exteriors.
I'm inside my house. Not a close approximation, it's really my house.
My shoes, ratty old Nikes I've had for two years, lay exactly where I kicked them off when I got home. In the kitchen, my dishes are still sitting in the drying rack next to the sink. The picture from earlier this evening, sits on the hall table just the way I left it. Unfamiliar faces stare up at me from it. The park is the same, even the way the sun catches the woman’s hair. Us, but not us. Just like Danny's house.
Heading upstairs, the stairs voice their familiar protest in creaks and groans. Will the noise wake my mom? I slow my pace, plant each step carefully. In any other house, I wouldn't care because my in-game movements are only audible to me. But this is my house, and I can’t make my brain accept any other way.
At the second floor I turn to face my mother’s door. I should press ahead, complete the mission, but I can't resist taking a look in my own room.
The walls are covered in game posters--Elder Scrolls, WoW, Final Fantasy, all in their usual places. My TV and game systems have the same layer of dust they've accumulated in their months of disuse--I’ve been totally focused on Revelations. The game chair sits in the middle of the room, unoccupied, just like the angel said it would be. A boy who could be my age lies face-down on the bed, his one arm hanging over the side. I nudge the mouse, bringing the computer monitor to life. The formatting is fifteen percent finished.
I leave my room and walk down the hallway toward my mother's door. The damn TV is still on. I might have to put my sword through it. I phase through the door.
She's asleep on the bed, the clothes still lying around in messy piles. The TV remote occupies the pillow on the empty side of the bed. Crumpled balls of kleenex cover the bedside table.
I could use the Divining Spell to discover the source of her difficulties, and how best to Influence her, but I don't need to. I know about the box with all the pictures hidden away in her closet. I've heard the name she cries out in her sleep. I understand she still blames herself.
How do I want to play the game?
Even though this woman looks nothing like my mom, I know it's her. The way she breathes, her posture while sleeping, the same damn channel on TV, they're all her.
Danny is dead.
It's more than just a game.
I know what I want to do here. It's selfish. But it might also be the right thing to do.
What do I want my gameplay to say about me?
I sit on the edge of the bed and lightly brush her hair with my fingertips. What words can I say? How can I undo years of hurt and guilt? Can the manipulative powers of a Fallen Angel accomplish what the love of a son can't?
"I know you're hurting. Your son is hurting too. But not just because he lost his father, but even more because he's losing his mother."
She stirs, but doesn't wake.
"Your husband, his father, died in a car accident. He was taken from you."
"My fault,” she mumbles.
"No. You weren't the one driving the other car drunk." I can’t stop my voice from raising.
Her eyes open, but don't focus on me.
"If I hadn't fought with him, he wouldn't have walked out--he wouldn't have been in the car."
I stand from the bed, pacing around the room, my fists tightening. The more I press against her with my spells, the more I feel resistance. Not just from her, but previous spell work performed on her. I'm not the first denizen of Hell to walk into this house. I'm not the first person assigned to pour poison in her ear. I want to smash my fists against the wall. I might just charge into the depths of Hell with my sword swinging. I want to make every last one of those bastards in this game pay.
And then it all crashes in on me.
I'm one of those bastards.
I've done this to others without a second thought.
I put Danny in that hallway last night.
Sobs build in my chest.
The avatar representing my mom sits up and looks toward me. She can't see me, or at least she's not supposed to. But she still looks right at me.
"Tyler?"
I bite my lip, hard. I don't know what to do.
After a moment, her eyes scrunch up, she shakes her head, and turns to lie back down.
I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to loosen the knots in my shoulders.
"Everyone fights." My words are ragged whispers. "Sometimes the fight is worth it, other times it's not. You had sixteen years of loving marriage. You shouldn't forget all that because of one fight." I take a slow breath to calm my trembling voice. "You shouldn't forget your son. He needs you."
I move around to the side of the bed where I can face her and kneel down on the ground. Despite the fear I’ll wake her and cause her to panic, I rest my hand on hers. Her eyes remain closed.
