Exousia - The Patron Saints of the Damned -Book II
Chapter 15 - Battle Plans

Brennan had been following behind his friends in the dark woods when they suddenly shifted directions off and back onto the trail. Just wanting to catch up, he chased the others as they moved confusingly between directions. Something was wrong, they were all in danger! A tree branch scraped along his face as he finally reached the front of the group.

Jodie was in a full-on springt! He made monstrous noises and shouted as he swung his fists at the dark.

Brennan shouted his name … and he wasn’t the only one.

However, Jodie seemed entirely unaware of them. He was punching wildly at something. It took Brennan a moment to realize that his friend was not just attacking the dark, but a shadow.

This shadow was human-shaped, effortlessly weaving through attacks almost like dancing with the dark. Then it sank into the black ground and vanished.

Jodie huffed and panted for a minute, darting his head one way and then the other. The longer he searched, the more his fury seemed to dissipate. After a minute, he turned back and faced his friends, looking like he didn’t even know how he’d gotten there.

It was then that the shadow reappeared, towering behind him.

“Look out!” Brennan shouted too late.

The shadow wrapped its claws around Jodie’s shoulders and then pulled backwards so that he stumbled off-balance. Then, it used both hands to switch the direction of his momentum and propelled him back toward the rest of them.

But Jodie tripped on something and crashed into the weeds and briers.

Brennan sprinted so that he was between his friend and the shadow, pulled the pocket knife out of his pocket, and pointed it at the figure who just stood there waiting. He tried to look intimidating, but his body trembled and the knife shook in his hand. But he wasn’t alone for long. His friends lined up at his sides.

The shadow slowly approached and then stopped. Then it said, “I’m not here to hurt you.” Her voice … it sounded like it should have belonged to someone their age. It was also so calm. No, calm wasn’t the right word. More … bored … disinterested … monotone.

Brennan did not move or lower his knife. And he didn’t answer because he had no idea what he could say. He only stared as the shadow stepped out of the darkness of the trees, and into the moonlight.

She was … just a person, maybe a year older than the rest of them. Her eyes were heavy, dark, and unnerving for how they glared without moving or shifting. She still carried herself like a towering shadow, fit to terrorize the forest. But upon a closer look, it became clear that she was quite a bit shorter than Brennan, who was six feet tall. Her unkempt hair reached about to her neck, though perhaps it would have been longer were it not curly and tangled. She wore a faded, green hoodie with a zipper, open to reveal a green, plaid shirt beneath. Both these and her jeans looked like they had been stitched back together several times. Then there was her face … with a tissue-white scar that ran down her temple, outlining her jaw. The old injury was pronounced enough to indicate that it had been a deep wound.

“Drop the knife,” she said as she reached back for a wooden staff that had rested on her shoulder by a leather strap. It was longer than she was tall, with a deadly-looking knot at the end of a spiraled top.

“If you don’t let us go right now I’ll tear your damn heart out,” Jodie said, with a voice that sounded choked with fear. He still didn’t look quite ready for a second assault, especially now that he saw the stick.

Brennan realized that his knife would not do much good and slowly lowered it to his side. But he didn’t dare drop it. He swallowed and said, “What do you want with us?”

Lowering the blade seemed to be good enough for the girl with the scar because she didn’t say anything more about it. “You were brought here for a demonstration.”

“To kill us?” Marshal asked, taking a threatening step forward.

The girl with the scar shook her head. “I want you out of here, alive and unchanged.”

A jolt of fear traveled down through Brennan’s spine. He his immediate thought was that this person was crazy. Either that, or she wanted to gain their trust so that she could kill them.

The girl wrinkled her brow, unnervingly responding as if she’d heard his thoughts. She said, “You won’t stand a chance of surviving what’s in these woods without me. But I can’t keep you from running to your deaths. So make up your minds about how to deal with me, quickly. I’m going to keep watch.” With that, she walked back into the woods.

Brennan just stood there a moment, unsure as to whether her departure made him feel more safe … or less.

