The Forsaken (39 page)

“Welcome back, Jude. But for the record, Kevin cut himself. Did it all by his lonesome, like a big boy. Figured you’d be proud of the little rat. He finally followed through with something.”

Bending his fingers, Morgan forced Jude’s body to flip upside down. With veins bulging across his forehead, he watched Eliam struggle to inhale. The revelation that his rage had brought hell into the priest’s sanctuary put a lead weight in his gut. He should’ve been able to control it.

“He’s just one priest. When death comes for him, don’t let it bother you one bit,” Morgan said. “This world will be safer without him. He, like his predecessors, will enter the afterlife knowing that the children of men will remain damned. It’s better this way. By the way, mighty fine work on your part, finishing him up like this.”

“No, I didn’t do this. The de—”

“The demon made you do it?” Morgan interrupted. “Come now. I don’t think so. When will you see that Azrael only does what we’ve set out to do. What we’ve…wanted to do since the beginning. Humanity is on the edge. Sometimes we just need the right nudge at the right time. The soft, still whisper to let us know it’s all right to give in.” Releasing Jude from his telepathic grip, Morgan flung him against one of the pillars that held up the cathedral.

“Do you know how many nights I’ve sat awake, waiting for this moment, for this precise feeling? And finally, I will have you. I will reap your soul.”

“Why do you need me? Why did you come back?”

“Because, like you, I don’t like being incomplete. I just hate it when the story’s left unfinished. I tried to kill you. You tried to kill me. But now the finishing. The story ends here…tonight. My will be done.”

Jude stretched his gaze toward the altar, toward the cross.

“He won’t save you,” Morgan hissed. “He’s not going to redeem you, the little black spot. Your sins have written your fate already. No more confessions. No more prayers. You belong to Azrael. You belong to—”

The sound of a bullet seemed to shake the floor. Suddenly, Jude turned toward the entrance, where Rachel stood, soaked by the harsh rain and with a firearm tight in her grip. She pulled the trigger twice more. New bullets punctured Morgan’s chest and shoulder.

She was glowing red in his vision. His nostrils flared at the thought of her in danger. Jude rose and snapped his neck into place. Then he witnessed Rachel empty her entire clip into the looming enemy less than ten feet away.

In mere seconds, the bullets dropped out of Morgan’s body and burned the floor with a hot smack. One by one, they eerily slipped out of open wounds that had already begun to heal.

“Really?” was all Morgan said.

“Jude, I know the truth. I know what you’ve done,” Rachel shouted, afraid to look at him directly.

She reached into her jacket pocket, and her hand emerged with a recorder. Then she pushed the playback button.

My name is Azrael…I am not of this world. I am… demon…Every time you sinned, you let us in, let me in…

…Do you see?

“You killed a man, Jude. I know I’m crazy. I know this is stupid. But I still…” she trembled. “I have faith in you. You’re not evil. I believe that there is still good left in you, even if I can’t see it.”

Morgan rushed toward her. The final line replayed before it broke into little chips in her hand. Curling his arm around her waist, he let his long fingernails tug at her warm, slippery sides. A pleased grin toyed with his lips.

“She’s scared, Jude, real scared. Not sure if she’s going to make it home. What do you think? Is she going to make it home? Or is this brave, frightened girl going to end up on the six o’clock news…like her old man?”

She was frozen.

“I killed my old man,” he said. “Bet you didn’t know that.”

“Jude, help…me,” she begged. “Please. I believe..”

Morgan choked the sound from her throat. “Faith, how insipid. Your beloved is gone, my sweet. Jude’s gone.”

Jude raced toward Morgan’s body, crashing into him, and Rachel hit the floor several feet away. Levitation fueled by a gust of wind spun the two of them through the air. They spiraled to the ground seconds later with a furious collapse. Jude channeled his strength, and with his mental ability, he brought a sharp chunk of wood toward himself. With an outstretched hand, he grabbed it and slid the pointed beam into Morgan’s lungs. “Tell me,
old
friend
, how does that feel?”

