The Edward King Series Books 1-3

by Wood, Rick

  “Ah, no, please, stop!” she cried out. Her face scrunched up, reflecting the humility and the pain she must have been feeling.

  Eddie rose to his feet and stumbled forward. He forced himself to appear strong, to at least seem threatening.

  “Let her go,” he demanded of the beast. The beast looked at him and its eyes widened in shocked horror, terror washing over it. Then that terror transformed to pleasure. He was thrilled. In disbelief, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

  “You have returned…” It spoke in a deep, booming voice Eddie was so used to hearing from possessed victims.

  “Leave her be,” Eddie replied, lifting his arm out. Without any intention of doing so, his arm sent shockwaves propelling into the chest of the beast, sending it flying off the edge of the stone cliff and into the lava below.

  He looked to his hands in awe. How the hell did I do that?

  He hobbled over to the young woman laying naked, humiliated, and scarred on the ground. He reached his hand out to help her up.

  “It’s okay.”

  Without any warning, the woman lashed out at his ankle, using her knees to propel her jaw forward, tightening it around him. He yelped as she did her best to cling onto him and take as much of a chunk out of him as she could.

  Flinching in pain, he reached his hand out and forced her to levitate in the air.

  He looked down at his hands. She was floating in the air. He had done that. How had he done that?

  What the hell is going on?

  She looked to him with hungry, sombre eyes, full of loss and fear as she floated in front of him. He knew she must be famished. He knew she had likely been tortured and starved and was desperate, but he couldn’t help feeling furious at what she had just tried to do.

  “Who do you think you are?” he spat at her. She panted, remaining silent. He knew he shouldn’t hold it against her, but his blood still dripped out of her mouth. In a fit of rage, he plunged his fist forward, forcing a whole through her belly, her guts spilling out, then waved his hands in order to throw her over the side into the fire for an eternity of burning.

  He halted. He looked at his hands. What had he done? An innocent woman he could have helped, and he had gutted her, thrown her to the fire. His eyes closed as he shook his head to himself.

  Being in hell is changing me.

  He couldn’t help it. He felt anger consuming his veins, blood trafficking the fury around his body. He wanted to maim, to torture something. To take every piece of wrong that had been done to him in his life and make someone suffer for it.

  He was the heir of hell. He knew why he felt this way. He was in the place he was to inherit, if prophecy had its way. He couldn’t let it win. He had to retain his humility, his dignity, his morals; otherwise, he would easily become one of them.

  He would become the very thing he had spent his life defeating.

  Derek. The mission. Saving his mentor, his friend. That’s what he needed to focus on. Making sure he was not lost forever.

  Still, he shook with rage. He felt as hot as the humid air around him, the fire that he could hear licking at the side of the cliff, the burning flesh filling the atmosphere, clearly victims suffering nearby.

  He could hear them scream. He could hear them all around him, crying out, begging for release, whimpering hopelessly for relief that never came.

  He took it in with a big, inward breath. He enjoyed it. He thrived on it.

  He wanted it to be his hands that tortured.

  He stepped forward, feeling his surroundings respond to his beckoning call. Out of nowhere, the stone rose off the ground and manifested into an archway around him. He looked around himself, his eyes settling on the distant glow of amber filling the horizon, encompassing the view before him.

  He had never felt at home before. Never in his life had he felt he had belonged. Yet there, in hell, stepping forward, he finally knew what it was to know where he was meant to be.

  I could get used to this, he thought, a menacing grin growing on his face.

  A demon scattered out in front of him, muscular and horned. As it noticed Eddie, it bowed faithfully on its knees.

  “Master, we are glad you are here,” it spoke to Eddie’s feet. “I have been told to bring you to him.”

  “Good,” Eddie voiced his pleasure. “Take me to him. Take me to my father.”

  “Beware of the false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravenous wolves.”

