“Thank you.” Fenrir removed his blade and watched as his pack broke apart the fight and fought to keep order. The six look up the concrete incline at Fenrir, and he gave them a nod. Continue your work.
And continue they did. But as soon as order was restored, the two that had started fighting earlier were already back at it. With renewed vigor and energy, they resumed yelling at each other over the crowd of men, women, and children. Drunk, angrier and more violent than the rest; they were a force of nature.
As Fenrir watched, his anger grew and his eyes narrowed. Ungrateful and stupid. He growled, like a wolf would. They are worse than animals, he thought, a waste of generosity.
Lilly asked, “What about them, those two? Is it their time or are they still under your protection?”
“Kill ‘em.”
CH 12: Family Matters
The muffled whimpering ended as the door creaked open. “Hey,” Ryan sniffled, wiping away his tears and nose-snot with his shirt sleeve. “Hey, Mea.”
Checking the time on the clock on his dresser first—it was 8:47 P.M., Mea entered and flopped down on the corner of his bed. “Hey.” As she sat, the old springs squeaked and gave her an extra bounce while drowning out her words. “Hey. What’s wrong, bud?”
“Nothing.” Ryan snorted away the clog in his nose and grabbed a nearby comic and pretended to look at it. “I’m fine.”
“Hey.” She touched his wrist to get his attention. “What’s going on?”
“I said nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
“Do you want me to get mom?” Mea asked, but as she finished speaking, she heard the pipes thumping and knew that her mom just got in the shower. So she decided to handle this herself, at least try to handle it. “Hey, if something’s wrong, you can tell me. You know that, right?” She slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Hey, we’ll play that game we used to play. Only this time, on the count of three, we blurt out whatever’s bothering us. Okay?”
Ryan nodded.
“One, two…”
“You’re going to die,” he whimpered before wiping away more snot from his nose.
Mea’s mouth fell open as her hand crept up and covered it, and her composure shattered like a porcelain vase. “Ryan, why did you say that? I’m… I’m not going to die.”
His words twisted between his whining and tears. “Yes you are. I had a dream. It was you, and there was a big dog and a bunch of monsters and… It was dark and they were surrounding you and then—”
“—Hey,” she interrupted. “Ryan, it was only a dream, just a dream.” She hoped it was just a dream, but she also knew what dreams held—what her dreams held, at least. “I’m going to be fine. I’m not going to die, not ever.” That might actually be true, she thought, after all, I am immortal.
Ryan leapt up and hugged his sister. Pausing momentarily, she steadied herself and continued, “You know, growing up, I used to get nightmares too. Ghosts and monsters, sometimes it was just because I would stay up and watch a scary movie or two.”
The boy eased back into bed and nodded and began listening to his big sister’s story. “Really?”
“Yeah, when I was your age, I used to go over to Anna’s for sleepovers, and late at night, we would pretend to sleep until her parents went to bed, you know, like for real went to bed.
“And she… Anna had a TV in her room, and we’d watch those old scary movies and scare each other and whisper about whether they were real or fake and…” Mea paused. The memory was a good one, and for a moment, it almost felt like Anna was still alive. “Anyways, by the time the morning came around, we would’ve forgotten all about them—the monsters, the scary darkness outside, the scary music.” Mea grinned then imitated the sounds of an old-time scary movie. Dunt-dunt-dunnnn.
Ryan giggled and seemed more relaxed. “So you really think that it was only a dream?”
“Just a dream. Sometimes…” She looked out his bedroom window. The dull street lights lit up the red brick wall of the building next door and turned the orange-rusted drainpipe into a bright lava-red color. And the dull yellow lamplights made the suburban street look almost peaceful, almost free. Free of monsters, free of crime, free of poverty and pain. “Sometimes the night is scary.” On the black horizon, lightning flashed and momentarily lit up the creases of clouds as if they were trimmed with gold. “The nights, they hide the things that frighten us, so that we can’t see what’s coming.”
