Discord: Modern Knights, #4

Part One

BEGINNING AT THE END

CHAPTER ONE

The Hanged Man

PRESENT DAY, 1 DAY BEFORE THE BLACK GATE

As I hung there, suspended upside down somewhere near the center of the carnival madhouse, all the blood rushing to my brain provided some excellent time to reflect on the choices that had brought me to this point. Like a choose your own adventure story from my youth, I had seen a shiny, bold print option at the bottom of the page and thought it looked interesting. Unlike those ink and paper quests, I was unsuccessful in keeping my finger on the bottom of the page in case choices didn’t pan out the way I wanted them to. I wish I could say that having my feet tied by a thick rope and hung over a ceiling rafter was the worst possible ending, but I would be lying. Compared to the Oklahoma County Jail or that vampire’s nest in New Orleans, the abandoned fairground on the outskirts of Atlanta seemed downright hospitable.

My name is Jacob Darien, and I may be a masochist.

Hi, Jacob.

The dark cobwebby voice in the back of my head may or may not be named Abaddon, Destroyer of Worlds. We go back and forth about that sometimes. I used to have other voices in my head, compliments of serious childhood trauma, but I’m pretty sure they had all moved on to greener pastures, as the result of some powerful magic. I wish Abaddon was a dissociative remnant of a messed-up upbringing and not a demon general bent on starting the apocalypse.

Oh, come on, Jacob, me a demon? I’m just along for the ride. Now, how about a little magic to get us back on our feet?

No can do, Abby old buddy. You know the rules. We don’t do the wizard thing anymore.

Hello, Mister Darien, echoed a voice from the corner of the room. The old black man in faded blue coveralls may have looked like a leftover theme park janitor, but we had met once or twice before, and I knew better than to underestimate him.

Hi, Malachi. Care to untie me? I asked hopefully.

He shook his head and stared at me from his deep amber eyes. Normally, I felt whenever a vampire tried to gaze into my brain meats, but Malachi was born sometime between ancient Babylon and the garden of Eden. If he was using his powers to peel back the layers of my cerebellum, I couldn’t tell.

Not today, Jacob. Your neurons are tangled enough already without any help from me. You’ve been thinking about the past again.

Hard to look toward the future when I’m hanging upside down and in close proximity to the place where I am going to end the world someday?

His dusky red lips parted, revealing a hint of curving pearl fangs underneath. Figured that part out, did you?

You may have helped out with a few clues along the way, I replied, far more nonchalant than I probably should have felt given the topic. Dangling upside down in a place where either I was going to die, or everyone else in the world would, massively reoriented my perspective.

Malachi sighed. Maybe you should start at the beginning. For the benefit of anyone listening in on our conversation.

Who would be listening in on our conversation? Is she here? What did you do to her? I felt a little bit of panic rising as I thought about the girl I had come here to rescue. Or was it sinking from this perspective?

Is she really the one who needs rescuing, Jacob? And let’s just assume I was breaking the fourth wall and go from there.

Can I please break the fourth wall all over his smug face? Just a little magic, Jacob. Get us on our feet, and I’ll take it from there.

I shook my head. I’m used to needing rescuing, Malachi, but I’m also used to the cavalry never showing up on time. But I think I’m starting to get a little faith on that one. Sometimes, we need the crisis, right? I wouldn’t be who I am, wouldn’t have been able to do the things I did, if my Dad hadn’t abused me the way he did.

The world spun, going fuzzy around the edges. I didn’t see Malachi move, but I felt a strong hand slap across my face all the same. I was used to vampires being faster than me, but his speed was bordering on the ridiculous.

Probably not the best flashback to start with, Mister Darien. People tend not to like the messy details of how egos get broken so bad that the only survival mechanism is to shatter into other smaller ego states.

Now it was my turn to sigh. I don’t know who else is going to hear our conversation, Malachi. If you’re smart, you’re going to kill me before I accidentally open the Black Gate and let loose the armies of Hell on the world.

Malachi seemed amused. Suddenly, you think you understand the motives of an insane ancient bloodsucker? Maybe I want the gate open.

Then why clue me into what was going on?

He shook his head appreciatively. Now you’re asking the right questions, Wizard Darien. Time and timing are everything. Can’t let the final game begin until all the players are ready.

Any particular reason my head is swirling with thoughts of the past, Malachi? I replied, at least briefly nausea-free despite the upside-down of now.

Not my doing, Wizard Darien. The mind that you, your alters, and Abaddon share, has its own logic for what it chooses to remember and what it chooses to forget. Colin was the same way before he unlocked the truth.

Colin? Was that the wizard who went gunning for me in the middle of Las Vegas? Or the one who turned half-a-million bad guys to ash in the blink of an eye and had me lit up like I was next on the chopping block?

