Sophia's Chronicles
A/N:
What is going on, guys? It's ya girl, Mild Depression here. Guess who has two thumbs and has a chronic inability to say 'no' to doing more work even when I clearly don't need to? God, it feels like I've been on overdrive since the beginning of the year and everyone is telling me to just chill the f out and take a break. So that's why the updates have been really slow. Last year alone, I wrote like 50 chapters for this fic. And so far this year, I've written only like 10. I really wanna write more, trust me. So until I find my footing again, here's another chapter for all you lovely people.
Oh and some of y'all had questions about Jack/Luc. Well that time paradox thing is an important story arc so I won't spoil it now. And no one recognises him as Luc because one, he was a literal toddler the last time anyone saw him and two, he has this masking device (the ring) that Chuck gave him that makes him look like any other angel. He's, like, older now, I guess the archangel equivalent of teenager(~18/19 yrs)? Also he's the Stormbringer (ain't that cute) like how his dad is the Lightbringer (feeeeeels). Also, if I write dialogues like (this), it means that the line is being spoken in another language.
Chapter 71: Metamorphosis
Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 1.15pm
"My name is Malachiah," he lied for the umpteenth time. It must have been odd to see the glee fade away so quickly, almost instantaneously, from his face, but Jack tried his best to maintain an unfettered smile. "But really, I prefer Jack."
"Alright," Zara nodded, finally finding it in herself to reciprocate the compassion. Outwardly, at least. She was still unsure of this whole situation – it was an unexpected turn of events. Nothing could have adequately prepared her for this moment.
"Okay," Dean clapped his hands together once. "Now that we're all caught up… Who's hungry? I sure am."
"I know a good diner nearby," Jack informed. "Best pork ribs in the state."
"Like you could tell," Zara mocked.
"Hey, I have excellent taste, thank you very much," he defended. Within a second, his wings flapped and they stood in a completely different place – the exit of an alley adjacent to the mentioned diner. Moments later, they found themselves sitting at a booth, Sam and Zara on one side and Dean and Jack on the other. Dean stared lovingly at his plate of pork ribs like an early Christmas present while Sam and Zara had chosen lighter meals. Jack had a simple cup of coffee before him, around which his palms were wrapped. His eyes were like upturned crescents, fixed on the stars he found twinkling in Zara's irises. His smile brightened the room with its sheer existence, she felt. She missed that smile, the way it comforted her when it used to feel like the air was a thorn-bush piercing her skin. Dammit. "So what's the case that brought you here?"
"We hunted a Rakshasa a while back. But now we're thinking that it wasn't working alone and its partner – or partners – are here," Sam filled him in while digging into his salad. "We were on our way to investigate the lead when, you know, we ran into each other. And you? What brings you to town?"
"Oh, uh, I'm here for the music festival," he cracked a grin, eagerly bobbing his head. "My band's performing."
"You're in a band?" Zara couldn't help but smile at that, though she did raise an eyebrow.
"Yeah. It's always been my dream, remember?" Jack nudged her left hand.
"Yeah, but… I didn't expect…" she shrugged it off. Focus, Zara. Focus on the mission. A little part of her still couldn't believe he was here.
"Why, because I'm an angel?" he gave her a bored look. "Look, here's the thing. I've been living among humanity for a while now. I don't really like uh…" he twirled his finger in the air as he searched for the idea. "… getting involved with angels. So this whole… making-a-living thing? Part of my cover. Also who doesn't wanna be a rockstar?"
"So you don't go back to Heaven?" Sam probed.
"No uh- I haven't been in Heaven in ages," Jack answered. Then his eyebrows knotted as he stared at the murky depth of his drink. "Don't even remember when I last talked to an angel. It's been that long."
"You're lucky," Dean added. "They've been stirring up quite a storm up there, from what we've heard."
"Yeah, I've been keeping tabs," Jack sighed despondently, until his lips slowly curved again. "But… staying out of their way also makes it easier for me to do things I wanna do… like start a band."
"Wait, please don't say…" Dean held up a finger as he chewed a mouthful. He swallowed the thickly-sauced meat.
"Don't tell us you're in Brides In White," Zara completed his sentence for him.
"What? What do you think I am, some kind of basement-dwelling meth-head who couldn't tell words from noises? Please," Jack brusquely denied. Sam huffed a little smirk at that. "Black Eternity only plays true metal. You guys should totally come check us out."
"I don't know…" Zara fidgeted in her seat. The old Zara would have said 'yes' in a heartbeat. But the old Zara also let herself be deceived by an angel.
"Please?" he begged, leaning forward. He spoke with a manner only he was capable of – it was a neat trick he accomplished by only slightly raising his eyebrows and looking straight into your soul while his lips parted ever so modestly, a stark contrast to the crudeness he was capable of mere moments earlier. It was probably why so few people had ever said 'no' to him. "It would mean a lot to me."
"Wait, if you're playing the festival, you could get us closer to Brides In White," Sam realised. The sound of his voice cut short Zara's bubbling inner conflict and she let herself look away from her friend. Sam and Dean seemed so sure of his innocence. There was no way they trusted him so quickly but to give him this much opportunity to earn their trust? It seemed like utter nonsense. But the act had to go on as intended and the best way to do that was to go with their flow.
"Why, you want an autograph, Sam?" Jack teased with a raised eyebrow.
"We think the Rakshasa's disguised as a band member," Sam simply answered. "So could you swing that?"
"I can do one better," he said smugly. "There's gonna be a party tonight. Performers and VIPs only. I'll bet my left kidney your guy's gonna be there."
"Can you get us in?" Dean asked, angling his body slightly to face him.
"You betcha, Hunter-Man," Jack agreed as he brought out his phone and texted someone.
"Awesome," Dean beamed. Maybe this Jack guy wasn't so bad, he thought.
Later, the three hunters followed Jack as he led them down the street to their initial destination – a park full of tour buses. He led them up the large black vehicle he introduced as belonging to his band, seeing as this was more discrete than having them aimlessly search the area rather suspiciously. The inside was rather cozy, with a lounge area preceding the bunk. Dean wandered about, curiously inspecting various things inside. The whole idea seemed dissonant – that an angel would choose to bed in a tour bus of all places, when all the world was a choice. An olive-skinned long-haired man came out of the bunk area, presumably after a nap.
"Hey Dee," Jack greeted. "Mind if I have some friends over?"
"Suh dude," Dee said in return, acknowledging the visitors. He eyed the Winchesters with a mild confusion, taking notice of their fed suits whereas he wore a simple tank top and shorts. "Nah man, I'm heading out. See ya."
With a smile and a wave, Dee hopped out of the bus, leaving the four of them alone. "That's our drummer. He's pretty good," Jack remarked. Sam pulled away a curtain, peeking outside to observe the other buses. The archangel came up next to him and for the first time, Sam truly noticed his incredible height that almost matched his own. That was a rare feeling. "See the one with the pink stripes? That's Brides In White."
"Thanks," Sam kept his gaze fixed on the vehicle, noting down other noticeable features for future reference.
"So what've you been up to the past seven years, huh?" Zara coolly asked as she took a seat at a window-side table. She looked at him properly this time – really looked at him, hoping to intuit an aura using Sophia's kohl without giving it away (it worked sometimes). There seemed to be a glow about him, invisible to the ordinary viewer. It was the first real thing that fully registered to her as a sign that he was an angel. Suddenly it felt like she should have known it all along. Why he was so perfect, why he always smelled so good, why he never sweated, why he said he was "home-schooled" but was always available to hang out with her at the oddest of timings – it all began to make sense. Perhaps the most disconcerting thing to her about it all was the possibility that he had chosen to befriend her because of duty, not for the sake of it. Though she said she would give him another chance, thinking all of this didn't feel so good.
