Chapter 27

Friar John searched through the chaos. He killed what beasts he could, trying to avoid killing the Hunters. He’d had enough of taking human lives for now. But the goblins, he could take them over and over. Something in him delighted in their grunts of pain as they fell under his blade, something that had lain dormant for years.

Demons and creatures of savage darkness poured from the north and John took them as well. It was too late for anything close to an orderly approach to carrying out his plans. He continued to avoid Uriel, hoping the angel would not sense him. Fortunately, the winged being was occupied with a host of Obek; too busy attempting to kill them to be worried about a single man. He had taken three of the mighty beings already, but was hard pressed to take more.

John turned his back on the angel, scouring the landscape for whom he searched. The Beast had not revealed himself. Then John spotted the dark-skinned woman, the one who bore Sephirah’s soul. And as if reliving a strange dream he cut a path through the demons and Hunters towards the woman he had once been in service to.

***

The rain pounded and Brahm woke to its cold prickling upon her face. She was leaning against White Feather’s rising chest. He said nothing, smiled, and squeezed her good hand as she sat up. Her ghost hand still hurt and the stump throbbed. She closed her eyes once more, her body requiring sleep, but re-opened them at a persistent wet nudge upon her leg. She blinked through hazy vision to see a black form step towards her. It leaned over her.

Her breathing labored in the musty air. The scent of the Westwood was heavy. Birds flew east from its path and small rodents scurried in the same direction, fleeing the oncoming cloud of death that she knew would follow.

A bloodied hand held out keys in front of her. It was the man dressed in black robes. In his other hand he gripped a long dagger.

“You will need these,” he said, unlocking the chains that bound her.

Sephirah’s soul screamed inside her head. It was the anguish again.

“I know who you are,” he said. “I see Sephirah’s soul bound with your own.”

“You know?”

His face sagged. Sorrow lay in those eyes. “I did not tell Uriel who you are.”

He released each of the captives and paused at Mason, noticing the emblem upon his uniform and the gleaming white cross.

“Whose side are you on?”

Mason looked at his sister. “Yours. I want nothing to do with the Confederation. I have had enough.”

The messenger glanced at Brahm.

“He is with us,” she said as she tried to massage her missing hand against her body. It itched.

He released her brother and threw the keys away.

Mason stared into the thick of battle, to where the Hunter and demon army advanced upon the refugees and horse riders. He took one of the swords from the dead Hunters. “We must get Lya and run for the ships.”

Diarmuid grabbed another sword, wrenching it from the body of a slain Hunter. “I am going after Paine. I will meet you there.”

“What about the ghoul? What was your price?”

“Not one you need to worry about,” he said.

Her gut wrung as he left them to run towards the fighting.

Diarmuid.

Brahm looked at the messenger. “Why are you helping us?”

“To right a wrong,” he said. “The second soul within you knows.”

He looked about the field. “I am looking for the child of Sephirah. Where is he?”

Sephirah’s soul wept uncontrollably.

“I do not know,” Brahm said. “We are trying to save him.”

“I’m trying to save us all,” said the man.

-Don’t tell him.-

But White Feather spoke. “Follow the one who just left. You can help him. He went after Paine.”

The messenger nodded his head and ran after Diarmuid.

“Wait!” Brahm called, wondering to what Sephirah had been referring, but the man in black robes did not turn back.

Sephirah pleaded.

-Go after my children! They are in peril!-

White Feather retrieved two daggers from the Hunters. “We must go now. Already it is harder to breathe.” He handed one of the daggers to Brahm. It was silver.

She waved him off with her stump.

“We need to go after that man. I think he may harm Paine.”

He nodded. “Then I will watch over you.”

Brahm’s soul leapt from her body, sailing through the battle. Beside her, Mason’s presence skimmed across the land. Brahm surged forward, through the Hunters and demons that fought side by side. She thought of the young Firstborn girl and the second soul within her guided her steps, the same feel that for years had guided Brahm’s gut.

They ran, and there, in the midst of the Hunters, the girl stood, unchained, unhindered, and summoning aid. Her hands were raised to the sky.

Further ahead, Brahm noticed Paine. His features suddenly dissolved into red anger and Sephirah’s soul screamed.

-Down!-

Sudden cold emanated from the boy and Brahm reeled back towards her body. She grabbed her brother. Her ghost-hand grasped air as she reached for White Feather.

“Get down!”

The rain stopped and a wave of black fire flooded towards them. They all dove to the ground.

