My mind was screaming. Nothing coherent. Just the terror equivalent of white noise as I watched the Doorman turn back and forth, taking in its surroundings. Before I could get a grip on my fear, it crossed the space between us frighteningly fast and gut-punched me harder than I’ve ever been hit.
My vision narrowed and the wind was knocked out of me. My legs went weak and I fell to my knees as nausea threatened to empty my stomach. Where was my warning? What happened to my future sight? Does it not work on the Doorman? A new layer a fear descended on me.
“I’ve been dreaming of this day, Colm,” the Doorman said, conversationally. It started walking around me as I struggled to breathe. “You’re the only human in existence that has ever harmed me. I’d say you should feel proud, but—“
Just as I was beginning to straighten, the Doorman kicked me savagely, again in the stomach. It did so with enough forced to send me tumbling away. I glanced at it through watery eyes as I came to a stop, still trying to breath. It was casually walking toward me.
“—But I’m going to have to make an example of you,” the Doorman continued, gesturing with it’s undamaged arm. “Take my time with you, and all that. Show what happens when you—“
It reeled back to kick me and I rolled away, just barely avoiding the blow. I snarled and sent three tentacles at it, honing their tips into sharp points. The Doorman didn’t react, didn’t try to evade. The tentacles slammed into the suit and—and did nothing. It was like trying to hit a tank.
Quick as a snake, the Doorman swiped at my tentacles with it’s undamaged arm and gathered them up in whatever invisible appendage it used for a hand. It yanked on them, drawing me to it. I tried to change them to be thinner, slippery, even dismiss them entirely, but no matter what I did the Doorman maintained his grip. Soon I was close enough to touch, so I started clawing at the suit—again with no effect. Terror threatened to loosen my bowels as my best weapons did fuck all to the source of all my nightmares for the last eight years.
In no rush—almost lazily—the Doorman planted one of his dress shoes on my chest and began to push me away as he continued to pull on my tentacles. Weird, disembodied pain began to roar through me as the parts of my body that weren’t actually my body began to slowly break. I went mad, like a cornered animal, lashing out at the Doorman. But nothing I did seemed to affect it in the slightest.
With the sound of popping sinew, my tentacles ruptured and broke one after another until the Doorman kicked me away. My vision darkened around the edges as I fetched up against the lip of the ziggurat, the weird, disconnected pain of my severed tentacles sending shocks throughout my body.
The Doorman was examining the tentacles in its “hand,” turning them this way and that. “Is this what you bought with those stolen pieces of me?” He threw the tentacles at me, slapping across my body like empty hoses. “That’s it?” It made a “tsk” noise and began to draw closer again.
Well and truly afraid now, I tried to roll off the side of the ziggurat to escape, but was stopped as something grabbed my foot. “No, no, no,” the Doorman said as he dragged me back. “Can’t have you falling and breaking your neck and ruining my fun.
I struggled to get away. I dug my claws into the floor, grabbed at the edge of the building with my remaining tentacles, but the Doorman just continued to drag me as if he didn’t notice my struggles. I glanced back, trying to think of anything—
The doorway was still open. In fact, it had risen several feet in the air, a black orb of nothingness that was still leaking… something, into the Doorman. It looked like heat waves over a desert road mixed with a smoke-like substance, trailing down and into the Doorman.
Interdimensional beings don’t always mesh well with our reality. There’s… for lack of a better word, some “acclimatization” that occurs if they make the trip over. I only had a couple of examples to draw from, but… what if the Doorman wasn’t here yet? What if this thing that is currently beating the shit out of me, what if it’s just a “limb?”
Maybe it’s still tied to the Doorway? If I could get away from the ziggurat, maybe I could find a place to hide. Maybe I could—
The Doorman suddenly pivoted and kicked me in the side, destroying any semblance of thought I had as pain blossomed in my side. I felt something crack and my vision went white. The Doorman dropped my leg and I reflexively curled into a ball. I felt it over me, getting closer.
