Enclave

by Brandon Varnell

  Heather smiled, too, though it looked just as surely as her normal expression. She accepted the hug and kiss on the cheek from the old woman, which startled Lilith. This Hudson lady must be really familiar with her.

  “Five years isn’t a long time. And I’m still young.”

  “Indeed.” Ms. Hudson then noticed Lilith, standing just a little behind Heather. She blinked. Or at least Lilith thought she did. It was hard to tell because of the hanging skin on her brow. “And it seems there’s someone new with you.”

  “Yes.” Heather gestured towards her. “This is Lilith Vie. She’s sort of a temporary resident along with her boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend?” Ms. Hudson looked surprised. “I had not realized you allowed men to reside with you?”

  “We’re making a special exception for the moment,” Heather hedged.

  Either Ms. Hudson sensed the woman’s desire to change the subject, or she had decided to get down to business because her next words were, “I suppose there are exceptions for everything. Now, you’ll be pleased to know that the shipment has arrived. The truck is waiting in the usual spot. The manifest will be in the back of the truck, just like always.”

  “And the person making the delivery?”

  “Off enjoying some of the delights Yellowstone National Park has to offer.”

  Heather smiled, then hugged the woman again. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it, dear.”

  “The usual spot” was actually just several minutes’ drive from the main building, in an abandoned road hidden behind a copse of trees. The truck wasn’t a large semi-truck with sixteen wheels and a big rectangle hanging from its hind end, which was what Lilith had expected. It was a regular truck, a pickup like the one they had driven it, except red and not a Ford. Attached to the back was a trailer that was vaguely shaped like a rectangle with rounded edges.

  When Heather went over to the back, unlocking it with a key Ms. Hudson had to have given her, and opened it up, she revealed that the inside was filled to the brim with boxes. They were large. Some were made of cardboard, while others were made of plastic. A couple of them actually looked like a cooler of sorts, all metal and reflective.

  Lilith could not begin to even count how many boxes there were, or if they would even fit in the pick-up truck they had driven in. Fortunately for her, she would not have to count. Heather held a manifest in her hand, having picked it up from where it was hanging on the left near the trailer’s entrance.

  “It looks like everything’s here,” she said, nodding. “Yep. They’ve delivered it all. Good. Now all we need to do is head back home.”

  “Will this all fit in the truck?” Lilith asked. She didn’t mean to sound skeptical, but there were a lot of boxes inside. And the interior of this semi was more spacious than the back of the truck.

  “Fit in the truck?” Heather looked at her, and then started laughing. Lilith frowned. She didn’t see what was so funny. “I... I’m sorry,” the woman snickered, “but what makes you think we’re putting all this in the truck?”

  “We’re not?” The frown deepened. “But then, where are we going to put it?”

  “We’re not putting it anywhere,” Heather said. “This trailer is ours. All we’re doing is uncoupling it from their truck and attaching it to our truck. It’s much easier that way.”

  “Oh.” Lilith was embarrassed. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  Heather got in a few more chuckles, much to Lilith’s increasing consternation. She then hung up the manifest, got out, and pulled the enclosure down. She pulled a wad of cash from her back pocket, at least several thousand dollars’ worth of money―Lilith could only see hundreds—which was then set in the driver’s seat of the truck through the open window.

  “Come on,” Heather said, clapping her hands in preparation. “Let’s hurry and attach this thing. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get to practicing my marksmanship.”

  “Right.”

  Lilith nodded and followed Heather. The sun beat down over their heads as they went to work.

  CHAPTER 14

  After finding himself without a sparring partner, Christian somehow ended up in the library. Maybe it had something to do with the smell. He always loved the scent of books, that pervading fragrance of ink and vellum, the feel of the paper, both fresh and old as it caressed his fingers. A part of him had always regretted buying that KLReader, regardless of the fact that it could store thousands of books and was incredibly convenient.

