TOUCHING GOD
Atlanta.
Terminus.
Where old gods come to die, or so Miho Karasuma pondered based off of the rambling writings in Kathain's leather bound book. God, the last few pages had come to a terrifying frenzy of words and scrawled drawings. Who knew exactly what the girl had been trying to show through her words?
But it was the last page, the very last page, that disturbed Miho the worst, shaking the woman to the very core. She hadn't even the heart to show Doujima that last, scrawled, angry drawing, of layer upon layer of scribbled, black ink. Deep beneath that dark, foreboding texture, lay the detailed, overly drawn image of a tall, obsidian pyramid. Tall, piercing spires flanked the dark, evil looking thing, while a slit eye glared upon Miho menacingly, as if through the page its self. As soon as her eyes caught sight of that eye, as soon as she felt the sinister aggression as if leaking from the book, the empath slammed the leather bound thing shut and tied it securely with the strap.
No. It wasn't just the image. It was the words, beneath the image.
'I am still here. I am still alive.'
Those words seemed a message, as if specifically crafted for Miho Karasuma and no other. Perhaps they were the lost words of Kathain, begging to be saved from some Solomon holding facility? Or perhaps something far older spoke through Kathain as it seemed to speak through Sakaki at times.
'This is the end of the journey.'
Now, it was those words that spoke so horrifically to Karasuma, as if a menacing message from the eye its self.
"Where do we go from here?" Doujima asked softly, politely.
Miho shrugged. "We wait for a signal, I guess."
xxxx
"What the hell?"
Amon couldn't believe the sight before them.
They were out numbered, badly. No horrifically out numbered was more like it. For the three of them had gone foolishly running headfirst into danger without checking for any possible signs of a trap. And what clever trap if had been. For there, in the dark, were demons of untold evil. They were but three strong, while fourteen shadows stood before them.
"Welcome," a female voice crooned. "You are just in time."
Kristo's seeming satisfaction melted away, replaced by the same cool collection that always accompanied him before a battle. The sakabatto dropped from his hand, slipping back into the night its self as he crouched down low, shrinking back like a python recoiling to strike. The shadows rose to take up the weapon, cradling it back into the void.
A flash of flame burst into existence beside Amon; Brett spoke slowly, controlling his own rage. "Where is he?"
A sly figure slunk out of the shadows. A feminine form, dainty and curvy. One hand toyed with a stray lock, twirling it about her finger, while the other hand remained planted on her hip. She moved with a certain grace and elegance, haughty and proud. If a sense of darkness and desperation didn't ooze from her, any man might have found her sexy, seductive. But there remained something dark, ill boding and just down right sinister about this woman with copper hair to match Nycole's and Kathain's long tresses.
Amon glanced behind her. In the dark, thirteen other, larger forms stood at the ready, gleaming metal weapons in hand. The stood, sat, and leaned against, in what seem like perverse juxtaposition, furniture too small for a normal adult. This was the room of a child, or a teenager at the oldest. Judging by the blue walls and sheets, a boy. Amon's heart sank.
"I'm sure he's around here, somewhere," the woman sang.
Kristo drew the shadows around him suddenly, pooling and amassing the abyss into an almost concrete form, drawing forth his katanna, feeling the weight of the blade reassuringly. "Tell me where he is," the warrior demanded. When left unanswered, Kristo shouted, a dark threat ripped from his chest and throat. "Tell me where my brother is, you bitch!"
A brother? Amon almost fell flat on his back with shock. He had never heard Kristo even dare breath of his family, let alone a living sibling of any form. He had never heard the shadow walker seem so protective of anyone, so angrily enraged at the thoughts of losing something. The former hunter had never seen Kristo even really raise his voice ever.
"You should know..." a haunting voice chirped from the dark, a man.
One of the dark forms separated from the nothingness of the shadows, approaching slowly, as if dancing toward them on mocking steps. The darkness swirled over this newcomer, this menacing and all too deviant of creatures. It circled around the woman.
"Sierra had me put him in all too familiar of a spot for you," the newcomer taunted.
Kristo reached into the depths of the black about them and drew forth his shining katanna with a sudden aggression and bitterness. "Bring him back you sonovabitch!"
Brett threw Amon out of the way with a quick shove. "Get out of here, Amon."
"No."
Flames danced and fire flickered as the force of Brett's craft hurled Amon from the room, sending him crashing into the wall on the other side of the hall. The door slammed shut.
Brett's word echoed into the night.
"You have to. You have to go back and protect the others."
xxxx
Fighting.
Knights and warriors alike fought one another fiercely over the great King. They battled to save the man they swore fealty to. Their swords clanged together, slashing through the air and smashing against one another with sharp clangs. Shields blocked blows with harsh crashes.
They were battling.
All but one. A woman. A woman with frail seeming fairy wings. Her back was turned to him, as she stared out over the battle field, surveying the carnage below. He could see the death and murder through the gossamer red wings, bathing the battlefield in an all too unusual shade of scarlet. Her straight, flashing red hair wavered in the breeze, wafting to and fro with each passing breath of frail wind.
