The Lost - Chapter 1

Juarez City is known to many as a Mexican border town, sister to El Paso, TX. It is a city like none other, especially at night, when the cats come out and the lone wolves howl proudly into the neon light landscape. On that coffee shop at the corner of Ramon Corona and 16 de Septiembre the coffee is often served fresh in the morning, but after seven God only knows what you’re drinking. It wasn’t that important to that handsome young red-haired man who was sitting on a window table, looking outside at the night life of the city, hiding his majestic green eyes behind dark shades and wearing a very nice black Armani suit that fitted him perfectly. He was tempted to screw with the environmental laws of the state and start smoking a nice Cuban cigar he had hidden away in his inner pocket right then and there, but he was destined to decline any invitations to trouble, even if it was a small mischievous juvenile peeve. He kept wondering if his connections had been right *this* time and he could finally have a word with the egocentric maniac who had gone missing for the last decennia or so. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to find him before, but it’s hard to locate an Ambassador of Death when this so-called individual doesn’t want to be found.

At ten o’clock on the dot he walked into a drag-show bar right across the street, used to the prowling, lustful looks he often got from all sides. He smiled. On stage was a drop-dead gorgeous red-haired girl wearing a slender dress that left little to the imagination, needle-like high heels (in cherry red), a figure to kill over (he could sense the envy just pouring out of some of the queens in that place) and lips that just begged to be kissed over and over. She was singing “Don’t Know Why” by Norah Jones, but her voice was ten times better – like angels singing from the heavens. He smiled as wicked thoughts started to cross his wicked mind.

As the set ended (and the crowd exploded in to a sea of applauses, whistles, and woos), the girl walked sensually to the backstage, where he encountered him face to face.

“I could take you right here and now… if you were a real girl,” he said with a smile. The girl was not amused to see him. Her face drew a serious grin.

“How did you find me?” she asked, walking towards the small dressing room she shared with other 10 performers. He walked a few steps behind her.

“I have my ways – mostly I rely on what demons tell me here and there. It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that: you’re good at hiding yourself, but I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less from Anavar’s people, right?” she turned immediately at the sound of those words. He smiled, “Touched a nerve, I see?” he said cynically. She sighed and walked into the dressing room. He closed the door behind him; they were alone.

“What do you want, Rati?” she said with her male voice now.

“I need you to come back with me to Subotai del Urianki, Vodka,” Rati said with a serious undertone.

“And you traveled to Earth just to tell me that?” Vodka grinned sarcastically (an art that he dominated to perfection), “If you knew me any better you could have saved yourself the trouble and know that I won’t be going back. Skanda made her desires be known all too clear and I shall respect her wishes…”

“That’s just it!” Rati barked losing his patience all of a sudden, “It’s about Skanda!”

Vodka’s eyes turned painfully serious all of a sudden. “What about Skanda?”

“She’s gone,” Rati’s words drilled deep into his heart, “Skanda’s gone. Not even Uriel seems to be able to find her – none of us can. We need you to track her down. You’re the one who was… closer to her. Please, Vodka: you know I’m not lying or else I wouldn’t have bothered to come looking for you in the first place.”

Vodka was silent. Rati placed his hands on his shoulders, “Come with me to the Isle of the Dead,” he said, “and help us find our goddess.”

Vodka nodded. “Give me ten minutes to get ready,” he said turning away. Rati pulled out a gun from his left pocket and aimed it at the back of Vodka’s head.

“I’m sorry, we don’t have time,” he said before the deafening sound penetrated the air.

___________________________________

The night ended as usual. People started to walk out of the Lighthouse Bar either completely drunk, or completely hung over. Either way, business had been good, like it usually was on a Good Thursday, when all the city’s sinners had gathered to pay their respects to the Devil, even though Aramis thought that it seemed curious that the Devil himself had not shown his face around the parts as of lately. To Aramis, this was a sign of bad weather: Lucifer had always been fond of the religious festivities, and to not see him at mass that afternoon had been quite a surprise to many, especially when he adored watching the old Columbus Guard in their entire glory walk around the Saint Patrick’s Cathedral on such a special occasion. Aramis had to be suspecting something was wrong even way back on Christmas, when he didn’t show up for the celebration of Jesus’ birth at the Holy Grounds Bethlehem, a celebration that he usually didn’t miss for the world. Lucifer was really in to that sort of melancholic torture, Aramis thought as he took a last drag of his cigarette on the top of the building’s roof, and these events (aside from others that had been brought to his attention) had been bugging him on the back of his mind for the last month or so.

