By
GodOfTheNaturals
The sun had long-since descended beneath the horizon, casting the city skyline and all that lay in its shadow into darkness. Yet, the darkness lasted for merely a moment when, as if by supernatural concurrence, the city itself lit up from within itself; bathing it in an artificial, yet still dazzling, vivacity. Daniel Nadeu hated the light, both the natural and the simulated. Its rays were blinding and sweltering, almost as if he were standing before a flaming maelstrom. It illuminated all that he hated and feared about the world around him, which in turn exposed him to the defenselessness of it. It was for this reason that he kept the blinds in his small apartment constantly shut; blocking any that sought to sneak into his sacrosanct refuge. It had not always been such. At one earlier, distant time, Daniel would rise from his nightly torpor eagerly anticipating the morning sunrise. Birdsongs and soft breezes were cliché-riddled notions, yet also highly comforting for him. Jennifer used to tease him incessantly about it; she thought it was a little saccharine yet endearing at the same time and totally at odds with his masculine demeanor. It was ironic that the way he felt about her was the sole reason he even found those things enjoyable. He would often lay awake next to her, observing her pristine serenity, thankful that he had someone in his life that inspired the elation and completeness he felt. Before her, before her light and her love, he had resigned himself to gloom and isolation; the same gloom that he now found himself enveloped in. How did that old saying go? It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? That was nothing but ridiculous, sentimental nonsense. To be reminded every waking moment of every single day of a love so pure and vital to everything that you are, a love that you can never again see, hear, or touch is worse than any pain he could imagine. It is better to have loved and lost? No, it is better to have never known love in the first place than to have it violently ripped from you and haunt you for the rest of your life.
Daniel sat up in his bed, trying to rub the ringing out of his head. He had not moved all day or most of the night. Just the thought of making the effort was enough to discourage him from it altogether; but even his apathy could not block out his restlessness. He had been trapped inside the torment of his own mind for days, the same disquieting events replaying themselves over, and over, and over again. Maddening was not the word he would describe his mind as. He rocked himself to his feet, the brisk air ripping at his naked body. He had forgotten how cold the air conditioning blasting at 65 degrees for fifteen hours straight made his apartment. He retrieved a pair of jeans tossed callously on the floor and pulled them on, followed by a t-shirt that had been castoff in the same way. He made his way back through the bedroom and into the kitchen, straight to the refrigerator. Pulling the freezer door open, he reached into the even unkinder subfreezing air to salvage his prize: a bottle of vodka. However, as he went to twist the cap off, he discovered that the bottle was bone dry, not a drop left inside. He shook the bottle in disbelief, as if he expected some small amount of liquid to miraculously accumulate for him to quickly devour. When it became apparent that such a miracle was unlikely to occur, he tossed it behind him back into the hallway.
He checked the cabinets above the refrigerator for other sources of libation, but stopped himself. He could tear every inch of his apartment to pieces, it still would not change the fact that he had idiotically consumed every source of alcohol down to the last drop and had not thought to ensure he had any left in reserves. He had no liquor to inspire, nor the exact tools needed to express, his creativity properly. The only options were to go out for more or stay inside and slowly allow solemnity to take him until it drove him mad. Although, when he thought of it that way, the choice became abruptly simple. He hurriedly returned to his room, crawled under the bed and pulled out a pair of shoes. They were quickly on his feet, followed by a hooded jacket that was hanging on the bedroom door. The keys on the nightstand were in his hand, and he was up, out the front door; locked, and shut firmly behind him.
Having his apartment on the second floor made it easy for Daniel to swiftly make it down onto the street outside. It was a warm night, but still cool enough to warrant a jacket, which made him glad that he had brought his. He turned the hood up over his head and started walking briskly down the street. Traffic packed the road practically bumper to bumper, but the sidewalks were bare. He lost his mind in the barreling sounds of vehicles moving by, horns honking, the squeal of breaks, and the roaring exhaust. There was a faint humidity in the air but he still had his hood up, keeping himself hidden from any of the passersby's in their cars who might happen to glance his way. He still felt like he could feel them, their yearning, prurient gazes trying almost desperately to peer into the depths of him; discerning his intentions, his actions, judging his every molecule of being. Each time he felt it, he would look away and silently implore and demand for the looks to stop; and each time he was met with unrepentant mocking and torment. He used to think he was going crazy; he used to think he was just imagining everything. No one cared about him; no one gave a second thought. Bouncing from one extreme to the next, from paranoia to apathy, was more than exhausting; it was excruciatingly galling. It tore at the scraps of what was left of him, deep inside, that he kept hidden from the world. Nevertheless, the fear and the pain always found its way in. There was no escape from it; no refuge, and no redemption.
