“The worst part of that is I can't disagree. Ugh, how far I’ve fallen.”
The Book of Midnight was a hideous black tome made of human skin, a fact that revolted me to no end. The front of the book had a face carved into it, two eye holes and a mouth with nostrils. I tried reaching for the clasp, hoping to see whatever secrets it might contain. Instead, the book proceeded to bite me on the wrist, causing me to drop it on the ground.
“God dammit!” I said, kicking the thing across the floor. “What the hell!?”
“Yip! Yip!” The Book of Midnight yelped, opening its pages and bouncing across the floor. It then bounced up, growling at me.
“I should probably have mentioned the Book of Midnight contains a portion of Zul-Barbas's power, manifested as a hell hound.”
“Damn,” I said, staring at the book yipping at me like a Chihuahua. “I kicked a dog-book... thing. I am the scum of scum.”
“Oh you were the scum of scum well before now.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to think about how to calm it down. Extending out my hands I tried to say the magic words.
That was when the dragon's tail hit me in the back, sending me flying through the air before I landed in a bunch of clay pots. The pots, probably priceless cultural artifacts of unparalleled historical value, shattered to pieces beneath me.
“Perhaps we should have a conversation about awareness of your surroundings. I suggest you deal with the dragon first then worry about finding a spell to save the world.”
“You just said the opposite dammit!” I shouted, climbing up out of the shattered pottery. A shadow passed over me as I looked up to see the form of the dragon falling backwards on top of me. “Meep.”
Once more, I turned insubstantial, levitating up through the creature's remains as they collapsed on me. It felt like passing through a big black inky ocean, old and filled with an unnamable evil. One which came from either the fell forces he'd made a bargain with or the fact he was a conservative radio host.
Hovering up, I came through his belly and turned substantial on top of him. It was like standing on a mound of gelatin. To my pleasant surprise, I saw my henchmen had brutalized the dragon within an inch of its life. Dozens of tiny bullet holes were spread across its underbelly, leaking out blackish blood as if it had been stabbed with a needle repeatedly. Its malformed face was missing many of its shark-like teeth and one of its eyes had been knocked out.
The dragon growled at me, lifting its mouth back as if to breathe fire once more. You'd think he'd have learned by now.
“I hate one-trick ponies.” I held my palms together as in prayer. I concentrated on my powers and iced over its mouth and nostrils. I drew on every ounce of my power to super-compact the ice.
The creature thrashed and struggled, trying to shatter the miniature glacier I'd created around its face but it was wounded and not fighting at its full strength. The ice cracked after a few seconds but I merely reinforced the icy prison, causing him to thrash more.
The creature batted its wings at me, trying to knock me away with the wind it created but the holes Mandy had punched in it prevented the monster from generating anything more than a light breeze. I took a grim satisfaction when its head fell backwards, smashing against the floor of the ballroom beneath us.
“This is where the victory theme kicks in,” I said, doing a little dance on the monster's belly.
Just like with Chief of Police Watkins, a black cloak flew from its dead body. This one was the size of a small house. Despite its massive girth, I grabbed it and set alight with my powers. The shadowy substance burned in the air, vanishing in a puff of flame and shadow. Two Reaper's Cloaks were down, three to go.
“Gary!” Cindy called from behind me.
“What? I'm having a moment here.” I threw up my hands in frustration.
“Idiot! Turn around!” Angel Eyes screamed.
All of my jubilation left me when I saw the source of his distress. There, between the rest of the group, was Mandy. She was laid prostrate on the ground, Amanda holding her head as Diabloman checked her pulse.
“Oh shit,” I said, running off the belly of the dragon and rushing over to her side.
Mandy looked like she'd been struck in the chest, blood visible from where her ribs had been smashed to pieces. She'd been hit by yet another tail strike from the dragon, easily equivalent to getting struck by a Mack truck. This time, I hadn't been there to turns us both insubstantial. This time, I hadn't been there to protect her.
