“Help me. Please,” she cried, and her body began to sink into the blue soil which she lay upon. The Earth itself wrapped her in love and healed her, the soil staining her olive skin a deep blue. Mother woke having the love of Earth about her and began to walk.
“I thank you for the gift of life. I have no kingdom, no riches, or talent worthy of this. I am simply a woman, broken and reborn of the Earth. I have nothing more to offer you but a dance,” Mother said, as she danced the first dance of the Blue Goddess.
The sway of her hips led her out of the forest; running into a soldier who desired her beautiful naked body. Mother fought him, taking his trident and severing his head. She tied his head around her neck, dangling it like a necklace.
Arriving back at the camp, the soldiers recognized her; ready to ravage her once more. Mother smiled and the blue stain upon her skin turned to a shade of black. One, by one, Mother severed the heads of the army; hundreds of thousands lay dead. Standing on a field of victory, her stomach began to growl.
She bit into the flesh of the king, finding that it created in her an insatiable hunger. Her wrath had no bounds as she traveled from village to village taking the heads of men. She ate whatever she hungered for; innocent or not. She arrived at a small village where a fisherman lay eyes upon her.
She was beautiful to his eyes, but the blood that stained her skin caused him to be concerned. Mother began to draw him in with the shake of her hips, but he looked beyond it; answering the call of the spirit trapped within.
His resistance to her summons made her scream, angry and defeated. Revenge for his offense to her was the killing of the men in the village. Mother danced the dance of victory but the fisherman lay at her feet sacrificing his life for the rest of the people. Beneath her feet, his ribs began to crack, his eyes watered and breath was being taken away.
“I forgive you beautiful one, for hurt people only hurt people. Let my sacrifice to you, be a healing to my people.”
The fisherman’s sincerity touched her heart. Mother's skin turned back to a shade of blue which he thought was even more beautiful. She wept uncontrollably as she realized what she had done. The fisherman embraced her, taking her into his house and gave her the gift of his heart which she ate and digested. Mila was in tears as she watched Mother's story, but Mother embraced her.
“Mila. I will give you my trident if you can take my pain,” she said holding her trident out. Mila nodded and found herself being drug by the soldier. She relived Mother's torture and Mother watched her honorably. Cesare could feel the pain and he passed out at the table. His spirit went in search for her and he found Mila killing innocents.
“Mila? What is this place? What are you doing?” he asked as he approached.
She looked at him, he was dressed in his Cardinal uniform and she began to weep.
“I hate them all! I will kill you too! You’re just a man. You want to hurt me!” she shouted.
“No, baby. I love you. We are bound remember? We share the same soul. So we can never be apart,” he said, as he began to tear up.
Mila was covered in blood and she looked monstrous. She swatted at him as he approached, hissing like a snake.
“Let me take you home love,” he said calmly. She hit him with her trident across his chest and she too felt the blow.
“Do you wish to kill me?”
“Yes,” she uttered with a hiss.
“Then let my sacrifice to you, be a healing to your spirit,” he said, laying upon the ground.
Mila jumped on his chest, the bone shash began to jingle and she danced to her own rhythm in triumph. Amidst her laughs, the bones in Cesare’s chest began to crack, she realized she was hurting him as he cried; feeling the pain herself.
She fell and saw her reflection in the silver pond.
“I’m a monster!” she shouted as she began to cry.
“You are a monster. But a beautiful one. See, I’m a monster too,” he said as his face began to take the shape of a devil. Mila ran her fingers along the horns on his head and he pressed his head into her bosom.
Her long, pointed tongue wrapped around his horns as she held him close.
“Take me home Cesare,” she pleaded and he picked her up, jumping into the silvery pond.
Cesare woke to a hard gasp blinking his eyes as his spirit fell back into his body. The guys around the table stared at him silently as he coughed and attempted to regain his composure. Adonis walked over to him and took his can of beer.
