The Nephelium

by Nathan Parks

  “You two are late. Arioch is waiting for you.”

  “Yeah, what’s new?” Sedit huffed under his breath.

  His eyes stung from the fog from the fog machines, and his nostrils were picking up the blend of body odor, cheap perfume, and alcohol. He was feeling aggravated and could go for vodka on the rocks right now.

  “I would keep your comments to yourself, Wanna-be,” the big guy said with a southern drawl. “Arioch is not in a good temper right now.”

  The Possessor led them to two large doors covered in iron work, the VIP area and Arioch’s playroom. The doors flung open, and the trio entered into a quieter domain, but nonetheless just as crowded. Arioch surrounded himself with Familiars, Fallen, and those who had no clue. He thoroughly enjoyed his status as one of the top commanders of the Adremalech Clan.

  The crowd parted before the three as if they knew not to interfere. Sedit knew this couldn’t be good, but he also couldn’t understand why his master would be upset. He had not given specific orders, and they had scouted out the woman. So why were there strange glances from all those around? Arioch was usually too over the top.

  It was as if every branch of the clan was present. What was this? He spotted Assassins, Possessors, Warriors, Soul Slayers, and the creatures that many called werewolves, but were actually demonic dogs. He had only heard of these creatures, but he had hoped he would never see any. They could become ravaging mad at the drop of a hat and were to be feared because they were able to not only inflict pain upon the physical body, but possessed the ability to tear right into the soul of a man.

  “Well, well, well, our two scouts return.” It was Arioch in all his embodied glory. His mortal body was a sharp, GQ, thirty-something, African American man who had a taste for expensive suits, drinks, and cars--the typical playboy through and through.

  “Arioch, we hurried back as soon as we completed . . .”

  Sedit was cut off as Arioch lifted up his mojito.

  “Ah . . . yes, completed. What exactly is it that you completed there, Sedit?”

  Arioch made a waving motion with his hand, and as he did, the seats around the table cleared of their occupancy. Drake and Sedit knew this wasn’t good.

  Drake took a chance and spoke up, “We followed the girl. She really didn’t look like anything special, BUT we did have a run-in with . . .”

  “With another Familiar fighting for territory!” Sedit raised his voice loudly over Drake and shot him a look, wondering if he was just forgetful of to whom he was talking or just plain stupid.

  Arioch sat running his finger along the rim of his glass and staring hard at it. Even though the party was still going on around them, it seemed that the world was standing still, and Arioch’s eyes began to glow a deep red, the beast within spreading his mortal mouth with an evil grin that allowed his fangs to be visible.

  “Oh, and from what clan would the Familiar be that you met, Sedit?”

  “Clan?”

  “Yes, what clan, because I would like to know whom I should rebuke for sending scouts into my territory without letting me know.”

  “Umm. . .well, you know I didn’t get the chance to find out.”

  Drake was looking back and forth from Familiar to Master, wondering what was going on. He took himself as a smart person, and he didn’t remember another Familiar. “Sedit? I don’t remember another Familiar. We only ran into the Guardian.”

  Sedit’s face went white and then turned quickly to an angry red. “You really are a fool, aren’t you, Drake? A fool!”

  Drake wasn’t prepared to guard himself as Sedit’s fist came from somewhere to his left and made full contact with his jaw. Drake didn’t have time to even register the impact before everything went black as he fell forward onto the table. His head slamming against the glass of the tabletop created an impact that knocked over the drinks on the table, including the demon’s mojito.

  Sedit looked up, his anger replaced with fear as his eyes became locked with Arioch’s. There was no party now in the room, but every eye, mortal and immortal, was turned upon master and servant. Arioch slowly stood, bending his neck to one side and then the other, cracking it as he flexed his shoulders. As he stood, there was a noticeable wet spot upon his tailored suit from the spilled alcohol.

  “Arioch, I am sorry. I didn’t feel it important to let you know. I . . .”

  The smell was what hit Sedit first: sulfur. There was no doubt about that. It filled his lungs, stinging them as the acidic air rushed down his throat. It brought tears to his eyes, but this was nothing compared to what he saw before him. Out from the back of the stylish playboy before him broke forth black, leathery wings, pushing back any near bystanders; his hands turned into gnarled talons; and fangs grew longer as eyes flashed red and then inky black.

  “You felt! You didn’t think! You, human, are not in position to feel, to think, or even to decide! I, Measly One, am the one with such power and position. You are only a wanna-be, and that is all you will ever be: a Familiar, a NOTHING!”

  There was nothing that really looked much like the playboy now standing within the room. The demonic dogs were sitting now upon their haunches, jaws snapping and drooling as they snarled.

  Sedit was upon his knees, trembling and then soiling himself. The feelings of fear and worthlessness that he felt every time his perverted uncle had violated him was rushing back like a nightmare coming true. Had he not given his soul over to this demon, to this clan, in order to gain the power to escape such demeaning actions?

