by Ilana Waters
“In the meantime,” the reporter continued, “charity and rescue organizations are asking for your assistance for victims of the magnitude ten quake.” He adjusted his sky-blue tie. It seemed too bright, too happy, as if to mock the cheerless story he shared. “Donations can be made by calling the number at the bottom of your screen. Many victims are without shelter, food, water, and medical attention. Hospitals in the surrounding area are quickly becoming overwhelmed. And some in need are still unable to get to them because of the number of roads and bridges taken out during the quake. The total damage to Nevada’s infrastructure is judged to be in the millions. Now, we have live coverage in the town of—”
I turned away and continued walking towards the underground. Whether it was because I couldn’t bear to see more or because Oblivion wanted me to hurry, well, I’ll never know. But I did know that this latest calamity was connected to the buildings’ collapse we’d learned about earlier. There could be no doubt of that. And it seemed like things were only going to get worse from here.
When I finally arrived at the underground, Oblivion wasn’t in the mirror. I tore through the caverns, dashing from room to room. I searched the chamber with the mirror high to low, but the demon was nowhere to be found. I clutched my head with my fingers and gnashed my teeth.
“OBLIVION! OBLIVION!” I screamed. “Where are you? Show yourself. I know you’re here!”
“For hell’s sake, boy. No need to get yourself so worked up. I’m as close as your own heartbeat.” I whirled around to face the mirror again, but Oblivion still wasn’t in it. He was just a disembodied voice. But the voice had an echo, with vibrations that seemed to reach straight into my rib cage.
“I said show yourself!” I yelled.
“I am showing myself.” Again, the echoing voice. It was louder this time, not only in volume, but in the way it resonated. It seemed deeper, like it was going from my chest to my stomach. “Now, stop acting like a child. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“How dare you,” I hissed. “How dare you make those buildings fall, cause that earthquake. And how dare you make me do such ghastly things. I almost stabbed Arthur. I knocked my own mother to the ground. I tried to kill my father, for fuck’s sake!”
“You don’t have to tell me.” The voice dripped with disdain. “I was there, remember?”
Futilely, I looked around for the voice’s source. Eventually, I gave up. I knew where it was coming from. I just didn’t want to admit it. Out of habit, I went and stood next to the mirror. “Are my family and friends ever going to move again?” I asked tonelessly. “Or do you plan on keeping them frozen like that for all time?”
“Oh, no. Not for all time.” Oblivion giggled. “I want every possible witness when I ascend to my earthly throne.”
I hit the wall next to the mirror with my fist. With my newfound demon strength, part of it crumbled beneath my hand. A few pieces fell off in shards. An especially jagged one caught my eye. I bent down and picked it up.
Holding the shard between my teeth, I rolled up both sleeves. Then I took the sharpest part of the stone and sliced through the skin on my forearm. I cried out as dark red blood pooled up from the gash, only to heal instantly. I tried again, only to heal again. Over and over, I ripped into my flesh. When that failed, I did the same to the other arm, despairing when the results were no different.
Dammit, how deep do you have to go to hit an artery? I dropped the shard and bent over, panting. My arms and the front of my trousers were covered in blood. It seemed even suicide was a lost cause.
“Well, I’m glad that’s over,” said Oblivion. “It’s not an entirely unpleasant sensation, Joshua, but I can’t say it’s exactly comfortable, either. Besides, you know it won’t help. I’m not in your blood or bones, foolish boy. I’m in your soul.”
“NO!” I cried, my head snapping back up. I still had thoughts of my own. Some part of me was still me. I pounded the mirror with both fists. “No, no, no, no, no!” The glass didn’t break, didn’t crack. Though I knew it was pointless, I looked around for a rock to throw. When I found none nearby, I yanked the crystal from my pocket and hurled it at the mirror. As soon as it hit the glass, I felt like someone punched me in the gut. I doubled over, clutching my stomach, breathless from the pain. Oblivion felt it, too, I know he did. Which was how I knew he hadn’t caused it in the first place.