“That's enough for you my friend,” he said, drinking it himself.
Cesare leaned his head back, opening his coat to see that he had a scar across his chest. As he ran his fingers across it he instantly began thinking of Mila. He quickly reached for his phone again and dialed her number, but again no answer.
“Yo check this shit out!” Caden said, diverting everyone's attention.
There was a news report of a gathering near a cemetery where men and women were dressed like Baron Samedi. They were burning his statues and altars, and mocking him.
“None of the gods exist because WE are the gods!” a woman in the news report said.
“Oh shit. I bet the Baron isn’t going to like this,” Adonis said sitting down, waiting for something to blow up.
“Yeah. They better stop before Samedi fucks their asses up. And they don’t want to be planted in La Croix's garden,” Cesare added.
“What should we do?” Caden asked.
“Nothing. If the Barons have a problem with this, then they'll handle it. Besides, we have our own sheeple to worry about,” Lance said.
“Anyways, what the hell happened to you just then?” Lance asked, diverting attention back to Cesare. He shook his head, not really sure how to answer.
“Nothing. Just dozed off I suppose.”
22
the mockery
Solon whistled while he drove the Reaper van through a dark patch of woods. His elevated powers gave him a confidence which he had not felt in quite some time. He of course attributed his new found power to his moment with Mila and craved for another chance to feel her.
Messalla would turn his gaze towards him occasionally, but sat silent as Solon drove.
“You know the funny thing about life is, people are born to die. What a messed up existence. Then there are people like Solon here who believe that they are above death. But you cannot run from death son, just die,” Solon went on.
Messalla noticed that he was talking in third person which added to his suspicion. Solon shook his head and blinked his eyes as though he were falling asleep.
“I performed my first Alchemical transmutation at the age of fifteen. Of course this was an uncommon thing for a young man who barely fit the robe of a Nigredo, but alas I did. My teacher, my poor teacher. I do miss him. He was like a father to me. The only one I've ever known,” Solon said, as his mind was flooded with memories of a forgotten past.
Messalla noticed the change in his voice as though he were talking as two people at once.
“How old are you sir? I have always wondered,” Messalla said, hoping the conversation would help ease his own mind.
“I was born to an artist and a whore. My father used to make mosaics for the brothels in a small town called Herculaneum. My mother was the bread winner,” Solon said laughing.
“So you are Roman then. Like Rufus?”
Solon scoffed. “No. I’m not Roman like Rufus. Rufus isn’t Roman. Not by blood anyway. He was born near the Black Sea. But I do remember the very day we met. It’s the same day I tried to destroy him. The same day I destroyed everything else,” he said trailing off. Messalla saw his eyes going far, too far, to a dark past.
Solon's robes began to turn from white to red as the steering wheel began to melt.
“Master! What are you doing?!” Messalla shouted as the van began to tumble down the steep hill. Solon was in a daze as the van bounced off of trees like a ping pong ball. Messalla opened Solon's door and it flew off as it hit a tree.
/> He pushed Solon out of the van and watched him fall upon the ground. He followed suit, watching the van crash into a tree down below. Messalla huffed and puffed as he attempted to catch his breath. His heart beating violently fast and his worry intensified as there was the howling of wolves in the background. He quickly stood up and looked around for Solon, but could not see where he had fallen.
“Master!” he yelled softly as not to give away his location.
Messalla looked everywhere but Solon was nowhere to be found. The ruffling of leaves, and the crunching of twigs alerted him to the fast approaching strides of more than one wolf. Messalla was not in the mood to kill anyone else, but quickly thought of Marissa tied in the back of the van.
He ran towards her direction, against the sound of the footsteps but it was too late. A large wolf turned to his human form and opened the back of the flaming van. Marissa screamed at the top of her voice as he removed the gag around her mouth. Messalla fell to the ground watching as the wolves drug her back to their den.
