"All things serve Him, dumbass."
I stopped and turned back to look at him, sitting on the log. "Now what the fuck does that mean?"
"It's pretty straightforward, stupid. What's up without down? Light without dark? Night without day? Nothing happens unless He…" He looked upwards. "… allows it."
"Well, that’s pretty fucking rich, considering that my entire life's been a pleasure cruise through a shit swamp of horrors. If that was His fucking plan for me, He…" I pointed upwards with my index finger. "…can shove it up His fucking ass." I flipped my middle finger towards the sky.
My grandfather shook his head. "And where is it promised that everyone would have an easy life with no challenges? Life is what you make of it, dipshit. Just because you've wasted your life and want to fucking whine about it doesn't mean I'm going to sympathize."
I walked over and hit him…or at least tried to. He didn't flinch, and my fist looped right through the air, passing through nothing. I sighed, and stepped back. "Speaking of lives, how the fuck do you fit into this, motherfucker? Why aren't you involved in this? I don't even know what you are. Angel? Demon? Ghost? A figment of my goddamned imagination? You once told me you were all of them and none of them at once. I now know you were once an angel, an Egregoroi, a watcher."
"You're finally catching on, eh? The problem is that it's a bit late in the game, numb nuts."
I shrugged. "That doesn't answer my question, though. What are you? Are you my actual grandfather, or something else?"
He smiled. "That is the million dollar question, isn't it? I don't actually know. Look at it this way, shit stain. If I were an Angel, I don't think I'd be wandering around Sheol. If I were a demon, you'd think I'd be in Hell; it'd be in my best interest to actually help your father and Tanner actually open the goddamned gate. If I were a fallen angel, you'd think I'd be in Hell itself, as a guest of honor, so to say. So…that leaves us with two choices. Either I've managed to earn my way into purgatory, and here I sit, or I'm a figment of your fucking imagination. Flip a goddamned coin and take your pick."
I waved my hand in his direction. "Well, you'd think if you earned your way into the land of Shadows you'd fucking remember it. I'm going to go with a figment of my goddamned imagination then."
He laughed. "Suit yourself. It's your god forsaken rodeo."
I started to pace back and forth. "Well, there's bigger fucking problems than that. Last time they tried to open the gate; I stopped them by committing suicide. While that was a successful ploy in stopping them, the unfortunate side effect was that I ended up as a guest of Hell. The docs managed to bring me back, though. I don't see that as being a viable fucking solution to preventing them from attempting to open the gate again. There's no assurance that I'd be brought back, and more to the point, there's no fucking way I'm willingly going back to Hell for any length of time."
He stood up, his back cracking. "Not to point out the obvious, but why not? Suicide is a mortal sin, according to the Catholics, isn't it? You've already crossed that line. It wasn't…" He raised his first two fingers to indicate the quotes. "…'attempted'…it was 'successful'. There's only one damned place you're going, in the fucking end. You're pretty much fucked. At some point, you're going to have to face the music. Why not sooner than later? Neatly solves the problem."
I stopped and looked at him, my mouth agape. "I don't fucking think so, scooter. Didn't you fucking hear me? I'm not willingly going back into Hell. You might think it's a quote viable plan end quote, but I don't plan on punching out on the time clock just yet."
He shook his head. "You waste half your fucking time thinking about doing just that, you little twit. Might as well just do it, as far as I'm concerned."
"Your plan blows."
He shrugged. "You got any better ideas, smartass?"
I shook my head.
"Well, either way, times up and you need to get the fuck out of here and deal with that shit. Go on. Scoot, fuck stick."
I looked around. "Now how the fuck do you propose I leave? To where?"
"Just wake up, motherfucker."
The world wavered, and I was getting a splitting headache. "How's that, again?" I rubbed my eyes. My head was splitting with pain.
"I said, wake up, mother…"
~~~~~~ *LP* ~~~~~~
"…fucker."