“After I’m done with you…” The Doorman trailed off. “I actually don’t know what I’m going to do. I haven’t thought much about anything besides what to do with you once I got my hands on you. But since your purpose is to be an example of those who cross me—“ it suddenly grabbed me by my hair and slammed my head into the floor. Once. Twice. A weird sense of déjà vu came over me, along with waves of debilitating pain.
“I think killing everyone you ever knew would be a good start, eh?” The Doorman continued. “Except, maybe not your old man. That, you might even thank me for, so I’ll leave him be. But your mom and your little brother? And those two little ladies you’ve been hanging out with? That hacker who feeds you tips? The cute girl at the NAPA you like to flirt with?”
I cracked an eye open just in time to see it shudder with pleasure. “I’m going to kill each of them, and while I’m doing it, I’ll be telling them you’re the reason. Won’t that be great?” It rubbed its stomach. “Mmm, even thinking about it is so satisfying.”
I suddenly shot to my feet, slamming my whole being behind a spell while simultaneously throwing every ounce of my pyrokinesis at him. The Doorman doesn’t have a face, but even still it’s body language was such a caricature of shock it’d be funny in any other situation.
“Brenna LOGI!” I screamed, voice cracking as I slammed my hand forward at its chest. The resulting inferno burnt my face and eyebrows and sent me tumbling away, while the majority of the fire slammed into the Doorman. What little I caught as I went ass over teakettle looked like a giant blade of flame striking a pillar and crashing around it, like a rogue wave slamming into a light house.
When I came to a stop several feet away, my shirt was gone and my shorts were smoldering. My face burned and my right eye was foggy. Blinking it several times helped a bit but I worried I had permanently damaged it. Plus I was running a fever from the feedback of the spell, not to mention the broken ribs.
Before the flames cleared the Doorman came charging out of them, a small scorch mark marring its perfect suit just to the right of its tie. “YOU SLIMY, SHIT EATING—“ it bellowed as it raised its undamaged arm to strike me.
Something must have changed. In me, I guess. I knew this thing was going to torture me to death. Fighting seemed useless, but you know what? Fuck it. Fuck this thing that has taken up way too much of my mental real estate.
I rose to my knees as it got to me. Instead of trying to block the blow, I turned into it, caught it on my shoulder and forearm and turned, using the Doorman’s momentum against it. It was incredibly heavy and if I hadn’t improved my strength I would have broken my arm. But as it was I had just enough power, aided by my low angle to unbalance the piece of shit and throw him to the floor.
It hit the roof like a boulder, shaking the whole structure. It seemed stunned, or maybe shocked was a better word. I doubt anyone had ever performed a shoulder throw on it before. While it slowly regained its feet I got to mine and back away, toward the doorway.
Running wasn’t an option. It was the Doorman. To get away from it, I’d have to live in a cave and avoid any civilization, not to mention that nothing would stop it from just walking after me. Right now it might be tied to the doorway, but as soon as it’s all the way through, I and everyone I’ve ever met are fucked.
So I reached out and grabbed the doorway spell with my mind. My connection to it was pretty strong, maybe as strong as the Doorman’s. Yes, it was created to bring him here, but I’ve been fighting the creators of this building all night, have beaten them all in combat, and—it could be argued—in a test of wills. My blood is mixed in with the others that have spilled here tonight, but I’m still alive.
If the spell was a ship, the Doorman would just be a passenger. I killed the crew, got to know the ship.
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Maybe I’m the pirate now? I let out a manic laugh as I crashed my will into the structure of the spell.
“Close, you piece of shit!” I screamed as I bent the spell to my will.
And… it responded. It responded!
For a moment, hope bloomed in my chest. The doorway began to shrink. One inch. Two inches. Three! But then it hit something. It was like trying to close a door when someone stuck their foot in the way.
“No, no, no,” the Doorman said with it’s hateful voice. “Can’t have that.”
It was charging me again. So fast! I got my arms up between me and the overhand blow, set my feet and turned with it as it came down. It felt like blocking a sledgehammer. I managed to spoil the blow and direct most of it to the side. As I did I came to a shocking conclusion: The Doorman didn’t know how to fight.