“Like payback,” came the reply. “I was wondering when you’d let it all out. Deeper. Go deeper. I want you to.”

Jude slammed his forehead into Morgan’s jaw. The pain multiplied. His teeth shook then, and he wondered if they’d shuffle harshly out of place as soon as this match was over.

Jude swore he was awake, that it was him moving, breathing. Swore he was responsible for the beating he dealt out now. He could see into Morgan, deeply. The evil beneath this shell of a creature was a fury of wretched faces, trapped inside a wicked host. Through his red gaze, he could identify the insatiable hunger for everything. For more. It was a part of him too.

Morgan coughed up black blood. “What about your girlfriend?” His eyes grew wide and Jude flexed, unsure of what was coming. Before the next blink, Rachel was raised into the air and flying backward. Quickly. Wildly. Until she collided with the church doors, breaking one off its hinge. Her body descended shortly thereafter onto the concrete steps outside the sanctuary. The rain brought the dark world down on top of her. She lay unconscious.

New energy lifted Jude’s body into the air. Morgan brought his hands together and easily sent him spiraling into a porcelain statue. Jude’s torso sliced the masterpiece in half.

It took him too long to get up. He spit out thick gobs of blood but found himself licking it up again in a panic.

“It’s not over yet.” Morgan called down roof fragments with a tug of his hand. The pieces collected on top of Jude’s back. Nearly all of his clothing was reduced to rags as he stumbled within the rubble.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Morgan asked, walking toward his prey. “Tired of the game. Tired of the spin of this world. End it, why don’t you? Like your unhealthy scab of a brother did. Give me your soul and just end it! We’ll both get what we want. You can’t save them, you must comprehend that by now. You never could. You never will. You couldn’t even help your brother. You can’t save anyone.”

Jude screamed. Retaliating with his mind, he raised a splinter from a pew and watched it slice into the meat in Morgan’s neck. The powers were rapidly culminating. Blood and dust sprayed out of a fresh wound. It was only a matter of short, obvious seconds before his attacker removed it. “I’m not evil. I’ll be more than you. I’m
not
evil!”

Rain trickled down from above as other sections of the roof started to give way, descending upon them both.

The demon spoke through Morgan now. “Walk this way, sonny.”

Like a trusting child, Jude obeyed the familiar voice. Was he losing ground? Was he…

The voice spoke softly again. “Let it thicken now, sonny. The darkness you let in. Let it drift inside. Deeper still. Feel it. Know it.”

“So many voices,” he said, fearful. “So many. Stop. Set me free from it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“But you must. I like you. Your body will be the flesh I wear until the end of all things. The director’s cut, baby. You will be my final vessel. So precious. So dark. You are corrupt and beautiful at the root.”

“There is darkness in all men,” Jude replied.

The demon called out from within. “Come now, sonny. Come closer and reap Morgan Cross. Complete the circle and take what we have given to you. His soul.”

Jude’s eyes bled, and he felt his skin hang loosely off dry bones. Face to face with his adversary. Face to face with this new destiny. “Look upon mine affliction, and forgive my sin,” the demon whispered. “Become the sacred. Become our sin.”

The voice poured in like a smooth intoxication. “I am a murderer,” Jude said. “Darkness becomes me.”

Yes, sonny. Now claim what is yours. Bring his fragile vessel to its miserable knees and reap what we have taken from the others.

Jude could not resist. The images of the victims Morgan had slain flashed in the back of his mind. “The others.”

Do it! Destroy him!

Jude’s eyes bled with inhuman tears. The diluted will stained his corpse pale.

Human.

No.

Immortal.

No.
The darkness in between.
With a deep breath, Jude ripped the souls from Morgan’s body and watched his lifeless corpse fall, like dust, at his feet.

