“Come-the-fuck-on, Risk!”
The night’s wind would whip around me, carrying my friend’s words to my ears and far, far away. My bronze hair, just to my eyes, would be ruffling about at its own will now as I forced myself through the night. Running, gasping for air, the cold of the night fueling my lungs. Lyric, my senior by four years, would call out to me in that damned cool voice of his, as wonderful and vibrant as the night itself, “Hurry the hell up, you slow-ass! We’ll miss the train!”
And in less than ten minutes we were there. Odd, you know, that we’d be stowing away on a cargo-car of a train. Strange faces would stare at us, bewildered by the two kids in trench coats and baggy pants. Lyric was a bit taller than I, which wasn’t much, seeing as I was barely five-eight. He still imposed a somewhat awesome presence, though. Sprawling down his face would be a tattoo of abstract lines as dark as his ebon locks that met his shoulders. Two silver studs were pierced through the edge of his lip and his emerald eyes would coolly survey the world around him. I was jealous of my best friend. I always had been. He was always more athletic, had a better love-life, and seemed to get everything I never could have. Hell, he even slept in class and made a solid three-point-five. Still, I couldn’t let that stop me from my own dreams.
I would take a seat and sigh, looking down to my palms. Seventeen now. Slightly overweight. Never the cool kid. Never the one at parties. Likes rock music and Japanese shows. And now, my parents dead, Lyric being the only guy to look after me, I had to get somewhere. And here I was, all my things in this cargo-car. We’d been planning to hop towns awhile ago. There simply was nothing for me in Troville. I play the guitar, you see, and that’s about my only talent. Lyric here? Oh, he sings, is a genius on the piano, womanizes like it’s nothing, and is still quicker on his feet than me. I couldn’t hate him, though: He was the closest I ever had to a brother. You see, my father had helped Lyric’s parents meet when they were just getting out of high school and to thank him they bequeathed Lyric to my dad in the case that they’d pass away or be unable to take care of him. Ten years and two over-dosed druggie parents later and Lyric was part of our family. Six more years and a car crash that ended my parent’s lives was all I needed to make me even closer to the man.
And so here we were; a cart full of homeless people heading to Fiona. That was the capital– and where we could hook up quite a few live concerts. It was smooth sailing from there. We were made. Sure, there would be struggles, but, hah, like those types of things could stop Risk Simonson and Lyric Chase. Oh, boy, if only I had known how much shit we had just gotten into by going to Fiona…
The train screeched to a halt. The sun was rising and I was half-asleep as Lyric kicked my side a few times in an attempt to make me a bit more alert. I’d forgotten that it was easy to get your ass kicked and money stolen when you were sleeping. Right. Getting off the train, I would spot a girl with long, dark hair. I winced. Why the hell did everything remind me of Valentine? Lyric would follow my gaze and then promptly give me a shove, muttering in that dark tone that was his alone, “She’s not your lover, dick. Forget about Valentine, she’s long gone. Bitch didn’t know how to love you anyway. You deserve better than that.” I’d sigh. I didn’t care, even Lyric’s don’t-give-a-shit-get-over-it mannerisms wouldn’t stop me from being regretful for not trying harder. My dad always said he had the same stuff happen to him when he was a kid. Yeah, right. Just like how Lyric’s parents had sex the first day they met. Real likely, sure. I could never believe old fogies when they tried to relate to us teens.
Off the train now, carrying a suitcase in one hand, my guitar strapped over my shoulder. The city was goddamned beautiful. Especially as it just woke up, steam rising from the place, lights slowly turning off as the night was beaten away by the sun’s rays. Housing and corporate buildings and bars and arcades and stores would line the streets. I felt like I could grow to like this place. Another nudge from Lyric, “Move along, won’t you? You’ll have all night to enjoy the town. For now, we’ve got to get to an apartment. Old girlfriend of mine set one up for us free of charge on one condition.”
I’d glance back, my deep, somewhat smooth voice retorting with the obvious reply, “What condition?”
“I have to do that thing she likes with my tongue.”
