Demonheart: Book 2: Walkers From Another Dimension Read online

  Demonheart

  Walkers From Another Dimension

  J.J. Egosi

  Copyright © 2021 by Josh Egosi

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Calls from a Restless Mind

  Chapter 2

  Unexpected Visitors

  Chapter 3

  Fangs of the Crying Wolf

  Chapter 4

  Blind Leading the Blind

  Chapter 5

  The Face of All Your Fears

  Chapter 6

  Dragged Down Memory Lane

  Chapter 7

  Secrets from the Shadows

  Chapter 8

  Star Crossed Rivals

  Chapter 9

  The Beast of the Wetlands

  Chapter 10

  The Mechanical Witch

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Calls from a Restless Mind

  T

  he air was cold. His footsteps echoed through the halls, each step pounding like a snapping avalanche against the floorboards. He felt a soreness in his mind, sensing he’d been taken far away from his realm of consciousness.

  Michael had been walking down a darkened passageway for what seemed like an eternity. The wooden doors and gargoyle rings upon them ran with no end, slipping out from the shadows with each step he took. The halls were candlelit and ornamented with gothic paintings from times unknown to him. Empty suits of armor holding various forms of weaponry lined the walls, as if to protect them and what lied within.

  This place intrigued and confused him. He had no recollection of how he got here, but was determined to find an answer.

  At last, he approached the grand double doors at the end of the hall. He explored towards them with trembling legs. The doors were intricately decorated, with goat skulls on each handle and black wings on each side. Their crimson eyes pierced his mind, sending a shiver through his body.

  As he prepared to knock and face whatever awaited him, the doors slowly opened on their own. The creaking, with every painful inch they opened, left his heart thundering with dread.

  He prepared himself to knock and face whatever awaited him beyond the doors. Not even the deep breath he took could help calm his speeding heart. He inched towards the doors when they slowly opened on their own, creaking with every painful inch they moved.

  A grand reading chamber slowly revealed itself behind the doors. The shelves were stacked with books to the ceilings. A fire sparked in the corner. The walls were clad in tapestries depicting a man and another: the shadow of a young girl. In the center of the chamber was the very man depicted in the tapestries.

  This man appeared familiar to Michael. He sat in his scarlet leather-bound sofa, flipping through pages of a book as he held a glass of crimson wine in one hand. He took in the earthy scent with a mischievous grin running across his face.

  The man’s attire was somewhat formal: black dress shoes and pants, and a black shirt with the top two buttons undone. What was most peculiar, however, was the crow mask covering the top half of his face.

  Michael’s eyes were unwavering as they gazed at him. He did not know why he felt he had met him before, but the sensation was even more alluring.

  Suddenly, the man closed the book and placed it onto the table beside him, before gazing in Michael’s direction.

  Michael stumbled back, feeling a sharp pain course through his body. He panted heavily in the man’s presence, still unable to veer his attention from the faint crimson gaze through the crow mask.

  The man leaned towards the chessboard laid across the table in front of him and picked up the king piece. He took one more sip of his wine before putting the glass down, twiddling the king piece between his fingers.

  “So, it appears the stars have finally aligned for us, Michael.” The man grinned under his crow mask, bringing a chill to the room.

  “Who are you and how do you know my name?” Michael exclaimed with sweat beading down his neck. “And your voice—it sounds so familiar.”

  He had a faint recollection of such a tone haunting his mind before fading away in the embers of the man before him.

  The man smiled and stood up, then slowly walked towards Michael. Every step he took echoed while Michael’s heart continued to pound. The man came to a few feet from him, stopped, and looked into Michael’s eyes. “My name is Lucifer. Nice to finally meet you.”

  Michael’s eyes widened. Lucifer … that name … —

  “Sounds familiar, does it?” Lucifer interrupted. Michael took a step back from Lucifer, but the masked man persisted.

  “It’s him.” What Isabella had told him about Hecate’s master rang through his mind. In particular, the name she told him. He could recall nearly every bit of his encounter with the witch. Every word of hers and act of jealousy that led to a death he was grateful he did not have to witness. All the while, he could only imagine the person behind her maddening resolve. Until now.

  The demon king.

  Michael frantically ran for an exit. The doors shut before he could reach them, closing them both in.

  “Trying to leave so soon? Such poor manners, my friend.”

  “Let me go. You can’t keep me captive!” Said Michael, adamantly.

  “I think you’ll be quite surprised by what I can and won’t do.” Lucifer grinned as a clap of lightning pierced through the sky. “I’m afraid escape is no longer an option. You’re in my palace now. And in my palace, I have full control.”

  Michael shuddered both at the sight of the rain pouring down on the night and the flashing glow of a few bolts it cast on his grin, as the rain bucketed down the windows. “What do you want from me? And why did you bring me here?”

  Lucifer looked at him with intrigue. “I don’t want much. Just a little conversation. And it was your own heart that led you here tonight, Michael.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve never seen you or this palace before. I wouldn’t even know how to get here if I wanted to,” Michael refuted.

