Lightbringer - The Patron Saints of the Damned III

Despite her apprehension, Exousia found herself moving toward the source of the screaming. Once past the crows, she saw an older-looking demon screaming as loudly as he could. He had the face like a dragon with a scaly beard and a body that looked to have once matched its countenance in ferocity. But the years in Hell had worn on the creature, leaving him looking bloated around his belly and frail in his limbs. His hands clutched his chest, where something yellow was boring through his chest–a fleshy tumor. Black blood poured from his chest, as the growth slowly pushed out. To a trained eye, there was also a brief silver glimmer before the blood covered it.

Exousia realized that she knew that glimmer; it was the one that connected the body and husk of a person to the shard of divine power. She had cut into many of them, dissecting some to free trapped souls and severing others to destroy immortal creatures. And the yellow color … it was like what she’d seen in Ammon’s heart and in those of his hybrid followers. Exousia turned and asked, “What will happen to him?”

Roach shook his head with a mix of pity and fear. “If he had gotten care faster, they could have soaked him in a tank of blood for a few years. We all have to do that from time to time. But he’s not taken care of himself … probably lives outside the city like the people we saw before. The growth will continue for a few months until he’s fully birthed one of those creatures. Then the pain and his weakened state will make him birth more … then more after that. So they’ll put him into comatose, seal him in a blood barrel permanently.”

“Why don’t they cut it out?” Exousia asked, feeling the dagger in her pocket.

“Cutting … into a soul?” Roach asked, looking up confused. Then, he shook his head.

Exousia snarled contemptuously at the situation, shook her head, and began to march towards the old demon. She felt an arm grab her wrist before she managed to get clear of the humans who had gathered to watch the scene.

“There are going to be demons soon, a lot of them!” Roach said and motioned towards the hospital door that the human aids were now headed towards. His eyes darted around fearfully, no doubt looking for Ammon’s followers.

“If you’re so scared, then go! I’m not,” Exousia said and roughly pulled her arm free. She pushed forcefully through the crowd until she was standing over the fallen demon. She crouched and removed her dagger from her pocket. She sensed a rapidly approaching demon presentence and barely managed to duck her head before a fist swung where it had been. She looked up and glared at her attacker, ready to fight.

A female demon with black armor, a beak, hooked claws, and red feathers all over her body met her glare. Her face and stance became less dire when she saw Exousia’s eyes. She then lifted her hands defensively. “You don’t have wings, and you look like-” she stammered before stopping herself short.

Exousia forced herself to take a deep breath. “Keep everybody clear of this area.”

The old dragon screamed again, clutching his chest. He seemed utterly unaware of what was going on around him, lost in his birthing pains. He continued on like this for several minutes while more demons arrived at the area. Fortunately, the demon that had initially attacked her kept them at bay.

Eventually, a demon arrived in brown robes. He had dull green skin and a sharp bone structure, likely close to what was his original angel form. But he had no hair, not on his body, his head, or even his face. His face was stern as he said, “I am Doctor Esse. Why are you perpetuating this scene and preventing my staff from bringing this demon into the hospital?” His tone carried power enough to intimidate anyone who might have had an inkling of insecurity.

“I’ve seen spiritual afflictions like his before,” Exousia said, staring the doctor down. She knew that if she showed any doubt or leniency, he would be perceived as weak and removed from the situation by force. “Tell me what would happen if we forcibly removed the piece of his soul that has succumbed to the plague.”

Doctor Esse seemed to think for it a moment. Of course, his face remained a doubtful scowl as he did. “If such a thing could be done, it’s could prevent the chain reaction that leads to more growths. He would be permanently weakened and require years of total blood immersion to stabilize him. But sealing him altogether might prove unnecessary. But who are you to propose such a thing? I know every demon in this realm and I’ve never met you.”

Exousia ignored him and wondered for a moment if she would really risk making this demon’s last few moments agonizing for just the chance at something better. For some curious reason, she found herself thinking about Ammon. It was no wonder that he was willing to risk it all with Hell in such a shape as this. Her nemesis understood all along and had repeated his fears that he was making a mistake–dooming them all. Yet, he’d gone forward with the Challenge anyways. But that was an act of a demon, wasn’t it? Facing certain destruction on principals for which one would lay down their life.

With that last lingering thought hanging in her mind, Exousia plunged her knife into the chest of the dragon demon before anyone could stop her.

