Dirk looked up at Chris triumphantly, as if he’d just come up with the most worked out plan since Hitler’s invasion of Russia. And to be fair to Dirk, he had once written an essay on exactly that—ripping Hitler’s plan to bits and pointing out how much better Dirk could have done it.
“All very good, Dirk,” Chris said. “But what do you need me for?”
“Ah well, to protect me. You see, I’ll have to be asleep to get the Beast to find me in my dreams. So there’ll be a few moments when I’m vulnerable, before I can wake up. You can get in between it and me when it manifests in the real world,” he said.
Christopher snorted with derisory laughter, “Oh yeah! You want me to get ripped to pieces while you hang out in the Savemart parking lot, is that it?”
“Oh no, my friend, not at all!” said Dirk. “It will be perfectly safe for you. The White Beast will have to bow down before you, like the Unicorn before the Virgin Maid. For you are of Pure Heart, and if one of Pure Heart stands at the side of the victim of the White Beast of Retribution, then the White Beast must be at peace. It cannot attack. Because if you stand by me, out of friendship or love, then Retribution cannot be visited upon me, because I must be worthy of Redemption! Do you see?”
Chris stared at him. “Pure heart? Me? Are you sure you’re not just a bit confused because my surname happens to have the word ‘pure’ in it?”
“No, not at all,” said Dirk emphatically. “Though it can’t do any harm.”
Chris’s brow furrowed. The trust that Dirk had in Christopher’s friendship kind of made him feel a bit guilty. Dirk really did see him as a friend. One of the very few friends he had. Just him and Sooz in fact. And maybe Sal. Chris sighed. He felt sorry for Dirk.
Dirk didn’t even notice. He went on. “It’s all nonsense of course—Retribution, Pure Hearts, Redemption, Forgiveness! Bah, what garbage! But these goody-two-shoes types, the Hasdrubans and the Paladins, they have to have their rules, you see, and they always insist on playing by them, oh yes indeed. Can’t be a goody-goody if you don’t stick to the rules. Which has always been their greatest weakness, of course. Hasdruban will be defeated by his own ridiculous code. Brilliant!” Dirk muttered on like this for a while longer.
Christopher just stood up, shook his head in disbelief, and went back to his own room. As he lay in his bed, he began to think. Dirk was back, that was for sure, and acting stranger than ever. But what if a lynx had escaped from a zoo or something, and there was one in the area? Lynxes weren’t particularly big and were usually scared of humans, but still—what if they actually found the real thing? Chris wasn’t going to protect him from a real lynx, for goodness’ sake! Well, for evil’s sake, Christopher thought to himself with a smile.
But the chances were that they’d never find the White Lynx of Wendle, and especially not by calling for it in the Savemart parking lot, so Chris didn’t really have anything to worry about, did he? Unless of course, it really was the White Beast of Retribution, sent from another world to eat the Black Heart of Dirk. But that couldn’t be true now, could it? Surely not!
The White Beast
It was Sunday night. Midnight. Dirk opened Chris’s bedroom door as silently as he could. Chris was up, waiting for him, dressed in a black shirt and pants. He grinned at Dirk conspiratorially.
“I’m ready,” whispered Chris. Dirk nodded grimly. Together they crept down the stairs and out of the house without waking the Purejoies. Dirk had been planning their little expedition for several days now. To Chris, it was a midnight jaunt, a bit of rebellion. To Dirk, it was a deadly game of cat and mouse. And he was the mouse. He could be destroyed forever, this very night. Unless he turned the tables. Could the hunted become the hunter?
“We shall see!” he said out loud.
“What did you say?” said Christopher.
“Oh, nothing, nothing. Let’s go,” replied Dirk.
They set off toward Savemart. After a twenty-minute walk, during which they tried to avoid being seen—two young boys out on the town after midnight might attract some unwanted attention, especially from the police—they came to the Savemart parking lot. It was utterly deserted at this time of night—which was what they were hoping for, of course. Bright light from the main store kept the parking lot fairly well lit, but at the outer edges the light faded into a kind of shadowy twilight. It was here, at the fringes of the parking lot, that Dirk had fallen to earth, all those months ago.