"You mean after you ran away without telling me?" Jack retorted with a mild saltiness in his voice, though he reassured her with a goofy smile.
"I left you a note," she said in her defence. His expectant look did not let up.
"Well, I've been travelling a lot. Filming videos with my buddies. I go wherever the wind takes me," he pulled up his shoulders as he excitedly shared his adventures. "One time, I jumped off a cliff into the ocean and then climbed back up. That video's doing well on the internet."
"On the internet?" Dean turned back to face the angel.
"Yeah… Turns out people really like watching me jump off things," Jack added. His head would bob slightly at times, when he said odd things. Like a full ensemble, his eyebrow would raise and his lips would curve self-assuredly. Clearly, he enjoyed the kind of attention he got when he spoke. He was one of those kinds of people. Zara knew all too well. "And skate over things. And climb things. A buncha things. I love it."
"You vlog…" Zara huffed, smirking at the silliness of it all. "That is such a you thing."
"I know right?" Jack agreed. "Who knew pretending to be human could be so fun?"
"Yeah, especially when you don't eat, sleep, fall sick or need a job?" she rebutted, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You know, I get the point. You don't have to be mean about it," Jack grumbled, somewhat light-heartedly. Zara rolled her eyes.
"Jack, you don't even feel pain," she persisted with a pointed monotone. "I'm just saying, that sorta takes away from the 'human experience'."
His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head. "Of course I feel pain," he shot back, eliciting curious looks from the three of them. "In here," he laid a palm over his chest, expression immediately contorting with hurt briefly. Zara simply averted her head to gaze out the window, biting back a mean-spirited response. A brief silence eclipsed them. Sam and Dean took seats opposite Zara, ready to discuss their next move. "Can I get you guys something to drink?"
Jack reached into a fridge and pulled out a six-pack, setting it on the table. The hunters helped themselves to the bottles of beer. "So did you ever meet with anyone from the band?" Dean switched the topic of conversation. A fizzing sounded as Jack used his teeth to pop open the metal bottle cap with ease. Seeing that, Zara attempted the same move. A laboured frown beset her forehead as the cap kept slipping out of her mouth. She tried again with more force but stopped when it began to bite into her lip. Mildly grinning, Jack set his own bottle down, took hers and popped it open with his teeth before giving it back to her. Zara's irises were quick to dart away as she sipped on her beer, reluctant to give him the satisfaction of normalcy.
"Yeah, I've talked to Danny a couple times. He is living proof that fame is a drug. Translation: He's a mega cunt," he stated as matter-of-fact. "Now, I normally don't wish death upon people, but why do we gotta lose Dio and Tupac but not Douchebag Danny?"
"Dio and… Tupac?" Dean puzzled. "Never thought I'd hear those two names in the same sentence."
"What can I say, I'm a wholesome man. Rock and Hip-Hop go together like milk and honey," he elaborated. "Might make a rap album someday. You can be the Slim to my Shady," he said playfully to Zara, nudging her shoulder with his.
"Pft. Whatever," she mumbled, still unimpressed.
Sam regarded the both of them with general unease. "Jack, so you never noticed anything weird about Danny? I assume that if he was a Rakshasa you woulda known, right? Or anyone else in the band," Sam speculated.
"That's possible. But no, I never noticed anything. But it's also possible that maybe… he's masking his appearance somehow," Jack pensively eyed his beer bottle as he twisted the ring around his index finger under the table.
"Wait, they can do that?" Sam probed, curiosity piqued.
"I don't see why not. Given the right tools, right skills, anything is possible," he shrugged. "So what's the plan? Is there anything in particular that could tell us for sure who the Rakshasa is?"
"Brass. It's their Kryptonite," Dean said. "Brass knife, brass… pipe. That's how we got one before."
"Right… the books mentioned that," Jack nodded.
"Oh, come on. Not you too," Dean grumbled. Jack was confused for a moment at the sight of disappointment on the Winchesters' faces.
"They don't- they're kinda touchy about that," Zara whispered quite audibly to him.
"What? I'm a fan of Carver Edlund's writing," he defended to Dean. "But I was kinda hoping to read more about Zara. Nice going, by the way. Classic Zara. Putting yourself in danger like that. What did you think was gonna happen?"
"Oh, really?" Zara huffed, angling herself towards him. "You're gonna sit there and judge me for that when you coulda done your job and saved me? Unbelievable. As if the internet's judgment wasn't enough."
"Fine. Fine!" Jack rushed to calm her down. "I'm kidding. Jesus." Sam looked between the both of them. From his spot, their postures mirrored each other – Jack looking away to the right while Zara looked to the left. Even their eyes appeared identical in shape, though their irises differed in colour. At first glance, he would have thought they were siblings. Then, Jack turned back to Zara, leaning a bit closer with a thin smile, and said, "Don't worry about the internet. They still have good fanfiction about you."
Her head slowly craned to face him. He nodded with an expectation of dispelling her anger but it didn't seem to work. She shook her head and turned away again.
"Okay…" Dean interjected. "I say we split up. We can cover more ground at the party. Talk to people, see if anything weird comes up. Our guy has a thing for girls who're insecure."
"Isn't that like… all of them?" Jack inquired. Zara raised an eyebrow but said nothing. It was just another string of words she was used to hearing from him.
"I mean girls who are easy to prey on," Dean clarified. Jack nodded his head with a distinctly perplexed expression. "Easily taken advantage of?"
"Again, that's not specific," he said. "Everyone's fair game."
"Okay, you know what, let Zara do the profiling," Dean said.
"In the meantime we should go check out Crowley's spot," Sam suggested. "See if we can clear it out and get a shot at him."
Alarms went off in Zara's head. Crowley was a target – and one who knew things too. Things that could jeopardise her relationship with the Winchesters. She had to do something about it.
"It's quite a risk, isn't it? If this is business, he'll have the place swarming with his mooks. We need to plan this carefully," Zara said gravely, looking between the brothers. Jack picked up on her change in tone, finding it strange. "What if I go in first and distract him? Then you guys can come 'round the back and take out his back-up."
"You know, you almost gave me hope when you said this was risky. I mean you, Zara "Danger" Joshi, considering the idea of risk," Jack retorted. "And then you followed up with the worst plan I've ever heard in my life!"
"Hey, what's your problem? Let me do my job, dick," Zara shot back.
"Well I'm trying to do mine, Danger," he voiced with narrowed eyes. "Listen, splitting up isn't gonna help. We gotta stick together and charge him."
"Jack's right," Dean declared. "We're gonna be stealthy but we gotta stay close. Makes it difficult for him to catch us off-guard. Besides, we have an angel on our side."
"Should we call Cas?" Sam suggested. Jack took particular notice of that. Rule Two. "The more the merrier."
"No, he's gotta watch over Kevin," Dean refused. "Someone has to tell the kid to take it easy before he goes all Beautiful Mind on us."
"Alright," Jack clapped his hands together. "Let's get a move on, shall we?" Just as they all got up to leave, he stopped himself. "Oh wait, I almost forgot." A brief chuckle sputtered out of his lips and he grasped his own chin with two fingers in contemplation. "I know someone who can help us." His eyes aimlessly wandered about the lounge as he whistled. "Ser Adler, where are you?"