I mean, it knew how to deliver a punch or a kick with devastating effect. But the Doorman preys specifically on humans. Or humanoids, if the book I read on its extradimensional activities could be believed. But it’s so much stronger and faster than an average human, there’d be no way anyone could have put up a fight. Bullets bounce off it. The blast I just gave it, something I could have used to level a small building left barely a mark on it. Of course it doesn’t know how to fight. It never had to!
While it was off balance I slid a leg behind its leg and slammed my shoulder into it, screaming through gritted teeth as I felt my broken ribs shift. The Doorman tried to correct its balance but its leg met mine and it fell back, its shoulders hitting the roof with a resounding thud.
I staggered away as I tried to close the doorway again, but with the same result. Shit! While the Doorman (or whatever is feeding into him) is coming through, it’s stuck open!
A laugh came from the Doorman. “Oh, Colm,” it said as it calmly stood. “You are just—just too precious.”
It came at me again, but not in a rush. Even so, it was fast. It swung a big haymaker at me, which I barely dodged. It followed up with a kick that I was too slow to spin away from, getting clipped on my hip. I stumbled several feet and fell, my ribs grating horribly. I felt my breath catch and I started coughing as I scrambled to my feet. Something came up with my final cough and I spat out blood.
I defended as well as I could, but the Doorman wasn’t going for his usual big power moves. He was relying on his greater power and weight to wear me down, coupled with my injuries. As I struggled to defend myself I snuck glances at the spell. Not at the ball of blackness floating in the air, but at the spell itself etched into the roof. I was trying to get a better understanding of it, maybe something that could be exploited to terminate it, maybe doing the same thing to the Doorman that I did all those years ago.
My distraction cost me. I was too slow and the Doorman clipped my temple with a cross and I went down like a sack of potatoes. My chin hit the deck and stars swam in front of my eyes. My breathing rasped and bubbled, blood drooling freely from my mouth. I tried to get up but… I was just too weak. I… I didn’t have anything left.
“Aaaah,” The Doorman said, stretching. “This is what I’ve been waiting for.” It stepped next to me and squatted by my head. “Now the fun can begin.”
It reached into its jacket and started pulling forth several tools made of a metal that screamed wrong when I looked at it. They were black and reflected the light of the stars with a purple tint. They reminded me of tools I saw in some encyclopedia, tools used by torturers of the Inquisition. I sighed—which turned into a series of weak coughs. I looked away from the tools, not wanting to anticipate what comes next.
That’s when my eyes landed on a symbol in the spell. It was one of the many “doorway” or “entry” symbols, meant specifically for the Doorman. But it was marred. By a scorch mark I had sent through it to kill one of Terrance’s maggots as they were carving the spell. I looked around. Each of the symbols were scored in such a way. At the time I had just wanted to interrupt the spell as much as possible… but what if I can change its function? The symbols had been meant specifically for the Doorman. But with my marks on them… can they be meant for anyone?
With the last of my willpower, I took hold of the spell—
The Doorman clubbed me with the stump of its damaged arm. “Enough of that.”
Stars once again swam in my vision. Through sheer obstinacy I maintained my hold on the spell and sent my will forward, calling on the one connection that might save me.
The Doorman raised it’s good arm. “I said—“
“I’ll owe you one,” I muttered, blood bubbling on my lips.
“What?” The Doorman asked, its shoulders twitching to suggest confusion.
The doorway… rippled. Then grew several feet in diameter. The Doorman stood and took a step back.
“What did you do?” It asked quietly.
I wanted to reply but coughed weakly instead.
After a few tense moments, the doorway rippled again and a single, massive finger emerged. It must be the size of my thigh. It was soon followed by another, then more. Then… more. Waaay too many fingers came out of the doorway. And they were all so long. Were they connected to a hand?
“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” The Doorman shouted as it turned to run.
