Chapter 8 - Burn Like Brilliant Trash

Panic was growing in England. The tensions between the IRA and the government had exploded, with dozens of raids answered by strings of bombings. The death toll was estimated to hover near the 1000 mark. As the unrest spread, so did chaos and disorder. The former Soviet-Bloc nations were on the verge of new revolution. The recently reunited Germany was killing itself from the inside out. And the malady drew closer to Russia.

Thunder crashed in the distance as Gabriel knocked upon the chapel's heavy oaken door. After a few moments, he heard a heavy bolt being drawn and the door was opened slightly, revealing a pale, thin, face. A lightning bolt split the night sky and when Gabriel's face was illuminated, the man smiled. "Come in, come in, my son." Gabriel smiled slightly as Father Frances Xavier led him inside. Frances disappeared into the chapel, though his voice carried to the atrium. "Why are you out in such terrible weather, Gabriel?"

Sidestepping the Priest's question momentarily, he said, "Good evening, father. How are you this night?"

As Frances returned with a rough brown towel, he replied, "Fine, thank you. God's graces still shine upon me. Here," he said, handing Gabriel the towel, "dry yourself. I see the storm has worsened."

Frances led Gabriel to the back of the chapel where his personal quarters were, and offered him a seat. Sitting opposite of him, the Priest looked at Gabriel, his gaze slightly disconcerting. "Now, what may I do for you? Your cause must be urgent to have come out on a night such as this."

As Gabriel finished drying his hair, he made himself comfortable. "Earlier this evening, I found a group of refugees from England. They were en-route to Canada when their freighter sank and they barely made it here. I brought them to an unused warehouse and made them comfortable before coming here to see you. I'd like to get them on a bus to Canada, but I don't have the money. I was hoping that they could stay here for a few days until I can get them to Canada."

Frances didn't hesitate for a moment. "Of course they can stay here. I have quite a few empty cells which are perfectly comfortable and dry. Just bring them here and I'll see what I can do for them."

Gabriel smiled, "Thank you, father, this means a great deal to me. I'll return with them in the morning; by that time the storm should have blown itself out."

"Is there anything else I can help you with, my son?"

"No, thank you, father. I had best return to the warehouse and make sure that everyone is okay. Good evening, Father Frances."

Shadowy forms approached the warehouse. Gabriel could almost smell their undead flesh. As he hid in the shadows, thinking, more appeared. There were three, now five, now six. More bloodsuckers were arriving constantly. Gabriel had no choice, those inside the warehouse were totally vulnerable. The refugees had no protection against the leeches preparing to enter the building.

No sound carried Gabriel's approach to the first vampire. As he came up behind it, he grabbed its head between his palms. A flare of fire disintegrated the creature's head, and another bolt consumed its heart. By the time the flames had died, he was already elsewhere. Another leech died in flames before the rest of the legion caught on. Now there were ten. The undead searched the shadows, trying to find their attacker. In front of the door, a pillar of fire erupted. Gabriel stood in the fiery vortex, his hands upraised. With a flick of his wrists, bolts of plasma struck vampires, disintegrating three where they stood. The rest of the vampires were paralyzed as they gazed upon the man before them in awe, his features aglow with hellfire. They charged.

Gabriel reached down into the center of his power and beside him, the shattered remains of a wooden pallet rose into the air. With a slight twitch of his concentration, the wooden projectiles shot forward, turning four of the vampires into pin cushions. The wood-riddled creatures fell to the ground with a thud and didn't even twitch. One of the remaining three charged Gabriel. Throwing his arms in the air, Gabriel raised a wall of fire between him and the vampire. The ends of the wall began curving inwards, and soon surrounded the undead creature in a fiery embrace. The vampire's screams carried to its remaining compatriots as Gabriel maintained his concentration. A clawed hand flashed through the air, catching Gabriel in the side. He heard cloth tear, and then fire erupted along his ribs. Doubling over in pain, he fell to his hands and knees as the vampire grinned, revealing long fangs. They approached Gabriel's unprotected neck, a drop of saliva falling onto the pavement. With a burst of strength, Gabriel released a pulse of his power, throwing the vampire through the air, causing it to land upon its companion. Before they could move he rose to one knee and, reaching down into his reservoir of strength, created a pillar of fire which consumed their undying flesh.

The world swirled around Gabriel and he saw the pavement approach. Then the world went black.