"Who?" Sam asked, eyes scrunched in curiosity.
"Adler?" Jack continued to question thin air. Then his eyes rested on a counter-top to Zara's immediate right and his lips curved up into a smile. "There he is."
Zara craned her head to see what it was. Her gaze caught the creature and instinctively, she shrieked at the sight of the lizard, scrambling to get away from it. "What the hell is that?!" she yelled at him while seeking refuge at Sam's side.
"Hey! Don't be rude. He scares easy," Jack carefully picked up the greenish creature, whose body was about the size of his palm. "See, this is why I never introduced him to you before. I knew you'd be such a girl about it."
"Why do you have… that?" Zara's heart thudded in her chest. She couldn't get over the sight of its reptilian eyes as Jack stroked its scaly back lovingly. "Ugh…" she cringed externally.
"She doesn't mean it, buddy," he whispered into Ser Adler's ear. "She'll love you too." The lizard lazily clucked a response and crawled swiftly up his forearm. Jack barely even twitched as Ser Adler settled on his shoulder. He seemed so at-ease and happy with the creature on him that even Dean couldn't peg a suspicion on him. "Ser Adler is my faithful companion. Follows me everywhere. He's pretty awesome. And a great judge of character too."
"Are- are you for real?" Dean asked, unsure if he was being rhetorical. "You're bringing your pet lizard along for a demon hunt?"
"He's not my pet, Dean. He's my friend," Jack corrected him. "Trust me, he knows his way around demons."
Hell – 6 months ago
Her panting followed a swift tempo. Zara ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Through the fog, her body sliced the air, leaving a cloudy trail. And behind her followed the hungry patter of creatures unknown. All she could hear was their groaning and grunting for her flesh, along with some slicing noises that sounded like knives. Great, they're armed. She could barely see what was in front of her. With such low visibility, she almost ran into a number of things – large rocks, dead trees and even some humanoid beings that hissed at her. They had burnt skin, stick-thin figures and lifeless eyes that longed for nothing but death. An unhinged shriek ensued before she switched tracks and took off away from them.
Now she was heaving with effort, legs cramping and exhausted. One foot trudged after the other. She could feel her knees threatening to buckle under her, which only added to the impending sense of doom. All it took was one oddly placed rock sticking out from the ground to abruptly catch her toes. Forward she fell, impacting coarsely on her forearms. What made it worse was the fact that she was going downhill somewhere, and falling only made the steepness of the slope more powerful in propelling her forward. Her body spun and spun and soon she lost track of the things that passed her. Down and fast she went, without a means of braking her fall. Except for one thing. Zara's eyes widened in the split second before a sharp half-buried metal rod came into view.
And then it disappeared from view again. Her vision exploded with light and not the good kind. It was a pulsating alarm that yelled for relief, permeating every inch of her being. No space for thoughts. Only pain. When the initial shock subsided, she dared look down, though her heart pounded wildly in her chest. Get it out. Get it out! Her shallow breaths shared the same pace as her disordered thoughts. A mortified bawl escaped her lips. Quivering, her hands chanced a venture towards the site of injury. Merely touching the rod sent waves of pain bursting out from her left flank and she immediately let go. Instead, she felt the circumference of the wound, ominously glaring at the dark stains on her palms. Is this it? Eternal suffering?
The deep red light from the sky glinted radiantly off the curvature of the metal rod. Faint zombie-ish groaning sounded from afar. Those creatures were getting closer. She needed to get out of there. She tried to sit up. Pain shot through her in spikes. She gave up. The moving of the rod within her abdomen was just too much to bear. Zara hissed and winced as her palms encircled the rod. Her arms were heavy and grip weak. A deep inhale served the momentum to yank it out but was soon overpowered by the blindingly sharp pain. Her hands fell back, resenting the effort. But this was survival. Another attempt was made. This time, the short piece of metal shifted optimistically.
With enough of a fight, it slid out of her torso, leaving but a feeling of emptiness where a kidney used to be intact. Well, at least there are two of them. Blood poured out into the dust. Shit. The fabric of her shirt bunched under her grip as she tried to clog the flow and apply pressure to the wound. At least now she was free to stand, albeit in agony. Like the very creatures she sought to escape, she staggered forward with a little bit of a limp. Already one step closer to becoming one of them. Progress was slow but still existent.
She came upon a desolate shack. Splintered wooden planks stuck out at odd angles and there were chunks missing where the roof should have been. What could have lived in a place like this? As Zara went up onto the front porch, the floorboards creaked a symphony under her feet. She glimpsed through the broken windows but there was only darkness. Perhaps a small light in the distance, deep inside. That was curious. It was the first thing she'd seen here to have any kind of clear illumination. Perhaps she was supposed to find it.
In the distance, a chorus of howling echoed. It was another sign that she wasn't truly alone here. What lay beyond the front door in the darkness was not best left to the imagination but the risk had to be considered. A cold breeze swept past her, causing her to tremble more. A hanging decoration made of skulls strung together noisily clamoured against the ceiling of the porch. It was like an ominous drumbeat and every strike was bone-chilling. Staring into the empty eye sockets, it felt like they were watching her, waiting for something to snicker at. She knew she'd lose her shit if the skulls started talking. Stranger things had happened.
More importantly, all the noise was bound to attract attention and she was still bleeding from her side. There might be something inside that could help. She scoffed. A first aid kit in Hell? Please. But it had to be worth looking for. Worth stepping into the abyss of death? Another wave of howling began, this time from a different direction. A bloody hand twisted the knob and pulled the rustic door open. She had barely stepped inside when the wind shut the door firmly behind her, causing her to flinch. She froze in the darkness, awaiting the welcome of anything that could be there with her. There was only silence. A droning, deafening silence that resonated in her ears.
Zara's sputtering inhales were caught between a need to stay quiet and a need to breathe. She gambled a few steps further in, being careful not to bump into anything. Her whole body was on-edge, somehow priming her to throw a punch should anything come at her even if raising either arm hurt. A whisper erupted from her right. She jerked in that direction but could not see anything. Again, the whisper sounded.
"Human…"
Zara held onto a prayer as she carried on. Her back shuddered with a coldness, anticipating some kind of attack but nothing happened.
"Fresh meat…"
This one came from the left. Zara staggered away from the voice.
"Fingers for me…"
"Don't be greedy!"
A spasmodic chuckle sounded. "Have us… have you… will you…"
Now there was a cacophony of whispers, all having a disarray of hushed conversations among them. But no one seemed to make a move – at least, there was no sound of movement. The longer she spent here, the more she realised this was no ordinary shack. It seemed to go on and on, like an endless hallway. And there were things in here too. She decided it was probably best to focus on the single yellow light that dimly shone in the distance like a setting sun.
"Dies irae! Dies illa!" one voice repeated, with a marked attempt to sing. It only ended up sounding like a wail.
As the light drew nearer, it became clearer what this place was. The shape of bars came into view on both her sides. Cells. The walls were thick and grimy, like they had been spattered with guts which decayed over centuries. The sight of the metal bars perhaps was a little comforting – an assurance that whatever was inside couldn't get her. Until she noticed some of the cells with outwardly displaced bars near the bottom, leaving just enough of a gap that a whole person could crawl out from. Zara gulped.