David spoke first. “So … what do you guys think? I say definitely crazy.” His efforts to remain calm were plainly visible in the wrinkles on his face and his clenched jaw. He hobbled to create a closed circle between them and nearly fell on his battered leg.

Brennan grabbed his shoulder to keep him steady.

Marshal shook his head. “She has to be the one who brought us here … who killed Ms. Darsan. Fuck she might be the person that has been killing people around town … or one of the crazies that showed up after.” He stared off at the woods as if he suspected he was being watched.

Billy shook his head. “You think a girl’s the Woodcutter?” Even in their current situation, his expression seemed smug.

The rest of them ignored him, however. Brennan turned to them and asked, “So, y’all think we should run?”

Marshal almost nodded but stopped when he looked down at David’s leg. Then he shook his head and replied, “She’d probably just track us down, and I’m not buying that she doesn’t have a gun. But if we play along, it will give us a chance to take her stick, hit her, and run.

“I’m not giving that psycho bitch more time to kill us!” Jodie said in a hushed but angry tone. His pupils were so dilated that they looked as big as those of some of the seniors at their school who got high before class.

To Brennan, playing along seemed like the right thing to do. There was no way to fight her if she could move like that in the dark. Even if they all rushed her, she’d probably crack at least one of their skulls with that stick and kill them. On top of that … there was no guarantee that she was the killer. Brennan just … didn’t think it was possible for one girl to single-handedly wreck their truck, kidnap them, and tie them up in trees. And what about that sound from the truck? It just seemed like an awful lot. Like Marshal had said, she was just one member of one of the cultish weirdos who’d shown up in town shortly after the Woodcutter serial killer became famous.

Speaking of, Marshal suddenly interrupted Brennan’s thoughts by shouting at an uncharacteristically loud volume. “You’d rather die, Jodie? You already tried fighting her, and she kicked your ass. And that was without her stick and whatever other weapons she might have.” His tone was aggressive and perhaps even a little patronizing.

Normally, Brennan would have immediately rushed in to play peacemaker. However, an odd wave of emotions struck him. He felt … a sudden anger. He’d even balled one of his hands into a fist! Brennan forced himself to release it along with some of the tension, taking deep breaths. What was the matter with him? He never got angry.

It was David who stepped between Marshal and Jodie, looking like he’d just thought of something. “Sam … was that the person who killed Mrs. Darsan?” Of course! Sam had seen something. Even in his current state, his reaction would tell them something.

However … Sam didn’t answer. He just stared down at the ground. He either didn’t know or was too terrified to answer.

“For Christ’s sake” Marshal continued, brushing the idea off and returning to the previous conflict. “There’s no point even talking about it. If she’s the Woodcutter and we attack her, she’ll easily murder us. Lest we forget that the Woodcutter has murdered other groups before … bigger ones with guns! And even if we managed to knock her out or escape, we’d still be lost in the woods. The only thing we can do is play along until we have a better option.”

Jodie began to shake his head, in some sort of trance-like state of denial. His face became redder, and his eyes began to bulge.

Billy ran his hands through his hair and started pacing.

The panic was beginning to spread.

Brennan tried to think past his bizarre, growing irritation at all the noise that they were making. It wouldn’t matter what they did if they all fell apart like this! His priority needed to be calming his friends because no amount of logic was going to sway them while they were like this. So, he stepped between Jodie and Marshal, put a hand on each of their shoulders, and said, “Whether anything that she’s telling us is true or not, we’ve got to stick together no matter what. For now, maybe we do need to play along. Jodie, I know the idea sounds crazy and that you’re scared. But if you really stop and think, can you come up with any real reason why Marshal’s wrong?”

Jodie wrinkled his forehead intensely for a moment, and then gradually lowered his head and shook it. He looked embarrassed again but at least seemed a bit calmer. For all his fighting, Jodie was clearly tormenting himself inside most.

Brennan looked him in the eye and said. “It’s okay bud. We know you’re just looking out for us. We need you, even if we have to talk things out, alright? I mean, come on, you almost had her handled by yourself.”

Marshal nodded, also looking a little bit embarrassed for how he’d acted. “And I’m sorry for yelling. It was … uh … stupid. I don’t know why I did it; I feel really weird.”