Just then the fingers shot forward from the doorway and I learned that, yes, they were connected to a hand. Each finger was over 30 feet long connected to a hand the size of a truck bed. The arm that followed after looked too thin to carry so much weight but it certainly grabbed the Doorman with sufficient strength to stop it in its tracks.
The Doorman struggled mightily against the hand, bashing several of the fingers and deforming them with its good arm. Maybe if it had two whole arms it would have done enough to escape, but as it was the giant, alien hand set its grip and yanked on the Doorman.
The Doorman dug its “hand” into the roof as it was dragged back to the doorway, creating a deep furrow. “I’LL BE SEEING YOU AGAIN, COLM!” It screamed, its voice painfully loud. “YOU CAN THINK OF THIS AS AN APPETIZER! WHEN I FIND YOU AGAIN I’LL SKIP THE FUCKING FOREPLAY AND—“
With a final tug, the Doorman was dragged through the doorway spell.
...
I was hoping the spell would close on its own without the Doorman to keep it open, but no such luck. I wanted to sigh but I knew that’d cause another coughing fit. I reached out to the spell again but… I just couldn’t. I could barely remain awake.
...
Time passed.
...
When I came to, the eastern horizon was lightening as dawn approached. And a woman I had never seen before stood above me, the big doorway spell shadowing her. She looked like… a queen? She had a long white dress in a style I’d associate with a Greek goddess, and a golden circlet on her brow.
I tried to speak, but all I managed to do was drool more blood.
Whelp.
Think I’m dying.
The woman sighed. “How the hell are you going to pay me back if you die on this stupid fucking island?”
Trix?
“Who else?” The woman—Trix, said. She stepped closer and knelt next to me, careful to keep her dress from touching my blood.
Wait, can you hear my thoughts?
“Eh,” Trix said, waving her hand back and forth. “Not exactly, but for all practical purposes, yes.”
I don’t know how I feel about that.
“You don’t have a choice, dear,” she said, looking down on me with a look that said “what’re you going to do about it?”
Fair enough.
“So, here’s the rub,” she said. “I did you a solid by getting rid of the Doorman, which means you owe me. If you die before you can pay me back, I get your soul. It’s not as terrible as most humans make it out to be, but it’s definitely not among the top five afterlife destination.”
I guess I should be more afraid of losing my soul, but I was so fucking tired I just couldn’t bring myself to care all that much.
Do I have an alternative? I rather like being alive.
“I can save you,” she said. Then, after a pause: “Again.”
But?
“But you’ll owe me, again,” she said.
I sighed and ending up coughing up more blood.
I mean, sure, I guess. You kinda got me over a barrel here.
She smirked. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
She reached over and touched my side with her index finger. A rush of warmth flooded through my body, followed by a series of extremely painful jerks and seizures. I almost passed out again. When I finally stopped moving I took a deep breath and started coughing. I coughed up more blood, but it felt more like coughing up phlegm than having a punctured lung. After a few moments the blood stopped coming up and I calmed down.
“That should do it,” Trix said from a few feet away. Apparently she had stepped away when I had started coughing.
I slowly sat up, running a mental inventory of my body as I did so. I still felt like hamburger in a rock polisher, but I… I wasn’t as weak as before. And I didn’t feel the grating in my chest. It took a lot of effort, but I managed to stand with only a little wobble on the way up. I took a deep breath with no problem.
“As your first of two payments,” Trix said when she was sure I wouldn’t fall over. “I’d appreciate it if you helped my granddaughter get off this island.”
What? I was going to do that already. Which she should know. Well, she definitely knew now, because she can read my damn mind.
“Yeah, I know,” Trix said, waving away my concerns. “But she’s angry with me and, probably—definitely—deservedly so since I manipulated her again. If you could let her know I saved you, maybe she’ll talk to me again. She seems to like you.”
I nodded tiredly. “And your other payment?”
Trix gave me a big, thousand-watt smile.
“I’ll let you know,” she said.
She slowly floated up into the air and drifted into the doorway. “Stay out of trouble, my second favorite mortal.” She said as the black engulfed her.
The doorway winked shut a moment later.