Musings of a Madman

The girl stared at her reflection in the mirror, ignoring the screaming that bled in through the walls. She always thought of her features as average, though sometimes she would get compliments. Sometimes. Her fingers glided along the flesh of her cheek as she took in her freckles for what felt like the millionth time that day, her eyes wandering and judging. Her vibrant red hair was in a ponytail, how she usually wore it, her bangs bouncy and styled. Her caramel brown eyes locked with themselves in the mirror before she, finally, turned away and pulled open one of the drawers.

Without an expression, she plucked the razor from its hiding spot underneath a box of Q-tips, and carefully shut the drawer. Almost as if she were afraid that someone would hear it and come in to stop her despite the screaming. Yet a tiny, dying part of her hoped that someone would as she pulled up one of her sleeves. Her eyes glared down at her arm, the dark bags underneath them painting her face with exasperation. There were scars, both new and old, adorning her wrist. There wasn't any untainted flesh left and, as she chose the skin to slice, there was an unexpected interruption.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

The girl fell to the floor with her hands over her ears, the razor clattering on the tiles, instantly forgotten. She felt the white-hot rush of panic in her chest. It became hard to breathe. She waited for a sound, anything ordinary and familiar. Even yelling would have faded the panic exploding in her chest. But there was nothing.

"EMILY!"

It dawned on her that it was her father who had pulled the trigger. The gunshots did not come from outside, this wasn't a drive-by. He had shot her mother and now he was coming for her. With wide and wild eyes, Emily rose from the floor. She didn't know what to do, where to go. Her eyes darted around the room for an escape, a spot to hide, anything, and they came to rest on the bathroom window. Emily had no time to react because, at that moment, the door burst open. The wood splintered, the doorknob going through the drywall, forcibly stomped.

Emily flinched and shrank against the bathroom counter, she threw her hands up in a reflexive attempt to protect herself. She screwed her eyes shut. Emily waited for the bullet as she held her breath, but it never came. Shaking, she barely opened one eye to peek at him. She found herself staring down the barrel of her father's 9mm pistol. He was breathing hard, a film of sweat shining on his skin. There was blood on his hands, fresh crimson blood. The smell of iron hung heavy in the air. He was trembling and he appeared to be struggling. His trigger finger twitched, yet he didn't pull it.

"F**K!" He screamed out in frustration as he grabbed Emily by her wrist, her sleeve fallen. She thanked whoever or whatever was out there for allowing her to live as a strangled sob choked her. She cowered, unable to do anything else. Her father attempted to rip her from the floor, but she pulled away reluctantly and with a strength she didn’t know she possessed. His fingers only tightened around her wrist and yet he stumbled.

"I don't want to go anywhere with you! Please, please, PLEASE leave me here and GET OUT!" Emily begged in a sob, though she knew her words were in vain. She didn't notice, but there were tears slipping down her face. She had a thought; there was something on the ground next to her. Something she needed.

Emily grasped for whatever it was, she couldn't recall, but then she felt a cold and thin blade in her hand. She thought about using it as a weapon, as a distraction to have him let her go and grant her the seconds needed to get away. Emily would have tried, if only she could have gathered the courage. Instead, she slipped it into her pocket with a shaking hand as her father pleaded vehemently with her, uncaring, "YOU'RE A WITNESS, YOU STUPID B***H! USE YOUR F*****G BRAIN FOR 2 F*****G SECONDS!"

She trembled and sobbed, but she allowed her father to pull her along. He dragged her past the room he shared with Emily’s mother. Emily couldn't stop herself from glancing inside. The bed was in the way at that angle, but she could see her mother's legs as she lay face-up on the carpet. It was only a second, but the paleness of her skin was something Emily knew would haunt her in her sleep.

"STOP SNIVELING!" He whipped around, the gun still in his other hand, and pointed it at her face. Emily met his furiously cold eyes, stricken, but she attempted to calm herself down. Satisfied, her father tore through the apartment and ripped open the door. He never let go of Emily's wrist. He pulled her along and brought her over to the passenger side of his rusting car. The paint was severely chipped and, upon a glance, it was evident that the car had been in several crashes.

He opened the door and swung her around it, letting her go only to shove on her head and force her into the seat. He slammed the door shut, slid over the hood of the car, and jumped into the driver's side through the glassless window. The faint sound of police sirens could be heard as he fumbled with his keys, inserting it into the ignition and turning the engine over. The car sputtered to life. It all felt like a dream to Emily as she sat there, staring into emptiness in shock. But then she thought, not a dream. A nightmare.

Her father stomped on the gas pedal after throwing it into reverse and flew across the parking lot blindly until the back end crunched as he hit another vehicle. Emily was thrown forward and slammed into the dashboard, busting her lip, causing her to sputter blood.

He threw it into drive and he slammed on the gas, peeling out of the parking lot and flying down the road. As Emily fell back into the seat and he turned onto the street, she saw the police lights flashing in the rearview mirrors. The sirens wailed and the lights followed them through the darkness as they sped away; her father swore under his breath. Emily touched her face, she felt the pain dully, but she knew it wasn't as intense as it should have been. She glanced down at the blood on her fingers, only for a second, because her attention was drawn when her father drove into oncoming traffic.

Emily screamed, they flew across the streets, cars swerved and honked. Taking that risk had given him time. He drove around unpredictably with no real destination, glancing back every few seconds, until several moments had passed and he knew he had lost them. He heaved a deep sigh of relief and he eased back into the driver's seat. He turned down another road, no expression on his face. It seemed as though this way had a hidden purpose, but he was silent.

