The Waking

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered, sounding concerned as she filled his lips with tiny breathless kisses still. “What’s wrong?”

  “I . . . ” Ruin suddenly felt ill and rolled off of her. “I don’t know.” He sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands.

  “Ruin, your tattoo . . . ”

  Ruin looked down and stood in alarm at finding the tattoo smoldering with black smoke. He hurried to the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before he vomited. It was time. “I have to go, Isadore.”

  Chapter Ten

  She was suddenly behind him. “Go where?”

  “The assignment. I have to go now.”

  “We have to,” she reminded him.

  He nodded, remembering, hating that part.

  “I’ll get dressed and we’ll get it done, come back and that’s it, okay?” She reached and stroked his face and he moved her hand off.

  “I need to think.”

  “Okay,” she said quietly. But Ruin heard the pain in her voice and . . . he wanted to make it worse. He felt sick again and turned to the toilet, throwing up everything in his guts.

  “Why are you throwing up?”

  “I don’t fucking know! Get away from me.” Hate and loathe coursed through him. He went to the sink and rinsed his face with cold water then turned, feeling confused. He needed to dress. What room was he in? Spying her purse, he assumed hers and hurried to his own to get dressed.

  He exited and Isadore stood outside his door, waiting. Not wanting to look at her for reasons he couldn’t explain, he turned right out of his door, passing the truck. There was a hard urge to walk that he couldn’t resist.

  Did that mean the assignment wasn’t far? He hoped not. Ruin wanted to get it over with. He didn’t want to think about why this judgment was different and how. He didn’t want to think about what was bad about it. And he especially didn’t want to think about how eager and hungry he was to do it or the fact that he could barely stand the sight and smell of Isadore now.

  ****

  Isadore couldn’t help it. She was downright scared, and not showing it was getting pretty darn hard and her quirks stepped up to help with that as she counted Ruin’s brisk steps through the dark. “Slow down! Do I have to be with you or not? You’re going to lose me on foot. Jesus.”

  He spun to her and pointed. “No God talk on this mission!”

  She came to an abrupt halt at seeing his face, his eyes. The tattoos seemed to have spread into half his face, and one of his eyes appeared . . . “Don’t move!” She ran to catch up to him and he glared at her with . . . “One of your eyes is . . . oh my God, purple!”

  He merely growled at her like an animal and spun away, forcing Isadore nearly to skip walk to keep up. Fifteen minutes of that pace and Isadore was outright sweating. Wow. Ruin walked like Jason on Friday the 13th in a marathon murder spree.

  Soon she realized they were heading out of the little town. She’d given up asking where they were going, he was in terminator mode and seemed very . . . inhuman.

  Ruin suddenly stopped and Isadore peered ahead, seeing an old bridge and shadowed silhouettes on it. By the time he started walking again, she’d just caught up. “Who is that?” she asked, back to skip running after him.

  Of course, he didn’t answer. There seemed to be three at the bridge and Ruin stopped at the foot of it and watched. Isadore stood at his side, watching too, then finally looked up at him, hoping to discern what the hell was going on. Sharp fear gripped her at seeing his eye. Thin metal wires hooked onto the outer edges of his upper and lower eyelids. Dear God, it seemed to come from inside his eye. Four little latches, two at the top and two at the bottom. Isadore had never seen anything so weird in her life.

  Before she could choose which question to ask, he continued forward in silence.

  Isadore was wrong, there were five at the bridge. Or had two more just appeared? She recognized Caliber’s silver hair in the moonlight and also caught sight of salon-pin-straight-blonde hair in a brief flash. A woman? Another tall guy reminded her of that grim creature but human. Possibly the black hooded jacket that gave the impression.

  “The freak finally made it.” The blonde head turned, giving only one brilliant red eye and perfectly structured and smooth face. But not a woman. Hardly. Ruin stopped some five feet from the group and Isadore eyed the broad shoulders and height of the blonde who’d turned and now scanned her. “He brings his human.”

