When he created a large enough passage, Ruin quietly slipped through the barrier and quickly shut it before she could become aware he’d breached it.
The air beyond the wall was dark and frigid, and somewhere in the distance, he sensed Isadore. Another part of her. A part of her that filled him with an urgency to find and protect it.
Ruin looked around in the dark, feeling a slow growing tremble in the air. Something else was there. Whatever caused her to build that wall was there. Ruin released a small ripple of power, warm and inviting. Safe, into the darkness. He waited, listening as the trembling air turned to low growling. Then he felt it, fingers clutching him and instantly, he began to follow the connection.
“Isadore,” a voice hissed, low and long. He heard her whimper in the distance. “Come here.”
“I have to go,” she whispered somewhere. “I have to go.”
The dread in her voice invoked Ruin’s wrath. “You don’t have to go. You can stay with me.”
He felt her head shake. “He’ll punish me.”
“Who will?”
“I have to go, he’s coming.”
A doorway leading into another darkness appeared before him. “I’ll come to you, don’t let go. Hold on to me.”
Ruin made his way into the darkness that was more familiar than he liked. A deep boom resonated behind him as the door in this other place shut tight. Ruin’s eyes began to see around him. It was hot, and something burned his nose with a breath stealing intensity.
“I don’t like it here,” she whispered.
She was close. Ruin made out that he was in a long room and at the end was a curtained square. He could see his power here, a rope of fire stretching to the curtain and beyond. She was there. “He makes. I don’t like it.”
Chapter Seventeen
“I’m coming,” Ruin whispered, walking toward the curtain, his stomach twisting with the evil that waited beyond it. The curtain kept moving as he walked, and the room grew. He stopped and closed his eyes, focusing his power, hooking it to something solid near Isadore. He finally reached the curtain and slowly moved it aside.
A twin bed was the only thing there and something moved under the covers on the bed. He crept forward and saw a dark human head on top of another, making guttural lustful noises. “You,” Ruin called.
The man jerked toward him with surprise, and confusion slammed Ruin. It wasn’t the guy from the trailer. A face from beneath the man looked at Ruin and nausea gripped him. Ruin found himself gasping through the flames that engulfed him, his own power, a bitter, vengeful rage, out of control from the abomination before him. His sweet Isadore. His sweet Isadore, only a child, being violated in the worst way.
By her father.
“You like the show?”
Ruin spun to the growling voice and faced the reason why the place seemed familiar to him. “Beltizar.”
“How does the prophesied Carnificem come to be in my domain?”
“You have something,” he gasped, “that belongs to me.”
The large demon with the head shaped like an oversized light bulb drew a sword twice the demon’s size, wrapped in razors. “I think you’ve made a big mistake.”
Ruin closed his eyes and selected a weapon spirit as one selects an ensemble from a wardrobe. His tattoos lit up as the familiar entity programmed him with a whispering hunger.
The spirit’s power erupted, a dense purple shimmering in a mist, and Ruin opened his arms, and every part of himself, taking the power in… all that defined him, his lust and hunger, his mind and soul.
Like an iron fist, the spirit took hard possession of Ruin, moving him to stand in its true form before the demon, bearing its singular, eternal name.
The demon hissed and slowly circled Ruin, dragging his razor sword along the floor, calling forth Shame, Fear, and Despair in electrical explosions. “I do not fear you . . . ” The garbled words wobbled through the air. “We… do not fear you. Pain.”
The power of the spirit’s name ricocheted off the walls around them, amethyst flames dancing and licking the cavern with an eternal hunger. Pain stood before the large demon in a form smaller than Ruin’s, his alabaster skin a glistening lavender, luminous eyes harnessing the all-consuming power of Pain.
Mesmerized, Ruin watched the long ebony hair dance and float upon the waves of wickedness that was of itself and in itself.
Envy and Jealousy consumed Beltizar who howled and charged the form, sword and razors slicing.
