Notes: See?? Told ya this would be out quickly! The writing style in this chapter is a bit different from my usual. It's sort of like a blend of Stephen King and Ray Bradbury. ::shrug:: Just came out like that. BTW, there's quite a bit of violence here. Sorry to the squeamish, but there's kinda gonna be more in later chapters too. I think. The rating is currently set at PG-13--should it be bumped up a notch?
I should have said this before, but I am very pleased with the reviews! (Don't worry, I'll go more in-depth during the Acknowledgements later.) Thank you Memorax, my latest reviewer! You're really making me blush. ^^ THANK GOD, I'm not the only one who noticed that Jade is now the main character (even though the show doesn't even ADMIT it), it started sometime in season 2--that's part of the reason why I started this fic. (Though I think the main reason was that deep down I think Jackie is my favourite. ^^ ::hugs Jackie-plushie ^^::)
Anyhoo, same credits and disclaimers apply. Guys, you KNOW I appreciate your help, but I'm kinda getting tired of writing it. So the next time I'll mention you will probably be in the Acknowledgements/Read Me section. Onward!
THE DEMON WITHIN
Part Twelve: The Unforgiven
A soft cloth was being rubbed against his back, slowly, gently, and the warm soapy water oozed down his skin, leaving a trail of coldness in its wake. Cool air pressed against his upper body while his lower body, sunk in the water, radiated with warmth. Jackie breathed in the bit of rising steam continuously; it was making him sleepy. He struggled to keep his eyes open, and as he glanced at his surroundings, dazed, he suddenly put all the pieces together and realised he was in a bathtub. Without question his hazy mind accepted it. The cloth slithered up to his shoulder, and he shut his eyes, beginning to nod off.
He thought he heard the pages of a book flipping; the winds howling relentlessly; time losing its meaning. But wait--the Thirteenth Hour! He muttered something incomprehensible. It was coming, coming to take him away. Goodbye Jade, goodbye Uncle, goodbye world. They no longer existed, they were not real. They were not here. The pages turned quickly, every word from the past erased, the pages to come already blank; all that existed was here and now, a vague dream that weighed down on him like a ten-pound sack. His head was drooping one moment, then bobbing slightly as he attained a new level of consciousness. He was trapped in that twilight realm, an empty void somewhere between sleep and awakening.
In his dream he stood in the middle of a room, his old room in Uncle's shop, where he'd spent most of his adolescence; but instead of posters covering the walls and trinkets cluttered the dresser and shelves, instead of his treasured stack of magazines and large collection of paperbacks, there was nothing. Not even the bed remained. It was clouded with fog and darkness. _This is not my room,_ he thought to himself, a rush of disappointment and anger surging through his veins. The void reflected the shadow of what once was, an empty soul.
There is something here, there must be something here. A fantastic force pounded at his forehead as he stepped forward, as if it were trying to drive him away. Mocking him, was it? Jackie's anger fueled inside him as he kept going, undaunted. He knew where it was. And it was a different and more familiar force that guided him--no, pulled him--towards the closet.
The bath was finished. Jackie, in a sort of half-consciousness, was dimly aware of the Shadowkha drying his hair.
The closet knob, old and rusty, was just ahead of him. With a slight effort Jackie reached out his hand. The force driving him backwards was weakening with each step. Hope and anticipation rose within him as he came closer, closer, until finally he reached the doorknob. He couldn't feel it; he could only see his hand lock around it. He pulled it back with yet another slight effort and went inside.
Even in the dream Jackie could feel his heart pumping rapidly. Because there it was, shining brilliantly, a mysterious blue glow laced around it as it lay casually on the floor.
The knife.
His hand went down to pick up the knife, and while doing so the rest of him did too. He went farther and farther, very slowly, a slight ringing in his ears, until finally he grasped it. Like a fire, the blue glow swallowed his hand and raced up his arm until the rest of him glowed as well. How he ached to use it! How he longed to create a single lovely line of blood along someone's arm! He was falling. Blood, blood gleaming on the spectacular blade; blood rushing out of a deep, incurable wound. Blood escaping the body, which would be left to die. He kept falling until he was literally passing the floor as a ghost might.
