DEMONS OF THE PAST
PART 2
He was coming!
Wolfwood panted, his tongue hanging from his mouth like a cash register receipt as he struggled to keep running. His chest heaved with each step. And yet, the sound of the footfalls behind him did not hesitate once, they just kept coming and coming. He groaned, and tried to run faster.
"Nicholas..." the childish voice whispered behind him, "I'm coming to give you what you deserve!" as the second part was spoken, the voice changed from the sweet pitch of a child into a deep, guttural growl. It sent chills up Wolfwood's spine, and it made him run faster.
He reached the door, and tore it open. He slammed it shut just in time to stop the monster that was chasing him. He heard the sound of it banging against the wood, scratching and clawing as it tried to break its way through. His eyes flicked around the room, tried to find something that would reinforce the door, keep it locked out forever. But he found nothing.
"Cross..." he said between gasping breaths, "Need...my...cross!" he scurried up the stairs, raced down the hallway, threw open the doorway. He ripped the room apart, flipped over the bed mattress, knocked over the dressed, tore everything out of the closet in his search, but his cross was nowhere. He was defenseless!
He had to warn the girls. He hurried back down the hallway to the room they slept in. He yanked the door open and charged in. "Millie, Merryl, hurry, we have to..." the words drained from his mouth as his eyes beheld the carnage that lay within. Milly and Merryl's bodies lay, mutilated on their beds. Their blood was spattered on the mattresses, on the floors, on the walls. Their lifeless eyes gazed up at him, accusingly. Why weren't you here for us?
Wolfwood moaned, a tormented, anguished moan. He turned from the hideous sight, and felt himself suddenly yanked up from his feet. The black, metal claw that grasped the collar of his shirt pulled him up with a monstrous strength, as the other raised up above his head, fingers extended fully, the razor ends of the talons glinting. Wolfwood screamed as it came roaring down toward his face...
"Mr. Priest! Mr. Priest! Are you alright?" Millie's worried face flew into Wolfwood's vision, and he screamed at the suddenness of it. This made Millie scream as well. Merryl came running in, looking concerned, and Millie screamed at her, which caused Merryl to scream. Their combined screams hurt Wolfwood's ears, and caused him to scream once again.
"Hey!" Vash shouted as he stormed into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes, "What the hell is going on in here? What's all the screaming about?" He felt the words drain from his mouth when Millie, Merryl, and Wolfwood all stared at him as if he had just stepped off a spaceship.
"Sorry..." Wolfwood said, running a hand through his hair, "Just having a nightmare."
"Oh. Do you want to talk about it?" Millie took his hand, her concern written in her eyes. Wolfwood looked into those eyes for a moment, trying not to drown on those twin oceans of blue. Their childlike innocence moved him in a way he found very profound. They soothed his nerves, and the fear previously in him left.
"No, don't worry about it" he said, offering her one of his most charming smiles. She returned it, and they felt themselves at peace.
"Well, that's a load off" Vash said sarcastically as he stepped out of the room. Merryl followed him.
"Come on, Mr. Priest, or you'll miss breakfast" Millie said she rose from alongside the bed, and followed her companions out the door. Wolfwood remained for a moment, troubled still by his dream.
He eventually rose, and dressed. As he stood before the mirror, straightening his collar, he sighed at his reflection. He stared back at himself, wondering just who it was he was looking at. Was it himself, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, gazing at him, or was it someone else?
He dropped one of his cross-shaped cufflinks as he tried to slip them into their place on his sleeves. He bent down to pick it up. When he straightened back up, he saw the figure standing behind him. The black cloak he wore went down almost to his ankles, and a hood covered part of his face. Jagged teeth grinned out from a mouth that was surrounded by scraggly whiskers. He raised one arm, the hand covered by a black metal claw, readying for a skull cracking slash.
Wolfwood spun instantly in place, his eyes as large as saucers. There was no one behind him. He looked around the room, making sure. His chest rose and fell quickly, some drops of sweat tricked down his neck. He turned back to the mirror, and saw only his own reflection. He moaned, and shook his head, and wondered if his own demons would ever be exorcised.
"Hey, you okay?" Vash asked through the mouthful he was chewing. Merryl reached up and smacked him across the back of his head, which caused him to start choking on his food. He coughed and pounded on his chest, reached for a glass of water. "I wish you wouldn't do that!" he screeched at Merryl, who just continued to eat as if he were not even there.
"Well, you shouldn't talk with your mouth full" was her only reply.
"He's right, Mr. Priest. You look like you've seen a ghost" Millie commented as Wolfwood sat down next to her.
"I may have" he replied in a whisper. She cast him a confused look, which he ignored. He looked down at the food before them, and found it rather unappetizing. His stomach felt like a hole in his torso. He rested his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together, and prayed.
Vash, Merryl, and Millie all looked at him curiosly for a moment, and then resumed eating. After a few moments of silence, Wolfwood ate as well. They said nothing else to each other that day.
The monster stood in the center of a forge. He looked around him, and found his surroundings good. Here he had all he required. He grasped a metal pale in one hand. It was full of scraps. He held it over a small table, and turned it over. The pieces of metal all scattered down onto the table in a chorus of noise. He sorted through the hurriedly, searching for the just right parts. He picked up the blades from some old knives, some flat plates, a few bolts and screws. These he set aside, and the rest he cast into a flaming furnace. Once it all melted, he poured it out onto the flat head of an anvil and began to hammer it into the correct shapes.
His great work was beginning; the remaking of The Nightmare Talons.
He worked feverishly, forging and shaping and molding and hammering. The hours rolled by, and the gauntlets began to take shape. They glistened in the dancing firelight, the flames almost looking like demonic faces in the reflection.