  Maybe it was a good thing the tablet was gone.

  If it were any other time, Christian would have gone over to one of the many book shelves, pulled out a book, and found himself a nice place to sit and read. Such was not the case this time. Too distracted to read and not really in the mood anyway, the young man, his raven rustling with his hurried movements, strode over to the nearest couch, plopped himself down, and began to think.

  His thoughts were on the same subject they had been for the last few days: his argument with Lilith. Though calling it an argument was misleading. They didn’t argue much. Rather, Christian had irrationally lashed out at Lilith in anger, hurting her with his words.

  It has often been said that words can hurt more than any form of physical attack. Bruises eventually go away, and cuts can heal with time, but words stay with you. They can never be taken back. People can’t just say sorry and expect that to make it all better. There’s no way to kiss this injury either. It’s a scar that runs beneath the skin, lurking in the darkest reaches of a person’s heart.

  He had done that. He had hurt Lilith’s heart. That wasn’t a wound so easily healed. He didn’t know how to make things right again. How do you make up for attacking the person you love in such a manner? Was it even possible to make things right? Saying sorry wouldn’t work. An apology could only get a person so far, and a simple “I’m sorry, forgive me” didn’t really make the cut. He had to show not only that he was sincere, but that he was truly, honestly remorseful for the biting words that had been discharged from his mouth.

  “Why should you have to apologize?”

  Christian stiffened as the sound of a voice, one that sounded so much like his own, reverberated through his mind.

  “She’s the one who’s in the wrong here. She shouldn’t have followed you, shouldn’t have put herself in danger. She almost got killed, and you ended up getting hurt.”

  But that voice was not his. It sounded wrong, distorted. It was dark and scratchy, and it spoke with an arrogance that he did not have, an arcane and incomprehensible sense of malice that caused a shiver to race up his spine, jolting his brain like he’d stuck his finger in an electric socket.

  “You don’t have to apologize to her. She should be the one apologizing to you.”

  You’re wrong.

  “Am I? Why? Is what you did wrong?”

  I hurt her. Of course it was wrong.

  “Is it really? The way I see it, she hurt you first. You were only paying her back. She deserved your contention.”

  No, she didn’t. No one deserves to be treated the way I treated Lilith, least of all her.

  “So noble. So soft. So weak. You see, this is why you’re practically useless without me.”

  “Shut up,” Christian whispered, speaking out loud for the first time.

  “Every time you run into trouble, I’m always the one saving you. I did it when Abaddon was getting ready to slaughter you like cattle. I did it when you were fighting Damien. I aided you on the battle in the train, and again during your last fight with Asmodeus.”

  “Shut up!” Christian hissed. “Be quiet!”

  “Do you know why? It’s because you’re weak. It’s because you’re helpless. New born kittens are stronger than you. You lack the desire, the will, everything needed to do what is necessary. You’re pathetic. A useless excuse for a warrior. But don’t worry. That’s why I’m here. Unlike you, I’ll do what’s needed to get things done, and unlike you, I’ll enjoy it.”
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  “Be silent!”

  “Eventually, yes, eventually there will come a time when your strength fails you completely. Then I’ll step in. I’ll do what you could not, what you would not. I’ll be the one on top then, King, and what a glorious day that will be. I think I’ll have a celebration. I’ll take that succubus you love so much, bind her, beat her, tie her to the bed and plunge my―”

  “I said shut up!” Christian roared, launching himself from his seat, the sound of his voice echoing through the room. He stood there, breathing in heavy pants, his shoulders and chest heaving. Sweat formed along his brow, trailing down the side of his face, and his heart beat in tune with his rage.

  It was only after several seconds, time that he used to calm down, that Christian noticed he was not alone. Several other people, women that he vaguely recognized but could not name, were staring at him with shocked expressions of revulsion. He might have felt embarrassed by his outburst, or humiliated to know that people had seen it, but his mind was too unfocused, too hazy. His rage and fear clouded his rational thought processes, leaving him unable to contemplate what those in his presence might be thinking of him.

