Illusion

CHAPTER 15

Nick struggled even harder against his father’s hold.

“Stop!” Adarian snarled in Nick’s ear. “I’m not the one who’s going to kill you. Though in retrospect, I should have slit your throat the first time I heard your mewling cries at birth. Why did I ever think something as pathetic as you could protect Cherise?” He literally tossed Nick away from him.

Nick caught his balance and swung around to face his father. Adarian’s skin had a sick, grayish-white pallor to it and his eyes were sunken and black. There were no visible eyes at all. Just scary darkness that seemed to see right through him and judge him lacking. “What are you?”

“Dead, you lickspittle. Did you miss the memo? You were there when it happened. Or did you think you dreamed it all?”

“Then how—”

“How do you think?” His father grabbed Nick’s hair and snatched him forward.

Grimacing in pain, Nick tried to fight, but even dead, his father was way too strong for him. It was like going against a tank. Dang, did the man have to be so strong? Of course, Nick had no body, either. That kind of put him at a serious disadvantage.

“You are not human,” his father growled in Nick’s ear as he tightened his grip to hold him completely immobile. “Stop thinking of yourself as such. You have never been fully human. Nothing can contain or constrain you without your implicit consent. Do you understand? That was my most hard-won lesson and it’s the only thing I’m giving to you for free, boy.” Adarian loosened his hold. “We are unlike any other species ever created in this universe. Because of that, your soul keeps slipping out of that frail human body they’ve forced it into. It knows it doesn’t belong there and it’s trying to get home despite the spell they’ve used against you.”

“They who?”

“Laguerre.” He spat out the name as if every syllable was a swallow of poison. “That vicious pute is working with your enemies. She is one of your generals. In theory. One we have never been able to trust. She would sell her own mother to the devil for a used bottle of stagnant fingernail polish.”

That was harsh. “How do you know this?”

Adarian spun Nick around in the darkness. “Open your senses and listen, boy. Feel. Smell. This is the ether you’ve been trying to tap into for so long. It is everything in the universe. In all universes. With it, there’s nothing you can’t see or know. The past. The present. The future. Every heartbeat of every creature is recorded here. All at your fingertips, once you learn how to use it.”

Fine, I’ll try it again. That seemed like a good idea until he actually did it. Nick staggered and had to put his hand on his father to steady himself as a trillion things hit him at once. It was so loud and overwhelming that he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His stomach plummeted as bile rose in his throat. But the absolute worst was all the emotions he felt from other people and sentient beings throughout the entire universe. The sadness, grief, and anguish. It was debilitating.

And extremely painful. Like being stomped in the stones and then rolled over hot coals while naked and basted in accelerant.

His father tightened his grip again as if another wave of anger had seized him. “And that will always be your greatest weakness.”

Nick gasped for breath as he tried to understand. “What? Having nerve endings? You’re right. It stinks. Especially when I slam my toes into something when I’m not looking.”

His father viciously growled at him—Nick had that effect on a lot of people. “Your bleeding heart, boy. By choosing a human mother for you, I weakened you.”

“Then why did you—”

Adarian grabbed him by the neck again and cut him off, thus proving his point about nerve endings. Even in a noncorporeal form, it hurt. “I loved her.” Those words left his father’s throat as if they’d been torn out. When he spoke again, his voice trembled with raw emotion and agony. “I knew something so pure and precious as she would never be able to love something fouled and damned like me. No matter what I tried, her affections went to others. I was the most powerful being in existence, and the best I could compel from her was time spent with me because she pitied my loneliness.” He laughed bitterly. “I fought for her honor and instead of being grateful, she took me to task for beating an apology out of the one who’d insulted her. After that, she wouldn’t even hold my hand. She’d barely look at me, and when she did, her eyes showed a disappointment that cut me soul-deep.”

Yeah, that sounded like his mom. And Nick knew that look a lot better than he wanted to. It, like the closet monster he now knew was real, was one of those things that seriously disturbed his mental peace. Cherise Gautier really deplored violence for any reason. It chafed his butt, too, whenever she fussed at him for not turning the other cheek. Yet in his world, the meek only inherited earth six feet deep.

“And you,” his father sneered. “I hate you for having the part of her I could never claim.”

Sympathetic pain racked him as Nick finally understood the true tragedy of his father’s heritage. To forever crave the very thing he could never have.

