He took in a deep breath and waited; he waited for reality to begin its deceitful lies. "I'm not here," he mumbled to himself, feeling the vibrations work their way through his throat. "No, I'm not here. I can't be here. This is not at all possible." He touched his arms, his face, his legs; everything about him was dry. He was dry and no longer within a dark place, a place that was wet and small and very uncomfortable. He was whole. "How can this be?" he asked to no one in particular. "How can I continue to exist? Why do I continue to exist? Who would want me to exist?" He staggered around a bit, unable to fully get a feel for his balance. Surrounding him was not the place he remembered. There was a something amiss; he was dry when he remembered being wet, he died and now he was back, and there was a force beckoning for him to move, to find someone and move towards the origins of it all. He stumbled a bit more, but found that he was being pulled towards a particular corner of the room that he was in; it reminded him of a waiting room, without the age-old magazines, stuffy smell, or couches. Instead, this room held a single couch. And there was a single figure sitting on the corner, hidden by the darkness. "Hello; could you perhaps tell me what is going on?" He moved closer and noticed that the figure drew back into the darkness. "Please, I won't hurt you. Please tell me what is going on?"
The figure continued to move back into the darkness, but spoke to him none the less. "Josiah." The voice was cold, as though it was an entity all its own and was trying its hardest to stay aloof. "Josiah, you must regain His Favor. You are being called back. You are being called back to fight for your place." The figure stopped moving away, but stopped speaking as well.
"He? He is calling me back into His Service? He could not possibly want to call me back…I died. I was a failure. To Him and to the others." He shifted around a bit, no longer feeling unbalanced. "Who are you?"
"I," began the aloof, feminine voice, "I am the one they call Shade. I am here to take you to her, to prepare you for what is to come." A thin looking hand reached out to Josiah, asking that he help her up out of the darkness and into the light. Gripping the cold hand, he pulled and what he saw startled him.
Short black hair and pale brown eyes greeted his own dark eyes; her face was light, not pale… just light. However, what struck Josiah the most were the strange markings that lay upon her right shoulder; they looked like twisted stalks of corn that formed a cross-like design, but that was only his opinion. However, she noticed his lingering stare.
"I'm marked. I work for He. I have no choice." Her sorrowful tone struck his heart.
"I'm sorry."
She shook her head and looked away from him. "Tis not what you wanted anyway…that much I am sure of." She rubbed her arms with her hands. "Ethan should be here, eventually; he was too take us to her, but if he is late then we should move forward. She won't be happy with us being late, but you were delivered to me rather late. Not that that matters much; in fact, I don't think it matters much at all." Her eyes began to stare at the couch, floor, ceiling all in one fell swoop. "Tis not what you wanted anyway…that much I am sure of." She continued to rub her arms. "I hate this waiting." Then in a low whisper that not even Josiah could here, she added "I hate doing this."
A breeze whipped through them, though there was no window within the room. And it spoke; it spoke only to Shade. I choose you. You are Mine. Do as I say, or feel My punishment. At this, Shade shuddered. You are Mine. Do as I say.
Josiah moved closer to her, not enough to frighten her. He did not wish to do that. "Are you cold?" he asked, wonderingly. He stared at the scared creature before him and speculated what was going through her head. He is controlling her no doubt, he thought to himself. And she seems to think that I am one of His. How strange, that such a timid thing could become something mortals fear.
"I am…"she began, looking around her, feeling the presence linger around a bit more, "nervous." The presence was slowly dissipating. "Perhaps we should move on now…Ethan can always catch up with us." She turned her head, lifted her hand and with a quick wave, made the room, an illusion, disappear. "Come…we have a journey to complete tonight." Her feet began to move and she did not bother to turn back to see if her "charge" was following; she just hoped that he was.
