Page 8 of Fallen: Darkness Ascending, Vol.1

F I V E

T he sound of a small air pump hums somewhat loudly in the bedroom, as Ajax inflates his air mattress. I hold my backpack to my chest as I watch him on the floor, and frown while I enter the room. “I really don’t have to have the bed?—”

“I was left very clear instructions.”

I scoff, but there’s a small laugh underneath the breath. The letter from Cornelius was…very thorough.

“And my masculine integrity would never allow me to let a guest sleep on the floor anyway. Did you get enough nuggets?”

I set the backpack down beside his bed stand, turning and sitting on the mattress with a nod. “Yes; thank you. Though I don’t think chicken nuggets was on Dr. Karagiannis’s list of essentials?”

Ajax flicks a tired smirk. “That’s insider information. Hope loves her happy meals—and living across from a Donald’s is convenient.”

He must have zoomed to the drive-thru when I called.

God, at…not even four in the morning? …How incredibly sweet of him.

Ajax looks intimidating, and he’s got gym-bro written all over him, but he’s really the nicest, softest cinnamon roll I’ve ever met.

We’re barely friends—I only know him through Delphi, and when Cornelius told me to outline at least three people I could rely on as a social support network, I could barely think of two.

Ajax had met me a bare handful of times, and we were just acquaintances or loose friends-of-a-friend when I asked if I could include him on my list. I didn’t realize Cornelius was going to write up detailed instructions for them both on how to respond to a crisis for me, but Ajax never hesitated—and told me to take back my apology for roping him into something he didn’t exactly sign up for.

So far I’ve needed to make late-night sleepovers twice, and both were with Delphi, but it’s a true relief that I have him as a backup.

No, not a backup—a viable option.

The air pump is turned off, spare bed sheet tossed over the mattress, and Ajax draws a hand over his face wearily before saying, “Need anything else?”

I shake my head firmly. “This is fine. And thank you for staying up here instead of downstairs on the couch. I-I, it helps, just not being alone in a room.”

He nods a few times, unbothered. “I get it. You have any hallucinations, just wake me up and point them out. I’ll let you know what’s real or not.”

An intentionally diluted understanding of the reality I go through during an episode, but it’s enough info to get the job done.

I smile and nod, glad at his insistence to wake him up if I need—I already feel terrible for rousing him on a weekday.

I almost apologize for that too, but he ambles to the light switch and gives a tired smile.

I scoot down into the bedsheets, working my legs around Stray and getting settled so he can lie out on my chest. The deep pressure therapy helps me be calm enough to fall asleep, and he’ll move to the foot of the bed soon enough.

Ajax flips the lights, my portable nightlight casting a faint glimmer of stars into the room, and there are a couple minutes of the two of us both getting situated in unfamiliar beds before the air falls quiet.

I breathe in, deep. Hold, then exhale.

I’ve got a sleeping pill in me, water at my side, Stray right here, and a friend to keep me safe. If Phantasmus has the balls to show his real face in here, Ajax will lay him the fuck out.

Probably.

…He is a demon , Cornelius says, and he did crack that one guy’s neck like nothing, but?—

I clench my eyes, force a sigh, and tell my thoughts to stop by firmly counting sheep backward from one hundred, in Italian.

Cento. Novanta nove. Novantotto…

Settantacinque…

Sessantotto…

Quaranta nove…

I’ve made it to zero and back up again from a hundred to forty nine, my consciousness waning with want for sleep.

Blips of memory fade out, and I pick back up at whatever number I remember last. You’re doing such a good job , I hear myself say.

The little praise relaxes me a bit more, and I get through a couple more numbers.

So perfectly peaceful . I feel a heavy, sighing breath fall out of me. I really am quite peaceful.

So warm .

Mmm…Ajax’s sheets are very nice and warm.

So still.

Stray has moved off of me by now, but I still feel pleasantly heavy .

So…perfectly…soft…

That’s a strange thing to think about myself—breath shuddering in, tiredness falling aside like a curtain being drawn, my eyes wearily force open to take in the starlit room. I try to scan every corner and crevice, every dark little spot, but I don’t see anything out of place.

Ohh…? So sweetly scared…Is she frightened?

My heart begins to fully wake, and I lift my head up a bit more to glance at the air mattress.

I can see Ajax’s form there under his spare blanket, feet exposed, arm tossed out to the side.

