by P. K. Tyler
Nik felt the moment when his leg slammed down to the ground, released by Belial’s hold, and then lost consciousness completely.
Chapter Seven
Zeph knelt on the floor in this god-forsaken room and let the tears flow freely. His baby sister lay in his arms, her empty eye sockets defied his wishes to close her eyes to the horrors of this world forever. The demon had destroyed her and he knew for certain he’d set her free in the only way he could. Yet, he wondered if Asmodeus had won after all. Would Adel’s soul now reside in Hell with that unholy creature? He wailed at the thought and pulled her corpse closer.
He gathered her into his arms and keened over her body. Even when his father had abused him, he held onto the hope of a better day. Hope of a future. Of more chances to live and to love.
But this, to lose Adel, and by his own hand, this would be the thing that tested him like nothing else ever had or could. He rocked his sister’s body in his arms, crying his rage and despair without words.
He briefly thought of all the times his faith in God had been tested. None of them came close to this moment. What kind of God would allow such things to happen? He believed in what he’d seen. Nothing had proven the existence of God for him more than the horror of Adel’s possession, the birth of Belial, and even the radiance of the terrifying angels who had worn the bodies of old women like cloaks. His faith, his belief, it was tangible because he had witnessed things others only imagined. But God? He had no love left for the Father who would leave his children to this.
He believed in God. He believed in a God who allowed children to be molested. Believed in a God who allowed innocent women to be accosted and destroyed by demons. He believed in God and he hated him.
He threw back his head and screamed out his rage. This was a prayer God would hear. Zeph’s grief had pushed him beyond caring what God might do about that. If He smote him in that moment, so be it. This sacrifice was too much to bear.
The curtains rustled behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn. All his energy deserted him in that moment. He carefully laid Adel down on the floor and looked around for something to cover her with. He wished he could wash her clean, clothe her in her favorite Sunday dress, and cover her with a clean white sheet.
But there was nothing in this place to offer him even the solace of properly preparing her for burial. What was he supposed to do now?
Vai spoke, and Zeph resented the intrusion into his grief. He couldn’t even make sense of her words. Something about death. Apparently it was going around.
She grabbed his face and dragged his gaze away from Adel. Tears mixed with blood streamed down Vai’s face.
“Nik will die if you don’t help him. Do you understand, Zeph? Can you hear me?”
“Nik? What—”
Jacek dragged Nik into the room, leaving a thick trail of blood on the concrete floor, and hauled him onto the sofa set against the back wall. The once raucous club had fallen silent. It was way too quiet for a night club. He could hear Nik’s wheeze with each intake of breath. They came in short pants, and even those caused him to twitch in obvious pain. His dark t-shirt, soaked with blood draining onto the sofa beneath him, clung to his skin. The shoulders of his leather jacket were a ragged mess, and blood pumped profusely from his left shoulder.
Fear spurred Zeph back to reality. He couldn’t lose Nik too.
Oh, God. This is to be my punishment for taking Your name in vain. It’s too much to bear.
He crawled over to Nik, fresh tears coursing down his cheeks, warming his face.
Please, not him too. Not him.
Nik’s chest lay still.
Too late! NO!!
His hands extended over Nik’s body, trembling.
I don’t know what to do.
A vision of that night at the Romani camp flashed into his mind. He gathered Nik into his arms, the same as he’d done with Adel’s limp frame too recently. Guilt stabbed his heart. Too late for her, but not for him. Please, not Nik. Don’t take him from me. I can’t live without him. I love him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and clutched Nik tight, letting his tears fall from him onto Nik’s face. He let the warmth in his heart when he thought of all the possibilities, all the things he and Nik had left to do together, spread through him. He imagined holding Nik’s hand in the movie theater, kissing him goodnight before climbing into bed together and snuggling close to keep warm. He brought back every memory of Nik’s face, his strong body, his angry façade that slipped away he instant he thought he’d gone too far and hurt Zeph. All the memories spread through his heart and he pushed them out, wrapping Nik up in all the love he felt for him and begging, no, demanding that he be returned to him safe and whole.
