Chapter 10

By Jennifer

Bathed only in the dimmest touches of moonlight, Brian sat motionless in a chair beside the window, his body in much the same position it had been in for the past hour and even the hour before that. A passing nurse would probably have thought him just another friend or family member hovering close to his loved one, no different than the hundreds of distraught visitors seen every day in the hospital corridors and waiting rooms. But as Brian stared unblinking into the darkness, heart thudding fast and hard within his chest, he knew there would be no passing nurses; not at this hour, and not where he and his friends were concerned. The hospital became a different world for them at night, splitting into a reality he barely understood, filled with the shadows and emptiness and deep, drifting silence that lingered close to him now, and chilled his skin every time he moved.

His mind was reeling, spinning with emotion and thoughts that wheeled past so quickly he barely had time to touch one before another had leapt up to take its place. He felt almost nauseous, and the only thing he been able to figure out was that the whole situation was just ridiculous. And terrifying. And real; horribly real, and surely enough to drive him mad, if not for the fact that he thought he just might be already.

When he had first entered the room earlier that night, he had fully expected to find A.J. inside. He would be curled up in a chair at Nick's bedside, Brian had thought; asleep, perhaps, or staring out the window with his arms folded tightly in about himself and a stiff set to his shoulders. Problem was, that would have been his A.J., his friend of ten solid years now. His A.J., who had taught him how to regurgitate spaghetti and crush a beer can on his head. His A.J., who would come to hospitals bearing armfuls of teddy bears for the children he loved to visit and coax into fits of giggles.

But his A.J. was gone.

Brian's heart twisted at that, but he gritted his teeth and swallowed back the cool, bitter taste on his tongue. They were probably all gone by now, his brothers. Even his Nick, and that was the hardest to accept, because staring at the still form lying loose and languid beneath white sheets that gleamed ethereal in the moonlight, it was so easy to believe that Nick was really there. So easy to believe that at any moment he would wake up and cry out as he always did when the darkness got too close. And then, all Brian would have to do was grip his hand, feel it warm and alive within his own, and whisper his apologies through tears and then the world would be steady and turning once more. If only it could be that simple.

He'd ended up standing at the foot of the bed for a long time when he found Nick alone, watching him, waiting for an attack that had never come. Whatever demon it was that lurked in Nick's body would come exploding up to seize him, he'd thought, and A.J. and the others would fly in from behind and the circle would be complete once more, except this time their circle would not seal the gates of Hell but wrench them open, and Brian's soul would be torn free from his body and flung away to join the others in that eternal darkness he knew waited for them all, if he didn't succeed at this. He'd been ready to put his plan into motion, but with no challengers he had taken hold of a hospital chair and dragged it back into a far corner, positioning himself so as not to miss the slightest of movements within the room.

So far, nothing had happened.

His eyes drifted closed for just a moment, then snapped back open and scanned the darkness sharply, piercing down to the heart of the shadows. Since that conversation with Howie, which had happened only hours earlier but already felt like days, he had moved as though shrouded in thick fog; even his thoughts grew muddled, obscure. Once those long-hidden memories had been drawn up to the surface they slithered like snakes into the deepest parts of his mind, hissing their mysteries and coiling their slick, cool bodies around him tightly. Charms and riddles packed his head, and from then on it was sheer instinct that guided him, because everything conscious within his body and mind withered under the vicious assault. A torrent of memories, and suddenly he didn't have to look at Nick's laptop at all, because he knew every word of what he would find there, every doubt and terror and determination that Nick had set down.

Every truth.

And he had known, then, what he had to do. The memories were clear and full, and he understood them, at least. Still, the larger issue of how in the world he and his four friends had ended up with something so monumental and horrific at their feet was beyond him. He and the others, they'd lived good lives. They were good people. There'd been that Dorito incident with A.J., of course, and the entire free world knew about Nick's I-fought-the-law-and-the-law-won encounter a January or two ago. But whatever the reason, the truth of the matter remained that something deep within their souls had the power to unlock a doorway that had no business ever being opened, and now one by one they were falling and Heaven help them all if he couldn't do this.

