by Roy Bright
He looks out toward the camp, to where Gary and Abi are resting, trying to grab some sleep. His mind attempts to work out the effect of the connection made between them earlier today. “Well, it sure as hell helped, kid. I was packing one hell of a wallop for a while after you did that.” He looks at her again. “It was a massive help, so thank you.” He looks back to the camp.
“You’re welcome.” She smiles.
He runs the incident through in his mind again. He is beginning to make sense of it. Somehow, she must be able to infuse him with a holy power, a power that allows him to match the creature’s abilities when they are in demon form, something that he has much needed in the past. He couldn’t be sure if she could always do it or it was just a one off, so he had better be more prepared for them next time, and not get sucker-punched like he did back at the motel. He curses himself for falling for the ‘knock and hide on the roof’ trick. He should have remembered that from the saloon in 1845. He shakes his head. “Charlotte, can I ask you a question about this voice? Do you know who it is?”
“No! It’s not my voice and I’m not nuts, if that’s what you are thinking.”
He laughs, “No, sweetie, that’s not what I was thinking at all.” He laughs again. “I just want to know why it has told us to bring the cop and the girl along that’s all. Seems strange that it would burden us with people that could be more of a, well hindrance, than help.”
“I really don’t know but it has spoken to me many times and always been right and always helped. It told me that you were coming to save me and you did.”
“What, it mentioned me by name?”
“No, it just kept telling me where to go and when. Told me to go into the classroom and get up against the wall, then you came and saved me. It always helps.”
He mulls this over for a second and concludes that whatever is happening here, it has to be divine intervention although, by his knowledge, the Council above would disapprove of such a thing. Whatever it is, it is helping so he will not look a gift horse in the mouth.
She sits up and turns to him. “Judas, may I ask you a question now, please?”
He looks at her for a second, knowing what she wants to ask. “You want to know why I betrayed Jesus, don’t you?”
She nods.
He sighs, taking a second to reflect. He rubs his forehead with his left hand. “It’s very complicated, sweetie. I had gone into the whole thing with the best of intentions, really I did, but eventually I was forced to make a decision, a decision that I thought was best for my family. Turns out it was the wrong one.” He smiles at her, “Look, let’s get you through all of this and when it’s over, if I have time, I’ll tell you about it. Okay?”
She nods and smiles then points to his left arm, at his tattoos. “What are those?”
He looks down to where she is pointing. “Those? They are my tattoos, sweetie. You never seen tattoos before?”
She shakes her head, “No. What are they for?”
He laughs, “Well, just… decoration, I guess.”
“Who are they? The pictures, I mean?” she asks, running her small hand over the images, tracing the lines.
He pulls the left arm of his tee shirt up. “Well, honey, the top two are of a vampire from a comic book.”
“A vampire! Why would you have a vampire on you?” She says, screwing up her face.
He laughs once again.
“Well, this is one cool vampire. He is the vampire Alucard and is the protector of the English. He works for a secret organization and although he is a terrible monster, he still works hard to fight for the ones he is sworn to protect. I have always found him to be, interesting. The comics are pretty cool to be honest.” He winks at her.
She giggles, “But comics are for kids.”
He chuckles to each of her responses. He is enjoying this little bit of back and forth; it makes him feel normal, and he likes it.
“Not these comic books, sweetie. These would give kids nightmares, trust me. Anyway the top two are Alucard and the bottom one on my forearm is his helper, a young girl he turns into a vampire to save her life after he shoots her to prevent her from being killed by another vampire.”
She looks puzzled, “So, he tries to kill her because another vampire nearly kills her, then bites her making her a vampire to stop her from being killed?” She shakes her head, “It’s all very confusing, Judas.”
He guffaws. This is another of life’s emotions he has not had the opportunity to enjoy in many, many years. It makes him feel warm and even more important than that, wanted. As the voice inside his head said earlier, welcome back to the human race. He rubs the top of her head.
“When you put it like that then I guess it is all a bit confusing, sweetie, I guess it is.”
“How did you get them?”
“Well, I used to sleep in the alley behind a comic book store over in Jersey City quite a few years back and—”
She cuts him short, “That’s where you got the comics from!”
“Yes, exactly,” he smiles. “There was a dumpster at the back where comics that were in poor condition were thrown into and I would dig them out and read through them. Anyway, as I was saying, it was behind the comic store and next to a tattoo shop called Big Jay’s Tattoos.” He smiles, “Big Jay was a good guy but he had some very bad friends, some really nasty types that he owed money to. Well, one day these nasty people came calling, they wanted their money back you see and they took Big Jay out into the alley and, well, let’s just say they weren’t being very nice to him.”
Her face grows concerned, “Were they killing him?”