His groan echoed throughout the cave. “Now, that did hurt, Joshua,” he growled. “Enough is enough.” It took a few moments for us to recover.
Yes, it hurt. But why? I picked the crystal up and put it back in my pocket. Oblivion said the mirror was just a tool to communicate. He wasn’t perturbed when I tried to smash it with my fists just now. If Oblivion heard these questions in my mind, he didn’t answer them.
Black smoke began swirling inside the mirror. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It blocked everything inside the frame until, slowly, it began to clear. I wished it hadn’t. Images appeared—images of people being tortured in the most gruesome ways. A few methods I recognized from studying the Inquisition, but others were new to me. My eyes bulged and I staggered back, unable to look away from the horror. The worst part was how thrilling I found it. I won’t even tell you which parts of my body felt the excitement.
“No more playing around, Joshua. We really must get going if we’re going to see this through,” said Oblivion. “I’m sure you don’t want to wait any longer than I do.” The images in the mirror faded, going back to smoke and then to the cave’s reflection. A wave of relief—and disappointment—washed over me.
Oblivion seemed to sigh inside my head. “Tell you what: I’ll let you keep the name. I don’t entirely like the sound of it, but I can see my way to some concessions. So we’ll go by ‘Joshua,’ all right? You can even keep that little lover you’re so fond of. Oh, you didn’t think I knew, did you?”
My stomach froze. He knows about Colleen. Then he knows about George. And all the others. Not just my parents and Arthur, but everyone I care about. Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?
“Hell, I plan on having a whole harem myself,” he continued. “No need to settle. We’ll be supreme beings, you and I.”
“Not yet,” I whispered, perhaps more to myself than to him. “It hasn’t happened yet.”
“Oh, Joshua, when will you learn? It’s over. That meaningless, powerless part of your life is over. Everything has been leading up to this moment.”
“Sorry,” I said, louder this time. “But I refuse to ‘go gentle into that good night.’ ”
“That’s the one thing I don’t understand about you.” Oblivion sounded genuinely frustrated. “Your unrelenting stubbornness. You cannot defeat me. Even if you did, beings like me will always exist. ‘Evil,’ or whatever histrionic, self-indulgent word you use to describe us.”
“That hardly matters,” I argued. “There’s no way of knowing the devastation evil might cause if it went unchecked. Like yours. You think it’s pointless to challenge because I can’t eliminate it entirely. But merely reducing evil’s size and influence is enough. It’s staggering to think of the suffering it might cause, were there no forces of good to balance it out.”
“Forces like you,” Oblivion sneered.
“If you wish, yes. Even the most obscure goodness makes a powerful argument for fighting evil.”
“Yes, the obscure part has suited you well for decades,” Oblivion said. “Tell me, how does it feel to have all your efforts go unrewarded? You save a life and no one knows. You save the world and no one knows. No creature on earth that’s the tiniest bit human could endure that indefinitely.”
“Maybe I won’t have to,” I snapped. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and die someday, or soon enough to spoil your plans. Besides, eliminating evil isn’t the only goal. If it were, naturally, it would be too discouraging to keep trying.”
“At last, we agree on something.”
“However,” I started. Oblivion gro
aned. “Certain people live just to kick evil’s ass. And if that’s the case, then the battle can continue as long as fighters exist. Like my father, for instance. As a former soldier and general, I’m fairly certain he lives for the fight.” And I suddenly realized, whether the drive was learned or inherited, that I lived a little for it, too.
“That’s all very well and good,” Oblivion said. “But none of it will help you when my true plans are made flesh and bone.”
“True plans?” My blood ran cold. “You already revealed your true plans. You want to take over the world and do hideous things.”
“Oh, not just me.” From the sound of his voice, I could tell Oblivion was smiling. With a mixture of dread and anticipation, I saw black smoke swirl in the mirror again, revealing a different set of images. “Me and all my friends.”
Right on cue, the images became clearer. Too clear for my liking. They showed what I could only assume were more demons, each equally as horrifying as Oblivion’s incarnations. Some had horns, some had hooves. Others had the flesh on their faces mutilated or melting off.