The hallway got just a little brighter as she went on. The floorboards that made up the ground became clearer. The voices had also quietened down. She still couldn't see the inhabitants of the cells but that was perhaps a gift rather than a curse. One step forward. A long object zoomed past her vision and thudded loudly against the wall on her left, causing her to jump. She'd even let out a little shriek, caught by absolute horror. She looked to where the object had been thrown from. Blackness beyond the bars greeted her. Only the sound of something dripping was audible. Then she turned to the thing that was thrown in her direction, missing her by a narrow margin. On the ground lay, limp and lifeless, a severed arm. The bone protruded starkly where an elbow was supposed to be and blood pooled on the ground from the end. Zara felt her head grow dizzy at the sight. It looked fresh.
"Fetch… play fetch…"
She picked it up by the forearm, internally cringing. The fingers clenched into a fist despite being detached from whatever being it came from. "There… there you go…" she croaked as she passed the hand through the gap in the bars. She gasped as something from beyond swiftly yanked the hand from her. She backed away slowly to carry on forward.
"Agh!" a loud bang sounded. And then more ensued. Zara flinched with every one, the loudness reverberating in her chest. The severed arm was slammed repeatedly against the bars. The person inside continued yelling. Howling chorused from the end of the hallway where she'd come from. It sounded like it was getting closer. Zara took off towards the light, frantically clutching her side as she limped for life.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Their footsteps drew nearer. She whimpered in pain as she struggled to increase her pace. Finally, she found the source of light – a torch. This place must have been so old that they didn't even bother channelling electricity in here. The torch was just a stick with a flame on one end. Somehow it seemed like her only hope, like all her answers lay within this one object.
They wailed and they laughed. They crawled and they ran. They were absolutely hysterical. Zara clamoured over to the wall with the torch. It overlooked a sudden drop, where the floor abruptly ended and led to nothingness below. She plucked the torch and held it defensively in front of her. All movement stopped. There was a Gollum-looking fellow snarling at her, eyes wide with derangement. Eyes that seemed to convey a thirst that only she could satisfy. At his side was a four-legged creature with dark hair that swept the floor. Were these once humans? The crawling thing even drooled in hunger, limbs poised like those of a spider ready to pounce on an insect caught in its web.
Yet, their hesitation was suspect. They seemed absolutely enamoured by the sight of her but made no further move. Zara looked at them and they looked at Zara. Only a flame stood between them. Gollum itched to get closer. Instinctively, she jerked the torch towards his direction. He scrambled back to his earlier position. He's scared of fire. "Go away…" she weakly ordered. That had little effect on them. Gollum tilted his head slightly. "Stay back!" she snapped, jutting out the torch further. They stepped back cautiously. She figured this was the only way to get out, other than jumping into the pit of certain death. Silence ensued. Zara took their silence to be a good sign.
She stepped toward them, determined to go back the way she came and perhaps explore the room at the front a little more. They stepped back in turn, hasty to avoid fire. She kept her eyes on the both of them, anxious about every move she was making. She seemed to be making good progress, even if she'd only moved a few steps and the two of them were still in front of her.
Crawlie screamed, jaw dropping in an inhuman gape. The piercing scream shook Zara's very core. Zara hurried to point the torch at her. It mattered no more. The creature's joints contracted and almost immediately loosened, sending her jumping at Zara. By some miracle, Zara managed to dodge her, careening instead to the side. She still held the torch resolutely in her hand but having lost all balance, she could only watch as Gollum stormed towards her.
"No- No… no!" she helplessly yelled while the sharp, forceful hands groped her and hoisted her upwards. She resisted as much as she could, kicking and punching. But her efforts barely made a dent on the creature. Her knuckles grew sore and her knees buckled. Deciding to change tactic, she pulled herself away instead. Gollum hissed and wailed as she struggled. Zara forced a leg backwards to generate the momentum to peel herself out of his grasp. Meanwhile, Crawlie kept on screaming aimlessly. The way her joints were tightening again, Zara imagined she was going to pounce again. The vision of being trapped under not one but both of them was a hopeless one. Channelling a grunt from her core, Zara pulled once more as hard as she could. In a split second, she felt the cold release of her body out of the bear trap of Gollum's arms.
Before she could celebrate however, her vision spun with her fall. Her back hit the ground in an awkward position – a sharp impact against the ledge midway down her back. The speed of her fall wasn't conducive for a quick reaction. Hands flailing against the ground, she could do naught but watch passively as her body rolled off the edge, down into the deep darkness.
Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 2.23pm
"You're sure Silent Hill's the right place?" Dean asked, eyes warily fixated on the building before them. They stood at a comfortable distance, in the cover of withering trees, that gave them a view of its side. It was big – plenty of space and floors for Crowley's entourage to patrol and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. A thick cement border wall with barbed wire along the top formed the perimeter. The ground between where they stood and the building was carpeted with fallen auburn and sand-coloured leaves. The sky was a cloudy grey, necessitating a change in attire from the stiff Fed suits to a more casual leather and flannel.
"Yeah. This is the only old hospital in this area. Place shut down thirty years ago when they shifted base," Sam filled them in, digging his hands in his pockets for warmth.
"Hey Bird Boy, can you get eyes on the Hell-bitches?" Zara quipped, squinting at the building. From this distance, even her angel vision couldn't clock a precise location or number on Crowley's men. After all, being a human with angel sight was not nearly as powerful as an actual angel's eyes.
Jack stepped forward to abide her request. Ser Adler sat quietly on his shoulder as a mere observer while Jack fed him a live cricket from a handful he'd grabbed earlier. His eyes scanned the place, trying to read a signature, but something seemed to hinder him. His eyebrows crinkled in concentration. Strange symbols seemed to pop up in the bordering wall. "There's something blocking me," he ruminated. "Like… something keeping me out."
"You mean it's warded?" Sam clarified.
"Yeah, that," Jack answered. "I need to get a closer look."
He advanced towards the wall, leaving the others to hurry to catch up with him. He stopped imposingly before the wall, befuddled by its effects on him. It felt strange not being able to see so clearly and he just wanted a resolution to it. Curious, he touched the wall gently with his fingers to inspect it.
"So which doodles do we have to scratch off?" Dean inquired of the angel. The way Jack was looking at the place – like something was wrong – made him a little cautious.
"Huh?" Jack puzzled.
"I mean which- which sigils do we have to destroy before you can mojo in?" Dean elaborated.
"Oh, uh- hm," he stuttered. They all looked at him expectantly. "Shouldn't you know? You must've done this before." Before anyone could press him on it, he said, "Look, a door." He led them towards the distinct black outline of a door on the wall. "Jimmy it open."
Sam reached into a duffel bag and brought out a crowbar, which he then used to pry the door open. With some effort, the door gave way, granting them access. Now all that was left was the question of how to get the angel in. A frown continued to eclipse Jack's face as his eyes darted about several parts of the building, as if he could figure out some sort of physical way to get in. The door seemed obvious, but he felt a sort of resistance that he couldn't shake off. It was weird.
"Okay, look," Dean began, addressing the angel. "I don't know if you failed sigil class in angel Hogwarts, I don't care. But we're gonna try scribbling off as much of the warding as we can and it would help if you know… you could point us in the right direction. You gotta know something, right?"
"Isn't it all hard-wired into you or something?" Sam speculated.