He sighs and strokes her hair. “They weren’t being very nice, sweetie, let’s just say that.” He smiles, “So I decided to do something about it. We won’t go into the details but they never came back after that day, nor did anyone else for that matter. I helped Big Jay get to a hospital and get medical attention; he never forgot it. He asked me how he could possibly repay me for such kindness; offered to help get me back on my feet, but I couldn’t take his money or charity, I knew the rules. So I just asked him to tattoo me and he did.” He holds his arms up, displaying the tattoos, a look of pride on his face. “I figured that I was getting something from him in return for saving his life and that it wasn’t directly benefitting me, so I would be okay to. Something like that had worked before you see and since I never got a visit from above to say I couldn’t have them and also that they kept reappearing even if I was damaged, I figured I was good to keep them. So there you have it.”
He smiles at her and she smiles back.
He decides against revealing his crowning glory piece to her, a large crucifix on his chest, with Jesus Christ hanging from it, a gun pointing at his head from the vampire piece at the top of his arm. He thinks the symbolic reference of this would be lost on the little girl.
“You like helping people don’t you?” she says, her gaze fixed ahead.
He looks at her in surprise, “Why would you say that?”
“Well, with the exception of me and the missions you are given, you don’t really need to do the good deeds you do, but all the same, you do them. So, you like helping people. I like that.”
“Guess I do,” he says, turning his attention back to ahead of him, “But I can be a proper grump, so lots of people probably wouldn’t want me helping them anyway.” He smirks.
She smiles and nestles back under his arm and they sit in silence for a long time.
He continues to survey the camp area, trying to make sense of the power that Charlotte seems to possess within her.
“I don’t want to die, Judas.” She states it in such a blunt manner that it shocks him.
He moves her out from under his arm and looks into her eyes. “Charlotte, I promise you with my very soul, may it be damned for eternity, that I will ensure nothing will happen to you.”
She looks at him and frowns.
He cocks his head to the left and smiles. “Well, damned for eternity a second
time.”
She giggles then holds up her right-hand little finger, “Pinkie swear?”
He laughs back and hooks his little finger around hers, shaking it, “Pinkie swear.”
He cuddles her back under his arm and they say nothing more, instead continuing to watch the sun descend, bringing them a little step closer to their time to leave this beautiful place.
Twenty-One
Zenaku stands at the far end of the penthouse suite in the Tonada building and he is nervous. The room has once again embraced a flood of darkness that has swept away every last drop of white that once gleamed within. This time the darkness does not recede, it remains. His Master stands before him; his displeasure with the events of the last few hours evident.
“Zenaku, my friend, things are not going well.”
The deepness in his master’s voice, the slowness of speech, the dryness of tone all indicate a frightening yet calm delivered incensement, that has him gripped with fear. A demon as old as time itself he may be, but what stands before him is the prime of all things hell born and his suffering will be long and agonizing if he wishes it so. He has not had to deal with such feelings for an eternity and one false move, one ill worded response to a challenging question would find him in the abyss, tortured for the rest of time. “Master, I can only apologize for my subordinates’ lack of skill and their inability to carry out your wishes.
They were of reasonable rank and they should have claimed this task with ease.”
“No, Zenaku, they could not.”
He looks at his Master in confusion.
The darkness draws itself over the room, focusing into one point, merging into a shimmering veil. A form approaches Zenaku. It leans into the right side of his face, almost touching him. He feels the ice-cold breath of the old one mist down his neck as his voice murmurs into his right ear, “From the moment they failed to make good on my request and capture the girl, allowing Iscariot to come into play, they were doomed to failure. They never possessed the skills needed to defeat him.”
Zenaku closes his eyes and bows his head as he knows what the exact next words from his Master’s mouth will be.
“And I doubt you do also.”
He winces.
“That is why you must now leave this tower and enter the battle. That is why you must face Iscariot in a glorious fight to your longest death.” The shimmering Darkness stands back, returning some distance between them.
He shakes his head, annoyed at his Master’s apparent lack of faith. Was he testing him? Testing his ability? His resolve? He raises his head, once again facing his Master. “I can beat him. I will face him and beat him. I have done so before, Master.”
The room returns to its natural state. White walls, marble floors and the view of the city replace the darkness. The cold and frightening form evaporates with the change of mood, and the chirpy British speaking, human version of his Master stands before him.
“Ahhh, Zenaku, enough of this Master business. Today, you may call me, Lucifer.”
He does not like this one bit. Lucifer is up to something; he never allows his subordinates to call him by name and that fills him with dread. “Mast—, I mean, Lucifer. I know I can beat him and bring both he and the girl before you for the final ceremony. Please, just have faith in me.”
“Zenaku, you don’t seem to understand.”
He saunters over to Zenaku’s chair, the chair that signifies power in the room and sits down. Crossing and uncrossing his legs, he shifts within it and then once again; appearing uncomfortable with his first choice of posture. He sighs and ceases his wriggling, then altogether gives up to the fact that the position he is in will just have to do. Sitting back, he crosses his legs whilst at the same time rests his hands on top of his right knee; fingers interlinked save for the steepled index ones. He taps them together and smiles. “Please, sit.” He motions towards the other end of the table, the end normally reserved for lesser beings in Zenaku’s own presence.
He does as he is asked, although his dislike and anxiety for the situation grows.
Lucifer smiles once again. “You see, my friend, taking the child and performing the ritual on her seventh birthday, the exact moment of her seventh birthday, is only part of the story.”