Elaosu hadn’t been feeling okay. To say that was a serious understatement. Elaosu had been looking more like a lost soul walking around the bar as if it was purgatory; staring at space and mumbling words to the walls in a scenario that Aramis found quite peculiar. Elaosu had told him that he’d been having strange dreams in which Samantha was trapped in some sort of warped dimension and was begging him to come get her, but every time he got close enough to touch her, he could hear Nikky scream out in pain and he couldn’t take it anymore. He would awake from these dreams in tears, screaming out both their names, and having this sense of emptiness that grew deeper and deeper as days went by. Aramis found that alarming, yet said nothing about this and merely confined himself on to being Elaosu’s ear and shoulder whenever the angel decided it was good for him to confide the dreams, even though he’d been telling Aramis the same dream over, and over again for the past six months or so.

And then, there was that other thing that had been bugging Aramis. A couple of nights ago, Danká had shouted out, “Ah remember yah now! Yah used t’ be Kaikeyi’s angel, didn’t yah?!” right in the middle of a normal work night, when Elaosu and his band were playing a seemingly innocent rock song that Elaosu and Harvey had been working on for a couple of weeks now, and that statement just made Aramis’ blood freeze in an instant. If anyone remembered his past identity meant that the seal he’d made with Itzá a long time ago was weak, threatening to be broken even. He needed to renew the contract with the God of Time somehow, and the only way he saw was to pay a visit to the Valley of Time. The problem was that he wasn’t quite sure if his old spells would work now that Kalavan – not Itzá – was the ruler of such valley. So, using his contacts, he’d called upon Ion and setup a meeting with the God of Time.

Kalavan was late.

“Un-fucking believable!” he muttered to himself. “He’s the fucking God of Time and he’s fucking late for an appointment. This is what I get for being fucking civilized with idiots such as him! Next time I’ll just use his fucking seal and fucking summon him like the scumbag he is!”

“Such manners are improper, even for a demon of your low status, Monsieur Aramis,” he heard a voice say. He turned his head lazily to his left side to find Kalavan standing there, wearing almond colored robes what suited him well enough with his long blond hair and pale skin. Aramis got up and gave a respectful bow to the God. “Such language is only to be heard by lower-class mortals,” Kalavan said with a peculiar smile drawing in his lips. “But, let us leave aside the manners lesson on what do I owe the sudden call?”

“I want to renew a contract,” Aramis said bluntly, “and you will make that happen. Are we clear?”

Kalavan smirked, “My, my! That almost sounded like an order! I shall remind you that you are no longer a God, Aramis – I am, thus, you owe me some degree of respect.”

“Respect is something you earn with your own merits, not by taking someone else’s power or someone else’s angels, Kalavan,” Aramis hissed, marking every word with a slight movement of his head. Kalavan felt the weight of his words and felt offended.

“I shall not renovate such contract with you,” he said at last. “If you find yourself in the willing position of apologizing, maybe I’ll consider it. Honestly? I think you are but a mere shadow of the greatness you once had, Aramis and humbleness is something you desperately need these days so you won’t forget your place!”

Kalavan vanished with a gust of wind. Aramis smiled. “As I’ve said before: respect is something you earn, Kalavan. Itzá and Kat-Wa respected me, and you too will learn why they both wanted to be on my good side.”

Kalavan dropped on his bed, his arms beneath his head, feeling tired and sleepy after a long day’s work and a meeting that had left such bitter taste in his mouth. He heard a soft knock on the door. “Enter,” he said. Itzbul walked in his humanoid form, made a slight reverence, and stood against the bed’s foot.

“How did it go with Aramis?” he asked seriously. Kalavan gave a deep sigh.

“Not good. That demon deserves a piece of humble pie if you ask me. He practically ordered me to renew some sort of contract he had with Itzá… or with Kat-Wa, who knows! Can you believe it?”

