by T. R. Briar
Rayne looked up. “Really?”
“Yeah.” David frowned as he spoke. “It took me a very, very long time to get over it. I was angry for years, I just wanted to scream out and drag everything down into my rage. I was deeply hurt once, but I got over it. You just have to give it time.”
“Time is something I don’t think I have,” Rayne said. “But I’ll try.”
David smiled. “Good.” He loosened his tie, and leaned forward in his chair. “I’m glad she meant something to you. I know she was grateful for your company, right up until the end.”
Rayne didn’t answer, choosing to scribble more words down onto the notepad.
David glanced over at the desk. “What are you writing?”
“I suppose you could call it a dream journal.”
“Oh?”
“Well, I was inspired by that book I bought, so I’m writing down what I see in my sleep. Keeping a log of what’s out there, I suppose.”
“Can I see it?”
“Perhaps later. I want to get a bit more done first.”
“OK, I won’t pry.” David stood up. “I’m glad we could talk about this. Listen, I’m going to catch a quick nap, I’m due back at the hospital for a 3AM shift. It’s going to be a rough week.”
“Well, pleasant dreams then.”
“Yeah. You too.” David shut the study door behind him.
Rayne continued to write. He had noticed, going mostly off the pictures, that there were some creatures he’d seen in the Abyss these past few months that were not in the book. On top of that, with the ridiculously archaic speech, nobody could read the existing entries anyways, not without extensive study of old languages. So he’d gotten it into his head to write a more modern guide to the creatures within, using his own gained knowledge as the source. He might not have known the Abyss for twenty years as his predecessor had, but he felt he had learned things the long dead scholar failed to in the short time he’d been visiting.
His pen wrote of the many beasts he’d encountered, describing their behavior as well as their appearances. He was not one for drawing, but neither was the last guy, so he scribbled crude depictions from memory, childish scrawls more than anything else. He described the Abyss Lords as Darrigan had explained them, but when he got to Kaledris, he had far more information to divulge, about her seeking of minds, and his experience with her dwelling within his head. He did not know quite what to write for Nen’kai, knowing almost nothing about him outside Tomordred’s assorted ramblings, so he described him as the water lord, the beast with a thousand heads, long missing from a time before the earth even existed. As for Tomordred himself, Rayne’s pen hesitated, wondering if he should dare write what he knew. He decided it didn’t matter now. Gabriel had probably told Tomordred’s entire story to the rest of the Abyss. So he wrote everything he remembered, leaving out no detail.
Late in the evening he decided to take a break. Not sure he wanted prying eyes to seek his information, as well as noting the value of the old book he’d been keeping on the shelf, he picked up both the book and the notepad and brought them into his room, where he opened the small trunk at the foot of his bed, the one with the photo album, still filled with pictures of strangers he knew by logic were his parents. There was already a lot of junk in there, but he could still find enough room for both the book and the notepad, so he wedged them both in there before he shut the lid. He figured it was better to keep it hidden, not so much because he worried about David prying, but he feared what Levi would think if he saw them.
“Daddy?”
He turned to see his son standing there, wearing his green pajamas and rubbing his eyes.
“What are you still doing up? You should be in bed.”
“I was thirsty,” he replied. He stood in the doorway, clinging to its frame. “Daddy, I’m sorry about your friend. She was a nice lady.”
“Yeah, she was.”
“David said you were sad about her. I don’t want you to be sad, Daddy.”
“I know, Levi. But it takes time to get over these things. When you’re older, you’ll understand.”
“Will you explain it to me when I’m older?”
His words gave Rayne pause. Once Tomordred came after him he’d be gone, and Levi would no longer have a father. This could very well be his last night on Earth. Certainly he’d felt that before, but this time there seemed little recourse. He couldn’t just leave his son behind like that, without saying goodbye. But he also knew that if he acted like something was wrong, his son would get upset, possibly over nothing.