-O-

The angel who had caught Megan, and who she now aimed her gun at, was the biggest person she’d ever seen–about half a head taller than even the demon in armor who had killed Exousia. His skin was a humanlike shade of black, his wings were like onyx, and his eyes were a brilliant gold. He was bald, unarmored, and carried only a small shield strapped to his arm, which he did not even bother to lift defensively.

The angel said, “My name is Gabriel, Guardian Archangel of all mortal life. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Megan stopped before she squeezed the trigger, remembering the name that she had heard from stories from her childhood. She shook her head, feeling like her perceptions of reality were still being steadily decimated. Her mind raced as she tried to piece things together, to find some medium between fictional tales and the living legend she saw before her. But nothing seemed to help … except for the steady fire of anger. She felt herself begin to lean on it; of everything that had happened, it was the one emotion that at least made sense. “Don’t lie to me, where is Exousia!” she asked, pointing the weapon more emphatically.

“As I said, I wish I knew,” Gabriel said with a gentle shake of his head. “By all accounts, she should be here. Her soul was certainly not corrupted and we still have vigilance of her corpse. But we’re not the only ones searching. We were surprised to find that many factions are also still searching for her. But no angels or demon informants of mine have seen her; she’s … nowhere to be found.”

“What about God?” Megan said, still not sure she believed a word of it. “Or the Creator or whatever. They’re supposed to know everything, right? They’re the one who got Exousia killed. They have to know!”

Gabriel nodded with what looked like empathy. “I imagine that this all seems very confusing to a human who is still among the living. Things here aren’t quite as simple as the stories told among humans might have led you to believe. The stories are just that–angels and demons alike have whispered truths and lies to your people for as long as your kind has known words. A specific deity enamored with our kind did not help matters either The stories have over time been further diluted by quests for personal gain, miscommunication, cultural influence, and natural evolution. The Creator is not the God you likely imagine. There is no being who is all-powerful … nor all-knowing. If there were, our universe would be nothing but a puppet reality.”

Megan felt suddenly stupid and naïve. Her face grew bright red, and she had to struggle just to open her mouth and ask, “What do you mean?”

Gabriel nearly responded but then stopped himself. “It isn’t fair of me to create a new illusion in your mind, even if it would be more accurate. Would it be alright if I simply showed you? I know you are determined to find your friend, and I promise that this would be a step in the right direction for you.”

Megan hesitated and then nodded her head. This was the person she had been told to trust, and he had shown every sign of being honest so far. So she said, “Alright.”

Gabriel gave a small smile and walked to the door. “I’d advise keeping your weapons hidden in your pockets. Exousia was the last living person who came through Heaven. As you may be able to imagine, she left my kind a little …wary.”

Despite herself, Megan nearly smiled at the thought of this … before feeling her eyes well just a little. How could she miss a person she’d known for such a small amount of time? Someone she had thought had been trying to kill her? Megan wasn’t sure, but she found herself missing the strange woman whose stubbornness had made her more than a handful … to humans and angels alike, it seemed.

Grabiel continued, “Don’t worry. I’ll walk ahead so you can shoot me in the back of it if you feel I’ve deceived you.”

Again, Megan felt foolish, though she knew that this had not been the angel’s intent. She put the gun into her jacket pocket and shifted the brass knuckles into her jean pockets. She followed him out the door and they began walking towards the city at the front of Heaven. As Megan walked, she saw angels flying overhead. They looked down when they first saw her and waved, but then looked away with seeming disinterest. She really was the least of their concerns. This reminded her to ask, “Where is Dufaii?”

Gabriel let out a soft sigh. “Likely, he had to be taken to a doctor. He attacked Archangel Michael and his strongest men. There are some … wounded emotions there. I doubt either of them fought with the restraint they should have. But then again, I am not a warrior like they are. Perhaps that’s the only way their kind can hope to find peace with the past.” The way he spoke about it was almost like he was thinking aloud as much as explaining it to her.

“I think I wish I had someone to fight,” Megan said, stifling a heavy sigh.

“You sound like Exousia once did,” Gabriel noted, turning to smile at her. “Not that the two of you are the same. But you have a similar amount of passion, which I often wish I could share. My difficulty comes in seeing the complexities in situations and people.”

Megan was not sure if the Archangel was trying to teach her or justify something to himself. The more he spoke, the more she suspected the latter.

Gabriel continued, “When you can put aside your feelings, your indignation over cruelty and injustice, you can simply look at matters in terms of how they are and how they could realistically be. You stop worrying about your own pain and that of the people around you, and start working on a way to resolve it at its ultimate source. Even if that means making everyone hurt more, or robbing yourself of the satisfaction of simple motivations.”

