The Holy Dark

by Kyoko M

  She gave a start, whipping her head around to look at me. Light brown skin. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. She gaped at me, revealing a slight overbite. Tear tracks lined her round cheeks. She couldn’t have been more than twelve years old.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I snapped, too shocked to be more polite.

  “Back off,” she shrieked. “I’m gonna do it.”

  “Look, whatever made you think this is the answer, it’s not.”

  She shook her head, clutching the chain link between her fingers. “Shut up! You don’t even know me. You don’t know what my life is like. I’m gonna jump and you can’t stop me.”

  I gritted my teeth. If she jumped, I could probably sprout my wings in time to catch her, but that meant witnesses. Her shouting had probably already gotten people’s attention down below. I was running out of options.

  I quelled my righteous fury. Pre-teens didn’t respond well to it, after all. If I wanted to save this girl, I’d have to try a different angle.

  “You’re right, okay? I don’t know you. I’m just some random guy. I can’t make this decision for you. But I can listen if you want to talk.”

  “Talking’s not going to fix anything.”

  “I know. But if you really are going to jump, they’re gonna put an article about you in the paper. Who’s gonna tell your story? You can’t because you’ll be gone. Maybe there’s something you want people to remember about you. Something good.”

  Her brown eyes narrowed. “Why do you care?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere to be right now.”

  She laughed—an empty sound. “Wow, you are the worst negotiator ever.”

  “Amen to that,” I muttered. “So what’ll it be? Can you give me five minutes before you pull a Hans Gruber?”

  She wiped her nose, sniffling and giving me a watery smile. “Sure. Any fan of Die Hard is worth five minutes of my time.”

  “Great. That ledge is making me nervous, though. Can we sit?”

  “Mmkay.” She lowered herself onto the ledge—no more than two feet in width so it was a good thing she was so skinny—and I sat in front of her, legs crossed. It would take a few minutes for the cops or an ambulance to arrive. That was all I really needed. The key was keeping her calm and building some sort of relationship. Didn’t always work, but I’d take my chances.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Allison.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Michael. So tell me a little about yourself. Where are you from?”

  She shrugged, wiping away her tears with one hand. Her fingernails were painted red to match the ribbon. I could see a faint amount of mascara on her eyelashes. She was way too young to be dressed like this. I got the feeling she had been planning this suicide attempt in advance. It made my chest ache just thinking about it.

  “Not sure. Been in the city since I was a kid.”

  “Then how do you not know where you’re from?”

  “No parents. My mom gave me up when I was a baby. Been at a girls’ home ever since.”

  “I see. You in school?”

  She nodded. “I’m guessing you’re not a fan.”

  The girl shot me a sarcastic look. “Were you?”

  “Wouldn’t know.”

  She frowned and I realized my slip-up. I had never been a child or a teenager. I was made in God’s image completely formed as an adult. It took a lot of practicing to remember I was supposed to have some sort of human backstory.

  “I was homeschooled,” I amended. “So I missed the middle school experience.”

  “You were lucky. It sucks.”

  “I bet. What’s your worst subject?”

  “Tch. Math.”

  “Not one for the numbers, huh?”

  “No. I’ve already flunked once and had to repeat a grade. Not going to miss it once I’m gone.”

  “I wouldn’t either. Never been a fan. More of an art person.”

  She glanced behind me in the direction of my car. “I bet. Nice ride.”

  “It’s not mine. Borrowing it.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “Out of town.”

  “For work?”

  “Guess you could call it that.”

  “You a musician?”

  I gave her a surprised look. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  She pointed to my hands, which were resting on my legs. “Guitar string calluses. Plus, I think I saw you on TV one time. Some rock band having to do with angels.”

  “Ah. Right.”

  “You guys going on tour?”

  I winced. “No. We, uh, broke up recently. That’s part of why I’m skipping town.”

  “Oh. That’s gotta suck. Bet your mates were mad.”

  “You have no idea. But back to you. What got you up here? Y’know, for the article.”

