Faust Issue Three: Questions and Answers

He was being brought down the length of the most enormous hall he had even seen. His escorts were mostly quiet, with the exception of the Gentleman Ghost, who was reciting Edgar Allan Poe with delight. Otherwise it was a cold, silent and lonely atmosphere.

They came upon a veiled archway. Its drapes were multi-colored satin sheets embroidered with gold and silver linings. He paused for a moment, just bewildered by the drapes. Why, he didn’t know.

“Keep it moving, junior,” The Wizard threatened.

The Gentleman Ghost paused his recitation. “Don’t forget, Zard, that while you are a master at seeing through illusions, our prisoner is passing the Veil for the first time.”

“Well it isn’t Disneyland and I don’t have the time to lollygag watching a set of drapes. It’s time to go through the Veil.”

For some reason Faust took a breath before passing through. But once he passed through, he was hit with all kinds of sensations. There was a complete change from the quiet drab world outside and this colorful, exciting world within.

Hundreds of people were around him, some so scantily clad that a napkin would be like a gown in comparison. They were dancing and eating, partying and fighting. He could smell all kinds of fragrances, perfumes, and food, though there was a bitter copper-like scent drifting throughout the giant room. The sounds of laughter and shouting and cries of passion surrounded him in such a strong way that the cacophony of voices was as strong as the people who surrounded him. To say it was overwhelming was an understatement.

As the people caught sight of the trio of mages, they moved aside. They continued their various wanton activities, but now their faces stared right at them, watching carefully as Faust and his escorts moved along the middle of the grand room. Faust swore he could see something in their eyes, like some kind of need or desire. Or a drive, or hunger. But his misty eyes could detect nothing, nothing but an unmoving aura, which was weird. Everyone’s auras moved at least a little, like a static line or a buzzing cloud. Theirs were still and unwavering. A breeze seemed to wash over him as he found all their eyes upon him; something cold, like the touch of a grave… or the chill of death.

As they moved in, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea, he began to see an enormous throne. It was large and wide, and made of so many shiny metals and jewels that Faust thought he was watching a music video. The back of the throne touched the ceiling, and the base of the throne was lodged deep into the floor, like roots. Around the throne were women who were either wearing nothing but jewelry, scarves around their curves, or nothing at all. They wore silky veils over faces that left only the wild manes of their hair free and the cold but inviting eyes they all shared. One man sat in the throne; he was not large or small, but he was strong, Faust could tell. He had long, dark, shining hair that fell around his shoulders and a neat patch of hair under his lip. He wore Persian clothes that were enriched by gems and lining and wore armbands made of gold. Last, his eyes were black and empty but seemed to have some kind of weight behind them.

When he saw Faust, he had a moment of surprise, and then he smiled. He made a gesture with his hand, and the entire room fell silent and stopped what they were doing. All of the hundreds of people at once. It was eerie. “Well, what a surprise! The deer comes to the lion!” the man teased.

“I like to think I’m a stag,” Faust replied.

The man smiled, amused. His smiles were closed-mouthed, hiding something sinister within. He picked up a large goblet and took a sip, a deep red liquid making his lips rosy. “How amusing. I am glad you have not died. Yet.”

Faust shrugged. “I’m told I have a snuggly atmosphere.”

The man smiled. “I’m sure. Now before this gets tedious, let us get to business. You undoubtedly have questions for me. I will answer three questions.”

Faust nodded. It was always three with the magic community. “My first question is who are you?”

The man smiled, this time opening his mouth to bare very sharp fangs. “I, Mr. Faust, am the King of All Vampires!”

Faust shook his head. “No, really.”

“Okay, Mr. Faust,” the man said, putting his hands up in protest, “I’m the king of most vampires.”

Faust put his hands on his hips and thought for a moment. “So you’re…Dracula? Vlad Tepes? The Impaler?”

The man chuckled, and it seemed to roll off his tongue and move around the room. “Close, Mr. Faust. I am known as Darius, King Darius. Vlad Tepes is a nobody who happened to get caught by an author with writer’s block. I, on the other hand,” he said placing a hand on his chest, “am a God in the making.”

Faust felt something inside him tremble. Not from fear, but more from frustration. He had come well-unprepared for this battle. Darius, from what he had heard here and there, was one of the biggest players in the shadow community. An old vampire in control of legions.

He looked around his surroundings. All the people in the place had gone stiff, as quiet, breathless and motionless as a corpse. All Faust could see in their eyes was the hunger. Blood lust.

He turned to Darius. “Second question. Why did you try to kill me for this book I’m supposed to be connected to?”

