Chapter 6: Powerless
The goddess.
This was the goddess herself.
The picture Izaya had seen- the gruesome reflection of what no human in this world should be able to come up with on their own.
Carlyle, was still Carlyle.
Nothing changed, nothing moved, not even his smiling expression, it was only the reflection that did.
Legs of a spider forced their way out of the woman's guts and her smile broadened beyond what should humanely be possible as they reached for Izaya.
She was towering above her prey and Izaya couldn't find himself moving.
Not in the face of a creature that would charge at him as soon as he even dared to lift a finger.
It was then that the sound of footsteps leisurely approaching the study resounded from the hallway- and as if waking up from a bad dream, the goddess suddenly retracted all the way back into Carlyle's guts.
"Carlyle," a gruff and deep voice resounded as the one who was actually holding the banquet and paying for what was needed entered the study.
Izaya head didn't even turn to look at the guy-
His eyes were still fixated onto the mirror. Onto the reflection that had returned to normal showing nothing but a gentle smile on Carlyle's face as the old man of status entered the study.
"Yes, father?"
What had just happened?
Izaya's heart beat like crazy and the pressure of its beats made his ears ring after he faced what had been his sure immediate death.
"What are you doing up here? Our guests are waiting," the lord of the mansion continued, but the words only drowned in Izaya's ears as his stare directed itself towards the ground.
This guy had just saved him.
Slowly, as if having only just started to understand how the puzzle in front of him was connected, Izaya started to realize a couple of rules that set his fate.
Carlyle was not Carlyle.
Carlyle was the goddess. Whether he was being possessed or had always been her was something Izaya couldn't discern, but one fact was clear: The goddess existed.
She had been the one to bring him here.
And she wanted him dead.
Yet she had chosen to remain covered in her disguise as soon as Carlyle's father entered-
She couldn't act.
Not as long as he was there.
And with that realization Izaya jumped to his feet.
"What-" broken complaints of the lord fell on deaf ears as Izaya rushed back into the hallway. The stairs leading down were not far and the musicians neither as Izaya shoved his way past them. One of the players was knocked over by the sheer force Izaya put into his speed and barked complaints as soon as he did.
Almost instantly the music dropped and the guests murmured in offended chatter.
"Hey-"
"Raphael!"
"What is he doing?!"
Izaya could hear the voices of his fake family, his father, his mother and just as he passed the gate leading to the outside he spotted his little sister. Wearing a face of surprise she had been rendered speechless as she watched her brother rush into the pouring rain.
None of that mattered as Izaya's head jerked around in an agitated fashion.
Carriages, horses and a couple servants that had not quite expected any of the guests yet jumped in their stance as they rushed to their respective positions.
"My lord-" they bowed curtly, but Izaya's destination was none of these carriages.
The goddess had possessed one of the attendees of the party.
What was her power? Was the transferral infinite?
Did she have to jump from host to host in order to follow him?
Millions of possibilities overwhelmed his mind as Izaya opted for the simplest route. If, and only if, she could jump from host to host like a god damned flea- then he had to get away from the people here.
No guest was safe. No attendee no servant, hell he didn't even trust a god damned horse.
And so he ran.
"Sir-?!"
Past the carriages, past the pathway and down into the woods.
The rain was drowning the lights and music from the mansion quicker than expected and sooner than Izaya thought he found himself in complete darkness.
Branches were slapping against his face tearing down scraps of flesh as he awkwardly stumbled in an area not made for trespassing.
But he didn't care.
Not about this body and not about the stinging pain on his cheek or the freezing numbness the rain left on his skin.
He had to get away- far, as far away as possible. This monster was right at his heels-
The thought of the idea being more literal than metaphorical caused Izaya's legs to sped up even faster as he dashed through the night.
Parkour.
He didn't know why but he suddenly remembered it being a skill of his own as he effortlessly flew across stones, fallen trees and uneven terrain.
