Dear Readers and Reviewers:
Okay, I hope everyone is doing well and is happy with the progress I have been making so far. Even I'm impressed with myself. So, as you can see for yourselves the characters are getting anxious and are feeling rather, well, intimidated by each other. The half-demon guides are trying their best to keep them pumped and ready to destroy each other, but there is a draw back…their betrayers are still at large and leading happy normal lives. This is not good, people! Revenge must be met! Their blood must be spilt and help the corn flourish and keep He Who Walks Behind the Rows sedated.
To Lain: Do I sense some Freddy Krueger…cause Lord knows he styles well with that Fedora!
To Amanaka: Enjoy this…I won't be able to update for a while!
To Garbage and City Lights: WHERE ARE YOU? I miss you, girl!
To SnuffSnuff: Enjoy the mayhem your character causes!
Isaac and Micah walked into the elaborate warehouse; Silver stopped struggling and finally gave into the painful bites of the baby Silksters…they had just recently finished off her legs and were going towards her thighs; her leg bones were white, illuminating Admatha's unearthly glow. She was floating in and out of consciousness and no longer worried about death, she worried about how long death would be delayed. The baby Silksters meeped at their prey and continued to bite and tear, bite and tear, bite and tear. Silver let out an audible scream that echoed throughout the warehouse; Isaac and Micah simply shrugged it off, while Idbash smirked in delight. Torture was such a high for her. Silver screamed again and a loud meep echoed throughout the building, crawling its way into secret cracks and echoing even there. Isaac crossed the floor and made his way, silently, over towards Admatha who had her elegant back towards him. Micah stayed where he was and watched through the corner of his eye, Silver's body being devoured by the ravenous infants. Their gray bodies crawled on top of each other, tearing chucks of precious flesh. They drank the blood quickly, making sure not to waste such a valuable resource; their bellies were growing fat.
Sano walked in with a bruised cheek; Admatha refused to ask why and "Jael" simple smirked at the sight of such a bruised ego. "When I say no, I mean no." Sano raised a hand to hide his wound, but his eyes gave away his true feelings. She had hurt him; she had hurt him very deeply. And she was proud of it. He lowered his eyes in their presence, feeling unworthy, used, and unloved. Everything pointed to him being hopeless; Admatha promised him her scorn, she expressed no desire for him, and his mind constantly warred with his heart. His heart was what kept the illusion and he was hurt when she tore him down. No, his cheek would heal quickly, but his heart was smashed into a million pieces.
Admatha kept her back toward Isaac, but spoke to him. "Hello, Chroner. Welcome. Welcome to your Last Chance." Admatha felt his cringed and smirked with utter happiness. "As my associate, no doubt, informed you of what it is you are about to undertake; at least, I hope she's prepared you for whatever may occur during your time here. As you have seen, your predecessors have also been reborn; Mr. Chroner, I hope that you realize that your Favor with the Lord is not as strong as you thought once. You failed Him and therefore, He expects that you earn your way back into His Favor. Destroy your enemies and enter His Favor once again; fail and find yourself back in the pits of hell, where even your cries shall be burnt." She turned and faced him, pale eyes forcing themselves into his own. "Do I make myself absolutely clear, Mr. Chroner?"
Isaac could do nothing but nod.
She accepted that and turned her face away from his. "Very well then, I suggest that you prepare yourself for a little reunion; the rest should be coming shortly."
He stepped back, unsure of what he was required to do now. Silver's screams had finally been silenced; now, all they had to deal with were the sounds of snapping, cracking, breaking bones. The infant Silksters meeped in delight as their bellies continued to grow and grow and grow.
Micah Balding over heard the conversation and decided that he was not that interested in meeting Admatha; she seemed to have no confidence in their abilities and therefore, he felt that he should not have to put up with her unappealing remarks. He stayed where he was and felt that Admatha should be pleased that he was there at all. After all, he felt that he was beneath all of this; blood only meant that his hands and quite possibly, his clothes, would become dirtied. He felt that his so-called helpers should do the physical work; he would only be involved with the spiritual. He still had yet to meet his guides, the Shifter Tabitha and Murderous David; he needed to meet them before he felt confident with their abilities. And if he felt absolutely no confidence, he would just get rid of them himself. After all, he had spent many years in hell learning many different techniques, why not use them upon the very things they destroy?
