by Wood, Rick
Maybe Jenny wouldn’t be mad at her. Maybe Jenny wouldn’t be dead. Maybe Jenny…
“I’m sorry,” Lacy muttered. Her final parting words to the woman she had loved for almost twelve years.
49
Aisha watched as Elisha’s body turned to a fiery mess. Within seconds, the beast had lit her on fire, committing her body to a bitter end.
Aisha fell to the floor, collapsing to her knees.
What the hell was she meant to do against this… thing?
Elisha couldn’t do anything.
Everything she’d done… Every accomplishment, every smile, every ounce of love she’d given – gone. In seconds.
Tee-Yong threw himself forward, furiously circling his arms, raising bricks from a nearby construction site into the air, mixing them with chains from a swing set and charred remains of surrounding corpses – and he hurled them at the beast.
It did nothing.
The heir snarled an arrogant snarl, booming a conceited smile at the feeble attempt of this puny human.
Its claw stuck through the chest of Tee-Yong, ripping his body apart, then threw the leftovers across the field until he was out of sight.
“No!” Aisha cried out.
All around her was death.
Fire.
Blood.
Guts.
Remains of people just like her, except with exceptional powers.
She was meant to rival this thing?
She couldn’t even stand on her feet without her legs wobbling.
Finally mustering the strength to run, she got to her feet and turned. She ran. Where to, she didn’t know, she just ran.
Past the hopeless battle waging around her.
Past the people she had just begun to call friends.
This was the first time she missed home. Missed the streets. Missed the sick bastards who tormented her as she tried to sleep.
Martin. She saw Martin.
Finally, some hope.
Except, there wasn’t. His eyes were feeble. Helpless.
Even he didn’t have faith they could win.
Almost everyone was dead.
She sprinted as fast as she could, and didn’t look back.
50
Bodies were falling, and falling fast.
Martin could hardly believe it. All around him was death. Entrails hanging from people whose faces he knew. Powerful people.
Spell after spell attacked the beast. It pushed the heir back inches, then the heir leapt forward yards.
Across the park, Martin could see Jenny’s open body in Lacy’s weeping arms.
His heart sank. The reason he had risked all of this. The reason these people had marched to their deaths, in defence of him, trusting what he decided.
Jenny had been dead before they’d even arrived.
Martin looked across the field to Derek, who wore a similar pained face.
Their eyes met each other’s for a solemn moment. In that moment, it was as if everything went into slow motion. Bodies were flung at sluggish speed and every second Derek’s lost eyes met his were deliberate torment.
“We need to pull back!” Derek shouted across the field at Martin.
Martin was stumped. Rooted to the spot. Paralysed.
How could such decisions be his?
No one they recruited was left. They had been slaughtered, ripped apart, without even standing a chance.
As the beast lifted its claw to meet another victim, Martin stood forward.
“Enough!” he bellowed.
The beast paused and turned to Martin.
He removed his jacket and stepped forward.
“It’s me who’s meant to kill you, not them,” Martin declared.
Derek clambered forward. “Martin, what are you doing?”
“Check for survivors, get them out of here,” he demanded, without diverting his glare from the heir.
“But–”
“I thought I was in charge, weren’t I?” Martin snarled at Derek.
With an obedient nod, Derek searched the bodies for signs of life, managing to help one or two to their escape.
The beast didn’t care. It swivelled its full attention to Martin.
As Martin stood in the rain, water parading upon him, sickening death strewn over all the fields, he truly felt everything they had lost.
And one last glance at Jenny’s remains being dragged away by Lacy was all he needed to give him that final piece of motivation.
He felt ready.
“So, it is true?” boomed the voice of the heir. “You are what we thought.”
Martin paced in a circle around the beast, furrowing his brow, clenching his fists.
“Yeah, I’m the one who’s supposed to kill you, an’ all that,” Martin announced cockily.
“You’re young. You’re pathetic. And you’re supposed to go up against the antichrist?”
Enough trash talk.
Martin remembered what had been taught to him.
Remembered the teachings of Father Douglas.
Last time he faced Eddie he had been hasty; he had been ill-prepared, like a child taken by surprise.
This time he had enough awareness to fully access his gift.
In a single second he closed his eyes, and dragged that second out for as long as he needed it. He quietened his mind, shut down every thought. Every niggling doubt, every worry, every anxiety – gone.
Every time he had claimed with self-deprecation that he wasn’t good enough.
Every time he had felt lonely that he had no friends, no family.
Every time he had felt he couldn’t do what was expected of him.
It went. Disappeared in a puff. Leaving his mind in total blankness. Vacant wisdom filling his empty thoughts.
Then he soaked up the environment. Took in everything.
The smell of fine rain mixed with a rotting stench of death.
The feel of water punching and punching him in the face, in the gut, in the chest. Every ounce of water that rebounded off his skin, he felt it soak him.