Dirk flicked on a flashlight. He would have preferred to use the Finger Flame Cantrip or the more powerful Orb of Illumination—magic spells didn’t have batteries, and only ran out when you wanted them to. Still, human technology wasn’t so bad.
He searched the parking spots, looking for one with a puddle of black oil. And there it was, the light glinting strangely from its slimy surface. Essence of Evil. Essence of a Dark Lord. Essence of Dirk.
Chris stared at it in fascination. He could almost feel it. As if it were calling to him, tempting him. Persuading him to do things. Bad things. Evil things. He stepped back in trepidation. It must be a trick of the night, his mind playing tricks on him in this dark and deserted place. It couldn’t actually be a puddle of pure evil, could it?
Then a thought struck him, and he said, “If it is your Evil Essence, Dirk, why don’t you take it back? Don’t you miss it? All that evil?”
Dirk turned and stared at Chris, his face a pallid white mask in the dim light. A look of distaste seemed to cross his features.
“I thought of that … But somehow … it just felt … I didn’t want …” Dirk’s voice trailed off as if he couldn’t finish what he wanted to say. Perhaps he didn’t know what he wanted to say.
Chris continued to stare at the black slime. Somehow it drew him. “Maybe you’d get your old body back—you know, with the claws, and the horns and everything,” said Chris absentmindedly. “And your evil laugh is sounding more evil these days …”
Dirk glanced over at him and frowned. He didn’t like the expression on Chris’s face.
“Step away from the Evil Essence, Chris,” Dirk shouted. “That stuff can snare your soul! Even I dare not risk getting too close!”
Chris ignored him, so Dirk took him by the arm and led him away, making sure his back was to the slick black mucus.
“And anyway, I have thought about that too, but what do you think they’d do if I turned up at school with yellow tusks, massive horns, skull and bone showing all over the place and standing twelve feet tall? They’d probably call the SWAT team in or something!”
Chris seemed to snap out of whatever trance he’d been falling under, and laughed out loud.
“Ha, Mousehammer would try and put you in detention,” said Chris.
“Bah, I wouldn’t even fit in the detention room,” said Dirk, looking over at Chris to make sure he was okay. He’d forgotten just how dangerous Essence of Evil was for humans.
“Anyway, Chris, I want you to stand here. Don’t look at the black stuff, okay? I’m going to sit down nearby and try to doze off for a bit. When I’m dreaming, I’ll let the White Beast find me.”
“Then what happens?” said Chris.
“It should materialize nearby,” said Dirk.
“What do you mean exactly by ‘materialize’?” asked Chris.
“Literally appear out of thin air! I’ll still be asleep—it’ll try and come for me. You’ve got to get in its way—appease the savage Beast and all that. And if I don’t wake up, you’ve got to wake me. Any way you can—shout at me, scream at me—by the Nine Netherworlds, kick me if you have to! Okay? Got it?” said Dirk, looking at Chris desperately.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Chris dismissively. Chris didn’t really believe anything would happen. There probably wasn’t even a lynx on the loose as it was almost certainly a hoax—and he certainly didn’t believe one of them was stalking through Dirk’s dreams, trying to hunt him down inside his head. Chris sighed. Sure, it was fun sneaking out at night, but now the excitement was beginning to wear o
ff. Here they were in some stupid parking lot, and what was he doing? Standing by while Dirk went to sleep. Oh, what fun …
Dirk shook Chris aggressively. “Listen, Chris, stop daydreaming! This is serious! The White Beast could kill me. Forever! Do you understand?”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, it will ‘devour your soul’ and ‘consume you utterly for all time’ just like you said the other night. No coming back as the undead. Not even as a mindless zombie. Gone forever, finito, kaput, bye-bye Dark Lord forever; yes, I get it, Dirk!”