“Holy shit,” Vai said.
A wheezing cough passed from Nik’s lips, a wordless whisper meant for Zeph alone. It spoke of hope, of Nik’s promise to fight, to live.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Vai knelt beside him.
“Zeph, we gotta get out of here. If the police find us here surrounded by all this carnage, they’ll arrest us. We need to get Nik somewhere safe. They don’t know, can’t possibly understand—”
“I know, but he’s still too weak. He’s struggling to even breathe. I haven’t healed him enough. I don’t know how to help him.” His vision blurred. He was partly relieved that Nik was alive, but still terrified he hadn’t done enough.
Vai put her hand on Zeph’s shoulder. “It will have to be enough until we get somewhere safe.”
Zeph nodded. He stood and gripped Nik under the arms, aghast at how light his form had grown. “We’ll take him to my church. It isn’t far.”
Jacek handed Vai his dagger and lifted Nik's legs. Blood dripped down the right side of Jacek’s face, highlighting the scar he’d received who knew how long ago. His face was set in grim determination as he hoisted Nik’s weight higher and nodded to Zeph.
“Let’s get him home.” The warrior said, the kindest thing he’d uttered since they’d met.
The room was blessedly near the exit, no doubt a part of the plan by Asmodeus to make a hasty escape if necessary.
A pang of guilt hit again, and Zeph faltered, but remained on his feet and kept Nik in his arms.
Vai opened the alley door for them, then ran ahead to make sure no one would see them as they climbed into the car with a bleeding, half dead Sin Eater.
Zeph held Nik against his chest in the backseat of the old car. Some sick part of his mind remembered suggesting bringing his car so they didn’t get blood on the Challenger’s seats. Nik would be teasing him about that right now if he could talk. His tears fell over a rueful smile and Zeph prayed for forgiveness for his sins even as resentment firmly settled into his heart.
He needed to heal Nik, but he didn’t know how. He dropped his forehead against the top of Nik’s head and felt the wet blood against his skin. He groaned with the effort to hold back the sobs threatening to pull him under into the darkness just so he could be with the man he loved. He needed Nik. He had to live
The whole world needed him.
Chapter Eight
Belial sat across the street from Fubar, in a dark ally, nursing a burning slash in his back. An image of the holy warrior blazed across his vision. The blade, with streaks of red emblazoned across its length, had missed his wing. Barely. If he hadn’t turned, if he’d ignored his instinct, he’d be grievously wounded. As it was, the gash refused to heal.
The minor wound should have sealed up by now, leaving not even a scar upon his flesh. But a blade of Christ took away a bit of his essence as it swiped through his flesh. Not enough to weaken him, not really, but enough to limit him. In his short life, he had never experienced any kind of limitation, always receiving everything he ever wanted. Having retreated from the fight filled him with shame and the burn in his back reminded him of how weak he still was. In reality, so new to this world, Belial was afraid to die.
Sirens sounded in the distance. He watched as the club emptied
. The patrons who had been screaming in fear now stumbled around like dumbstruck animals after a tornado, just glad to be alive but uncertain of what happened. They could not grasp that Hell had found them. Like the sheep they were, they would return to their homes. Some would gossip about the impossible things they’d seen, but they would soon learn that humanity looked away from the darkness, never confronting it straight on. These people would change their stories over time or end up punished with medications and institutionalization. Their prize for knowing the truth. Others would pretend they were too drunk to remember. Most of those would even believe the lie.
What they chose to tell themselves was of little concern to him. Soon enough, they would know his presence. The whole world would know. Where he had failed tonight, he would not fail again. Mother will know what to do next.
A dark car sped out onto the street. He could smell the acidic stink of the Sin Eaters within. Could hear four hearts pounding out a rhythm, although one beat weaker than the rest. Grekh wouldn’t die so easily, but his time would come. Belial would have the Blood of Christ sooner or later. They were, for all their haughty beliefs and empty assurances, only human.