  “Arioch, forgive me,” he sobbed. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

  That was it. There was nothing more left. He had heard of Arioch’s outbursts, but he had never seen them and had always been treated as “one of the Family,” doing anything and everything he was asked to do. Was this it?

  His mind rushed back to the little boy whose innocence had been stolen so young. All he wanted was to belong, to fit in, and to stand against the tide that would take him down. Here he was, once again that little boy, and tears streamed down his face. He held out his arms, closed his eyes, and looked skyward. He did the only thing he could think now to do, even though it may have seemed out of place and maybe too late.

  “Into Your hands I will give my life, if You will have me.”

  There was a rush from the sides as the demon bared his fangs and fell upon the mortal. The dogs of hell did not wish to wait for seconds, and those of the clan did not have to wait long before they felt the call of the Overlord within their minds to feast. It was as if every nightmare that ever lived within a secret rushed in upon Sedit’s soul at once, and he felt his mind rushing in on itself. His ears burst from a scream that spewed from within him; mortal ears could never withstand its own soul scream. Then it was over. All dreams of becoming powerful and belonging to a family that truly cared were all gone within a flash of demonic feasting.

  Chapter Four

  One of the young women, who only a moment before had been swooning over Arioch, stood back trembling. She was not new to The Vortex, but this was her first night within the inner circle. She had danced here for over a year and had begun to be drawn into Arioch’s ring of power through the slow pull of the drugs he supplied. No, he never really paid attention to her, but there was always that chance, and tonight she had felt a rush of “high school fever” when she had been told she was to entertain him personally tonight in the VIP room. She now was standing in the middle of a nightmare.

  Nightmares were scary, but this was pure evil. The room was like a Halloween party gone wrong or a reality horror movie. She was caught on the wrong side of the screen. Blood was everywhere, and beings and entities were gorging with slurps and crunches. She was going to be sick. She rushed out a back door away from the horror that burned into her mind and down a dark hallway to a door that allowed her to escape from this nightmare. She burst out the back of the club and into the wet and steamy alley, her heart pounding so hard that the skin on her chest mirrored the ban
ging of her heart, and she felt faint. Her legs could hold her no more, and she fell to her hands and knees as the contents of her stomach mixed with the bile of the street grime.

  She fumbled for the needle within her small handbag, hoping to chase away reality or bring her back to it. She didn’t even know what was real.

  “I will never forget the first time that I drank so much that I couldn’t hold it in,” a male voice, strong and confident, spoke from behind the young woman.

  She went for her mace instead and spun around, holding the small compact can at the ready. Her vision blurred from the tears and sweat; she could barely make out the silhouette of a man sitting in the shadows to her right and across from her.

  “I am fine. Don’t . . . don’t . . . think about doing anything or I. . . I . . . will shoot you with my spray. . . and . . . I will scream, also.”

  The figure moved his hands around him looking for something to use to pull himself up so that he could stand facing her and snickered, “You know, Ma’am, you probably can scream, but seeing that you are outside a club, I am sure that no one inside is going to hear you over the music. Second . . .” As he stepped into the little bit of light that managed to find its way down the dark corridor, he continued, “You see, I can’t see anyway, so there is no reason to spray me. I mean you no harm, Ma’am.”

  Her body ached and shook from the pent-up tension. She had lost all ability to control her senses and muscles, and her mind felt the rattling of confusion. The muscles within her neck were writhing in convulsive rhythms. Her hands covered her face as she dropped the can to the pavement, and she staggered back as the mental assassin within her mind ripped at her sanity.

  The figure in front of her didn’t seem to come any closer, and she realized that the cane he held was one used by the seeing impaired. He was blind. He must spend his nights behind the club. Now she felt saddened for disturbing him. She couldn’t move, though. The vision of what she had just witnessed was starting to come back to her, and she felt her skin begin to crawl.

  “Can I call you a cab or try to get someone to help you out? You don’t sound like you are feeling too well.”

  His voice really put her at ease as he spoke. It was as if when he spoke, all the darkness that held her shrank back at his voice.

  “No, I will be fine,” she answered in a wavering voice as she pulled her fingers through her hair. “I can get my own cab.”

  “No prob.” He shrugged. “I guess I will just find my spot over here again and hope that no other young ladies decide to lose it all back here.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “Ah, don’t think twice about it, really.” He held his hand out in her direction. “My name is Troy.”

  She looked down at his hand, not sure if she should take it, but after what she had just witnessed, the dirty hand of a street bum didn’t seem too bad. Nothing really seemed too bad right now. She just wanted an escape from everything.

  She shook his hand. “Jasmine . . . well, actually it’s Megan.”

  “Ah, you one of the dancers from The Vortex?”

  “Yeah, but I figure you don’t really get a chance to see me dance, so I can let you know my real name.” She stopped suddenly, realizing what she had just said. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you like that.”

  “Don’t worry about it. A guy in my spot is used to it.”

  She was feeling worse. She had to leave and get home where, hopefully, she could bring on a liquid coma to block out everything, reality and fantasy.

