Malevolent

by David Risen

  Rider’s eyes narrow with dark glee.

  “Oh, I have a few ideas.”

  Rider slices the abysmal spike through the air opening a chasm in the space-time continuum.

  Hades’ eyes bulge as he catches a glimpse of what lies beyond the chasm.

  His father, Kronos stands beyond in his dark prison.

  As Kronos recognizes Hades, his dark beard curves in a baleful grimace.

  “No!” Hades cries.

  With the speed of a pouncing cat, Kronos thrusts his hand through the chasm and clutches Hades like a toy soldier

  Hades kicks and thrashes against his father, but the Titan’s grip is iron.

  Hades squeals like a girl as his father’s great and cruel mouth parts and the long arm drags him near.

  Then the great Titan shoves Hades into his mouth head first, and sucks him down like a Sardine.

  As the rift in the space-time continuum closes behind Hades, Blake Rider directs his attention upward.

  As he stares at the spectral glow of the pentacle blazing in the center of the dome of souls, he realizes that he knows how to break the seal.

  He raises his soul sword toward the sky.

  Then he shoots through the holes in the floor and up into the sky beyond like a laser beam.

  As he rises, the wet and cold air tears through his bodiless form and all the dirt within – a lifetime of self-doubt, bad deeds, and inadequacies wash free.

  Below, he smells the wet earth. He senses the battles between what’s left of the two factions of souls entrapped in the Sisters of Divinity’s city of souls.

  He looks upward at the pentacle in the dome of damned souls, and steadies the abysmal spike with his left hand.

  And then....

  A low rumble – like a small earthquake shook the ground below Lucifer.

  He had buried himself beneath a mound of falling leaves in a gully in the woods near the apex of the mountain to hide from the searching witches.

  He looked up sharply past the tree line.

  Not far from his position, the broken access road that led to Skitts Mountain, Tennessee disappeared into the swirling dome of fog surrounding the City.

  But something was wrong with the dome.

  Near the top of it, Lucifer spied small explosions that almost looked like flashes of lightning in the clouds.

  He laughed out loud and rose as a thunderous explosion at the top of the dome rocked the earth below him.

  He extended his hands and looked up at the blue sky above just as the hot wind – like the radioactive air from a nuclear explosion blasted through the trees and raged against his upright form like a hurricane.

  Then, it simply stopped.

  Lucifer looked down and dropped his arms. Through the trees, he saw the access road trail off into the broken-down buildings and streets that had once been Skitts Mountain, Tennessee.

  He rocked his head from side to side and stepped out of the gulley starting toward the road.

  As he walked out of the woods, a woman dressed in jeans and a leather jacket lunged after him – the sisters of divinity pentacle bouncing on a silver chain around her neck.

  Lucifer glanced at her casually, pushed his thick, stolen glasses up his nose, and waved at her.

  Roots sprung up from the ground and wrapped around her legs.

  She screamed as she capsized face first into the broken asphalt.

  She clawed uselessly at the ground as the roots dragged her back toward the bank just before the woods, and then sucked her neck deep down into the ground.

  Lucifer winked at her. “Let’s call this a little time-out.”

  Lucifer turned and advanced down the broken road.

  Two steps further into his hike, a Park Ranger charged from the trees assuming a rifleman’s stance.

  “Freeze,” he screamed. Pointing the double barrel shotgun directly at Lucifer’s head.

  Lucifer drew the Glock concealed beneath his leather bomber jacket and pointed it at the Park Ranger without looking.

  “Drop the goddamn gun,” the Ranger screamed.

  Lucifer ignored him.

  The Ranger fired his shotgun.

  Lucifer swatted the hundreds of balls away as if he were shewing off gnats. He holstered his pistol, and then he looked at the barrel of the shotgun and made a “C” shape with his hands.

  The barrel bent backwards at the Ranger’s face just as he squeezed off his second shot.

  The Ranger’s head exploded and he leapt backwards into the brush.

  Lucifer gave the body a sad look, shook his head, and continued up the broken asphalt road toward the ghost town.

  Ten women filed out from the woods on the left side of the road all wearing the ceremonial cloaks of the Sisters of Divinity. They lined up shoulder to shoulder facing him.

  Lucifer stopped walking, turned his palms up, and looked up to the sky shaking his head.

  “Common, give the devil his due.”

  “You will go no further,” the woman in the white cloak said.

  Lucifer dropped his head and eyed the woman in the white cloak.

  “Hello, Lauren,” he said. “You know when I think of bitter exes you take the cake. You’ve done everything in your power not only to kill him, but you tried to destroy him in the most painful way possible. And they call me the adversary!”

  Lauren frowned. “I did what was prescribed by our mandate.”

  Lucifer shook his head. “Nothing anywhere says to summon the devil himself.”

  Lauren sighed. “He forgave me.”

  Lucifer nodded. “But you haven’t forgiven yourself, have you?”

  Lucifer scanned the other women. “As for the rest of you, I have complete control of your order and have for almost a hundred years. All of you are whores, murderers, thieves, idolatrous hags.... You haven’t possessed powers of divinity in generations.”

