The Long Night of the Gods: Lilith Awakens (Forgotten Ones Book 2)

by M. H. Hawkins

  The Wolf’s eyebrow curved upwards in confusion. Overpopulation of dogs and mocking the poor? He didn’t get it, though he wasn’t left much time to ponder such nonsense. A petite girl, no older than a first-year shieldmaiden, was heading his way. Pretty as she was, she was too skinny and fragile for the Wolf to pay her any mind.

  Clad in the same kitschy color-scheme as the restaurant, the hostess came over and smiled widely. “Hello. Welcome to Tim Tom’s Neighborhood Grill. Can I help you?”

  “Yes,” the Wolf replied, still looking around at his strange environment. “I would like to get something to eat.”

  “Okay. Is it just you, or are you waiting on someone?”

  “No,” he replied while thinking, Seven are one. “No others. Just me.”

  The man was clearly out of place, and the hostess was wary of the stranger. But the hostess was a professional and was able to maintain her well-rehearsed smile. “Okay then. Right this way.” Then she grabbed a menu, a drink-menu, and some silverware (wrapped in a paper towel) and showed him to a table.

  The Wolf sat down to eat, and after some initial awkwardness and explaining, the waitress began bringing out a variety of plates of food. Thirty chicken wings. A large steak with potatoes. A half chicken with pasta. Four large mugs of ale.

  It didn’t take long before the restaurant’s other patrons took notice and began darting judgmental looks at the man. Despite his size, his garb, and his appetite; he was also a stranger. No one from the small town knew the man nor knew of where he came from. He was a strange spectacle. Chucks of meat got caught in his sharply trimmed beard. His ale foamed in the forest above his lips until he was able to wipe a sleeve across it. It was odd, a Viking dining at casual sit-down chain restaurant.

  The hours past, and the restaurant emptied until only a few patrons remained, scattered sporadically throughout it.

  The waitress was almost empty as the restaurant was. Still, she hid it well. Less well, she was also trying to hide her fatigue. Her name tag was splattered with spaghetti sauce and only read “olly;” it should have read “Molly.” Her glasses sat atop her puffy cheeks and wide nose, and she was quite homely and not what you would call beautiful. Polite and sweet, she was too nice and naïve for the world. Her glasses hid both her eyes and her pain. Life was hard. Still, every day she forced herself to smile and to believe in something better. And from the moment the Wolf picked up her scent, he liked her. Still, Molly was most certainly a sheep.

  As the Wolf chugged the bottom half of his beer to wash down the last chunks of meat, he belched into his hand just as Molly returned to his table. Her marshmallow cheeks puffed as she offered another heavy smile to the brooding man. “So, were you ready for the check?”

  “The check?” He thought about it then grunted as he realized what she was talking about. “The check. Unfortunately I have no money, but I have something much more valuable.” He laid out a large golden coin on the table.

  “Oh,” Molly gasped as her smile faded. The cherry on top of her low-tipping night. “You don’t… You don’t have any money? I’ll have to call the manager.”

  “I understand.” He slid the golden coin over to her. “But please, take my gift first.”

  She slid it into her pocket and forced another smile before leaving. “Thank you.” He’s nice, but this coin isn’t going to pay my rent.

  The manager was a thin and pale man in his forties. His colorful work clothes and poorly groomed hair made him look oddly cartoonish. A scowl was painted across his face, and his narrowed and thinning eyebrows lied just under the tops of his glaring glasses. “Sir, Molly tells me that you don’t have any money. Why would you come to a restaurant and order food, a bunch of food—and beer, if you didn’t have any money?”

  “It is true, I have nothing to pay you with, but I still required nourishment. And you gave me food when I had none. Your generosity is much appreciated.” He held up a golden coin for the man. “These are often not meant for your kind, but considering the circumstance, I will make an exception. Here is—“

  The thin scowling man slapped the coin out of his hand and snapped at him. “Generosity? You want to give me a fake gold coin for generosity? No, I need money.” He turned towards Molly. “You’re paying for this. You should have known. You should have known better, before you started shoveling food and beer in front of this guy, you should have made sure that he had enough money to pay for it.”

