by Mark Ayre
Someone had beat her to the punch. All four men were dead.
Their mangled corpses revealed their murderer, and fear of this unexpected obstacle kicked Carter’s heart into overdrive.
Nearby, something roared.
Unsurprised by the sound, Carter took a deep breath and proceeded across the room.
From the stone balcony which overlooked the arid landscape of hell, Eve was led through a stone arch into the castle’s grandest bedroom.
At the sight of the luxurious four-poster bed, hidden by thick red drapes, Eve’s heart pounded with fear. In this world, she was sure she could not use her power. Should he decide to take her to the bed, she would have to use fists and feet to escape his clutches. Though he didn’t look imposing physically, she was sure he could overwhelm her by supernatural means.
The bed was not his target. He led Eve into a stone corridor lined with thick wooden doors and bracketed candles. The screams of the tormented leaked through the brickwork from all directions. Outside, an endless line of lost souls climbed the mountain path towards castle gates that never closed. Once they entered, they would never leave, indicating this damned place must run into eternity.
Avoiding these thoughts, Eve followed him to another stone room, the centrepiece of which was a long wooden table. At either end sat a throne. Along each side were six more humble chairs.
“Sit,” he said. Until Eve did, he clutched the offered throne, as though planning to yank it away at the last second. She sensed this was not his style.
Because this castle, and possibly this world, were his, she expected he would take the opposite throne, which was even larger than the one in which she sat. She did not want to meet his eye but felt relief that he would be far from her.
But, rather than the throne, he grabbed the chair to her left and pushed it close. When he sat, he leaned in, placing a hand on her arm.
“Eve the talker,” he said. His voice was low and sad. “On Earth, I hear it is near impossible to shut you up, yet, whenever you visit, you remain mute. Why is that?”
Though he stared into her face, she would not turn to meet his eye. Thirty seconds he waited before sighing and leaning back.
“Many here have had their tongue ripped free. You are not one. Please speak.”
Knowing he would not relent, she wet her lips and worked to make her mouth move. As she spoke, she stared ahead. She could not bear to look upon his face.
“Why am I here?”
“You do talk, how wonderful,” he leaned forward, then examined the room. “Why are you here? Well, this is the dining room. I thought you might be hungry.”
She flinched as he raised his arms and clapped.
A millisecond later a small door in one corner opened. A servant dressed all in black with a covered face entered carrying a large tray. Another covered servant followed with two plates and cutlery, a third with glasses, and a fourth with a lableless bottle she guessed must be wine. In silence, they set the table.
“They don’t usually hide their faces,” her host said, “Because I care deeply about you, I asked them to dress this way. You screaming in terror would not be conducive to conversation.”
Once the table was set, the servers departed. Eve watched them go, watched the door close, then spoke again, her eyes still on the opposite throne.
“Do you have a name?”
“Not one that can be translated to any Earth language,” he said. “Why don’t you name me?”
“How about Satan?”
He laughed. “You think me the devil? I’m afraid it’s nothing so simple. How about Jehovah?”
“You saying you’re God?”
“A God, in a way,” he said. He did not believe he was bragging. “I have created many creatures great and small. So, let’s go with Jehovah.”
“Jev for short,” said Eve.
“If you like. Now,” he waved his hands over the table. “Shall we see what we’ve got?”
Without awaiting a response, he pulled the lid off the tray. Within sat a colossal joint of cooked pork, around which were several bowls of potatoes and fresh vegetables. The smell was intoxicating; saliva-inducing.
“I’m not hungry,” she said.
“Liar.” He popped the cork from the bottle and sniffed. “Delicious. Care to taste?”
“No.”
Tutting, Jev poured two glasses anyway then placed the bottle aside. Next to the pork was a carving knife. He took this and began to carve.
“Why am I here?” Eve repeated. “Not this room. This place. I didn’t use my powers enough, did I?”
“Do you remember what happened?” Jev asked, serving meat onto her plate then returning to carve some for himself. “Help yourself to veg and ‘tatoes by the way. It’s all fresh.”
“I remember parachuting to the ground,” she said. “I used my powers for that, and the world was shimmering, but not enough. Then the agents arrived. I threatened to use my powers, but I didn’t. Did I? I don’t think…” as she tried to force the memory, her hand went absently to her stomach. Jev smiled and pointed.
“You got shot,” he said. “Because you’d used your powers, the walls were weak. When the bullet hit, we were able to drag your spirit through. Saved you some pain, by the way, because it meant you fell unconscious. You’re welcome.”
The next question, she had to force herself to ask.
“So, I’m alive?”
Jev smiled. Because she hadn’t taken any veg or potatoes, he served them both.
“You are,” he confirmed. “I couldn’t have you die. You’re one of the most important living beings. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Why? How?”
“You are blessed with glorious purpose,” he said. “You are a vital component in my ultimate plan.”
Now she could not help but look at his face. She had never seen anything simultaneously so beautiful and so repulsive. She couldn’t explain why it was the latter.
“What goal?” she asked.
“The fall of man.”
After sipping wine, he chuckled. “And woman, of course.”
