Evil Origins by JD Simser
Chapter THIRTY
Jenny
They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes or your soul separates from your body and floats, letting you see yourself from above. That's what I expected, I guess. To relive those treasured moments from my life. The idea of it scared me more than I cared to admit. All those unsavory acts that I did in the name of success. Some might say I did all those unmentionable acts to help elevate Wilson's professional life, but that's not how I saw it. Every time I helped Wilson succeed, I was helping myself. My own dreams and desires were made a reality because of his success. I expected Jade's birth to pop up like the highlight real from the sports newscast. After all, even if she wasn't expected or even wanted in my teens, she was my ultimate defining moment. It was her birth that made me bury the stupid schoolgirl who believed in love and was easily seduced. I killed that little girl and became Wilson's wife. What I feared the most, though was the last day I saw Renaud before he vanished. The day I told him I was pregnant and I saw the betrayal in his eyes. We were still kids and had never had sex, so he knew that it wasn’t his. That was the worst of it. He demanded to know who the father was and I was too ashamed to tell him. Too ashamed to tell him that the child I was carrying would one day call him uncle if I ever told her the truth. I didn't get to say any of those things, though.
I was pulled back to life in an explosion of light. Nothing like sudden blindness you experience when you turn the lights on in a dark room, but more like the bright colors that pop in the sky during a firework show. It was magical, to say the least and I swear as each second passed I was being pulled back from the brink of death and into to the land of the living. Through the blurred fog that seem to fill my eyes like a curtain in a window, I saw the faint outline of a man whispering, "Tolle animam meam et reddet mihi dolorem cruciatumque," and strings of light shot out of his fingers, seeming to twist and turn before heading to my chest. I don't know why, but the light seemed to push warmth into my body while pulling out the coldness that had settled there since I had been stabbed.
My eyes cleared, but the image of the man kneeling over me was distorted. He was still whispering, "Tolle animam meam et reddet mihi dolorem cruciatumque," through clenched teeth as streams of sweat dripped from his brow onto my body. The voice seemed like the owner was about to cry as he forced each syllable out and the trembling hands that touched my flesh were hot like fire. All this and yet he never stopped for a second. His face was terrifying at best. I knew that the face looking down at me couldn't look the way my mind made it to be. It just wasn't possible. Loose wrinkled skin dangled off his chin and there were so many scars covering his face that it looked like somebody had attacked him with a lawnmower. There was one giant scar that ran all the down his and went right over his eye. To see such a creature, I automatically knew that he had no redeeming features but here he was saving my life. I liked to think that he was my angel, but angels didn’t look that scary.
The strength was flowing back into my body faster than previously before, but it appeared that the stronger I was becoming the weaker my savior was. As the seconds passed, I was certain that I could see death grabbing hold of him as if he called it from my body into his and it obeyed. The colors stopped and the figure staggered backwards. I watched him intently, expecting something to happen but nothing did. He just sat there motionless with his head down, every muscle inside his body sending waves throughout his frame.
Maria was lying in the floor motionless. The small, fragile thing looked dead. I hoped that she was just knocked out or sleeping, but I feared she was a victim of this world. A child that ended up here because of a few twists of fate and the worst luck ever.
The figure’s hand moved and I wondered what would cause him to take my pain and bring it upon himself.
"She isn't dead,” he grumbled. “She’s just sleeping. Soon enough she will awake and you must take her and run." Slowly, he moved his trembling hands and placed them on her forehead whispering, "Me obliviscere," and a faint dim light filled those cold eyes.
"What did you do to her?"
In a deep voice, the stranger said, "Nothing at all. I told her to sleep and she did." There was sadness in his eyes as he stated, "I didn't hurt the child. Somethings, once witnessed you can never get out of your head. Seeing my real face is an image nobody should be forced to carry with them. She will wake up and forget that I ever existed."
"Why did you save me?"
He laughed, "A priest prayed for your salvation. I saved your body and now it's his job to save your soul."
