The World Ends Tonight

by Wood, Rick

  Eddie was killing him.

  He could feel it. The life rushing away from heaven’s saviour. The second coming being crushed into submission.

  His hand tightened around Martin’s chest, constricting his breathing with ease.

  Martin’s fighting grew weaker.

  The thrashing turned to stumbling punches, to light taps.

  Martin’s eyes closed and his head tilted.

  Then Eddie heard something. Something he wasn’t expecting to hear.

  “From the snares of the devil, from anger, from hatred,” Derek spoke, staring the heir straight in the eyes, “and all ill will from lightning and tempest – hear us, Edward King!”

  His name.

  Derek had said his name.

  Derek… Oh dear God…

  What was Derek doing?

  Then, with stark realisation, Eddie realised.

  They knew he was there. They knew Eddie was still there, behind the eyes of the heir of hell. They were trying to get to him, to his trapped soul, trying to free it from its capture. To bring him back into the heir’s body.

  “All holy saints, pass our message on,” Derek continued.

  “Deliver us, Edward King.”

  A soft, angelic voice.

  It was Cassy. She was okay.

  It’s you… My God…

  She stood behind Derek, her body hanging weakly, obviously wounded – but alive.

  “Cassy…” Eddie whimpered.

  He needed to do something. He needed to repay their faith, to find a way back, to do something rather than just watching through the eyes of the devil’s servant.

  But what?

  What could he do?

  “Be merciful, deliver us.”

  “Deliver us, Edward King.”

  His name.

  Cassy was saying his name. Derek was saying his name.

  They were doing their part, he had to do his.

  He racked his brain. What could he do?

  The heir.

  Surely, if he could see through the heir’s eyes, he could seep into other parts of him? He could feel Martin’s body growing limp in his hand. If he could feel it, could he control it?

  “Hear us, Eddie, for all the good in this world, hear us!”

  “Hear us, Edward King!”

  Martin was going to die.

  If the heir did not stop squeezing, Martin would be dead in seconds.

  It had been a while, but Eddie remembered what he had to do to conjure the elements. To throw fire like he had at the devil to rescue Derek from hell.

  It all felt so long ago.

  He had to concentrate. Feel. Listen to every sense.

  So that’s what he did.

  He listened. Rain. A pattering of rain with a distant thunder. Every bit of it striking his skin.

  His skin. Growing wet. Feeling Martin’s body within his tight clutches.

  He could smell the rain. See his former mentor and angelic sister willing him to come forth.

  He could feel hatred. Nothing but hatred. Surging through him.

  And Martin, tight in his hands.

  He gripped Martin with the heir, gripping tightly. Did what the heir was doing, so that they became one.

  Then he loosened his grip.

  He felt the heir’s hand twitch. The heir was trying to resist.

  Eddie had to concentrate.

  The rain. The thunder. Derek. Cassy.

  He opened his palm.

  Opened it and felt Martin slide out of it.

  He looked to Derek.

  A glint in Derek’s thankful eyes showed a hint of recognition. That Derek could see Eddie in there. That Derek recognised his old friend.

  Eddie lifted the heir’s arms out to the side.

  He held them rigidly, resisting the fight the heir was putting up.

  His arms shook, but Eddie was in control.

  “Do it, Derek,” he spoke. “Do it now.”

  35

  Martin fell to the ground with a thud, rolling onto his back with a pained groan.

  He wheezed, his lungs rapidly expanding, gasping for air. His muscles shook. His bones felt like jelly, wobbling under the weight of himself. He struggled to get to his knees.

  Cassy was at his side. He had no idea when she got there; he hadn’t seen her approach, but she was there, her arm around him.

  “Just wait, Martin,” Cassy prompted him. “You may have a concussion. Let yourself regain your strength.”

  “But the heir–”

  “You’ll be all right for a moment.”

  Martin turned his head toward Derek, who stood defiantly before the heir, a cross held out in his hands.

  The heir stood stiffly, with its arms held out to the side like a crucifix. There was something different about its eyes, something different about the expression pasted across its face.

  It looked… sincere.

  Its arms didn’t move. They were held rigidly to its side, the palms open, vibrating under invisible pressure.

  “Do it,” came a voice from the heir. It was a voice that did not match the face; it sounded more human somehow. “Do it now!”

  Martin looked to Cassy, full of confusion.

  “Whose voice is that?” he inquired.

  Cassy smiled.

  “Eddie,” she answered. “That’s Eddie’s voice.”

  Martin couldn’t believe it.

  “Martin, we need you!” Derek bellowed. “We need your restraint spell, now!”

  The rigid arms of the heir shook as if under an immense pressure, struggling to remain still.

  It’s Eddie… He’s doing this…

  Cassy helped Martin to his feet and he regained his balance.

  Holy crap, this could work…

  Martin stood firmly with his feet shoulder-width apart, glaring at the demon, glaring with an intensity the captive monster could not match.

  He lifted his right hand out. He rotated it in a small circle, slowly growing bigger and bigger, extending the radius of his finger’s movement.