Malachi shrugged and moved closer to me, my eyes even with the name patch sewn onto his blue coveralls. Somewhat to my surprise, I thought it read Malachi in faded red cursive lettering, but reading upside down has never been my strong suit. I had always guessed Malachi was a pseudonym, a play on the Hebrew for my angel. Can’t it be both and more? You, Colin, and I go a long way back. The lord knight was not wholly himself then.

Funny, Malachi. I always thought anything more recent than the fall of the Roman empire counted as present day to someone as old as you.

Maybe it does, Wizard Darien. You, Lord Knight Fisher, and I had a history together long before the birth of Rome.

*More riddles. What does he mean, Jacob?*

I didn’t know any more than the demon general in my head did. If we’re all such good pals, how about getting me down from here?

Malachi didn’t say anything, but instead slowly drew out a long ebon sword, its curved dark metal glittering threateningly under the black lights of the funhouse. I suddenly felt like a pinata at a baseball team party, and the fear almost pulled a spell up and out of my soul. Almost. I’d gained much better control since that time Abaddon beat the holy hell out of Eagle in Oklahoma County Jail. Better to die here than to take the whole world with me.

Hey, let’s not make any rash decisions here. One spell, just one…

His begging turned out to be pointless as Malachi didn’t swipe across my ever so vulnerable torso, but through the rope around my ankles. I crashed hard to the ground, my head spinning as my equilibrium tried to reorient itself. What the hell was the point of tying me up if you were just going to cut me down? And where were you carrying that thing? The sword is at least as tall as you and…

Malachi interrupted me with a raised palm. I could not be entirely certain which one of you would wake first.

I nodded and regretted the motion. Yeah. He can be a real pain if left unsupervised.

Why did you come here, Wizard Darien? I have been reading the stars. The time is not yet right for the end. The gate cannot open yet.

I have zero interest in opening the gate, Malachi. I just came for the girl you took. If I have anything to say about it, the gate will stay shut forever.

No, Jacob. It cannot be stopped, cannot be avoided forever. The gate will open, and this present world of suffering will come to an end. Your self-control may delay it, postpone it. But it cannot be stopped. It is your destiny to open the Black Gate.

I tried to struggle to my feet with mixed degrees of success. Are you sure it’s destiny? I didn’t feel any mystical destiny controlling my fate when I was the Hand of Eris. I could have rewritten the rules of reality as the avatar of chaos.

Malachi sighed. I can hardly call all that bravado as rewriting the rules of reality. You were playing the game of life by a much older set of rules, ones that modern society has agreed to try and forget. But rules, nonetheless. Every god or goddess is entitled to an avatar of their choosing. Eris's blessing riding on top of your innate powers, both yours and the others, made for some impressive feats near the limits of what is truly possible in these modern nights… but not beyond the realm of destiny. And despite all your efforts and desires, you could not hang on to that power when the time came for it to end.

I shrugged and tried to distance myself from the emotional train wreck attached to that part of my past. Eris is a fickle bitch. She got bored and decided a change in Hand would make things more interesting.

Was she right? Did the changing of the guard make things more interesting?

Despite his advanced age and skill, I could still feel the slightest prick at the edges of my soul as the elder vampire's telepathic scalpel slid inside my brain.

CHAPTER TWO

The Lovers

THREE YEARS AND SIX MONTHS BEFORE THE BLACK GATE, (BBG)

My thoughts naturally, inevitably, flowed back to Lily. My Lily, before the robberies, explosions, and monster hunting…she was the start of the path that would eventually lead me to Atlanta and the Black Gate. She was an experience unlike anything else: just being in the same room together generated a magical energy so strong that everyone around us felt it. I had been in intense relationships before her, but Lily and I were each other's universe.

We sat on a big blue blanket with a picnic basket, overlooking the algae green water and a host of ducks. Above, the crystal bridge loomed over the strange sight that was Lily and me. We were dressed in our finest emo gear, black pants with silver chains—her in a pastel blue baby tee, me in a Fallout Boy concert shirt. On the blanket between us was a complicated array of trading game cards. One of the larger mallards sat at the edge of the blanket, likely hoping our supply of bread was not yet exhausted.

Do you ever feel like other people look at us weird? I asked, while slowly plotting my next move in our game.

What other people? Lily asked. As far as I'm concerned, you're all that matters.

I mean we do everything together. Eat together. Anime together. Game together. Dress together. Smoke a bowl together. Sleep together.

You sleep? Lily asked with a giggle in her voice, as she played her cards for the turn.

Her joke wasn't entirely unjustified. She had stopped taking her medication while with me and had a healthy sleep appetite ever since she said goodbye to the antidepressant. Me, I had all the sleep hygiene of an alley cat at a dog park. When I need to.

I tested the waters with my second-best card in hand to try and pull out any lurking counters in Lily's hand. She let it happen, which meant she either didn't have it or knew when I was fishing.

I kept talking. Do you feel like we force the togetherness sometimes? Are we just two codependent messes?