I'd ignored my wife's safety and let her go off half-cocked into the middle of the beast's mouth. The fact she'd managed to almost single-handedly slay the dragon herself meant nothing to me. The only thing I cared about right now was making sure she lived.
“Can you do something?” I questioned Angel Eyes, looking at my wife. Mandy wasn't breathing and was still as a corpse.
“No,” Angel Eyes whispered. “I can't.”
“I'm sorry,” Diabloman said, letting go of her wrist. “She's dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Where Things Get Necro-mantic (Get it?)
In an instant, my world ended. There's no other way to describe the pain that losing your spouse gives. People suffer losses like this in movies all the time, trivializing the destruction of one half of a person's soul. I don't think you ever fully recover from something like that. I don't believe any of those lovey-dovey romantic comedies where beautiful widowers and widows end up falling for some plucky romantic hero or heroine.
“Gary....” Cindy reached up to touch me on the shoulder. “Mandy died protecting me from Mister Gleeson's tail. She shoved me out of the way as it was coming down on me. She was a hero.” It was spoken without irony or subtext. I didn’t think Cindy had it in her.
“I have not met a woman like her since Medea. I am sorry to have dishonored your marriage with my actions. Mandy was a worthy woman. She will never be equaled in this generation.” Angel Eyes placed his right hand on my shoulder.
“I'm sorry.” Cindy had the audacity to speak. “I liked her a lot. She was a great musician in college. We even got to talk a bit while you were gone. It turns out we're both huge fans of Sigourney Weaver. I'm sorry she died.”
Diabloman started to say something as well, “Gary—”
“Perhaps I can offer my own condolences—” Cloak started to speak.
“Guys,” I lifted my hand, wanting to kill them all. “Shut up.”
I made a zip-it gesture with my fingertips. “Seriously, everybody, be quiet. I need to think about how I'm going to bring her back from the dead.”
“Excuse me?” Amanda asked, the first one to speak. Her mouth hanging open fully as she cocked her head to one side. “Could...could you repeat that?”
Diabloman turned to me, nodding his head. “He said he is going to bring her back from the dead. Perfectly rational.”
“In the span of one night I've fought a demigod, zombie supervillains, a Nazi robot, cyborg dinos, Amazons, and a dragon. You're not going to tell me that it's exceptionally difficult to resurrect someone from the dead.” I was surprisingly calm about this. I would bring Mandy back from the dead, no harm, no foul. It was the only thought keeping me sane.
Angel Eyes coughed into his fist, his eyes not meeting mine. “Gary, resurrection is not something to be done lightly. I point out that my friend Orpheus tried it and it didn't work out so well.”
“Cool idea,” Cindy said, pulling out some chewing gum from her Red Riding Hood basket. “Gum?”
“Thank you.” Taking the gum and stuffing it in my mouth, I started chewing before blowing a bubble and letting it pop. “Okay, where is the Book of Midnight? Hopefully, there's something to get me started on reanimating my wife.”
“The words reanimating and wife shouldn't be used in the same sentence.” Amanda got up, wringing his hands as she looked around the room, unable to meet my eyes. “Has television taught you nothing? How many times has this exact same plot played out with the mad s
cientist or wizard ending up dying bemoaning tampering with fate? It never turns out right! They always come back wrong or undead or evil!”
“Stop that,” I said, stepping away from both her and Angel Eyes. “I'm set on this. If the Society of Superheroes can keep their loved ones from dying no matter what supervillains do to them then I can bring mine back from the dead. There's nothing you can do to dissuade me.”
Angel Eyes approached me, extending out his hands. “Gary—”
“Don't call me that. You call me Merciless or Lord or Boss or Master. Let's get one thing straight, you're all great.”
“Gary—” Amanda tried to speak.
“Don't interrupt,” I snapped, my voice sharp as my eyes flared. Clenching my fists, I tried to keep my voice level. “Any of you.”