Jodie nodded as if he understood, though he couldn’t put any of it into words.

Then there was a very silent moment that none of them quite knew how to break. That is, most of them didn’t know how to.

“We’ll get through this, gents,” Ted said in an obnoxiously fake British accent and threw an arm around his brother’s neck so that he stumbled and had to chuckle. “Now let us go find our guide. Let her lead us to salvation or gruesome, terrible, painful death! But you know, maybe salvation.”

Brennan smiled, rolled his eyes, and nodded.

-O-

Exousia listened as the group reconciled. Oddly, it did not reassure her, even given that her mission first and foremost was to protect their souls from corruption until they were safe again. These young humans seemed nobler than most of their kind. That fact was what bothered her.

Ammon had sometimes quoted a human soldier named Sherman. “There is no use trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over.” He’d killed that woman … in front of at least one of them. And now, he was letting the twisted nature of the deadwoods play on their imaginations. Doubtless, there would be more surprises waiting ahead. And Ammon felt so confident in their combined effects that he had chosen the rare types of humans who would have made this all most difficult on himself. Meaning … he was confident.

Exousia recognized the tremendous danger ahead of her, yet she did not consider the battle lost. Her own heart was also stone, cut by all the teachers who had taught her. He could withstand the torment and death of these human and more if it meant avoiding war. It was why the one condition was that she could not kill them. And though Exousia did not believe in the ability of humans to win the games of a demon, they were not the ones playing the game. They were only checker pieces.

Exousia knew she could win if she remained cold, calculating, and in control of herself. So, she calmly watched the night sky for glows, embers, or anything that would indicate a threat. But there was nothing but the empty, skylit forest. She thought about using her human magic to search further for shielded demon presences, but decided that this would leave her too vulnerable.

Instead, Exousia made her way back to them. When she got close enough to see clearly, she noticed that some of the human teenagers had wandered away to be alone. Picking the more easily targeted group for corruption, she moved toward the ones in solitude.

-O-

Derrick meandered away from the group while they hashed out a plan of attack. As one of the smallest members of the group, he knew that he would not be of much help if they chose to attack. On top of that … he felt like their chances of beating a serial-killer were slim.

Yes, he had little doubt that the girl with the scar was the serial killer whose presence had caused the police in several towns to issue curfews. The way she fought from the shadows without being touched made it abundantly clear how dangerous she was. And for there to be some kind of superhero in these woods, as well as an uncatchable serial-killer seemed too high a coincidence.

But Derrick remained quiet about this because he felt that he had little right to say anything, His own possible contributions to the attack or escape would be negligible. And scaring them more when they were all trembling as they spoke seemed unhelpful. The one person Derrick wanted to talk to was his brother.

However … Ted was with the others, talking. Of course. He was tall and large enough to pose something of a threat, even with his rather slim frame. He was also smart enough to help the others come up with a good plan to deal with the situation. They also needed him to help keep Jodie calm. This should have given Derrick comfort because Jodie was their best bet in a fight. Or … maybe … it should have made him sad for his brother, that his obvious feelings for Jodie would never be returned.

But … Derrick only barely felt these two emotions. He mostly just felt a pang of loneliness … abandonment. Even though he thought that this feeling was stupid, he couldn’t help but feel it. In frustration with himself, he kicked a pinecone into the woods, and then sat on the ground. Then he felt a hand latch onto his shoulder—making him jump.

“Man, that was really tense,” Billy said, removing his hand.

Derrick scowled. “What do you want?”

Billy lifted both palms and opened his eyes wide like he’d been struck. Then he gave a scowl of his own. “Hey bro, I’m just trying to be friendly. I don’t see why y’all don’t get that. I mean, I get that Jodie doesn’t like me … but that’s his deal. I’ve not done anything to you!” Oddly enough, he looked genuinely hurt.

This point about Jodie wasn’t entirely unfounded. Just like he tended to be kind and charismatic with unexpected people, he also had the tendency for the opposite. If he decided he disliked someone, no matter how small the reason, he stuck through it to the point of stubbornness. Granted, it was difficult to remember a time when he had misjudged someone.