Zenaku frowns.
“What I mean by that, my Japanese friend, is that I needed to spend three days with her, corrupting her, breaking down her spirit so that when I eventually kill her, she will be broken and bitter, and absorbing her will be the very end for man, the end for His favorites.” He motions upwards with his eyes. “That way, they will never find the strength again to fight back and this world will bedesignedtomy liking, not His.”
Zenaku nods in agreement, now understanding the nature of Lucifer’s plan
“So you see, Zenaku, why things are not going according to plan. I am running out of precious mind fuck days with the girl. I have the smallest window of opportunity to work with here as I am physically unable to touch her with my own hands until the final moment of her current age or until she has lost all hope. When either one or both of those things happen, then and only then, can I absorb her! But if I break her spirit, oh Zenaku my friend, if I break her spirit, then the benefits are so much greater.” He grins. A grin that draws his face into a point of pure evil. He remains that way for a few seconds, relishing the thought. The grin then subsides, frustration for the situation’s current standing returning. “However, needless to say, breaking someone’s spirit in one or even two days is a lot bloody harder than three.” The grin disappears in full, replaced by anger. “Three fucking days! I hate prophecies, Zenaku. Prophecies present rules and rules just piss me off. Why couldn’t the prophecy have allowed me one full calendar year to fuck with the child’s head, huh?”
Zenaku opens and closes his mouth, trying to present an answer but unable to, resorts to shaking his head.
He stares at Zenaku for a moment, calms himself down, smiles then stands and ambles towards his end of the table, running his left hand over the surface. A long, sharp fingernail screeches a deep scratch into it as it slides over the glass. He sits on the edge of the table, just in front of Zenaku and taps at the table. “I was the first to speak to him you know after the, err, big event.” He stops tapping and imitates the image of Jesus hanging on the cross. “Tested the water with him, I did. Tested him to see how far corruption had seeped into his veins, if it had truly taken him at all. He was trying to kill himself, unaware that He upstairs had cursed him. I stood there, watching him. Watched him squirm at the end of a noose, wondering why the hell he hadn’t died. I laughed so hard I almost pissed my pants.”
They smirk at one another.
“Of course, he didn’t know it was me. I just posed as some regular demon seemingly attempting to entice him with promises of betterment in hell.” He chuckles. “I tell you this much though, that boy learned a valuable lesson watching his friend die on the cross, because I have to say, he is pretty much incorruptible now and this is why he is a major thorn in our side and why I am extremely disappointed at the way things are going.” His expression grows dark, menacing and angry once again, plunging Zenaku back into the depths of fear having enjoyed a brief respite from it within the discussion.
He is right to be afraid as Lucifer explodes. Standing, he slams a clawed right hand onto the top of his head and lifts him out of the chair, bringing him towards his face, into his direct eye level. His face is a grotesque mixture of his true and human forms and razor-sharp teeth grimace at him. He is terrified.
Lucifer rages.
“Listen to me, my good puppet! This is my time and you will not fuck it up. I want you to understand where your plight truly rests, so I am giving you this gift!” His hand radiates blinding light then bursts into blazing fire.
It circles Zenaku’s head then swarms into his eyes, ears and mouth. It rolls over his body, circling him, fast and aggressive. He screams and it is bloodcurdling; one that tears through the room, reverberating off every
surface, echoing and intensifying, creating madness itself.
He releases his grip, dropping a jittering Zenaku to the ground with a dull thud and he thrashes and fits as Lucifer stares at him.
Finally, he stops and lies there, motionless, saliva seeping from his open mouth, his eyes wide; vacant.
“This is your final incentive, Zenaku. What I have passed to you means that if you fall at the hands of Iscariot this time, you will fall for eternity and your existence will be no more. You will never return. Now get to your feet, you incompetent fool and let my will be done.” He raises his right hand and, with a flick of his wrist, lifts the paralyzed demon off the ground. “This building, this sanctuary, is no longer your domain. I want you out there. I want you to find her, and I want you to bring her to me, the only reason for you not to, being your defeat. Now go!” He releases his telekinetic grip and he drops to the floor. Lucifer spreads out his arms and rises up into the air as black, flamed wings erupt from his back and he drifts outside, moving through the plate glass window backwards as though it didn’t exist. He stares at Zenaku a final time with fierce, burning eyes and then, he is gone.
Zenaku stumbles to his feet. He grips the glass table in order to steady himself as his mind burns with the fierce pain, not yet subsided. He takes out his cellphone from an inside jacket pocket and dials. The phone rings four times.
A nervous voice answers.
“You can’t keep calling me whilst the investigation is ongoing, too many traces or questions on my part will expose me and—”
“Shut up. Shut up, you fucking maggot,” he says, blazing into the phone, welcoming the return of power within his own walls. “I want their location and I fucking want it now or I will tear the skin off you and every person that you have ever known and loved, do you hear me?”
Intense anxiety has taken hold of the voice on the other end and it stammers, “Of course… please… don’t… I’m… sorry… just give me a minute.”