Epoch (15 page)

The power blinked on and off as the lightning strikes got closer and closer. The group, with the exception of Chanteuse, huddled in the basement of Big Tom’s house, planning their next move.

“Time is running out,” Optar said. “If we are to make an attempt on getting through the portal, we must go now, before the weather gets any worse.”

“And it will,” said Nod, sitting up on the mattress. “Once the tornadoes start ... ”

“We get the idea,” Vincent said.

“The demon has revealed to me what we must do,” Optar said. “It seems the Alphega building is surrounded by several magical wards.”

“What do they do?” Vincent asked, remembering the force-fields he’d seen when he’d visited the building in spirit.

“They block the calling of the portals,” Optar said. “That’s why nobody knows about them. Apparently Alphega Corp. has built structures around all the Portal Sites on the planet, and each one is blocked by similar wards.

“But here’s the thing,” Optar continued. “All the wards are connected together. If we can bring them down here, then they will fall all across the world.”

“Wow,” Vincent said. “If we did that, we might actually save a lot of people.”

“Goodie-goodies,” Barnaby muttered.

“You want some more?” Big Tom asked, raising his fists.

Barnaby kept silent.

“How do we take down the wards?” Vincent asked.

“We’ll explain on the way,” Optar said, opening a box full of spray cans. “Everyone load up on these and let’s go.”

“Not so fast,” Grimbowl said. “We still need to see if the spray will actually work. And that means you,” he turned to Rennik.

“Gulp,” the demon replied.

Vincent sighed. He’d hoped they could just leave and forget about testing the spray on Rennik. True, the demon was a nasty piece of work. However, Chanteuse was right—he was a living thing. Vincent didn’t think he could simply kill him in cold blood.

“Why don’t you do it, Vincent,” Grimbowl said, hopping onto a box and tossing him a can. “Only fair. You’re the one who brought us all together, after all. Demon,” he turned back to Rennik, “open your mouth. Wide.”

Rennik resisted for a moment, then cried out in pain and opened his mouth as far as it would go.

“Go for it,” Grimbowl said to Vincent, offering him a bright smile.

“Yes, go for it, Vincent,” said Chanteuse as she came down the stairs. She eyed Vincent with contempt, certain he was about to commit murder.

“It is the will of the Triumvirate that these beasts be put to death,” Max said, sensing his brother’s hesitation. “Make Mother and Father proud. Kill it.”

Vincent looked down into the gaping maw of Rennik, who pulled his tongue as far back as he could manage. His teeth still looked deadly fearsome; if Vincent didn’t know for sure the demon was helpless, he wouldn’t have come so close.

He wasn’t a good creature. Rennik had betrayed him, and only Optar’s savvy had saved them from death in the hospital ruins. If Vincent spared the demon, he knew there would be no thanks. Worse, Rennik would do everything in his power to kill them all if he was left alive. He was a threat, a very real danger.

But his eyes told a different story. Wide with terror, they were the eyes of a creature who just wanted to live.

“Come on, Vincent,” Nod said.

“Just do it,” Clara added.

“Wimp,” said Barnaby.

Vincent stood there looking at the can. This was his decision to make, whether or not to attempt the murder of a creature he’d already tried to kill with hairspray. It should have been simple, and almost everyone was urging him to do it. Of course, that was peer pressure talking, and caving to that sort of thing had never been Vincent’s failing.

He looked up at Chanteuse, saw the look in her eyes, and knew what he had to do.

“No,” said Vincent. “No, I won’t do it.”

“What?” said Grimbowl. “Vincent, that demon ... ”

“I’m not a murderer,” Vincent said.

“Oh brother,” Barnaby said, walking forward. “Here, I’ll do it.”

“You will not,” Vincent said. “None of you will. It’s wrong.”

“Vincent is right,” Chanteuse said, striding forward and standing beside him. “I’m proud of him, and ashamed of all of you! Stop this at once.”

“But Chanteuse,” Grimbowl said, “we have to test the spray.”

“No,” Chanteuse said. “It is wrong.”

“No it is not!” Optar said.

“Not if it’s done in the name of the Triumvirate!” Max added. “All acts done in their Blessed and Holy names are right and just, and may the Triumvirite strike me down if it is otherwise.”

Just then, a two-by-four slammed through the basement window and missed Max’s head by an inch.

