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All of the characters and events portrayed in this digital document are either fictitious or used fictitiously -The Bread to OzzyCopyright ©2010 by Timothy Nies Cover Art: -Red hotCopyright ©2010 by Timothy Nies All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, of portions thereof, in any form. Published by Timothy Nies Official website: www.theredorb.com Author's Blog: timothynies.blogspot.com E-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org
“Rules and orders,” a dry voice wheezed from the corner of the room. The man Donn sat hunched, holding a black flask between his crossed hands. “It is odd though, I don’t remember who ordered me here.” He brought his hands to his face and took a swig from the metallic container, ignoring the twins bound to the wooden chairs he had brought from the kitchen. One chair held the gagged twin, another the blind folded one, and the third was empty. “Such a strange order, such a strange thing to ask. Yet, here I am doing what I can to obey.” The man Donn peered at his handy work from the shadows, purple eyes glinting from his hollow face.
The dank and musty room was dark. Five candles burning at the tips of the chalk pentagram were a poor substitute for the sunlight blocked out by the curtain over the single window. “Checks and balances. Ordered chaos,” he continued, rambling. “This feels wrong. It is not my place to interfere here.” He took another sip from the flask. “This is not our responsibility,” he scoffed. “And what of the the Majitorium? They will have a fit when they find out about what happened here.” He stood up, taking a step closer to the pair. “How did I end up here?” The gagged twin, Terra, sat in a black shirt and black jeans with her back to the man Donn. The other twin, Celeste, wearing a lose fitting track suit, sneakers, and blindfold, faced him directly. Both appeared more bored than worried, their hazel hair glinting copper in the candlelight. “The bread,” Celeste stated, as if passing an urgent secret in class. Terra nodded in agreement, turning to her sibling as best she could. She shrugged with a hint of annoyance at Celeste’s blindfold, then resorted to grunting her agreement.
“If you can smell it, then it might already be too late,” Celeste added. “Though, heated wheat is particularly pungent. So, there might still be time before it burns.” The man Donn looked up, a twitch of confusion trembling on his brow. He brought the flask up to his lips, stopped short, and lowered it again. He checked the pentagram, eyes following the curve of the circle over the rough floorboards, it was unbroken. He pointed to each of the candles, counting under his breath, ending the motion when he spoke the word “five.” He blinked the doubt from his face. “Heated wheat?” he questioned. Celeste turned her head towards his voice. “Can you smell it? Our oven was on when you trapped us. Our bread will burn if we do not take it out to cool soon.” “Take it out to cool? Here you two purring sweet puddings sit bound at the center of a pentagram, a Parax daemon in your presence, and all you have to worry about is a burning loaf ?” The man Donn scratched at his arm, leaving red marks were his fingers passed. “Something is afoot here. There is a fallacious hint to all of this. Even the air feels unnatural.” “The bread is important and not to be rude, but this is becoming very dull,” Celeste retorted.
“Dull?” The man Donn repeated, scratching the back of his neck with vigor. “Mum mum hummum HUM mum,” Terra mumbled. Celeste nodded in agreement. The man Donn looked from the gagged twin to the blindfolded one. “What did she say?” he asked, pointing the top of the flask at Terra. “She said, the trip with the aliens was far more intense.” “The trip with the aliens?” the man Donn growled. “What aliens?” “Yes, I thought the whole affair overly plastic. I was more impressed with the talking dogs.” “Talking dogs?” the man Donn questioned, his tone irritated. “HmU-re hmm,” Terra punctuated. “No Terra, they weren’t rude. They were just honest,” Celeste countered. “But regardless, both of those trips were far more entertaining than this one. I must have gotten the recipe wrong or perhaps the tadpole tails were off. This isn’t right at all, and
he’s all wrong too. He looks right, but his personalty is way off the mark; all he does is whine.” The man Donn turned his back to the pair, letting out a sigh. He rubbed a hand over his face, then made to drink from his flask, but when it reached his lips discovered that it was empty. “I am sorry if we hurt your feelings, we can be excessively critical when it comes to our cooking. Some apparitions don’t deal well with the truth.” “Apparitions? Heavens below pussy cat! I am a Daemon!” the man Donn snapped. “I am a daemon servant of hell, sent here to...” His tongue stumbled unable to find the words, his face flushed with color, his eyes glowed bright. The Daemon threw his metal flask across the room, it crashed with a thud against the wall. “To do... to do whatever this stupid thing is here.” He gestured to the room then took a deep breath, regaining his calm. When he let it out a silent tension spread through the air. “I don’t understand any of this,” he whispered to himself. “None of it makes sense. It‘s as if my mind is clouded and I am not acting of my own accord,” he added looking at his hands. “As if I were the one that is possessed.”