"Where are you taking me?" Emily forced herself to speak through her bleeding lip, though her voice was broken and strained. He glanced over at her, his eyes were dark. He turned them to the road, ignoring the blood on his hands, pretending he didn't see it. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

"I can't let you go. You’re a witness."

Then, there was only silence.

-LATER-

They drove, seemingly endlessly, through darkened streets. No streetlights lit up the night as they entered the abandoned districts. Emily stared out the window blankly, watching the destruction pass them by as her exhaustion finally began to sink in. It fogged her thoughts and prevented her from the breakdown she could feel hunting her like a starving predator. She could forget everything that had happened that night, but only in the moments she spent staring out the window. Her father, out of sight. She could even pretend she didn't feel the throbbing, aching pain in her lip.

Emily was almost positive that he would kill her here, where nobody could hear her screaming. Silence her and ensure his anonymity. But then, why didn't he kill her in the apartment while he had the chance? It didn't make sense. Emily felt as if she were drugged, her thoughts kept escaping from her. It felt like she was grasping at smoke whenever she attempted to think.

She barely noticed when her dad pulled into a nearly vacant parking lot outside of intimidating, looming buildings embraced by barbed wire fencing. She thought she heard a voice, one that was vaguely familiar, but it sounded like they were speaking to her in water. Reality escaped Emily for a moment until she felt fingers wrap around her arm and she realized that she was being dragged out of the car. She felt numb as she allowed herself to be lead away, stumbling slightly but ultimately catching herself.

He stopped outside of the entrance doors and shoved his hand in his pocket, his other never loosening its grip on Emily's wrist. He produced a lamenated access card from his jeans and when he passed it over the sensor, the forbidding red light began to glow neon green. He glanced over at Emily who stared, unseeing. Without a word, he dragged her through the doors and he turned left. Swiped the access card.

Opening the door, he went on until he stood outside Mordecai's office. Finally, his fingers released Emily, only to knock on his door. It swung open not a second later and Mordecai stood there, taking them in. His hair was a mess, his suit disheveled. He scratched at his throat, which was red and irritated, and he seemed to take a moment to recognize who he was seeing.

"Ah, Samuel. Come in."

Mordecai stepped out of the way and motioned for him to come inside. Samuel wrapped his fingers around Emily's wrist once more and pulled her along with him as he stepped into the office. He glanced at her face, but he couldn't force himself to keep looking at her emotionless expression. He couldn't watch those vacant, red-rimmed dull brown eyes. He looked away. But Mordecai did not as he shut the door behind them. They couldn't see his eyes underneath his sunglasses, but the way his head was positioned, it was painfully obvious that he was staring at her.

Emily didn't feel the eyes on her; she didn't even really notice where she was. Samuel turned to Mordecai and said in a rambling voice that barely concealed a sob, "I killed her. I killed my girl. I don't know what happened. I don't know what to do with the kid. I couldn't kill her too, man.”

Mordecai seemed to consider this for a moment as he continued to drink in Emily's features. She realized she was being observed, slowly. When she looked up and met Mordecai's gaze, Emily felt as if he wasn't staring at only her physical form. It disturbed her, in a muted way. She couldn't grasp her thoughts yet, nor her emotions. She could barely process the scene unfolding in front of her.

"Is your plan to sell her?" Mordecai enquired in a smooth, dangerous tone of voice as he turned to Emily's father. Samuel seemed to fidget a bit and averted his gaze. But after a moment, he glanced back up and met Mordecai's eyes. His own were desperate.

"I don't know what else to do with her."

"Cash or drugs?"

"But what about the f*****g pigs?! What the f**k am I gonna do?”

"Forget about it. I’ll persuade them to bury the case," Mordecai seemed to lean in a bit closer, the shadows fell across his face in a different and foreboding way, "My only interest is the girl. Now, cash or drugs?"

"C-cash," Samuel fumbled, "What do you think she's worth?"

Mordecai stepped over to Emily and began to truly observe her, up close. His fingers rose until they brushed her collar bone, bringing her back into this world, and she snapped her eyes up to him. They were wild. It reminded Mordecai of a doe, caught in a car's headlights seconds before impact. He smirked, stepping around her, bringing his fingers to her ponytail. She held her breath and Samuel, uncomfortable, waited for Mordecai's words.

"Pale skin, hair like flames. Freckles. Average weight. Curvy. Innocent eyes." Mordecai began listing Emily's qualities as he felt her silky crimson hair between his fingers. He stepped all the way around her, taking her in from all angles. Though Emily still felt disconnected, it began to dawn on her what was happening. It hit her like a semi and she trembled, tears welled up in her eyes. She refused to let them spill. Mordecai glanced at Samuel, "I'll give you ten grand for her."

Samuel paled, his eyes flew open. "A-are you serious, Boss?"

"What’s her name?” Mordecai turned again to Emily, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"E-Emily."

"I'll find you and pay you when I'm finished with her, Samuel. Stay out of the public eye while I negotiate with the police... and if you have any documents of her existence... birth certificates... anything... destroy them. Am I understood?"

His eyes never left her, her eyes never left him.

"Understood, Boss."

"Excellent. I will call on you when you can begin working for me again. Now leave us."

That's when Emily turned her gaze to her father. They had no emotion, not even a hint of disappointment. It was as if she expected this from him. Samuel returned the stare for a moment, her eyes burning themselves into his memory, before he turned away and left without another word.