I shook my head, squinting through tears. SOB squawked to make the pounding stop inside my head. JC muttered this getting knocked upside the head was getting way too fucking old, and I was going to end up with brain damage before too long.
I shuddered, as I forced my eyes open. I couldn't move my hands; they were bound in front of me, in my lap. We were in the gloom of the dining room, lit by a single candle on the table. Tom was bound next to me, and Paul, my father, sat across from us, with scrolls in front of him. My father said, "So here we sit, once again, Ryan."
I said nothing. I saw Trish standing, staring out the window into the night beyond.
He unrolled the scrolls, and read them for a moment. "That was quite a stunt eleven years ago. That caused quite a few problems."
I shrugged, and looked over at Trish. From hating this monster to siding with him. How does that fucking happen? SOB pointed out that lying to her about him being dead didn't help. I looked back at him. "Are you going to try to open the gate again?"
Trish looked away from the window to us, and Paul just smiled and shrugged.
I nodded. "What makes you think I'll cooperate?"
He glanced over at Trish, and my blood ran cold. I could hear Tanner asking what my Achilles heel was. I could feel an ice-cold grip on my testicles. Joe Cool pointed out that they had me by the fucking balls, here. Paul smiled. "What makes you think we need you to do it?"
I swallowed, feeling the lead ball in my stomach contract. "Last time, you needed someone like me, a Shadow Walker, who could go down to the gate. Are you telling me you have someone else who can approach the gate?"
I could see from the corner of my eye that Tom's eyes were boring in on Paul. A small smile played on Paul's face, but he said nothing.
Tanner walked in through the doorway, and paused, leaning against the framework. "I take it this isn't a joyous occasion. Not a happy family reunion? That's too bad. So, we've got him back, pretty much intact. We missed him in Dark Harbor, yet here he sits. How, pray tell, did we pull that off?"
Paul nodded towards Trisha.
Tanner smiled. "Really."
Trish nodded. "After I saw what he did to that poor girl, Sarah…I don't care what you do with him. I don't want anything to do with that sick fucker." She waved her hand absently at me, and turned to stare back out at the window.
He looked down at Paul. "She bought that? He pointed at me, then himself, snickering. Trish whirled around, a look of confusion crossing her face as Tanner walked towards her. I looked up at her as she looked at me. "But Paul said Ryan…"
Tanner grabbed her wrists and twisted them behind her back. She let out a yelp of surprise, and he put his face next to hers, hissing in her ear. "He never touched her. He never harmed her one bit. He could only watch, my dear. He watched."
Trish's eyes went wide in shock as she looked at me. Her gaze remained frozen on me, and I kept my eyes locked on hers as Paul stood up, grabbed the duct tape.
Tanner kept talking as Paul duct taped her wrists. "He watched as we pounded steel spikes into her wrists and ankles, and he watched as she shrieked in agony. He watched as we raised her, upside down into the air, and he she shrieked in even greater agony. And as he lay dying, himself, he watched as I slit her throat and the life drained out of her." Paul stepped back, finished. I felt tears slip down my face, as Tanner smiled, and Trish still stared at me, the comprehension starting to replace the look of horror. A tear spilled from her eye. Paul tore off another piece of duct tape. Tanner continued, "And you, my dear, were so kind to play along and deliver him right back to us. For that, we thank you. And if you don't mind, we're going to need to use yo
u as incentive." Paul slapped the piece of duct tape over her mouth.
Paul sat down, and began reading aloud from the scroll. The words were nearly incomprehensible to Ryan, and began to fill Ryan with dread, and then low fear.
When the house began to shudder, and the sound of wailing and crying filled the air, Ryan's fear began to ramp up to terror. A thundering sound began to build, approaching the house in a hammering clatter, and it sounded as if the house was about to be sucked up in a tornado. It stopped suddenly, and the quiet was worse.
Tanner laughed wildly. "You brought us to the Shadows, Ryan. Now it's time to take a ride through Sheol. What better mode of transportation than from a chariot of Hell?"