I’d snicker and punch him square him the shoulder, “Douche.” He always made jokes like that, but only when I was around, because, secretly, I think he knew that I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. Regardless, we continued to the hotel and checked in. A little room that smelt, oddly, of citrus. Still, it was my new home for the next few months, so I got used to it. In moments I began to play a bit of an addictive tune on my acoustic guitar. Lyric wouldn’t have any of that, besides, he had to go pay his favors to the girl who was letting us stay. Or so he said. In the next hour, I wished he never left…
The room would grow increasingly hot. I checked the AC and it was still on. As I went to the door, I found it wouldn’t budge. Naturally, I freaked right-the-fuck out. I banged on the door for a moment and no one even noticed. This was creepy. If Lyric was playing another joke on me I’d kick his ass. Sadly, it wasn’t him at all. A voice, creepy and sinister, would unwind from the back of the room. The sound of it stopped me in my tracks.
“I’ve killed your family and now I’ve come for you, Risk.”
My heart doubling over, I turned slowly to see something beyond nightmares. It wore a robe of black, though laced throughout it, as if patched there, were faces of humans screaming in agony. His own face would be shrouded, though eyes as crimson as blood would stare back at me, piercing right into my soul. He would hold out a hand, fingernails akin to a bird’s talons, and speak even further. As he went on, I felt a warmth between my legs. Here I was, facing down a demon, and all I could do was piss myself, scared shitless.
“Give me your soul and it won’t hurt at all…”
I would manage to croak, my voice not-so-cool in the face of danger, “W-what if I don’t!?”
“Then I will personally rip you limb fr—”
His voice was cut off as a blade would slide right through his chest, blood spraying across the room– and onto my face. I’d watch as the beast in front of me was chopped to peices by some savior. I’d fall to my knees. It was too unreal. And that was the end of the night for me…
I woke up to find myself on the bed, my guitar still in my hands. Lyric was sitting across from me. I’d gasp and look around, yet there were no bloodstains, no signs that I’d nearly died. Hell, even my pants were dry. I looked back to Lyric and he would laugh, “Why the hell ‘you freakin’ out? You fell asleep playing that song you never quit playing.”
I shook my head and laughed, “Man, I must be bat-shit crazy then. I swear, I had the craziest dream. J-just…. don’t fucking leave the room, okay?”
Lyric would toss me a side-ways glance at that and simply add one of his usual jokes, “Okay, but if you ask me for a kiss I will have to decline. It’s already suspicious enough with us rooming together.”
I sighed. The ‘dream’ felt so real. In fact, I knew it was real. And the person who saved me from that demon was defiantly, undeniably, the only person I knew who wore clothes two sizes too big and had a facial tattoo: Lyric.
That night I found it difficult to sleep. The day’s nightmares haunted me even as I was conscious and I was frightful of what would happen if I surrendered my body to a world of dreams. I sat at the table provided for us in our room, my computer the only thing illuminating the place: A light cerulean glow would make things seem ethereal to me.
I had to tell someone. Lyric wouldn’t listen to me even if I tried. I knew that. He wasn’t the type of guy to buy tale tales and stories. Lyric simply was a realist. Also, he defiantly was the one who saved me. Defiantly. Confronting him wouldn’t work. So I found myself here, my laptop open, on my MySpace page. ‘Risk Breaker’ was my display name. How clever of me. New messages? None. I wasn’t too popular. I’d open a new window and start to write, though to no one at the time. I typed about how I’d left my home and come to Fiona. I even included the part about being saved, though I did not say it was Lyric who did it. Even if it was online, I wasn’t going to give him more credit and status than he already had above me.
I scrolled through my friends, thinking of who to send it to. The mouse stopped over Valentine. I wanted her to know. I mean, even if she left me, I still wanted her to know, at least, that I wasn’t in town anymore. Maybe she’d think I was more mature and cool for taking this route.
I added one more thing for her, “I still love you.” Just a few words, added to the bottom of the message. Sent. I’d spend the next few minutes looking around on the internet, catching up with things I’d missed out on, and before I knew it I was back to MySpace, at my inbox.
I had expected a huge reply, one of worry. I had hoped for her to be interested, to come back to me. I was let down. All that glowed on the screen were the words, “I don’t love you anymore, Risk.”
