One day, they will understand.
‘Yes, one day, when they are all enjoying the afterlife.’ A sudden doubt filled Khaos’ mind. ‘Who knows if I will even be there!’
You must have faith, Human Soul. There will be a place for you, if you complete your task here on Earth. The heavens depend on it.’
‘I have nothing left to give.’
You have so much more to give, and you know it.
‘I’m exhausted. I have already given up so much. Can’t I just rest?’
You know you can’t. You have been trying to escape, all this time. But even in sleep, you will find no peace. You know it. Not until every demon is slain. Not until the world is rid of every demon and is ready for its end. You must have faith that that time will come. But in the meantime, your work must continue. If it takes every last breath from your lungs, then so be it.
‘I can’t do it all again. Track another demon, destroy it, have more people hate me for it.’
You must. And you must do it without remorse. Without pity, for yourself or the mortals. You must let all feelings go and truly become Khaos. You have done it once. Already you are stronger than before.
‘I don’t feel strong.’
‘You don’t even know your strength yet. What we are capable of. Together.
Sometime later, after the draining of the last bottle of liquor, Khaos continued to sit idly, staring at her wrist, touching the two little tattoos there; two reminders of demons she had slain previously. For some reason it gave her some sort of comfort. For the moment, the Spirit Voice seemed to have left her alone. Perhaps letting her mull over what it had said.
Behind her she heard the soft regular sound of approaching feet – hooved, heavy feet – and turned to see Nyx ambling toward her, back in his favoured form of a horse.
‘Where do you go, Nyx? When you are not following me around, that is.’ She turned onto her belly and lay on the grass, looking up at him. ‘Do you go and stalk someone else? Do you carry other people around on your back?’
‘I exist to serve you, Master.’
‘Really? You must be pretty bored then.’
‘If you are idle, I am idle.’
‘So all this time that I have been here, doing nothing, you’ve just… waited around?’
‘I return to the sky sometimes. To the stars. That is my home.’ He looked up into the falling dusk.
‘Really? Are there other shape-shifting horses up there?’
‘No. I am not an individual entity up there. I am part of the stars, part of the darkness.’
She contemplated that for a moment.
‘So you are only on Earth now to serve me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Wouldn’t you rather be up there?’
‘I must serve you. That is my task. And I cannot return home for good until the task is complete.’
‘So you are stuck here? And it’s my fault?’
‘I don’t see it that way. You are my master. I must serve you.’
‘But what if you don’t want to?’
‘I don’t think like that. I do what I must do. There is no other purpose for me.’
‘Why do you default to horse? Do you like being a horse?’
‘Being a horse is the closest I can get to having emotions. Vehicles and other forms of transport do not have emotions.’
‘Why would you want those?’ Khaos laughed. ‘Surely the last thing you would want would be feelings.’ She sighed. ‘What I would give to feel nothing. Every morning I wake with this terrible feeling of guilt. I wish I could shake it, but I can’t. Sometimes it alternates with apprehension, fear… ’
‘I wish I could understand how you feel,’ said Nyx. ‘But I can't. I know you struggle with this task you have been set. It cannot be easy for you, waking every day with this burden on your back. But we all have our crosses to bear. It’s what makes us who we are. This is how we have been brought into this life. What would you be, if you were not Khaos?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t remember who I was.’
‘Even if you could, you couldn’t go back there. So we must plod forward, ever forward, never looking back.’
‘But for what? To what end? Will my soul really be saved?’
Nyx did not answer her question.
‘Do you feel better, less guilty, for not continuing on your quest? Or do you feel worse than ever?’
Now Khaos did not answer.
‘It consumes you. You cannot escape it. The only chance you have at cleansing your soul of this guilt is taking up your sword and fighting for holy justice. The only way you will find peace is by continuing on the path that has been set for you.’
Khaos was silent for a long time.
‘I am cursed. What did I do in my past life that was so bad that I deserve this?’
‘You have not been punished, Khaos. To be punished, you would have been sent straight to the depths of Hell. No, this is no curse. This is a gift. A second chance. A blessing.’
Khaos could think of no reply. She knew, deep down in her heart, that Nyx was right. The Spirit Voice was right. She didn’t really have a choice. Nowhere else to go, not really. She had managed to fool herself for a while into thinking she could hide away from this, make her mind a stupor with alcohol so that she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to listen. But she had never been free. Not really. It had always been temporary. She barely remembered her past life, save a few snatched memories. She did not know her name. The only name she knew was Khaos.
She threw the empty bottle down the hill and stood up, her eyes clenched shut. Her hands balled into fists.
When she opened her eyes, they were completely grey.
CHAPTER NINE
Khaos did not set off immediately but returned to the camp, which was now deserted. She knew she was dawdling and should really make haste, but there was one more thing she needed.
Hidden in the footwell of an old tractor was her battered old armour. She had stuffed it in there thinking anyone who found it would assume it was part of the tractor. She stripped and put the armour on, before pulling her hoodie and jeans back on. She heard the crunch of tyres on rubber behind her and turned to see a gleaming black Cadillac: Nyx in his new form, ready to take her wherever she needed to go. Her flaming sword lay in the back seat, the blade flickering a harmless blue; it did not burn or cause any damage unless she held it by the hilt.