Though every corridor looked the same, as Adam took yet another turn, he was sure the exit lay only one right away.
Beat from running, he allowed his aching body to slow. Sleep beckoned, but he could not rest until he had earned some distance between him and his pursuers.
As he approached the right turn, three figures appeared at the other end of the hallway. He froze, ready to place Eve on the floor and fight, when he realised these three were Doc, Francis, and the hooded man he had earlier seen flee Carter.
“We gotta bounce,” said Doc. “If not right now, then at least half an hour ago.”
“Where are the rest of your guys?”
“Dead.”
Doc was white-faced, furious. Fear for his sister kept Adam’s guilt at bay.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve seen an agent, but I don’t know—”
“This wasn’t an agent,” said Francis. “This was Grendel.”
Adam stopped and span, as though Grendel might be behind him. No sign. Speeding to a jog, he approached the turn, the exit.
Francis had had the same idea. Arriving before Adam, he disappeared around the corner. Doc and White Hood were a few paces behind.
The explosion of a shotgun preceded by only a split-second Francis flying out of the corridor and smashing the wall. Sliding to the floor, he clutched his stomach and stared at the bullet’s damage. Shock meant his primary emotion was confusion rather than pain.
“What?” he said.
Doc drew a shotgun, White Hood a pistol. Placing Eve on the floor, Adam drew Francis’ gun. He had four shots to deal with whatever threat lay around the corner.
Pressed against the wall, all three of them approached the turn.
From behind Doc, a roar. Adam watched a door crash open, and Grendel appear. White Hood spun, raising his gun then vanished beneath the monster.
His screams lasted se
conds.
“What the—” Doc was backing up and was almost at the turn. Adam darted forward, turned invisible and jumped across the gap, grabbing Doc and pulling him back. As they fell, he grabbed Francis’ ankle with his other hand and pressed his ankle to Eve’s exposed leg.
“What’s going on?” said Doc.
Adam’s power paired invisibility with inaudibility. Only he could hear Doc’s words yet, as the doctor spoke, Grendel looked up.
Before, Adam had only seen the monster hooded. Now, as the creature looked their way, Doc yelled in horror.
The creature’s skin was snow white, its eyes two black orbs. A bald head made more prominent ears which pointed like an elf’s. A wolf’s elongated jaw contained rows of hellish teeth, more akin to a shark’s than any mammal’s. Its nose was more of a snout and must have had the strength of a dog’s. Grendel began to sniff, as though knowing Adam and Doc were close, but unsure where.
Adam believed his power also made them unsmellable. He was afraid Grendel would prove him wrong.
Stretched between Doc, Francis and Eve, he was right across the exit corridor. The way was clear. The agent had either fled at Grendel’s roar or was waiting for them outside.
Adam prayed for the latter. He could not afford to wait until Grendel decided to leave. Already his head was pounding. Deafening waves crashing in his ears. Any second, his nose would begin to bleed. Within a minute, he might have passed out.
His gun was at his waist. His hands occupied.
“Point your shotgun at Grendel,” he said to Doc. “When I say go, pull the trigger, then grab Francis and get him out. I’ll get Eve.”
“He’ll be able to see me once I move, won’t he?” said Doc.
“He’ll be able to see you no matter what in a minute,” said Adam. “I can’t hold much longer.”
Still sniffing, Grendel moved closed to Doc. The frightened doctor pointed the shotgun barrel at the monster’s chest.
“I’m ready,” he said.
Adam waited.
Grendel moved forward another step.
Any second, Adam’s head would explode.
“Now.”
The gun roared, and so did Grendel. The slug smashed his chest, throwing him to the ground.
Doc was moving. Rising. He threw the gun onto his back and scooped Francis into his arms, sprinting down the corridor.
Adam’s head was swimming, his ears singing. Rising, he rushed to Eve, grabbing the gun as he went. Bending, he put his hands under her legs and back.
And Grendel barrelled into him.
As though he were a plastic bottle, he tumbled down the corridor, only stopping when the metal wall rose to greet him. The shock of the impact sent waves of pain up his spine.
Fighting the agony, he moved to his knees, raising his gun.
Too late. Grendel was over Eve.
Diving, he prepared to slaughter Adam’s sister.
Paralysed by fear, Carter stood shoulder to wall, finger to trigger, waiting for Adam.
A man burst from the building carrying Francis. Carter’s paralysis prevented her making the smart move: blowing the guy’s head off his shoulders. Sandra always said, “Loose ends lose lives.”
Her mind needed to command her finger to pull the trigger. Knowing Grendel was inside, her mind was otherwise occupied trying to convince her to approach the doors. Thus, the man went unshot.
Grendel had ruined another operation. She could not allow the monster to kill the twins. Dead, they were no use to the organisation.
Still, she hovered, fear a paralysing poison coursing through her veins. All she needed was the strength to take one step. Forward momentum would handle the rest.
Closing her eyes, she remembered every task she had ever completed, spending extra milliseconds on those she had almost failed. She had always found a way to get over the line. That was what she did. That was Carter.
This was enough. A tiny dose of courage crept through the terror. She took a step. As predicted, one step beget another, then another, until the tip of her gun was a millimetre from the door’s frame.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped back, swung around, and pointed her gun at the double doors.