He came to a red traffic light at the end of the block and leaned against the signal pole, keeping his head bowed as the cars continued to rush by. He glanced behind him, ensuring there was none about to make the turn, and then dashed across the street, continuing on his way. The buildings around him, which had begun as the derelict storefronts of furniture outlets, clothing and grocery stores hours past closing time, were starting to give way to restaurants, bars and after-hours clubs bustling with activity. Rounding the next corner, he found himself almost walking directly into a crowd of people gathered outside one of the bars. The revelers were laughing and shouting; drunkenly swaying and thrashing around trying not to stumble over themselves and one another. There was a time when he would have rushed to join in the festivities with them. There were many things he would have done differently than he would now; but that's why they were in the past. That wasn't the place for him anymore.
The flashing police lights were the final portents he needed to avoid continuing towards the carousing horde. He glanced off to the side, searching for an alternate route around when he noticed an alleyway to his left that seemed to serve his purpose. He rushed toward it without a second thought, the loud roaring and screaming seemingly chasing him into it. The alley was narrow, yet wide enough for him to comfortably walk through without bringing him too close to the walls or the scattered doors that dotted the walkway. He seemed to be the only living thing moving along its path; the air was stagnant and repulsively sour. If there were anything living there, it hadn't been alive for quite some time. He did his best to hold his breath, keeping the putrid aroma out. The alley seemed to wind on forever. He could hear the sounds of the bars fading behind him as his route took him further and further away from it. The lifeless quiet surrounding him was starting to unnerve him, nagging at his mind, urging him ever presently forward. He was starting to wonder where, if ever, it would let him out.
It was into these thoughts intruded the sudden, frantic sounds of footsteps pounding on pavement. Daniel stopped where he was, attempting to discern from which direction they were coming. He pulled his hood tighter over his head and slid over closer to the wall, hoping whomever was running would not notice him. The footfalls were emanating from behind him, back in the direction he had come from. Suddenly, a dark shape came running around the corner; clad from head to toe in black. He couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, it just seemed like a shadowy void moving hurriedly toward him. As it passed, he briefly glimpsed pale skin, and long dreadlocked hair flowing from beneath a dark hood. It started to pull away from him when all of a sudden it stopped dead in its tracks. An unnatural halt, there was no deceleration. It was running, and then it was as if the entire moment had skipped a frame in time. The shape was standing at a dead stop, staring down the alley into the darkness. Its hands reached up underneath the hood and pulled it back, letting its hair shake loose behind it. Then, it turned and cast its stare back at him and he could see it was a woman. He was frozen by her gaze, her eyes silently holding him inflexibly in place. It was then that he noticed that the right side of her scalp was shaven completely clean. In the place of hair were several intricate black tattoos; shapes and writing that he couldn't quite make out.
What the hell is she doing? he thought to himself.
"Run."
Her voice came so suddenly and with such gravity, it took him a moment to realize it was her who had spoken.
"What?" was all he could say in reply.
"I said run."
"What are you talking about?"
"You don't have a lot of time, so if you want to live I suggest you get the fuck out of here."
A flicker of shadow flew from the edge of Daniel's vision, past him. He quickly whipped his head around in time to see the shade violently crash into the woman; sending them both tumbling down the alley, clawing and scratching at each other. It was on top of her, and Daniel could make out arms rising and bearing down on her, the sound of cutting and slicing flesh echoing off the walls. The woman grasped her opponent by the shoulders and rolled, trying to free herself from under it. Daniel was still unable to see what it was that attacked the woman clearly, but he could hear it. It sounded more feral than human, like she was fighting with a large animal. But this thing that had arrived fiercely from the shadows had the body of man, so it had to be one didn't it?
The woman kicked the thing away and leapt to her feet; but before she could make a move, its fist came flying across her face and sent her reeling backwards until she was on her back again. It leapt into the air, pouncing like a savage predator, and landed on her, clawing and biting.
Before he knew what he was doing, Daniel was stumbling backwards, disoriented by the sudden ferocity, attempting to escape the violent brawl between the two shapeless voids. His legs were not obeying his desire to distance himself from the skirmish, made even more cumbersome by his heart pumping furiously in his chest, causing him to shake violently.
Jesus what the fuck was that?!