  “He has no choice.” Caliber’s tone warned not to speak the words again. But only because he’d heard it one too many times. How was it that she’d gotten the blame for being stuck in this supernatural circus gone wrong. Wasn’t her fault. The term his human didn’t bode well with her either. Guess it made it official that they were not human.

  The blonde sported no shirt beneath his black leather coat that reached the ground, much like Caliber’s only . . . more perfect and clean. She saw several strange tattoos. One centered on his chest, and one at his navel, looking like a Picasso painting during his depression years. When she looked up from her assessment, she was met with a direct gaze that reminded her of glowing blood. She was suddenly captivated with deciding if it was liquid or fire and stepped closer to see.

  The OCD urge was interrupted with the sound of low growling. She realized it came from Ruin and was further alarmed to see that the metal in his eye had grown, extending over the entire side of his face. The two lower wires joined in the center of his cheek then branching down into four that embed symmetrically in his jaw. The metal on his upper lids did the same, the two hooks meeting over his brow and branched off into four spikes that seemed to embed just beyond his hairline. Dear God.

  Ruin’s gaze snapped to her as if he’d heard her thoughts and she gasped at the fury twisting his face. The idea he was angry with her, brought a stupid sharp pain to her chest then turned her stomach.

  “How special,” the man with the blonde hair said.

  “Yes, special.” Caliber sounded annoyed and bored. “Can we just get this satanic show on the road?”

  Isadore realized just how big the blonde was when he stepped toward her. “My name is Valkrin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Step. Back.” Ruin’s command to the guy came out sounding metallic and Isadore drew closer to him, despite that. The constant growling Ruin emitted suddenly lessened when she did, and Isadore realized he was protecting her. That was a real relief because up to that second, she’d been feeling sure death nipping at her heels. She reached to touch Ruin’s hand, to assure him she was grateful, but he jerked away.

  Valkrin gave her a slow, nearly seductive smile, showing denture-perfect teeth. “I think the Carnificem is a bit . . . torn.”

  “Get a hold of the powers, Ruin,” Caliber ordered, impatiently. “And do your thing, Negotiator,” he said to the Valkrin being.

  For the first time, Isadore heard it. The sound of mumbling behind them. And crying. She peered around Valkrin and there he was, a man standing on the edge of the bridge.

  “Very well,” Valkrin sighed before stepping back and lean against the metal support of the bridge, locking his hands behind his head, and propping a foot on the beam behind him. All while he leisurely stared at the man who peered down into the water. Valkrin’s feature’s suddenly turned distraught and pained. “It’s all pointless,” Valkrin whispered to the man, his voice echoing defeat and hopelessness. “She’ll never love you. She loves him. You’ll never amount to more than a bum and she’ll never forgive you. She’ll never support you, you’ll rot in jail. This is the only way.”

  Valkrin slowly swept his tongue over his lower lip as a smile took the perfect mouth. His blood red eyes swung to Isadore, like a seductive pendulum, before he gave a secretive wink.

  “If you look at her again,” Ruin gasped, sounding as though he waged some internal war, “I will lose my fucking mind all over you.”

  “You do that,” Valkrin grinned. “And suffer the consequences of breaking ou
r contract.” Valkrin pointed between Ruin and himself. “Dearest brother.”

  “Caliber,” Ruin turned to the man.

  “I can’t babysit you forever, Padre. Get. Control. You touch Valkrin, and you are done.”

  “But I don’t care!” Like he wished he did, so he could get control.

  Caliber raised his brows until he appeared crazy. “When I say done I mean you die,” Caliber said. “If you want to protect Isadore, you had better catch your head. That’s as much as I can tell you at this time.”

  The blonde put his hand over his chest, feigning hurt. “You act as though I wouldn’t take perfect care of her for him.”

  Ruin roared and bent over, vomiting red fire onto the ground.

  “Stop goading him!” Isadore pointed at Valkrin, even stepped forward. “I don’t know what you are or who, but you need to leave him alone.”

