Sanctuary (21 page)

… for Crystal’s daughter.

She was about seven years old, with Crystal’s hazel hair and brown eyes, and was hefting a bag the same size as her grandma’s through the door. The poor thing could barely carry it! Crystal ran to help her.

Crystal exchanged some friendly words with her mom and her daughter, although she wasn’t quite aware of what was being said, even as she said it. She just couldn’t stop beaming at how her mom had changed into a mother she could admire, or at the daughter she loved and would do anything for.

The perfect moment was spoiled only by the stuffy air in the house. It was a little hard to breathe.

Something was wrong. What was it? Crystal walked to the door to see if it was something outside.

The sun was rising quickly in the Sanctuary. The sky’s lavender shades from just minutes before had been replaced by reds and oranges as brilliant as the pain that burned through Thorn while the African leader beat him maliciously. A short distance away, Marcus officiated the humans’ demise from beside the pool. He seemed more interested in Thorn’s suffering, though. “Shazakahn, are you almost done?” he asked.

“My turn first, then yours,” Shazakahn said. He plowed a fist into Thorn’s midsection.

Thorn dreaded his inevitable death, yet at the same time, he found that he couldn’t feel hatred for Marcus anymore. Because now Thorn
knew
. Or perhaps it was only a dying hope rather than outright knowledge. A strong, joyous suspicion. As he reached out toward Marcus, he thought of Xeres, who had journeyed to a Sanctuary. Who had become an angel.

Thorn stretched his metaphysical hand toward Marcus, and Shazakahn beat him even more ruthlessly. Marcus gestured for him to stop.

For once, Thorn looked upon Marcus not as an enemy, but as someone else he could save. Weakly, Thorn drifted toward him, and was a beggar once more—a Rat at the foot of a demon lord. With a feeble croak, he spoke the most important words he’d ever said to his old foe:

“The Sanctuaries are for us.”

Marcus furrowed his brow at Thorn’s groveling and backed away from him.

“God tests us here. Us demons. All the demons who didn’t come back from the Sanctuaries… they’re the ones who passed His test. He wants us back. He wants us back.”

Thorn blacked out for a moment as pain took him. When consciousness returned, he whispered again:

“The Sanctuaries are for us.”

Crystal’s daughter was just a baby now, in a crib in Cole’s study, which had been converted into a nursery covered in pastel pink. No cameras or video equipment were in sight—no evidence that porn had ever been produced here. Best of all, Crystal and Cole lived alone in the condo. She faintly remembered someone else having lived with them at one point, someone she hadn’t liked. But he was gone now, and Cole was all hers.

She could feel Cole’s soothing breath on the back of her neck. He slid his arms around her, and it was the best feeling in the world. She smiled.

“I’m fully yours, Crystal,” Cole said. “You’re the most important person in my life.”

Crystal turned to face him. He was wearing a white button-up shirt and khakis, his usually shaggy hair now perfectly straight above his stunning blue eyes. He gazed right into her eyes, into her soul, and said, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Crystal was in heaven. She had the perfect life, the perfect romance, everything she’d always dreamed of.

But the real Cole would never have said those things.

Thorn’s gaze met the Judge’s, silently pleading with him from across the pool.
Step in and save the day, Judge. Use your influence. Do something! Help us!
The Judge had heard Thorn’s assertion about the Sanctuaries as well as Marcus had, yet he didn’t act. He just continued pacing restlessly, drifting back and forth above the patio chairs.
Is he really that apathetic, or is he just too afraid to take action?

“I’m through arguing with you about the Enemy,” Marcus said in response to Thorn. “He wants us to suffer. And suffer you shall, just as all humanity will suffer after you. I will conquer. Demonkind will conquer. Everything burns.”

Thorn glanced toward the pool. Cole was lost deep in demonic temptation, but Crystal struggled, twitched; she seemed to be seeing through the illusions, at least partially. Still, they’d been underwater for over a minute. Hundreds of demons surrounded them, and thousands more stalked above the pool. The sun would soon peek over the horizon.
But they still have time, however brief, to make their choice.