Which crashed open as Grendel burst through. It took Carter a second to notice Eve in his arms then the monster had passed her. Running at Olympic speed across the concrete, he leapt up a seven-foot wall and disappeared over the top, girl and all.
Within seconds of the doors smashing open, Grendel was gone. Left behind, Carter struggled to process what had happened.
Adam appeared around the corner, bruised and dazed, staggering towards the door. When he saw her, he stopped, blinking.
“Eve,” he said.
“She’s next,” said Carter.
Preparing to throw open the door, she grabbed the handle, seeing as she did a reflection in the glass.
Before she could turn, the shotgun’s barrel cracked her skull, and she knew no more.
Jev leaned back, rubbed his stomach, and sighed with satisfaction.
“Delicious. My staff are truly the best.” At her full plate, he shook his head. “You’ll regret leaving that later.”
“Will I?” He still scared her, but a prolonged period in his presence had emboldened her to be more talkative, more aggressive. “I’m not in my body. Why should I need nourishment?”
“Your body doesn’t,” he said. “But a hearty meal is as good for mind as body. Things are going to get tough.”
The last sentence he delivered with a heavy tone she had not yet heard from him. When she looked up, his face was dark, but the clouds cleared at once and again, he was smiling.
“What’s going to happen?” she said. Since his earlier comments, she had pressed him on this fall of man and woman, but he would not relent.
Jev rose. “In a minute, you’ll wake with an agitated brother. He does so worry about you. Let him know you’ve survived the bullet, but you need to take it easy. Use your power and you’re as likely to bleed to death as return here. I don’t want that. Your brother must protect you, and you must let him.”
She said nothing. A response Jev took as assent.
“Excellent. Stay safe, and we’ll see each other soon.”
“That’s no incentive to stay safe.”
“Very droll,” he said. “Now off you go.”
He placed his palm on her chest. An agonising shock ran through her body, as though he’d hit her with a live defibrillator. She closed her eyes and screamed.
When she opened them, she was on her back. The castle was gone, and she knew she’d returned home. Above her, a shape moved. She could not help but smile.
“Adam.”
The shape leaned over her.
Grendel smiled.
Hattie was drinking again. Omi could smell it before entering the kitchen. A sweet, sickly wine that stuck in his throat and induced illness. If she had to be a drunk, he only wished she could have been into clean spirits.
She sat at the table with a half-eaten bowl of cereal and an almost empty mug of wine. The half-done bottle stood at her feet like a loyal dog, the fridge too far to travel for replenishments. She kept it off the table to hide it from Omi. What saddened him was that she believed this might work.
He said, “I suppose I don’t need to tell you the time.”
“10:18,” she said. “One hour and thirty-four minutes too early to be drinking. Spare me the lecture.”
“10:18 would be one hour and forty-two minutes too early if you found it acceptable to drink from midday. I don’t like to drink before six pm, which would make it seven hours and forty-two minutes too early to be drinking if it was 10:18. Which it isn’t. It’s 8:45.”
“Don’t be such a know-it-all.” She downed the wine and grabbed the bottle. He wanted to be angry but could only find pity. She was a kid. Seventeen. Should have been home arguing with her parents, sneaking out to meet friends, getting her heart broken.
“Have you checked on Delilah
this morning?”
“Nah,” she said. “Been busy.”
He bit his tongue before the lecture could slip free; reminding himself, he was here to ensure neither Hattie nor Delilah left the house. It was not his place to care. If the people for whom he worked did not want Hattie to drink, they would cease to grant her ever-increasing requests for more bottles.
“I’ll poke my head in,” he said.
“No,” she said as he moved for the door. Her words were a whip across his back. Such venom. “She’s mine. You leave her alone.”
He nodded. If Hattie wasn’t trying to leave, he was supposed to consent to her every command
“If you need me, I’ll be in the living room.”
“Whatever.”
As he stepped from kitchen to hallway, the landline rang. Nervous, he answered.
“Omi speaking.”
“Wow, fast response. Looking for an award?”
Omi’s heart sped. He recognised the voice.
“Hello, Sandra. I was right by the phone.”
“What luck. How are you?”
“I—”
“I don’t care. Let’s get to the point. We believe it’s likely Adam and Eve will soon pay you a visit.”
To this, Omi did not know what to say. It was not surprising the twins would seek to destroy what here the organisation had concealed. He was surprised they had discovered its presence beneath the home’s family façade.
“Someone shot Eve,” said Sandra. “I don’t believe she’ll be at full strength if she can use her powers at all. Still, they’ll be dangerous. We must be cautious.”
“Perhaps,” said Omi, knowing how dangerous it could be to speak against Sandra, “we should look to move the tracker back to the facility. If—”
“No,” Sandra cut in. “There are reasons for its location, as well you know. Besides, if we play this right, it could work to our advantage.”
Omi looked at the kitchen door, through which Hattie sat drinking. Upstairs, sweet Delilah was quiet, probably sleeping. Worrying for them was not in his job description but worry for them he did.
“You intend to use us as bait?”
