The Second Coming (8 page)

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Authors: David H. Burton

Tags: #angelology, #angels, #apocalypse, #apocalyptic, #atheism, #bi, #bible, #biblical, #book of revelations, #catholic, #cathy clamp, #christian, #christianity, #dark, #dark fantasy, #david h burton, #dead, #demons, #epic fantasy, #fantasy, #fantasy adult, #future, #gay, #gay fantasy, #ghosts, #god, #islam, #judaism, #lesbian, #margaret weis, #muslim, #paranormal, #queer, #the second coming, #thriller, #trans, #woman pope, #words of the prophecy

BOOK: The Second Coming
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Later that
night, he stared into the heavens and watched the moonlight dance
along the remains of the great towers. He looked over to where
Diarmuid lay beside him, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a
slow rhythm. There was something more than appealing about the man,
in his strength and giving nature. He had offered Paine his blanket
and Paine accepted it with a shy nod of gratitude. He was not
accustomed to the generosity of others. Most often, people wanted
something in return.

He wondered if
perhaps Diarmuid shared his preference for male companionship. The
difference in their ages was about the same as that of the couple
that had raised him.

Diarmuid
cocked his head and caught Paine glancing in his direction. Paine
held his gaze for a brief moment and smiled before he turned away.
Maybe this time he wouldn’t need a potion.

He stared back
up at the sky, and it was some time before he slept.

The following
morning greeted them with a sky coated in a patchwork of gray, the
sun struggling to pierce the medley of cloud. Paine rose, feeling
groggy. Talon glided through the firmament above, swerving between
the skyscrapers of old, wingtips adjusting with the shifting
currents that lifted her higher into the air. She nearly shit on
him.

Fucking
bird.

They packed
and began the slow trek through the cityscape. Paine was engrossed
with the ancient marvels that surrounded them. His attention was
cleaved between his own wandering mind and Diarmuid's pointing to a
hodge-podge of rusted metal that lay in the street.


That was once a bus, I think. They could carry over fifty
people.”

Paine walked over to inspect it. The remains of small benches
lay between the weeds that grew among the scraps of metal, looking
like closely placed tombstones. He pulled the tangled foliage aside
and discovered a treasure of intricate metal parts. Smaller piles
of the same corroded refuse lined the streets. He knew them to be
cars
,
the
horseless carriages he had heard so much about.

They passed
concrete poles that rose from the ground like broken fingers
pointing skyward. Few were left standing. Many had fallen across
what were once smooth roads, and were now dishevelled piles of
rubble that weaved around the buildings. The whole place oozed a
serenity Paine had known only in one place — the cemetery in
Fairfax.

No breeze blew
through the streets, as if the city was between breaths. On they
traveled, altering course and veering off the main streets when
they were blocked by the fallen corpses of the buildings. They
turned down another side street, and Diarmuid halted them with one
upheld hand. The birds were silent. Paine held his breath as
Diarmuid surveyed the area. Fang emitted a low growl, her hackles
risen.

Diarmuid
dismounted and unsheathed his sword in a jerky, hesitant
motion.


Go beside that tower and stay hidden.”

Lya rode to
the side of the street, dismounting beneath a gnarled oak. She
released Talon to the sky. Paine paused, questioning if he should
obey Diarmuid’s instructions or follow him. In the end, he thought
it wise to do as he was told. He followed Lya and watched Fang
bound off after Diarmuid.

Paine fiddled
with Shadow’s reins. “What do you think is going on?”


I don't know,” Lya said. She gazed toward Talon, closing her
eyes in concentration. After a time she responded. “There are six
people coming down the next street. They're heading right for
Diarmuid.”


We need to warn him,” Paine said and charged forward, running
after the man. He ignored Lya's hushed calls for him to
wait.

Upon reaching
him, Diarmuid gestured for quiet. Three men and one exceptionally
tall woman marched down the street, all dressed in leather pants
and half-helmets. Between them struggled two people clasped in
silver collars. One was obviously female, not much older than
Paine. He couldn’t see if the other was a man or a woman; the black
hair covered the face.

