Exousia - The Patron Saints of the Damned -Book II

Megan jumped in front of the shotgun, never imagining that her brother would pull the trigger. But there was something inside of him that did not see her. It was focused on one thing, one action. For a moment, she thought that she might have made a mistake. Maybe she should have wrestled her brother to the ground. But she understood that something more than their lives was at stake. She didn’t know what corruption was, but she knew that she couldn’t let it happen to her brother. She couldn’t let him kill his friends … or Exousia.

Then Brennan’s hand twitched, there was a deafening explosion, and his body was sent flying backward. He landed on the ground and didn’t move. His hand was a mangled pile of flesh with a finger dangling in the dirt. Blood poured from his face and from his chest, and black burn marks scorched the skin there.

Megan stood breathless, unable to move or breathe. Her knees eventually buckled beneath her and she had to crawl so that she was next to her brother. She tried to remember her first aid training, but she didn’t know where to start.

“Megan?” Brennan said, looking around. He looked lost, like he couldn’t see. But all of the weirdness that had been in them while he was screaming before was gone.

“You stupid idiot!” Megan screamed. She felt hot tears stream down her face. She awkwardly tried to wrap her brother’s mangled hand in his shirt so she could carry him without making it worse.

“Gah!” Brennan screamed and pushed her away. “No! Megan, listen to me. Listen! You can’t help me … you remember what we learned about accidents. You get help first, don’t move the patient.”

“Fuck you, Brennan!” Megan shouted and slapped him lightly on the back of the head. She felt a little sorry for it, but the fear and anger that she felt compelled her to do something. So, she tried to figure out where the most bleeding was coming from. If she could stop that, maybe then she could get help.

Brennan didn’t retaliate or fight back. He used his remaining hand and placed it on her wrist. “You can’t help me any more than you have. I didn’t want you to. I wanted to be responsible and take care of you for once.”

“You’re my baby brother, Brennan!” Megan said, hitting him in the shoulder without any strength. “I have to take care of you. I have to get you out of here.”

“Get an ambulance,” Brennan said, but the way he said it wasn’t convincing. It was like he was trying to trick her into going because he knew he wouldn’t make it. And he seemed to pick up on this as well, so his face became even more somber than before. “Please … get Jodie to the hospital before the poison …”

“Jodie?” Megan said, utterly confused. Why did her brother think that he was poisoned? Or … maybe the better question was what had happened while she’d been distracted? She shook her head and said, “We have to fight those monsters. We can’t let them win.”

“It’s not our fight,” Brennan replied. He tried to sit up to look at her, but his body spasmed and he gasped in pain. “Don’t stay here for her; there’s nothing you can do.”

The moment was paused when Jodie coughed with violent force that doubled him over and caused his face to turn red. They continued for nearly a minute before they turned into retching and painful groans into the hand he used to cover his mouth. When he finally removed his hand, he revealed a handful of blood that was now smeared around his face. He struggled to remain standing, swaying back and forth.

Sam pulled one of his arms around his shoulder. “Jodie was the one who was poisoned!” he said, straining under the weight. He had to shove the kitchen knife into the back of his pants.

“Please!” Brennan said through his labored breathing. His eyes were frantic, and he looked all around at something that was invisible to the rest of them. His head collapsed, and his body began to tremble.

Megan looked around and, for the first time, felt lost. No, she still had to fight, still had to keep this horror from ever happening to anyone again! She stood on shaky feet.

“It’s over … all of you should go,” Exousia said, her words barely a whisper. She was … telling the truth. She wasn’t trying to win her Challenge anymore. She had lost.

Oddly, this made Megan feel as if the wind had been knocked out of her; everything they’d gone through had been for nothing. There was only one thing left, to get her brother’s friends to safety. For whatever little that was worth if the world was now really going to end.

-O-

Exousia felt lightheaded, and the world felt like it went silent around her. In her mind, she replayed everything that had happened once and then again. She knew she was missing something, the key to how she had lost the Challenge. But she could not find the missing piece of the puzzle. It made her feel angry and confused, just like the child she’d been before the lesson with the pocket knife. What had she done wrong?

Ammon, in the form of that albino wolf, appeared from the ether and stepped before her. He held a strong and determined expression, characterized by a spark in his eyes that could indicate nothing other than victory. Yet, there was a terrible somberness to the way he walked and the way he said, “Now, the fight for freedom may come.”