"Uh…" Jack stuttered. Just in that moment, Ser Adler clucked his tongue in Jack's ear. "Wait, what's that?" he tilted his head towards his buddy. "You sure, man?" Carefully, he cradled the lizard in his palms and held him in front of himself. More clicking noises ensued and Jack nodded in understanding. "Ser Adler says he can help."
Dean recoiled in bewilderment as the angel held the lizard out towards him. "Okay- I gotta ask. Is this some kind of joke?" he frowned. "I mean, we've known each other for a few hours and you've said some wacky stuff, but this? Is this some kind of Seinfeld special sent from Heaven?"
"What part of this is funny to you?" Jack asked in a rather serious tone. "I'm offering help."
"Jack, are you saying that…" Sam chimed in, in defence of his brother's shock. "That your pet lizard can tell us how to undo the warding?"
"He's my friend, thank you very much, and yes. If he says he knows how, I believe him," Jack stood his ground, chin held high. "He's special."
"No, you're special. In the head," Dean berated. He shook his head in resignation and looked to the heavens. "I can't believe this. An angel who wants to be a rockstar, makes vlogs and has a lizard who knows about sigils. Come on, man. You think we're buying this?"
"What's so hard to believe? Zara, tell them," he beckoned. She jerked her head towards him in confusion. "Do I really surprise you? Hmm…?"
"Yes," she nodded firmly, wide eyes unyielding. She stuttered a little. "I- I don't know what you're expecting, Jack. You just walk into my life one day, tell me you're an angel and expect us to go along with everything you say?"
Jack was dumbfounded. He hadn't expected so much… resistance. But adapting was always what he was good at. "Okay, okay. I get that. Maybe I don't sound like the typical… cookie-cutter angel. I wasn't trained like them, okay?" he held up his hands in surrender. Ser Adler appropriately scuttered onto his left forearm to watch the debacle.
"So what, you were in like some… special unit or something?" Sam wondered.
"Or something," Jack agreed. "Point is, I bring a… different set of skills to the table. And this is one of them." He gestured with his eyes to his forearm, which he held up to support Ser Adler. The scaly familiar simply observed with an innocent glare. "What have you gotta lose by trusting me on this one?"
"Well… witches use animals as companions too," Sam considered, giving his brother a knowing look.
Dean released a tired exhale through his nostrils and rubbed the back of his head. As much as he tried, his keen instincts simply did not go off around Jack. "Alright," he relented.
"What?" Zara turned to him with a frown. Since when was Dean so trusting?
"You heard 'im. What've we gotta lose? Let's give it a shot," Dean shrugged. "Never thought I'd be asking a lizard for directions in my life, but here we are."
Ser Adler clucked in excitement and slithered to the back of Jack's palm. He reached out a claw to Dean and held his mouth agape in a radiant reptilian smile. "Aww, Dean, I think he likes you," Jack gushed as he went over to the elder Winchester.
"He has that effect on all the ladies," Sam teased with a half-smile. Dean held Adler's beady gaze, unsure of how to proceed.
"Go on," Jack urged.
"Uh-" Dean hesitantly held up the side of his index finger to Adler's claw, which Adler then held onto like a toddler holding onto a parent's finger. "Now what? Are we good to go?"
Carefully, Ser Adler crawled onto the back of Dean's palm. "Just relax. Let him do his thing," Jack instructed. Dean's arm initially tensed but he took a deep breath to loosen himself. Ser Adler scurried up his sleeve to assume a position on his shoulder. "Alright," he chuckled as he observed the pair. Dean, the uncertain yet intrigued hunter, and Ser Adler, the clever and adorable reptile. He felt like a proud parent. "You have my blessing. See you in a bit."
"Alright, Scooby. Show us what you got," Dean announced. He and Sam treaded through the door. Zara took a moment to raise an eyebrow at Jack.
"Wait, does that make me Shaggy?" he called out after them. A short chuckle escaped his lips but Zara seemed unamused.
"I'm watching you," she warned, half-joking and half-not.
"Awesome," he beamed a wide grin. His smiling eyes watched her as she turned around to follow the Winchesters. As soon as her back turned to him, coldness eclipsed her face again.
Each armed with a spray can, they crept around the perimeter. Ser Adler had pointed to a particular sigil on the wall that had a triangle inside a circle with some more strange lines coming from it. "This one?" Dean went closer to the wall while Zara and Sam kept watch. Ser Adler scurried so fast down his arm that he almost jumped. The lizard latched itself onto the wall and tapped on the sigil. "Alright, stay clear."
"How you holding up?" Sam whispered to Zara while Dean spray-painted an 'X' over the sigil. "You seem a little on-edge."
"I am," Zara admitted, arms folded.
"You don't trust him?"
"It's not that… I don't know," she shrugged. "Like I said, I tried to leave everything behind when I left home. Seeing him only brings up old wounds…"
"But you said he was the one good thing-"
"I know, Sam," her shoulders dropped with a single exhale. "It's too good to be true. I feel like I'm just waiting for something to happen. Like…"
"Like something's about to go horribly wrong?" he finished her sentence.
"Yeah."
"I mean, he seems genuine. But I get it. It doesn't hurt to be careful," he advised. "Besides, you won't be alone. If anything goes sideways, Dean and I are still here."
Zara held his hazel gaze with the sincerest vulnerability she could summon. The depth of his eyes was reassuring. Slowly, the side of her lips curved up. "Thank you," she muttered. Her hand inched closer to his, tracing electricity down his forearm as her palm found his. Everything about her seemed alluring to him. Sam found himself tempted by her doe eyes and yearning lips more by the second. A magnetic attraction pulled them closer together as he leaned down into her lips. Within a second, she was lost in the connection between them. The feeling of his lips against hers left a sweet remnant even when he pulled away. They were still so focused on each other, entranced by the miracle of their coming together. Somehow it just felt so natural and right.
Dean coughed. They returned to the real world, palms snapping away from each other. Dean tried his best to maintain a neutral expression, though his lips formed a tight, flat line. He felt awkward more than anything to get between them but work had to come first. "The uh-" he cleared his throat. "There's more that way."
Ser Adler slithered along the wall, stopping appropriately to tap his little claw against a sigil. With Sam and Zara taking out some patrolling demons and Dean undoing the warding, they got the job done in no time. They were standing in the shade of a tree next to the border wall when Jack managed to appear before them. "Hope I didn't miss anything," he quipped with his usual charm.
"The fun hasn't even started yet," Zara reassured him. Jack put a hand to the wall to receive Ser Adler, who climbed up his arm, scurried around his neck and pulled his way up the angel's hair and face. Jack blinked passively, letting the reptile do as he wished.
"You cozy yet?" his head tilted upwards slightly. Ser Adler bunched Jack's hair in his grip as he adjusted his feet to lie on the top of his head. In an instant, the archangel felt his mind expand naturally, like he and Adler were one.
"Alright, let's pop this can," Dean ushered. But as they turned to move, Jack remained frozen to the spot, eyes fixed on some arbitrary point. "What's wrong?"
"Something's not right," Jack uttered, eyebrows knotted in a piercing blue steel. He knelt down and pressed a hand to the ground to sense the presence of the demons. Everything felt so much clearer now with the warding weakened. But there was also something else.
"Jack…" Zara called him.
"Sh." His head suddenly jerked up, with Ser Adler's head too following suit. Jack's head jerked right towards the building and so did Ser Adler's. It was uncanny how synchronised they were. He suddenly got up and staggered towards the building.
"What's the matter?" Sam asked the question on their minds.