  “Are you sure?” Lucifer asked. “Something tells me your mind carries more than your words are leading on.”

  Michael froze with fear. It was as if Lucifer had somehow penetrated his thoughts. The archangel knew of his name and where he learnt it. Though he had a vague understanding of the threat he posed, the certainty that he had encountered him before petrified him most. Details of when and for why had escaped him. He could only question the demon king’s reason for pursuing him even more.

  He looked into the darkened red through the eyeholes in Lucifer’s mask. Gritting his teeth, he refused to give him the satisfaction.

  “You’re full of shit,” Michael exclaimed. “I’m sure it was you who brought me here. Now, tell me what you want.”

  Lucifer chuckled. “Oh, how defensive you’ve become. And rather naughty.”

  “Don’t act as if you know me,” Michael exclaimed.

  “Perhaps I do. Would that be so wrong?” Lucifer asked. “More importantly, perhaps you also know me?”

  Michael’s lips quivered, leaving him standing in silence. His mind flooded with questions he feared having answered.

  “To think you can only enter places based on trivial restraints such as locations and directions. You’ll find one way or another that the most intriguing places are those you enter without finding
at all.” Lucifer looked out of his window with a curious grin.

  “What the hell does any of that mean?” Michael asked with panic in his voice.

  Lucifer frowned. “It appears you’ve lost sight of your old ways. What a pity. I was hoping we could have a more productive conversation tonight, but it seems you’ll just have to stay here forever.”

  “What?” Michael shouted in a frantic rage. He searched for an exit in every direction, but all doors and windows were shut. He felt a tethering sensation around his ankles. What exactly, he could not see, but it left him petrified. Trapped. Forced to indulge in the demon king’s words.

  “You still don’t get it, do you, Michael?” Lucifer took a deep breath and picked up his glass of wine. “You’re in a dream right now.”

  “I’m dreaming?” Michael’s heart sank to the bottom of his chest. A sense of confusion quickly swelled within.

  “Yes, and a powerful dreamer you are, it seems,” said Lucifer.

  “I am?” Michael wondered. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  Lucifer took a sip of wine from his glass and looked at Michael with a smile. “When you have a dream, do you normally recall people or events from your reality?”

  Michael thought back to all his past dreams of slaying orcs and dragons, vividly recalling each detail.

  “Most people forget them the instant they wake up. But I have a feeling you remember them clear as day,” Lucifer replied. “In fact, I’m sure they feel so real to you. So frightening. So inescapable just like right now.”

  Michael shivered from his words. Cold air filled the room at that moment, but the window remained closed and Lucifer’s smile never left his face.

  “The Michael in your dreams is the Michael that you believe to be the true you while you’re dreaming. Is it not?”

  “Isn’t that what a dream is?” Michael’s eyes widened with a terrifying realization that left him in silence for a moment. “Hold on, how do you even know what my dreams are about? There’s no way you could have”—

  “You have a lot to learn about me, Michael,” Lucifer replied. “Let’s first talk about why you think you’re here. More importantly, I’d like to hear your explanation for how you can remember your reality outside of this dream. After all, it’s a bit strange to think about those outside of your dreams, isn’t it? Most dreamers are engulfed in their temporary reality, yet all you can think of is what awaits you once you wake up.”

  Is it strange? Michael thought. And what exactly is he trying to get out of this conversation? I expected him to be far more brutish and commanding. Instead, he’s so outlandish and buried in secrecy. Which feels even worse, somehow.

  “I don’t know why I’m here,” he spoke. “And I’m not sure how I can remember my life outside of this dream. Isabella. Julianna. And everything outside these walls. Usually, I’m a completely different me living a completely different life in a completely different world in my dreams. Now”—

  “So, you do feel like you never really left your reality behind, is that right?” asked Lucifer. “That perhaps those two are just behind those doors?

  “Are they?” Michael darted his gaze towards the doors. Eerie darkness seeping from the goat eyes forced his attention towards Lucifer again. He could feel his body turn against its will as he clenched his jaws—fighting back.

  “Just what is this spell you keep using?”

  Lucifer smiled, showing little interest in his inquiry. He took a sip of wine and leaned back in his seat. “Let me ask you something. Have you ever felt pleasure or pain in your dreams?”

  Michael looked into Lucifer’s crimson eyes peering through the mask. They began to glow, as if with amusement.

  “What are you getting at?”

  “In dreams, one cannot feel the sensation of touch. You may be afraid of being burnt alive by a ferocious dragon or bludgeoned by a horde of orcs, but that dragon’s fire will never penetrate your senses. Neither will the clubs of orcs. Rather, you would simply wake up before the dragon ends you. That’s because the death you experienced in your dream sent you back to your reality,” said Lucifer.

  “Are you saying dreams act as a backup form of living?” said Michael.

