Beyond the Veil Read Free

feared, the one who strolled amongst the Romans and slipped the point of
his spear into the side of Jesus himself, in front of everybody.
    Longinus was made to create terror, the
true Anti-Christ no matter who wore the mantle. For all his talk of settling
down and fitting in with the New World Order left behind by God and Satan’s
departure, this was all Longinus would ever be: a cruel, depraved killer who
could make De Sade piss his breeches and sprout wood at the same time. And while
he was doing it all to save Karra, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of
puzzle box I was opening by aiding and abetting.
    I swallowed hard at the thought just as a
tiny clink drew my attention to the
floor. A yellowish-white triangle laid there, a couple of thick threads
protruding wetly from the flatter end. It took me a second to realize it was a
tooth. By then, another had joined the first. Mihheer clutched to Longinus’
wrist as the ex-AC held the alien’s mouth open with magic and was pulling his
teeth out one at a time. A gurgled screech accompanied each removal, blood
gushing into his throat. It spewed out with every scream, spattering Longinus,
but he didn’t seem to care. He spent several minutes de- fanging Mihheer, stopping only when the alien’s mouth was a mountain range of jagged
flesh and oozing blood. A pile of teeth sat on the ground next to him.
    Then Longinus moved on. A small piece of
the alien’s finger flew past me, dots of blood speckling my sleeve, their
warmth sinking in. There was a flash of energy and the smell of charred meat wafted
to my nose as Longinus cauterized the wound with his magic. Then another finger
bone whirled by. Another followed, and then another. Hiss, rip, pause, hiss, rip, pause: the pattern repeating over and over. All the while Mihheer shrieked,
Longinus’ question floated from his lips every few seconds, punctuated by the
snap of bone.
    When he’d finished the fingers, the alien
still refused to answer, so he went on to the metacarpals, plucking out each
bone with vicious precision. He worked to the wrist, grabbing the nubs of both
bones and yanking them apart as though they were wishbones. The skin and meat
tore, Mihheer’s forearm shaping a “V” until the bones slipped loose of the
flesh. Longinus cast them aside and peeled the skin away next, tugging at the
tendons.
    By the time he’d reached the elbow, I’d had
all I could take. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not above putting a few bullets in a
guy—angel, whatever—for information and the occasional vicarious thrill, but there
was a hazy line I tried not to cross…too often…when I could help it.
    Normally, I’d have just blamed my
sensitivity to ultra-violence on my mother, the inner monologue of my underdeveloped
conscience, but recent revelations screwed the pooch on that excuse.
    The image I’d had of her, however
manufactured and unlikely as it might have been to begin with, had been shot all
to hell. Now I didn’t know who or what I was supposed to be. My moral compass
was fucked seven ways to Sunday and twice on Tuesday, all without lube. It’s
not that it ever pointed true north, but it hadn’t slipped too far south until recently. Nothing puts a black mark on your
permanent record quite like cold-blooded murder.
    Maybe I wasn’t that different from dear old
dad after all. That didn’t stop me from wanting to be.
    Longinus caught up in his mess terpiece of
origami flesh and bone, I slipped into the adjoining hallway and shut the door
behind me. I was still in the God-proof room so Rachelle couldn’t spot me, but
the stone helped filter out the alien’s screams…at least a little bit.
    I wanted Karra back more than anything, so
I sunk to the floor and waited while Longinus did his thing. My guts churned as
I imagined what was happening on the other side of the stone barrier. I
wouldn’t waste any energy to stop him, but I damn sure didn’t feel the need to
watch.

Three

 
    After about forty-five