They could only see the flowing locks of dark hair cascading down his black leather back until the side of his head turned to them. "You guys should go ahead first. I'll catch up," he suggested.
"Wait, Jack-" Sam barely said when they heard the flap of wings. And just like that, they were staring at thin air.
"Okay, now I believe he's an angel," Dean grumbled. "They all got that Houdini act down."
Zara pursed her lips, sucking in her cheeks as she wondered what she'd gotten them signed up for.
Hell – 6 months ago
The sudden brightness stung her eyes. Zara lay on the floor, heart palpitating. She'd expected more of a rough landing but as it had turned out, she found herself in this position with no memory of ever seeing ground. A giggle sounded in the distance. She jerked her head up. Birds chirped and dashed between trees. There was a breeze. Breath abated, she pulled herself to her feet. There was no pain anymore though dust still coated her clothes and body. She pulled up her blood-stained black top, revealing intact skin. But what appeared before her was way more disorienting.
A woman in a tracksuit jogged past her on the sidewalk. The suburb was vivid. The green of the lawns, the white of the pavement, the blue of the sky – the colours popped like a children's book. The serenity was mind-numbing. Ten seconds had passed and nothing jumped at her. It was more unsettling than Hell. Where the hell am I?
"… lucky my mom didn't show up for the try-outs," a male voice came into earshot. It sounded painfully familiar. He smirked and so did his friend. Zara spun around swiftly. Her pupils shrunk in recognition.
"Dev?" she mumbled. Standing right before him as he walked towards her, he looked just as he did in her memory of him – when he was much younger. He was darker than her, but they shared the crisp black hair colour and almond-shaped eyes. He and his friend were in their soccer attire and he held a slightly soiled soccer ball against his waist. "Dev," she called his name again.
"Nah… She's too obsessed with Zara to care. As usual," he sardonically huffed.
"Hey," Zara tried to get his attention. But her brother and his friend simply walked past her. "They can't see me," she realised. Now it all made sense. The disgusting blandness of the suburb, the nonchalance hiding under the façade of normalcy, her brother in the scene – this was her personal Hell. Her own childhood home. Trust Satan to deliver the right punishment.
By the looks of it, her brother looked about sixteen. Which made this a memory of a time when she was fourteen. Oh boy. She continued down the street after her brother. He and his friend had switched the topic of conversation to something more trivial, like school stuff. Everything was so surreal. It all looked exactly how she remembered it. Though the area looked as mundane as any other suburb in the state, there always seemed to be a darkness – a dark energy – lurking under the fabric of reality. She recognised some of the people they walked past.
There was Amanda, the girl in her class who she tried to be friends with just because they lived close to each other and her mother approved of the girl's Christian background. But things had turned out differently when Zara started to like different things – things that her pious friend could not fathom. Amanda was watering the plants in her front yard and waved a hello to Dev as they walked past. Unworthy, a sharp whisper sounded in Zara's ear. She flinched and turned towards the voice but no one was there.
There was Sheila, the blonde cheerleader-type who wore skimpy clothes whenever she could get away with it. Zara always envied how free she must have felt while her own mother bought her long skirts and cardigans. Sheila was a nice gal to talk to, but she always hung out with the type of people that followed trends like sheep and had the combined critical thinking capacity of a potato. Wasted potential, again the whisper said. At this point, Sheila was sauntering down the sidewalk across the street holding hands with some nameless jock whose face seemed familiar but not familiar enough to remember. It was really a small town.
And then they came upon that place. Her house. Just seeing it left a bad taste in her mouth. The crucifix stood nailed to the front porch, right next to the door. The exterior was a depression-grey, a colourful contrast to the interior of sickening white like the walls of a mental asylum which only made her want to scratch her own brains out. Hell, even mental asylums had more colours in them these days. Unattended bushes along the fences withered – flowers left to rot on the grave of her sanity. As her brother entered, she snuck in before the door could shut.
Her mother was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, a usual sight for the housewife. Her rose complexion appeared radiant in the lighting – something Zara definitely inherited from her. She wore a long gown, long hair pulled back into a tight bun. Sometimes Zara wondered if her hair was pulled so tight that it cut off circulation to her brain. It would explain why her mom was always in such a bad mood. The age showed from the lines on her cheeks and forehead. Dev was about to go to his room upstairs when their mother called him over. "(Look at the time!)" her mother berated in Hindi. It was 7pm.
"(Soccer practice, Mom)," Dev explained, using the same tongue. He held back a sigh. "(I told you this morning.)"
"(I don't know why you kids always come back at an ungodly hour)," she grumbled, slicing more fervently into an onion. "(And your sister isn't back yet. Why doesn't she come home on time? You tell her one thing and she does another. It's always like this with her.)"
Zara huffed derisively. "She must be at the library," Dev guessed.
"(Or wasting away with her low-life friends, you never know)," she kept her eyes resolutely fixed on the chopping board as she murdered the vegetables. "(Your sister is going down the wrong path. Making friends with thugs and lazy scum. How will I ever raise her like this?)"
"Hey, my friends aren't that bad," Zara defended to no one. "And I'm at the freakin' library. You know, reading." Obviously, her words fell on deaf ears. Her critical gaze settled on her brother. "Say something, idiot. Don't just stand there." Instead, he just rolled his eyes and took off to his room. "Thanks for the support," she yelled after him.
"(Go and fetch your sister)," her mother called out before he shut the door. Moments later, he emerged in cleaner clothing and marched out the front door. Zara followed him as he wordlessly went off in search of her. Sometimes she wondered what went on in that thick skull of his. She wondered if he ever truly cared, or whether he was just filling up the role of a sibling like a job he didn't sign up for.
The library was a modest two-storey building not too far from the school. Zara came here often, before the drugs and the anxiety had fully set in. The books were an expanse compared to the closely-set four walls that were her bedroom. Here her mind could go anywhere without hindrance. Dev walked in, mind with a mission. He stopped before the reading area and scanned the place. There weren't many people at this time. Even fewer were seated at the ordered tables and chairs. And none of them Zara.
He went down an aisle of bookshelves, head poised to detect his little sister around the corner. Soon enough, a soft giggle sounded. He abruptly stopped, briskly moving towards the wall adjacent to the bookshelf. Zara found a younger version of herself seated against a wall with a book in one hand – held open with a thumb in the spine – and her mp3 player in the other. "Bangs, ew," she grimaced as she looked at her fourteen-year old self. Young Zara appeared to be in conversation with someone else, even sharing an earphone with them. As she neared the wall, she saw who it was. Her heart fluttered and pounded at the same time to recognise Jack. His long black hair hung down the sides of his face, framing a radiant smile. Suddenly this memory didn't feel so bad anymore.
The two of them stopped mid-conversation and turned to Dev as soon as he appeared in sight. He appeared positively befuddled, and maybe a little annoyed. "(Zara, what's the time?)" he asked impatiently.
She blankly turned to the large clock nearby. "Oh," she realised. "I didn't notice."
"Come on, we have to go," he beckoned with a hand gesture.
Young Zara reluctantly bid Jack farewell. "Sorry, warden's come to take me back to my cell," she grumbled. She looked quite tiny in her long-sleeve turtleneck shirt and dark pants. Well, most people looked meagre compared to Jack, even if he was somewhat lean himself.
"Another time, then," Jack smiled warmly at her. "It's a good book, isn't it?"
"I love it," she agreed, getting up with her things. "I'll take it home and finish it."
