Chapter 4: The Nightmare Ends
And Iblis stood before the darkness, tall and unafraid.
It was sunny outside. Iblis was too used to Retribution’s sense of flair—he expected thunderclouds and rain. The sunshine wasn’t fit for a day like this, not for the plans he had made. But maybe, maybe, it was a good sign. This time his plan would work out better. This time there would be less collateral damage. He took the lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on. The flame flickered for a second before he shut it off and turned it back on. Yes. Everything would work itself out this time. He checked his phone. Four-thirty. There was still plenty of time left. He continued to watch out the window, waiting patiently. Iblis checked his text messages. The last one was received two hours ago. She’s secure. That’s all he needed to know. The only thing left to do was wait.
He picked up the knife lying by the chair and ran his fingers along the sharpened edge. He accidentally nicked his finger on the tip and watched the blood quickly drip out. It had been so long that he had forgotten what it meant to be a mortal—what it felt like to bleed. He let the blood drop to the ground. He wondered if it had any magical properties right now. The Blood of Iblis had incredible latent properties, so the Mortal Blood of Iblis had to have some kind of mystic properties too, right? There was no time to find out. He wouldn’t have a chance to test it once he truly became Iblis.
He put the knife down and began to walk around the house, checking to make sure everything was in place. The faint smell of gasoline offended his senses, but he knew how necessary the canisters were. Everything in this house was about to go out with a bang. There would be nothing left to recover once he was done. He wasn’t going to miss this place. There was only pain here—only suffering. Even without his magical senses, he could feel nothing else in this house. He ran his fingers across the walls as he walked past them. There would be nothing left here soon. He checked his phone again. Ten-to-five. Soon. Very soon.
He closed the curtains and sat back in the chair. He heard a car pulling into the driveway. Well, it looked like things would come around sooner than he expected. He waited quietly, listening to the car turn off and the door slam. Everything was going to go perfectly this time. A key was inserted into a lock, but nothing audibly turned. The door opened and he heard his stepfather walk in. The insanity and madness ended now.
“What’s going on here, boy?” He walked into the living room and saw Iblis sitting in his chair. “Where is my other car?”
“My mother took her car and left you. She’s gone now.” He got up and picked up the knife, hiding it behind his thigh. “And soon you will be too.”
“What are you ev—” Iblis ran the blade across his stepfather’s throat. The man’s eyes opened up wide, the sudden realization of what was happening coming to him. But Iblis didn’t simply stop there. He stabbed his knife into the man’s chest. He continued to stab him, over and over again, each one growing a little more forceful and violent than the last. Iblis kicked the body back into a wall and stabbed the knife through one of his wrists.
“You’re not dead yet. Don’t pretend to be.” He grabbed another knife and stabbed it through his stepfather’s other wrist. “I can’t kill you. Not yet.” Iblis walked back to the chair and picked up a bottle with a cloth tucked into the neck from behind it. “It’ll be a while before I can take you down for good.” He lit the cloth and looked at it for a moment. “But I can make your life a living Hell for when you come back.” Iblis threw the bottle at his stepfather with all his might, barely missing the man’s head, but shattering the glass on the wall, causing the fire to spread quickly.
It quickly started to spread, consuming the rest of the house, but Iblis wasn’t paying attention to that. No, he was more attentive to the monster before him, burning alive. This man who wanted to scream, but couldn’t and was instead choking on his own blood. Iblis walked up to him and glared one more time before taking his car keys. There was still one last part of the plan. He had agreed with the Burmens that they would help him evade the law with his mother, but that wasn’t a part of his plan. No, he knew what had to happen next. The plan absolutely had to be compromised; he just needed to find the right scapegoat.
And so Iblis drove off in his stepfather’s car, speeding down every road until he came to the city proper. It would take a while for emergency units to respond to the fire, and by that time he would already be gone. It would take them a little while longer than that for the inspectors to trace the fire back to him, and by that point, the boy they were looking for would be gone. Iblis drove further and further into downtown Capital City, and he noticed someone tailing him. They knew already? The Iblanites worked more quickly than he remembered. Perhaps it was because he had actually noticed them sooner this time? Whatever the case was, he needed them to wait a little longer before running him off of the road.