  “And that all stops now.”

  Lucifer shook his head. “All of your powers come from me. You haven’t moved without my consent in years. In fact, try to come get me.”

  The sisters looked around at each other and then strained to move forward.

  Lucifer nodded.

  “See? In honor and deference to my new friend, The Mother of Justice, I will spare your Grand Arch Prostitute. Run along, Mrs. Fields-Rider.”

  Lucifer paused and paced right two steps, and then he turned back to face the witches.

  “As for the rest of you,” he said.

  He snapped and several jagged branches fell from the surrounding treetops into the road before them.

  “You will all commit suicide in the most creative ways you can conceive using the tools I’ve provided.”

  Lucifer craned his head and looked at Lauren. “Did you not hear me? I said run along. And if I run into you again, I won’t be nice.”

  Lauren’s legs moved against her will, and she ran down the broken road.

  Lucifer smiled with satisfaction.

  “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  A soft summer’s breeze whispering through the treetops.

  The warmth of the afternoon sun on her face.

  The smooth vinyl straps of the outdoor folding chair.

  The sounds of water lapping the bank and rocking the dock.

  The fishy smell of the lake.

  Merissa gasps and springs forward.

  Blue skies.

  The green waters of Lake Wood sparkling and rippling in the late afternoon sunlight.

  She twists and looks behind her to find the familiar gravel path leading back up to the lake cabin which looks a lot more like a CEO’s ultra-modern retreat than a cabin with its façade of square stucco pillars and walls of polarized glass. In the sunlight, it looks more like an office building than a dwelling.

  Merissa sits back in her reclining beach chair, and exhales.

  It was just a nightmare. Thank God!

  She shakes her head at herself. “I’m going to quit doing drugs.”

  �
��Excuse me,” a man’s voice says to the right of the dock.

  Merissa jumps at the sound and places her hand over the left side of her chest.

  Her head follows the sound, and she finds a man of average height with reddish hair and a regal beard. He holds a Shakespeare rod and reel setup and he appears to be fishing.

  She studies the man with suspicion.

  He’s dressed much like all the other yuppies that inhabit this part of Lakewood Village, Georgia. He wears a pea green polo shirt that has a black golf club pattern printed on it with khaki slacks and penny loafers with no socks.

  “This is private property,” she says.

  He offers her a generous smile. “I know, and I won’t intrude on you long. I need to talk to you about something important.”

  She squints at him. “Do I know you?”

  He shrugs. “I’m the world’s most famous fisherman.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Are you being sarcastic?”

  He smiles.

  She frowns. “Rhett’s not here,” she offers.

  The man reels his line in and places his rod on the ground, and then he turns toward her stuffing his hands in his pockets.

  He looks down at the ground. The expression on his face right now seems regretful. He points his eyes back in her direction and bunches his lips.

  “Of course, you know it wasn’t a dream.”

  She frowns and folds her arms. “What are you talking about?”

  “Imprisonment by the Sisterhood for ten years, capture by Lilith, being eaten by Hades…. It all happened.”

  Her mouth falls open.

  “How do you know?”

  He shakes his head and looks back out over the choppy waters of the lake. “Right now, we’re in your personal heaven, because you are dead for the moment.”

  Merissa’s eyes bulge. “Who are you?”

  He smiles – such a kind and friendly smile for such an unsettling situation.

  “Call me Josh.”

  She shakes her head.

  “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the cops.”

  He takes a step toward her and stops.

  “Do you mind if I tell you what I know about you?”

  She glares at him.

  “You might find my knowledge a little unsettling, but you should know that I mean you no harm. I’m here to help you.”

  She glares. “I’ve heard that before.”.

  Josh approaches her and sits in the matching chair to her right, and looks back over the lake with a pensive expression as if he’s pondering what to say next.

  As he does so, he traces a thick scar on his wrist the size and shape of a dime with his other hand.

  Merissa eyes it, and notices that he has another scar the same shape and size on his opposite wrist.

  “What happened to you?” she says.

  And then she eyes his face.

  For an instant, his appearance changes completely.

  Olive skin.

  Long nose.

  Dark black hair.

  Neck length beard forked at the chin.

  Multiple puncture scars on his forehead.

  She gasps.

  “You’re real?”

  He sighs. “Your real name is Merissa Irons. You’re in Georgia because you ran away from your surrogate mother who was also a member of the Sisters of Divinity. You married Rhett Mueller, and you blew it with drugs and unfaithfulness.”

  He looks at her.

  He’s the same bearded man now with the slightly red hair and pea green polo shirt.

  Merissa looks back out at the dock as all of it sinks in. “I died?”

  “Not for long,” Josh says. “Your job is not yet finished.”

  “What’s left for me to do?”

  Josh – or whoever he is – looks back out at the shimmering lake.

  “You have a great responsibility and hard choices ahead.”

  He gives her a stern look. “Hard choices?”

  He looks back out over the lake. “How you choose will either bring about an age of learning through punishment and suffering or an age of learning through introspection and healing. I cannot make those choices for you, but I’ve come to offer my humble counsel.”