My head felt like it was going to explode. My hands shook as I looked away from my wife's corpse. I couldn't look at it, it was too painful. A sign that reality was threatening to destroy the fantasy I'd built up around me. It was a reality I couldn't live with. I needed to retreat fully into the world I'd created where I was a supervillain who could do anything, make any dream possible. They needed to understand that. If they didn't, I had nothing to live for. Falconcrest City could burn. Hell, the entire world could die for all I cared.
They had to know what I was.
“Amanda, you're the kind of girl that makes me wish I had a younger brother to hook you up with. Diabloman, you're like the evil Mexican Wrestler Uncle I never had. Cindy, you're the best henchwench a guy could have. Angel Eyes, I still pretty much hate you but you have your uses. However, if I need to kill you all to resurrect Mandy, I'll do it in a heartbeat”
I meant it too. I might never forgive myself for killing an innocent like Amanda. I sure as hell wouldn't forgive myself for killing my old school girlfriend. I wouldn't even forgive myself for killing an old super criminal like Diabloman. Yet, everyone one of them was expendable compared to my wife. Mandy might leave me for it but she'd be alive.
I could live with that.
“Do you understand that?” I wanted to hurt someone. Anyone. Even my so-called friends. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, we understand.” Amanda stared at me. “We all do.”
Angel Eyes, Diabloman, Cindy, and Amanda all stood together. They, thankfully, blocked my view of Mandy's corpse. Cindy looked the most hurt out of the group, unable to look at me. I think that was because Mandy and she had somehow managed to build a friendship in the past month. Even more so than the fact I was threatening to kill her, she was hurt by the loss of her friend. I would pay her back for that sympathy, I didn't know how, but I privately vowed I would.
Right after I raised Mandy from the dead, whatever the cost.
“I once believed as you did,” Cloak said. “There is a spell that can raise her from the dead in the Book of Midnight.”
“Spill,” I said, searching the room for the Book of Midnight. The cursed book had bounced away, hiding itself under one of the piles of treasure surrounding us. “Now.”
“It will cost you your immortal soul.”
“Bargain.” Not that I hadn’t sold it twice already to Death.
“On page sixty-six of the Book of Midnight, it is possible to summon a representation of Zul-Barbas. He will grant the wish of whoever summons him and then proceed to consume their soul.”
“Sounds good.” I checked for the Book of Midnight under a table covered with Ming dynasty vases. “Why didn't you sacrifice yours?”
It was a horrible question but given everything Lancel had done in the name of his dead wife and child, I felt it was a valid one.
“I couldn't decide whether to bring back my wife or my son. I have only one soul to give, after all. So, I ended up wanting to destroy the entire world.”
“Logical,” I said, nodding my head. Conjuring a little icy bone, I started shaking it. “Here boy. Come on. Come get your bone.”
Truth be told, I sympathized with Lancel's plight. I was going to miss sympathizing with people. When I lost my soul that was probably the first thing that would go.
“You do realize that it's a book and a hellhound, not a dog, Hell, even if it was a dog, your bone is made of ice.”
“Lancel, remember the context of what's just happened,” I said, shaking the icy bone in midair. It was a desperate, ridiculous action meant to deal with a situation I had no context for. “If I'm coming up with some seriously stupid plans right now, there's a reason for it.”
“Sorry.”
“Good.” I checked under some antique Victorian cabinets. “Otherwise, my soulless form is going to very pissed at you.”
“Yeah,” Lancel's voice cracked, lacking its earlier echo. “I suppose so.”
“So, will you be bonded with soulless Gary or will you move on to some other schmuck? I don't know much about what happens to a man with no soul.” I wasn't even sure I'd even exist afterward. Zul-Barbas might instead drag me down into whatever hell it hailed from.
“I think my soul will be sacrificed with yours.”
“Oh,” I said, stopping my wagging of the icy bone. “I didn't know that.”
“We're linked, now and forever.” There was a wistfulness to it, utterly lacking the fear such a statement should engender.