Brian closed his eyes again, lightly. The magnitude of this task was crushing, and he thanked God that there was something strong buried deep within him; something he hadn't known he had until it pushed him out of the hotel room and got him to this chair, because without it he might never have had the courage. Perhaps it was the others, Nick and Kevin and Howie and A.J. reaching out to him from wherever they might be now, lending him their faith. He had to believe they were with him; couldn't bear to think of anything else.

And he waited as the night slunk on.

They would come. Of that, at least, he was certain.

Brian let his hand slip down to the cushion of the chair upon which he sat, tightening his fist over the blade of the sharp steak knife that rested beside him and letting it dent his flesh. He'd grabbed it on his way out of the hotel, off a room service tray, and though he hadn't understood exactly why at the time, he knew now. The kaleidoscope of memories had continued, filling in all the missing bits and pieces as they continued to roll along, and he knew every bit of what he would have to do, now. And it sickened him.

But what choice did he have? He had sworn to remember, and he had forgotten. He couldn't fail; not again. Not this time.

"Courage," he whispered. Not a sound in the night beyond his own soft, broken voice. "Faith, courage; oh, God, what if I can't do this."

As hard as he tried to push them away, his fears rose again, just beneath the surface of his consciousness.

*Oh my God. what if I fail?*

The sudden rap of knuckles against the room's half-closed door made Brian jump, and he quickly moved to grasp the knife by the handle, keeping it concealed at his side.

"Brian?" Kevin poked his head into the room, pushing the door open cautiously before stepping inside. Brian knew him only by the voice; there was not enough light for him to make out much more his silhouette cut out from the shadows. "Brian, is that you?"

"I'm here." He did not move from the chair and hoped the darkness at least did the favor of masking the way he trembled.

"What are you doing?" Kevin asked softly, approaching. Two other forms moved into the room behind him, their edges blurring with the dimness. "Howie couldn't find you. We got worried and thought you might have come here. Why did you--"

"Don't come any closer," Brian whispered. Kevin stopped, immediately.

"Brian?" That was A.J., and his voice was so worried and so painfully familiar that Brian almost let it collapse him; almost let it drive him to his knees. But he found his resolve and leaned heavily upon that strength within him, standing and taking a quiet breath of relief when his knees didn't buckle on the spot. A dramatic speech would have been nice, seeing as how he was the center of attention and all, but if things were truly as out of control as he suspected, he needn't bother.

Actions spoke louder than words.

Brian lifted the knife, holding it close to his chest and letting the reassuring glimmers of moonlight play along its edge.

The sharp intake of breath was Howie's. the silhouette that went ramrod straight, Kevin. "Brian, what are you doing?"

"You know." And he could feel them inside now; undeniably, his brothers, lending him the strength he needed now. "We're together," he whispered. "And now it ends."

The voice of reason broke through one final time to scream at him; crazy, crazy crazy--

And in one swift, fluid motion, Brian turned the knife blade-down and buried it deep in the center of his palm.

The pain of his flesh tearing apart was nothing, nothing compared to the reactions of those in the room with him as his hand dripped blood, a red flood streaking down his fingers and pattering to the floor. A.J. and Howie curled back into the shadows instantly; behind him, Nick twisted in the sheets and moaned, the first movement Brian had seen from him all night. And for a single, painful second he prayed that Kevin would cry out in horror and rush to him to stem the bleeding; to wrap a warm hand over his wounded one, but instead his cousin hissed and staggered back, turning his face away.

He truly was alone, then.

Brian moved away from them, putting his back to the opposite wall, and as he did so could feel his brothers stronger than ever in his soul, gaining courage from that blood loosed to run free. He could recall in vivid clarity that day so long ago, that day they had slashed their palms and gripped hands to ward off the Pull, letting the blood seal their bond and repel the demons as surely as if they clutched crucifixes in their hands.

In the next instant, as Nick writhed before him and the others drew away, he felt the pull; felt it stronger than he ever had before, in fact. The closet door beside him exploded open to reveal a swirling black vortex that had become its interior, and Brian gritted his teeth and held his ground, thrusting his bloody palm out before him and clutching the knife tight in his opposite hand. A woman in white rushed into the room, startling him, but his surprise was gone when she turned and he recognized her face; felt her fire-capped blue eyes tangle with his own. "Stop," Desdemona warned, her voice a full octave lower than the last time he had heard her speak and barely female at all. "Give in. You can't win."