Emily swallowed the sob threatening to crawl up her throat as she turned to Mordecai, trembling. She feared the worst.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Mordecai stared for a moment, scratching his neck. He still didn't seem to be all there. Emily knew he was on drugs and that fact was chilling. Though only a moment before she could barely form a thought, her imagination now ran wild with all the things he could do to her. He began coming toward her, taking his time, and she began to back away until she was up against the wall.

Emily shuddered when Mordecai put his hand against it, his other still scratching his throat, as he leaned in close to her face.

"The only danger you're in now is the danger you pose to yourself, Emily."

She stared up at him, the words refusing to process in her brain. Mordecai smiled a chilly, mirthless smirk as he tore his hand away from his throat and shoved it into her jean's pocket. His fingers closed around her razor, he withdrew it. He held the razor in front of her face for a moment, the light flashing across the metal, before he slid it into his suit's breast pocket. The smug sneer never left his face. Emily was stricken, she wore a stunned expression.

"How did you..."

"Hush," Mordecai pressed a finger to her lips, shushing her. "I will explain another time. For now, come with me."

He slipped his arm around her waist and began to guide her to the door. Emily obeyed. She thought of how she would escape the second a chance arose. But the thoughts of her mother, of her father, and of how this man knew about the razor crammed into her head. She felt herself shut down, yet again.

The rest was a blur.

---

It was past midnight, once again early in the morning while the night still clung to the ground. Luke had been walking for hours, never stopping, yet it had no purpose. He was alone, Dibbuk having left him a considerable amount of time ago when he first began to wander. Yet the hours passed by like minutes, Luke still riding the high of methamphetamine, and he had no concept of the time that he had lost.

His flesh felt numb, his eyes scanning through the rubble as he passed. The smell of death haunted him as he drifted along. He could see the crippled bodies buried within the mess and yet he felt nothing. He ignored them as if they were cracks in the sidewalk, keeping his sauntering and striding gait steady, his painted face expressionless.

He had seen no living on his way, but now that he neared the end of the abandoned districts, he would sometimes pass by a homeless vagrant. Some would cast him concerned glances, but others would barely notice his presence. Luke ignored them, too, as if they were already dead. He seemed to be in his own world as he kept going on, the streetlights beginning to light up his path.

Luke spotted a park up ahead, the grass slightly overgrown. He thought perhaps he would rest there and snort what he had left in the bag he’d gotten from Jericho, since it seemed to be tucked away in the darkness and away from curious eyes. As he neared the park, he felt cold and wet breathing on the back of his neck. He shuddered involuntarily and his pace slowed, yet he did not glance over his shoulder. He already knew what he would see there.

“Exccceellent, my boy, you almost read MY mind!” Dibbuk’s hissing voice was playful; it had high energy and vibration, betraying his excitement, “Almost…”

“You tryin’ to tell me something?” Luke asked as he slowly came to a stand-still. He didn’t turn, keeping his eyes on the park ahead. His empty irises searched for meaning, but he found nothing there in the shadows. He felt Dibbuk’s claws stroke the curls of his inky, messy hair and the heaviness of his presence at his back.

“You can’t play a game if you don’t know the rules, can you, Lukey?” The words came in a grim and dripping whisper, causing Luke to tense, “Walk further into the garden.”

Obediently, Luke resumed his strides and entered the grassy area. The trees were thick and looming, their leaves obscuring the park in their shadow. Luke sauntered onward through them as he ventured deeper. He saw two silhouettes as he came further in and, at the same time, he noticed the increasing pace of Dibbuk’s breathing on his neck. How shaky and jittery it felt against his skin.

He hid himself in the darkness as he crept, using the trees as cover.

"--pay you until next weekend," Luke heard as he came into earshot, the man’s voice inflection revealing his trepidation. Luke could smell the fear on him, it was intoxicating. He inhaled deeply, his eyelids drooping as he listened in on their conversation.

"You said that last month, Jack."

"Well, I mean, times have been hard, y-you know? I can't... Jacob?"

Luke peeked around the tree to catch a glimpse of what was happening, a cruel and manic grin on his lips. The man who had his back to Luke seemed to be shaking as he took tentative, horrified steps away. Luke’s irises flitted as he took in the scene, the information processing in his brain at breakneck speeds.

As he turned his eyes to the oth er man, “Jacob”, he noticed that he was sliding a hand into his jacket’s pocket. He saw the flash of the barrel of a gun as it came to rest on the chest of the drug addict, “Jack”. He didn’t have time to turn and attempt to run. It was over.

In his peripheral vision, Luke saw a streak in the dark. It all happened in the moment Jacob pulled the trigger. BANG. Suddenly, a man was there, in the few feet between them. Jack stumbled back and fell to the ground, Jacob jerked away in shock before reacting.

BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG.

The gunshots rang in Luke’s ears as he watched. Jack clawed his way to his feet and took off running as though he were being chased, his cowardice ensuring his escape. The man who had taken five bullets to the chest stumbled backward and hit the ground with a bubbling, wet gasp. Jacob turned and ran from the scene, leaving nothing behind but the shells of the bullets. A second later, he was gone, and the dying man was alone.

Luke was about to step out from behind the tree and walk over to the man’s side, only to question him and watch him die, but Dibbuk’s claws dug into his shoulder. The demon held him there, still. “Watch.”