But for Derrick to act on Jodie’s experiences and feelings didn’t exactly feel justified. Derrick just shook his head and said, “Can … we talk about it when we’re out of here?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Billy said, his frown softening. He almost smiled and stood before he added, “That’s really cool of you to try though. I mean, I know how much Ted really likes Jodie and all, so you being his brother and giving me the time of day … I appreciate it.”

“What are you talking about?” Derrick asked, feeling his face flush with heat and his fists clench.

Billy looked confused for a moment. His eyes darted back and forth before he shook his head and said, “Nothing, bro. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

“No, Billy, tell me what you were going to say,” Derrick said, his voice barely above a growl.

“Look, bro-”

“I’m not your bro.” Derrick stood and grabbed him by his stupid purple jacket. “Tell me what you were going to say about my brother before you go blabbing nonsense and messing things up!”

Billy looked at him and began to stammer. “Just that … well, it’s not really much of a secret. Everyone knows-”

“None of you know anything!” Derrick felt his neck growing hotter and knew that his pale freckled skin was probably bright red. He had to restrain himself so that he didn’t shout enough for everyone to hear him.

Billy lifted his palms again. “Look, it’s not me. Everybody sees how he is … especially around Jodie. Jodie’s just too dense to see anything he doesn’t want to.” His face seemed to alternate between anger, fear, and the attempt to still try to be friendly.

“Don’t give me that crap.” Derrick felt the burning sensation rise to his ears.

If Jodie found out about his brother, he’d get scared and intimidated. He would disconnect … and that would destroy Ted.

No, Derrick was not going to let that happen. He said, “Ted and Jodie are good friends … like brothers. Nothing else! If you mess that up with any of your stupidity, I swear to god I’ll mess you up way worse than Jodie or even the Woodcutter could even think of.” As he said the words, he knew that he meant them. He’d never felt such pure rage in his life, and something in the air seemed to make it burn hotter.

Billy nodded, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging open just a bit.

Derrick released him and then turned around. He forced himself to breathe for a minute, letting the anger slowly ebb away. He tried to control the adrenaline-fuelled trembling in his hands. Regret hit him with a soft pang as he sat down. Something about the quiet of the woods, about the serial killer, about the situation in general, had put his nerves on edge. And feeling rage instead of those other emotions was a little better.

More than just that … it felt damn good.

-O-

Exousia watched them talk until the dilation of their pupils lessened and their postures relaxed. At that point, she was sure they wouldn’t flee or attack the moment she reappeared among them. This took about fifteen minutes and came right before she would have decided that she could wait no longer. Every moment that they stalled was another for Ammon to either plan an attack or to slip into a bout of madness. And the truth was that both were intimidating prospects. Though a ferocious threat to Exousia herself in his insanity, Ammon’s crazed state might lead to him killing the humans and forfeiting the challenge. This could actually work into Exousia’s favor–far more easily than dealing with Ammon’s full cunning.

Regardless of which Ammon she was dealing with, Exousia decided she needed to focus on getting the humans out of the woods as quickly as possible. The faster she got them out, the less time there was for her to need to contend with either possibility. So, she moved swiftly through the darkness, hardly needing her eyes to walk through the tree and briers.

Sam, the smaller human with glasses and a bowl cut, was standing in relative isolation from the rest. He reached into his pockets and began to toy mindlessly with something. It was something rectangular and small, which he eventually pulled out.

It was a cell phone!

Exousia weaved through the woods, making his way as quickly as she could toward the human. Even as she ran, she tried to figure out why the phone had been left. The others had been stripped of technology, so this had to have been done deliberately. This couldn’t have been a mistake! And it might have made sense for Exousia to have used their access to emergency services in order to get the humans out of the woods even faster, she had no intention of letting any plan of Ammon’s play out.

Sam pulled the phone out of his right pocket and began to mash buttons, all with a glazed look still in his eyes. He looked like he had no idea what he was doing. Was a demon guiding his hand? Whatever was happening, he had to be stopped.