“Levi, listen,” he said, walking to his son. He saw the timidness in the boy’s eyes, so he forced a less-grim expression. “You’re a fine boy, and someday I’m sure you’ll grow up to be a fine young man.”
The boy stared up at him wide eyed, his young mind not completely comprehending the mood.
“When I was young, I was bright, imaginative, and I was happy. But I had a father who was controlling, and he limited me, because he didn’t want me bringing shame to his name. Now he’s gone, and someday, I’ll be gone too. I want you to have a better life than I did. I want you to know that no matter what you do, and no matter what you become, I’m proud of you. Live the life you want to live. All right?”
“Daddy? Are you going away somewhere?”
“Only to sleep.” Rayne smiled, but it was a cold smile, empty and cruel as it hid a half truth from the child’s ears. “Don’t be sad, Levi. I’m never that far away from you.”
He leaned over and embraced his son, kissing him on the cheek. “Now, go to bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too.”
Chapter 15
Once again, Rayne found himself in the ruined village of burned wood and ashes. This time, no three-headed beasts crept through the fog seeking his throat. He knew Apolleta wouldn’t be joining him tonight, so he headed back inside the one house that still stood to relax a little. He kept his senses keen, just waiting for Tomordred to show up and yank him back to his realm and devour him. It was only a matter of time now, he knew.
Through the holes in the rotten wood of the roof, he saw smoke wafting down. It was not mist, not fog, just black smoke. It poured onto the ground like liquid, pooling and forming in a humanoid mass. Rayne recognized this form.
“Darriga—” he started to speak, only to realize, this was not Darrigan. He looked exactly like Darrigan, bearing the same skeletal face with papery flesh, the black horns, the glowing white eyes and lips pulled taught over leering teeth. But, despite the identical visage, Rayne knew, just from his movements, the way he stared at Rayne, the way the air crackled around him: none of it resembled the reaper he knew.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “You’re not Darrigan.”
The being looked at him with orbs void of color. “Darrigan? Who are you, mortal, to take the name of a reaper so lightly?”
“Nobody,” he said. “Just a Realm Wraith.”
“He shall be dealt with for consorting with the likes of you. In the meantime, I have been instructed to bring you. You are obviously the one I was sent to find.”
“Bring me where?”
The blades vanished from the demon’s left wrist as he reached out with a clawed hand. “No more speaking. Come.”
Rayne took it, and let the reaper pull him away from his shelter. He glimpsed the ornate fortress carved into a mountainside he’d noticed several nights ago, and found himself taken inside a great stone hall, within a circular room lined by stone pillars covered in sheer spikes of granite, stretching up above Rayne taller than any skyscraper. Here he lay sprawled on a carved marble floor, decorated with esoteric patterns drawn in stained blood. Tall windows surrounded him, and outside he could see uncountable spires before a bloody crimson sky.
Others dwelt within this hall. All around him stood many beings of smoky, dust-like form. Identical in shape, but not nature, Rayne could see. All like Darrigan, gatherer
s of souls, each in turn leering down upon him now as they filled the hall, thousands upon thousands of them. Staring at this silent army filled Rayne with a strange sense of dread, strange because it was not one of impending fear, imagining what they might do to him. More so, it was one of sickening familiarity, and he could not understand why.
“Did you bring him?” a voice poured through the crowd, echoing in the marble hall. Through the crowds of demons, a form pushed his way forward, a visage that spread so much anger through Rayne he could not stop himself from freezing the air around him in a hail of frozen ice shards.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
Gabriel leered at him. He looked very different from the man Rayne had seen only a few days prior. Gone was the rotting flesh, the falling out hair. He was more restored now, yet of an equally unsettling appearance. Small burning cracks covered skin of a dull ochre hue. Black claws grew from his hands, which had become sharp and bony. His long black hair danced in the air like ebony flame. He still had one yellow eye, still rotting with orange pus, but his empty eye socket now burned with red fire, pouring out tears of molten magma. Despite his changed form, Rayne knew him in an instant. That face, that aura, all unmistakable to his eyes.
