by David Risen
The bear rose of on its back feet and roared.
Rider didn’t know much about bears, but he was certain that what he was seeing was a display of dominance.
“STOP,” a woman cried, five feet to the left of him from the cover of the trees.
Rider dared not take his eyes off the bear even as he felt the other person approaching.
The bear dropped back down to all fours and sniffed the air again.
The woman appeared before Rider, and he could hardly believe his eyes. Dressed in hiking boots, a red flannel shirt, and a fur cap, Lauren Fields-Rider approached the bear slowly and casually.
The bear looked down to the ground in what Rider also surmised was a show of submission.
She rubbed the bear’s muzzle.
Rider dropped his rifle.
The bear turned and disappeared into the woods.
Lauren turned to face him. She looked stressed, and her eyes were full of anger.
“If you had shot him, you probably would have just pissed him off.”
Rider glared at her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
She looked down at the ground and adjusted her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
“Saving your bacon.”
Rider smirked. “You realize I’m here to crack your little safe, right?”
She gave him an uncomfortable look. “I know why you’re here.”
“What’s your game this time?”
She bit her lower lip and propped her fists on her hips. “Your mother was right about you.”
Rider huffed. “She’s not my mother, or anyone else’s. And anything she’s ever said to your group of girlfriends about me is poisonous and wrong.”
Lauren dropped her hands to her sides and shook her head. “On paper, she was one of the most effective Sisters in history, but I agree that her intentions were always aggressively self-serving.”
“Where is the cunt now? I’m sure she’s around here somewhere pulling the puppet strings on this little venture of yours.”
Lauren shook her head and looked down to the ground. “She’s dead.”
Though Rider thought he hated her with all his being, the news of her demise punched him in the gut harder than any opposing linebacker that he ever faced.
“How?”
She looked away from him as if ashamed.
“It wasn’t your fault. And what she told me, she said beyond the grave.”
Rider squinted. “And how did you speak to her after she died?”
Lauren cocked her head. “She called me in a dream. She’s in hell. She’s been there for over a thousand years.”
Rider rolled his eyes.
“I’ve been researching it, and I think I know some things about the Celestial Shards that we’ve forgotten.”
“Like what?”
She sighed. “You’ve got our order all wrong, and our order misunderstands its own purpose. We’re not here to stop you at any cost. Per a more correct translation of the ‘Profezia Apocalittica,’ we are supposed to ‘test’ the Celestial Shards using a prescribed sequence of trials. Your mother, from hell, warned me against playing dirty.”
Rider grinned. “Mom? No, I’m sure that wasn’t her. And why would she warn you?”
She gave him another look of shame. “I guess you don’t know. I’m the new Grand Arch Sorceress.”
Rider glowered at her. “You’re the queen bitch?”
She frowned. “I’m not the same as your mother or the woman who came before. I just want to do the right thing.
“Our order is supposed to protect mortality from destruction at the hands of maleficent forces. By every ancient account, the Celestial shards, though they are an instrumental part of the natural end of mortality, are not evil.
“The fact that you are mentioned in the Compendium of Malevolent Spirits shows exactly how contrary to our own mandate the order has digressed.”
Rider leaned toward her. “Why the hell are you here?”
She gave him a sad smile. “I’m not here as The Grand Arch Sorceress, but as your wife and your friend.”
“I’m here to expose you.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re here to break the seal and free the Abysmal Matron. That is the dictate of fate.”
“Okay?”
“The next marker was when the Conciliator Shards began to break the law of mortality, and became too powerful for the sisterhood to put down. Both the Conciliator Patron and Matron have reached that status.”
Rider shuffled his feet.
“Then you know who they are?”
She nodded. “And my order misused that information. The past two Grand Arch Sorceresses wanted to kidnap the shards, imprison their souls in their own bodies, and hijack mortality and the wyrding. That’s why they bound your spirit to an infant and the spirit of your mate. It was always the intention of the order to take you both.”
Rider shook his head slowly.
“We were wrong, and I didn’t know any of this until I became the Grand Arch Sorceress.”
Rider glowered at her. “Why do you suddenly care?”
She sighed. “Because my immortal soul is at stake.”
Rider gave her a smug look. “So, you’re going to make nicey-nicey in hopes that Daddy won’t kick your ass?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not just that. You can’t be married to someone for twelve years and bare children with him without feeling something for him.”
He smirked. “I’m not evil anymore?”
She shook her head. “You never were. The Abysmal Patron label is a bad translation. What the original prophecy calls you is ‘The Father of Wrath or Fury.’”
Rider snarled. “I – don’t – trust – you.”
She sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “I’m not here as the Grand Arch Sorceress. I’m here because we’ve unleashed something on this mountain that we shouldn’t have, and I want to ease your burden.”
Rider stood up straight and bunched his lips.
“So, that’s it, huh? You expect me to start gushing as soon as you ring your little affection and sentimentality bell?”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “You must think I’m a real idiot.”