***

Friar John ran after the pepper-haired man, darting past more demons and Hunters. The man in front was swift in his movements, yet he shifted directions with his search. He searched the borders of the battle where those that had fallen or were maimed lay waiting to be eaten by the demons. Then he would lunge into the thick of the fighting where he moved a little too close to the archangel. Demons fought at its side and John thought of their common master.

Who maketh his angels spirits; his ministers a flaming fire.

They were nothing more than an elevated form of demon.

There were three less Obek now and the fighting was not looking good for the towering beings. Uriel’s flaming sword and strength was too much for them. It wouldn’t be long before all of them fell. John tried to give as much distance as possible from the angel and continued after the man who searched for Sephirah’s son.

The man ran back towards the perimeter and John realized what was going on. The man’s movements were erratic, and undisciplined. He was desperate. And looking closer at the man showed John the mark upon his arm; one that was very similar to his own with the exception that the soul leech was still attached to his own arm.

He left the man to his frantic hunt and then felt a wave of cold and the souls of the dead move to the west of where he stood. He felt his own desperation fill him, the sense that if he did not ask for help he would miss the chance to kill the Beast. He had enough of pissing around; too much had gone awry and not the way that things used to for him. His plans had always been smooth and flawless. Not now.

Why?

John had no choice. He unwrapped the bandage around his own arm and yanked the leech from him. Then he summoned the ghoul and asked for help finding Sephirah’s son.

***

Paine stood behind Great Bear and Mira, who beat back the Hunters and twisted creatures that flooded from the north. The Obek stood beside them, but they were engaged by the angel and his swift sword. He searched the fields for Fang. Hundreds of wolves poured from the woods to the south, yet he failed to find the she-wolf.

He looked between the Obek at the wiry demons. He thought of Puck and anger boiled inside him.

Is he here?

He searched through the army of Hunters, wondering if the former simple-minded fool was among them. Great Bear and Mira lunged to the right, giving Paine a clear view. He spotted black hair, like midnight's cloak framing a pale face and eyes like the brightest sky. Her arms were raised to the sky and he sensed her summoning. Beside her stood Puck. He was whispering in her ear. Paine closed his eyes, feeling for the connection between his heart and hers. At first there was nothing and he searched deeper, pushing the sounds of battle from his ears. He delved further and there he found it, an insipid presence that connected his heart not only to hers. He felt the sticky strand that had been placed there securing his sister to him and he noticed something else. He was secured to Puck as well.

He yanked both from his heart and the two turned to him when it was done.

“Lya!” he called.

Puck looked at Paine. He morphed to demon form.

Paine fisted his hands. “No!”

Anger surged from him, pure and unfettered. A field of dead souls rushed to his aid. And those within his blood, those that he carried with him, arose. They took the form of black fire. Paine shoved past those that protected him, but some of them burned as he brushed them, Mira among them. She recoiled and screamed at his touch. He stumbled forward, the black fire searing the ground on which he walked and he sent it forward in a cresting wave of blazing pain. The Hunters before him fell to the ground.

Paine marched towards Puck and commanded the fire to burn the wraith, the fucking creature that had played him for a fool. The demon flew back from Lya, scoring the ground with his claws. He rose, commanding a powerful wind to suppress the dark flame that encircled him.

Paine advanced.

Puck pointed towards him with a thin, bent claw. “Get him!”

The demons from the battle turned towards Paine and launched at him. They withered as they leapt into the dark aura that surrounded him — sagging, writhing shells of their former selves. He trampled over wild flowers and wet, red earth. He slogged through mud, his legs like weighted chains.

Demons and Hunters ran towards him. They dropped, seared to the bone before they could get within yards of him.

He pressed on.

The dead from miles around flooded to Paine’s silent call. They hovered over him. He pointed with a single finger.

“Kill him.”

The host of souls sailed forth.

Puck screamed as he was flung to the ground. The demon writhed in agony, leprous spots dappling his body. His fur lit up with flame, white and hot. He tried to rise and call forth souls to aid him, but his lips were suddenly stitched together. Puck thrashed about, morphing from wraith to human, in the various forms he had taken over his years. They were many, and each had a tortured expression. Among them were Billy Chapman, Farin, and then the Reverend Chapman. Paine stood, watching as the wraith mumbled his screams and kicked at the earth.

Paine smiled. It was filled with vengeance.

Good.

Then the fire finally took the demon and he lay still, burning. And this time, unlike the other demons, the wraith had a soul. And with it Paine opened his arms, waiting. He welcomed the memories and the knowledge that accompanied it. He was ready for it, embracing it. He would know what this being knew.

But the memories did not come. The soul he expected slid away from him, towards the man known as Senator Thurmond. Paine turned on him, but a tall man in black robes stepped in front. Upon his arm was a terrible wound, dripping and bloodied, and in his hand was a blackened spear.