Eyes cast down, Pain tilted his head, erecting The Tunnel Dominion. The prison harnessed Beltizar like a master would its beast. To punish, to break, to dominate. Beltizar raged along the cylindrical wall, every step, every pounce and thrash, every swing of his blade, funneling his darkest powers into Pain.
The amethyst warrior chuckled lightly, knowing even as Beltizar did not.
“Look upon me Pain!” Beltizar roared, bringing his mighty sword down in a storm of fury, slamming into Pain’s power that leaked out of him like flowing honey, pulling his foe into a timeless dance of Solitude and Darkness.
When The Tunnel Dominion exacted all Beltizar’s power, Pain mounted them, mounted that which he had conquered in other worlds, until Despair, Shame, and Fear, became one with him again.
“There is no escape, Beltizar,” Pain whispered, even as The Sickle forged from the married powers, materialized in his hand.
When the demon saw that Pain had stolen his powers, he roared in torment, in fury, “You can’t do that!” Beltizar banged the floor with huge, useless fists. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”
The air shook with his fury, and Pain swung the Sickle, devouring that power as well. The demon ran, attempting to seek refuge and escape, and Pain pursued. He chased the demon for fun, inflicting his body and soul with the very Pain he had tormented with.
The demon finally fell with a great boom, labored and wounded on the floor. Pain placed The Sickle’s staff upon his head and whispered, “You will not hold her any longer. You are defeated this day.” Then swung the Sickle’s blade with a final blow, removing the demon’s head. “She is free.”
Isadore’s scream erupted in the cavern and Ruin’s form burst free of the spirit that possessed him. She stood outside the square curtain, a grown woman, screaming. Screaming with all her might, her hands covering her ears. Ruin ran to her, not understanding, not understanding what was wrong. What had he done?
“Isadore,” he whispered, grabbing hold of her. “I’m here, Isadore. It’s me, I’m here.”
But she only screamed as though she couldn’t stop, as though the truth was . . . killing her.
“Caliber!” he roared, desperate.
“What have you done, Carnificem?”
Ruin grabbed his head, Isadore’s screams devouring his mind. “I set her free,” he gasped. “I just set her free, that’s all!”
Caliber looked around at the place. “Hmm. Indeed you did. Be still, child,” he muttered to her.
Immediately, she collapsed into Ruin’s arms. “What’s wrong with her, what have I done?” he looked up at Caliber, fear gripping his entire being until he trembled with it.
“Look in her eyes again,” Caliber instructed, “tell me what you see.”
Ruin peered into her eyes, open but unseeing. His heart faltered at seeing it. He glanced at Caliber. “I don’t understand. Why is the wall still there? Why is she still hurting?”
Caliber lowered to his haunches and gripped his shoulder. “Look at me, son.” Ruin locked gazes with the old man and a few seconds of head tilting left and right, he muttered, “I’ll be damn. Seems you’ve inherited her wall.”
“What?”
Caliber stared into his gaze a little longer, appearing perplexed. “Apparently you inherited the wall building mechanism that was engaged in her brain to partition off trauma when you were born.” He tapped Ruin’s temple. “But, that’s not her wall you’re seeing in her, you indeed tore that one down. This one is yours.”
Ruin was du
mbfounded. He had a wall too? “Then what is she screaming about?”
Caliber pressed tattoos on Ruin’s body with a sigh. “That’s a very good question and yet another one that needs to be dealt with before the mission can be completed.”
Ruin turned his attention to Isadore who seemed to be sound asleep and at peace. What in the universe had she seen in him to make her scream that way? Did he even want to know? He was sure he didn’t. Ruin noticed then, that Caliber had given him another flickering tattoo. “Are you kidding?”
“’Fraid not.” Caliber clapped his shoulder and stood. “This mission will resume when you tear that wall down.” He pointed a firm finger at him. “I mean it, Ruin, I want it down, or so help me, I’ll come in there myself and bust it down for you. And there’s no guarantees you’ll survive that.
