by Brian Rella
“Dead,” he grunted.
Jessie sighed. “No matter. I am ready. Give him to Pasmet to eat and then go back to whence you came. I want to rest.”
Your skills are impressive, my princess. His deep voice echoed in her thoughts. You have come so far, and I have so much more to teach you, but we have so little time left.
“Yes, my King. But I am tired and longing for you to hold me,” she said wistfully. She unconsciously touched the scabs on her arms where He had kissed her so many times. Her flesh ached there, wanting to feel Him suckling her, longing for the nourishment of His dark elixir, and the bliss of his embrace.
Close your eyes, princess, and come to me.
Jessie sighed and dropped to the floor by the fire. She stared into the flames, watching them dance and flicker, losing herself in the warmth. Her physical wounds were almost healed, and her emotional wounds numbed and nearly forgotten. She thought of nothing but Him as she stared into the fire, the enormity of his heart-shaped body, the touch of his thick, spongy veins that cradled her as they lay together. The thudding beat of her King lulled her like a lullaby. She closed her eyes and fell asleep, her consciousness vanishing into the dreamlands. He was there for her, waiting with His arms open, and He wrapped her in His web and held her. She moaned when He bit into her, her face a crazed cross of tranquility and malice. Her breath caught as His blood mixed with hers. She felt His consciousness penetrate her, her mind folded with His, and He filled her with His lifeblood.
11
TITUS
August 6, 1993
Wenatchee National Forest, Washington
The carnivorous forest surrounded Domino. The monstrous trees encircled her, bending their limbs to stab at her. The assaulting army came at her from every direction blocking her forward motion. Titus caught sight of her expression as he sped to her side. Her face was bathed in worry as she deflected attack after attack. Waves of desperation passed over her, and it seemed to feed the forest. In a flash, Titus leaped through the air, landing at her side. His feet touched the ground and his staff tore through a two-foot wooden limb swiping at her.
“What took you so long, babe?” she said, out of breath.
“Sorry,” he replied. “I got hung up.”
Back to back once more, they battled Lal'lyth’s forest minions. The mass of green and brown planking soldiers swelled in number. Titus and Domino set fire to everything, burning a defensive wall of fire around them. The crackle and hiss and smoke of burning wood filled the air. Inhuman cries of agony came from Lal'lyth’s warriors as they charred and scorched under the Watcher’s flames. They were burning back the attack, and Titus thought back to the search for Brennan. Through the thick gray smoke that wafted through the air, he gasped and choked, and searched for his friend and mentor. And suddenly he lost sight of Domino, and his focus shifted to his love.
“Domino!” he called, the smoke and fire disorienting him. His head swiveled frantically searching for her. She was nowhere near him. He darted through singeing burn of the forest fire, searching—searching—searching… Dread slow-dripped into his bones as the seconds passed.
Something stabbed around his waist, pulling him down to one knee. He flitted his eyes down and saw thorny vines wrapping around his torso, lancing his mid-section. Blood stained his shirt and trickled down his pelvis and legs. He fought to stand, and the thorns dug deep into his muscle, tearing and ripping at him. He roared and formed his staff, hacking at the vine. Something stepped close behind him. He turned to face it.
Lal'lyth’s gleaming, fulvous eyes sparkled at him through the smoke. She was a ten-foot tall humanoid with woody, scarecrow-like features. The thorns that were shredding him stemmed from vines that rested like locks of hair on her head. The savagery behind her golden-red orbs sent a wave of fright through Titus, freezing his mind momentarily.
The rest of Lal'lyth’s vineyard of hair came alive and shot toward him. Dozens of snaking, stabbing vines enwrapped his limbs and torso, piercing his flesh, and pulling him toward her. He was off his feet and onto his back, being dragged into her outstretched wooded arms and black maw of splintering teeth. A maddening, hollow sound, like a possessed woodwind instrument, echoed around him, deafening him.