He began running as fast as he could until he reached the street where he commandeered a passing motorcycle. He sped to a portal near his house where he ditched the bike and ran the next two hours straight. Messalla reached his home and immediately fell to his knees. He released a ferocious wail as he cried from the depths of his soul.
His feet squished as they bled, his legs weak and heart ever so heavy. Messalla began tearing off his robes and punching the floor as his wives Vanessa and Petra ran downstairs to see about the commotion; finding their husband in pieces.
Vanessa grabbed his face which was red and wet from tears picking him up off the floor and onto the couch. Petra closed the blinds and doors, looking out to make sure no one was after him.
“I'm such a fucking failure!” he said rocking back and forth. “Sala please tell us what's wrong,” Petra said, looking as though she were about to tear up.
“I wish I could tell you, but I can’t.”
“Why not? It’s us. We love you. Whatever you tell us, stays in this room,” Vanessa reassured.
Messalla began to slow down his breathing as the ladies gave him comfort. Petra burned a bundle of lavender and gave him a cup of chamomile tea to help calm him. His eyes, still red, were no longer crying, but rather stared blankly.
“Eight years ago Solon sent me to the Hollow to retrieve some things for a spell he was working on. I was by myself and thought nothing of it. But I ran into the Magia. Cesare, Lance, Adonis and so forth. They were completing their pillars for the Agoge. It’s something that all Black Knights must complete; it’s a rigorous training camp of sorts, but only the best make it through. One of the things that makes the Magia so powerful is their combat training. They can kill you without magic, because unlike most of the other orders, they don’t solely rely on it. But anyways, I saw them. And wanted to be them. I followed them for a while, forgetting my own duties but I didn’t care. Cesare caught me spying and beat me up pretty bad,” he said laughing.
“He's always hated me from the beginning. After that, I gathered my things and came back to Upper Earth. I went to the Blue Palace while the barrier was down because I was pretty messed up about it. There I met The Man,” he said.
Vanessa put her hand over her mouth as she listened, knowing full well that the story was about to get bad.
“We talked. I told him what happened and he offered to help. He said: “I can place your name in the lot in exchange for sacrifices to the nganga.” It took several years for me to muster the fortitude, but I agreed. I did not know, that one of those sacrifices would be my mother. The morning he took her soul, my name appeared at the Round Table. When I found out what happened, he said the only way to get my mother's soul back was by an offering of tenfold,” he said crying.
“Oh Sala. Why would you keep this from us?” Petra asked.
“So you’re the one who's been doing the witch burnings?” Vanessa asked, looking distraught.
Messalla nodded. “I had to do concealment spells to make it look like one of the sheeple orders was trying to do magic. Just to deflect attention from any of the Hidden orders.”
“I can’t believe you! Some of them were my friends!” she shouted, stomping off towards the room and slamming the door.
“Sala that is pretty messed up,” Petra said.
“You think I don’t know that!?” he shouted back, causing her to flinch. He grabbed his coat and walked out the door. Petra ran upstairs to console Vanessa who was pretty shaken up by Messalla's story.
“What are we gonna do?” Petra asked.
“I don’t know. But I don’t think leaving him is a good idea right now. We could be next on the list,” Vanessa said.
“No. Sala loves us V.”
“Really? Like he loved his mom?”
“That was an accident,” Petra replied.
“Do you want to be an accident?” Vanessa asked her as she shook her head, turning on the television. A news report popped up showing people partying in the streets for the Festival of the Dead. Petra turned and looked, laughing.
“Why are they dressed up like the Barons?” she asked.
***
Baron Samedi sat upon his throne attempting to listen to the prayers and praises of his human followers. His head began to spin and ache as he tried to sort through the thousands of moaning angels outside his door. He slammed his fist into the arm of his throne and stomped towards the front door.
“Shut the fuck up!” he yelled as the angels continued to groan for release. “La Croix! Clean this shit up!” he yelled, but there was no response.
