Sophia's Chronicles
Chapter 97: In The Shadow of The Horns
Whispers spread around in the darkness like heatwaves from the Lake of Fire. The demons' deliberate hisses and glares seemed to pierce her skin like needles where she stood. A pair of scarlet orbs flickered on like torches, some feet away from her. Within the blink of an eye, a single spotlight snapped on to solely illuminate Zara.
"Zara, Zara, Zara…" Lucifer's voice rumbled. There was pin-drop silence. A mere silhouette of him was donated by the ambience but he was otherwise shrouded in pitch black. He was sat on the throne with one foot rested on the other knee. "What's the meaning of this?" his low voice echoed all around her as if seeking a new answer with every reflection. "I was expecting you."
"I wanted to leave as soon as you called," Zara began, lips quivering. She looked him straight in the eyes even though the bright light trespassed on her clarity. "I was working a case but things got a little heated and I was… trapped."
She could see the intrusion of his furrowed brows onto his amber irises. She dared not tremble as his magical tendrils encircled her soul. "You speak the truth," he concluded. "But it doesn't excuse your behaviour."
"It could never. You're right," she conceded. "If it's…" she gulped. "If it's any consolation, I discovered a rogue demon operation. They were using prostitution to harvest souls behind your back. I put an end to it."
"Hm," Lucifer's clenched fist, supported upright by an elbow on the armrest, loosened. "Prostitution? That's so tacky. Abaddon," he turned his head and the Knight stepped forward to his side from the shadows. "Sounds like a hit on Crowley. I want more eyes on this." She nodded and stepped back. "That easy, you think, to appease me?"
"It was wrong of me to have kept you waiting," Zara admitted. "To make up for it, I bring you the location of the demon tablet."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. A demon helped her deliver it to the King. He read through its contents. "This is satisfactory," he blandly stated, though his pout remained. "But I have to admit, Zara. You disappointed me. I was beginning to think…" his eyes narrowed sharply. "…that those humans changed you."
She released a measured exhale, which, in his presence formed a wispy white cloud. "Which is why I bring you another offering." Her fingers twitched. Hairs stood on end as every court subject awaited her next breath. "The bunker. I've undone the warding. I offer you everything in its confines, including the angel tablet and the prophet who can read it."
Lucifer's head turned slowly at the confession, lips traversing into a curl like the crawling of a snake. "And the Winchesters," he said like it was dessert.
"They kept me from you," she bowed her head solemnly. "It's clear to me that they no longer provide an advantage in your mission."
He scanned her with infrared beams again. "Fine, I accept," he finally said. The beginnings of celebration were germinating amidst the demons. "But you're still grounded."
The Bunker
"What do you mean you didn't see her?" Sam appeared like a building that violated construction permits, shaky and about to cause mass destruction. So it was understandable that Kevin would take a step back even in the comfortable confines of the study. On the other hand, Ketch craned up to admire the tall bookshelves surrounding them.
"Hey, calm down," Dean advised, though he wasn't any less wound up.
"Okay," Sam inhaled. He took a second to centre himself again, which was becoming increasingly difficult. When he thought he was clear enough, to the bare minimum degree, he began again, "Zara had to have come here again. All her things are gone. And you didn't notice?"
"I swear," Kevin vowed. "I've been awake for the past forty-eight hours. I didn't even hear anything."
"Okay, you know what," Dean intervened, sounding just a little calmer. "Maybe you weren't exactly the most present. But even then…?"
"On my life!" Kevin insisted. The blood vessels almost made his eyes pop.
"No, we believe you," Sam reassured him. "It's just… crazy."
"Like I keep telling you," the uninvited Brit drawled. He was still attired in his gear, full with a vest and belt of gear and combat boots—a stark contrast to the civilian fashion in the room. "She's dangerous. Everything you think you know about her is just a façade."
"Listen, Expendables," Dean turned to Ketch. "For all we know, something else could've spooked her. Or something took her. Just because you come in here, weaving a cool story, doesn't mean we have to buy it. We have to look at the facts. Right, Sammy?"
Sam was lost within himself. It took a while to register the question, but his acknowledgement wasn't so confident either. A great fatigue seemed to pull at his whole body. "We did see the facts," he admitted. "You saw the file. Odd timing for her to vanish, bindle and bags."