PART 2
He was coming!
Wolfwood panted, his tongue hanging from his mouth like a cash register receipt as he struggled to keep running. His chest heaved with each step. And yet, the sound of the footfalls behind him did not hesitate once, they just kept coming and coming. He groaned, and tried to run faster.
"Nicholas..." the childish voice whispered behind him, "I'm coming to give you what you deserve!" as the second part was spoken, the voice changed from the sweet pitch of a child into a deep, guttural growl. It sent chills up Wolfwood's spine, and it made him run faster.
He reached the door, and tore it open. He slammed it shut just in time to stop the monster that was chasing him. He heard the sound of it banging against the wood, scratching and clawing as it tried to break its way through. His eyes flicked around the room, tried to find something that would reinforce the door, keep it locked out forever. But he found nothing.
"Cross..." he said between gasping breaths, "Need...my...cross!" he scurried up the stairs, raced down the hallway, threw open the doorway. He ripped the room apart, flipped over the bed mattress, knocked over the dressed, tore everything out of the closet in his search, but his cross was nowhere. He was defenseless!
He had to warn the girls. He hurried back down the hallway to the room they slept in. He yanked the door open and charged in. "Millie, Merryl, hurry, we have to..." the words drained from his mouth as his eyes beheld the carnage that lay within. Milly and Merryl's bodies lay, mutilated on their beds. Their blood was spattered on the mattresses, on the floors, on the walls. Their lifeless eyes gazed up at him, accusingly. Why weren't you here for us?
Wolfwood moaned, a tormented, anguished moan. He turned from the hideous sight, and felt himself suddenly yanked up from his feet. The black, metal claw that grasped the collar of his shirt pulled him up with a monstrous strength, as the other raised up above his head, fingers extended fully, the razor ends of the talons glinting. Wolfwood screamed as it came roaring down toward his face...
"Mr. Priest! Mr. Priest! Are you alright?" Millie's worried face flew into Wolfwood's vision, and he screamed at the suddenness of it. This made Millie scream as well. Merryl came running in, looking concerned, and Millie screamed at her, which caused Merryl to scream. Their combined screams hurt Wolfwood's ears, and caused him to scream once again.
"Hey!" Vash shouted as he stormed into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes, "What the hell is going on in here? What's all the screaming about?" He felt the words drain from his mouth when Millie, Merryl, and Wolfwood all stared at him as if he had just stepped off a spaceship.
"Sorry..." Wolfwood said, running a hand through his hair, "Just having a nightmare."
"Oh. Do you want to talk about it?" Millie took his hand, her concern written in her eyes. Wolfwood looked into those eyes for a moment, trying not to drown on those twin oceans of blue. Their childlike innocence moved him in a way he found very profound. They soothed his nerves, and the fear previously in him left.
"No, don't worry about it" he said, offering her one of his most charming smiles. She returned it, and they felt themselves at peace.
"Well, that's a load off" Vash said sarcastically as he stepped out of the room. Merryl followed him.
"Come on, Mr. Priest, or you'll miss breakfast" Millie said she rose from alongside the bed, and followed her companions out the door. Wolfwood remained for a moment, troubled still by his dream.
He eventually rose, and dressed. As he stood before the mirror, straightening his collar, he sighed at his reflection. He stared back at himself, wondering just who it was he was looking at. Was it himself, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, gazing at him, or was it someone else?
He dropped one of his cross-shaped cufflinks as he tried to slip them into their place on his sleeves. He bent down to pick it up. When he straightened back up, he saw the figure standing behind him. The black cloak he wore went down almost to his ankles, and a hood covered part of his face. Jagged teeth grinned out from a mouth that was surrounded by scraggly whiskers. He raised one arm, the hand covered by a black metal claw, readying for a skull cracking slash.
Wolfwood spun instantly in place, his eyes as large as saucers. There was no one behind him. He looked around the room, making sure. His chest rose and fell quickly, some drops of sweat tricked down his neck. He turned back to the mirror, and saw only his own reflection. He moaned, and shook his head, and wondered if his own demons would ever be exorcised.
"Hey, you okay?" Vash asked through the mouthful he was chewing. Merryl reached up and smacked him across the back of his head, which caused him to start choking on his food. He coughed and pounded on his chest, reached for a glass of water. "I wish you wouldn't do that!" he screeched at Merryl, who just continued to eat as if he were not even there.
"Well, you shouldn't talk with your mouth full" was her only reply.
"He's right, Mr. Priest. You look like you've seen a ghost" Millie commented as Wolfwood sat down next to her.
"I may have" he replied in a whisper. She cast him a confused look, which he ignored. He looked down at the food before them, and found it rather unappetizing. His stomach felt like a hole in his torso. He rested his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together, and prayed.
Vash, Merryl, and Millie all looked at him curiosly for a moment, and then resumed eating. After a few moments of silence, Wolfwood ate as well. They said nothing else to each other that day.
The monster stood in the center of a forge. He looked around him, and found his surroundings good. Here he had all he required. He grasped a metal pale in one hand. It was full of scraps. He held it over a small table, and turned it over. The pieces of metal all scattered down onto the table in a chorus of noise. He sorted through the hurriedly, searching for the just right parts. He picked up the blades from some old knives, some flat plates, a few bolts and screws. These he set aside, and the rest he cast into a flaming furnace. Once it all melted, he poured it out onto the flat head of an anvil and began to hammer it into the correct shapes.
His great work was beginning; the remaking of The Nightmare Talons.
He worked feverishly, forging and shaping and molding and hammering. The hours rolled by, and the gauntlets began to take shape. They glistened in the dancing firelight, the flames almost looking like demonic faces in the reflection.