Daylight began to peak over the tops of the homes that lined up Tabitha's street; today was the day. Though the sun shone brightly over the rooftops, this was the day that she would be wearing all black; she had not slept the night before, wondering and worrying about Raven and Kyle, hoping that they might show and at least pay their respects to Ember. Her hand immediately went to the back of her neck, trying to block out the strange tingle that had begun weeks ago. And just as suddenly, her hair began to turn from pure blonde to blonde with red highlights. Something was happening and she being what she was knew that it would not leave unless she dealt with it. "Am I being called?" she asked herself; her hand ran through her hair pushing it away from her face. The clock on her desk read 7:10. "Great, school is going to be such a blast." Quickly, she showered, brushed her teeth, grabbed her finished homework and made her way downstairs. "This is going to be great…no one is going to be there…and I'll hear whispers about her death…and then, they will turn against me. Great, just what I need." Her blue eyes flashed dangerously as another jolt traveled through her neck. "And now, I'm being called," she muttered in a low, inaudible voice, "what the hell am I to do?"
"Honey…will you be alright?"
Tabitha turned around and faced the woman that she had been lying to for over 17 years. "Yes, Mommy. I'll be fine." Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. A single tear streak down her mother's face. "What's wrong?" She hoped that she had not caused more problems for herself. After all, she wished to leave this place with wonderful memories in her heart. Her mother, a woman who remained strong throughout years of tough times, began to cry. Tears streamed down her face and a hand was lifted up to her mouth, covering up something that she was probably supposed to hear.
Her caretaker, her provider, her cook, her "maid", her chauffeur, her cheerleading squad, her strength, her soul, her heart, her mind, her shelter, her foundation, her confidant, her best friend, her movie partner, and her partner in crime opened her mouth and spoke. "That's the first time you called me…mommy. Ever."
She made it onto the bus in one piece, took a deep breath and waited for the whispers to begin. They did, flooding her senses. They spoke loudly, crushing the very air she was trying to breathe. Their very thoughts stifled her movements as she attempted to make her way towards the back of the bus; her black outfit assured them that she was indeed going to be leaving early. Then they could vocally ask their desired questions and begin the ruthless cycle of high school gossip. Besides, after the funeral, she would have to leave. He was calling her back and that familiar tingle only meant that He brought back…no, He would not dare to bring him back! There was a reason why she left the service in the first place, a reason why she sought out a normal human life, a reason why she ran away from her duties. But she could not bring herself to confess those reasons just yet; she could not. To confess everything, would be to return to the world that she once knew so well and hated. To confess would bring her back to him, back into the arms that betrayed her confidence. The tingle felt her thinking of him and forced itself to move throughout her entire body, sending shivers up and down her legs, back and arms. "Please, please, please, please, please…don't tell me that he is back. Don't me that son of a bitch is back. Not him; anything but him." She rested her head against the back of the seat in front of her and began to chant to herself. "Fronti nulla fides, fronti nulla fides, fronti nulla fides, fronti nulla fides…"
David realized, after watching his flat burn and killing his dearest friend again, that he had no choice but to join her; he was sought out specifically for whatever it was that he possessed. Certainly, she did not call upon him for a dinner arrangement or to ask advice about hosting a distinguished, intimate party reserved for the elite of the underworld. No, she called upon him because he was indeed well known for his loyalty and his unique skills as a fighter…or as he liked to put it, as a survivor. During his lifetime, he had seen too many demon hunters come after his hide, wanting badly to place his decapitated head upon a mantle with the fires lit and a victory song in their hearts. Some of his closest friends, demons he not only hunted with but also enjoyed their companionship, died at their hands; they were ripped apart, burned, electrocuted, and chanted upon. The chants were the worse; when spoke correctly, certain chants had the ability to turn a demon's inside works into ash, while the outer appearance stayed the same. And it involved the most horrific pain any living thing could ever feel. "The old ways are dying," he mumbled, "they are dying because no one believes in tradition anymore. It is all about the latest fads; the latest and greatest trends in clothing, food, music, movies…no longer is it about life. It is about lessening the values. It is about…nothingness." He combed his hair back with his hand and began to walk over towards his bank…he decided that now would be a good time for a withdrawal. After all, he needed a pricey amount for a plane ride and taxi to take him to the most dreaded place imaginable. He realized earlier on, that everyone had a price…surely, he could find a taxi driver with a price.