RUIN
THE JUDGEMENT
By Lucian Bane
Chapter One
Ruin blasted awake, sucking in air much like when he’d surfaced the swamp waters for the first time. He looked around, recognizing Isadore’s bedroom, his memory sparking and sputtering with loose connections.
The hypnotism. Caliber. Isadore’s wall he tore down only to discover he had one of his own. He snapped his attention to his torso and there it was, the flickering tattoo, confirming his final memory. Caliber indeed had given him another one of those multi-addressed assignments.
He kicked out of the tangled sheets just as the sound of an engine revved. Ruin launched out of bed and flew downstairs, wondering if it’s what woke him. He yanked the front door open to find Isadore leaving in her truck.
Even through the dirty windshield he saw the pop of her eyes right at the moment the humid morning swamp air hit his naked groin. She shut off the truck and opened her door with a hissed, “Oh my God!” as she hurried to him, looking around. “Get! In! Side!”
Ruin needed to remember that naked wasn’t normal to people. More memories flooded in, namely the couple he’d seen fucking—as Isadore was fond of calling it—on television, and what that had done to his body. Maybe the human clothing idea/requirement wasn’t as stupid as he thought.
Isadore followed him inside, shut the door and stayed with her back to him. “Are you…covered?”
“No, why?” Was she going to play coy and innocent with him after all the intimacy they’d shared?
“Well…please cover yourself.”
Perplexed anger rushed in. “Why?”
“Because it’s not…proper to run around naked. Even if I’ve seen you naked a hundred times.”
“Why are you leaving?”
“I told you in the note I left—on the bedside table—“ she jabbed her finger up several times, “that I’m going to check on Mr. Thibodeaux before we leave for God knows where.”
“I didn’t see a note.”
“Clearly. Did you even look?”
Ruin suddenly felt…a negative emotion. Stupidity maybe. “I heard the truck and…panicked.”
She sighed. “Can you please dress?”
She said it like she needed to not see him naked. “My nakedness bothers you,” he said, realizing, not pleased with that.
“Yes, it does.”
“Stay there,” he said, running up to dress.
“I’m not planning to run away,” she called out, sounding defensive.
Ruin came back down to find her putting on coffee. “What time is it? What day?” He suddenly needed to do things with her in the bed that she clearly didn’t want to. He settled for standing close enough to smell her.
She turned and put a hand on the counter, looking around. “It’s one o-clock in the daytime. Obviously,” she muttered with a slight roll of her eyes.
“What day?”
“Ummm… Tuesday. The twenty-third.” He stared at her, struggling to tie meaning to those words and she raised her brows. “Of October? Year 2014?”
He stared at her mouth, curious. “Why are your lips shiny? And pink.”
“That’s lip gloss. Ladies wear it. Sometimes.”
“Why?” He noticed her eyes next. “What’s on your eyes?”
“That’s called mascara and eyeliner. Also known as makeup.”
“Why did you put that on?”
“Women do that sometimes.”
“You said that, I asked why?”
It was clearly not a question she’d expect to be asked and her shoulders pulled up a little. “To… help with their…” she wagged her hand a bit, “emphasize their natural beauty, or feel good about themselves, or hide imperfections.”
Her answers only prompted more questions. “Which reason made you put it on?”
She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Why? Oh my God, it’s makeup!”
“You never wore it before. If you’re emphasizing your natural beauty, I’d like to know why, if you do it to feel good about yourself, I’d like to know why, if you do it to hide imperfections, I’d especially like to know why.”
“Why?”
“Because it isn’t emphasizing your natural beauty, it’s hiding it, and if you feel bad about how you look, enough to put that stuff on, then I’d like to know that, and lastly, if you see imperfections, I’d like to know where, I’d like to challenge that lie.”
Her anger slowly dissolved as she stared at him then turned to the cabinet behind her and grabbed two cups. “I think that’s the nicest scolding I’ve ever gotten, Mr. Ruin.” She faced him again and pressed a coffee cup into his chest but he noticed her touch was gentle, matching the affection in her gaze.
