Exousia - The Patron Saints of the Damned -Book II

Chapter 32

Brennan walked downstairs, into a room that nobody else had entered. The walls of were covered in light-pink wallpaper that was bubbling and peeling in several places. There was carpet in this room, a dusty white material that matched the faded white lace that adorned the bed, closets, and dressers. It looked like a little girl’s room from a few decades passed.

But his attention was quickly drawn to the far wall. A clothed and slightly fleshed skeleton was pinned to the wall, gripping a metal rod that had severed its spine. This rod had kept the body in place—about a foot too high to be sitting on the ground. Frayed pieces of old rope ropes were scattered about, and brown blood stained the white carpet.

Brennan felt a sickly feeling. He moved to sit down on the bed. But when he lowered himself on it, something solid and brittle cracked beneath his backside as he sat. He immediately jumped, leaned over, and vomited bile and fruity flesh onto the carpet. He tried to vomit again but did not manage. Eventually, he forced himself to turn around to see what he had sat upon. Pink sheets rested over two small bumps, the size of small children. One of those two forms had been crunched under his weight.

With a shaky hand, Brennan removed the sheets to reveal two tiny skeletons with bony hands resting on their chests. One wore a faded green dress, and the other wore a faded pink dress–both with blood-stained cuts over where their hearts would have been.

Brennan felt a strange pang of guilt for having crushed the skeleton, even though he knew that the feeling was ridiculous. Still, he was unable to look away or move. Once again, he could not help but wonder what in the world he was supposed to be doing. Was the Woodcutter a monster that needed to be put down, or was she a saint? Had she killed all of them because they had a piece of the albino wolf’s soul within them? Just like … just like he did?

Brennan doubled over, trying to gasp for breath. He hadn’t meant to become some kind of monster! It had all been to protect his friends … and to not just be a bullet like the substitute teacher had said. And he’d accepted a piece of some monster inside his heart, he’d broken one friend’s mind, and poisoned another with absolutely no assurance that they would get to a hospital in time. Who would he hurt next? What if it was Megan? He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt his sister like that. He’d rather die than do that to her!

Die … it was an option that Brennan had not yet considered. Then again, he’d never sold a piece of his soul to a monster. He had taken the power to save his friends, and yet everything he’d done had hurt them more than it had helped.

David had understood what they were up against, and he’d decided to face death on his own terms rather than become a pawn in this game. He was the hero … the one person who understood what was going on around him.

With trembling hands and legs, Brennan walked around the room and began to sift through the many pieces of rope, until he found the longest strand. Then, he just looked at it … suddenly unsure of what he was capable of.

The Voice spoke after he had held on for several seconds. “If you do this, each and every one of your friends will die. Just look into their minds and see if they are in any condition to fight. See if they can do anything but be herded like sheep and stand beside their shepherd, even as wolves surround them from every side and destroy them. I need your help. You are the key to his defeat without the corruption of your friends’ souls. You are their only salvation from eternal torment—a fate more terrible than any agony they can face in this life.”

Brennan stopped and considered the implications. But the problem was that he now knew by what he’d done to Marshal by entering his mind. Doing the same to the rest of his friends would rob what fighting chance they had left. Their souls would probably be easier to corrupt, and their fighting spirit taken away. He would doom them in every possible way.

“Brennan-”

“I’m done with you!” Brenna hissed as loudly as he dared. “I listened to you, and look where it got me. You’re not interested in saving my friends. You might care less than the Woodcutter if that’s possible! I’m finished listening to your lies. My friends have nothing to do with your damn war, your damn contest, or any of the fucking rest.”

There was silence.

Brennan had one thing left to do before he ended his part in all this. He had to go to Marshal and at least try to fix the damage he’d caused in his friend’s psyche. If he could do that, at least he could redeem himself for one sin. And if he couldn’t … he wouldn’t hurt anyone else after. With his mind made, he went back to the foyer of the house.

