Season 2 - Blogisode 7

CHAPTER SEVEN



Jade sits silent at the kitchen table pouring through a collection of aged tomes. The light of day just but pierces the window behind her casting a morning’s glow over the rustic ambiance of the oak and stone kitchen.

Behind her a scene not unlike a meshed orgy of gothic Dark Age and post modern mayhem as new and old collide.

The mason worked walls give way to monochrome screens and electronic devices reminiscent of the world that was but changed somehow, as if evolved to better suit the new environment.

The table is heavy to the eye, solid wood, carved by hand; an intricate etching runs length the rim, telling a tale in pictures words cannot recollect.

This morning her lesson of choice was the complete compendium of works in regard to the phenomenon of the Reptile men. Known through history by many names, their most recent perhaps the least inventive, they had been a bane and plague to the existence of man from the dawn of the civilized nation.

Her family, and families of the other’s that reside in this haven, had known this back to generations unrecorded. They had been selected as small few to hold the secrets of the serpents and do for them what they could not in the open world of day. The contract bound in word and blood was a statement to their allegiance to these beasts; a literal and defined deal with the devil.

“And what works of time and thought have my daughter to table before the bread and butter this morning?”

Jade’s father steps into the room from the hallway behind her which leads to the rest of the home.

“Nothing of interest to you, or those pompous stale-minds you call a council.”

Jade shuts the book in front of her very matter of fact. A small plume of dust filters up from between its pages.

“Those pompous stale-minds, as you refer to them, are the most capable minds residing here in this little microcosm. I’ve spoken to you about your tongue toward them.”

Her father steps into the kitchen and makes an attempt to lock eyes with the young woman, an engagement of mind unreturned.

“You’ve spoken to me about a lot of things father.” Jade rises from her chair, taking with her the mess of literature about the table.

Nine, or Gerald Reynolds as he had been known in past, make attempt to offer up a kiss to Jade’s cheek but finds himself thwarted by a swift duck and dive.

“I need to go see to the prisoner.”

She squirms past her father and reinserts the books back to their proper position on one of the many shelves lining the long walls of their home and then steps quick to the front door.

“You mean our new guest. I’d like to meet him.”

Jade’s face sticks to anger; she spins round a dime back to face the man behind her.

“That beast is no guest. He’s one of them and all he is worth is the information I can extract from him.”

“Come dear, the serpents have gone. The only one left is that poor bastard we have in locks and he’s only here because the others cast him out. From what I hear from the rest this fellow seems no more a demon than you or I.”

She does little to hide the disgust her father’s comments instill in her. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You weren’t there when I found him.”

Jade turns her back to him, leaves without a word, the door slams behind her.

“Enjoy your day dear.”

Her father shrugs, content to lose an argument he doesn’t quite understand. He moves to the kitchen to rummage through the fridge for a morning meal.

He freezes suddenly, as if struck by a memory, rises from the refrigerator and turns full to the book shelf opposite him on the far wall.

An eyebrow rises up the brow as he proceeds to the section of shelf where Jade had just been to return several compendiums of knowledge.

The shelves were flush with works from all ages on each and every topic of interest. The books themselves take up a good quarter of the wall space that runs the living area adjacent the kitchen, the rest held mount to a peculiar blend of antique works, weaponry and a line of flat screen monitors of varying size projecting a monochrome tint, all but one set to a common ENTER page. A large remote control hangs near the largest of them.

He thumbs the spines of several of the volumes level to his eye, coming to rest on one of the few Jade had been engorged in not moments past.

He lifts the book from its place, holds it heavy in his palm. Black leather with no dust jacket, on the cover no words, just a symbol. Two snakes intertwined around a large flaming torch.

“For fuck sake.”




“I wish I had time to explain to you everything that that dimwitted expression on your face is telling me you need to understand but I don’t. Plain as I can say it Christian you simply, need to trust me.”

Set speaks into the darkness at a very confused and edged Christian, watching him as he fumbles with the walls and door, working to build a physical memory of his surroundings.

“All I know about you is that for the split second I could see your face all I could think about was the fucking nightmares that have been haunting me for near fifteen years now. That fucking face is the face that wakes me up in cold sweats at night, and you want me to trust it?”

Set dodges and slides past Christian as he stumbles about the closet sized containment. Slowly maneuvering to his back he whispers in his ear. “Still having trouble with the light?”

“Jesus fuck!” Christian spins round fist first at the hushed snake tongue, his knuckles connecting with hard concrete as Set dives beneath his advance.

“I think I broke my fucking hand!” Christian clutches his bruised appendage tight to his chest, squeezing out the pain.

His eyes look empty out to the black that surrounds him. “Can you see me?”

“If you weren’t so damn stubborn you could see me as well, all you need to do is give in and let the change take you. Just let it take you Christian.”

“I’m not changing back into one of those…”

“One of us? What makes you so sure you’re not one of us already? What makes you so sure that the man you think you are is really you at all?”

“Fuck you.”

Set’s entire body goes alert, he twitches toward a sound someplace past the door. “Shh! We don’t have any more time to discuss this. In thirty seconds someone is going to come through that door and drag you away to be tortured and killed and the only way you’re going to avoid that unwelcome fate is if you let go of these apprehensions and trust me God damn it. Now let go!”

The echo of steps grows louder. They stop just outside the door.

“I won’t do it.”

A key clangs and scratches fighting with the lock.

“You don’t have a choice.”

The lock gives, the door begins its heavy swing.

“Do it now!”