Wings of Sorrow (A horror fantasy novel)

by Iain Rob Wright

  “You saved us,” said Indy. “It was pretty badass.”

  “No,” said Scarlet. “You saved me, and I didn’t need saving. I was ready to end this. Sorrow is a demon, The Saint is a supernatural assassin, and I’m The Spark. I need to die to keep the world safe from magic. I get it.”

  “No way, Scar. You can’t let that dickhead kill you.”

  “I’m going to end the world, Indy. Don’t you understand? If I live, everybody dies. That’s right isn’t it, Mr Chester?”

  He nodded gravely.

  Indy stamped his foot. “To hell with all that. If your destiny sucks, then change it. My dad said I couldn’t get a Playstation 4, so you know what I did? I got this job and saved up, then bought one myself. Screw my dad, I said. Did I go in a strop because he said no to me? Hell no, I did something about it.”

  Scarlet shook her head. “How is that in any way the same thing, Indy?”

  He looked at her like she was an idiot. “Eh, because somebody told me I couldn’t get a Playstation 4, and I got one anyway. It’s the exact same thing. Somebody is saying that you’re going to destroy the world, so don’t. Do something else instead. Don’t accept what someone else is telling you about you. You’re the boss of Scarlet. You want a Playstation 4? Go get one!”

  “He makes a certain kind of sense,” said Mr Chester, pulling the last inch of bandage tight and pinning it securely.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, eh, whatever you say, Indy.” Then she looked into the office where Sorrow was now unconscious on the desk. “Even if I try to change things, The Saint is going to kill me. Sorrow was sent here to protect me, but he’s failed every time.”

  “You’re still alive, aren’t you?” said Indy. “I call that a success. Blondie comes back, you still have me and Mr Chester to defend you. No reason to give up yet.”

  “I think it’s time to drop the Mr,” said Mr Chester. “I hate Miles, so you can call me by my last name only. Indy is right, Scarlet, we still have options. The spell I cast will keep The Saint out for a while; I will create something more permanent in the meantime. My colleagues will be here soon. They can help.”

  “Help with what?” Scarlet shouted. “Your colleagues want me dead. I’m the bad guy, remember? Why would they help me?”

  “Because I’m going to help you,” he said. “We will figure something out; I give you my solemn promise.”

  She sighed, but eventually nodded. “When do your friends get here?”

  “Colleagues, and tomorrow morning, I hope. The White Order is sending one of their most knowledgeable shamans.”

  “I can’t stay here until morning,” she said.

  Chester chewed at his lip and folded his arms, but then unfolded them. “I suppose you’re right. Your father will be expecting you home, and we can’t involve him in this. Just give me an hour, and I’ll have something ready to help keep you safe. You can’t mention any of this to your father, Scarlet, do you understand? If the world found out about the true nature of things, it wouldn’t go well at all. It’s bad enough that Indy knows.”

  Indy seemed unaffected by the comment, and asked a question. “So do vampires exist?”

  “About as much as the Easter Bunny does. The world is much as you understand it, but there are forces acting against its boundaries all the time, trying to make everything topple. Those are the secrets of which the world can know nothing. Protecting our existence is a task better left to the few. Things are delicate. They always have been.”

  Scarlet sat down and lowered her face into her hands.

  Indy went over to her and started rubbing her back. “You know, if you’re stressed, I have the perfect way of relax-”

  She looked up at him. “Seriously, Indy? Please, don’t hit on me right now.”

  He nodded. “Understood. Maybe later?”

  “Sure. If I’m alive this time next week, you can give me every line you have in your sticky, black book.”

  “It’s a date.”

  There was a deep bellow from the office and everybody sprang into action. Indy immediately went and stood in front of Scarlet, true to his word about defending her. Chester did the same.

  The noise came from Sorrow.

  It looked like he was still sleeping, eyelids flickering and head thrashing from side to side. An unpleasant dream had captured him, and he was unable to escape into wakefulness. His mouth puckered as he muttered and mumbled, and moaned.