  The tears welled up in the plump waitress’s eyes as she nodded meekly. Molly was, most definitely, a sheep. His tab was $80.45, and she had only made $40 in tips so far. Negative money most definitely doesn’t pay the rent, and it won’t buy a birthday present for… Not now, Molly, deal with it later; she told herself. “Okay,” she whimpered.

  The Wolf lifted his head and sniffed at the air. Something smelt wrong, unnatural, unclean. “You. You are an abomination.”

  “Excuse me?” the manager snapped at him. “You’re a bum and—”

  The Wolf smashed his fist on the table, and the blanket of plates and beer mugs rattled and dinged loudly. “Excuse you?”

  Manager was confused and slightly scared. Panic set in. “I’m calling the cops.” He turned and began to charge towards the back office, but his retreat was interrupted. The Wolf slammed his fist on the table again. His fork rattled against his naked plate, and the plate rattled against the table.

  “No,” the Wolf said, meaning all business. And as he slid over his legs over to the side of chair, so that he could stand, his hand slid over to his bowie knife. He gripped the handle and squeezed it tightly… then he released it. I have a better idea. He stood up and put his hands on Molly’s shoulder. “It’s okay child.” Towering over Molly, she trembled as she watched him nod to something or someone behind her. “Your manager, he is an abomination. I was not certain at first, but now… Now, I am.”

  Too scared to move, she heard a ringing sound. At first thinking that it was the fear inside her belly, it wasn’t. It was a more familiar ringing, it was a bell. And she didn’t need to turn around to know that it was the sound of the manager’s cash drawer. And as she heard another ring, she knew that that one was the drawer behind the bar. Still frozen, she felt hands in her apron, putting something into it, cash—a lot of cash.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a blurry face; she could barely make out that it was woman, a tall woman dressed in black. Behind her was the manager, silently leaning against a square load-bearing pillar of wood, he wasn’t alone. Accompanied by another blurry face, the blurry face of a man, he had his forearm locked against the manager’s thin throat. And another blurry face was behind the bar. They weren’t doing anything, or hurting anyone, but they were staring… staring at them. At this point, everyone who was still inside the restaurant was staring.

  The Wolf spoke again. “It’s okay, Molly. I will pay for my meal. That money and the coin are my gift to you, as repayment for your kindness.”

  “A tip!” He bellowed with laughter and patted her shoulder. “Yes, that is what they call it.” Then, quickly calming himself he said, “Go home to your son. It is okay.” The Wolf smiled big. “And get him a good gift for his birthday, his fifth—isn’t it? And this…” He showed her another golden coin then put it into her hand. “Tell him that it is a gift from me, a thankful customer, for a kind woman that was nice to me… at a time when I needed kindness.”

  She gasped. How did he know that she had a son? At the moment, she had other issues. “Sir, thank you, but I… I can’t take this money. I’m… I’m not a thief.

  Nodding, the Wolf understood her concerns. “I understand.” He then raised his voice to address the rest of the restaurant patrons. “Hear me now. As you see with your eyes, this woman, Molly Ingrid, is no thief. I am. I am the one who has taken the coin from this… restaurant.” He wanted to call it a tavern of lies but instead bit his tongue, for Molly’s sake. “Know that this girl is under my protection, and anyone who would take offense or speak ill of
her, I will take offense with them. And as their blood will be upon my hands… their families’ blood will be upon their own.” The Wolf turned to Molly and said, “Go now.”

  Still shocked, Molly opened her mouth like she was about to say something but…

  In less than a blink of an eye, she was gone.

  As Molly vanished, the blurry-faced man that was holding the manager shoved him towards the Wolf. And as the manager stumbled into him and then bounced away from him; a thick, meaty hand snatched him by the throat. “You, I have other plans for you. Molly will be okay. But you… You will not be okay. And you… You will not be going home.” Then they vanished.

  In an instant, they were standing in the empty snow-covered field behind Tim Tom’s. The building’s chimney bellowed out white smoke while the stink of the dumpsters drifted towards them.

  The manager barely had a moment to register his shock before a sharp axe slammed into the back of his knees.

