Mortal Wounds

Chapter Three

Invidian's POV

"Stop harassing the mortals."

"We're in a hospital. They'll get help if they have a heart attack."

"Bring us home. Please, we beg of you," a soul pleads, at the heels of a doctor.

My brother, Ascanius pulls me out of the way of one of the many souls haunting the walls of Gomorrah's hospital.

We linger within the Veil, a dimension where spirits cross over to the other side. Everything here is in black and white, like a 50s television set. Even with the contrast up, the most colour I would see is in his eyes, irises a drop of blood swimming in an ocean of ink. They would stand out against the jet black of his sclera, long hair and bone-white of his skin. I attribute his paleness to his Norse background his mother a Valkyrie who eloped with a mortal during the 1700s.

The Valkyrie had regretted her choice to spawn a child and was stripped of her immortality, so she left Ascanius with his father. Also being one of Lilith's lover, Lilith adopted Ascanius as her son after old age claimed her.

"Why did this mortal sell their soul to Lilith?" I ask.

"This client is a grandfather who sold his soul for money."

"So, greed is the sin here?"

Many demons would not batter an eyelash over tearing apart a mortal's life in an instant. Some demons bind humans through contracts, maintaining their youth by feeding on their soul, like a spider slowly feeding on flies caught in its web. These deals normally end after a few years when the client's soul is collected.

"He was close to losing his house and had grandchildren to support. It seems like property repossession is common here," he explains, walking towards the emergency ward.

"What does that mean?"

He cracks a small smile before patting my head. I slap it away with a scowl, making his smile widen.

"I'll explain later. Just know he knew who he wanted to protect, so he made a choice. There's no fault in that, is there?"

"I dunno."

"The man is scheduled to die in a few minutes. No making any souls have a mental breakdown today."

"No promises."

He heads off, muttering something about how he raised a little monster. A few souls pass by and I wonder what it means to care about someone enough you would trade your soul to protect them. I cannot imagine getting so desperate.

I slowly come to the realisation this is a dream. A dream about a memory from when I was fifteen. I glance around, not sure what to do, or how this memory continues. I walk around guessing why certain souls have not moved on.

I never understood why so many souls wandering in the Veil. Ascanius explained to me Reapers oversaw taking them to the other side. Either they were neglecting their duty, or the souls refused to leave. When I brought up the idea of asking a Reaper, Ascanius warned me to avoid them.

"Stop her!" a nurse cries out and I turn, bursting into laughter when I see a patient on a wheelchair, racing away from her.

She speeds up and spreads out her arms like she's flying. With a laugh, I chase her after she rolls right through me. She swerves into a room with plushie dolls, flowers and get-well cards. A leg on top of the other, looking all innocent, she regally sits in the chair when the nurse catches her. The nurse pants in exhaustion then yells at her for stealing the wheelchair and racing around the hospital. Her whiskey brown eyes are lit with fun. Immediately, I want to be her friend, but I pause. The ouroboric ring is on her finger, the same one I wore in Purgatory.

I stiffen when I recognise her as Henley from the newspaper I read. When the nurse takes away the wheelchair, she sits on the bed, drinking from a flask she hides under her pillow. She casts me a cheeky grin and she hugs me.

"None of this is real," I mutter.

This isn't part of the memory. No, I remembered this moment so differently. She was trembling in bed, sobbing, then for a moment, I swear she saw me. I remember, she hugged me while I remained frozen in place. The sound of crying made my stomach drop. Her cries were too sad and for the first time in my life, someone else's sadness moved me.

"I only want you to remember me smiling," she whispers into my side, "Because the first time I met you, I hoped you were Death himself."

"Who are you?"

"Henley Price, silly."

"I can't place you."

"You know what, I never thought you would, but you brought sunflowers into my room once. It was so corny, we laughed about it for ages," my chest lacerates with pain at the heartbreak in her tone, "We made a deal years ago. I may have failed my side of the bargain, but I would like you to make another promise. Please don't let time erase us."

"What do you mean? Who are you to me?"

"Virgil, wake up."

I pull out of the dream, blinking at the ceiling, confused at how blurry it is.

"Son?" I glance to the side to find a random, blonde man sitting on the edge of my bed. "Are you with me? You were having a nightmare?"

"Who the f**k are you?"

The man grasps his chest, blinking rapidly.

"Your father. Please, watch your language," the male chides, touching my forehead, "Oh my, are you ok? You are a bit warm. Here, I made you soup."