  Scarlet watched with unease. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know,” Chester admitted. “Just leave him be.”

  She ignored his warning and went into the office. Up close, she could make out some of the words that Sorrow was saying: Bleed her. Make her pay. Without her dragging you down, you can do whatever you want. You’re a football star. She’s just a bitch. Kill her. Stab her right in the neck. That kike, Goldman, too. Do it!

  “You should keep your distance, Scarlet,” Chester said as he moved up beside her.

  “He’s just having a nightmare,” she whispered.

  “No, he’s having a memory. He’s a monster, Scarlet. He talks weak men into vile deeds.”

  Scarlet looked at Sorrow’s tormented expression and felt nothing but sympathy. He had done nothing but be kind to her, devoted even, and it was hard to dislike him for things people had only told her. He didn’t seem like a monster, but the things he was saying in his sleep… Were they true? Had he really talked some football player into murder?

  Was he really behind September 11th?

  ***

  “It’s past seven, Boss,” said Indy. “I think I should scoot. Mum’s getting KFC tonight, and you never miss a date with the Colonel. We need to get Scarlet home.”

  Chester shifted awkwardly and looked at Scarlet. “There’s really no way your father would allow you to remain here overnight?”

  “What excuse could I even give him? I’m having a sleepover?”

  “You could say we’re doing inventory.”

  She shook her head. “He wouldn’t buy it. Why wouldn’t I have known in advance? He’ll just assume that I’m sneaking off to see some boy.”

  “Then I’ll drive you home. Indy, will you be okay getting home? The Saint has no reason to target you.”

  Indy slid on his luminous green baseball cap as if it were a cowboy’s Stetson. He left it tilted slightly to one side. “I’ll kick his backside if he does. I’m Kyle Reese, baby.”

  “I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Indy, but thank you for everything you’ve done today.”

  Scarlet added, “Yeah, Indy. You’re a lot cooler than I realised, and a good friend.”

  He groaned. “Did you just friend-zone me?”

  She chuckled. “It’s a pretty exclusive club, so you should be flattered.”

  “I got your back, Scar.” He went over and gave her a hug, then headed out the front door without further ado. With him gone, Scarlet suddenly felt vulnerable. One of her protectors had just left. She turned to Chester. “We should try and wake up Sorrow. If The Saint attacks again…”

  “I agree. His job is to protect you, so we’d be foolish to prevent him from doing that.”

  They both headed into the back area and then into the office, where Sorrow was now sleeping more soundly.

  Chester raised his voice. “Sorrow…? Sorrow? Eh, Manah?”

  Scarlet waved at Chester to be quiet. “I’ll wake him up.” Moving over to the desk, where Sorrow was sleeping, she placed a hand against his cheek. My skin tingles when I am near you. She leaned over and spoke softly into his ear. “Sorrow, it’s me, Scarlet. I need you to wake up and keep me safe.”

  Slowly, his eyes opened, just a fraction at a time. “Scarlet?”

  She stroked his cheek tenderly, still finding it impossible to imagine him as a monster—despite having seen his true face only hours before. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s me.”

  While in obvious pain, he fought to sit up on the desk. Holding onto her arm, he
did not squeeze or pull, but only used her to help his balance. Once upright, he rubbed at his injured side. “The Saint has broken several of my ribs. Is this bad?”

  “Eh, well… yeah. It’s bad for a human.”

  Sorrow nodded thoughtfully. “I can already feel myself healing. I believe I will be okay. The pain is mild.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “I believe so.” He hopped off the table. “I am sorry that I failed you, Scarlet. The Saint is strong. His purpose is to fight; mine is to… whisper.”

  She frowned at him. “Whisper? Do you remember who you are now?”

  “I remember who I was. I was Manah, a creature of vile nature. My mind is filled with bloodshed and suffering, of evil deeds done with gleeful smiles. But that was Manah.”

  “Then who are you?”