The three of them stood by the library counter as Zara borrowed some books. Jack towered over the both of them with his height and he simply dug his hands into his pockets. "(Are you thick in the head?)" Dev silently reprimanded her in their native tongue. "(Staying out this late?)"
"It's just the library. I'm not doing anything illegal," Young Zara defended, keeping her expression as neutral as possible while dealing with the library staff. Jack listened in intently, though he showed no sign of comprehension. Zara had only found out later that he spoke multiple languages fluently, including her own.
"It doesn't matter. You need to be home before 6.30," Dev stated. "You're giving Mom a hard time, you know that?"
Older Zara and Younger Zara scoffed simultaneously. "She gives herself a hard time," Young Zara rebutted. "She's always paranoid. Thinks the world will end every time she turns on the TV and a lady in a bikini appears in an ad."
"Exactly. She's paranoid. You can't keep worrying her like this. Leave by 5.30 next time," he advised. "It's easy for you to be as you wish but I'm the one who has to listen to her complaining." Dev's round eyes roved over the books she'd gotten and picked up one. "How do I even pronounce this? Freee… drich… Ni… Ni-yet…"
"Friedrich Nietzsche," Young Zara told him, rolling her eyes at him. "German philosopher."
"Whatever," he dismissed. She'd barely gotten the books into her backpack when he dragged her out the front door. She stopped him as soon as they left the establishment and stood out in the cold, turning to Jack. Every time her eyes met his, she couldn't help but smile. Leaving his side had felt lonely. She'd stay out the whole night if it meant spending time with him. He was just one of those people you could never grow tired of. Being with him had felt like being home.
"I could walk you home," Jack offered, long tendrils of his hair swaying in the evening breeze.
"No thanks," Dev muttered almost immediately. "Whoever you are."
Just like that, he dragged his little sister away, leaving her to half-heartedly mumble a goodbye. Older Zara now watched Jack – how he dejectedly watched them walk away before turning away himself and going back to wherever he came from. Seeing him again made her feel a warmth she'd never felt after that and it hurt to see him go now just as it did back then. She longed for the simplicity of their friendship – just having fun with no expectations. As much as she wanted to follow him to see where he'd go – a question she'd always had – the memory was like a simulation. The world faded away around Jack. The only way forward was to follow her younger self.
"Who's your boyfriend?" Dev asked curtly – in English this time – still leading his sister by the elbow. "Looks older than you. Is he in your class?"
"He's not my boyfriend," she denied. Her voice sounded soft and innocent, before the roughness of the world had made it sharp. "I think he said he's eighteen."
"So he's in college?" he probed.
"No… I don't know," she simply said.
"Zara… that sounds shady," Dev pointed out. "Don't hang out with strange men."
"He's not strange," she shot back. "He's really nice."
"They all seem nice at first. But before you know it, he'll drug you and hurt you," Dev stated as a matter of fact. "You remember Cassie from the hockey team? She got knocked up by some older guy."
"I thought she moved to another town," Young Zara said, nervousness beginning to eclipse her face.
"That's what they're telling everyone but it's not the whole truth," Dev cut her off. "You better watch out with that guy. He looks like the type."
"You met him like five minutes ago," she shot back. "You don't even know his name."
"The less I know the better. I don't wanna get involved if Mom ever finds out that you're hanging out with some rando after school instead of studying," he muttered bitterly.
"Joke's on you. He helped me pass Literature, asshole," Older Zara quipped. "Forgot how sorely disappointed I was with you, Dev."
When they got home, the whole house was filled with the aroma of dinner. "(Where did you go at this time?)" her mom unfailingly interrogated as soon as the two of them set foot in the house. "(Don't you have the sense to be home on time? The angels come and go and you're still out. No wonder you're cursed.)" Zara remembered that. Her mother always had this belief that angels visited the house at sunset so everything had to be in order by then – the house had to be clean and everyone had to be home. It was a strange superstition. Young Zara bit back a rude response and simply made towards her room on the first floor.
Already, Zara was feeling the grim vibes of the place. The house was like a machine meant to produce nothing but the worst thoughts in her head – a psychological torture device. The world never saw who Zara was within these walls. The world never cared about what it turned her into. Day after day, year after year, being told you were nothing but flawed and that there was no redemption – the walls chipped away a little every time. And that didn't even include the beatings. There's no return, the sharp voice uttered in her ear.
Within a second, it was daytime again. Zara was immediately transported to her school, another reason to recoil in disgust. The warm colours of the hallways were nauseating, coming second only to the people she recognised. People she hated for no reason other than the fact that they were so… one-dimensional. They all liked the same music, talked about the same things – she never found much of a common ground with them. Fourteen-year old Zara never really had the motivation to try either.
As her younger self walked down the hallways, she noticed how people looked at her. It's that look people had when looking at a strange creature, like something that wasn't supposed to be there. Momentary as it was, their accusatory glares always seemed to notice her before anything else. Those brief milliseconds invaded her thoughts. What were they thinking about her? Why did they look at her like that? Did they know too, that she was to be a servant of Hell? Shame on you, their gazes seemed to convey. Every step down the hallway was a walk of shame. Young Zara clutched her books close to her chest and stayed close to the walls wherever she went. She barely uttered a single word to anyone. The sparks of your fire, the whisper said.
After school, she went around to the back, where a group of people who she used to call 'friends' hung out often. There were three of them, dressed in black from head to toe and smoking cigarettes right outside school property. "Look, it's Bible Bitch," the one with heavy eyeliner smirked as she greeted Zara.
"Oh, fuck you, Karen," Older Zara cussed. There was a time not long before when Zara would carry a bible with her, hoping to read it in between classes. "Not these idiots…" She remembered what was going to happen and she was not looking forward to watching it unfold.
"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up," another darker girl hissed. This one was Luna and she had a tight weave that left her long dark locks flowing down her shoulders at all times. "You think you're edgy enough?"
"Yeah- yes," Young Zara stuttered, puffing up her chest.
"I don't know guys," the token male spoke up. His hair was gelled up in spikes and he had a sharp, crooked nose that had its own backstory. They called him Scooter because he used to zip around on a scooter everywhere he went. Soon, he'd found himself scooting into a bad neighbourhood and became an apprentice to a drug dealer. "Doesn't sound convincing to me. Chickened out of takin' a puff, last time I checked."
"It- it was new to me," Young Zara held her head high. "I can do it now."
"Pass," Karen sighed. Her pale eyes rolled in their black-defined sockets in boredom. "I mean, look at you. You're dressed like every mom in this town came together to pick your outfit. And what's that in your hand?"
She looked down at the hard-cover in her palm. "It's just a book," she argued. The three of them got up from where they were seated and approached her ominously, like vultures circling dead meat.
"You're such a good girl, aren't you?" Karen hissed. "No better than the Christian dog-pile you were born in."
Young Zara trembled visibly, holding her Nietzschean armour close to her chest for comfort. She tried to back away but they closed in on her, leaving no room for escape. "I bet you couldn't talk to a boy without crying about it to Jesus later," Luna giggled. She was much larger than Zara, which made her jibe more intimidating.
"Well she's talkin' to me," Scooter chimed in with a serpentine smile of his own. "Give her some credit, guys." He looked at her hungrily, eyes sparing no inch.
"I think she could use a good ol' fashioned makeover," Karen raised her eyebrows at her friends.