A breeze swept through him and taking a deep breath, he made his way over to his bank, prepared and unprepared at the same time.
Order struggled when His time approached, as do all things struggle when they realize that it is their turn to step-down. From Order came Justice, Mercy, and Punishment; the first trinity of the world. The first to fully overthrow their Father and become beloved entities, rulers who could create and govern the creations new or old, well. With divided power still used as one, the creations found peace and prosperity with the new rulers. Justice swiftly executed Laws, Mercy gave chances, and Punishment dealt out blows to those passed over by Justice and Mercy. The creations were pleased. So pleased were they, that they began to form an alliance amongst themselves. So pleased were they that they began to form and grow at their own will. So pleased were they, that for once all memory of the tyrant Order had vanished. The creations were pleased, the void was please, Nothing was pleased, and the world to be would soon be pleased.
The Elder Monk closed the Great Book and watched as his brethren fell to their knees; "Minots, tema luso eri ön! Renito, ter hyna semula simpter knilo! Tilo mekana, eslo tria ditises…Merïc, Junis, et Punyent…tria ditises! Tria Ditises comila et birka het erath. Pricom, thiy shuln bi gnereus. Spari het livs fi yoyur fullols." He kept his eyes on them and watched as they began to rise, chanting his last sentence over and over again as protection as to what was to come.
"Spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers…"
Then, through the power of memory alone he spoke again, louder than before, proclaiming that now was the time to finally speak the last part of the Creation.
Time passed on, allowing the trinity to rule the newly formed Earth; animals, plants, and humans rose up from the sea and clay and began to cultivate and reproduce. Mercy bestowed upon the populations of men and beasts and plants the ideas of truth, love, wisdom, humor and grace. Justice bestowed upon the populations of men and beasts and plants the ideas of perseverance, loyalty, bravery, intelligence, passion, and heart. Punishment bestowed upon the populations of men and beasts and plants the ideas of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, sacred rites, and knowledge of bestowing their thanks upon their Masters. And with these gifts the mortals of the world began to evolve and grow. They worshipped, they worked the land, they provided for their neighbors, and they administered their own laws. And the world began to understand and learn; when that happened, war broke out.
Man killed man, man killed beast, beast killed man, man killed the plants, and the plants killed man, the beasts killed the plants, and the plants killed the beasts. Mercy and Justice watched and intervened; Punishment stayed and hung onto the scent of death. And it was at this time that the Trinity broke apart. Mercy and Justice refused to let war reign over the world, while Punishment glowed underneath the red blood paint that splashed its way across the land.
Mercy and Justice begot the Light…and Punishment begot Darkness.
"…spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers…"
Separated they became and a new era dawned upon the world; it had to make a choice. It had to choose between the Light or the Darkness. It had to choose between God and the Beautiful Fallen Angel, Lucifer.
"…spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers; spare the lives of your followers…"
The Elder Monk closed his eyes and let the darkness within his core overtake his body; he sighed as it felt it coarse through his veins.
Leah moved forward, after being forced to change directions. "Shit," she muttered, "this would be so much easier if I could just…change." Her feet lightly hit the dirt road, hardly feeling the pain anymore. It was just there and it was accepted as that. The back roads hid her well from prying human eyes, allowing her to use the grace she was blessed with; her legs pumped up and down at a steady pace and her breathing eased up. One breath, four steps; one breath, four steps; one breath, four steps; that was the plan. Her eyes scanned the area, checking each and every tree for signs of life…her stomach had been growling for over two days and it was time to eat again. "Come on…give me something. I can't go to Gatlin with an empty stomach. I just cannot do that."
A bird flew by over head.