  “I dunno. I guess…I’m tired. I’m tired of everything. Every morning I wake up, I lie to myself. I tell myself, ‘maybe today won’t bite. Maybe today, you’ll figure out what your purpose is.’ I’ve been doing that since I was eight. Nothing’s changed. I want something to change. Something I can control. This is it.”

  I studied her, analyzing her quiet words in my head. This wasn’t one of those cry-for-help kinds of things. However, I could tell part of her wasn’t ready for the real deal. I needed to latch onto that part if I wanted to save her.

  “Makes sense. People struggle with that idea every day. Want to know what I think?”

  “Guess it wouldn’t kill me.”

  I almost smiled. She was quick-witted, at the very least. “It takes a lot more strength to live than to die. Dying is everyone’s destiny. Life is a choice. It may not seem like it, but you do have control. You have control over who you are and who you decide to become. You can let your past define you, or you can tell it to go screw itself and turn into something greater. But it’s not easy. Maybe that lie you tell yourself isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s just a little white lie that helps you along.”

  Allison searched my eyes for a long moment. “That kind of makes sense. Maybe you’re not as dumb as you look.”

  “Thanks.”

  Sirens whined in the distance. I tensed, glancing over my shoulder to see a few people coming around the corner to where we were. I hardened my expression, mouthing for them to back off. A guy up front caught my gaze and told the others to stay where they were.

  “You’re good, y’know.”

  I glanced back at the girl. “Pardon?”

  “Getting me to stay calm and stalling so the cops could show up. Pretty smart for a musician.”

  I smiled. “Everyone has a calling.”

  She sighed, standing up. My heart thudded inside my chest. Come on, kid. Stay with me. Don’t be stupid.

  “Looks like this is the end of the road.”

  Her bony fingers stretched taut on the fence. She leaned backwards, closing her eyes. The wind whipped her hair around her cheeks. One final chance.

  “Any last requests?” I asked.

  She didn’t move for a moment. Then, her clumpy eyelashes lifted and she stared at me.

  “…I’ve never had a ribeye steak before.”

  “Angelo’s on Broadway is pretty sweet. Y’know, if you want a last meal.”

  “You buying?”

  I shrugged. “Guess it wouldn’t kill me.”

  She laughed. It was awkward and nasal. I smiled for a second time, surprised that it was genuine.

  Relief spread through my chest as she climbed up the fence over to my side. The throng of people who gathered at the edge of the lot cheered.

  Allison wiped her face clean and didn’t resist when the cops came over to check on her. I gave a statement and made them promise to let me take her to a late lunch before returning her to the girls’ home. After all, I was a man of my word. Sometimes.

  The cops did a background check on me, concluded that I wasn’t a creep, and followed us to Angelo’s. Allison ate her steak in five minutes flat. It was v
iolent and impressive, like watching someone feed a Great White.

  “What?” she asked in a defensive voice, wiping a smudge of steak sauce from the corner of her mouth with the back of her wrist.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just had to make sure you weren’t choking to death.”

  She snorted and then took a sip of her Coke. “Are you just gonna keep making morbid jokes until I see the error of my ways?”

  “Maybe,” I said, taking another bite of my prime rib. “In the meantime, you might be able to shut me up by telling me a little more about yourself.”

  “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “Not often.”

  She diverted her gaze to her plate. For a second, I thought she was looking for any leftover meat, but then I saw her lower lip tremble before she spoke.

  “I get…these…panic attacks. Can’t breathe. Can’t move. It happens at school a lot. When they took me to the doc, he said it’s brought on by stress and low self-worth, whatever that means. Doesn’t matter what causes it. I can’t make ‘em stop.”

  She pushed a stray chunk of cooked carrot around with her fork. “Everyone at school thinks I’m a freak. Spastic Ally. That’s my nickname at school. So every day I just sit in the corner by myself and draw.”

  “What do you draw?”

