by E. B. Huffer
"Watch what you're saying," snarled the first. The voice next to Margie belonged to a Drude, a hag like witch that could manifest itself in many forms.
"Whatever you do," rasped the second voice to Margie, "don't fall asleep. Given half the chance the old hag will sit on your chest and crush the life out of you."
"That's a lie," replied the hag sourly.
"Leave me alone," repeated Margie.
"Yes, leave her alone," said the hag.
"You leave her alone!"
Margie sat up and sighed angrily.
For a short time all remained silent. Then Margie noticed some vapour creeping slowly in through the front of her cage. Almost immediately, Margie began to feel a pressure on her chest and she started to gasp for air.
"Hag!" yelled the voice from above her. "Is that you?"
The vapour quickly took the form of a naked woman then vanished, as though sucked out by a gust of wind.
"No, it was not I," said the hag.
"You're a liar," hissed the voice above her. "I heard the girl; she couldn't breathe." The voice above Margie belonged to Raiju, a small wolf like demon.
"I only had a little peep," replied the hag. "Nothing more. A little peep at the pretty virgin girl."
"Hag," admonished Raiju.
A loud wailing from further away, silenced them.
Unable to stand up in the tiny cage, Margie shuffled forward. She could see nothing, but the sorrowful wailing filled her with fear.
"Don't worry about that," said the hag. "It's Jikininki. Selfish and greedy. No thought for others at all. Ugly too."
"Another one to watch out for," continued Raiju, "it's partial to a bit of human flesh."
"Corpses mainly," rasped the hag.
"Yes, corpses!" agreed Raiju.
And this is how the night progressed; the two voices regaling Margie with the most repugnant and horrifying minutiae of the museum's inhabitants, while Margie listened on in silence.
At some point, Margie must have fallen asleep because she suddenly found herself standing in a tiny living room. It was an ordinary living room that one might find in any house the length and breadth of the country, with a small sofa, a chair, a table, a rug and various nick-nackery. Margie stared in disbelief at the room. It was her house; the house that she, Margie May Langley, had been born into in 1911. A fire was roaring in the open hearth in front of which sat a large tin bath filled with water. She moved slowly towards the mantelpiece, stepping carefully in case the room disintegrated like the doorway to The Darkest of All Places had. There she found photos of her mother, father and her many brothers and sisters.
"Where are the pictures of me?" she thought sadly. Then Margie saw something that filled her with great excitement. A bag in the corner of the room. It's the bag from the Emporium. She reached down to touch it but her hand swiped straight through it like it was merely a shadow.
And then she woke up and she was shivering in the cage, the two voices still bickering.
The hours rolled into days and Margie tried hard to remember anything about being the Collector. She tried to meditate; attempted to hypnotise herself; she begged and even prayed. All to no avail. Sure, there were plenty of signs that she was the Collector: the psychic powers she had once had; the dead people she had heard and seen. But the harder she tried to think about her life, the further it seemed to slip away. It was like trying to remember a dream that was already forgotten. She wore herself out trying to think of ways to collect stories but her brain remained locked with little hope of finding the key. She felt depressed. Gave up. Filled with fury and frustration she grabbed the bars of her cage and screamed as loud as she could. She wanted the whole world to know how angry she was. She wanted Archie to hear it. She wanted the Darkest of All Things to hear it. And she wanted her parents to hear it.
Then something very strange happened. The moment her lungs finally ran out of steam, Margie was gripped by an unimaginable pain. If felt like her entire back was being ripped away from her body; like she was being skinned alive. The pain lasted several minutes, with Margie writhing and screaming in pain. Then just as quickly as the pain took hold, it stopped. The room was enveloped in a deafening silence only broken a short time later by the hag.
"It wasn't me," she rasped vehemently. "It wasn't!"
Exhausted from her experience and lulled by the stillness, she fell into a deep, deep sleep.