He finally managed to get his body turned around and moving in the opposite direction when a third shape stepped seemingly out of the shadows themselves, obstructing his exit. This one had the look of a man, more so than the woman when she first appeared or her savage aggressor. He wore a simple dark tank top, exposing his myriad of exotic tattoos strewn about his chest and arms; jeans and black boots. But it was his face that Daniel noticed. Like his body, it was embroidered with elaborate tattoos not unlike those of the woman. Some were lines tracing his bone structure, one was an exotic eye etched into his scalp. And it was following that design that he saw what he had originally assumed to be hair was actually a trail of metal spikes protruding from the top of his head.
"Bourassa! Enough!" the man roared.
Behind them, Daniel heard the fighting immediately cease. He turned his gaze to verify his assumption and saw the woman lying face-down on the ground, her assailant standing over her gripping her jacket in his hand. A hand that appeared more bestial than human.
"Bring the bitch."
The creature Bourassa began dragging the woman over to them. Daniel turned his attention back over to the man who had given the order. His tall, gaunt form was still blocking the path to the street behind him; and with his friend behind them there was no immediate escape.
"Look," Daniel said, "I don't know what this is but I don't-"
"Shut your fucking mouth, meat," the man growled, "or I'll eat you where you stand."
Daniel suddenly did not feel inclined to speak anymore.
Bourassa slugged past him and dumped the woman's body in front of his metal-hawked friend. The man reached a single tattooed hand down and gripped her by the face, raising her up off the ground.
"I grow tired of this game, Orina. Now, give me the heart."
Orina stirred, grasping at his hand to no avail; his grip was unrelenting.
"The heart!" he demanded. "Tell me where you've hidden it!"
"Go to hell!" she gasped.
"You were never one of Baphomet's faithful," the man replied, tightening his grip on her face. "Even after the Breed dispersed from Midian, you chose not to follow Cabal's meaningless reclamation. Why Kinski entrusted the heart to you I cannot fathom; but it is a decision that cost him dearly."
He then released his hold on her, letting her fall to the ground.
"Do not continue to allow yourself to suffer because of his failed judgment."
"I don't give a shit about you or your cult. I never wanted any part of this."
"Then give me what I want."
"Kinski had what you wanted!"
"The lack of evidence on what was left of his corpse says otherwise."
Daniel didn't know what they were talking about, but he knew that if he did not find a way out soon he was not going to be around long enough to figure it out. However, no matter how many ways he thought about it, he couldn't deduce a way to make it past either Bourassa or his friend.
"My lord Nergal grows impatient," the man continued. "Give me the heart or I will gut you and feed you your own entrails before Bourassa eats you."
Roused by the thought, Bourassa stepped forward and delivered a vicious kick to Orina's stomach, sending her doubling over onto the ground, moaning in pain.
She spat a mouthful of blood on the man's boot.
"Fuck you!"
Bourassa was on her again in a flash; her throat clenched in his hand, her body lifted once again into the air. The man moved in front of her, suddenly a large ornate knife was in his hand. Intricately designed just like the tattoos adorning his body, it was metal from edge to hilt. It seemed to actually be several shards of metal, of varying lengths, somehow fused together into one complete blade. He ran the tip of it from Orina's chin down her chest and stopping at her abdomen. He pressed it against her skin until it began to slide inside of her. As dark red blood oozed out of her and onto the shaft, she didn't let out a single cry of protest; only a faint whimper.
Daniel didn't think, he just moved, turning and sprinting down the alleyway; propelling him further and further away from the nightmare of fangs, claws, metal hair and knives he had stumbled into. He wanted badly to glance back and see if the man and his monster had abandoned their original prey to pursue him, but he knew doing so would only slow his escape and ensure that they would catch him in the end. Instead, he bowed his head forward and plowed forward, trying his best to pump his arms and legs harder and gain speed to aid his flight. Then he heard a loud roar, and he knew that Bourassa the brute was after him. It was only a second before he could hear the gallop of steps racing up behind him accompanied by the wild snarling that could only be that of a creature not human. It was the sound of a beast hungry for flesh.
A soft wisp of wind at his back and Daniel knew that creature was at him, clawing at his jacket and the meat beneath it. He kicked his stride out, willing himself away from its grasp.
Nonononononono! Gotta get away! Gotta get-
Another gust of air at his back, this one followed by something digging into his jacket, ripping the cloth all the way through to the skin on his back. Then it tore through that as well; a burning hot, stinging pull at his muscles and flesh. He cried out in pain as the absolute power of the blow lifted him off of his feet and sent him hurling through the air until he slammed into the alley wall and dropped to the ground.