  “Troy, thank you, and have a good night.”

  She reached down, unfastening the latches on her high heels and taking them off. She looked up at him as she felt herself starting to catch her breath some.

  “Can I give you something for a cup of coffee? There is a really good coffee shop a few blocks from here called Alfonso’s.”

  “No. Thanks anyway,” Troy responded.

  She slightly smiled, feeling a little more under control now, and turned to leave. She made her way out toward the street where she could hail a cab. Every shadow sneered at her, and the lights from the end of the alley did not bring any solace. Tomorrow night she would have to face her prison once again, so what was accomplished by escaping tonight?

  She looked down at her watch. “It’s even too late to see if Eve is up. I just need to escape,” she thought.

  Behind her in the alley Troy listened as her footsteps faded and blended in with the sounds of the city. He retrieved his walking stick and headed in the other direction. The night was still young, and there was still a lot to do. Seriousness grabbed the muscles on his face and formed a stern look. He had not expected a chip in the armor of darkness to become visible tonight, but he knew that tonight’s happenings were the outer ripples in a large pond, and all they would have to do is follow the ripples in, and then . . . well, then they would discover the center of the action.

  “What are you up to, Arioch? What was it that Milton said? ‘No light, but darkness visible’? It seems that the darkness is forcing out the light. Their numbers are growing stronger. Why?”

  He was new to all this, but he also knew that nothing seemed right. The activity around The Vortex was growing. Familiars were swarming like ants, and there were more and more Possessors and other clan activity taking place around this gateway. He may not have all the experience, but what he did have was a keen understanding of battles and conflicts, and from his military training, he knew the “massing of forces” when he saw one.

  “Of course ‘saw’ being a play on words,” he snickered.

  He slowly tapped his way out the other end of the alley and in the opposite direction of the den of darkness.

  *****

  Eve looked closer into the mirror as she placed her toothbrush in the ceramic cup that sat upon her sink. The dark circles beneath her eyes were silent witnesses to her lack of sleep, and she was certain that tonight would be the same as most of her recent nights. Maybe she should just abandon the whole idea of discovering her heritage and background. It had started out as a simple “I wonder” and had begun to consume her. She had not given it much thought as a teenager, mostly out of self preservation; yet now, she felt it calling out to her. Never one for much studying, book work, or even time wasted on the internet, she now had large stacks of research, printouts, and notes, each of them staring at her and offering her nothing but more questions about her past.

  She grabbed a large sweatshirt from where she had tossed it over the arm of her couch sometime earlier and pulled it over her head, raising her arms in the air to allow it to embrace her. Then, pulling her legs up to her chin as she sat down at a computer desk, she grabbed one of the top notebooks and began to look over her recent entries: “St. Solange Children’s Home first and then sent off into the darkness of foster families, but nothing, nothing that can help. I know there has to be something, maybe even memories that I can’t recall.”

  Unseen by physical eyes, a figure stood behind her, looking over her shoulder at the same notes. “What is it about you that had those two Familiars trailing you tonight?” the Guardian asked herself. “St. Solange Children’s Home?” The Guardian shook her head a moment trying to understand why that name seemed so familiar. Then it hit her! “There’s no way! The Alliance checked!”

  There had always been rumor that there may have been a child. No, this had to be sheer coincidence. If she was right, then she might have her answer for why this young lady was followed, or had that been coincidence, also?

  “I have got to get back to the Sanctum tonight. We will have to have a ‘chance’ encounter, Eve. I have to see if what I believe is true. Jah, help us all if it is, and if so . . . Girl, I am not sure if you are even ready to discover what you are searching for,” she whispered under her breath.

  Just as stealthily as she came, Leah retreated through the wall of the apartment and stood outside in the hallway. There she made a quiet whistle and two other angels seemed to appear from out of thi
n air. An older lady opened up her door a few feet away and peeked out, but upon seeing the three strangers, she quickly closed the door again and ignored everything all together.

  “I am not really sure what is going on here or why the Council has me following her. From what I can tell, Alfonso is correct. She is really trying to discover where she came from and information regarding her heritage,” Leah told the others who had joined her. “I believe the old man knows more about her than what he is allowed to say. I do have a hunch, though, and if what I believe is true . . .”

  She paused, not really knowing how to say it.

  “Let’s just say that everything we thought about this fight with the Fallen will have just changed. I also will have some words with the Arch Council about making me Guardian over a . . .”

  She stopped again and then switched gears without finishing the sentence.

  “Right now we have to keep Arioch from being anywhere near her. He may have stumbled onto something he wasn’t even aware of. If he discovers what could be the truth, then we can be sure that the news will spread throughout the clans; and I can’t help but believe we will be on the verge of a clan war.”

  One of the other angels was small in stature, but well formed. His black hair was spiked, and his facial features clearly defined him of Asian background.

  “Do you want us to notify some of the Guardians to stand by or just notify the Arch Council of the most recent news?” he asked.