  Sure enough, a gold circle flickered before him, taking form, growing larger and larger.

  Martin held his hands out to steady the circle, willing any flickers or breaks to disappear.

  The golden circle grew solid.

  He threw his hands out, throwing the circle forward until it latched around the demon’s body, entwining it in a forced embrace.

  The restraint tightened around the heir, forcing him into submission. Martin squeezed the circle, gripping it like an enchanted lasso.

  Martin fell onto his back. What little energy he had had been expended. He collapsed into a heap, his head hitting the ground.

  Cassy put her arms around him.

  “Come on, Martin,” she whispered softly in his ear. “You’re too strong for this.”

  “Did I do it?” Martin uttered between gasps for air.

  “Yes, Martin,” Cassy answered. “Of course you did.”

  Martin rolled onto his back.

  His eyes searched out Derek, who stared smugly back at him.

  His eyes then searched for the heir, who hovered mid-air with a tight, gold circle gripping around its chest, holding securely in place.

  Martin had done it.

  Derek could perform the exorcism.

  Eddie was in there somewhere, they knew it. They had seen it.

  36

  Never mind the damp, the cold, or the bindings around his chest. Nor the knowledge that he was no closer to a throne in hell than he was escaping from his incarceration.

  Never mind the starvation, the thirst, or the desperate longing to see light.

  It was the incessant, faraway drip that was making Bandile’s mind spin into madness.

  For as long as he had been there, an undetected dribble of water had been trickling from an unidentifiable location, a tediously repetitive soundtrack to his restricted movements.

  He had no idea how long it had been.

  Days, maybe.

&nb
sp; Or hours that seemed like days.

  He had been fed a few pieces of bread and allowed a sip of water – all before they had marched off to what Bandile presumed was their battle with the heir of hell. Their battle to bring back Edward King’s soul.

  Then they would collect Bandile.

  Take him to the battle-ground.

  Tell him to place his hand on the soul and use his Satanist values and devil-worshipping history to allow this soul to retake the form of the one they so proudly call Eddie.

  He was going to do no such thing.

  He struggled against the ropes, pushing at them, feeding his hand through a crack.

  Then, to his astonishment, his hand seeped through. He felt it flap freely in the moist air of the room.

  Then it struck him.

  His plan was to refuse to turn their saviour from a ball of elements to its human casing.

  But what if he did more…

  What if he could get free…

  Then, when Martin came to fetch him…

  He could kill the boy, as he had originally intended.

  That would be a far better plan.

  Reaching his hand upwards, straining his wrist, he grabbed the rope, squeezing it tightly, gripping his hand fully around its thick, chafing surface.

  He pulled on it.

  It was too tight, too secure for it to budge.

  But it wouldn’t be if he kept tugging.

  And, as far as he was concerned, he had all the time in the world.

  So he tugged some more. Pulled on it, lifted his hand behind the rope, twisting his wrist painfully, and pushing from underneath it.

  It loosened. Although fractionally, the rope still loosened.

  He had a chance.

  If he kept doing this, he could get free.

  If they came to find him before he managed, then fine, he could just refuse to turn the soul to human.

  But if he could do it before they came…

  If he could be free when Martin arrived…

  He could kill him.

  End it.

  Earn my place at the devil’s side.

  With a wide grin he formulated his plan, running his options through his mind.

  He pulled and pulled at the rope, gradually loosening it, imagining the cold body of Martin beneath his hands.

  37

  There is no fury like a devil’s wrath.

  The god of the underworld, the ultimate fallen angel, the sick and twisted being of torture and death.

  When you piss him off, you piss off hell.

  He detested the three puny, pathetic creatures who dared oppose him. The same insufferable humans who’d mustered pitiful attempts against him for years. Those who were ensnaring his heir to reach through to the soul of Edward King.

  The soul was trapped in a room that could not be escaped from, guarded by the strongest guard of hell, Geryon.

  But this did not dull the devil’s rage.

  “Enough!” he declared, sat lavishly upon his throne of skulls with flames firing from his body and scorching the black air. “Enough of waiting. It’s time.”

  This was more than a rapture. The rapture had been and gone. The second coming had been attempted, and it had proved unworthy of his antichrist.

  Heaven had had its time ruling over the mortal world. Their time was over.

  This was the moment he had been waiting for.

  The apocalypse of man. The scourge of pitiful, frail humans. It was time to rid them from the world.

  It would be a canal feast for his minions of hell.

  With an infuriated, hostile nod to his subordinates, he indicated it was time.

  Demons gathered at the gates of hell, bouncing with excitement, salivating at the prospect of a buffet of humanity. And, with a grand swing, the gates were opened for the first time in an eternity.

  The demons hastily climbed up the entwining roots of earth, soaring upwards, making their way from the fiery core to the surface where the humans dwelled, living out their pitiful lives while waiting for death.

  The worthy had gone to heaven. It was time to cull the rest.