***

Brahm got up from the ground, grunting with the pain of her missing hand. Sephirah was driving her forward.

-Get them!-

She pulled White Feather with her one good hand. “Get up!”

The Haudenosaunee rose, but his face was slightly seared. Red blisters were beginning to form.

Brahm’s heart wrenched at the sight.

Her brother was beside her quickly. He was undamaged.

She began to run towards Lya, but her instincts told her different. She made a sudden change and instead ran after the boy.

Demons and Hunters blocked their path. White Feather and Mason ran just ahead of her, taking each one down that dared to get in their way. Brahm felt useless and even her soul tired of running. She ran blindly behind the others, and then Sephirah spoke to her, quietly, revealing all.

She told of a dark conception, a spell of great power, of the birth of Dark Wind, and of how one of her children might be able to command it. And then she gave Brahm the words of a spell she had once recited; one that she had hoped might bring to ruin a plan that had been laid with her own forced pregnancy.

And in that moment, Brahm’s soul held Sephirah’s; comforted her from her pain; and vowed that she would help make everything right.

She pushed ahead of the others, her legs moving in great stag-like strides. She ran ahead and heard White Feather and her brother calling after her.

-I must speak.-

And Brahm let Sephirah’s soul come forth as she arrived, just as the man in black robes did. And they both faced Sephirah’s child.

***

Friar John stood facing the boy to whom the ghoul had guided him. He felt his face flush and his heart pounded, for he knew who stood before him, as sure as the truth that had plagued him for years. He had found his quarry; but not the one the Pope had sent him to find. Although it was by his hand that Sephirah had been drugged into the abominable act, and also by his own body that she had been impregnated, this was not whom the Pope had sent him to find. Yes, this boy before him had been conceived by John’s unwilling relations with the former Pope; and the one Sephirah had borne to the world — a Son of Man. But things were not as he expected.

He twitched his fingers as he smelled the truth of this boy. He was not possessed of the dark Spirit that should inhabit his body. John’s work was not complete.

I have found my bastard child, but this is not the Beast.

Behind him a voice spoke, its cold hatred forced him to turn. It was the man in white robes he had recognized from a distance; the Senator.

There was anger in the Senator’s face. “Heretic, what are you doing here?”

John sucked in his breath.

Heretic?

The man’s face reddened as he looked at the Spear in John’s hands. “Is this what the Pope sent you to do? Fool! This one is mine. He has been promised to me.”

“No!” said another voice. It was a woman, tall and black. She was missing a hand. John recognized her. And the voice that spoke was not her own; it was that of Sephirah.

“You will not have my son, Aloysius,” she said.

Aloysius?

The Senator’s eyes widened.

“I know that voice,” he hissed. “How do you know me?”

“You know me, well, fool. Now, leave this place.”

He smiled with recognition. “Sephirah. So you have managed to find a way to cheat death by taking residence in this body. Well, you are too late. The boy is mine!”

He reached to grab the boy, but missed.

John looked to where Uriel battled with the Obek. They were down three more. The archangel turned, and with a sudden knowing in his squinted eyes, he gritted his teeth and began to fight his way towards them.

John gripped the black Spear. The angel lacked a soul to take, but the weapon might still do some damage.

The boy finally spoke and spat out his words in anger. “Who sent you? Why do you want me and my sister?” A legion of dead hovered over him, waiting for his command.

“Your sister?” The Senator laughed. “It was your sister who promised you to me. When the three of us had relations in the woods, it was she that tethered you to us, so that either one of us could find you when there was need; it was she who made the deal with the Westwood; it is she who has been calling the others to her in the darkness; it was she who had Farin send Diarmuid to you — the one human that could get you into Lindhome. It was she who had me chase and guide you to where she could examine the Soulstone Tablet for herself and once she learned that you could read it, she had to wait to use you to command Dark Wind. It was your sister who so willingly sacrificed her brother for her own purposes. And it was your sister who commanded the death of those that had raised you. The Bringer of Light calls her his own, and you — though you have abilities she does not, you are nothing! You are not worthy to inherit your birthright. When she was done with you, you were to be mine in trade for my army of Hunters. But my patience grows thin, whelp. I will have you now!”

He moved to step forward and John tried to sort out in his head what was happening.

The boy was of his seed, but not the Beast?

The prophecy called for a male.

And she brought forth a man child, who was to rule all nations with a rod of iron: and her child was caught up unto God, and to his throne.

He looked to the woman that carried Sephirah’s soul with a look of confusion.

There was a gleam in her eye and she mouthed the words, “I switched their souls.”