Normally, I loved being in the center of attention. It was one of those things that I cherished and longed for my whole life. I loved the Idea of everybody wanting me or talking about me. Since childhood I had adored the idea that men wanted me and woman hated me for it. Today was different though, it was desire that made me the center of attention. Today it was one man saving my body so that another man might be able to save my soul.
"Damn you Mike." I said, under my breath.
He burst out laughing, "You’re probably the only woman in the world that wants to damn him." There was more than just amusement in his voice. It was like old friends laughing at a funeral. It might be morbid, but that's exactly the impression I received talking to him. Like we were old friends.
He stood up and I couldn't believe my eyes. Blood was pouring out of his chest. Looking down, I was surprised to find that the stab wounds had vanished leaving nothing but blood stains to indicate that they had ever existed. Looking back at him, I realized that the wounds seemed to have leapt from my body to his.
"Did you save my life by sacrificing your own?"
Blood was seeping from his eyes and a sadness filled his voice as he said, "No, I have no life to sacrifice. There was a time when I would have gladly traded my life for you, but I don't have that option anymore. No, I stole a life and gave it to you."
"Why? You did all this because a priest prayed for you to save me."
"Yes I did. He asked and I did it for him."
"Why would you do that? What is so special about me?"
He was twisting his hands and squeezing them together, "There is nothing truly special about you to me, but to Mike you are everything. I can understand why he thinks that way, but I don't feel that way anymore."
He touched Maria's forehead and whispered, "Surgit."
Like a robot, her eyes opened and she started to moan as she wiped the sleep from her eyes. Slowly she looked around the room, dazed at first as she grabbed my hand.
"You are fine, but how? You were dying and there was nothing I could do,” Staring at my chest her eyes were filled with fear, "How is this possible?"
He stood up and said, "Forget about what happened while you were sleeping. We must leave this place now." Maria seemed lost as she stared at me and then down at her blood covered hands. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
"Listen, I don't have time to explain." He grabbed Maria's hand and said, "Let's just get you two out of here before it's too late."
He stepped towards the door and turned back, “Let’s get out of here before more men come.”
“Too late,” a voice said as he got thrown to the floor. “There’s no place to run and hide.” Stepping into the doorway, the intruder was nothing like I expected. He was a slim, pointy-faced short guy with squinty eyes and a thin mustache that looked like it was starting to go bald.
Pointing a gun in my direction he said, “The boss wants you, fancy pants.” Pointing it in Maria’s direction a cruel smile filled his rat-like face, “And I’m sure the boss is going to want to have a little talk with you. After turning his little brother against him like you did, I know that it’s going to be a painful talk.”
With a quick kick he drove the ball of his foot right into my hero’s face, sending him back down to the floor and as a small splatter of blood flew everywhere.
“Nobody cares about you.” Wiping the blood from his face he took
Twisting his head from side to side, my guardian’s neck cracked and he started stretching his arms.
“My mom might miss me. She thinks I am adorable.” There was something about him. Such cockiness for a man who was knocked on his ass and bleeding on the floor.
Rat-face was amused as he kept the gun pointed on him.
“With a face like that, I could see how only a mother could love it. I like him, though. He’s got big balls for a dead man.”
Still stretching he snorted.
“Oh, if only you knew how close you were to the truth, little man.” He was slowly pushing himself up off the floor when Ratface lifted his leg and went to strike out at him. He caught his foot in the air and whispered, “Torpor,” and pushed him back. Jumping to his feet he snapped, “I wouldn’t suggest that you do that again, friend.”
“Son of bitch, my legs asleep! Damn guy must know a lot about nerves or something.” Giggling, he looked back at whoever was behind him and asked, “The boss didn’t say anything about a scar-faced demon0looking fellow, did he?” He was kicking his leg trying to get the blood to flow back to his limb. “I really like this guy, I must say.”
“Then walk away now. I don’t want to be forced to do something drastic.”
Pointing the pistol at him, he said, “It seems to me that you have forgotten who has the gun.” Looking back at those behind him and then back at us he spread his arms and demanded, “Give me your best and we will see who is still standing.”