She turned, facing him, tears running down her cheeks.
"I am so very sorry." Her voice spoke of ages of sorrows and emotional torment.
"For what?"
She closed her eyes. "You have to wake up now."
"What?"
The fairy before him closed her eyes slowly. "Your King calls to you."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Her eyes snapped open, pouring forth a blinding white light from each of those sockets. "WAKE UP NOW."
"No!"
"Yes..."
xxxx
"WAKE UP!"
Someone was shaking him, standing over him.
Dane blinked, awaking with a start and shaking loose the last remnants of the dream. Or so he thought. Because, there she was, in all reality. An angel or demon wrapped in human flesh and made real just for him. It was the fairy of his dream, only without the red wings. Everything else, however, was the same.
"Wake up," she ordered yet again.
"Wha..." The musician rubbed his head, glancing around only to see his room had been invaded. "Who are you?"
The girl gestured to herself. "I am Nycole. We've already met." It was the girl from the club, from the Masquerade, the drunk girl. "This is Haruto Sakaki, Marcus, Bear, Raven, and Geoff." Her arm swept in a wide arc, showing the men about them. "Bear, Raven, and Geoff are your brothers."
"I don't..." The bassist shook his head, running his fingers over the mild stubble that covered his head. "I don't have any brothers."
"They are your brothers in arms. They are Thirteen." She pressed a finger to his temple. "You are Thirteen."
And it all came back to him.
xxxx
No.
His mother shut him out.
Kathain shut him out.
Everyone he cared for, everything he longed to protect, Amon had been forced to let slip from his grasp. He would not lose the Brett, Kristo, and the King when they'd come this far.
He reached deep within himself.
'Merric.'
Amon looked for some semblance of the past life of him, some point of control over the power deep within. Instead, all the former hunter found was a building volcano of energy, towering over within him. It burnt a deep fire within. Electricity crackled, snapping over his nerves and driving across his flesh. Every inch of Amon stood on end, feeling the need to jump and act.
"I am coming, my King."
But the words seemed more a death knoll to his enemies.
xxxx
"Give me back my brother," Kristo snarled, gripping his katanna tightly, curling his fingers about the handle sharply.
The lady, if she could be called that, sauntered on the balls of her feet, shifting her weight back and forth on her hips, as if attempting to draw upon every bit of her seductive qualities to tame the beasts before her. "An Oracle never gives up her cards, not until after the reading is over."
Brett grit his teeth. "Who the hell are you, you crazy bitch?"
One of the others made a sudden motion forward, but stopped suddenly. The energy, however, continued with its own dark inertia, slammed into Brett's chest and knocking him back. His head thumped harshly against the wall with a sickening thud. Kristo tried not to look as his companion's body slipped to the ground limply.
Kristo, instead, focused his gaze on the woman. "Tell me your name."
"Sierra," she responded.
"Good." The shadow walker nodded. "Now I know who's ass I'll be kicking."
But he never had the chance.
xxxx
Warriors.
Knights from a distant age and place.
Thirteen warriors, Chosen among the Chosen. Elite. Perfection and imperfection molded into the form of a select army of protectors and assassins.
They were warriors, and they were his people.
And he had a job to do.
xxxx
"Thirteen."
Dane whispered the word; Nycole nodded. "Yes. That's right."
He shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense."
"It doesn't have to," Sakaki replied; it had never made any sense to him.
The bassist glanced over to Nycole. "We have to go, don't we?"
"Yes," the empath responded almost sadly and somberly. "Unfortunately, we do. There are people looking for us, looking for you and all others of our kin." She swallowed hard. "It's not safe for you in Atlanta. Not anymore." Nycole glanced to Sakaki, who just nodded surely. "I'm so very sorry."
"You brought this to me?" Dane demanded harshly.
The young woman shook her head. "No." Nycole balled a fist bitterly. "We didn't. But that doesn't change the fact that you're not safe here anymore, and neither is your lead singer."
"Is this some kind of a joke?" Dane grabbed her and shook her fiercely.
"No, I wish it were," Nycole lamented.
"Oh, God. Taylor!"
xxxx
Amon rose, feeling the weight of his mantle bearing down upon him, but something light inside seemed to hold him aloft. It was the energy, within him. It bore the man up from his place on the floor. It bore him up from a place of disgrace and abandonment, from the closet in his mother's apartment, to this place where his power came to him in this time of need.
He approached the door slowly.
Ebony wings spread behind him. They were protective, eagle like. The feathers shook loose a tiny bit of dust out of his control, like an involuntary tremble.
Amon's fingers curled around the door knob.
It was locked.
"Open."
The command came out too forcefully.
Amon closed his eyes.
xxxx
Kristo charged, but he never had the chance to connect with any of the people around him. He never had the chance to do anything. The world exploded around him with a spray of wood splinters and particle board.
He felt a shadow fall behind him, moving forward.
"Welcome to the ball game, Amon."
xxxx
Oh, Amon grew some balls. I think we're in for trouble.