Again, Shazakahn violently kicked Thorn. Other demons joined in, and agony pierced Thorn’s spiritual body. In spite of the pain, Thorn reached for Virgil’s corpse…

In the nursery, Cole caressed Crystal’s face. His eyes were loving, alluring, and a subtle euphoria was begging Crystal to let those eyes consume her attention, but she was more concerned with his hair, which was drifting up from his scalp and waving around his head.
Like he’s underwater.
The curtains, too, had taken on a bluish hue and drifted strangely out from the windows, defying gravity.

Then she saw the real Cole on the other side of the pool.

Pool? She wasn’t in a pool. She was in the baby’s room and it was daytime and everything was perfect. Cole took her face in his hand and kissed her softly on the lips.

But it wasn’t the real Cole! And she hadn’t had the baby yet.
Am I still in the Sanctuary?

Crystal was suddenly aware that she couldn’t breathe. She started to inhale, but only water rushed into her mouth, so she spit it out and held on to what little breath she still had. She shoved the fake Cole aside and swam out the open window…

Into dark water. An endless void. It had a bottom, but no surface above as far as she could tell—no way to get air.

Cole lay on his back at the bottom of an incline, staring blankly upward. As Crystal swam to him, various scenes flashed before her eyes: happy occasions with her mom, with her daughter, or with Cole, none of which had ever happened, and none of which ever would. She ignored them all and dived deeper.

Brandon now swam near Cole. Why hadn’t she noticed him before? He glided between the two of them, his eyes blazing with fury, warning Crystal not to come near.

But Brandon had died. Was this Brandon real? Crystal decided he wasn’t, and pushed past him. He followed her—grabbed for her, even—but he was just a hallucination. He couldn’t intimidate her anymore. She wouldn’t let him.

She grabbed Cole’s hand.

Everything burns? Even what I’ve done for Crystal and Cole? Must that be as temporary and as meaningless as everything else I’ve done in my life?

Perhaps Thorn could leave one final mark on the world: a last message for Marcus. A gesture of defiance, but also a plea for Marcus to change, just as Thorn had. Something for Marcus to remember every time he thought of Thorn’s death.

As the demons assaulted him, Thorn took hold of Virgil’s body, bent its uninjured arm, and jabbed its hand into Virgil’s leg wound. The hand emerged slick with dark blood. Thorn then dashed Virgil’s fingers across the dry tiled ground as fast as he could move them, painting desperately, purposefully. One of Virgil’s fingernails ripped off in the process, but Thorn kept his hands steady, dashing them to and fro in frantic strokes as he channeled all of his pain into his concluding manifesto, written in blood on the Sanctuary’s surface.

The demons didn’t care about his message, or about anything he had to say. They knew the Rules, and they wanted their vengeance. But the Judge seemed to take interest. His eyes resolute, his posture a battle pose, he floated above the surface of the water, stealing through the demon army toward Thorn.
He’s finally coming to my defense!

Marcus must have seen the Judge coming too, because he swiftly flew over to Thorn and pushed aside the other demons. He clutched Thorn’s throat and head and lifted him out of Virgil’s body. Then he started to twist Thorn’s head in the classic gesture of demonic execution.

From across the way, the Judge locked eyes with Thorn. He slowed, stopped, seemed to give up his advance entirely, and then cast his gaze away toward Brandon’s and Heather’s bodies, as if watching their reactions was less distressing than watching Thorn and Marcus. The Judge was Thorn’s last hope, but he just floated there as a flurry of demons whirled between them.

Marcus twisted Thorn’s head around even further. The beating had left Thorn too weak to resist. Marcus adjusted his stance so that he could stare right into Thorn’s eyes, and his gaze gave away no emotion: no triumph, no contempt, no satisfaction. The pain grew unfathomable.

I only wanted wings
, Thorn dimly recalled.
All I wanted was some angel’s wings.

That regretful thought was Thorn’s last.

They sat next to each other in a booth near the back. Cole—the real Cole, his eyes blind—ran his fingers through Crystal’s hair. Lights pulsed around them, and vague forms were dancing on the floor, but the blaring music was muffled by the water. This was the club where they’d first met.

“Cole,” Crystal said, and his dazed face turned to her. “Cole, I think something’s wrong.”

“I know. I can’t breathe.”