If they disappointed him in any possible way; he had no qualms with becoming the greatest leader if he did it all by himself. That only meant more respect from the newest followers.
Idbash walked over to the white, porcelain-looking skeleton that was once the living, breathing body of Silver. The bonds, which once held the flesh, now hung limply on the bones. The infant Silksters began to climb off the body, full and pleased. Their gray bodies looked healthy and swollen; they meeped and their mother gathered them up, hissing with utter happiness. The rest of the clan began to climb down from the ceiling, feeling secure that the infants had enough to eat. The mother glared at her family with all of her eight inky, black eyes. She trusted none of them; her infants did not either. They meeped angrily when they touched the floor, and they succeeded in driving the pack back into the farthest corner. Idbash untied the bonds and let the skeleton fall to the floor with a crash. "Well, at least she served a purpose."
Isaac turned away, affected by Admatha's words. He Who Walks Behind the Rows lost faith in him, the first to bring about His Word, to teach the children about His Ways. Now, it all made sense as to why he was back; he was back to perform tricks, to entertain He Who Walks Behind the Rows just like a faithful pet. He glanced over at Micah, watching him walk around and surveying the scene, then commented to himself how unworthy Micah was. He who had to be possessed in order to follow He Who Walks Behind the Rows would surely fail in this trial; he did not want the leadership before, what made him want it again? He removed his gaze from Micah and continued his own survey of the building. He never knew that Gatlin could hold such an awesome building; in fact, he never knew that it stood here. If it was an illusion it certainly was powerful enough to fool even his wise eyes. Suddenly, he felt a breeze behind him.
"This has been here for a long time, Isaac. You just needed to look for it." Idbash smiled at him. "In fact, we are not even in Gatlin anymore. This place is nothing more than air to those who are blind. It is simple for us, the immortals of the world, to create such places. It allows us a sanctuary, a place to think when we can no longer stand the mortal world." She turned briefly and watched as Micah began to chat lazily with Sano whose hand still rested upon his cheek. "He seems rather confident about himself and his abilities, but I get the feeling that he is unaware of what his true objective is. There is anger and rage against someone who betrayed him and he will use that to his full advantage, but something like that is not quenched easily. He will continue onward, crushing those who oppose him, killing those who are weak, and breaking those who show cowardice. He will become powerful after he kills Danny and Lacey. Maybe too powerful for you to stop." Her eyes bore into his own; he let the words sink in. She continued. "Because, when he kills Danny and Lacey, he will no longer need His possession. He will have killed them with his own hands. He will taste blood with his own tongue. His hands will have finally gotten dirty with his knowledge." She sighed heavily and watched as Sano shifted his position a bit. "My own enemies do not know of my true strength; but maybe if they understood where my roots lay they would understand why I am what I am. Here is some advice Isaac. Always question your followers, including your demon helpers. Question all that they do and the reasoning behind their actions. Finally, question yourself and your own abilities and if there are any flaws within your strategy I suggest you strengthen them." She turned away from him and took a few steps towards Admatha's direction. "Be cruel, Isaac. Be so very cruel."
The phone rang twice, but he knew what it was about. "Hello."
"Good evening, Mr. Gilman; I was wondering if you would be willing to spare me a few minutes of your time tomorrow. I have a few questions to ask you …could I speak with you after the funeral…around 5:00?"
"This is about Ember…isn't it?"
The voice spoke in a softer tone. "Yes. I was hoping that you might be able to tell me about her home life since her father is unable to cooperate with us."
"I know nothing about their household problems."
"Well, perhaps you could tell me something about Mrs. Cobalt? After all, she was…"
"I told you before, I know nothing about their household problems," he stated calmly. Too calmly.
"Please, Mr. Gilman, your help would be much appreciated in this investigation."
"Detective Satine, I would appreciate it if you would leave me alone."
"Mr. Gilman, your niece is dead…your help would be very much appreciated." She snarled over the phone. The last time she had to do that, she was speaking to a potential rapist. "A girl like that does not commit suicide everyday!"
He huffed into the phone. "She was too much like her mother, Detective…it killed her. That's what happened. Now do me a favor. Drop it."
"Mr. Gilman, why are you making this difficult?"
