Goetic Justice 2

The ground began to rumble, there was the sound of creaking wood and shattered stone, pops of gunfire followed by distinctly human cries of anger and pain. Nahash returned to his side, crouching beside him and shaking him like she was trying to wake someone from a deep sleep. Her voice was distant, but it grew louder as his eyes focused on her face.

"Ryan! Ryan! Stay awake! Look at me!"

He blinked at her, his awareness slowly returning.

"I got shot," he groaned weakly.

"I can see that, how badly are you hurt?"

He tried to sit up, and she helped him, curling an arm beneath him and propping him upright. He opened his jacket and his shirt, now soaked in blood, exposing the skin below. There was a hole in his shoulder the size of a penny, still bleeding but not profusely.

"I think it went through," he croaked. "If it had hit bone, I'd have an exit wound the size of a fist. If it had hit an artery, I'd have passed out from the blood loss by now."

The memories and experiences that he possessed reassured him that the wound was not immediately threatening. It must have passed through the soft tissue and narrowly avoided the bone, but the sooner he visited a doctor, the better.

Nahash helped him to his feet, supporting him as they walked down towards the end of the hallway. Now the pain was coming stronger, but he felt more alert, shock fading and adrenaline taking its place. As they neared their destination, he noticed a giant, metal door. It was covered in gears and rods, like something that might be found in a bank vault.

Two large trees had grown from the floor to either side of it, their thick, gnarled trunks standing like pillars. A product of Seirim magick no doubt. The slabs of stone that made up the floor beneath them had been shattered and upturned by their roots. Trapped in their leafy branches were two guards. One of them was limp, certainly dead, his body crushed against the ceiling and penetrated in places by sharp twigs.

The second was still alive, hopelessly trapped in a cage of twisted branches and pinned against the wall, but he was moving. The tree had grown out at an angle it seemed, as if it had been reaching towards its target like a grasping arm. At its base the man had dropped a long rifle with a magnified scope, Ryan recognizing it as a H&K G28, a German-made marksman rifle. The two guards were well placed, there was no cover in the hallway, and anyone approaching the vault could be fired upon from a distance. It was a stroke of pure luck that the round hadn't landed a few inches to the left, and that they had thought him neutralized when he had fallen to the ground. It was one close call too many. Was it really luck, or was Azazel somehow watching out for him?

He considered drawing his handgun with his good arm and putting a bullet through the Mason's masked face, but he was trapped, and he no longer posed a threat. Enough blood had been spilled by necessity today, he didn't need to add to his growing kill count if it could be avoided.

"Can you see a way through?" he asked as Nahash examined the door.

"No, it's some kind of...mechanical locking mechanism, I don't understand how it functions."

Ryan gave it a look over, but he couldn't figure it out either, it was a mess of wheels and steel rods. There were three keyholes, but only two guards.

"Try to burn through it," he said, "we don't have time to figure this out."

She pressed her curved sword against the metal where the three keyholes were lined up in a row, and Ryan looked away as the weapon produced a bright light. He discarded his rifle, no longer able to wield it with one of his arms rendered next to useless, and drew his handgun instead. They didn't know what they might find on the other side of this door, for all they knew there could be a hundred Mason goons waiting for them.

"How's it coming?" he asked, growing impatient. The clock was ticking, and she had been trying to burn through the door for several minutes already.

"This door must be half a cubit thick," she complained, "it's taking me a long time."

"Cubit?" Ryan asked.

"It's maybe twelve inches thick," she reiterated, "I don't think that we can get in this way."

The bright light faded, and Ryan turned to see a river of slagged metal pouring from the door to pool on the stone slabs that made up the floor, now made uneven by the spreading tree roots. Nahash had melted a hole deep enough that he could have fit his fist inside it, but they weren't even close to breaking through yet. Destroying the locks had not caused the door to open either. He didn't know much about bank vaults, but he knew that sturdy metal rods extended from the doors into the walls around them, locking them in place. Might it be easier to destroy the walls?

"You got enough juice left for another tree?" he asked.

"Maybe," she replied, taking a step back from the door and letting her sword vanish into a puff of dark smoke.