  It was a foot, a boot—a big, hard boot. Someone had stomped on the man’s leg and shoved him into the ground until the thin snarky man kissed the snow hard. The snowy crust sliced into his face and left red stripes down his thin pale cheeks. The man’s boldness was gone, replaced by fear. Spitting out bits of snow, he wiped off his face. His cheeks burned from the cold, and the snow darkened around him. On his hands and feet, he was too frightened to look and instead began trying to crawl away. Then, as his crawl stumbled upwards and he had almost broke into a run, he didn’t.

  He saw the dark snow first, then the biker boots, then he hit the wall, a wall of armored shins and blurry faces. Consumed with fear, he barely felt the frost slashing into his palms. “Who are you?” he muttered. All he could see was armor and blurry splotches where their faces should have been. Rubbing the snow and water droplets from his eyes, he tried to ask again but could only mutter, “Who…” Because…

  As his vision cleared, the blurs came into focus. They were people. Six of them, five men and one woman—all holding glaives and all with fur cloaks draped over the backs of their tattered black and gray armor. And all of them were staring down at him with cold unblinking eyes.

  The Wolf’s voice came from behind him. “Seven are one. And you are an abomination.”

  Like gasoline thrown on a bonfire, fear exploded inside his belly. The manager knew what he meant. An abomination. He was unclean, unclean with unclean thoughts. “What?” They were innocent. “What are you talking about?” Barely eighteen. “I don’t know what you’re...” I couldn’t help myself. “You, you don’t have to do this.” All dead. “Please. Please don’t…”

  The Wolf growled, and his lip curled in contempt. “You kept parts of them.” He sniffed the air. “Trophies, you called them trophies.”

  The manager heard wolves growling behind him, but he was almost too frightened to understand it. They were men, weren’t they? The wolf pack behind him began snarling and growling even louder. But they were men… weren’t they? As fear filled him, he grew less concerned about what was behind him and more about what they were going to do to him.

  His palms burning, he crawled over and groveled at the Wolf’s armored feet. Crying and moaning, he begged for his life. Then, as his neck warmed, he stopped crying and began shivering, more frightened than he was cold.

  He could only mutter, “Who are you?” as the wolves’ warm breath splashed against the back of his neck. As as the warm steam slid over his neck and past his shoulders, he could see it from the corners of his eyes. He smelt it too, the smell of raw flesh and blood.

  The Wolf answered, “Seven are one, and one is seven. Me? I have been called many things, werewolf, the black dog of Dartmoor, hellhound. In ancient times, they called me Cerberus, the three-headed dog, guardian of the gates of Hades… A horrible misnomer, that one. The Norsemen called me Fenrir, son of Loki. While I am a bastard and no son of any god, I still liked the name.” The Wolf scratched his chin thought about it. Fenrir killed Odin and, during Ragnarok, he consumed the world. I like it, he decided. “Fenrir. Call me, Fenrir.”

  “So you’re going to kill me and drag me to hell?”

  Fenrir took a knee and leaned in close to the man. Now back in his black armor and fur cloak, he was even more intimidating. Fenrir removed the manager’s glasses and stared into the man’s bloodshot, saltwater eyes with his own icy blue ones. “No. Those were only legends. Hell is for punishment and repentance. You will be punished, but you are beyond repentance. We will kill you, but we will not be dragging you anywhere. You do not deserve to be dragged anywhere. Instead, we will rip the flesh from your bones. And then, we with rip your soul from your flesh and devour it. You are a monster, a disease. The only way to eliminate a disease is to destroy it.”

  The manager sniffed up the snot dripping from his nose and wiped his eyes. “Please. I can change. I, I made a mistake.”

  “You made five mistakes. They were eighteen, barely women. One was seventeen. The boy was barely a man.” Fenrir stood up. “You cannot change, and you will not be given the opportunity to fail.”

  Strange how imminent death changes a man. Begging for his life, the manager lunged for Fenrir’s calf. Instead, he received an armor-clad foot slamming into his chest and knocking him back into the snow.