She peeled her gloves off first; she had no further use for them. When she picked up the sword it flashed with a brilliant orange flame for a moment before resuming its blue flicker. If anyone else had tried to pick it up their hands would be severely burnt, but Khaos felt no pain to hold it.
‘I’m ready.’
Nyx suggested that the best way to get to the island would be by road. Though it certainly wasn’t the quickest, it was the least conspicuous, as they would appear, to anyone who saw them, as nothing more than an ordinary car and driver. It would have, of course, been much easier if Nyx flew her there, but the risk of someone, such as the authorities or police, seeing them was too great.
She had been waylaid before by the police, and it had wasted valuable time, not to mention being a messy business. The less damage caused and people accidentally killed or injured the better. Although it was inevitable that she would have to use her powers and risk being seen at some point, the less risks the better at this stage. She needed to get as close to the demon as possible without drawing attention to herself.
Khaos sat in the driver’s seat of Nyx the Cadillac, though she did not touch the steering wheel. It moved of its own accord. In the gathering darkness, they set off, their destination: the town of Edgewater.
‘How long will it take us to get there?’ she wondered out loud.
‘A day, maybe two,’ said Nyx, in a tinny voice through the car radio.
Khaos stretched out, preparing for the long journey ahead.
The landscape around them was a dusty, barren desert, and they passed no othe
r vehicles for several miles. Nyx’s headlights on the road ahead were, for the longest time, the only lights she could see.
Morning eventually broke to more bland, lifeless desert, occasionally broken by a small settlement of wooden, ramshackle buildings and fields of cattle. As morning pressed on into afternoon, the sun beat down on them unforgivingly; though Nyx was travelling fast enough for there to be a bit of a breeze, which gave some relief from the heat. Khaos thought of her friends, of Georgi and Barden, Ripper and Bottle; they must be nearly there by now. Khaos worked out that they must be more than a day ahead of herself and Nyx, although they would be travelling slower: by bus and hitchhiking. Khaos wondered if she and Nyx might even catch up with them.
Do not forget your purpose, Khaos.
‘Ah, Spirit Voice. I was wondering where you had got to.’
You are not going to Legend Resort to look for your friends. You are there to–
‘–Destroy the demon,’ Khaos finished. ‘Yes, I know.’
The demon will be very strong. It has been several days since it has manifested. Its power and influence grow stronger every day.
Khaos groaned inwardly.
‘Can I really defeat him? Surely he will be too powerful by now?’
Not as powerful as you.
‘I’m glad someone is confident about that.’ She sighed, rubbing the scars on her shoulder blades again. Were those bumps she could feel, under her skin?
The prospect of the journey ahead filled her with dread, not least the destination. She thought of Loka again. She would have to face her, too. She would have to defeat her all over again. For more than one reason, Khaos felt a deep sense of foreboding as their journey continued.
The day passed without event, and as they neared their destination there seemed to be more signs of life: homes, other cars, people out in their back yards. The landscape gradually got more green, more undulating, and Khaos began to notice snatches of sparking dark blue between hills: the sea.
Dusk was beginning to set in as they approached the beginnings of the seaport town of Edgewater, their destination. The coast was in full view now, the shifting ocean spreading out to the horizon, and all along the mainland edge was the sprawling town.
They had barely had to consider traffic on their way here; now, all of a sudden, they were hemmed in on all sides in the middle of the freeway. At least it was moving along, though slowly. Khaos sighed and stretched, prepping herself for the boredom of traffic jams.
It was a different story however when they neared the docks. The traffic slowed to a crawling speed, and then as they turned the corner to the final approach, it ground completely to a halt.
Khaos stared around wide-eyed at the scene. The sidewalks on either side of the road were nearly as clogged with people as the road itself, pushing and shoving and all going in one direction – toward the seafront. They were all dressed for a party: ladies in very short skirts and dresses of various styles and colours, but all leaning towards revealing, and men in varying colours of shirts and shorts, their hair more full of products than the ladies’.
Some were dressed more outrageously: Khaos caught a glimpse of a blonde-haired girl in a pink fluffy bikini trying to get through, another in a leopard print leotard, and a man in a beer bottle costume, all amongst the throng. Loud music blared from an unseen location up ahead.
‘I don’t know what is causing the hold up, but we are not going anywhere fast. And it is not safe to change here,’ said Nyx.
‘Shall I get out and walk the rest of the way?’ She squinted through the window. ‘I can’t quite see what is going on up ahead.’
‘You might be quicker on foot. I will find you.’
She didn’t doubt that for a moment. Khaos got out of Nyx, the sword concealed across her shoulders, under her oversized hoodie.
Joining the crowd was nearly as difficult as negotiating the traffic. No one seemed to want to form any kind of queue and instead just barged forward at the same time. More than once, Khaos was trampled, elbowed, and shoved roughly along the sidewalk. Everyone around her was ready for a party, but no one looked like they were having a good time.
