Rising: The Second Death Prequel

by Brian Rella

  She had hoped one day her mother would wake up and see these two for the freeloading a-holes they were. She had hoped her mother would realize they were parasites and just wanted her money. But that wasn’t happening. The complete opposite was happening, and it was the worst-case scenario Jessie had imagined.

  How can she be so blind? How can she do this to me?

  Memories like movie clips played in Jessie’s head of Marie punching her and kicking her; of Steve, her creepy stepfather—stepfather, oh God!—leering at her. Jessie’s mind was spinning, her chest heaving.

  Her door opened. It was Karen.

  “Hey, baby,” she said. “What’s wrong? Why are you so upset?”

  Jessie couldn’t look at her. She couldn’t. She was afraid of what she might say. Better to just keep it inside and not say anything, because saying anything would just make it worse. Her mother didn’t understand, or maybe she didn’t care. She was doomed. She’d be stuck with these a-holes until she was eighteen. Or until I run away.

  “Jess,” her mom said. “Look at me, honey. Talk to me.”

  “No!” Jessie screamed into her pillow. “Just go away! Get away from me!”

  “Jessie, come on, honey,” she said. “We need to talk about this.”

  Talk? Jessie faced her mother, her despair turning to anger in a flash. “Talk about this?” Jessie shouted. “Did you ever talk to me about it? Did you ever think to mention it to me? No, you just blurted it out when I got home from school. Why should we talk now? Why? You don’t care. You don’t understand! You’re blind! I hate you! I hate you all!”

  Jessie buried her head deeper into the pillow. She wanted to burrow into it and never see any of them again.

  “Hey, Jess, come on,” Marie said from the doorway.

  Jessie stopped weeping and looked up at her bedroom door. She was shaking with rage that Marie was in her room. Quaking with rage at what Marie had done to her last night. She wanted Marie dead. She wanted them all dead.

  “Get out!” Jessie shrieked. “Get out of my room, you bitch! I hate you! Don’t you ever come in here again!”

  A fake look of shock spread across Marie’s hideous face as though to say, Who, me? What did I do?

  “Jessie!” her mother said. “Don’t you talk that way to your sister!”

  Jessie was all fury as she turned to her mother. “She is not my sister! Get! Out! All of you! Get out!” she growled.

  “What in the hell is goin’ on in here?” Steve said, popping his head into the room.

  Jessie slammed her head back into the pillow. She couldn’t even escape them in her own room. She was doomed. She wished she could shrivel up and die.

  “Let’s just leave her alone for a while,” her mom said. “She just needs some time.” They left, closing the door behind them. Finally alone, Jessie cried until no more tears would come. She lay in bed, curled in a ball, as the sounds of champagne popping and the clink of glasses drifted into her room, making her feel even more wretched.

  They’re celebrating, Jessie, the dark voice said. They don’t care about you.

  She turned on her noise machine to block out the celebration. This is bullshit! I can’t believe this is happening to me. My life sucks! It just keeps getting worse. Why? Why is mom doing this to me? Doesn’t she know I hate them? Doesn’t she know what Marie does to me?

  She lay there feeling sorry for herself, wishing them all away, thinking about running away. Finally, when she couldn’t think about it anymore, she did what she always did when she wanted to escape. She picked up a book.

  She pulled her bag up on her bed and removed Arraziel from inside. She opened the book and turned every page. They were all blank. She thought back to the conversation with Olga in the bookstore. Olga had said the pages weren’t blank. She ran her fingers across the binding, the cover, and some of the pages, looking for something, anything to give her a clue about what that might mean.

  Maybe it’s like, invisible ink? Maybe water activates the ink? Like in those coloring books I had when I was a kid. She grabbed her water bottle from her bag, splashed a little bit on her finger and touched a few spots on a page. Nothing happened. She sighed. She knew the book held some secret and she felt the book wanted her to find it, but she didn’t have a clue how.