The Beginning of the End
Margie was awoken by an ungodly scream that ricocheted angrily off the Cathedral walls. It was the Darkest of All Things. He was standing in front of Margie's cage with his fists clenched. His face was so heavy with anger, it looked like it was melting.
"Where is it?" he bellowed.
"Where's what?" asked Margie, sitting up bleary eyed.
"Where is it," he screamed. "The Big Invisible. It's gone!"
"How can it be gone?" asked Margie, not yet fully awake.
"What don't you understand you idiot child? It's GONE. Vanished."
Margie felt a jolt. How could she have been so foolish? Was it possible that the pain she'd felt in the night was The Big Invisible being torn away from her? The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Sitting here now she felt a weightlessness that she hadn't felt in a long time. The Darkest of All Things was right; the parasite that had been sucking the life out of her was gone. But how? And why?
"I didn't do anything," she cried, "honestly." She was keenly aware that without The Big Invisible she was nothing more than Demon fodder. "Are you sure it's gone?" she asked timidly.
"Do you think I am a fool? he whispered his eyes narrowing angrily. "Do you think I am that idiot Giant?"
"No," said Margie shaking her head, unnerved by this unexpected reference to her lost friend."
"Where is it?" he bellowed. "WHERE?"
"I don't know," cried Margie emphatically. "I didn't even know of its existence until you told me."
"You're a liar," screamed The Darkest of All Things. "How can it just disappear? You've hidden it. Where is it?" The Darkest of All Things surveyed Margie carefully. "I don't trust you, little girl. I smell the Collector in you. I sense the light. But there is something dark about you too. Tell me where you have hidden it."
"I don't know," yelled Margie. "I've told you!"
The Darkest of All Things' head jerked to the side, as though it had been struck across the face by an invisible hand.
"Then prehaps this will help you remember," he hissed. The Darkest of All Things was so close to the cage that Margie could feel his cold sulphurous breath on her skin. "His love for you is so endearing ..."
A broken, frightened, exhausted voice whispered Margie's name.
Margie clapped her hands over her mouth. "Giant?" she whispered. "Is that you?"
"I knew he would come in handy," said the Darkest of All Things.
Margie rattled the bars on her cage angrily and screamed. "Where is he? What have you done to him?"
She couldn't see him but she could hear his voice all around her weeping and begging for help. He sounded broken.
"You have a decision to make," said The Darkest of All Things, his voice low and flat. "You tell me what you did with the beast or I can't be responsible for the fate of your friend. Giant flesh is like bee sweetening to an old toad like me."
As if to demonstrate his intentions, The Darkest of All Things punched a hole in a nearby cage and grabbed the occupant, a small goblin like creature with large round eyes, by the throat.
"Do you know what happened to the beast?" he asked it.
The creature shook its head weakly and attempted to speak, but The Darkest of All Things wasn't interested. He opened his mouth wide and devoured the unfortunate creature whole, like a snake devouring its prey. Margie could see the creature's perfectly formed shape sliding down The Darkest of All Things' throat.
For the first time, Margie felt truly defeated. She really had no idea what had happened to The Big Invisible; so how could
she ever save her beloved Giant.
"Please," begged Margie. "Do what you like to me. Just don't hurt my friend. He's done nothing wrong. I'll do anything, anything to help you find the beast."
The Darkest of All Things gave a short, mirthless laugh followed by a loud burp. Then wiping away a tear that was clearly not there, he sighed: "It's so touching. You love him. He loves you. It's all just so beautiful." He yelled the last word in Margie's face leaving her retching at the smell.
A creepy voice laughed in the distance.
Another voice shrieked from one of the cages nearby, "She's lying. Teach her a lesson!"
The Darkest of All Things emitted a growl so low that it sounded like a rumble deep underground. He stepped back. Before him were thousands of cages stretching for miles in all directions.
"YOU" he bellowed angrily at the demons, "are no better. In fact you are WORSE because you can see it! Which one of you saw what happened to that beast? Tell me now!"