“What the ... ” Vincent said, staring as the wooden plank of death imbedded itself in the far wall.

“Tornado,” Big Tom said, looking through the shattered window. “And it’s coming this way.”

“Everyone against the wall!” Miss Sloam shouted. They rushed to the wall and crouched down beside it, then waited for the tornado to pass. Miss Sloam held her daughter close, Max held on to Vincent and Big Tom, the pixies and the elves laid themselves flat on the floor, and Barnaby burrowed under the mattress.

The house shook. Violently. Vincent huddled closer to his brother, hoping the ordeal would be over soon. Which, in a few hours, it would be.

Over the howling wind and the shaking of the house, Vincent could just make out another series of sounds. Sort of a rip, whip, clatter. Vincent’s curiosity overrode his terror and he looked up, searching for the source of the noise.

He saw Rennik on the other side of the room, next to the spray can boxes. The demon picked one up, ripped it open, and whipped it through the open window. Vincent could clearly see the wind snatching the cans out of the box, blowing them away with a clattering sound.

Rennik was already on to the next box, and there were very few boxes left. And it didn’t take Vincent long at all to realize what that meant.

“Stop!” Vincent cried, leaping up and charging toward the demon. “Optar, make him stop.”

“Demon!” the elf elder said. “I order you to ... ” He never finished, because Rennik threw a box at him, knocking him over.

“You little jerk!” Vincent said, snatching up a can and pointing it at Rennik. “I can’t believe I felt bad about killing you before.”

“What’s stopping you now, human?” Rennik said. “Face it, you couldn’t kill me then, and you are too weak to do it now. And if you can’t do it,” he picked up the last box, “you can’t stop me.”

“I can!” said Grimbowl, standing back up. “Demon, I order you ... ”

And then the house blew down. Literally. It tore right off its foundations and blew away, leaving the basement exposed to the rain, wind, and debris from the massive tornado tearing past less than a block away.

“Woah!” cried Nod and Clara as the winds sent them flying.

“No!” Chanteuse cried, leaping for them with her arms outstretched and only just missing.

“Yum!” said Rennik, leaping to intercept them with his mouth open wide.

“No!” cried Vincent as the two pixies fell straight into the demon’s maw. Nod and Clara threw their tiny arms and legs up and fought against Rennik’s jaws, but it was clearly a losing battle.

Vincent leapt into action. He’d lost Nod once, and wasn’t about to do so again. He jammed the can of bug spray into the demon’s mouth and fired off a long burst.

The effect was instantaneous. Rennik’s skin went pale, then started to melt off. He aged visibly, lines and wrinkles forming on his skin even as it dripped off him. His wings withered to twigs and snapped off, and he fell to the floor with a wet splat. Clara and Nod threw open his mouth and flew out, then wiped at the frothy spray on their bodies.

“Great shot, kid!” Grimbowl cried. “We know the stuff works now, don’t we?”

Vincent didn’t reply. He watched what was left of Rennik melt into a technicolor puddle, then turned away in disgust.

“You had to do it,” Chanteuse said, taking his hand. “You saved the pixies’ lives.”

“I know,” Vincent replied, giving her hand a squeeze. “Just don’t expect me to like it.”

While Nod and Clara flew off to collect any salvageable spray cans, the elves, humans, and troll sat in a circle and discussed strategy.

“We still don’t have any way to get there,” Grimbowl said. “It could take days to walk to the Portal Site.”

“Days we don’t have,” Vincent said. “The pixies could probably carry a few of us, but not all.”

“Do any of your neighbours have SUVs?” Chanteuse asked Big Tom, and all eyes stared at her incredulously. “Well, yes, they ruin the environment and I hate them, but they could probably manage the trip through the city.”

“None of my neighbors have any,” Big Tom said sadly.

“Poor bum,” Barnaby said. “My dad has one.”

“Is it here?” Vincent asked.

“No,” Barnaby replied.

“Then shut up,” Vincent said. “We only want helpful suggestions.”

“I fear only the gods can help us now,” Optar sighed.

Vincent looked at Max.

And Max looked at Vincent.

“The Gods!” Vincent said. “The protest is today!”

“And it’s only a couple of kilometers from here,” Max added.

“What are you two talking about?” Grimbowl asked.

“Gods,” Vincent said. “Global Outland Drivers. The new off-road utility vehicle from Regular Engines.”

