Old Wounds

by Ren Hamilton

  It was ironic. During their romantic relationship several years ago, her major complaint had been that he wouldn’t trust her enough to share the most private aspects of his life and his work. Well, now she’d had a taste of just that, and discovered it didn’t suit her palate after all.

  When he’d finished tending to his own business, his eyes drifted to Shep, who quarreled with someone in hushed but heated tones, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he blacked out the basement’s narrow windows with paper.

  “But I gave orders for you to stay in the house, didn’t Margol tell you? That’s just brilliant, Joey. I’ve spent all this time and effort trying to keep you safe, and you just go wandering around Boston, alone and intoxicated.”

  He finished taping the black paper onto one window, then moved to the next. “Yes, I saw him. Briefly at Litner’s place. He was with Patrick and Robin playing games. Joey! I saw him for like five seconds, we didn’t sit around braiding each other’s hair. You have got to get over this. I don’t care what happened at the bar, I told you to stay away from him.”

  Litner raised an eyebrow and looked over at Father Carbone, who gave a slight shake of his head in return. It appeared Joey had a bad case of the green-eyed monster when it came to Wesley. Patrick had phoned Litner and told him about the altercation at the pub. Litner advised both Patrick and Wesley to lay low until their guests had left town. He didn’t trust Shep, that was par for the course, but he trusted Joey Duvaine even less.

  “I told you, I’m with Juris, we don’t need you here,” Shep snapped into the phone. “You don’t have to be with me every second, Joey. This time stay in the house, and if you disobey me again, you’re going to regret it. I’ve given you a lot of freedom up north, but you’ll see that restricted indefinitely if you keep this shit up. I’m not playing with you man, quit fucking around.”

  Shep hung up and growled, turning away from the window. “Is he drunk?” Juris asked, without looking up from his spray bottles.

  “Of course he’s drunk,” Shep said.

  Juris’s eyes flicked to Shep. “Margol and Klee didn’t tell him to stay in?”

  Shep wandered over to Juris. “He was awake when we left and heard me give the order so he slipped out the back. He went to Monty’s and ran into Obrien and...the other one.”

  Juris huffed but didn’t comment further.

  “Spray bottles are ready,” Carbone said. “I brought down a couple decks of cards if anyone wants to—”

  Shep’s scream brought Litner to his feet. Juris ran to him as Shep fell, stumbling and landing on his back. His cell phone clattered across the floor.

  Carbone ran to Litner, handing him one of the spray bottles. He took it but shook his head. “Explain to me what’s happening—”

  “Fuck!” Shep shouted, pressing his palm to his cheek as he sat up. When he removed it, it came away with blood from a deep slash that ran from his cheekbone to his chin. He examined his bloody fingers, trembling. “Fuck you, you fucking cock sucking whore!” he screamed at the rear corner of the room.

  Litner’s head swiveled, but he saw nothing there.

  “Fuck!” Shep said again, touching his face. “Hurts.”

  “Shhh,” Juris soothed Shep, resting hands on his shoulders. “I know, I know, just try to remember why we’re here.”

  Shep’s eyes gleamed with yellow light as he glared at a point near the back window.

  “It’s here already?” Litner asked. “The Schlarr?”

  “Yes,” Shep hissed. “It’s here.”

  “Over there?” Father Carbone asked, pointing in the direction Shep glared.

  Shep nodded, cheek smeared red like war paint where he’d wiped the wound. He got to his feet, and gave whatever was in that corner a seething sneer. “You motherless fucking—”

  “Diplomacy, Shepherd,” Juris said. “Remember why we’re here.”

  The spray bottle trembled slightly in Litner’s hand. Christ, he hadn’t even seen the damn thing yet, but he felt a surprising panic. Was it all the stories they’d told in the kitchen? Had he gotten himself worked up over tales of celestial boogie men with bad manners? He wondered if perhaps the entity was radiating some sort of energy that was affecting him. Its primary purpose was to scare things away, after all. With this in mind, he consciously forced himself to calm, taking a few deep breaths to get control.

