“Did what?” I glanced to the side and, noticing the ball of energy quickly gathering in front of my friend’s body, put a hand on Christy’s shoulder. “Let him finish.” Dr. Death smiled again. “And he’d better make it good because chances are they’ll be his last words.”
She laid into me with a glare, probably still a wee bit pissed that he’d tried his best to manhandle her, but I held her gaze and gave a single nod. She backed off – a little bit, anyway. That red ball of doom remained, but she reined it in ever so slightly.
That was fine. If dickface over there – by which I meant his face looked nothing like a dick, just so we’re clear – so much as twitched the wrong way, I was gonna send his ass to quantum torpedo heaven.
“Exactly that,” he continued, his entire demeanor changing. “I’ve been waiting all this time for your balls to finally drop.” He glanced up. “Offhand, I’d say they came out made of brass.”
“You’ve been waiting for this?” I asked dubiously.
“Yeah.”
“Color me ever-so-slightly skeptical.”
He sighed, then took a slow step toward our couch, where he sat down. “Ask yourself, Bill, who am I?”
“That’s easy. The crazy-ass psycho who lives in my head.”
“In some ways, that might be true. In others, that just reflects poorly upon you.”
“How so?”
“Because I am you, stupid.”
* * *
I raised an eyebrow. “Just because you look like me...”
“It goes deeper than looks and I think you know it.”
“Humor me.”
“I’m your reptilian brain, your anger center. I’m the part of you that used to lie awake at night wishing you’d told someone off when you had the chance. The part that used to fantasize about kicking the ass of everyone who’s ever tormented you.”
“Go on.”
“The little piece of you that yearns to be a hero.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
“And you’ve had a nasty habit of keeping me fully repressed. All that resentment builds up after a while. That’s why everyone always tells you it’s not healthy to bottle that shit up.”
He was right. Mom used to tell me that all the time when I was growing up. Of course, that was usually right after Dad complained about me being a crying little pussy.
Okay, that wasn’t helping.
I turned to Christy. “What do you think?”
She opened and closed her mouth a few times, seemingly unsure of how to answer. Finally, she replied, “It’s your mind.”
“That helps a lot.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s not like I do this every day.”
Letting out a sigh of frustration, I once more faced myself. “Fine, then where have you been all this time? I mean, I don’t recall ever hulking out into a murderous rage-beast back in elementary school.”
“You also weren’t bitten by a vampire until a year and a half ago.”
“Yeah, I noticed that part. I’ve also noticed that most other vamps don’t do that.”
“Fucked if I know,” he replied with a shrug. “Maybe it’s because most of them aren’t Freewills.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but he continued. “All I know is that one moment I was just another part of you, and the next, we were staring at Sheila out on a date with that asshole Decker and, suddenly, it was like I was a whole other person. All those weak parts of you stayed where they were, locked up tight, but I was free ... except I wasn’t. All I could do was stare out at the world from behind your eyes, feeling your frustration grow.”
I kept my eyes on him, partially to avoid Christy’s glare for his mentioning of Harry Decker. What he said sorta made sense, though. That was the first time I ever felt myself start to snap, lose control.
“Then, out of nowhere, I started to take over. One minute, I was impotent.” He held up a hand. “Don’t fucking start.”
“Sorry.”
“The next, I could feel your arms becoming my arms, your legs becoming my legs, me taking control.”
“But then I panicked.”
“Yeah, and that bitch didn’t help matters either...” He trailed off for a moment, his eyes momentarily growing dark again. Or maybe it was just my imagination – it happened pretty quickly. When he next spoke, they were back to being just my eyes. “But later on, you let it happen and I was free.”
“Don’t remind me,” I growled, looking up and making sure my armada was still at the ready. The thought of what I could possibly do in that state was enough to make me consider a turbolaser lobotomy right then and there.
“I’ve been fighting for control ever since.”
“Except in Switzerland.”
“As I told you back then, be careful what you wish for.” He stood up and took a step toward me, palms up with no claws to be seen. “But now that’s changed. I said before that I didn’t think sharing control was in the cards. I meant it. As long as you kept running from what you could do, from what you were meant to do, that was gonna be true. Now, though, you finally manned up. You came in here, faced me, and ... I am loathe to admit it, actually beat me at my own game.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means that you won. I’m ready to be a part of you again.”
“Oh, well, then scamper back off into my repressed memories. Maybe we’ll meet again in a dream.”
“Doesn’t work that way. You have to accept me.” He looked me in the eye and slowly said, “Only then will you be able to have what you want.”
Those words resonated with me. What I wanted. Did he mean his power? That was why I was here.
Even so, a part of me wasn’t entirely certain that was the case. There were other things – people – I wanted. I’d just been too big of a pussy to ever go for it, outside of facing certain death, at least.
If what he said was true, then he represented those parts of me that always seemed to be just out of my reach when I needed them – probably because I was simultaneously pushing them away, afraid of what would happen: rejection, scorn, even losing control of my temper.
“And what happens if I accept you?”