It takes me a moment before the events of yesterday sink in. My lamp is on, dimmed by the morning sunlight pouring through the window. I cannot sleep in the dark. Every time I tried to turn off the light, my paranoia settled in and I questioned when I wake if I will find myself in that haunting apartment? I glance at the alarm clock. The worst part is suppressing my homicidal urges after Blondie decided to wake me at six in the morning. I hate my life.

"Sorry," I grunt with an eye rub my eyes.

Blondie watches me, eyes glowing in concern. I didn't expect it to be this cold in the morning. I want to fling myself into the heat death of the universe.

"That's ok, son. I was thinking you should stay at home and rest for today. I don't want you to faint again," he explains, dropping his hands to my cheeks, "Morgana and I are going to school now. We'll be back later."

"I'm fine with that."

"Drink tons of water. Eight cups. Drink your soup. Don't do any exercise. Don't do anything stressful."

"Too late."

"What?"

"What? Are you hearing things?"

He rakes me with a suspicious look before dropping it.

"Also, I would also appreciate it if you do not hang around Davian," he states with a stern expression, "That boy has a lot of issues. I heard he even screamed at Dr Anson. He even upturned his table and kicked the door on the way out."

"And?"

"Ah, well, his father is a little bit off. Things like that tend to run in the family. I don't want you to pick up his bad habits."

"Sorry, did you want to spoon-feed me while you're at it?" I drawl.

His eyes widen in surprise.

"Beg your pardon?"

"You know what drove Romeo and Juliet together? Or why Eve ate the f*******n fruit? Reverse psychology makes the f*******n fruit a whole lot sweeter," I worry him in exchange for waking me up this early, "Controlling parents create rebellious children."

"You're sick. I'm going to let you rest now."

It sounds like he is trying to convince himself before he leaves. With a sigh, I roll over to the side table and open the top drawer. I pull out the newspaper article I found last night. Perhaps there is a correlation between the two. I will not be able to tell until I do some digging. I snap my eyes up when the door opens.

"From the way Dwaine slammed the door I'm guessing you pissed him off," Davian informs, walking in with a yawn.

"Morning, Romeo," I greet, peeling the covers off my body.

His cheeks flush red and he throws open the wardrobe, tossing a bunch of clothes onto me.

"Clothes. Please."

I peel them off me with disgust.

"I detest the idea of something so itchy even existing," I scowl, assessing one of Virgil's sweaters.

"This isn't funny," he growls in frustration.

"I thought people were meant to be happy after having s*x? What's the matter? You didn't last long and now she's pissed with you?" I question, standing up to pull a shirt over my head.

"No!"

"Did you get it in the wrong hole?"

"No!"

"... Did she get it in the wrong hole?"

"What is it that you even want from me? I'm not agreeing to do anything illegal for you."

I hand the newspaper to Davian.

"Take me to the town where this happened."

"Please, take me to this town, Davian," he says loudly.

"My name isn't Davian."

He folds his arms and pretends to be focused on the window.

"Fine. Please, take me to this town, Davian. I'll be ever so grateful. Hey, I'll even get down on my knees and—"

"No, don't need that—Damnit! You've got the wrong half of your body covered!"

"Then just keep your eyes up here. Can't be that hard."

He grabs pants and shoves it at me.

"Just cover-up!"

Disgusted by this censorship, I slide on the loosest pair of pants. Davian scans through the marked article before appearing nostalgic.

"I remember this story. That psycho chick was in the headlines for weeks."

"What do you know about it?"

"Nothing that I didn't hear from the news. I stopped living in that town years before the incident happened. Wait, you can't possibly give a s**t about the couple that died."

"We liked the same bands. Their death is a hate crime."

He gives me a flat look of disbelief before dropping it.

"How do I know you're not going to kill me when my back is turned? Even if I help you," he questions before handing the paperback to me.

I hold my chest, feigning sheer horror.

"And get blood over these lovely shoes? I would never."

He gives my bare feet a droll look before shaking his head. After sharing half the soup, he leads me the back entrance. Some sun begins to peek out of the horizon as if to say, "good morning, cruel world." I hug my arms, cursing at the cold.

"To get to Gomorrah you'll have to go through the underground aqueducts. It's the only way you won't get caught. Going there is frowned upon and I don't want Virgil to be a social pariah for the rest of his life," Davian explains before he jumps the fence.

"I feel like if a helicopter parent was converted into a town, this would be it," I grunt, trying to follow suit. My arms are frozen as I try to pull myself up.

