Realm Wraith (45 page)

He could still sense Gabriel in the Abyss, but despite what Kaledris had said, he wasn’t just going to let him go. He focused his mind, trying to keep his priorities straight. If he wanted to survive, then he had to stop Gabriel from spreading Tomordred’s secrets. He was close; Rayne could almost taste his presence. The familiar numbness gripped him, and he slipped away from the goddess’s hold on his mind, feeling welcome solitude as he left her realm behind him. He drew nearer and nearer to his target.

A sudden flare of searing pain ripped through his soul, as if he had warped right into a mountain of fire. He screamed, bending over in agony. The air froze around him as he fought back against the agonizing heat, but it only gave him a brief respite, and the fire bore down around him again. His flesh burned away, only to heal so it could burn away again, increasing the intense pain.

“Can’t stay here, can’t stay,” he gasped.

He retreated, and found himself floating once more in a star filled void, above a swirling galaxy of dazzling celestial light. Such wonderments meant nothing to him now, failing to permeate the rage that dominated his mind. Wherever Gabriel was, he could not follow. Frustrated, he kicked his feet, though it did little in this empty space.

* * *

Days passed. Rayne stayed silent, despite David’s repeated attempts to make him open up. He spent his free time looking for work, though he didn’t have his heart in it anymore. Going back to a dreary legal job seemed like a nightmare. Still, he kept up the effort. He had to bring in money somehow.

The moment he’d awakened after that night in Kaledris’s forest, he’d tried to track down Gabriel, but even if he was still in England, Rayne had no way to find him now. Attempts to feel out his soul here in the waking world failed him, and he couldn’t sense him in the Abyss either. Gabriel simply had no presence. And Rayne wondered, for a brief moment, if he’d worked out some bargain to free his soul from punishment. Did the Abyss even work that way? It didn’t seem to fit with what he’d come to understand.

He couldn’t find Apolleta either. So he looked online, and sure enough, he found a small news blurb about an L.A. woman turning herself in for murder. The drug dealer formerly charged with the crime was released, but was apparently arrested shortly after for an unrelated drug charge. Rayne understood. Apolleta had done what she said she would, and faced her crime. He knew he would not see her again, not in that place. It brought little comfort to him now.

Another day passed, and Rayne holed up in the study, looking over potential firms to send his resume. But after a few hours he had a better idea, and pulled the book on demons from its resting place on the bookshelf, undisturbed since the night he and Miranda had poured over its contents together. He plopped it down on the desk and pulled out a blank notepad and a pen from a drawer, and with a careless toss he pushed the desk chair out of the way, rolled up his wheelchair, and began to write.

Several hours passed, and the sound of the front door opening and closing did little to change Rayne’s focus. After a few more minutes the study door creaked open, and David poked his head in.

“Rayne?” he asked. “Can we talk?”

Rayne lowered his pen and looked up. “Speak.”

David walked into the room, and pulled the folding chair away from the wall, plunking it down on the other side of the desk and sitting himself down.

“Miranda’s funeral is in two weeks,” he said. “I thought you’d like to know. All of the hospital staff is to be there, and I thought I’d extend an invitation, since you were close with her.”

“All right.” Rayne said.

“Listen, Rayne. I’m right here. If you need to talk about this, you can. You don’t have to suffer alone.”

“I know. I just haven’t much to say.”

“About what you said the other night. About seeing Hell.”

“What about it?”

“I know you were angry. I don’t blame you for that. I just wanted you to know I understand how you feel.”

“That’s cute that you think so.”

David sighed. “Should have seen that coming. So, you’re still angry. All right. You’ve been through a lot. We all have. Look, I know what it feels like to lose something important. I know that despair. I know the betrayal of someone I thought I knew, when they gave in to darker impulses, unwilling to come to me for help. I thought I’d never forgive the one who drove them to it. I hated myself for not doing everything I could, for not acting when I had the chance, to stop it all from happening.”

