Rumors of War

by Cynus 

War of Hell

Chapter 11

          Belial was the only one to initially follow me.  It was his duty to guard me, so it came as no surprise when he fell in step beside me, though what did surprise me was the amount of support I could see in his eyes when he turned to look in my direction. I almost thanked him, but my mind was too cluttered to say anything coherently, so I kept my mouth shut instead.

         We made it to the lift and still no one else had come after us. I didn’t say anything and Belial took control and sent the lift to where we needed to be. It wasn’t long before I was back in our quarters, and Belial was once again guarding the door. I had considered asking him to join me, so that I would have at least one person to confide in, but I didn’t want to put him in any worse position than I he already was with his mother.

         And so I waited. Alan and Keith arrived first; both of them looked at me with concern. Keith moved to touch my mind and begin dialogue telepathically, but I pushed him away and said defiantly, “No, I’m not going to keep this conversation from Alan. We will talk about this openly. Alan was there for me today, which is something that my other friends were not.”

         Keith nodded, and sat down on the arm chair, while Alan took a seat next to me. “What exactly would you like to talk about then?” The Druid began, and then with a shrug of helplessness he added, “I don’t exactly know what you want from me. I thought we were coming here to end the war so that you could get back to your normal life. I’m not saying that you’re not justified in being afraid, but I can’t help but wonder why you wouldn’t want to push for this.”

         “Before we get around to that, can I ask a question of you?” I replied anxiously. Keith nodded, and so I asked, “Where the hell is Marc? Why didn’t he come back with you?”

         Alan and Keith shared a look that already told me everything I needed to know, but Keith answered me anyway. “Shatan told him that it would be a good idea to train before they left. He said that it could be the last time that they would be able to before we meet Michael in battle. They went straight to the dojo.”

         My eyes started to water; tears of pure rage pushing to the surface. I didn’t let them fall though, instead I held them back as I whispered, “bastard… I hope he’s happy with his new life. Screw him.”

         Alan laid a hand softly on my shoulder, but I didn’t acknowledge it, I just stared at the wall and tried to control my emotions. I had to use every ounce of psychic training I had to get myself under control enough to keep on with the conversation. It still took me a few moments, but I was ready to go on with the discussion. “So, enough about the demon prince; why wouldn’t I want to do this, you ask? I still fail to see how any of this directly affects me. I’ve been dragged into this since day one. I’ve been ripped away from everything I’ve known, and all because I have some bloodline in me that my ancestor said was going to give me the ability to end a war I learned about within the last year.  Why should I even care? Michael has supposedly asked for me to be there… well I don’t see why you couldn’t go without me and tell him I’m coming, and then put your plan into action.”

         “If it were that simple, Damien, I think we might do just that. You are forgetting one thing though,” Keith replied, and then with a level tone he explained, “That ancestor of yours was almost always right when it came to predicting the future. Many thought that he had developed a new psychic ability, the ability to know what was coming. That assumption may or may not have been right, but it was believed by a lot of people. Why do you need to come? It’s not because Michael believes that you are a threat, but it’s because the demons and Druids will look to you as a symbol. They will see you as a beacon of hope after a long, dark night.”

         He may have been able to keep his emotions in check, but I wasn’t able to any longer. As I replied, the tears began to flow, a mixture of anger and helplessness. “But why does it have to be me? I didn’t choose any of this! Dammit Keith, I’ve been trying to be mature about this whole thing, but I’m starting to get sick of it. I want to be a teenager for once, is that too much to ask? Maybe it’s easy for you, being older, but I’m only sixteen, and you want me to walk straight into a trap where Michael has pretty much guaranteed my death. Does it sound reasonable to you that I need some time to think about this?”

         The look he gave me was pure empathy, and I stopped crying, because I knew that at least one person was listening to me.  Alan’s arm around my shoulder a second later told me that there were two. Neither of them spoke, and instead took the time to digest the information and feed me silent support.

         It was a few minutes later that we heard a phone ringing, and I recognized my ringtone. There was only one person who would be calling me that wasn’t already on the ship; my father. I jumped up and ran to my room, where I found my phone buzzing on the end table. I quickly flipped it open and forgot my troubles for a moment. I vaguely heard Keith’s voice in the background from the other room, and what I thought was Marc’s voice, but I was more concerned with the phone call.