His eyes never left the body of the man on the ground. He could hear the blood in his lungs as he struggled to breathe and smell the heavy scent as he writhed on the grass. Luke licked his lips, his brain conjuring up the metallic taste in his mouth. The man struggled to get on his hands and knees as he began to cough up the crimson liquid that poured into his organs.

Suddenly, a glowing white light blossomed from the stranger’s shoulders and fleshed out to become tangible feathered wings. They were blinding. Luke’s dilated icy eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. The light burned his skin, causing him to withdraw further behind the tree, yet he still strained to see. The man’s breaths came smoother and, as he rose to his feet, the gurgling dissipated to nothing. His breathing was clear. The smell of iron was nearly stolen from the thick atmosphere.

Luke caught the sight of the man’s features in the light of his wings and he memorized the stranger he saw standing there. He had dark skin, but his eyes lit up a mossy green. His hair was ebony and messy, his muscles were toned. As Luke observed him, his pale eyes turned and seemed to stare. He knew he was undetectable, yet it caused a white hot panic to blossom in his chest.

Luke drew back until he had his spine up against the tree and he took a deep, silent breath to calm his racing heartbeat. He listened for the man’s steps, strained to hear if he was going to come toward him or walk away. His brain raced to catch up with the scene that revealed its secrets to him. After a moment of deafening silence, Luke peered around the tree once again. The man wasn’t there, but the shells of the bullets that had entered his chest still were. The blood he had expelled, still there painting the overgrown grass in darkening scarlet.

He exhaled shakily as he turned away and sank to the ground until he sat against the trunk of the tree. His glassy eyes were wide and delirious as he stared off, a plethora of thoughts gripping his mind.

“…and what is a game, if there are no trials and tribulations?”

Luke breathed, attempting to quiet the rising pandemonium in his mind, when he heard a beeping sound. It took him a moment to realize that it was the wristwatch Mordecai had snapped on his wrist. He raised it to his face and took a look at the watch, which chimed a tune that was impossible to ignore. On the screen, the text read, “INCOMING CALL… Mordecai”. There were two buttons, a green phone icon and a red phone icon.

He pressed a finger against the green icon and Mordecai’s face popped up on the screen. Up in the corner, a light came on. Luke assumed it was the camera light.

“She’s arrived.” Mordecai stated matter-of-factly. He scratched at his throat as he spoke, “…and Dibbuk has shown you what we are up against. I’ll be waiting here for you, Luke Wolfe.”

Then, Mordecai disappeared from the screen and the camera light ceased to shine. Luke allowed his wrist to fall back to the ground. He took a deep breath and exhaled, composing himself.

“How does this m**********r all up and know about every little thing I got myself to be doing?” He grumbled as he shoved his hand into one of his many pockets and withdrew a tiny bag. Luke brought it up to take a look at the crystalline substance, smashed into a powder, he craved. He dove into his pockets a second time and withdrew a plastic straw.

He opened the bag, slid the straw in, and snorted what was there. The burning was like hellfire scorching his nostril, a tear escaped his eye. He wiped it away as he sniffed, forcing himself to his feet. How long, he thought, has it been since I’ve slept? Four days? Six days?

He couldn’t remember. But he went on as the chemicals hit him and fueled him with the energy he needed to walk the miles it would take to reach the Blackblood Headquarters.

---

Emily awoke in a bare, white room. She didn’t recognize it at all. She felt the dried tears on her face when she went to rub the sleep out of her eyes, sitting up in a bed that was not her own. Emily noticed a wristwatch around her wrist, one that was brand new, and she inspected it curiously. The cover hadn’t even been peeled off the screen yet. It looked high-tech, something Emily could only dream of owning. Though, strangely, it seemed that the watch could only be taken off by key.

She looked around the room she ended up in, wondering where she was and how this watch got to be around her wrist. But as Emily sat there, the memories of yesterday flooded back into her head and washed over her like the waves of a tsunami. She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them close, her aching lip wobbling. Her eyes burned with the tears she was too dehydrated to create and a sob tore through her throat.

There were still pieces of time she was missing and she found herself deeply thankful that she didn’t remember. If she had it her way, she wouldn’t remember the past few days at all. She sat in silence as her memories flashed across her eyes. Emily saw her mother on a typical day, cooking her breakfast like she would every morning before sending her off to school. Her favorite was her mom’s fluffy, sand dollar sized pancakes. Emily would beg for them from her when she was a child. Her mind had drifted to sweeter things when images of her mother’s pale, dead skin invaded her head.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

She heard the gunshots like it was still happening.

Emily clutched her skull and she couldn’t control herself any longer. She wailed and cried like a dying animal, though no tears fell down her face. She needed desperately to feel the bite of the blade that would bring her back into this world and give her an escape from the one inside her head. She yanked her sleeves up and clawed at old wounds with her fingernails, opening them up. It wasn’t enough to satisfy the monster within, but it helped.

After a while, Emily had calmed herself down to an acceptable level. She had her arms around her legs and she rocked slowly, but she had ceased her hysterics. Her eyes drifted over to the window and she saw a raven, perched there, staring in at her. It flapped its wings as if in greeting when Emily’s eyes found it. A slow, broken smile crawled across her face.

Emily stepped out of bed and went over to the window, finding it unable to be opened. This raven had been her companion for years, her faithful pet, Nevermore. Somehow, it found her, anywhere she went. Distance had no meaning to Nevermore. The question of how was always in the back of her mind, but Emily thought the question to be unanswerable and buried it away. She touched her fingers to the glass as she stared at the bird.