The breaths through his open mouth are loud enough to hear, softly.

I scan the room again, but no sign of him.

Night whispers always mean one thing. One very, specific thing.

And so far it’s the only time I ever hear Phantasmus’s voice.

It’s still currently my own, in my head— Do I scare her? Mm? A hissing, giggling laugh echoes in my mind.

I vigorously shake my head, trying to clear it.

Now the voice has more of that bubbling, gurgle to it—and I swear I can feel breath on my ear as it whispers, Doesn’t she like being frightened, though?

I flinch from where I hear the sound, but even as I move the voice just follows. Doesn’t it make her feel so alive ?

I cover the ear and start to sit up, getting an elbow beneath me—then freezing in my tracks.

A pointer finger is held vertically over that pitch-black mouth. His lips don’t move, but his voice trails from my covered ear, behind my head, and to the exposed one as he says, Hush, little lamb…I wouldn’t want to have to involve your innocent friend in our fun tonight. Would you?

I’m shaking my head, body still frozen. My mouth whispers beneath my breath, “It’s not real.” I swallow hard, closing my eyes to take a deep breath. “It’s not real.”

Ajax said to wake him if I start seeing things, and the sooner I break myself out of this the better, but when I finish blowing out a second deep breath and I open my eyes again, Phantasmus is still there.

His boots are perched on the foot of the bed beside Stray, knees bent, forearms across them, hand still hushing, head tilted as he watches me.

Stray has lifted his head groggily, looking around in the demon’s general direction.

“…Greet.” I say softly. The dog’s eyes just scan and look around. His nose wriggles as he sniffs curiously. Then his paw lifts—pointing and waving at Ajax, over to the side. He even glances at me afterwards as if he’s not sure that’s who I was trying to refer to.

You don’t really think I’m not real , the voice bubbles into my other ear.

I wince as it chokes through a small laugh—Phantasmus’s lips dryly cracking up into a smile behind his hovering finger to show his stained and wolfish mouth.

And I know you enjoy my visits in the deep, dark depths of your depraved little heart…

I can see parts of you that you’ve no concept of.

Did your oh-so holy angel tell you that?

That as a demon I know your fears and desires so, much, more intimately than yourself?

I lick my lips, staring at his mask—starlight from my lamp twinkling along the gold—and begin to breathe in the start of Ajax’s name.

The finger at his mouth now waggles chidingly, an indescribable sound rumbling in my ear.

Something between the bubble of lava, crackling of icy glaciers, and a prehistoric growl.

I flinch at it, the warning sound shifting into the shape of words, I know you don’t want me to kill him too, so don’t make me.

Phantasmus leans forward, a dark hand extending to the blankets, and when the slight weight of him sets down across my covered ankle and the fingers begin to grip in along the sides, I close my mouth and cover it with a hand.

He’s here. He’s here, right here, in front of me, in front of Ajax , another person?—

The crimson stain of his fangs grows more vividly bold in color, over-saturated, as my vision swirls.

Fall, little lamb. I’ll catch you.

My breath shudders, voice starting to creak with want to cry out or call out or do something to stop this— a blur of gold flashes across the room as Phantasmus springs forward, his mouth wide, agape, and grinning gleefully as he leaps to my chest, landing on me roughly and tearing me straight through reality and into a pocket of darkness.

Layers of thorned cobwebs break beneath my body as I tear through the realms and fall into a crevice between existence.

My skin scratches and tears away as I’m ripped through the webbing, like barbed wire, peeling my body away in pieces until the core of me is all that’s left to splash down into the scalding blood-water below.

It feels thick, too-hot, a thing that should be cold but isn’t.

I have no awareness of sight, anymore. Senses are different without a physical body to experience them with.

Stripped of that, I have nothing but my essence, my soul, floating in a heavy mass of something intangible and unidentifiable.

I’m aware of myself, of the shape my essence takes after being fit inside a body for so long, but it’s… here, and, not here.

Like hearing echoed nothingness in an enclosed, empty room, I can sense this place has no one in it but me and him. Can feel him move, like strands in a spider’s web, like a drifting current of ocean, shifting around me.

The voice in my ear bubbles, gurgling through blood in his throat, as he laughs. If I had a body, I’d feel his breath on my face.

“ I’m so happy to see you again… ”

If I had a body, I’d yank it away from him and try to get away.