Love. Acceptance.

The gods’ final punishment for the Malachai bloodline over a treaty they’d had no part in, and a war they’d been ordered to fight. As punishment, the firstborn Malachai had been forced to see his pregnant wife die. To endure centuries alone.

None of them were to know happiness. Ever. Nor were they to live to see their heir grown. As soon as their son was old enough to come into his full powers, the elder Malachai was doomed to die by his son’s hand.

For all eternity.

His father increased the pressure of his hold. “I should have killed you when you were born.” Growling again, he moved away as if he was planning to give in to that urge unless he put more space between them. “But I’d harmed Cherise enough.” He winced in pain. “You were still wet from your whelping when she cradled you against her breast and swore no one would ever harm you. Not without going through her. As much as I wanted to take your life, I never wanted her to cry. Not because of something I did to her. I owed her that much.”

Roaring, Adarian spun on him and seized him again. “You, pathetic waste that you are, mean more to her than anything else. You, she cherishes, and you were given one task—to make sure nothing harms her.”

Nick tried to speak, but his father held him too tightly now. He couldn’t even let out a squeak.

“If you don’t fix this and subdue our generals, she will die in all worlds. Do you understand? Hers is the first life they will take … because of you!”

Coughing and wheezing, Nick nodded.

His father loosened his grip enough so that Nick could breathe again.

“Believe me, no one wants me out of here more than I do. So, please, Demon Master Overlord”—Nick deepened his voice to duplicate his father’s rumbling sinister tone—“Mr. I-have-all-power-and-you-suck”—he returned to speaking normally—“tell me how do I get back? Please, enlighten me, oh great father mine.” He glared at him. “I already tried clicking my heels together. Not much luck there. Should I sneeze when I do it or just fart in your general direction?”

His father shoved at him. “You are the Malachai. You are the son of the Destroyer of Worlds. Your name is Conquest. Pain. Suffering. Betrayal. No one can defeat you unless you allow it.”

“Oh, okay,” Nick said sarcastically. “Let’s just all be happy and shiny then. No sweat that.” He beat his fist against his chest in an ancient salute then barked out his orders. “I will win this for you, Father.”

His father raked him a withering glower. “I am not one of your putrid humans to suffer your backtalk, boy.”

Nick snorted. “You’re dead, right? What can you do? Shake the chandelier. Ooo, I’m so terrified. Please don’t rock the chair in the corner or slam a door in my face. I don’t think I could mentally take that. You might send me into therapy for the rest of my life. Oh, the humanity!”

His father grabbed his hair again. Yeah, okay, that did hurt. “Don’t test me.”

Grinding his teeth, Nick tried to extricate himself. “Mom says I get that better irritating quality from you.”

To his complete shock, Adarian laughed and released him. “You do, actually. And to answer your earlier question, Laguerre is working with our enemy. They are the ones who divided you.”

“That’s all well and good. Nice to know I have yet another ancient, omnipotent power trying to eat my gizzard with onions, but what I really need is info on unification. Put me back together again. Now how do I do that?”

“Unlock your powers.”

“Give me the key.” Nick spoke in the same aggravated tone. “Or at least a friggin’ clue. Hey, Pat. Can I buy a flippin’ vowel? Please?”

His father clenched his teeth so hard, Nick could hear them grinding. Not the first time he’d reduced an elder to that. Probably wouldn’t be the last. Though he should score some bonus points for the fact that he was causing an inhuman ghost to do so and he wasn’t even really trying to annoy him.

Give me your name.…

Nick flinched at the intrusion of that voice inside his skull again. Someone needed to turn the decibel level down a few hundred notches. “Is that you?”

His father turned around slowly. “Don’t answer them.”

“Wasn’t planning to. Why?”

Adarian swung back toward Nick. “Do you know how to command and own a demon?”

“Tell it I’m the Malachai … Oh wait, no. They usually burst out laughing when I do that. Really nuclear devastation for my ego, I have to say.”

His father made a sound that was disturbing enough to make Nick take two steps away from him. “No, imbecile. You tell it your true demonic name that is written in the Damonicon the moment we’re spawned. With that, any demon can be summoned, regardless of our wills. And with it, we can all be enslaved … even the Malachai. It’s why we never use our Summoning names. Not for anything.”

