Full Moon Strays Ch. 05

A problem with immortality is the belief that one is untouchable . . . that one is more powerful and wiser than mortal beings and thus incapable of making a mistake. That was when bullies, tyrants and dark gods made their mistake. The Dark One wanted to push someone who was already falling, possibly out of sadistic glee. But by reaching out its "hand" to push her, it gave Jane something to hold on to, and that was a very dangerous thing.

The Dark One pushed its thoughts into Jane's head, touching her soul with its own foul essence. That's when it sent to her the simple phrase, {{IT WILL ONLY HURT FOR A MOMENT! THEN YOU'LL BE MINE!}}

Eight years earlier, when Jane was too young to defend herself, her stepfather Jack had said the exact same thing. He had said it after going into her room late at night when her mother was stoned out of her mind on antidepressants and vodka. He had said it before . . . before doing unspeakable things to her. She had wanted to scream out back then . . . to wake her mother and make the woman come to her daughter's aid. But she had been afraid. But Jane wasn't going to go down without a fight this time. She was going to scream, and she'd rescue herself if she had to.

The Dark One was like a whale in the ocean . . . powerful, but still just another tiny creature when compared to the waves themselves. Even whales can drown. The Shoggoth fed on fear and madness and pain . . . with Jane, it began to choke.

The scream that Jane let out was enough to send the angels running for the pearly gates and the demons to hide behind Lucifer's throne. It was a scream that would become a thing of legend in the nether regions that hid behind the dimensional cusps. Jane had heard those words, had seen the face of the man who had nearly broken Jane's spirit so many years ago, and with their minds still connected, Jane lashed out at the Shoggoth. Both physically and mentally, she attacked the void. Her hair filled the room, finding the creature's form and ripping at its flesh. It wasn't a God . . . it just wanted to be. It was, by the rules of the universe, now a mortal creature however powerful, and that meant it could suffer and die. And Jane fed on its own energy as she tore at its physical and spiritual beings, as well as at the stones of the surrounding room. If she were going to die, she was going to tear down the walls of Hell in the process.

For the first time in millennia, the Shoggoth felt fear.

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Up in the lobby . . .

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Gelok and Patrick were waiting by the security desk, wondering how long it would be until their Master's would be done with its new plaything. Then two things happened. The alarms began to go off, and the ground began to rumble.

Hellspawn came running from all over the place and storming out the front door. They were met at the gate by a number of lycanthropes and Talented humans, all of whom had evil gleams in their eyes. Arthur was suddenly afraid. He floated off the ground, looking for an escape route.

Gelok and a dozen or so of his warriors had moved towards the door, preparing to repel the invader. He was a bit surprised . . . he thought that with that red-headed whore dead that these mongrels would have lost their will to fight. Or was this simply the last desperate act of a crazed dog? 'No matter,' he thought as reinforcements arrived, bringing the number of Hellspawn to twenty plus.

"This is going to be too easy," he muttered, a puff of brimstone escaping his lips.

A body hurtled through the glass front of the building, which was impressive considering how thick that glass was. One of the outer sentries lay in a pool of his own blood in front of the receptionist's desk. For a moment, there was silence, except for the crackling of glass on the tile floor and the clicking noise made by the receptionist's clipboard falling off the countertop.

Then Gelok saw eyes in the darkness. One would think he would be used to things that go bump in the night. He was one himself, and served and even greater one. But those burning reddish lights approaching contained an animalistic aura that made him sweat . . . and cringe. The faint outline of a creature came into view . . . sleek . . . powerful . . . cat-like. Then he saw the rust colored fur and the gleaming teeth of the werecat.

'Impossible,' Gelok thought, his eyes widening. 'She can't be . . .'

Red had flesh in her teeth, blood on her tongue and punishment on her mind. She had forgotten what it was like . . . the difference between a fight and a war. A fight is a clumsy thing, reserved for back alleys by people with lead pipes and pistols. A battle . . . that was where warriors shone. Battles were chaotic, but there was a serenity about them. Battles were where what you did mattered . . . it was where wars were won. As she jumped through the broken window, she ignored the stabbing pain of glass in her paws. She smelled Jane, and nothing short of the Grim Reaper was going to keep her away.