Already, Exousia envisioned herself having to cut down a team of cops, aiding in the corruption of the humans’ souls. She pulled a black knife out of hier pocket and grasped it tightly between his thumb and index finger. Folded, the blades and all the tools were safely within. She pulled the piece of black metal behind her ear, ready to launch it with a single movement and shatter the phone.

But Derrick, the human with wiry red hair and a tie, stepped in the line of his throw. He was looking to see what his friend was doing. His eyes widened when he saw, and he said, “Hurry, call the police!”

But Sam didn’t seem to understand or even hear. He merely looked at his phone with that same blank expression until he reached the person he was calling. He said “Grandma? I was in an accident. I don’t know-”

Exousia lunged from the darkness and knocked Derrick to the ground with her shoulder. She then turned to face Sam.

“Use the GPS-”

That was the last thing that Sam said before Exousia smacked the phone from his hand and smashed it to pieces with her shoe. Quickly, she lifted both humans by their shirts up to their feet, and said, “We have to go, now!”

-O-

Dufaii walked quickly out of the palace-prison. He’d failed to attain permission to use the threat of death to scare demons from trying to assassinate his apprentice, his … daughter. He had to get back quickly. If Ammon was in a state of control over his madness, he would probably be tracking Exousia down. And if he wasn’t … then he’d already found her. Dufaii spread his wings to take flight toward the opposite side of that vast cavern.

But, before he could propel himself upward, four large demons descended from the darkness above and landed on every side of him. The first, Yana, was familiar. Her shape–purposefully distorted since the days of the rebellion for increased power–was like that of a gorilla. With bulging muscles and silver fur. She wielded a black morning-star in her hand. Standing beside her was her battle-sister, Attel. She was similarly shaped but slightly smaller, with a purple tint to her much darker hair. The latter held a long staff with a heavily-weighted end.

Apart, both were formidable warriors, more adept at taking on an enemy in direct battle than even he was. Together, their attacks were almost without any flaw. If one landed, their target was quickly destroyed. Dufaii had worked with them long ago when he and Ammon had hunted Persian deities. His apprentice at the time had thought the help necessary and chosen these two to occupy a god in direct battle. They had managed successfully, which was a testament in and of itself of their abilities. For two demons to go head-to-head with a god was no small feat.

The third demon Dufaii only vaguely recognized from a few meetings in passing. He was a cyclops that stood two heads taller than the rest of them. This demon was lean but still muscular, with skin that he’d made to look like it had been cut to ribbons, even on his fleshy and featherless wings. He held a harpoon in his right hand and carried two additional ones in a large quiver, attached to a belt at his waist.

The fourth, another familiar demon named Vem, was a bone-thin assassin. He was known to have been tasked with the elimination of lesser abominations created by the gods. He was covered in black wrappings that mummified him, head to each individual toe. These wrappings were effective weapons that he could undo at several points to strangle or tie. Additionally, he hid long needles wrapped within them that he used as projectiles.

“I don’t have time,” Dufaii said to them, using the moment to plan for an attack. He was outnumbered by this crew, each of whom he might have only barely beaten if he took them on in one-on-one combat. He needed a bit of time to plan carefully and out-think them. “Say what you will or leave.”

“We’re done with this place, Godkiller,” Vem said, his voice scratchy and dry. He had a vibrating tone that made him sound somewhat like a hissing serpent.

Dufaii faced him, careful to keep his body moving so that none of them could attack without his seeing. He said, “War with Heaven is not how we become free, not while we’re still so divided. If you’ll only wait for a little-”

“We’re done waiting!” Yana said, speaking more regally than her looks might have suggested. She took a threatening step forward. “You have not been forced to stay here long enough to understand waiting. You don’t know what the plague feels like. Forcing your body to produce … maddenned … disgusting abominations that wander the darkness! You’re not forced to stay down here as the personal bodyguard of a psychopath after all we did to escape the first one. You haven’t seen what this place has done to your kind over the last century. We are sick … dying … and you wouldn’t even know. So, don’t you ever talk to us about waiting.”

