Better of two evils

The rope cut into her wrists as she struggled against her captors, but they were too strong for one twelve year old to deal with on her own. She sobbed into the blindfold and bit harder on the gag that had muffled her screams for help, resigned to whatever fate they had planned for her.

Cool rain freckled her skin and clothes as she stumbled forward, her feet crunching on stones in the soft earth; for a few seconds the fragrant scent of wet grass distracted her mind from the green mile she was walking. The rain eased off, replaced by a breeze that made her shiver as goose pimples crept along the exposed skin on her arms. Her bonds were severed and the blood stung as it rushed back into her hands. One of her captors grabbed the back of her neck, squeezed gently but firmly and leant in close, the stench of stale sweat and putrefying flesh making her gag. His warm breath tickled her ear as he hissed a warning: “Run and I’ll kill your family.” He cut loose the blindfold, allowing it to drift to the floor. She was in a large clearing in some woods, possibly the ones in the park. Large flaming torches embedded in the earth formed a pentagram, spanning the entire clearing; a soft orange glow licked the ground as the flames swayed in the breeze. In its centre the grass had been burnt into the shape of a coiling serpentine dragon with fire billowing from its jaws. Robed figures with their faces shrouded in their hoods swarmed round the clearing, dragging girls of various ages; traces of make up clinging to their beaten and dirty faces cut through with stripes where the tears had trickled in meandering paths. The girls glanced around furtively, too scared to take a proper look.

A figure larger than the others, obviously the leader, wore robes that fell in large folds, bunching over a hump in his back. Stepping into the centre he motioned for silence. He steepled his hands, then parted them, somehow clearing the clouds from the sky, revealing the full moon. His hands rippled as he did so, trailing a ghostly image of claws. Two narrow gold slits blinked deep inside his hood. The figures began chanting in a foreign language that sounded like a combination of Japanese and Russian. A burning pain tore at her belly as the knife cut through her taught flesh, tearing the voice from her as she tried to scream. One by one the girls around her were sliced open and as the chanting rose in intensity and volume she was cut again and again, until only small patches remained untouched. The pain ebbed away with each cut of the dagger, the world around her swirling into a hazy mass of colour. She drifted into herself, the chanting echoing, washing over her as it faded out of earshot and she collapsed, dead.



Ben woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat and looked over at John who carried on sleeping undisturbed. “Why does it always have to be robed figures?” he muttered. He leant over and kissed him, damming the weirdness that is his life. On the outside John appeared to be a twenty-year-old white guy with short brown hair and green eyes. In reality he was several millennia old and a demi-god to boot; the bastard child of a human girl raped and abandoned by a lesser Hell god.
Ben rubbed his sleepy eyes with his knuckles, yawned and looked at the sleek oblong clock sat on the night stand, its neon pink LEDs spelling out the time: 2.30 am. A reclaimed set of school lockers used as a wardrobe sat in one corner with dirty clothes and battered books piled on top; in another was the widescreen plasma tv, angled so it faced the king size bed that sat in the centre of the back wall.

An image of blood pouring onto the burnt serpentine dragon, sizzling and erupting in an azure glow bore into his mind. Most people would have brushed it aside as just another nightmare, though he knew from past experiences that dreams that vivid held weight in the real world. The power of premonition had been forced upon him by nature; his mother was a natural born witch and had passed the magical gene onto him and his twin sister. They’d found out about it a year ago during their final year in high school. His short auburn hair hung in slender waves around his face. He had a square jaw and rugged appearance with a hint of boyishness about him that showed most in his baby blue eyes. A sliver of moonlight sliced through the gap in the denim curtains, casting a knife-edge across the bed. A pair of golden eyes, like narrow slits, staring at Ben and John, momentarily broke it; they blinked and vanished. Carefully, so as not to wake John he swung out of bed and slipped on a pair of Boxershorts. He stumbled downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed himself a glass of chilled water from the curvaceous black refrigerator. The kitchen itself was a mixture of pine cupboards and stainless steel work surfaces and was packed with cooking utensils with pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. They were pretty much there for show as most of the cooking was done in the microwave. The only thing about his life which could be considered quick and easy. A single striplight cutting through the center of the ceiling provided a cool white light. The window above the sink overlooked the expansive back garden, where the gang often hung out, drinking and talking. He’d tell John when he got up. No sense in disturbing him yet. After several more glasses, and the odd bottle of beer he felt calmer, though no less sleepy. A pick-me-up seemed in order so he made himself a mug of coffee sensing the caffeine might help him think, help him come up with a plan. It hadn’t ever failed him in the past.