  Merissa smirks and shakes her head. “I’m so important that I disappear and no one notices.”

  Josh shakes his head without looking at her. “Your disappearance caused a very famous series of unfortunate events.”

  She squints. “What happened?”

  Josh shakes his head. “You’ll find out soon.”

  Merissa studies this man Josh. She isn’t sure if she’s dreaming or if this is real, and if it is real, the man who sits before her could very well be a lunatic.

  She smirks. “Am I supposed to believe that you are Jesus Christ?”

  Josh smiles faintly. “There never was such a man.”

  He looks at her. “The man you speak of is a work of fiction – a caricature of a man who actually existed – me. My real name in that lifetime was Yeshua of Nazareth.”

  “But you’re the son of God.”

  He shrugs. “So are we all. My so-called miracles were embellished. I did have power, but not like you.

  “Physically I was the son of a Galilean Jewish girl named Miriam. My mother would have been persecuted for becoming pregnant with me out of wedlock if not for the compassion of the man who married her and took the role as my father.

  “She was so uncomfortable with the topic of my paternity that she discussed it with no one, not even her husband.

  “I never knew who my father was until after I died. The others called me a bastard, and my existence brought shame upon my family.

  “I watched as many of my brothers and sisters suffered an untimely demise wrought by poverty, sickness, and peril. And I saw my poor mother suffer, and her husband drift away from her.

  “By the time I was an adult, I wanted desperately to do something – to move my hand against the fat and powerful while at the same time lifting up those besieged by their passive (and in some cases active) aggression.”

  He looks directly into her eyes. “I was not perfect, but my intentions were virtuous and pure. And the same is true even now.”

  Merissa can’t believe her ears. “Who was your father?”

  Josh looks back out over the lake. “My mother was uncomfortable discussing my paternity, because she had iniquity in her heart. Before Yosef of Nazareth, there was another, and she incorrectly believed that I was the son of that man.

  “But she was wrong, and though it is almost inconceivable your Bible accidentally found the truth. Our divine parent fertilized my mother with the seed of King David himself.”

  Josh sighs. “I really was the Messiah foretold by the prophets – as messy and strange as my life was – as challenged and tattered as my forbearance may have been, but my kingdom was never to be in the temporal realm.”

  He looks at her again. “Never doubt our divine parent’s ability to take one who has risen from the filth of sorrow and iniquity and turn him or her into something beautiful and perfect for that is the design and purpose of the mortal world.”

  “What choice do I have to make?”

  Josh offers her a shy smile. “The most important of your choices you shall make directly upon your return. You can choose to unite with your spiritual mate whose name in this era is Blake Rider. This is a virtuous choice because of your growing love for him which will bloom into something truly powerful, and it is a correct choice.”

  He looks at her again.

  “Or you can choose to return to your husband. This is a virtuous choice because of your existing love for him and your marriage to him. Your desire to atone for your failures as his wife is noble. This will be the most difficult path for you but it will bring about the most merciful outcome for the mortals.”

  “What am I?”

  Josh gives her a knowing smile. “You already know. You and your mate together represent the omega – the end. That is wh
y I cannot make this decision for you. That burden is yours alone. All I can do is offer you my humble counsel and hope that you choose mercy. The way of mercy makes my mortal life mean something.”

  Merissa Irons opened her eyes to find something heavy and hot upon her. She pushed it off to the left and it flopped over on the dusty concrete floor before her – a body.

  Above her, she saw a blue sky through a jagged hole blown through three floors of the building.

  She sat up.

  Behind her multiple warehouse shelves rose full of circular metal capsules each with the pentacle of the Sisters of Divinity etched on the front of them.

  “Where the fuck am I?” she wondered aloud.

  She twisted around to find a field of debris on the dusty concrete floor that looked like meaty chunks of body parts sitting in blood on the floor.

  Ten feet further, and she found a woman lying on her belly on the floor – her eyes frozen open in a look of shock.

  Merissa twisted right now to see what, or who had been on top of her, and she gasped and covered her mouth at the sight.

  Rider lay on his back staring up at the blue sky through the hole in the ceiling in an unblinking pensive gaze. Something was wrong with the back of his head. It simply ended with jagged bits of bone and bloody tresses of hair. And fluids had poured out from the back of his head and pooled up on the dirty floor beneath him.

  “Rider?” she cried.

  She straddled him and grasped him by the lapels of his black, leather coat and shook him.

  No use.

  Her eyes welled.

  “He won’t be dead for long, you know,” a soft sinister voice said off to her right.

  Merissa covered her breasts with her right arm, and glanced in the direction of the voice.

  A man stood in the isle beside the red brick wall. He had a mane of blond hair and boxy black-framed glasses. He wore a brown leather bomber’s jacket with jeans and hiking boots. The strap of a rifle hung diagonally across his torso.

  “Who are you?”

  He gave her a sad look and bowed his head looking at his feet.

  “I’m not here to hurt you, Merissa. I’m here on another matter entirely.”