Nightborn (part 11)

Like fire and brimstone, the monstrosity erupted from the basement and flooded the first floor of the mansion with fire. The Lightbloods that got caught up in it disintegrated in front of Damien’s eyes, and he had to duck behind a corner to not meet the same fate.

What in all hells is that thing?

The monster was so tall that its head scraped the ceiling. Its long, thick arms and legs groped with unnatural strength, breaking doors and men with ease. It bore hellish yellow eyes and had skin as black as charcoal.

Nightborn eyes. But a demon’s body.

Damien peeked around the corner to get a second look, but the monster saw him. Embers burst from its palms as it performed a throwing motion and ignited a stream of fire. Damien ducked back and covered his face, the flames licking the wall next to him and burning off the hair on his arms.

It’s him. Damien could recognize that face anywhere, even if twisted into a monstrosity. Mortensen.

But how?

“No, wait!” he yelled as Aiden and Rebeca came running down the stairs, their Light up, wanting to round the corner and meet the threat. “He’s right there!”

“What’s going on?” Rebeca’s face was hard as stone, her body brimming with Light. There was much power in that woman.

“It’s Mortensen. Somehow he’s got more powerful.”

“He’s killing our wards!” Aiden exclaimed, arms raised. 

“Can your powers deflect fire?”

Rebeca nodded. “I’ll get his attention, you two charge at him.”

“I’m not sure-”

She rounded the corner.

Blasting woman!

Another flood of fire rushed past, but this time it was cut short as if hitting a block. 

“C’mon!” Aiden dashed around the corner and Damien followed. His teeth were fully out and his claws extended. The flame inside him raged, only it did not show like Mortensen’s somehow did.

Rebeca shone like a miniature sun in the hallway. A protective barrier of light surrounded her and it absorbed the incoming fire, redirecting it safely towards the floor much like a lightning rod. This gave Aiden and Damien the opportunity to dash past the fire stream and analyze their foe.

“Good God!” Aiden gasped as they charged.

“Distract him!” Damien said, picking up a torn curtain from the window as he ran. Aiden waved his arms and punched the air towards the monster. A blast of Light hit it in the face, causing it to roar. The whole hallway shook.

Damien tucked the curtain under his arm and jumped up on the monster’s body. He used his claws as climbing gear, stabbing his way in two punches up to its back. The monster tried swatting him away but missed due to Aiden’s blinding Light. Damien wrapped his legs around the monster’s neck and covered its head with the curtain, pulling it tight.

Though he was tempted to slice the bastard’s throat, he still needed him to talk.

The monster’s fire stream was cut, as it raised both hands at Damien. He slammed his clawed hands into Mortensen’s back, jamming them between the shoulder blades, as deep as they went. Mortensen roared in pain, making Damien dizzy. Despite the pain, the monster raised one arm behind its back and smacked Damien off. With the other, it tore free the curtain and took a deep breath.

Damien landed, not so gracefully, in a rubble of charred planks, which was once a drawer. He used the momentum of his fall to roll out of the way of Mortensen’s foot, as it came crashing down on him. Damien took a burning plank and defended against an incoming arm swing.

From behind, Aiden threw blasts of Light at the monster’s back, though it didn’t seem to have an effect. Rebeca weaved her Light into thick ropes and threw a Light-net over the monster.

Mortensen reeled but caught himself with a hand against the wall. His eyes moved frantically, like that of an enraged animal.

“Hold him!” Damien used the opportunity and threw away the plank, jabbing his claws under the monster’s belly. He screamed, twisting them. The skin wouldn’t penetrate easily, but his force was strong enough that the claws went through.

Mortensen roared again, this time with a higher pitch. The blow must have hurt. But it also made the monster angrier than ever. It reached down and picked Damien up as he couldn’t evade with his claws inside its belly. It pulled him up, staring down, face to face. Damien could see Hell itself in the monster’s eyes, not even a hint of a reflection.

“I thought you’d surrendered,” Damien said, struggling to break free of the grip.

Mortensen laughed, spitting embers from his mouth. “Thank you for leading me here, Damien. I-”

The words were cut as Rebeca pulled on the Light-net, jerking Mortensen backward. Aiden ran to the side and threw a similar rope of Light on Mortensen’s right arm, trying to pull it down so Damien could break free.

Mortensen stumbled for a moment but quickly regained balance. “Fools,” he growled. “You will all burn!”

As he shouted the last word, the world exploded. All that Damien could see was fire and all he could feel was burning pain. Mortensen’s body erupted in an inferno, sending Damien slamming into a wall. Instinctively, he closed his eyes and held his breath, not to swallow the flame.

He screamed as his skin burned. Fire entered his mouth and engulfed his entire body. He could hear his flesh sizzle, smell his hair burning off.

He never felt such pain. And in that moment of complete agony, a stillness descended upon him.

I’m going to die, he realized. 

A part of him panicked, the one that wanted to live. But another part was actually relieved.