“How did you do it?” Exousia asked, though she barely had the breath to do so.

“You shouldn’t feel shame at your loss,” Ammon said. He sounded like a parent, empathetic. But he’d known that the situation would play out as it had.

“How!” Exousia growled.

Ammon exhaled deeply, reluctantly answering the question with a great deal of thought. “I’ve trained you to be my equal in every way. As such, I realized that I had to devise a challenge that was simple, one that provided me with only a singular option for my success. A challenge tailored specifically for you to fail.”

“Not … for the humans to fail,” Exousia said, noting his choice of words.

Ammon nodded. “The Challenge was never about corrupting the humans, though that may have been an unimportant parameter of it. Nor was any trap or obstacle designed for their harm or destruction. I instructed dream gods to trap you in your unconscious memories, ones you long since buried. Then, I used physical reminders of your childhood—the tree where you lost your home and the table that caused your first fit of rage. These were then tied together with the religious and mythical symbolism so rooted in your subconscious mind.”

“To remind me of the part of myself that’s-” Exousia could not bring herself to utter the last word. She couldn’t because she refused to believe it was possible. She was not human; she was a demon. And she’d trained herself to be more in control of her mind and emotions than any other demon she knew!

Ammon shook his head empathetically, looking as if he wanted to give her a hug but was staying back out of some kind of … respect. “I gave you an opportunity to prove that you are something more than the broken child filled with rage that you were so long ago. Because … you truly are more than that. And after that, all that was needed was to create a situation in which the humans were an inadvertent threat to one another, which could have happened in a dozen different ways.”

“I am a demon!” Exousia shouted, her voice carrying to a supernatural decibel that shook the leaves of the trees around them, causing them to fall. Her eyes went black, and she curled his hands so that they became like claws.

But Ammon was not intimidated. He had probably planned the confrontation out a million times in his head and accounted for every possibility. “You are … as well as a god … and though you fight it … a human. And you are also the Woodcutter–in the most classic sense of that old fable. You fought my incarnations of the big bad wolf and did all you could to cut through me to save a human you cared for from being swallowed up by a beast. You fought to save these humans from corruption instead of driving them to suicide like any other demon would have. You succeeded in that goal … and failed the Challenge as any being with any sort of heart would have. By a technicality. My stipulations … I may not kill you … and you may not kill any of the humans.”

Exousia suddenly felt weak. She’d been tricked into killing Brennan. She’d failed … and it was not just a personal failure. She’d thrown all the world into a cosmic war that would only end in destruction. And it was all because of her own worthless … humanity.

Ammon looked to his right and left as the shadows lined up at his sides. He seemed to regard them with distrust, and so changed his speaking to a psychic language so that they couldn’t hear. “I knew that I would lose control of myself, and that the madness within me would try to destroy you if it could. I had to enlist the help of weak-willed and petty demons who would not oppose that madness in its desire to crush you. I also had to trust that you would be strong enough to fight them all. You were strong enough … and the spirit inside of you kept you from sacrificing yourself for a technical victory.”

“So, you win … like you always knew you would against a pathetic human!” Exousia whispered, tears welling.

Ammon stepped forward and reached out a trembling paw. When he saw it, however, he shook his head and backed up again. He looked between it and her, near-frantically for a moment. “No, Exousia … you … you don’t understand … and the madness within me is not going to afford me the time I need to explain it. For now, you need to run!”

Eleven demons in the shapes of wolves had lined up alongside their leader, whose eyes were quickly being lost to madness. The madness and these demons who followed it did not care about the victory. All the madness would want was vengeance … for the countless souls bound to Ammon who Exousia had killed.

That was fine with Exousia, however, because now she wanted the same. Perhaps it was the remnants of the magic running through her, but she craved the violence she would soon inflict upon the abomination that had caused her so much pain. She may have failed the Challenge, but that didn’t mean that her enemy couldn’t be destroyed. The laws of demons did not apply to a pathetic human like her.

Heavy footsteps caught Exousia’s attention right before she attacked. Something behind her had given pause to the approaching demons. She turned in time to see a gray wolf leap over her head and land in front of her. Its battle-ready posture and bared teeth dared the other demons to attack.