  “I suppose you can think of it that way,” Lucifer said with a laugh, handing Michael a full glass of wine.

  Michael took the glass with reluctance. He held it and stared down at the wine’s deep shade of red, seeing his crimson reflection.

  “Tell me me what you see in that glass, Michael.” said Lucifer.

  “I see my face,” Michael replied.

  “Yes, and that face is yours. I’m fairly certain you take on other personas in your other dreams. Now, tell me what you feel?” said Lucifer.

  Michael’s eyes widened, sensing the smooth material sliding from his fingertips and shattering onto the floor

  “The glass! I could feel it!”

  “Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Lucifer replied. “Damn shame you had to break my precious glass and put my premium wine to waste like that.”

  “Sorry, I’ll clean it up,” Michael said, frantically picking up the pieces.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Lucifer. “Besides, our business here is far from over.”

  With a snap of his fingers, the scattered pieces reformed into the wineglass, filling itself back with the spilled wine and placing itself on the table beside him.

  Michael’s eyes widened. “How did you do that?”

  “Oh, you mean the reversal and alteration of time? I think the terminology speaks for itself. I simply went back in time to before the glass shattered and altered it, so it would still be where it was before I handed it to you,” Lucifer replied.

  “You can really do that?” Michael asked.

  “That, I can,” Lucifer said with a grin. “Furthermore, I made it so neither of us would forget any part of our conversation. Perhaps you remember a thing or two you didn’t know a few seconds prior.”

  Michael’s eyes widened from fear. He felt the walls around him close in under Lucifer’s haunting smile.

  He’s a complete lunatic! he thought. What kind of power is this?

  “My power is unmatched, Michael. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before. And as for calling me a lunatic; I must say I’m hurt. I thought we were finally getting to know each other,” said Lucifer.

  “How were you able to”—Michael demanded.

  “Able to what? Read your mind? I told you. My power is unmatched,” said Lucifer.

  Michael stepped back, shaking. “Get away from me right now!”

  “Or what? You’ll kill yourself in this dream, bringing you back to your reality? It doesn’t take a mind reader to know what you’re planning. Your face says it all,” said Lucifer, grinning.

  “Just leave me alone!” Michael stumbled. Lucifer followed him with his head spited tilted with intrigue.

  “You know, many of the most powerful dreamers over the eons have gained an awareness of dreams and have taken advantage of their gift. Many start acting recklessly, stealing from the poor, raping all the women in sight, and killing anyone who gets in their way. Money, sex, and power are what drive one’s soul, Michael.”

  Michael envisioned such a world, certain it already existed. A world he refused to be a part of.

  “And with no consequences to dictate one’s dreams, the soul’s most blasphemous desires are acted out in the fullest. Without shame or hesitation. This is an undeniable truth that dreams flesh out for me to see.”

  The images continued to eat at his mind. He slowly saw himself plunging into the same horrid reality with the memories of his alcohol addiction.

  Lucifer watched with amusement the sweat bead down Michael’s face.

  “Perhaps you’re already showing symptoms. Julianna and Isabella were their names, correct? I hope you’re treating them well. After all, they offered you such compassion when the rest of the world tossed you to the fucking dogs!”

  Michael’s blood boiled at
the very notion. The longer he let the thought infiltrate his mind, the sooner he saw himself becoming the nightmare Lucifer had painted.

  “Just shut up. I’m nothing like that,” Michael demanded.

  “Is that a fact?” Lucifer chuckled.

  “Yes!” Michael insisted. “As for Julianna and Isabella, I’d never lay a finger on them.”

  “Oh?”

  “Because you’re right.” Tears spilt down with the tender memories he shared with them. From his childhood days with Isabella, to the moment they reconciled. To the growing happiness he felt with Julianna through their journey capturing the elementals, and now as the three of them formed a kinship as one.

  “I’ve stricken a rather delightful chord, haven’t I?” Lucifer asked. “Many people who gain such power go mad with it, Michael—carrying out their wildest fantasies in their realities, leaving them broken and dead in the end.”

  “I already told you I don’t fit that description,” Michael refuted. “I have no interest. Only in”—

  “Maintaining the friendships you’ve finally earned for yourself,” Lucifer interjected.

  Michael’s heart skipped a beat. He felt both his mind and soul being read through the darkening slits of Lucifer’s mask. His heinous grin tore at Michael’s seams.

  “Power comes in many forms, Michael … and it all comes from the same place. Desire.”

  Lucifer leaned forward. He snickered as the nose of his mask brushed against Michael’s trembling face.

  “You desire to be heard. To be recognized and accepted by those around you.”

  “Stop it.” Michael’s breathing got heavy. The miasma he sensed before thickened. It gripped at his fledgling mind. “Just back off.”

  “Here’s another thing to consider,” Lucifer said, “Power also comes from fear. And what you fear is to be forgotten—to be cast aside.”

  “Enough,” Michael pleaded. He slowly saw the images of Isabella and Julianna washing away. His memories of them together fading.