Tears escaped my eyes and dribbled down my cheeks instantly. It was painful. Unlike the breakups most people were used to, where one’s heart felt shattered and then they were left to piece it back together, this one simply left my heart with nothing to thrive on. I know, I know, I should be over her by now. Lyric even said I should. I’d reply, as blunt as she did…
“It hurts.”
With that, I closed my laptop. Utter darkness. A hand coiled over my shoulder. I whipped around, expecting yet another demon, here to collect my soul. It was just Lyric, smiling down at me, “Let’s go out tonight. You’re still caught up over her, we’ve got to get you to forget about that bitch. She fucked with your heart, man. I told you; totally not worth your time.”
Hands in my pockets, my hair probably more than a little frizzed around, I followed Lyric’s dark form from the hotel to the lobby to the streets. The town really did come alive at night. Stores were bustling with business, lights kept the place as bright as it would be at any other time of day. It seemed like the city, itself, was a thing of the night, a creature that thrived off of the activities of us humans. And there I go again, my mind wandering to such absurdities. Now, though, I knew that there were absurd things in this world.
Lyric led me to a dark place, if it was at all possible in Fiona. We’d go through alleyways, my friend assuming a brisk pace that I felt a little troubled by. Eventually, he broke out into a full-fledged sprint. “Damn it. Not this shit again…” I’d chase after him, hating how he’d run like this sometimes.
We ran for what seemed like ten minutes, though I know it was less. He stopped and I nearly crashed into him. Lyric was ready for that: He tossed me behind him and stood firm. I peeked over his shoulder and saw that we weren’t running to any certain place: We were running away from something. I couldn’t tell what it was in this darkness, but my heart knew full well. It was another spawn of hell that had come for one thing and one thing alone…
…my soul.
Ten feet tall. Fangs as long as my fingers. Hulking arms that ended in fists the size of boulders. It shuddered, it’s back covered in spines that jutted out like bone. The night hindered my visage but I knew what it was; a demon. It had to be. No such creature existed on this planet. And here I am, Risk Simonson, cowering behind my best friend and savior, Lyric Chase. Not exactly what I expected to happen when I came to Fiona.
The beast lurched forward, a voice deep and sultry filled the air around me—made it hard to breathe. “You know I want that boy’s soul. You won’t find me as easily slain as Kravenu.” It would make a husky noise, something similar to a laugh, however, it seemed foreboding, “I am Svenengal, and I will devour you, Lyric!”
I wondered how this thing knew my friend’s name. However, more than that, it had just verified that what had happened earlier was no dream. I was attacked. This was all real. I tried to shut it out right away. Maybe I was simply having another series of nightmares, just like I did as a child. That’s right! Demons can’t be real! They simply ca—
My thoughts were shoved aside as Svenengal came at us, fists first. Lyric moved faster than I’d expected him to. In a flash, he ran up the beast’s arm and over its shoulders. I couldn’t move. I was frozen. It was like watching a movie and getting the most intense scene: You couldn’t do anything but watch. Lyric wrapped his legs around its neck, strangling it, as his entire body heaved back. I wondered what he was up to, and then I heard a howl that nearly deafened me.
He had pulled one of the spines right out of its back! In a swift, flowing movement, Lyric brought the creature’s bony appendage down. He gouged its face in. Several strikes later, the fiend was down. A stink came from it that was worse than anything back home. Lyric would hop off its back and dust off his pants, sighing a little at that, “Ah. Sorry I let it catch up to us. Sven here was a bit of a pushover, though. All talk and no game.”
How could he be so damn cool about this? He just slaughtered a ten-foot-fucking-demon for Christ’s sake! And yet, there he stood, as suave as could be, hands in his pockets, wind in his hair. And then it came; the explanation. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Risk. These assholes are after you. Really, there’s only one reason for that.”
Lyric would approach me. I felt the blood flowing back through my veins, adrenaline slipping from me now, the world coming to a stopping point to catch a breath. We stood there in that alleyway and Lyric told me the single most life-changing sentence I was to hear.