“They are premiering them today,” Max said, “at special car shows all across the world.”

“Our parents and their church were going to lead a protest out front,” Vincent said. “They don’t think anyone or anything should use the name ‘god’ except for God.”

“And they’re right,” Max said. “But under the circumstances I think the Triumvirate would want us to use them.”

“Yeah?” said Barnaby. “Are they here?”

“No,” said Vincent.

“Then why don’t you shut up?” Barnaby said smugly.

“They’re at the South Gates shopping mall,” Vincent told him.

“That’s not far from here,” Chanteuse said.

“Exactly,” said Vincent, smugly.

“It’s a longshot,” Grimbowl said. “With the earthquake and now the tornadoes, there might not be any of those God things left.”

“It’s our best shot,” Vincent said.

“And we’d be able to rescue Mother and Father,” Max said, “and anyone else who turned up for the event.”

“Uh, kid?” Grimbowl said. “With all that’s been going on outside, do you really think they would go ahead with their protest?”

Max looked at Vincent.

And Vincent looked at Max.

“Without a doubt,” Max said.

“Yeah,” Vincent agreed. “These natural disasters will only encourage them.”

• • •

The walk to the South Gates Mall was treacherous, to say the least. Tornadoes continued cutting the city to ribbons; several times they had to seek shelter from raining debris.

“Keep your heads down,” Miss Sloam said, swatting aside a plummeting fast-food restaurant sign with a downed streetlamp. “And stay close to the buildings. We don’t want anyone getting sucked away by a twister.”

“Except maybe Barnaby,” Big Tom said, and Vincent snickered.

Luckily, the only tornado in the immediate area was heading away from them in a south-easterly direction. Vincent crossed his fingers and hoped their luck would hold.

As the twister moved off and the wind died down, the group heard a voice in the distance. They couldn’t make anything out at first, but as they got closer to the mall the voice became recognizable.

“You have got to be kidding me,” said Barnaby.

“ … and to those who would claim divinity simply by merit of their ABS brakes, four-wheel drive, and 5.5% financing, I say blasphemy!” came the unmistakable voice of Vincent’s father. “To those who would tempt us with air conditioning, power steering, and roomy interiors if we would but fall to our knees and call them gods … ”

“Come on,” said Vincent, embarrassed but determined. “Let’s go crash us a protest.”

One block later, they arrived at the mall parking lot. Ahead was a scene of utter devastation; it was obvious a tornado had torn right through the mall’s center. Goods of all kinds lay scattered everywhere, from the latest in fashion to the cheapest of dollar-store knickknacks.

And in the middle of the mess—in some ways covered by it—was the protest. It was small, with fewer than five people in attendance. Likely there had been more when the event started, but Vincent guessed the majority had lost their faith when the world came apart.

“Do not be discouraged by the evidence of the Triumvirate’s wrath,” Mr. Drear spoke into his megaphone as he stood atop an overturned God. “They are testing our resolve, even as they seek to punish those who would drive these abominations.”

Vincent wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Big Tom and Chanteuse looked at him with sympathy. Barnaby laughed out loud. And Max beamed with pride.

“Despite all else, Father fights to spread the Word,” he said.

“Oh man,” Barnaby said. “This explains so much.”

“You want another pounding?” Vincent asked him. “Didn’t think so. Grimbowl, Max, come with me. The rest of you, find us some working Gods.”

“And what are we going to do?” Grimbowl asked.

“The hard part,” Vincent said. “Convince my parents to come with us.”

Vincent, Max, and Grimbowl approached the Triumvirates. Vincent thought hard about what he would say. After all, an earthquake and a few tornadoes hadn’t convinced them to pack up and move on. What could he possibly come up with to get through to them?

As they approached, Mr. Drear looked down and saw them. His face brightened in astonished delight, and he leapt down from the overturned SUV and hurried toward them.

“Max!” Mr. Drear cried, embracing his firstborn in a bear hug. “Max, my boy, you’re all right! We feared you’d been killed!”

“I am all right, Father,” Max said, hugging him back. “I am glad you are also unharmed.”

“I’m okay too,” Vincent said bitterly.

“Vincent! Max!” Mrs. Drear cried, throwing down her picket sign and scooping the three of them up in an embrace. Vincent hugged back happily, relieved. Both his parents had survived.