  Father Carbone was in the corner spraying a pink mist into the air from one of the pump bottles. He turned to Litner. “Hey Steven, give me a hand.”

  If Luigi could be strong in the face of this, then he damn well could too. Spray bottle in hand, he approached the corner. “Other side,” Carbone said, so he circled around, leaving three feet between them. Then he pointed and sprayed.

  The air between them clouded with pink mist, hovering and swirling in spirals, like tiny tornados.

  Putting himself in front of Shep, Juris approached, watching intently. When the figure materialized, Litner’s mouth went dry. More translucent than solid, it pulsed with yellow light, shoulders with golden wings, hands clasped at its chest like an angel in a painting. The face was simply beautiful, eyes enormous, staring ahead with no expression at all, a puckered mouth.

  Though Juris edged closer to it, the thing’s eyes never shifted, its body as still as one of the broken statues against the wall. Curls of golden light framed the head. The only movement was the very slight pulsing of the wings hanging from its back. Below the waist the body disappeared into the pink mist. Litner looked up at it and let out a sigh of awe. He rounded the front, examining the serene face. He still felt nervous but recognized that this was a once in a lifetime experience, and something he’d never forget.

  “Step back,” Juris said.

  Litner glanced at him. “Is it going to talk—”

  He hadn’t seen it move, but suddenly that glowing face was inches from his, and it bared fangs from an oddly protruded jaw. A blast of heat hit him as it roared like an angry lion, the sound causing him to wheel backwards. He stumbled and fell, and the thing swirled around and growled at Carbone, who was already running to the other side of the room.

  Strong arms lifted Litner and dragged him back, setting him down behind Shep. “I said get back!” Juris shouted.

  The creature dove at Juris, Litner’s hand reaching automatically for his gun, but stopping when he realized it was useless. Juris ducked, covering his head, and Shep dove to the side, knocking over the foldout table as he tumbled. Cups shattered and hot tea spilled in streams across the floor.

  The Schlarr swooped up like a bird, circled the ceiling and came down for another pass at Juris. Juris rolled away and held his hands up. “Roh kala ich mrano fal!” Juris screamed. “Mrano fal!”

  The creature paused and levitated upward, hands clasped at its chest. Then it swooped over Juris’s head, swiping a glowing claw over his white curls. A few strands of blond hair floated like cotton in the air as Juris yanked his head from the creature’s grasp. “Roh Kala ich mrano fal!” Juris screamed again.

  Shep ran over and stood protectively in front of Juris. “Enough of this shit,” he said. “Look at me!”

  The creature swirled to face Shep, and Litner saw the first flicker of eye contact as it regarded him. It roared, and again the jaw seemed to stretch out like a canine, pointed teeth bared. As Litner’s heart thudded in his chest, he understood how Father Carbone could have wet himself upon first encountering one of these things.

  “Talk to me!” Shep shouted at the thing, knees bent, readying to dive if it came for him again. “Talk to me, you bitch! We’ll leave when we’re finished and not a moment sooner. I can’t make you leave, but I can give you a pretty bad day. Try me.”

  Litner shuffled over to the other side of the room, sidling up to Carbone.

  “Shepherd...” Juris said.

  “You tried asking nicely, Juris,” Shep said. “It didn’t work.”

  Father Carbone took a small step forward and the Schlarr’s head turned
, bulbous eyes on the priest. He stepped backward quickly, bumping into Litner. “Okay,” Carbone said to the apparition, hands up. “I won’t move.”

  “Do you know who I am?” Shep shouted, and the luminous head turned toward him. It spread its wings and stretched long fingers out toward Shep, each tipped with a glowing claw. One finger stretched forward in a point, stopping inches from Shep’s forehead. Shep trembled, but held his ground, flinching in anticipation. But the claw didn’t make contact, simply hung there in accusation.

  “We came to talk to you,” Shep said, his voice shaking. “We’re not here for any other reason, so let’s get this over with and we can all leave.”

  The creature’s body floated backward, and its clawed hands retracted and clasped at its chest. “Zirub.”

  The voice came from the apparition’s mouth, the word formed slowly with those glowing, puckered lips, but the sound was distant, buzzing, like it was being filtered through an electronic device.

