Immortal Game

The note had only been given to him a week in advance of this meeting. It was little more than a name and time, but that was all Theron really required. The name on the note was of little consequence to him; this was just business after all. But the time and place was of his own choosing. He was a creature of habit, and he preferred to carry out his business in a few choice locations, manipulating events as necessary to make it happen. Technically they didn’t need to physically meet at all. It would have been possible to carry out his work from a distance, but there was some enjoyment to be had from these meetings, and besides, distance lacked the personal touch.

The note, in itself, was quite unusual, and further inspection would reveal it was in fact a contract. There was something about the ink which glistened as if still wet, and the stroke of each letter had clearly not been created with a ballpoint pen as one might expect in today’s society. The colour was not the usual blue or black ink but a red – the same shade as fresh blood. And indeed the note had been written in blood, as fresh as the same arterial liquid running through the vascular system of the person who it had come from. Only upon completion of the contract would it congeal and crack as it dried up completely.

Other men might have been nervous in these situations, or perhaps they would feel the other extreme, and shake with anticipation of what was to come. Theron showed signs of neither, but then, he was more than just a man. His other nature had driven him to this particular line of work in the first place, and when the time came it would take over as it always did, and there would be emotion. Until that moment there was only the nothingness that had enveloped him for as long as he could remember, the lack of humanity that everyone else around him possessed; a void that so easily allowed the darkness to fill his soul. That darkness had its uses, and he would give into it when the time came.

There were no rules in this game played by gods and devils. Mortals were mere pawns to be used as they saw fit, all expendable, all tossed aside in favour of a newer piece eventually. Some played to win, some for gold, and others for the most treasured prize – namely the human souls they valued so highly, above the souls of all other creatures. His father had been so caught up in the game he’d got himself killed, but if he hadn’t taken part then Theron supposed he would never have been born. Still, he could never see the attraction. Of course, he had the choice whether to embrace that world or find his place in the world of men. He’d chosen neither. The world of men was boring, and his other nature allowed him a freedom that none of them would ever know, slaves to the system they had created as they were. There was no place for him there. No, his place was somewhere in between, a part of the game perhaps, but souls had never interested him, and the winning wasn’t what mattered. No, he played for something else.

The use of blood to bind the contract might seem clichéd, maybe even crude, but human blood was everything in his chosen line of work. It sealed the deal, and once a client signed with him, there was no going back.

The owner of the name he’d been given, the very name now bled on the contract, approached from the opposite end of the street. He’d chosen this particular spot just outside the local church grounds because conducting his dark business so close to a place of worship appealed to him. After all, it was a place where believers thought their faith alone in their Christian God was enough to protect them. And it wasn’t, of course. Humans were playthings for the higher beings, nothing more, and it was something of a personal joke to shatter their illusions in such a way.

His target drew nearer and he let the darkness spill out of his subconscious and begin to fill his body from head to toe, in preparation of what was soon to come, gripping the blade concealed beneath his jacket, his preferred tool. His human prey, Jack, closed his eyes, his heart racing, and thought back to the meeting that had set all this in motion.

***

Just over a week ago he’d been sat in a darkened room with the man he’d been told could make things happen, and bring about the heart’s deepest desires. He couldn’t see anything of this man, as he was positioned in such a way that he sat entirely in shadow, and the only light that slithered in from outside fell upon the chair in which Jack now sat. There was just an outline of something that appeared human, and somewhat mismatched blood red eyes that glowed unnaturally. He was desperate rather than stupid, and as such was now starting to wonder if he’d made a grave mistake in coming here.

“There’s got to be something else, I can’t do that,” he said.

Ferus laughed. “Darkness lies in you, as it exists in all of humanity. You’d be surprised at what you find yourself capable of. And besides, rest assured this death is not undeserved. You will be doing the world a favour if you play your part.”

“Do I even have a choice?” Jack asked.

He laughed again. “Free will is an illusion; an idea dreamt up by mankind to comfort you with the notion that you can control your fate. When we can control your thoughts with the smallest of efforts how can you ever hope to have a choice?”

The longer he talked with this ‘man’ the more he was coming to appreciate that ignorance truly was bliss.

“And if I do this thing you promise I’ll come out of it unharmed, and my gambling debts will be sorted?”

“I give you my word. We have a deal, then?”

Feeling he should probably know better, and a smarter course would be to turn and run from the room, never once looking back, he said “Yeah it’s a deal. I’ll do what I have to do.”

He felt the unseen speaker was smiling, and he imagined there’d be fangs if his eyes could penetrate that darkness. The last of his nerve deserted him and he left as quickly as he could, without actually running from the room and its occupant.

***

That seemingly harmless conversation had led him to this, and he knew his life now hung in the balance as he allowed himself to be bait for this strange man. But Theron’s instincts were sharper when he let his other side come to the fore, and he knew something was wrong. His prey was afraid of him, and there should be no fear yet, not until they realised the nature of the meeting that was about to take place. They walked unwittingly to their deaths, oblivious to what their enemies had arranged in order to avoid getting their own hands dirty. The assassin roared with a bestial ferocity that didn’t belong to a mortal man, and whipped his head round in search of the one who had set him up, the one who must surely be lying in wait for him now. The client who had approached him had been human just like his supposed prey, but that human must have been working for one of them, and sure enough he sensed the presence of another supernatural being nearby.