"Tell me about it," he mutters under his breath before making it to the other side.

He lands in the forestland bordering off the backyard from the forest that surrounds the town. Sadly, he didn't trip onto his face.

"Virgil's dad said that you pulled a tantrum in the doctor's office yesterday. What did he do? Bring up daddy issues?" Davian's jaw tightens. "He also said you flipped his table and kicked his door."

Davian blinks a few times before scowling and helping me down from the fence. What a gentleman. He turns heel and stalks into the forest. He stops at a desolate part of the forest near a well, uncovering snow from its base, revealing a large sewer hole. I arch my brow, peering into the dark abyss that's inside.

"These aqueducts are dark and seems rarely visited. I doubt anyone would find Virgil's body here for a while."

"I'm not going to murder you."

Just to prove it, he climbs down before me. He looks like the type of person who would be kept up all night after being rejected by a dog.

I follow him down the ladder. The air is so humid with the stench I feel it stick to my skin. It's going to take a few showers to get rid of the feeling.

"You would go through a literal s**t hole to get away from this town," I state, grimacing at the smell of rotting that permeates these tunnels.

"It's sad how much that is true," he grumbles, taking out his phone.

The thing somehow creates a torch-like light that he shines in front of us. How magical.

"Yet, you're willing to protect a town you don't even feel comfortable in against a big, bad demon. Either you're chivalrous or you are desperate for them to accept you." His jaw ticks at my deduction. "That's why you've agreed to secretly date someone, even though you're sure they won't even acknowledge the relationship in public."

He cuts me a sharp look before storming ahead. I shrug, figuring that I've stirred him up enough. I follow behind him for about ten minutes before I get sick of the silence. The only thing keeping me sane in this darkness is the fact he is playing some game where he slings birds at pigs. Strange world we live in.

"Why does this place exist?"

"This sewer system was functional in the medieval era. Over time they built over it after the town was Christianised."

"So, this is one of those places ran by the church?"

"The Evanderous family controls the town's finances, laws, and means of production. Next time you're in town and notice a big mansion on a hill, that's where the family lives."

"Why give so much power to a single family?"

"Because money and the town believe the family is blessed by God because it comes from a line of bishops. I get the feeling the current mayor blows the money on partying behind everyone's backs though. People are too blind to see it."

"Greed and money have too much power in this world. No wonder Dinero has an ego the size of a Tanuiki's ballsack."

"Dinero? As in Mammon? As in the Sin of Greed?"

"He's is an overgrown child with too much power. That's always a bad mix. One of my brothers works for him. He's the sin of vanity. Give me your phone for a second."

"Why?"

I snatch it off him and go on his i********: app. Once I'm in, I find my brother's account, Vanitas. Rumours surround him. Truth is he has not always been the sin of Vanity. No, there was a time where he went by the name, Narcissus. The Greek gods punished him for not returning the feelings of people who pursued him. Rumours are some of the people who pursued him killed themselves because of his rejection. Rumours the Greek gods cursed him so he could love nothing but his own reflection. Rumours the curse drove him to insanity and he attempted suicide, and before he could die, Lilith brought him to Hell. Rumours ran that he could never love anyone but himself. To get away from the myths, he changed his name to Vanitas and smites everyone who uses his old name. Despite being about a thousand years old, he looks like he is in his early twenties.

He has thousands of photos of himself with random captions like, "don't hate me because you ain't me." Millions of people like and comment on his pictures, half going on about how hot he is and the other half asking whether he is a girl or a guy. It's because he also takes a lot of photos of himself in drag. The type of drag that pisses off straight guys for giving them confused boners. That blows up his ego to dangerously large proportions.

"That's him? Wait, what are you doing?"

'We get it, you have a pretty face, Narcissus. Now go do something productive.' Sent. Someone has to bring him down to Earth. Or Hell. Either way, that comment is going to confuse and piss him off.

"What the hell? Are you trying to get me lynched by a demon?" Davian snaps, snatching the phone back.

"Demigod," I correct him.

Davian gives me a horrified look before deciding he isn't having any of this and puts me in a headlock.

"That's it. I want a straight answer this time. Who are you? What are you? What are you planning on doing here?"

"Virgil wanted me to possess his body for a while," I reply, bending his hand back and shoving him back ease.

"You're lying. That's like agreeing to have a parasite leech from you. Who in the right mind would agree to that? He shouldn't even know demons exist."

"I'm a cambion, not a psychologist. Ask him yourself when I give the body back at the end of the month. Sounds good enough for you?"