  (Matthew 7:15)

  35

  Jenny didn’t move from the floor. She couldn’t. If she moved she would see his body propped up limply against the seat.

  She kept her forehead pressed against the carpet, her hands behind her head with her fingers interlocked, balanced on her knees. It became uncomfortable, but she stayed there, stationary. The only things that moved were her shoulders, shuddering up and down in time with the sound of her crying.

  “Jenny…?” she heard from behind her. Lacy’s feeble voice wafted into the room, unaware of what had occurred.

  “Lacy…” Jenny muttered between tears. She wanted to look at her. She wanted to sit up and rush to her arms, but she couldn’t.

  She might end up looking at him.

  “Oh my God, Jenny!” Lacy cried out and Jenny heard her footsteps scarper past her. “Eddie’s not moving!”

  “No, stop!”

  Jenny leapt up, keeping her back toward where she knew Eddie’s body was. She put her arms around Lacy and dragged her into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

  “Jenny, what…?” Lacy was silenced by Jenny’s tightly gripped arms around her. “Jenny, you’re hurting me.”

  She forgot, Lacy had been hurt. She slid out of her embrace and looked at her. Dried blood stained her face. She was pale, and she appeared to be limping.

  “Sit down,” Jenny spoke softly, still wiping tears out of her eyes. She ran her arm along Lacy’s back, attempting to show her with affection how glad she was to have her there. She loved her so much, and she was terrified something would happen to one of them without her knowing. But she couldn’t tell her. Not at that moment.

  She turned her head away and opened the kitchen cupboard, taking out antiseptic cream, a few wet wipes, and some plasters. She placed them on the table and looked at Lacy, who seemed confused.

  “You’ve been hurt,” she informed her. “The blood has dried. I need to deal with it.”

  Lacy nodded vacantly. She kept her eyes on Jenny, not sure what to make of her. Something had happened. She had seen Eddie’s body sitting limply, vacant. Jenny was clearly distraught, and tears were still falling from her eyes.

  But she didn’t ask. She knew it wasn’t the right time. She needed Jenny to deal with her emotions first. So she just sat there, letting Jenny wipe her face with one hand and lovingly brushing her hair back with the other.

  Lacy flinched slightly at the sting of the wet wipe on the blood. It had crusted over her wound and it took a bit of wiping for Jenny to clear it off.

  “Jenny?” she asked, still staring at her, still waiting for the right time.

  “I know, Lacy. Please, just…”

  “Just what?”

  Jenny shrugged her shoulders. She sat next to Lacy and took her hand in hers, placing the nursing kit down and adopting a more intense look in her eyes.

  “We need to perform some kind of exorcism, or ritual,” she began, with energy she had not had a moment ago.

  “For what?”

  “For Eddie.”

  “Jenny, I think he’s dead.”

  “Yes, he is, but…” How was she supposed to explain this to her? “But he’s not just dead. He’s in hell. We need to bring him back. We need to restore him to his body.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t think he’ll find a way back otherwise.”

  “But, Jenny, we don’t know the first thing about that kind of stuff.”

  Jenny sat back and turned her mind to deep tho
ught. Lacy was right. She didn’t stand a chance at even attempting to do what Eddie did. But maybe she didn’t need to. Maybe this didn’t require spiritual means. Maybe they could do it themselves.

  “Fine.” Jenny turned to Lacy. “We’re going to resuscitate him our way.”

  “Jenny,” Lacy stuttered, turning instantly weak. “I can’t…”

  *

  5 December 2001

  Lacy burst into the toilet and locked the door behind her. Her scrubs were splattered with blood. She couldn’t take this anymore.

  She rushed to the mirror and turned the tap on, splashing a handful of water into her face. She kept it running as she splashed another and another handful of water over her. Anything to snap her out of it.

  She lifted her head up and considered her reflection in the mirror. This was too much. She had taken on too much. Jenny was wrong, she couldn’t do this. Her parents were wrong.

