Death's Mantle: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Revelations Book 1) (13 page)

“It’s the winning ticket,” the man replied. “It proves the darkness is ignorant.”

“Ignorant of what?” she asked as he reached out and gripped her shoulder with one hand. His touch was strangely comforting.

“Of your potential.” He grinned. “Everyone always says death is the strongest force in the universe. They say even gods can die. Blah, blah, blah.” He shook his head, and his long silver hair moved about him like a crashing wave. “But I’ve seen gods rebuke death itself. Hell, I’ve seen mortals do it. So how strong can it be? How strong can death
really
be if it can’t claim everyone? Not very, I’d wager.”

“Okay?” Kim said. She shut her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The heat from his hand was spreading throughout her body, reaching down into her bones. “So what’s stronger than death?”

“That reminds me of a story someone once told me. One morning a conqueror remarked to a long forgotten divinity, ‘A conqueror can conqueror anything he can, but death can’t conquer a conqueror, can he?’” He released her, and a chill swept over her skin. She hugged her arms to her body and waited as the silence between them stretched into an eternity. “And that old god smiled and looked upon the conqueror. ‘A conqueror can conquer anything he can.’”

“I’m not following,” she said, gripping the token so hard in her hand her knuckles hurt with the effort of it.

“There are four mantles, but one doesn’t quite fit as well as the others.” He held up three fingers. “War brings death. Famine brings death. And death is the third. It is what the other two bring, always and forever.” He held out his other hand. “Then there is conquest which does not always bring death. Sometimes it brings life. Sometimes it defies death. Sometimes the conquest is over death.”

“So we’re back to the horsemen thing again?” Kim asked, squishing her eyes shut. Despite everything she’d seen and heard over the last couple days, she still couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. “That can’t possibly be real.”

“Oh it’s real, my dear Victoria.” His words boomed in her ears, pounding against her brain like the hoof beats of an army. “And unfortunately, you’re the only one that can make everything right.” The chip in her hand pulsed, so cold it nearly burned her.

“What do you mean?” Kim asked, opening her eyes to see him bend down and pick a posy that had sprung to life as he’d moved. The posy was a dreadful thing, purple in all the wrong places and green in even less befitting places.

“I mean, my dear, when your friends destroy the world to save it, you will be the only one who can bring us back from the brink, the only one who can conquer death.” He held the flower toward her. “That is always the job of your mantle. To bring us back from the edge.”

“You mean the world is going to end?” Kim asked, and the words barely squeaked from her lips. If the world ended what would happen to her parents, to her friends, to a million little kids all around the world?

“Unless you save it.” He tapped her on the forehead with the flower. “But only after your friends destroy everything. They must be allowed to save us first. That’s important.” He took a step onto a staircase that appeared simply so he could move upward. “You, my girl, must be ready to claim your victory, to snatch it back from the jaws of death. But you cannot do this when the time is not right. If you do, it will be like a delicious grape plucked from the vine much too soon. Sour and hard.” He shook his head. “Your conquest will be no good at all to eat, but picked none the less. You do not want that. None of us want that.”

Kim found herself drawn forward, shuffling awkwardly up the stairs after him. As her feet padded up the crystalline stairs, she forced herself to take a deep breath and willed her heart to slow down. There had to be a reasonable explanation for what was going on, right? Surely this person living in a cavern wasn’t totally insane. Surely her portal had deposited her here for a reason? Surely?

“Such a pretty doomed thing you are.” He reached the top step and turned. He reached out and caressed Kim’s cheek.

“I’m not doomed,” Kim’s voice was barely above a whisper as she tried to pull away from him, but found it impossible to do so.

The man looked at her for a long time, his head cocked to the side as though he had heard something he never thought he would hear. “I know this isn’t all it is cracked up to be, my dear sweet girl, but whispering in my ear won’t change anything at all.” He grinned. “That is all up to you. Only you can save us, but only if you act when the time is right.”

“How will I know when the time is right?” Kim asked, surprised to realize she believed what the man said. It sounded so impossible, but given everything that had happened, was it really so impossible?

