Ruin Box Set (30 page)

“My ears work fine.”

She wiped the slight smile off her face then licked her lips, nearly making him forget his anger. “He said your powers are defiled and he had to lock them too.”

Ruin fought back the feeling of awe that threatened to steal his anger. He locked his power? “Where did—“

“It left when he arrived.”

Ruin looked at Isadore. “So he can read my mind too?”

“No, but I guessed you were asking about what attacked our house?”

At hearing the words our house, Ruin’s anger dissolved. Did she really consider him that much a part of her life? 

She swiveled around and headed back to the sink then. “He said when you fix the problem with Mr. Thibodeaux, he’ll be able to lift the barrier.” Isadore splat the mop on the floor and began mopping.

“Fix the problem? What problem?”

Chapter Four

“He didn’t say what problem.”

“What problem?” Ruin asked the being.

Isadore stopped mopping suddenly and looked at the dark form now halfway up the stairs. “What?”

Ruin glanced between them. “Speak, Isadore.”

“W-what does that mean, judgement, are you saying he has to judge?” Isadore looked at Ruin, panic in her eyes. “He’s saying you have to judge Mr. Thibodeaux, tell him you can’t do that. Tell him he’s just an old man.”

Ruin raised both hands. “I don’t make those calls Isadore.”

“What?” Extreme remorse—the psychotic break kind—welled in her wide blue eyes brimming with tears.

“Ask him if there is any other way,” Ruin whispered, ready to just hold her and forget everything else.

She looked from the being to Ruin, her eyes frantic. “H-he said he’s a K-Katharó Krísi̱?” she stuttered softly in hopeful confusion.

Ruin turned the term over on his tongue. It meant…undisputed judgement. Ready for reaping. Non-negotiable. Which meant Ruin had stopped a judgement that shouldn’t have been… and the darkness was ready to devour him. And her. That was the logic of the darkness, it loved killing things, even and especially their own. There was no loyalty to anything but darkness and evil. So all was fair in that respect. 

Ruin took soft hold of Isadore’s shoulders. “There is no other way.” Or if there was, Ruin didn’t know it.

“He’s right, of course.” Isadore screamed at the sudden appearance of Caliber, striding forward like he’d just hopped off some universal conveyor belt, raking his hand through that stringy gray hair and slightly winded.  “One more dark judgement like that,” he pointed at Mr. Thibodeaux, “and shit is going to get more real than I have tissue for.”

Ruin didn’t have time to appreciate the fact he actually understood the man, not with the news of having to judge a man Isadore clearly adored. “Is there another way?”

“Ha!” Caliber slapped a leg. “What do you think you’re dealing with here, padre? Did you think you could dawdle with the powers that be and not reap those remunerations?” he cried, waggling his hand in the air then pointing to the onyx statue on the stairs. “Scriber? Thank you for coming on such short notice. Thank Ruin, actually.” He clapped Ruin’s shoulder, loading his name with disdain before peering down at Mr. Thibodeaux. “A coma. Nice, Scriber. Very merciful of you.” Caliber gave a sigh and final clap. “I’m here to help make this right.” He shrugged a little, going for a generous look maybe. “I feel kind of responsible. I’ll guard while you use your powers to do the job. Right.”

His final emphatic word brought Isadore’s gasp. “Why? Why does he need to be judged, I don’t get it.”

Caliber turned to Isadore as though seeing her for the first time. “No, I don’t imagine that you do, miss.” He cocked his head then. “It’s really not for you to get, it’s for you to trust.”

The words silenced her but Ruin was not at all impressed with them. Trust? How can you trust what you can’t know? And how can you know what you can’t prove? The mystery might be getting old, but the answer that it lacked was still brand new.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Isadore’s light words preceded her brisk pace to the sink where she sloshed her mop up and down, mumbling words all the way until she plopped the mop back on the floor, not far from Mr. Thibodeaux. “….just a gentle soul, never hurt anybody.”

“Trust,” Caliber repeated, none too gently.

“Trust,” she repeated, sliding the mop in wide arcs. “I do, I trust. Just saying he isn’t hurting anybody, that’s all, but I trust—whatever. Do what you think is right, I gotta get these floors mopped.”

“Good,” Caliber clapped again, like that was all taken care of.