Again, she checked for signs of human life. When there was none, she took a running step and leaped into the air, snatching her flying prey and crushing it within her hands. It hardly had any time to scream out loud and warn its neighbors that a predator was in the vicinity; its blood seeped out of her fist, splashing upon the ground. Its eyes were shocked with eternal terror, but they were dull, void of life and longing. Leah stared at it for a brief moment, wondering if it left behind a family…those poor little birdies, she thought. I wish I could fly…definitely would make my life much easier. And with a satisfying crunch, she ate her snack.
Amanaka watched as Ethan stood up and dressed himself. Her eyes studied his movements as he walked around the bedroom, dressing himself along the way; he put on a straight black shirt and casual pants, which held a few rips and tears in choice places. She slipped down back into the sheets and sighed loudly…during the night they both voiced their opinions about the upcoming battles; Ethan was thrilled with the chance of fighting Amanaka, while she felt that this was ploy to break them up. "I failed when I was asked to kill Idbash and this is the price I am paying. You should not be this happy…what if I should kill you?" He laughed at her for suggesting such an unpleasant thought.
"The question should be, what if I should kill you?"
"Bastard," murmured Amanaka, in a low, dangerous tone. "Pride is what killed them…don't think you can escape that fate."
He laughed. "I have everything that I want…I have wealth, power, prestige, and I have you, my little slave." He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned in, and kissed her fully on the mouth. "My little slave always tastes so good…fresh, ripe…always ready for the picking." He crept closer to her, eyes sparkling with desire.
She turned away from him and sunk lower into the sheets. "If you don't want to discuss this, fine…I won't discuss it either."
"Don't be like that, Amanaka…"
"Be like what…serious." She turned and faced him, anger written all over her face. "Because I am serious Ethan; this is serious matter. You and I are on opposing sides, all because I failed my mission to kill that bitch, Idbash. How dare you take this so lightly! This battle asks one of us to die, how can we both possibly consider killing the other whom we love so much." She placed a hand upon his heart. "That's what I fell in love with; if that stops, then mine will too." Her eyes stared deeply into his own amber eyes, never wavering in fear. "You are mine and I am yours. We are bound together; be serious for a moment and think about what this will do to our relationship. You are with Josiah…and I am with Isaac. One them will fall and we are meant to fall with them."
"Amanaka, please; we both are known for our strength as fighters, Admatha would not want to kill such worthy demons."
"You forget. I am only a half-demon. Idbash turned three-fourths demon…she is lying about how she became so strong in a short amount of time." She sighed heavily and sat up straighter. "Admatha dislikes half-demons."
"Because you are not to her level. She enjoys conversing and fighting with her peers. Unfortunately for her, that includes a short list of about seven; the rest of the demon world is full of low class beings looking for their next meal…it's nothing but battles and politics. Both full-blooded demons and half-blooded demons in this day and age cannot measure up to the old ways. You know that." Ethan rested his forehead against hers and licked his lower lip. "And you are not unworthy in any way, Amanaka…I only chose the best in life."
Shade's eyes constantly darted from Josiah to the ground during most of their time walking to Gatlin. She fumbled around with conversation, stumbling not only over her words but over her own feet as well. Her short hair was regularly being pushed back out of her eyes and Josiah had the strangest feeling that she was very uncomfortable around him. She asked simple questions, mostly about his childhood, which he answered to the extent that he wanted, while all the questions directed at her were met with mumbles and silence. She spoke softly about Ethan, a full-blooded Hawk demon who was quite powerful in the fighting arena, while she was simply an illusion demon, half-blooded with no history about her past. She was not related to any animal, but she did carry the blood of a demon; it was her scent that attracted Admatha to her. "I am not worthy within her eyes," said Shade as the sun began to appear over the stalks of corn. "I am alone in both worlds; my mother, a mortal did not want me, while my species cannot stand to look upon me."
"I understand."
She shook her head and mumbled under her breath. "You only say that so I might fight harder for your side. When, in reality, I cannot do much at all."