Lya rounded
the corner. She cast her gaze skyward once more, searching for
Talon. She caught sight of the falcon and closed her eyes as she
connected with the bird. The four Hunters turned their attention
towards her, a deliberate, unified motion that made Paine
shudder.


Talon cannot see any others,” Lya whispered.

The woman gave
orders for the three men and the young woman to go forward. She
took the other captive to the side of the street and waited,
crossbow in hand.

One of the
Hunters called out. “We know you are there! Under the authority of
the Confederation, come out and surrender yourselves!”

Diarmuid
looked at Paine. “You think you can take one of them?”


I—“

Lya pulled out
her dagger. “I can.” The black liquid had almost solidified.


Fine. Go to the other side of this building. Don't do
anything until their backs are to you. Take them from
behind.”

The two left
Diarmuid and hurried around the corner. Paine felt like a third
tit, useless to someone of his proclivities. He held no weapon and
he was unsure about summoning the dead once more.

Not this time.
He got lucky
once
.

They clambered
over rubble and fallen trees as they scurried around the massive
structure. By the time they reached their destination, Diarmuid
stood in the middle of the street. Three of the Hunters faced him,
one holding the captive face down to the ground. The female Hunter,
with her long legs and blonde hair, still stood off to the side.
The white cross on her vest gleamed in the sun.

Oh God!

Paine sucked
in his breath. It was the same Hunter from their farm. A righteous
anger throbbed in his neck. He fisted his hands.

She would pay.
They would all pay.

The Hunter’s
captive struggled, but was no match for the impressive woman. She
was easily twice as powerful and with the silver collar, her
captive was incapable of summoning any sort of spirit or spell.

One of the
male Hunters, the one with his booted foot upon the young woman’s
back, called out again. “By the authority of the Confederation, we
command you to surrender.” His teeth glinted. They were silver.

His captive
cried out a faint plea. “Help me, please.”


The Confederation holds no authority here,” Diarmuid
retorted. There was a tenseness to his stance. Fang sat at his
side, a smarmy grin adorning her hairy muzzle. She ignored two rats
that scampered across the road.

The men
continued forward, strides unwavering. All three were built solid,
appearing to be more than a match for Diarmuid over whom they
towered. Paine wasn't sure if Diarmuid would be able to fight them
all. That made him uneasy.

Would he need
to call upon the dead?

There could be
thousands in a place like this.


Do you know what you're going to do?” he asked Lya. He knew
who he would target first.

She stared at
the Hunters. “I’m going to kill them.” Her voice was chill.


Can I help?” he asked.


Stay out of the way,” she said. “You’ll know—“

She was cut
short as Diarmuid ducked to his left. An arrow scratched his face
and blood seeped down his cherub-like cheeks. The man ran forward,
letting it drip. Paine’s insides twisted as the Hunter nocked and
fired again. Then Fang bolted towards them. The wolf dodged the
next arrow; one that was meant for her throat. She flowed with
liquid movement, streaming towards the middle man.

The one with
the silver teeth then dropped to his knees and drove his sword
through the young woman’s back before Diarmuid had a chance to
reach him.

Paine
gasped.

The woman
moaned her agony and her shackled legs and arms shook before she
lay silent. The Hunter dipped his hand into the wound in her back
that ran with red. He licked his fingers and grinned before
Diarmuid reached him in time to swipe his sword at him. The Hunter
rolled backwards, avoiding the swing.

Paine reached
for the young woman, as if he could somehow help her from this
distance, but then retracted his hand as Lya leapt from behind the
building. She flung her dagger at one of the Hunters. It struck him
in the back and he dropped to his knees, struggling to reach for
the blade. He coughed up blood and collapsed in a heap.

Diarmuid
fought the Hunter with the silver teeth, meeting him stroke for
stroke. The man towered over Diarmuid, but the shorter man held his
own. The Hunter brought his sword down and Diarmuid dove out of the
way, the blade missing its mark and striking rock with a loud
clank. Diarmuid rolled to his feet, sword defending against the man
once more. He barely got to his knees as the metal thudded into the
ground.

Fang engaged
the second Hunter, darting around his massive legs and biting at
his knees. The Hunter's sword missed the wolf, his movements
languid compared to Fang's calculated raids. Lya ran up to him and
flung a powder in his eyes. He screamed in pain and she pulled out
the parchment from her pocket. She smeared the blood of the dead
woman on her hands.