He didn't even have time to react from the pure shock before the monster was there, standing over him; its long, dreadlocked hair hanging low to frame his bestial face, mouth fixed in a snarling scowl. Its forehead protruded outward, misshapen and distorted with several metal rings pierced through it. If this thing called itself a man, it was only in the abstract sense of the word.
"You run. Now you're meat, motherfucker," the monster spoke. His voice was deep and raucous, sending chills through Daniel that permeated even through the pain that was already crippling him.
Daniel raised his hand to the beast, attempting to halt any further assault.
"Wait," he gasped. "Please, don't-"
His sentence was cut short by the creature bringing his extended claw down hard onto his chest, then through it. His hand tore into his muscle and flesh just as easily as it did to his back. There was a momentary sharp pain, more than any he had ever felt, but then it was gone and soothing warmth swept over him. His body relaxed against the cold stone ground and his vision started to blur and ebb, a languid fog of red glossing over his eyes, bathing him in it until it gave way to deep black nothingness.
Daniel jolted awake, almost immediately after he had closed his eyes it seemed. He pushed himself up on his elbows then backwards, away from the inhuman monster attempting to remove his organs from their fleshy casings. A hand grasped his wrist; yet it wasn't the enlarged, clawed hand of his attacker. It was smaller, softer than but just as strong as the former. He opened his eyes to look upon his aggressor and was met with the face of the woman from the alley. She was knelt across from him, without her hooded jacket but otherwise unchanged.
"Calm down! I'm not going to hurt you!"
He attempted to escape her grasp, but she was too strong and her grip was too tight. He tried to speak, tried to ask: How do I know that? Who are you? What the hell is going on? But his mouth refused to form words, electing instead to remain mute.
"I said calm down!"
Her command filled the air between them, the pure encumbrance and authority in her voice seemed to completely overpower him on its own. What little strength and will he seemed to have quickly drained from him until he found it a straining effort simply to hold his head up to look at her.
"Get up," she ordered, "come on, we've got to keep moving!"
She let go of his arm, and he awkwardly climbed to his feet, trying to slow his breathing and calm down his heart's rapid pounding. His eyes danced quickly around him and he realized that, while still outside, they were not in the alley they had been in before. They were now surrounded by trees; dirt and leaves smothered the ground around them. As he looked down at his body he saw that he was shirtless, his body dressed only in the jeans he had put on before he left his apartment. His other clothes were nowhere to be seen, but his chest and his stomach were covered in dark earth and sticky, almost black fluid….
Oh my God, is that blood?
He touched it, and then he was clawing at it; trying to scrape it off of him.
"What….what is this?" he finally managed to utter.
"It's blood," the woman confirmed. "Your blood."
Her words seemed a lie; a fallacy of unknown deceit.
"Look, we have to keep moving!" she repeated.
"Are you kidding me?!" he exclaimed. "I can barely fucking stand!"
Her expression remained stoic and completely silent.
"Lady, I don't know you," he continued, "I don't know what all that was back in that alley. I-I mean, what was that…that thing that attacked me?!"
"My name is Orina," she answered. "The thing that attacked you was Bourassa, Dobrev's attack dog."
He silently surmised that Dobrev must have been the other man, the one with the metal mohawk and the knife.
"He…..he wasn't human!"
"Far from it."
Daniel's breath was starting to return to normal, but his heart refused to follow suit. It pounded with such an intense vigor that it felt like it was exploding inside of his chest over and over.
"What were they?!" he shouted. "Why did that…that monster try to kill me!?"
"It had nothing to do with you, they were after me. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time."
"And it almost got me killed!"
"No, it didn't. It did get you killed."
He met her gaze; her eyes were cold and impenetrable. The words she had spoken were as plain and easy to comprehend as any, yet their meaning was completely alien to him.
"What are you talking about? I'm not dead. I'm alive!"
Before she could respond, he twisted away from her and tried to run, nearly tripping over himself in the process. She attempted to grab ahold of him again, but he managed to elude her grasp and scrambled across the damp ground into a large tree. He attempted to circle around behind it, away from her, but she was already there stepping in his path.
"Leave me alone!" he shouted, still backing away.
"We don't have time for this!" she said, continuing after him. "You weren't involved before but you are now! And we need to go!"
"No I'm not! You said those things didn't want me! Whatever they want, give it to them! Or don't, I don't give a fuck! Just leave me alone!"