Rayne looked up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” David frowned as he spoke. “It took me a very, very long time to get over it. I was angry for years, I just wanted to scream out and drag everything down into my rage. I was deeply hurt once, but I got over it. You just have to give it time.”

“Time is something I don’t think I have,” Rayne said. “But I’ll try.”

David smiled. “Good.” He loosened his tie, and leaned forward in his chair. “I’m glad she meant something to you. I know she was grateful for your company, right up until the end.”

Rayne didn’t answer, choosing to scribble more words down onto the notepad.

David glanced over at the desk. “What are you writing?”

“I suppose you could call it a dream journal.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I was inspired by that book I bought, so I’m writing down what I see in my sleep. Keeping a log of what’s out there, I suppose.”

“Can I see it?”

“Perhaps later. I want to get a bit more done first.”

“OK, I won’t pry.” David stood up. “I’m glad we could talk about this. Listen, I’m going to catch a quick nap, I’m due back at the hospital for a 3AM shift. It’s going to be a rough week.”

“Well, pleasant dreams then.”

“Yeah. You too.” David shut the study door behind him.

Rayne continued to write. He had noticed, going mostly off the pictures, that there were some creatures he’d seen in the Abyss these past few months that were not in the book. On top of that, with the ridiculously archaic speech, nobody could read the existing entries anyways, not without extensive study of old languages. So he’d gotten it into his head to write a more modern guide to the creatures within, using his own gained knowledge as the source. He might not have known the Abyss for twenty years as his predecessor had, but he felt he had learned things the long dead scholar failed to in the short time he’d been visiting.

His pen wrote of the many beasts he’d encountered, describing their behavior as well as their appearances. He was not one for drawing, but neither was the last guy, so he scribbled crude depictions from memory, childish scrawls more than anything else. He described the Abyss Lords as Darrigan had explained them, but when he got to Kaledris, he had far more information to divulge, about her seeking of minds, and his experience with her dwelling within his head. He did not know quite what to write for Nen’kai, knowing almost nothing about him outside Tomordred’s assorted ramblings, so he described him as the water lord, the beast with a thousand heads, long missing from a time before the earth even existed. As for Tomordred himself, Rayne’s pen hesitated, wondering if he should dare write what he knew. He decided it didn’t matter now. Gabriel had probably told Tomordred’s entire story to the rest of the Abyss. So he wrote everything he remembered, leaving out no detail.

Late in the evening he decided to take a break. Not sure he wanted prying eyes to seek his information, as well as noting the value of the old book he’d been keeping on the shelf, he picked up both the book and the notepad and brought them into his room, where he opened the small trunk at the foot of his bed, the one with the photo album, still filled with pictures of strangers he knew by logic were his parents. There was already a lot of junk in there, but he could still find enough room for both the book and the notepad, so he wedged them both in there before he shut the lid. He figured it was better to keep it hidden, not so much because he worried about David prying, but he feared what Levi would think if he saw them.

“Daddy?”

He turned to see his son standing there, wearing his green pajamas and rubbing his eyes.

“What are you still doing up? You should be in bed.”

“I was thirsty,” he replied. He stood in the doorway, clinging to its frame. “Daddy, I’m sorry about your friend. She was a nice lady.”

“Yeah, she was.”

“David said you were sad about her. I don’t want you to be sad, Daddy.”

“I know, Levi. But it takes time to get over these things. When you’re older, you’ll understand.”

“Will you explain it to me when I’m older?”

His words gave Rayne pause. Once Tomordred came after him he’d be gone, and Levi would no longer have a father. This could very well be his last night on Earth. Certainly he’d felt that before, but this time there seemed little recourse. He couldn’t just leave his son behind like that, without saying goodbye. But he also knew that if he acted like something was wrong, his son would get upset, possibly over nothing.

“Levi, listen,” he said, walking to his son. He saw the timidness in the boy’s eyes, so he forced a less-grim expression. “You’re a fine boy, and someday I’m sure you’ll grow up to be a fine young man.”

