by M. K. Gibson
Chapter Forty-Four
The Return of Something Lost
Now, in The Temple of Solomon
My mind suddenly snapped back. I rolled over and vomited, staining the white crystal floor of the forgotten temple.
“I—I saw . . . Grimm.”
“Explain,” Sariel demanded.
“In another . . . place? I saw him. He was ragged and hungry. A creature. Something dark. A—a daughter? An armored . . . thing?”
The vision was beginning to fade, like a dream upon waking. I knew the information, I knew the structure, but the details melted the more I concentrated on them.
“And . . . an angel? An archangel. Orphiel?”
Sariel, Remiel, and Gabrielle exchanged looks, concerned with my vision. But I didn’t focus on them.
I focused on Grimm.
I felt sadness. Horrible sadness and guilt.
How many times did I silently curse him while I suffered in prison? I waited for him to come and save me, only for my wishes to fall on deaf winds of hope.
The vision showed me where Grimm had been. It showed me all, from the moment he’d stepped into the . . . Hitherlands? I saw his suffering. I felt it. Like I had in prison, Grimm suffered. But his suffering went beyond the physical. That Chimera person was his daughter? He was hunted by his own child?
Again, the clarity of the memories faded, leaving only a desire to remember like a terrible thirst. I looked once more at The Tears. Standing, I took another step towards them.
And once more, The Tears erupted in power. My mind fractured, awash in the visions of a god.
********
In the ruins of Flotsam Prison
“T-t—?” Vali groaned, trying to speak as the tall, lanky mechanic knelt beside him.
“Shh,” Taylor shushed the god. “If ya don’t mind me saying, boss, you look like warmed-over shit,” Taylor said in his mock-redneck accent. With a wry grin, Taylor placed two fingers on Vali’s forehead and gave him a wink. “This should help.”
Warm red and white energy coursed through Vali’s body. His wounds began to close and the god felt his body fill with more than just healing. He felt the return of something lost. Something are able to feel only when all is gone. Vali felt hope fill him, and tears fell from his remaining eye.
“Who . . . who are y—” Vali tried to speak but once more, Taylor placed his finger to his lips.
“Shh, just rest. I got this, boss,” Taylor said as he stood. “Trust me.”
Vali stared in disbelief and utter confusion as Taylor’s entire demeanor changed.
“And just where have you been hiding all this time, uncle?” Mastema, said using his spider legs to stand himself up as the ground continued to rumble and shake. The Warden of Flotsam drew himself to his full height and walked up to Taylor.
Despite being several feet and hundreds of pounds smaller than Mastema, Taylor seemed to hold the balance of power as the two stared off.
“Where I’ve been doesn’t matter, Nephew,” Taylor said, his voice changing. The Southern accent was gone, replaced by a rich, warm, and powerful baritone. “What matters is what are you are going to do now that I’m here.”
“You have no idea how powerful I’ve become,” Mastema sneered.
Taylor turned his head and cupped his hand to his ear. “Could you say that again? Because I swear I just heard horseshit.”
“Do not push me, Raphael.”
“Or what? Hmm?” Taylor asked with a smirk on his face. “What are you going to do? Unleash the awesome power of the few pitiful human souls who serve as your guards or the few who manage to survive this place and fear you?”
Taylor stepped up to Mastema, poking his finger into the creature’s chest. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but did I hear you correctly when you said to my friend there, that compared to you, he was nothing? Well, compared to me, what does that make you? I am one of The Fourteen, while you’re just the result of a horny choir’s afterbirth.”
Mastema stared down at Taylor, all eight of his multifaceted eyes narrowing in anger. The mandibles covering his mouth quivered in rage.
Taylor’s arms snapped out wide, red and white energy crackling in his hands. In a flash, Taylor ceased to be. In his place stood a twenty-foot-tall archangel with red and white coloring, four wings, four arms, and four eyes. The giant angelic being stared down at Mastema with such power and presence, Vali swore he saw Mastema cringe.