Behind her, a huge and hulking bear-like creature strode through, along with a menagerie of creatures that Noah wouldn't have let on board the Arc. Werewolves, a wereboar . . . things not of this dimension. If there was a zoo in hell, then someone had left the cages open.

The moment of silence broke with a clap of thunderous rage as the Strays fell upon the Hellspawn. Tarloh in his bear-like state had unmatched power, and sent his foes hurtling through the air like paper planes.

Gelok was not going to fail the Dark One again. If he hoped to survive, he had to kill Red, so he pulled knives from underneath his immaculate jacket and lunged. He saw the animal in her eyes and came to one conclusion . . . one of them wasn't walking away, and he was no longer certain who it would be.

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In the depths of the earth . . .

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The Dark One had forgotten what it meant to bleed, but Jane was reminding it. The little human woman had indeed been pushed over the edge of reason and had pulled the Dark One with her. But Jane had proven that she could fly . . . floating over the abyss and tickling it with her toes. Her snake-like hair was striking everywhere at once, and what passed for the Shoggoth's hide was torn and aching. There was a ventilation duct leading up and away from was once its throne room and was now its execution chamber and for the first time since before history began, a servant of the Elder Gods ran for its life. There would be another day for Jane. The Shoggoth melted its way into the ductwork and sped away.

Jane continued to tear at anything she could get her hair on. When the pliant flesh of her enemy was gone, she let loose her wrath on the stone itself. Like a den of snakes, her normally silky strands slithered off, getting into everything they could. Her hair was pulling the sobbing and hysterical woman along, as her body could no longer stand.

Brick by brick, tile by tile and inch by inch, Jane was destroying everything around her. When the ceiling began to cave in, her hair formed a protective shield. Then like a spider, her hair acted as legs and she began crawling slowly upward.

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Up above . . .

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Gelok was hurting. Red had caught him with a swipe across his gut, and he was losing blood fast. But he had stabbed the bitch in the shoulder as well, and her left arm was hanging uselessly at her side. The great bear had piled up a number of corpses, and the Hellspawn were obviously the losers in this fight. But Gelok would take at least one more before he was called home. The wild werecat would . . .

Red saw what happened through blood-stained eyes. The floor opened up beneath Gelok, and he was drug downward. Then she heard the sounds of a demon screaming, then saw Gelok's head come flying back out of the hole. But what followed it up was even more terrifying.

The shell that Red and the other Strays saw resembled Jane only in the most superficial of ways. She was snarling, her hair was flailing, her crippled body hanging underneath an angry head that was frothing at the mouth. And her eyes . . . Red had never seen anything glow black before. Even the blood coming from Jane's nose was eerily dark, and shimmered with a white outline as if it were oozing power.

Jane had been touched by a power older than stars, and part of it was still inside her mind. She was on the intersection of mortality and immortality, here and there, with "nowhere" right in the middle.

The Strays and the remaining Hellspawn backed away. Even the stupid and tired amongst them was afraid of the creature slinking before them, hissing and spitting like fat on a hot grill. Everyone stepped back except Red, who had reverted to her human form, and Natasha.

Natasha took a step in front of Red, knowing her long-time friend and former lover was in no condition to fight if that was Jane's intention. Natasha probably could have saved herself the trouble. "Intention" required reason, and Jane was utterly devoid of that. With a snarl, a braid of Jane's hair whipped out and sent Natasha hurling through the air like a rag doll. The brown-haired and semi-invulnerable beauty crashed through a wall on onto the ground outside. It had hurt like hell, but she'd live.

The remaining Hellspawn scattered to the four winds, knowing at least that this was a battle they didn't even want to fight. Tarloh and some of the Strays went to check on Natasha while the others waited . . . needing to see what happened next.

Red's arm hung limply, her body burned with pain and fever, and her blood cascaded like water droplets in a storm. But she stood her ground against the once piteous creature that had shared her bed and had begun to love her.

Jane stopped. What was left of her brain wanted to lash out, but something stopped her. It was as if her magical locks refused to move against Red. It was as if her magic remembered what her mind had forgotten. Her magic had been driven by emotion and desire, and it was used to "desiring" to hold Red, not rip the flesh from her bones as it was being commanded to do.

