II.
ONE YEAR LATER
Caleb took great pleasure in hurtling the nauseating human before his proper god. As Gabriel had predicted, the heathen Richard Manning had not returned as was commanded to. Finally, the Chosen had sought him out. Through their contacts in other towns they quickly found him. He had taken a wife, a small petite girl named Beth, and was living with her and his brother Matthew. When the four dark angels had invaded his house, they took them as well before setting the homestead ablaze. No doubt Manning's closest would enjoy seeing him endure the torture the Chosen were planning to wreak on him before they partook of it themselves.
Now Caleb threw Richard down in the center of the hall. The three others dragged Matthew and Beth behind, but Caleb especially wanted to handle this one, to deliver the abuse that he deserved.
"Kneel! Before your god," Caleb yelled out, shoving him in such a way he skidded on his knees.
Ophelia, Gabriel, and Ishmael handed the prisoners off to two Cabal guards waiting in the wings, and went with Caleb to take their rightful places next to Tchernobog's throne. They stood evenly distributed on either side, looking down on the three mortals. Manning stood alone in the center where all could look down on him.
"FALLEN. YOU HAVE DISOBEYED THE CABAL. YOU HAVE DISOBEYED MY WORD. FOR THIS MISDEED... YOU SHALL BURN."
Caleb smiled toothily, grinning ear to ear. Finally, some punishment would befall this puny man. Finally, some justice would be dispensed. Some wrath would be delivered. Finally, the Devourer of Souls would do some devouring. And the heathen would rot in a dead man's tomb forever.
"You cannot harm me, for I have found the true word of Jesus Christ."
What?
"WHAT?"
He stood up and faced the One that Binds, looking Him straight in His vacant yellow eyes burning with all the flames of Hell's inferno. The look on his face was the look of a challenge. Something no mortal dared do lest he had written out a will in advance.
"I have found the holy word of God. I have confessed my sins and served my penitence. I have been baptized holy into the name of Jesus Christ, our lord and savior."
Christ? The old religion? At that moment, Caleb saw the rosary hanging off his neck, the symbol of his newfound faith to an unreal god. He should have seen it before, but it mattered very little.
"Your faith cannot protect your flesh," Caleb sneered at him.
"I have my angel with me. I have the light of Jesus Christ the lord, to protect me."
"YOUR CHRIST IS DEAD. YOUR GOD CANNOT WITHSTAND MY POWER."
"The word of Jesus Christ is immortal for only by His name may men be saved."
"ENOUGH !"
Uh-oh, Caleb thought delightedly, now they made Him mad.
"FOOLISH ONE. YOU HAVE NO SOUL LEFT TO BE SAVED. YOU HAVE CARVED IT TO SHREDS IN MY SERVICE. NOW ALL THAT REMAINS IS YOUR MORTAL FLESH." Tchernobog sat back in his throne. "TAKE THEM."
The Chosen looked to each other and smiled, gnashing their teeth, eyes glowing.
"TAKE THEM ALL."
The Cult guards seized the three, forcing them to their feet. The Chosen jumped down from their perches next to their Dreaming God and followed the guards and their captives out of the Hall of Epiphany. Now it was time to play. It would be a delight to take this baptized holy child and cremate him in the fires of hell he had now to fear thanks to his corrupted 'faith'.
The cultists took them to the sacrificial pit, a dried up well within the hall now used as a torture device. Nothing was more pure or slow or painful than death from bathing in fire. The cultists took Richard's brother and wife and threw them against the wall on the floor, making sure they could see all the beauty about to commence. Then they took Richard and strung him up in a rope pulley over the well, dangling by his hands.
"You shall never burn me. I will be saved through Jesus Christ the lord," he said as they fastened him up.
"Yeah, yeah," Gabriel said. He seized the end of rope from a hook in the wall and let it go.
The cultists still fastening him jumped back as Richard dropped like a stone into the flames.
"Gabriel, that was very rude," Ophelia exclaimed.
"I jus' couldn' take it anymore," he said. "Blah, blah, blah."
The four approached the pit and looked down into it, one on each side, their hair hanging down from their faces. He was too far down to see his suffering. Flame spires burst low from the pit, obscuring the view.
"Gabriel, pull him back up. I can't see anything," Ophelia said.
"Yes, pull him up before the rope catches fire," Ishmael said.
Gabriel grasped the rope and heaved it back. He pulled hand over hand winching the body back up. The rusty, scorched pulley squeaked terribly as it wheeled up Richard's body weight. They had heard no screams, perhaps the drop had killed him. They expected to see his clothes on fire, his skin starting to flake off and char black and crispy.
And he was miraculously unharmed.
"What da fuck?" Gabriel exclaimed.
He was looking heavenward. His palms clasped together in their rope bounds, and mumbling some hymn or prayer.
"Praise Jesus," his brother said.
"Praise the lord," his wife said.