“How do I look, Mr. Mercer?” he asked, his voice thick with scorn.
“What have you done?” Rayne gasped.
“After you decided to disfigure me, I decided to improve my situation. So, I came here, to Azaznir’s realm.”
“This is Azaznir’s realm?” Rayne looked around at the horde of reapers. A crushing, oppressive heat enveloped and pressed down upon him.
“Of course. Didn’t you know? The reapers serve Azaznir, the flame lord. He made them his loyal minions countless eons ago, to use their strength as he wished.”
“You sold your soul to him, didn’t you?”
“I gave him information, which he found useful.”
“You told him?!” Rayne’s eyes flared, and he lurched forward, only to be restrained and held back by two other reapers.
“I did, indeed. Your friend will be pissed when he finds out. But it wasn’t Tomordred’s former mortality that interested my new god.”
“Your new—”
Gabriel’s head arched back, and a sizzling noise echoed from deep within his throat. The fortress trembled, shaking debris from the ceiling, spreading cracks along the wall. The glow in his eye brightened, and a greater light behind him contracted and focused on Rayne like a pupil.
“You,” an intense voice whispered.
Two skeletal hands made of ephemeral smoke rose through the ground on either side of Gabriel, and more smoke flowed up and through him, creeping along the walls, opening eyes brighter than miniature suns, their light engulfing the chamber like a white plague. But it was merely a shadow, just like before. Rayne realized why the voice sounded so familiar, though this was the first time he’d ever heard it speak English.
“Azaznir,” he breathed.
A voice, more substance than sound, flayed his still-tender flesh with a simple whisper. Rayne grasped his shoulders, but refused to give this unholy god the satisfaction of a scream.
“I remember you,” the demon god said. “How did you escape my chains? Weaklings can’t break the restraints of an Abyss Lord.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rayne retorted. “What the hell is going on here?!”
“Mercer, you dumb piece of shit, don’t you get it?” Gabriel interrupted. Rayne could barely see him in the glare. “You’ve lost. I told Azaznir all about Tomordred’s little secret. And he’s chosen me to serve him.”
“I did not say you could speak,” Azaznir said.
“S-sorry, my lord.”
Charred hands reached from the light, scraping over Rayne’s chin. “You learned quite a secret, mortal. I was inspired by the actions of Tomordred’s master. To corrupt a world on a mass scale, and destroy it single handedly. I’ve shattered worlds with fire and meteors, but to corrupt the souls first, that is an idea I have not tried.”
“Gabriel.” Rayne went limp in the grip of the two reapers still holding him. “Please, please don’t tell me you’ve agreed to be his catalyst.”
“Aren’t you smart,” Gabriel mocked him. “No wonder you got away from that slobbering beast with your soul intact.”
“You sold out our planet?!” he screamed. Gabriel laughed.
“What does it matter? We’re both dead men, aren’t we? You won’t be around to witness the death of our world, and I will be the instigator. I’ll travel the world offering my god’s power to anyone who desires it. I’ll be the one who brings about the humanity’s annihilation in a fiery apocalypse. Because my god would not be crude enough to stoop to a flood.”
“You bastard! You sodding asshole! I’ll kill you!”
“Silence, mortal,” Azaznir said. “You will not interfere. I’ve learned all about you from my new catalyst. You think quite highly of yourself. You think you’ve somehow mastered my world. That ends. I make you one offer, to join Gabriel in servitude to a higher power.”
“I’d rather have my insides ripped out,” Rayne hissed, his hatred boiling inside him.
“Oh, so you think you’re a hero, do you? You think you’ll prove your character if you stand up to the darkness? You’re in Hell, Realm Wraith. You’ve sinned. You’re damned.” The claws raked across Rayne’s face, slicing his skin open. “You will spend eternity here one way or another. I can offer you power, and Nen’kai’s wretched little pet won’t ever hunt you here. I ask you one more time to serve me.”
