Xombi

The snow drifted down around her, settling on the street below. She sat perched on a gargoyle; watching, waiting. Her preternatural senses picked up a nearby presence. There was a man in the alley directly below. He shivered and pulled a large woolen coat tighter around himself and hurried on his way. She envied him. It had been a long time since she’d felt the cold. It had been a long time since she’d felt a lot of things. She found herself casting her mind back twelve years, to that fateful day when her life had changed forever. Or to be more precise; the day her life had ended.

Minerva Westernra had been seventeen when she died. Her actual death was pretty unremarkable. Coming home from a party late one night, she was hit by a drunk driver. She died instantly. In fact, she barely had time to register the fact she was dead, when she found herself standing on the edge of a great abyss. She had started to back away when she realised that she was surrounded. Minerva remembered how she had stood on a small island of black rock, in a sea of nothingness. Panic-stricken and confused, she’d cried for help. She’d passed what seemed like hours, although it was impossible to actually measure time in this place, in this state before she’d calmed down and decided to take stock of the situation. Where was she? Hell? No sooner had she thought it than a deep chuckling penetrated the silence. Minerva’s tiny pillar of rock shook as the deep, booming laughter resonated in the darkness. The sound was too much to bear as Minerva clapped her hands over her ears and screamed. Surely this was the devil himself! The laughter stopped as strange unearthly glow descended around the platform, the voice spoke,

“Devil? Yes that is what some call me. I have gone by many names over the millennia, Chernobog, Thantos, Malsumis, but mainly Devil of late. You may call me Diabolous; The Cursed God.”

Minerva gulped,

"So is this Hell?”

Diabolous laughed again, quieter this time and Minerva found she could just about tolerate the sound.

“Not Hell no. I wouldn’t dream of taking you there… just yet. This is merely one of million of dimensions running alongside your own. I admit it isn’t the most welcoming of dimensions but I find the peace and solitude suiting to my tastes. Here there is less chance of… interruption.”

Minerva started to back away, remembered her precarious position and promptly stopped, resolving to stand still. She was trapped… dammit!

“And what… exactly would someone be in danger of interrupting?”

“I have plans for you my dear Minerva, great plans! Your premature death, threw things a little off schedule, most inconvenient. But don’t worry I managed to rescue your soul before it was lost forever to me in the afterlife. We’re going to have to move certain developments a few years forward to stop this happening again. A little annoying but I had prepared for such sabotage.”

“What plans?”

“You needn’t worry about that just yet, my dear. I’m going to bring you back to life, but there are going to have to be a few changes.”

“Changes?”

“Yes, yes just a few modifications. You’d have gone through this transformation eventually anyway. Ready to face your destiny?”

Minerva looked startled,

“Changes? No, wait! What-"

Before she could say another word the eerie glow grew brighter until it was so intense that Minerva had to shut her eyes. There was an intense searing pain that coursed through her body. It was at this point that Minerva lost consciousness.

While Minerva slept, she had the strangest of dreams. She found herself standing on the edge of a lake, surrounded by trees. There was a man sitting cross-legged nearby. Minerva slowly approached him. As she got nearer, she gasped. The Man was quite unremarkable looking, with his grey suit and shaggy brown hair. But his eyes! They blazed a brilliant fiery red. He smiled,

Come Minerva, sit with me.”

Seeing no other option, Minerva cautiously took her place opposite The Man,

“Who are you?” She demanded, “Where am I?”

The Man Replied,

“Such things are unimportant. It is what you have become that matters.”

Minerva jumped to her feet, her own speed surprising her,

“What are you talking about?”

He smiled and glanced over at the lake,

“Go see for yourself.”

Warily, Minerva walked over to the water’s edge and peered at her reflection. What she saw made her drop to her knees in shock. Her skin glowed with a deathly white pallor; her messy, black hair now had a shock of white running through it. Her eyes shone with the same fiery red she’d seen on The Man, her face had become sunken and resembled a skull and her nails were blackened and sharpened into claws. Most shocking of all were the strange markings that adorned her face. Large black rings circled her eyes, with three dots under her left eye. Black lines ran from the corners of her blackened lips ending in a curl on her jaw line. These had vertical lines along them, giving the illusion of a grim, skeletal smile. In summary, she was demonic in appearance. She cried out and, scooping up some of the lake water, tried frantically to rub the markings off, to no avail. She felt a firm hand on her shoulder, starting, she leapt to her feet and spun round, again her own speed surprised her. She was face to face with The Man.

“Try as you might, those marking will not come off, they’re part of you now. Come, sit back down, there is much I need to teach you and time is limited.”

The arrival of an unnatural presence interrupted Minerva’s thoughts and brought her back to the present. She felt a chill down her spine, but the presence had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Minerva sighed, probably just a glitch. They happened from time to time. She returned to her memories.

After being calmed down, Minerva had been persuaded to sit back down with The Man. He had handed her a book, which seemed to have been bound in black rock. The pages consisted of ordinary crumpled parchment and the writing appeared to be in red ink, although Minerva got the feeling that the nature of this “ink” was far more macabre. The book was open at a page titled “Xombi”. Underneath, was a picture of a demonic creature, bearing a striking resemblance to Minerva.