The female
Hunter threw her captive to the ground. She lifted her crossbow, a
heavy and cumbersome weapon she flung with ease. It was aimed at
Lya. Paine felt a stirring within him, bubbling and ready to spew
forward. He clenched his fists and almost called forth the dead,
but Talon screeched and launched at the woman. Her shot fired
amiss. The falcon veered for a second assault, but the woman was
prepared and dodged. Lya raised her crimson hands to the air and
completed the summons.

A faint breeze
stirred behind Paine, its breath frigid and stale. Realizing her
predicament, the Hunter turned and ran. She disappeared among the
ruins, whistling for her mount.

Of the two
remaining Hunters, one raised a silver cross at Lya, but it was too
late. A whirlwind of dust swept around her. Her face turned ashen
and hollow. Her eyes rolled back and her body shook. The Hunter was
thrown to the ground by an invisible force. Slashes striped his
body as if he was being ripped by bear claws. Bite marks appeared
on his legs. He screamed and tore at the ground with bloodied
fingers. He lost a nail. The Hunter was then pulled backwards into
an empty building, where he screamed further and then went
silent.

Diarmuid
continued to fight the last Hunter. While he fought, the body of
the young woman and the other Hunter were slowly dragged into the
same building. The silver-toothed Hunter swung at Diarmuid again,
but slipped on the streaming blood of his comrade and Diarmuid
didn't hesitate to pierce his chest with his sword, groaning as he
shoved it in. The Hunter fell to the ground. Then he, too, was
hauled by invisible hands. The broken doorway waited like an open
maw. He was sucked inside screaming, the sword still piercing his
body. He left a trail of red. When the screaming stopped Paine
shuddered. He unclenched his fists and found he had been biting his
lip. The taste was salty and he wiped the blood with his
sleeve.

Lya dropped to
her knees, teeth clenched. She continued to shake and put her hands
to the ground. Her fingers gripped the dry earth and she shook her
head. Then she groaned and sat still. The spell was finished.
Diarmuid offered to help her up, but she waved him off. She sat a
moment, recovering, before rising. She picked up a loose sword from
the ground and handed it to Diarmuid.


You don’t want to go after yours. Take this one
instead.”

Diarmuid
looked towards the building and then back at Lya. He accepted the
sword and said nothing.

There was a
look of satisfaction in Lya’s eyes, one she made sure Paine
noticed.

Is she
insane?

He turned from
her and walked towards the captive, who appeared to be praying.

Paine couldn’t
help but stare. Even up close, he found it difficult to distinguish
gender. The captive had a hard-angled jaw that indicated male, but
there was a softness in the facial features that said female.

The deep voice
betrayed his gender. “Thank … you,” he muttered. His voice was like
thick syrup. “God … help me.”

Diarmuid
offered a hand to help him up. “I’m Diarmuid. This is Paine, and
Lya.”


P-P-Puck,” he responded and held out his hands with the
silver cuffs.

Diarmuid
unclasped the cuffs. “Where are the horses? We have to get out of
here before she returns.”

The young man
pointed behind him, to where the Hunter vanished into the
ruins.


You three go and wait. Fang, you stay with them,” Diarmuid
said. He then bolted around the corner.

Paine was
still aghast at what Lya had summoned. She smirked, and they both
said nothing.

Careless.

It was Puck
who broke the silence. “You … p-p-pretty,” he said to Lya. He
seemed to think before each word. His eyes hungered for her, a look
he had no sense to hide.

He’s
simple.

Lya looked at
him sidelong and smiled. It wasn’t shy.


Are you all right?” Paine asked.

Puck nodded.
“Yes.”

Lya remained
silent and walked away. The other two followed, just as quiet as
they gave a wide berth around a pool of crimson that coagulated.
Lya retrieved her dagger, sheathing it without wiping it clean.
Paine let the other two walk ahead, watching the doorway into which
the others had been pulled. He studied where the young woman had
lain and noticed a small kerchief. It was embroidered with the
emblem of the crescent moon and a goat. It fluttered away with the
faint breeze. Paine let it go and continued after the others.

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