  Heat? Maybe heat activates the ink like in that horror movie I saw. She took the lamp shade off of the lamp on her nightstand and held the book up to the light. Nothing happened. She touched a page to the light and held it there until her finger burned. “Ouch!” she said and dropped the book in her lap. She looked at her finger and it turned red. She glanced down at the book—and there it was. Where she had held the page to the light, faint letters were visible on the page.

  Jessie heard a thunderous heartbeat in her head. Good, Jessie, the dark voice said in her head.

  Jessie shook off the strange voice, overjoyed at having solved the puzzle. Heat! That’s it! I did it! Now how do I keep heat on the pages? She wracked her brain and then remembered something. She jumped off the bed, and ran to her closet.

  In the back of the closet, buried under a pile of shoes, was an old shoebox with a pair of Uggs in it. Inside the left boot was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. When Marie and Jessie had first met, and before Jessie knew what an a-hole Marie was, Marie had shown Jessie how to smoke. Jessie hated smoking, but still had the cigarettes and the lighter.

  She grabbed the lighter, ran back to the bed, and picked up the book. She flicked the lighter a few times before it lit, and once she had a steady flame, she ran the lighter under another page.

  It worked! To Jessie’s amazement, the pages didn’t burn. Instead, letters appeared.

  Some words were in English, but others were in a strange language she’d never seen before. It kind of looked like a cross between German and maybe Russian or something. She had no idea.

  The English words she could read fine, and she quickly became engrossed in the book. It was a book about black magic and a cult from centuries ago that worshipped a demon called Arraziel. Arraziel’s followers did despicable things using Arraziel’s power against their enemies. The book described demonic rituals, evil spirits, human sacrifices, torture, and other cool stuff.

  The more Jessie read, the more she picked up on the other language. She sounded the words out in her head and thought they might be chants or spells. She studied the book until her eyes grew heavy and the need for sleep finally overcame her. Jessie placed the book on her nightstand, and then had a second thought. She wanted the book closer to her. She put it next to her in the bed under the covers and fell asleep with her arm over it…like she was protecting it.

  10

  OLGA

  October 14, 2015

  Beauchamp, Louisiana

  * * *

  It was after midnight, and Olga was exhausted. She still hadn’t found the last box of books and her energy was fading fast. Her internal clock was still way off. To her it was seven o’clock in the morning and she hadn’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours. She pressed on, still searching for the book, debating whether she should call Brennan and let him know.

  Just a few more boxes. I still have the one row to check and if it’s not there, then I’ll call him.

  She needed to take a break and catch her breath before the final push. She went into the back room and sat down on the plush couch and closed her eyes. Within a few moments she was fast asleep.

  11

  JESSIE

  October 14, 2015

  Beauchamp, Louisiana

  * * *

  Jessie opened her eyes and rolled over. Someone was standing over her bed. She smelled alcohol and saw the silhouette of a man.

  Steve.

  He stood over her, swaying back and forth, his heavy breath falling on her in waves. Fear and adrenaline gripped her.

  “You’re going to get with the program,” he said in a slurred snarl. “You’re not going to fuck this up for me.”

  “Get out!” Jessie whispered
.

  Steve leaned over her, wobbled, and chuckled. “What are you gonna do about it, bitch?” he wheezed. “Your mom and me are gettin’ hitched and there ain’t a god-damned thing you can do.”

  “Get out!” Jessie yelled.

  Steve half sat, half fell on the edge of her bed. A scream built in Jessie, ready to escape her lungs, when Steve’s hand covered her mouth.

  He leaned on her chest, pinning her down, pressing the air out of her. Trapped under his weight, terrifying thoughts of what he might do flashed through her mind. Tears fell from her eyes. Steve leaned in close. She could taste his stink as she finally sucked in a small breath. Her mind raced. This is it. He’s going to kill me. I’m going to die tonight…

  12

  HIM

  Realm of the Second Death

  * * *

  The canyon wall cracked, shifted, and crumbled. A small space formed between Him and the rock. It was enough. He moved. More rock crumbled and the space grew by a fraction. He moved again and had enough space to rub His body against the coarse walls of His prison.