She turned to the side and extended her hand toward the path ahead.
“Fine, go, but I’ll be right behind you, anyway. Wouldn’t you rather have the most powerful woman in the world in front or beside you so you can see what she’s doing? And I’ll not even mention the fact that I have loads of experience with wayward spirits, and you have none.”
Rider furled his brow. “Who said anything about wayward spirits? I’m here to find an entrance to the mines.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not getting in through the mines. The ghost town is surrounded by a barrier made of lost souls and stitched together with sorrow. The only way you’re getting in there is to free wayward spirits.”
Rider shook his head. “That’s not what the Forestry Service guy said.”
She rolled her eyes again. “This is my mountain. Are you going to believe the Witch who crafted the wards, or a hick?”
Rider sighed.
“I don’t know about you, but if I had to walk through hell with someone, I would want it to be one of the most powerful people in the world.”
Lucifer sat Indian style in the doorway of the lean-to eating Campbell’s Chunky Soup out of the can and peering at Amelia.
Beyond him, the light of the evening was fading to twilight, and Amelia heard stirring in the woods beyond as the creatures of the night began to prepare themselves for their nocturnal hunting rituals.
“It’s getting much colder now,” he said. “By nightfall it will be down in the 40s.”
Amelia turned her head away. “I’d rather cut my tongue out than have a conversation with you.”
Lucifer pursed his lips, and then he gave her a genuinely hurt look.
“I don’t know why you and I can’t just be friends. We have the same goal. I wan
t your friend inside that city as much as you, and I also want you to find your way, too.”
“Why?”
He gave her a pale smile. “I’m not the boogey man that religions have made me out to be. All this time, I’ve merely been doing my job as Father commanded. All that stuff about me being an abomination? If I am, it is because my father made me that way.”
“You made yourself that way by going against every decent thing in spirituality.”
He shook his head emphatically. “No, I have not. My goal was always to prove a point to Father, and yes, I did some unsavory things in the process. But all of it was with the best of intentions at heart.”
Amelia shook her head. “You did it because you are an angry kid who thinks he knows better than his father. Your father punished you for your insubordination, and you countered with even worse behavior.”
Lucifer laughed. His laughter was musical and attractive.
“And you honestly believe that Father didn’t know that I would react the way I did? He created my spirit. He knows more about me than I ever will. He introduced a catalyst, and I responded the way I was made to respond.”
Amelia turned her head away.
Lucifer stuffed another bite of Campbell’s Chunky soup into his mouth, savored it and swallowed.
“Do you recall, as I spoke to your friend Rider, what I said about there being numerous angles here?”
Amelia glared at him.
Lucifer nodded and redirected. “The path to actualization for each soul, as prescribed by father, is not linear. It takes each spirit through many places and many worlds. It bathes them in the light and crushes them in darkness. All of it is designed to make each person like father.”
Her eyes bulged. “You’re diluted.”
He smiled. “My name doesn’t fit well into your clunky little tongue. What it really means is multiple things at once – just like everything that came directly from our divine parent. It means ‘Light of the morning,’ ‘First light,’ ‘Morning star,’ ‘Brilliant.’”
Amelia sneered. “Arrogant?”
Lucifer sighed. “Before this round of creation – (this world) – I was the first man. I performed my mandate faithfully and valiantly, but something unusual happened in the last round. The previous adversary’s power grew to near limitless extents. He took control of the world and what he did with it was something surprising.”
Amelia rolled her eyes.
Lucifer leaned closer. “He took away the suffering, and compelled the children to treat one another with respect. No more leaving the toddlers by the deep end of the pool to play while Father goes off for an ice cream and a piece of ass. It was terrific.”
Amelia gave him a sardonic grimace. “But it all fell apart.”
He nodded. “Father has always stubbornly insisted that the only way to raise the children is through suffering and struggle. This wasn’t his plan. He caused the adversary’s own children to revolt against him, and this world was born.”
“What’s your point?”
Lucifer smiles. “Father planned for everything. If I’m the adversary, it is because our Divine Parent wishes it. I’m not evil nor am I an abomination.”
“You’re right, and I don’t even think you realize it completely.”
Lucifer frowned. “What?”
“God has played you like a fiddle from day one, but you’re wrong about why and how.”
Lucifer shook his head and grinned humorlessly. “Look, I’ve been around for 20,000 years. Before that, I was the first man in mortality during several rounds of creation. You’ve been here in that body for what – 83? Why in heaven or hell would you think you would have a perspective that I haven’t considered?”
She smiled. She was really beginning to enjoy herself.
“God is about love, and unlike mortal parents, he would never throw out one of his children permanently without offering him a way to redeem himself. Every ‘round of creation,’ as you called it was also training for you. And this will not get any easier for you until you stop trying to swim upstream.”
