Chapter 40 #2
With little time and no alternative, I delved into Theodore’s mind. I sank deeper into his thoughts, reaching the gnarled tree of his inner core. Broken branches twitched and rattled, crackling as they stretched out far and wide, searching for me.
One by one, the twisted branches snatched at me, clawing at my flesh, digging beneath my skin, binding me in place, and dragging me closer to the core of the tree.
I resisted out on instinct, a futile effort. Still, I couldn’t help but shudder in Theodore’s grasp.
Once I reached the trunk, the bark dripped with an oozy black tar, smelling of rot and burning on contact. Tar bubbled and popped, sizzling against my skin, and pulling me closer to the tree.
It pulled me into itself, carving space between the bark and locking me in the deepest depths of Theodore’s mind.
“Gotta keep you nice and safe.” Theodore stood tall, stretching with catlike aloofness. “Wouldn’t want you running off after I fulfill my end of the deal.”
Theodore locked his eyes on the etched bindings of his chains. He shook his head back and forth, channeling telekinesis in the same fluid motion. A seemingly random move, but it held precision. The casting pulled at the blood dripping down his face, his mother’s blood.
Now, he held it before him, split apart into hundreds of droplets. Theodore muttered something in a foreign language and sent the blood drops splashing against the carvings that spelled his shackles.
They crackled and hissed from the acidic touch. Smoke wafted from his chains and skin in equal measure, and suddenly, Theodore leapt from the pentagram which contained him.
“My glory can’t be contained.” He cocked his head, studying the demons surrounding Amara and Caleb.
“Think before you act, my sweet.” Amara turned to Theodore, the calmest expression with the coldest green eyes.
I used to believe Theodore inherited his icy stare from his father, but all they shared were the same baby blues. No, the heartless gaze he gained from his mother.
“Thinking is for chumps,” Theodore said with a cackle. “It’s all about chaos, Mommy.”
Amara waved a hand at Theodore, locking him in an ocean instantaneously. He floated in his dark mind, lost in the sea of his mother’s wrath. This whirlpool force dragged him deeper and deeper until he reached the gnarled tree at the bottom.
Until he reached me.
Theodore struggled against the current, resisted the pull, gasped for breath, but despite it all, he couldn’t free himself.
I resisted the prison of the tree, clawing at the water between Theodore and me. If I could reach him, I could help.
Theodore choked, drowning on the water he swallowed.
He wouldn’t last much longer. I needed to reach him. Help him. Break him free of Amara’s Oceanic Collapse magic. If I were my core self, filled with my full branch magic, I could snap my fingers and shatter this ocean to nothingness.
Theodore fought the current, grasping a stray branch, and pulled himself closer. Soon, his lips reached mine, a breath apart, and his thoughts begged for oxygen.
“Then snap out of it.” I slapped a hand over his face, blocking his lips from pressing to mine, and hit him with all the psychic energy at my disposal.
Theodore gasped, choking on the air as he snapped out of the trap his mother had bound him within. He collapsed, falling to his knees, and panted as many breaths as he could fill his lungs with.
“How did you…” Amara furrowed her brow. “That goddamn telepath. I need to kill that one.”
“He’s mine,” Theodore wheezed. “Same as my brother. You can’t have him.”
“This thing isn’t your brother.” Amara flicked a hand in Caleb’s direction, gesturing to him like he really was an abomination in her eyes. “It’s a tool. Nothing more.”
“Well, all the same, I’m keeping Tater Tot.” Theodore forced himself up, struggling to stand at his feet. Despite breaking him free from the watery prison, he still stood like a man who’d just stepped out of a pool, heavy and wobbly.
“I don’t have time for this.” Amara turned back to the demons, speaking some foul demonic language as she no doubt instructed them to retrieve Caleb.
Each of these horrendous creatures crept toward Caleb, each stretching their clawed hands out to snatch him away.
Panic consumed me. There was nothing I could do, nothing Theodore would do. It was too late. They were going to drag Caleb to Hell.
“Stop,” Theodore roared, carrying a powerful command in his voice.
Every demon froze.
“They will never stop,” Amara snapped. “They require a ruler, a servant. A sacrificial prisoner offering them a taste of magic.”
Perhaps due to the Gate itself or the close proximity to so many demons, Amara’s mind was left unguarded. Her protective magics no longer shielded her thoughts, and I gained a glimmer of her goal for Caleb.
Caleb was meant to be a glass of water in Hell.
Not nearly enough to satiate the thirst of billions, but enough for them all to fight over.
