chapter NINETEEN
Mike
Laying on the cold, dirty ground wasn't exactly how I planned to spend my night. From the pool of blood growing around me it was possible that this would be my last night. I could hear something chewing and chattering from over in the distance. Damn rats, I thought knowing that a rainy summer usually forced the little bastards out into the open. If the stench of rotting garbage was overpowering standing at the end of the alley it was unbearable from down here. The most concerning thing was the crinkling sound of plastic getting louder and louder. The idea of being chewed on by rats wasn’t something I looked forward to and I hoped that these prosperous times in the rat’s lives made them too spoiled to want to snack on middle-aged priest.
A savage growling followed by even louder screams and whimpers didn't even resemble anything human. Snapping sounds followed by what I can only call a mumbled grunt made my stomach turn. A few days ago, events like this were just things of fiction. Entertainment that made my throat tighten and excited me.I was always safe in the knowledge that these monsters only existed in stories and those like Harrow never killed the innocent. Now I realized that the real monsters kill anyone. I wanted to say a prayer to help ease the poor creature’s journey, but I didn't have the energy or maybe I just didn't think his soul belonged in paradise. It seemed to me that my last few minutes shouldn’t be wasted trying to save lost souls when I felt like the state of my own was in question.
"Where is she?" Harrow yelled and a loud knocking sound followed. "Where did your master take her?" The sound of his questions were repeated, but the brutality of the effects of his disappointment increased as the seconds turned into minutes. The spatter of warm blood covered me like a mist, quickly go from warm to chilling. Finally, it was quiet and the only thing I could hear and feel was a light covering of dust as it floated down covering my face. The questions likely stopped before Harrow’s frustration stopped which told me that the group of thugs was no longer. Dead men don’t answer the living and the smell of fresh blood answered that even if I didn’t ask the question.
My eyes felt heavy as I laid there, trying to gather what little strength I had left in me to make my escape. The footsteps grew louder as Harrow came closer. I didn't need to see him to know that, like all forces of nature, he was the only one left standing. There was the twang of metal bouncing off pavement beside me.
"I can't believe that you tried to kill me. How stupid are you? Really, you chose a silver knife that was blessed by an unworthy servant of your God. Where in lore or even the movies did you think that something like that could harm me?"
I was too tired to croak out an answer and even if I had the energy to answer him, what the hell would I say? Sorry I didn't choose the right weapon to kill you? Everybody fails in life. Usually small things that they learn from, move on, and forget. Others, the price is a bit steeper and consists of their life. Then there are others like me, who make a mistake and realize too late that it's their soul and afterlife that is at stake.
"I really should kill you, Mike. All you’re doing is getting in the way. You’re stopping me from doing what I must. I am not the biggest monster in this jungle." Even in this dim light the shadows told me that he was pacing around me like a predator preparing to strike. “Son of a bitch. I can’t kill you, but you’re dying.” It only occurred to me at that point that I didn’t feel any pain. That I could no longer move my hands or feel anything but a tingling in my fingers. My body was shivering, but it wasn’t caused by the cold or the sweat that was streaming from my forehead. “I should just walk away and leave you as you are.” He was still pacing around as he muttered, “You aren’t even the boy I grew up with anymore. I should let you die, but I won’t. No, I might still need you to control the real monster.”
There was a burning sensation right across my neck as he yanked me forward and quickly whipped me up to my feet. I didn’t have the strength or control to support my own weight, but my guardian demon so to speak didn't seem to mind.
He kept muttering, "Yesterday you served a god and now you will feel like one."
I feared death. The idea of dying here scared the hell out me. I was laying there helpless with the words echoing inside my mind. "Yesterday you served a god and tomorrow you will feel like one..." I had served him faithfully for years, but if Harrow could exist untouched who knows what else was out there. What if I was going to miss my opportunity to go to heaven? What if right here to save my life he was going to damn my soul? I would rather die here with my immortal soul intact then to spend my days embraced by darkness.
I struggled to say one simple word. “No.” Gasping for air I waited for a response, but there wasn’t any. “No,I don’t want!” I tried to cry out, but only a faint whistle came out.
I waited knowing that soon enough he was going to be tasting my blood. Even I knew that in order to save me he was going to kill me and all the goodness inside me. His strong hands directed me like a kite on a string. My eyes were heavier than ever and I was getting lightheaded from the loss of blood. I was preparing for the worst thing imaginable and like all good terrors I just wanted it over.
Something touched my lips and the burning started. It wasn’t like fire, but more like an annoying spiced drink that kept lingering in your mouth. It reminded of those spicy little heart-shaped candies that they used to give out on Valentine’s Day. I couldn’t remember the name of them, only that as a child I thought thatthis was what kisses were like, and that if that was the case I never wanted to be kissed. I was such a foolish child back then. Whatever was entering my mouth felt thick and pasty on my tongue. Too thick to spit out, but too hot to swallow. I felt like I was choking and then there was a firm pinch as pressure was added to the hand covering my mouth.