"You are stronger than this. You were the best mom a boy could ask for. And you will pick yourself up and be that mom again. Your son is doing everything he can to keep this house together and stop you from entirely destroying yourself. You don't only owe it to yourself to move on, you owe it to him." I pour every ounce of my magical power behind my voice. "Tomorrow, you will wake up, you will have a shower, get dressed, and you will start to live your life again."
Her face looks more relaxed, her sleep more peaceful. I stand up and turn the TV off before leaving the room.
After leaving the house, I turn to inspect the front door. The Demon Claw is still there.
I don't know if I've fixed anything tonight. At least I haven't made things worse. But what good will that do if some other demon shows up tomorrow, or the night after?
The angel still waits for me across the street.
An angel.
I'm a Fallen Angel.
And I gained new abilities.
The Warding Spell mentioned sealing a location against demons. But it also said it worked in Hell. I don't know if it'll work on Earth. But it can't hurt, right?
I snap my fingers, bring up my menu, and swipe the screens over to my list of spells to figure out how to cast the Warding spell.
After a quick study, I reach back and pull my sword from its scabbard. I hold it blade down in my left hand and run the index finger of my right hand along the blade. When the blood flows enough, I paint a circle within a circle, which contains a diamond, that then holds two more circles and a cross in the center. I have to look at the symbol several times to get it right, especially when adding several words written in, what I guess might be, Hebrew. Once it's finished, I press my palm against the door and yell, "Shamshiel."
There's no glowing light or rushing wind, but I do feel a warmth beneath my palm. When I look at the front door, the Demon Claw has vanished.
The angel watches me cross the street.
"How did it go?" she asks.
She doesn’t mention the Warding Spell, but there’s curiosity in her eyes. I’m not mentioning it if she isn’t asking--best to keep some things to myself.
"I honestly don't know. I guess I'll find out in the morning."
A notification pops up in front of me.
A new player stat is available.
"That's weird."
"What?" she asks.
"Something new is available."
I open the menu and go to my stats page. At the bottom a new status bar has been added. Only a fraction is filled with a light blue colour. I stare at it for a few moments...and manage a smile.
"I guess I did ok,” I say.
“Why? What is it?”
“It’s a new status bar to fill.” I chuckle--it’s part relief and disbelief. “It’s called Redemption.”
Her smile broadens. “I’d say that's positive.”
"But where do I go from here?" I ask. "I mean, you basically said I have no choice but play the game."
"True." She elongates the 'oo'. "But now you have a new goal. One that'll make the game more interesting. Maybe even make it fun again.”
"But will they let me play that way?"
&
nbsp; "Who knows?" She shrugs. "I imagine they'll want you to fail...but I don’t know how far they’ll go to make it happen.”
Her soundless wings begin to flap and she rises into the air.
"You did a good thing tonight,” she says. “Keep it up and we might just see each other again.”
When she's about five feet in the air, she becomes a blur of light, streaking up into the sky and disappearing from sight.
Dammit. I forgot to ask her about that mod and her tag. Perhaps I should fly after her? I shake that idea off. No, I’m too tired.
My menu shows the option to logout is now available. I click it. Instead of the normal rush of colours, everything goes black.
Level 6
When I open my eyes again, I'm lying in my bed.
I bolt upright, catching the smell of something on fire.
Then I realize it's not burning, it's cooking.
I jump out of bed, throw open my door, and nearly fall down the stairs racing to the kitchen.
My mom is standing at the stove.
She's dressed.
She's washed.
She's cooking.
"Hi sweetheart." She gives me a smile that the aching in my chest says I've missed so much. "I thought I'd make some pancakes and bacon. I hope I didn't wake you up."
"No, it's fine." Damn, I'm gonna cry. "I'm good. Great, even."
She lifts the pancake that was cooking in the pan and drops it on a plate already piled high. She comes toward me and pulls me into a hug.
"I'm sorry, Tyler. I haven't been here for you as much as I should. I hope you can forgive me."
"It's fine, Mom. It's all gonna be fine."
She kisses me on my forehead and goes back to the stove.
"I'll be right back, ok Mom? There's just something I want to check."
"Sure, sweetheart. Just don't be too long, pancakes are always better
Revelation Game Page 8
