2 comments/ 6102 views/ 2 favorites Roses Red By: JoeBarnosky Author's note: Another tale in my CATU/Black List universe. This time taking you to a time in history somewhere in the 1400s Spain. A random tale of a order of Knights trying to protect their homeland from an evil. * A baby cries out in the night. Blood covers her as she is handed to her mother for the first time. Upon reaching her mother's comforting arms, she stops crying. "There now my beautiful child," the mother says in a soothing manner. "Isabel, we must be quick," the priest that performed the birth warns. "Please Father, just a few more minutes," Isabel begs. "Zephlanith will have already sensed the girl's birthing. We must removed her from her or risk him taking her," the priest replies. "At least let me name her, before you take her," Isabel pleads as tears stream down her face. "Very well, but you must hurry." "Roselyn. You my beautiful child will be Roselyn." She musters a smile as she takes one last look at her child. The priest scoops the child into his arms. The baby, Roselyn, begins to wail, ignoring the cooing the priest offers. The priest edges his way along the wall, feeling with his hand until he finally finds what he is looking for. Grabbing a hold of a stone, he pulls downward. The sound of sliding stone is heard, but only briefly. A passageway is revealed before the priest and the baby. Quickly, he enters with the crying child, leaving Isabel alone and weeping for her child. The door closes quietly behind the pair as they proceed down the long shaft. Isabel lay in the bed, shivering and sobbing. A shadow suddenly falls over her, cast from the little sunlight that manages to seep through the only window in the room. "It's too late Zephlanith," she whimpers. It is a shame to lose one so fare. You should have never betrayed me. "You are a monster!" she spats. That I may be. Now where is the girl? Isabel is frightened to the core, but she somehow manages to summon the courage to face the demon. "She is far removed from you, that is all you will get from me!" You may be unwilling to reveal to me the child, but I will find her. Isabel sits up in the bed and spits at the demon. "She will be the one to kill you as you will kill me!" Zephlanith reaches down and grabs her throat. Too bad you won't see how wrong you will be. With his other hand, he pulls out both her eyes. Isabel screams from the pain as blood seeps out of her sockets. You'll at least live in misery; death is too easy of a way out for you. Zephlanith misted away leaving Isabel to sob in her darkness. Roses Red, Sapphires Blue bruary 14. St. Valentine's Day. Jonathan Ames laid the bouquet of red roses on the passenger seat of his car. He took off his suit jacket, checking (for the fourth time in the last ten minutes) the front pocket for the package he'd placed there, folded the jacket in half and hung it over the back of the seat. He spent a long moment convincing himself that the gift wouldn't fall out before closing up and settling into the driver's seat. He looked at himself for a minute in the rearview mirror: a balding, bespectacled, average-looking (at best!) man in his forties. "Fifteen pounds overweight," he added to himself, although the mirror was mostly silent on that matter. The radio erupted with an inane commercial announcement when he started the car, and he silenced it. He pulled out of the subterranean parking garage of his apartment complex onto the twilit side-street where he lived. A couple of turns, a stoplight, and he was on the entrance ramp to the highway, freed from the cares of suburban driving and able to commune with his thoughts. He glanced at the roses in the seat next to him, two dozen of them, deep blood red, long-stemmed and beautiful. There was no way to mistake what these roses signified. His thoughts turned to the gift tucked away in his suit pocket: a bracelet of sapphires set in gold. He'd had in his mind weeks ago exactly what he wanted to get Elena, but it had taken several hours on the internet and visits to no fewer than twelve jewelry stores before he found it: sapphires as blue as the roses were red. And then his thoughts turned to Elena, raven-haired, brown-skinned, exotically beautiful. And the way she moved, as though each step were set to music. And her flashing eyes, and her exquisite face registering every emotion beneath it. And under it all, the most attractive of any quality: kindness. The last four months seemed a dream to him. He remembered the first time he saw her, directing a pair of salesmen to whatever their appropriate destination was. And then it was his turn to speak to her. "Yes?" she said, not looking up from the logbook in which she was making an entry. And he stood mute, unable to remember what it was he needed to say to this angel. Finally she looked up, and instantly must have recognized the nature of his stare, given how she smiled and seemed to laugh to herself. Then she gave him the warmest smile, tinged with humor, sharing with him the joke of his obvious attraction. "Can I help you?" He'd been