Marshal sat with his back against the door, a piece of wood at his side. His head hung in a defeated posture, and he looked unsteady. He turned and their eyes locked.

Brennan created a connection between their minds. Like before, he felt like he was being hit with a massive wave that crashed against his entire body. This time, however, the impact caused him to stumble and fall backward into a wall, swallow water, and gasp for breath. Then he felt his body being dragged under by a riptide, filling him with the sensations of unceasing fury, hopelessness, and surrender to a pain deep within himself. For a moment, he felt like he would literally drown, so he gasped for breath. This breath pushed the despair out of himself and back into his friend.

Without knowing how, Brennan could feel himself purging all his fear, guilt, and shame. They were being sucked into the matching emotions within Marshal rather than remaining within Brennan. The only emotion for which there was no match within Marshal to drain from him was the rage. And it made Brennan feel increasingly more powerful as rage became all that was left.

Brennan drew in a fiery breath and broke the psychic connection. He slid down the kitchen wall, and then pressed his fingers to his temples as he collapsed onto the floor. His mind was now cold and calculating. The Voice had been lying–using him! There was only one way that the monsters were going to let this challenge end without the death or corruption of his friends.

The Woodcutter had to die!

-O-

Exousia stood and waited while sunset became twilight. She placed her staff on her back so that she was not tempted to lean on it and drift off again. It wasn’t long before she saw movement coming from the house.

Megan was the first to exit the house, stepping onto the porch and rubbing her elbow as walked over. She folded her arms, her elbow touching Exousia’s arm. Her face was more tired than it had been before entering. She said, “My brother and his friends will be coming out soon. I just … needed a minute. Sorry.”

Exousia wanted to pull away from her, to hold onto her cold determination of hours before. But she found herself frozen in place. She couldn’t find it within herself to pull her arm away. She … didn’t want to be alone.

Then, the door of the house creaked open again.

Megan pulled away and walked toward the others. Her back, neck, and shoulders tightened and her back straightened so that she stood tall. It was a physical show of confidence for the other humans.

Exousia found herself unable to keep from watching her, feeling a pang she couldn’t place.

One human after another exited the building, each carrying different makeshift weapons. These would do little more than put them in the mindset to do what they needed to survive, but that was worth it for the time she’d spent waiting. All but one of the teenagers made their way to where she stood.

“Where’s Marshal?” Jodie asked, looking at his friends. His forehead wrinkled with lines of concern.

Nobody answered, each of them looking at the other in turn. So, they all turned around and began to walk back. But they stopped when they heard a crash come from the house. Then, they could only watch as something swayed in front of the door, hanging by a rope that was tied to the second floor banner. They all stopped breathing for a moment, and there was an air of profound emptiness.

Megan started to walk toward the house.

But Jodie put a hand on her shoulder. It had been too far of a jump … and Marshal was not struggling from any kind of loss of air.

Exousia … has no idea what to say. Like all the others, she just stood there in the heavy, terrible silence. Until yet another sound put all her nerves on edge.

It was the loud click of a gun.

-O-

As Brennan cocked his shotgun, he watched the shadow of Marshal’s body swing back and forth. He remembered that hanging had been his own idea. It had been his idea to tie the rope to the banister, in front of the door. He tried to tell himself that it was a coincidence, but he knew that this wasn’t the truth. All he could do was to put the matter in the back of his mind and let his rage push him forward. He shouted, “Woodcutter!”

The Woodcutter turned around faced him, her eyes no longer passive or pensive. Her eyes became dark, and it seemed like she might’ve been channeling whatever power it was she had demonstrated before.

Brennan trembled from the raw anger coursing through him like a nest of hornets. He promised these hornets, these thoughts and screams, blood if only they would help him. Perhaps left to their own devices, they would have made him lose control. But no … something within him had taken the reins. It fueled in him a sharper focus than ever before. He became aware of everything around him as a dozen entities whispered inside his skull. Some of them focused on his opponent–her emotional weaknesses, her physical weaknesses, her potential actions. Some others looked at his friends and whispered the words that would persuade them to various courses of action. And the rest landed their power to him.