  He flexed His chambers with a booming beat.

  BA-BUMP

  The vibration went through the walls of the canyon and sent stones tumbling to the fiery river of blood below. He moved again and more rock came down around Him. His space grew. He extended out from His body, and stretched up through the crevice around him, searching for a fissure to escape.

  BA-BUMP… BA-BUMP

  With each beat, His space grew. He extended Himself higher. He was almost to the surface now.

  BA-BUMP-BA-BUMP-BA-BUMP

  Faster and harder He pounded. Boulders fell from the walls of the Canyon of Dread, sending creatures skittering form their resting places.

  BA-BUMP—BA-BUMP—BA-BUMP

  His rhythmic pounding of flesh against stone became frantic. He unfurled Himself and reached, stretching above him, scratching, slithering and scraping toward the surface.

  He felt the warmth of sunlight. FREEDOM!

  13

  JESSIE

  October 14, 2015

  Beauchamp, Louisiana

  * * *

  “Now,” Steve growled, “don’t you go getting your panties in a bunch and screaming. I ain’t gonna hurt you…’less you give me a reason too.” He grunted. “You need to understand something: this here, is happening, and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.” Spittle flew from his lips and dotted her cheeks and nose. She sucked in air through the space between his fingers, inhaling his foul breath as he spoke. “And who knows, you might even start to like me a little…like your mom does.” He moved his hand down over her chest, pressing her down into the bed, then moved down her waist, and finally to her inner thigh. “You ain’t much now, but in a couple of years…mmm, you’ll be ripe as a peach.” He sneered, then licked her cheek and laughed, gutturally.

  Jessie’s whole body trembled. Her eyes bugged out as the panic welled up in her, ready to explode.

  “Now I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth and if you scream, I’ll snap your neck like a twig. We clear?” He smiled menacingly.

  Jessie nodded, his hand still over her mouth.

  “Good girl,” he said, and slowly released her.

  As his hands moved away from her mouth and body and he rose from her bed, something cracked inside of Jessie. Before tonight, she’d had hope that the whole situation with Steve and Marie might end. At times, Jessie thought she could see the end. She envisioned herself laying low, keeping her head in her books, and her mom would eventually see Steve for who he really was, and leave him. Sure, her mother might’ve regressed once or twice more—maybe she’d bounce from loser to loser for a while after they broke up until she figured things out. But Jessie had held on to the hope her mother would eventually snap out of it and find a decent guy to remarry one day.

  But in these few moments with Steve, that hope had vanished. Jessie’s situation wasn’t going to get better. It was going to get worse. And Jessie couldn’t take it anymore. Something had broken loose deep inside her. The innocence and hope she had once held onto had shattered, and a hole was left in its place. In this moment, she knew her fate in her soul: she was doomed. If she let this happen, she would spend the rest of her days being a victim of abuse at the hands of her soon to be stepfamily.

  As quickly as that hole appeared inside her and the reality of her situation set in, that hole was filled by the presence and the voice she had heard so clearly before; something dark and all-consuming stirred inside her—and freed her. In her mind, the innocent reality she believed was her life was replaced by something sinister, dreadful, and dark. And the darkness grew inside her rapidly, infecting every cell of her body, every synapse of her mind, until one thought gripped her: revenge.

  You are not a victim, Jessie, the deep voice echoed in her head. You have power now. And one name came to her mind: Arraziel.

  Jessie stopped trembling and a calmness came over her. She sat up in bed and her hand grazed the book she had been reading, pausing on the cover as a phrase in another tongue from the book she had just read sprang to the forefront of her mind.

  “Steve,” she growled.

  He stopped and turned back toward her. His eyes narrowed, and a shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Yeah?” he said.

  “Ful’ghgta Rah’fghla Sjftar agj’kelft Arraziel!” she said.

  Steve stared at her, a confused look on his face. “What?” he said.