  He sat back down, shuddering from head to toe. His hands found their way to his head, elbows propped up on his knees. The slow, quivering inhale and exhale pf breath did little to settle his nerves.

  That was the first time what he had dubbed “The Voice” had ever spoken to him directly. His first time hearing it was many years ago, during his battle against Abaddon the Destroyer. The Voice had come to him then, whispering sweet words filled with promises. It had offered him power, and he had taken it.

  He had not heard The Voice again for a while after that. During his battle with Damien, the voice had not spoken to him, but it had answered his call and given him power. And it had done so again during the train battle against Asmodeus’s human form, Nicholas Cruor.

  After that, he had not heard the voice again until his second battle with Asmodeus, the one where he and Lilith had almost died. The Voice had come to him once more. It had played on his worries and fears. Then it gave him power, his vision shifted, and he’d been able to find Asmodeus’s weakness and send the demon back to hell.

  It seemed to Christian that The Voice was getting stronger each time he accepted its offer of power. Perhaps the reason for this had something to do with how it seemed to have a hold over him. Maybe by accepting The Voice’s offer, he unknowingly allowed it a foothold into his mind.

  That almost seemed like a form of possession. There were many malevolent beings out there in the world who were capable of possessing humans. The Seven Demon Kings did that. To escape from hell, their only option was to possess the body of a human that could contain their soul and a fraction of their power. Poltergeists could also possess humans.

  However, the amount of supernatural entities that were capable of possessing a human were few and far between. Most people wouldn’t think so, assuming that possessing someone was easy, but it wasn’t. The act of either enslaving the mind or inhabiting the body was incomprehensibly difficult.

  There were two different types of possession. The first was the act of dominating the mind, subjugating human will and supplanting it with your own. This was difficult, as a human’s mind was surprisingly hard to subdue. Influence? Yes. Enslave? No. Vampires, succubi, incubus, mermaids, sirens, all these creatures were capable of influencing a human’s mind, but none of them were able to actually dominate them. Of the more regular supernatural creatures, only the No Life Kings and Ancestors were capable of truly forcing their will onto the human mind, and that wasn’t possession, but rather, the act of turning a human into a slave to do their bidding. It was different.

  The second type of possession was much more invasive. It didn’t just involve dominating the mind and enslaving it. This type of possession called for the being in question to delve into the body of the human they were possessing. Their soul was forced into the mortal shell, consuming the original soul that resided within and supplanting the human’s conscience with their own. This kind of possession was only available to poltergeists and the Seven Demon Kings. If there were any other beings capable of doing this, then Christian did not know of them.

  Was that what was happening to him? Was something trying to possess him? The thought made him sick to his stomach. There were few things he feared; losing Lilith held the top place, but just below that was losing himself. Possession was an act of losing the self. When you were possessed, you were no longer the person you once were but someone else. And that notion terrified him.

  The sound of an alarm blaring snapped Christian out of his musings. He rushed to his feet and ran out of the library. His destination was the command room.

  Clarissa was already there when he arrived. She was standing behind an aid, leaning over a console, and speaking harshly into a headset. “What do you mean the sensors were destroyed? Goblins aren’t smart enough to find those, and we hid them extremely well!” She paused, listening to the other line. “Shit! Alert the Valkyries. Tell them I want them ready to move out at a moment’s notice! What’s the status of Lilith and Heather?”

  Upon hearing mention of Lilith, Christian forgot about everything else.

  He stomped up to Clarissa, his expression stormy and worried. “What happened to Lilith?”

  Clarissa looked up, then looked back at the monitor, which was rotating through several cameras that appeared to be hidden in Yellowstone National Park. “We don’t know. They went out to get supplies and haven’t returned. They should have been back half an hour ago. It doesn’t take that long to do a supply run.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “...Grant Village Lodge.”