Suddenly, there was a knock on her door. Emily realized, bitterly, that the knock was not asking permission to enter. It was warning her that someone would enter. She turned to glare at the doorway as the door swung open to reveal Mordecai. He seemed composed and groomed, as opposed to the last time she had seen him. She turned away from the window and faced him.

“Good afternoon, Emily.”

Emily looked uncomfortable, she was silent. She downcast her gaze to stare at the floor, refusing to look at him. He chuckled, smirking, as he held open the door.

“My, my, darling… Giving me the silent treatment, are we?”

“What do you want?” Emily met his eyes, willing her voice to sound brave. To her dismay, all she ended up sounding was weak and shaky. Her voice was strained and hoarse, overused. The smirk did not fall from Mordecai’s face but instead seemed to grow ever so slightly.

“Come with me,” Mordecai gestured with his head for her to follow him and, tentatively, she crossed the room, “…and don’t you dare try to run, my dear, or I’ll chase you down myself and then I’ll let Seth have you.”

The threat sent chills down her spine as she stepped out of the room, staying as far away from Mordecai as physically possible as she slid past him. He closed the door behind her and Emily stood out in the hall. She considered attempting an escape despite his threats, but she reconsidered when she noticed the access card dangling from the leash in Mordecai’s hand. She didn’t recall the building’s layout anyway, she would only be trapping herself and dooming her to whatever fate Mordecai would force upon her. Emily accepted this as a fact.

Mordecai guided her with his arm as he went down the hall, swinging the access card nonchalantly. Emily was silent, her doe eyes downcast. Mordecai began to whistle, an eerie tune that gave Emily goose bumps, as they exited the building. They were deeper into the property, the administrative structure a distance away.

Emily walked by his side, passing a vast garden on the way. The trees dotted the landscape and, intertwined with them, were lush dark green vines. It filled her with anxiety, how ominous and dark everything seemed in the orchard of apple trees despite the sunlight that bathed them. The fruit was plump and bright green, ripe and ready to be eaten.

“You didn’t… um... do anything to me, did you?” Emily spoke before she realized the question had even popped up in her mind, her voice quiet and unsure. When she heard her own words, she shuddered and seemed to withdraw from the world. “I can’t remember.”

Mordecai rested his eyes on her as they strolled through the orchard on a cobblestone pathway. He watched the way she hid within her own skin and he couldn’t stop himself from smirking. But he turned his hidden eyes back to their destination as he spoke.

“I don’t indulge in pleasures of the flesh any longer, dear child.”

“How can I trust you?”

“You’re a virgin, are you not? Do you hurt?”

That silenced Emily. Her eyes fell until she stared at the decorative cobblestone path as they walked along. She didn’t know what to think. How could he possibly know that, too?

Mordecai cast a sideways glance at her as he chuckled and approached the administrative building’s back door. He swiped his access card and opened it for her, a smirk on his face. She stepped inside, her eyes scanned the vestibule. She had no memory of this place, though she knew she had been here only hours ago.

“Come.” Mordecai commanded as he walked off to the right and swiped his access card across another sensor. Emily followed behind him, too disturbed to defy him. She had no idea what would happen if she was caught, no idea who Seth was. She didn’t want to find out. By the way Mordecai had said it, this Seth was capable of doing terrible things.

Mordecai opened the door once again for her, she stepped inside. She looked around the hallway with three doors on each side and she realized that she was going to Mordecai’s office. She remembered it vaguely, the memory still hazy.

Mordecai went over to his office door and turned the handle, swinging it open. He stared expectantly at Emily. He gave her no chance to escape him. She went, slowly, into the room and over to the black couch. Emily sat on the edge of the cushions, her eyes on Mordecai. He didn’t cast his glance to her as he closed the door and went over to his desk, his papers still strewn across the surface. Instead, he strolled over and sat in his rolling office chair, leaning back. His eyes were presumably on Emily by the way his head was angled. They sat in the dark, eyes on each other.

Emily was tense, her overwhelming feeling of unease thickening the atmosphere in the room. She forced herself to stay calm.

“What are we doing here?”

She spoke in a voice that was little more than a whisper for her terror of it breaking.

Mordecai smirked.

“Do you see it?”

“See wh-“

Emily cut herself off when she noticed the shadows underneath Mordecai’s desk moving. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she focused on the gargoyle silhouette that seemed to be darker than the shadows around it. She made out its eyes, those glowing amber orbs, as it swayed like a metronome. Slowly, defensively, she rose from the couch. Her muscles were tensed to abscond, but Mordecai chuckled and interrupted her thoughts.

“Don’t panic, Emily,” his chuckling rose until it was laughter, “it isn’t like you don’t have your own personal demons!”

Abaddon prowled from the floor, faster than Emily could follow with her eyes, and perched on the back of Mordecai’s chair. Its hot amber orbs glaring down at her, this time the demon was still as it stared. Emily was breathless, she couldn’t move, only gape up at the gargoyle-esque creature. She heard Mordecai’s words, but she didn’t understand their meaning.

“Your raven, Nevermore.”

Emily breathed shakily, still uncomprehending, still focused on Abaddon.

“How did you know about Nevermore?” Her vocals were a shaky whisper, her eyes never straying from the demon.

Mordecai smirked as he rose from the chair, saying nothing. Abaddon clung onto his shoulders and hopped onto his back. He went over to the window that was obscured by lengthy, ebony velvet drapes. He pulled them open and light flooded into his office. Abaddon disappeared from sight, but perched there on Mordecai’s windowsill was the raven.