“And did you renew it?” Itzbul asked.

“Are you kidding me? I will not tolerate a demon who thinks he owns this universe to boss me around like I’m some sort of – child!” Kalavan sat right up, obviously upset. “Someone had to stop that demon’s superiority complex and I for one am happy that it was me!”

Itzbul gave a slight nod and began to walk away. “What?” Kalavan asked, making him stop right before he reached the door, “Do you think I did wrong?”

“You acted like you were supposed to act, I guess,” Itzbul said calmly. “Kat-Wa and Itzá didn’t mess with Aramis for a reason. We’ll just have to see what develops here. But I can assure you, Aramis will not stand around with his arms crossed; he’ll do something wicked, maybe not to you directly… but he will find whatever bends you – a weakness and he will thrive upon it. But, what do I know. I’m just your servant after all, right?”

Itzbul walked away after that. Kalavan was left in a cloud of confusion. Lately, Itzbul had been acting strange around him, and Kalavan seriously wondered what had he done to make that cat so darn upset. He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember much of his life for the past year or so, and that was really something to get worried about. Outside, Itzbul stumbled across Ion, who was heading towards Kalavan’s chamber. “Something wrong?” the angel asked as the cat walked by. Itzbul stopped for a moment, turning to face Ion.

“You need to talk to Kalavan about Aramis, Ion, before it’s too late. O thought, I believe the damage has been done already,” he said as he walked away, leaving Ion in a haze of doubt. He entered Kalavan’s room after a slight knock and without waiting for Kalavan to reply. “What did you do to the cat?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth as he approached the foot of the bed.

“I have no idea,” Kalavan said lazily, his eyes covered with his arms, his entire body well spread across the bed. “Quite frankly I began to realize that the harder I tried, the more that cat despised me, so I’ve kind of began to stop trying all together, you know? So, what brings you here aside that unfortunate detail?”

“Aramis –” Ion began warily to say, “I – it was brought to my attention that you spoke with Aramis lately.”

“That I did. You set it up, remember?” Kalavan replied pointing out the obvious. Ion sighed silently.

“Yes, well – what happened? What did he want?”

“Something about a contract,” Kalavan replied. “He commanded me to redo an old contract he seemingly had with Itzá… and that apparently Kat-Wa renewed once he took control of the Valley of Time.”

“Really?” Ion arched his eyebrows in wonder. “And did you do it?”

“No,” Kalavan began to say, and with each word, Ion began to go paler and paler. “I shall not take orders from a lower-class demon that treats me in such disrespectful manner. I have a certain degree of self-respect I would like others to begin to acknowledge starting with you and that stinky cat, thank you very much!”

“Aramis is not one to toy with, Kalavan,” Ion said tensely. Kalavan gave out a mockingly smirk.

“Why – Ion! That almost sounded like a warning!”

“Almost? Aramis is one of the most powerful Gods the Tizcat ever saw; if he didn’t take control of the entire place was because he didn’t want to do it to begin with.”

“Correction: Aramis used to be one of the most powerful Gods in the Tizcat, and that was a long, long time ago. Times change, father; you shouldn’t fear a ghost.”

Ion didn’t quite know what to say next. Or, rather, he didn’t want to continue this pointless discussion with his son. Kalavan wasn’t around when Aramis was in full power, Ion thought later on in the solitude of his long walks through the castle’s gardens, he doesn’t know – he doesn’t realize what Aramis is capable of doing when things don’t go his way. Unfortunately, this is a lesson he has to learn by himself, even though I fear what Aramis might conjure-up to teach this lesson. But if I have to return to his side in order to stop whatever harm of pain he might bring to my son, by the Gods’ power I will – I swear I will! At this point he came across the little road that lead to a locked part of the garden, and hid when he saw the door slightly open only to witness the moment when Itzbul came out of that part of the garden and close the door behind him with slow movements, leaning against it afterwards. If Ion knew what to recognize instantly was pain, and Itzul’s face was dealing with a great amount of it. But the cat didn’t stay long: he took on his cat-like shape and walked away just a brief moment after. Ion then approached the door only to find it locked again, yet this scenario only increased his curiosity to know what was behind this door that had remained off limits even to Kalavan, who at the time was looking at some of the old books inside the library, trying to figure out what exactly did Aramis wanted, not because he was afraid of the demon, but because he knew that Aramis was not going to be standing still with his arms crossed, forgetting all about their altercation. Kalavan wanted to have some sort of edge over the demon, yet he couldn’t find anything that would really help him out. He would ask Ion about it, but then again the angel had no clue on why Aramis had summoned him in the first place, so Kalavan guessed that Ion was oblivious to the situation. So, he decided that he’d had to swallow his pride (yet again) and ask the cat about it.