“You’re the one who sounds like Exousia,” Megan said, finding it odd how similarly the two of them spoke. She wondered if all angels and demons were this way.

“I’m afraid that a little too much of that may have rubbed off on Exousia the last time she was here,” Gabriel said, admittingly. Then he added, as an afterthought, “But I’m glad if she was able to use her new sense of introspection.”

Megan nodded though she didn’t know how to feel about this angel. She put the matter aside and looked around as they grew steadily closer to the city. As they went, Megan noticed the large number of angels and humans fully integrated with one another. As they went about their days, they all laughed and smiled. Groups were usually not segregated, and some even included beings that did not seem to be human or angelic. It was … good to see that the afterlife was not more of the same shitshow down below.

Eventually, Megan found herself with Gabriel, standing in front of the golden doors of a great domed building she’d seen in the distance. She asked, “Where are we?”

“The Holy of Holies,” Gabriel replied and led her up the steps. When he was close, the doors opened automatically, receiving them into a grand hall. He led her across a blue tile floor–painted to look like the night sky. The ceiling was the opposite, painted with clouds of various shapes and sizes, so vast and far away they almost seemed real. He stopped at the end of the room, where there were three open doors.

“I … shouldn’t speak with the Creator,” Megan said and tightened her grip on the handle of her gun. She remembered that they couldn’t be killed with a gun, which meant she had no reason to want to speak to the being who had brought so much pain into her life. There was also the fact that she had been told not to talk to them, but that almost seemed an afterthought. Perhaps … it was just the idea of being given the answers to her questions that made her not want to go in … that in fact might have scared her. If all of it had been for a good reason, would she still be able to feel the rage that was her only comfort against the grief at all she’d lost? Or if it wasn’t and the Creator was really a monster, what would she do if there was no way to make them pay? Either way, she imagined she might be … lost.

“I understand,” Gabriel said, with a solemn nod. “I can take you back home, if you like. But if you want to find your friend, this is the only way I know how.”

A chill went through Megan’s body, one of fear, rage, and sorrow. She knew what she had to do, face the evil thing that had done all this. She felt her eyes well with tears and stopped them by fiercely dug her fingernails into her own wrist until she felt only pain and anger. Then she began to walk forward.

“One last thing,” Gabriel said before she had left. “Hold on to your fire.”

Megan paused for a moment, not understanding what he had meant. She went ahead anyway and walked through the doorway. She found herself in a long hall and stopped only when she heard someone say something behind her–back where Gabriel had been.

“Who was that?” asked someone with a stern and feminine voice.

Megan crouched low, got against the wall, and returned to the doorway. There, she sat against the wall where she couldn’t be seen and listened in.

“A living human, helping Dufaii to find Exousia,” Gabriel said as if the matter were a minor one. “I sent her in to speak to the Creator.”

“A living human …” the second person replied, sounding tired. “Michael is in there, too. He wants answers to what happened during the Challenge. He’s not the only one. Abbhayananda, the keeper of Hell’s gates, has sent an official inquiry about it as well. Exousia’s disappearance is causing a disturbance just about everywhere. But nobody knows where she is! Ammon must have her, it’s the only explanation.”

“There is no way that Ammon could have forced Exousia’s soul into damnation,” Gabriel said, ever calm. “And if he had in his current state, we’d know. Exousia’s head would be on the proverbial pike by now. No, she has to be in hiding. She learned a great many magics after you set her on that course, perhaps she learned one to bind her spirit to another place. We need to figure it out, or the war ahead will be far more complicated than either of us wants. And I think Dufaii and this human named Megan are our best bet.”

“We can’t let Dufaii go,” the woman said, sounding scared. “He knows about me, about what we had planned to capture the demon generals before Ammon could fight the Creator. If he tells another demon or even Michael, everything we’ve done will be for nothing. We have to hide him until all this is over, even if that means dealing with other minor complications.”

Gabriel gave a long and disheartened sigh. “I’ll have Paya give the orders.” Then, there were footsteps, a loud groaning of the doors being opened, and then silence.

Megan felt her face become hot and her body sticky. Though it had been a passive rage that had filler her before, she now felt unbridled fury. Her heart raced, her body itched, and she felt her hands and feet become sweaty. She sprinted down the long hall, towards the Creator. Whoever Michael was, she was going to find him and tell him everything. It was the only way to find Dufaii and Exousia. And to get revenge against the beings who had been responsible for killing her brother.