He stood at the Shadowkha's silent indication, and, covered in a towel and bathrobe, he was soon being led down a short corridor.
Just a swift cut, swing it round, that's all it takes just a swift cut round--
The music, the awful, downcast music of the dead as presented by the sadism of a violin and a piano pulsed faintly behind the double doors. It sounded oddly familiar. Jackie would have paused uncertainly, but another long-dead force was driving him forward, and so he went, shoulders hunched, knife in hand. He pushed one door open with his free hand and stopped a few steps after the threshold. The door swung shut behind him.
Mist danced to the dismal music. Familiar faces were scattered everywhere, including those of his parents. He was about to approach them when he decided another disappointment wasn't worth getting his hopes up for. Well, if they didn't remember him, he just wouldn't remember them; it was an illogical thought, but this was a dream after all, and one does not exactly think straight in dreams.
So, turning his back on the couple, who were talking idly, Jackie set his sights upon someone else, someone who might not promise anything at all but was too hard to let go of. He watched as the little girl in the untidy dress of a hooded sweater and jean caprices leaned against the black piano, staring up at the pianist with her huge golden-brown eyes. His heart lurched. _No, no, not here, not her,_ he thought to himself desperately, but his feet would not obey; instead he found himself walking towards her. He remembered the knife he held.
With the help of the Shadowkha, Jackie managed to slip on a sort of black-silk robe.
Jackie stopped before her. He stared down at her, but she didn't seem to notice him. "Hi, Jade."
She said nothing.
"Jade?"
She turned her back to him.
"She will not speak to you," came the booming voice of the mountain of a man Tohru. Jackie turned around halfway to see him.
"Oh," was all Jackie said as Tohru disappeared again. He didn't have to ask why. Remorse towered over him, locking him in its shadow. Why had he done that in the first place? He should probably just say he was sorry right now, get this all over with. Maybe she would forgive him.
But then the remorse turned into something else. He was no longer sorry; rather, he was angry. How many times had he said to everyone, "I'm sorry"? How many times had he been forced to beg for forgiveness? And most of it probably wasn't even his fault to begin with!
No, no, it couldn't be his fault...it was Jade's fault. Wasn't she the one who never listened to him, who took him for granted? Hadn't she time and again called his profession, his real passion, archeology, boring? Yes, yes, and she always tried to make herself look like an innocent, helpless little girl with those huge eyes of hers. _Jade, you've done it again, you've done it again..._ He gritted his teeth. How he loathed her! He saw her eyes again in his mind. Innocence and cruelty bundled up into one single package. He hated her. Hated her!
It was time to rip open the package.
The knife in the hand goes round and round, round and round, round and round...
There was some sort of humming, which went in tune with the music, but Jackie shrugged it off, uninterested. Instead he found himself fingering his precious knife absently. He brought the tip to his lips, deciding what to do. No, he reassured himself firmly. No apologies. Not now: not ever. He had the knife; that was all that mattered. He smiled to himself thinking of what he might do with it...
And suddenly he got a brilliant idea.
"Oh, Jade," he called to her sweetly, hiding the knife behind his back. "I have a surprise for you..."
The knife in the hand goes round and round, round and round, round and round...
The Shadowkha led him to a small room where stuffed dummies enclosed in a complete circle. He stood outside of it, for now.
"Huh?" Jade turned around to face her uncle. She suddenly glared at him. "What surprise?"
"Hold out your hand and I'll give it to you."
The knife in the hand...
Jade stopped glaring. In fact, now she stared back at Jackie apprehensively. "Um..."
...goes round and round...
"Jade," Jackie's tone was firm. "Do as I say."
...round and round...
Jade hesitated. Then, slowly, she held out her hand; but before she could pull it back, Jackie seized her wrist.
...round and round...