“If you wish to try me, you may. But you will not survive,” the archangel said as the ground shook harder. “If you leave now, you have time to save your spawn and the demon Maz’ael. Be smart. Go back to your masters.”
“Revealing yourself marks a great change, you know that,” Mastema said.
“I know.”
“What should I tell him?”
The archangel crossed his arms. “Tell him whatever you want. Just let them all know, Löngutangar is under my protection.”
“Enjoy the moment, Uncle. But your boy is in play now.” Mastema smirked.
“Mastema?”
“What?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
The archangel drew back his two right hands and struck the warden across the face. With a sickening crack followed by a clap of thunder, Mastema’s mandible along the left side of his jaw exploded in broken bone as the archangel released a fraction of his power into the strike. The concussive impact sent the warden across the yard and through the courtyard’s stone wall adjacent to his garden.
With a nod of satisfaction and a smirk upon his face, the archangel turned and walked back towards Vali. With each step, the archangel shrank until only Taylor remained. The mechanic extended a greasy hand to the fallen god.
“Little anti-climactic, isn’t it? Sorry, boss. What say we git on outta here?” Taylor said, his accent returning.
“You—you’re Raphael. He Who Brings the Healing Word of Hope,” Vali said, his remaining eye staring wide.
“Nah boss, I’m just Taylor. A guy who likes to fix things. You know, like a tailor? Eh?!” Taylor laughed aloud at his own pun. When Vali said nothing, the mechanic rolled his eyes. “Norse. Too stoic to know good wordplay. What say we get out of here?”
Taylor pulled the god to his feet, then nearly fell over as the island once again shook even harder. Looking across the island through the night, Vali saw the shimmering reflection of black, brackish water beginning to pool up from the ground.
From above, a small quad-rotor military-style assault helicopter awkwardly bobbed through the sky. Looking up, Vali could see Twitch at the controls. The cyborg’s face was a mask of frustration and determination.
“How?” the god asked.
“Well, I got bored and made my way to the shore complex. Twitch and I hit it off. After she taught me a few new choice curse words, we found a neural implant training program,” Taylor explained as the copter listed hard to the left, overcompensated, and lurched to the right. “Eh, it’s an older program and her newer implants could only glean the basics. But this should work.”
“No, not that. How . . . you . . .”
“Boss, I reckon you have a ton of questions. But now is not the time. Let’s get scarce and safe for now,” Taylor said with a smile as the quad-rotor came to hover a few feet off the ground near them, then softly crashed into the wet ground.
“Let’s go, a-holes!” Twitch’s voice barked through the quad-copter external speakers.
Leaning on Taylor, Vali limped his way to the open bay doors of the copter. With a grunt of effort, Vali took a seat. Instead of sitting next to him, Taylor remained standing outside the copter. With his hands on his hips, the mechanic surveyed the scene.
“You really mean to sink this place, boss?!” Taylor yelled over the rotors.
“I came here to deliver a message!” Vali said. “Looks like you did a better job at it than I did!”
“And what about the people still here?!” Taylor asked. “What are their lives worth?!”
Va
li frowned. “The prisoners?! Nothing! The island has to sink.”
“Why?!” Taylor asked as the ground began to tear apart beneath their feet.
“Because I can’t look Salem in the eye and tell him I failed to kill the monsters who hurt him! Could you?! For everything he’s done for us, this has to be!”
Taylor said nothing at first, simply nodding at Vali’s words. Then he briefly placed a hand on Vali’s forehead. Within his mind, Vali heard Taylor’s voice, no louder than a whisper, but clear. “I was going to kill you. Did you know that?”
“What?” Vali asked aloud as the ground shook.
Water began spraying upwards as the island was being shaken into pieces. Sections of the outer wall began crumbling and falling into the watery sinkhole. Buildings slowly began sliding into watery darkness. Everywhere, prisoners and guards were screaming for help.
