Chapter FOUR
Landon
"Do you see him?" Charis asked.
We were hunkered down behind an ambulance, peering around the corner in search of the gunman that had opened fire on us.
"No. Maybe he gave up?" I stuck my head out a little more, and a bullet bounced off the hood of the van, nearly ricocheting into my face. I ducked my head back in. "Wishful thinking."
The Beast. I knew it was him, though it had taken a little while to realize. It seemed as if every time we played this game the memories returned faster. That I knew who I really was, and Charis knew who she really was.
Not that it had helped.
Our power had been his power, and when we poured it all into the Box, we had lost control of it. He was the closest thing to a god here, for real. We were little more than mortals. The only difference was that we couldn't die, not permanently anyway. He could catch us, have his way with us, destroy us in infinite ways, and we'd always come back.
There was no way to measure time here. No way to know how long it had been going on. The one thing we'd learned - maybe the only thing we'd learned - was that the longer we stayed alive, the more we remembered. It would take a lot to convince me that was a good thing.
"We should just let him hit us, and get on with it," I said. I didn't really favor the thought of recalling the other countless deaths we had suffered at his hands. Calculated, measured deaths. He was building up the pain the way any good torturer would. The only consolation I could find was that he would run out of ways to slaughter us once a few thousand years had gone by. At least, I hoped he would.
"Come on," Charis said. She grabbed my hand and pulled me away, towards a dark alley.
I tugged against her. "We did that last time," I said. The memory came back to me, and I shivered. He had eviscerated Charis, and splattered me in her blood before decapitating me. I looked around the street, and led her to the next parked car, bullets pinging off the sidewalk behind us.
My mind went back to Avriel, the archangel who had spent thousands of years in this place with the demon Abaddon. Time had no real meaning here, but the pain and the memories were real enough to make it meaningful. I could only imagine what he had endured, both while he was in the Box, and after he had been released. All of that torture and suffering, and not only had I extended it for him, but once he was finally freed, I had gotten him killed.
Of course, Avriel had power of his own. He had said they battled, the demon and him. He hadn't always lost. We weren't so lucky.
"Where to?" she asked. We stayed crouched behind an old Camaro, and I searched the buildings across the street for his position.
"It doesn't matter," I said. "He's going to come for us soon."
"What do you mean?"
She hadn't seen it yet, which surprised me. "How much do you remember?" I asked.
Tears sprung to her eyes in an instant. "Don't ask me that," she said.
I didn't blame her reaction. "Each time, I remember a little more. Each time, he lets us live just a fraction longer. He wants us to remember. He wants us to relive the pain, over and over again. I remember the last time. It will be over soon."
She laughed. A heavy, defeated laugh. "Over? This is never going to be over. You and I both know that. He'll kill us, and we'll start again."
I peeked out at the buildings across from us again. The longer we lived, the fewer times he could end us. It wasn't much, but at least it would hurt less.
"Dante will find a way to get us out," I said, trying to convince both of us. "Sarah won't give up either."
"Sarah? Don't try to make me feel better by pinning our hopes on her. You know what she is, and what will happen."
I grabbed her arm and pulled her down two more cars, oblivious to the bullets. "It doesn't have to be that way. She held up when Josette died. She kept it together when Gervais took Izak. She saved everything."
Charis turned me around so she could look me in the eye. "I'm not saying she didn't do a good job, but that was then. This is now. Who's going to keep her grounded? I don't have much faith in her being on her own. I'm sorry, love, but that's the truth."
A glint of steel was the only warning. I threw Charis to the side, getting her away from the sword that sliced down towards her head. It wasn't Ross, but one of his creations, a grotesque clone of Charis, with a twisted and mangled face, covered in bleeding sores. She hissed when the blow came up empty, and jumped at me.
I was only mortal here, but I still knew how to fight. I sidestepped her punch, grabbed her arm, and brought a knee up into her stomach. I smelled the fetid stench of the air bursting from her lungs, and nearly paused to vomit. Instead, I twisted the arm until it snapped, and shoved her so she was between me and the car. I heard the gunfire, and the body shook while it caught the bullets that had been fired at me. I found Charis on her knees, and pointed to a storefront. We inched towards it, using the creature as a shield.
It had to be time, I knew. He would be here any second, the pissed-off smile on his face, his anger at being stuck here unable to be contained. He would kill us again, after some kind of torture. He liked to kill Charis first, to make me watch her die. Sometimes he would add my mother, or a child for the two of us. That had been his first effort, and little did he know, it had been the most painful.
We reached the store, and Charis opened the door and held it for me. Once we were in I dropped the corpse and we scrambled deep enough inside so that the shooter couldn't get an angle. We would have a few seconds of quiet.
"There has to be something we can do," Charis said. "How can our power hold him, contain him, if we don't have any?"
That was a new idea. One we hadn't had before. Was the Beast making a mistake by letting us live for longer periods, or was it intentional?
"Hold that thought," I said, as if that could bring it to us sooner.
"Good morning, children," the Beast said. He appeared from nowhere in his pinstriped suit and sunglasses, wearing his crap-eating grin and holding his pocket watch. "I'm sorry I'm late. Honestly, I thought my Charis would get you, or at least slow you down. Either you're getting more resourceful, or I'm getting lax."
"Go to hell," Charis said, spitting on him.
He was deliberate, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a monogramed handkerchief to wipe the spittle away. "I tried to go to Hell. You stuck me in here instead." He lifted a hand and clenched his fingers together while twisting his wrist.
I heard her spine break.
Charis cried out in pain, and fell to the ground, paralyzed.
The Beast looked at me, the anger obvious. "You and your bitches." He drew a line in the air, and her skin spread apart down her arms. She screamed louder, but kept her eyes on him, defiant.
"You can kill us as often as you want," I said. "You aren't getting out of here."
He laughed. I hated it. "You've said that four times now, and you still don't remember my answer."
I tried to remember that part. "Why don't you tell me again?"
He opened up more cuts on Charis' body, leaving her panting, with tears in her eyes. She refused to look away from him, fighting the pain with her own anger.
"Do you really think I didn't make arrangements, kid? As small as your odds of getting me in here were, I'm not stupid enough to chance getting stuck forever. I know how to get out of here. It'll take me some time, but I have plenty to keep me entertained."
He laughed again, while I tried to think through what he had just said. The words were familiar, and now I remembered that he had said them before.
"Ah, now it comes back to you," he said. He looked over at Charis, writhing on the ground, a pool of blood below her, and then he looked at his watch. "I'm afraid I'll have to cut this short."
He turned his wrist again, and her stomach erupted in a geyser of blood and guts. I tried to close my eyes, but he didn't let me.
"Oh no, kid. You're going to watch. Every time. I hope it hurts."
It did. Every time. I would have thought the repetition would make me numb, but it only made it worse. It was hard enough to watch someone you loved die once. Try doing it again and again, stuck in a twisted Groundhog Day.
I felt a small sense of relief that she was out of it for another round. "How are you going to do it?" I asked.
"Do what?"
"Get out of here. How can you do it? I think you're lying." I remembered now. He'd told me he was confident he would get out. He may have even told me how.
He smiled. "I'm not going to tell you this time. You're getting the hang of this a little too easily."
He broke my neck.