Ariana looked out of her window and watched as dawn appeared. The brilliant orange sun reminded her that today was the day for the big interview between herself and Tabitha Katherine Lynch. "Lord, this will not be easy." Quietly, she crawled out of bed, immediately feeling the chill in the air; her bathrobe was lying on the beige ottoman at the foot of the bed, ready to be worn for such an occasion. Her blonde hair was ruffled from the upsetting night sleep she had; tossing and turning were becoming a regular late-night exercise. "I might as well shower and eat," she said, yawning as she moved her way towards the shower. Herbal Essence sat on the bathroom counter, waiting to be opened and used; she tried to think of the commercial to the product she was using, but was disappointed when she did not receive the desired results. Just as well, she thought to herself. I don't deserve a totally organic experience on this depressing day. She lathered up and rinsed off, hoping to rid herself of some of the pain, but it was not at all like dirt. The pain that she had could not be scrubbed away.
Quickly, she stepped out of the shower, brushed out her hair and began to clean her teeth; something was not right about this. I'm up too early, that's all. No way in hell would I normally be up this early. I'm just upset that some poor girl died; a life with so much potential has been snuffed out. That's all. Nothing more and nothing less. She finished and spit; her hair still dripped upon the floor, but now it was tangle free and soon it would be ready to be blown-dry. Her eyes stared into the mirror and she proceeded to examine herself; everything about her had changed. Her eyes looked tired and therefore her attitude changed. She was tired and hardly eating anymore; she knew that this case had to end soon or else she was going to seriously become ill. Ill enough that it would affect more than her stomach and appearance; it would affect the others at work who needed her on the force no matter what. I need more sleep, so why can't I do that? I look like shit…but I have to go. Why am I the only one who takes on too much? She wrapped a towel around her head and headed towards the kitchen where her salvation, the coffeepot, stood.
Her fingers lingered for a while on the bag of coffee grinds, as her mind wandered. "She asked for a Kyle and a Raven when I last called her. Kyle and Raven must have been friends with Ember Cobalt…why did I not pick up on this earlier?" She turned back towards the bathroom, leaving the coffee grinds to spill upon the floor. "Shit! Why didn't I pick up on this before?" she screamed. "How could I have missed this?"
Amanaka left the apartment and made her way down towards the local bar…she needed a drink after her conversation with Ethan that ended in way that was out of her control. He just did not understand how hard this was on her…this meant that she would have to think of him no longer in the terms of a lover, but the enemy. An enemy that had to be destroyed in any way possible; that entire train of thought frightened the hell out of her. The bartender asked for her choice and she mumbled an answer back: beer. He nodded and walked over to the glasses. She glanced down at the table and listened to a few of her peers rack up for a game of pool, Maim Style. The bartender set the drink down in front of her and left to give his attention to a livelier customer. She stared at the bottle and watched the amber liquid silently promise her release. Release that she desperately wanted.
Opening up the bottle was relatively easy, especially after all the extra training she had. The first swig went down and tasted bitter, but she did not care. All she wanted was that buzz, something to tell her that was in control of how much she consumed. Her head someone break and heard the shouts of joy and the groans of defeat. Her eyes stared at the bottle, then closed a bit; all she wanted to do was listen; not speak but listen.
"Hey, Babe. Want some company?" asked a voice that purred in her ear.
She opened her eyes and slowly looked at the schmuck that woke her from her daydream. "Excuse me?" she said in a tone that most guys would have understood to mean that they were not wanted; however, he stayed and gave her a toothy grin.
"I asked if you wanted some company; you look rather lonely."
The bartender called over. "Leave her alone, Mick. She's not your type."
Mick smiled at the bartender and waved him off with a flick of his hand. "I asked her if she was lonely, not you." Turning back to her, he pushed back a strain of unruly hair from her eyes. "There, sweetie, isn't that better?" She glared at him, giving him more than enough opportune times to leave with his body intact. "Aww…don't give me that look…I'm a really nice guy…really nice when you're nice to me."