Taylor looked to Vali. “When I came to Midheim, I came to kill you.”
“I—”
“Shut up,” Taylor commanded. A power resonated with the words and Vali could not look Taylor in the eyes.
“I tracked you for years. After each of your divine kills, I followed. I assumed you were collecting their weapons to heighten your own power, positioning yourself as a demagogue. But when I came to Midheim, I saw what you were doing, what you and Vidar built. A refuge. A place free of demonic rule. Even though led by the divine, you and your brother fostered hope and peace. You gave a home to wayward scum, reformed murderers, and innocents looking for a home. That is the only reason you still draw breath. And the reason I stayed.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because even with my power, I cannot save these people, and the chopper doesn’t have sufficient space. You have doomed them to die. Prisoners they are, but they are no worse than the first generation of Midheim citizens you welcomed with open arms. When you return, and take your place as leader, you WILL remember these people. You will remember them for the rest of your days. Your father paid a price for his power, wisdom, and insight. And so shall you.”
Taylor stepped towards Vali and laid a hand on his chest, over his heart. Once more, the god felt the warm, healing power of the archangel flow into him. The first time Taylor had laid hands upon him, Vali was stabilized. Now, he was healed . . . mostly.
“I have healed your body, but I will not heal your missing eye. It will be a reminder, for all days, to the people you turned a blind eye to. That is your penance.”
Vali looked at Taylor, or Raphael, and nodded, saying nothing. Despite the destruction, chaos, and cries for salvation, Vali forced himself to watch the island sink.
Taylor placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to go.”
Vali continued watching the island populace, and the fate he’d consigned them to. Shaking his head, Vali said, “No. Not yet.”
The god hopped down from the chopper and took off running, “Keep the engines running. I’ll be right back!”
“Where the shit is he going?!” Twitch called out.
“I don’t know!” Taylor answered.
Minutes passed as the island continued to shake and break apart. People screamed and looked for salvation. Twitch would fire off occasional bursts from the weapon systems to scare off would-be stowaways.
Moments later, Vali came running towards the chopper. Over each shoulder, the god carried a demoness. As he approached, Taylor offered his assistance in getting the unconscious Yeela and the unresponsive Khlabra into the copter’s bay.
“Why them?” Taylor asked.
“The others might be doomed, but I promised them salvation.”
“No way!” Twitch called from the pilot seat. “Not that bitch! Or her big-ass sister!”
“They’re going!” Vali yelled.
“Look, pretty boy, it isn’t about the fact that I can’t stand them—it’s weight. This thing can only handle a four-man team! We’re too heavy!”
Vali looked at the two demons, then back at Twitch. “Fine. I’ll stay.”
“Get your ass in here. Keep Yeela if you have to, but the sister looks catatonic.”
“NO!” Vali commanded. “Get them back to Löngutangar. I—I’ll be fine.”
“Boss, there is no way I can let you do that,” Taylor said. “Get on the—”
“Shut up!” Vali roared
“Boss, let me—”
“It’s settled, Taylor! She doesn’t know the way home and you do. You have a kid to worry about. Just tell Vidar . . . tell him . . .”
Vali couldn’t finish the sentence. What could one possibly say to summarize over a thousand years of friendship and brotherhood?
What was the best way to say goodbye forever to the one who was always there for you? The one who brought you back from the brink so many times, the one you’d saved over and over yourself?
How do you say goodbye to someone like that?
“No, idiot,” Taylor said, shaking his head. “I’ll take the skyhopper. It’s parked over on the beach where I left it. Unless you want to try and fly it?”
“Oh,” Vali said, dumbstruck.
“Just get on the chopper, boss. I’ll meet y’all in the sky.”
Vali climbed into the open bay, shutting the sliding door as Twitch took the quad-copter airborne. Taking a seat in the gunner position’s sling seat, Vali leaned his head against the bay door and looked out the window. He saw the skyhopper power up, take flight, and zip through the air to rendezvous with the copter.