  “You know me?” Shep asked. The creature shot up and flew a circle around the ceiling. Shep’s eyes followed it, turning to keep it in sight. “I need to talk to you!” he shouted. “An assassin was sent here. Preet, a former Power. Do you know of this?”

  The creature did another circle of the basement ceiling, then came to light in front of Shep, that one, clawed finger extending to a point again. “All know Zirub,” it said in that strange, buzzing voice. “Half thing. Unnatural thing.”

  “Right,” Shep said. “I’m a half thing. And I’m sure you’re all quite disgusted. But do you know of the assassin?”

  It retracted its pointed finger, hanging its clawed hands in front of it. Litner had a flashback of Juris’s imitation earlier, hands hanging on bent wrists like a T-Rex. With the claws, the fingers seemed disproportionately long for the hands. “Not our concern,” it buzzed.

  Linter noticed that the apparition seemed to have faded a bit, golden light still there but not as bright. But there was no way he was approaching it with a spray bottle again, now or ever. So he simply watched.

  “I thought you were supposed to protect the nether realms?” Juris shouted. “The assassin killed six humans.”

  The clawed hands moved closer to its chest, then clasped. “Not possible.”

  “Yeah?” Shep said. “Well someone disagrees with you. He came through the Pearl Chasm Cripulet, he was sworded, and he killed six. He was set to kill more.”

  “Not sanctioned,” the Schlarr said. “Not possible.”

  Shep took a brave step closer, the glowing entity hovering over him. “Am I getting through to you, um, what is your name, anyway? Or should I just call you Schlarr?”

  “Too low you are to receive my name,” the Schlarr said. “Low and slithering on your bellies like serpents. Like slugs. Like excrement. Soiled things, you are. Unnatural things.”

  “Wow,” Carbone whispered to Litner. “Tough room.”

  Shep’s fists clenched. “Look, whoever you are, could you at least check it out? Find out if there are any other attacks planned?”

  “Powers lie. You lie. Assassin not possible. Not in the nether realms.”

  “This fucking happened, okay?” Shep said. “Whether you think it’s possible or not.”

  “There is a human here with us who witnessed it,” Juris called out. The Schlarr’s eyes turned slowly to gaze at him. Juris pointed at Litner. “He was there when the assassin came through the Cripulet. He can validate what we’re saying.”

  Litner swallowed hard, waiting for the frightening thing to come toward him again, but it remained where it was, focused on Juris. “He’s telling the truth,” Litner said. “They’re both telling the truth. Humans were killed, as was the assassin, ultimately.”

  The Schlarr did not respond. Did not move. Even the wings no longer pulsed and rippled. It had become unnaturally still, like someone had hit pause on a recording. It hung here, halfway between the floor and the ceiling, not a flicker of movement. The eyes stayed fixed on Juris, though it did not seem to be looking at him.

  Juris stepped cautiously to the side. The creature’s head did not turn, eyes did not follow. He sidled back and stood directly in front of it, waving a hand back and forth before its eyes. “Hello?”

  “We are...checking it out,” the Schlarr said suddenly, and they all jumped. “Investigating.”

  Shep stepped up beside Juris. “Right now?”

  The glowing head turned ever so slightly and the eyes focused on Shep. “I have gone to investigate. I will return.” It’s eyes left Shep and it stared ahead, that odd stillness taking it again.

  Litner let out a shivering breath, and Shep glanced at him. “This is good, Litner. It’s checking out our story.”

  Litner scowled up at the hazy apparition. “Has it…sent a telepathic message?”

  “Not exactly,” Juris said. “It can be in two places at once. It’s still here, but part of it has gone back to the byways to ask questions.”

  “Should we spray it again?” Carbone asked.

  “Hell no!” Litner said. “It’s quiet now, just leave it alone.”

  “It’s fading,” the priest said. “What if it disappears and doesn’t come back?”

  “It will be back,” Shep said. “Just relax.”