  Allison met my eyes, and there was a hard cynicism in those brown orbs. “What do all little girls draw? Dragons and monsters and princesses and wizards. Anything that isn’t real life. At least when I’m drawing, I can forget about my life, or lack thereof. Keeps my mind quiet.”

  “You said they took you to a doctor. What did he tell you to do during these attacks?”

  “Focus on something else. Something minor to distract my brain out of the stress pattern.”

  “And it doesn’t work?”

  She shook her head. “There’s too much going on around me when it happens. I can’t get my head clear. It’s like an asthma attack. I don’t know what to do anymore. That’s why you found me up there.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but she cut me off. “Please, don’t say anything stupid like it’ll all be okay or someone will adopt me and get me the treatment I need.”

  “I wasn’t gonna say that.”

  “What were you gonna say?”

  I folded my hands on the table. “Life is shit.”

  Her brown eyes widened. “What?”

  “It’s the truth. I’ve lived enough of it to know that now. Things go wrong and you can’t fix them no matter how hard you try. And it’s not because you’re just a kid. I’ve been around for longer than you think and even I hit a wall every now again. Hell, I just did not a day ago.”

  “So…what did you do?”

  I winced. She had no idea what I was talking about and it was sort of vindicating to know. Everyone else in my life would be disappointed that I left Jordan. This kid, troubled and broken though she was, gave me a small opportunity to vent—one I hadn’t gotten in a while. “I ran. Not proud of it, but it’s what I need right now. New surroundings. I’ve got a mission to complete and it allows me the time to think about my past.”

  “Mission, huh?” Allison said. “So you’re a musician and a soldier?”

  “In a way, yeah.”

  “Maybe it was destiny, then,” she said with no small amount of sarcasm. “Two people running from something and they both ended up on top of a parking garage. It’s fate.”

  “Don’t believe in fate, kid. It’ll just make your head hurt.”

  I drained the red wine in my glass, signaling our nearby waitress for the check. She swooped in and cleared the plates before leaving me the bill.

  Allison slumped back in her chair, crossing her arms. “So let’s have it. Aren’t you adults supposed to have these grand, sweeping, Jeff Winger type speeches that convince us dumb kids not to hurt ourselves?”

  I plopped my Visa card down on the bill. “I’m just a Good Samaritan. You make your own choices, Allison. I can’t make them for you.”

  “That’s pretty selfish.”

  “That’s life.”

  She scowled. “You think I won’t do it.”

  “I think you’re gonna do whatever you want to do. And that’s your right. I hope that you change your mind because while you’ve definitely got a smart mouth and an attitude problem, you seem like a good kid. You’ve probably got a future. One that might be worth all the shit you’re putting up with right now.”

  She didn’t say anything. The waitress swept past and returned with my receipt. I signed it and beckoned Allison to follow me to the car.

  I drove her home in silence. She stared out of the window the entire ride. There was a gaggle of girls and their caretakers gathered outside when we pulled up. I parked the car.

  “Thanks for the steak, Mr. Samaritan.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She unbuckled her seat and my resolve weakened. “Wait.”

  Allison glanced over her shoulder to see me holding out my business card. “Just in case you change your mind. I can’t save you, kid. But I can still listen.”

  Her fingers shook just a bit as she accepted the card. The onyx eyes melted. I could see something underneath, something soft and fragile. Hope.

  “Bye.”

  And with that, she was gone.

  “That,” I said. “May be the weirdest thing you’ve told me yet.”

  A faint smile brushed over his lips. “I know.”

  “So how often do you talk?”

  “Couple times a week, sometimes more. She…doesn’t make friends easily. Once the cops made sure I wasn’t a pedophile, they let her keep talking to me. Especially since the girls’ home is underfunded and they can’t always give her the treatment she needs.”

  “I take it you gave her the phone, then?”

  He nodded, swirling the last of the tea in the bottom of his mug. “I didn’t tell you earlier because I know it sounds creepy from an outsider’s standpoint. It’s just that…she doesn’t have anyone else. For a while, neither did I. I can sympathize, I guess.”

