Page 45 of The Night Belongs To Lovers

Christian did not even notice the change in his clothing.

“C—Corey?”

No, not him, fool. You will never lay eyes on him or anyone else ever again.

The apparition, wasting no more time on menacing thoughts and non-invasive methods, flew through the air unencumbered byfriction or gravity and bore down on the man like a hawk. All it wanted was to inflict pain and suffering—and then death. It would give in to animus, visualize itself lashing out, and see what irreparable damage it could inflict physically.

The apparition moved through the mortal’s quivering body with its first strike. It willed itself partially solidified—not fabricated flesh and bone, but substantial enough to affect material things like a poltergeist would. Like it remembered having done to Coriolanus’ mother ages ago.

As it passed through Christian’s body, the apparition heard the man scream in agony. Several minor lacerations erupted from the flesh; blood quickly began to seep through his shirt.

Yes! A good sign! Oh, how I will make you suffer before ripping you apart!

The malevolent apparition radiated a terrifying presence, an aura resembling a vengeful Keres from the depths of Hades’ underworld. Its spectral eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity while jagged fangs and claws manifested from sheer intention. Intangible mist calcified just enough for the creature to inflict more physical damage.

Like a hungry jungle cat, the apparition lunged at the throat of its prey, biting down as hard as it could. The savage attack left only minor bite wounds, but they were deep and bled profusely.

Christian continued to scream, confused and afraid. He knew something was attacking him, but he could not see anything in the alley’s darkness except the glow of two eyes with no pupils. The moon’s illumination did little to aid him. His attacker wasnoiseless and much too fast for him to weakly defend himself, let alone actively fight back.

“Corey, help me!” Christian wailed. “Corey!”

The apparition, incensed by the call for aid, sent his victim backward into a brick wall with such force that Christian’s whole body lifted clear off the ground on its journey to additional pain and injury.

Then, calling upon everything it had to turn rage and hate into force of will, the apparition lifted the mortal off the ground again and propelled him toward the wall on the other side of the alley. It repeated the violent back-and-forth act several times until it exhausted its energy. The final time, the force of the impact split the back of Christian’s head open.

But he was still alive.

Stab your eyes, Fates! I weaken too quickly in this damnable form of nothingness.

The apparition cursed the names of each of the Weird Sisters in its mind as it tried to think of how it could kill this man horrifically, thereby inflicting more harm upon his traitorous child’s already broken love life.

And provide itself with some satisfaction, even enjoyment, from killing this surrogate Olympius.

Then, upon glimpsing something shiny in the distance, it appeared to the hateful spirit that The Fates continued to play their wicked games.

There, lying in utter disrespect upon the dirty ground, its metallic surface catching Phoebe’s moonlight so perfectly that it practically glittered, was its ancient moon brooch.

The very one treacherous Olympius stole and haughtily wears upon his breast! How is it here? But then, all things in revenge are possible when the Wheel of Destiny turns.

Suddenly, the sound of a hundred chimes all ringing at once in its mind signalled the nearby presence of a god.

But I still cannot sense Olympius. So, Coriolanus must have heard the mortal’s cries for help. Oh, this vengeance will be magnificent.

Christian, semi-conscious, remained slumped against the brick wall, his left leg broken and bent at an unnatural angle. Rivulets of blood ran out of his nostrils and down his slack-jawed mouth.

The neck is bloody and punctured but not overly damaged. Yes, that lovely, delicate throat, so accessible, so ready to be utterly savaged.

In a desperate rush, the apparition fixed its gaze on the brooch and concentrated, commanding it to rise steadily, higher and higher, until it floated near its mark. It intended to use the ornamental pin as a weapon.

With malice in its insubstantial heart, the apparition employed the sharp edge of the moon brooch to slice Christian’s throat, causing a profuse discharge of blood from the deep gash. Then, as the object hung in the air, the apparition willed it to slice back the other way.

Finally spent, the apparition allowed the brooch to fall to the ground.

Confused and terrified, Christian slumped to the ground, gurgling and choking to death on his blood.

Olympius will indeed be blamed. Fates, grant me my reprieve, for this ingenious, artful move has surely afforded me your grace.

The apparition, exuding near palpable venomous glee, shrank back to the shadows to watch the final act of this theatre of pain play out.

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