“You belong in Heaven: I was ordered to bring you there.”
Scrambling along, following closely at Lyric’s heels, a thousand questions littering my mind, and yet all I could ask was, “H-how?”
He’d nod, strolling through the alleyways, headed deeper into the city’s dark outskirts, “I was born into this world, incarnated if you will, for this sole purpose. The Almighty knew you’d be born and that in your life, the forces of Hell would seek you. No innocent soul would be lost to their legions, so I was sent to be your guardian. The Legion must’ve gotten the news a bit late. That’s why your parents were killed.” Lyric would take a right, then a left, continuing down the path, explaining further why such a strange series of events had taken place, “Now, the only way to keep you safe is to bring you to Heaven. I am sure it seems a little drastic, but you’re the reason why the demons are here, on Earth. Don’t think you’re special; you’re just an ordinary human like everyone else. The only thing that makes you different is that your soul is sought after.”
I tried to follow his dialogue, but it seemed so far-fetched. Lyric never talked this much, and now what? He’s an angel sent from Heaven to protect me? What will he tell me next? How could he be more fucking perfect? Is he secretly Chuck Norris, too? I found myself more than a bit upset. I was still me, the usual little kid I was, except now Lyric had even more than I did in terms of physical and mental prowess and I was the one being targeted. Great. Just dandy.
We stopped at a stair that descended four steps and lead to a wooden door. Rickety old thing, too; it squeaked and opened slowly as Lyric unlocked it and pushed it aside. Now the bastard has keys to a town I’ve never even been to beforehand. Oh, envy found me at the most inopportune of times.
He brought me into a circular room that was made of stone and cluttered with various books, trinkets, and things of the like. Lyric locked the door behind us a disappeared into another room for a moment. I twiddled my thumbs and hummed the tune I’d been playing on my guitar earlier. This was insane. Life had shifted dramatically for me. And now what? I have to go to Heaven prematurely so demons don’t kill me? Absurd. Out of this world. Yet, it was my reality.
Lyric returned with another person at his side. This figure was hidden amongst tan robes, a hood pulled over his head. I would spy a crucifix dangling from his neck and sable gloves on his hands. This man was one of a priest, but not one of those new-age priests that plays guitar and touches your children. No, he was a priest of old days, something from a fairy-tale, one that recited scriptures of the Old Testament from memory. If I had thought Lyric was the one who would change my life the most, I was definitely wrong. Staring back at me, across the room, was the man who would be personally delivering me to God’s kingdom.
Penske Regal. Seventeen years old. Shaved head, though his extremely short hair was black. He’d been introduced into priesthood since his youth and carried the word of God on his tongue like a soldier brings his most honored blade into battle. This man was no zealot, and, in fact, was quite humble. I did not know of his many feats or his history. I had no clue why he stood before me in this moment. And yet, this was the man who would be bringing me to heaven. My lips parted with words about to escape my mouth—ended abruptly as the earth shook. Normally, I’d be fine with the quake. However, one little fact changed that. There hadn’t been a tremor in Fiona since the dawn of time.
Lyric rushed me along as Penske followed diligently. We darted down stone tunnels and passageways, illuminated by torchlight, eventually ending at a fork in the path. Lyric sighed and bowed his head, dark locks rustling about as the words “Sorry” escaped him. I had no clue what was happening. The entire day was a haze. It’s not usual to be attacked by demons, told you have to leave this world, and rushed along underground passages. In a few seconds, I would glance up and find myself alone. Penske was at my side, but that did nothing for me. Lyric was gone.
Safety left with him. In an instant, I was trembling with fear, trying to pull myself together. The monk simply stood there, donned in such holy garb, sapphire eyes gleaming. Words would come now, in a soft, friendly voice, “I am no angel, but demons will find me to be quite the tenacious foe.” I looked over him for a second. To be frank, he seemed like a meek guy; skinny, a bit shorter than me, no weapons of any sort…
I couldn’t believe him. This was absurd. I shook my head, a sigh of my own retorting to his statement, “Sure. Just protect me if you can. Besides, what the hell makes me so important?”
The priest tilted his head, a curious gesture, “Lyric didn’t tell you, then?”