Rain slapped his face, thunder cussed in the sky and before long the forest opened onto another pathway.
He didn't know how long he had been running.
Couldn't really tell the distance either.
But at one point he saw a light.
Water clothed him more than the fabrics did as he was soaked from head to toe.
An inn.
The realization came quicker than his eyes were at reading the signboard ahead.
A stabbed pig resting on potatoes was crudely drawn onto rotten planks of wood and dangling uneven from the front entrance.
Words inscribed with the same foreign letters Izaya had found in the library probably told its name, but without his cheatsheet there was not much he could decipher.
Izaya slowed down.
More by force than by will as his lungs screamed desperately for air.
Catching his hot breath he felt the unfavorable taste of iron at the back of his throat and an unpleasant strain on his jaw.
Drunken groans and scraps of chopped sentences reached his ears as a couple men left the front door while supporting each other's nonexistent sense of balance.
"What a shit weather-" one of them complained, before dropping his pants right next to the horse stalls.
It was a sight just as disgusting as the rest of this god damned world and Izaya took a last deep breath as his eyes darted to the entrance.
The sour smell of vomit, piss and horseshit combined wafted in the damp air and Izaya approached the door.
It was only upon grasping the handle that he realized his lack of money. Or rather his inability to know an inn's cost.
Looking down at his attire he spotted a couple brushed jewels serving as buttons and quickly ripped them off.
Just in case.
And so the door was pushed open.
Loud music, the blinding light of a fireplace, millions of candles and the smell of tobacco layering inside the room like a whores bedsheet overwhelmed Izaya instantly.
More men than he was able to count were sitting at various tables, eating, talking and playing games of dice at the same time.
Sounds of smacking lips and freed burps completed an image that rather served a stall full of pigs than an actual inn.
Izaya had thought the banquet hall had been bad with the piss chamber right next to the dance floor, but this place reeked even worse.
Shoving past his shoulder a man that hadn't taken a bath in his life moved past Izaya and for just the brink of a second he felt the need to retch.
This place was a shithole.
But it was a safe shithole.
Letting his eyes glance around, Izaya searched for any signs of the goddess. Any man glancing at him in an odd way.
But there was not a single person doing such and he felt his mind regain some calmth.
He had outrun her.
The goddess, or whatever she was- did she know where he had disappeared to?
No. At least not for now.
And if she really needed a host to move-
A deep sigh left Izaya's lips as he brushed his soaked bangs out of his face.
He was safe.
At least for the moment.
"Good afternoon, what can I bring you?" A voluptuous woman had approached Izaya. Strong arms easily able to choke a pig on sight were wrapped by fabrics of white and something akin to a purse dangled from her waistline.
A waitress. Or the owner? Might as well have been the cook herself.
Izaya couldn't really tell, but was busier ignoring the stench than to second guess her nature.
"A place for the night?" he pressed forth with tight lips and the woman's eyes narrowed. Crossing her arms she glanced at her newest guest, letting her eyes freely roam Izaya from head to toe.
"Six peckos." She announced coldly and Izaya figured she had just made the price up on the spot.
Not that he would know.
Pricing had been one of the few topics that he had not indulged himself with in the morning. What was a pecko? Worthless? Overpriced? Should he be negotiating in order to not attract unwanted attention?
He had no idea, but couldn't care less as he reached into his pocket to draw out the jewels he had ripped off his clothes.
Quick, as if handing a drug dealer the money needed to get a fix he moved them into her hand.
"Is this sufficient?" he asked, and the woman grasped her payment without looking at it twice. A stare and an expression void of any emotion was presented for a moment as she turned.
Wordlessly she disappeared past a set of drunken men as she slipped into the back of the kitchen.
The idea of just having been robbed of his only money sprung to mind, but it seemed Izaya was wrong as she returned just a minute later.
Glances were cast left and right and when she was sure no one was watching she edged Izaya to a small staircase to the right.