  Fenrir snarled again then said, “Still, I am merciful. I will give you a gift, the last gift you will ever receive. It’s more than you deserve but… it is a gift, nonetheless.”

  The manager sniffled and cried. A gift? There’s hope; they’re not going to kill me. “Yes, yes. Thank you. You are merciful. I am so sorry for what I did. What is it? What is the gift?”

  “A quick death.”

  The pack of wolves tore into the thin frail man. There wasn’t much meat on his bones, and his screams ended quickly—replaced with snarls, crunching jaws, and cracking bones.

  And Fenrir watched, knowing that it wouldn’t take long to finish him off. “When you are finished with him, get the ones inside, the ones that are left. It is better for them to rest now than for them to endure what is to come.” He tosses a handful of brass coins onto the snow. “Two for each. For the dead to pay the ferryman. They will have safe passage into the afterlife. After that, their journey will be their own.”

  CH 7: A Hint of Normalcy

  After leaving the roof, Mea tried to sleep. Tomorrow was her first day of community college, and she was determined to attend. Despite the looming apocalypse, there was nothing she could do right now. Besides, she needed a distraction from everything that was going on.

  And being in the Bible Belt, Mea knew of too many people who had sat on the edges of their couches watching T.V. preachers preaching about the End of Days while letting life pass them by as they waiting for it to happen. She was not about to be one of those people. “Until such time as the world ends, we will act as though it intends to spin on.” She liked that quote, but who said it? she wondered, where had she heard it? As she remembered, she crinkled her nose something fierce, disgusted at how incredibly nerdy she felt. The quote was from Samuel L. Jackson, as Nick Fury in the Avengers movie.

  Mea pulled up in the school’s parking lot in her blue two-door bullet that was slightly larger than a smart car. Used and dented, it was anything but impressive. But Diana and had scrimped up whatever spare money she could and got it for her as a high school graduation present. So it was paid for, and Mea appreciated and loved it all the same.

  She smiled as she patted her tiny blue chariot before heading off to class.

  She passed a large banner displayed over the entrance. Baysville Community College - The future starts here. Dear god, she thought. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Or if it was, that seemed almost as disappointing. A cruel joke, she thought. If she wasn’t a god, she was just a high school graduate with a C+ G.P.A. And the future was more than frightening.

  Classes came and went. And as each classroom filled and emptied with strangers, and Mea did so as well and went on with her day. Most of her graduating clas
s from high school had gone to universities scattered throughout the state and country. And aside from Anna, Mea didn’t have any other high school friends. And Anna was dead.

  Her last class was biology. She decided to come early to pick her seat, the same one she always picked, last row by the window. Luckily it was empty. So she sat down and slouched down. Truth be told, she was beyond ready for the day to be over.

  Her eyes glazed over as faceless bodies trickled into the classroom. Their movements and faces all blurred together like faces in the crowd. She didn’t care.

  God I hate people, she thought. Empty shells. Shallow, fake. Aghast at her cold thoughts , she shook it off. Dear god, was she always this cynical? She pondered. When did she become so depressing? Was this what Vincent was talking about? Gods becoming mortals doesn’t end well.

  Regardless, she forced a smile. I won’t let that happen, she told herself. Her mom, Ryan; she had reasons to fight. There was hope for humanity. She just had to make it through this class.

  The day was unusually hot and humid, and this room was turning out to be worse than the rest. So Mea squirmed in her seat. Midwestern summers were notorious for their heat and humidity. Sweaty and sticky summers. Today was one of those days.

  She continued squirming and wiping the beads of sweat trickling down her cheeks before moving on to the ones at the top of her forehead. Wiping them off on the side of her shirt, she discreetly shifted to the side to scratch at the side of her chaffing bra before fluffing her shirt to cool off. Then, as her tongue slapped the roof of her mouth, she realized how thirsty she really was.

  A surprise appeared.

  “Here, I got you one.” A large iced-mocha appeared on her desk, and icy condensation trickled down the side of the clear cup. Mea could already taste the frozen refreshment.

  The girl plopped down in the seat next to her. “I stopped by the campus coffee shop. They gave me an extra one on accident.”