“Tell me what?”
“You’re the portal.”
I blinked. Twice, even. Then a double-take. My lips quivered, almost frightened to ask—and, yet, I found myself doing so anyway, “What do you mean?”
Penske simply strolled past me, taking the left pathway, robes billowing around his form. He spoke as I followed, as if to make way in our journey as well as instruct me on my new destiny, “You see, as long as your soul exists on earth, angels and demons are allowed to come here. It was an ancient pact that was made that banned both beings from being part of worldly affairs, you know?”
I shrugged, saying something that seemed foreign to me, “Why not kill me?”
Penske chuckled, the sound somewhat reassuring as it cackled down the halls, “Then we wouldn’t be assured your soul ends up in heaven. Besides, killing someone else for such a thing is quite the sin. Even under these circumstances, but, ah, you see, if we take you to a holy ground and perform a ritual, then we may simply bring you to heaven without taking your life.”
This was absurd as well. When had I fallen into the plot of some fiction novel? I am Risk Simonson and before all of this I was happy—with the girl of my dreams and a life that was secured. I hated this position. Next they’d probably tell me that I wouldn’t even find happiness in heaven.
“You’re not going to find the bliss and comfort you desire in heaven, you know?” Penske would chortle. He went on, as if reading my mind, “Heaven is a place of harmony, but you won’t be going there normally. In fact, the only reason you’ll be there is so that we can somehow make the Aspect of the Portal separate from your soul. Neither angel nor demon should interfere with the lives of humans. It is up to them to decide their fate.”
I shook my head and sighed. Great, just great. And with that, we continued down, further into this dank place. Penske would lead, answering little things I had to ask him that were simply asked to pass the time. Every now and then he’d glance forward, as if expecting something. It wasn’t long until I heard what had made Penske’s ears pop up.
Crouched in a corner, flesh the color of blood, arms elongated and hands nearly touching the floor, was a demon I’d not seen. Silvery eyes flickered in the light as the being slinked back slightly, using the shadows as a cloak. In its jagged hands was a mouse, half its body missing. Dribbling down the creature’s chin was what remained of the other half. A purple Mohawk, a bit over a foot in length, stood out more than any of the things features. As those platinum orbs gleamed, a shrill voice flowed through the air, “M-my master!!”
I immediately glanced to over to Penske. He seemed ready to fight, his hood pulled back over his head, his body in an awkward stance. The demon stood up, inching closer, perhaps four feet tall—including the Mohawk. It wore baggy jean-shorts that were held to his waist with a tight rope. His long arms extended towards me, holding the corpse out, “A micey! For me master…”
I held back a gag. It was disgusting. I shook my head, denying its wants to serve me, wondering how I was the superior of such a thing. I crouched a bit, feeling that this demon couldn’t possibly hurt me. I grinned and it returned the favor, razor-edged teeth glinting. I stood again and it put the mouse at my feet, bowing its head, “I missseded you, master… But I know you come down cave! Others say I stupid, but I know! I not bite hand that feeds. No-no. Ashiquel not stupid. Thouuugh…. Not like using Engleash. You know?” He’d look up, as if relating to me.
I shook my head, speaking to it, ignoring Penske, who seemed to have his face in one hand, looking absolutely stunned and embarrassed that I’d talk to such a creature. Ashiquel made peaked out his index finger and pinky, making the ‘rock’ sign, “Master love music! Love rock!” I laughed at that, “Ashi… erm, Ash. I’ll call you Ash. You look like a little mosher. What makes me your master?”
He’d tilt his head one way, then another, then would lick at the ends of his fingers anxiously, “You let me come here, master! So let me protekt yous, master! Other brothers and friends from home want kill you. But you give us so much. Entire world, you see? So much!”
I took a few steps forward and Penske quickly made his way to my side, expressing his concern, “Risk! You can’t just let a demon follow us! What if it’s a trick! They’re known for trickery!”
I just laughed. Life was chaotic right now anyway. With a smirk, I replied to that, “I am his master. Besides, how could he be a trickster? He offered me his only mouse.”
(( TO BE CONTINUED))