  Demon after demon emerged, furious, ready for revenge. Bouncing onto the earth in various locations, devouring the helpless fools that stood in their way.

  Whilst many demons plunged themselves forward, the devil’s closest disciple took its time climbing upwards and surveying the world before him.

  This was a demon with a specific target in mind.

  This was the prince of hell.

  Balam.

  This demon had been defeated on millennium night, removed from the body of Adeline by the clutches of the mortal form of Edward King. This man had freed the soul of the heir’s sister so she could pass on to heaven, the place of her conception.

  The memory made him sick. Made him swelter with rage.

  But Edward King hadn’t known who Edward King was, or who he would really become.

  Millennium night had been when the heir had risen – only, it hadn’t emerged in the instant it rose. It had taken years for the hell within Edward King to surface and complete the Devil’s Three, but Balam had been there; Balam had witnessed it.

  Balam had been there on millennium night. Although Edward King had banished him back to hell, he had no doubt detected the coming of hell’s spawn.

  Now was the time he could take back Cassy King for his own.

  An angel.

  Pah!

  There was no agreement anymore. No truce between heaven and hell.

  No reason why she should not die and be plunged back into the pits of hell where Balam could finish her off.

  He struck a hefty fist through the thick cement, the barrier humans thought would sever their ties between their road and the soil beneath. Balam broke through the cement like it was a weak piece of bread, sending a crack down the centre of a busy road, splitting it in two, sending cars and buildings into chaos.

  He stepped forward, scowling at those who did not abruptly part out of his way. Cars screeched to a halt, except for one that sped up. Balam reached his fist out and slammed it into the bonnet of the vehicle, punching straight through, shattering it to pieces.

  All around him were lights. Images of lights, busy streets, people swarming around him.

  These people screamed and ran.

  His human head scowled at their cowardice. His other two heads – one of a bull and one of a ram – peered around at the opportunities for death and destruction. The bull head snorted as the ram head grinned.

  His flaming serpent’s tail thwacked against a nearby building, smashing windows and collapsing the brick wall. He grinned mercilessly as people dove out the of building, desperately leaping to their salvation. With a grand swipe of his tail, he lunged any remains of this building into the crack in the ground, sending them sailing, hundreds of lives screaming into the pits of hell.

  His faithful bear dove out of the pits, landing at his feet and he mounted it, ready to travel.

  He reached his arm out and grabbed a human by the neck, lifting it up to face his eyes, laughing at the intolerable weakness of its weeping face.

  “Where am I?” roared Balam.

  “T – T – Tokyo!” cried the human.

  Balam gripped the human’s neck tighter, snapping its head off like a twig.

  His bear galloped, taking Balam into the air, onwards to his destination.

  Toward the United Kingdom, where Cassy dwelled and fought, protected by her two feeble little friends.

  All around the world, similar scenes of chaos descended upon man.

  In Hungary the earth opened, swallowing green countryside, turning it to flames.

  The perfectly curved body of a demon sprang up; a vile, scaly woman with her mouth covered by a piece of cloth, a spike running down her spine that met a large tail whipping balls of fire back and forth. Tezrian, the goddess of war, surveyed its locale with eyes determined to ensure conflict ensued in her wake.

  Umtata, South A
frica. A small field full of huts.

  The son of Bandile Thato dropped to his knees and prayed as he gawked at the indistinguishable face of Vetis, the tempter of the holy.

  Vetis’ body was brown like wood, with a white beard beneath a long, distorted face, and a grey mullet behind large antlers. Its tail whipped and thrashed, destroying lives with an instant scrape of its sharp point. It flew over Thato, its large wings beating against the wind.

  The tempter of the holy had already done its job with the child’s father. Now it needed to find more innocents, forcing them to deal pain upon those they love.

  Across the world, demon after demon descended.

  Horns, antlers, whipping sharp tails, fierce claws, and red, fiery eyes.

  The cities turned to splattered locations of death. The countryside stained with blood. The smell of fire and rotting hung on the air.

  Masses of demons, hordes of monsters, all with one thing on their mind.

  38

  Derek held the cross out like a sword, directing it at the heir, who hovered helplessly before him.

  The heir’s eyes were full of malice. Angry snarls as it writhed and struggled against the restraints. Its claws kept retracting and opening again, wanting to be used, wanting to serve a lethal blow as punishment for daring to do this.

  Derek knew this spell wouldn’t hold him.

  He knew it was only managing because of Eddie.

  And when the spell broke, the heir’s temper would not be easily contained.

  He had to be fast. He had to concentrate, to do what he could.

  Exorcisms on weak demons could last hours, days, even weeks.

  This was an exorcism on the most powerful demon to have ever existed, and it had to be done in minutes.

  But Derek hadn’t time to consider the odds.

  Besides, Eddie had found the power to exorcise a demon in far shorter periods of time. If he was battling from his end, Derek knew that they stood a chance.

  If only a small one.

  “From all evil deliver us, Edward King.”

  “Deliver us, Edward King,” Cassy echoed, nudging Martin to join them.