Chapter Sixteen

Pain throbbed through Cherie's skull, reverberating down her neck and into her upper spine. The blow had been hard and blood coagulated on the back of her head.

Her vision was skewed. The world around her was hazy and rocking as if she was a baby in its arms but it was not comforting, instead it was terrifying.

Trying to move her arms and legs she found them bound, the wire tight and wickedly sharp. Struggling too much meant it would pierce her flesh with the ease of cutting through butter. Already it was digging in menacingly and creating scarlet ditches.

The room was dark, the blinds concealing the outside world, and a smell of burning wax highlighted the air. The only light was coming from behind her, a warm glow from three candles stood on the cabinet.

In the centre sat the strange statue, seeming more sinister as the glow highlighted the vacant eyes and illuminated the malign grin on its apish face.

Cherie could not see it, even if she managed to flail onto her side the view would still be obscured by the effects of the blow.

"Wh-what the hell is going on?" She called out, her voice trembling. "For God’s sake this is..."

She sucked in a breath as the wire nicked her ankles, warm blow leaking from the small yet deep cut. Biting her lip, she silenced herself. There were no words to think of that expressed herself and she'd seen enough films to know that screaming and plaintive begging didn't have much sway.

"I don't know what God you pray to, lady, but I doubt it'll do any good. I've worked out how to please one who is quite willing to get off his arse and help people rather than just sit back and let em' deal with things."

Kyle turned from her dismissively, smiling at the figurine with a mix of pride and awe, hearing commands meant only for him.

He felt he would have eventually discovered the true power of the object had it not made itself known, but the very fact it had reached out instilled a sense of importance. That he, and he alone, had been selected to appease it and be aided by it. It gave a sense of grandeur, and he was determined to prove himself worthy.

The knife was nothing special. Just as ordinary kitchen knife, sharp enough to peel potatoes but little else. He turned it over in his hands, the blade was not as keen as it once was but it was the best he had.

"If they hadn't cut off my internet, I might have gotten a more suitable one," he muttered towards the statue, feeling abashed by the shoddy equipment. "I couldn't order one on a public network, can't risk it."

Cherie had heard and a painful lump formed in her throat, constricting her airways and stifling the sobs that wanted to emerge. She didn't know if she was breathing and every focus turned to the ragged rise and fall of her chest, but still oxygen seemed to be evading her lungs.

Behind her she heard Kyle flicking through papers, humming lowly as he did so as if this was a normal day for him, and her eyes locked on the red stains on the glass, a stark reminder that her own would soon join it.

_____________

"You'll catch cold down there."

Am Heh returned to find Isaac still sat on the floor, looking despondently down at the earth. The raven had given him the views he needed for now and his plans could be set in place.

"Why would you care?" Isaac didn't bother looking up.

"As a rule, I wouldn't," Am Heh said frankly as he returned to the desk, frowning to see the books had been tampered with. "It just so happens I need you here."

"And why would that be?" Isaac moved to pull himself onto the chair, folding his arms belligerently. "I think there's a lot more to this than you're telling me and I don't like being kept in the dark."

"I think you talk too much."

Am Heh slammed the book down, signalling the end to the conversation but his fingers trembled as he flicked the pages, practically tearing them from the spine.

Isaac watched with interest. The tension was noticeable in every muscle, his poise too stiff and eyes blind to everything, even what he was seeking.

The more his gaze remained the more uncomfortable the deity seemed to be, feeling the weight of the placid eyes on him, heavy and suffocating.

Turning his head to cover his mouth, Isaac yawned. Time had passed tediously and it had finally started to catch up. He felt as if he hadn't slept for a week, something he felt after setting up for an exhibition, especially the art ones when the artists themselves were supervising.

That cruel blend of exhaustion and nausea colliding inside him and sending his eyes askew and a shimmer of sweat free to cling to the dark curls of his fringe.

"Is there anywhere out the way I can rest?" He asked quietly, not wanting to look over again. "I feel like I'm going to pass out."

At the request Am Heh paused. If he were to follow his hard-hearted nature, he would refuse it, allow the man to fall and faint or pass into a seizure. Yet once again that face and soft tone had too much power over him.

When he thought of it, he had been willing to give leeway to servants and slaves. They were no good dead or ailing and unlike the others he hadn't that many come into his service.

And of course, if Isaac was resting, he was free to research his vengeance without the distractions.

He took Isaac's wrist, hauling him from the floor in one jolt, motioning towards a door half camouflaged in the wall. Lifting a hand, it opened silently revealing a sparse but opulent room beyond.

He had never been one for having trinkets or frivolities about him. What could one expect from a God who often retired to a lake of fire?

The room was plain, coloured in beige sandstone but still it was crafted from only the finest marbles and polish gilt metals. The seldom used bed was the draw to the eye. The four-poster frame beautifully carved from heavy wood and made to resemble marble and the covers soft as goose-down. Without embellishment but no less luxurious.

No lights were needed. The colours reflected the sun’s rays and gave all the lustre required. Even at night, when the sun had waned, the moon gave a tranquil glow that lulled the occupier into slumber or offered the ideal hue for meditations.

"Rest all you need," Am Heh released his grip, "time runs differently here."

Isaac stumbled as he was pushed forward dismissively, his eyes taking in the room. It was beyond anything he imagined, a true piece of history. Even in his tired state his adoration of the period could not be quelled.

"For a God you lack colour in your life, but you have great taste in furniture," he commented, sitting down gingerly on the bed, scared that one crease would shatter the illusion. "And what do you mean, time runs differently here?"

Am Heh had been half way out the room. He stopped and looked away, unable to allow his eyes to linger on the other for too long. He didn't want memories to flood back, arouse those old feelings he refused to act upon and now refused to acknowledge.

Feelings were futile, they always ended in pain in one way or another.

"Time seems to stand still here. A day might pass down below but here only an hour may have gone by. Or perhaps it is the opposite, it always seems to vary. Even I don't really understand it."

He pressed his fingertips together, wondering how much to say. He was not about to bring on recollections, it would be irksome for both of them. The only benefit of them was to fuel ambition.

"It was the same in my dwellings in the old world," he continued carefully "my servants always lived for many hundreds of years before they passed on. Age did not affect them, it was useful in more ways than one, especially since I was seldom sent new additions. Luckily I did not need that many."

Unlike some, he rarely entertained people, occasionally doing so for the benefit of the senior servants but he didn't remain present for long. Despite the opulence about him, beyond the walls at the rear was an entirely different view that rivalled Dante's inferno. Lakes of fire and bubbling sulphur. Violent crimson flowers still grew, their pollen sacs as black as coal but no other life dared there. Yet Am Heh adored it, finding the blazes and hiss of flames the pinnacle of tranquillity.

The greener gardens and fountains of the front were fine to some, just not to him.

He looked around briefly at the sound of rustling and smiled dryly.

"I have rarely had colour in my life except if you count the constant wars between the deities. Perhaps mortals think that having ultimate powers is a blessing but Gods have a harder task than they believe. We have our own worlds to watch as well as those that have been created. Whilst intervention is rare, we still have to keep an eye on things, at least those who care do. I myself, do not."

He bristled and exited, slamming the door behind him.

Heading back to his desk he covered his face in his hands, breathing deeply and heavily. How he wished he could believe that what he was doing would provide the outcome he desired but already Isaac's soft, yet cutting voice was severing his will. How he wished he could believe he didn't care.

His nails raked down his cheek as he slowly lowered his hands, the pain hardly tweaking a nerve. His eyes glazed in concentration and darkened with determination.

"It will work," he hissed between clenched teeth. "And I shall find the strength to destroy all that curses me."