Dean's relaxed brows eased into a frown. His own brother appeared like a stranger to him, but he kept his thoughts to himself. It wasn't the time to diagnose Sam. "Let's say she really did hightail it. How'd she even figure that we were onto her, huh?" he questioned. "It all happened so fast."
"If I may offer a theory," Ketch said. "I had the pleasure of meeting a close chum of hers. About Sam's height, lean, long hair, school shooter vibe. It could've been him. "
"Jack?" Dean recognised.
"He's been in on this the whole time," Sam's fist clenched. Every single instance of the angel's face came to him at once. Most blaringly, the moment after Purgatory. He remembered how Zara had been throughout the ordeal. On edge, trembling and withdrawn. Of course she was. I'd be too if it was Dean. A wave of absurdity washed over him. He became conscious of the present again, like waking up from a dream. Of course, reality hadn't changed and Ketch's face reminded him of everything. He struggled to put together two jigsaw pieces that just didn't fit.
"I'm gonna need everything you have on this Jack fellow," Ketch requested. "He claims to be organising against-"
A flurry of beeping and sirens burst into the air. The boys flinched but soon found the source of the sound to be from the radio room. Every time they stepped into this room, it was like being transported fifty years back. All those old monitors and keyboards that they grew tired of dusting suddenly wailed in protest, commanding all the hairs on their necks to stand. Dean watched the meters swing wildly, distracted by every little movement on the board. Ketch merely paid attention to all this hubbub as if to glean some meaning from it. It was just a mess to Sam. The pulsating sirens were invading his mind. Their persistent shrieking seemed to have some entry into his head that didn't afflict the other men. It swirled and swirled, taking him on a wild carousel ride.
"I don't want to alarm you," Ketch stepped back.
Dean suppressed a bitter remark. "Too late," he said.
"I believe the bunker is under attack," Ketch deciphered. An ominous red light fell over the whole bunker. "Have you checked your warding lately?"
"Why…?" Kevin dared ask.
"It's demons," his words rang like a death knell. "Still think your girl's innocent?"
"Kevin, stay inside," Dean ordered. To his brother and Ketch, he said, "You two, grab anything you can find."
The men bolted up the stairs armed to the teeth. The rustic embrace of the bunker's reinforcements had to be foregone for the cold reality of the night awaiting them. They'd barely stepped out into the open when the demons rushed them. They swung their swords in full-body motions in the bare minimum needed to keep their own necks intact. In the rare second that Dean got to breathe, the bone-crushing awareness of the sheer army of demons surrounding them dawned on him. With anaerobic pangs pricking his muscles, he managed to utter a prayer to the one listener he believed in.
Ketch threw a grenade that took out a group of them with an explosive flash. His brass knuckles gave him a decent advantage but in such close range, he was just as limited as the Winchesters. Soon, the fluttering of wings came into earshot. They barely caught a glimpse of the brown trench coat but they could hear their companion giving it his best shot. Angelic might thudded through Castiel's fists. A single blast from his palm cleared several feet of enemies. But he too was humbled by the battalion's arsenal, which inevitably contained angel blades as well as lances, enchanted bo staffs and the very same brass knuckles that Ketch wore. This time, a grim realisation struck all of them as a demon pulled out what looked like a heavy-duty launcher hoisted at the waist, requiring both arms to wield, and shot it at the angel. The flare had just reached his periphery when he dodged. Still, a graze on Castiel's left shoulder dangerously exposed grace. Sobered by the injury, the angel studied the scene for a better strategy.
A wince escaped Sam's mouth. Dean turned just in time to see a gash on his brother's upper arm. He dashed towards Sam only to get a blow across his jaw which made him teeter to the ground. His ears rang from all the explosives. His head spun from the impact. Still, he clenched his teeth and made a slow ascent to his feet. Who had thrown the punch, or who would be the next strategic opponent—it was incalculable. There were just too many of them.
Thunder spread in a low rumble across the skies. Electricity crackled across the clouds. The air molecules turned ionic, fizzing on every hair and sparking between fabric. And then, there was a flutter like no other. Wings with a deep timbre arrived on the scene.