He unlocked the window and opened it. The bird hopped onto the edge before taking flight and landing on the sofa’s arm furthest from Emily. It cocked its head as it looked at her. She relaxed only slightly, pausing, before she went to the raven. She held out her arm for Nevermore and it hopped on.

“Caym!” It spoke the garbled word Emily had heard countless times before, “Caym!”

“The demon’s name is Caym… not Nevermore. Though, it was a clever of you.”

Emily turned her eyes, slowly, to Mordecai.

“I fancy Edgar Allan Poe’s work myself. It’s practically ancient... enchanting, isn't it?”

“You’re insane.” Emily breathed, turning her eyes to the raven resting on her arm as it swiveled its head around to gawk at her through crimson-tinted eyes. Not for the first time, she questioned if this was truly a raven. Seemingly in response to the thought, the scarlet undertone flooded the bird’s eyes until they glowed and glared back at Emily. The atmosphere became heavy on her shoulders.

“If I'm insane, then you must be batshit crazy, my dear."

As Emily stared at the raven perched on her arm, she found herself horrified of the avian that had been her faithful companion. She trembled. Mordecai pulled the blinds closed and the demon’s eyes burned with a violent scarlet glow in the shadow that fell over them. Visions of her razor as it invaded her skin and of the blood that poured from the wounds flooded into her head as her gaze connected with her demon’s own. She felt the urge to cut with an intensity she'd never felt before. For a moment, there was only silence.

HONK.

Emily swung around and found herself face-to-face with a terrifying silhouette of a man. The office door was wide open and, with the fluorescent lighting in the hall that surged into the room, she could just barely see his painted bony features. His dead, vibrant blue eyes. She screamed and threw her arms up to protect herself, forcing the raven to take flight. It cawed as it flew to the couch's arm, disturbed.

"What a pretty shade of motherfuckin' SCARED."

Emily sunk to the floor, shaking, and began to sob in the fetal position. Still, no tears came. Luke stared down at her, the ghost of a smile on his lips, as he stood there like a phantom. Mordecai chuckled darkly and strolled over to the two. He crouched down in front of Emily and he waited for her to cease her dry sobbing.

"Emily."

The girl refused to look at him, instead pressing her hands against her ears in a weak attempt to drown out his voice. He gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists and pulled them away, his expression never insinuating even a hint of impatience.

"You can't run and you can't hide, darling. You can't pretend like this is only a dream... or a nightmare, as you call it."

Emily's eyes snapped wide open and, slowly, she raised them to stare at Mordecai. He flashed her a crooked, charming smile. A knowing smile. Then he rose from the floor, his fingers still around Emily's wrists, pulling her up with him. He sat her on the couch but he didn't draw away.

"You’re one of the Harbingers of the End Times, chosen by Lucifer. He spoke your name, Emily King."

She stared up at him, his words tumbling around in her mind, a blank and yet stricken expression on her face. Luke chuckled in a dark and disturbing fashion, his shoulders shaking in his laughter. Mordecai couldn't help himself, he grinned mischievously.

"Do you wish to end the world?"

Emily could barely manage to shake her head "no", her innocent eyes wide in horror.

"Oh come now, child... Don't tell me you haven't once thought, if there was no world... there can be no suffering?"

He leaned in a little closer.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought that, if there was an apocalypse, at least the evil on the Earth will perish in it."

Luke burst into hysterical laughter, unable to control himself. Mordecai chuckled as his fingers released Emily's wrists and he stepped away from her, turning his gaze to Luke. Emily pulled her legs up onto the couch with her and wrapped her arms around them, her own eyes drifting over to the bird. It was preening itself, passing each ebony feather through its beak. The demon's orbs were still glowing that intense, scorching crimson. Emily forced herself to stay calm, though her breathing was increasing in pace and she felt herself on the edge of another breakdown.

"Did you pass by Seth on your way in?"

"Nah, m**********r, haven't seen him." Luke attempted to sound nonchalant, but a growl adorned his voice nonetheless. His upper lip twitched in a microexpression of a snarl before his features fell to emptiness once again.

Mordecai had seen it. He understood it for what it was, a poorly concealed hatred for both Seth and himself. Yet he refused to acknowledge it nor feed the flames.

"He should have been here by now. Perhaps I should go find him."

"NO! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE WITH THAT PSYCHO! PLEASE!"

Both of them turned to stare at Emily. Her caramel eyes swept between them, alarmed. Luke had no hint of emotion on his face. Nothing. Once again Emily felt her eyes burn with the tears she was too dehydrated to create and she seemed to draw further into herself.

"Please."

A shadow fell into the doorway and everyone turned to see the man who stood there. Seth was still as he leaned up against the doorframe, his eyes on Emily. She saw the cold look in his black irises and the way they drifted over her body. She had never wanted to run for her life with every last shred of sanity she had left before this moment so intensely, but then she knew that she had to get out. No matter what happened, she had to get out of here somehow. Whatever would become of her was a fate that was worse than any death she could imagine. She knew that with an unshakable certainty.

"There you are, Seth."

"Yeah, I'm here. This the girl?"

"Indeed."

Mordecai strolled over to Emily and sat on the edge of the couch’s arm. The raven hopped onto the back of the couch as he did, ruffling its feathers, side stepping to perch behind Emily. She glanced over at him, her arms subconsciously tightening their grip around her legs, and even her eyes betraying her fears.