Darius leaned forward just a bit on his throne. “You really don’t know, do you?” He laughed, causing waves of unease in Faust. “Do you have any idea why we’re all here?” Darius stood up, a long cape following behind him. “There is a hunt for an item of immense power by various rival forces, including my own. You Americans call it the Eternity Book.”

Darius began to walk down the small steps leading down his throne, one by one, while he spoke. “It is said that the owner of the book will hold the potential for omnipotence. At the possible cost of the fabric of reality,” Darius said, coming face to face with Faust, “one could rewrite the history of the entire cosmos in their own image.”

Faust shook his head. “But that could unravel the cosmic threads of the universe! Why would you even consider destroying reality for petty gains?”

“Because,” Darius said in a low, grim voice, “it is a risk that my enemies will be willing to take.”

Darius paced around Faust until he came back to his starting point. His eyes then fell on Faust, looking deadly serious. “Now you may be wondering what any of this has to do with you. You weren’t meant to be killed. An attempt on your life was not to be made, though you may believe otherwise. I suppose you might have arrived at that conclusion because of the Mistress of the Mirrors? She is, as your people say, ‘off her rocker’.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Faust replied.

Darius smiled and nodded. “Well, anyway, you are here. And all I will tell you is that your soulless husk is necessary for obtaining my desired Eternity Book without harming myself. Count yourself lucky that you will live long enough to die an agonizing death, and grant me the power of God.”

“It’s what I’ve been waiting for my whole life,” Faust replied sarcastically.” Just promise to name a holiday after me when you’ve conquered the world.” So there it was. He was to be cannon fodder for a mad king with goals for world - no, universal - domination. Just great. “Last question. Where is my father?”

Darius smiled a toothy, sinister grin. “Take young Faust away.”

In moments, there were twenty or so vampires around Faust, four of which were holding onto him with the icy, vice grip of a corpse with rigor mortis. They were almost as fast as Wolfwood. “Wait a minute? What about my third question?” He began to get swarmed from all sides, forty hands grabbing at him and restraining him, and fangs flashing at him. “Answer my last question!”

“I already did,” Darius declared as he walked his way back up to his throne. “You asked me why I would jeopardize the safety of the universe. I replied.”

The vampires began to pull at Faust and bite at him from afar as they dragged him down the hall. The trio of villains who were waiting patiently all this time came up to Darius, and the Gentleman Ghost spoke, “Our debt to you is paid. We captured your target with a bit of difficulty, but rest assured he is now in your care. He is where you asked us to put him.”

“I suppose you were able to keep him from leaving his human form?” Darius asked.

“Yes,” Wotan replied. “He’s still all flesh and fragile human bones.”

Darius nodded, pleased. The three villains looked at each other, standing in a semi-circle. “It is my sincerest wishes that we three do not meet again,” The Gentleman Ghost said. “That, you brutish fiends, would be most unpleasant.” With that, he vanished. Wotan and The Wizard eyed each other, and began to leave the hall with much space between them.

Faust yelled, a burst of adrenaline charging him up and allowing him to send a wave of indigo energy that left his immediate restrainers in a seizure. His eyes were alive with shifting clouds of blue. “I asked you a question!”

The vampires in the room took a step toward Faust. Darius raised his hand, stopping everyone immediately. He walked towards Faust, his eyes holding something akin to a sparkle, yet somehow still as empty as an abyss. With but a wave of his hand, an invisible force both froze Faust and squeezed him. He had heard that strong vampires could develop telekinesis, but until now he had yet to see it. Darius’s face turned into a hideous and ghoulish visage, full of scorn and evil. “You want to know what happened to your father? My ‘partner’?

Faust kept himself from yelling out; the pain was almost unbearable. He couldn’t even lift a finger or wiggle a nose. Darius came face to face with Faust once again, bearing his fangs spitefully. The room of vampires faded backwards as far from their king’s wrath as possible. All the lights flickered and dimmed into near darkness; darkness that had a weight on the soul. The color of blood emanated from the floor, drawing a glowing line from the throne across the room to the veils in the archway. A powerful gale force blew open the drapes as something levitated in along the blood line. There was just enough light for Faust to notice that the shape was a body.

As it came closer, Faust’s jaw dropped. The body was a dried, burnt corpse whose charred clothes were fused into the body. Blue flakes dropped off what used to be a tunic. Bones were crushed or torn out. Worst of all was that on the head was a blue helmet with a gold band running around it. The signature headwear for his father.

“You see, young Faust,” Darius growled, raising his hand up, and then squeezing it into a fist.

The skeleton’s body crushed inward into an ashen cloud, while the clothes crumbled into a pile of ashes beneath. The garbed head fell and rolled right to Faust’s feet before half-crumbling into a black spot on the floor.

“Felix Faust is DEAD! Any more questions??”