She smiled then went back to her story. “But Anna and me, when I’d stay at her house, we’d eventually get so tired that we’d just pass out. And it never mattered how scary the movie was, we’d still just pass out from staying up too late and being so tired. But in the morning, her mom would wake us up. And there weren’t any more scary things on the TV, there were only cartoons. And the sun would be bright and warm.” She poked at Ryan’s ribs. “And her mom would cook pancakes for us and have warm syrup waiting for us in the kitchen. And everything was okay.”
Ryan giggled, and Mea knew that her work was done.
As she reached the doorway of Ryan’s room, she was interrupted. “Mea, what if the sun doesn’t come out? What happens if the sun doesn’t come out, if it abandons us? What do we do if it stays dark forever?”
Mea leaned against the doorframe and tried to smile. His words were a little too eerie, even for her. “It will; the sun always rises.” Mea’s eyes drifted towards Ryan’s bedroom window as her smile faded. The clouds seemed to be growing larger and darker.
Watching the flashes of lightning, the sound of Ryan’s squeaking bed refocused her attention onto him. And as he sat up and adjusted his seat on old, squeaking bed he said, “Not always.” And he looked serious, and his words were more ominous than fearful. “The sun won’t always be there. And if it goes away, and if it stays dark forever, and if you have to go away… it’s okay. I understand.” He smiled at her.
“Ryan, I’m not going anywhere.”
And now, he was the one trying to smile as he said, “We all have to grow up someday, Sister. And one day, you’ll leave. You’ll have to.”
Mea’s eyes drifted towards Ryan’s bedroom window again. Above their peaceful suburban street, the lightning flashed, brightly and silently. The clouds seemed to be swallowing up the night. They also seemed to be spotted with winged shadows. And when the lightning flashed again, the number of flying shadows grew larger. A storm was coming.
CH 13: L.A. Woman
Sitting on a tall hill amidst patches of dried golden grass, she looked over the city of steel towers beneath her before gazing up at the heavens. “It’s murky,” she sighed. The sky was thick with man-made smog and blotted out the stars.
Giant pale letters stood behind her. HOLLYWOOD, they read. “Smoke and mirrors. Fairytales, lies…”
“And dreams,” said a voice creaking out from behind her. A homeless man—that was more skin and bones than man—stepped out from behind the giant white L.
“Yes, and dreams,” she said glibly. Though far away, Lilly could hear it clear as day. The city was ripe with noise; police sirens, arguments, fist fights, gunshots… the sobbing of the innocent, the prayers of children, the despair of the struggling. Dreams? “Broken dreams.”
“You shouldn’t be so fast to judge. Men aren’t perfect, but everyone’s got a story. Good and bad.” He took a swig of his $1.50 bottle of malt liquor and scratched his brown-streaked and dirt-stained beard. After another swig and as he lowered his warm beer, he caught a glimpse of the bottom half of Lilly’s golden, silky thigh, just below her tight black dress. She sure was beautiful. What the hell, the man thought, what else do I got to lose? Stumbling closer, he tried his best to be charming. “You know, you’re a real pretty girl. What are you doing up here alone? Come up to get some fresh air?” He smiled through brown, yellow, and missing teeth.
She smiled back dismissively. “You’re sweet, but I’m not interested.”
He stepped and stumbled a few steps closer, kicking up dust along the wa
y. “Well, you’re up here, and you’re talking to yourself. Seems to me that you must be interested in something.”
“No,” Lilly said, no longer smiling. “You’re wrong on both accounts. One, I’m not interested in anything, especially not anything you have to offer. And two, I’m not alone.”
A dozen swirling ghosts, white as smoke with empty eyes, swarmed from behind the giant letters in the giant HOLLYWOOD sign and swayed behind the man. Their words were whispers to his ears. “Come and see.” And as they swirled in front of him and dangled before his eyes, their empty, smoky faces turned into pointy lips, high cheekbones, and diamond sparkling eyes. The smoke squiggles that topped them turned into flowing blond hair. “Come and see.”