Perhaps he would finally have peace…

The bright light of the fire ended, though the heat and burning didn’t. Damien opened his eyes, surprised that they didn't pop and burn, his vision swimming. A giant silhouette loomed above him, completely black against a background of flames. Aiden and Rebeca were nowhere to be seen.

“You know,” a deep guttural voice boomed, and the silhouette approached, “I am disappointed at you for many reasons, Damien.”

Mortensen. He kneeled down to him.

“First of all, you refused to be Blaze, picking Damien instead. Second, you refused to be part of Nightborn, as you rightfully should be. Third, you killed my child, took the girl from me.”

A crushing grip locked around Damien's throat, squeezing out what little breath there was.

“But worst of all, you proved me wrong.”

Damien blinked, tears murking his vision further. He gurgled, unable to speak.

Mortensen’s voice lowered to a threatening growl. “I always believed that once a Nightborn, always a Nightborn. It was my motto, my mantra, my one thing that gave me solace. But your very existence is living proof of the opposite.”

Damien tried in vain to remove Mortensen’s hand. Strength was leaving him, the fire within diminishing.

“I thought I would take no pleasure in killing you, Damien,” Mortensen whispered. His lips curved in a crooked smile. “Again, you proved me wrong.”

Damien managed to find enough breath for one single word.

“Asshole…”

***

Damien’s life was in his hands. Just as it's been five years ago, though this time, the context was much different.

Mortensen lied. There was a bit of regret in killing Damien, he knew that with time, guilt and sorrow would come. But they would not last and would only be due to memories, not recent events. As far as recent events were concerned, Mortensen had spoken truth.

The bastard used his last words to insult me.

Mortensen sighed and closed his eyes. He needed only to squeeze a tiny bit harder, and the neck would snap. In his mind, he already said goodbye, only his body needed to follow. His mind already turned to the tasks that awaited him after this. He would have to return to Azazel, report back that he successfully dismantled a big part of the Lightblood base, and tell the location of it. Also, after he does away with Damien, he should pick up the girl. He saw her with the Lightblood.

This day was a huge victory for the Nightborn. He should feel proud and elated, serving the Master with such excellence. But despite everything, he felt little joy. The pleasure of vengeance, yes, the thrill of the hunt, yes. But the fulfillment of servitude, the knowledge that he was fulfilling his purpose… those emotions did not burn as brightly as they should have.

It must be the Lightblood’s presence, corrupting my soul…

He opened his eyes, fixating them on Damien’s weakened eyes. Time to do it.

He squeezed-

Something hit him on the back with such force that he fell face-first on the floor, dropping Damien and losing all breath from his lungs. His back immediately began throbbing with pain, his spine jolted to the core.

Mortensen grunted, forcing himself up and turning around to meet the assailant. He thought that the Lightblood woman and man were dealt with, but it appears he was wrong.

“Oh,” he said, surprise wording itself freely. “It’s you.”

The Lightbloods that attacked him along with Damien laid in the corner, incapacitated. The one that assaulted him was one he least expected, though secretly hoped for. Rachel. She stood at the center of the hallway, her tiny body looking pathetic amidst the burning ruins, yet her eyes majestic.

Mortensen grinned. “So I was right after all. You are the one.”

She did not seem herself. Mortensen could see it in her emotionless expression. The Gene must have taken over.

“Alright, chosen one,” he smiled. “Let’s dance.”

He brought his hands up with lightning speed and threw a barrage of fire at her. She raised a single hand, palm outstretched, and the fire snuffed out before it could touch her skin. Mortensen cursed and clasped his hand together, concentrating the fire stream, throwing it at her again.

Rachel, eyes glowing purple and face as cold as stone, took a defiant step forward and raised another palm, deflecting the fire again. Though this time, she pulled one arm to her chest and sucked in some of the fire. Mortensen widened his eyes in realization but was too late to duck, as Rachel already threw her palm open and sent Mortensen’s own fire back at him.

He was blown further down the hallway, slamming at the wall in the end. The mansion creaked, the flames licking the walls. A few panels broke and fell from the ceiling, planks, and support beams failing.

Rachel walked amidst all that, unscathed, eyes fixed on Mortensen.

Shit!

He scrambled to his feet, his massive body feeling awkward all of a sudden, against such a tiny foe. 

She’s more powerful than I thought!

He roared and charged at her, fists igniting with fire. Rachel stopped and met him. He swung his fist, but she was quicker and ducked, punching him in the right knee. 

Mortensen heard a loud crack and a slate-grey bone protruded from the flesh of his leg. He roared in pain and swung with the other fist. Rachel caught it and stopped it with her hand.

Mortensen blinked in surprise. He forced his fist with all his might, but it didn’t budge her an inch.

“What are you?” he breathed.

“Sick of monsters,” she said and punched at him with the other hand. She was too small to reach him with that hand, but a purplish light shot forth and dug into Mortensen’s chest like a fist. The force launched him through the wall and out on the grass behind the mansion proper. 

Mortensen felt panic rise. His body hurt, his powers tiring and a superior foe approaching across the rubble. 