“I hate to break up this touching moment,” Grimbowl said, “but time is … ”

“Demon!” Mr. Drear said, pushing his wife and sons away and swinging a kick at the elf.

“Dad, no!” Vincent cried as Grimbowl ducked under Mr. Drear’s leg.

“Stop that,” Grimbowl said, delivering a kick of his own.

Mr. Drear yelped and clutched his shin. Vincent winced; he knew how much that hurt.

“Grimbowl, back off,” he said. “You too, Dad. He’s not a demon.”

“Is it another angel?” Mrs. Drear asked.

“Do not be fooled,” Mr. Drear said. “It has enslaved Vincent’s mind, and now it seeks to enslave ours!”

“He is not a demon,” Max said.

“Oh?” said his father.

“The Triumvirate have opened my eyes to his true nature,” Max said, “and revealed him to be a friend.

“It was Vincent who introduced me to them,” Max went on. “At first I thought the same as you, that he must be a creature of evil. Then I met the real demons, and I joined with my brother and creatures like this one in fighting them.”

Mr. Drear looked down at his other son, astonishment back on his face.

“All this time,” he said, “you, Vincent, have been fighting demons?”

“Yep,” Vincent replied.

“Triumvirate forgive me,” his father said. “I had no idea.”

Wow, Vincent thought. That’s as close to an apology as I’ll ever get.

“We have to go,” he said, taking his father’s hand.

“But the protest … ” Mr. Drear said.

“There is another protest you must attend to,” Max said. “Vincent has found the demons’ lair. We must journey there with our friends and allies to confront these wicked creatures and destroy them.”

Mr. Drear shook his head. We’re losing him, Vincent thought.

“This is the most important protest in the world,” Vincent said, and then he had a brainstorm. “And, none of the other religious groups know about it.”

Mr. Drear’s eyes widened.

“We’d be the first?” he said.

“Uh huh,” Vincent nodded.

Mr. Drear looked at Max, then at his wife, then at Vincent. Then back to Max.

“You must come now, father,” Max said. “Time is short.”

“Very well, son,” Mr. Drear said. “Lead the way.”

• • •

Vincent felt good as he and Max led their parents into the nearby lot to find the others. His spirits dropped, however, when he saw the state the Gods were in. Some had been crushed by debris, while others had been blown away by the tornadoes. When they met up with the others, Vincent’s worst fears were confirmed.

“They’re all busted,” Barnaby said. “Good plan, loser.”

“I’m afraid he’s right,” Chanteuse said as she came around the side of an overturned God. “They are all … ”

“The witch!” Mr. Drear barked. “What is she doing here?”

Oh no, Vincent thought, cursing himself for not seeing that one coming.

“She is all right, father,” Max said.

“She most certainly is not!” Mr. Drear shouted. “These creatures I can accept,” he waved a hand at the elves, “since you clearly control them … ”

“Hey!” said Grimbowl.

“How dare you!” said Optar.

“ … but this person,” Mr. Drear went on, returning his contemptuous gaze to Chanteuse, “is an abomination, and … ”

“What,” bellowed Miss Sloam from right behind him, “did you just call my daughter?”

“Um,” said Mr. Drear, staring up at her angry face.

“Let me put this up his nose,” Optar said, pulling a bug from his pouch. “We’ll see who controls who!”

“Stop!” shouted Big Tom, in the biggest voice Vincent had ever heard from him. “Listen, can you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Barnaby asked, and then he heard it. Then they all heard it.

“Helicopters!” said Mrs. Drear.

And indeed they were. Three choppers appeared on the horizon and came in fast. Two took up flanking positions in the air while the middle helicopter descended slowly to the parking lot.

“We’re saved,” Mrs. Drear said.

“Don’t be so sure,” said Vincent. “That’s the Alphega symbol on the side of those coptors.”

“It’s my dad!” Barnaby said. “He’s come to get me.”

“What about the rest of us?” asked Miss Sloam.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll rescue you, too,” Barnaby said.

Vincent wasn’t so sure.

“Optar?” he whispered, getting down on one knee. “You have any obyons left?”

“Plenty,” the elf replied. “You think we’ll need them?”

“Maybe,” Vincent said. “Nod?”

“Right here,” the near-invisible pixie said, landing on Vincent’s shoulder.

“Good,” Vincent said. “Listen up, here’s the plan … ”