***

Paine felt as if a stone had struck his chest.

His own sister had been responsible?

It wasn’t possible. He looked to her and there was a look of seething in her eyes; hatred in a form so pure it was like she was darkness incarnate. She stood there, sliced hand dripping with red, owning her betrayal of him on her stone face.

She had already called forth the beings from the parchment, the same ones she had summoned in the ancient ruins. It seemed a lifetime ago. She beckoned them closer with a pale, white finger. Paine could see them — four twisted beast-men and one woman, rulers of the netherworld. Lya’s head moved only slightly as Paine walked towards her. He felt their constant hunger.

Her face remained impassive, cold. “So now you know. I will not extend an invitation to join me. Your soul is weak.” She spat at his feet. “You have not altered my plans much; I still have the Soulstone Tablet. And Dark Wind may not be at my call now, but it will be. Once it has had enough of this land and eaten its fill, I will come back for it.”

“Who are you? You’re not my sister.”

Lya laughed. “Fool! Who do you think was tempting you in the mirror so long ago. My plan has been long in the making. I almost had you where I needed you. And I used Billy Chapman to get at you. And I would have had you were it not for that fucking wolf.”

“Fang?”

“She did something to you; gave you the ability to fend off my influence, but I will see to her kind soon enough. And as for you, my brother, I cannot let you live. I am not sorry for your demise. You’re pathetic. And to think a boy was supposed to be chosen.”

She grinned, and it was sickening. Lya pointed and the five sovereigns of Hell came at Paine in a rush.

They bit him and slashed at his skin. He burned in places unmentionable and his legs grew festering sores. Paine screamed. Then he bit back the anguish and sent his own legion of dead forward. He reached out to the five demons that dared to assail him, his will strong.

I am Little Badger. Serve me.

He fought with his sister’s control over them; the blood that ran in his veins was potent; more so than what dripped from his sister’s hand. Their hunger for blood and the souls of the living was palpable, frantic. They came to him with little resistance.

While he pulled them towards him and offered them his blood; the man in black robes went after Puck; his long black spear taking swift jabs and swipes at the demon. The man moved well as the demon struck back with green fire and curses of his own.

The woman that spoke with his mother’s voice had tears in her eyes. Before her appeared Dïor, cloaked in shadow and darkness. She pleaded with him, but about what Paine did not hear over the screams of the demons and the thunder that rolled across the heavens. Dïor shook his head, took her face in his hands, and kissed her on the forehead.

Agares, Morax, Balam, Tephros, and Vepar having accepted his offer, waited for his command. They resided within him. Paine held them back. He could not attack his own sister. Yet the rage in him wanted retribution. Her betrayal soured his stomach and pierced his heart. And the shame that she had fooled him for so long was maddening. He held the demons back by a thread.

Lya grabbed a Hunter by the hair and stuck his throat with her blackened blade. She summoned others — Byleth, Ariel, and Malphas; fiends from the depths of the underworld. They were accompanied by others — legions of their twisted underlings.

All were easily swayed with the offer of Paine’s blood. They came to him and Lya screamed her rage. They slid under his skin, an accumulation of malice and anguish. It was vile, yet savory. He closed his eyes, enticed by their depravities. The legions were wanton and reckless, but their masters were deliberate. Their power was decadence.

Lya threw her dagger at Paine. He ducked and it grazed his arm; the place where his heart would have been. She unsheathed a knife and shoved through the demons and Hunters, towards the angel, slicing down those that stood in her way.

Paine reached out to the angel, like he did to the others; and the offer of his tainted blood made the being pause. He felt it probe him; search his heart. He felt its power; like the foundations of the earth. And this time, he didn’t beseech the angel with just his own blood. He craved this being’s might, so he offered the blood of others as well. There was a field of it, spilled about his feet. He would take the rest of the Hunter army if this one would serve him.

The angel’s face was stolid, unreadable. Then the being leapt into the air, and with a few quick flaps of his wings he snatched Lya from the crowds. His black wings carried them skywards and Paine stepped towards them.

His feet were immobilized and he looked back.

Puck offered a sickening grin. “You are still mine.”

The full force of what lay within Paine’s veins, the spirits of Hades and the countless dead, surged forth with his full displeasure. They lunged at Puck, and Paine did not stop them. He allowed them their indulgences of malice and it struck Paine as odd that these creatures would be so eager and willing to mutilate one of their own. The demon did not last long. His cries of anguish and aggravation echoed as his limbs were ripped and torn from him.

“It is not over!” he cried and then his voice was muffled as his tongue was taken from him. His body flailed and wriggled until even it was torn. Then he ceased to move.

