by Hunter Blain
I stood in the middle of the chaos. The pure dread and terror of what I knew was happening froze me in place, paralyzed by what I had done. This was my fault…I did this. The entire plane would be engulfed in heaven-flame and hellfire and burned to a cinder. The forces would blaze until the last man stood. With the gates to both above and below open, mortal souls would be collateral. All the humans to have ever existed throughout history would pay for my mistakes. Demons would destroy the souls of the righteous in heaven out of envious anger while the angels would extinguish the souls of sinners in Hell.
The clashing of weapons against armor ceased all at once, creating a deafening silence where only fire cracked, and the wind whispered its ghostly lullaby through blackened ribcages.
My eyes widened at the realization that both the angels and demons were staring directly at me. I peed a little. The biggest of the hellion monsters lumbered toward me, both factions moving out of the way to allow this house sized beast better access to my tender, succulent body.
He stood at least twenty feet tall and just as wide, with bulging arms running the length of his body with knuckles dragging the ground. Black scales ran over his entire frame with curving red bone spikes emerging at his joints and along his spine. His eyes were made of hatred and fire, like looking into a black hole with a crimson event horizon that seemed further back in his head than they should have been. Stopping once he reached my trembling self, the monster house opened his enormous jaws to reveal a salivating mouth encrusted with row after row of serrated shark’s teeth. Black fumes escaped his throat and billowed up either side of his face.
Looking down at me, he smiled. Row after row of flesh renders lined together like a morbid puzzle. I peed a lot. There was a blur of teeth that clamped around my entire body and I screamed like a girl.
Chapter 10
Ireland, 1480
I drifted in a familiar ocean of absolute nothingness for what felt like days, and then weeks. The expectations to see either of the dots appear at polar opposites of existence became my every thought. It didn’t take this long last time, and I was positive that I was more dead on this go around. I felt my entire body smolder into John ash. There was a distant thought among my growing panic; what happened to my bones? Did they burn up and turn to dust? Or did they just bleach in the sun?
There was no need for sleep, which meant I couldn’t. Only the constant hope for either doorway to eternity to open. Anything was better than this. Hell was a more desirable eternity than this…nothingness. A lake of fire forever seemed like a relaxing bubble bath right now. Wait, what if Hell was custom made per its denizen’s worst fears, and this was mine? Was this Hell?
Madness started to creep into my mind until something grabbed my heart and pulled me through the vast expanse of oblivion.
With a hand on my exposed ribcage, Ulric held me down as my soul slammed into my ashen body.
Pain welcomed me as Ulric leaned over me with an exposed, bleeding palm dripping precious blood into my mouth. The blood brought vigorous, supernaturally powered healing properties that gave life back to my barren body. As the nerves cultivated and grew, so too did the agony.
It started down my spine, and expanded down my boney legs. My instinct was to gasp as the brand new, exposed nerves came alive, but I didn’t have any lungs to suck in the air. My head rocked back and forth as I flirted with unconsciousness, black dots swirling in my vision like a swarm. Ulric grabbed my mud caked forehead with his other hand and forcefully held it in place, allowing the blood to reach its target.
Once the length of my body was reached, the nerves multiplied like lightening forks over my ribcage. The black dots in my vision churned until there was a single blackness where I no longer felt the pain.
My head was knocked to the side with a deafening thud. The swarm diminished, and I saw Ulric as he reared back again and slapped me, hard. I could hear him trying to speak, but I might as well have had cotton balls in my ears. Another head smack and my ears opened up. I caught the end of what he was saying, “…learn a lesson.”
My eyes focused and I lifted my neck—which I was vaguely surprised I could even do—and I saw that my entire body was comprised of raw, unprotected meat. Patches of skin started growing sporadically and connected over the exposed muscles, organs, and bones.
Ulric licked his palm and let the wound close. He stood and watched as my skin grew. I noticed his skin was pale and eyes were sunken.
“How clever you are, John, to have covered your head,” Ulric said weakly.
“What…what happened?” I managed to ask as my body finished the repair process by growing hair. I instinctively reached down and felt my Little John. I closed my eyes and sighed in relief.
“You learned a lesson, by dying,” Ulric stated flatly. “The sun burns our essence,” he said while looking me up and down, admiring his handiwork. “Luckily you were not too far gone and able to return to this life.”
“You said we were immortal!” I said, realizing I was now naked.
“I did, indeed. However, there are rules and limitations that one must adhere in order to survive the centuries. Rule one, find a resting place before the sun rises. The ground is the most viable, but deep caves also work; and I do mean deep. You wouldn’t want to get caught in a shallow cave where the light just bounces around and fries you in all directions.”
“What about houses?” I asked.
“Think about your home. Is there anywhere, even in the cellar, where light cannot find?” He asked.
Looking down, I remembered how I had watched the Commander attack my father through a crack in the stone. I shook my head once.
“I thought not. We are vulnerable in the light. Day saps us of our strength and reduces us to helpless sheep,” Ulric said with a touch of disgust.
I lifted myself up on my elbows and examined my body. After a moment I looked up at him and asked, “What happened to me? It felt like I was burned alive.”