"Back off," he replied, inching back further as the strength within kept him upright. He had no doubts that had his brothers not been filling him with such immense courage, he already would have fallen.

The pull clawed at his back, consuming, trying to dip inside to hook its claws into the fasts of his soul and tear it free. He could feel the pull's sucking wind crawling beneath his shirt, stirring up his hair. "With this charm I beseech thee."

Desdemona's eyes flew wide.

".out of sight and out of me."

She reached back to claw at Howie, dragging him forward. "Stop him! We can't let him enter the vortex with his body and soul still as one--"

".bind this blood this chant hold may."

He prayed again for courage and for faith; prayed that these moments would not be his final ones on earth. His gaze flicked left for an instant, across Nick's tattered body, and he found himself pierced by awful, furious orange eyes burning in his brother's skull.

".ward all harm and evil at bay."

His voice cracked with doubt and terror on the last line, but it was there. He hoped it would be enough, because with those final words, Brian flung himself body and soul into the blackness, Desdemona's screams echoing in the rapidly fading twilight as the pull's gateway swallowed him whole.

***

*embrace the darkness.*

Hands, upon him. Fingers tight about his arms, shaking him, and cool fingers pressing into his cheek.

Brian startled awake, his first instinct to recoil back from that cold touch, but when his vision cleared the first thing he saw - the only thing he saw - were eyes, Nick's blue eyes, boring into his own, and he froze.

A threadbare couch was beneath him, his body lax and lethargic upon it. Above was a single window, four panes of glass so spotted and dirty he could see only the faintest traces of dawn through them, bleak gray streaks on a dark sky. Beside him was Nick, crouched on a dusty wooden floor, ballcap backwards on his head and eyes peering at him intensely. The air was thick, and Brian could see boxes and rubbish piled deep in the corners of the room. Heavy cobwebs clung to the rafters above him.

"Hell is an attic," he whispered.

Nick frowned and shook him a little. "Brian? Talk to me; are you all right?"

He blinked; reached out to snag the edge of Nick's sleeve. Nick?

Nick. His Nick. "Oh, God," Brian managed, then tried to sit up. Nick gently pushed him back, keeping him reclined on the sofa. "Oh my God, Nick! Are you okay?"

"You're the one I'm worried about. How do you feel? Dizzy? You need to throw up?"

Brian's gaze darted left and right as he continued to clutch to Nick's sleeve in his fist. The world was slowly sorting itself out around him. "I. did it work?"

"Did what work?"

Brian looked up at him and was startled into silence by the curiosity there. The last thing he had expected when he found Nick again was to see him this relaxed, this in control. this normal.

"Brian?" Nick said again, softly. "Did what work?

He took a moment to swallow; lick at his lips. "Where are we?"

"What do you mean? You don't remember?"

"Where are we?"

"God," Nick muttered, his gaze raking down Brian's body before coming back to settle on his face. "Man, I fucking told A.J. not to put that shit in your drink."

"What?" Brian's head was beginning to throb unpleasantly, and he gripped tighter at the sleeve within his fist. "No, Nick, don't you understand? They didn't get to me; I didn't let them! I jumped into the gateway, Nick; I came here on my own! They haven't gotten me yet, and I don't think they can now! Where are the others?"

Nick's expression had grown steadily more incredulous, and was even a hint frightened now. His mouth was pulled down into a small, solemn line. "Uh... Brian, maybe you better sit still for a minute, okay? Let that stuff wear off; I think you're delusional."

"What do you mean? Nick, I--"

"Remember the concert we had, Brian?" His voice was soft; eyes shining with intensity. "Kevin wanted us to all go out for old times' sake? A.J. brought us here, to this house for a party. I guess you came up here to crash after that stuff made you sleepy; we're in someone's attic right now." He grinned a little at the absurdity of it. "Remember, Brian? The concert? The party?"