"I can't. It's not mine to give anymore."
He stopped, or rather his body stopped. At the same moment, she stopped chasing him; standing just as still as he was. Even then, his heart was a million bombs igniting continually within his body. Just when he felt as if it couldn't continue on with such force, it did again and again.
My heart….
"You did something to me! What was it?"
His hand clutched his head. He was growing dizzy; the ground was turning to slush beneath his feet. The last memory he had was of that creature, Bourassa, ripping his chest open. Cleaving flesh from bone with talons glistening with his own blood. He felt himself slipping, like he was being pulled into sleep. But what happened next? He couldn't remember…
"I saved you."
"What do you mean you 'saved' me? If I was dead, how could you save me?!"
He could see she was struggling with words, holding them back for some veiled motive. She knew the truth; she had been there in the alley with those monsters. Those things that walked and talked like men but were not. Things that desired to consume him like so much cattle or livestock. And yet she continued to keep the truth from him.
"Tell me what you did!?"
She leaned back against the tree, her head turned so that she was staring across the field, out into the city beyond. The city where wild beasts roamed, more treacherous than any God had created. He fought to read the expression on her face but it eluded him. She was searching her mind for something. For the answer? For the proper way to tell it to him? Or was it for something else entirely?
"Dobrev and Bourassa," she said finally, "are from a place called Midian."
Midian? The name seemed somehow familiar to him, like a story he had heard long ago but had forgotten.
"Midian?" he said. "What the hell is that?"
"It was a city. But it doesn't exist anymore," was her reply. "It was destroyed years ago. Now, ruins are all that remain."
"I don't understand…."
"The people who lived in Midian were like Bourassa, like Dobrev. Like me."
Like her? What did she mean? Each answer she gave only presented him with more and more questions.
"What do you mean 'like you'?"
"It happened a long time ago," she continued. "He came from some dark and treacherous place as a savior to our people. Some call him a god. Baphomet the Baptizer. He received all the beasts and monsters of the Earth to Midian to protect us. He provided sanctuary for us. He saved us; and by saving us, he saved himself."
"Beasts and monsters…?" Daniel echoed. "You're not human?"
"No. I am not."
"What are you then?"
"I am Nightbreed," she said, turning back to face him. "One of the few who remain."
"Dobrev and Bourassa…they're Nightbreed too?"
"Yes."
Daniel didn't know what to make of what she was telling him. She was speaking of cities peopled with gods and monsters, things that didn't make any sense; that couldn't possibly be real.
"If you're one of the few," he said, "then what happened to the rest of you?"
"After Midian's destruction, we were left without a home. Most of us returned back into the world; the same world that hated us and drove us all nearly to extinction."
"I don't get it. If you're all on the same side, then why were they trying to kill you?"
"Dobrev and Bourassa are not 'on my side.' I'm not on anybody's side. When Midian was destroyed, the most faithful of our tribe took the dismembered parts of Baphomet and separated them to keep them safe from our enemies. Enemies whom Dobrev and Bourassa now serve."
Back in the alleyway, Dobrev had been demanding that Orina surrender the heart. Heart…..
"That's what they wanted," he said aloud. "The heart. You have Baphomet's heart."
"I had the heart."
"Then….where is it now?"
Even as he asked the question, he had already concluded as to its answer. Any attempt to meet her gaze resulted in her moving to avoid his. Her every hesitation pointed to that obvious, singular fact that she could not bring herself to give voice to.
"It's in me."
It was a statement, one to which she nodded in response.
"Yes."
Daniel slumped down against the tree and sat, unmoving. This was unbelievable, none of it made sense. He didn't understand how this woman, who claimed not to be human, was standing there involving him in this fantastical world from which she had violently arrived; a monster being pursued by other monsters, fighting over the heart of a god. Was this Baphomet truly a god? Trying to make sense of all of this was making everything around him become muted and off balance. He could sift it around in his mind as many times as he wanted; part of it still kept whispering to him that he was dreaming; that none of this was real and at any moment he would wake up back in his apartment to his paintings and his hollow existence, free of this madness. Every time he blinked or closed his eyes, he expected it to all be undone when he opened them. But, as he stood watching Orina he knew that his mind was a liar. The truth of her words was etched all over her face, the way she stood; gazing out at the world. She was hoping, praying for release; for absolution from this insanity, just as he was.
"Am I dead?" Daniel asked.
"No."
"Then, what am I? Why did you do this to me?!"
"I don't even know how I did what I did. The heart…it called to me. I knew what it wanted but it didn't tell me why."