-O-

Exousia broke through bone with her knife, sawing through with some difficulty from the bone and the black blood that occasionally spurted up at her. She had to remove the sternum to reveal the heart beating underneath. This proved even more difficult by the yellow fleshy tumor that grew between the demon’s ribs and out of his body, a sadist’s definition of a womb. All the while, she gritted her teeth and made every motion one of brutal purpose. Exousia knew that she had to act in such a way that no demon would try to stop her, for fear of their lives if nothing more. Were she a human, perhaps she would have prayed for success in this desperate endeavor so unlikely to succeed. But she was a demon, so her prayers were a brooding command not to fail.

“If this does not work, I will make sure you suffer for it,” Doctor Esse whispered in her ear.

Exousia swore under her breath … but soon revealed the heart. She cut into it immediately and elicited a scream from the demon. This would be too much with him screaming and moving as he was. Exousia whispered, “I’m sorry,” before plunging her dagger into his head–scattering his consciousness at least for a while.

Exousia’s continued cutting proved less delicate a procedure than opening up a human–even with his less precise tool and the tougher flesh. Working with an immortal being meant that she did not have to work with consideration of keeping him alive for as long as possible.

Exousia found that the tumor grew directly out of the soul. It was … nearly clean in its division, with only a blurred line between the silvery soul and the yellow embryonic sack. After she had cut it, however, she noticed the thinnest tendril of yellow light still deeper within. Perhaps this had been a mistake, Exousia worried as she swallowed. No, there was no time for doubt. With the tip of the knife, she did something she’d only seen Exousia and Ammon do–biopsy the soul. Splaying it open, she revealed a tangled mess that went all the way down to a shimmer of light in the center–the demon’s shard of the divine. This was the piece of the Creator that was the lifesource for every living thing–that which the husk of who they were was able to grow around.

Fishing and cutting out the yellow thread was like unearthing a plant and trying not to leave a single piece of root left. Which meant that Exousia had to use even her fingers to pick bits out–extending her own soul out past her fingers just as she had learned as a child, before she’d made her soul knife. Meanwhile, she knew that she had to do as little as possible to disturb the figurative dirt, as warping the husk of the demon’s soul might alter his body or mind beyond repair. Exousia worked steadily even as black blood dripped down from her brow, into her eyes. She had to ignore it, as well as the temptation to drink it in her grotesquely dehydrated state.

But, after what felt like hours, Exousia had dug out all of the root. Then, it was finished. She let herself fall backward and panted in exhaustion.

Dr. Esse jumped in, immediately afterward. He studied the wound for a great many minutes, while hundreds of demon and human onlookers starred in complete silence. He then beckoned to several other demons dressed in sterile-looking outfits, no doubt more medical staff.

Together, they all looked for what felt like half an hour, before Dr. Esse finally turned around and said, “He’s stabilizing.”

Exousia exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Dr. Esse continued, “We’ll have to keep him in a recovery tank for at least a few months, but he may actually be able to leave it.” He and his colleagues then focused on Exousia, and he asked, “How did you do that?”

Exousia hesitated to answer, to reveal the secret curse of the old god that allowed her, Dufaii, and Ammon to dissect the soul as they were able. She wasn’t sure it was possible for those without a shard of the old god Tezcatlipoca to do it. Exousia was also not eager to admit the years of practice she’d had on humans, other mortal creatures, and demons. Revealing such secrets was dangerous enough under normal conditions, and so much more when she was being hunted for her life.

“If you can tell us, you will spare many demons from untold agony,” Dr. Esse said, his face stern.

Exousia nodded and replied. “I’ll tell you what I can, but in private.”

Dr. Esse and his associates nodded and beckoned for her to join them. But they were stopped by a small group of demons who moved to block the doctors. Dr. Esse studied them in a moment of confusion and irritation before his countenance went blank. Slowly as he dared, he turned back and projected a psychic message. “Followers of Ammon. I don’t know who you are, but they are here to find you!”

Exousia made her form dim and immediately sprinted into the crowd of onlookers, not having to do much to make the startled humans part. It took her less than a minute to get clear of them, and into a busy stream of human foot-traffic that had no notion of what had happened. She expected for the demons to chase her with similar ease, but the humans around her thrummed with an odd energy as the demons got closer. It was anger … and they moved more forcefully and chaotically slowing the pursuers.