  Everyone was wrong.

  But what was she supposed to say? “Sorry, Dad, I understand you paid my tuition fees in order for me to do my master’s degree in medicine. I apologise for having to pay out all of your savings in order to support me going through nursing school, but I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to quit.”

  No, she couldn’t. Especially when he had given up so much to help her. He’d said he’d known, when she was a child, as young as five, dressing up as a nurse and providing imaginary care to her mum, who was desperately ill. She didn’t save her either, but then again, she wasn’t a real nurse at the time.

  Was she even a real nurse now?

  Looking herself in the eyes, she struggled to focus her vision. It was out of focus. Her head was scattered, her thoughts all over the place.

  Just two days ago she was talking to him, he was fine, he was just sat there, laughing and smiling with her. Joking. Absolutely fine.

  But she couldn’t resuscitate him. She was the first one in, it was up to her. By the time her mentor and the doctor’s had arrived he was dead, it was done.

  They told her it wasn’t her fault, that she did all she could do. She didn’t buy it. A more experienced nurse, a better nurse, would have saved him. They would have done it.

  She did exactly as they had trained her. Open the airways, pinch the nose, breath in… She’d tried cardiopulmonary resuscitation too, starting with the standard chest compressions.

  But she hadn’t remembered to check the airway. So it had made no difference.

  If only she had checked the airway.

  The thought filled her eyes with tears and once they started, she couldn’t stop them. She sank against the wall and sloped down into a slump in the corner, burying her head in her hands.

  She would hand in her resignation in the morning, with immediate effect.

  *

  9 December 2001

  “Lacy?” Jenny shook her. “You know what to do.”

  “No, I don’t, Jenny, I can’t. I can’t…”

  “Lacy, look at me.” She cupped her girlfriend’s face in her hand, forcing her to look her dead in the eyes. “Yes, you might fail. But I definitely would. You’re the only shot we’ve got.”

  Lacy stared back at her.

  “Lacy, please, he’s my best friend…”

  Lacy saw the eyes of the one she loved above all others. The one who supported her unconditionally, the one who would willingly die for her. The one who still made her legs go weak.

  “We’ve got to check the airway first,” Lacy muttered. Jenny smiled and took her hand, taking her to Eddie’s body.

  36

  Eddie dropped to one knee and bowed his head, closing his eyes in respect. Then his head rose and he bestowed his eyes upon the grand king of hell before him.

  The devil’s true form glowed, giving off radiant heat. He rose above everyone, pure blood red, his vicious tail wavering behind him with a spike upon its end sharp enough to cut into anyone at its own whim. Its eyeballs were black and its pupils were complete red, with the surrounding fire reflecting into them. Eddie could only marvel at its magnitude and the aura of pure evil it gave off from the pores of its skin, manifesting obedience through the hostility of its malevolent grin. Beside his foot lay a crying woman, covered in scars.

  “You have come,” its voice boomed out, echoing throughout hell over the sounds of screaming that still reverberated in the distance.

  “I have,” Eddie replied, looking up with adoration in his eyes. “And I’m here to fulfil my duty.”

  “Eddie!” came a voice to Eddie’s right. He slowly turned his head and cackled like a maniac at the sight of Derek’s soul, represented in human form, fixed by hands and feet to a wooden board that stretched his body from limb to limb.

  Eddie turned his smirk to the devil.

  “Eddie, what the hell are you doing?” Derek cried out, his distraught eyes conveying his anguish between cries of pain.

  “Why is he still here?” Eddie spoke blandly.

  “A test, my son.”

  “A test? You need a test of my loyalty? Truly, with me standing here?”

  “Forgive me, but you have been with the humans for so long, your human form has weakened you.”

  “I am free of my frail body!” screamed out Eddie in frustration. “I do not suffer the morals of fools!”

