The Butcher and the Butterfly

by Ian Dyer

  His eyes widened at Grendel’s response. ‘I see. Then can you get Petra? We need her. Can you bring her here?’

  The throne room was silent for some time. Barnabas knew she was trying. Could feel it clawing at his black soul. But he was growing impatient. He had had an idea and he wanted it done now not later. He looked nowhere else but at the Orb as he waited for a response. He thought about calling for Seamus to fetch more food for Grendle but he had no need.

  ‘Well done, Grendle. You are my favourite of all your sisters and soon you will be my favourite daughter when you are all brought together and I become your father.’

  Below them on the floor, removed from her hidey hole in Patience’s wretched clutches, Petra the Bitch pulsed orange heat. Barnabas stood; hiding Grendle underneath his red cloak. He walked over to Petra, his hoofed feet scratching at the floor.

  ‘I know what you want, Petra, and by my father I would love to give you it but you cannot have it from my soul. I shall get you what you want and what you yearn for and then you can take me to that place called Rockfall. There is someone there I would love to meet.’

  9

  The Witch

  Patience sat in her home, alone since Stephen left. She didn’t mind being alone, enjoyed her single company but there was something in her heart that missed the boy called Tommy. He was simple, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist but at least he was there when she needed someone to mouth off to, someone to cook diner for; even someone to scratch that age old itch that pops up from time to time.

  She had been shot. Her throat ripped out by a cursed bullet from that cunt Jonah. But Petra had saved her, fulfilled a promise made when the two of them had first met and begun their wretched journey. But now Petra sensed what Patience knew and the orb was becoming restless. She was being fed, Jonah had claimed his newest victim in Stephen and so Petra – stronger and wiser than ever – wanted out.

  Patience wanted revenge upon Stephen; but she was old and weak; dying.

  Leaving the shade of her home she stepped out into the heat of the Wastelands.

  She reached the wrecked gatepost and in both hands held Petra out so that the sun glinted off of her.

  ‘Petra, ya cunny bitch. I need a favour from ya. If ya don’t mind?’

  The orange orb twisted in its socket pulsing from its core.

  You aints my master anymore, witch. You aint nothing to me without a soul in yer pocket. I don’t need you anymore now that Jonah’s on the job. Even Old Lud has fucked off and left ya you dried up old cunt! I aint doing nothing. Grow a dick though and we may have a deal.

  Patience spat out a wad of phlegm to the floor. ‘Yer a foul mouthed cunt, that yer are, Petra. I aint growing no dick for yer to fiddle with but I can give yer some souls to eat; just not yet. You have to help me for me to help you.’

  The Orb pulsed for a while. Patience stood out in the baking sun looking right at the ball of fire trying not to think too much, trying not to give away her secrets, her plans.

  ‘I am hungry, witch. I need food. I need men. I shall give you what you want but if I don’t get what I want and soon then I will destroy you, witch. I will rip you apart and eat your fucking guts-‘

  ‘That’s enough of that, Petra,’ Patience butted in, ‘Just call the sand demon to me and we shall see what I can do for you.’

  10

  Petra looked away from the witch and her gaze scanned the horizon to the north. The ball of fire pulsed; the air around it throbbed with heat. Patience watched with bated breath. The demon would come quick for the witch but Patience had a surprise for that bastard.

  The ground beneath Patience shook violently and she could feel Petra laughing behind her glass prison.

  Back toward the house the hardpan began to sink into the ground and the surrounding land cracked and split with the strain. The air grew stale but could grow no hotter. Without warning a massive sand covered monster sprang from the desert tearing up the earth beneath it. Its eyes were red with teeth as large as trees. The demon beast stood twice as tall as the house and it lumbered around at first, trying to find its caller. It moved surprisingly quick considering the size of it. The beasts head reminiscent of a bulls looked around fruitlessly at first until the witch called for it and then it stopped moving and looked down at the small woman.

  ‘It was I who called for you, Ronin, Demon on the Wastelands.’

  The beast took a step forward and snorted; blowing hot sand over Patience.