"Why do you bother? She committed suicide…it was drugs, gangs, television, music, depression, the Internet, pregnancy, not enough love, didn't get what she wanted, felt that no was listening to her…take your pick. She's dead. It's a shame, but there is nothing that I can do about it. Nothing…now, leave me alone." He was about ready to hang up when he heard her voice.
"What would your sister think of your actions?"
He gripped the phone and waited for the flashbacks to subside. "She's dead too. I can't talk to the dead." With that he hung up, but it was difficult with his hand shaking so badly. "I can't talk to the dead…dear God, I can't talk to the dead."
Dr. Stanton rushed to the emergency ward; the child within his care had gone back into another seizure and could not be held down. Her blue eyes were open and staring, but they saw nothing but blinding lights above her. But her mouth was moving, always moving…and it was predicting…predicting everything. "I'm dead," she seemed to say to the only pair of ears that would listen. "I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead." He placed his hand upon her head and tired to steady her down. "I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead." He shushed her and began to ask for sedatives to calm her down. His other hand tried to find something that would keep the girl from biting off her tongue. But her voice seemed to float up to his ears. "I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. Dr. Stanton, I'm dead." Suddenly, her eyes rolled back and her seizures increased. He screamed for someone to help him, but everyone in the room was already busy with something else. "I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. Dr. Stanton, I'm dead." He screamed again and this time, they all turned to him, sadness in their eyes told him all that he needed to know. "I'm dead. I'm dead. You could not save me…you could not save me from my past, Dr. Stanton. You could not save my daughter from my past. They came for her too. Just as they came for me. Just as they will come for my brother. Just as they will come for you…he will come for you, Dr. Stanton…he is ready. You are not. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead." Her eyes closed and her chest heaved out her last breath. "I'm dead…I'm dead…I'm dead. I'm…d…"
He opened his eyes and shot straight up. "Oh my God…" he muttered. "Oh my God."
The phone rang. It was answered. And a sweet feminine voice broke through the tension. "Hello…Stanton residence…Mrs. Stanton speaking…wait a minute…wait a minute…Jobie?"
Dr. Stanton stared at his wife, wide-eyed.
"Jobie…what's wrong?" Mrs. Stanton paused. "Oh, God."
Cyrus raced back to the town of Gatlin and ordered the young children to go back into their homes and wait for his signal. He wanted to greet the two legends alone and on his turf. They only knew of the old town, but years and time changed its form and molded it into a labyrinth of destruction. He already stationed able-bodied soldiers on the tops of the roofs and had them hold their position, while the others stayed on ground level, ready to fight or flee if need be. The older children stayed in the shadows, protected by nothing accept the hope that He Who Walks Behind the Rows would let them live to see another day. Murder weapons lay at their sides and waited for something, anything to happen. A wolf leaped up and rushed to the side of his master, hardly making a single, solitary sound. "They will pay for turning their backs upon their Master, Fumbles. They will pay this very night." His blade lay at his own side, gleaming under a mysterious light, a light that could only come from the Lord. "He is with us," he muttered to the children, who heard his voice within their minds. "He shall lead us to victory tonight…it is our time to rise up against the wicked…for they shall burn in the eternal pits of Hell." He stood in the center of the town and waited, but he did not have to wait for long. Under the blood red moon, her silhouette showed. The Death Angel…the demon…the half-demon…Raven…she was ready… "And the prodigal children have returned…and they shall suffer."
Kyle charged through the fields, feeling the stalks cut through his dog fur, trying to slow him down, while Raven rose up to the sky and plummeted towards the town that she once considered home. Her claws were extended and reaching out for him, as though to embrace Cyrus in a motherly hug. Her eyes gleamed as she saw her intended target pull out a rather large blade, but there was no stopping her. Kyle howled in pure ecstasy; his demon blood pounded through his veins as he charged onward, tearing himself free from the stalks' grasp. Leaping high up into the air, Kyle landed in front of the fields, tongue lolling out. He dodged the first attack as stalks continued to fling themselves at him. They slapped at the earth and made attempts to grab his back legs…but Kyle remembered them very well and recalled their old tricks. Did not think to change tactics did You, he thought to himself. He never expected an answer.
You've grown Kyle…you've grown up a lot.
Kyle stopped for a brief moment, turned and faced the fields. Familiar orange eyes stared back at him. He growled at the eyes, then turned back to face Cyrus, who was too busy fending himself off from Raven's attacks.