Knowing exactly the right words, Brennan said, “What happens if I kill you?” His words came out clear and sharp.

The Woodcutter didn’t seem to know how to react at first. She stood still, studying her newest threat. It looked like maybe she was trying to read him with her own psychic powers. But Brennan did not allow this; he sent up a wall of static to shield himself from her gaze.

“Brennan, you know there’s something else going on,” Megan said, pointing at the woods. “You’ve seen what’s out there waiting for us. If those creatures go to war and make the rest of the world like this forest, what’s the point of even leaving?”

“The world isn’t hanging on what a few stupid kids do out in the woods,” Brennan said, the entire picture becoming clearer as he spoke. “And if it does … then maybe it’s stupid enough that it needs to just die. But I’m not going to let us die over this fucking thing that has nothing to do with any of us!”

The Woodcutter studied him with a cold glare, no longer trying to see into his mind. She was trying to solve the puzzle using traditional observation. This seemed to be a place where she felt like she was in control. If she was going to lose, the situation had to manipulated away from the realm of strategy and calm. It had to be made emotional … chaotic.

“Answer the question or I will,” Brennan said. He then turned to face his sister, an implied threat which had a result that was surprising even if it shouldn’t have been.

A vein on the Woodcutter’s temple became slightly more visible. The change was so minute that it would have easily been missed without Brennan’s new powers. Finally, she replied, “The Challenge would be over–won or lost based on whether this is you acting of your own accord … or at the manipulation of something else. The wolves will leave you to live out the rest of your lives. The problem …”

Brennan pulled the trigger, releasing a blast that made his ears ring and his vision become momentarily tunneled with the adrenaline. He struggled to see whether his bullets found their mark because there was nothing in his line of sight. But then, he felt the gun being forced away from him. He held on until the momentum sent him falling forward into the dirt.

“The problem is that I won’t let that happen,” The Woodcutter said, her face and body had become shadows that were only partially materialized. She seemed to glide over the dirt to cover the distance between them.

Brennan felt the voices in his head scramble and buzz like insects being electrocuted and trying to escape from the monstrous creature approaching. He tried to scramble to his feet, but his arms and legs did not listen to him. They all made their own autonomous motions, as if the different entities inside of him were all trying to take control in a state of panic. A part of him wanted to scream for help from the darkness of the woods. But he knew that even if the Voice did answer, he wanted nothing of its aid either.

The Woodcutter lifted him by his shirt and pinned him to a tree, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Her eyes and mouth were both abysses of black. nearly imperceptible tendrils of darkness floated around her. “I will kill all of your friends if I have to. I will not allow a war to come, and there is nothing you will do to stand in my way!”

Brennan’s heart raced, and he nearly blacked out from a mix of his own terror and that of the entities inside of him. He had lost every advantage: the gun, the element of surprise, the power of the voices, even his ability to think.

But then, Brennan … Brennan alone … noticed that something was wrong. The Woodcutter had never demonstrated anger like this. Throughout their journey, the Woodcutter had made it abundantly clear that she did not care about any of them. Not if they lived, not if they died. So long as they weren’t lost to corruption , whatever that meant. Even at the tree, her aggression had mostly been a show of power. But … if she hadn’t shown such immense emotions before … why would she suddenly rage out now? There was only one possible reason.

“Exousia, let him go!” Megan shouted, rushing to their sides. Her brown eyes were large, beaming a mix of terror and rage as her voice cracked. She began to pry the Woodcutter’s arm away, managing it surprisingly quickly.

The Woodcutter looked like she’d been hit with a stun gun. She seemed unable to fight her, but she couldn’t let the scene end either. She took a step back and then turned his back on them. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s go!” she growled.