Dufaii.

The demons looked at one another with uncertain expressions, for a moment. Then, the hulking frame of Ammon’s albino wolf forced its way through them. The way it moved was not graceful, but rapid and vicious. It didn’t seem to care about the presence of its allies. Wild-eyed, the wolf howled something that was entirely unlike the tonal song of a wolf, and far closer to a dog’s pained cry. The others took this as a battle-cry and charged, breaking immediately into sprints.

Dufaii used his massive jaws to grab the first wolf by the back of its neck. Once he’d latched on, he jerked his head and broke its neck instantly. The second demon he gripped by the throat and tore the flesh clean away. But these first two attacks were enough of a distraction for three others to latch their jaws upon him and jerk their heads in violent gestures, ripping flesh apart and spilling black blood.

Exousia roared and pulled her staff from her back. She lunged forward and swung the thick end down like a hammer that cracked one attacker’s skull. With another move, she lifted the staff over her head and brought it down like a spike that impaled the spinal cord of another, right below its shoulders. A third demon loosened its grip in time to catch the handle of her staff in its mouth as she swung. It pulled at the weapon viciously, expecting a struggle that would have sent Exousia flying.

Exousia released the weapon and grasped the black dagger that was in her pocket. With a quick motion, she crushed the demon’s skull with the handle. The blow was enough to send blood gushing from the wound, and the demon to stumble and sway drunkenly. Exousia then looked around for the albino wolf but saw something else.

The humans were trying to collect their own fallen, Brennan and Jodie. Derrick was pulling Megan to her feet, trying to get her to move towards the house and away from the battle. But Jodie was pointing Sam towards the wolves, jabbing his knife like he was going to fight in his condition. And Sam actually looked like he was considering it. After being pulled to her feet, Megan looked towards her as well.

Exousia felt her eye twitch involuntarily as a shudder and sickly feeling of revulsion struck her. Not at them … but rather at herself. Exousia pushed past the feeling and shouted, “Get to the house!”

They froze, obviously still considering joining her side.

Exousia used telepathy and met Dufaii’s eyes. “Take the humans through the house and around the treeline to safety. I’ve got a plan.” It was a partial truth … a misleading one. She knew how to get her enemies’ attention but had no idea what would come after that. Exousia then made a hand motion to indicate to the humans that they should follow the gray wolf.

Both the humans and Dufaii looked about equally unsure.

Exousia turned away before any of them could read her thoughts or even facial expression. She didn’t want them to know that she didn’t know what to do. More than that, she didn’t know how to look at Dufaii after having failed him and all of his kind. Another shudder went through her.

Fortunately, Dufaii did lead the humans back into the house. He probably thought that the challenge was still going. Maybe it was better to let him go on believing that for now.

Exousia slowly backed towards it as well, giving them a moment as she again whispered words of doom and of the imminent destruction of life. She kept eye contact with the demons as tendrils of material darkness rose around her. Then, they charged. Exousia caught at least four in her magic, tearing them apart until they were heaps of gore left to fall in unrecognizable heaps on the ground. However, the rest were too fast for her to concentrate on all at once. And they were getting close!

Exousia dashed through the doors and extended a hand toward the refrigerator. Her tendrils of darkness rose from the shadows of the kitchen, wrapped around the fridge, and quickly dragged it in front of the front door.

Immediately, several wolf-like bodies threw themselves against the other side door, causing the wooden frame to explode in a rain of splinters. But the door wasn’t the only problem; there were several crashes as massive bodies jumped through windows all over the house.

Exousia looked around and sent the tendrils to search the area around her for something she could use as a weapon. As the tendrils went, she could feel and sense whatever they touched as if they were hyper-sensitive extensions of her own skin that rose from the ground. Through one of them, she touched cold metal. This turned out to be a propane tank. With the tendril, Exousia turned the knob, causing a hissing sound and a pungent odor to fill the room.

A demon forced its head through the door to the foyer. Then there was a grinding sound coming from above. This lasted about a few seconds before a hole appeared in the ceiling, along with a giant paw. Two others snarled from somewhere in the back of the house and the living room.