Far below, Vali watched as Flotsam Prison sank beneath the dark nighttime waters of the old Chesapeake Bay. He could barely make out the thrashing waves of the dying. But with his sight, he could see them all, in their last moments of life. Through the sight, Vali saw the things that lived in the water moving inward. The Deep Ones moved on the survivors. In moments, they would drag them deep below the waters to feed, or worse.
Vali forced himself to watch every moment until there was no one from Flotsam still living.
“You came back?” Vali heard Yeela ask. Her voice was weak and her eyes were still closed.
“I told you I would.”
“I wanted to kick you out,” Twitch said over the roar of the engines.
Yeela ignored Twitch as she held her sister’s head. Khlabra said nothing, looking straight ahead and blinking only when absolutely necessary. “Can you help her?”
“I don’t know,” Vali said. “But we’ll try. You have to have—”
“Faith?” Yeela spat.
“No, not faith,” Vali said with a smile as he looked out the window at the skyhopper dancing through the night sky, leading the group home. “Hope.”
********
Now, in The Temple of Solomon
Curled up in a tiny ball on the ground, I held my face in my hands. If it was possible to cry and laugh at the same time, to feel simultaneous sadness and joy, I did.
Yeela. Khlabra. Twitch. They were alive.
My heart burst. Gh’aliss’s daughters lived. My friend lived. I felt lifted and relieved. The burden, the guilt of their passing that had weighed on my soul, was gone. Even as the memories faded like the first vision, I felt the warmth the images had brought me.
Vali. That crafty, sneaky bastard. I could never repay him for what he did. What he suffered through.
He wouldn’t have to have suffered if it hadn’t been for me. My very existence in his life destroyed Midheim and drove him to drink. Because of me, the children were taken from their homes in the first place.
I pushed myself to my feet and lit a cigarette. “Raphael,” I whispered. “Freaking Raphael. I knew that accent was bullshit.”
“What did you see?” Remiel asked.
“I saw another of your wayward flock. And apparently, he’s my mechanic.”
“Where did you see him?” Sariel asked.
“Flotsam,” I said, rubbing at my head. “He helped Vali by . . . well, pimp-slapping the taste out of Mastema’s mouth.”
Again, the trio looked to
one another. They spoke in a language that was part music and part light. The visions The Tears were showing me clearly had their feathers ruffled.
Again, I looked at the Tears of God. They shimmered in golden light, inviting me once more, to approach. Unsure what I would see next, I took a step towards them. Stretching out my hand, for the briefest of moments, a fraction of a second, I felt something solid.
Then my mind was blasted with another vision. Not a current vision of a wayward ally. Instead, it was the final piece of an old memory. The moment when my old life, and the last lingering piece of my childhood, died.
Chapter Forty-Five
The Shuddering Pain of Loss
A Long Time Ago
“Kill you?! Dad, are you crazy?” Isaac exclaimed as he broke the embrace.
Abraham looked at his son. “Yes. You have to kill me. You must bring my brain close to death. Insert me into to the stasis module and then into the nutri-vat. After that, you simply activate the program.”
“Then what happens?” Isaac asked.
Abraham looked back at the already-running model. He thought about it and took a breath, rattling off the process in a scientific, clinical manner. In a way, it helped him see the inevitable.
“You will inject me with this.” Abraham held up a syringe. “This is what will bring my body to near death. Once inserted into the module, the shock will technically kill me. When the program is activated, an AED will charge my system just enough to bring my brain back to minimal electrical activity. Then, the computer sub-routine will begin to map my neural pathways into the computer. And then, when my mind is mapped, I will become an AI and my body will be technically dead. Alive only enough to establish a periodic baseline. I will exist as long as you need me.”
“Dad . . . I can’t.”
“You will.”
Isaac shook his head, unable to meet his father’s eyes. “I won’t.”
