by Zach Adams
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Remembrance
?2018?
The single room of Rozariu Mazăre was lit by candles and black lights, permeating the room with a smoky haze and giving everyone a ghostly appearance. The floor was black tile and the ceiling painted black, which was disorienting to Isaac as he walked through. He kept a hand on the red velvet wall to stay upright. The Doors’ “Not to Touch the Earth” blasted through speakers embedded in the walls.
At least my supervillains have taste, Isaac quipped internally.
The room was not yet full, but approaching capacity, with everyone present getting a head start on the festivities. Each person they passed stank of alcohol and Isaac could tell by the looks in all their eyes that there were other things in their system as well. He was glad, and not for the first time, that he was taller than most of the people in the room and was able to aim his face away from them and direct blasts of their breath.
At the far side of the room, on top of a small stage, Alex Volkov was draped lazily over one of a trio of ornate red and gold thrones, peering out over the crowd with predatory focus. He had his combat boot-wearing feet up on a wooden table which was undecorated except for a few candles, an unfriendly-looking knife, and a half-full bottle of vodka. He spotted Isaac as he scanned, and his face spread into a hungry grin.
“Poison Ivy Falcone, so you took my invite after all!” Volkov called as Isaac came within a few layers of bodies from the stage. Several industrial-strength spotlights wheeled of their own accord from pointing at the stage to highlighting Isaac. No one in the crowd seemed to notice or care. The intensity of the lights made Isaac sweat almost instantly, and he put a hand over his glasses to stop it reflecting on the lenses and blinding him even worse than he already was.
“Where’s L’æon, Al?” Isaac asked. Volkov gave no sign that he recognized the vampire’s name but scowled at the abbreviation of his own.
“You can’t babble your way out of this, book boy,” Alex growled.
The child is confused.
The words weren’t spoken by someone in the room as much as whispered by the atoms within the smoke that permeated it, quiet with the sensation of breath across one’s ear but clear despite the volume of the music. The candles lining the room began to go out one by one, starting at the entrance and zigzagging across the room until only the stage and Isaac were illuminated. Isaac’s skin began to crawl as if something slimy were writhing up his back, and the stink of vinegar he had detected outside became overwhelming.
I think we preferred it when the air sang, like in the library, Panic quipped.
Isaac stared at the stage. Tendrils of thick, dark gray smoke were congealing slowly like a large quantity of blurry worms being sucked into a vacuum and deposited into an undefined shape on the floor. As it condensed into what appeared to be legs covered by leather pants, the smoke continued to whisper. The crowd around him began to chant “Remember me,” in low voices.
L’æon the Fallen King was an old elf story, just as they all are.
A torso, bundled in a black corset with what appeared to be narrow, bleached bones giving it structure, materialized next. Thin, but muscular arms with long fingers capped with shining red nails sprouted. Then a bespectacled, porcelain face Isaac recognized, although it didn’t belong to L’æon, or a male of any species. Her hair was left hanging down her back rather than bundled atop her head as her former student was used to seeing it. Like most other people Isaac encountered, she had a blurry ghost next to her. The other blurs had all been shaped like the people they followed, but hers had elongated arms with hands as wide as her stomach, and a snout which stretched out almost a foot. It stood a step behind her, poised to leap.
“And it was a better universe…” Mrs. Darcey purred, stepping gracefully to the edge of the stage. For a blink or two, Isaac thought he could see her straining to conceal a limp. A microphone appeared from nothing when she stopped. She spoke into it, drowning out the soundtrack and drawing the undivided attention of the packed ballroom, flashing a triumphant grin of pearly white razor fangs down at Isaac. The miniature voids of her eyes gave the impression they were analyzing him for the easiest parts to hurt, and happily reporting back to her brain that the results of their search were just about every part of him.
“When the æ’géminë were a myth.”
“Mrs. Darcey?” Isaac asked, paralyzed from being caught off guard. The crowd continued their chant.