Twisting his head, he held up a finger and said quietly, “Harrow’s here.” What was Harrow doing here and even if he was, why would my guardian even care? Intently, he pointed around the room and stopped, whispering “I need to get you two out of here before the battle begins.”
“And what are you going to do against all of us?”
"I don't have time for this," my hero said as he wheezed with each breath. "They are coming and I just don't have the time to sweet talk you. I don't want to hurt you, but I just don’t have the time anymore." He was twisting around as if searching for an escape route. Pressing his hands against the sides of his head he said, "They are all coming, there’s no time."
"You will just have to make the time, friend."
He snapped, "No!" and his hands shot out, pounding into the rat’s chest. His face went white as the air burst out of his mouth and his body folded in two. "I can't wait," he screamed as he lifted his foot and smashed it into the intruder’s head. The crack that followed was thunderous and his body went soaring backwards. "We must leave now," he ordered. A flash of light and the boom of a gun firing made my body quake. He twisted and his hand went out while he screamed, "Spermatophyta." I watched the bullet stop in the air and stay in place, spinning. He gestured with his hand and sent the bullet zipping away, making a twanging noise as it bounced off towards the exit.
Somebody cried out, "What the-" but it was met with flames shooting out from his hands. The men were screaming as he stomped through the doorframe, pushing a wall of fire as he went. The screams were unbearable as the men cried out in pain, forming some kind of cruel symphony.
Stepping out into the corridor I couldn't believe my eyes. If this was a dream, it wasn't like any dream or nightmare I had ever had before. The Handsome Johnny was spread out on the floor in a pool of blood.
Maria stared at the sight, whimpering.
"Oh Johnny, I am so sorry. I am so sorry." There was still terror in his eyes even though he was long past caring about anything that might happen here. Her eyes glistened and I was sure that she was about to cry, but she didn't. She just squeezed my hand and blankly stared at the man's body.
We were walking around the bodies trying not to disturb the dead, but there wasn’t any way of passing the bodies without stepping in blood. I don't know why I felt so uneasy about it because once you were dead, you were dead. Well, I used to believe that. Now I wasn’t sure what I believed. The narrow corridor felt restrictive and overbearing like it was designed to herd us in one direction only, and we were heading in the wrong direction.
Maria was still stuck on the Handsome Johnny's body and those hollow empty eyes. She felt no remorse or concern about the others laying there on the floor. I figured that Johnny had a lot of meaning in her life. He wasn't just her handler or her pimp. He was more than just a friend. Maybe even a lover, but if he was it wouldn't matter now because I was sure he was the sacrifice made to save my life.
"I didn't kill him. I don't use guns." My savior said. I can't tell if he was reading my mind or just assumed that I was thinking it. The way he forced out the answer made it clear that I was only an obligation and not someone he would ever care about. We were passing what I can only assume used to a living, breathing man lying on the floor with such a serene look in his eyes. His face looked hollow and the skin was dry and twisted until there was barely anything more than a skeleton left behind. It was hard to imagine that a life could be reduced to rough leathery skin covering hollow bones. The stranger didn't allow his gaze to touch him, but seemed to avoid him all together. This poor figure must have been the sacrifice that he had mentioned earlier. What did he say? To save a life you must take a life? I guess I should be thankful that Mike's prayers were heard.
At the end of the corridor he stopped and waved his hand in the air. He appeared to sneak around more like a thief rather than a hero. He was hiding in the shadows, listening for sounds and voices even though nobody was there. I should be grateful that he saved me, but watching how awkwardly he lead us to freedom was hard.
"It's safe,” he said as he turned the corner and vanished from sight. With Maria in hand I followed as closely behind him as I could, leaving a few steps between us so as to not get in his way.
He was standing against the wall peering around the corner.
"It looks clear," he whispered, “but you need to..."
A pair of thick, muscled arms crashed the through the wall forcing the air from his lungs. Struggling, he kept trying to break free but couldn't quite manage it. He was kicking and twisting uncontrollably as he attempted to pry his way free.
"Run!" was all he could manage to spit out before his arms started to go limp like cooked spaghetti noodles.
Chapter THIRTY ONE
Mike