He screamed at a large demon with bat-like wings and stony black eyes. "Have you seen it?" The demon crouched reverently low and shook its head vigorously.
"You then!" he bellowed at the incubus in the next cage. The incubus hissed then growled, its long ears flattened against its head.
All of a sudden, The Darkest of All Things' back arched his back so violently that his head almost hit the back of his knees. Immediately his body jerked back up again with a loud crack whereupon an explosion of noise and panic tore through the entire building. The great room was filled groaning, crying, wailing, screaming and laughing interspersed with banging and crashing as the demons rammed their cages in a bid to escape. They knew what was coming; they sensed the devastation that was about to be unleashed and they knew they had to try and save themselves from the full force of his fury.
The first casualty was a common ghoul. The ghoul screamed for mercy as the Darkest of All Things tore into his cage, but unable to contain the tempest of rage it carried, The Darkest of All Things squeezed and pulverised the ghoul like an insect until it was just a small black stain on the palm of his hand.
For the next hour or so, The Darkest of All Things rampaged through the menagerie, destroying everything it could find. Demons that weren't able to escape their cages in time were pulverised or devoured. After only a short period of time, the great room was awash with demons scuttling and scurrying across walls and ceilings attempting to find a way out. And what had taken hundreds of thousands of years for The Darkest of All Things to collect was all gone in just a few terrifying minutes.
Margie crouched in the far corner of her cage; her body shaking violently. She wished The Darkest of All Things would just hurry up and take her.
But it wasn't to be. As the Darkest of All Things continued his rampage, she heard a voice calling her name. Margie couldn't see anyone, but there inside her cage was a shadow person.
"Please don't be afraid," whispered the shadow. His voice was calm but authoritative. "In a moment your cage will open. When it does, you must jump and run."
Margie nodded.
"You must run to one of the four great pillars. There you will find a small opening. The Darkest of the Dark won't follow you. Once outside you must run and you must not stop."
The shadow did not see or hear Margie say anything but he knew exactly what she was thinking. "You have no choice but to trust me. I've waited years for your arrival and I know what your future holds."
"Oh please tell me," implored Margie. Her face was streaked with tears and dirt. "I need to know."
"We don't have time," replied the shadow urgently. It was clear he was struggling to unlock the cage. "But you must remember my name. It's Vassago."
"Vassago," repeated Margie, "I will try."
The cage door opened and the shadow person moved swiftly towards the back of the cage where he was less likely to be seen. "You must go," he insisted.
Margie shuffled towards the edge and looked down. It was a big fall. At least twenty metres. Margie hesitated.
"You must go now, before The Darkest of All Things sees you," whispered the voice. "Go!"
Margie took a deep breath as though she was about to jump, then she hesitated once again. Then she remembered what Spider Beast had said to her just before she left Limbuss City. 'Trust them ..."
"You have to go now," cried Vassago, more urgently this time. "Please."
Margie closed her eyes and braced herself to jump when all of a sudden a colossal thunderous voice filled the cathedral, "STOP!"
Margie's eyes flicked open. She knew instantly who the voice belonged to. It was The Darkest of All Things.
The shadow person whispered the word 'run' one last time before Margie felt herself being pushed off the edge. She landed heavily. Pain shot through her body like a hot spear. If she had known how quickly The Darkest of All Things was thundering towards her she might not have wasted any time looking back up at the cage. There she saw a young man with long dark hair pointing frantically at a nearby pillar. She knew instinctively that it was Vassago.
Margie glanced over her shoulder at the pillar and saw that it did have an opening, although it looked more like a large crack than a doorway. It was so narrow, in fact, that Margie wondered if she would even fit through it. Margie looked back up but Vassago had gone, and that's when Margie felt the ground beneath her shake. She didn't need telling that The Darkest of All Things was almost on top of her. Or that if she didn't run now, it would all be over.