Caleb turned and slapped the both of them in a row across the face with the back of his hand. The force of his incredible strength knocked them over on their sides.
"Impossible," Ophelia gasped.
"This cannot be," Ishmael said.
"Take him down again," Caleb commanded.
Gabriel did as he said, slower this time, making sure he was placed in the middle of the inferno. Ophelia, Caleb, and Ishmael lurched over the side. They could see the flames dancing around him, wrapping their fingers, licking at his feet, weaving in and out of his arms. But they never touched him. The three waited and waited for him to scream or catch fire or anything.
"Cut the rope and leave him down there," Ophelia suggested.
"No, I want to see him die," Caleb demanded.
They waited and waited for any signs that the fire was putting him through the slightest bit of agony. But none came. He just hung there patiently.
"Why does he not burn?" Ishmael asked.
"Enough, pull him up," Caleb commented.
Gabriel pulled the rope, raising the man from the inferno's depths. He was still in a deep concentration of praying to his almighty God. Caleb stared at him, red burning eyes gleaming poison from under his wide-brimmed hat. He was utterly disgusted at this, the fact that his faith was appearing to save him.
"Put her up." Caleb pointed to Manning's demure wife. The cultists unhooked the man's arms and brought him down, tossing him on the floor against the wall. Caleb grabbed the woman by her bound hands and gave her to the cultists. They strung her up quickly and stepped back. Gabriel lowered her down into the center of the well. The four looked down and saw that the flames did nothing to her either, like she had an invisible fireproof coating on her.
"Dey really do have an angel," Gabriel said astonishedly.
"Ridiculous, there's no such thing," Ishmael said.
Ophelia hissed angrily. "Then what's going on here? Why won't she die?"
Caleb sighed. "Bring her back up, Gabriel."
He did as he was told, hoisting the girl back up to view.
Eyes staying heavenward she warned, "All the fires of hell will not burn me. When you die, you will go to hell and answer to Satan himself."
"Not likely," Caleb rasped. "It looks like we'll have to resort to... simpler methods. Bring them."
The cultists sprang to action and grabbed the three and followed the Chosen into a different chamber. This only had a small round pedestal against the wall with a few stairs leading up to it. A small square open pillory with a deep red stain falling down the center like a still waterfall rested in the middle of the platform. An axe leaned against the block, also stained red.
A cultist dragged Richard up and shoved his head on the curved aperture. Caleb stepped up to the block, spit on his hands, rubbed them together, and grabbed the axe. He would waste no time in this.
"Y'ready to meet your God?"
Richard did not respond, but even if he had, Caleb gave him no time to do so. He held the axe up over his head and slammed it down on his soft neck.
The axe made contact and stopped like it had hit stone. Caleb's hands stung from the impact for he hadn't held tightly enough. He dropped the axe, partially from surprise. It fell with the blade resting on the wall. Caleb stepped back cautiously. He had never been afraid of anything before in his life. Not even when he was surrounded by an entire saloon of roughnecks, or staring down the barrels of multiple guns aimed at his head. And he wasn't afraid now, but he had gotten an idea in his head that maybe, just maybe, there really was something more powerful protecting him.
"Here, let me." Gabriel stepped up to the platform, Caleb jumped off. Gabriel was the strongest of the Chosen. If he couldn't do it...
He took the axe in hand and slammed it down hard on Manning's neck. It hit the same way as before, like metal grinding against a stone. Gabriel swung hard again. As it hit, the blade's edge chipped off and fell harmlessly to the side, ruining the weapon. Gabriel touched two fingers down on the fallen one's neck. It felt like any other normal human neck - soft, warm, spongy, pink flesh. Gabriel looked to Caleb with an expression of 'what do we do now?'. Ophelia and Ishmael mirrored the action. Caleb hated it when they looked at him like that.
"Bring them back," he said simply.
The cultists took them up and dragged them back out, making way back to the hall. He didn't care if the others had thought he failed. He had not failed. Caleb told himself he had not failed. He just needed to know what to do from here. A god has all the answers, right?
"BRING HIM FORTH, MY CHILDREN."
Caleb brought Richard out of the collection of people by the rope binding his hands and half-dragged him before Tchernobog, forcing him down on his knees in the center of the sacrificial ring. The minotaur-like god looked down upon the mortal before Him. Manning returned the god's gaze. Caleb stepped to the side of the ring and sneered at this impertinence. Richard thought if he was to be damned, he was going to be damned with a clean soul. But either way, he was damned. Caleb looked to Tchernobog. He was continuing to stare down at the mortal, burning yellow eyes scanning every inch of his being, physical and spiritual. At least, that's what Caleb thought, that Tchernobog was analyzing him to learn how to kill this bastard. The Dreaming God furrowed his eyes, then relaxed, slowly lifted his head back up to gaze level, staring through existence.
"LET HIM GO."
"What?"
"LET THEM ALL GO. THEY ARE NO LONGER A CONCERN."