It struck him as he reached the sugar granules clumped at the bottom of the mug; the library.
He headed for the door to the basement, which opened into a sloping corridor lined with ink brush paintings and woodblock prints separated by silver uplighters projecting soft yellow light onto the eggshell coloured walls. The corridor wound down and to the right and opened onto a small wooden balcony with plush red carpet, which in turn gave way to a metal spiral staircase, which swirled down into the cavernous library hidden below the street. With one hand on the rail he descended into the L shaped room, hoping he’d find an answer. A pine desk long enough to seat twelve people sat at the point where the room bent. On it was a computer with a database holding a detailed record of the hundreds of thousands of books in there. The library itself was built on two levels: the ground floor and the balcony, with several spiral staircases allowing access to the upper level. The bookcases on the balcony were made of a dark stained oak and set into the walls, stretching from ceiling to floor, which had the same crimson carpet as the balcony by the entrance. Comfortable leather armchairs sat by the top of each stairwell, used as the perfect places to dip into a good book. The cases on the ground level were made of pine and sat in regimented rows on the white marble tiles. The electric strip lights hanging from the roof in criss-crossing lines provided more than enough light, allowing him to glide through the aisles, straight to the bolted steel door at the back. He placed his hands palms down onto a computer panel to the right of the door. Green light striped down it as it scanned his handprints and read his DNA. “Thank you, Ben,” said a mechanised voice from a speaker above him. Metal slipped across metal like silk as the lock was released and the door swung open by a complex series of titanium gears. Etched into the back of the door was a snarling serpentine dragon. “That’s new,” he muttered, not giving it a second thought as he passed into the small chamber, which housed metal shelves, covering nearly every patch of wall. They were lined with John’s most powerful and dark books. He tilted his head to read their names easier and casually ran his hand along their spines as he hunted for one, which might contain the answers. Laughter erupted outside, stopping him short. He ran out to investigate the decaying sound. He tried to follow it, but it shifted from aisle to aisle at preternatural speed, forcing him to stay several steps behind. It died into a hiss, leading him to the table at the heart of the library; a bloodstained notebook lay on it, its edges singed from fire. Though most of the ink on the front page had been blurred beyond recognition three words were still legible: resurrect… the first. They had been written by hand in blue biro.

He started flicking through its crinkly pages when the tiled floor beneath him trembled and dozens of tentacles punched through it, and coiled around him. They had the appearance of solidified oil and gave off a metallic sheen in the light. The tentacles felt smooth against his bare skin and they caressed him as they wrapped around him, looping around his legs and chest and binding his hands together. The notebook tumbled and rode several feet on the waves of rippling shards of tiles. One tentacle coiled round his neck while another stroked his face, lightly tracing the outline of his lips and snaked through his hair.

BANG

The darkness smothered him. He writhed against the tentacles, trying to break free, but their grip only tightened. He concentrated hard, drawing energy from the air, shaping it into a blade and flung it at the point where the tentacles had punctured the floor. It fizzled and dissipated before it even managed to get half way. A soft growl came from behind him and something slimy and leathery brushed against him. Its warm breath tickled the back of his neck, causing his throat to dry. Footsteps were coming his way and the growling stopped. Clanks and bangs echoed around him, mingling with the humming from the lights and a strange squelching: faint, but very definitely there. He tried to pinpoint the direction of its source, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. He thrashed harder in the tentacles causing them to tighten their grip again, this time threatening to crush the air out of him and snap him like a twig. He twisted his head so he could see what was coming. His heart pounded in his ears and his breath quickened as the footsteps approached, bringing with them a bright beam of white light that bounced off the shelves; most of which were now cracked, their books scattered on the ground. Something glinted in the light; he squinted to try to make it out: it was a sword. The light swivelled toward him, blinding him momentarily. The thing behind him hissed as the edge of the beam caught it and it scuttled away.
“What the hell was that?” John followed its path with the flashlight, shrugged his shoulders and leant against the bookcase, wearing nothing but a pair of tight Calvins trunks. In one hand was a flashlight, in the other his beloved katana, Lola. He returned the beam to Ben, exploring the black shiny mass covering him. “And what the hell happened to you?”
“Tentacle rape,” Ben replied dryly as one of them made a none too subtle attempt to slide into his boxers. “Please get me out. I’ve tried the whole magic thing-”
“Not gonna help,” John cut in. “There’s a dampening field in here. Had to put it in place to prevent any of the books causing trouble.” He swung the katana at the base of the tentacles, severing it. “Don’t worry about the lights,” he said as it crumbled to dust, dropping Ben to the floor. “The back up generator should kick in any second now.” He helped him up, coiled an arm around his waist, pulled him close and kissed him.
“A spell to prevent spells. How very you.” He told him all about the dream, about how he couldn’t sleep and how he’d come down to the library to do research. After rummaging through the debris he found the notebook and handed it to John. “It wasn’t here when I first arrived. I went to the chamber, heard laughter, followed it and found that, there on the desk.”
John rested it on the desk turned each page carefully, reading what was still legible. “They were planning a spell to bring Judikael back to life.”
“They…?”
“There’s more than one handwriting style, look,” he showed it to him. “It seems they tried translating it from its original Ammunuian into English. Not bad, but there’s still quite a few mistakes. It can’t have been performed properly which means if he is back then he won’t be at full strength yet. He’ll need strong blood; stronger than human.” The book disintegrated in John’s hands. A thudding squelch could just about be heard over the hum of the lights clicking back on and it seemed to be drawing closer. The two of them span to face in the direction of its source; ready to fight whatever it was coming their way. A disjointed clunking swept around them, mimicking the movements of the strobing shadows of unseen monsters clawing at the walls.

