To his left, Aerin appeared to be in a similar state of shock. Her hand was held an inch or two away from the surface, just as John’s had. It moved up and down erratically; she was trembling. She looked as if she needed to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out. Her eyes darted back and forth, running over the Bloodstone that loomed in front of her.
“This is…” She spoke softly, forcing the words out. “This is wrong.” She turned slowly and looked up at John, who had been watching her the whole time. When their eyes met, he could see the gravity of the situation in the yellow hue of her irises. "We have to destroy this."
Without a moment’s hesitation, John reached behind him and pulled his blade from its fiery sheath. In one quick motion, he brought the blade down against the Bloodstone in a hard strike; but much to his surprise, he couldn’t cut it. Instead, his arms felt the hardest recoil he had ever faced in his life. The blade had stopped as soon as it had touched the craggy surface and all of the force was directed back at John, but that didn’t stop him. Though feeling was vanishing in his arms, he continued to swing at the large rock; each time the blade was repelled over and over again. He stumbled backwards and drove the sword into the ground before shaking his hands in an attempt to regain feeling. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t cut it.
“Dammit!” He shouted. “I can’t even scratch it!”
John walked away and paced back and forth as he ran his hands through his hair. His heartbeat had begun to speed up, going out of synch with the pulses of the Bloodstone nearby, which made him feel like he was getting sick. He needed to destroy it before… something happened, what that something was exactly he wasn’t sure. He glanced around the plaza they were in, looking for something; some idea, some miraculous solution to their problem.
“Maybe if I got a running start?” He thought aloud, examining the wide open space.
“Or a falling start…” Aerin suggested.
John turned around and followed her gaze upward. High above them, the arm of a crane hung over the plaza, suspended from the large Robertson building that dominated the western skyline. Aerin looked over to John; he was still looking towards the sky.
“That’s ridiculous.” He observed before looking down into her eyes. “Let’s do it."
He took hold of her hand and ran towards the west side of the plaza. The doors to the Robertson building had been blown off some time ago and the entrance lobby was a mess. Every single window, both inside and out, had been shattered by the shock waves that the Bloodstone had periodically been emitting. Being within such close proximity to the abomination, it was a wonder that the building was still standing, though there was considerable structural damage on all levels. The support columns that held the next floor up had begun to crack and splinter and the floor beneath them was showing signs of breaking apart. The massive golden chandelier that adorned the ceiling of the entrance had broken loose from its tether and plummeted three stories to the floor. It had crushed some chairs and tables below and had come to rest at a slant that pointed upward toward the balcony of the second floor.
John searched the room over for the nearest elevator. There was one on the ground floor, but chunks of rubble blocked the way, leaving the second floor balcony as the only option. John had checked his soul count on the way in, he had one soul remaining from the last demon he had slain. And though it would be faster to simply use it to get to the roof, something inside was telling him to hold off. Two seconds was all he needed to plan his route. He let go of Aerin’s hand before jumping up onto the broken chandelier, which shifted and groaned under his sudden weight. He wasted no time in running up the center bar that pointed him toward the second floor. From there he jumped onto a large hanging tapestry that began to rip; but before it could, he swung from it and landed on a large decorative strut. After that, he jumped over toward the second floor, where Aerin was already waiting. She had simply flown, something John, unfortunately, wasn’t able to do. As he came to rest beside her, she gave him a slight smile of praise. Though it was forced, John accepted it. He didn’t mind, after all there were more pressing matters to attend to.
The elevator opened with the push of a button and John and Aerin quickly slipped inside. Thankfully the building was still powered by backup power somewhere within the building. With a loud groan, the lift came to life and quickly sped towards the top floor. All the way up, the sounds of metal scraping filled their ears, a sign that the building wasn’t in good health. As the machine beeped to signal their arrival, the doors jammed. They attempted to open, but something was keeping them shut. No matter. John unsheathed his blade and gave the doors a few quick cuts before kicking them with his boot. Chunks of metal fell down to the floor before the way was cleared. The next obstacle was a locked door at the end of a dimly lit hallway; but it too proved only a slight inconvenience. John lifted his foot and brought his boot down hard onto the door, flinging it open as bits of the lock broke away.
John and Aerin raced across the rooftop as fast as they could, running around the massive antenna that dominated the Station skyline before finding their way to the crane. The building rocked back and forth again with another shockwave as they climbed. John’s grip tightened on the yellow rungs each time they swung slowly side to side. The quakes were becoming more frequent, a sign of something ominous to come, and John felt that the entire structure could give way at any moment. They climbed faster until they reached the top. He and Aerin climbed around the control box and made their way out onto the open arm of the machine. There was a good fifty feet of crane in front of them that opened up into the cold, empty air of Station. John shook his head and pulled his sword down by his side.
“Are you ready for this?” Aerin asked as she wrapped her arms around him. She took hold of the hilt of his sword, allowing him to wrap an arm around her, pulling her tightly to his side.