But Brennan had seen everything he needed to. Inside him, all the furies had come alive with the wrath dogs who smelled fear on their prey. And now that they saw an opening, they were going to go in for the kill. His senses again became sharp, and his muscles grew more substantial. An energy filled him like he’d never known before. Through all of this, he immediately knew how he could save his sister and his friends. All he had to do … was give in to the darkness that had beckoned ever since he’d entered the woods.

Doing so … it was much like the bliss of sleep.

-O-

Exousia turned her back on the humans, trying to compose herself. She couldn’t shake the way that Megan had looked at her with such reproach. But she couldn’t stop … they were so close to the end. Brennan had been disarmed and no longer a threat. All they needed was a flame wall or equally potent magic at their back, and they could make it! But then Exousia saw something and froze.

Brennan’s face was contorted, his lips curled into a sneer while the upper half of his face glared with fury. The expression was eerily familiar, that of absolute madness. And his eyes … they were black. No … no, no, no! When had he taken a piece of Ammon’s heart? The dreams of the past, the mind games, they had to have all been a distraction, a ploy to make her miss it!

Now, Brennan’s eyes shone with a power …. and madness that had already infected his friends. But no … Brennana wasn’t there anymore. With a dozen voices, his body said, “You’re too late, Exousia. This little human asked us to take care of things and wake him when it was over.” They spoke with a mocking tone and then let out a cackle.

Exousia shook her head repeatedly, as if trying to stir something loose. She was missing something, she had to be! The Challenge couldn’t be over. Exousia sensed no demons in the immediate vicinity … only the faint trace of Ammon within the soul of Brennan. The rest seemed to be watching passively from a distance. It was like … they had no reason to devote energy to fighting her because she’d already lost.

“Brennan!” Megan shouted, running up to him. She slapped his face repeatedly, creating an echo from the impact. “Let my brother go!”

But Ammon’s madness laughed at her attack. “He left you to rot, you little bitch.”

“No,” Exousia said, shaking her head again. “He’s still in there. He cared about his friends and his sister. If he’s gone, then it’s because he wanted you to kill me! His soul isn’t corrupt, he’s just a fool!”

“Maybe,” Ammon’s madness replied, causing their host body to tap his chin in a thoughtful expression. It continued to circle around. “Though I imagine there’s a way to check. He’s still in here, watching. You make me wonder if he would-”

Exousia sprung forward, realizing what it was doing only too late.

Ammon’s madness sprinted for the weapon, grabbed it, cocked the second barrel, and aimed it at Megan. It lifted its hand to warn against attack and said, “Are you still in there Brennan? Want to come out and play?” Then its face contorted, its hands began to shake, and a blue shimmer returned to its eyes. Shakily, it turned the weapon so that it was aimed at Exousia and the other humans behind him. If she dodged again, several of them would be hit by the bullets!

“Brennan! Brennan, it’s you! You can stop this!” Sam shouted, and his voice cracked.

But this half-dazed Brennan ignored him. His face took on an expression of loathing. “Do you all think I’m stupid? I know what killing her will do. But I’m not going to let that a bitch get the satisfaction of sacrificing David and Ted to win her fucking game!” The muscles in his fingers twitched.

Megan jumped in front of the barrel.

Exousia screamed a demon word to trigger a well of hateful magic inside of him. He reached out his hand, creating a shadow that was darker even than the forest under the evening sky. The tentacle once belonging to an elder god fell upon the barrel of the gun. Exousia squeezed her fist, twisting the metal right as the hammer fell.

An explosion rang out, as the fired shot into the crushed barrel sent shrapnel flying mostly into Brennan’s body. He flew backward and rolled into the dirt. His body shuddered for several moments as the life slowly drained from his body.

Exousia watched, panting heavily and fighting her instinct to finish the attack. She felt rage pulsate through her veins and she had to direct her wrath at the old house. She slashed at it several times, letting out guttural roars as she carved roofing and paneling from it. Then Exousia was able to control herself again.

Megan kneeling over her fallen brother, and their friends had circled around. But something else had also begun to surround them.

Demons.