“Do you remember when I said that Erik wasn’t the most hated in town?” Atticus said timidly. “W-well that’s because the title b-belongs to me.”
“We told you to never set foot in this village again!” a resident shouted.
Atticus gestured towards Brianna and the others. “I’m taking my young friends here to the warden’s place so they can all go home.” He smiled broadly at them through gritted teeth. “C’ mon people, not long ago you considered me a hero.”
“That was before you led those remnants to the village.”
Brianna raised her eyebrows at Atticus.
“It’s a long story,” he said with an apologetic gaze.
“I can feel the warmth radiating off of their bodies,” another local shouted. “Are those kids from the living world?”
“Yes, but-”
He was abruptly interrupted. “By bringing them here you put all of us in danger.”
The others in the crowd began to jeer angrily.
“Divinity soldiers and more remnants will come for those kids,” a villager screamed.
Atticus ushered the others along, “we gotta go... now!”
Dominic jerked Brianna towards him, right as a golf ball sized rock tore through the area where she stood a moment before. The rock instead nailed Ethan square in his chest, causing him to cry out in pain.
“I can easily end their misery with Jezebel,” Dominic said.
“No!” shouted Brianna and Atticus in unison.
“Then suit yourself,” he said deviously.
He shoved Ethan into the crowd and they quickly pulled him to his knees beating on him. Dominic scooped Brianna into his arms as he easily outmaneuvered a few fist sized stones hurling at him and then jumped an abnormal distance into the air, scaling over the crowd.
“Dominic, what the hell was that?” Brianna screamed as they landed several yards away. Dominic ignored her as he pulled her along.
She freed herself, whirled around and pounded the bottom of her fist against his chest. “You left them to die.”
“Their sacrifice will not be in vain,” he said dryly.
ATTICUS SHOULDER TACKLED his way through the vicious crowd, only stopping to help Ethan to his feet.
Together the two of them broke through and quickly closed the gap between them and the others.
“Are you okay?” Atticus asked as he spotted several bruises on Ethan. “Looks like you got the worst end of it.”
He doubled over trying to catch his breath. “How come you’re not winded?”
Atticus didn’t provide an answer. His focus was on the oncoming mob.
He ushered them along, however Brianna stepped forward pulling out her wand, “I got this.”
“What are you doing?” Dominic demanded angrily.
“I’m buying us some time,” she snapped.
She waved her wand in a circle formation and proceeded to draw an imaginary clock. “Diebus Tarde,” she shouted.
A sudden surge of translucent energy exploded from the wand and brushed against the angry mob like a strong gust of wind.
Ethan glared at the still advancing crowd. “That did nothing!” he screamed frantically.
“Keep watching,” Atticus said with a smug smile. “Little witch is pretty smart.”
Ethan squinted his eyes and saw the multitude of people weren’t moving as fast as before, almost as if they were-
“Are they running in slow motion?” Ethan shouted in bewilderment.
Then the mob froze in place.
“What did you do to them?”
“It’s only temporary, but they are moving so slow it’s like they are frozen in time,” Brianna answered. Her wand transmuted backing into a wooden ball. She turned around and Ethan motioned towards her nose.
“What?” Brianna asked shoving her weapon into her pocket.
Dominic scoffed, “you shouldn’t cast spells too powerful for your body to handle.”
“It worked didn’t it?” she snapped. She wiped away the blood from her nose while glaring at Dominic. “Stop acting like you care before I do the same to you.”
The harshness of her words shocked him into silence. At that same moment Atticus piped up, hustling them to the outskirts of the village. Traveling on a dirt road, Ethan was overwhelmed by the vastness of trees on either side of the path. They stretched for miles and towered over them like skyscrapers while the quietness around them was a constant sea.
The others didn’t appear to care about the long journey to Atticus’s home. But Ethan was bewildered and reeling, he could barely take it all in. He wanted to rest. He wanted a moment to sort out his thoughts and try to grasp his situation.