  “Then destroy his soul, once and for all.” He pointed his finger toward Derek, who had wide-eyed terror consuming his face. “For now, he could be resuscitated. Tear him into pieces so he suffers forever in hell.”

  “Why him?”

  “Because he kept you prisoner!” Flames sprayed into the air behind it as its blood red became even bloodier, and its voice grew full of fury. “He kept you in the mortal world. He taught you to fight our demons. He told you that was the way. Prove your loyalty once and for all – destroy him.”

  Eddie’s eyes met Derek’s. The eyes of the man who had taken him when he was at his lowest and guided him how to use his gift, his burden. The man who showed him how to do what he could. The closest thing to a loyal father he had ever had.

  “Very well,” spoke Eddie, and turned toward his former mentor.

  “Eddie, please…” Derek sobbed.

  “Close your filthy trap!” Eddie spat with venom and rose his hands in the air. The wooden board Derek was strapped to rattled. The devil closed his eyes, feeling the surge of power exuding from Eddie.

  Eddie closed his eyes and threw his hands out.

  37

  Eddie’s body lay on the ground, Lacy desperately pounding on his chest. Press, release, press, release, press, release.

  She placed one hand on his forehead and two fingers under his chin, gently tilting his head back. Taking a deep intake of air, she put her mouth over his and released all the oxygen from her lungs. She drew her head back, took another intake of air, and blew into his mouth once more.

  She shifted back to his chest, sweat dripping from her forehead and her fingers clamming together. She placed the heel of her left hand underneath her right and interlocked her fingers. Making sure her fingers were away from the ribs, she hovered them over his heart and continued to press down vertically on his breastbone, again and again.

  She glanced up at Jenny, who was pacing back and forth. She had her hands over her face, moving repeatedly over the width of the room. Lacy could hear her muttering. “Please, please, please,” under her breath.

  Lacy checked the clock. She counted down the last five seconds until the thirty seconds were up and moved back to his mouth. She pinched his nose, took a deep intake of breath and blew out into his mouth. She left her hand on his chest, feeling it expand, then deflate once more.

  But it stayed deflated. She tried again, breathing in, making his chest expand, then left her hand there, in hope that it would expand on its own.

  It stayed flat.

  She looked up at Jenny, who still had her face covered.

  “Jenny?” she spoke, too quietly for Jenny to hear, too scared to properly attract her attention. “Babe
?” she spoke louder.

  Jenny turned and looked at her. She shook her head as she interlocked her hands once more and continued to press on his chest. She repeated the song, “Staying Alive” in her head over and over to keep in time with it, checking the thirty-second period on the clock.

  “What, Lacy?”

  “I don’t think…” she couldn’t finish the sentence. She saw the look on Jenny’s face and felt her own heart skip a beat. She felt sick in her gut, anxious butterflies in her chest.

  Jenny shook her head, her face scrunched up in tears, covering her face once more. “Oh no, please. Please…”

  Lacy sighed. She kept going. Though she knew it was no good, she kept going. It must have been at least fifteen minutes he had been dead so far and it was very rare for anyone to come back from this.

  Least of all at her hands.

  Thirty seconds up. She took a deep intake of breath, placed one hand on his forehead and two fingers under his chin, and exhaled into his mouth.

  Jenny held her breath as she saw the air from Lacy’s mouth make Eddie’s chest expand. Then she saw it deflate and stay still. Motionless.

  Jenny knew she shouldn’t have done it. She knew it would be the wrong decision. How had he persuaded her into this?

  “Jenny, I don’t think it’s going to work.”

  Lacy knelt back. Seeing the look in Jenny’s eyes, she entertained her denial and kept going with the chest compressions.

  Jenny fell to her knees and put her hand over Eddie’s. So many memories she had of him, about to end.

  Then she felt it. A twitch in his hand.

  “Lacy!” she cried out, then Lacy looked up and saw it too.

  There was hope.

  38

  Eddie lifted his arms in the air and directed them out. He looked to the devil.