But they had no way out. Crystal could feel invisible claws tugging at her mind, was conscious of them, yet remained helpless against them. She couldn’t even see the pool anymore. She could barely even remember the pool. This moment, right here, in the club, seemed so immediate, so lifelike, so comforting.

Cole affectionately massaged her hand. “I love you. You believe me when I say that, don’t you?”

Crystal smiled sadly at him. “I know you love me.” But she also knew that they would leave the club, make love, and then everything would be the same as it had always been the next morning. She’d still be Cole’s employee first, his girlfriend second. He’d still be too timid to stand up to Brandon, too indecisive to treat Crystal with the same respect with which she treated him. She wanted so badly to ignore all of Cole’s problems, and all of her own problems—but after how indifferently Cole had been treating her lately, she knew what kind of future she really wanted.

This choice had been a long time coming.

“I love you too, Cole. And that’s why I’m leaving you.”

Cole froze for a second, like he couldn’t quite believe it. “No. Hey, love. No, please. You’re not serious, are you?”

“I’m sorry. I love you so, so much. But neither of us is healthy enough for this right now. For a relationship. If I’m being honest with you—and I
really
want to be honest—I think that maybe we’re just using each other. We’re just emotional bandages for each other, so that we don’t have to work on our real problems. Being together is just hurting us both.”

Somehow, she could see Cole’s tears through the water between them. His cheeks were flushing red. Crystal hated that she had to do this to him. She wanted to hug him and kiss him and pretend she didn’t mean it… but no. This was her life, her future. She had to see this through.

“No, no, no no no, please. I—I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t want to have to go out clubbing again. I don’t want to have to find another girlfriend.”

“And you shouldn’t. You should be single for a while. We both should. It’ll help us grow. We need to find something to live for besides each other.”

Cole’s voice grew shaky. “Look, I know sometimes our relationship can be difficult. But you said—by the piano, you said that sometimes, difficult things are worth it. We can just—”

“And breaking up is gonna be difficult. But it’ll be worth it in the end. I want to grow up, Cole. I don’t want to be a scared little girl dreaming of Prince Charming anymore.”

“Are you saying I’m not worth it?”

“No! Oh, no, Cole.” She rested a sympathetic hand on his face. “You’re worth so much to me. I want you to get over your depression. I want you to be emotionally stable. I want you to have goals and to love your life. And you won’t be able to learn how to do any of those things while you’re in a relationship as needy as ours is.”

“I’m sorry I ever listened to Brandon. I’m so sorry for asking you to get rid of your baby. I didn’t mean it. I was just—” He shook his head, grimacing, and then his words came pouring out desperately. “I want you. The
real
you. Not the one I met here in the club or the one I heard in Brandon’s videos. I want you, with all your problems. The thought of you and a life with you was what saved me from drowning earlier, Crystal. You could save me from so much more.”

Crystal took his hand again and squeezed it firmly. “You need to save yourself.”

Cole pulled his hand back and scooted away from her in the booth. He looked out at the fading club and the dimming lights and seemed to mull over all that had just been said. “I don’t want to go back to living with Brandon. I can’t go back to that life.”

“You don’t have to,” Crystal said. “You can choose to live any life you want. But for now, I think we should break up. Can you accept that?”

Cole’s face contorted into a horrible frown. His sobs were huge and heaving.

The club faded to near black, and finally Cole said, softly, “Yes. I can accept that. You’re right.” He abruptly moved toward Crystal and wrapped his arms around her, burying his head in her hair, weeping. “You’re right.”

Crystal embraced him back, crying a little herself. Her own courage surprised her: she’d never broken up with someone before. But now that it was done, she felt more optimistic for both Cole’s future and her own.

She felt free.

And just as she was about to inhale lungfuls of water, it all fell away.

The nightclub. The pool. The condo.

The Sanctuary.

Crystal and Cole disappeared before Marcus’s eyes. One moment they’d been drowning, their consciousnesses fading beneath the surface, and the next, the pool was just demons and empty water.

Marcus was astonished. What had gone wrong? The Africans may not have been as skilled as Marcus, but their illusions had seemed to convince the young couple. Such lowly humans should have been easy prey. Had the Enemy intervened? Had they somehow made their choices beneath the water?