  “Wow. Tough guy Michael O’Brien has a paternal side. Who knew?”

  He snorted. “You’re telling me. By the way, is it hot in here or is it just me?”

  I sighed and set my mug on the nightstand. “No. It’s not.”

  Michael tugged at his shirt, attempting to unbutton it a little, but his fingers were too clumsy. “I feel a bit…dizzy…”

  I touched the side of his face, running my thumb down his cheek. “I know. And I’m sorry that I had to do this to you.”

  He blinked once, twice, trying to focus on me. “Did…did you…drug me?”

  “I had to.”

  “W-Why?”

  “Because there’s something I have to do. And you’re not going to like it. That’s why I need you here. I want you to contact Andrew for help. He’ll know what to do.”

  He gripped my upper arm and leaned towards me, his voice hoarse. “Jor…what…are you…mm…”

  Michael slumped backwards. I caught him, lowering him onto the bed. His eyelids fluttered and he mumbled, “Don’t go,” before they closed completely.

  I tucked stray strands of dark hair behind his ear. “I’m sorry, mi amor. I’m so sorry. But you can’t be a part of what I’m about to do. The angels still need you, even if they think they don’t. They can’t hate me anymore than they already do.”

  Pain swelled inside my lungs. “Neither can you. I’m so sorry I keep screwing things up between us. I don’t mean to. I never wanted to hurt you. You were right about me. I pretend like I’m brave, but I’m not. I’m scared of losing you. I won’t lose you. I’ll fix this. I swear it.”

  I kissed his forehead and steeled myself. Time to go.

  Myra, Avriel, and Faust were outside of the basement at the hideout when I arrived.

  “Hey. Where’s angel food cake?” Myra asked.

  “He’s back at the safe house. He told me to get you guys. He’s got a plan. I’ll stand watc
h over Belial while you’re gone.”

  They shared interested looks. Myra nodded. “Good, because the pretty boy in there won’t get with the program.”

  They headed upstairs, but Myra lingered momentarily. I wasn’t surprised. We’d known each other for almost a year. She could always sense when my energy was off. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  She eyed me. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, right?”

  I mustered a genuine smile. “Of course not.”

  “Alright.” She ascended the stairwell.

  I took a deep breath and unlocked the basement door.

  Belial didn’t look much different than the last time I saw him, except for the bags under his eyes. We had to take shifts to prevent him from sleeping because then he could contact other demons to break him out. Couldn’t have that.

  Belial watched me with half-lidded eyes as I locked the door behind me. I picked up his Hendrickson knife and hefted it in my hand, admiring its weight and morbid beauty.

  “So,” the demon said softly. “The time has come.”

  “What time?”

  “Time for you to kill me.”

  I didn’t answer. A thin smile curled his lips upward at one corner. “I hope you understand that it is not just your body and your potential to be my lieutenant that interest me. There is one singular factor that attracts me to you.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I see my death in those beautiful brown eyes.”

  I ceased breathing for a handful of seconds. His smile stretched. “I see an end to my eternity. I know not how or when or why, but someday, I know that you will be the one to defeat me once and for all.”

  He shifted in his restraints a bit, sitting straighter, his voice still calm and satisfied. “Now when you kill me this time, I would suggest that you do it properly. Last time, it was much too quick. You didn’t get to see it firsthand, and that is quite a shame, because death is rather exquisite, especially up close. I know you’ve read literature on human anatomy and biology. You know the psychological and physical reactions of a body in the throes of death, but you cannot truly understand until you’ve killed someone who is an important part of your life. So, dear Jordan, come a little closer.”

  I didn’t remember commanding my own legs to walk. They did without hesitation, as if he’d hypnotized me. His legs were spread wide thanks to being chained to the chair so I knelt between them, holding the knife along the left side of his neck. He inhaled once, deeply, when my breasts flattened against his bare, bloodstained chest.