He fought back, clawing at the ground, trying to get to his feet, and she tore at his blood-wet flesh. He dug his heels in, and got part of the way up, but was immediately struck down by a stabbing pain in his shoulder. His mind spun. There was no escape. He stared at her gleaming gold-red eyes, about ready to accept his fate, and his thoughts moved to Domino. No. She’ll be all alone…
Something flew through the air above him, and landed between him and the monster.
Fire spouted from Domino’s hands, engulfing Lal'lyth. The demon goddess screeched, and sent dozens of wooden spikes from her chest at Domino.
“NO!” Titus shouted. Thuds and grunts escaped his beloved wife as the wood spikes poked through her back, jolting her with each hit. Misting blood covered Titus’ face and crimson rings spread through her T-shirt, spouting rivers of blood down her back.
Domino moaned and fell.
Titus roared.
His eyes wide and vision blurred, his physical pain dwarfed by the pain in his heart, he stood, breaking the vine-chains that bound him, and his primal war cry echoed through the forest.
His staff formed and he threw it like a javelin straight for Lal'lyth’s head. It hit its mark, striking her in the eye, and Lal'lyth yowled and pulled back, releasing her grip on the Watcher.
Titus charged. He was dimly aware of Brennan entering the battle from his right, cutting down Lal'lyth’s soldiers that attempted to defend her.
Lal'lyth united with the forest, growing stories high in front of Titus. Her mouth opened, her splintered features a combination of agony, surprise, and anger. Titus leaped into the dark cavern of her mouth, and landed inside the thicket of her innards. He gathered all his energy, rage, and power, focused it, and sent it exploding out of him. It blew out from his chest and shattered Lal'lyth’s bare-wood bones from the inside out.
A mushroom cloud of energy and fire and smoke exploded out of Lal'lyth’s chest. Her botanical body evaporated into smoke and glowing ash as a final, hollow cry escaped her wooden lips.
Titus lay on the scorched earth, beneath the black smoke and burning timber, unconscious. A single tear cleansed the black soot that covered his temple, sizzling when it hit the smoldering earth.
12
ROY
October 27, 2015
New York, New York
The day was brisk and bright with the late autumn sun. The colors and styles of fall sauntered up and down the streets of Greenwich Village under a cloudless sky. It was one of the few days of the year the air felt fresh and clean in New York. But none of that penetrated the walls of the penthouse at number Thirty-three, Fifth Avenue. There was no light, no color or vibrancy there. Only the evil of the growing army that was the master of multiplicity, the Horde of the Fallen: Legion.
Legion’s master, Roy, roared with laughter that echoed through the halls of the top-floor luxury apartment that he had inherited from Pierson. Inherited was the wrong word, wasn’t it? No, he had taken command of Legion, and ordered the oily, black, swarming mouths and torsos of the demon to devour his previous master. Pierson had earned his demise through a series of interactions with Roy that, unbeknownst to the man, were the beginnings of a new destiny for Legion, and a new order in the coven.
Roy loved his new home. It was so much nicer than his old dump in Hell’s Kitchen. Thanks again, Pierson, he chuckled internally. Thinking back to just days before, the look on Pierson’s face as the many faces of Legion had devoured him brought Roy unequaled sadistic pleasure. It had been exquisite watching Pierson die in agony, after all the suffering and angst Pierson had put Roy through at the hedge fund where they worked. And Roy had bookmarked the memory to a prominent spot in his permanent highlight reel of torture.
Legion swarmed around Roy like
humanoid, shadowy tentacles, its many torsos, heads, and mouths all at Roy’s command. Roy had discovered Legion’s true power by mistake today, when a member of Legion’s coven had thought it appropriately amusing to comment on the similarity between Roy’s hair, or lack thereof, under his comb-over, and Legion’s own baldness. It was an innocuous comment on its face and had probably been meant as an olive branch from a nervous new servant. In response, Roy had shown the fool something he thought was funny and meaningful. An educational example to the man and the rest of the group, illuminating what was appropriate and what was not under his leadership.
