Jeremiah had stumbled through the dark doorway and down the stone steps looking like a man possessed. His clothes were soaked and dirty whilst his fur streamed water around him. He repeatedly swiped at his face, trying the claw the rain from his eyes so he could see. His face was terrible to behold, locked in a state of terrified panic with eyes wide and wild. In here, he thought, there must be something to prove I am me, there must be something that leads back to my family! His mind whirled in circles, demons inside him, murder in his heart, cruelty pumping through his veins. He was Jeremiah Mason! Jeremiah Sawyer Mason! Jeremiah Darien Mason!
Outside a storm raged, flinging itself at the city as though it were trying to tear it apart. Inside Jeremiah began to do the same to his son’s laboratory.
He tore open drawers, ripped off cupboard doors and upturned every box, crate and table he could find. Papers and books were trodden into the rain-soaked floor, glass syringes and medical instruments shattered and clattered beneath his boots. A lifetime of research and study was being torn apart in seconds. Blood seeped from his hands where sharp metal or broken glass had sliced into them, but still he continued. He began to shout, barking out demands that wherever it was hiding it had better come out now. Did it not know he was Jeremiah Darien! Mason! He was Jeremiah Mason! He was Mason Darien Demon Mason!
He tore at pipes, the room began to fill with steam and smoke. He kicked and smashed at flashing control panels. He lifted the operating table high above his head and flung it across the room into shelves of glass bottles. The air became thick with the acrid scent of chemicals, sparks crackling and jumping from exposed wires. He bellowed into them, he was Jeremiah Mason! He would not be denied! He was Jeremiah Killer! He would have answers. He spat that the glowing pentacle in the floor, He did not fear it. He did not fear it. He controlled it. He was Jeremiah Darien Demon Killer Mason!
“No, you are not.”
Her voice stopped him dead. Her tone firm, but gentle and with an odd harmony behind it, almost as though she spoke in several voices at once. He turned to face her and gasped. Her wings of translucent skin and clawed bone slowly folded behind her, their magnificence framing her extraordinary beauty. Her red skin and horns, the colour of cooling magma and texture of silk, almost glowed in the gloomy darkness. Beneath hair of pure white, eyes that seemed capable of boring through steel fixed upon him. She wiped the rain from her brow with the back of hand, rivulets of water ran from her dark leather clothing and folded wings. “I’ve been following you,” she said, “I saw you here with Lunar. I saw you with mama. I saw you with the poor horse. I saw you come in here, my home, and I saw you do this,” she gestured at the broken chaos scattered around them.
“I… I…” was all he could manage.
“You think you are my zaide, but you are not.”
“Zaide? Who… who is zaide?” he asked.
“My grandpapa, my zaide. You are not him. I can feel your bloodline and it is not his.”
“My bloodline? You can feel…?”
The girl took a step towards him, a petri dish cracked beneath her boot and Jeremiah took a step back away from her. “Please,” she said, ”I do not know who you are but I am willing to help you.”
He couldn’t stop looking at her eyes, her terrible, beautiful eyes. Her gaze sliced in to him. He could feel it stripping him away layer by layer, peeling him away to expose his core, to reduce him, to render him to nothing.
“NO! STAY BACK! I’M DANGEROUS! A KILL…” he was ranting as he reached out for nearest thing he could defend himself with. His hand, wet from the rain and soaked with a cocktail of chemicals, closed around the top of the large bottle of stored lightning.
A strange lucidity settled across his mind and a single second expanded into a lifetime as he watched his own death unfold. The bottle released its precious charge in one almighty arcing streak of white fire. The air screamed as a ball of plasma hotter than the sun roared into every corner of the small, enclosed room. For a brief moment he hung in the centre of a star before, with pain beyond measure, the world around him exploded into all-consuming fire and Jeremiah Mason, genius, father of geniuses, killer of Demons, repentant soul and unforgiven sinner died for the final time.
To Be Continued…
All the “Lost & Found” posts can be read here