Evil - Chapter 25
“Where are they?” Sindra said, pacing back and forth in the lobby of a condemned diner. Rats skittered on the rotting floorboards where Volkim sat on a tattered stool.
This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.
It's not easy being the Antichrist.
Anjelica’s mother never told her that she was a demon. Now, all she wants is her old life back, but that’s not possible for her. Not after what she’s seen.
Anjelica used to be a popular cheerleader with an awesome life, but that was before an evil cult of demons tried to use her blood to open a portal to Hell and start the Apocalypse.
She was rescued from that fate, barely, and because of the imminent threat to her life, her saviors ripped her from Los Angeles and brought her to a safe house in the middle of nowhere.
They said it was for her own good, but she would rather be dead than stuck in boring, old Bronard, Missouri. She was from the big city, so a sleepy, rural life wasn’t for her.
She longed for excitement.
So, when she met a young witch with a mysterious past who promised to show her everything she knew about opening portals and traveling between distant lands, they bonded immediately
I mean, what’s the worst that could happen, right?
It’s not like they would open an intergalactic gateway to another planet and get thrown into a brand, new world with no way to get back to Earth, right?
Join Anjelica in her own solo adventure and find out what happened to her immediately after the events in Magic.
“They’ll be here,” Volkim replied. “You have to trust them.”
Sindra glared at the wall and said, “I don’t trust anyone. Not after what just happened.”
“Honestly,” I butted in. “That’s probably a good instinct.”
“Hey!” Volkim said. “We’re only alive because of Madam Fantasmo. Show a little respect.”
“That’s the truth,” Sindra said. “But in fairness, I was about to be put to death because of her, too, so best-case scenario, it’s a net neutral.”
“We’ll give it ten minutes, and then we’ll go.”
“And what if Madam Fantasmo was captured? What if they tortured her, and she told them where to find us?”
Volkim stood and walked menacingly toward Sindra. “Then we have way bigger problems.”
“Hey,” I said, shooting up from my place at a derelict booth. “I think that’s a fair compromise. Ten minutes, and then we go. Meanwhile, you can tell me all about the rebellion and why you guys are part of it.”
“That sounds cheery,” Volkim said. “Pass.”
“At least tell me what banging your chest twice means.”
“It means our hearts beat as one. In the rebellion, we live as one, and we die as one, for the freedom of Onmiri.
For the freedom of us all.” Volkim scowled. “That’s all you’ll get out of me.”
“Fine, be that way.” I turned to Sindra. “How about you?”
“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” she said. “Then again, I’ve been doing a bunch of stuff I’m not supposed to do recently, so fine.”
“Sindra!” Volkim hissed. “No.”
“Oh, please. We all almost died to save her. Do you think she doesn’t have the right to know why?”
“It’s not our place,” Volkim said, shooting me a glance. “No offense.”
“I’m not offe—”
“None of this is anybody’s place,” Sindra growled. “We’re all just trying to do the best we can, so unless you are physically going to stop me, I’m telling her.” Volkim didn’t make a move, so Sindra sat closer to me. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything…but I think that’s probably not going to happen, so how about anything—literally anything as to what just happened.”
“Do you have kings where you are from?” Sindra asked.
I nodded. “Some, but they don’t have a lot of power anymore, far as I understand.”
“Well, ours does. In fact, he has all the power and the most dominant army in the world. Formidable enough to steamroll over nations. Strong enough to flatten anybody who speaks an ill word about him. That’s too much power for one person, any one person, but our king, Ulthar, is—well, he’s a real dickhole.”
“It’s not all his fault,” Volkim said. “All that power—it would corrupt anyone.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. We have a saying that absolute power corrupts, but I don’t think that’s true. I think absolute power reveals. It reveals the true nature of people, so if the king is a massive dick, it’s because he’s a massive dick.”
Sindra laughed. “We are always trying to equivocate, even in the rebellion, to say it’s not all the king’s fault, but I agree. It is his fault. He is the one wielding this power, which is where the rebellion comes in. We are working to bring down the monarchy and restore balance to the world.”
“And you guys were like spies?”
“We played our part,” Sindra said sadly. “You’d have to ask Madam Fantasmo about all the history stuff. I’m not good with details, but the rebellion’s been around for as long as the king has. As the king has grown in power, so has the resistance, always in the shadows—always, until today.”
“Why now, though? Why me? Do either of you have any idea?”
Volkim shook her head. “I just know it has something to do with you and with Margaret.”
“Margaret? What does she have to do with anything?” Maybe this was part of the prophecy.
There was a rustling in the back of the building, and we all jumped to attention. When the shadow revealed itself, it was Madam Fantasmo, far worse for wear, stopping to lean against an exposed wooden beam. “It has everything to do with everything.”
“Madam!” Volkim called out, rushing to her with Sindra close behind. They wrapped her up in a big hug, and she squeezed them tightly. “It’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, girls.” She smiled at me. “Do you want some of this, sugar?”
“I don’t want to impose,” I said. “This is a moment for the three of you.”
Volkim beckoned me forward. “You’re one of us now, if you want to be.”