“Okay then,” said Dirk, eyeing Chris with worried concern. It was clear Chris really didn’t get it. But once the Beast turned up, he would—pretty quickly. And Dirk had no real choice—it was only a matter of time before the Beast hunted him down anyway, and the chances were that it would happen when he was on his own and vulnerable. Asleep in his bed probably. No, better to have the thing find him on his own terms, on ground of his own choosing.
Dirk hunkered down, the black slick of Evil Essence just in front of him. He crossed his legs, Buddha style, and closed his eyes. After a few minutes he sank into a kind of trancelike sleep.
Chris glanced over at him. Dirk’s eyes were shut. In the shadowy twilight his face was as pale as the moon. Then his eyes began to twitch. Suddenly his mouth curled up into a rictus grin of fear. His mouth gaped and he screamed out loud, a horrifying wail of sheer terror!
The hairs rose on the back of Chris’s neck. Whatever was going on in Dirk’s mind it was definitely frightening the life out of him. And Christopher too!
Then Chris took an involuntary step back. His heart started hammering in his chest, and his mouth suddenly dried up like desert sand. Something had appeared in the air. A little white ball of glowing energy. A strange scent filled the air—like burning gasoline and roses mixed together.
Chris took another step back. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing—the white ball of energy was growing larger and larger! It was turning into some kind of brightly glowing, gigantic cat—a tiger perhaps, or a panther, or some kind of otherworldly leopard—much larger and more frightening than a lynx! It was glowing white like a photo negative—just like Dirk’s drawing. Its jaws dripped with saliva, its teeth were long and savage, its talons sharp and deadly. Its eyes were forming into yellow globes of relentless hunger.
It was all Chris could do not to pee in his pants at the sight of it. It was utterly, utterly terrifying. Bad enough if it’d been just a real panther, but to see it come out of the air like that! A phantom leopard, a ghost tiger. It was too much! Chris turned to run for his life, a scream of fear on his lips. But as he turned he caught sight of Dirk, just sitting there asleep. And the White Beast? It was appearing a few feet behind him. Nowhere near the black mucus! Dirk would be completely at its mercy. With one bound it could be upon him. And it would rip off his head in the blink of an eye.
Chris panicked—he wanted so much to run. But he couldn’t leave his friend in the lurch. For a moment loyalty and terror warred for control of his soul. Loyalty won. With a whimper of fear, he turned and ran back. Just as the White Beast was preparing to leap, Chris stepped over Dirk’s sleeping form and ran right at the creature, blocking its way. He shouted at the top of his voice, “Dirk, wake up, Dirk! Dirk!”
The Beast bared its hideous fangs and roared. It raised one taloned paw, ready to rip Chris’s head off with a single strike. Chris quailed back in fear but stood his ground, praying that Dirk had been telling the truth.
The Beast hesitated for a moment, paw raised to strike. It fixed Chris with a deadly stare.
It felt to Chris like it was looking into his very heart, into the deepest reaches of his soul. And then its ears went back and it sank back on its haunches. It lowered its head submissively. Then it rested its head on its paws gazing up at Chris passively. Chris couldn’t believe it. Now it looked like nothing more than an oversized house cat, a big, white, shining Garfield. Chris chuckled. He even reached down and stroked the thing between the ears.
He looked around—Dirk was waking up slowly, as if from an anesthetic.
But then Chris’s eyes were drawn inexorably to the black mucus. Dirk faded away from his consciousness, receding into the distance like a forgotten memory. Christopher’s vision was overwhelmed with the sight of the glistening black slime. It filled his mind.
Strange thoughts began to race around Christopher’s brain. What was he doing? All he had to do was step aside, unleash the White Beast. That would be the end for Dirk! No more competition for his parents’ love. Sooz would be devastated, of course. And he could console her! She’d be his friend. She’d love him, not Dirk. Yes, this was his chance, his chance to finally be rid of that interloper, that cuckoo boy, Dirk Lloyd the usurper!
Without another thought, Chris acted. He stepped aside and backed off. “Go on, get him, Beast, get him,” he heard himself saying maliciously.