When the car turned a corner and drove out of sight, Belial scurried across the street, keeping his wings close against his sides and his body in the shadows so as not to be seen. Inside the club, a spinning light in the center of the room cast an odd, pulsing, glow over everything. Across the dance floor, beyond the open curtains of the room where Asmodeous held the priest, he spied a body laying on the floor.
No.
He stopped halfway across the floor, staring at the lifeless body from afar, refusing to believe what he saw. For a moment, he hesitated. The longer he stayed away, the longer he could pretend.
Mother? He ran to her, dropping to his knees at her side. “Mother, oh my love. What have they done to you?” He stared into the black holes which should have held her soft, love-filled eyes. The demon had been burnt out of her, not even exorcised where he could see her again amongst the flames of Hell. Asmodeous the demon and Adel the woman, together they made his mother and the only woman he loved. And now she was gone, stolen from him by the Sin Eater. No, this had been done by the priest. He’d been her only weakness, only he could have taken down a creature as magnificent as she.
Men and women burst through the doors of the club, shouting orders. Moving around. Shouting, “Clear,” seemingly at random.
Belial tried to grab Adel and pull her closer, but a fine red dust coated her skin and burned his fingers on contact. Blisters bubbled up on his hands spreading and growing in painful welts. He stared at them incredulously. They didn’t heal.
He wanted nothing more—no, needed nothing more—in that moment than to consume the blood of that Sin Eater.
Nikolai Grekh was responsible for this. He may not have killed his beloved Mother, but without him, the priest would have joined them, and his mother would still be alive. She was his perfect partner. His only ally in this world.
“Freeze!”
The Sin Eater would pay, and so would anyone who stood in his way.
Belial stood with a roar and spun around, flexing his ebony wings wide.
“Holy shit. Samson, get over here! I need backup!”
He crouched slightly, then sprang at his prey, swiping his claws at the man’s stomach.
Intestines spilled onto the ground and Belial took a moment to enjoy the look of shock on the man’s face. As he collapsed in a puddle of his own viscera, Belial leaped at the men running up behind him.
The Sin Eaters had killed his mother and escaped. They would pay a heavy penalty in the blood of as many men, women, and children as Belial could find.
The priest. He made his way through the uniformed men and women in the club, ripping and tearing at them with his claws and talons until he left a path of blood and destruction behind him. Outside, he twisted the head off of a woman wearing a white uniform with a red cross patch on the sleeve. Her neck spewed a lovely font of crimson into the predawn haze. Against the slowly brightening sky, the sight was breathtaking. A thousand times more awesome than any sunrise.
The meteor shower continued to stream through the sky, ripping through the heavens with hellfire. His window hadn’t closed yet, he could still honor his mother by fulfilling her final desire. Around him, the city filled with sirens and the scent of sulfur and char. Hell might yet make it’s way through to this earthly plane.
He killed and killed, not stopping to savor the terror before the next strike nor the despair after. People spilled from their apartment buildings to look up at the pre-dawn sky streaked with fire and darkened with ash and Belial beheaded and disemboweled as many of them as he could. With every drop of blood spilled, his conviction grew stronger.
He walked, wings spread wide like the Angel of Death that he was through the streets of downtown Manhattan, tirelessly working his way closer to the place of his birth into this hostile world. The consecrated ground where the Holy Vessel Delphina gave him life and where his mother first held him, whispering her love into his ear. That was the place where it all began. And, tonight, where it would end.
Now that he’d lost the only thing that mattered to him, he had two goals: kill the priest, and kill the Sin Eater.
A booming voice slammed into his mind. Don’t be a fool.
He dropped to his knees amongst the blood streaming through the streets and pressed his palms against the sharp pain in his temples. The voice came again, but calmer.
Kill them, yes. But you are to survive. This is not a moment for foolish pride. Take your revenge, but above all else, you must live.
“Yes, Father.”