“You and I are quite beyond pseudonyms now, my pet. You may call me Lilith, for what little time is left,” The woman from the shadows replied. As she spoke her face, without moving anything but her lips, sharpened and the eyes sunk. The red of her lips stood out boldly as her already-pale skin lost several shades.
Donny was right though, the corset works, Rage interjected. Isaac’s mouth turned to sand as he could see her smirk. He was sick of supernatural beings hearing his internal monologue.
“Lucinda, have the spare bring him here,” Lilith said. To his right he could see Lucinda place a hand gently on dazed Donny’s shoulder and hesitate on her way to undo his leash. Lilith’s smile turned murderous in a flash.
“Now, little halfling bitch, or must I remind you once more what happens when you disobey?”
Lucinda yelped and let Donny lose, pulling her hood over the bruised part of her face at the same time.
“As you wish, sis - M-mistress,” Lucinda said.
Lilith stared at Donny’s face for several seconds before giving a tense nod in Isaac’s direction. He felt his friend’s fingers digging into his arm as he was slowly dragged forward.
“Donny, come on, snap out of it!” Isaac yelled. He tried to get his arm free, with no success. Donny didn’t react in any way. Too many faces for Isaac to distinguish between in the amount of time he had shuffled out of their path to the stage. Lilith continued speaking, her smirk returned to her face, as they went.
“Your kind are typically easy prey,” Lilith said. “But you, Isaac, are uniquely persistent, a mild but unyielding irritation. A trait I would discover is common to your kin.”
Isaac still struggled to break Donny’s grip. His empty friend was a lot stronger than he remembered. There were only a few more clusters of bodies for them to pass through.
“Chronomancy is such a messy old discipline, and not the sort of messy I prefer,” Lilith went on. “When you first got in my way, I ventured back to prevent you. I landed far too early when your parents could still disrupt the Remembrance on your behalf. Years wasted having to kill those around you instead, as dumb luck kept you well protected. The quest that should have led you to me fell on them. New York could have solved the issue, but for once you failed to show your irksome face. Which reminds me, Volkov? Contact Seth, inform him we are finally moving forward.”
New York… Mom and dad? Panic and Rage said in unison. Donny stopped dragging him once they reached the stairs on the side of the stage. Isaac nudged, wiggled, and did whatever else he could to get his friend’s attention.
“D-don’t… Panic,” Donny muttered. None of his muscles twitched to show that he had made the sound consciously. Lilith gave no indication that she noticed. Isaac fought to keep a grin of relief from his face while the vampire spoke.
“Finally, you came within my reach, when you first stepped through the gate,” Lilith said. “I must admit I became… over-enthusiastic. Poor little Isaac Falcone, always in the wrong place, at the wrong time, to the bitter end. Even death could not remove the thorn you put in my side!” She beckoned Donny with one index finger. The sleepwalking prisoner brought Isaac up the steps to her, now bereft of dialogue to contribute. Volkov was looking away, fidgeting with his knife.
“Yet here you are again, your struggle to survive having made you a fitting vessel for the return of the Forgotten One. And now, as the splintered year you created draws to its end, the cosmic power emanating from your mistakes will fuel his Remembrance. Does the little dreaming child have any words left? Some irrit
ating remark or trick to prolong your suffering?”
Isaac cleared his throat and let his arms fall limp. His backpack fell to his hand, feeling like his broken-down car had been stuffed in there somewhere. He looked at Donny, then to Volkov, and out over the chanting crowd as they all danced into a frenzy, then back to Lilith.
“Just dumb luck, you spooky bitch. Häzün!” Isaac cried as he swung his weighty backpack in the general direction of Donny’s legs, knocking him forward to the floor.
Lilith hissed and leapt for the kill with inhuman speed, just in time for Donny to crash into her. They both tumbled down the steps, and Isaac moved upward.