Using all the strength she could muster, she staggered to her feet and ran. But barely had she gone a few steps when a dark shadow descended on her and an unseen hand grabbed her around the waist. The Darkest of All Things was no bigger than an average man yet he had the strength of a thousand bulls. He roared triumphantly, his dirty tobacco stained nails digging into her flesh like pick axes. A cry of pain escaped from Margie's lips. 'This is it, 'she thought as he crushed her with his grip, 'this is the end'.
But the end never came. Not just yet at least. For when Margie fell silent, the screaming continued. It was a scream she had heard before. Margie's eyes snapped open and there before her was a huge skeletal Malignant spitting acid into The Darkest of All Things' face. In a moment of enraged foolishness, The Darkest of All things reached out to grab the Malignant and in doing so he let Margie slip from his grasp. By the time The Darkest of All Things had realised his mistake, Margie was gone. The last thing she saw as she squeezed into the tiny gap was the Malignant's crushed body landing in a heap on the ground beside her. As she shuffled further in, she felt an almighty shudder as The Darkest of All Things struck the pillar with his fist.
Margie didn't pause for even a second. Round and round she shuffled in ever decreasing circles, the screams of the demons diminishing until it all became silent. After what seemed like hours she came to another doorway which, much to her astonishment, spat her out into the snow.
As she staggered out into the bright light, her entire body exploded with pain. Vassago's words rang in her ears, "once you're outside you must run and you must not stop." Margie looked over her shoulder. There was no pillar and no building. Nothing but a distant, eerie howl. Margie took a deep breath, pulled her hair away from her face and ran. Or at least she tried to. The coat she'd been forced to wear was heavy and dragged her down into the snow making it impossible to move at speed. After only a few yards she was exhausted. Pausing for a moment to catch her breath, she tried to remove the coat but suddenly and without warning, a hand reached up out of the snow and grabbed her by the ankle. Margie kicked and screamed but very quickly more hands reached up and before Margie knew it, she was once again dragged underground. This time, however, there was no fall and no chasm. Instead Margie found herself in a large ice cave surrounded by an ocean of men, women and children.
Were they going to tear her limb from limb? In her heart she knew she wouldn't be able to do anything for these people; she didn't have a magic wand that could make it all better. She couldn't take their stories and
send them into the light. She didn't know how. All she knew was that she was Margie May Langley and she wanted to go home.
A hand grabbed her wrist. Margie screamed and kicked fiercely, thumping and scratching blindly at the attacker. Another person seized her from behind. With another cry Margie thrashed about wildly, but to no avail. The person behind her placed his hand across her mouth and gripped it tightly. "Shh," he hissed urgently. "It's important you listen to us."
The person behind her loosened his grip, allowing Margie to move away and face her assailants. And when Margie saw who it was, she froze.
"Dad?" she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. "Is that you?"
There was a long moment where a million things were said without being spoken. Margie just couldn't believe her eyes. She wanted to cry, to fling her arms around him but he seemed so small. So fragile. A lifetime of guilt had sucked the life out of him. And now, cloaked in sadness, he could barely look Margie in the eyes.
There was no hug. No emotional reunion.
"Are you still angry with me?" she asked, trying to catch his eyes.
William's chin crumpled and his knees buckled slightly. "I never were," he whispered. "I never were."
Margie grabbed her father's hand.
"Dad, I'm so sorry. I can't do the things they ask me to do."
He nodded for a while longer than he needed to. "I know."
"Where's mum?"
"She buggered off. Married someone else. Don't blame her really," he said sadly.
Margie cocked her head gently and slowly reached out to him. He reached back. As their finger tips met, Margie remembered a time when he was her everything; even at his worst when he came crashing through the front door at three o'clock in the morning reeking of alcohol and spitting obscenities at everyone.
And then it occurred to her that he still was. After all these years. After all the heartache. He still had her heart.
"Do you still have that wooden foot with the face on it?" she asked him.
William smiled, like he himself had just remembered. He quickly lifted his trouser leg to reveal a wooden leg. There was no face.