Your calling is not for petty human concerns. You are the son of Hell. Be not blinded by fury, the wrath of God has never accomplished anything. We must learn from His mistakes and bring our own revelation to mankind. Be strong, Belial. Become the leader of men Jesus was meant to be.
I will not fall into weakness again. For my Father, Lucifer, for the true first mother, Lilith, and for my Adel, I will rise.
Belial breathed a sigh of relief when the heavy presence lifted from his mind. He looked up and found himself only a few blocks away from the church. The Sin Eater’s aura glowed as he climbed out of a car, though it was dim and only a vague shape in the distance.
He appeared strong enough to walk under his own volition, but still weak. Perfect.
Overhead, a meteor crashed through the atmosphere, hurling through space and burning up in the sky over the city.
Chapter Nine
Nik woke with a gasp, pain in his shoulders and chest flaring up with the deep intake of air. He found himself laying across Zeph's lap in the backseat of his car. He couldn't help but smile. If this was Heaven, or even Hell, he'd take it. A bed would be even better, but the backseat would do.
Zeph's voice came out thick, tears sprang from his eyes as he spoke. “What are you smiling about? You nearly died, you asshole.”
“Language, Father.”
Zeph chuckled and Nik groaned as the car lurched to a stop, his head spinning. He'd never felt so weak. Even the nausea that rolled over him seemed only a half-hearted effort. Nik tried to sit up, but his head spun. “I feel like I probably should have.”
Zeph pulled him back against his chest and squeezed him. “Don't say that. I can't lose you too.”
He could barely focus on Zeph's words over the sudden ringing in his ears. His head was pounding and an icepick of pain burrowed into his skull. It felt like… Fuck.
Nik sat up abruptly and almost vomited from the velocity of the world spinning out of control. “Vai?”
In the driver's seat, she leaned forward over the steering wheel and groaned a response. “Shit.”
The pain in his head faded and the nausea subsided somewhat. “A demon's getting closer, ready to fight. It's probably Asmodeus and Belial.” Nik’s voice came out dry, scratching against his throat.
“Just Belial,” Zeph dropped his
hands from Nik and his flat voice set off a warning flag in Nik's mind, but if Belial was bearing down on them, he didn't have time to wonder at that.
“Just Belial's bad enough. I'm still really fucking weak.” He steadied himself with a hand against Zeph’s leg and the warmth of the contact spread up his arm, pulling the pain from the beating Belial had delivered. “Vai? What’s your status?”
“I'm good. He's close, but he stopped moving.”
“I doubt he's going to hang out for long. Jacek?”
“I am uninjured, prepared to fight. So is Vai.”
“Zeph?”
Zeph stared out the window. “The meteor shower has started.”
Nik pushed down the brief flare of anger. There was no time for this.
“Look, forget about everything but Belial. I know you’re still upset about Adel, but if Jacek’s right about what this means,” he gestured out the window at the fire streaking through the sky, “nobody's going after Adel right now, okay? You don’t have to worry about her. We need to kill Belial before it’s too late, and then we can worry about the rest.”
All the color drained from Zeph's face.
Vai stopped the car in front of Zeph’s church and turned around in the front seat to face them. “Nik, Adel's dead.”
“But, you two were with me. You couldn't have...” No fucking way.
Suddenly Zeph's blank stares and dull voice made perfect sense. He'd been forced to kill his own sister. Nik hated the relief that came with knowing he wouldn't have to do it. He would have suffered Zeph's wrath and hatred through the end of time to spare him so much pain, to keep him from having to make that kind of sacrifice.
He reached out and Zeph, his best friend, the love of his life, fell apart in his arms.
“I had to do it, Nik. I had to. I was trying to save her. I didn’t really understand, I didn’t know how lost she was until... But I did, I saved her, right? She’s free now, isn't she?” He cried into Nik's shirt and Nik just held him.
“You did, you did,” he whispered into the priest’s hair as his shoulders shook. If he was lying, so be it. Zeph could have at least that much peace of mind. Nik would gladly burn in Hell for the transgression if it meant allowing Zeph to believe his sister's soul had been saved.