  Jessie didn’t reply. She scowled as the shadows in the room crawled along the walls, gathering in the corner. She showed her teeth and Steve cocked his head at her. “What the fuck are you smiling at?”

  She sniggered and Steve’s face changed. Something about her laugh must have shocked him. He shivered and glanced over his shoulder. His eyebrows arched as he saw what had been growing behind him in the corner of her room. Drunk and clumsy, he shrank back, falling to the floor. The shadows of the room took form and towered over him, covering him in darkness.

  Arraziel filled the room. He had a ram’s head, black as the night, and eyes glowing with an orange-yellow fire. He gnashed his sharp teeth as his body formed above an inferno. His black skin glowed red, orange, and yellow from the blaze beneath his feet. Black fur covered his legs. He had hooves for feet, yet his torso and arms resembled a man’s.

  * * *

  * * *

  Glancing at Steve, Jessie reveled in the terror she saw on his face. She turned back to Arraziel and he locked eyes with her. His chest rose and fell in great heaves. He stood there, but did nothing, seemingly waiting for something. What is he waiting for?

  “What the fuck?” Steve yelled.

  Jessie turned to Steve. “Shut your mouth!” she yelled at him. Arraziel turned to Steve and brought his finger to his mouth. Jessie watched as Steve’s lips merged and his mouth disappeared. Arraziel turned back to Jessie as Steve’s hands flew to where his mouth used to be and his eyes bulged.

  What is he doing? Why does he keep looking at me?

  The ominous voice in her head gave her the answer. You are his master now, Jessie. Command him.

  Jessie’s twisted mind pondered the demon’s behavior and ran through scenarios which all ended extremely badly for Steve. As her mind shuffled through scenes of violence, Steve squirmed like a worm in the mud. He clawed at the skin under his nose, and moaned through his throat. He stopped, glancing at the demon, found his legs and stood up, lunging for the door.

  “No! Stop!” Jessie shouted. Arraziel shoved Steve back to the floor and blocked his path to the door. Then he looked once again at Jessie.

  A wicked grimace spread across Jessie’s face.

  “Arraziel, grab him,” she said, and the demon picked Steve up off the floor by his hair.

  Something on Steve’s waist shimmered. His belt. His stupid, redneck, wannabe-cowboy, shitty belt. Jessie’s grin broadened as a sadistic idea bubbled to the surface of her mind.

  “Fifty lashes with his belt; make su
re the buckle makes his flesh scream,” she sneered.

  Arraziel gestured to Steve’s belt. The belt flew from his waist and into the demon’s hand. Arraziel threw Steve to the floor and kicked him to the corner of the room. Steve flew into the wall, crumpling to a heap on the floor. The buckle gleamed in the demon’s fiery eyes as Arraziel whipped Steve with his own belt, buckle side up. The blows came one after another with no respite. Steve grunted and moaned impotently as the buckle cut into him, tearing his flesh to the bone. The lashes rained down all over his body and head, over and over, as he rolled himself into a ball, trying to shield himself from the blows. A perverse joy spread through Jessie as the demon struck a blow to his head, gashing his eye from his skull, misting blood all over Jessie’s wall.

  Jessie did not want to kill him. Killing him was too kind for what this sadistic pedophile was planning to do to her. No, death is a gift you don’t deserve. You deserve to live.

  “Arraziel, enough!” she commanded. The beast stopped mid-swing, looking at her, and nodded. The belt fell to Arraziel’s side and he stared at Jessie, waiting for her next command.

  Jessie hopped off the bed, and stood over Steve. She looked disparagingly at the man who was almost her stepfather. Her heart and soul were consumed by darkness and hatred. She felt no remorse gazing at the man who had threatened to sexually abuse her, and whose daughter had physically abused her. As he mumbled through his throat, trying to speak, his eyes pleading, she didn’t need to hear him. She knew what he wanted: mercy.

  “Arraziel, break him, but do not kill him,” she said.