“Wait!” Isadore shot, hand out. “I mean what is he going to do?” She looked at Ruin and he suddenly felt like a fucking monster. “Nope,” she shook her head and went back to mopping. “Trusting. I can do that. Go on and do it. Judge him. I mean if that’s what you gotta do, that’s what you gotta do, I understand. I’ve judged my fair share of mice in my day, I get it, for the good of mankind, I’m sure that’s what this is. Trust. Got it.”

“Sooo…” Caliber moved next to Ruin, casting one more glance at Isadore before saying quietly, “Scriber will lift the barrier,” he pointed at the ceiling, “you’ll get your powers and do your thing.”

Isadore stopped mopping again. “What thing? What’s he going to do, is it painful?”

“No Miss Isadore, it actually is not. Scriber already put him in a coma, he’s not feeling anything.”

Isadore looked at the dark being. “You did that?” she asked with an eternal gratefulness. “Thank you,” she whispered, nodding. “Thank you, that was very sweet of you.” She looked at Ruin, gratitude vanishing. “Do your thing, JD,” she muttered, getting back to mopping. “Just… do your job. Do it quick, please.”

When it seemed another mental crisis was evaded, Caliber continued quietly, “Once you do that, you will have plugged that gaping hole in the bowels of hell you created when you decided to—”

“What did he decide to do?” Isadore again stopped her mopping, as though just hearing and understanding a missing puzzle piece. “What did you do?” she asked Ruin.

“He saved Mr. Thibodeaux is what he did.”

Her mouth opened in shock as she stared at him until he felt sick. “You did? Isn’t that good?”

“No, it’s not Miss Isadore, not in this case, it was Mr. Thibodeux’s time and he doesn’t have the right or authority to change that without causing a lot of problems for us.”

“But that was nice of him,” she insisted, like kindness was the exception to any and every rule. “He was nice to Mr. Thibodeaux.”

“He broke the law. A serious one.”

Isadore regarded Ruin again, seeming unsure of what to be perplexed over. “Why did you do that?”

Caliber sighed. “Because—”

“Can I answer for myself,” Ruin eyed Caliber who jerked both hands up, surrendering the floor to speak. Ruin looked at Isadore now. “I did it because…” Ruin suddenly realized the answer wasn’t one he wanted to say to anybody but her. Caliber waited with head down and Ruin held Isadore’s desperate gaze. “I did it for you.”

“Krísi̱ diakópti̱,” Caliber said, "oldest sin in the damn book I do believe, most deceptive too. Breaking a law for the wrong kind of love is punishable by death.”

“You did that? For me?”

For the first time, Ruin didn’t entirely loathe the fact he’d committed wrong judging. “Yes,” he finally said, holding her gaze. But every fiber inside him said that the confession should have been made against her lips.

“You did… a bad judgement for me?”

The briefest moment of respite from guilt came to an abrupt end at hearing it out loud. All the negative instincts came flooding back. Or were they positive instincts? Whatever it was, it brought a feeling that said he’d done wrong. Made him feel it. He lowered his head, unable to look at her anymore.

Isadore went back to mopping and the sudden silence served as an embellishment for the crime. Yes, it was definitely a crime and he had no business feeling anything but sick over it. Which he did now. “I’m ready to make it right,” Ruin said.

“Oh,” Isadore muttered, stalking to the sink. “Make it right, sure.”

Only, everything in her tone said sure, make it very wrong. But worse was what that would do to him and her and the ground he’d seemed to gain in understanding her. He suddenly wondered if that was even part of the job description for him. It seemed to be. “Give me my powers back,” Ruin said. “I’m ready.”

“He’s ready, give him his powers,” Isadore echoed, sloshing her mop.

Ruin watched her, feeling more lost than ever. His powers would help him know how to feel, help him understand what to do.

“Scriber,” Caliber called.

“You know what, I’ll help,” Isadore said, appearing next to Caliber, nodding at Mr. Thibodeaux.

“What?” Ruin shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” She pinned him with an obstinate gaze. “I’m his only family, it’s only right I help send him on his way.” She shoved up her sleeves. “I’m ready.”

“What are you ready for? I'm not dismantling his body parts.”

“Whatever you’re doing, I’m helping, I can help. I’ve killed mice, I can do this.” She eyed him and Caliber. “A lot of mice.” As though that qualified her to do a human now.