He walks back up to me with a suspicious glare.

"One month and you'll be gone?" he asks to make sure.

"If you help me it will be earlier."

He nods and makes it to the end of the tunnel, scaling up another ladder. I shield my eyes as he removes a seal at the top. Morning light pours through. We find ourselves in the back of a stingy alleyway. Davian kicks the metal seal over the hole before dusting his hands on his jeans.

"Welcome to Gomorrah."

I scan my surroundings, unimpressed by the scent of piss and cigarette smoke. I follow him around the alleyway out to the street. There is nothing glamorous about this part of the town. Multiple homeless people sit on the sidewalk, rattling cups. Some shiver as they try to get some sleep. One of the women is balled up like she is afraid to release her knees, rocking in time to the beep of a truck backing up, her eyes fixed on nothing at all. Her clothes were once high-end, but with enough wear and dirt, anything can look like rags. Her skin is hidden behind layers of grime and her hair hangs as a tangled mop of brown and grey.

Houses around here are cheaply riddled with moulding and decaying. Apartment buildings are broken up by an occasional strip club. The city's money seems to be poured into pointless skyscrapers I can see in the distance.

"Artistic," I comment dryly.

"Half the town is a red-light district. What did you expect?"

"Not that I care, but they look cold. Why are random humans sitting out here? Is this a new masochistic trend?"

Davian shoots me a weird look turns to discomfort when he realises I'm serious about the question.

"They're homeless," he answers, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walks down the street.

With a frown, I follow him. People without homes?

"But they're houses here. I know they aren't glamorous but isn't that better than no shelter?"

"It's more complicated than that."

"Multiple houses with heaps of space plus homeless people equals no homeless people."

"It's because of the 'economy.'"

Deciding to not look more ignorant than I already do, I take out Virgil's phone and try to search what it is in the dictionary. I know that money is metal pieces and paper humans use to exchange for goods and services, I'm not that ignorant. I just don't know about how it works completely.

"Careful management of available resources?" I read out loud, before scanning the buildings again, "But aren't houses resources they can use?"

I arch a brow when I catch Davian staring at me.

"Innocent questions I didn't expect from a creature that most likely bathes in Hellfire daily," he comments.

"I only do that on cold days."

He shrugs before leading me through the town. My brain strains to fully comprehend why the humans here only chose to make one-half of the town a complete s**t hole and this one look like a commercial centre.

I'm almost startled by how busy this part of the city is. People and cars swamp the roads. Ascanius once told me you can identify the problems with the town judging on how big the police station is, and it is huge. It is almost as large as the hospitals and libraries, which already show off with painted oranges and yellows. The pale sky is filled with smog and nasty chemicals and smoke.

"The news press that printed that newspaper is there," he jerks a thumb to a skyscraper with a sign with 'BBB' written on it, "Am I done helping you yet?"

I shrug, skimming a building to my left, curious at how familiar it is. The first large building they put up to house the mentally ill. It's a classic mansion of red brick and white columns left to decay with weathering.

Most of the curtains are shut. I reach the navy double-doors with their plastic band fastened midway and their dull chrome handles. St Valentines hospital' scribbled onto a sign.

It appears to be the hospital from my dream. I should be able to identify who the girl in it from medical records. My guess is that she is the Henley girl from the news article. To be certain, I'm going to have to see if any of her medical records are in there. That might be an issue considering there is a pesky thing called patient-doctor confidentiality.

I tilt my head when I notice Davian giving the building a strange look.

"If you need me, I'm going to be over there. We're not leaving any later than three otherwise Virgil's father is going to know something is up," he dismisses me, walking into a Time Zone.

The building BBB news station is about six stories high and mostly made up of mirrors with large electronic banners. 'Tune into BBB news and find out how you can save money when you buy your next house.' 'Tune in at six to learn how you can save money on your groceries.'

Mindless advertisements along those lines light up on the banner. I'm amazed that they're fine with talking about stuff like that then they have the other half of town living in filth.

"The human world runs on money. A piece of paper determines whether someone lives or dies there."

I remember Vanitas telling me when I was a kid. He was analytical, cynical, and always trying to get something done. He was convinced everyone is inherently selfish, greedy, and quite shallow. Because of that, the human realm is a powerhouse for his boss, Dinero, the sin of greed. He also regarded emotions as a curse, one that makes us dangerously close to mortals.

I get the feeling I'll be finding out if that is true soon enough.