Rayne spat, and glared up at the god. “I despise fire.”
A clawed finger pressed against his forehead, pushing deeper and deeper, drawing blood. Azaznir’s laugh boomed around him, as the Abyss Lord mocked him.
“Conviction to the end. So be it. Servant, away with you. Do not let me down.”
Gabriel pushed himself into Rayne’s blurred field of vision. “Yeah, that’s right, asshole. You’re here, and I’m gone. I can leave the Abyss any time I want, and wake up whenever I want. You’ll be dead before you even open your eyes this morning.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Why not? The rules don’t apply to me anymore, and you really fucking annoy me. You think I can go to jail for murder, when I have this power?”
“Did Azaznir take away your brain while he was at it, you tit?”
“Such a mouth. Enjoy your last night. While you’re here, in our citadel, I’ll be killing you in your bed. You’ll die, and your soul will be just like that stupid woman’s. And if Tomordred still wants to eat you after that, he’s free to.”
“You wanker!” Rayne strained, hoping to at least land one punch, but the reapers held him too tight.
Gabriel stepped back from Rayne, his spirit fading from sight. “It’s too bad I won’t get to see it happen, when your mind ceases to exist and you turn into a vapid, lost soul.”
“Wait!”
It was too late; Gabriel was gone. The demons dug their claws into Rayne’s arms, and the light continued to blind him, as Azaznir’s stare burned him from the outside.
“Such rage,” the god said. “You wish to fight me? Do you hate your state of existence so badly? Because I can end it for you.”
“I don’t care who you are! I won’t let you do this!”
“There’s nothing to be done. When my servant has killed your flesh, you’ll just be a mindless simpleton, hardly worth caring about. I may as well just toss your soul into that frozen wasteland for Tomordred to devour.” Rayne saw a flash of teeth, as if the horrid being grinned at him. “Even better; I should do away with that place entirely. That realm has been without a master for far too long. I’ve toyed with it before, but I think it’s time I made it a part of my world.”
“You can’t do that!”
Azaznir laughed again. “Nobody will care. They didn’t care when I got rid of its master, after all.”
Rayne stopped struggling against the r
eapers for a moment. “That was you?”
The light faded, and Rayne could finally see again, once the shadowy claws receded. He could still feel Azaznir’s stare even as he withdrew.
“I’ve wasted enough time,” he said. “But a word of warning, Realm Wraith. My new servant told me you have a child on Earth. He could make a fine catalyst, if the first one fails.”
“No!” Rayne screamed.
“If you do not want me to tear his soul to pieces, you will remain silent, and wait for death.”
“Stay away from Levi!” Rayne’s rage bubbled over, his eyes wide and mad as he pushed against the reapers. Azaznir did not answer, but he laughed one last time as the shadows receded into the ground, and the clawed hands dissolved into dust. He clenched his eyes shut, balled up his fists, infuriated by the demon god’s audacity. Hearing his son threatened turned his vision crimson, and Rayne understood, to his horror, that if he stood back and did nothing, Levi would be as doomed as anybody else on Earth.
“Let go of me!”
He whirled around, letting the cold around him grow to blinding intensity as it froze the hands that bound him solid. He pulled his arms free, shattering the frozen flesh and bone. The two reapers howled, and the rest of their kind closed in on Rayne. He knew just looking at them that he had no chance fighting all of them at once. There was a strange barrier here, something that dulled his senses, and he realized as he focused he could not warp away as he pleased. He was trapped like a rat, the many identical faces of death bearing down upon him.
With no other recourse, he bolted, darting in and through the demons that filled the room. Their smoke-like bodies had little substance, and he barreled through them before they could slice him with those silver-edged blades that lined their hands. But the further into the crowd he ran, the closer they came to catching him, anticipating his actions, slashing up his body. The sensation of blades cutting his flesh dragged up painful memories, though he could not recall any point in his life where he’d ever been cut with something so keenly sharp. The sands of his hourglass neared the bottom; they would overpower him soon.