53

THE STORM WAS SETTLING,
both in his veins and outside. There was no sound except for the priest. Father Eliam’s stifled breaths came in increments, slow then heavy drags. It was a burden all its own to see his once comely face ruined by sweat and blood and tears.

Jude returned. “Father, what have I done?” he asked.

For a moment, Eliam lay still, as if he were stuck to the floor, beaten and frail. A horrific human picture.

“How did this…? What have I done?” Jude repeated, the episode exploding through his subconscious.

“Is it you, Jude? Is it really you?” Eliam looked up, afraid.

“Yes. I’m here now, Father,” Jude said, sniffling. He was hesitant to even grab the father’s hand. Pain, and the harsh reality of the destruction he had made, crushed him.

“Jude,” Eliam began, “my dear boy. The son I could…never…” A cough cut his words short.

“Save your strength. Please. I’ll call someone down to help you.”

“I’m through. There’s not enough time.”

“Stop it! Don’t talk like that.”

Their eyes met, and the priest grabbed Jude’s trembling wrist. “I know it wasn’t you. I don’t care what…that creature…told you. I know it was…not you.”

“It is me,” Jude answered. “
I
did this.
I
lost control. I let…the darkness in.”

“And now you must let it go.”

“I don’t think I can.” Jude stared down at his forearms, and he could see the movements of something else lingering there. In a moment, the lines changed the shape of his skin. They became tentacles. Black ivy spiraling up his arm. It was hot at first then ice cold. “It feels different, Father. Like nothing else I’ve ever felt before.”

“It will…destroy you, Jude. You…can’t contain its will. Do…not…tempt it.”

Jude couldn’t hide his tears anymore, but they were his. They were real. And they bled from inside him, the unseen wounds, the places he swore the dark had not been.

“I can’t finish this one for you, kiddo. You have to end it.”

Jude pressed his face into the priest’s chest. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” He could hear the old heart stuttering. His ears absorbed the murmurs. “I am lost. I am broken. I’m so sorry. God, help me.” He grinded his teeth. The beast at war under his flesh screamed. It tore the priest from his grasp.

“Keep…fighting it, Jude.”

“I like it,” Jude said, curled on the floor, his insides wanting to release. “It hurts so…much. But I like it.”

“He is not yours, priest!” Azrael scoffed. “He belongs to—”

“No,” Eliam said, gurgling blood. “Listen…to the voice of truth. Or else the enemy…will consume…”

“How can I stop it? How can a man kill a demon?”

I dare you, sonny.

“It can see through your…eyes, Jude. Sever the...connection. Your eyes are the doorway to your…soul.”

“Exorcise me!”

“I can’t. You must finish it.”

Jude was raised off the ground, shaking, spitting, gnashing his teeth. His elbows jutted out with a crack. His fingers bent backward and forward again as if being directed by invisible thread.

“It’s too strong, Father.”

“Rip out that evil!” Eliam said, choking. Jude cringed, listening to the priest try to take his final gasps. His tongue made a clicking sound, mere attempts at words, maybe, or prayers.

And then, like the faint dreams of youth, Father Eliam was gone. No more breath. No more blinking. Just a blank stare left behind.

Go ahead. Pull the trigger now, sonny, if you got the guts.

“Get out of my body!” Jude said, gaining control once more. It was when he thought that he possessed full control that his eyes began to drip red.

Your body is no longer your own. There are still many mighty plans for you, sonny. Don’t get cocky.

Jude’s chest collapsed, and he was dropped onto the floor, facedown. He crawled toward the priest, his saliva like foam. His hands were desperate for life.

With a grunt, he reached for the hope hanging from Eliam’s throat. The crucifix reflected the dim lights still burning in the sanctuary. Before he could grab the crucifix, the same force from moments earlier recaptured him. Like a furious wind, it lifted him up and flung his body into a collection of glass windows. The windows shattered at once, and rain slid over his lips. But the impact did not force him outside; instead, the force held him high above the ground.