"Don't do it if you can't be sure that you'll have enough magick left over to manifest another body when we get out of here," he added, "but I'm thinking that we can maybe break through the walls. The trees that you grew here broke through the stone floor, right?"

"That might work," she said, scratching her chin. "Perhaps an ironwood tree would be able to produce enough pressure, but I can't be sure. I will have to try. Take a few steps back..."

Ryan retreated a ways down the corridor, nursing his wounded shoulder as he watched her slowly raise her arms. It was almost as if she was lifting a heavy weight, visibly straining against an invisible force. The branches on the two existing trees bloomed with pink flowers, and their trunks were coated in a spreading layer of moss, the trapped guard wailing in alarm as he was engulfed by the cherry blossoms. Ryan was worried that the man might be in harm's way, but there was no time to free him from the branches, and there was nothing to indicate that he wouldn't immediately turn on them again.

Nahash took a few steps back, willing a green shoot to sprout from between the cracks of the stone slabs, little more than a weed. It began to grow, slowly at first, then expanding exponentially as it exploded out of the ground. It threw the heavy stones aside, upending them along with a mass of black earth, the roots growing and spreading like a nest of roiling snakes to find purchase. The trunk grew to be as thick around as an oil barrel, the branches reaching towards the vault door like skeletal fingers.

They impacted the stone wall and pressed against the ceiling, the tree still growing and expanding before Ryan's eyes as it strained against the obstacle. There was a terrible sound of creaking wood, accompanied by cracking stone and bending metal, immense forces at play as the tree put pressure on the apparently immovable obstacle.

Nahash continued to strain, her limbs shaking as she pushed against an unseen barrier, the air thick with magick and motes of pollen. The tree embedded itself deeper into the earth, the thick trunk bending under pressures that Ryan could scarcely conceive of.

There was a loud bang as a crack appeared in the wall beside the vault door, then another, and another. The tree finally won its battle, and there was a sound like an entire mountainside collapsing as the walls surrounding the metal door crumbled and the circular slab of metal toppled over backwards. It kicked up a massive cloud of dust that swept through the hallway, the tree continuing to grow and pushing through the ceiling until Nahash saw fit to stop it.

She lowered her arms and fell to a sitting position, Ryan hurrying towards her through the obscuring cloud.

"Are you alright?" he asked, taking a knee beside her. He coughed as he inhaled the dust, pulling the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth in an attempt to ward it off. The Seirim seemed exhausted, her chest rising and falling heavily, her breathing labored. "You did it, you got the door open."

"I will recover," she said, "go on without me. Complete your task and do not delay."

He nodded, rising to his feet and making for the breach, holding his pistol in his left hand as he kept the right clasped against his chest. He dodged around the thick trunk of the ironwood tree, clambering over the rubble and debris, the dust slowly clearing as he made his way into the vault.

It was an expansive, dark room in the shape of a cube, the only light spilling in behind him through the hole that they had made. The massive vault door lay on its back, a few pieces of crumbling stone still attached to the heavy rods that had anchored it to the walls. There didn't seem to be any light fixtures inside at all, no furniture or decorations, there was only a box resting on the ground in the center of the floor. It was made from wood with a golden lattice that held it together, the gilded lid decorated with twin statues of winged Angels that were facing one another. There were two golden rods attached to the sides of the chest, used for carrying it around no doubt.

He had expected something more awe-inspiring, something so finely crafted and extravagant that it could only have been forged by the hand of a God, but this looked rather innocuous. It wouldn't have seemed out of place in a museum exhibit.

Movement caught his eye, and he pointed his weapon at a man who was trying to free himself from the rubble. As the dust cleared, Ryan could make out two more figures. One had been crushed by the door, only his robed upper body visible, the lower trapped beneath it. A third was leaning against the far wall on the other side of the chest, his hands raised in surrender. They were all elderly, clad in the same lavish garments, the purple fabric decorated with all manner of adornments and symbols.

"Stop!" the one near the far wall wailed, "stop this before it's too late!"

Ryan kept his weapon trained on the man as he moved towards the Ark. He wondered for a moment how he was expected to destroy it, but upon second glance, it wasn't especially sturdy looking. Gold was a soft metal, and the wood didn't look thick.