scheduled to spend just two days at her site, but he quickly found a reason to stop in daily, usually at the end of the day, when he'd walk her to her car. And one night she mentioned that she felt cold, and he gave her a warm hug next to her car. The next day she asked him, "When are you going to ask me on a date, Jonathan Ames?" He took the highway exit toward the small town she lived in, a mostly Hispanic village with tiny, 1970's era identical houses. He wondered sometimes what she made of the cultural divide between them, but it seemed to be as invisible to her as it was to him. Just then the tail-lights in front of him veered strangely and then turned completely over before spinning to one side, punctuated by a shower of sparks as the metal of the car scraped against the road. Suddenly shaken from his reverie, he jerked his car to a stop, illuminating the overturned car before him with his headlights. He fumbled for his cellphone, shaking, and dialed 911 to report the accident before jumping out of his car. He wasn't sure what to do until he heard a pained moan coming from the car and he ran to it. He got the inverted passenger side door open easily. A little girl in a bright orange, floral pattern dress was hanging upside down by her seatbelt in the seat. She didn't seem to understand what had just happened. Jonathan looked over the situation and decided he could unbuckle her and get her out of the vehicle. In the driver's seat was a man in an inexpensive suit, eerily quiet. Jonathan held the girl in his arms as he unbuckled her and caught her, cooing, "It's all right," to her as he carried her to the side of the road. Then he went back to the vehicle. The man in the driver's seat did not look good. His eyes were open, but he wasn't moving. With some effort, Jonathan got the car door open. The driver wasn't breathing. Jonathan looked for a pulse, but found none. Jonathan stood up for a moment to look at the little girl; she was sitting on the ground grasping her knees, and she seemed to be sobbing. He saw the headlights of another car approach and slow down as it came upon the scene. He gritted his teeth and crouched down to begin his grim task. Without too much difficulty, he was able to unbuckle the body and ease its fall before pulling it from the car. He wondered for a moment if he should try CPR, but then heard sirens and saw flashing red lights down the road. He'd leave the driver to those who at least knew what they were doing. A woman was comforting the little girl, who seemed to be about six. She was sobbing and shivering. Remembering his jacket, Jonathan went to his car to fetch it for the girl. As he picked it up, he felt the weight of the bracelet case. He looked back at the girl. ... He was an hour late to Elena's. He could see as she rushed him past it that she'd prepared a beautiful dinner. In the bathroom, he recounted the story as she took off his blood-soaked shirt and wiped him down with a wet towel that went from pure white to dark pink. He was perched on the edge of the bathtub and she kneeled on the floor beside him. The EMTs hadn't been able to revive the driver, who was the girl's father. "There's something else," he told her. She arched her eyebrows inquisitively. "I had a gift for you. It was a sapphire bracelet. Just synthetic sapphire – it wasn't too expensive. But it was really beautiful. I think you would have liked it." "'Would have?'" He took her hands and looked her in the eyes. "When I gave the little girl my jacket, I told her that her father had asked me to make sure that she got this gift, and that he had said he loved her with all his heart." She was silent for a moment. Suddenly nervous, he continued, "I'll get you another one. It shouldn't be ..." She held a finger to his lips, and then rose to kiss him. "You'll do no such thing." She kissed him again, long and wet. "A bracelet is just a thing. What you did is ..." She glanced down, bit her lip slightly, and dabbed his chest with the towel. She looked him in the eyes and pulled his glasses from his face, kissing his mouth, then chin, neck, chest. She'd slipped her blouse's strap off of her shoulder, revealing a perfect breast, and she pinched her nipple. She exhaled loudly and looked him in the eyes again. "Do you know you're the most beautiful man in the world? What you did was ..." She kissed his stomach and began undoing his belt. "What you did was the greatest ..." She ran her tongue over the top of his pubic region as she opened his trousers. "... the greatest gift ..." She pulled his pubic hair gently with her lips, pulling his trousers and underwear off of his hips. She looked him in the eyes, running her hands up the sides of his body and strumming his nipples with her thumbs. "... the greatest gift anyone could have given me." She fixed his eyes with her own as her mouth sought out and found the tip of his stiffening cock, and she inhaled him. Roses Red Since we are well fortified, we wait for Zephlanith and his legion to attack. That attack comes early the next morning. The legion rolls in in waves; one