I remember when I first saw you…a pathetic, weak, simple-minded beast. You were a runt and not surprisingly you stayed the same. I molded you…I made you strong. I gave you what you needed. But you deserted me. You and Raven just left…you left My service. Why? Was it because I chose another to keep My home clean from the infidels? Were you jealous that I took in the children and no longer trusted you and she to carry out My plans? Were you hurt that I choose innocence over tainted blood? The children were Mine to have, Kyle…they truly last forever. You were nothing more than a needed pawn in this horrific chest game.
Kyle's fur bristled up. He Who Walks Behind the Rows knew how to play the game.
I choose Isaac over you. You were a runt. A useless runt…Isaac was strong and possessed the gift of Speech. You will always be second. Always. Even Raven would never have you. Never.
Kyle growled in a low, dangerous tone.
She would never have you…and when she's dead you will have no need for her.
Cyrus found a weak spot in Raven's attacks and swung low, cutting through her torso. She screamed in pain and rose back up into the air. The word was given and sharp objects were hurled at her as she attempted to race back towards the safety of the sky. Her blood dripped downward, splashing the earth like rain. The earth greedily drank it up.
Kyle broke his gaze from He Who Walks Behind the Rows and charged towards Cyrus, leaping up into the air and tackling the boy. "You little slave!" he roared. "Want a fight…take me!" He lowered his head to rip out the boy's throat, but another furry body tackled Kyle off of him and sunk it's own teeth into Kyle's shoulder. The half-demon easily threw off the wolf, Fumbles, and rushed the young pup. The wolf, still new to the world of fights, took a tumble. The ground cut into his skin, but it merely felt like a sting. The pup stood up and was knocked back down again. Kyle placed a well-put paw on the pup's throat and leaned in a little. The pup struggled to breathe and whimpered pathetically. Cyrus stood up, picked up his blade and raced to help his only friend; that was what Kyle was waiting for. Turning swiftly on the pads of his back feet Kyle swirled around and lunged to take out Cyrus' leg…
Raven dive-bombed again, taking with her a bloodied head and dropping that from the sky unto the hungry earth. The children on the roofs readied themselves, while a few fled. Those that fled were easily caught within her talons and killed.
Cyrus grabbed his leg, as Kyle tore off only a small chunk. The stalks of corn continued to fling themselves at Kyle, slapping the earth and spearing nothing but the air.
The older children gathered themselves up and rushed out to savor glory, blood and death. Unfortunately, they were easily picked off. Raven slashed her way through them, cutting them down, harvesting them. The earth took their shells and feasted well.
She walked out to see him and was not disappointed at all of how he looked. He had grown some and matured; he had cleaned himself before presenting himself and he spoke with a voice that rich and deep. But most importantly he did remember her.
"Davine?"
She spoke back; her own voice was rich and deep as well, sultry. "So, she did it. She brought you back…all of you." Her voice held a hint of nervousness as though she did not expect him to be there. "She brought you back so you could die again. That bitch." She reached out and gently touched his cheek. He was warm and soft and real. "But she expects you to die…I know she does."
"Do you expect me to die?"
"If you play along, yes. Then nothing will be able to bring you back."
He shifted a bit and lowered his eyes on his guide. She excused herself and backed away. "I must you know…it is the way."
"Yes...die for Him…die for Her…die for them all." Her voice raised its tone…she did not intend for that to happen. But it did. "You were mine before any of them knew you…before they took you. You were mine before it all." Her hand took hold of his hair and tugged it gently. "You were mine," she whispered, "and now you'll die for them…to entertain them. You'll die for them…but not for me." She pulled him close to her. "Why?"
He lifted her head up toward him. "It is His wish, Davine."
"But not mine."
"I'm sorry."
"And I'm…"
The small guide cut into between the two. "Okay, she's expecting him to arrive at headquarters soon and I do not wish to be killed in this battle for power. Can he and I get going?"
Davine nodded and let go of his hair; he let go of her chin. The small guide was pleased with the both of them; for once breaking up this reunion was easier than the last time. Which involved a week's stay at a mortal hospital. "He must get going…it is his decision to go. I shall not stop him. It is not my place."
His eyes dulled a bit; her words stung him deeply. "It is not my wish, Davine."
"That's right…it's my mother's."