"Please!" the old man pleaded, rising to his knees and wringing his hands as Ryan examined the chest. "Azazel has deceived you, he is the father of lies, the origin of all sin! You can still stop this. By staying your hand now, you could thwart Azazel's plans. You have not yet strayed too far, no man is beyond redemption."

"What were you doing in here?" Ryan asked, "who are you?"

"I am one of the Grand Architects," the main explained hurriedly, "an instrument of God's will on this Earth. We were calling for aid, for more Seraphim to be sent to stop the beast."

"Like Samael?" Ryan asked disdainfully.

"Yes, yes! You have seen him? You have basked in his holy glory? You have felt his love?"

"Oh yeah, I felt his love alright, when he tried to lure me in and kill me. I also know that he murdered his own family and that he's a sadistic piece of shit."

"Please...Ryan, that's your name, is it not? Ryan, listen to my words very carefully. Azazel is a liar, he has made you into his instrument, but the ultimate choice still rests with you. It is not too late to turn to God, but if you do this, your soul will be forever lost. The beast cannot touch the Ark, he cannot destroy it, he needs a mortal champion to do it in his stead. You must see reason, you must refuse! If we succeed in our endeavor, there will be no more hunger, no more war or disease. Human lifespans will be extended into the hundreds of years, justice and peace will reign across the whole planet, deserts will turn to gardens and the world will be as it was always intended."

"All under the control of your God?"

"All under the control of a loving, benevolent entity, yes. An entity who wants nothing more than to love and to be loved, to free us of our burdens, our fears and our doubts. You must see the value in this, surely?"

"Listen, old man," Ryan began. "I'm real tired, I've had a long day, and if you haven't noticed already, I just got shot. Maybe you should have opened with that spiel rather than trying to murder me in my own home. I wouldn't even be here if you hadn't fucked with me."

"Wait, wait!"

"Now if you're quite finished, I came here to smash this box and that's what I intend to do."

The Grand Architect looked around frantically, searching for something to use as a weapon. He picked up a piece of rubble and climbed to his feet, raising it above his head as he charged towards Ryan, loosing a desperate battle cry. Ryan casually aimed his handgun and shot the Architect in the chest, the old man keeling over to lie motionless on the dusty floor.

He stowed the weapon in his belt and walked over to the Ark, giving it an experimental kick. It was hollow, flimsy, it shouldn't take much force to destroy it. He reached over and struggled to remove the lid, which was solid gold and by far the heaviest and sturdiest component, pushing it onto the floor. After leaning over to look inside, he saw the two stone tablets sitting on a bed of plush material that might have been silk or something along those lines.

He felt a spark of guilt. This Ark and these tablets were genuine historical artifacts of great significance, thousands of years old. Destroying them just felt wrong, but after everything that he had seen he understood why it had to be done. He reached in and picked up one of the stone tablets, examining the Hebrew inscriptions. He couldn't read them, but he knew them to be the ten commandments, dictated to Moses atop Mount Sinai according to legend.

He raised the tablet above his head and threw it, the stone shattering into pieces as it hit the ground, then he did the same with the second. He upturned the chest and knocked it onto its side, then retrieved a sizable chunk of rubble from the ground, using it to smash through the wooden paneling. The gold dented inward and the wood splintered, and before long the chest had been reduced to a pile of debris. He pulled apart the gold lattice as best he could with his one good arm, putting his foot on it and leveraging it to bend the metal. He wasn't sure exactly how destroyed it needed to be if it was to be rendered unusable, but he did all that he could. Once he was finished with the Ark, he returned to the tablets and ensured that they were too fragmented to be reassembled.

A haze appeared in the room before him, and Gaap manifested there, grimacing at him from beneath its burlap hood.

"Apologies," it said in its rasping voice, "I was prevented from returning by powers greater than my own. I came as soon as I was able."

"Don't worry about it," Ryan replied, "just get me out of here."