After what seemed like hours of shunting along the pavement through the crowd, she could see the entrance to the docks, marked by two large pillars with carved stone fish atop them. Originally this place had probably been a fishing town, and this area had been frequented predominantly by fishermen and boating enthusiasts. Now it was mobbed with men and women who looked like they had been kicked out of the club early and had nowhere to go but to the sea.
Khaos could see now what might be causing some of the hold up. Over the heads of the mob she saw brightly-coloured placards and banners being waved enthusiastically by unseen protesters. Judging by the location of the placards, they must have been standing in the actual road, stopping vehicles from passing. From this distance she could not read the placards properly, but instincts told her what sort of person might protest at a place like this.
She got a little further on and could now read one:
“GOD HATES DRUNKS”
Right. Christians. As she had suspected.
“LEGEND ISLAND = HELL”
Not very imaginative.
“GLUTTONY = 1ST CLASS TICKET TO HELL”
“GOD HATES DRUNKEN WHORES”
Quite an extremist sort of Christian group, by the look of them. Khaos had a sudden anxious wrench in her gut; what if they recognised her? They were godly people after all. Khaos reasoned they may have heightened senses when it came to that sort of thing.
Despite her anxiety, there was no way she could avoid them: she had no choice in her direction. She was being propelled towards the entrance by the press of the crowd behind her. People were so close on all sides; she could smell their boozy breath. She now realised how she must have smelt to other people all the time and cringed.
At the front of the group of protesters was an older man with a big, heavy bible in his hand. He seemed to be the most zealous of the group, as he preached the loudest of them all. Khaos surmised he must be the leader, probably the minister or priest or whatever they called the preacher in their denomination. The rest of the group were a mix of young and old, male and female.
Suddenly she was shoved roughly and found herself on her knees in front of the protesters.
A hand reached out to help her up. Without thinking, Khaos took it.
*
Melody was exhausted. All day their group had been picketing the entrance to the port, and her arms ached from holding up her sign. They had gotten a really good spot: it was the main entrance for pedestrians and vehicles, so the perfect place to do some real outreach to these people. Also, the queues were long, so everyone had plenty of time to read their signs and hear their words while they stood there waiting.
The day had been long. Too long. Melody's throat was hoarse from all the shouting and singing. She had started out the day feeling really positive; the good Lord must have sent down his holy spirit to bless them all with positivity. Everyone in the group seemed psyched up and ready to go. She had begun the day waving a tambourine in one hand, the placard in the other, shouting and singing enthusiastically.
But as the day had worn on, the good mood seemed to go, leaving the group tired and a little despondent. They knew that there would be lots of heathens coming and going from this place, but they had not anticipated this mass. Pastor Jack hadn't mentioned it.
This Legend Island place was more than popular with the heathens. As far as the eye could see, people queued up, waiting to get in. No one left, no one was going the other way. Where were they all going? Frequently, men who worked at the gate came and closed it, proclaiming to the crowd that the port was at full capacity. But the crowd just waited. They had an odd determination in their eyes, every one.
They did not pay much attention to Melody’s group, and the ones who did were surly and rude, shouting profanities back at them and making rude gestures, some of which Melody did no
t fully understand. No, she hadn’t expected this. Was this part of God’s plan? To test his flock perhaps?
Only Pastor Jack continued to preach, one arm raised up with the good book clutched in it. The crowd just streamed past as if he were invisible.
‘Turn around now! It’s not too late! Salvation can be yours today! Let go your greed, your gluttony!’ he shouted, bible raised heavenward. ‘Desire the love of the Lord, not the pleasures of the flesh!’
The crowd seemed to get even more agitated, but not so much at the protestors, more at having to wait around and queue up so close together. A few rows back some men were jostling each other, in what looked like the beginnings of a fight. Then one pushed a little too hard and it had a domino effect on the crowd around them. One fell into another until one of the young women directly in front of the protestors fell right in front of Melody.
The heathen girl was tall and had longish black hair and light brown skin; perhaps she was African or Caribbean or something. She was wearing a black hooded top, which Melody thought was inappropriate for this heat. Instinctively, Melody reached out a hand to help her up, though normally she did not like to get too close to the heathens.
As the heathen girl took her hand, a strange feeling washed over Melody. A sudden rush of memories filled her head, and she felt as if she were floating, as if she were not entirely there. She looked into the eyes of the heathen girl and gasped. The heathen girl’s eyes were completely grey, even what should’ve been white.
‘Saviour!’ Melody whispered.
CHAPTER TEN
The world around the two of them was grey and lifeless. Only the two hands clasped together, the energy they exchanged, mattered. Only this human girl’s memories had any colour or vibrancy.
Melody. Her name was Melody. She was seventeen. She lived with her parents in a tight-knit Christian community, attending meetings and church services ran by a Christian movement called “The Ministry.” From a young age, Melody’s mind has been moulded by her elders and betters to believe the word of the Lord to the letter. Any deviation from that was not of God, but of the Devil. All other people not of the Ministry were sinners, heathens, damned to Hell. They must be witnessed to. They must hear the word of the Lord and be saved.
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