At her mention of the heart, he instantly looked down at his chest. He had cleared away most of the blood and grime, save for a few dried smears. He expected to find his torso scratched, scarred, etched with wounds. There were none; his skin was as smooth as it had been before that living nightmare stepped out of the shadows and removed his flesh from his very bones. He shouldn't be alive. Yet, he lived.
"What are you going to do with me now?" he asked, rising to his feet.
"The man who gave me the heart said that someone would be here to take it," she answered. "They killed him before he told me who or where exactly."
"That's great. Beautiful."
"All we have to do is avoid Dobrev and Bourassa until they come for the heart."
"And then what?" he demanded. "If this heart you put in me is keeping me alive, what's gonna happen when your friends show up and take it; or Dobrev and his six foot Doberman find us and rip it out of me first?"
"Look, I didn't want to be involved in this any more than you do. But you're in it now, same as me."
"No, not the same," he corrected. "I'm not one of you, I'm not a nightbreed. This bullshit has nothing to do with me! Baphomet or whoever the fuck he is isn't my god."
`"He's not mine anymore either," she said somberly. Although her eyes were focused at him, she wasn't looking at him anymore. Her gaze toured beyond him, trying to see a person and a world that had existed for her at one time but had long since been forsaken.
"So what are we gonna do then?" Daniel asked again.
Orina turned her attention back to him, pulled from her fleeting diversion. "Like I said, we keep moving. If Dobrev can track us, so can whoever is here for the heart. They'll find us."
"No they won't."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because they already have."
She was looking past him, over his shoulder and into the darkness beyond them. He whirled his head around, silently praying that she was mistaken and that they were still alone. Immediately upon searching the gloom, his hopes were obliterated. A tall, curvaceous figure sauntered into view; flanked on either side by their original pursuers, metal-hawked Dobrev and his beast Bourassa. The three strode across the desolate field like an ominous fog, steadily yet rapidly encroaching upon the two.
"Chabanel!" Orina hissed
The woman, he could see from her shape and the way she moved that she was indeed such, stopped several yards from them. Her body was clad in black leather, head to toe. Her face was adorned with a leather mask with holes cut through it which allowed her eyes and mouth to show through. The top also was punctured, evident by the flowing bright red hair that emanated from it. But it wasn't her hair that Daniel was drawn to, it was her eyes. Even at the distance she was he could see them burning bright and deeply like flaming embers.
"Who the hell is that?" Daniel said.
"She's Nightbreed, one of the oldest."
"How old is old?"
"She comes from the time of the Aztecs."
"You've gotta be fucking kidding."
"Orina," Chabanel greeted, "this futile postponement has continued for long enough. We want the heart."
Her words were immersed in a deep accent; Spanish or Mexican from the sound of it, although he couldn't make it out exactly. Her smooth and gentle voice was just barely above a whisper, yet it carried great command and force.
"I told your pet and his bitch, now I'll tell you. Leave us the fuck alone!"
Bourassa and Dobrev edged forward, jaws clenched, ready to move on them. Chabanel reached one arm out and they stopped immediately, returning beside her.
"Our people are scattered Orina, cast out and abandoned by our false god; betrayed by our supposed savior. All we are trying to do is fix all of that. Make our tribes whole again."
"You're just as deluded as Cabal and every one of those fools who follow him, still clinging to Baphomet's will like he's God."
"Baphomet is the god of the old Midian, a pile of dust and rubble. Nergal will be the god of the new Midian."
"It doesn't matter which of them you serve, it won't fix any of this. Following Baphomet led to our tribes' decimation and following Nergal will just lead to the same thing. We don't belong in this world! Not like this! We were left to the mercy of the humans before Baphomet drew us to Midian and under his protection we have been relegated to the same fate."
Daniel slowly inched back towards Orina, stopping at her side. He looked at her, attempting to discern what she was planning. There was no way they could out fight or out run all three of them and they were trapped out in the open.
"I know you placed the heart inside that Natural," Chabanel revealed. "If you do not wish to join the rest of your people in our new paradise, then so be it. All you have to do is walk away and leave him to us."
"I'm not gonna let you butcher him."
Chabanel extended her arms out to her sides, bowing her head and nodding towards them.
"Then so be it. Dobrev….Bourassa….mictiah."
The fiend and his brute were moving in an instant, sprinting across the field toward them in a wrathful frenzy.