“Emily King. The fourth Harbinger of the End Times,” he addressed her formally as he gestured to Luke, “The man in the demented clown face-paint is Luke Wolfe. The third Harbinger.”

He gestured to Seth, “The one in the doorway is Seth Moore. The second Harbinger.”

“…and I am Mordecai Prada. I am the first.”

Emily stared up at him in silence, giving Seth and Luke a moment to lock gazes. They both wore a concealed snarl as they regarded each other. Mordecai glanced over at them and cleared his throat, demanding their attention. They turned their eyes to him, still vicious.

“Now we need to begin the plans before the Archangels take action.” He rose from the edge of the couch’s arm rest. “Close the door. Don’t turn on the lights.”

Seth stepped into the office and shut the door noiselessly behind him, the scowl never leaving his face. Everyone took a second to let their eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. When they found their vision clearing, Dibbuk was standing behind Luke, hanging over his shoulder. Taller than Luke, a disturbing sight. His blacker than black fingers were curled around Luke’s arms, his tongue lolling out of that inhuman mouth, glowing those transitioning colors as his eyes dripped vertically into nothingness and did the same.

Seth’s demon, the werewolf, was crouched low to the ground. Its visible spine reached Seth’s hand as it hung down. The tips of his fingers caressed his demon’s disheveled pitch-black fur. It breathed heavily, Emily could smell the scent of decaying flesh on its hot breath from across the room and she thought she was going to be sick. The atmosphere in the office weighed heavily on her body, she could barely restrain herself from puking or fainting. Nobody else seemed to be bothered.

Mordecai went over to the wall furthest from them and his fingers caressed the surface until he found the hidden box, which he pressed in. The rectangle retracted into the wall and revealed a panel with a complex set of lights, buttons, and a speaker. Mordecai threw the power switch to “on”. A beep sounded and the lights burst into existence. Some flickered, but one red light near the power switch glowed constantly.

“Show End Times Cult locations.” Mordecai commanded, extending effort to speak clearly. The light turned green when the technology recognized his voice.

A map of the world lit up and came to life on the wall at the same time. It was highly detailed, even going so far as portraying landscapes, geographical features, and entire populations. After a moment of loading, hundreds of red dots began to pop up on the screen. Though the dots were still sparse, few and far between, they were spread out over the entire world. Luke couldn’t help but notice that a red light on the side of his wristwatch flicked on. He looked over at everybody else’s wrists and all of their watch’s lights had turned on.

“I can’t believe you paid out the a*s for this complicated bullshit to be installed, Mordecai.”

“Oh, hush, Seth. It helps me track the cult members in a timely manner and ensure everything is in order.” Mordecai answered with a smirk, turning to glance at him. “The technology is amazing, considering the watches are all solar powered and waterproof. Bulletproof as well, which is damned convenient for captured Blackbloods. We’ve gathered plenty of information that way… and once we get what we want, I can disable the watch from my desk if I so wish.”

Seth rolled his eyes and walked over to Mordecai’s rolling office chair. He swiveled it around before plopping down into it, intertwining his fingers behind his head and leaning back. He pivoted the chair around with his feet until he faced the Boss of the Blackbloods.

“Abigar, can you believe this cocky a*****e? Look at his f****n’ desk. 'Ensure everything is in order'. Uhuh.” Seth made quotation marks in the air with his fingers before entangling them behind his head once again. He appeared to be at least slightly playful, a smirk on his lips.

“Pathetic. He doesn’t deserve to be called… ‘Boss’.” Abigar growled in a garbled predominantly male voice as he prowled across the floor, like a predator stalking prey, and came to slaver at the mouth next to the office chair. The demon’s saliva appeared to be blood, pitch black in hue. He turned his nose up and sniffed the air, taking in the scent of everyone in the office, still growling in that echoing reverberation.

“Abigar, swallow your tongue before I rip it from your throat!” Abaddon threatened in a voice that was neither male nor female; it had no human inflection at all. The demon, still perched on Mordecai’s shoulders, snapped its ghoulish face to Abigar. Its eyes glowed with an ancient heat that could have melted the soul as it bared its fangs in a gut-wrenching roar. Abigar snarled at Abaddon, the fur along his spine raising and the ethereal inky blood spilling from his jaws. All the horrific violent noise caused Emily to jerk and press her hands against her ears once again. The walls even seemed to shake.

“FOOLS! We cannot have discord among ourselves,” Dibbuk chimed in, his voice dripping with venom and yet still playful. His ear-to-ear grin curled as his fingers tightened around Luke’s arms. “How can we ever hope to end the world in the presence of the Archangels if we’re clawing at each other’s throats?”

“You speak the truth, Dibbuk.” Abaddon answered, “But don’t you agree that B***H DOGS must learn their place?”

A bloodthirsty, guttural growl escaped from Abigar's jaws.

“Silence.” Dibbuk warned. His dripping eyes may as well have burst into hell flames and the way he hissed the word through his macabre smile caused the two demons to stop. Abaddon stared at Dibbuk, deeply, his amber orbs glowing. Abigar silenced his growls, closing his jaw, and rested his burning ivory eyes on Dibbuk. “Lucifer did not choose us to fail. We are Legion.”

Caym crowed and flapped its pitch black wings, as if in agreement with Dibbuk, but the demon did not say a word. Luke began to slowly realize that his legs were tired and sore while he stood. He began to move to the couch, Dibbuk’s elongated fingers uncurled from him. He could feel his mind slowing down as he sat heavily next to Emily, a pained grunt escaping his painted lips. Dibbuk did not follow Luke. Instead, he stood where he was, which Emily found to be uncomfortably close. She glanced at the demon warily, her doe eyes wild in her terror of the monsters surrounding her.