Jack wanted to run but morbid fascination kept him rooted to the spot as his eyes registered the impossible. He’d noted there was something off about the assassin from the moment he laid eyes on him, and despite a chill in the air Theron seemed to be undressing, shedding his jacket like an extra skin, a concealed blade clattering to the ground from within, and ripping off his cheap shirt and trousers as if he had claws. What Jack could see of the strange man’s body was completely hairless, and if he’d had cause to brush his hand over the skin it would have proven to be the same silky smoothness as a snake’s. That is until the skin began to change.

Theron barely even noticed the physical changes which usually came with his other nature’s bloodlust, but on this occasion it was in response to his instincts, in preparation for the fight that was sure to come.

His spine bulged beneath his skin like a trapped serpent trying to break free, and the skin began to tear as spikes erupted along its length. Wings burst forth from his back, the new bones shooting outwards from his shoulder blades, the skin stretching around them to form the same thin membrane as a bat’s, whilst his neck grew longer and more serpentine. His spine also extended at the base into a spiked tail. His eyes turned yellow, the pupils reptilian slits, and his face stretched outwards to form a snout resembling that of a crocodile, his skin hardening and forming the same rough scales as the prehistoric reptilian predators. But the horn’s growing on the top of his head and the spikes now adorning his jaw line left his lineage in little doubt. The blood of dragons ran strong in him, from his father’s side, and allowed him power no mortal man could ever dream of. His body was still mostly humanoid and he hadn’t grown to the size true dragons could reach, but he had the same command of the elements, most notably fire. Ferus would have to be careful.

Jack was in a state of shock, and somewhere inside he was screaming at himself to run, but it was as if his body was no longer under his own control and all he could do was watch as the equally dark creature he’d bargained with walked towards them.

Theron had no need of the blade in his true form, but he bent to retrieve it anyway. It was no more than a long knife, but as Jack watched the metal went under an equally impossible transformation, elongating to form a sword, flames erupting along its length.

“What do you want with me?” the dragon man snarled at his shadowy opponent.

“I knew your father Theron, and he would have been disappointed to find his son had chosen the life of a lowly hit man. Doesn’t our world hold even the slightest interest for you?”

“What business is it of yours?” he challenged.

“It became my business when your indulgence in your bloodlust began to interfere with my plans. So many souls ripe for the taking if you hadn’t have killed them first. If you refuse to cooperate you leave me no choice but to kill you, though it pains me to do so,” he lied, his voice full of faked regret. He had known Theron’s father, that much was true, but they had never even been so much as allies. He had in fact been the one to slay the dragon when he’d become too troublesome, just as his son had grown to be.

Theron replied with a jet of flame and his opponent was forced to side step, his true nature revealed at last. Though his shadowy outline had appeared humanoid, he was far from human. His scaly skin was the dark reddish brown of dried blood, as if he’d tortured so many creatures over the millennia that it had permanently caked an extra layer over his body. His ears were no more than holes in the side of his head. Bull’s horns curved out from the top of his skull and he too had bat’s wings protruding from his back, and a tail that was long and whip like. Despite the scales his face was unmistakeably feline, like a tiger’s, the short muzzle pulled back into a snarl, revealing the long fangs Jack had correctly guessed at. But it was his left eye socket that was the most shocking, and left no doubt as to his hellish origins. His brow was mostly intact but around the top of the eye there was only muscle, the lids long gone, and the lower half of the socket was reduced to little more than bone. There were also deep cuts along his nose as if these were old wounds that refused to heal, and the dim light revealed a torn chest with parts of the rib cage showing through. The Lord of Beasts drew his own sword. He’d tamed dragons before and this insolent creature was only half dragon. Maybe instead of killing Theron he’d enslave him, rob him of the freedom he valued so highly. Yes, that would be a fitting punishment.

The two supernatural beings began to fight, their blades dancing through the air too quickly for Jack’s eye to follow, his presence forgotten now. They seemed equally matched, and he had a vision of them fighting here till the end of time. But without warning the half dragon was suddenly disarmed, his sword clattering to the concrete once more, the flames immediately extinguishing as it left his hand. The Beast Lord’s will forced him to his knees, but still fighting he let out another jet of fire. This time the demon didn’t try to avoid it. He held out a hand to part the flames, never once flinching as they blazed either side of him, as if it was no more than a blast of warm air.

The human finally came to his senses and ran back down the street at a full sprint, wishing he’d have found some other solution for his earthly problems. He didn’t trust the demon’s word and he knew he’d spend the rest of his life in fear of what really lurked in the shadows, the images of the night’s events seared into his brain like the bright flames imprinted on his eyes, which were only just beginning to fade. He didn’t make it far. An agonising pain in his chest caused him to stop and look down with wide eyes, to see the tip of a sword protruding from the centre. The sword withdrew and his lifeless body fell to the ground.

Outside the church another body lay, equally as lifeless. The victor considered the two corpses as if trying to decide what to do next, before taking to the skies, knowing it was time to move on and find a new lair. But there would be one more kill first. Jack had briefly distracted Ferus, and it had been enough to break free of his will and kill the demon’s current incarnation. A being that powerful wouldn’t die and he knew the Lord of Beasts would be back, but until then he had other business to attend to. The contract entitled him to take a life and he had, but it also stated that, in the event the client changed their mind, he could slaughter them instead. In this case, since he had been tricked, he thirsted for the blood of this other human who had dared to work with Ferus to set him up. Then he would move on.

Some played to win, some for gold, and some for souls. Theron played for blood, for his love of carnage, and the thrill of the hunt. He could no longer remain on the fringes, however. The game had found him, and it was time to take his place.

WordPress PopUp Plugin