.
Time to be brave, Martin.
No time for being young, or doubting his convictions. The plan had been made, and it was time to execute it.
Focus, Martin. Fuck everything else, just focus.
The heir of hell’s glare intensified. It appeared amused yet angry. Amused that Martin thought he could oppose it, angry that Martin even dared.
“Just kill it!” Cassy insisted. “Ignore me!”
The heir’s grip tightened around Cassy’s chest, squeezing her into silence and submission.
Martin concentrated on his surroundings, listening to the thunder, taking in the smell of fine rain. He closed his eyes, soaking up every piece of his surroundings. Silencing his thoughts. Focussing on nothing but what was around him.
His eyes shot open. He harnessed a large string of fire in his hands, turning it into a sharp point. He threw it out, landing it on the heir’s wrist, forcing it to drop Cassy to the ground.
Cassy stumbled onto her front, then launched herself forward. She ran messily back and forth, trying to retain her balance, and get away from the heir.
Martin retracted his fiery whip and slid it down the back of her chains. She collapsed to the ground once more, wriggling herself out of her incarceration.
The heir snarled. It grew so livid that parts of it set on fire, flames running down its spine to accompany its aggressive snarl.
It ignored Cassy, who continued to run into the distance, peeling off her chains – choosing to focus on the impudent boy before him.
Martin went to throw a whip of fire. Feeling a brief glow of triumphant smugness from the impact of his burning blade, he found any feeling of optimism faded as the heir whacked the fire away.
Its feet beat against the floor as it edged its way forward with intensely large, sinister strides. The simmer of an earthquake followed every placement of its foot. It swiped its sharp claw toward Martin, who conjured a gust of wind just in time to surge himself upwards and out of the way.
He fell onto his back, leaving himself exposed.
The heir curled its claw into a tight fist and sent it soaring downwards into the soggy grass Martin laid upon. He rolled just in time to narrowly miss the strike, feeling the large gust brush against him as the heir retracted its bulky claw.
Martin weakly stared up at the heir, awaiting its next move. The heir lurched forward, glaring, ready for its lethal strike.
“You cannot prevent what’s coming!” it screeched so loud it forced a nearby lamppost to wave.
Martin crawled backwards, trying to get to his feet.
The heir sent its clenched paw into the ground, shaking the surface with such ferocity it sent Martin flailing into the air and curling back onto his front.
“You don’t get it, do you…”
Martin crawled forward, trying to get to his knees, but another slam sent him rolling across the floor.
He stumbled to his feet and turned away from the heir, sprinting for his life.
He was running away.
Why am I running away?
“I killed Kelly to complete my ascension,” the heir reminded Martin.
Martin turned over his shoulder, willing himself to be brave, searching for a way to fight this. But the heir was lifting its claws, storming forward, a rumbling earthquake with each step.
It was going toward him.
And Martin abruptly realised why he was running away.
I can’t fight this. It’s too strong.
“I killed Jenny to show you that fighting was futile.”
Martin tumbled to his side, falling from the shake of the earth vibrating from the impact of the heir’s heavy feet.
In the distance he saw Derek praying, Cassy diving to his side, joining in.
Another slam into the surface and Martin bounced up and down, landing on his arm with a painful howl.
He had no more spells. No more elements he could manipulate.
Fire. Wind. That was it. That was all he had mastered.
Only then did it strike him how ill-prepared he was.
It was a ridiculous thought, really.
I wasn’t ever going to be able to defeat the heir.
“Now I will kill you to end the world.”
The claw of this creature slammed over him, trapping him like a cage. He tried to find a gap in its claws that he could crawl through but he couldn’t. He was stuck. Stuck inside the sharp claws of the heir of hell.
He conjured a ball of fire and sent it into the claw.
It flinched.
But it did not falter.
The claw wrapped itself around Martin and scooped him up like he was a plate of food.
As he was swept through the air he felt the claw tighten, gripping, constricting his chest. He gasped for oxygen, helplessly punching the thick hand wrapped around him.