A leather bag was forcefully pushed into his hands as she whispered. "On the top right. And make sure you don't let anyone see what you carry."
The familiar stench of no one ever having heard of a toothbrush wafted into Izaya's face, but he was smarter than to show his disgust as he met her eyes.
Small and ugly she proved a sight more worthy of a goblin than a woman, but her gaze was gentle and Izaya almost felt the need to apologize for thinking so badly of her.
An appreciating nod was given and he turned.
The stairs were a joke.
Steep and uneven they served a sufficient deathtrap for anyone sober, not to mention drunk. The last step could only be surpassed by half a jump, but nonetheless Izaya found himself on the second floor.
Down the corridor on the right he found the room she had sent him towards and unlocked the door.
Its interior came as much expected as it came unexpected. There was barely any furniture except for a bed and a table coupled with a chair. A broken window fixed with a towel sat in front. The room provided nothing but the bare minimum of necessities.
But it was clean.
Cleaner than Izaya thought any place was willing to be in this age.
The bed sheets were actually white. Not beige, not reeking of filth and not a single rat's excrement was to be found on the ground.
Closing the door Izaya let his head thud against the wood as his eyes closed.
It wasn't quiet of course. Not with the amount of guests down there that Izaya had seen.
But the voices were dimmed and almost soothing now that Izaya had his own space to breathe.
The leather bag he had received was brought forth and without further hesitation he poured its contents onto the table.
Gold, silver and bronze poured from it in unexpected amounts and Izaya realized with the softest hint of a snort that he had massively overpaid the owner.
The jewels must have been worth a fortune. Looking at the pile of money now resting on the desk Izaya suspected she had given him every coin on hand in order to somewhat make up for the change.
… no wonder she had given him what seemed to be her cleanest room.
She had to think he was of noble status.
Well, he was actually.
Not that his stance was going to benefit her in any way.
But she probably expected her honesty to pay off in the future.
Again a heap of laughter resounded from downstairs.
It was drowned out, and Izaya didn't even know what had been so funny to make everyone laugh and yet he suddenly felt his lips curl into a smile.
At first it was a chuckle. Just a few heaps of unintended harsh breath. But sure enough within a minute those chuckles increased and Izaya's expression churned as he broke into an all out laughing fit.
"What the hell is this?" he found himself wheezing, as though someone was there to listen.
But no one was.
He was alone.
And the laughing slowly but surely faded for the wave of frustration that claimed Izaya as one of his own.
His palm was brought up and pressed against his temple.
"What is this bullshit?" he whispered despite knowing no one was there to answer.
"Why did I end up here?" His voice failed him halfway as the last question remained in his mind.
What kind of fate made him remember what he had without any chance to retain it?
A coin that had dropped from the table was lifted and twisted as Izaya looked at its simple patterns.
What was he even supposed to do? Bargain with some farmers over the largest pig?
A burst of frustration and anger flung the coin across the room as Izaya heaved.
His eyes were hard and his gaze hostile. A breeze picked up from the window and Izaya clicked his tongue.
He had to press forward.
There had to be a way to revert all of this and if someone was going to find it, it had to be him.
Eyes were narrowed and a glance cast towards the desk.
The intention had been to sit down, take a piece of paper and write down what he knew. Collect his thoughts and come up with a solution.
But none of that happened when Izaya froze instead.
Faster than humanly possible he opened the door and burst out of the room.
The door was closed. The hallways were empty, unthreatening, and yet Izaya's breath spiked as he broke out in a cold sweat.
He had seen it.
In the sole second of turning towards his desk. In the corner of his eyes.
The goddess.
At the window-
How did she find him? How did she catch up so fast? How-
Goddess.
And suddenly the term and all the might behind it came to Izaya's full understanding.
Of course.
What on earth did he think?
There was no way he was going to outrun a god.
to be continued~
Well, well, well - we are running out of options here xD What should he do now? C: You will see next Saturday~ xD