“No.” John replied. He held Aerin tightly with one hand while his other held onto the sword. He shook his head one last time, clearing away any doubt that remained. “Let’s do this.”
They ran down the length of the crane together in perfect tandem. Their legs moved in synch, step for step, almost like they were one being. The ledge was fast approaching, and they held their breath as they jumped out. The crane rushed away above them and Aerin unfurled her wings as they fell. She pointed her wings toward the bloodstone, carefully guiding them. It let out another violent pulse as the beam of light grew brighter. They needed to destroy this thing now, and so Aerin forced her wings behind her, allowing them to move towards the ground faster. Finally, as they drew close, they swung the blade. They screamed out loud, swinging the sword with all their might. This was it, it had to be.
With a loud ping and a blinding light, the Bloodstone split into a thousand pieces. Both John and Aerin touched down onto the ground, their hands still firmly holding the sword in mid swing. At first glance, it would have appeared that they had successfully destroyed the obelisk, but something was wrong. John attempted to pull back on the blade, but it wouldn’t move. It was held firmly in place by something. He opened his eyes and looked into the light. Silver, that’s what he saw. The color silver, swaying in the wind like the delicate webs spun from a spider. Two purple orbs hung suspended between, eyes that peered toward John, seeing into his very soul. Slowly a form began to take shape in front of him. He looked up to his sword to see a hand wrapped around it tight.
The body of a man stood before John. It stood naked in the dim light of the obstructed Colorado sunset. Its skin was pale and seemed to shimmer, save for the large black symbol burned into its chest like a brand. Long silver strands of hair descended from its head all the way down its back. It slowly opened its eyes, revealing two purple irises that seemed almost captivating, or rather mesmerizing. It glanced around before parting its cold, pale lips to speak.
“Slayer.” The man said in a soft tone that seemed to reverberate throughout John’s head. “Angel.” He spoke again as he glanced at Aerin.
Finally, he looked back up toward the sword once more as he gripped it tighter. “Fragile.”
The sword shattered within the man’s grip. John stumbled backward as Aerin attempted to catch him. He felt weak and sick to his stomach. As he glanced down at the broken blade, he could feel that something inside of him had shattered. His very soul had been torn in two.
Chapter Twenty Eight
John’s breaths were heavy and erratic. His insides were on fire, but not like usual. No, this was much different; half of his soul was missing. His knees buckled and he staggered backwards weakly. Before he fell, Aerin rushed to catch him and supported him against herself as best she could while slowly helping him down to the ground. She could feel his heart pounding just by holding on to him and she knew he was in a great deal of pain. John clenched the hilt of his broken sword in his right hand as his left darted up to his chest. Sweat ran down his neck in large beads as he stared up to the silver haired man.
The man before them paid them no mind. He stepped out of the shattered Bloodstone and examined his surroundings slowly. His gaze shifted from building to building as he took in the desolate city he was in. His gaze moved slowly until it stopped on a billboard nearby. It was a simple advertisement, nothing special, just a sign about a men’s clothing store in town. The picture showed a man in a light grey suit staring off into the distance. The silver haired man tilted his head as he examined the sign. He glanced down at his own naked form before looking back to the sign. Suddenly odd black shapes began to cover his body from the back of his neck down. With a slimy sound, they wriggled across him like small slugs that left a black trail in their wake. After his entire body was covered in the juices, it began to change shape. A grey suit, not unlike the one on the billboard, appeared. As it covered his body, the black slug-like creatures vanished, leaving him in his new clothes.
The man adjusted his belt and coat before turning his attention toward the broken blade that he held in his left hand. He lifted it up into the air, letting it slip into one of the few beams of light that the Colorado sun cast down. He turned it over, examining it slowly. Running his finger across the edge of the blade, he tilted his head quizzically again. His purple eyes ran from one end to the other as a faint glint filled his gaze.
“Sharp.” The man observed. He turned it over to examine the broken edge. “But weak.”
A familiar slimy sound could be heard again. The same black slugs came writhing out from beneath his cuff, slithering down toward the blade in a disgusting way. John watched intently as they coated his sword in the same liquid that they had previously covered the man’s body in. As soon as the slugs disappeared, the shape of the sword began to change. First, the blade itself grew in length. It stretched out, becoming a long sword made of steel stained black. Next, a guard and hilt formed around the man's hand. After the transformation was complete, the man swung the blade about; testing and getting a feel for it.
Something terrible filled John’s heart at the sight before him. He felt violated. That sword was his, Aerin had given it to him, but now it was… wrong. There was a fire burning within him now that he had felt on occasion only a few times before. He could feel the rage building within him as it forced him to his feet. Aerin didn’t have time to stop him before he moved. Within less than a second, John had closed the short distance between he and the man and had brought his broken sword down into a quick strike. The man lifted, what was now, his sword and parried the attack. With that, the battle had begun.