         “Hello?” I said with a calm that surprised me. I didn’t think I could bury my emotions so quickly, but I was proud of the way my voice sounded.

         “Hey, Damien,” my dad’s voice said on the other end. There was an obvious restraint in his tone, and I knew that there was something going on. I was about to question when he went on, “How are you doing today? You didn’t call me this morning, I was worried about you.”

         His question made me forget my suspicions that something was up, and I replied, “Sorry, I was having a rough morning. It just slipped my mind. I’m… okay, just trying to decide a few things.”

         I barely registered the sound of the door to my room sliding open again and someone stepping in. I looked over my shoulder and saw Marc, but I ignored him as I turned my attention back to the phone call. There was no indication other than the hesitant sound in my father’s voice, but I could tell that something was dreadfully wrong.

         “Listen, son. I don’t really know how to say this, so I’ll come right to the point. I love you, more than anything. Your mother would be very proud of the person you’ve become, and I am too.  I really wish things would have worked out differently.”

         “What are you talking about dad?” I asked with worry heavy in my voice. I did not like where this was going. Marc wrapped me in a hug from behind, but I shrugged him off. It was a distraction, and with how I felt about him, it was one I neither needed nor wanted.

         “There’s someone here, Damien. His name is Gabriel.”

         “Gabriel?” I replied, not quite sure what he was getting at. Marc appeared in front of me almost instantly, worry etched into his face. He made me look up and meet his eyes.

         He explained quickly, “Gabriel is the angel who almost killed you in the alleyway. He’s the one I ripped apart. He’s third in command of the forces of Heaven. If he’s with your father…“

         Marc might have continued, but I was no longer listening. My father had begun speaking again, “Son, he wants me to tell you that if you don’t give yourself up to Michael then he’s going to hurt me.  Listen son, I want you to get as far away as possible. Don’t let them get you, no matter what! You hear me, don’t let them…“

         The click informed me that the phone call had ended, but that didn’t stop me from shouting into the phone, trying to get my father to hear me when he obviously couldn’t.  For the second time that day I was crying, though this time it was hysterically. I felt Marc’s strong arms around me as he pulled the phone from my hand and set it down on the table where I had got it from. He then made me sit on the bed and held me until I stopped crying.

         I probably should have been grateful to him, but as soon as I calmed down, I threw his arms off of me and stood up angrily, glaring at him as if it everything that had happened was all his fault. He looked confused, and hurt, but I couldn’t process any of it. My emotions were completely out of control, and I was no longer sure what was real.

         All I knew then was that I couldn’t deal with him.

          “Don’t touch me,” I said angrily. I could see the hurt in his eyes then, but I didn’t care. I was the angriest I had ever been in my entire life, and my fury was keeping me from caring about anyone other than myself.

         “Damien,” he began, but I cut him off with a raised hand. I wasn’t about to let him explain himself. He had already had plenty of opportunities to help me understand what he was going through, and he had shut me out every time. Now it was time for me to return the slight.

         “No. You know what, Marc? I’m sick of this. You dragged me into this five months ago, and for what? You, following some ancient legend? Whatever the hell that means. Where have you been these last couple weeks? You went on forever about how much you didn’t like angels, and now you’re consorting with the right hand of one? What gives you the right to think that you can comfort me now, when you’re working with the enemy? Now my father has been brought into this too, and he’s probably going to die, and I can’t do anything about it unless I also risk my life.”

         “Well, I’ll tell you what, Dae’Marca, I’ll help you fight your fucking war. But I’m not doing it for you, or for your fucking legend. I’m doing it so that when it’s over I can go back to my father and never have to think about angels and demons again. Now go tell your buddy Shatan that I’m ready. We can leave whenever they want.” As I finished, I turned to leave. Marc called out my name one more time and rose to come after me.

         I flashed out with my telekinesis and flung him back onto the bed, holding him in place as he stared back at me helplessly. His eyes were wild and desperate, but again, I simply didn’t care. I was done with him. He had brought me nothing but problems.

         I waited until he stopped struggling against my mental hold, and then I turned back to the door. A few seconds later I was out the door and out of the relationship, and walking toward a fate that I knew nothing about.

*       *       *       *       *       *

         A big thanks goes to Paul for his wonderful and generous editing. I couldn’t have done this without him.

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         And last but certainly not least, thanks to my readers who make writing more worthwhile. I do this almost as much for you as I do it for myself.