The most terrifying thing was, some of them looked exactly like ordinary human beings.
But all of them had wide-open mouths . . . screaming, snarling, howling, many with fangs as large as human hands. It looked like they were trying to claw their way out of the mirror, shot up from hell straight into our world. I was reminded of the ancient roots of the word pandemonium. Literally, it means “home of all the demons.” I screamed and stumbled back, thinking they were coming through. But Oblivion only laughed, and the black smoke in the mirror returned. Then it dissipated, taking the demons with it.
An illusion. That was all it had been. Like the previous visions of torture, it was what might be. This was the future Oblivion wanted to rain down upon us. The part of me that had merged with him recognized some of the creatures. I felt a tug at my heart, as if I’d been looking at pictures of old friends. There was even a palpable sense of elation at the thought of seeing them again.
“I . . . I thought you said you wanted to rule the world alone,” I gasped.
“Oh, did I?” Oblivion gave a deep, throaty chuckle. “I lied. Come now, you don’t really expect a demon to tell the truth, do you?”
“Then how do I know you’re telling it now?”
“You don’t have to. You’ll see it for yourself soon enough. Although there is a bit of veracity in what I said: we’ll still rule alone. We’ll just be delegating some of the smaller tasks. Murder, mayhem, et cetera. I’ll see if we can use the crystal to bring the others over,” Oblivion mused, almost as if he were making plans for a birthday party. “But I’m thinking we shouldn’t use infants again. No, let’s place our comrades in more fully formed bodies this time. I may have failed at that before, but we’re more powerful now. And we won’t have to wait for them to grow up, to shed their mortal personalities the way you’re doing. If the crystal won’t work, well, I’m sure we’ll find another way. We are very clever, after all.”
This cannot be possible. None of it makes any sense. “But Nocifari said most demons weren’t ambitious enough to take over the world. Won’t the ones you’re bringing across be the same?”
“Perhaps. But I’ve already done the heavy lifting for them. They’d be fools not to take advantage if world domination were just laid at their feet, no? I do hope they’re properly grateful when they arrive.”
I could never have imagined anything like this during my first conversation with Oblivion. We weren’t talking about the apocalypse anymore. That at least implied an end. We were literally talking about hell on earth. Forever.
“This is a disaster,” I whispered. “No, a catastrophe. It’s Hiroshima meets Chernobyl by way of the Hindenburg.”
The tone of Oblivion’s reply made it seem like he was shrugging. “If you say so. I prefer to think of it as an opportunity. But then again, we’ve always been very enterprising, haven’t we?”
Suddenly, there came a heavy crash from the next chamber, one I’d had to pass through to get here. It was followed by a loud grunt and the sound of boots on stone. As if someone had leaped out of a rock’s way just in time.
“Ah.” The smile returned to Oblivion’s voice. “I see our guest has arrived.” I got a sickening feeling in my stomach.
I knew exactly whom Oblivion was talking about.
Chapter 22
I entered the antechamber to the mirror room. Nothing had changed since the last time I came through. It still had rough, cool stone walls. Dust and debris crunched as before under my feet. The smell of the air was the same as in the rest of the underground: stale. But beneath that was a newer, sweeter smell.
The smell of fear.
Not a great deal. Not as much as I would have liked. But more than before, so it would have to suffice. Besides, soon I’d be inhaling that perfume as it emanated from every man, woman, and child on earth.
The nauseated feeling was gone, and I smiled to see Ms. Nocifari not thirty feet from me. She was catching her breath after leaping away from the rock we made fall next to her. Shame it hadn’t hit her. She must have tracked us after that fiasco on the Bridge of Angels. I presumed she’d used a flashlight to see her way down; there was no magical illumination in this part of the underground. But now, she’d put a glow stick in one corner, and it cast an eerie blue light around the room.
Her crossbow was once again strapped to her back, her knee still in a brace. She’d changed clothes since falling into the river, but her hair hadn’t quite dried. The bandage from around her head was gone. No doubt she’d neglected to change it after it got soaked. I could see stitches winding their way around her temple, the skin bruised and swollen.