"Attack!" Jack yelled while he charged into the crowd with his companions. A demon came at him with a lance. He caught it expertly and spun rapidly to disarm the demon, right before piercing him with the spear-end. Like this, he parried with their swords and staffs, slicing their throats and disembowelling them. Several demons had him surrounded and all advanced with their weapons. His sequence was precisely-timed, first executing a kick, then knocking a few back with a swing, striking one back with the rear end of the lance, then using a fallen demon as a trampoline to launch himself forward to lodge the lance into the chest of another. The fallen ones were only beginning to pick themselves up when he released a blast from his palm to end them. And if anyone tried their hands with the brass knuckles, they found their throats stuffed with brass right as their hearts were punctured.
A group of low growls had permeated the crowd. All circling Jack's vicinity, the six Bengal tigers pounced on the demons and ripped them to pieces. Their bulging round eyes shined an angelic light as they tore through the demons like paper in a shredder. No weapon the demons had could even come close to the cement embrace of death dispensed by the big cats. Sure, the cats suffered cuts and grazes but it was no match to their sheer ferocity. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack spotted a demon aiming the two-arm heavy weapon at his feline companion. "Oh no you don't," he muttered, sprinting towards the event.
A demon interrupted his path with an angel blade coming down on him. Jack dropped to his knees and slid under the blade's swing without so much as a blink. He immediately jumped back to his feet and stabbed the demon in the back and continued his search. Once the one with the large firearm was in proximity, he had no problem taking his head off. From then on, the battle was as good as won.
Castiel had his palm on the last demon's throat, exploding him inside out with light bursting out of his orifices. When the dust had settled, the tigers sauntered back to Jack's side. Scarlet coated their rich flaming fur. They eyed the hunters like they saw no battle lines. Somehow, the angel in their centre seemed to be the only thing keeping them from further massacre. One of the animals even rubbed against his leg. He went down a knee to inspect its body, finding a deep wound on its back. He rubbed the spot gently and just like that, the wound closed on itself. Giving it a consoling scratch behind the ear, he stood back up to face their dumbstruck expressions.
"Is everyone alright?" he neared them, leaving the tigers where they stood. He noticed Sam holding his own arm in a sort of hunched position and reached out a hand. "Sam-"
"Don't," Dean held up the angel blade towards his chest. Serving him a wary glare, Castiel instead went over to Sam to help him. "We need some answers first."
Jack's gaze roved across them, giving just a bit more attention to Ketch. "You should've listened to me, Ketch," he said, shaking his head with nothing but murder in his eyes. "All of this could've been avoided."
"I swore an oath to the Men of Letters, not you," the Brit merely said. His grip tightened around the brass knuckles.
"You better be honest with us," Dean snarled. "Did you know about Zara? You in on it?"
"Wouldn't have come here if I was," Jack lifted his chin. "I've been working on her for months. Trying to get her to see what's at stake. I wanted her to do the right thing. To choose the right thing."
Ketch huffed. "You wasted months trying to nudge a cold-blooded killer in the direction of what, morality?" he asserted.
"Respectfully, shut the fuck up," Jack uttered with a disgusted scowl to match. "This is a personal matter. Stay out of this."
This time, Sam straightened up and faced him. "Why are we even entertaining him? He knew everything she did was a lie this whole time," he spat out. His fingers dug so deep into his palms that indentations were forming on his skin. "Which means he's been lying to us."
"If you mean I'm on Lucifer side, that's just not true. I kept a close eye on her exactly because I wanted to figure out his plans," he explained. A clear tinge of annoyance laced his every word. "If I'd told you then, it would've tipped her off and… adios amigos. Don't you realise that she can't exactly be this monster like you think when she's here? It's the only time she's free from his influence—free from his repercussions. You really think anyone would willingly put themselves through what Lucifer put her through? He turned her into a demon in every way except for her soul. Being on earth was the only thing reminding her that she's human!" By now, his gestures were becoming more pointed and hostile. "Then this guy had to come along and ruin everything. Thanks a lot, Ketch. Bet you feel like a real man now."
"Fact of the matter is, you watched her manipulate us," Dean maintained with the calmness of a predator hiding in the grass.
"I'm not proud of it, Dean. I like you. I admire what you and your brother do. I hated watching her do all those things, pulling your strings like puppets," Jack confessed. "But I know, deep down, that she's the same Zara that I watched over. When you love someone, you don't just give up on them. I know for a fact that you know what that means."