  ‘WHY SHOULD I HELP YOU, WITCH?’ The beast’s voice was deep, gritty and as loud as a thunder clap.

  Patience took a step forward herself. ‘Because you have to, Ronin.’ She smiled a canny smile at the beast and her brown skin shone in the sunlight.

  The beast roared causing three windows to shatter. ‘DAMN YOU, WITCH. THIS IS THE LAST TIME YOU CALL ON ME. I WANT NO MORE FROM YOU.’

  ‘So be it, Ronin. There are three bodies buried deep within you. Three brothers recently dispatched to the Green path. I want them back.’

  The beast looked to the orange ball of fire and then back out to the world in which it lives. He shook his head.

  ‘THEY ARE NOT MEANT FOR YOU, WITCH. THEY ARE BETTER OFF IN THE GROUND WITH ME.’

  Patience pointed at the large beast. ‘I decide what and who, bastard, not you. Now give them up to me!’

  The beast seemed to shrug but he had no choice. Patience knew this.

  ‘VERY WELL.’ Ronin rammed a giant fist into the ground and let his fingers roam. It wasn’t long before the hand was removed from the hardpan and upon the floor where he had been rummaging three bodies were set out; their bodies hardly decomposed.

  ‘Thankya demon. We are done now and forever more if that’s what ya want.’

  The beast stamped a massive hulk of a foot onto the ground and roared into the expanse of desert. The rush of wind blew Patience skirt and made her choke on the dust.

  ‘WHAT I WANT IS FOR YOU TO CALL ME SON.’

  Patience cleared her throat, spat out a load of sand and laughed deeply. ‘Why should I call ya son? You are not deserving of it and never shall ya be, wretched demon.’

  Ronin clenched his massive fists. ‘BECAUSE YOU ARE MY MOTHER AND I AM YOUR SON.’

  ‘That was a long time ago, Ronin. Those days I have forgotten as should you. Let em go, demon, let em go.’

  The ground shook savagely and the demon began to disintegrate; its massive hulk falling to the ground that had made it. Clouds of dust flew into the air and the wind was thick with it. When the dust had settled and the ground stabilised, all that was left was a young man; naked, apart from a pair of tatty jeans. His skin was brown, his hair as black as night and his eyes the dirty yellow of grit. He walked over to the old witch whose own eyes were wide, her mouth a silent O of surprise.

  ‘You are and always will be my mother, no matter what has happened between us. You come from a dark place and will end up in one. But I can forgive you for that.’

  Patience looked at the man before her. How much like his father he was. A true father’s son if there ever was. Tall, handsome, with eyes a girl could not say no too. But he was not meant for that. He was promised to the Void and that promise cannot be undone. One sacrifice among many, one life for another. She voiced that to her son.

  ‘Ronin, you were not meant for this world. Aye, you were born in it but I made some promises to the wrong people and you were taken. Void was yer home and a home it will always be.’ The old witch turned her head and looked at the orange ball of fire. She knew hat Petra wanted.

  The plan had worked.

  Before Ronin could realise what was happening to him Petra had dug her claws in and the Demon of the Wastelands was consumed by the bitch herself. There wasn’t much of a struggle; for too long the sand demon had been without a woman, for too long he had not felt the warmth of a bosom or the salty wetness of lips, for too long he had been alone. For too long…

  But before he was completely gone, before his soul was taken a
nd his body used as a fuck toy for the bitch he looked down to the woman whom he had called mother and wasn’t surprised when he saw that she was smiling.

  11

  Patience was silent. Contemplating here ragged existence on this world slowly going to the dogs as she looked at the three bodies motionless on the hardpan. Her son was gone now. He had been gone for a long time but now he was truly gone. Lost to the orb bitch herself and there was no way out of that nightmare. The Wastelands had grown eerily quiet. The wind, as constant as Old Mother in the night sky, had withered away. Even Petra’s constant rabble was diminished.

  She shuffled over to them kicking up little dust motes as she did; her eyes not leaving them, her mind trying to focus on what she had to do.