No, he thought, no, no, no! I did so much today! He needed to live, needed to report to Azazel. The Absolute Gene was indeed in Rachel. The location of the Lightblood-

“Stay.” She slammed a foot on his back as Mortensen tried crawling away. He tried pushing her away but the more he struggled, the more she pressed. And there seemed no end to how much she could push.

“Stay,” she repeated, like talking to a disobedient dog. Though her tone was even, it angered Mortensen.

“Who do you think you’re dealing with, girl?”

“A dog,” she replied. “That barks too much.”

“I’ll have you-”

Mortensen felt her reaching inside his body, invading his soul, much like Azazel did when he enhanced the Seed. She was searching for something, looking for…

“NO!” Mortensen bellowed. “Don’t you dare!”

“Shut up.”

Mortensen screamed, thrashing around under her grip. She took over him, locking on the Seed inside.

She began to pull.

“NO NO NO!!!” Mortensen could only scream as Rachel tried to rip out the very thing that made him who he was. The Seed was resisting, pulling her in, killing bits of Mortensen’s soul in the process. The broken leg battered body and burned skin was nothing compared to that kind of pain.

He could literally feel his consciousness breaking. It was too much to even scream.

Then, something popped. 

Rachel stumbled backward, falling on her behind, like a rope she was pulling on snapped. Mortensen felt something was taken away from him. His massive body deflated, returning to its regular size, though it was still bruised and the leg still broken. He could feel himself growing weak and feeble.

What has she done?!

He checked for his teeth, heart pounding like a drum.

They were still there, though he couldn’t get them out. He was still Nightborn, though he felt no thrill. The Seed was still in him, though it felt stilted somehow.

Mortensen exhaled, long and deep.

His fire was gone. He felt as weak as a newborn, robbed of all energy.

“What did you do?” he groaned, unable to even sit up.

“I castrated a dog,” she replied. “You’ll never breed again, Nightborn.”

Instinctively, he looked down. No, she didn’t mean it like that. It was worse, way worse.

“You bitch!”

“They need you alive,” she said, voice even. “If they didn’t, I’d kill you.”

“You’ll burn, Rachel! All of them will burn!”

“Not by your fire,” she said and turned, walking back inside. There was a hole in the mansion’s first floor and the fire was starting to spread up to the second floor. Smoke rose from the inside, shouts were heard as the people scrambled to put the fire out and help the wounded. 

Mortensen lay outside in the rubble, forgotten. He didn’t know whether to rage, despair, or agonize over the pain of it all. 

What am I now? Am I still Nightborn? The Seed was still there, he could feel it. But access to it was blocked. The connection… the love… it was cut off. Rachel, the bitch, like some doctor who cuts off the umbilical cord on a newborn, cut off Mortensen’s connection to the Nightborn, to the Master himself.

“Please, no,” he whispered, feeling tears rolling down his cheeks. “I cannot go back to being human. Please...”

He’d rather die.

Crying silent tears, Mortensen watched the Lightblood put out the fire he caused. He lay there for hours, bleeding from his wounds, mind swimming in and out of consciousness before somebody finally approached him. 

***

“Rachel? Rachel, can you hear me?”

She was dreaming. She was a goddess, fighting off demons…

“I think she’s in shock…”

There was light. And voices. Many voices, they sounded concerned. Shapes ran around. Was there a festival going on? She could smell somebody burning the popcorn too much…

“Rachel?”

A cool hand touched her forehead. She blinked, clearing her vision.

“Aiden?” The face looked familiar, and the name came attached to it in her mind. “Who let me drink too much?”

“You’re not drunk, Rachel.”

What a liar. She was clearly wasted, not remembering anything and her head spinning like that…

“The Absolute Gene activated in you and I think it took control.”

“The what now?”

“You defeated a powerful Nightborn, Rachel. All on your own.”

Nightborn. Her eyes widened, memory returning. That was not burnt popcorn she smelled, but burnt wood. And bodies.

A sickness rose within and she nearly vomited.

“It’s alright,” Aiden said, and only now she noticed half his face was badly burned.

“What happened? I… I can’t remember…”

“You saved us,” he said, smiling. “Though many were killed, it could have been much worse, if it weren’t for you.”

She sat in a library, they were studying her ancestry. Then there was an earthquake, no, an explosion, and everybody ran…

She gasped. It came back to her. She was like a guest in her own body, looking with her eyes, yet had no control over her actions. She had powers…

“Where’s Damien?” An image of the detective, all burnt and dying, flashed in front of her eyes.

“He’s safe,” Aiden said, though his face saddened. 

“Where?!” She stood up, shaking.

“Upstairs. It’s bad, Rachel. Rebeca is with him, but-”

She didn’t listen, she was already running. The detective saved her life, perhaps with those powers she had, she could do something to help him.

Aiden didn’t try to stop her. She ran, heart fluttering, pushing away the torrent of memories from her fight with Mortensen. That wasn’t important now.

Please, let there be something I can do to help.

She ran upstairs and bumped into Rebeca. The woman looked at her and shook her head.

Rachel’s heart sank.

“No…”