In Jane's mind, all she saw was a man's face . . . a man that had stood over her many years earlier and taken her innocence by force. It was the face that had hurt her, drove her mad, and still seemed to be mocking her weakness and pain.

"Jane . . . don't . . ."

"YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" the thing that was Jane screamed. "DAMN YOU JACK! I'M GOING TO STRANGLE YOU WITH YOUR OWN GUTS YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"Shit," said Anya and Talia in unison from near the broken front of the building. Both of them had been there when Jane had ripped a Hellspawn apart, saying that same name. They knew who he was, what he had done, and the anguish it still caused the girl. What had brought on this episode, neither of them knew, but . . .

Red began to speak. She had fought many battles, but this was one she knew she wouldn't win with her fists, feet and fangs. Whatever had happened to Jane down in that dark hole, it had changed into something more powerful than Red could contend with. But what a lot of people didn't know was that Red could win fights many different ways.

"Jane!" she shouted with what strength she had left, "This isn't what your father would want!"

Jane stopped in her tracks. "Father . . ." she said, her words trailing off. When her father was alive was the last time she had ever felt safe. He would have never done the things that her stepfather did . . . he would've protected her and held her when she cried. Those were her last good memories until . . . until the Strays. Until Red.

But madness had a momentum that was not so easily dissuaded. Red was making Jane feel again, and Jane didn't want to feel anything anymore. She lunged forward and grabbed Red by the throat with broken arms, but her hands held no strength. Red, even weakened, broke the girl's grip and wrapped her arms around Jane's shaking body. Jane's hair was flying around madly, but no longer held any menace. It was like a child throwing a tantrum.

Jane's eyes had stopped glowing and her blood had returned to its normal reddish hue. The strength she had gained from her interaction with the Dark One had faded. The curse of consciousness was lifted from her, as it was from a hurt and battered Red shortly thereafter. Natasha, who had recovered from Jane's attack, walked over and picked up both women and the shocked but determined Strays faded into the darkness of the forest.

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Several days later . . .

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Jane was lying in Red's bed, as she had been for days. She hadn't spoken to anyone, and barely even seemed to notice when Arthur came in to work his healing on her. She felt a shame so deep it could swallow the world, for the things she had almost done.

Red had requisitioned a cot and had taken to recuperating there, not wanting to disturb Jane but refusing to leave her side.

Out around the broken council table, there were only a dozen Strays left. The rest had died in recent conflicts or had left, their hearts heavy with remorse but their souls filled with doubt. They had signed on to help take on gangs and drug traffickers and even demonic crime in the streets. They hadn't planned on tangling with the servant of an Elder God.

Tarloh, Talia, Arthur, Michael, Matthew, Mindy, Shield, Nathaniel, Anya, Robbie, Chris and Johan were trying to decide what they should do next. Natasha had postponed her return to Los Angeles indefinitely and while her presence was a comfort, being reduced from more than fifty to barely over a dozen was sobering. With Red out of action for a while longer and Jane practically comatose, things were looking bleak.

"I wish I knew," Tarloh was saying, echoing the confusion of he comrades. "Unless Jane comes around, we may never know what happened in that basement or where the Shoggoth is. And once word on the streets gets out that we're weak, there's going to be anarchy up there. Do we fight them? Do we prepare for the Dark One?"

"I say we hunt down Patrick and rip his spine out," Robbie muttered grimly. When Patrick was seen flying away during the fight and his treachery had been confirmed, many of the remaining Strays had promised themselves that the flying man had a date with pain.

"As tempting as that is," Tarloh grumbled, "the traitor is the least of our problems.

Natasha glanced at the group as they began to debate, but she slipped away. She would support the Strays however she could, but didn't feel comfortable about making decisions that she herself wouldn't have to live with. She walked down to the lower ramp and on towards Red's sanctuary. She traced the wall with her finger, remembering somewhat fondly when the two of them had decided to create a little place of their own. Even then, Nat had begun to grow a bit stir crazy being cooped up underground.

She descended the stairs and found Red sitting on her cot, staring at Jane. Natasha had never seen the redhead look so . . . caring.