They’d devour Caleb, drinking down his magical energy until they consumed him entirely.
Once dead and gone, he’d restore himself, bound eternally to Hell as its king, but meant to serve forever as substance for the magic-hungry demons.
He’d die a million deaths, suffer a billion agonies, and serve a trillion years. He’d never know peace, freedom, anything.
“Stop her,” I begged.
“Take The True Witch,” Theodore commanded. “Take her to Hell, make her your queen, and ravish her until your world crumbles to ashes.”
In that instance, the demons sprang on Amara, ripping at her flesh, stabbing deep into her body. She thrashed and screeched and cast countless spells.
It made no difference. These demons were the elite lords of Hell. They resisted her magic, tearing into her, biting and beating her.
They dragged Amara toward the Gate. She screamed and wailed and reached out for Theodore, for Tara, for anyone.
“You will regret this, Theodore!” Amara bellowed, fighting against the demons who pulled her through the black pit of tar.
“You think Hell can hold me? Nothing can contain my glory! I will drag myself back and break you into a thousand pieces! I will make you beg for death! You will be an obedient boy. When I’m done with—”
With that, Amara sank through the tar entirely. In a matter of seconds, that bubbling liquid hardened, and the Gate of Hell sealed again.
Caleb quaked, staring at the flames on the rounded pillars flicker out one by one as the Gate closed entirely. “Is she…is she dead?”
“Lord, I hope not.” Theodore knelt beside Caleb. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she got off that easily, right, Tater Tot?”
Caleb cringed at Theodore’s gentle touch. He brushed the back of his hand against Caleb’s cheek, running his knuckles along his collarbone.
“I remember trying to kill you once.” Theodore smiled. “You know what they say, if at first you don’t succeed.”
Theodore wrapped his hands around Caleb’s throat and squeezed.
“Stop,” I shouted to no avail.
“What makes you so special, Tate Whitlock?” Theodore straddled Caleb, sitting on top of the boy as he thrashed in place, unable to fight back with his hands bound.
“Huh, Tater Tot? Why did Father go out of his way to make sure you were shielded from Mommy’s wrath?
He never protected me from my destiny. Never protected Tragic Tara. Why you?”
Caleb gasped, struggling to breathe as his face turned red. His thoughts blurred, dizzying as he lost consciousness.
Tara slammed against her barrier even harder, begging and screaming for Theodore to stop.
“I said stop,” I screamed, rattling the trunk of the gnarled tree containing me.
The bark splintered and cracked. Not enough to escape, but enough to draw Theodore’s attention.
He released Caleb, who wheezed and panted beneath Theodore.
Tara calmed herself, staring at Caleb with concern.
“Well, well, well…” Theodore ran his hands through his hair, smiling. “I do so love an assertive psychic.”
“Let them go,” I pleaded.
“I think you and I are gonna have a lot of fun together, friend.” Theodore ran his fingers along his stomach, almost like he was caressing himself.
“You have everything you want. Your father is dead. Your mother is in Hell. You’re free. You have me.”
“A piece.” Theodore rocked his head side to side, contemplating. “No, I still have so much more to do.”
He stood up, casting telekinesis to unbind Caleb. It didn’t release Caleb entirely, still bound by the pentagram, but now he wouldn’t be defenseless if Theodore had another psychotic tantrum.
“I think I should summon a real army of demons,” Theodore said, approaching the dormant Gate of Hell. “Then I can level more than just a simple, stupid city. I can slaughter the world, bathe it in blood.”
Theodore’s mind reveled in the chaos, the craving, the carnage he sought to unleash upon the world. The gnarled tree of his inner core swelled bigger and stronger, more branches stretched out wide as his mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts, possibilities of destroying the entire world.
All he needed to do was figure out how to open the Gate of Hell without his mother.
“I wonder what the world would look like if every demon returned again,” Theodore mused, studying the symbols lining the Gate. “Under my rule, nonetheless.”
Theodore turned his gaze to Caleb, then to Tara. His heart pounded, thrumming loudly as he considered his siblings, his blood, his family.
“Who needs the blessing of the old gods?” He glared down at Caleb, then flicked his attention to Tara. “Or the divine leadership of a new goddess? I’ll make a much better god than you ever would, dearest Tragic Tara.”
He wouldn’t be a god, merely a beast bent on destroying everything with an army of demons under his thrall.
I had to find a way to break loose from his inner core. I had to find a way to free Caleb and Tara, communicate with my core self, and somehow, stop Theodore Whitlock from ending all life.