Chapter 15 - Suriel
Something is wrong.
I feel it.
There’s a rippling across the world that promises vengeance. It’s everywhere, circling around us like a hurricane, even though we’re ‘safe’ in the eye. Low echoes of carnage, screams, and things breaking echo from outside, but the impending dread is worse.
I take a few steps towards the glass doors of the convenience store and notice the dove perched on the car.
What do you want? What are you telling me?
It coos.
The Holy Spirit is never clear. God may like riddles on one day and direct, unflinching orders on the next, but the Holy Spirit is all about interpretation based on the smallest hint of guidance.
The fact that she’s sitting there could mean we need to go, could mean that she’s protecting us, or could mean that something that was said or done in the car was right and she wants to encourage it.
I hear something clatter softly and glance back.
Charlie’s gone.
I close my eyes, trying to stuff down my frustration, then head through the stockroom and to the back door I hear rattling. Charlie’s panting, cursing at the door, whispering her plan under her breath.
“Six blocks and I’ll be home. I’ll grab something on the way to protect myself. Hide if I need to. Get home and- This fucking door!”
Just as the lock clicks, I grab her wrist and pull her against me. I press her against the wall by the door, pinning her there with my body. I shut and lock the door while glowering at her. “Going somewhere after promising to behave?”
She trembles. Frustrated, overwhelmed, too many emotions crashing against one another in her eyes. “If you’re going to protect me, you can do it in town. Where people can hear me if I scream. Where I have some protection from this bullshit and from …”
Charlie trails off, then looks down at how our bodies fit together.
She’s level with my shoulders, but that just means she can feel plenty of me against her.
Her cheeks flush as she stares at the tank top I have on for a moment, before her eyes dip to her breasts rubbing against my upper abdomen.
I keep her wrist next to her shoulder, expecting her to push me away, or try to.
Don’t push me away. Let me stay.
The thought is ridiculous, but honest. She’s warm and plush.
Her body molds against mine like we’re meant to fit together.
Despite the terrible timing, it’s something I want to savor, to enjoy.
Even if a part of me just wants to prove that not everyone will hurt her, that I’m willing to comfort her instead.
Rather than shoving me away, her fingers brush my bicep, then she tries to press flatter against the wall. “I don’t really want to be touched right now. N-Not after our conversation.”
“Stop running from me. I understand why you are. You’re fighting what you feel because it’s not logical and trusting me is dangerous,” I say, lifting her chin, keeping my voice soft because it’s working, because she’s responding.
That’s it. Not because I like touching her, want her to trust me, to like me.
“I’m what you have right now, little dove. Just me.”
She swallows, but doesn’t answer.
“Let me take care of you. Let me keep you safe. Running from me means running towards danger,” I breathe, then lower my head.
She smells good. Like soap, rain, and something else, something warm and enchanting.
I run my nose over her hairline before whispering in her ear.
“I’ll take any torture for you. I’ll give my life protecting you. Can’t that be enough?”
“That’s not the same. Those are … end of the world type of things. It won’t come to that. Not for an angel,” she says, trying to hold onto her frustration.
She’s clinging to logic and I’m clinging to orders. We’re not different, but our decisions are pulling us apart, making my mission harder. Perhaps if I understood her … Perhaps I need to stop pulling away from her memories that try to reach me in every touch.
Exhaling slowly, I focus on what will help. “It is the end of the world and I will still fight to keep you alive, comfortable, as happy as I can. All I ask is that you obey two rules in these final days.”
“Stop saying ‘final days.’”
“Stay with me,” I hum, turning my head as I lift her chin, stroking gently, only my fingertips as I let go of her wrist. I should put space between us.
She asked for it. But that needy look in her eyes, the one that’s begging for security, warmth, and understanding, keeps me rooted to the spot.
“And stop seducing me. We can’t do that. I won’t follow through.”
“Why?” She whispers. “You want to. You already kissed me and watched me enjoy myself.”
“It’s a meaningful act that requires a foundation,” I breathe, as if just being in the same space as her isn’t enough buildup. “Six days in total isn’t-”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything. Call it fun or satisfaction or just a way to break all this tension with something normal,” she murmurs, eyeing my mouth. Then she looks away. “And us fucking would be normal. Just as normal as terrible people and them abusing a situation like this to be worse.”
I open my mouth to ask if she actually believes that this is normal when a soul-shattering scream echoes in the main convenience store. Charlie slips around me immediately, determined to go help, as someone else laughs and a chainsaw buzzes through something.
Stepping in front of Charlie rather than touching her, I glance into the store and see the chainsaw wielding man, covered in blood, with an arm by his foot.
A woman, already bruised with dollars stuffed into her shirt, is backing away, trying desperately to call someone, but the man grabs her arm, picks it up and takes a bite while groaning.
“So hungry. So empty. I bet you’re empty too. We can fill each other up,” he groans.
“No. No! I’m not. Just take whatever you want and-”
“Don’t mind if I do!” The man laughs, raises the chainsaw and walks around the counter to finish his job.
He demands to know if anyone else is here, anyone else who will fill him up and Charlie lets out a squeak.
The woman yells that she doesn’t know just before the man takes the chainsaw to her chest, ripping off her breast, so an animal scream fills the air.
He doesn’t stop, sawing through the woman as if trying to make a new sculpture out of her.
I shut the door slowly and lock it.
Charlie looks at the door like she needs to run. I shake my head and motion to the small wall next to the door. If it opens, we’ll be covered and I’ll kill him.
I box her into that space and she grips my hips tightly, pressing her forehead against me. When she tries to speak, I turn and put my hand over her mouth. My earring burns, begging me to take action. Charlie looks at it, her face softening in the holy light of my sword.
