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“You little fucking shit,” Peter whispered as the group got closer. He stepped away from the oncoming souls.
Michael was pushing himself up against the wall.
Peter saw Michael trying to stand and had a brainwave. Quickly and smoothly, he grabbed Michael by the shoulders and got him to his feet. With both hands he took hold of his enemy’s head and violently twisted it to the side.
The snapping neck bone echoed through the dagger.
The souls stopped moving.
Peter smiled.
“He was nothing,” Peter said. He spread his arms wide open and shouted, “Anyone else want to challenge me?” He looked around the group. “Come on. All these years I’ve been bored and now I have found something fun to do.”
Most of the souls started backing away. His bluff was working. They couldn’t touch him as white light forms and vice versa. They had the ability to make themselves solid for short periods of time, and when they were solid, they were vulnerable. He silently cursed himself for not thinking about that earlier. He could have asserted his position as their god when they attacked Michael.
He watched the small group who hadn’t backed away. It seemed as if they were planning something. He was going to get some pain if they attacked as a group. And he knew exactly who their leader was. The slice in her neck bobbed up and down as if her words came straight from the throat.
It suddenly started raining.
Raindrops of blood fell heavy and hard. It started slowly at first and increased quickly like a tropical storm. The entire room was running in blood. It waved down the walls and created puddles on the smooth, even floor of the prison. Lightning flashed overhead. It was blinding in the small area.
The small group backed away.
Peter wasn’t surprised. After the arrival of Michael and a few other small incidents in the past, nothing much surprised him in this place. The dagger prison seemed to have a mind and power of its own.
He threw his head back, raised his arms, and screamed so hard his throat hurt. Blood rain splattered on his face and in his mouth. It tasted sweet.
Lightning struck so close to him he could feel its heat and energy. The bolt struck the wall and it exploded, creating a tunnel of light in its wake.
It was re-entry time.
A smile graced his face, a smile of absolute happiness.
The souls started screaming again. They knew what it was and knew they couldn’t enter.
He turned and faced his exit. He had waited far too long for this.
A scream from a voice he knew rose above all the other voices and he stopped to see Terry charging at him. She was in solid form already and her pretty face was twisted in rage. Her hands were balled into fists.
Peter’s smile remained in place.
The power of her punch took him by surprise. It struck his face and spun him around. The slippery floor disappeared beneath his feet and he dropped like a sack of wet rice.
He heard her call to the others. How easy it would be to kill him. He was weak against them.
The bitch had no right showing him up like that.
Peter jumped to his feet. He slammed his fist into her stomach. As she doubled over, he grabbed her head, pulled it down, and swung his knee into her face. He felt the cheekbone shatter. A second knee to her face broke her nose.
“Now, who is the weakest, bitch!” he screamed, letting her body drop to the floor.
Taking a handful of hair he dragged her to the tunnel. He realized he was laughing. Laughing at violence wasn’t a good sign, but Peter couldn’t help it. He was about to re-enter the world. He was about to help Christianity die. He was about to show everyone who the true god was.
He bent down to Terry and said softly in her ear, “Group leaders are usually the ones who suffer the most when their time is up.”
With that he stepped into the tunnel, dragging her with him.
The white light emitted by the tunnel hit her body. A singular beam brighter than the rest shot through her centre. He saw her belly button split open and the insides bubbled out with the sound of frying steak. She screamed and withered. Hitting his hand with all her strength, she tried to free herself from the pain and get out of the tunnel, but Peter held firm and moved deeper inside.
Suddenly she let out a god-awful screech of pain. Her feet were on fire and it moved rapidly up her naked body, fanned on by the white light.
He released his grip on her hair and stood back to watch her burn.
His smile was gone.
Her arms shot out to the sides, and to Peter, she looked like someone who had just been shot and killed in an old black and white western movie.
She was unmoving. Her screams were now forever silent.
The whole body was on fire. The orange glow reflected against the tunnel walls made a crude kind of directional arrow.
The flames whipped back and forth and made whooshing sounds as the body was suspended in the shape of an inverted cross.
Peter turned and walked toward the end of the light. Far in the distance, he could see a small black circle. He knew it was the re-entry point, but wondered why it seemed so far away.