She stared at him, nothing coming out of her mouth. She could not understand why Ethan would be so stubborn about such an important topic. He meant so much to her, didn't he feel the same way about her? She had been with him for a totally of fours years; she must have had a hold in him some way…somehow. He was always known as the playboy, but with her it was all serious relationship. And she was not the easiest catch or in fact the hardest, just the most interesting. "Excuse me," she began, "but, Mick…I'm involved. Try someone you know you can get." Her tone was flat, void of any direct threat, and her suitor seemed to think that the idea of her telling him off was the funniest thing in the world. "I'm involved with Ethan the Hawk."
"Sure you are," he cooed, so very unimpressed with her story. "And I bet you also knew the Leo, the King."
"He was killed. I can't speak to the dead. Only Admatha can do that."
Mick was taken back, but quickly regained his control over the situation. "You dare to speak her name in public. She, the one who brings death, is the enemy of us all. Get out!"
"I came here for a drink. Nothing more and nothing less, Mick; you're the one who began to harass me because you thought I was alone and easy to take down. I look as though I have seen the end of the world. The only reason why you are here is to pick me up the only way you know how." She took another drink of her beer. "Get lost loser." And before he could even blink, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it to the extent that it snapped off. Mick screamed in pain and Amanaka simply looked on as though she was not really there at all. With another yank, she pulled the hand off completely. "I have no use for this," she said quietly as Mick screamed in agony and in surprise. "I have no use for you either." Without another word, she plunged her hand into his chest and crushed his heart. "Now you know how I feel…Ethan should be so very concerned. Very concerned that his little toy might put up a fight that he is not expecting at all." Then she ripped out his crushed heart and held out in the open for all to see. "THIS IS HER DOING! AND WE ARE JUST PAWNS! YOU FOOLS, TIS HER TIME NOW!" She dropped the heart and watched as her peers began to make their way towards the doors. "Ethan, why did you lie to me? Why?"
Jenny watched as Tabitha moved throughout the halls, alone and unarmed from the attacks of her fellow students. It was tragic to see; she walked past the whispers and the lies, holding her head up high, all the while crying on the inside. No tear slid down her face, no tear to show the world that she was hurting on the inside; she gave no tear to those who wished for her pain and their satisfaction. Jenny moved forward as the second period bell rang, trying her best to get a hold of Tabitha, but she disappeared into the crowd of high school students, who were too busy asking questions and never caring to hear the answer.
She entered the classroom which was noisy beyond words and began to sing to herself, hoping that whatever words came out would be heard by her fellow peers and that they might listen to its message and hold it within their hearts.
Don't tell me that
I'm too strong to cry
Can't you relate
That I just wanna hide
From a world so cold
From a world so cruel
Cause it does not know
What I'm going through
I'm lost
In a sea of misery
She's gone
Gone away from me
I wish
I wish I said goodbye
She wonders
If I'll ever say my line
Don't make me new
I wanna feel these things
Don't show me how
How I am supposed to be
I wanna fly away
Just brush past it all
Don't wanna stay
Where time just stalls
I'm lost
In a sea of misery
She's gone
Gone away from me
I wish
I wish I said goodbye
She wonders
If I'll ever say my lines
So…
Don't tell me that
I'm too strong to cry
Can't you relate
That I just wanna hide
From a world so cold
From a world so cruel
Cause it does not know
What I'm going through
From a world so cold
From a world so cruel
Cause it does not know
What I'm going through
She waited; she waited to hear their questions.
But the classroom became louder, drowning her out.
Tabitha turned around, thinking that she heard her name being called but with the rush of the crowd and the need to go to her class, she had no choice but to ignore it. Her English class immediately halted all conversations as she entered; all of their eyes were upon her, wondering silent questions, never having the guts to ask them out loud. Slipping into her seat, she glared at the rest of them, daring them to try her patience. Soon, it'll be 12:45…then I'll go home and get ready to face this…most likely alone. After all, what do they care for; she was not like any of them. She was gifted; she was…
Her thoughts were interrupted as soon as her teacher walked into the room. "Great…just what I need…more crap."