“Deals with demons?” Itzbul raised his head, his eyes with a spark of intrigue. They were both in the large library, the cat snuggled up on top of an old book he usually used as a kitty bed. Kalavan was sitting across from him, leaning against the table.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I want to know if Kat-Wa had anything to do with any demon-like activity.”

“You should know better,” the cat replied with a slight tone of resentfulness in his voice that could pass undetected by anyone but Kalavan. “You were his angel for a long time... and I shall dare to say that you were even more than just that; he confided you everything he did.”

Kalavan gave a deep sigh, “I know,” he said trying to keep his emotions under control. “I mean, did he have any deals with demons before I came along?”

“Yes. But he kept his part of the deals in which he wouldn’t reveal them to anyone, and so shall I. Anything else you would like to know?”

“Did he make any deals with Aramis that you know of?”

“No, he didn’t,” Itzbul said calmly. “He despised Aramis more than anyone I know he did. Aramis represented a part of his past that made him profoundly loath himself, and he could never get over it, not even after he met you; in fact, he loathed himself even more after that.” This last sentence disturbed Kalavan’s heart in a way he didn’t though possible, yet he knew how to hide it with extraordinary mastery.

“So, who made the deal?” he asked.

“Itzá, o thought… I can sincerely tell you that I don’t know what the deal was exactly, or when – or why – did he make it. I am sorry for that; I truly wish I could help you.”

“I know,” Kalavan said feeling sorry as well. Suddenly, he stood in alarm. Itzbul did the same. “What is this energy?!” he exclaimed. Itzbul made a run to the door.

“Aramis!” Kalavan heard him call out. They both ran to the receiver hall, where Ion was already there. Aramis stood in the middle of the room, his eyes fixated on the stair top, smiling as he saw Kalavan approach the staircase.

“Ah! And thus the God of Time makes his appearance!” Aramis exclaimed sharply. “I am glad that I caught your undivided attention this time, My Lord,” he made a mocking reverence, bowing so low he could practically kiss the floor, springing right back up again. “There are certain matters that were left unattended last time we met.”

“What do you want? How did you get here?” Kalavan asked, walking down the staircase with caution. The demon followed his every move with satisfaction. “How dare you intrude into my realm without permission?!”

“I’ve come to give your Lordship an ultimatum,” the demon said simply. He then took out a necklace from his left pocket and held it eye-leveled with his arm well stretched out. “I give you thirty Earth hours to revalidate the contract I’ve made with your kind or else this one will deeply suffer the consequences. I am not one to be meddle with, Kalavan; I am surprised your father and your cat have not taught you that lesson as of yet,” he released the necklace and as soon as it touched the floor, Aramis was gone. The first one to get there was Itzbul, followed by Kalavan; Ion kept his distance.

“Sejirah!” the cat gasped as Kalavan took the necklace in his shaking hand.

<i>“Some days I wish things were different,” Sejirah’s voice had been silent and swift as the wind that day, when they both stared at the sunset over the Northern hills that surrounded Moon City. “Some days I wish I was back at the Valley, where time stood still for as long as we wished it to; some days I curse the fact that I can remember my past life in its entirety and I wish I could erase that from my soul, but I can’t. I can’t renounce to those memories because they’re the ones that keep me from going insane at times when I feel completely alone. And I despise myself for claiming to feel something I’ve never truly felt, not for anyone, not even for myself...” he stopped and turned to see Leslie approach them with a broad smile and a basket in her arm while holding Itzbul in the other. He then realized that Kalavan had vanished in order to prevent any disturbance between the two lovers, and he felt thankful for it.