“So hungry. So, so hungry,” the man says while throwing things through the store. I hear cans open, chip bags, plenty of things, but he just grunts and keeps repeating that he’s starving. That his stomach hurts, his brain is on fire. “MAKE IT STOP!”
The chainsaw starts up again and rips through the door before he kicks it down. The second he turns in the opposite direction, I move.
“SURIEL, WAIT!” Charlie yells.
The man turns, a manic glint in the eye that’s not fogged over. Famine and Pestilence.
In another life they must have been lovers.
When the man looks at Charlie and grins a bloody smile, teeth missing, she whimpers.
“Such a pretty snack. Don’t you want to enjoy all the friends I have? Parasites are a family. Gotta feed ‘em. Gotta spread ‘em,” he groans.
“Walk away,” I order, divine energy radiating from me, softening the pain and the effects of the horsemen for a moment.
“I’ll make her mine,” he says, focused entirely on Charlie.
Grabbing his chainsaw that’s buzzing uselessly against the floor, I twist the plastic base and drive the rumbling chain into his stomach. His eyes roll back as he struggles with it, bleeding, leaking pus and twisting worms I hope Charlie can’t see.
I turn, huddle her against my chest and guide her to the door she tried to use to escape. I glance back at the man once when he gives me a vicious, familiar smile. I square my shoulders. “Charlie belongs to no one.”
Even if I wish she’d choose to belong with me.
Since I don’t have time to dissect that thought, I focus on getting Charlie safe. Outside, I guide her to the truck quickly, then curse. “The salt.”
She holds up three large canisters of it from her basket, her hand shaking.
I open the passenger door and get her inside.
I buckle her into the seat, then hurry to my side.
The second I’m in, I lock the doors and speed away before that half possessed, half insane man can call more demons to us.
I ignore stoplights, avoid other cars that are speeding and swerving erratically, and the general Hell that is visiting this town.
I only stop on the edge of town when a car screeches through the intersection while on fire, crashing into the pole holding up the lights and cutting off the easy path forward.
Then, I spot a woman pulling herself from the vehicle.
Her eyes are all black, bleeding like tears rolling down her face. In the next second, she drops the large hunting knife she’s holding and walks over, her face changing to manic terror.
Charlie whimpers, but I take her hand tightly. “Stay.”
“What? Where do you think I’m going to go after that!?”
The woman throws herself at the truck, her shirt ripped, a breast revealed with bite marks bleeding from her flesh. It looks like someone tried to devour her skin, or skin her alive. Her clothing is tattered and ripped and she sobs, real tears, or as close to real as a demon can make.
She bangs against Charlie’s window, making my dove jump, then reaches for the door as the woman pleads. “HELP! Help me before they – they’ll come back! HELP! PLEASE! Please.”
Charlie tries the door, realizes that I’ve engaged child locks again, then goes for the window. I catch her hand gently and shake my head as the woman begs Charlie to save her, to help her, to do anything other than watch while they rape her and kill her.
“She’s hurt! She needs help.” Charlie glowers at me. “I can’t do nothing! I shared my most-”
“I know. That’s not what this is.” I squeeze her hand when she tries again to roll down the window. “Absolutely not. The window stays up.”
She stares at me like I’m a stranger.
I sigh. “She’s a demon, Charlie. See her for what she is.”
Charlie slowly looks back. Already, the woman’s eyes are darkening, a smile teases her lips even as she begs for help, wailing, saying they’ll hurt her, that they’ll eat her.
“No one is chasing her,” I say dryly.
The woman doesn’t stop screaming, but Charlie looks at me again. Her eyes water. “We can’t do nothing. She’s just-”
A loud thud and the threat of glass shattering draws our attention to the windshield. The woman is on the hood of the truck, slamming her face against the glass again before clawing at it, trying to dig her nails into the little cracks spider webbing out. She laughs through a sob.
“You’re so sweet. Help me. Help me. Or let me help you,” The woman giggles before grabbing at the open wounds on her face and starting to rip more skin off, exposing sinew and far too many teeth. “Let me help you shed your skin, sweet little lamb.”
“Is she … she can’t be, she …” Charlie stutters.
“Possessed,” I say, letting go of Carlie and getting the truck started again
“Let me in, Charlie. Let me in. You want to. You need to. Let me in,” she purrs.
“I’m good for you. I’m meant for you. You’re meant for me.
” She slams her face on the windshield before she rips some of her teeth out.
She tries to shove them into the cracks of glass, forcing them wider.
“Meant for us!” She bangs her face down again to wedge the teeth deeper.
Charlie grabs my arm, digging her nails in. “Make it stop.”
“You’re the one, Charlie,” the possessed woman insists.
She slams her entire body against the windshield with the kind of crack that tells me she broke something. Her voice is wet, and whistling now. “Embrace it. You’re the glorious, terrible sun. Burn us all. Righteous and wrong. The most beautiful sun. I’ll worship you. I’ll make you feel so much.”
I exhale as my foot teases the gas. “Close your eyes, Charlie.”
She obeys, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her face against my shoulder as I put the truck in reverse and hit the gas. The surprise on the demon’s face is almost human, but then she’s off the hood, and on the ground. I switch to ‘Drive’ and press my foot down on the gas.
The crunch of bone under the tires and the way the vehicle slips tells me I’ve done plenty of damage. One glance in the rearview and I see the crumpled remains of the body with a trail of blood thanks to my wheels. Charlie doesn’t move or say anything until there’s gravel under the tires.
“This isn’t as fun as most apocalypse movies,” she finally whispers.