Idbash walked out into the sunlight, took a deep breath, and sighed loudly. She was pleased with Cyrus' midnight work. Death stunk up the air. Fumbles limped over to her, head bowed in respect for her station. In tow came Cyrus, bathed in their blood. He looked tired; all mortals needed rest and Cyrus being only thirteen looked as though he hadn't slept in a month. "Did you kill them?" she asked rather gleefully. "I hope you killed them…cut out their tongues and rip out their hearts and all that good stuff." She tucked her hair behind her ears and looked at him earnestly. "Well…did you? Did you?"
"They were strong…strong enough to survive. Right now they are hiding, nursing their wounds…it was a long battle and I'm tired. Even Fumbles needs a rest."
Idbash ruffled the boy's hair and smiled. "I knew you would be okay, Cyrus. Go get some sleep. We shall await the next battle tonight."
Cyrus rubbed his leg. "Will Admatha heal me first? I was bitten. Hard." He pulled up his black pant leg and showed her the nasty wound Kyle infected upon him. "He took a piece out of me."
"Kyle…that dog could never come up with better tricks. If you ask nicely, I'm certain that she would be more than happy to heal your wounds." She patted his head.
"Don't. I'm not a child anymore."
Idbash crinkled her nose at his disdain. "If you're not a child…then you're an adult. And we kill adults. Do you want to die?" she asked playfully, hardly understanding that she would receive an answer.
"I want to become more," whispered Cyrus. His eyes gleamed with greed that only the corn and He Who Walks Behind the Rows noticed.
Ezekiel walked into the warehouse, completely prepared for what was to come. Immediately, Micah and Isaac felt his presence, the presence of the enemy and he did not care to see their reactions. He just cared about claiming what was rightfully his all along. Now all he wanted to do was test out how strong his power really was. He felt Micah stare at him, testing him with his eyes, and within his veins he felt both concern and confidence flow. Ezekiel hid a smirk of conviction; they would only soon learn why He Who Walks Behind the Rows chose him.
Admatha did not address him; instead she kept her back towards him, as though she was slowly getting bored with the entire process. Her blonde/white hair shone in an unusual light; it was illuminating her entire body. "When do we begin?" he asked with caution. Isaac and Micah both gave him a knowing look that read you-should-know. "Are the others not here yet?" Again, both former leaders gave him a knowing look. "What will happen when they get here?" At this, Micah answered.
"When the rest arrive, young Ezekiel, then we shall be sent forth to conquer those who conquered us."
Ezekiel narrowed his eyes, the only gesture of thanks he wanted to give. Already Micah was making a nuisance of himself in his book; just another comment from him might result in his extermination from the game; early on. But for the moment Ezekiel kept his mouth shut, not wanting to give too much away. For the moment, he at least knew that his demon aids would be there to help with the process of Micah's unappealing torture. And in time, it would all fall to place.
"Now, Cyrus, do you remember where they fled? We could easily get rid of them now while they are wounded. Being what they are means that they will have healed by tonight. Are you positive you don't want to send the younger children out to locate their whereabouts?" Idbash ushered in Cyrus, whose leg was still bleeding though not as profusely. Fumbles followed from behind, still limping. "Are you upset that they were more powerful than you expected?"
"They hurt Fumbles." Suddenly, he snarled. "They shall pay for their crimes against us!"
"Of course they shall," Idbash reply, soothingly. "Of course they shall. But let us clean you up for tonight. After all, you need your leg. Besides, could it hurt to locate them early on…after all, all is fair in love and war." She giggled, though Cyrus found it to be rather infantile. "Come, send out a few of the younger children…they are tired of waiting; let them get some exercise. Cyrus?" She turned her head towards the newest leader. "Oh…this must be Ezekiel. Welcome back." She averted her attention back to Cyrus who was looking rather…annoyed. "Cyrus…may I send them out?"