“This is you,” The Man explained, “You have been transformed into a Xombi. The purpose for this is irrelevant to you at this stage. I am hear to talk to you about your new powers.”

He paused but Minerva was too stunned to respond, so he continued,

“You have no pulse and you no longer need to breathe. In short, you are technically dead. Diabolous’s immense power is the source of your life force now. As a result, you cannot die unless He chooses. He has blessed you with superhuman strength and enhanced senses. You have no need for food, drink or sleep. Your wounds will heal at an accelerated rate, however you’ll have to sew up larger wounds if you want them to heal properly. Any questions?”

“Why do I look like this?”

“If you are referring to the markings, their significance will be revealed to you when the time is right. Now-“

“And my eyes? My hair? What the hell have you done to me?!”

“Your eyes are the windows to your soul. Diabolous is in your soul now; it is his power that is reflected through your eyes. As for your hair, the transformation was very traumatic for your body, the intense stress has led you to lose a little pigment in your hair.”

Unsatisfied, Minerva was about to ask more questions, when a blinding light blasted out of nowhere and engulfed her. She could still hear The Man’s voice,

“Time’s up Minerva, time to return to your own dimension.”

“WAIT!”

She cried out, but it was too late, everything had gone black.

When she awoke, Minerva found herself lying flat on her back. Had it all been a dream? She looked down and saw she was lying on a metal table. Shocked, she jumped to her feet, knocking down a table of vicious looking instruments on to the floor, there was a loud clattering sound, unusually loud. Was she in a morgue? She looked down at herself; well at least everything was intact, if a little pale. She was lucky no one had tried to cut her open yet. She bent down and started to pick up the fallen instruments. Minerva caught her reflection in a large saw and let out a strangled cry. The markings! Her eyes! It was all real! Dropping the instruments in her hand, Minerva fled the morgue, lost and confused. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t go home, not looking like this. One look and people would flee, or worse, attack. She had to find The Man… the book, they were her only hope now. But where to start?

Minerva had spent ten years looking for that book, but recently another, more pressing, occupation had taken priority.

A piercing scream jolted Minerva back to reality. The presence was back, stronger this time. It was close. How had it escaped her attention this long? This troubled Minerva, but she’d have to ponder it later, there was work to do. She leapt from her perch on the gargoyle and landed gracefully on the building below. The presence was in the next alley. Minerva dashed along the rooftop and dived off the other end, landing on all fours, vertically. She climbed down the side of the building, like a lizard and dropped down into the alleyway. Her sensitive eyes picked up two figures a few meters away. They were crouched over something. Minerva cursed; she was too late.

The ghoul had just ripped off its latest victim’s arm, when it heard footsteps approaching from behind. Grinning, it turned round, expecting another victim. Its face fell as a blade flew out of the darkness, decapitating its unfortunate companion. The ghoul let out an unearthly moan and charged, still holding the severed arm.

Minerva drew out her long sword and stood poised as the ghoul came for her, waving an arm above its malformed head. She was about to strike when the ghoul stopped suddenly. It twitched and rose into the air, dropping the arm. It had gone completely limp. Minerva cautiously approached the floating ghoul, sword ready to strike. Suddenly the ghoul’s head flew back. She jumped backwards as its dull white eyes transformed into a fiery red. It grinned,

“Diabolous sends His regards.”

The blazing redness left the ghoul’s eyes as it dropped to the floor, dead. Minerva swiftly drove her blade through the ghoul’s neck, severing the head. Better safe than sorry. She picked up the arm and placed it on the corpse of a young woman, then, picking up her spare blade, she swiftly departed, climbing the same building she’d descended from.

Back on her gargoyle, Minerva reflected on the night’s events. A lot of things were troubling her. She should’ve been able to sense those should, long before they had a chance to attack. But that wasn’t the worst part, ghoul had spoken, or at least been possessed by something with the ability to speak.

As far as she could tell, ghouls were basically brain dead humans. They sometimes wandered through temporal rifts from other dimensions and proceed to feed on human flesh, or generally cause havoc. At least that was her theory; she had no way of finding out for sure. She had discovered them about two years ago after realising that her heightened senses allowed her to sense the temporal rift that announced their arrival. At first she had captured one in the hope of interrogating it concerning information about The Man, or even Diabolous Himself. However she had found it incapable of speech and endeavoured to destroy it. Decapitation had proved to be the most effective method. She’d spent the last two years hunting stray ghouls down and destroying them. Minerva enjoyed the work, it gave her a sense of purpose and made a welcome change from chasing red herrings in search of a book she had only seen in a dream.

Now, numbers were increasing and they were even starting to come through in groups. Minerva had found as many as five together the other night. This, on top of tonight’s developments troubled Minerva greatly. She thought back to those eyes. The Man’s words, concerning her own eyes came back to her. Could it really have been Him?

“Diabolous sends his regards.”

She had a bad feeling about this, a very bad feeling.