The boy stared up at him wide eyed, his young mind not completely comprehending the mood.

“When I was young, I was bright, imaginative, and I was happy. But I had a father who was controlling, and he limited me, because he didn’t want me bringing shame to his name. Now he’s gone, and someday, I’ll be gone too. I want you to have a better life than I did. I want you to know that no matter what you do, and no matter what you become, I’m proud of you. Live the life you want to live. All right?”

“Daddy? Are you going away somewhere?”

“Only to sleep.” Rayne smiled, but it was a cold smile, empty and cruel as it hid a half truth from the child’s ears. “Don’t be sad, Levi. I’m never that far away from you.”

He leaned over and embraced his son, kissing him on the cheek. “Now, go to bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too.”

Chapter 15

Once again, Rayne found himself in the ruined village of burned wood and ashes. This time, no three-headed beasts crept through the fog seeking his throat. He knew Apolleta wouldn’t be joining him tonight, so he headed back inside the one house that still stood to relax a little. He kept his senses keen, just waiting for Tomordred to show up and yank him back to his realm and devour him. It was only a matter of time now, he knew.

Through the holes in the rotten wood of the roof, he saw smoke wafting down. It was not mist, not fog, just black smoke. It poured onto the ground like liquid, pooling and forming in a humanoid mass. Rayne recognized this form.

“Darriga—” he started to speak, only to realize, this was not Darrigan. He looked exactly like Darrigan, bearing the same skeletal face with papery flesh, the black horns, the glowing white eyes and lips pulled taught over leering teeth. But, despite the identical visage, Rayne knew, just from his movements, the way he stared at Rayne, the way the air crackled around him: none of it resembled the reaper he knew.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “You’re not Darrigan.”

The being looked at him with orbs void of color. “Darrigan? Who are you, mortal, to take the name of a reaper so lightly?”

“Nobody,” he said. “Just a Realm Wraith.”

“He shall be dealt with for consorting with the likes of you. In the meantime, I have been instructed to bring you. You are obviously the one I was sent to find.”

“Bring me where?”

The blades vanished from the demon’s left wrist as he reached out with a clawed hand. “No more speaking. Come.”

Rayne took it, and let the reaper pull him away from his shelter. He glimpsed the ornate fortress carved into a mountainside he’d noticed several nights ago, and found himself taken inside a great stone hall, within a circular room lined by stone pillars covered in sheer spikes of granite, stretching up above Rayne taller than any skyscraper. Here he lay sprawled on a carved marble floor, decorated with esoteric patterns drawn in stained blood. Tall windows surrounded him, and outside he could see uncountable spires before a bloody crimson sky.

Others dwelt within this hall. All around him stood many beings of smoky, dust-like form. Identical in shape, but not nature, Rayne could see. All like Darrigan, gatherers of souls, each in turn leering down upon him now as they filled the hall, thousands upon thousands of them. Staring at this silent army filled Rayne with a strange sense of dread, strange because it was not one of impending fear, imagining what they might do to him. More so, it was one of sickening familiarity, and he could not understand why.

“Did you bring him?” a voice poured through the crowd, echoing in the marble hall. Through the crowds of demons, a form pushed his way forward, a visage that spread so much anger through Rayne he could not stop himself from freezing the air around him in a hail of frozen ice shards.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

Gabriel leered at him. He looked very different from the man Rayne had seen only a few days prior. Gone was the rotting flesh, the falling out hair. He was more restored now, yet of an equally unsettling appearance. Small burning cracks covered skin of a dull ochre hue. Black claws grew from his hands, which had become sharp and bony. His long black hair danced in the air like ebony flame. He still had one yellow eye, still rotting with orange pus, but his empty eye socket now burned with red fire, pouring out tears of molten magma. Despite his changed form, Rayne knew him in an instant. That face, that aura, all unmistakable to his eyes.