Lucifer made a long face. “Yeah, what do you know? Talking to you is about like trying to talk to the free love junkie from Nazareth. The only thing I did wrong was have the audacity to suggest that we take away free will until the children had a little more experience.”
Amelia huffed. “And why would you even be able to make a statement like that if you didn’t have free will yourself?”
“I’m old enough to handle it. I know the pitfalls of a life without virtue.”
Amelia shook her head. “No, you don’t. You were just saying that God is so brilliant that he knew every decision that you would make before he ever created you. Don’t you think an individual that brilliant would have weighted the benefits of allowing free will long ago?”
He turned his palms up. “Here’s what I do: I simply offer the babies the easiest choice that will bring them to gratification the fastest.”
“You are a purveyor of sorrow. Your aim in this realm has always been to deepen the misery of others.”
He nodded. “That’s right. I am a teaching tool. I lost my body for this cause and had to wonder mortality as a wayward spirit for 20,000 years. What is nobler than that? I have proven beyond any doubt that young spirits such as those who live in mortality simply don’t know what they really want.
“What truly makes people happiest is virtue and all it creates. But what the babies think they want is carnal pleasure, stuff, sensation, the big promotion, money, power, fame, beauty, a sex kitten wife, a ripped husband, rock star status.... Because of my existence, all the souls who would have never known better are now imprisoned, sure, but they are much more contrite. I guarantee you in their second round of creation, they’ll not follow the same path.”
“So, you’re a public servant now? How kind of you.”
Lucifer chucked his spoon in the soup can and stood. He gave her a sad look.
“I’m not your enemy, Amelia, and I’ll prove it. I’m going to go back in the cabin, now, and build a fire. When Father Fury returns, I’ll see him safely into the city, and then I will set you along your own most correct path.”
He turned out of the lean-to and closed the door.
Amelia rolled her eyes. “And what’s in it for you?” she muttered.
“My face is burning,” Rider said.
Lauren glanced back over her shoulder at him. “We’re getting very close to the dome.”
She stopped walking abruptly and turned on Rider so aggressively he thought she was about to strike him.
“Where’s Alyssa?”
Rider stared back at her for a moment in shock, and as her question slowly sank in, he furled his brow.
“You don’t get to ask questions like that.”
She looked up to the white sky above, now beginning to dim with the onset of night, and shook her head.
“She’s my daughter, too. I care what happens to her.”
Rider smirked. “Sure she wasn’t just part of the job?”
Lauren dropped her head. “She’s my baby.”
She stared at the dead, brown foliage at her feet for a moment, and then she peered at him again.
“Can you at least tell me if she’s safe?”
Rider grinned humorlessly. “She was – until your band of bitches unleashed that spook Baal. The last thing he said to me before he bailed was that he was going after her.”
Lauren’s eyes bulged.
“Do you have any idea who he is?”
Rider nodded. “A bad motherfucker.”
She took a step toward him.
“You have to go save her.”
Rider huffed. “It’s your turn to get the mop this time. This isn’t my mess.”
She nodded. “Tell me where I can find her.”
Rider gave her a shrewd look. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
She stared him down, for a moment.
He shook his head. “You can’t touch
her anyway, and Baal probably can’t either. Do you know who she’s with?”
She gave him an innocent look.
“They call him The Child.”
The tension drained from her shoulders. “He’s here?”
Rider gave her a Mona Lisa smile.
The tension in her eyes flared. “If he’s here, that means – this really is the end.”
Rider let her vocalized thought hang in the air for a moment, and then he gave her a stern look.
“I’m not here to chitchat. Can we go?”
She shook her head and turned toward the path ahead.
They progressed in strained silence until they reached a clearing that seemed to be made completely of limestone.
She grasped his arm, as if to silently tell him to stop.
“What?” he growled.
She pressed her finger over her lips.
Rider squinted back out at the limestone clearing, and that’s when he saw it.
Ten feet away and to the right a little boy of about three years old with brownish hair sat against a formation of rocks bawling. Blood dripped from a deep gash in the upper part of his forehead. And as soon as Rider noticed him, he could hear their sounds as well.
The shrill, screaming cry of the baby.
The rocks crunching beneath the small feet of the seven-year-old with shaggy blond hair as he paced back and forth in front of the toddler with his hands pressed against his ears.
The older boy, a lanky boy wearing a worn-out pair of overhauls with a dirty, white shirt stared on looking helpless.
The seven-year-old stopped pacing and glared at the eldest.
“We have to go home,” he pleaded.
The eldest shook his head grimly, and replied in a rough voice that told Rider that he was coming out of the other end of puberty. “We can’t. You heard what Pop said. If we go back without Momma, he’ll beat us.”
“But Frankie’s hurt really bad!”
The eldest wrinkled his nose. “By now, Pop’s drunk as a skunk. He won’t care. He’ll just start beatin. Without Mamma to stop ‘em....”
The seven-year old sank to the ground and bawled. “I don’t want Frankie to die!”