He took one look at her and smiled. “If my heart could beat for you, it might break my chest.” He touched his breast with one absurdly long finger. “Look where you are. Nothing can be done from here. If you want to do something, you’ll have to leave.”

Kim’s lips formed into a hard line of angry determination. “So why am I here if I can do nothing?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing this whole time,” he replied, his teeth flashing like miniature daggers in the jaws of a piranha. “Figure that out and all will be clear.”

Ian 01:08

“Please. Oh please. God, don’t let me die. Don’t let me die. Don’t let me die. Don’t let me die!” Ian cried, his voice a hoarse gasp that seared his throat and ripped him open. He shut his eyes, but the force of the dream was too much, too strong. It forced his eyes closed as the voice spoke into his ears, lulling him back into the nightmare.

“The ground weeps the widow’s blood for our souls. The rain falls like blood, and in falling, it cleanses in blood. The blood soaks into the earth so nothing can grow…” The voice of the serpent ripped through his thoughts. It felt… barren, desolate, ruined, infertile, useless, worthless, scarred, tormented…

“No… not again,” Ian whispered, the words barely slipping past his lips as he struggled for consciousness, struggled to ignore the pull of the dream world as he fell back down into it.

“You’re nothing without me,” the voice cooed like a snake in his ear, leaving a sickly, sweet residue on his skin. “You were nothing before me, but with my help you can be something. Won’t it be nice to matter? For once?”

Ian looked up slowly. His vision was broken and fragmented, nothing but dull wisps of color flashing in the endless darkness dragging him under. Blood oozed slowly from his sockets, thick little globs of pain all wrapped up in a glistening red shell. It leaked down his face, dripping down his cheeks and pooling on the base of his chin.

“Every lie you speak,” Ian said, voice cold and empty. “Is drowning me.”

“The longer you resist, the sweeter it will be when you are mine,” the voice built like a wave that washed up over him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe lest he drown. The color left his face. His mind spun, and in spinning, broke all at once.

Kim 01:07

“Is that supposed to be some sort of joke?” Kim’s hands were balled into tight fists. She whirled around, her eyes blinking as she struggled to get used to the light. She was back in the parking lot. Everything around her had vanished so suddenly, it was like she’d imagined the whole thing.

“You don’t look quite as pathetic as the last time I saw you.” Polyphemus’ voice boomed in her ears. She turned to see the huge cyclops standing there. One huge, bleeding hand gripped Mal by the throat, hoisting his struggling form into the air like he was weightless. She stumbled backward, landing hard on her butt as fear wound itself up inside her. How had the creature defeated Mal? He had the power of Death at his beck and call, and still he had been beaten. What was she supposed to do?

The woodchip in her hand pulsed, so cold it made her shiver all the way to her soul and she stared at it wide eyed. So her vision had been real, then.

“Jormungand will be pleased indeed. Two for the price of one.” The cyclops took a step toward her, the asphalt splitting like an eggshell beneath his weight. “You don’t know how much trouble you’ve caused me by escaping.”

She looked up at him as the man’s words came back to her. She could do something because she was stronger than death.

“If I were you, I’d put him down.” She gestured to Mal. “You people have been calling me Victoria, telling me I have been given the mantle of conquest.” She smiled, letting her teeth show. “Well, there is no beating conquest. Victory always wins because whenever anything happens, there is victory.
I
am that victory. When the darkness swallows the light, I am its victory, and when the light revolts, throwing back the darkness, I am there again, still winning.” Kim smacked her palms together and steam rose from her skin as she took a menacing step toward the creature. “You should do as I say.”

“Okay.” The cyclops flung Malcom straight at her. Without thinking, she stepped to the side. Mal’s body smashed into the guardrail behind her, and the sound of it made her breath catch in her throat. She spun, eyes open wide in shock as Polyphemus leapt at her like a wild animal.

His crushing weight slammed into her back, but instead of knocking her down, he seemed to slide off of her. She whirled toward him as his fist cleaved through the air, but instead of hurting her, it evaporated into red mist upon impact.