Eve led the way through the ever-changing terrain of the Eldritch Realm, following signs only she could see. Moments after leaving the cathedral, they encountered a vast silver ocean. Quicksilver crested, making black foam which beat against the shore. As the wave receded, it left no trace of its passage. Looking out over the silver ocean, Sylvia could see a tiny smudge on the horizon. Turning to Eve in puzzlement, Sylvia asked, "What's that black smudge out there?"

Smiling, Eve replied, "That, my friend, is Europe. One of the peculiarities of this place is that the world is flat. It may surround the round earth, but nevertheless, if there were no obstacles you could see forever. But the most interesting thing is, if you keep walking that direction, you'll end up right back here, just like if we were on a sphere."

Sylvia looked puzzled at this, but if she had any questions, she kept them to herself. Despite her long association with magic, she still didn't understand the principles of it very well. Not that she let on very often. Returning to the business at hand, she fixed her mouth in a neutral line. "So how exactly are we going to get over there? We can't just swim."

"No, we can't swim. One thing that you have to realize about the Eldritch Realm is that it is controlled by our minds. To go somewhere, you simply think of the place, concentrate on it, and you are there. Although some fool started a myth that you needed to click your heels or some crap like that. Anyways, let's try England first. With the unrest there, there's a good chance the creature could be on the island. Hold my hand."

Sylvia hurriedly wiped her damp palms on her dress and then firmly gripped Eve's dry hand. A sense of vertigo screamed through her head, and suddenly they were moving faster than she could comprehend. The silver ocean flashed beneath her for a moment, and then she was standing next to a golden river, on a green plain. That was all she saw before the pain struck.

Howls filled her head, screams and cries pounding through her brain. She fell to her knees, clasping her head in her hands, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Next to her, Eve was in agony. Her head was thrown back, back arched in pain. Wide eyes stared at a sky too perfect, too blue for anything natural. Psychic screams crashed against her mental defenses, already on the point of collapse. A small trickle of blood began to run from her nose, but she couldn't move her arm to wipe it away. Slowly, Eve began to reach out to the realm, and gather in power towards herself. Slowly, a glowing bubble rose up from the ground to surround the women, meeting at a point over their heads. The instant it closed, the pain ceased and Eve collapsed, lying next to Sylvia.

The pain still throbbed dully in their bones and minds, like echoes in a cavern. After a few minutes, Eve raised herself to a sitting position. Reaching up with one pale hand, she wiped away the trail of blood as she gazed at her surroundings. Flying around the glowing bubble were a multitude of ghostly figures; men, women, children. They all looked to be injured in one way or another, and their mouths were open in now-silent screams. Slowly, Sylvia stirred on the ground and sat up, raising a hand to her forehead. "My god, what happened, Eve?"

Humorlessly, Eve replied, "Look around. We ended up right in the middle of a lot of peoples' nightmares. I'd say we found that creature." Seeing Sylvia's slightly confused look, Eve elaborated. "Right now we're sitting in the middle of London. Those things you see flying around out there are psychic imprints made by people on our Earth. These imprints are shadows of violence, pain, and suffering. Even with the rising tensions in England, things shouldn't be this bad. The only explanation I can come up with is that the creature is here and is feeding peoples' nightmares. There are thousands of nightmares running around out there, the only thing that is protecting us is this shield. If it were to collapse, we would be driven insane in moments. Imagine what it would be like to have the worst nightmares of a thousand people all running around inside your head at once."

Thinking carefully, Sylvia nodded slowly. "I can see what you mean. This would be the kind of thing that It would do. It derives pleasure from tormenting innocent souls. Is it possible to find It exactly?"

Eve shook her head, "Not for either of us, nor anyone else I know of. I didn't expect this sort of welcome, if I had I would have been better prepared. I think that the best we'll be able to do is to get here in person and figure out what to do from there. We can't handle It on this plane, and I don't know how much longer my shield is going to hold."

Slightly disappointed, but bowing to Eve's greater knowledge in this area, Sylvia nodded. "Fine... lead the way, this place is starting to disturb me."

Eve agreed, and then took Sylvia's hand in her own. With a thought, they were back where they began, standing in a stone cathedral, created solely by Eve's mind. Another, and they were sitting within the circle at Eve's loft. Leaning forward, Eve snuffed out the white pillar candle in front of her with a bloodstained hand.