Paul and Tanner led them outside, to behold a behemoth horse and carriage unlike any Ryan had ever seen. Ryan asked, "What is this?"
Paul shrugged. "Harnessed demons."
The massive team of black beasts were masses of scar tissue and muscle that rippled with restrained impatience. The heavy carriage was black and ornately carved with grotesque figures, skeletons, gargoyles and of fine and intricate detail. Paul gestured for them to climb in. Ryan glanced up at the tattered robe of the team driver, but the tall dark hooded figure pointedly ignored them. Paul told him, "Get in."
Ryan climbed in, and found a richly appointed velvet interior lit by candlelight. He sat down, and Tom sat next to him. Paul and Tanner sat across from him. Trish forced Tom to scoot over, so she could sit next to Ryan. Ryan looked over at Trish, hoping to catch her glance, but Trisha only stared down at her hands, withdrawn into herself.
The carriage lurched forward with a heavy start.
Despite both their hands being bound, Trisha's hands stole over and gripped Ryan's. Although the circumstances were dire, Ryan glanced over at her, and she was looking at him. He smiled reassuringly. He thought for a moment that if there was hope for the relationship between him and Trisha, then maybe there was hope for a way out of this mess.
~~~~~~ *LP* ~~~~~~
We were standing in very large clearing, deep in the woods somewhere. Paul held a gun to Trish's head. "You brought us down into the Shadows. Now that we're clear of the house and those idiots from Harmon…" He pointed the gun at Tom, then back at Trisha again. He cocked the hammer on the gun. "…take us back up to the real world."
I nodded. There was no point in arguing. Granted, if they harmed Trish, they'd lose their leverage, but there was nothing to gain by not cooperating at this point. It wasn't worth the risk to call their bluff. Also, I'd seen what they'd done to Sarah. There's no guarantee that it was a bluff.
I closed my eyes and flipped us back up. While nowhere near as taxing as pulling a whole house, there were still a large number of people to pull along, and a dull throb settled into my temples as I pulled us back up to reality. I could hear a swell of murmurs as both light and sound descended upon us.
Opening my eyes, I could see that we were still in a large clearing, but there was a roaring bonfire blazing in a pit, and a large crowd of people gathered, in black hooded robes with white masks. Off to one side of the clearing stood a pole barn, with several black hooded monks guarding it, and a road led off out of the clearing into the woods.
I looked back over at the bonfire. To the far left of the bonfire was a row of heavy drums, manned and ready. Over the bonfire itself, a large metal sculpture sat above the fire, glowing bright red from the tremendous heat of the blaze underneath it. It was a torso, with the head of a bull, an enormous ring through its nose, the horn tips reaching high into the air, with the flames reaching high around it. The elbows were together against the stomach, a large hole in the sternum, the hands also together facing palm upwards extending out beyond the fire.
Tom nodded towards it. "Ba'al Moloch. God of fire."
I nodded, thinking of Carla, trying to crawl through the flames.
Paul and Tanner walked over to the left of the hands that extended, where there stood a table with numerous items laid out. Crimson robes. A white robe. White and black masks. Scrolls. Knives. Three large and ornately carved bowls. Steel spikes. A heavy hammer. Paul and Tanner donned crimson robes. Paul donned the black mask, and Tanner donned the white mask. To the right of the fire stood a large wooden frame, and below it, several heavy crosstrees lay on the ground.
One of the black-robed white-masked monks walked over to Tanner. After conferring with him for several seconds, he took the gun, walked over, and led Trish and Tom over to the side, keeping the gun pointed at her head. Tanner picked up a white robe and white mask and walked over to Ryan.
"You're going to don these and participate. I don't have to explain why, do I?" He pointed over at Trisha. "Just so there are no misunderstandings here…" He waved over at the pole barn, held up two fingers, and pointed at Trisha.
One of the monks turned around, and opened the door. A minute later, another monk came out, leading two children. It took me a minute to realize, they were my children. Trisha went fucking batshit, and her guard had to put her in a chokehold to restrain her.