“I want to kiss you,” he took the cup, letting his fingers caress hers. “May I?”
She swallowed, looking off to the right a little then gave a tiny shrug. “You mean like… a small kiss?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Okay,” she nodded, scratching her cheek, face still turned.
Ruin set his cup down and took her cup and set it on the counter as well. He stepped close and carefully slid his fingertips over her cheek, turning her face to him. “I need you to look at me.”
“Look at you,” she muttered, attempting the request, but not quite making it past his mouth.
Close enough. He slid his fingers along her neck, his heart racing at finally feeling her. He rested one thumb on her pulse, noting it matched his own erratic pace. The soft skin under his other thumb invoked his need to taste, and he slowly tilted her face up to him.
He studied her a moment, her glittery eyelids, full tempting lips parted…waiting for him. Lowering to her mouth, he paused to measure her desire, and his own erupted at feeling she was ready to be thrown on the table, legs spread wide while he did anything he wished and wanted. He brushed her lips barely with his and her one tiny hot whimper slammed his cock.
The second her fingertips pressed into his torso, even over the T-shirt, hunger took him. His delicate hold on either side of her head turned possessive and he pushed her mouth open with his, kissing her like a second was all he had to taste, forgetting where he was, trapping her against the counter, his leg between hers where it belonged, where she needed it, eager and grinding against her throbbing clit.
“Ruin,” she gasped in his mouth.
“Why weren’t you in the bed when I woke up Isadore, why,” he growled, lifting her in his arms, taking her there now.
“What…what are…”
He drowned her words with his kiss, his body leading him up the stairs even while his mind focused on her mouth, her fingers raking his neck and scalp. “You want this,” he rasped, nipping her cheek and anywhere else his mouth could reach.
“I…Mr….I have to…”
He laid her on the bed and quickly covered her body with his before she could escape. “I need you now. Don’t make me beg, my nature won’t let me, and don’t make me force you, I don’t want to,” he whispered against her neck, sucking the warm silk into his mouth with a growl and intensity that brought her legs around him
with delicious hair pulling. “I love when you do that, pull it Isadore, make me. Make me command you.”
“Oh God, Ruin,” she barely whispered, helpless. “I…we…”
At hearing her eternal and never ending confliction, he jerked up and looked at her. “God damn!” he whispered, breathing heavy. “What, what is it? Why can’t you for once just give me what I need and want, what you need and want!”
“I need to go see Mr. Thibodeaux,” she winced with clenched eyes.
“You’re lying Isadore. That was a huge lie.”
Her eyes popped open. “But I should need to! I should need to!” She sat up and held a pillow to her chest, looking distraught. “You should need to!”
He jerked from her and sat at the edge of the bed, head in hands. “I should! No, I should not!”
“Yes, you should need to go check on Mr. Thibodeaux. You should need to let me do that,” she said in a tiny voice.
“I don’t care about him.”
“I know,” she continued in her pathetic tone, “and…that’s wrong. You should want to care.”
He stood and paced, the feeling inside him agitating him further. “And if I…care about this Mr. Thibodeaux, you will stop fighting me?” Just to say that “C” word brought an odd power roiling inside him. He wasn’t supposed to care about Mr. Thibodeaux, that much he knew.
“It wouldn’t hurt you to try,” she cried, getting out of the bed and straightening her clothes. “He’s an old man that needs help, he needs people to help and care for him. He has nobody.”
“Sounds like he needs to be put out of his misery like so many other things you call caring for.” She gasped and he looked at her. “It’s only the truth.”
“So you say, Mr. use your judgement for the dark.”
He paused, looking at her. “You remember that?” He was thinking Caliber must’ve wiped her memory, like he’d done with him. She was acting too normal, not like somebody who’d intimately experienced a supernatural crisis. “What else do you remember?”