The Beast jumped up and roared. Dirk woke up. He rose and turned.
“Christopher, why?” was all he could say before the White Beast leaped into the air and came crashing down on top of Dirk.
“By all that is unholy, noooo!” Dirk cried as the Beast’s slavering jaws slammed down at his throat, trying to rip it out with one bite. At the last moment, Dirk managed to get his left arm up, and the Beast’s jaws closed around it.
Seeing this, Chris was shocked out of the evil miasma that had taken control of his mind. He screamed in horror. He dashed forward, trying to get in the way, trying to pull the thing off his friend, shouting, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again.
Dirk was gasping in pain—the Beast was biting down on his forearm. Through gritted teeth Dirk managed a few words—“Betrayal—heart no longer pure, nothing you can do. Back off, Chris, back off now!”
“No,” said Chris. And he wrapped his arms around the Beast’s neck, trying to pull it off. The Beast dragged Dirk backward, and then rose up, still gripping his arm, and shook itself, trying to get Chris off its back. The strength of the beast was enormous—Dirk, his left arm still held hard in its jaws, was shaken about like a rag doll, his face grimacing in a mask of pain. Chris was thrown through the air, to crash in a heap several feet away. He lay there, stunned.
But that gave Dirk time to come up with an idea. His eyes narrowed, his face took on a look of iron determination. He muttered a few words under his breath, and passed his free hand through the air in an arcane pattern. Suddenly his left forearm came away just below the elbow! The Beast couldn’t believe it. For a moment it was confused, unsure. It had an arm in its mouth, but the arm was still moving! Dirk began to scramble backward along the ground. The hand in the Beast’s mouth actually reached up and poked it in the eye. Despite the danger, Dirk managed a little snigger at that.
The Beast hissed and dropped the hand. Then it leaped after Dirk. But Dirk was on the other side of the black pool of mucus by now, and the Beast landed right in front of it. It stared at Dirk hungrily, readying itself for the final leap, but then its eyes dilated strangely, its mouth opened, and its tongue lolled. It made a strange sound, a greedy kind of mewling. Then it began to lap up the black slime like milk, purring as it did so. The dark slime coursed through its body filling in the negative whiteness with solid black lines, turning its strange otherworldly fur as black as coal. As its form took on the hue of shadows, it began to fade away, dissipating into the night like smoke in the wind. Soon all that was left were two glowing yellow eyes hanging in the darkness. Then they too faded out of existence. All was quiet.
Dirk lay back and gasped. His left hand crawled toward him. He picked up his Sinister Hand with his right one and reattached it to the stump, mumbling a few arcane spell words under his breath, his face screwed up in pain. White puncture wounds from the teeth of the Beast bled slowly from his arm. Considering the size of the Beast, they didn’t look that bad. Nothing a few stitches couldn’t fix.
Chris stood and watched all this in shocked horror and amazement. F
or a start, it was obvious that everything Dirk had ever told him about—the Darklands, Skirrits, the spell of the Sinister Hand, Dark Lords and White Wizards, and all the rest of it—it was all true. That was hard enough to take in. On top of that, he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for betraying his friend.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Can you forgive me, Dirk? I don’t know what came over me—it was like I was taken over or something. It wasn’t …”
“There is nothing to forgive, Chris. I know what happened—it was the Essence of Evil. It took you over, made you do those things, spoke to the dark in your soul, corrupted you for a moment.”
“Still, the White Beast nearly killed you because of me,” said Chris, sorrowfully.
“And it could have killed you too. Easily. With one bite, with one swipe of its claw. But you jumped on its back, Chris, despite the risk. That gave me time to prepare and cast the Sinister Hand spell. That saved me.”
“I … saved you?” said Chris.
“Yes! And anyway, it’s all over now. A great weight has been lifted from my mind—I am free at last, free from the threat of utter destruction. The White Beast has been defeated. Hasdruban’s plot has been thwarted! Mwah, ha, ha!”
Part Five:
Separation
Another Crazy Plan?
June Misery 11
Dark Lord Page 15