Azazel had no doubt prevented Gaap from carrying Ryan away before the task was complete, and if he had let the demon return, then it must mean that the Ark was adequately destroyed. Gaap began to do its work, Ryan feeling a pain in his chest, sinking to his knees and gritting his teeth. He knew that it would pass, but no amount of logic or reason could stave off the primal panic that flooded through his veins as his body began to die. It felt like his chest was being crushed in a gigantic vice, his muscles aching as his heart beat erratically, then came to a thudding halt. As he fell to his side, his vision darkening, he heard footsteps and shouting.

The Masons had finally made it to their sanctum, but they were too late. He grinned to himself, the smile frozen into his corpse as his spirit left it.

***

Ryan awoke lying face down on the floor, feeling uneven wooden planks beneath his hands. He smelled dust and musty furniture, along with the sweet aroma of a flower garden. Before he had even opened his eyes, he knew that he had been returned to the cabin. The residual thoughts and emotions that lingered after his brief journey through the immaterial plain faded as he rose to his knees, clutching at his chest. This heart was working, beating regularly, Gaap had kept its side of the bargain.

As he stood up, he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder. He noticed that while his clothing had been repaired and cleaned of blood, his bullet wound still remained. Gaap had recreated his new body exactly as it had been before the moment of transfer, injuries and all. Immediately he was set upon by the sister Seirim. They crowded around him, helping him over to one of the moth-eaten armchairs that they had pushed against the walls to make room for the chalk summoning circle that was still drawn onto the floor. He sat, exhaling a sigh of relief, wincing as his wound ached.

"Ryan!" Ryan!" the Seirim chorused.

"Ryan is hurt!"

"He is injured!"

"Poor Ryan!"

"What happened Ryan? Tell us!"

He waved them away, nursing his shoulder as he looked around the room. The candles had all burned out, and the sun had set, leaving the cabin dark and gloomy.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Nahash and your father are fine too, I'm sure they'll be back soon."

Gaap manifested again in the circle, standing with its bony hands clasped together, its hooded head brushing the ceiling as it leered at him from beneath the shadow of its cowl.

"My contractual obligations have been fulfilled," the demon hissed, "I trust that you will see to it that I am properly compensated?"

"As soon as I am able, as stipulated in the contract," Ryan replied.

"Good. Please dismiss me, there is no need for complex rites. I wish to conclude our business as soon as possible..."

The creature seemed antsy, impatient. Ryan recalled how the demon had recoiled from Azazel's ring, and he wondered if it just wanted to be as far away from the Watcher's influence as possible. If the mere sight of the ring had filled it with such fear and dread, then being restrained by Azazel's power must have been unpleasant indeed.

"Very well," Ryan replied. He remembered enough of the banishing ritual to see the demon off without having to go through all the motions. "Because you have very diligently answered my demands and were ready and willing to come at my first call, I do hereby license you to depart without doing any injury or danger to any man or beast. I charge you to withdraw peaceably and quietly, and may the peace of God be ever continued between you and I."

The demon bowed its hooded head, and then as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone again.

Ryan reached over and scratched the head of the nearest Seirim who was crouching down beside the armrest and eyeing him expectantly, running his fingers through her soft wool as he avoided her horns.

"We're gonna be alright now," he said, trying to reassure them. "They can't send Angels after us anymore, Haures has been stopped."

"You are hurt," one of them said, reaching out to and plucking at his clothes with her fingers. She unbuttoned his jacket and opened the shirt beneath, exposing the wound. It was still bleeding a slow trickle of crimson fluid, and there was now a dark bruise surrounding the ugly tear in his flesh.

"Sisters, prepare a salve," she said. They sprang to their feet and exited through the front door, vanishing into the trees as she continued to examine him.

"Think that will help?" Ryan asked, grimacing as she prodded the tender bruise experimentally. "I was under the impression that your salves couldn't patch up much more than scratches and abrasions?"

"It will not close the wound," she admitted. "But it may help with the pain, and it will prevent infection."

"Alright. I guess that will hold me over until I can make it to a doctor. Who knows how long that will be at this rate. Wait a minute, what...who the hell is that?"

There was a figure lying motionless on the ground beside the chalk circle, he hadn't noticed it until now due to its dark clothing. Ryan stood up from his chair, cautiously making his way towards it.