  Petra watched Patience behind the glass prison, happy, fulfilled for the time being and Patience felt that calmness in the air. Reaching the bodies and standing by them the scent of decaying flesh wafted up her large nostrils and wrapped itself around her gut.

  Used to that foul smell the old witch is and she chuckled to herself and kicked one of the arms of the bodies that were hanging out. It moved but did not recoil. The three men were fully dressed in the garb the desert asked for; tight hard wearing shirts, jeans and mule caps. All three had the same features and their bodies looked hard, fierce and ready. Each of them had their long hair tied back with bits of coloured string.

  Pulling up her dress, Patience knelt besides the oldest looking of the three.

  ‘Didn’t think I’d ever see the day when the Quints walked the path.’ She whispered to the lifeless body and she remained there as she scanned his two mates.

  What a trick this would be for Stephen. How Patience would love to see his face when he turns the corner and sees these three wretched fucks waiting for him. They would gun him down, like they should have done back in Rockfall, and string him up for the entire world to see. One of the brothers would carve Patience’s name into Stephens’s damned flesh and his body would be hung from the tallest tree and left out for the birds to peck at. That would teach him for killing her. He would look back on that day when he shot her to save the life of some stupid bitch and rue it till his eyes bled and is heart exploded.

  The old witch stood quickly. Her eyes were wide with anticipation and her heart had started to race. It would need all her skill in the dark arts to raise these men from the dead. Aye; their bodies were here but their souls were lost in the Void and needed finding before they are consumed by some foul begotten demon. She took her time to ready the bodies, moving the corpses without a struggle, without breaking a sweat. Soon evening would come and the stars would shine down upon the four of them casting their own magic upon the filthy Wasteland.

  In the distance and whilst Patience busied herself with the Quints, Petra, yearning to be free, heard a familiar voice calling her name.

  Epilogue

  Rockfall stood in misery. The bodies of the recently murdered were piled high in the church awaiting burial. It was a sad place for those left and soon Rockfalls population would drop further.

  Susie was sat on top of Hangman’s Hill looking out over the town she had once called home. She had meant to leave today, but something or someone had talked to her this morning and told her to come up here, on this recent killing ground and wait. She hadn’t recognised the voice in her head, it wasn’t hers, or Cathy’s and it certainly wasn’t Stephens. She could pick his voice out of a million others. But alas, she doubted she would ever hear that voice again. He had left her what seems like weeks ago but she knew it hadn’t been that long. Time has a way of moving quicker than you think now, she knew this, but for her the days stretched out like weeks and the nights seemed to go on for an eternity.

  Stephen had left her with no one. Even poor Tommy had been taken. She cradled the non-existent bump protruding from her belly and rubbed it caringly.

  ‘I have you, though, and no one will take that away from me.’

  She breathed in hard. The sun was high, just after midday, and the air was hot. A foul smell was carrying on the breeze and Susie turned her nose up at it. The wind whipped around the hill carrying sounds of the dead town beneath her. Susie knew she had to move on as before long it would be too late; the will power needed to pack up and go lost to the sands that covered the floor she walked on.

  Looking over her right shoulder she shaded her eyes against the sun and scanned the area where Stephen had shot down the Quint brothers. Faintly, she could make out the darker sand where the victim’s blood had pooled but that was all that was left of his presence up here.

  Her heart grew heavy as she thought of him. Susie had loved him; deeply, and she knew he had loved her back. But it seemed as though, once he had killed and got whatever it was he had come to get that he was forced to move; that he had no choice even if that meant leaving someone behind that he loved.

  ‘It was me who ordered him away, Susie. I am the one to blame.’

  Susie’s eyes widened as she looked about wanting to find the voice but there was no one there. The voice had come from all around her, beside her, behind her, even on top of her. The hairs on the back of Susie’s neck stood up and a cold chill ran down her spine. Thinking she must have imagined it Susie decided that now would be the best time to move on.

  ‘You have been patient, Susie.’