“What is…” The man’s words faded quickly. Sensations overtook him, and his forty-ounce beer bottle tumbled from his hand and started to roll down the rolling hills. Mosquitoes stuck his ankles and then his calves, and then his thighs, his wrists. “Come and see,” the ghosts whispered to him again. And though he flinched as the bites continued and moved up to his neck, he hadn’t taken one footstep away.
One of the ghostly beauties floated above him before drifting down and staring into his eyes which were now no more than dilated pools of black. Her hand was nothing more than swaying streams of cigarette smoke, but the man gasped at it anyways, uselessly, and the smoky hand splattered to pieces, drifted upwards, and sifted through his beard. The smoke regrouped and became a hand again then gently stroked his cheek.
The man, swaying drunkenly, smiled wide and his glossy eyes twinkled. He muttered, “Susan, you came back. You came back to me. I knew you would.”
The ghost continued stroking the homeless man’s cheek. Then, Susan told him what all men want to hear. “Yes, always, and only for you.” Susan smiled and opened her mouth wide, and her fangs were long and sharp, and close in size to those of a tiger’s—closer to the man’s throat.
Susan whispered to the man one last time, “I only want to be with you.” Then she sank her fangs into his throat. And he barely felt them, barely felt the mosquito bites sinking into his wrists, or the ones on his arms or legs, or—for that matter—any of the other hundreds that were now covered his body and still draining him. Honey flowed through his veins, and his pain and senses were numb. Pain turned to pleasure as death flooded him with ecstasy. The seconds felt like hours. A sweet kiss, a sweeter death, he thought, happily ever after—with Susan, the only ‘other’ woman he ever loved. His body and lungs deflated. His lips dried, becoming two ledges of cracked, scaly stone and curled into a smile until they pulled back and dried further, looking more like a shrunken shirt pulled over a teethed skeleton’s jawbone.
The ghosts, banshees actually, continued to feed and covered the man in a smoky fog and drank deeply. His face thinned further. Beneath his tattered shreds of clothing, his body continued deflating as well. The banshees’ meal was coming to an end, and it began sounding like a thousand slurping straws. Then as they finished and whisked away, bones and tattered clothing were all that remained. Then as the man’s skeleton sizzled and dissolved into the air, the tattered clothes were all that was left. The banshees’ voices whispered like the wind to their master. “Thank you, M’queen.”
“Yes, well I ate those two earlier. It only seemed right.” She went back to watching over the city. “Los Angeles, they call it. The City of Angels. People come from all across the world to see it, to visit it… to become movie stars.
“I once ruled a city such as this. But the towers were stone. Gardens hung high in the air while slaves used aqueducts to keep them watered. The streets were paved and well-kept. The giant statues were made of marble, made of me—for me. Others were made of sandstone—those ones had to be replaced every twenty-thirty years. The weather wreaks havoc on sandstone. The change of scenery was nice though.
“And there was order. Slaves were slaves, but they were also fed, and cared for. With fear, power… respect. One does not need whips nor layers of laws when those are present. My punishments were harsh… but fair.”
A snide voice rang out from the city below and interrupted her. “Whore!” Lilly cringed as the word slimed its way into her ear. Then she heard it again, again from the same area. This time, she gritted her teeth and her eyes narrowed. God how she hated that word.
They were far away and far below her, but as her banshees saw so did Lilly. So with a nod of her head, she sent one, a squiggle of smoke, to investigate. And moments later and through borrowed eyes, Lilly saw the source. Behind the bright lights of buildings and moving cars that sparkled and honked, there they were. Within the thinning and fleeting crowd, there was a group of men, five in all, drunk and stumbling through an alley while weaving around dumpsters. “Whores,” they laughed. Their shirts and hats were branded with matching Greek letters. Drunk and emboldened, ignorant and entitled, or so they thought.
One of the Greeks stumbled behind a dumpster, bouncing against a wall before settling himself. He began unzipping his pants to relieve himself, still laughing. Then, as water splashed against the metal dumpster, through his bright smile, he yelled the word while weakly concealing it behind a fake cough, “Whore!” And Lilly cringed.