Atticus veered to the left and onto a narrow pebble filled path. Not far from the new trail was a tiny pond. As they walked, a redbrick cottage came into view. The tiny home looked as if it was straight from a children’s picture book. Rustic, old, and a bit dusty, the home still gave off a welcoming appeal. It had two huge trees on both sides and vines growing up the wooden planked entrance.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Atticus said with a twirl and outstretched arms.
“There is warding magic all over this place,” Brianna said. “Are you hiding from someone?”
Atticus laughed but did not reply. Instead, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.
“If he asks any of us to clean the inside of an oven, I’m leaving,” Ethan said as they filed into the small house.
The interior was more like a Halloween horror set than a homey environment. Cobwebs had taken on the appearance of dirty laces, hanging like great sheets of hair from an elderly woman. The windowpanes weren’t any better, frosted in so much dust that light struggled to shine though. A tiny stove, four wooden chairs, a circular table, and a not so large bed along with a couch decorated the only room within the home.
Brianna brushed away several cobwebs as she explored the limited space.
“You haven’t been home in a while?” Dominic said patting the Victorian style couch. A dust cloud materialized on contact. Ethan took in a large whiff of the haze and instantly began firing off rapid rounds of sneezes.
Atticus chuckled as he began to rummage through a nearby closet, “I’m quite surprised none of the locals ransacked the place since I’ve been gone.”
“Speaking of locals, is it even safe to be here right now?” Ethan asked in between sneezes.
“After witnessing the little witch’s display of power, they won’t approach us,” Atticus reassured everyone.
Dominic plopped onto the sofa freeing more puffs of dust into the air.
Shielding his nose, Ethan fled to a less grimy area, while Atticus rummaged through a nearby closet. He pulled free four rucksacks and tossed them aside. “Here they are.”
Seeing that the dust cloud had dispersed, Ethan made his way over to the backpacks. “What’s in them?”
Atticus smiled proudly closing the closet door, “they contain survival gear and non-perishable foods.”
Brianna knelt next to the backpacks. Unlike everything else in the house, they weren’t as dirty. “When are we heading out?”
“First thing in the morning,” Atticus said.
Dominic jumped from the couch kicking up more dust.
Ethan held his breath.
“Are you screwing with us bruh?”
Atticus’s eyebrows arched, “I would never dream of such a thing,” he said playfully.
Dominic’s smoldering glare pierced through Atticus’s spirited persona. He held out his hand to summon Jezebel. However, catching a glimpse of Brianna’s upset expression Dominic instead pointed a cautionary finger at Atticus. “You can thank my sister, you’re still alive.”
Atticus blew raspberries, before ducking underneath the bed. There, he removed a wooden floorboard.
“I figure since it’s getting late, we stay the night here and start out first thing in the morning.”
He stuck one hand down into the hole and retracted a she
athed sword. He hopped to his feet. “Hello old friend. I’m so sorry I left you behind”
Ethan eyed the sheathed weapon, his inner nerd eager to see the blade. The hilt of the sword was modeled after a silver statuette of an angel. Her wings dormant at her side, she hugged the covered sharp edges.
Atticus grabbed the sword by its hilt. The wings released an unclicking sound and spread to their full-length creating a cross-guard. Ethan’s eyes widened as Atticus unsheathed the weapon to reveal a stunningly beautiful bastard blade. The silver double edge was as bright as the hilt and engraved with angelic symbols.
Brianna and Ethan exchanged confused glances.
“What’s the sword for?” Brianna asked.
“Our protection,” Atticus answered as he sheathed the sword and its wings once again became dormant. “I call her merci and she can only kill demons and the souls that are damned to purgatory.”
Brianna eyed Atticus’s weapon, “so it can’t kill mortals?”
Atticus nodded as he sheathed and placed the sword against the couch.
Thunder abruptly rolled across the sky. It reverberated around the landscape eerily echoing. Clouds billowed across the afternoon sun, casting the cottage into shadowy darkness as violent wind threaten to rock the home.