Commanding Legion to devour the man in small chunks—s-l-o-w-l-y—in front of the rest of the coven had been intended to make this very point. Roy was in command now: the coven was his. Legion obeyed him.
But something pleasantly unexpected had happened. A surprise that had delighted Roy, and set him off experimenting some more with the other members of the coven.
As the many mouths of Legion had begun to tear at the fool, the man did not die a slow, suffering death as Roy had anticipated. Instead, about fifteen minutes into the gory feast, the man merged with Legion and the seven-headed swarming demon had grown to eight heads.
This inspired Roy. Nine heads are better than eight, he reasoned to himself, and so he carried the thought forward to its conclusion. There were seven members of the coven now, and there were eight members of Legion. But if he commanded Legion to join the other members of the coven with his ranks—well, fifteen heads are better than nine!
It had been a truly tremendous day of fun. More memories were bookmarked to the highlight reel of torture throughout the day. Only one member of Pierson’s original seven-member coven remained, and Legion had grown to fourteen torsos, heads, and pairs of crimson lips with rows of razor-sharp teeth set around them. The demon’s many faces had no eyes, nose, ears, or any other feature except for the mouths and the oily, black, skin-like material that all members shared.
Legion had the remaining member of the original coven in his grasp, suspended in the air by three—or was it four demons? Roy could never really tell where one member ended and another began. The man had been dangling in the air, begging for his life, eyes bulging out of his head, since Roy had commanded the demon to grab everyone. I don’t think he’s blinked since then, has he?
This man, the lottery winner of the group, had been lucky enough to watch his friends’ transformation before his own demise. Roy fancied himself an artist, and each horrible death and transformation had been a unique creation of his own inspiration. And now the man before him awaited his chance for eternal damnation and servitude. Lucky guy indeed!
Roy had Legion cover the man’s mouth after growing tired of the groveling and the crying and the groaning and the whining. The way the man hung there and squeaked at him reminded Roy of a time when he was a child and he had caught a mouse. He had held the mouse by its tail over a lighter, its frantic squeaks and the smell of burning fur filling his senses as it burned to death. That’s what this man reminded him of now, and it made him grin like a wolf.
It has to be good, this one. Yes. I have to make it memorable for the last. Oh, what should I do? What should I do to him? Roy had been contemplating a torturous ending to the man’s life for some time now. He enjoyed the anticipation and the creative process that accompanied it as much as the act of itself. He almost had it; the climactic ending of a glorious day. It was there, just at the edge of his brain, waiting for him to pluck it from the tree of torment that had grown tall and abundant with fruit in Roy’s mind.
“So sorry to see you go, my friend. We hardly got to know each other, you know, man to man. But look,” he said, and waved his arms around at Legion as the demon glided around the room. “We’ll still get to know each other. I have so many friends already and you’ve made the cut! You’ll be joining my team and with your service, I’ll be king of the world! You will serve me, and you’ve seen all me and my team can do together!” Roy snickered so hard his glasses slipped down his nose. He pushed them back up and smoothed his comb-over. “Now,” he said, strumming his fingers on the sides of his enormous belly, “how to bring you on to the team?”
A member of Legion moaned and swooped down and around the neck of Roy. The crimson lips and cold breath of the demon almost touched his ear as it whispered to him.
Beware, Legion hissed. There is another who claims the throne of this world.
“What other?” Roy asked. “There is no other as powerful as me. We will devour him like we have the others.”
He claims to be the King of the Fallen. The Leech of the Aeons.
Roy chuckled, but there was nervousness and anger behind his façade. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
The man who was suspended in the air mumbled beneath Legion’s grasp, becoming frantic and mumbling through the oily black gag of Legion’s torso. “Shut up!” Roy shouted at him.
The man shook his head and motioned to Roy like he had something to say.
“Oh, you want to speak? This had better be good,” he said to the man. “Let him speak,” Roy said to Legion, and the demon obeyed releasing its grip on the man.
“Legion speaks the truth, m-master. There is another more powerful than Legion. All of the Fallen will serve him.”
Not us! Legion hissed.