The smoke swirled and slithered around the drunken men and searched for the one they spoke of. It was a prostitute. Her shaking arms were barred across her sparkling sequenced shirt, her cheeks were sunken in. And as she took a long painful and pleasurable suck of her long white cigarette, her cheeks sunk in even further. The makeup around her eyes was heavy, dark, and smeared; and Lilly could see the snakebites near her elbow and the ones between her fingers. Though covered in fishnet gloves, her forearms were puffy and inflamed. The woman was broken inside and out. Though her’s was a hard life that no one deserved, there remained a speck of hope in the broken woman’s eyes, a lost love maybe? Lilly almost whimpered with empathy.
Then she heard that word again, the word she hated. Anger washed away her sympathy. Then again, she heard the Greeks; the proud, arrogant, laughing Greeks. She had heard the hearty cruel laughter of men many times before; sometimes she even heard it in her dreams—still, to this very day. Greeks, Mongolians, Europeans, it didn’t matter; their laughter was all the same kind of laughter. Cruel. And fury replaced Lilly’s anger.
And up on the hill, just in-front of the Hollywood sign, Lilly made a decision. I can be cruel as well. The whisking banshees swirled around their queen in figure-eights and awaited her command. “No pleasure, only pain. Make their souls burn and turn seconds to hours to days. Let their last moments match the pain of the lifetime of pain felt by the one they mock. And as their blood thickens within you, let it thicken your thoughts as well. Determine whether the sins of the son match those of the father’s. If so, repay the father in kind, as well. And if so, eliminate their family of wickedness from the earth and their seeds of corruption, their entire bloodline—as far and wide as it might go.”
One of her banshees whispered to her, and Lilly answered, “Yes, both men and women…. Spare the children but remember: ‘Though innocent, children raised by monsters can also become monsters.’ But these ones will get a chance, as slim as it might be. I will allow that. After all, it’s the End of Days. So it’s only a minor reprieve, at best.” She waved her hand towards the city, and banshees followed her order. “Go now.”
“Come and see.” The banshees’ words whispered to the wind.
“Hey,” said Lilly. “For the girl.” She flicked something shiny into the air. The streams of smoke that had just wisped past her, over her shoulders, and towards their target came swaying back to her.
Just then, a star was sparkling in the smoggy night’s sky, a golden star flipped into the air by the Queen of Sorrows. One stream of smoke whipped back around and snatched the star, a golden coin, out of the air and awaited further orders. Lilly continued, “Offer her the gift, the sweet gift. If she does not want it, give her a taste nonetheless, just a taste though. It will give her a moment of peace, mor
e so than the venom she is currently injecting into her veins. Then give her the coin.” The banshee nodded then followed after the others.
Lilly plopped back down on the side of the hill. That word, it was still rattling around inside her head. She didn’t know why but it did, nagging her like a pinched nerve would. She shook it off then resumed reminiscing about the past. “I was a queen… once, a long time ago. Men would come to worship me, and worship all women as well. They would bring jewels and gifts, and the men would court them with respect. Or… At night, the foolish ones—the ones lacking respect—were culled. The winds would whisper, and their bold words would become screams and begs of mercy. Their powerful, abusive hands weren’t so powerful anymore and were only being used to cover up their weeping faces.
“Punishment was swift and came like a thief in the night. And by morning, their bodies would litter the streets. And when day broke, everyone would see the punishment for a man’s cruelty and wickedness. A great city…”
Her words were interrupted by a thought, that word again. Her memories triggered her thoughts which triggered more memories. The Whore of Babylon, that’s what they called her, that was what they wrote about her—how they prophesized her return. “Whore? I am no whore. I am a queen, the Queen of Babylon.”
Her voice howled in the night. “Babylon has fallen, but it will rise. And so will its queen.” The Whore of Babylon they called her. Lilly again gritted her teeth at the thought. “No. They want a whore? No, they will not receive a whore… but they will receive the wrath of a whore, a whore’s wrath.”
The banshees howled in agreement. Behind her, smoke rose from the ground, and suddenly thousands stood behind her. Their hollow faces howled, “Come and see.”
The Long Night of the Gods: Lilith Awakens (Forgotten Ones Book 2) Page 15