  Isadore shook with fear despite her boldness and oddly enough, the being slowly stood at attention, maybe even on guard now, both hands going slowly up. Before she fully regained her backbone, she realized Valkrin stared just behind her. Isadore glanced over her shoulder to find yet another man there. Taller than any others in the midst, he eyed Valkrin with bright silver eyes, reminding her of a thin version of the real St. Nick, long skinny beard and all.

  “Hagios,” Valkrin nodded in clear deference. “What brings you all the way from planet Too Awesome To Name?”

  “You will act in accordance with the ancient laws set before you in this prophecy.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Now.”

  The soft word stirred the air like a flashing tempest, setting Valkrin into immediate motion, turning his attention to the human again. Putting his arm around the man’s shoulder, he continued to speak softly, but in another language now. Things that seemed to make the man worse, not better. Isadore gasped when he raised a gun to his head.

  “Why is he doing that? What is he saying to him? What is he saying, it’s not helping him!” Isadore looked at Ruin and Caliber then at the man who looked like Grim, all while Valkrin sang foreign syllables, a lull-a-bye of death.

  The man let out a sob, his quivering hand steadying as he placed the barrel against his temple, mumbling “yes I know, I know.”

  Isadore spun to the being behind her. “What is he saying to him? What is he doing, what is he saying?”

  The being turned those strange eyes on her and Isadore’s breath left her at seeing a brilliant galaxy within his gaze. “Why do you inquire after that which is being hidden from you?”

  “Get ready,” Caliber said, his voice void of emotion.

  Isadore turned to see Ruin on the opposite side of the man now, breathing harshly, his face gripped in some kind of pain or struggle, the wires on his face smoldering red hot even as Valkrin’s whispered words turned heated and full of passion.

  The gun fired and Isadore screamed in her mind, her mouth open as blood flew. Ruin spoke a single word in another language and the man fell forward off the bridge as something remained in the air, a dark mass with tendrils, leading to Ruin, no, to his eye. Dear God the metal. The dark mass was attached to the metal in his eye.

  Ruin growled in strain and raised his left hand, palm facing out. He gasped another foreign word and a streak of fire enveloped the black mass that now wriggled within the flames. Ruin pointed to the man who had reminded her of Grim and the fireball shot to him. He raised a hand and caught the fireball with a practiced grace before putting it inside his jacket. And vanishing.

  Isadore felt dizzy and stumbled back, looking around. The rest were gone, too. Except Caliber who sighed next to Ruin, hands on hips like a disappointed general. “Glad that’s over. And now comes the cleansing. Stand up.” Caliber helped Ruin who’d fallen to his knees, heaving in the aftermath of whatever he’d just done. Caliber called Isadore to him with a wave of his hand. “He’s infected with evil and you’re the only one who can get it out.”

  “What? How?” She looked at Ruin who appeared on the verge of death. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Ask.”

  “Ask?”

  Caliber nodded. “Before he becomes fully aware, preferably.” His eyes were wide with alarm and warning.

  “Please,” Isadore didn’t know what exactly she was supposed to ask and went with the most direct. “Can you clean him up?”

  He saluted her with an overly jovial smile. “Why yes ma’am, I most certainly can.”

  Smile vanishing just as quickly, Caliber yanked Ruin up by his shirt and Isadore reached a hand toward him, wanting to help or comfort somehow. The man placed a broad palm on Ruin’s chest. “Good night, dear friend.” Caliber slammed him to the ground and a white dense light exploded around them, through him, out of him. Then he patted Ruin’s chest and stood, raking his disheveled hair back with a hand. “I’ll go fetch the truck. He’ll be out for a while. And he’ll wake in a bit of pain.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Caliber vanished, leaving Isadore alone with Ruin who lay like a dead man on the ground. She hurried to him and put his head in her lap while looking all around. The insane events suddenly rushed in for her mind, ready to make her into that crazy woman she always feared of one day becoming. Isadore focused on his face, not on the reality, not on the insanity. She stroked and felt the smooth skin, the sharp stubble of his beard, wondering if it grew or just stayed that length. She didn’t recall him shaving. Look at him, so peaceful in sleep. “Guess that wasn’t so bad, was it?” She rocked him a little, looking both ways on the bridge, hoping Caliber hurried. “A little strange, I give you that.” She smoothed his brows next, allowing herself to be distracted with how he looked in a coma-deep sleep. He didn’t look scary at all. Nearly . . . innocent. Panic welled up again, tugging at her mind, wanting to steal it. She rejected the things that were too painful to bear, too strange to contemplate. And she especially rejected any thoughts about the man floating somewhere below the bridge in the dark waters of some unknown river, missing his brains and his soul. But she did allow herself to remember one thing. That Valkrin had caused it, and Ruin . . .