  “I am Sorrow. In your lake I was reborn. I will be no monster. I refuse. So much suffering, at my hands, Scarlet. Enough blood that I will never wash my hands clean, but I can promise to shed no more. You have opened my eyes.”

  “Me? How?”

  “You were willing to sacrifice yourself to The Saint. You showed me what humanity is capable of—compassion, courage, strength. Centuries spent defiling mankind, and I never once understood its beauty. My memories are fuzzy, but they do not seem my own. I am not Manah. He is gone, and I will never allow him to take another breath.”

  Scarlet was about to speak, when she saw Chester standing in the doorway. He seemed intently focused on what Sorrow was saying—perhaps cynical, but obviously emotional.

  Sorrow saw him standing there and nodded. “Thank you for protecting Scarlet, Mr Chester. You were right about who I was, but wrong about who I am.”

  Chester looked like he was about to say something, but he only cocked a thumb. “Come on, we need to go. The Saint will return soon.”

  ~ Chapter Nine ~

  “Come on, I’m parked just down the road.”

  They followed Chester away from the shop and off the high street to a nearby side street named, Shawsux Avenue. Parked along it was a single vehicle. Night had not yet fallen, but the sky had turned grey, and the sun was nowhere to be seen, which made the light-blue of Chester’s car seem darker at first, gradually lightening as they approached.

  Scarlet pulled a face. “You drive a Volkswagen Beetle?”

  Chester squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “It’s a classic.”

  “Like you, you mean?”

  “I like my cars to have personality, not like the mass-produced rubbish that people drive today.”

  Sorrow tilted his head and prodded the rounded bonnet with a finger. “It is a motorcar, yes?”

  Scarlet chuckled. “It’s thirty years old.”

  “Does it drive?”

  “Of course it does,” snapped Chester.

  “Then I do not see a problem. We should embark.”

  Chester wore a smug grin as he looked at Scarlet. “See, your pet-demon has no issues with it.”

  “I am no pet.”

  Scarlet grinned and took a hold of Sorrow’s arm. “Come on, let’s embark.”

  They opened the doors and climbed inside. Chester suggested that Sorrow sit in the back with Scarlet, so that they could both stoop down if they caught sight of The Saint. The thought of seeing that monster again made her skin crawl, and made her understand how much she wanted to live. If there was an alternative way to deal with things, then she at least had to try. Why should she have to suffer because of dickheads messing with her destiny?

  Dickheads like my mother.

  It made her wonder if her dad knew anything about her mother being a witch. How could he not know? They had not married, granted, but they had a baby together then stayed together for another six years.

  But her mother was a person of whom she lacked a single memory. Her dad never spoke about her, and kept no photographs. Nesta Fitzgerald was a fairytale. The mother who never was.

  Scarlet decided that the last thing she wanted to do right now was think, so she cleared her mind and stared out the car window. She lived near to the centre of town, so within five minutes they were only a few roads away from her street.

  “Next right,” she shouted up front to Chester.

  “Yes, I think I know it. Looks like it’s all clear. The Saint must still be focused on breaking the spell I cast on him. He can’t approach us until it-”

  Crunch!

  Scarlet jolted in her seat and saw the road tilt through her window. The car tipped up on two wheels and then came back down again with an almighty rattle.

  She let out a scream, but Chester could only shout, “Bugger it!”

  There was the screeching of tyres and the car came to a stop. Sorrow leapt across Scarlet, shielding her. From beneath his arms, but she could hear his heart beating—rapid-fire, like the baseline to a dance tune.

  “Mr Chester, what is happening?” Sorrow demanded.

  Chester’s voice quivered as he spoke. “I think… I think the axle broke. Something flew out into the road, but I don’t know what it was. We’re okay. I’ll get out and take a look. Keep Scarlet out of sight.”

  Sorrow bore down on her and shoved her into the footwell. “It is done.”

  “Ease up, Sorrow,” she moaned. “I’m not a bloody rabbit.”