I smiled and took a hesitant step forward. “I’m with you, if you’ll have me.”
Sindra and Volkim wrapped their arms around me, and I wrapped mine around them, and we all wrapped Madam Fantasmo tightly and thanked our lucky stars we had each other.
“What about Quince?” Sindra asked, stuffed snugly into Madam Fantasmo’s shoulder.
“She didn’t make it.” Madam Fantasmo pounded her chest. “We live as one.”
Volkim and Sindra pounded their chest. I did so too, but a second behind them. “We die as one.”
***
“Hurry, girls,” Madam Fantasmo bellowed as she led us into the back of a bank warehouse. “I don’t know if they know about this place yet, but they’ll be here soon enough.”
She flicked on the lights, and there were dresses and wigs for as far as the eye could see, on dozens of shelves and racks. I picked up a rainbow sequined gown that shimmered in a dozen different colors.
“What is this place?”
“It’s where I store my old costumes, those that have been worn and are yet to be discarded or repurposed.”
“They seem brand-new,” I said, appreciating the glimmer on the collar.
“Of course, they are, darling. They’ve only been worn once.”
“The whole warehouse is filled with clothes you only wore once?” My voice cracked at the sheer audacity of the thought.
“Of course, my love,” she said. “You can’t possibly be seen in court with the same clothes twice.” She picked up a blue evening dress, bedazzled from collar to hem. “And gods forbid you are seen in the same clothes as somebody else. I remember the scandal when Countess Guile wore a similar dress to this one six months after me. She was run out of court and now lives in exile on the Juniter Islands.”
“They sound nice at least,” I said, picking up a purple wig.
“They aren’t,” she replied. “Mud farmers and dirt merchants are all that come from there.” She tossed the blue dress to the ground and clapped her hands. “All right, ladies, find the least gaudy clothing and accessories you can. The goal is to blend in, which is a string of words I never thought I’d say in this place. We leave in fifteen minutes.”
I searched through the racks of clothes and pulled out a pair of simple black pants, paired with a purple feathered coat and labeled Hallentown 2014. I mixed in a gray shirt that must have been the undergarment to a wolf outfit. I put on a gray wig and then a blue bowler hat and threw on a pair of silver sunglasses that were comically large for my face. When I was done, I couldn’t help feeling a bit like Annie Hall and Audrey Hepburn’s lovechild.
From the back of the warehouse, a whistle crackled through the building, and we all lined up in front of Madam Fantasmo, who was wearing a pair of blue leggings and a frilly beige blouse. Her large-brimmed hat flopped up and down while she looked me over and nodded her approval. Volkim and Sindra wore bland clothing like me, with Sindra in a gray dress with two holes in the back where she had ripped off a pair of angel wings, and Volkim in a burgundy jumper with a crop top underneath. Before Madam Fantasmo opened the door, Sindra put on a jean jacket bedazzled with fabulous lavender rhinestones, and we walked out into the street like we were the chorus to a very off-off-Broadway musical.
Madam Fantasmo walked with none of her garish brilliance, her arms swaying like a regular schlub, just trying to fit in, and we snaked around the buildings of the city. She used a small fan to cover her face from the cameras while Volkim and Sindra hid theirs with the scarves around their necks.
Once we had walked four blocks, Madam Fantasmo hopped onto a bus, which we took across the city to the end of the line, a quaint neighborhood that could have been confused with Greenwich Village, if that existed in this place.
“How much further?” I asked Volkim for the tenth time after we’d gotten off the bus. She answered with another roll of her eyes.
Madam Fantasmo hopped up the stairs of a simple brick building with no awnings, lattices, or balconies, just sad little windows separated by too far a distance and red brick all the way up. A metal overhang protected the glass door, and inside, Madam Fantasmo scratched her cheek while studying a bank of buzzers in a dusty call box.
“Do you remember the combination, my love?” she asked Sindra.
Sindra pushed one of several dozen buttons, initiating a harsh buzz. She thought for a second and pressed another pattern, which returned silence. She smiled and gave a slight nod, then initiated a half dozen more button presses in what felt like random order. A few seconds later, another harsh buzz preceded the unlocking of the door, and Volkim beelined for the elevator, where she hit the button for the basement.
“Most of these rooms are simply shells,” Madam Fantasmo said to me. The others looked completely uninterested in the proceedings. “Offices and perches for us to see out into the world and designed so nobody can see us.”
“And who is us, again?” I asked.
The door opened with a ding, and we walked out onto a catwalk overlooking a huge room much wider than the above building indicated. Corridors spidered off in every direction, with dozens of people sitting in front of computer banks.
“The rebellion, my love.”
“Wow,” I said. “I expected…I don’t know what I expected, but…wow.”
“Yes, I suppose it is impressive in its way.” She waved me forward. “Come, I have to introduce you to the director.” Over her shoulder, she spoke to Sindra and Volkim. “Debrief is in twenty. Meanwhile, get some food. You both look terrible.” She glanced at me. “You look terrible, too, but you’ll have to wait. We have business to attend to.”
This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.