“You open yourself up to the possibilities you already seem to be on the verge of accepting, that maybe, just maybe, you can be the man you always wanted to be.”
“Not sure that’s ever...”
“It also means,” he continued, ignoring my self-doubt, “we fight side by side. Whatever brings me out, turns me into the ultimate expression of your Freewill powers, that’s controlled by me. By opening your mind to that potential, I’ll once again become you. And if I am you...”
“Then that thing is me too.”
“Exactly. All that power will be at your fingertips. You just need to stop being afraid to wield it.”
“But what if my friends get hurt?”
“Have you looked around?” Dr. Death had moved to a spot directly in front of me. “That’s a possibility no matter where you go in this world. But ask yourself this. What if my power allows you to save them?” He raised a hand and put it on my shoulder. For a moment, I was sure his claws would extend and he’d bisect me, all while laughing merrily away. All he did, though, was grasp my arm. It was oddly comforting ... and kinda weird too.
I looked over at Christy. The glow around her had faded. Indecision reigned on her face for a second or two, but then she smiled and nodded at me. “Accepting your personal demons is never a bad thing.”
A part of me wasn’t sure ... hell, it was practically screaming at me to open fire on this fucker regardless. I pushed it away, though. It was probably just my insecurities acting up as usual. Call it habit. The benefit, though, was too good to pass up. Being able to call upon this power at will – power that seemed to dwarf what I gained from drinking all but the most powerful of vampire blood. It was the prize I’d been seeking.
I had to ta
ke the chance. “Deal,” I said, holding out a hand.
Fire and Brimstone
As the door to my apartment shut behind us, I turned to Christy. “That went better than expected.”
“I agree. I’m glad I didn’t have to restrain him deep in your subconscious.”
“Or lobotomize me?”
“That too. That first one, though, carried more risk with it.”
“Oh, as opposed to carving your initials into my brainstem?”
“Yes, that would have been unfortunate. However, in the other case, it would have been more worrisome.”
I glanced back and the door was gone. The walls around us started to become unfocused as well. “How so?”
“Well, for starters, one can never tell how permanent of a solution that will be. However, it would have also verified that something wasn’t right inside of you.”
“Hold on for a second.” All at once, Alex’s former bedroom sprang up around us again. I could hear giggling coming from behind me where the bed stood.
Christy placed her hands on her hips. “Really?”
“Sorry, it’s my happy place. Ignore it for the moment. What do you mean something’s not right inside of me? I’d call my aggression splitting off into its own independent state to be pretty screwy.”
“And it is,” she replied, obviously making a conscious effort to not look at the pillow fight happening over my shoulder. “But not as wrong as ... it’s hard to explain. I told you about being in Sally’s head.”
“Tearing down walls.”
“Not just that, but how there was this strange sensation of not being alone. I wasn’t sure if it was just her or maybe a vampire thing in general. If the latter...”
She trailed off, and I didn’t ask her to finish. I had no idea what that might mean, and meaningless speculation wasn’t going to solve any of our issues right at that moment. “Let’s just chalk it up to Sally having some issues,” I said.
“I hope so.”
“So ... I don’t suppose you’d let me hang out here for a while.”
The last thing I saw in my mind was Christy’s smile; amusement and a little pity coloring it. All at once, the dreamscape faded to nothing, and I became aware of the cold concrete upon which I had been lying.
The rest of my senses came flooding back as I wondered when I might get a chance to test out the tag team of the Dr. Death brothers.
My eyes fluttered, and damp air assaulted my nostrils, bringing with it the smell of decay, dirt, cleaning supplies, and people ... lots of people.
“Look, it’s waking up. Get ready, men. It’s powerless against our faith.”
Perhaps I was going to get a chance to test out those new powers sooner than I thought.
* * *
“Uh, Bill...”
Christy’s voice tapered off, the confusion evident. That wasn’t good.
I opened my eyes and sat up.
“Be still, beast!” a deep voice commanded. It sounded like someone who had smoked far too many cigarettes in their lifetime. It was also familiar.
Sadly, all I could see were blurs of red ... quite a few of them.
Oh shit.
I felt around where I sat. Sure enough, my glasses had slipped off at some point during my little exercise in theater of the mind. I popped them back on and everything swam back into focus ... particularly ugly focus as I looked up to see a fat old lady clad in the red robes of a Templar brandishing a cross at me.
It was Sheila’s former neighbor, the one I had punched out rather unchivalrously when she’d tried to stop us from leaving her apartment building. The look on her face suggested she hadn’t forgotten.
That in itself wasn’t much of an issue. Hell, I might not have James’s or Alex’s powers, but I could sure as hell take out a pudgy geriatric bitch if the situation called for it. Sadly, she wasn’t alone.
Gone was Dave, and in his place stood at least half a dozen Templar warriors – most of them brandishing their holy fetishes, but two being somewhat more practical and wielding swords.
I put my hands up in a conciliatory gesture and slowly got to my feet. “Listen, guys, I don’t know what the issue here is, but we don’t want any trouble.” I turned toward Christy, noting her form had filled out considerably from her mental avatar’s state. She was still sitting on the floor, her eyes trying to take in the situation. I reached out a hand to help her up.