But that didn’t make sense. Everyone knew Nick’s full name. He’d never kept it a secret. And even if he’d ever tried, all anyone had to do was be within an eighty-mile radius whenever his mother blew a gasket and shouted out the whole thing to get his attention for God and all His saints to hear. Nick was quite sure a number of people in Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida knew his name better than most of his teachers.

“I don’t follow.”

His father mumbled something—no doubt it was insulting and degrading—before he spoke up. “Whenever we’re asked, our kind uses ‘Malachai.’ It’s our classification or basic significator. It’s a meaningless designation that can’t harm us.”

“Ah,” Nick said as he got it finally. “So you wouldn’t tell anyone you’re Adarian.”

“No, fool. Adarian Malachai is my common name to differentiate me from my father and from you.” Man, that was an impressive lip curl and told Nick just how much his father loved him … never. “My summoning name is Adrius. No one, not even your mother, was ever given it.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“What does it matter at this point, if I’m summoned or not? I’m dead and have no powers left to use. Everything I had, I handed over to you.” Bitterness echoed in his tone. “And since you’ve inherited Malphas, you should know his real name in case he ever refuses to come when you call.”

Nick bit back a laugh. Yeah, that power could come in handy. Caleb was the only being Nick knew who made him look like a poser in the arena of grand sarcasm. Testy little booger had an attitude that knew no limits or boundaries.

“Well, I know it’s not Caleb ’cause I shout that name out all the time and he blatantly ignores me … even when I’m on fire. Literally.”

Adarian gave the impression that he was rolling his missing eyes at him. “Cabal.”

Nick’s jaw went slack. “Cabal?”

His father nodded. “Speak that name out loud three times and he can be summoned to you. Anywhere. Anytime. It is the name of owning.”

Awesome opossum. Pwn one for me. At least that was the thought until it dawned on him that both his father’s and Caleb’s summoning names were eerily similar to their mundane ones.

Ah, crap … Nick cringed at the implication and likelihood of what that would mean for him. Yeah, his luck was never kind. “Please, Lord, please. Tell me that mine isn’t Dickless Nicholas.”

His father screwed his face up. “What?”

“It’s what the troglodytes at school call me whenever they want to send me to the office for assaulting them.”

Adarian bellowed in agony. “It’s like talking to an ape, I swear,” his father mumbled. Then louder and sharper, he barked at Nick. “Would you be serious?”

Nick pressed his lips together. “Sorry. Serious-face time … but that is a major concern.” He cleared his throat and braced himself so that he didn’t upset his father any more.

Until another unsettling thought went through his mind and sped out of his mouth before he could stop it. “It’s not Nick the Dick, either, right?”

His father reached for his throat, but he dodged and twirled to a distance of relative safety. Something greatly helped by the fact that his father no longer had telekinesis.

“Hey! Not my fault Mom pegged me with a name so easy to mock it ought to be banned from children for eternity. You would be amazed at the cruel creativity of people when it comes to mocking someone.…” Nick paused as he realized who he was talking to. “Then again, you were probably the ringleader of said tormenting.”

“Perhaps I should geld you. It might settle you down.”

“Yeah … no. Besides, pink isn’t my color. Clashes with my complexion.”

What is your name!

Nick let out an aggravated sigh at that insistent demand in his head. An expulsion that lasted for three seconds until he realized what his summoning name had to be. Oh. No wonder his older self was so cranky. “It’s—”

His father clapped his hand over Nick’s lips to keep him from speaking it. Then he bent and whispered in a low tone in Nick’s ear. “Not Ambrose. It’s your Confirmation name.”

A creepy chill went down Nick’s spine at the coincidence. He’d chosen Aloysius because it’d sounded cool and was semi-close to his middle name, Ambrosius. Not to mention, St. Aloysius was the patron saint of youth and students. As a kid who’d been trying to get into St. Richard’s at the time he was going through Confirmation, Nick had thought it an intelligent idea to get on the good side of a saint who might be able to pull some celestial academic strings.

At least that had been the thought back then. Now …

Nick lowered his father’s hand away from his lips so that he could whisper back. “Are you telling me that I picked my own downfall?”

His father snorted. “Trust me, boy. We always do. Every step we take is one inch closer to our salvation and one foot closer to our doom.”