“You were, in a manner of speaking,” Ulric said. “The sun cleanses the world of most magics, which is now infused within you. You only survived because you protected what cannot be replaced.”
“My…head?” I asked.
“You are more than your head, John. It is inside what makes you who you are. If only your head had been burned and I brought you back, you wouldn’t be you anymore. You’d be a new born child in a dangerous body.”
“So, I’d be dead?” I asked.
“Well, undead actually,” Ulric informed, glancing at his finger nails and cleaning out the dirt one by one. “But yes, who you are now would no longer exist. Now then,” he continued, “it’s time for both of us to feed. If I remember correctly, and I always do, there is a small farm nearby.” He started walking due north.
“A farm? What are we going to feed on?” I asked, fearing the answer.
“Oh, John,” he said, stopping to turn and look at me. “You cannot afford to be so naïve. The sooner you leave your mortality behind, the easier things will become.”
“But they are innocent!” I protested getting to my feet.
“They are food. Plus, you are naked,” Ulric said flatly.
I looked in his eyes for any semblance of weakness in his resolve. There wasn’t any that I could see, and it frightened me. I threw out exactly what I was feeling in hopes that he would relent.
Breathing heavy, I tilted my head downward while my eyes remained locked on his and said, “My family was innocent, Ulric. I will not harm the weak.”
“You will do as I command, boy!” Ulric strode over to me, voice booming and eyes blazing. His eyes were a shade of purple that were shifting to a crimson red. It was mesmerizing.
With no leverage, I threw out the first thing that came to mind. “You want a companion, right? Someone to share your time with that understands how today’s world works?” I reached.
At this, the intensity in his eyes diminished a tad. Though he didn’t respond, his demeanor suggested his willingness to
listen.
“Let’s make a deal. I’ll do whatever you ask and be your companion. All I ask in return is that we feed on those who have earned our attention,” I pleaded.
His eyes slowly returned to their original color as he pondered.
I continued, feeling more confident. “You have nothing to lose with this, and everything to gain.”
His gaze shifted to the scenery around us and he put one hand on his chin in deep contemplation.
“I am not used to opposition, John. But your bargain is acceptable. You will do whatever I ask and be by my side, teaching me as I teach you. In return, we will feed on, bad, men.” He took a breath between the last words and put emphasis on bad.
He continued before I could ask him why. “Now then, let us find something around the camp indicating other locales.” With that, he strode back toward the camp in the opposite direction of the farm.
I took a deep breath and exhaled, relieved to have saved an innocent family from a fate they didn’t deserve. I ran to catch up to him, praying we would find any information, and pants. I was hungry, and naked.
Chapter 11
Now
I screamed and jerked my body awake, slamming head first into the top of my coffin.
“Lilith damnit!” I exclaimed as I rubbed my forehead. With my free hand, I flipped the switch to open the coffin and turn on the lights. I was aware there was warm liquid dripping down my face. It had apparently already reached my crotch and soaked through.
Still holding my forehead, I pulled my hand away to see that I indeed would be adding my sheets and shirt to the dry-cleaning bill. Looking down I saw that there was no red on my pants.
Asking no one, I say in my best Keanu impression, “If you pee in the matrix, you pee here?”
Da floated into the room and asked in alarm, “What is the screaming about!? Why are you bloody bleeding?”
“I told you to knock mom! I could have been…you know…watching my little pony or something.”
“I’m sure. However, the question still warrants an answer. Why were you screaming and why are you bleeding?” He asked with narrowing eyes.
“I had a daymare and slammed my noggin on the feckin’ iron lid,” I explained, wincing in pain. An Irish expletive snuck into my phrasing as I temporarily lost focus on my accent.
“That won’t heal for some time, then. That is the double edge sword you swing when creating a sleeping chamber made from a material that cancels all magic. I’ll get the super glue, then,” he said as he floated off to wherever we keep the glue, duct tape, and spare batteries.
After a few moments, he returned with some paper towels, Elmer’s Glue, and a smile.
My eyes kept switching between the glue and him. I made sure to convey my annoyance visually.
“It was the only adhesive we had, John,” he explained as if telling a child why he had to wear the pink Band-Aid.
“Why do we even have Elmer’s Glue? Did you make me a popsicle stick house for my birthday?” I mocked.
“One of us purchased the item in question. Would you like to guess as to whom that was? A five-inch ang…”
“Faerie” I interrupted
He continued, “Or a mostly average looking blood bag, able to walk among humans without causing a commotion.” He looked at me with eyes that accused as well as any finger could have.
After some dabbing of the excess blood and pinching my forehead together, he was able to get the glue to keep the wound closed.
I stood and walked to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and stared into the mirror. The hardening white glue was horizontal on my forehead and dripping down a little.
“I look like Ben Stiller just said, “There’s something about John.”
“Your power of illustration never ceases to amaze,” he sarcastically replied.
“I read at a fourth-grade level,” I said.
“Quite. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business elsewhere. Do return the items to the utility drawer, if you would,” he said before winking out of this plane before I could retort.
