Chapter Six

1

 

     Beneath coursing radiance steel glowed. Its serrated fangs sank ravenously into curvy matter, split blue channels that pumped scarlet solution and fell free. Onto a hardwood floor it bounced with a clang. Dime sized emblems flecked a trajectory as flesh shuffled toward the aperture of darkness. Instantaneously swallowed, lines blurred, weaved stitches over closed eyes and guided draining life toward end.

 

     Heather splashed cold water on her face. Watching it spiral down the drain she twisted the knob and ceased the steady flow. The reflection in the cracked mirror did not belong to her. Her blackened eyes were wide diamonds that glinted under low beams of faltering light. Her mouth turned into a smile that stretched her lips back toward her ears.

 

     Cascading water came into view but not clearly. Through a fuzzy veil, heavy lidded eyes perceived its steaming gush from a pewter inlet. It threw sparkling diamonds across a transparent body contained by bone white barriers.

 

     She tilted her gaze upward. The moon smiled down upon her as the stars twinkled brighter as she wrapped her mind around them.  "Tell me exactly who you are."  There was a fair amount of defeat in her voice, but before she could correct her tone a pounding voice erupted between her ears.

 

     I wear many skins, faces and ages. Corporeal boundaries don't apply as I am beyond restrictions. I can be anyone anywhere. In the devil's chamber exists creations known as demons, but these demons hold no truth to ancient folklore. Some may become a creature of such darkness and hate by letting pain and misery rule their heart...or hearts. Having been alive during forever I can remember when they came into place.

 

     In my quest here and now I will scatter as many as mischievous sprites as I can in hopes they will dominate every pocket of terrain and ultimately destroy those whom have scorned me. First I must calculate a list. It will not take long. Their names are fresh in my mind. The wounds they inflicted are still bleeding, not literally of course because blood is something I am free of, but in a way I can still hurt if I allow myself to feel.

 

     I will look upon my enemies and they will know me. They will feel my pain, my damnation. Fear is a darkroom where negatives are developed. And this room will swallow the world. I cannot passively sit by and allow them to pollute life.

 

     "To set your sights on just one enemy is truly discouraging," a voice seethed behind her.

 

     Shrouded by darkness the mass tilted. It's uneven borders held no true shape.  The moment when flesh and liquid joined was paused as crimson smacks spiraled and stained the unblemished sea sprawling before her.

 

     As with the light, the darkness fades. They are both angels higher than the most high. The womb that bore them is universal wisdom in its rawest form. The sooner you embrace this, the better off you will be.

 

     "We must not tarry now, girl," the thing spat.

 

     She analyzed shadows in conjunction with roads continuously shifting into alternate bends and curves. Their void sockets stretched out of shape, their limbs positioned at odd angles and faces bleach white; the entities patrolling these parts were morbid animations. She spun on her heels to see another corpse lying sprawled across mutilated pavement. With her hands clutching her head she backpedaled.

 

     As a bell tolled cherry droplets wrung up across the four walls. Each peal sent an undulation that shook loose wandering beads and as they popped their liquid hung suspended in air. It spread into channels, webbing a series of canals heaving and pounding like a live organism. Soon there was a crimson ceiling writhing and lighting a shuddering floor whose sections opened as lids to an eye and what looked out, a swirling mass of exploding stars, stared eternally. Within them, galaxies filtered through a rich rocky layer, protruded outward as a milky cornea danced wildly. Its depths were well defined with the universe, but something else breathed into it.

 

     Bulky black tentacles slithered from a tear duct. They interlaced and struck the four walls unremittingly, shaking free supplementary red beads. Crushing suction cups on its underside squeezed at the air and convulsed. From them a sickly smacking noise echoed, mingled with the chimes still ringing and ringing ever more loudly. As they withdrew an iris narrowed, widened and narrowed once again until purple seamed arms reached outward from the crimson ceiling. Their long colorless fingernails were scratching at something indistinguishable and they stretched forever until their claws were at the eye. Another ringing peal from the bell and they were seized by the black tentacles whose lurching action from the tear duct ceased them at once while ripping flesh from their charred bones as their suction cups chewed enthusiastically.

 

     And Heather found comfort in the evolving darkness as it pulled her into unawareness.

 

2

 

     Eyes opened to blinding light. They squinted against the harshness of streaming lights but really nothing could protect them from the sheer whiteness. Even when lids closed the sharp beams penetrated and forced them open again. When finally dimness settled over the surroundings now washing forth in bland colors did the figure straightened.

 

     With hands stretching out, it looked at the human skin it wore. It was ivory with a hint of unclean scent about it but not entirely unpleasant. It was difficult to describe as it never smelled anything like it before. As its eyes wandered over the corridors of flesh and sequences of shades as garments came into view it cocked its head to one side and for a moment relished in the silence that stirred from centuries before.

 

      Standing it found its footing quickly. Moving in a flesh and bone body proved rather easy to endure yet difficult as its movements were restricted a bit. Dashing forward at the speed of light and count air molecules were behind it now. Of course dumping the body would instantly provide those abilities once more.

 

3

 

     Dagger The Doll tilted her head back. The moon hung somewhere beyond the clouds. She was sure of it, thought it so from the start and she smiled. The corners of her mouth pulled up into a tight bow. Time was not a friend after all. Life was a road map of pain. Humans did not deserve to suffer. Their lot was a far worse fate than anything Destra might serve upon them. A frown pulled her lips down. Then again that was not so true.

 

     "Heather," she breathed. It was a wet whisper in the wind.

 

     Behind her scraping metal drew closer. She turned, a smile returning. The red pyramid head staggered around the corner. It bulky body was rather toned unlike most sleek fleshy creatures stirring in the deep maze around them. It stopped to rasp down at her. She stepped aside to allow it room to pass. Without a moment too soon it shuffled onward. She watched the knife drag behind it as one huge hand clasped its handle. She imagined it was off to judge some other soul caught in Destra's web.

 

     Her eyes narrowed. Looking after it she spied an item clutched in its other massive hand. It appeared to be leaking red with thick wet threads jetting down its gaping wound. Another trophy to add to its collection, she thought and shivered.

 

     For some time she was known as a doll. She could model her face and clothes after one. In fact she fashioned herself the name. Now as she went after a stream of fog she could feel it on her lips. She wasn't about to deny it did not make her experience innocent somehow.

 

     Around a bend she slowed. Slugs slithered in a large horde into an alleyway. Skimming her fingers along the wall she let the building guide her toward it. Her face peeked. In the midst of darkness the pile became a mammoth pile that reached toward the sky. It was nothing she hadn't seen before and moved on.

 

    She paused at the next intersection. There should be cars here, she discerned. There should be activity. It was a place long forgotten by modern play though.

 

     "One by one," she said. "One by one days grew colder and hazier."

 

     She hung her head. She snapped against a wall and listened. Destra's hiss lingered on the night. Her webbed hands were steaming. That much she caught a glimpse of but she didn't need eyes to see. Her mind woke to a world of divided bodies and she recoiled.

 

     There was a mounting sense of dread as she continued to watch the movie unfold in her thought reels. The former female lying with legs splay stared up into an eternal swelling gray mist. She had been guilty, she felt Destra's justify. She would always justify the use of violence. That was something that would never change.

 

     The Doll covered her mouth. It was tempting to speak something. It was tempting to uncover herself and reveal the gift of her presence. As she closed her eyes however that seemed more and more like a bad idea.

 

     "I have to get that amulet," she whispered.