He screamed, and the sound rippled down her flesh, making her hair stand on end. The cyclops staggered backward, clutching his ruined arm with one meaty fist. Bits of blackened flesh flaked off the stump of his hand, drifting through the air on lazy currents.

Instead of pressing the attack, she ignored him, sprinting toward Mal. He lay in a heap, one arm speared through the bicep by a piece of torn metal. Blood gushed into his eyes from a cut on his forehead faster than she could wipe it away. With a grunt, she jerked him free of the wreckage, and he leaned heavily on her, barely able to stand.

“Kim…” Malcom sputtered through bloody lips. “How did you come… to me?”

“I honestly have no idea.” She touched his face gently. “I remember stepping through the portal with Jesse, but instead of winding up with the others, I was alone in a cave with a crazy old man.”

“Watch out!” Malcom cried, and she turned to see Polyphemus’ huge hammer flashing through the air. Though she never felt the actual impact, her vision went blurry as she bounced across the ground like a rag doll.

The cyclops’s smile faded from her darkening vision like a Cheshire cat grin. She tried to get up, to fight the creature, but try as she might, she couldn’t get her body to move. The cyclops reached out and seized her by the hair. He lifted her into the air as white hot agony shot through her scalp. Her eyes went wide as she reached out, trying to grip him, but it felt like she was moving in slow motion.

He flung her at Mal. She crashed into his barely standing body, and they hit the ground in a heap. Polyphemus wrapped his hand around the hilt of his hammer and pointed it at them.

“Right now, you look a lot like a weakling that came a long time ago. You know what the best part of that was? I learned I could kill God if I wanted it bad enough. Isn’t that something, to kill God?” With that, Polyphemus slammed the weapon into the ground. The wind changed, carrying the gloomy decay of torn flesh and broken bones with it. It swirled around them, ready to consume everything and anything all at once.

Polyphemus slammed the vile purple cloud against Kim’s forehead. There was a flash of crimson starlight as Kim fell backward, tumbling to the ground in slow motion. Her forehead pulsed as a whirling tornado of energy ripped out of her body, shooting into the sky like a firecracker. The moon above darkened, its rays hitting the ground in shades of crimson.

Ian 01:09

“There is a job for you now. Would you take it?” the voice in Ian’s head asked. It hadn’t let him alone for an eternity. No, it had kept him strapped in a world of dreams. Now was no different. But the dreams showed him things so he couldn’t entirely ignore them.

In such a short time, he had gained so much knowledge, so much power. They called him Famine, and the knowledge and power of the name swirled about him like a cloak. It answered every question he asked and filled him with more understanding than he could have ever wanted. Evidently, his was a power that thirsted for more, always craving the next thing. His mantle would never be satisfied, even if it consumed the universe itself.

Ian knew vaguely something was wrong with him now but could not figure out what it was.. Something enormous lay just over the of his understanding, bending him to its will, threatening to swallow him up, to suck up all his air and suffocate him beneath its burning embrace.

He laughed aloud and fell backward onto the stone floor. The stars stared back at him, and he glared back at them.

“I love you more than the moon and all the stars,” his mother said.

“All of them?” he asked.

“Even the little baby ones too tiny to notice,” she replied, reaching out to touch his face. Her hair was flame red, and her green eyes flashed in the darkness of his bedside lamp.

Somewhere he knew what was going on, knew something was wrong. He reached for that thought like a child on a merry-go-round reaching for the golden ring. Pain shot through him, forcing him to yank his hand backward and retreat into the relative safety of his mind. Something had him in its grasp, something overpowering. He’d scarcely had the thought when pain slammed into him like a freight train.

He screamed and blood oozed from his eyes as he shut them tight against the horrible, burning agony. When he opened them, roses surrounded him. It was night and crimson rain fell in buckets around him. The roses swayed under the rain. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out and plucked one of the flowers, snapping its stem with a flick of his wrist. It was stained in blood, in red, everything was red. He inhaled, but there was no smell, save for that of the bloody rain falling from the sky.

“I’m the only one,” he murmured, shutting his eyes again. “Maybe it’s all broken already. Maybe the joke is on me…” He stepped away from the flowers, one bloody footstep after another.