One of the Templar, a young and eager fellow – perhaps a bit too eager – sprang forward and slammed his metal cross down upon my knuckles. Fucking A! “Touch her not, filth. I command thee in the name of our Lord and savior!”
My hand wasn’t on fire, meaning Sir Lancelot’s faith wasn’t worth the breath he wasted on it. Even so, that still fucking hurt.
Do it, a voice from deep within commanded.
“Huh?” I asked to nobody in particular. “What was that?”
It’s time, Dr. Death repeated. Kill them before they attack you ... before they hurt the witch.
“That seems a little extreme.” I mean, sure, these guys were assholes, but that didn’t mean they needed to die because of it.
“Who is he talking to?” the young Templar asked.
The fat Templar stepped in front of him. “Be wary, my brothers. For surely he is receiving orders from his master ... Satan.”
She might as well have just walked into a DC Comics convention and pointed out the one guy wearing a t-shirt that read “Fuck Batman.” The Templar might have been cautiously holding back before, but now they took on a much more aggressive stance, converging upon my location.
It wasn’t just me in danger either. The second Christy tried to use her magic, they’d no doubt remember those dictates along the lines of not suffering witches to live. I couldn’t allow that.
We’ll make it quick, merciful.
I nodded to myself. I’d closed my eyes to a situation that had been under control and came back out again to find myself smack dab in the middle of a shit storm. Sure, I stood a good chance of taking these clowns by myself, but it wasn’t a guarantee. I was trapped with no way out, save the lone door beyond a sea of red cloaks, and with little room to maneuver. There were also my friends to think about.
Your roommates. They were guarding the door. What happened to them?
He was right. What had these fuckers done to them?
I didn’t need a mirror to know my eyes had turned black as night. I could feel the slight prick on my bottom lips that said my fangs were descending. My claws were next and then it would continue.
“Let’s do this, partner.”
I’d been told to accept his presence. So I did. I opened myself up, willing myself to let him in, and felt a cold void of raw rage begin to seep into me.
When next I blinked, the room had taken on a decisively red tint.
* * *
I tensed my arms and realized my sleeves felt tight. This was it. Fear bubbled up in me as I felt the change begin. All of my defenses screamed out for me to stop what was happening. It was a learned response, little more than a subconscious version of Pavlov’s dog. I needed to push it down, repress it for once.
Yes, let it happen.
“That’s enough!”
The voice carried with it authority and determination. Everyone in the room turned toward it.
No!
I did too, the rage subsiding in me as quickly as it had risen. Hers was a voice I knew well, one that I often dreamt of ... and not just in the way Christy had seen a few minutes prior.
Well, okay, mostly in that way.
The Templar parted as Sheila stepped to the doorway. I found myself surprised to find her wearing regular clothes – half expecting to see her clad in her Templar armor, and not just because she looked hot in it.
“Really, guys? I told you to just guard the room.”
“The beast is not to be trusted,” Fatty spat.
“For the last time, he’s
on our side. There’s a far greater evil to be dealt with.”
“Wait, far greater evil?” I asked as it hit me.
“Sorry. You know what I mean.”
“Apologize not to this thing,” one of the Templar, the faithless one who’d smacked my hand, said. Christ, these fuckers really needed to get laid. “You are far above it in the...”
“Thank you, Brother Thomas,” Sheila said curtly. Though she’d had nothing to do with them since the battle in Upstate New York, as far as I knew, they still seemed to venerate her words as that of an authority figure. Speaking of which...
“Um, what are these guys doing here?”
Ton o’ Templar spoke up. “You mean besides protecting this sweet child, heavy with babe as she is, from your voracious appetite?” She took a step toward Christy, who scrambled to her feet and away. “You need not fear, child.”
“I’m not your child.” Christy’s eyes flashed, and a purplish glow began to suffuse her body. “I know what you are. All Magi know the crimes the zealots have committed against our kind.”
Oh crap, here we go again.
If my presence had been a slap across the face to the Templar, learning that Christy was a witch was the accompanying kick to the nuts. Murmurs of prayer rose up in the room, and so too did their weapons.
“I said that’s enough,” Sheila said again, a glow erupting from her body – one that made Christy’s seem like a nightlight by comparison.
“You said nothing of a daughter of Lucifer being present.”
“And if you still think that’s how it works, then it shows you know nothing of us,” Christy retorted.
“Sister Bernadette,” Sheila said, stepping forward and putting a hand on the tubby Templar’s sloped shoulder. The glow from her spread to the old woman, and a look akin to rapture passed through her face. “These are my friends. Please trust my judgment in this.”
The look of pure joy at being touched by Sheila’s power – harmless to humans, but probably making the Templar think God himself was giving them a handjob – immediately fled Bernie’s face, seemingly replaced by a bad smell. “We will trust you, your Holiness. But know that we will not trust them.”
The Wicked Dead (The Tome of Bill Book 7) Page 14