The sound of the thunder, lightning, poisoning the sky, echoing a looming premonition of doom.
The taste of rainwater mixing with his blood and saliva.
Opening his eyes, he took in the last aspect of his surroundings. What he could see.
A scared little creature. Something that claims to be evil but made of man. Something that will never amount up to what it was meant to be.
Martin screamed.
He threw his arms forward, spewing fire in a rapid repetition of flames beating against the beast.
He held one arm in the air to continue this fire, then opened his other palm again, and again, and again. Each time he opened his palm another sharp spike flew toward the beast.
Ripping his arms away to look at the damage he had done, he realised it was nothing.
The beast was unscathed.
The beast struck, and Martin fell onto his back, knocked unconscious.
Everything went black.
51
“You really, truly are a remarkable young man.”
Martin’s eyes opened to a flicker of white. As he opened his eyes further, he had to cover them to shield him from the sheer brightness of the scene before him.
Once his eyes had adjusted, he found himself sitting on the floor of a forest. There was no rain, no wind, nothing. Just a bright, beaming sun shining down upon him, next to brightly covered trees and the perfect smell of recently mowed grass.
“What?” Martin mumbled.
Cassy reached out her arm, taking Martin’s hand in hers and helping him up.
“Where are we?” Martin asked. The last thing he remembered, he was throwing fire at the heir of hell.
“Oh, right now?” Cassy stuck her bottom lip out and thought. “Right now, you are lying unconscious in a field, the heir of hell approaching you, just before you are about to die.”
“I’m about to die?” Martin repeated hysterically. “Then let me
go back, I need to defend myself!”
Cassy smiled wryly and placed a comforting hand on his back. She guided him to a log, where they both sat.
“What you have done,” she told him, “is incredibly brave. You have decided you are ready, you have the power, you have decided you have it within you and you have stood up to the beast. You really, really are a magnificent young man.”
“And what? Now I’m going to die?”
“No, you’re going to return momentarily. I just thought we could have a nice chat first.”
She clasped her hands together and looked around the beautiful scenery that lay before her. Wildlife, green and purple leaves, various kinds of plants. It was an incredible scene.
Martin, however, wasn’t paying attention to it. He was staring at Cassy, waiting for her to continue.
“About anything in particular?” he retorted.
Cassy chuckled and looked to him with that warm, graceful stare that put him instantly at ease.
“As gallant as you are,” she continued, “it is not time yet. The heir will attack the world and you will stand between it then, yes – but right now, I’m sorry. You are not ready.”
“I’m not ready? What about all that believing I’m ready shit?”
“That’s just part of the journey you have to go through, and you needed to go through it.”
“I… I don’t get it.”
Cassy looked deep into Martin’s eyes, peering into the window of his soul. She respected him too much for him not to be told the truth.
It was time.
“Do you have any idea why it is you who is involved in this? Why you?”
“Honestly, not a bit.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Martin glared at her. “You mean you knew? All along, you knew?”
“I have always known,” Cassy admitted. “But I have had restrictions placed on me, the same way you have. You could not have trained under the pretence of fate; you had to do this of your own free will. Now, I think it is time.”
Martin shook himself out of his annoyance and cleared his head. This was important. This was the answer he had been after for so long.
“The devil, as you probably know, is a fallen angel. He was once a warrior of heaven, like me, but he was cast down to hell for his wicked ways. Since then, he has always been clamouring for control over earth, the in between, the only place neither heaven nor hell owns. Heaven cannot intervene because interfering with free will is an abomination, but hell does not care about such things. But more recently, we broke that vow, Martin. And we broke it twice.”
“What do you mean?”
“The devil wanted his own messiah, same way heaven had theirs two thousand years ago. So, he decided to make it happen, and he conjured from nothing a soul, and planted it within a woman.
“In 1972, the devil had a child conceived by evil with a woman on earth. In 1973, that woman gave birth to that boy. His name was Edward King.”
“You mean, Eddie wasn’t really a human?”
“He was half-human. His mother’s side. But as for the evil that lurked within him, there was nothing that could stop that from coming to the forefront.
“So, in retaliation, heaven had a child conceived out of good, with the same woman. A sister, born in 1975. By the name of Cassy King.
“Me.”
Martin stared at Cassy in astonishment. No wonder she was an angel – she was a child of heaven!
“Unfortunately, things didn’t go well, and when hell found out about heaven’s conception, a pact was made. We would both kill our children to avoid a war coming to earth.
“As a result, both me and Eddie were hit by a car whilst riding our bikes in 1984. We both crossed over to the other side, and heaven thought that was it.
“But when heaven wasn’t aware, hell reached into purgatory, latching a demon called Lamashtu onto Edward King, and pulled him back to earth. Eddie lived, Cassy died. Evil was now on earth without a balance to the equation.
“But then heaven did find out. And that’s where you come in.”
“Me?”
Martin couldn’t figure it out. How on earth did he fit into this?