“The warden has arrived,” Atticus said dispassionately. He took a position on the couch.
“How do you know?” Ethan shouted as he, Brianna and Dominic dusted off random windows to survey the sudden storm.
“Because he’s a pompous asshole,” Atticus answered. “Good luck convincing him to send you home.”
Ethan gulped not liking the tone of Atticus’s voice.
Chapter-Twenty-Nine
The poorly lit foyer was wide and straight like an old inland waterway cutting through a town. Its dark flooring was well polished and the white walls were decorated with portraits depicting renaissance art.
Giovanni marched through the hall, hands resting behind his back. Gaspard was to his right and Malek to his left. Behind them were two heavily armored guards. Several haggard scullery maidens scattered like roaches as they passed.
“You ladies look-” Malek paused with a gulp. “Look lovely.”
They retreated to dark corners whispering.
“I would murder in his name.”
“I would die for him.”
“What would you do for him?”
“He’s my savior.”
The whispers echoed about the hallway as some of them followed and even reached out to be touched, but they were soon bullied away by the guards.
Giovanni and his entourage stopped at a massive black arched double door. There, waiting, were two grey-skinned, malnourished men dressed as butlers.
“Welcome home my lord,” they hissed together.
Giovanni remained silent.
Gaspard nodded his head towards the emaciated men. They, in return, bowed before opening the doors.
Darkness came like thick velvet curtains as the door closed behind them.
“What’s up with you and dark places, boss?” Malek’s voice echoed about the blackness.
Giovanni coughed repeatedly, “darkness is my sanctuary.”
Malek scoffed, “you’re so emo for an old man.”
The sound of Gaspard snapping his fingers ricocheted nearby. Lights instantly flashed on, revealing a substantially square shape room.
Malek looked up at the high vaulted ceiling and spotted the elegant chandelier. Below the grand light source and sitting atop an elevated platform was a striking throne of onyx. It was covered in simple etchings and on each of the broad feet were gothic demon wings. Adjoined by the main throne were five more equally impressive seats.
Gaspard motioned for the armed guards to stand by the entrance.
They saluted and obediently marched to their new duty station.
Gaspard walked toward the nearest wall and ran his fingertips along its borders, checking for smudges or scuffs. Next, he turned his attention towards the rectangular ebony banners hanging from the walls. He took a moment to admire the scarlet sigils on them. In between each banner, hung torches infused with crystals glowing as bright as light bulbs, illuminating heroic portraits of Giovanni and his five lieutenants.
“Do you want me to start a manhunt for the Ashwood boy master?” Gaspard asked, now walking towards broad glass windows. They were enclosed by veils with impressive needlework, burnished corners and the same color as the banners.
“No. But you can bring me Christos,” Giovanni said.
Gaspard pulled a few curtains open to allow some of the outdoor natural light to enter the chambers.
Malek frowned and dropped himself onto one of the thrones. “What in the world would you want with that pansy fool?”
Gaspard moved towards the scarlet rug which ran down from the throne platform for a few meters before coming to an end at the entrances.
“I for once agree with Malek, master,” Gaspard said.
“He’s high priest and he is in charge while we’re away,” Giovanni said sitting on the main throne. “I need a report from him.”
Malek groaned and slouched in his chair. “Can we instead smite villagers?” his eyes widened with enthusiasm. “Or visit a local tavern.”
Giovanni glared at his lieutenant as if he was a spoiled toddler, “all in due time. Now summon Christos.”
“As you wish sir,” Gaspard said with a bow.
Once again, he snapped his fingers.
The empty throne on the far-right rocked from side to side for several seconds and the sound of leaking air from a punctured tire resonated. At the same time, a cloud of black smoke materialized, engulfing the chair. The phenomenon didn’t last long; once the cloud had cleared, a man dressed in a black clergy robe, slacks, and formal leather boots was sitting in the formerly empty throne. Quivering, he looked about his surroundings wide-eyed and mouth agape.