Paine opened himself, waiting for Puck’s soul, eager to take it and learn. He would have his knowledge and memories. And the knowledge would be succulent.

But, again, Puck’s soul did not come to him. It slipped across the plains and there was a sickening sensation that it was grinning as it slid towards the sea.

“Triune,” muttered the man in black robes. “And I know where its third form resides.” The man coughed. The air was getting thick, putrefying; like the scent of death was leeching into everything around them.

Triune?

Paine wanted to scream his rage at losing him once again, but one of the Sovereigns whispered to him. It was Vepar, the female one.

*A triune has three forms; three as one.*

I want his cursed soul!

*Then have this one lead you to him.*

And I want my sister. She will pay for this.

*Your sister has been plotting for years. Patience is useful to those that wish revenge. Take your time. Prepare yourself for her.*

Paine not only recognized the wisdom of her thinking, but felt it as well. The others weighed in with equal support of the notion.

So be it. Her time will come.

“You will take me to him,” he said to the man in black robes.

The man looked to the sky, to where the sun hid behind the roiling clouds. The day was getting late. He gripped a bloodied wound upon his arm.

“There are Portuguese galleons moored in New Boston. I will meet you there. There is some business I need to take care of.” Then he gripped the black spear and ran, skewering a goblin-like beast along the way.

Paine marched over to the woman that spoke with his mother’s voice. Dïor had left her.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“I am the soul of your mother.”

The air thickened and he knew there was little time. He could sense Dark Wind’s presence. Its wicked laughter was faint, but Paine recognized it from the Westwood.

“What am I?”

“That man that left is your human father. Possessed by the Spirit of the one who would see his return to power fulfilled, he planted the seed in me against my will.”

A Haudenosaunee man stood next to the woman and gripped her arm. On her other side stood a black-skinned man who closely resembled the woman.

“You were supposed to be a Son of Man,” she continued, “the Beast, but during your birth I switched your souls. Your spirit was supposed to be born as my daughter — the heir to the throne of Valbain.”

“So now I am neither the heir, nor a Son of Man.”

“Correct. And your sister is both. But some of your birthright is still yours. In your veins runs the blood of twelve score lives that were slaughtered for your inception – blood that I was forced to drink. Your blood holds that power and you hold power over even the dead now. They will heed your call.”

She coughed. Dark Wind’s presence was nearly on top of them.

“And what about that thing?” he asked, pointing to the cloud of death from which birds fled in flocks.

“Created to gain power, by Gregor and I and the Lastborn. Your afterbirth was used in the spell with the Soulstone Tablet to entice one of the seraph, the highest of angels. But your blood tainted it and made its fall from glory so great that even its own master would likely fear it.”

“Can I control it?”

“Its power has grown since its birth. I don’t know that you can any longer.”

Paine pulled from his pocket the parchment. “This is your writing, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

The Haudenosaunee pulled on her arm. “We must leave.”

Sephirah’s voice spoke quickly. “It is the spell that I used to switch your souls. I hoped that Gwen would give it to you. It was meant for you and not your sister, in case she grew up as she did. I had hoped we could reach her and help her to mature without her heritage, but she found it anyway.”

“Did Gwen know who we were?”

“She knew that something dark had been involved in your conception, but I never told her I switched your souls. She knew only that you were a bastard child. I told her to raise you in a quiet place where you would not find your way to an evil path.”

Paine nodded. It made sense now.

“How can I read this writing?” he asked. “I can see it, but I don’t understand it.”

“I am no longer living, and the woman to who I am twinned does not possess a power that I can use to give you the answer. Dïor still lives, even if it is as a shadow of what he once was. I asked him to give you that knowledge, but he refused.”

A black cloud rolled across the Witch Plains, making for them. Its speed was fierce and its scent was putrid. Paine now heard its wicked laughter clearly. He reached forward with the dead as his hands. He latched onto Dark Wind, holding it as it loomed over his mother. He cried out to her, around a great lump in his throat.

“Go, get on the ships!”

With her good hand she reached towards him. She touched his face with a finger that was soft and smooth.

“No! You must go!”

He took one last glance at the woman who bore his mother’s soul before he ran towards Dark Wind’s waiting embrace. Perhaps there was a chance he could stop this.

Laughter echoed across the sky and the air thickened. Paine’s lungs heaved. He ran and Dark Wind’s presence surrounded him, cradling him. The laughter whispered in his ears and tremors shook the land. His power summoned forth legions of souls to his aid. The sovereign rushed forth. He ran towards the heart of the entity, and it suckled on him like a leech. He fell to his knees, gripped the earth, and invited the evil unto him.

“Come to me.”