Jackie knelt down to her height as he had done so many times to either lecture or comfort her. Now it was neither. And Jackie's eyes moved down from her wrist and up to her own eyes, which were wide and fearful. He gave her a stern look as he pulled up her sleeve. From behind his back he produced the knife, and pressed it against her arm.
The humming continued.
...and round...
Jade gasped. She immediately tried to wretch her hand free, but it was no use. Jackie was undaunted, his grip on her like steel.
...and round...
And quite suddenly something happened. Jackie did something that not only took Jade by surprise, but it also made him look cold and sadistic and pure evil. He smiled.
"Surprise," he said.
...
AND ROUND AND ROUND AND ROUND AND ROUND--!!!!!
Her scream was absolutely piercing; Jackie absently wondered if his own ears were bleeding. In one swift movement he removed the knife a safe distance from Jade. A few drops of blood splattered on the floor. He looked up into Jade's face and saw that she was crying, terrified. He slowly looked down at her arm. A long, thick gash of red covered it; blood started to slide into his own hand, which was still an eerie blue.
Her blood was on his hand.
_You did it. You did it. Your own niece and you did it!_
The circle of dummies opened for him.
Jackie looked up at Jade's face again. She was still crying, her eyes were still fearful; the guilt was still there. Still there!
"No more," he murmured. And he glared at her suddenly. "No more guilt," he said aloud, another wicked smile already forming on his face. "No more love!"
--ROUND ROUND ROUND ROUND ROUND ROOOUUUUNNNNNDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The screams were not even allowed a second course. Jackie stood, holding his niece by her throat. He stared at her as the blood oozing out of her mouth stopped altogether, along with her heart and breathing. She was a mere corpse now.
A few moments passed. Then he flung the body away, far away, into the perpetual mists.
The circle of dummies closed again, as did the familiar faces around him.
His parents, Captain Black, the rest of the J Team, and even Valmont and his Enforcers stared back at him with disgust and anger. They moved around, encircling him as if he were their prey.
"You did it!"
"You must be punished!"
Their figures became blurry. He began to lose his balance.
"Your fault!"
Somebody spat on him.
He suddenly could not move. "Your fault!" His breath came out short and ragged; the blood thundered in his ears; his vision was clouded with red. "Your fault!" His hand tightened around the knife. Slowly, he turned around.
And there stood Uncle. The vertically challenged old man stared back at him with disgust. "Your fault! Your fault!"
Jackie stood rigid. He hated him--he hated all of them! Because now everyone had joined into the chant: "Your fault! Your fault!" Uncle's voice, high-pitched shrill of a voice, seemed to be the loudest of them all. Jackie cringed as it nearly shattered his eardrums. He wanted them to suffer, he wanted them to break down and beg, just as he had done time and again. He gripped the knife.
Yet he only stood there, uncertain.
And a whisper filled his ear: "A swift cut, cut, cut, swing it round, round, round, the knife in the hand goes round and round--"
It was Shendu leaning over his shoulder in the circle of dummies.
That was all the permission he needed. He held up the knife. He was going to murder them all--starting with Uncle. And so, with a passionate, hateful cry, Jackie lashed out at the old man.
The violin, the piano, the humming--none of it ceased.
The stuffing, which had previously been composed in the dummies, were now scattered along the floorboards. They lay trapped in his shadow as more fell.
He sliced through them all, these phantoms that had mocked him, had tormented him. The demon was his ally; the rest of his world stood in the way.
Shendu was smiling.
And finally, they were gone. Their crippled figures melted away into the abyss. The mist floated away, replaced with absolute darkness.
But that music, that awful surreal music--that stayed. He realised suddenly that he was humming to it. It was he who had been humming all along.
He awoke completely with that thought buzzing in his head. Then he found that he was staring at a white wall and singing under his breath:
"...the knife in the hand goes round and round, all over town."
He stopped. The song was finished. He was dimly aware of somebody clapping.