The stench of raw sewage wafted round the corner, closely followed by squelching footsteps. A large creature appeared with blood and excrement smeared all over its leathery skin. There was no mouth they could see, yet it still let out a wail like a baby being torn apart, raising itself onto its hind legs and swinging its flippers. The haunting screaming resonated in their bones. “Oh, great,” John said, suppressing a gagging reaction. “Peldrags.” He turned to Ben. “Didn’t we just slay a bunch of those last week?”
Ben snatched the flashlight from him, gripping it like a weapon. “Yep and we were better armed. I recall crossbows and maces. And they were good.” A growl from behind them stopped them in their tracks and turn in its direction. Leering back at them was what could only be described as the demon spawn of a snake crossbred with a wolf.

The snake-wolf lunged at Ben, saliva dripping from its jaws. He tried to leap out of the way, but it sank its fangs into his leg, slamming him into a bookcase. The force caused it to wobble, sending a cascade of books to the floor, burying them both and pushing the flashlight out of sight and out of reach. With his free leg he kicked its head over and over again in an attempt to make it let go. At first it bit deeper in an act of defiance, almost reaching bone, but he kept pounding it. He could feel its blood mingle with his, which somehow numbed the stinging agony. He managed to knock the books away from his face as he writhed around and caught sight of John who was surrounded by half a dozen of the flipper creatures, mauling him. One of them swung a claw at him, cutting his face open.

Another mouthless, blood soaked creature with flippers plodded round the corner, bearing down on them. It shrieked and exploded, leaving behind a shaded figure, a spiral staircase silhouted behind it. “I see it hasn’t quite gone to plan,” said a humanoid creature covered from head to cloven foot in scales of blues, greens and golds. Instead of hands it had claws and it had leathery wings folded against its back. Its voice was deep and gutteral. It blinked its narrow golden eyes and looked around, taking in the toppled bookcases and the shrieking beasts. “I bet one of them wasn’t a virgin.” It shook its head. “You know, I hate it when they claim to be all religious and virginal and turn out to be giant sluts.”
“Gone to… virginal… what?” Ben said from under the books. He managed to crush the snake-wolf’s skull and he prized its jaws apart, freeing his leg. The creature strode over, grabbed him by his throat and hoisted him up. Ben wrapped an arm around its shoulder and leant on it for support.
“Judikael,” John muttered. “Give him back, now and undo all this.”
“You should be dead by now. No matter. Maybe death is too good for you. Maybe revenge is the better option. You don’t know how many sleepless nights I had trying to decide on that one.” He smiled at Ben, moistening his lips with the tip of his forked tongue and shoved Ben away from him.

John growled and swung his katana at his neck; it sliced through it as if it were mist, leaving him unscarred.
Judikael smiled. “After all, it was a bunch of kids who brought me back. Ressurected me so to speak. And where were you in all of this, father?” He stressed the word father like it were venomous poison; like something bitter he had sucked on. He snorted. “You couldn’t even bring yourself to kill me. Had to pay others to do it.”
“You have no idea how hard it was.” He moved forward, trying to widen the gap between Ben and Judikael, his katana raised, ready to strike.
“Spare me.”
“Okay. Time out people...and thing.” Ben hauled his way up the bookcase next to him, using it to get as near to vertical as he could get. “What did you sleep with to get that?”
“Pot, kettle.”
“My daughter is very much human thank you. And is never going to be part of this.” He gestured at the chaos unfolding.
John sighed. “You say that now, but she’s only a few months old, just wait till she’s older and into her own thing. You won’t be able to control every aspect of her life. This one was born and raised human, then, when he was twenty-one there was a ceremony with a feast, chanting, skewering of beasts, a few priests et voila. The first vampire was created. It took me ages to figure out how to do it.” A foot crashed into him out of nowhere, sending him stumbling backwards.