Exousia kept her head down so that the humans could not see her eyes and walked briskly until she found a back alley to dart down. There, she hunched her shoulders, threw her hood over her face, and began to walk like someone with a grudge. But she couldn’t forget the odd sight of the humans passively resisting the demons. They hadn’t been doing it for her sake … their eyes had been full of malice. Exousia made a mental note to talk to someone about what she’d seen. For now, she supposed she was just fortunate that it had worked out for her.

“You! Fake demon!” shouted an unfamiliar voice from the entrance of the alleyway.

Exousia didn’t turn around, pretending she hadn’t heard until a heavy rock exploded a couple feet from her head. Then, she slowly turned around to stare down her attacker.

The demon was shaped like an anthropomorphized tiger, complete with large black wings. He was tall and extravagant-looking, but in a way that did not seem useful. His head was too large to turn, his tail was long and vulnerable to attack, and he had human feet that made his front claws useless for running on all four legs. His mouth and chest were stained with blood, much like the patients from the hospital. And there was a haze in his eyes. He was drunk on blood … and in a rage.

Exousia braced herself for a fight. She knew she would win, but all those claws would make injury an inevitability. She narrowed her gaze … and then jumped, surprised, as a shadow fell between her and her attacker.

“Friend!” said Roach as he flew down between them. He addressed the demon. “I see you’ve found my human slave. Well done! How about a treat you to another drink for your courage and-”

“This is Heaven’s so-called Champion!” said the tiger, loudly enough that his voice echoed off the walls. If he wasn’t dangerous enough for his size, his mouth was going to quickly make up for it. “I’m dragging ’er to Ammon so we can get this damn war started.”

“Ammon is not of his right mind,” Exousia said, turning her body for a moment to hide that she was reaching for her knife.

“Don’t be silly! You remember how old Ammon used to boast about this kid,” Roach added, giving the other demon a friendly rib with his elbow. “Might be the booze making you confused; I know it does me! Why Ammon suddenly change his mind on his half-human niece, eh? How about we just get this mess straightened out, and then we can all skewer loyalists together, hm?”

“Talk, talk, talk!” the tiger shouted, his eyes becoming bigger and angrier. He lifted the much tinier demon up by his head and pinned him to the wall with a sharp blow. With a snarl, he slurred, “If Ammon’s got the madness, maybe it’s about damn time. Maybe we all need madness so we can stop shitting around and do something. She’s part of the reason we’re still stuck here! I’m gonna start by tearing her fucking arms off and dragging her by her hair to Ammon. You can either get out of the way, or I’ll tear your wings off and do the same to you!”

Roach looked like he was trying to speak, but his words stayed caught up in his throat. In the end, he just nodded vigorously.

Exousia felt repulsed; again, she felt doubts about the kind of people she had clearly romanticized throughout her childhood, the people for whom she had given her life and everything else. It made all sense now; she had only met the best of the best. Not ones that acted so … human. It was what Ammon had been trying to tell her, there at the end. But Exousia’s view of the world had been too clouded to see. But the truth was that they felt none of the loyalty that she had felt to them. This demon had not called her a fake demon because of her shape or lack of wings or his own drink. No … he knew exactly who she was and what he had been saying. That Exousia was not one of them. The people–the home she had dreamed of one day returning to–it had only ever been a fantasy.

Exousia had already closed the distance between herself and the demon as the rage boiled over, past the mental barriers and self control she’d spent a lifetime building. She leaped onto the much taller demon’s back as it held Roach, and cut its throat to keep it from shouting again. Then she dropped and prepared for a second lunge.

The tiger turned in terror, trying to scream and causing blood to gurgle from his throat. It took a step backward and tripped over its own feet into the dusty alleyway. It then picked up a handful of the dust and pebbles, threw them in her direction, and then scrambled out of the alley.

Exousia felt a few rocks pelt her with cutting power; but this was nothing compared to the effect of the thrown dust. When she tried to breathe, the dust entered her dry throat. This caused her to cough, and wheeze, and gasp, and wretch. Exousia felt like she was choking, but she couldn’t dislodge the obstruction to her breathing because it was the air itself. But she knew she had to run, to get away before the tiger could bring back help.

So, Exousia grabbed Roach by the arm and ran down the alley while she struggled to breathe. She wanted water, so badly. She found herself trying to swallow her own nonexistent spit. And this made her entire body and mind panic. She saw nothing but gray dust, the heat, the dry nothing. There was nothing else. In this place, there was only thirst and the voices of condemnation.