So these were Ammon’s people, Dufaii thought to himself. That wasn’t good. The last thing he needed was to draw more ire from a faction already willing to attack and kill the Creator’s Champion.

The cyclops circled, pointing a harpoon at Dufaii’s back. Finally, he said, “He’d want us to put our lots in with a human, like he has.” He thrusted his weapon, initiating the attack.

Dufaii lunged backward while unsheathing his sword, narrowly avoiding impaling himself on the harpoon. He twisted his torso and cleaved the cyclops’ skull vertically–hearing and feeling the horrid crack of dense bone for his effort. Dufaii then unfolded his wings forcefully to send his gray robe into the between himself and the other assassin demon.

Sure enough, Vem pulled out six of his needles between the fingers on both hands and tossed them blindly through the gray robe. Most of these missed entirely and a couple struck his companions. But one hit its target, embedding in Dufaii’s shoulder. He then jumped out of the way of the gray robe that descended towards him.

Dufaii closed the distance between them, and sent a fist into Vem’s visible ribs. There was another crunching sound, and the thinner assassin was sent rolling along the dusty ground.

Yana and Attel removed the needles that had hit them, re-positioned themselves, and prepared for a series of attacks.

But Dufaii knew better than to fight them. He grabbed his robe from the ground and took flight. He flew as quickly as he could, eventually removing the needle that had penetrated his shoulder as he went. The needle was barbed so getting it free from his flesh and armor was difficult. And when he did, it released a small stream of black blood. Still, he continued to fly until he reached the cavern he’d entered from.

Once at the tunnel, Dufaii dropped from the air. He willed his bones and skin to twist into a shape he’d come to use often when traversing the woods since he and Exousia had relocated there many years ago. It was the shape of a wolf … one he managed before he touched the ground. On all fours, he sprinted through the maze. Unless his enemies were adept at quickly changing their forms, a skill that most demons did not practice for how they valued their carefully constructed appearances, they would soon lose him.

As he ran, Dufaii thought about the nature of the attack. It had been in the Lightbringer’s prison, a place that most demons did not know. They’d known he would be there … or followed them there. On top of that, these were all high-profile demons, not prone to acts of blind emotion. Ammon had ordered the attack. Meaning … either he planned to kill Exousia now … or that the challenge had begun. Dufaii bared his teeth, but all he could really feel was the frantic beating of his own heart. Had Ammon lured her out? Sent in a tracker? Dufaii’s fear drove him to move faster. Soon he saw the yellow glow of the chamber where the portal was.

Abhayananda was there, his arms folded. “Something tells me that things did not go as you hoped,” he said, wrinkling his brow slightly. He unsheathed his sword in preparation for whatever might come next out of the tunnel.

Dufaii snarled as he shifted back into his demon form. “It doesn’t matter … Ammon’s made a move! Vem, ”Yanna, Attel … and a new guy.”

Ahbayananda furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Those three would not take orders from Tezcatlipoca. Has to be Ammon!”

“Then he’s issued the Challenge!” Dufaii said, staring at the pool desperately while trying to figure out where to go. But then … there was only one place Ammon would ever hold the challenge, the place where he held more power than anywhere else.

Home.

Abhayananda shouted, “Think, Dufaii! Have you learned anything of value—anything that might have made the risk worthwhile?”

“Confirmation of something I have suspected since the Archangels took her,” Dufaii said, stepping towards the pool of water. He looked down at the many lights like stars that were potential portals all over the physical and spiritual realms. “The Lightbringer never thought Exousia could win this challenge. It feels like nobody did, not even the loyalists.”

Abhayananda’s eyes widened in surprise as he rubbed his hairless chin. Finally, he asked the question that was on both of their minds. “Then … why did the Creator initiate it? Did they know what you would do with your soul or … did they want to lose?”

Dufaii shook his head. “Can you keep an ear open?” he asked, taking a final look back.

“I’ll send Kueng to make some inquiries and let you know if I find anything out,” Abhayananda replied.

Dufaii nodded, stepped into the water, and swam forward into the darkness.

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