Volkov jumped over the table, knife in hand, and swung it wildly. Isaac rolled across the floor, avoiding any damage. The criminal saved himself from a fall with a surprisingly agile front-roll, with his arms protecting his head, and skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs. As he rose back to his feet, Lilith ran directly into him.
Lilith howled some string of guttural syllables at Volkov, which to Isaac resembled Klingon, which made no difference as he couldn’t understand either language.
Remember that time you overheard Chloe speaking Klingon in her room - Panic chattered.
Yeah, she always denies it though! As if she’s not just as much a fan as we are, Rage replied.
Not. The. TIME! Isaac roared at them. The brain gang went quiet.
Almost as if responding to his command, Rozariu Mazăre fell silent as well. The dancing, the blended mass of voices, and the music all ceased in the span of a heartbeat.
Volkov waved at Luka, positioned against the front door. The big man pointed the two remaining hollow toward the stage, and off they went. As they proceeded, Luka drew his gun from its holster and began to fire into the crowd, who still barely registered what was happening. Other human guards around the club, all toting firearms from pistols to automatic rifles, followed suit. Through the darkness Isaac could see dazed masses falling to the floor like fleshy dominoes, the assault progressing to the center of the room and forward to the stage.
Holy hell, this is what Volkov was talking about, Isaac thought.
Lilith rose to her feet, reaching for him. A hellish fury burned in her darkening yellow eyes, but a starved anticipation was in there as well.
At the center of the stage, inches from where she materialized, the hollows tore into nothing with their sharpened fingernails while vomiting what looked like ink. It slid toward the floor but didn’t land, instead filling up an oval-shaped space as if it were a water bottle, left hovering a foot or so in the air.
Isaac dove across the table as Volkov had to avoid the vampire. Donny stumbled groggily to his feet and turned toward him; Isaac noticed his eyes weren’t quite so foggy now.
“Genghis Don!” Isaac called out. His wobbly friend blinked once at him and a grin began to crawl across his face. Before he could finish the expression, he became dazed again; Lilith appeared behind Donny, planting her mouth on his neck as she gripped the back of his head. After a few seconds she let him fall to the floor, but Isaac could see from his chest that he was still breathing.
Looking much more relaxed, Lilith approached the table. Isaac looked at his sleeping friend and then spotted Lucinda near the stage, watching with tears streaming down her face.
What’s something simple we can throw at her? We don’t have the juice for a magic brawl! Isaac demanded of himself.
Lilith was a few feet away and a heavy wooden dining surface was the only thing in her way. Once she was past Donny, Lucinda began to pull him away from the scene to a safe place backstage.
Screw a brawl, what would a Jedi do?! Rage demanded. He looked at his killer, and then at the table.
I don’t need to throw fancy magic, just her fancy furniture!
Isaac ducked under the table and pushed upward as hard as he was able.
“Säväním!” He cried with his hands on the wood. A blast of kinetic force kicked the table across the stage, cracking it in two as it was launched into Lilith’s torso and legs. It took her off her feet and into the growing pile of bleeding corpses. She roared wordlessly back at him, and he could see the black of her eyes overtaking the white and the muscles in her limbs shifting unnaturally.
Before long, the vampire was on her feet, stepping on bodies on her way back to her crowning kill.
When they run out of people to shoot, the Forgotten One comes through that gate and we’re finished! Panic chirped.
Isaac looked at the gate. It was nearly complete. The hollow had fallen to the floor, nearly out of whatever substance Lilith had put in them.
A gray, humanoid blur with long, flailing limbs appeared from the far end of the room, ran across the floor and jumped into the floating ink. Once it sank through, the blur reappeared a few yards away and did it again, several times, like a broken record.
Not if I’m not here, Isaac said. Lilith had her grotesque, mutating hands on the stage and she began to climb. Her prey bolted for the ink-portal as she made it to her knees and stumbled painfully in his direction.
“No!” Lilith howled. Isaac jumped for his life. He felt a chill as he came in contact with the floating ink.