  Chester opened up the driver-side door and stepped out into the night.

  Unbearably cramped, Scarlet managed to shove Sorrow away slightly and lay herself sideways across the rear seat, her shoes pressed up against one door, head the other. “Sorrow, ease up. I’m suffocating down here.”

  He eased off her a little more, but did so cautiously, looking out all the windows like a meerkat sentry. “I don’t like this.”

  “It’s fine,” she said. “I can walk the rest of the way. Chester will just have to call the AA.”

  “Then we must go immediately. We are vulnerable here.”

  “Fine.” Scarlet sighed and pushed open the door. The road she stepped out onto was residential, and some of the lights of nearby houses had come on. It was a nice street with semis and detached properties, so the neighbours were not the kind of folks to appreciate noise.

  Chester was standing by the car’s bonnet, hands on his hips and shaking his head. When Scarlet walked around to join him, she saw that the front-left wheel was pointing inwards at a wrong angle.

  “I’ll have to call someone,” he said.

  “Yeah, for sure. What did we hit?”

  He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  “I think that your automobile hit this.” Sorrow said as he stood next to the rear of the car. Quickly bending over, as if his earlier injuries had never happened, he hoisted something up off the ground. It was a thick slab of concrete. “

  “It’s a paving stone,” Scarlet said. “You said it flew in front of the car, Chester?”

  Chester began looking around, fretting. “Yes. It rolled right out in front of me, but it’s too heavy for any ordinary man to have tossed into the road.”

  Sorrow snarled. “The Saint.”

  Chester threw out his arms. “For God’s sake, Scarlet, run!”

  Scarlet took off down the road, but The Saint was waiting for her. He stalked towards her slowly, one measured step after another. Trying to change direction quickly led to her twisting her ankle. She fell down.

  Chester moved in front of her. “Begone. I have banished you.”

  The Saint grabbed Chester by his thinning, grey hair and yanked him off his feet then tossed him to the curb. The crack of his skull hitting the wedge of concrete turned Scarlet’s stomach.

  The Saint stared down at her, just two feet away. This time there was no compassion in his eyes, or mercy of any kind. “You should have given yourself willingly. Now you are implicit and will die with a dirty soul. It will be mine to keep.”

  Scarlet started shuffling backwards, but she was already within her enemy’s reach. He grabbed for her, fingers spread and ready to encase her neck, but Sorrow leapt ove
r her head and landed on top of him. With both hands he battered The Saint’s face and head, sending him reeling backwards on his heels. The size difference became obvious. Sorrow seemed like a tantruming child next to his larger adversary.

  The Saint recovered and swung out an arm. Sorrow was able to duck in time, and from his low position, used his head and shoulders to flip The Saint over. The large man landed against the bonnet of Chester’s Volkswagen and knocked off the bumper. While he tried to right himself, Sorrow rushed over to where the slab of concrete that had snapped their axle still lay on the road. He picked it up with ease and brought it down on The Saint’s head just as the larger man was rising to his feet. Blood exploded from beneath his blond hair, and he went flopping back onto his face. He wasn’t entirely out for the count, but for now, at least, the fight had been taken out of him.

  Sorrow yanked Scarlet to her feet. “We need to leave.”

  “Okay. Grab Chester.”

  “We don’t have time.”

  “Yes, we do. Grab him!”

  Sorrow grunted, but hurried over to the side of the road where Chester was lying and hoisted him over his shoulder like a bag of spuds. Together, the three of them fled the scene as quickly as they were able. More lights in the street had switched on, and it would likely be a very short time before the police arrived. Part of Scarlet welcomed them, but she was scared that they’d end up locking her up for being crazy. Chester would probably deny everything if pressed, and Sorrow would go straight to the loony bin alongside her.

  “Your home,” said Sorrow. “Which way?”

  Scarlet pointed. “It’s near.”

  She glanced back over her shoulder looking for The Saint, but the sky had turned charcoal and shadows had descended. She saw nothing but houses on each side of the road.