Thomas Sniegoski - A Hundred Words for Hate

There came a muffled explosion, followed by unnatural, high-pitched screams from beneath the dirt. Remiel could feel their pain, hear the psychic screams of the injured and the dying, as the hold they had upon him loosened, and he was able to free himself.

He withdrew his blade from the earth, which was hot and sizzling with the life juices of the unborn Shaitan. Eager to see them all dead, the Seraphim readied the sword to strike again at the base of the Tree, when the newest attack came.

The adult Shaitan exploded at him, running upon all fours like a bull and ramming its bony head into Remiel’s midsection, pinning him to the side of the Tree.

Remiel recovered quickly, bringing the pommel of the sword down on top of the Shaitan. Its head seemed to break apart, flowing up the Seraphim’s arm. The damnable creature’s entire body went to liquid, oozing over Remiel’s armored form, covering him in its malleable flesh.

The angel could feel what it was doing, seeking out the weaknesses in his protective covering. He could feel the thing squirming through the openings, writhing against his divine flesh beneath the armor. The sensation was sickening.

Remiel thrashed, dropping to the ground, beating his wings, but the flesh of the Shaitan had spread onto them as well, preventing him from taking flight. He tried to use the sword, poking and jabbing at the thick second skin that had engulfed his body, but the Shaitan endured the stabs of the flaming blade, squeezing him even tighter, while forcing the armor from his body.

Pain like he had never experienced before flowed through him. The angel attempted to cry out, but his mouth was filled with the oozing, liquid flesh of his shapeless attacker. His own flesh was burning as the Shaitan released its destructive, dark energies.

The Seraphim fought fitfully as his body was completely engulfed in the constricting mass of the forbidden life-form. From all around, he heard a rumbling chuckle, as the Shaitan continued its relentless assault. The creature knew it was winning.

The monster was whispering now, telling him to give up the fight, that there was no dishonor in this defeat, for it was all inevitable.

He could feel the Shaitan inside him now, forcing itself down his throat. Remiel called upon the fire that was his gift from God, and his body started to radiate a heat as hot as the fires of creation, but it wasn’t enough.

The fire could not burn bright enough to repel the darkness that now held him in its constricting embrace.

Stealing away his light.

Feeding upon his life.

Jon was holding Izzy up by the waist, helping her move across the twisted landscape as they tried to follow Remy.

“I can’t believe he left us,” Jon said, stumbling as the ground pushed up suddenly beneath their feet, sending them both falling to the ground.

“He’s doing what he needs to do,” Izzy said, breathing heavily. She looked even sicker now; her mahogany skin had taken on a grayish pallor. She didn’t even try to get up.

“But I thought we were part of that picture,” Jon said, trying to help her to rise.

“We are,” she said, pushing his hands away.

“You have to get up,” Jon told her. He was looking around. “I can’t imagine it’s much farther. . . . How big can this place be?”

“Very big,” Izzy said. “Much bigger than you could ever imagine, and she needs our help.”

“Which is exactly what we’re going to give her,” Jon said, bending down to wrap his hands around her waist and lift her to her feet.

“No,” Izzy said firmly, her dark eyes looking deeply into his. “She needs us.”

“Well, we can’t stay here.” Jon was really annoyed now. “Remy is over there somewhere and he—”

“She needs our help,” Izzy repeated firmly. “My help . . . and your help.”

He didn’t know what she was getting at as she sat upon the ground, one of her hands again buried beneath the soil.

“I don’t . . . ,” he started to say.

“Think about who we are.” She grabbed his pants leg, attempting to pull him down with her. “Whose blood courses through our veins.”

The moist ground dampened the knees of his slacks as he knelt with her.

“She’s going to die. . . . Eden will die if we don’t try . . . if we don’t lend her some of our strength.

“I can’t do it alone,” Izzy continued weakly. “Will you help me?”

Jon didn’t know what to say at first, even though it was obvious. This was what it must’ve been all about, the true reason he had been born into the Sons.

His purpose.

“Will you help her?” Izzy whispered pleadingly.

Tentatively he extended his hand above the soil, curious as to whether or not it would hurt, and then brought it down.

Knowing Nathan would have been proud of him as he plunged his fingers into the dampness of the earth.

“Why are you hiding?”

Remy Chandler opened his eyes at the sound of the familiar voice.

“Madeline?” he called into the sea of gloom surrounding him.

“Yeah,” she answered casually, her approach bringing a warm yellow glow to the nebulous surroundings. “Who else would it be?”

He pushed himself up into a sitting position. The aura around her was warm, and it felt good upon his naked skin as she drew closer.

“Are you going to answer my question?” she asked.

“I’m not hiding,” he said indignantly. “Why would I be hiding?”

“That’s what I want to know.”

Remy said nothing as he stared at the woman he loved, the woman who had given him so much.

“Do you know what’s happening out there?” she asked, hooking a finger toward the sea of black behind her.

He looked past her, squinting into the shadows.

“Not going well, is it?”

Madeline’s mouth opened in disbelief. “I can’t believe you,” she said.

“What?” Remy asked. “What can’t you believe?”

“You,” she said incredulously. “I can’t believe you. He’s dying out there, you know.”

Remy was still staring into the darkness behind her when he looked away.

“There’s nothing I can do,” he said, looking at his bare feet.

“Really?” She placed her hands on her shapely hips. God, she was beautiful. Just one look was enough to get his heart racing.

“The Seraphim is out there fighting for Eden . . . for Heaven, for Pete’s sake, and there’s nothing that you can do? What’s wrong with this picture?” she asked him.

“This is where I’m supposed to be,” he said. “There’s no room for humanity out there.” Remy shook his head.

“There’s not going to be room for much of anything once the Shaitan are born,” Madeline said. “I’m not going to ask you if you know how dangerous those creatures are, because of course you do—I’m nothing but a manifestation of your subconscious—and if I know, you certainly do too.”

“I’m here because I need to be,” Remy said. “I’m his weakness. . . . The matter of the Shaitan should be faced with a cold, divine efficiency.”

Madeline laughed, a delicate hand going up to her mouth to stifle the sound of her merriment.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “It’s just that that was really funny.”

Remy almost smiled, loving the sound of her laugh, even if it was at his own expense.

“Are you that big of a dummy?” Madeline asked.

Remy was a bit taken aback by the question.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“I asked if you were stupid.”

“No, I don’t think that—”

“The Seraphim has gone into battle incomplete,” Madeline stated.

“You’re wrong; the Seraphim is out there . . . complete, all fiery rage and righteous indignation,” Remy explained.

“Then what are you?” she wanted to know.