  They all tried to remain calm and patient, but relaxation was out of the question. Shep and Juris stood with hands on their hips, watching the Schlarr. Eventually, everyone grew restless and moved about the room, waiting as the minutes ticked on and the apparition hanging in the middle of the room faded more and more.

  When nearly a half-hour had passed, Shep let out a frustrated sigh. He snatched one of the spray bottles off the floor and approached the Schlarr, pumping a couple of rounds at it. The creature became more visible again, gold and pulsing with light, but it remained statue still, as before.

  Shep growled his frustration. “How long is this going to—”

  “You have enemies, Zirub,” the Schlarr said, head turning to look at Shep.

  Litner and flinched at the sudden, buzzing voice.

  Shep took a step closer to it. “Enemies?” He scoffed. “Tell me something I don’t know. Who was it? Are the cherubim behind this, those ugly fuckers?”

  “No. One of your rank.”

  “Another Power?”

  “Yes. And no.”

  Juris stepped up beside Shep. “What does that mean? Yes and no. Explain yourself.”

  “This one has been altered through punishment,” The Schlarr said. “Tortured. Demoted, and sent to work the farthest corners of the byways, far from The Light. He is displeased and blames you for what has befallen him. He has deceived another into acting against you. He believes purging you from this realm will redeem him to The Light. He suffers delusions. He no longer thinks with clarity because of the torture he endured. But he is determined to destroy you and all you have tarnished on this world.”

  “Who is it?” Shep asked. The Schlarr did not reply. “Who the fuck is it?” Shep screamed until he was red-faced, the chords in his neck bulging.

  The Schlarr hovered, fading wings pulsing and rippling like ocean waves. “He is called Allisto.”

  Shep stumbled and Juris caught his arm. Taking in fast breaths, Shep grimaced up at the Schlarr. “My brother Allisto was destroyed by the cherubim. I saw it with my own eyes. How are you lying to me?”

  “We do not lie. It is confirmed.”

  “We saw him destroyed!” Juris said, his voice quivering.

  “His destruction was an illusion,” the Schlarr said. “He received punishment and is now back in the byways.”

  Shep shook his head. “Impossible.” He shook it again. “Allisto would never do this to me. Never. That is not possible.”

  The fading entity stared straight ahead, expression blank. “Well, Zirub, as you say, this fucking happened.” Its glowing eyes tilted down and focused on Shep. “Whether you think it is possible or not.”

  Shep dropped to his knees, pressing his palms to his eyes,
shoulders undulating with short gasps. Juris didn’t seem to be breathing as he stared up at the Schlarr, his lower lip trembling. “If this is true,” Juris said, “what happens now?”

  “Powers cannot interfere with the nether realms. This is not unknown to you. Your five did so and were sent to the void. Allisto has clearly not learned this lesson, as he claimed. He will be punished further.”

  “But we’re not in the void anymore,” Juris said. “Is our punishment over then?”

  “It has been deemed that living as flesh, away from The Light as this unnatural half thing you are, is a proper extension of your punishment,” the Schlarr said.

  Litner could only see half of the creature now, one side faded to nothing.

  Juris paced a circle, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced down at Shep, then up at the Schlarr. “Will Allisto be sent back to the void?”

  Shep’s shoulders tightened, but he remained where he was, face in his hands.

  “That is being discussed,” the Schlarr said. “It is no longer your concern. There will be no further assassination attempts connected to you in this realm.”

  Litner let out a relieved sigh at that.

  “But they can’t send Allisto back to the void,” Juris said. “Zirub won’t be there to put him to sleep, he’ll go mad!”

  “He is already…mad. Damaged. But it is not for you to decide,” the Schlarr said.

  Shep looked up finally, eyes pulsing with yellow light. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “You may,” came the buzzing voice.

  “No void.” Shep climbed to his feet and approached the Schlarr. “Send him here.”

  The Schlarr went still and silent for several moments, then shifted its golden eyes down to Shep. “Your brother wants very much to remain in the byways. To do his penance and work his way closer to The Light again. It is said Allisto despises…here, where you reside. He despises the flesh.”

  “Let me be in charge of his punishment,” Shep said. “No one else. I beg you.”