“Look who I found at the door! I know you said you wanted to spend some time alone with me but –” Leslie sounded cheerful, but then realized Sejirah had been crying as soon as the boy began to clear his face from any evident tears. “Are you okay?” she sounded deeply concerned. Lately, her lover had not been feeling well, and had even been ordered to take some time off from his duties at the Royal Castle do to a severe case of depression apparently related to stress. Sejirah nodded with a sweet smile.

“Yeah,” he said trying to sound as cheerful as possible. “I was just – thinking of how lucky I am to have you in my life… I love you Leslie.”

“As I do too,” Leslie smiled, touched. The cat jumped right into Sejirah’s arms and purred. Sejirah laughed delightfully.

“I love you too, Itzbul,” he said as Leslie sat next to them and leaned against Sejirah, opening the basket and taking out a bottle of wine, two cups, and a bowl.

“I hate to see you sad,” said Leslie, taking Sejirah softly by the chin and looking deeply in to the pale angel’s eyes, “is there anything I can do to wipe away that sadness from your eyes?” Sejirah shook his head softly.

“Just kiss me and tell me you love me,” he whispered. Leslie leaned in.

“I love you,” she said before placing a soft kiss on Sejirah’s lips. Itzbul looked over at a nearby tree, knowing that Kalavan was standing there, hidden behind the shadows. </i>

The God stood and rushed through the corridors of the castle, making doors fly open as he went through them. The cat rushed to catch up with him and even barked to Ion a severe “STAY!” as he passed by him. He followed Kalavan all the way to the Treasure Room, a place where valuable magical items were kept and guarded. Kalavan headed straight over to a beautifully crafter wooden chest with Itzá’s crest engraved in it.

“What are you doing?” the cat asked, jumping on to of a marble headstone. Kalavan turned to face him with complete determination in his eyes.

“I think it’s time I do this,” he said firmly. “I know I can.”

“I think it’s a bad idea,” the cat sounded concerned. “You’re acting through a foolish impulse, Kalavan!” Itzbul cried out. Kalavan shook his head desperately.

“I think it’s the right thing to do,” he replied harshly. “I never intended to make Sejirah suffer the consequences of my decision-making, and if this is the only way I have to know exactly what Aramis is referring to, then so be it. I know I have the power to deal with it now; I know that I have to do this, and if you help me it would be a whole lot easier.”

The cat sat in silence for a moment after which he nodded. “We need to set everything up in the desert’s sands then,” he said. “And Ion needs to be there as well.”

“I’ll explain everything,” Kalavan sounded confident.

“You don’t have to. You’ll just tell him that this is what Aramis wants and that the contract he so desperately desires resides inside that box. He doesn’t need to know what you’re going to do – no one does. It can just remain between me and you,” and after he said these words, he jumped down from the pillar and headed towards the door, taking his humanoid shape as he did so.
“Thank you,” Kalavan said. Itzbul stopped before reaching the door, smiled and walked away.

Kalavan stood in the center of a circle that Itzbul had created with the aid of rocks, drawing symbols in the sand with the aid of a magic wand that had once belong to Firebird, Paris Alexander’s father. Ion wondered what was going to happen; the only explanation he had received from Kalavan was that this was a way to make Aramis happy and the explanation he had gotten from Itzbul was that this was going to increase Kalavan’s power to a whole new level, and that his only job there was to keep away any time worms that might be attracted to the energy that the spell would release.

Ion had a bad feeling about the whole ordeal, and it was his life experience that bad feelings should be taken seriously, but there was nothing he could do about it in this case.

The God had between his hands the little wooden box as the cat sat right in front of him outside the circle. “Are you ready?” he asked. Kalavan nodded without any doubt in his mind.

“Let’s do it.”

