Authors: Mark Everett Stone
Morgan looked at me for a brief moment, and I could tell from his face he knew that we wouldn’t arrive in time to keep him from being mashed into jelly. A faint smile flickered across his face and I knew what he would do. The moment stretched, time becoming rubbery and plastic. Then he fell.
Maggie and I screamed our denial. The thing that was Julian roared its anger through hundreds of slim, silver teeth. It made as if to jump after Morgan, no doubt undaunted by the prospect, but Cain shouted a Word that caused it to stumble backwards ten feet.
While I ran toward the shaft, Cain leapt forward as if jet propelled, hammering both feet into the thing’s chest. It hardly budged and Cain fell to the floor to the sound of snapping bones. I didn’t pay attention after that; I was too busy staring down the shaft looking for some sign of my friend. Maggie also stared into the darkness, tears streaming from her sky-blue eyes.
“Do you think he—?” she began.
“No. I’m afraid not.” A fragile thing inside me broke with the sound of snapping wire. My friend was dead and there was nothing I could do for him.
There was, however, something I could do to avenge him.
AD 590, Pope Gregory revised a list of sins first linked to the fourth-century monk Evagrius Ponticus: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Envy, Pride, Discouragement, and Wrath. It was this last that filled me to the brim, but I wasn’t sure it was a sin because in my hands it became a weapon.
God used His wrath to smite the wicked, the evil ones, with a cold clean precision like a scalpel made of ice. That’s how I felt—icy and calm but consumed with an anger I’d never known. I had no cross, no rosary to focus my ire, but I didn’t care.
As I turned to face the Beast, Cain flew past, hurled with contemptuous ease by the Julian-thing. He landed forty feet away and rolled bonelessly, coming to rest broken and bleeding.
“Back!” I screamed, holding out a hand, palm forward, at the thing. It flinched. “In God’s name I cast thee out!” Once again it flinched but didn’t move from where it stood. It was taller and more massive than before; Julian’s suit jacket was torn at the shoulders. Bullets spat from Maggie’s Tec-9, riddling the creature, but it shrugged them off as if they were bothersome flies.
“Little priest,” the thing drooled, dark spit hissing on the carpet. “You are only human. I AM MEPHISTOPHELES!”
All my anger evaporated in an instant, blown out by the force of the fiend’s presence. Mephistopheles, Arch-Devil of Hell, one of the original fallen angels of Lucifer’s cadre.
I bit down on my fear and persevered, absently noting a faint shimmer of heat encircling my hand. “The power of Christ compels you!” I continued in Latin:
May the holy cross be my light. May the dragon never be my guide. Begone, Satan! Never tempt me with your vanities. What you offer me is evil. Drink the poison of yourself.
Each word caused the monstrosity to flinch, each syllable was a knife in its flesh, but that didn’t stop Mephistopheles from stepping forward, his burst patent leather shoes with their exposed taloned feet gouging the carpet. Another step, then another against the hail of bullets from Maggie’s weapon. It shrugged off both her bullets and my words. Slowly we backed away, keeping out of the thing’s reach as it staggered forward against the force of God’s power flowing from my hand, the heat-shimmer becoming larger, distorting my view.
Julian’s tailored shirt and jacket were reduced to ribbon-like shreds, the flesh beneath bluish gray and heavily muscled. Its face had become long and mottled, the color of half-healed bruises.
From behind me came a shout, a Word that slammed into the monster. Unlike earlier, when it had been hurled back, it staggered momentarily and then kept coming. “Banishing won’t work on me anymore, ape,” it hissed in a voice full of blood and razor blades. “I have become too invested in this body, in this world. I am part of it now.” Its eyes focused on me as Cain shouted another Word to no effect. “And you, little monkey, cannot channel the energy to
dispel
me!”
A sound like liquid thunder came from behind the monster, resolving into a contemptuous voice. “You’ve got nothing on me, dickhead.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Morgan
Sixty percent of an adult human male is comprised of water. That means my body, at 175 pounds, contained 105 pounds of water. Water in the blood, in the cells, in the eyes, in the brain and in bone. Not pure water, for sure, but water nonetheless.
Imagine that water becoming
sentient
.
Every nerve, every cell in my body vibrated like a tuning fork, impelling me into some otherworldly realm of darkness inhabited only by brief flashes of light that seared into my mind with the force of a hurricane and the roaring of waves. There came a peculiar
shift
, like someone was rifling through the garbage can of my memories.
SO THIS IS LANGUAGE. INTERESTING.
What?
Where did that voice come from? It came to me suddenly that I wasn’t in my body anymore. I’d been evicted like a bum tenant and that pissed me off more than a little.
YOU WERE ALREADY DYING.
Not so loud; you’re killing me. Who are you?
Once again that shifting sensation, accompanied by another flash of light.
[Better now?]
The voice was much like mine had been, but deeper and with a liquid gurgle running through the words. Sort of like gargling and talking at the same time.
Much, thank you. Who are you, again?
[I am Water, what you referred to as Primal Water.]
What?!
[You drank me. Rather a foolish thing to do, but I know now you really had nothing to lose. Still, from my perspective it was a bit disgusting.]
How … what …?
[Primals have no language; I had to take it from your mind, as well as your memories. I believe that now I am the only Primal that can communicate with humans, which puts me in an interesting situation, Olivier Deschamps. Or should I say, Morgan Heart.]
Olivier Deschamps died a long time ago. I never really liked him.
I felt a little sad. I’d wasted twenty years being someone I didn’t like much. So much time tossed in the garbage bin.
How did Julian manage to capture you?