"Sure," he growled underneath his breath, "after all, I am not the leader of the children…I'm still alive."
Job Gilman sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at himself in the closet mirror; everything about him changed. He was no longer the happy little boy, but a grown man, miserable at the world. The world stole away the very things he loved: his mother and father, his baby sister, and now the niece he hardly knew. All because he never made the effort. He hated getting close to people, because they all died. In some way, in some form they died. And now, all dressed up in black, he was going to his niece's funeral; fortunately, Dr. Stanton and Mrs. Stanton would be there. Unfortunately, he feared being too near his sister's grave, afraid that out of the depths of the void she would begin to berate him and his lack of enthusiasm for life. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. And the memories came rushing back…
What about these two?
Take them back where they were.
But they had a game and music…they're forbidden!
Question me not, Malachi. I act according to His will.
Jobie, I'm scared…Malachi doesn't like us.
Sarah, Malachi doesn't like anyone.
Dear God, we beg thy blessing on the crop.
Behold, a dream came to me in the night, and the Lord did shew all this to me.
Praise God!
Praise the Lord!
Praise God!
Praise the Lord!
…have I not given you this place of killing, that you might make sacrifices there?
The Blue Man…the False Minister.
I obey the word of God.
Kill!
Kill!
Kill!
Kill!
Kill!
Kill!
Kill!
Kill!
And in my dream the Lord was a shadow that walked behind the rows, and he spoke to me in the words he used to our older brothers years ago. He is much displeased with this sacrifice.
"NO!" screamed Job as he opened his eyes. "No." He looked around the room and noticed that there was nothing out of place, nothing. But that thought did not comfort him at all. Just because nothing seemed wrong, did not mean that nothing felt wrong. He took in a breath and let his eyes scan over the room, checking everything. The pictures on the wall still held their innocent smiles, the painting on the wall were not dripping with the blood of the unbelievers, Malachi was not charging into the room ready to slit the throats of those who disobeyed, and Isaac was not there. Isaac was dead. Dead and gone, for he had seen it so. He was completely safe; however, his sister was not given much of that same luck. Before the accident took her life, back when he still kept in touch with his only remaining family, she gave me a box…pictures that she drew when she was younger, for she was blessed and cursed with the gift of Sight. He recalled flipping through them, laughing with her for these were nothing more than burnable childhood nightmares. Until he came to the bottom of the box…until he came to the newer ones.
"Sarah…I don't remember these? Did you hide these from Isaac?"
It was during that last visit, that they both became years younger and years older.
"No, Jobie…I did them after."
"After when, Sarah?"
"After…Gatlin." She said the word Gatlin like it was a dirty word. "After we ran…just last month, Jobie."
He stared at her, shocked. "Sarah…we left…we left that place. You should no longer have the Gift…we left."
"Jobie, He is angry. He is angry that we left."
He lifted one that was full of color and began to decipher the message within it. In the picture there were five people, all of them were male and stabbed in various places. Blood ran from their bodies and into a large pool at their feet. "What is this, Sarah? What does this mean?"
"The end of humanity, Jobie…they just need those who stand in their way to die. And shortly after I die, they shall all come back and battle for supremacy. Jobie…He is coming for us; He is calling us back to His side. He only questions how willingly we are."
Something hue, bulking up to the sky…something green with terrible red eyes the size of footballs.
Something that smelled like dried cornhusks years in some dark barn.
Yet be fruitful and multiply as the corn multiplies, that my favor may be shewn you, and be upon you.
"He is making us become an army…He is making us multiply into a terrible army, Jobie. And He only wants the best to lead us."
Author's Note: I am going home this week…so, this is the last update for a while. Enjoy and please review; Josiah and Eli are taking their time getting to Gatlin for the moment, but in the meantime, the next chappie will be full of bickering between Ezekiel and Micah…while Isaac simply shakes his head at the two of them. Thank you again for all of your support. Hugs to all!