  Christian turned, marching towards the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” asked Clarissa. Christian didn’t stop. He reached the door and gripped the handle. “You don’t even know where Grant Lodge is!” He stopped. “How do you expect to find them when you don’t even know how to reach their last known location? Much less know where they are now?”

  “I’ll think of something,” Christian said, even though his words lacked confidence. Clarissa was right. How could he find someone when he didn’t know their location? Yellowstone National Park was a big place, and he would be running blind. What’s more, he didn’t have a car. He would be hoofing it.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Clarissa shot back. “There’s no way you’ll be able to find them. You don’t know where they are, and you have no means of transportation. It’ll take days for you to cover all of Yellowstone on foot.”

  “Then what do you want me to do?” Christian whirled around and glared at Clarissa, his face set in a snarl. “I can’t just sit here doing nothing! I need to find Lilith! I... I...” Christian trailed off, his eyes widening as a revelation struck him with the fury of tempest. Was this what Lilith felt when he went off to fight those goblins? Had she felt this same fear that he did?

  He really needed to apologize to her.

  After he rescued her, of course.

  “I’m not saying that you should do nothing,” Clarissa admonished him, her voice tight. “I am simply asking for patience. We’re currently trying to triangulate their location. If you wait for a minute, we’ll find them, and you can go with the Valkyries and bring them back.”

  Named after the Norse mythological female figures who are charged with determining who will die in battle and who will live, the Valkyries were Heather Locklear’s personal unit. The ones that wore the black leather clothing. Specially selected by Clarissa and Heather, members of the Valkyries underwent extensive combat training and were tasked with protecting the enclave. They were nothing at all like the group Clarissa had led, which were just regular succubus who were sometimes forced to fight due to various circumstances.

  Christian stood there in indecision. Two options were presented to him. On the one hand, he could ignore Clarissa, go off on his own, and search for Lilith himself. The problem
came with the fact that he had no clue how long it would take to find Lilith, or if he even could find her. Then there was the other side of the coin toss, which involved him sticking around, waiting and worrying and fretting, while Clarissa tried to ascertain Lilith’s location.

  In the end, it came down to which option would take less time.

  It really wasn’t much of a choice.

  “Alright,” he sighed, forcing himself to calm down, or at least trying to. Keeping composed at that moment was harder than attempting to scrub gore off a thick shag carpet with a toothbrush. “Okay. I’ll... I’ll wait here.”

  Clarissa decided to take pity on him. “Why don’t you wait with the Valkyries? They’ll be the ones to mobilize. You’ll find them in the changing rooms by the southern quadrant.”

  Christian barely gave Clarissa what would be a respectful nod as he left the room. His long strides took him across the chasm of steaming water, his mind a whirl. Agitation blared across his mind, uneasiness thrummed in his veins. Saying that Christian felt perturbed did not do his feelings justice. He felt sick. His entire body rebelled against the notion that Lilith might be in danger, or hurt, or even worse.

  When he entered the changing room, it was to see that all of the girls were already there. They were also already dressed. As he walked in, they stared at him. Christian did his best to ignore the stares, choosing to take a seat far from them. He plopped down and inspected his guns.

  Both Gabriel and Phaneul had been put through the ringer in recent months. He’d used them to fight both Damien and Asmodeus. They’d been knocked around, beaten, and battered, yet despite this, they were still just as pristine as when he first got them.

  The material they were made of was called Oricalchum, and it was the most durable substance known to man. They never stained and never rusted. They were unbreakable, too.

  Oricalchum had been made by the alchemist, Robert Boyle, near the end of the sixteenth century, who had been attempting to create a Philosopher’s Stone by sacrificing humans. Boyle had been arrested, his journals confiscated, and much of his work destroyed. The means to create Oricalchum had been discovered in Boyle’s journals, and the Catholic Church proceeded to use that knowledge to forge weapons.