“Please, let us turn off the oven,” Celeste whispered after a moment. “The bread is the first we have made together in years. It is important and it should be to you as well. Bad things will happen if you let it burn.” The last of the man’s steadfast demeanor faded. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I think the two of you cats are missing the severity of the situation here.” He pointed one hand to the East corner of the room and the other to the West. “Those are real rifles. They are armed and aimed at your pretty heads.” Terra looked from dark corner to dark corner then grunted something to Celeste. “I don’t see them either, but at least he’s back on track,” she concurred with a shrug. “And here, my kitties, is the thing that will make this kooky experiment tick true.” The man fished a small black box from his bleach stained blue blazer. “I made this especially for tonight. Meticulously crafted for the occasion you might say.” He smiled, holding the cube to Celeste’s face expectantly.
“Looks interesting,” she observed, blowing the tip of her blindfold off of her nose. “What is it?” “It’s a randomizer.” “Whum-O-hm-mmm?” Terra asked. “What’s it for?” the man Donn responded. “It’s linked to the rifles and when,” he fished something else out of his other pocket, “I wind it up with this key. It will start to send a random signal every minute that will either cause the guns to fire or to fail.” The man Donn grinned hollowly. “What is the point of that?” Celeste demanded, with a hint of delight. “You'll see once I leave the room.” The daemon’s stance stiffened and he put a hand to his forehead. “Not again,” Celeste groaned. “Why is he having so much trouble?” “What am I doing?” He looked at the cube. “I never knew of such a thing until I pulled it from my pocket.” “Get on with it,” Celeste shouted, a hint of command laced in the words.
Silently the man Donn stepped into the circle, winding the key of the little black box. Then he knelt down on one knee to place the ticking device between the twins. He paused for a moment to sniff the air. “I can smell it now,” he remarked, turning to Celeste. “But what did you put into that bread? Rotten eggs? It smells terrible.” “That smell isn’t the bread,” Celeste responded, matter of fact. “I think if came from him when he arrived.” She nodded over her shoulder towards the door. “Terra I think the tadpole tails are definitely off, the dashing hero was supposed to have an alluring courageous fragrance.” “Dashing hero?” The daemon frowned, turning his head to the door. His eyes pulsated with purple light when they fell on the man standing in the doorway. He was in his early twenties, wearing a long black trench coat. The young man stared back at the Parax Daemon with deep sea blue eyes and a sneer, his strawberry blonde hair sticking out in every direction. The new comer stepped into the room pulling the door closed behind him. “You,” the man Donn spat. Falling back over himself he inadvertently flung the cube as he caught his balance. It hit the
ground just outside of the pentagram, slid across the floor, and finally came to a stop between the feet of the stranger. Terra, the man Donn, and the blonde man all looked to it. “Father, take this box from me,” the stranger started to sing with clear voice that carried. Celeste giggled. “HmU mmm Damhum hm?” Terra complained to Celeste. “I don’t care what you say. I like that song,” Celeste argued, “and you said I could do whatever I wanted for this part; so I did. We’ll get to your part soon.” “I can’t use it anymore,” the man continued, lifting his foot above the cube. He glanced at the daemon then stomped down, shattering the black box. “NO!” the man Donn cried out, his tone pained. His cry ceased when he gazed up at the stranger’s face and locked eyes with him. “It’s getting dark, too dark to see.” The young man took a step towards the circle.
The man Donn shook his head, breaking from the trance. He scuttled backward on hands and heels, fleeing like a bug to the darkness of the back wall. “You should have listened and let me turn off the oven,” Celeste blurted snidely. But the man Donn paid her no heed, all of his attention was focused on his pursuer, beads of panic forming over his brow. Terra watched the gallant hero as he progressed through the room at a steady pace. She was intrigued by his appearance, but inthralled by his eyes. Like orbs of azure they demanded attention, their cold depths communicated the absolute resolution that there was no doubt as to how this scenario would play out. His whole demeanor made it clear; that now the daemon and he were only going through the motions of parts that had been set in physical memory and nothing could change the outcome. As he progressed past the candle at the tip of the star Terra was distracted by his black coat. It was unbuttoned and although it accentuated his build, it acted like a light trap, as if the inside of it was filled with a dark void. The man continued past her, stepped along the edge of the pentagram, then out of
her sight, but she could still hear his foot steps, heading into the shadows after the terrified daemon. “Let me out,” the man Donn squealed, pounding on the wall, his back to the room. “Let me out, damn it,” he screamed. “Why will these shadows not obey? What is wrong with this place?” “Knock, knock, knocking on heavens door,” the blonde man responded lyrically; much to Celeste's amusement. The man Donn gave up his attempt to rip through the shadows and turned to face his assailant. The approaching man pulled something from his coat’s pocket and tossed the item from one hand to the other. "You have no place here fateling. Your contribution or involvement is not required," the man Donn whined meekly. In tandem with the hero’s steps he backed away by sliding along the wall. After ten feet his shoulder bumped into the corner of the room. He hissed at the blonde man, eyes ablaze with shimmering purple energy.