She shook her head, green-dyed locks fluttering. No way. I mean, I've been codependent before, but this is different. It's like we're one person stretched across two brains. We do these things because we're both geeks, hopeless romantics, and have a thing for ducks.

You mean when we're not six people across two brains because of childhood trauma?

I mean even then… what are the odds of my three dissociative personalities meshing perfectly with your three?

I guess I don't count… just the odd demon out.

I played the card that should have won the game for me. In almost perfect unison, her counter hit the blanket before I even had the chance to announce what I was playing. Okay, okay, maybe we're a little alike. Twin flames.

Twin flames, my love.

I love you, Lily. Together forever?

Forever. Even if Rebecca or another cute girl offers me unlimited back massages.

I laughed. Is it ever just a back massage? Good game, by the way.

She smirked. Keep talking like that, and I won't let you watch.

What happened to doing everything together?

Lily leaned over and kissed me while the duck honked at us.

CHAPTER THREE

Two of Coins

THREE YEARS, ONE MONTH B.B.G.

L ook, I have the money. Please… just take it.

In my mind’s eye, I could still see that day. We had been late on the rent before, but it got paid eventually. I had just been a little slower than usual. I shoved the wadded-up bills across the desk to our landlady.

Mr. Darien, you know the rules. I can’t take cash: it’s check or money order only.

Okay, I pleaded. I’ll go get one, plus the late fees. But I can’t…

The eviction notice was posted, Mr. Darien. That adds another two hundred and fifty dollars to the total.

I don’t have it. Things came up. Please, just this time, let the late fees be enough to cover. It was a memory, half-delusional from the blood rushing to my inverted brain, but in retrospect, this was the point in time where the room first began to smell of sulfur.

Mr. Darien, you’re honestly lucky we haven’t evicted you for anything else. The apartment constantly smells of marijuana. You have two girls living there who aren’t on the lease. No. It needs to be the full amount if you want to stay.

It stopped being me at that point in the memory. Flames licked at the wallpaper, and her tacky sailboat collection turned to ash. She had evicted me. That just left Abaddon standing in her office.

In the end, the eviction didn’t matter. She never spoke to me again, and no sheriff came to force me out. Last I checked, it still sat unrented, gathering dust and ghost stories. But Lily and Rebecca left anyway, scared away by a piece of paper. There wasn’t much reason for me to stay there after that.

I swore to myself that I would do whatever it took to bring Lily back to me. We had said forever to each other, and I would find a way to keep my promise.

CHAPTER FOUR

Two of Swords

THREE YEARS B.B.G.

My memories drifted back to the glory days of my reign as the dark Pope over all of Discordia. It was my lived experience, but from an insane, impossible camera angle, almost as if I was in the head of the nervous blond sheriff rather than inside my skull inside the bank. The pretty sheriff raised the bullhorn to her lips again. I repeat, come out now, with your hands up. We have you surrounded.

She was speaking the truth, but I didn’t think that made her feel any better about the potential outcomes. She had six officers and two cars on the back alley emergency exit from the bank; another four cars and twelve officers waited with her out front. Inside Painted Mountain State Bank, one lone robber, little old me, waited to make my move, letting the currents of chaos pick the right moment.

On a normal business day, the bank rarely carried more than $20,000 in cash. For a variety of reasons, including the upcoming county fair, they had over $100,000 in twenties today. That might have been a lucky coincidence, but when you added in the field trip from the local K through 8 school that just happened to be touring the bank when I had walked in, I held all the advantages. The nearest available emergency response team was three hours away in Phoenix. One might be tempted to think I had done my research or carefully planned the target, but as the living scion of Eris, the Goddess of Chaos, such footwork was strictly unnecessary. I needed money, lots of money, and decided on the spur of the moment to rob a bank. As the luckiest man on Earth, everything else gracefully settled into place on my behalf.

When it looked like the sheriff and all her men had settled in for an endless siege, I flung the doors open. I strolled on out and appreciated the weird camera angle this memory was playing at, like watching the past me in a funhouse mirror: tall, dark, and muscular, in a no-sleeve black t-shirt, highlighting my threateningly large biceps. A military green duffel bag hung over one arm, bulging with the unusually large cash reserves that formerly belonged to the bank. The chrome of a revolver’s hammer gleamed from the top of a holster, dangling casually off my right hip, like a nightmare reflection of a young Clint Eastwood.

The deputies snapped to attention, simultaneously crouching behind their nearest cover and training their guns on yours truly. The sheriff dared to dream that this might be over sooner and more easily than expected, hitting the trigger on the megaphone. Drop the duffel bag and raise your hands over your head. Do it now.

I smiled. I knew that all women, and I’m sure the good sheriff was included, hated how attractive my smirk was. I lacked the benefit of sound amplification, but the whole plaza heard my response anyway. I have an alternative suggestion. How about all of you holster your guns, get in your cute little police cars and drive away? No one gets hurt; not the kids, not you, and especially not me. You go your way, and me and the money go ours.

"I don’t think so.