Samedi raised an eyebrow as his commands were never ignored. “Piquant!” he yelled, and he appeared.
“Yes?”
“Where is La Croix?”
“I do not sense him here. Perhaps he has descended,” Piquant answered.
“Ah! Fuck it! I release you bastards from my care. Now get out!” Samedi said as he opened the skies above.
One by one the angels became wrapped in a wind tunnel carrying them upward.
“Ah. What a relief. Angel cries are permeating.”
“Right,” Samedi said as he turned to walk back in his castle. Something pulled at him, making his steps harder.
“What in the shit?!” he yelled as he listened to complete silence.
“Piquant, do you hear that?”
“I hear nothing.”
“Exactly. What the fuck is going on?” he asked stomping back into the castle. He looked at Earth through his large crystal ball and was appalled at what he saw.
“You have got to be shitting me!” he yelled. “So they think they're gods now huh? They think we don’t exist Piquant,” he said as Baron Cimitiére appeared.
“Looks like we have a problem down south. The Prophet's awakening seems to have worked,” he said as Baron Samedi began to change his appearance.
Skulls protruded on top of his hat and across his chest. Spikes upon his belt, shoulders and boots added to the ferocity of his painted skull face mask.
“Let's go pay Earth a visit. And while I'm down there, we need to retrieve Kriminel,” he said.
The three Barons flew towards the dark skies of Purgatorio through a portal to Upper Earth. The mocking Samedi festival was full of happy humans dancing, laughing and performing fake magic tricks.
Samedi appeared in front of oncoming traffic and punched the car with his fist; blowing the car up sky high. The sheeple at the gathering turned to see the three Barons approaching side by side. The sheeple began to clap and a man stopped Samedi in his tracks.
“Dude. Where the hell did you get your costume?” a fat man in a poorly made Baron costume asked.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I think we have a winner for the costume contest!” a man said over a loudspeaker.
Baron Samedi began to clap, and as he did silence fell over the gathering. “You stupid sheeple. You dare mock the Royal House of Guédé. So you don’t believe in me eh? I will make you believe,” he
said as he pulled out his chained scythe.
The Barons sliced the sheeple one by one. As the people screamed, the Baron laughed, making sure he left no one alive. The Knights watched as another news report played on the screen.
“It seems that there has been a terrorist attack at a peaceful gathering. Three men with swords have gone and murdered everyone --” the reporter said as she too felt the end of the Baron's blade.
The camera fell to the ground but the three Barons could be seen sheathing their weapons. Adonis hollered laughing, causing the other Knights to laugh. “What did I tell you man! You know shit's getting bad when the Baron comes down here himself!”
Cesare was also tickled at the events, but his heart was still somewhere else. As the three Barons started to walk off, Samedi found himself being pulled. Cimitiére grabbed for him but he was sucked into a vortex. He traveled until he landed on a poorly drawn veve in an abandoned cemetery.
The sounds of black heavy metal music and chants stopped as Samedi took form before a group of those the Prophet touched.
“Holy shit. Are you the devil?” a man asked.
“How did you summon me sheeple?”
“We just read from the book. I honestly didn’t think it would work,” the man replied. Samedi tried to step forward but he was trapped inside his veve.
“Satan! I command you to grant me the power of levitation!” one of the summoners commanded.
Samedi's handsome face began taking the form of a white painted skull once again. His eyes turned solid black as he began to break down the barrier which kept him.
“Satan! You are under our command. You will do as we say!” the man said as Samedi broke free.
“Where is my crown?!”
“Crown? What crown?” one of the men asked. A woman held in her hand the Baron's top hat. He raised his hand and it came to him.
“Masaka!” he yelled, shaking the ground around him.
Masaka appeared with her shovel in hand, her white shirt tied around her waist.
“My lord Baron. You're here. In the flesh. How?” Masaka asked bowing.
Knights of Enmity: The Barons Have Fallen (Descending Fires Book 1) Page 28