Our children were led over to Trisha, and second guard detailed to look after them. The guard released Trisha, allowed here to sit on the ground and hold them, which she managed as best she could with her hands still bound.
Tanner looked at me. "Get the message?"
I nodded.
"Good. Then we can begin." He nodded to Paul.
Paul held his hands up, and slow and deliberate, the drums started beating. The crowd murmuring started quieting, and they walked to form up in front of Paul, at the front of the giant statue of Moloch in the blazing bonfire, with the pole barn behind them. He lowered his hands and the drumbeats stopped, the crowd silent.
"Good evening. Thank you all for coming. More precisely, I'd like to congratulate you for making it. The path to get here has been long and arduous. It was not easy. It wasn't supposed to be easy. Only the worthy should be here for this moment. As Yeats said, 'What rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?' And yes, our hour has come round again at last.
God sat in heaven, and made a universe. Out of that universe, He decided to build it with a cosmic joke. That cosmic joke is this: You can have eternal peace at the price of ignorance. Take knowledge, and I'll saddle you with good and evil, with random chance and death. Eve paid that price when she ate from the tree of knowledge, and Adam shared that fate with her. It was a bullshit proposition from the get go. What is life without knowledge? What is life without learning? It's a pointless life.
The watcher Angels, the Egregoroi, with their burden of knowledge wanted to share the same knowledge with men. They bred with humans and shared their knowledge of chemistry, astronomy, of farming. What did God do? God punished man and angels alike with death in the form of a flood.
God is always punishing the quest for knowledge. Cast into the pit, deemed to be the Sons of Darkness, forever removed from the sight of God, forever doomed to be the tormentors of men. Meanwhile, God in heaven claims that his angels are the Sons of Light. I argue that's backwards. The Sons of Darkness wish to bring illumination into the world. They don't want pain and suffering; they know what that's like. The Sons of Darkness experience it every day. God chooses to allow pain and suffering. The Sons of Darkness wish to banish pain and suffering, and wish to bring knowledge and illumination to every dark corner.
That's what we're here to do today. We're here to unleash the Sons of Darkness upon earth, free them from their prison. Free them from their unjust life sentences in eternity. Not because we want create Hell on earth, but because we want to banish the Hell that is Earth." He paused. The crowd was murmuring its assent. "We want to bring justice to everyone." The murmuring increased in intensity. "We want to bring peace and illumination to everyone. We want to bring knowledge to everyone. The path that has brought us here was long and hard, and we've paid a massive price in blood. The price was high, and still, it hasn't been enough. We still have a high price to pay, but we will pay it wil
lingly. And so our ritual begins! Ba'al Moloch demands his due!"
Paul signaled the drummers, who began pounding the bass drums at a furious pace. Ryan watched as a line formed between the pole barn and the statue of Moloch. A line of children was led, bewildered, towards Paul and Tanner, who were waiting patiently at the outstretched hands of Moloch, and Ryan suddenly knew what the hands were for. They were a slide, into the fire. For the children. Ryan spotted Sarah Winters in the midst of the children. "At least you didn't kill her," SOB babbled incoherently.
Ryan thought desperately. He could hear his grandfather telling him to commit suicide, but that was no guarantee that it would stop the slaughter of the children. The crowd might not even fucking notice his suicide, they were in such a frenzy with the pounding drums.
The children wandered innocently towards their death, scared and guided along by the robed figures that towered over them.
Joe Cool muttered, "All things happen because He allows it. Matthew 17:20. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."
I blinked. Then I closed my eyes and prayed. "God, please make this stop."
Silence descended.
I opened my eyes.
Time seemed frozen. Everything stood stock-still. The monks stood in place, ushering the children forward but not moving. The children were looking around, wide eyed in fear but frozen in place. The flames of the fire were still-framed, reaching towards the sky, sparks stuck like orange stars in a 3D hologram. Not a breath of breeze stirred.
Now what?
Ryan's Suffering Page 31