“Why, hello, Signorina Nocifari,” I said in Italian. Her whole body tensed when she saw me. Even she, so used to demon encounters, was disturbed at how the union between Oblivion and me showed in my face. “What a surprise to find you here. Looking lovely as ever, I see.”
Nocifari’s composure quickly returned. Her face turned even harder, more resolute. She made no reply; she didn’t have to. It was as easy to read her thoughts now as it had been with my parents on the bridge. She had no chance of defeating me when I could see her every move in advance. Which is how I knew she would reach for the dynastructor long before she actually did.
I reached up and snapped my fingers. A stalactite fell from the ceiling, dropping straight down to skewer Nocifari. Unfortunately, one quick glance up and she somersaulted out of the way. The stalactite shattered only a few feet from where she came out of the somersault. Nocifari rose on her injured leg and winced. I raised my other hand and tore a chunk of stone out of the wall next to her, aiming it at her skull. With a loud grunt but a dancer’s grace, she flipped her legs over her head as the stone whizzed underneath. Then she pushed back off the wall and landed with another wince.
I giggled. This was fun. I could do it all night. She reached for the dynastructor again, pulling it from her belt and pressing the button hard. This time, it caused me no pain. Now, it was more irritating than anything else, like the buzzing of an insect.
“I don’t think that will do you any good, dear.” I walked forward. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she quickly returned the dynastructor to her belt. With lightning speed, she reached behind her, grabbed the loaded crossbow, and fired it at me. I easily waved away the first bolt while continuing to walk towards her. She mounted a second bolt, which I caught and crushed in my fist. She frantically mounted a third.
This time, I waited until the bolt was a few inches from my face, then raised my hand. The bolt froze in midair. I turned it around, split it in two, and aimed both pieces straight for Nocifari’s eyes. She leaped out of the way. The bolts made sparks as they hit the stone wall behind her, while Nocifari landed hard on her shoulder. She grimaced in pain, but was back on her feet in an instant, still holding the crossbow.
I sighed. This wasn’t fun anymore. In fact, it was growing tir
esome. Where was the sport? I was dispatching all her previous weaponry with ease.
“O sole mio, sta ’nfronte a te! O sole, o sole mio . . .” I sang as I strode towards her. Part of her jacket and shirt were torn open, revealing one smooth shoulder and the top of her chest. She tried to bash me in the face with the crossbow, but I grabbed it and struck her in the head. It reopened the wound at her temple. Nocifari stumbled back with an angry cry of pain. But she recovered quickly enough to whip a bowie knife from her belt and slice me across the throat with it.
The cut didn’t draw a drop of blood, though it should have been pouring from my throat. I reached up and felt my neck, but the skin there was smooth and intact, like always. Nocifari’s eyes bulged. The knife fell from her hand and clattered to the floor. The look in her eyes turned furious, and she tried to punch me. But before she succeeded, I magicked that side of my face. Now, it was as hard as the stone walls around us.
Her fist barely glanced off my cheekbone, like the brush of a butterfly’s wings. Still, I heard it breaking, heard Nocifari scream. She clutched her wrist, her hand now limp and useless. I threw the crossbow on the ground, reached down, and brought the hand up to shoulder level. I gave it a squeeze, and not too gently.
Nocifari cried out again, swiping at my eyes with her free hand. I grabbed the other wrist and pushed her against the wall, using the weight of my body to hold her there. I dropped her wrist and held her chin up. It was thrilling to be this close to her, to see more clearly how fetching she looked.
“What makes you think you can beat us?” I whispered, grinning at her. Her partially exposed chest heaved in and out from fear, exertion, and pain. I’m not ashamed to say I took great delight in watching it. But she was still looking up at me from beneath dark hair, her eyes defiant, unwavering.
“I’ve killed scores of demons and their hosts before,” she hissed. Like me, she spoke in Italian. “You already know that. Both of you.”