Earlier, he'd been drowsy. Now he was completely spent. A slight, almost inaudible moan escaped his lips. His grip lessened; the knife slipped out of his hand and dropped to the floor with a distant clank. His eyelids hung heavy and his balanced deserted him. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, he fell backwards, plummeting quickly into the darkness, until all that remained was the darkness.
Shendu saw Jackie was going to swoon, and at his silent command a Shadowkha caught him just as he started to fall. The black-clad warrior's arm beneath Jackie's back held him up, and his head and arms and legs hung limp. Another silent command from Shendu, and the Shadowkha was dragging Jackie to a small bedroom.
Amongst the white stuffing lay the knife. Shendu stared at it for a moment, then had a Shadowkha bend down and pick it up. The Shadowkha offered it to its master, and Shendu accepted.
Past the dozens of boxes and crates that littered the outskirts of the room was the kitchen, and in it Thorne and his agents sat around the kitchen table under the keen eyes of sword-wielding Shadowkhan. Shendu snorted. The fools! They had no idea what power, what glory he was about to bestow upon the world. They had no idea what was going on now; they only sat huddled at that pathetic old table with its stained wood, afraid and confused.
In the opposite direction was the entrance to a short hall, and that was where Shendu went, making a sharp left. He was just in time to see a door shut, the door to the room where Jackie would now be kept. Ignoring it, he continued to a single room at the end of the hall. It was Thorne's room, actually, but after forcing him to give up the key, which he now slipped into the lock, Shendu took residence there. He turned the knob and opened the door.
The room was actually nothing special; Shendu only wanted it because it belonged to Thorne, the head of the gang. It was actually vacant, except for a bed in the center of the room and a dresser opposite it. Both were rather dusty--in fact, the whole hideout was a roach hotel--but Shendu had the Shadowkhan play maid and wash the dishes and take out garbage and dust the shelves. Not to mention insert Combats. A dozen of them were lined against the walls. Not even two minutes had gone by when Shendu had first come here did he see three roaches crawl along the floor. It absolutely disgusted him. If there was one thing he really hated it was a messy living quarters.
(Not that he would be living there very long, of course. It was almost time...)
Aside from the many Combats, however, there was also one more new addition to the room, and it lay at the foot of the bed. It was a book, and printed on the cover was a picture of the head of an angry Chinese dragon, with watchful eyes and flaring nostrils. It was the Demon Archive.
The Demon Archive had been in the hands of his Shadowkhan the whole entire time, even before the spell was cast on Jackie and himself, safe and sound from any intruders such as that Chi wizard uncle of Jackie's, or that brat niece of his, or even his good pal the James Bond-wannabe (or so Finn said), the latter two posing no real threat to Shendu. After all, Jade was a mere child of little--if any--significance, and Captain Black could do nothing but send an interrogator (Shendu had almost laughed out loud when he heard of that). But the old man...now he was the one he really had to watch out for. Should he get his hands on the Archive, Shendu could kiss his plan goodbye and then some. It wouldn't be long before Uncle would banish forever from Jackie's soul what little of Shendu resided there. Not only that, but he could also find a counter spell to the one his siblings had cast which had locked Shendu in Valmont's body. Now, Shendu wanted nothing more than to be rid of Valmont--except, of course, for being sent back to the Demon World which the Chi wizard would undoubtedly do. No, he was not going back there; he'd only just escaped his siblings' wrath the last time.
After he set the knife down on the dresser, Shendu sat on the bed and leaned over the Archive. He opened it to a page where the bookmark was. For what must have been the hundredth time he read the passage, beaming at every word. One o'clock. The Thirteenth Hour. The Snake and Horse talismans were here, in his very own pockets. Everything was going perfectly.
Now came the hard part: waiting.
-~-~-~
Ooh! Suspense! I enjoyed writing this part a lot; got out a lot of aggression, I did. Heheheh! It was very evil, true, but also very fun. Poor Jackie and Jade. ~.~ I think it's one of the few chapters that doesn't change the basic scene. So I was very pleased with how this chapter turned out. What do you think?