He was held before the heir’s face, made to look into the heir’s demonic, bloody eyes.
The grip tightened and tightened.
It suffocated him until he couldn’t breathe. He felt his insides squeeze, his muscles compress, his bones crush.
This was it.
This was his resistance.
33
The sides of the wooden cross indented into Derek’s hand, such was the tightness of his grip.
He watched in horror as the heir wrapped its sharp, curved claws around Martin’s body and squeezed, pressing all the oxygen out of his lungs.
Derek needed to do something. He needed to do it quickly.
But what?
He had no powers. Martin was the one who had the gift he was supposed to be using it to defeat this thing. That gift was already proving to be insignificant.
Derek felt Cassy’s weak hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see her wounded expression atop her feeble face.
“What can I do?” Derek wept, watching as Martin struggled to stay alive.
“Your gift,” Cassy reminded him.
“I have no gift. Eddie and Martin were the ones with the gift, not me.”
“That’s not true.” She knelt beside him and peered intently into his eyes. “Perform the exorcism. Call on Eddie. Do it now.”
Derek bowed his head. They were supposed to have the heir restrained, kept bound whilst he performed the rite of exorcism. To do it whilst the beast was still thrashing around would be near impossible.
If the heir saw Derek performing the exorcism without being restrained, it would kill him in an instant.
But he had no choice.
Clutching the cross, gripping the Bible, he leapt to his feet and marched forward. Marched toward the beast that was slowly killing Martin.
“From all evil, deliver us, oh Lord,” he began. “Deliver us, oh Eddie!”
The beast roared.
Martin’s eyelids flickered heavily. His face grew pale, his arms punching with less and less ferocity.
They were losing him.
“Hear us, Eddie. From all sin, from wrath, from sudden and provided death, hear us.”
He held his cross out before him, pointing it directly at the
hell monster that consumed Derek in shadows.
“Hold on, Martin!” Derek cried out.
Martin tried to shout back but couldn’t. His eyes were distant, staying shut longer on each heavy blink. Derek could see the fading fight on Martin’s face, endeavouring to stay conscious, to keep battling. But he was losing life, and Derek needed to act.
Derek needed Eddie to act.
“Hear us, Edward King. From the snares of the devil, from anger, hatred, and all ill will, from lightning and tempest – hear us, Edward King!”
The rain mixed with his perspiration, dripping down his face, but he didn’t feel a drop of it.
Derek glanced over his shoulder.
Cassy stood a few yards behind him. Nodding reassuringly.
“All holy saints, pass our message on,” Derek spoke.
“Deliver us, Edward King,” Cassy echoed behind him.
The heir turned its glare toward them.
But Martin no longer fought. His head slanted to the side, his eyes opening and closing groggily.
Derek’s eyes faltered, fighting tears, as he saw Martin seconds away from death.
“Be merciful, deliver us.”
“Deliver us, Edward King.”
“Hear us, Eddie, for all the good in this world, hear us!”
“Hear us, Edward King.”
The beast froze momentarily.
Hovered vacantly.
Loosened its grip.
Derek turned to Cassy, who was equally confused, then turned back to the fading face of the heir.
Derek was sure he saw a glint of an old friend in the monster’s eyes.
34
Eddie could feel the heir’s anger bursting through him, surging through his body, filling his veins with gushing blood of hate.
Every part of him was consumed with this urge for destruction. The desire to kill, maim, and torture his way to annihilation. To reach out and suffocate, to rip apart anyone or anything that opposed him.
Through the heir’s eyes, he could see Derek. Marching toward him, crucifix in hand.
“No…” whimpered Eddie. “Please, Derek, I’ll kill you…”
He felt his right hand tighten, grip around something bumpy. He turned and looked.
Martin.
The young man thrashed out at his claws, but it just felt like a twitch or a tinge of discomfort. After a few seconds, he didn’t even feel the slight discomfort anymore. The boy grew pale, his fighting growing less and less.