“Shall we get to business?” Mordecai inquired, his eyebrow raised. He was answered with silence, all eyes on him. He turned away and opened up his suit’s jacket, withdrawing a stylus.

“Seth, as you know, I’m commending you to break out the fifth Harbinger from a maximum security hospital for the criminally insane,” He began as he tapped the screen that acted as a wall over North America, causing it to zoom in. Seth seemed to be disorientated at the use of “commending”, but he gathered his expression before anyone could notice.

“Her name is Ambrosine Chevalier and… well, let’s say that she is the definition of femme fatale.”

“What the f**k is that supposed to mean?”

Mordecai glanced over his shoulder at Seth with a repressed glare. He breathed an irritated sigh as he turned away and faced the screen once again, “Unless you want to risk your death, don’t fall for her seduction.”

Seth narrowed his eyes at Mordecai, the hint of a smirk on his lips, but he said nothing.

Mordecai zoomed in once more, over California. He cleared his throat and enunciated his words as a command, “Show Patton State Hospital.”

The screen zoomed in, becoming a blur of colors and vague shapes. It was disorientating for Seth, but Mordecai stared up as it came to a stop on the institution, unbothered. Now the tops of the surrounding buildings, foliage, and streets could be seen. “Patients admitted here have been because they were deemed incapable of participating in their own defense at trail.”

“Uhuh.” Seth responded listlessly, his boredom evident.

“What that means, Seth, is that the inmates are considered dangerous. There will be armed forces guarding the facility when you arrive, if that fact hasn’t occurred to you.” Mordecai did not turn around. He kept his eyes on the screen. “You can’t do this on your own. You need a diversion.”

“A diversion?” He leaned forward, a smirk adorning his face. “I can do that.”

Mordecai, after a moment of absolute silence, turned his hidden eyes from the wall and over to Seth. He strolled nonchalantly to his desk with the heaviness of Abaddon on his shoulders. Seth straightened up as his Boss came closer, his black eyes cold. Mordecai rested his hands on the messy surface of his metal desk as he leaned slightly into Seth’s face.

“Can I trust you with this, Moore?” Mordecai inquired in a dark, sinister tone. “Failure is not an option… This isn't a simple little execution or drug deal.”

“F**k you, Mordecai,” Seth spat as if his tongue was venomous, “You can choke on your f****n’ words when I come back with that little w***e!”

“Excellent.” Mordecai said simply, his voice void of emotion, as he stood up straight. He turned his face and spoke over his shoulder in the direction of the speaker, “Send Patton State Hospital location directions to Seth Moore's GPS system.”

Seth's wristwatch chimed a distinctive tune, but he didn't glance down at it. Mordecai turned his face back to Seth. His eyes glared at Mordecai, a challenge and a hatred burning within them. He may as well have been snarling as his demon did. Mordecai stared back at him for a moment, betraying nothing in his stature or expression, before he glanced over at Luke and Emily. After a second of hate-filled glaring, Seth swiveled around to look at them as well.

Luke was unconscious. He sat as he did when he fell onto the couch, only his head was tipped back and his mouth hung open. His rib cage, visible even through his shirt, expanded and deflated with his steady breathing. Yet his snoring was undetectable.

Mordecai focused on Emily, who embraced her legs like a security blanket, keeping her head ducked. She stared at the floor with a furrowed brow and stayed as still as possible. As if she were afraid to move, as if Dibbuk would attempt to stop her if she tried. Mordecai could grasp at the daydreams of horrors that ran through her head.

The terrifying apparition of Dibbuk stood awfully close to her, listening in on the conversation between the Harbingers. Paying attention where his human could not.

“The psycho clown's a tweaker, right? When am I supposed to break out this b***h, huh? He might not wake up for a week.”

Mordecai sighed.

“The timing is not terribly important. We can destroy the Shades on our own. You need to begin preparations now. Remember, you need a distraction.”

“Yeah, I heard you.” Seth answered in an irritated tone, “and while we're here, I have a f****n' question. What the hell are we going to do with the girl? She isn't going to be able to do s**t for us. Look at her, she's pathetic.”

Emily winced, imperceptibly. But she turned her gaze to Mordecai, the question on her own mind. He turned his face to her and, again, Emily felt as if he wasn't looking at only her physical form. Goosebumps tickled her skin and she tightened her grip around her legs even further.

“Emily will prove useful to us in one way or another, Seth. Do you doubt Lucifer's judgment?” Mordecai replied as he turned his eyes back to Seth.

Seth rolled his own eyes, “I really hate talking to you, you know that?”

“Of course I do.”

With a groan, Seth swiveled around in the chair and got to his feet.

He stretched, “You deal with her then, I'm getting the f**k out of here. Got 'distractions' to plan.” Mordecai could practically hear another eye roll adorning his voice as he left the room, shutting the door behind him. Abigar, though there one moment, had disappeared the next. As if he had never even been there. Dibbuk slid down into the tiles of the floor and then he was gone, too.

The heaviness in the room lifted until Emily found herself able to breathe. She straightened up a little, sensing no immediate danger, though the sight of Abaddon still unnerved her.

“...What now?” Emily whispered, as if afraid to wake Luke.

“Now, I will escort you back to your room.”