A pause, then [Better I should show you.]
The darkness around me receded, replaced by the bright light of the sun and the sound of the waves lapping the shore. My mind rang with the Word of God, that sound that brought me to consciousness. I felt Earth beneath me, surrounding me, sleepy and somber. Above Air laughed and capered. The light of the sun was part of Fire, warming me. All these, my brothers, my opposites, in conflict and balance.
Time passed and I ate at the Earth that thrust up through me, creating fjords and sculpting shorelines. On Earth I dug vast ravines, while animals drank of me. Soon Mankind came along, created by another Word more beautiful than the last. Its note echoed for ages. More time passed and I flooded an impossibly large valley, impelled by the will of God. My waters drowned cities, civilizations, and covered them completely. This later become known as the Mediterranean Sea.
The world changed, became colder. I froze, covering the land in ice, killing and killing with my frozen self. It was then I grew tired. My children were there to maintain the balance, and I felt so … unnecessary.
I pulled myself, my awareness into a small, cold, spot and floated away to where the ice never melted and it was there I slept. Until recently. Then I was awoken by Man, trapped in a container too dense to see or feel through. It was dark, and I grew angry.
Sudden warmth as an animal drank my essence, but it wasn’t an animal, it was a man, a dying one at that. I called to the water in his body (I sensed it was a male) and was answered.
Suddenly, I was wrenched back into darkness, aware of my own self again.
Whoa! Are you telling me Julian found you in the North Polar ice cap? How the hell did he do that?
[I do not know. Perhaps he was led there by the one you call the Voice.]
Gunfire.
What?
Mike! It had to be Mike, Cain and Maggie. They were fighting the Julian demon.
[Mephistopholes. Or should I say the Angel Formerly Known As Maphriel.]
Whatever, you have to help Mike!
[I’m really not—]
I wasn’t in any mood to take backtalk from fluid.
Without me you would still be in a plastic bottle! Now are you going to help me, or what?
[You seem to think that I suffer from the same motivations as humans.]
Christ! Indifference was the last thing I needed.
Do you understand revenge?
[No.] A note of finality.
How about gratitude? A sincere ‘please’ with a cherry on top?
A babble of humor swept over and through me. It took me a moment to realize that the Primal was
laughing
.
[The imagery that produced is most amusing.]
I thought of one argument that might work.
Does it amuse you enough for you to help restore balance to the world?
[?]
Isn’t Mephistopheles’ presence here an imbalance?”
[Clever human. If I agree to do this, your life will be forfeit. I can either take the time to heal you or I can give you the power to save your friend.]
No real choice at all.
Let’s go.
[I can even heal you of Backlash. You will not lose any Words.]
We’re wasting time.
[Why sacrifice yourself for that man?]
He’s my friend.
[That is important?]
He’s my friend.
[Very well.] The gurgly voice sounded sad but resolute.
I waited in the dark, enduring the flashes of brilliant white light, waiting for the Primal to do something, anything. It grew worrisome, this waiting. I was sure Mike was in danger and the Primal was
taking too damn long
!
[What’s the phrase? Oh yes … Hold your damn horses. We are experiencing time differently. Only a few seconds have passed while I have made … adjustments that will allow you to do this …]
Roaring became my world.
And power. Oh, such power, like I had inhaled the sun. My body dissolved into liquid, its solid matter left behind on top of the elevator. Looking down, I saw legs as well as a torso, arms and hands composed of rippling water. Memories of flesh sculpted in liquid, liquid I could bend to my will. Inside my “chest” was a cold spot, so cold, in fact, that it was well below zero, but it remained liquid. The Primal, now quiescent, its power mine.
All around me I felt water, a connection to something that was part and parcel of my being. Water through the plumbing, traveling up and down the entire building … It was like feeling the hot rush of blood travel through your veins. I called to the water … and it responded.
Pipes burst. PVC, copper, it didn’t matter, water exploded through as if they were constructed of tissue paper. I continued to call, the invisible tether of my will pulling water to me. Within seconds I was bathed in crystalline sprays, which I absorbed, becoming greater and greater, sucking in more and more.
By force of will I kept the water from running down the sides of the shaft; instead I absorbed it all and began to rise, a liquid giant, a fluid behemoth. Above, the rectangle of light came closer and I could sense the monster above, its evil pulsing against my … self, my consciousness. I extended my senses and the fiend became a black star shining above. I could feel its anger, its endless capacity for hatred. Three souls glowed near the fallen. Each had a unique signature, an essence I could discern. Cain shone with vitality and magic, while Maggie gleamed with the fires of her passion.
Mike eclipsed them both with the Power of God made manifest; however, the dark star surged and flared with ravenous hunger, a spiritual black hole. It came to me that Mike couldn’t channel any more energy without burning to ash on the spot.
No way was I going to let that happen.
I rose high enough and looked into the hallway, every molecule of water adhering to my form, totally under my control.
“And you, little monkey, cannot channel the energy to
dispel
me!” The fiend roared.
I felt horrendous anger and contempt. “You’ve got nothing on me, dickhead!”
Chapter Forty-Six
Mike
Dickhead? Whoever, whatever had said that had certainly captured the monster’s attention. It spun, facing the speaker, its bulk preventing us from seeing who had insulted it.
“Begone!” I yelled, my hand flaring with the heat shimmer of power that sent burning pain through my fingertips. At that same moment Cain shouted another Word. This time Mephistopheles wasn’t prepared and was hurled twenty feet down the hallway, tearing furrows into the drywall with its three-inch black nails. It landed with a floor-rattling thud that felt like a mini-quake.