Before he could even turn to run, Daniel felt Orina's hand grab him and shove him backwards away from her as she crouched low to the ground. A moment later, she leapt straight at her attackers; colliding into both of them with such force the backlash propelled him away even harder. Dobrev unsheathed two of his ornate knives and began slicing and hacking at her furiously, while Bourassa was all animal; leaping, rolling and swiping taloned hands wild and feverishly.
Daniel ceased his retreat momentarily, preparing to rush back to help. But just before he could, Orina managed to pull back and look at him, her eyes wide eyed and piteous; silently urging him not to. He did not delay a moment longer, spun on his heels and took off in the opposite directions. Even as he ran, he could still hear the guttural sounds of vicious combat; Bourassa's bestial growls and Dobrev's enraged yells. Orina's grunts as they continued to assault her. It took every ounce of his being not to turn back. He didn't know her, he wasn't a Nightbreed, and he was not a part of this world of monsters and ancient gods. But she had saved his life, and he was repaying her by allowing her to die so he could run away.
What would Jennifer think of you now, coward?
"No."
Then he did stop. He turned back; the fight seemingly only blurred shapes dancing in the moonlight. Chabanel had moved forward as well, a front row seat to the carnage.
It took him even less time to sprint his way back to them than it did to flee. As he got closer and closer, he could see Orina on her knees. Bourassa took a swipe at her, sending her slashed and bleeding to the ground. Dobrev stood over her, brought his foot up then slammed it into her stomach. Her shrill cry spurred Daniel even faster than he thought he could move.
"NO!"
Dobrev was the closest to him, so Daniel barreled forward, wrapped his arms around him and tackled him to the ground, knocking his knives from his hand. Before he could make another move, Daniel felt a sharp, searing pain in his ribs. Dobrev's face was buried into his flesh, ripping into him. His hands thrashed about, searching blindly for his blades. Daniel punched his head and his back over and over, thrashing and kicking his legs trying to get from underneath of him. As he yanked his head from side to side, he saw one, gleaming in the moonlight, not more than an inch or two beside them and shot his hand out quickly snatching it. He grasped the hilt firmly and jammed it straight into Dobrev's neck; twisting it, then pulled it completely across his throat.
Chabanel screeched and yelled in anguish, underlined by a fury that propelled her forward in a rage. Orina had managed to grasp Bourassa's neck in her forearms, choking him into unconsciousness. She grunted as she lifted him slightly, and tossed him in between herself and Chabanel. The two collided and sprawled over one another trying to untangle from each other. Orina ran up behind them, snatching Dobrev's second knife from the ground, and slid it into Bourassa's back; yanking it straight up, bisecting his upper torso to his neck. He fell back onto the ground, his wound oozing thick, almost black blood collecting into a puddle beneath him. Dobrev's headless body was in a similar fashion.
"Are you alright," Orina said.
Daniel nodded and quickly leapt to his feet, still grasping the knife in his hand. His eyes were trained on Chabanel, who was darting her eyes back and forth between him and Orina. She was suddenly alone, her associates were defeated and she looked as if she didn't know if she should run or fight. He was hoping she would run.
"Come on," Orina continued, "we need to go."
"Go?" Daniel scoffed. "What for? She can't do shit now."
"Dobrev and Bourassa are down, but they're not dead. They'll be back up after they've had time to heal and I don't think we can keep doing this all night."
Daniel glanced back at their bodies, curious as to how she could have come to that conclusion. They were decapitated and split open; human or not, there was no way they could come back from that.
"Don't question it, just listen to me and move."
The serious gravity of her voice dispelled any notions he might have had of questioning the statement, so he turned to leave with her.
"Run you fools! It won't matter!"
Chabanel was on her knees, her eyes still burning, flashing at the two of them.
"You will not stop us! You cannot escape us! We are many and we are strong like our lord and we will find you! He will stamp out all who oppose him like insects and he will build his new paradise upon the dust of your bones!"
Daniel could do nothing but cringe in disgust at her taunts and backed away, bumping into Orina. He crooked his head around to face her, standing perfectly still and staring directly into the darkness that he had almost retreated into a few minutes before. Except that then, it had been empty. Now, there was someone there, another shape moving silhouetted against the dark. Different from the others, who had all been dervishes of fury; this thing was large, lumbering and heavy. If he didn't know any better, he could swear he felt the very ground tremor beneath him as it moved.
Daniel brought the knife up, readying himself, and stepped back, grasping at Orina to do the same. She remained as still as stone; fixated on the hulking behemoth dawdling toward them. As it came closer and passed through the random rays of moonlight, he caught glimpses of deep, dark fur and claws.