Seizing his oppurtunity Judikael rushed past John and grabbed Ben by the throat. He hoisted him several inches off the ground. “I was trying to get rid of the two of you. After all you seem to have a nasty habit of preventing total world destruction. And that is my plan.” He flapped his wings and blew debris away from the remains of the desk.

The air filled with a crippling shrieking, forcing him to drop Ben as they covered their ears. It penetrated them; shook their bones and guts while a burning sensation attacked their skin, slowly working deeper and deeper as it increased in intensity. When it stopped they looked up only to find themselves surrounded by wave upon wave of the creatures. John leapt from case to case slicing them, splattering their blood from wall to wall. He ducked and hacked and leapt and slashed, taking a good beating himself in the process. They battered and cut him, knocking him down, drawing him closer to death.

Judikael saluted them. “Sorry boys, change of plans.” He turned on Ben. “And I’m going to need your help.” He rippled and exploded into a fine silver mist, which floated toward Ben, entered him through his pores and rushed through his veins, filling him. Ben’s eyes took on a silver sheen as his leg healed. Blue and purple lightning swirled around him, crackling the air as he leapt up, muttering something under his breath. He forced it to expand in a sphere as John hacked and slashed, giving him the vital time he needed. Satisfied with its size he fired it in all directions, engulfing all but a couple of the creatures, immolating them, leaving behind a burning stench that hung heavy in the air. “I’ll leave the rest to you.” Ben gasped as the silver mist poured out of him, whirled upwards and dissipated. Decaying laughter followed the path of the mist.

Ben dug through the books piled around him in search of a weapon of some sort. As he bent down and pulled out a broken piece of shelf about two feet in length a snake-wolf pounced at him, but missed and went sailing over him, skidding along the floor and crashing into a bookcase. It righted itself, shaking the debris away and dove at Ben who side stepped it and batted it, cracking its spine. It turned and lashed out at him with its paws. “When were you gonna tell me you had a son?” Ben smashed the shelf into it again, deflecting its claws.

John sliced through the last of the Peldrags and shrugged. It spasmed for a few seconds before it fell still. “It didn’t seem important.” He somersaulted to Ben’s aide, impaling the snake-wolf. “He was dead. Wasn’t expecting to see him again.” He grunted as he wrenched the blade from the corpse.
“Another day at the office.” Ben stumbled over the debris that littered the floor, making his way to the staircase.
“Would you really be happy doing anything else?” John asked, following, his feet slipping and sliding on the scattered books and blood.
“Dunno, but I’d live longer.” He slumped on the bottom step, wincing as the muscles he never knew he had screamed in protest at this extra effort and stretched his aching jaw. He rested his head in his hands and sighed. “Tell me.” He looked up at him. “Why do I stay with you?”
“Because you love me,” John said, joining him. He rested Lola on the floor by his feet.
“I know that, but there’s gotta be a better reason. All these demons and apocalypses make you quite possibly the highest maintenance boyfriend ever.” He grinned. “What is the plural for apocalypse…?”
John rolled his eyes and cringed; the bruises had started to form on his battered torso. “Good to know this was just the warm up before the main gig. I think his telling us shows he has the potential for reform. Plus we won’t miss any of the action.” He nodded approvingly.
“Yeah cos I’d hate to miss the end of the world. That would be a real tragedy.”
“It’s not for a little while so what we’ll do is get the gang together and work out how to stop it.”
“You make it all sound so simple.” Ben leant back, caught a glimpse of his split lip in a shard of computer monitor embedded in the carpeted step and grimaced. “If we’re gonna stop the end of the world- again- we’ll need to be in better shape. Somehow I don’t think the big bad’s gonna be scared of two corpses who had a plan.”
John let his fingertips dance over Ben’s chest and kissed him. “We’ve been through worse and now that this is over I suggest we tidy up,” he said, surveying the destruction that lay around him. “And after that…” He slid his hand into Ben’s boxers.