"You speak like she was capable of love," Sam said this time, sounding weary.
Jack stared deeply into Sam's soul. He could see the hurt, as if he'd suffered a death by a thousand cuts. A heart turned to stone could never recover. "It wasn't all a lie, Sam," the words spilled out of the depths of Jack's chest. "She cared about you. Both of you. It's why the last thing she told me before radio silence was to come here. She wanted me to protect you from Lucifer."
"That's real convenient," Sam leaned his head back, gaze sweeping over the stars and then the ground. The same stars under which they'd made intimate promises etched into their souls. He blinked rapidly to fight stinging in his eyes. "You think that makes up for it?"
"No. I'm not here to make excuses for her. God knows she's done some terrible things. But she isn't beyond rescue. What she had for you, Sam—that was real. There's still something in her that Lucifer hasn't corrupted," Jack said, lips contorting like he tasted something bad. He pushed his hair back with a hand, letting his steep-angled cheeks slice the air. "We're still fighting a war. Our best chance at getting to Lucifer is gone. I say we sit down and think about what's next."
"We?" Dean repeated. "There ain't no 'we', Jack."
"This isn't the time for grudges," Jack insisted. "First things first, we could fix the warding. I actually read a book or two on it."
Ketch crossed his arms. "We can do that well on our own," he said. There was no response to that.
"Oh, and what, he gets to stay?" Jack pointed out, looking all offended. "You're really gonna trust a Man of Letters over me? They're not any better. In fact, they're worse!"
"Listen," Dean held up a palm. "You lied to us, alright? Frankly, I can't even look at you right now."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Once you're done with your feelings, it's time to lay down the law," he stated firmly. "You think this is gonna stop?" he pointed to all the dead demons sprawled on the ground. "Newsflash: there is a megalomaniacal dictator out there who wants to kill you and take everything in that bunker, including lil Kev and his favourite book. I'm trying to help you, dammit!"
"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged. "Why don't you put that in a pipe and smoke it?"
"You should leave," Sam asserted, muscles along his neck and jaw tightening. "Before you end up like one of them."
He gestured to the corpses. That put the deepest frown on Jack's face. So deep, in fact, that his eyes were huge in contrast to the blatant efforts of his brows to compress them. What a glare it was. It could have set something on fire. "Fine, I'll go," Jack conceded curtly. "One last piece of advice: keep your distance from the Men of Letters. They're not what you think."
Jack eyed Ketch like he was launching knives with his mind. In the next second, he and his six tigers were gone. That night was a long night. The men silently got to work, finding where damage had been done and fixing it. Considering the obscure spots where the warding was disrupted, it came as a puzzle to figure out how Zara could have found them. With Ketch's help, they managed to set up some demon traps and fancy equipment that would keep the perimeter secure from further attempts at invasion. When Sam's body finally begged him for rest, he trudged to his bed. A red plaid shirt of his was strewn on the bed. The very same that used to clothe her bare body as she lay on her side. The fabric had fallen on her curvature and made her tight waist a resting spot for his arm, which would hold her close. He climbed under covers though it felt vacant without a warm body next to him.
The next morning, it was only on the fourth cup of coffee that Sam began to assemble breakfast. Dreams of gentle hands leading him into the most scorching of fires seemed to repeat in his head. He could hear her giggles and feel the tenderness of her lips when he closed his eyes. It made him want to tape his eyelids open. He pressed the flat of his palms against his eyelids to wish the fatigue away. Inevitably, he desired a distraction and Kevin walked in.
"Hey, haven't heard from you in a while," he began. "How's things on your end?"
"Hit a few dead ends while you guys were off," he grumbled as he sat down with his first cup. He remained dazed as the black liquid gushed down his throat. Some heaviness tugged at his shoulders. "Sometimes I just wonder why I'm doing this."
"Me too," Sam confessed. He just picked at his eggs with a fork.
"I just want to get it over with this tablet. It's taking everything out of me," Kevin muttered breathily. "But I don't know if there is an end. I feel like I'm stuck in the same place forever."
