Lord Liverchester

Chapter 18

Some way or another, we arrived on dry land unscathed. The ship was far from the jagged rocks, laying in the sand. It was midday, perfect timing and right where Dorian wanted to be. He wasted no time in leaving to explore, so we left everything behind to get lost in the mass of dark trees and mist. The sun didn't shine at all, the sky was overcast and gray. The first storm had passed but the air was thick and muggy. Dorian's coat was loaded with guns and ammunition, his pockets full of knives. My sword was still secured at his waist. I was sure by now I would never get it back. I trampled dead weeds as he led me through the forest. All the trees were dead, leafless branches keeping to themselves. Smaller dead trees were interspersed between all the big ones, forming a forest of their own. These smaller trees still had leaves, but they weren't alive in the slightest. Somehow they still found a way to be beautiful. Because of the color they offered, despite being brown, the landscape didn't feel so dreary. The further we traveled, the more the air became crisp. There were houses on the island, red brick and medium sized. I had seen them before in a recent dream, something that was fading from my memory but still familiar. Just like in my dream, Dorian was explaining that the people would all return when our deed was done. I hoped he was right. This place was so creepy without any occupants. It deserved to be alive and full of beautiful plants. Dorian unlocked the front door of one of the houses with a knife, choosing it as our base that we could go back to in case we needed to retreat. Barnaby's residence, a large terrifying castle, was at the center of the island, not too far from where we currently stood. I watched my back, turning around over and over. I felt like we were being watched, like some evil was standing on a perch just waiting for us to come closer. I reluctantly followed Dorian wherever he led me. This house he chose was empty, hardly anything left behind. There were cabinets and shelves left, but they held nothing. Every room was pitch dark, the windows boarded up or covered by the shelves. Dorian lit the way with his lighter, first making sure we were alone. When he determined we were, he set up a small camp for us on the floor. He didn't dare leave anything important behind, especially not his weapons, but he did write out a plan of action. He explained it to me, then left it there on the floor. I stared down at the crumpled paper, easily making sense of his cursive handwriting. It was perfect, italicized letters looping to the left. I wasn't sure if I'd ever seen his handwriting before, but given his demeanor I expected it to be messy for some reason. Silly, considering both of us were brought up with perfection in mind. I shook the misconception from my thoughts and instead paid attention to his plan, following along with him easily.

"If push comes to shove, we fight like hell and escape if we have to. I'm not about to risk our lives after everything else," Dorian was blunt. "Stay by my side, don't split up at any cost. We're in this together, to keep each other safe. Be vigilant, don't let your guard down. If anything does happen..."

He held my hand, the flame of his lighter sparkling in his eyes. He was oddly energetic. He was sober, so maybe that had something to do with it. Before we left, he ate some chocolate and finally drank some water. There was a youthfulness to his appearance today, something hidden beneath the gray hairs in his beard and the intense tiredness in his eyes. Despite that tiredness, he was wide awake. His movements were fast, his strength was unwavering. I trusted him without doubt.

"I love you," he said finally.

There was no time to hold him, or to even say I loved him too. He already knew. It was time to go, to finally set the plans in motion. I could see the castle looming through the trees, its harsh exterior matching the dead trees and jagged rocks all around. Dorian got us there in no time, carefully stepping over rocks and avoiding sharp objects in our path. Isle of Bridge was completely deserted, void of any animals or other living creatures. It was just us and our emotional support animals. Artois rode on my shoulder, often whispering how creeped out he was. Francis walked in step with Dorian, inspecting dead grass. Finally, there it was. It was a big black stone mansion, looming over us menacingly. Getting inside appeared like a daunting task at first, but Francis found that the door was wide open. We filed in behind Francis, searching in the darkness. Part of Dorian's preparation that led us to this day was finding the floor plan for Barnaby's residence, a step above and beyond what was necessary. Dorian remembered it well, snaking through the hallways and guiding us. A storm began rumbling outside as we explored the downstairs area. I could hear water crashing behind the mansion, large waves beginning to form. A crash of thunder and a massive wave shook the whole house. Using the gray blue light coming in through the windows as a guide, it wasn't hard to navigate. The place was totally destroyed. I was shocked to see the rooms in such bad shape, with whole ceilings falling down, wallpaper peeling off the walls, and everything covered in thick mold, mildew, and even moss. I didn't trust the floor anymore, stepping over the splintering wood carefully. Dorian avoided the center of the house completely, sticking to the edge against the wall. Things were marginally better upstairs, but the storm's intensity was shaking our bravery. The air felt thin and the horrible smells were making it difficult to breathe. There were so many strange sounds coming from various places, but they couldn't all have my attention at once. Even in the darkness, there was so much to see. I thought every shadow could be a demon or something lurking, waiting to pounce on us. Noticing that I was starting to panic from the overwhelming sensations, Dorian pulled me forward, smashing my face against his chest. This time I didn't want to see what surrounded me. I just wanted to escape, to be somewhere else. It was no surprise that something big and evil was waiting for us in one of those rooms. I heard it breathing, the sound growing closer with each slow footstep. Dorian peeked inside every room, opening squeaky doors and aiming his gun at nothing. The dread and fear were growing, a pain in my chest. Somewhere deep in this place, a power that was unmatched waited for us. It was the granddaddy of all demons, a thing that would require the strength of a thousand men to take it down. I stopped Dorian and looked up, asking him if he seriously thought we could do this. He hesitated but still nodded, gesturing to the tons of silver he wore for protection. We also didn't lack in knowledge, our heads full after reading the manual regarding the gate and what the gatekeeper shared with us. Maybe I was just too chicken shit, dragging my feet in fear of seeing something that would scar me for life. The tension was building, nearing what I feared could be the death of us. I kept my head up and watched each room turn out to be nothing at all. I wished it would just happen already, so we could get this whole nightmare out of the way. Dorian was so brave, not hesitating at all to explode into each room of this elaborate mansion without warning. He acted like he was the authority, a large gun clutched in his left hand. He kept it held close to his body as he walked but aimed it into the open air as he searched. I almost felt bad for not being much help, but my work would come later. I was the guy that cleaned up the aftermath, or offered support when I could. My role in helping Dorian wasn't so much in the real fight, but to cheer him on and heal him when it was all over. I didn't feel so bad after reminding myself of that. I was a lover, not a fighter. It just wasn't in me to hurt others, and if my memory served me right, Barnaby was a sweet old man. There would be no way I could bear to be rough with him. He was probably suffering enough.