Gaspard licked his lips enticingly, “I can taste your fear.”
The sound of his voice caused the man to look in Gaspard’s direction.
“M-my apologies, my lord,” he said. Without hesitation he jumped to his feet.
Gaspard did the opposite taking his place next to Giovanni.
The man dropped to both knees and bowed his head to the marble floor.
“M-master,” he stammered out. “I-If I’d known you were coming, I would have prepared a soul offering.” He looked up. “Where are the rest of you?”
“Murdered,” Malek said emotionlessly.
“And the killer is here in purgatory,” Gaspard added.
Christos climbed to his feet. “I’m not omnipotent...so this is news to me.”
Giovanni eyes shifted to milky white as he abruptly stood from his throne. “The boy isn’t alone,” he said. “Four other outsiders came with him.” Giovanni stepped down from the raised area. “But they were separated upon arrival,” Giovanni paused. “Three of them are not far from here, a day’s journey by foot...” He trailed off looking skyward. “The other two are aboard a ship near Tequzacoastl Island.”
Christos let out a gasp, “it must be Lucia’s Ship.”
Giovanni’s eyes returned to their normal state, “do you mean that feisty redhead?”
Christos nodded, “I sent her to rid that island of those pagan worshippers...I even supplied her crew with Divinity weaponry.”
He rubbed his hands together awaiting Giovanni’s approval.
“Why would you give anyone other than the Divinity Soldiers those types of weapons?” He asked fixing the high priest with a confuse glare.
Christos felt a sharp pain at the base of his spine shooting up to his head. He dropped to his knees holding onto his temple.
Giovanni looked away coughing. “Now I see.” He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. Gaspard rose to help, but Giovanni halted him.
“You even enhanced her body with psychokinesis abilities,” Giovanni said limping towards his throne. “Are you still in love with this woman?
”
Christos shook his head profusely. “N-no my lord s-she’s nothing more than a guinea-pig to me.” He got to his feet. “I swear it. She’s no threat.”
Giovanni inhaled heavily as he leaned forward.
“When I bestowed upon you the powers of High Priest, I entrusted you with near endless abilities, knowledge, technology and tools to install fear in my people and not for you to-”
Christos interjected, “m-my lord if I may-”
“Silence worm,” Gaspard shouted abruptly. “Your fear is starting to taste like dirt.”
Malek snickered like an immature teenager.
Giovanni continued with, “it still doesn’t excuse the fact you gave powerful weapons to a woman who was once loyal to that treacherous brother of yours and that menacing witch Tira... Lucia must be captured.”
Christos cleared his throat, “I’ll have her apprehended once she returns to Elisium City.”
Giovanni leaned back in his throne stroking his grey beard, “that simply won’t do. Send out a fleet and have her ship commandeered, kill the entire crew. But bring me the girl and the two outsiders she is harboring.”
Christos gave his superiors a submissive bow. If he did feel panic, it never made it to his facial muscles or skin. His complexion remained pale and matted, “yes my lord.”
Giovanni covered his mouth harshly coughing, “I would simply teleport them here myself but I’m afraid I’m going to need to recharge first.”
Christos let out an understated sigh. “Your will shall be done.”
Gaspard shifted in his seat. “You’re upset but too scared to speak up.”
He sniffed the air and smacked his lips. “Tastes like sour apples dipped in caramel...keep that combination.”
Christos glared into Gaspard’s smirking face, right as his thumb and middle finger created the clicking sound and he vanished in a cloud of smoke.
“Master,” Gaspard said lowering his hand. “Do you have any orders for Malek and I?”
Malek rolled his eyes, “ignore the ass kisser and let’s go engorge ourselves in smiting villagers.”
“Silence Malek, I do have a job for you two,” Giovanni said harshly. “For some unseen reason, I can’t quite pinpoint the exact location of the other three outsiders.”
LAMENT OF PURGATORY (ASHWOOD CHRONICLES #1) Page 15