He made a few sharp turns and weaved in and out of traffic, trying to lose them. It worked a little, buying him a few minutes, but he wasn’t as good at driving as he remembered. Had he ever been good at driving? He honked at someone in front of him. No, he was great at driving. Everyone else sucked at it. He blared his horn a little more and looked behind him. They were back again. Damn it all; he just needed a few more minutes. He’d be into a new precinct in about a mile or two. Hell, he’d be far enough to get into an entirely different hospital than before. He lost them one more time. How had they even known what had happened already?
What if they didn’t know what happened? He pulled off the highway and drove onto a random street in the city. It never occurred to him that his stepfather would be in anything other than good standing with the Iblanites. What if that madman had done something to piss off the other madmen and they were trying to kill him? He slowed down and parked in a random alleyway along the road. But why would they try to kill his stepfather? Iblis knew that these Iblanites were insane, but what ends were they trying to meet by killing their own?
He saw several cars pull up and block his way out. He had no intentions of running anyway. Iblis was going to go down fighting this time. He wouldn’t be the only body heading to a hospital today. He got out of the car and took a bat out with him. There were at least seven other cars there, and at least five people got out of each one of them. The odds were heavily stacked against him—even more than they were last time. There were ways to try and even those odds though, and hopefully, things wouldn’t be too overwhelming too soon.
“You’re not who we’re looking for, but,” one of them in a more elaborate garb walked up, “you’re driving his car. Then you must be—”
“His stepson.” Iblis cut them off.
“Oh, you’re his stepson? Well, that changes so many things then.” Iblis couldn’t pin down whether this was a man or a woman. They had an oddly effeminate deep voice, fairly undefined features, and their clothes were too loose to make out any kind of body shape. “But you will all still be sacrificed the same. Tell me, where is your father right now?”
“Burning to a crisp, I would hope.” Iblis pointed the bat at who he assumed was the Iblanites’ leader. “And soon a whole bunch of you will be joining him in Hell.”
They laughed. He still couldn’t tell and it was getting annoying. “Ballsy, aren’t you? Well, that’s only going to get you so far.” They turned around and walked away, “Send him home in a body bag.” The Iblanites all charged forward, running blindly at their target. Iblis ran forward as well, gripping the bat tightly. He made wide, heavy swings, trying to keep all of them in front so nobody could try any cheap shots. One of them made the first move forward, but a quick bat to the jaw kept him out of the fight. A couple more tried to double team him from the left and right, but Iblis managed to dodge and knock them out as well.
He managed to beat a few more with the bat until they finally disarmed him. But that wasn’t a problem—not for him. He was Iblis of Light, and he had a weapon none of them were expecting! He pulled back his left fist and quickly waved his right hand over it and punched into the closest Iblanite, hitting them right beneath their diaphragm. He saw as the wind was knocked right out, but surprisingly no blood was drawn. Did his magic not work? He couldn’t have done something wrong; he always performed the transmutation spell like that.
It suddenly occurred to him: He didn’t have any magic. His arm was made of flesh, not metal. A heavy-handed punch landed right on his cheek, knocking him onto his back. He tried to get up, but a quick kick in his ribs suggested otherwise. He hadn’t wanted to win before, but now it was surely impossible as all the Iblanites quickly began to gang up on him and beat the poor boy within an inch of his life. The beating was relentless and certainly would go much, much farther. Or it would if a couple of the cars didn’t suddenly explode. The Iblanites were all distracted by this and found themselves on the receiving end of another beating. Before he blacked out, Iblis could barely see his savior, who drove back the Iblanites quickly and easily.
“Get out of here! Leave him alone!” The mysterious hero yelled as the Iblanites all retreated, leaving their injured and probably dead behind. He threw fireballs at the cars as they drove off, hitting some but causing no real damage. Once he was certain all of those dirty cultist bastards had all disappeared, he turned around to see the beaten and bloody kid they were all ganging up on.
“Those cowards.” He muttered. The hero walked over and checked the boy’s pulse. He could barely feel a thing. “Damn, I came just in time, didn’t I, kid?” He picked the boy up, “Don’t worry. I know just where to take you. You’re in good hands now.” The hero looked around one more time. “I just hope I’m not too late this time.”