"What the fuck is that thing?" Daniel said. He leaned back toward Chabanel, still sprawled on the ground. "What else did you bring with you?!"
"It's not one of hers," Orina said. "It's here for us."
The creature stopped just in front of her, crouching and bringing its head down directly in front of her face. Its features were unmistakably canine, yet it was larger and broader than any dog or wolf Daniel had ever seen. Its mouth was an endless abyss of salivating teeth, as sharp as the claws on its hand.
"So, you are the one Kinski entrusted the heart of Baphomet to," its voice said suddenly. "No accounting for taste on his part."
Suddenly, something moved from behind the beast and Daniel realized that the voice had come from it, and not the giant wolf. It slid around between it and Orina and he could make out its features in the half moon light. The man, if you could call any such creature from Midian as this was sure to be a man, immediately surprised him by the color of his skin. Daniel had never seen a person with sandy plum red skin, but this man indeed did. He stood about a foot over Orina, lean and gaunt yet he clearly possessed distinct musculature, pulsing beneath the loose-fitting shirt he wore. Also, like Orina and Bourassa, his hair seemed to be twisted into long dreadlocks, although they were thinner than the other two. After a second, Daniel realized that his locks were not locks at all; not made from hair but from skin, stretched across the surface of his very head.
"You," Orina said. "Cabal sent you, Peloquin?"
"You sound so disappointed," the man said disdainfully. "Not that it matters, as long as you have what we have come for."
She stepped aside and gestured to Daniel.
"He has it."
"You gave the heart to a Natural?!" Peloquin said, stepping forward.
Daniel brought the knife back up, holding it out in front of him.
"Stay the fuck away from me!"
Peloquin chuckled and made another move forward.
"You're going to need more than that for what's coming next little man," he said, "a lot more."
He turned his attention past Daniel to Chabanel, immobile on her knees still.
"Chabanel, you look like shit," he snickered.
"I would rather that than be what you are! You not only follow that fool Cabal but it is because of you that he was ever able to bring about the destruction of our home and the decimation of our people! You are worse than he is!"
"And what of you? One of the oldest of the Nightbreed and you put your faith in that sniveling coward who calls himself a god? You are no different than you were all those millennia ago, running around ripping out hearts and sacrificing children for more rain."
"I follow the god who seeks to save us."
"You shackle yourself to gods rather than flourish in spite of them. Baphomet is not responsible for the destruction of Midian anymore than you or I. It was inevitable."
"Says the one who orchestrated it."
"Philosophical leaning aside, it is not by chance that Cabal sent me to retrieve the heart from Orina. After I learned that the ones pursuing it had killed Kinski, I volunteered to retrieve it myself….and to put whoever was responsible in the fucking ground!"
Chabanel spat at his feet.
"He chose death the moment he refused to submit to the will of Nergal, the true savior of the Breed!"
"Your reasons don't mean shit to me, you brainless bitch. You killed my friend."
He turned back toward the motionless giant wolf.
"Khanum….eat."
The beast strode forward, and for a moment Daniel thought it was coming for him. But it swiftly passed him and set itself upon Chabanel. She let out a piercing scream that was immediately cut short by the wolf's jaws tearing into her throat. Daniel turned away but could still hear the sounds of it devouring her as she thrashed and fought until all he could hear were wet slurps, gulps and crunching of what he assumed were bone.
"Good doggie," Peloquin said. "Now, the other two."
As the feeding frenzy continued behind them, Peloquin inched forward further until he stood barely an inch from Daniel's knife.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"That depends," Daniel said, "are you going to kill me?"
"I was told not to, but I will if you force me."
"You don't look like somebody who does what they're told."
"Call me curious; I'm interested to see what Cabal has planned for you. You are an interesting creature to say the least. Not Nightbreed but not a Natural either."
"Then what the fuck am I?"
"That we will have to see, won't we?"
Peloquin turned and made his way back into the mist from which he had come. The wolf Khanum, having had his fill of the three bodies behind them, followed after him. Daniel watched them, unsure for the moment what he would do. But for the second time that night, the choice seemed to be relatively simple. As Orina passed him, she gave him the quickest of glances then continued forward.
This wasn't Daniel's world, or his fight; these monsters were not his people. Yet, there was no going back, that he was sure of. Giving a quick glance to the city lights behind him, he gave a silent goodbye and began to make his way after the Nightbreed and braced himself for the majesty and horror he was sure was waiting for him.