I strode over to where the paper towel roll and children’s glue lay, picked them up, thought about squeezing the cows face until it exploded, decided the cleanup wouldn’t be worth it, then walked into the kitchen where the drawer was. I pulled the knob, sliding the drawer open, revealing batteries, scissors, paper clips, and a tub of clear super glue. The cow’s gooey insides exploded through my clinched fists.
Chapter 12
Ireland, 1480
After rummaging through the soldiers sleeping quarters, I came across a chest filled with clothes that mostly fit me. After I slipped on the boots, I stood up and walked outside to where my mother was, still in her brazen prison.
I stood in front of the bull positioned over the smoldering ashes. My arms became heavy as I told them to reach for the latch on the side. All I could do was stare.
Ulric walked up beside me, grasping the situation. “Leave her, John. She’s gone and there’s nothing you can do.”
“She deserves a proper burial.” Tears stung my eyes. “As does my father.”
Ulric seemed puzzled at the impracticality, but understood he hadn’t experienced the loss of a family member in several lifetimes. It was all a distant memory from when he was mortal. But he did recognize a man who was determined and decided it was best to help in order to continue on the mission.
I willed my hands to undo the latch that kept my mother imprisoned in her tomb. The door swung open and the smell of charred flesh and hair wafted heavily into my face, adding insult to injury.
“They must have closed the latch whenever they heard us,” Ulric said contemplatively. He was still weak from giving me most of his life essence.
There she was, laying on her side, her dress plastered on her body, with one clawed hand reaching up the neck of the bull. All her nails had been broken off as she desperately scratched at the metal. Dried blood streaked all along the inside in four lined patterns.
The heat had completely dried out her skin, etching a look of horror and anguish on her face as the flesh shrunk; revealing bare teeth and bulging red eyes. Dried blood ran down her cheeks where capillaries had burst in her sockets. The cords in her neck prominently displayed through paper thin skin.
I reached in and cradled my mother who was stiff from lack of moisture in the body. I walked her over to a spot in the grass and laid her down. My hands moved to her eye lids and tried to close them. The now brittle flesh of her eyelids remained shrunk into her sockets. Her once beautiful, loving eyes remained staring, horrified and wide. I ripped a piece of my shirt off at the bottom and laid it across her eyes.
After a quick search, we located my father in a locked room. As I effortlessly burst through the lock, a gasp stole my voice at the sight of him strapped to the table with his intestines strung up above him through a hole in his stomach. The significance of seeing my father’s unmoving body grew exponentially in my chest. I kept expecting him to turn his head and tell me he was ok and that he had tricked his captures into thinking he had died an excruciating death.
But my father, who had always been the example of the man I wanted to be, didn’t move. His head remained motionless. There was no rise and fall of his chest. Life had left his body long ago, leaving behind an empty, mortal shell.
Ulric placed his hand on my shoulder, not apologizing for my loss, but not rushing me either. The gesture brought me back to the now. I shook my head to clear the lethargy and stepped to the table.
After unwinding his innards, I pushed them back into his cavity the best I could before picking him up with one arm under his shoulders and the other supporting the back of his knees. Ulric moved to help.
“No. I need to do this,” I told him. Ulric nodded his head, not saying anything.
I laid my father on the cool, evening grass next to my mother. I stood upright and looked at them both.
“They didn’t deserve this,” I said, mostly to myself.
&nb
sp; “You will avenge them, John,” Ulric comforted.
I dropped to my knees next to my mother and father, and started digging in the earth. Ulric stood over, watching in placation.
After several minutes, I buried both of my parents. I stood over their mounds, closed my eyes, and said an old Irish prayer under my breath. My father had taught it to me as a child and it seemed fitting.
Once the prayer was complete and a few moments had passed, Ulric said, “John, it is time. We must feed this night.”
I nodded slowly in agreement, not only because I was feeling the pull of the thirst, but because I wanted to make every, single one of those cowards pay. If they swore loyalty to the commander, they were mine.
A quick search revealed a map used by messengers to deliver orders between camps. Ulric picked it up, glanced at it for a fraction of a second, and then let it drop to the ground.
“Quickly now,” he said. “I am famished.”
“Wait!” I said, picking up the map. “Don’t you need this?”
He stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath in frustration. He turned, not accustomed to having to explain himself and said, “Look at the paper, John.”
I did as he commanded.
“Now take it in. Open your mind and etch it like a chisel on stone,” He said.
I stared at the paper, squinting.
“Not like that,” Ulric said. “Don’t force it. Let it into your mind.”
“How?” I asked, frustrated, letting my hands holding the paper drop to my sides.
He walked to me, grabbed my wrists and lifted my hands so the paper was in front of me again.
“Don’t try to etch it into your memory. Just let it,” he said. His lips were cracked.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and held it. After a few moments, I exhaled and opened my eyes, not staring at any specific spot. The ink jumped off the paper and I could feel a pressure behind my eyes, as if a storm were on the horizon. After an instance, it was gone.
I dropped the paper and rubbed my eyes, “What was that?” I asked.