Of all the ridiculous most absurd things ever... This was no act of his god. First, He releases him with no reason given, then He drags him back here to kill him, which cannot be done for some reason, and now He simply wants to let them go? Again!? Caleb would have killed them just for the fun of it.
"Master-"
"UNBIND THEM."
He exclaimed urgently, "Master-"
"DO MY BIDDING! UNBIND THEM... CHOSEN ONE."
Caleb's fingers curled at his side, twitching. They itched to pull the sawed-off out from his coat, point it at Tchernobog, and say, "I don't think so." He would have loved that. All he wanted to do was see someone die tonight. Was that so much to ask? The Bloodlust in him beckoned and wailed, crying out for sustenance, satisfaction. It would not stop until it had been appeased. Such was its nature. The only thing that stopped him was the childhood warning not to bite the hand that feeds.
Caleb lowered his eyes. No, he could not have been defeated. He had never been defeated.
"You stupid fool," Caleb lashed out, swinging his fist against the back of Richard's head, knocking him on his side. "Do you not realize who are you defying? This is the One that Binds! The Devourer of Souls! His name is spoken in whispers. His gaze condemns men to death and madness. His dominion will encompass all dimensions of Earth. And you have the insolence not to cower in His presence? You had everything in His service. You had the world to inherit. All He asked of you was faith and now you have nothing. Nothing but a piece of wood around your neck." Caleb grabbed the rosary by the cross and yanked it from Richard's neck, breaking the string. He held it in his fist in front of his face. "You've traded your life for nothing. Your life is nothing!" He threw the cross away. "Do you hear me?! Nothing! Nothing!"
Richard slowly turned his head towards Caleb, the corners of his mouth upturned ever so slightly. In a calm voice, he simply said, "I will pray for you."
Caleb blinked once...
"AAAAARGH!" he screamed out his primal rage at the top of his lungs and ripped the shotgun out of his trench coat.
And Caleb began to burn.
He dropped the shotgun from pure shock as the flames swallowed his body. Scorching heat threatened to bring his mind to the brink of insanity. All his eyes could see was the fire, the incorrigible fire, so he closed them tight, tears formed at the corners of his eyes. He screamed and whimpered, dropping to his knees on the floor, curling up into a ball with his leather coat shrouding him. The pain withered away, the fire dwindled to nothing save a few wisps of smoke and the smell of cooked flesh. Caleb lifted his head slightly and blearily looked in the direction of Tchernobog. One single skeletal arm was pointed straight at him, tapering down to a single sharp thin finger.
Caleb regained his strength and composure, now that the pain was gone, and stood up, pushing away the afterimages of agony.
"Cut them loose," he said softly.
"What?" Ishmael said.
"Cut... them... loose," Caleb commanded in a loud demanding voice, telling them he would not say it again.
"You're not ser-," Ophelia exclaimed.
"Do it!" Caleb turned his head slightly, looking at them out of the corner of his eye.
Ophelia, stunned, looked to Ishmael and shrugged her shoulders affirmatively. He pulled out his ceremonial knife, a thin curved blade attached to a short hilt, something each Chosen had received for their regard by the dark god. He swiftly sliced the rope which bound the woman, and then the same to the man beside her.
Caleb pulled out his own knife slowly from the belt behind his trench coat. Gripping his rough, worn fingers tightly around the handle, as tight as the anger gripping his stomach, he cut through the ropes of Richard's hands, not even bothering to look at what he was doing.
Richard rubbed his chafed wrists. "Thank you, brother. God will-"
"Get out... before I jam this through your chest," Caleb whispered quietly so none would hear, especially Tchernobog. Richard nodded and turned. His wife and brother waited still for him to reach them, and when he did, the trio walked off out of the hall, free as birds.
Caleb sneered viciously and turned back to Tchernobog, the Devourer of Souls. He opened his mouth.
"LEAVE ME."
Caleb again opened his mouth.
"I DO NOT NEED TO EXPLAIN MYSELF TO YOU. LEAVE ME."
Caleb took one last cleansing breath and turned around, meeting up with the three other esteemed generals.
"Nothing good can come of this," Ishmael said.
"He wouldn' die, he jus' wouldn' die," Gabriel said.
"I can't believe you just let them go," Ophelia needled Caleb.
"What the hell was I supposed to do?"
"Well, you should have done something, you idiot. You can't just let them go."
"And you would have him defy our leader?" Ishmael said.
"They wouldn' die, they jus' wouldn' die," Gabriel repeated.
"Shut up, I've got to think." At that, Caleb knew everyone had a witty one-liner regarding his intelligence on the tips of their tongues. But they also knew if it left the tips of their tongues, their tongues would be leaving with them.
"These people can't just leave unpunished."
"But it seems they are invulnerable," Ishmael said. "Perhaps even immortal?"
"Everyone's immortal until they die," Caleb said. "Well, if their god can protect them from fire and blades, let's see if He can protect them from each other."