"Yeah, tell me about it," he agreed. The air seemed to weigh down between both of them. Who was more tired than who, it wasn't apparent. All Sam knew was that everything seemed to hit a wall inside of him. He couldn't take his mind off of his nightmares. "Sometimes you just get closer and closer to ending it. But you can't. You just gotta keep pushing because all that pain can't be for nothing."
"Can't it?" Kevin wondered. "I just wanna be back home with my mom, worrying about f-finals. I keep thinking that I'm gonna get closer to that but I'm just not. And with everything going on right now—in the world, with Zara—we're getting nowhere."
The sound of her name stung like acid.
"Sorry," the prophet apologised. "I'm sorry for what she did to you."
"I'm sorry too," Sam said. "I made the wrong call and it's costing all of us. It's not just about me anymore."
"This whole thing is crazy," Kevin seemed to withdraw within himself. "And Jack too? I can't believe it. I don't know what's up and down anymore. I don't know if I can handle it."
His words seemed to graze past Sam's ears. "Don't think about it, alright? It's gonna work out," Sam dismissed with a dead voice. "You can handle it. You have to."
A while later Dean and Castiel joined them. "How're we holding up?" Dean asked. Kevin simply shook his head.
"Been lookin' up leads on our witch," Sam began.
Dean gave him a curious look. "You can take a day off, you know?"
"Why, so we can waste more time?" Sam huffed.
"No, so you can get over your girlfriend selling you out to Satan," Dean stated factually. "The way you're not dealing with it is honestly throwing me off."
"Sitting around while the world falls apart sure isn't gonna help me deal with things, Dean," Sam argued rather sharply. "We can get off our asses and do what we've always needed to do, which is exorcise Lucifer and dunk his ass back in the Cage. Without any interference this time. First ingredient we can get is witch blood and I'm trying to find us a witch."
That look in his eyes warned Dean not to press further. "Fine," he relented, pressing a finger against his temple. "Actually this could be a good time. Raziel might finally have a lead on our bone of a sacrificial monk. He said he's real close to tracking down the Ghana."
"Raziel," Cas spoke this time. He certainly perked up at the name. "Did he mention how he tracked it down?"
"Does it matter?" Dean wondered.
"It's just that… things in Heaven have been going a little too well lately," Castiel began sombrely. "With destruction on the scale that we saw, it shouldn't be this easy. Raziel and Naomi have both been a little too resourceful."
"You think something fishy's going on?" Sam probed.
"I know so," Castiel confirmed. "I confronted Raziel and he confessed to me that Zara had helped him access Sophia's Repository to find fixes."
"Oh great," Sam ran a hand down his face. "Yet another lie. She said she didn't know what that was."
"Wait, did he know?" Dean blinked into a frown.
Castiel's gaze swept over the table. "She promised him the Repository in exchange for his silence," he reported.
"Dammit," Dean cussed. "Is there anyone we can trust?"
"Raziel lied to us?" Kevin grew exasperated. "B-but I- I trusted him. He said he'd watch over my mom. And I believed him."
"I know things seem bleak right now," Castiel looked to the prophet. "But Raziel keeps his promises. He would never let any harm come to her, Kevin."
"It's a pretty freakin' weak argument right now," Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "You know what, new policy: We're not trusting anyone outside this kitchen."
The five-pronged weighing scale was tipping. Fire and Spirit steadily pulled down their plates while Earth, Water and Air struggled to keep up. The surface of the sun was a battlefield like no other with its waves of plasma and bubbling dark spots. On one spot, the magnetic field gave in to a sudden protrusion, splattering the profoundly boiled nuclear matter into space. The explosion would be minute from the perspective of earth but its rays were already en route to the floating ball of life.
Icy winds blowing over the Arctic called for the warmth of a love they never felt. So willing, they were, to suck the breath out of anything living just to feel less alone. This time, their prayer would be answered. The heated nuclear fragments falling from space assaulted ice shelves with noise beyond human senses. It was only a matter of time before a chunk of ice the size of an apartment complex dislodged from its cliff and plunged into the water.
All gods heard this clamour. The splash may have been far up North, but the oceans would pass the message to the nearest coast. Little by little, that trickle grew in size as the waves made a steady passage. Sitting on his throne, even the Devil with the heart of ice could feel the steady rumble growing louder and louder, like a fly in the ear of an elephant.