“You need to drink this,” Harrow ordered as he pressed even harder. Mentally I was fighting him off tooth and nail, but physically I was struggling to even push a bit of it out. I was crying on the inside as the idea of what I was about to become took over and my humanity was being choked by whatever I was about to become.
A low thudding sound was bouncing all around me and the array of odors was attacking me from all angles.
"This isn't going to be pleasant," he muttered. "You are going to find that the sensations are so powerful that it echoes in your mind.” I wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to say only that I didn’t like the idea at all. That constant thudding was growing louder and with each beat it was like something was punching the inside of my head. Not just something, but a world class boxer and he was pounding away until my brain was mush. Above me, there was a small fan its worn bearings making a constant scraping sound as the blade spun. The tingling in my arms and hands turned into a long series of pulses and a crackling noise followed. The pain was almost unbearable and I was certain that I was burning from the inside out.
I found myself standing in the lobby of some fancy European hotel with one of those grand curved staircases that went up along the side with a thick railing and bright red carpets. I don’t know how I knew it, but the round outlet with two round holes on either side told me I was in some Europe somewhere.I felt strange, like my body didn’t feel right. I looked down at my hands and they didn’t seem right. Long, thin fingers without the wrinkles and a feeling that my skin was too thin. The hands felt too young when time had stolen my youth away and left fat, aged fingers behind. In the middle of the lobby stood a giant round desk with a small annoyed-looking bald man sitting behind it. He was one of those skinny, ‘better then thou’ type of men who always seemed upset that life didn’t go the way they wanted it to. In my business, I met a lot of people like that. The ones that blame the world because life got too tough and they gave up.
He looked up and tried to smile as he said, “Mister Barthélémy, here is the key for your room.” Mister Barthélémy? What was happening here?
Was this idiot blind. I looked like none of the Barthélémy brothers. They were always tall, athletic, a
nd handsome. The only way I could possibly look like a Barthélémy was if spend way too much on surgery and didn’t eat for a year.
I said, “Is Mihaela waiting for me?” The voiceleaving my lips wasn’t mine. It was deeper and seemed more sophisticated than I had ever sounded.
“Yes, she came in an hour ago.” He had this naughty grin on his face as he handed me a key and said, “She asked that I give you a key. You are in room 118 facing the river,” in a thick accent.
Taking the key in the foreign voice I said, “Thank you,” and made my way up the stairs. I don’t know why, but somehow I had been here before. It was too familiar and I felt too comfortable as I took the steps two at a time filled with excitement. Almost running down the long, narrow hallway I was counting the numbers on the doors as I went. 202 then 204 all the way around to 118 and each time the number changed I could feel my heart pounding faster and faster. Was I truly reliving some cherished moment hidden inside Harrow’s soul? It wasn’t like reading the pages in a diary, but like living them and I feared what other terrible secrets might climb out of his dark soul. What I feared even more was that I might discover I liked walking in the darkness more then I liked walking in the light.
The body that seemed to trap my soul just stood there staring at the white door with the gold numbers 118 on it. It hesitated and I could feel the chest tighten like it was mine. Like it belonged to me. I half expected that the strange hand would reach out and tap on the door, but instead it reached for the door knob and forced its way into the room. The door opened and I expected some kind of battle to ensue. A cheating girlfriend or someone that owed him money, but instead all I saw was a small-framed pale woman with ruby lips and sparkling eyes.
She smiled and chirped, “Daddy, you came!” as she ran over wrapping her limbs around me squeezing so tight it felt like she was going to force the air right out of me.
He kissed her forehead gently and whispered, “Of course, my love. For you no distance is too far and no task is too big.” This was a side of Harrow that I didn’t think existed. A soft, loving side that was filled with passion. I couldn’t imagine that he even knew what love such as this was, let alone believe that he could feel it. He ran his hand along her cheek and it felt cold to the touch, but to him just touching her made his whole body shiver. He kissed her lips and for just an instant he felt complete, like he was stepping into the sunlight for the first time.
Mihaela jumped back onto the bed and squealed, “I still can’t believe that you are here!” Her face was filled with a warm smile, but there was coldness frozen in her eyes. She was calling him over with a single finger, “Daddy, do you love me? How much do you love your little girl?”
Opening his arms, he said, “My life is in your hands.” I can’t say why, but right from the minute that I opened the door and entered the room I felt like I was following Harrow’s journey into darkness. That I was going to understand how a man trades his humanity for immortality.
A soft boyish voice whispered. “No, it’s in my hands, witch.” Through his eyes I saw a creature nightmares were made of. Taller than I had ever seen before with dull grey skin and hair as black as night. He was too thin for his body and too fierce to be human. I could feel his strength as his hand applied vice-like pressure around my neck.
“You will feel great pain, but it won’t be for long, witch.” He snarled. I wanted to scream out, but he was crushing my windpipe and only a whistle escaped. The monster squealed in excitement, “No voice means no spells.”