  This time the voice came directly from behind. A cold voice. Low and dangerous. She turned fearing what she would see and was surprised, so surprised that her heart leapt and her mouth became dryer than the Wastelands when she saw cool grey eyes staring at her.

  ‘Stephen?’ She blurted out.

  The man began to laugh. Susie did not recognise the laugh and she started to doubt herself.

  ‘Who are you?’ She asked the man.

  He did not reply only kept on laughing; his mouth growing wider with every chuckle.

  ‘Who are you?’ Susie screamed and she held her head in her hands and started to cry.

  The man ceased his singular wit almost as quick as he had started it. Susie watched as the man she had loved drifted away and left a monster in its place. It was much taller than Stephen, its face twisted and contorted; but human. Its arms were long and the hands finished with deadly talons. The body was covered in a black shawl but its two legs were bare and where there should be feet hooves dug deep into the dirt. Whatever it was in front of her was breathing hard and with every breath Susie winced; waiting for it to pounce. Upon its face the beast wore a small smile.

  Susie could only scream at what stood before her.

  ‘ENOUGH!’ The beast yelled and Susie did as she was told.

  ‘That’s better. No need for dramatics.’

  Susie was speechless. Scared out of her mind. Her nightmares were nothing compared to the beast man that stood before her. Standing stock still she tried to calm her breathing and stop her tears.

  ‘Silence always suited you,’ Susie watched the beast look her up and down; ‘I can see why Stephen was so attracted to you.’

  His eyes felt like ice upon her skin. Gooseflesh raised its ugly head upon her body and she shivered.

  ‘Do I scare you that much, young one? Do I look so terrifying?’ The beast cocked its head questioningly at Susie and could do nothing but stare and remain silent.

  ‘I will be swift, my time here is limited. You have what I want and I am here to collect it.’

  Susie was surprised. She had nothing. Even being scared out of her wits she knew she had nothing to give whatever it was that was in front of her. The young girl shook her head and tried to remove her eyes from his. It was a futile gesture.

  ‘Let’s not play games, Susie. I am too old for such things.’ The beast pointed one large talon at her belly.

  Susie took a moment and then realised what this thing wanted. Instinctively she cradled her stomach trying to protect it.

  The beast’s eyes widened revealing their dark inner core. Susie noticed that even the sun light could not reflect in such hellish places.
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  ‘You will not be able to stop me, girl. To struggle means to die.’

  Susie stepped back but seemed to get no further away from the beast. ‘You can’t have my baby.’

  The beast man lifted his head to the sky and laughed.

  ‘I can have whatever it is that I want Susie, and I want your baby.’

  Susie shook her head maniacally. There was no way this was happening. She had to go. Run far away from this monster. She went to move but couldn’t.

  ‘It is too late for that.’ The beast said and that is when Susie heard a shuffling behind her. Before she could turn there was a sharp pain on the back of her head; her eyes filling with bright stars and then nothing. Susie was unconscious.

  When she awoke Susie found herself staring up at a wooden ceiling. Her eyes felt heavy and it took numerous times to keep them open. The room she was in was dark. Light shone in from both left and right. She tried to move her head to see what was around her but nothing happened. She tried to move her body; but nothing moved. The pain in her head flared up and Susie knew from the dampness in her hair that whatever it was that had hit her had drawn blood. She closed her eyes and focused all attention on moving. But it was no good and she breathed in hard trying to regain her composure even though she was trapped, injured and scared out of her mind.

  ‘She has awoken, my Lord.’ A strange voice said. From which side Susie was unsure.

  ‘Good, Samson. Now watch as our future is born.’ That was the voice of the beast man.

  Samson. Where had Susie heard that name? She was sure she had heard it but couldn’t remember when. But that was not important. What was important was that hadn’t they said something about a future being born? She was sure they had. She tried to move her head down to see her belly but couldn’t but she could tell that it was larger. Much larger. Whatever had been in there was seemingly ready to come out.

  ‘Is Martin safe? Have you ensured his survival?’ The beast man asked the man called Samson.

  ‘Yes. He is safe. The townsfolk would have had their way with him if not for me. Sooner or later he will realise.’