The cat closed his eyes and after a moment, the wind began to blow over the sand, moving it in twirls around the cat and the circle with soft movements. Ion began to feel the presence of the time worms and created a barrier between them and the two beings who were now concentrating in making the spell work. Itzul’s chest crest began to glow intensely, releasing a thin beam that crashed against the box and made the box’s crest glow dimly as a symbol in Kalavan’s forehead began to make its appearance. This symbol glowed intensely the moment the box opened and the wind picked up, the sand completely surrounding the figure of Kalavan, the circle’s symbols changing shapes and positions at the same time, and unexpectedly everything stopped. The sand returned to the ground, the wind was no longer blowing; the energy had subsided, and the cat was looking at Kalavan with curious eyes as the God fell on his knees, looking up at the sky, his forehead glowing with that symbol embedded deep in to his skin. Ion had done a good job in keeping the time worms away, yet he was disturbed to see this picture and feel those strange yet familiar vibrations emanating from within Kalavan. The God moved his head slowly towards the cat, blinked once, and gave a deep sigh of relief.

“How are you feeling?” Itzbul asked. Kalavan nodded.

“It’s all good,” he said. His voice seemed slightly different, Ion thought. Kalavan took some of the sand between his hands and made it run down, looking at it like a child looks at this for the first time, “I remember everything. I am Itzá – and Itzá is me. I will renew the contract now… and things will be different from now on.” He looked over at Itzbul, “I am sorry for everything I’ve caused you, then and now. I wasn’t… right.”

“No time to dwell on the past,” Itzbul said sternly, “There’s only one hour left. You should go to Aramis, get this over with.”

Kalavan nodded slowly, turning to sand and scattering about the Sea of Time. Itzbul returned to Ion, who had lowered the barrier when he didn’t feel any energy release. “What happened?” the angel asked.

“What had to happen sooner or later,” Itzbul said simply. “The incarnation has found its lost soul. Kalavan was the incarnation of Itzá’s soul and now this ancient power has found its rightful owner.”

“Itzá’s back?!” Ion sounded alarmed.

“In a way, yes. He’s still Kalavan though – it’s not like the entire essence of the ancient God is there. It’s complicated.”

Aramis opened his eyes to find himself standing in the middle of an empty space where only his figure stood and there was no landscape to accompany it. In front on him stood Kalavan, yet Aramis sensed there was something different about the God of Time.

“You called?” the demon smiled. Kalavan joined his hands together and slowly separated them, creating a sand clock in between them.

“Your contract has been renewed,” he spoke with a soft voice. “It has been renewed to last throughout eternity, linked not to the God, but to the sands that form the Sea of Time, where it will lay until you decide to call upon it once more. I do not know what the contents of this contract are, for it was agreed that this knowledge was to be yours and yours alone. I do require, though, that you return the one you took, unharmed, and never plan to bring him impairment again or else this contract and its seal will be broken, and there will be nothing neither one of us can do to regain it. Agreed?”

“I never back away from my word,” Aramis said firmly. “I shall return the angel to the place where I took him from, and I will never cross his path again. Yet I cannot make an oath for him either: if he so ever crosses my path, I shall protect my interests; you cannot deny me against that.”

“Agreed. His actions will be his own doing. Never return to the Valley of Time, God of Pain.”

The demon disappeared shortly after that, returning to his room inside the building where The Lighthouse was. He took a look over at his bed, where the body of Sejirah lied unconscious. He sat right next to the body of the angel, touching his forehead with unusual tenderness, clearing away traces of hair. “My physical presence is not needed in a place where my essence was created. And you’re wrong: his actions will be your own wicked crafting, God of Time.” Aramis said drawing a sinister smile on his lips as he observed the moon angel’s features inquisitively. “You see, my darling angel,” he leaned close to the angel’s ear and whispered, “your master owes me pain…”

He then took the body and crossed over the Khorieanese dimension using a full-length mirror he had hanging from his bedroom wall. He walked right into Sejirah’s bedroom, and was not surprised to see Itzbul sitting on top of the bed, looking murderous at the demon.

“Well, well,” Aramis said, “even if he’s not the God of Time anymore he can still count on you to cover his back. I am touched by the pathetic display of loyalty here.”

“I will not allow you to bring him any harm for things that happened a long time ago, Aramis!”

“Shall I take that as a warning?” Aramis said, practically throwing the angel’s body on to the bed, making Itzbul jump to avoid being hit by it, “Your elder master owes me, Itzbul, and I think it’s time to pay the devil’s his due.”

The cat hissed threateningly. Aramis laughed out loud in delight and walked through the dimensional portal that was still standing in the middle of the room.