“This isn’t a scientific exper—”

“Now,” Caliber held up his hand. “Maybe she can—”

“No, she can’t,” Ruin cut in, his anger shooting up. “She can mop, that’s what she can do, she can mop the floor. Where he laid.”

“Okay, deal,” Caliber said.

“No deal!” Isadore said. “That’s not a job, I want a real job not some stupid job, I’m his family, I’m the only family he has, I want a job!” she screamed, commanding their attention before calming herself with palms up. “Just…give me a job,” she whispered, sounding more fragile and desperate than Ruin had ever heard.

Caliber snapped and pointed at the onyx statue. “Good idea, Scriber.”

“I can?” Isadore eyed the being. “You’d let me?”

“Let her what!” Ruin demanded, pissed.

“He said I can help lift the barrier,” Isadore gasped happily. “I can do that.” 

Scriber moved into place on the right side of Isadore and Ruin gritted his teeth when he took Isadore’s hand in his. She snapped her gaze to mine. “He says we have to be touching. Oh,” she looked down at their joined hands, “you’re hot.”

“Fine, Angel.” Touch him all you like. Seconds later and Ruin was biting a hole in his tongue ready to demand what was taking so long? How hard could it be to convey the simple words to speak? Maybe he was enjoying the feel of—

“He said you need to calm down.”

Ruin released his breath in a growl. “How about you tell him to hurry.”

Isadore whispered, “He has to measure out the exact amount of power to seamlessly insert your judgement patch without alerting the…Erev̱ni̱tí̱s?” she glanced briefly at Scriber then back to Ruin, “who would then come to investigate,” she finished casually while Caliber muttered his silent amazement over the odd couple, making Ruin need to elbow him in the temple.

Ruin returned to staring at the floor. “Do it.”

“He said I need to take your hand,” she whispered, lacing her fingers in his. Her touch immediately calmed him and he clutched her tightly, his hunger for her overtaking his anger.

Isadore gasped as Scriber’s power entered Ruin through the arm she held. The ice cold pressure trickled its way up to his shoulder, then pushed into his neck like a burrowing ice pic. Ruin clenched his eyes shut as the power expanded like a slowly flexing hand, the fingers crawling up the right side of his face. He grit his teeth and let out a grunt when the ice fingers stopped at his right eye and seemed to feel around for something before the fingers attempted to enter the entire socket, a frigid dagger pushing to get beyond.

He fought not to crush Isadore’s fingers when the pressure on his eye suddenly liquefied and oozed around it, making its way into his brain so very slowly.

“Don’t move,” Isadore whispered. “Almost done.”

The liquid on the right side of his brain formed fingers again, petting, feeling, pressing and prodding, as though searching for an entrance. Ruin picked up a pattern in the movement. Not searching for an entrance. Entering a code. Yes.

Ruin gasped at feeling and hearing the sound of metal inside his ear. Scriber seemed to be picking it, like a guitar string. One…two…three…four… Ruin counted.

“On seven,” Isadore whispered.

The seventh flick of metal brought Ruin to his knees and power shooting through his body, returning, racing, filling. His power. He angled his head, more aware than ever of Isadore, and how Scriber held her close to him, how her pulse raced hard in her veins. It was a protective gesture on the being’s part, but Ruin couldn’t bring himself to appreciate it.

“Do it,” Caliber ordered.

The urgency in his voice reminded him of the importance of that job. In one move, he swiped along the man’s face and gathered his soul from the claustrum section of the brain where Scriber quarantined it. Mr. Thibodeaux’s body gave one violent jolt with the sudden disconnect and Isadore gasped. Ruin handed the dense ball of energy to Caliber who in turn placed it in a lit cylindrical container. Ruin then eyed the back of Isadore’s head, face planted in Scriber’s black chest.

Ruin became aware at that moment that the being was no longer solid black. The spiral markings on his skin glowed white, as did what should have been the whites of his eyes. Ruin stared into that dark gaze, somber and void of any emotion, an abyss of forever dark.

With the return of his power, the urge to protect Isadore hit him hard and full force. He extended his hand to her and she came instantly, eagerly. The second her body met his he felt all the powers in the room sigh in relief, as though the world’s existence hinged on his need to touch her. At feeling the urgent press of her hands into his body, the need to have her in other ways, in every way, gripped him. And having her work her hand up his shirt to caress his lower back didn’t help. She needed to feel him, skin to skin and he needed as always, to accommodate that need.