"I."

Nick sat back on his heels, running his free hand down his face. "I'm gonna kill A.J. for this. Can you remember anything at all besides your nightmare?"

Brian swallowed hard and slowly turned over his left hand. He had felt no pain, he realized now, yet was still equal parts amazed and stunned to find the skin unmarred; perfect. It had been so real. "Nick, are you hurt?"

"Hurt?"

"Turn around."

"What for?"

"I need to see your head. Please," he whispered, and after eyeing him suspiciously for a moment Nick turned his back to the couch, pulling off his hat. The motion ruffled the short blond hair on the back of his head, as messy as ever and without even a hint of injury.

No no no no no

"Listen. Brian, it may have seemed real, but it was just in your head, bro." Nick stood, pulling free of Brian's grasp and pushing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "Everything's all right."

"It couldn't have been a dream, Nick."

"It's that shit of A.J.'s. I'm lucky I didn't find you on the roof. I took it once and came to inside a washing machine. Did I ever tell you that story?" He reached out a hand. "Don't worry, everything's fine."

Brian took the outstretched hand without a second thought.

It was ice cold.

He jerked out of Nick's grasp, scrambling back on the couch with wide eyes. Nick frowned. "Now what?"

"No," he whispered.

Nick took a step closer, reaching out again. "Brian, relax. I told you, it's the--"

"I won't forget; not this time." His eyes were wide and stricken. "Don't come any closer!"

Nick stopped, immediately. "Bri, I already--"

"No!" he shouted, his voice cracking the walls of reality. Everything around him seemed to shimmer, vibrant with energy, and he curled his hands into fists, clinging desperately to what was left of his sanity. "Not again!"

"Brian, it's the high, okay?" Nick stood nervously nearby, his hands stroking through the air before him as though trying to gently ease Brian's emotions down. "That's all."

"Don't jerk me around."

"I'm not--"

"You are. I know what you're trying to do, dammit."

"What?"

"It's just like what you did to Nick; taking him over so you could get at A.J., then letting him come back to himself to make him think he was crazy. Make us think he was nuts! Using Howie and Kevin." Brian jabbed viciously at his temple. "I know what you're trying to do! I can't break us out of Hell if you convince me that I'm not there at all!"

"Brian, you're not making any sense." Nick looked frightened now, and he swallowed visibly. "Please, calm down. It's the drugs, Brian. I'll kill A.J. for this; I swear, I will. You can help if you want."

Brian sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes. The world felt fractured around him; his body splitting as he was pulled towards two loyalties, two directions. Had the gateway deposited him within the depths of Hell or the coarse darkness of his own raging mind? Surely to God this couldn't be reality. No, somewhere was the surface of this nightmare, the truth, but he was trapped by his own panic and desperation. There was nothing left inside to guide him; he felt neither the steeliness of his earlier convictions nor the strength of his brothers.

Nothing. but fear.

"Shh," Nick whispered gently. His voice was soothing; almost hypnotic. "Relax, Brian. Take deep breaths. Relax. relax. and just let yourself think. of nothing at all."

Brian's eyes flew open.

He didn't even have a chance to scream.

Because suddenly, Nick - or, rather, whatever demon it was masquerading as his friend - was atop him, pinning him down with its weight and plunging its hands deep within Brian's body, grasping for his soul.

Brian gasped and shoved back with all the strength he could muster, but it was pitiful compared to the power of this creature. "What do you want?" he choked, strangling off a scream as the demon's taloned hands sliced through skin and muscle, up to the wrist now in his flesh.

The creature smiled at him then; a frightening grin, and in the teeth that glistened with flecks of saliva Brian could see the reflections of his brothers; trapped, terrified, and knowing that their one hope was about to flame out. "I have what I want," it whispered. "Really, did you honestly think that it would be just this simple, Brian?"

".This. can't be. real." He could taste blood in the back of his throat. "You're not going to beat us!"

The creature sank its sharp claws into the core of Brian's soul.

Through the cracked and crusted glass of the attic's single window, the first tongues of red orange fire licked at the horizon.

But mercifully, Brian's world had already faded to black.

***

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