  She shook her head. Not Ruin. Not JD. He didn’t do that, he didn’t. She chose to study the full mouth before her. His lips curved just a little at the edges and she allowed herself to think about what they felt like when he kissed her and . . . did those other things that . . .

  Shit. She didn’t need guilt right now but it was hard not to feel it. Heaven and Hell were . . . well, they were intimate company lately weren’t they? Hard not to think about things one did which would determine eternal residence in one or the other? She tore her eyes from his mouth and looked for something insignificant and less lusty. Soon, tears gathered in her eyes as everywhere her gaze went made her . . . horny like a hell-bound-whore. She was so doomed. Caught up in a supernatural conspiracy circus of good and evil. Mostly evil. And she was pretty sure she was in desperate lust with some form of a devil-man-angel person with the most beautiful body that begged her without words to give herself to him in any way, shape or form at any given time of the bloody day. This was not fair, this could not be fair, or legal. She could literally not resist him—that was like, force and that wasn’t fair!

  Finally, the familiar rumble of her truck sounded and she dried her eyes only they refused to dry. She gave up and let the tears run free as Caliber came to a quick stop next to her, hopped out, lifted Ruin in his arms like he were light as a feather then turned and laid him in the back of the truck.

  Isadore really wanted to ask Caliber questions, but she couldn’t leave him. “I’ll . . . ride with him, make sure he doesn’t hit his head.”

  “Suit yourself.” Caliber climbed in the truck.

  The drive back was quick. Turns out they only seemed to have walked twenty miles, not two. She climbed out the back of the truck and looked around, glad it was dark and vacant as Caliber carried Ruin into his room.

  Isadore followed him in and watched him lay him on the bed, fixing his hands over
his stomach then straightening. “Don’t touch his tattoos during cleansing, just to avoid possible misfiring in the reset.”

  “Reset?”

  “Yeah,” Caliber nodded at Ruin’s body, “I had to reset his control panel.”

  Fear gripped Isadore. “Is he . . . a robot?”

  Caliber’s forehead crimped as if he’d never heard such nonsense. “Of course not. His tattoos are like the code to his soul and what happened back there was like . . . ” he widened his eyes, “ . . . a malware?”

  “Like a virus?”

  “A spiritual one, yes.”

  “Contagious?” She regarded Ruin.

  “Yes and no. Can be transferred through literal touch or exposure to its power and cannot be transferred to those who are immune.”

  “Am . . . I immune?”

  “Yes and no again. You’re immune as long as you’re not susceptible.”

  “Umm.”

  “As long as you keep yourself pure and clean, you’re immune.”

  “Oh God,” she moaned, doomed. “I’m not perfect.”

  “Never said perfect, I said clean and pure. Watch yourself, live according to the faith you profess, and you’ll be fine.”

  She nodded, swallowing, wanting to cry at how impossible that was with Ruin. But she’d try, she had to. “I’ll do what it takes.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  He turned as though he’d leave and Isadore nearly panicked. She should ask questions for Ruin. “What . . . can I do for him? To make this easier?”

  Caliber scratched his head, regarding Ruin with a most unfortunate look. “When he wakes he’s not going to remember much of anything. And he’ll be sore as shit.”

  “For how long?” her heart raced and her stomach knotted. “Can I give him medicine?”

  “Nothing that would help, and things will come back to him in no time, I’m sure, with your help.” Huge smile.

  Isadore nodded with crossed arms, looking at Ruin, feeling like he was playing that last bit waaaaay down. “The cleansing takes how long?”