Mihaela watched intently and the smile faded as she begged, “Can I keep him? Please let me keep him. I want to keep him. He is not like the others.” She had her hands together in an almost begging fashion, “Please, my creator. Let me keep the wizard. I think I might be in love with him.” She was impossibly fast as she jumped off the bed and snapped hold of the monster, begging him “Don’t kill him. I don’t want you to kill him.”
“Down child,” he muttered as he slapped her away with his long arms, sending her flying onto the floor. “I am your creator. Your father, and you will love only me.” I watched helplessly through his eyes as the woman he loved rolled onto the floor knowing that there was nothing I could do to stop him.
“No,” she screamed as she jumped up and charged towards him. “You can’t kill him. Please!”
His grip wrapped around her throat as he dangled her a foot above the floor. “You are my child and you must obey me. He isn’t a friend. He is food.”
Harrow kept whispering the same words over and over inside his head. “Ignem inferni. Ure donec nihil pulvis. Ignem inferni. Ure donec nihil pulvis,” but nothing was happening.
The monster laughed and lifted him up off the floor snarling, “I have been waiting for you for a long time.”
Pain was rushing through his spine and even the whispers inside his head started to slur as he became more lightheaded, yet he kept trying to force the whispers to stay clear. “Ignem inferni. Ure donec nihil pulvis. Ignem inferni. Ure donec nihil pulvis,” then I heard it. A loud swooshing noise followed by bright white flames. The monster’s eyes widened as he kept repeating those words over and over, until Harrow’s hand lifted and clamped down onto his head. The beast bellowed and tossed me backwards, throwing me into the wall. The pain from connecting with the wall wasn’t anything close to the agony I felt from the crushed wind pipe.
He was bent over snarling like a beast, holding his head. He screamed, “I will destroy both of you!” as he grabbed hold of Mihaela and with a loud snap he broke her neck. “I will deal with you later,” he said as he dropped her onto the floor. Harrow was stunned as he saw her dull, empty eyes staring back at him. He wanted to scream out and send him to hell, but now that was beyond him. He was going to die anyway. He knew from as far back as he could remember that he was destined to die today. He just didn’t realize that he’d witness the closest thing he ever had to love die today too. “It’s time to die, witch.”
The door burst open and there was Renaud crying out, “Die creatura ad tenebras. Veni mecum in infernum,” as he charged into the room with a fistfull of blue flames. It was almost like he expected to find something truly evil inside the room. He was soaring through the air and looked like he was flying with a scream on his lips, “Die creatura ad tenebras. Veni mecum in infernum.” The monster looked up, but before he could react the flame had touched his face. Unlike Harrow’s touch, this kiss with the flame burned his flesh straight to the bone and he screamed as the flames started burning away his flesh.
The creature was swinging wildly, blinded by the flame. Renaud sidestepped his swings like a professional fighter and as he grabbed the monster’s face he whispered, “Die diaboli!” The beast’s legs trembled as he repeated, “Die diaboli!” then it fell to the floor.
Staring at Murlin he pointed to the creature and said, “Cut off its head so he cannot walk the earth again. Murlin was carrying a long blade and quickly took his head. I watched it roll towards me and somehow I wanted to hold of it like it was some great prize.
Renaud kicked it to the corner and dropped to one knee grabbing hold of my head. There was panic in his face as he whispered, “Curare,” but nothing happened. Tears filled his eyes as he stared down and slowly rubbed the side of my face compassionately. “Curare!” I could feel the life draining from this body and once again the panic set in. My soul was going to be consumed by Harrow’s darkness as I relived his own first step into darkness. Renaud kept screaming, “Curare! Curare!”
He was staring at Murlin who still carried the large knife, “It’s not working Murlin. He is dying!” There was genuine heartbreak in his eyes as he gripped Harrow’s head, embracing it. His yelling turned into cries as he kept saying the same words over and over. “Curare! Curare!” Finally, he cried out “Don’t you dare die on me, you bastard! Don’t you dare!”
Mihaela was crawling towards me with her neck twisted unnaturally. I don’t know how, but somehow I knew that she couldn’t
die. With each inch closer she came I realized that I already knew the ending. This was the day that Harrow traded humanity for immortality. The day he chose his life over another’s.
In a low grumble she whispered, “I can save him.”
Murlin snarled “No, Renaud don’t do it!” as she leapt towards him. “No, you die if he lives.” This was the first time that I ever felt true heartbreak and remorse. Not just inside Harrow, but so much remorse and heartbreak that I wanted to cry. I never realized that he even had it in him. That he could love unconditionally. If Harrow could have spoken, he would have begged his younger brother to let him die. That he knew his fate and nothing could change that.
Looking at Murlin he whispered, “If she changes him he will be dead. The curse is the oldest of every generation. If he is the undead then his soul cannot be collected.”
Murlin snapped, “You can’t break the curse by changing a man’s destiny.”
Mihaela was deformed and broken, but still headed straight towards him. “I will save you, my love,” was all she said before she dug her fangs into me. The last thing that I remembered was her whispering, “You will live forever now, my love.”