“Ha! And who is this fucker? Where can I find him?” Roy glowered at the man, his face darkening. “We’ve got things to talk about, me and this King. Tell me and maybe I’ll spare you.”
“Nalsuu. He is the King of the Fallen.”
Legion howled and moaned when the man spoke the name. The many mouths of the demon swarm snapped at the man. A wet stain formed on the front of the man’s pants and urine dripped down from his shoe, splattering on the floor. Roy stared at the growing puddle blankly.
“We are…were awaiting his arrival,” the man whimpered. “He’s coming…soon. He has found his queen, and they raise an army to take back the world and free the Fallen from the Realm of the Second Death.”
Legion howled and moaned loudly. We will never serve him! We serve no one!
“Quiet,” Roy barked at the man. “Is this true?” he asked Legion.
Legion hissed into Roy’s ear, Yes. He comes and when he returns, he will attempt to claim this world as his kingdom again. He wishes to rule over the land of the living once more, but he will never rule us!
“Kingdom? What is this, Game of Thrones? And why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Roy’s eyes narrowed to slits. He frowned deeply and his chin disappeared into the folds of his enormous neck. He recalled the days of working at the hedge fund, and the way Pierson and the others had treated him. How they had mocked him and condescended to him. Humiliated him. Pierson had thought he was hazing Roy for membership to the coven. He remembered the shame he felt, how it squirmed through him like a worm, wriggling into every nook of his being. He had let them shame him. But he would not let that happen again. That Roy was dead. He had died the day he had killed the prostitute who laughed at him; the same day he had accepted the calling to be the coven’s master, killing Pierson and taking control of Legion.
I am not on anyone’s team. I serve no one. “I SERVE NO ONE!” Roy shouted, throwing his head back in a vicious yowl. His anger flipped in a nanosecond, and laughter bubbled up in him, making him feel momentarily giddy.
His laughter trailed off slowly. He blinked rapidly as the thoughts crossed his mind. Not funny. Not funny at all. He raged again. “THAT’S NOT FUCKING FUNNY!” and threw his chair at the man in the air, striking him on the legs. The man wailed like a child.
This brightened Roy up a smidgeon. He snorted with laughter again, his many chins jiggling. “So. Where is the king and his queen?”
The man shook his head. “Please, I might know where, but please, master, let me help you. Don’t kill me. I serve only you.”
Roy grinned. It pleased him to see the man squirm and beg before him.
&
nbsp; “Release him,” he said, waving his hand in front of him. Legion let go and the man fell to the floor into his own puddle of piss. He crawled on the floor to Roy and groveled at Roy’s shoes.
“There was a sighting of another of the Fallen in Chicago. Arraziel. Arraziel was there. And there was a girl. It’s all over the internet. I will show you. Please, master.”
The man stank of piss and fear, and was spitting all over Roy’s pants and shoes as he spoke. Roy kicked him in the face, and the man fell back. Legion hung over him, snapping at him. The smell of shit filled the air and a trickle of red fell from the man’s nose.
“Please… Please, master. I serve only you. Don’t kill me like the others. I serve only you…”
“Show me the video,” Roy said.
The man scrambled to his feet and hunched over, cowering as he passed Roy to the office in the other room. He tapped rapidly on the computer and pulled up the video, shaking, and mumbling to himself incoherently. Roy stood over the man’s shoulder and watched.
Closed-circuit footage played. It was a side angle from a camera attached to a building looking down on an intersection in Chicago. A giant beast with black skin and a ram’s skull for a head bounded down the street on fur covered legs and hooves. The demon had a woman on its back and a man under its arm. Police fired their guns at the monster with no effect and the creature kicked a patrol car, launching it into a building, causing it to explode in the middle of the street. Roy’s nostrils flared as the demon called Arraziel leaped to the side of a building, climbing up and out of view of the camera.
He scanned the article underneath the video. The police believed the girl’s name was Jessie Hailey and the entire Department of Homeland Security was hunting for her and the escaped genetically enhanced mutant experiment.