“Unbeknownst to hell, we conceived another child out of good, in the year 1986. A child who would balance the equation, one who would be the warrior for good on earth, should this evil rise.
“His name was Martin.”
Martin’s jaw dropped. His eyes fixated on Cassy, then drew away as he let her words wash over him. Slowly, they sunk in.
But he was still speechless.
“You see, Martin, this is why you need to believe in yourself,” she told him, placing a hand on his shoulder and turning him toward to her. “Because despite one of you being conceived by evil and one by good, you both share the same amount of power from each source. You, Martin, are just as powerful as Eddie is. Only your power comes from heaven, not hell.
“You just need to access it.
“And that is why you aren’t ready. Your skills need to match his, and right now, they don’t. And you need to escape; otherwise he will win, and you will die before you ever have a chance to fulfil your potential.
“If you die, there is nothing else that will protect earth. Hell will open, and everything within it will be let out.”
Martin stood. He felt lightheaded, oddly giddy. Feeling as light as a feather, he jigged his body in readiness, surging with energy, bursting at the seams with a want to fight.
“So how do I escape?” he asked.
“I will distract the beast,” Cassy declared. “Once he is distracted, you leave.”
“Okay,” Martin vehemently nodded, adrenaline rushing through his unconscious body. “I’m ready.”
52
Martin’s eyes shot open.
He rolled to his side, dodging a claw that went digging into the ground.
Jumping to his feet he dove, avoiding a swipe at his legs.
He spun on his heel and ran, sprinting away from the beast, away from a certain death.
But soon, he found he wasn’t running anywhere. His feet had risen from the ground. His legs were scarpering at high speed, but in the middle of the air, against nothing.
Behind him, the beast roared.
It had him.
Then a bright, shining white light decorated the sky, bursting forward with extreme intensity. The beast flinched its eyes away and Martin was able to drop to the floor as it loosened its telekinetic grip.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her. Adorned in her white dress, her glowing hair, the strong light behind her.
Cassy stood directly before what used to be her brother.
The beast narrowed its eyes.
Martin couldn’t move. He knew Cassy was an angel, but… this was the heir of hell.
What if he killed her?
No. Cassy is doing this so I can get free. She wouldn’t want me to stick around.
He ran.
But the roar of the beast once against floored him, paralysing him. He turned and watched as Cassy stood before the creature that stood so much taller than her.
She held out her hand.
“No.” She shook her head. “You will not pass me.”
The beast swung its claw out and Cassy flew into the air to dodge it by mere inches.
Martin couldn’t go. He couldn’t leave her.
As if sensing his hesitance, Cassy turned over her shoulder and made seizing, defiant eye contact with him.
“Go!” she demanded.
Come on. Pick yourself up and run. Do it now.
“Why do you wish to protect this child?” the beast mused.
Martin leapt to his feet. With another insurgence of adrenaline, he forced his way forward.
“He is my equal, isn’t he?” were the final words Martin heard echo from the beast’s mouth.
Once he reached the fence at the far side of the field, he looked over his shoulder. The rain was still moving quickly, and he coul
dn’t see well enough into the distance to know what was going on.
He couldn’t see if Cassy was okay.
“Cassy…”
It took all his strength to will himself on, to push himself forward.
She wouldn’t want you to die because you stuck around to see what happened. She’s doing this for you, you idiot. Just move!
He leapt over the bench and splashed his heavy feet through the flooded road before him.
He ran, and ran, and ran.
Soon, the rain faded and dawn approached. The hazy morning sky cast a little light over the drenched scene. Roads, fields, houses, were all flooded from the torrential night’s rain.
Martin was out of breath, no idea where he was, no idea where he had run to.
No idea what had happened to Cassy.
Furiously panting, he leant against a wall and fell to the ground. He ended up sitting in a puddle, but he didn’t care.
He had the truth now.
He knew what his purpose was. Why he had been chosen.
He knew what his potential was.
Next time they faced each other, he would be ready.
He swore to himself he would be ready.
53
18 March 2003
Lacy didn’t manage to make it all the way through her eulogy. She tried, and Martin knew everyone appreciated that, but the tears were too much.
Being the gentleman that he was, Derek had stood next to her in case, and offered to carry on. Taking the note, he finished Lacy’s final words.
Then everyone stood in complete silence.
The coffin travelled behind the curtain and, as the flames that cremated Jenny’s body pushed the curtain outwards, Martin struggled to keep his composure.
Glancing to Derek, he saw him doing his best to do the same. He had never seen Derek cry. Martin was sure that in the corner of Derek’s eyes there was a reddened dampness, trying to seek its way out. But that’s all Derek gave.
Martin couldn’t bear to look at Lacy. He could hear her over the deafening silence. She was inconsolable. It made him distraught to even try to imagine the pain she was in. Not just the death, but the tragic circumstance. The culprit who committed the murder. The good Jenny was trying to do at the time.