That strangely made sense to him. And how weird that he’d instinctively never told anyone his Confirmation name, other than his mother, who never used it. More than that, a mistake had been made on his Sacramental Record and his Confirmation name hadn’t been registered. Because his middle name was so unusual, especially given how common his first name was, the secretary who’d done the paperwork had assumed Ambrosius was the name he’d picked, and that was all the church had officially on file for him. When he’d told his mom about the error, she’d started to correct it then stopped herself.

The Lord moves in mysterious ways, Nicky. If He didn’t want it recorded, I think we should leave it and trust Him to know what’s best for us. Besides, I like the names I gave you, just fine. You already got two great saint names. Why would you need a third one?

Yeah, that was seriously disturbing in retrospect.

Which begged another question … “How do you know what my Confirmation name is?”

His father laughed evilly. “It’s the name I gave you the first time I saw you.”

Nick scowled. Aloysius? Really? “Why?”

“It’s a name that means fame and war. What better name for my heir to hold?” His father cupped the back of Nick’s head in his massive paw of a hand and pulled Nick against his shoulder so that he could whisper in his ear and not be overheard. “You are Conquest, boy. That is your destiny. You are the one who leads the others, and without you, they cannot win. You are the head of the ušumgallu, while they are merely the body. Chop off an arm or leg and the creature still walks and fights. But you … you are the one piece they must have. You are the only thing that Death and War and Bane and the other three generals cannot defeat. Without you, there can be no victory in their endeavors. Ever. That is why the only one who can kill a Malachai is the very son he sires.”

Nick’s scowl deepened as he tried to understand. “But what of the last Sephiroth?” In the first war of the gods, the Malachai army and the Sephirii had been mortal enemies who had slaughtered each other until only one Malachai and one Sephiroth had been left. Kody had told him that the surviving Sephiroth could kill him.

His father laughed deep in his throat and tightened his arm into something that almost felt like a hug. “Trust me, boy, Jared is no match for you and he knows it. Our blood boils with fury. If he were to attack you, it would be for you to kill him and put him out of his misery.”

And if Nick were to do that, it would end his life, too. He and the last Sephiroth were tied together. The ultimate evil and the ultimate good. Yin and yang.

His father patted him hard on his cheek. “That is the only way Jared could possibly kill you. As you said, you pick your own destruction.”

“Malachai!”

That feral shout startled Nick.

His father moved away from him. “See how hard your enemies are calling for you? They are desperate to capture you and use you against your own will.”

Crouched and ready to battle, Nick turned around slowly, trying to locate whatever was hunting him. “Where is he?”

“Have no fear. He can’t reach you here.”

Nick straightened up. “Why? Where are we?”

“Nowhere.”

Nick scoffed. “Ah, gee, Dad. Thanks so much for that. Like I didn’t know that already.”

Adarian shook his head. “You misunderstand. This is the nothingness between everything. That minuscule flicker that you can sometimes glimpse right before the dark becomes light. It’s the lost place where souls go when they can’t find their way home. And this is where you’ll be stranded if you don’t return to your real body before the ušumgallu rides.”

That was definitely not comforting, and somewhat confusing for him. “Why ride if they can’t win without me?”

He snorted. “War doesn’t care if she wins or not. It’s about the slaughter. The same is true for Death. Grim wins even when he loses. And while it is nice for them to be on the winning side, it’s not necessary. They don’t have the same drive to be victorious that you do, because they don’t have the same goals. Since we are Conquest, it is not in us to lie down and lose. Not for anything. So long as we breathe, we will fight to win.”

Anything worth doing was worth overdoing. One of Bubba’s mottos that Nick subscribed to.

It was true. Never give up. Never give in. Never surrender. Toe-to-toe to the bitterest end.

That was the true strength of the Malachai. It was never about the size of the dog in a fight, but rather it was all about the size of the fight in the dog.

And Nick was done running and hiding. He wanted his body back and he was more than willing to battle. Right here. Right now.

“Hey!” he shouted at the voice in his head. “You want my name, boy? Come get some.”

His father gaped. “What are you doing?”

He flashed a taunting grin at the older spirit. “I am my best at my worst.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning I’m about to flaunt my stupidity. You might want to take a few steps back, Dad, ’cause I’m pretty sure you’re standing in the splash zone, and some of my bodily fluids might spray out on you when he clobbers me.”