Exousia ran into the kitchen and looked for any way to escape. The only thing she saw was a small window that led outside, located at the furthest end of the kitchen. It didn’t look like it would open and was paneled with a cross-section of wood. So, she sent the dark tendrils through it like an explosion of blackness. All the while she sprinted to the window, reached into her pocket for two baggies, and jumped. While in mid-jump, she tossed the content of the two baggies over her shoulder. The air caught fire immediately, and the room erupted with flames before an explosion rocked the old house.

-O-

Dufaii limped down the dark, old clay driveway while demons poured into the abandoned human home. He hadn’t expected to be sent away on another task so quickly after completing his first one, and his head was reeling. He felt agitated, jumpy, and impatient. This only became worse as the forest gradually thinned on both sides of the driveway. The sounds of cars engines became louder. Break-lights and headlights lit the clay driveway with a dull white and red glow. The air began to move, and weeds could be seen growing in the compact clay of the abandoned road. The populated street was about a half-mile away from the house, and they had nearly reached it.

The humans were to his right, and one of them had been poisoned. A putrid but nearly undetectable smell like old blood, an infected sore, and feces was coming from his breath. It would be surprising if he survived. Dufaii would have abandoned these humans, were it not for two critical issues. The first was that he was sure that Exousia would not have sent him away with them were it not integral to the Challenge. The second issue was that he was now being followed by several presences that were careful to keep themselves hidden from him. He had seen them out of the reflections in the humans’ eyes. And the fact that they were not impeding the humans’ retreat told him that they weren’t the target.

Likely, these were the same loyalists as before. And like before, they still wanted him as far away from Exousia as possible. Well, they would soon be out of luck.

In a matter of minutes, Dufaii and the humans reached the busy road. Dufaii ran into the middle of the road, headlights illuminating him from both sides. Car breaks screeched, one vehicle landed in a ditch, and there was one minor collision from a car hitting the back of another. Glass shattered and was followed by the muffled sounds of various humans screaming and cursing. He then ran back to where he’d left the teenagers and then indicated with a sway of his head that they needed to join their kind.

However, the human girl looked back at the woods with the same look in her eyes. Part of her was thinking about going back.

“Go!” Dufaii whispered into her thoughts. He forced his way into his mind with the psychic powers he’d rarely used.

The girl’s eyes glazed over and she continued onto the road with the others.

Dufaii changed to his demonic form and then began to look along the tree-line for movement. He had to take the loyalists out before they could seriously impede him through injury. But the woods were still, and there was nobody to attack.

Suddenly, the sound of an explosion filled the woods, and light illuminated the trees just long enough for him to identify a single shadow that was out of place.

Dufaii grabbed a blade, which was strapped to his left arm, and threw it into the shadow. As soon as he had released it, he took flight in the same trajectory and unsheathed his sword. The knife went through metal and into flesh, and he used his sword to splinter the branch that the shadow held onto.

The shadow fell to the ground, smashing several branches on the way down. In response, six more shadows attacked from the surrounding tree-tops. Sure enough, they had golden eyes and wore the same blue robes as the loyalists that had attacked before.

Dufaii folded his wings and dropped to the ground. Upon landing, he immediately kicked his body back several feet from the point of impact.

The loyalists jabbed their swords into the empty space where he had initially fallen. They recovered and formed a half-circle around him. Not missing a beat, they lunged.

Instead of using his sword, Dufaii reached into one of his pockets, pinched a mixture of dried chemicals, and tossed it at them in a small dust cloud.

There was a moment of coughing, followed by the smell of burning flesh as they screamed in agony and clutched their melting faces. This agony quickly transformed into rage and a chaotic series of blind attacks.

Dufaii stepped backward, out of the way of their swords, and then shattered several of their blades with a swing of his own. He expected them to be ready to fall into a defensive formation for blind fighting, as the Archangel Michael trained. But these loyalists were an unorganized mess of coughing, screaming, and blind attacking with broken weapons. It was odd … and completely off. Any rank of warrior would have been trained to react methodically to such an attack and had been for millennia. But these well-trained archers and scouts had been caught entirely unprepared for this kind of attack? They couldn’t have been associated with Michael at all!

Dufaii didn’t have time to pursue this question further. He impaled, hacked at wings, and shattered joints until their physical forms were totally incapacitated. Then, he sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him back to Exousia.