John’s chest still burned with the pain of having his soul split, but the fire in his heart far outweighed any physical pain he could feel. He slashed at the man with wild, frantic strikes. They were attacks a man made when he was angry. Wild and erratic, just like the torrent of emotions that buzzed throughout his mind. With a blade of such limited size, John could now afford to make those wild strikes without costing him effectiveness in battle. His mind flashed back to a battle some months ago in the cargo hold of a plane bound for California. His movements very much resembled the demon he had faced there. It didn’t matter, a broken sword was what he had, and a broken sword is what he would use. He attacked the silver haired man as fast as he could, but each strike was countered blow for blow, denying John any semblance of a satisfying hit. Suddenly though, a thought crossed his mind. The gears in his head began to turn as he struck at the man. He thought back on his training with Samuel, how he had become so fast, and to the memories of Isaac. John struck forward quickly before turning the blade around in is hands. With a quick spin, he slashed at the man as if he were holding an oversized combat knife.
Holding the blade like so felt oddly natural, something just seemed right about it. He quickly changed his fighting style to accommodate for the sudden difference. No longer did he put his weight into crushing blows or wild strikes, instead he now punched with each attack. He held the blade backwards, punching and cutting with each strike as if the blade were simply an extension of his fist. John picked up the pace, attacking with a combination of slashes and kicks as he inched ever closer to the man, who had been forced to defend accordingly. John struck quickly, his blade clanging off of the man’s corrupted sword, before firing the occasional spell to gain additional ground and footing, but to no avail. The man continued to match him for every step. Eventually, John forced the man into a lock, and he drove the blade down to meet its counterpart at the hilt.
“Who the hell are you?” John demanded an answer.
“Who am I?” The man repeated the question as though he were confused. He tilted his head and paid little attention to the struggle at hand, which only served to build the fire within John. “I…” The man spoke again after finding a suitable answer. “I am a culmination of all your sins.” His purple irises seemed to grow darker as he spoke. “I am Legion, for we are many.”
The words slammed into Aerin, who had up until now been watching from the sidelines. Her worst fears were coming true. She realized the gravity of the situation with perfect clarity, and she knew what she had to do. Her wings unfurled and she took flight. Roaring towards John like a jet, she slammed into his side. She grabbed hold of him and flew down the street, carrying him far away from Legion.
“Aerin? What are you doing?!” John struggled.
“We have to go now!” She shouted over the roar of the wind whipping past. “There’s no way we can fight him!”
“What are we supposed to do, just run away?!” John questioned as he pulled himself free. He dropped to the ground and tumbled end over end before finally righting himself. Aerin came to a stop a few feet down from him and he turned to her and shouted. “Aerin this is my city, this is my home! I can’t just walk away from this!”
“I know exactly what you’re feeling!” Aerin shouted back as she tried to reason with him. “You saw my memories, you know that! But if we fight him, we will die! Both of us!”
“We don’t have to die. Not both of us.” John turned his gaze from Aerin towards Legion, who stood waiting down the street. “He’s strong, but…”
“That’s why we-“ Aerin suddenly interrupted before John cut her off.
“Aerin. Get back to the car, call Meredith. If there’s anyone that can help us, it’ll be her.” From where she stood, she could see John’s fists clenched tightly. He breathed slowly, his back still towards her. “He’s not gonna let us go. I’ll keep him busy.”
“Don’t do this to me, John.” Aerin begged.
“The Angel has to survive, right?” John said, still facing away. He wouldn’t turn towards her, not yet. “That’s how this works, isn’t it?”
Aerin’s face was flushed bright red as she tried her best to hide the tears that filled her eyes. It was happening again. The same scene that she had watched before was playing out one more time. John knew what he was doing was wrong, but he had no other choice. Aerin meant too much to him. This demon could not be allowed near her. He’d die long before that.
“Go.” John nearly begged. Legion had begun a slow
walk towards them. He could feel the situation growing dire by the second. “I’ve got this. But, if I-“
He was interrupted as Aerin wrapped her arms around him from behind. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his back and her heart beating within her chest. For a moment everything was still. He felt calm. As Aerin held him tightly John was filled with a renewed fire.
“Be careful.” She warned, her head still buried between his shoulder blades.
“I will.”
With that, Aerin released him. She turned, tears streaming down her face, and ran towards the nearest alley. With the sound of rushing wind, she rose into the air and disappeared.
“Sacrificing yourself to save the Angel?” Legion assessed with a slight arch in his brow.
“Yeah, what of it?” John asked as he readied himself.
“Was planning to draw the fight out. Stretch my new muscles.” Legion said with a crack of his neck. “Will have to kill you quickly now.”
“Is that so?” John gripped his blade tighter. He could feel he energy Aerin had just given him flowing throughout his being.
“You have no chance, Slayer.” Legion asserted. “Why?”
"Because you've destroyed my home." John's heart burned with a fiery anger. Its rhythm picked up in time as it began to circulate a heavy dose of adrenaline throughout his body. "I have to fight you." His words fueled the rage within him, causing it to spill out. "I have to kill you." Fire erupted around John's body. It burned a bright, hot blue that licked up around him, singing the ground he walked.
Slayer: A Demon Hunter's Tale Page 49