“Næ’vös!” He said, showing the furious vampire an obscene gesture as he fell into darkness. Rozariu Mazăre, Alaska, the Earth itself was no longer anywhere within Isaac’s sight. The reality he once knew had lost sight of him, as well.
REMEMBER ME
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The None
?2018-ERR?
Isaac opened his eyes. He was on his hands and knees on an old tile floor, cracked and scuffed beyond repair. A few randomly placed fluorescent lights were on throughout the long hallway he found himself in. On either side, as far as he could see, were rows of blue metal lockers which would have been identical if not for all of the dents and marks in the paint, and several heavy metal doors, painted maroon. Some had dim lights in their windows, some were dark.
This looks like someone added my high school to a Fallout game, Isaac opened his mouth to say, and he felt the words rise to his lips, but the sounds returned to thoughts as soon as they reached a few inches from his face. Isaac followed the flickering white lights, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to be sure Lilith hadn’t followed him in.
Halfway down the hallway, in the direction he had been facing when he arrived, he spotted a familiar door. It was heavy metal painted maroon just like every other door in the school, but had a small, neatly printed sign on the door reading, “Mr. LeBlanc”. It was one of the few rooms with the lights on inside. Panic advised him firmly against it, but he couldn’t resist looking in.
Half of the tables had been thrown around the room. All of Mr. LeBlanc’s bookshelves had been tipped forward, with a few flat on the floor and others propped up against other furniture. Most of the pages had been shredded, with the remnants littering the area. The only desks which remained undisturbed were the teacher’s, and the rear table once occupied by Isaac’s group.
Four emaciated figures in ragged tunics occupied the room, all with stringy silver hair which had large clumps missing. Two, both males as far as Isaac could guess, were flat on the floor, possibly dead. Their eyes were shut, and their mouths frozen in expressions of horror. One, a female, was slumped against the far wall under the dry-erase board, covered in the same sparkling black substance he had seen on L’æon before.
Elf blood, I suppose, Isaac didn’t bother trying to say out loud. He avoided connecting that thought to admitting that L’æon was indeed an elf as he claimed, at least until he found a safe place to think.
The bloody girl seemed to be smiling as her head dangled over her chest. Above her head on the wall, with hand-shaped streaks leading back down, a single word was written in the same substance.
That’s the one the Page wouldn’t translate, that almost knocked us out! The brain gang chimed in as Isaac tried to look at it. Not unlike the first time, his eyes slid over the word like oil, unable to see past the first
L’. He rubbed his eyes and squinted to focus as much as he could, which only left him feeling like he had been kicked in the skull.
The fourth face, easier to distinguish as female at this range, appeared in the window. Isaac snapped out of his fixation on the impossible word. The fourth elf flung limp hands, clearly with no intact bones left in them, against the door as she shrieked. Isaac felt like she was staring directly at him, which seemed unlikely, as she had seemingly clawed her own eyes out. Unlike Isaac, her voice came out loud and clear.
“Elijah! Úë’lëxä! You did this!”
Isaac braced against the door to prevent her getting out and attacking him. He was relieved to find the door was locked. He tried to say that he didn’t know what she was talking about, or who Elijah was, and that he was sorry, but still no sound came. She kept flailing her limp wrists against the door.
Isaac ran back the way he came, the rubber of his shoes catching on the floors with an aggravating squeak just as they had when he was a student. He found another door, with no light on. As he passed it, he saw a mass of gray tentacles streak by in the dark window, before the underside of their owner clamped into the glass. The collision caused the whole building to shake.
It’s okay, nothing can get in from out there, Isaac’s voice said in his head. He didn’t remember having the thought, but it was in his head, using his voice. He turned around to see a blurry gray shape, the clearest he had ever seen it, but still resembling a poor TV signal. It approached with a slight limp. The most curious thing as the figure came closer was the face. Isaac had seen it many times, but never in person.
It was his.
Correct, and you’re going the wrong way, Isaac heard himself think again.
