In the Shadow of the Beast

A burst of smoke signaled Delilah’s arrival into the central courtyard of the LusciousLockian National Palace, an enormous marble building constructed in the classical style, wrapped in a thick coat of ivy in the tradition of most LusciousLockian governmental buildings. Next to Delilah’s fluttering skirt of smoke landed Timoteo, face first into the thick grass that hadn’t been tended to for weeks.

“Well then!” said Delilah, clapping both hands together as she took two steps towards the Palace stairway. “It’s been a while since you’ve been here now, hasn’t it?” She whirled around and stared down at Timoteo, her expression one of vicious amusement.

Timoteo, on all fours, looked up at her. “Oh yeah, years.”

She kicked him in the face, knocking him on his side. Blood gushed from his mouth. “Where the hell have you been?”

Timoteo rose to his feet, glaring at Delilah spitefully. “Somewhere you couldn’t catch me.”

“You betrayed me, Timoteo. You betrayed us. You know how many years you set us back?”

“That’s right,” he spat. “Let’s assume your plan wasn’t to turn me into another zombie all along.”

Delilah’s skin flashed a bright red. “I loved you!” she screamed.

Timoteo wiped his bloody mouth, grinning. “Your colors are showing,” he said.

Delilah looked at her red hands and flushed an even deeper shade of red. With a backhand slap she sent Timoteo sprawling several yards away. “I risked everything for you! I taught you—You were supposed to become king.”

Timoteo grunted, lifting himself up yet again. “A puppet king under the control of a ruler set on draining LusciousLocks and destroying the world. I sure did miss out, didn’t I.”

Delilah glared at him murderously. “Give them back.”

“Give what back?” Timoteo asked innocently.

“I can make you bleed more,” Delilah threatened. “Now tell me. Where are they?”

“In some place in time and space.  They’re perfectly safe, I assure you.”

Delilah stared at him for a minute, her skin tone gradually returning to pale white. “You know it’s either that, or your three precious girls. We won’t stop until we have them.” Timoteo stared at the ground. He would say nothing. Delilah approached him, slowly. “My God, Timoteo,” she said, more softly now. “How old you’ve grown.”

Timoteo looked up into her black, lightless eyes. “You haven’t aged a day.”

Her face approached his face. She placed her hand on his cheek. The years had made him gaunt—almost skeletal. His skin was sallow, sickly. His eyes no longer glistened with that eagerness—that shimmer of excitement she remembered when she used to teach him how to channel the magic from the earth. When she used to teach him of the history she knew, of the link between LusciousLocks and AssMachenstan that had existed since the times of Planet Breckinridge, but had been forgotten after the massacres and the Great Digital Fire.

Delilah touched the lines around Timoteo’s eyes. “It’s unfortunate, what’s happened to you,” she said. “The decisions you’ve made… It’s like you never had anything to do with AssMachenstan. Like you’ve entirely forgotten who you are…”

“I know very well who I am,” Timoteo said icily.

Delilah withdrew her hand, looked at it, then looked away. She had almost forgotten what his breath felt like. “You know I can’t release you until you’ve told us where you’ve hidden them.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Then we’ll torture you.”

“So be it.”

Delilah pursed her lips. Timoteo observed her carefully. He knew there was still a part of her, hidden behind those cold, lifeless eyes, that still cared for him. He was counting on it.

“Forgive me, Tim,” said Delilah.

She turned away from Timoteo, took a few slow steps towards the Palace stairway, and closed her eyes. Her dress began to shift slowly back into mist… a black mist that wrapped her… hid her entirely from view. A dull droning sound began, growing louder… louder every second, its dull bass reverberating in Timoteo’s chest and stomach. The sound eventually forced him to cover his ears. Delilah was now an enormous cloud of black smoke, swirling, shifting, jerking abruptly like a coiling snake.

She was transforming.

The droning became more animalistic. Like the wail of a large, dying mammal. It continued to evolve. Louder. Sharper. Higher. Timoteo buckled to his knees, squinting with pain. It was unbearable, piercing straight through his skull, jamming his brain.

Tiny specks of blue light began to rise off the ground, sprouting from the blades of grass, from the soil. Timoteo couldn’t even hear himself screaming as the magical blue specks gathered all around him. He felt his head cracking open—his forehead splitting—every blood vessel in his body strained, about to explode—

Timoteo felt the trumpeting sound flood him to the very last pore. He felt the shadow of the hideous monster rise before him, engulf him. He felt the shock of electricity tear through his skin, through his bones—

He felt the world around him explode.

And Timoteo knew no more.