"Yeah, yeah, I think that could work," Luna nodded at the proposition. "You can hang with us. Just need to work on that make-up, change up your wardrobe a little bit…"
"I don't think you're convincing Scoot," Karen pointed out.
Scooter huffed. "Isn't all that fleece bothering you guys?" he fanned himself. "It's getting a little hot in here."
"Uh oh, Scoot's gettin' wild. You better tame him with a kiss," Luna taunted Zara. Young Zara was speechless, stammering half-responses.
"I don't bite," Scoot flirted.
"Take off your jacket," Karen ordered.
"Wow, Kay-Kay, you don't hold back," Scoot smirked at his friend's forthrightness.
"I bet it's a National Treasure under there," Karen grinned devilishly. "Show us."
This was when Young Zara decided it would be best to bolt out of there. Yet, a foot in her path tripped her and she fell ceremoniously on her back with a yelp. The book fell out of her hand and Karen threw it a few feet away as she and Luna held her down. "N- No! Let me go!" she protested, writhing under their grasp. Scoot knelt down and began undoing the buttons on her jacket.
Older Zara found her breaths becoming heavier. She never quite realised how helpless she'd looked in that situation. It seemed silly to her now that she'd ever tried to get in with these people but back then, she was starting to lose it. She'd stopped caring about what anything meant, which inevitably led her to spiral down a path of bad decisions. It was always one disaster after another. And then, everything froze before her.
The whispers could be heard again. This time there were many of them coming from a single direction. "Will you be reborn?" one said. Zara staggered towards the sound. A few hesitant steps later, she realised it came from about where her feet were. She looked down. There, her book lay flipped open. She knelt to touch it, a finger nearing the black lines of text. Within a second, sparks erupted and consumed the book in flames. She flinched. But almost as soon as it started, the fire died, leaving a single section of the page intact in the embers. Zara picked it up.
"… must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame," the line read. "How can you rise again if you have not first become ashes?"
The whispers repeated the line like a chant in her head, filling her every thought. She clutched the sides of her head as the voices spared no second. She could feel nothing and know nothing as long as the voices droned on like a drumbeat, again and again, in her mind. Slowly, the whispers became statements, the statements became commands, and the commands became shouts. There was no escape. "Agh!" Zara let out an exasperated grunt. She dared open her eyes. A gun lay before her.
"Hold still!" a smirk sounded behind her. It was Scooter, still struggling to open up her jacket. Zara tensed, body shifting naturally as she stood up. This time, there was no apprehension in her composure. A newfound confidence seemed to wash over her in a wave. It felt hypnotic. You know what to do, the voice said. She pointed the gun at his head. The trigger went off effortlessly. It was as easy as a breath. Blood trickled down the gravel like a microcosmic flood.
Then the strangest thing happened. The girls screamed. Blood spattered on their faces had left them in an unmatched hysteria. "You think this is funny, don't you, Lucifer?" Zara said out loud. Her eyebrows dipped and her chin tightened in a frown. And they could see her now too. With no moment to waste, she emptied a bullet into each of their heads. Young Her only turned around and bolted as fast as she could, not noticing her standing there. As she watched the result of what she'd done, nothing but a calmness came over her. Her predator eyes rested on the backdoor of the hallway that wove through the school.
"Will you be reborn?"
When she busted through the double doors, the hallway was bustling with conversations. She didn't even hesitate. They fell one by one, their scarlet spray liberating Zara from humanity. Again, there were screams. They tried to run away from her. With a single thought, all the doors shut by themselves, denying escape. She came upon a fire alarm. Its red exterior glowed almost blindingly, a stark contrast to the dull colours of the school. There's gasoline in the pipes. She pulled the lever. Sure enough, it rained gasoline upon all of them. "Ignite," Zara commanded with a thought. The school became a palace of fire.
Their souls screamed in pain. Screamed as their vocal chords burnt. Screamed as their flesh tore away from their bones. The fire consumed everything. Every thud of her heart was a relief. Zara felt new blood flowing through her veins. Nothing she had ever experienced in her whole life had felt this electric.
"Will you be reborn?"
"YES!" Zara yelled her acceptance. Tears of joy stung her eyes and she held out her arms in a pose of salvation. Heat bore down on her, burying her in a spiritual grave. The fire climbed up her legs and her torso until it eventually covered her head, donning her like a suit. It burnt. It hurt like hell. She screamed at first, but soon realised she had nothing to fear. Trust eased her muscles.
"Then rise from the ashes of the past!"
There was still work to be done. Zara marched down the hallway. A thick cloud of vapour from her burning flesh accompanied her at all times. Though most people had been reduced to piles of ashes on the floor, some were still writhing or attempting to run away. Zara shot them. With every bullet that she emptied into them, her heart quivered with a rush like no other. It was certainly better than cocaine.
When she left the school, her body practically floated like a feather down a familiar path – a burning feather, that is. Tendrils of fire reached out from her body. She felt invincible. Though she felt her singed flesh begging to be ripped out, the expectation of power was far more overpowering. She would become something greater. She knew it. The grey walls couldn't come into view soon enough.
"Cleanse yourself and you will be complete."
She kicked open the front door. They were waiting for her. Her mother, father and brother all sat at the couch in front of a coffee table. Their eyes were still except for her mother's, which steered towards her. "We are saved in the eyes of Jesus," her mother droned with her hoarse, entranced voice.
"Then say hello to Him for me," Zara snapped. She took aim and put one in between her mother's eyes. Her father – largely an absent, non-vocal figure – was next. When it came time to deal with her brother, she paused.
"But I didn't do anything," his tear-streaked face pleaded.
"Exactly." The gun went off again. They were all gone. They meant nothing anymore. The flames crawled from her body to the walls and climbed to the ceiling, engulfing the house as they did the school. Zara could feel the past dissolving. It was like the back of her mind was being rewritten, never to bother her again. Now it was just her and Satan. And maybe that was fine. She waited for the simulation to end. Lights fell from the ceiling and things that burned became charred. "Um, hello? I think we're done here."
And then she heard a sound. It was soft. It sounded like someone crying. Zara followed it and stopped before her bedroom door. She nudged the door open. Through the burning threshold, a clean, unharmed room came into view. The burning house was like a picture frame and the room the picture. The mild pink bed was neatly made. And sitting on the floor against the bed, she found her younger self sobbing. But she wasn't alone.
Zara held up the firearm, ready to shoot. "Destroy the past and you will be free."
Jack held the crying girl in his arms, whispering words of comfort and rubbing her back. He was tender and patient, even wiping the tears from her cheeks as they flowed. Young Zara wrapped her arms around him as she dug her head into his shoulder. She remembered this moment. During that little scuffle with Scooter and friends, it was Jack who'd come to scare them off and bring her home. Now there was a radius of a faint heavenly glow around Jack and Young Zara, bathing the sacred scene of their friendship in light.
The rush, the ecstasy, that left her practically light-headed mere moments earlier stopped abruptly. The voices pulsated in her head and for a moment, she felt like she was losing balance. The voices had to be forceful to overcome a barrier so strong. A barrier made of love. The only good thing she ever had.
Jack's head turned to face her slowly. His eyes contorted in pain, expressing nothing but betrayal. "You shouldn't have to give up who you are," his voice was soft and tear-choked. That's something you'd say, isn't it? Zara thought. At once, the pain of the fire reached her again and she croaked a grunt of immense agony. There was only one way to make the pain stop.
"Will you be reborn?"
She pulled the trigger.