The blonde man, unimpressed by the display of demonic magic, brought his hands together, unfolding the object to reveal the five inch blade of a pocket knife. "Stay back," the man Donn commanded, his trembling voice betraying the false bravery in his posture. He shifted his gaze from the strangers face to the approaching blade. "Experiatus deamonicus," the blonde man pronounced, pointing his knife at the daemon’s chest. "Comandicus, obyticam mi ordantium." "Wha...?" the man Donn asked. "What are you saying? I don't...I don't understand." His eyes flickered up and down. From the glint of the knife to his attacker’s steel blue eyes. "Please stop this. I should not be here. Look I am sorry, I don't even know why they sent me here. It wasn’t my fault," he pleaded. The blonde man stopped two feet away and with quick jab plunged the blade into the man Donn’s gut, right above his left hip.
"Deamonicus prevalious non fourtunatiouse finitium," the hero whispered gently into the wincing daemon’s ear, the words rolling from his lips as if singing a lullaby to a fussy infant. The man Donn’s face contorted from suppressed pain to shock as he pushed against his attacker’s arm, then chest, finding neither the will nor strength to force him away. "Experiatus totalis," the blonde man finished with a smile, golden light blossoming in his irises and lighting his prey’s confused expression. "Pig Latin?" the man Donn moaned. “You dare exorcise me with pig latin?” The young man winked at him with a nod. The man Donn let out a cry of furor. The blonde stranger twisted the knife then thrust it up with a yank that ended with a toe curling crunch. The short blade cut the man Donn open from lower gut right to the bottom of his breast plate. The contents of his rib cage slipped though the cavity, hitting the ground with a soaked splatter. The daemon gurgled, choked, and finally, sank to his knees. His executioner
stepped back, retracting the knife, and giving the daemon room to fall flat on his face without hinder. "You are the one that had no business here, Parax. Return to your masters and tell them that the Majitorium is aware of their actions," the stranger commanded, crouching down to wipe the blood from the blade on the back of the dead man’s blazer. “Hum mum hremm,” Terra murmured. “No I didn’t add that part,” Celeste confirmed. “None of this is anything like I expected it to be.” The blonde man turned on his heels to face the twins, folding the knife and returning it to his outer pocket. He gave them a warm smile. “Sorry you had to see that,” he said to Celeste. “Let me help you out of that.” The man dabbed the tips of his fingers in the pool of blood that was swelling around the man Donn’s body. He then placed his fingers to the chalk pentagram. Blue tendrils of energy sparked between the chalk and the man’s hand. Then with a twist of his wrist he closed his hand and made a motion as if snapping a piece of wood. The blue energy stopped and the chalk lines faded. Standing
up, he went to Celeste and removed the blindfold from her then pulled the gag from Terra’s mouth. “Thank you,” they said in unison. The young man snapped his fingers, and the knots around their hands undid themselves. “Always ready to help a lady in a bind.” He smiled. “Oh you’re smooth.” Celeste grinned, gazing into his blue eyes. “Next time no bondage or pentagrams,” Terra complained, massaging her right wrist. Celeste leaned over to Terra. “I don’t remember adding him, but I like the way he looks. What did you do to make him look like that?” “Nothing, I thought he was one of yours. Isn’t he the hero of your bit?” Terra answered. “I was going to be the hero,” Celeste explained shaking her head. They both looked to the blonde man who was walking to the door. When he reached it, he turned back to say something but shut his mouth when he saw the eerie ways the twins were ogling him.
“Who are you?” Celeste asked, pointing a finger at him. “And where did you come from?” Tommy shifted his eyes up cocking his head to the side, sighed then smiled. “That is a tangled tale I rather not talk about right now,” he responded. “I mean you no harm, if that is what you are worried about. I think the dead daemon over there proves that.” “What’s your name then?” Terra demanded, crossing her arms. “Or is that also something you don’t want to talk about.” “Afraid it is,” he admitted. “Is that so?” “The thing is, if I were to divulge my full name, as innocent as it is, I fear that I my end up sending more trouble your way than it’s worth.” “Oh, that’s sound good,” Celeste said perking up in her chair. Terra glanced to her sister then returned her attention to the blonde man blue eyes. “So what do we call you then? Blondie?” “No. Not Blondie. Make up a better name.”
“Tall, mysterious with a flair of drama. Oh I like him very much. We should figure out what we did, so we can make ‘em again,” Celeste said rubbing her hands together. “I have a few ideas I wouldn’t mind exploring with him.” “A little too fussy if you ask me. Maybe he would be better dark and slightly more brooding,” Terra suggested, getting to her feet and rubbing the back of her neck. “Brooding is no fun,” Celeste scoffed. “To each his own. Now then, what should we call our new friend?” “How about Sasha or Drake? Drake is a good name, strong with a hint of malice.” “Drake,” Terra repeated. “I can live with that. What do you say? Will Drake work for you?” “Wait until I tell Otto about this one,” Drake huffed as he turned to open the door. He pushed down on the door handle and it swung open, bright light and warm wind laced with summer blossoms flooded the room. Pink petals swirling around him, catching in the tangle of his hair. “Not what I was expecting,” Drake proclaimed.
The twins walked towards him and stood in the light at his sides. “The bread is definitely done,” Terra stated. “We’d better hurry before it starts to burn.”
This is the end of the chapter but not the end of the book. Look for the full version on www.theredorb.com