“I can find another way.” I wasn’t ready to sacrifice Lancel. I'd kill for Mandy but I wasn't sure I could sentence the old man to eternal damnation. I would, perhaps, do it. But I would look for a way around it first.
Maybe for an hour.
“It's alright, Gary. I've been trying to make up for what I did for the better part of a century. Maybe this is Death's way of illustrating to me that I could never escape the consequences of my action. Your wife is a hero. Perhaps by saving her, we'll find our redemption.”
“In our damnation.”
“Err... well, yes.”
That's moronic. Also, put back up the creepy echo. If you continue talking like a human being, I'll confuse you for one.” I looked back at my group. They were all standing together, watching me as if I was a creature from another world. I couldn't blame them, I'd just threatened to kill them after all.
“That would be dreadful.”
A moment later, the Book of Midnight peeked itself around a statue of Hades. The book moving into pouncing position with the two sides of its binding making it stand up. It yipped at me like a dog, acting adorable despite being made from human skin and black magic.
“Seriously. You were incredibly messed up when you made this thing.”
“Blame Abdul Alhazred’s brother Abu for this, not me,” Cloak said, sounding apologetic. “I found this particular copy of it in an old antique store. It was more than a year later I started wondering why the store owner was selling accursed books of magic written on human skin.”
“Funny. You'd think that would be the first thing you questioned.”
“Actually, I was more curious about why it was written in English and how human skin kept legible writing for the better part of a thousand years. Have you ever tried writing on human skin? It's not easy.”
“I can't say I've had the pleasure.” I struggled to stay calm. It was good to joke around; it helped distract me from the horror of my situation.
Waving my ice bone at the Book of Midnight, I tossed the frosty treat on the ground. The book bounced up at it, scooping it up in its covers and crunching it to pieces. This allowed me to grab the book, prying it open as it struggled to get free.
“Oh quiet!” I said, holding the book open with my elbows as I flipped through the pages. “This is for your own good.”
Finally, I reached page sixty-six. There, I saw a short poem-like spell across from an illustration of a witch summoning an image of a gigantic multi-tentacled dragon-god with wings. It reminded me of some of the more lurid images I'd found on the cover of fantasy-horror novels.
“Is that Zul-Barbas?” I asked, grimacing at the image.
“Yes,” Cloak said. “The Great Beasts are t
he ultimate evils in the Multiverse, powerful monsters existing beyond any conventional ideas of time and space. They have no comprehensible motivation and exist only to rewrite reality to their dread design. We can summon an image of him but it'll be equivalent to talking with a computer simulation. A magical construct meant to imitate its power. We're beneath the real Zul-Barbas's notice.”
“All I care about is whether or not he can bring Mandy back,” I said. “Can he do that?”
“Yes.”
“Then let's do this thing.” I took a deep breath. “If you're okay with it, I mean.”
I couldn't proceed without his blessing, don't ask me why.
“Let us dance with the Beast. Read the spell.”
I did.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Where I Meet Zul-Barbas (He’s Overrated)
“I invoke thee, Zul-Barbas, in the name of the eight Primals. By Death, Life, Chaos, Law, Destruction, Creation, Fate, and Choice I bring you forth.” The words for the spell tumbled out of my mouth, the book becoming hot in my hands.
The chandeliers in the ballroom fell from the ceiling, one by one, shattering to pieces across the floor. I could feel a power rising in the room, a power which seemed to flow in and out of me as I recited the words within the living tome.
“I invoke thee, Zul-Barbas, Lord of the Dread City Which Lies Beneath the Waves. I invoke thee, Zul-Barbas, One Who is Neither Dead Nor Alive. I invoke thee, Zul-Barbas, whose return shall bring the end of the world!”
The shelves and art around me began to rumble and shake, as if my words were disturbing the very fabric of the universe. Antique books flew against me, slamming against the side of my head and back while I read. Paintings began to float off the ground and I felt my own body slightly levitate, a familiar feeling made disturbing by the fact it was not by my power that I rose.
The Games of Supervillainy (The Supervillainy Saga Book 2) Page 20