"Hey," she said from the door. "They're getting ready to start. You should go. I'll stay with her," she added softly.

Red looked up, her eyes hard and cold. She hated leaving, but knew the rest of the Strays needed her. Without a word, she gripped Jane's hand, stood up and hugged Natasha on her way out to the meeting, hobbling as she went.

Natasha sat next to Jane's bed. "Hi," she said, brushing the girl's hair out of her face, though the hair seemed to move out of the way on its own accord. "Well, you've got Red all worked up. Even I could never do that. I think she's fallen for you," Natasha said, her remaining jealously ebbing then flowing away.

Jane's eyes opened, complete with tears. "Natasha . . ." came a plaintive, questioning voice.

Natasha was floored. Jane hadn't said a word in days, but now she was doing just that to the person who knew her the least. "Yes?"

"I . . . I need you to kill me."

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Out in the main room . . .

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The Strays had been arguing for quite a while, trying to figure out what their goals were and whether or not they should pull up stakes and head for a new location.

"But the enemy knows our weaknesses and our defenses now!" Red said. "I don't like it, but we have to leave the den and get set up somewhere new!"

"But at least here, WE know our defenses as well. We try and set up shop elsewhere, and we might not be ready . . ."

"Tarloh, we're a small group now. We don't have the manpower to defend this space anymore. We have to rely on speed and mobility, and we don't have that down here," Red finished, almost softly. "This is my home too, big guy. And you know I don't like running. But I like the idea of the few of us that are left dying even less."

"Where would we go?" Anya asked. "We've got running water and electricity right here!"

Chris raised his hand. "Listen, I know a place that just might work. There's this ol' slaughterhouse a couple miles off the interstate . . . I'm sure we could get what we need runnin' again and . . ."

Tarloh interrupted. "Don't forget that we still have a job to do. How can we protect the people of this city if we're not a part of it anymore? I know the place you're talking about and it's way outside the city limits."

Nathaniel was looking pensive. "We've got to guard our own asses too," he said dejectedly. "Most of us can get to town quickly enough . . ."

Mindy piped in. "Red, I know how you feel. You KNOW I'm always up for a fight, but we can't help anyone if we're dead and we need to regroup."

Red was sweating like a horse after the Kentucky Derby. She wasn't close to being one-hundred percent, and while she wanted to slam her fists on the table in a dramatic gesture, all she could do was slump into a chair.

"I'm so tired of running and fighting on our heels. We've been playing defense the whole time, and now there's barely a skeleton left." Red pounded her head hard enough on the table that she began to bleed.

Arthur sighed. "Red, I'm not going to heal that. I don't have anything left."

Red lifted her head, a small cut on her forehead. "Not asking you to." She wiped the blood from her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said firmly. "I understand everyone's concern," she started, looking at her few remaining friends. "But I can't go with you if you leave town," she added, noticing the expressions ranging from confused to alarmed. "We were all rescued at one point or another by the Strays. If we put our own safety above the people we protect, then we make a mockery of the Stray legacy." She hung her head. "I don't want to think we've been fighting for nothing. Because that means we've suffered and died for nothing, and . . . and . . ."

"And you've got another problem," came Natasha's voice from nearby.

Red snapped her head towards Nat, but before she could speak . . .

"She's asleep. I wouldn't have left otherwise. But Red . . . she talked. And you need to hear what she said." Natasha noticed the room had hushed, but her eyes stayed locked on Red's. "Red, she wanted me to kill her."

"What?" asked Talia.

"Why?!" added Mindy.

Red looked even more pale than usual. "Why . . . why . . ."

"I don't know. She was kind of incoherent. She thinks she's evil and that she's a danger to you and that she won't be able . . . she won't be able to resist when the Dark One returns."

"It's still alive," Tarloh muttered. But at that moment, Red didn't give a shit about the Shoggoth.

"She wants to die?" the redhead asked.

"She's afraid to live," Nat corrected. She still cared enough for Red and knew that woman well enough to see and feel the woman's heart collapsing. "Red, she kept saying that she couldn't get him out of her head, and that the Dark One used it to drive her over the edge. Then she . . . she just kind of babbled herself to sleep. What is she talking about?"