group after another. The archers fire upon the undead, but it seems to not have much of an effect on them. Ladders are thrown up against the wall, helping the undead to filter their way over the walls. The archers fall under the attack and are of no use against the invaders. Seeing the men fight and fall in vain, I order Roses Red to the front. We battle the undead, saving as many of the archers that we can. Knocking the ladders down seem like a useless task. For every one that falls, another two are put up in their place. I made a hard decision at that moment. "We go over the wall!" I yell. My fellow knights, without any objections, follow my orders and take to the ladders themselves. If we can't keep the horde off the wall from the top, we will do so from the bottom. The armed citizens follow us, seeing that with the mass of the horde against us, the battle will not rule in our favor. We gain ground against the legion and hold it. Yet, every time a citizen or knight falls, Zephlanith uses his magical power to bring their lifeless corpses back to life. It is now midday and even I am beginning to tire. The sun pours its heat onto the battle field, causing the rotting flesh to overwhelm us with its stench. Sweat pours down my face, washing away blood, guts and brains. Throughout the battle I hope to find Zephlanith himself. Never once have I spotted him over the endless ocean of undead until I see Gaspar on the ridge to my left. He is locked in battle with Zephlanith, their swords crossed, both at an impasse. I prepare myself and start to run in their direction. I hope Gaspar can hold out until I reach them. As I run, I cut down effortlessly any undead that stand in my path. I reach the bottom of the ridge nearly and am there when I am tackled from behind. I feel claws cut deep into my back. I cry out in agony, feeling blood pour down my legs. Hot breath rolls onto the back of my neck and all I can focus on is reaching my sword. Claws dig into my shoulder, sending waves of pain through my body. I can feel the creature rearing back, ready to bite when suddenly the weight of it is pulled off of me. I roll onto my back to see Tadeo standing over me. The undead wolf struggles in his hand. Growling and snapping at him. "You look like you need some help," he says with a chuckle. I throw him a smirk as he reaches with his free hand and rips the beast's head off. He throws the wolf aside then reaches down to help me up. As soon as I get my feet, I fall under surprise. Tadeo sees the expression on my face, it saying all the words he needs to hear. He quickly turns, catching two more undead wolves as they leap at him. All three go to the ground rolling. "Go! Help Gaspar!" he yells. My mission is Zephlanith. Tadeo can handle himself, but it is Gaspar we both are worried for. I take the hill to the top of the ridge as fast as my legs will take me. When I reach the top I am relieved to see Gaspar is still holding his own. Gaspar sees me first, but I can assume Zephlanith senses me long before now. He throws me a wink and presses harder against the demon. At that moment, I can tell Zephlanith is holding back. With lightning speed, the demon weaves his sword, slipping past Gaspar's defenses and into his stomach. He pulls the sword from Gaspar, letting the man drop to the ground and slowly turns to me. My beautiful daughter Roselyn, here to kill me. "Your reign of terror in my land will end here today!" I yell. I feel strangely defiant at that moment. Doubtful. Even as powerful as you are, you have yet to unlock your full potential. You don't stand a chance of defeating me. "I will take you to hell with me if need be!" I draw my sword and attack. I spent my entire life practicing my sword fighting, but nothing could prepare me for the challenge I face now before me. Each time our swords hit my arms feel like rubber. His strength is so great and soon dread begins swelling inside of me. You have no chance to win child. Surrender to me and I can help you unlock you power. Together we can rule over these worthless humans. "Never!" I grunt. My sword is locked with his as I strain to hold back the force of his blade. My attention is so focused on holding him at bay, I never see the attack to my legs. I fall hard, slamming my head on a rock. Blackness surrounds me briefly; my sword falls away from my grasp. When my head clears and my vision returns, Zephlanith stands over me. I feel a slight prick against my neck. I dare not move my neck in fear of his sword piercing even deeper into my throat. This is your last chance. Do not dare think I will not kill my own daughter for her defiance! "You've waited for too long for this day Zephlanith!" Father Mortigan stands there, sword in hand. He stands there with defiance but unmoving. I never knew him to be anything of a fighter, only a scholar. The blade moves away from my throat as Zephlanith turns his back on me to face Mortigan. Quickly, I take the distraction to look for my sword, but to no avail I don't see it. You shouldn't have interfered Mortigan. From the beginning you have been a thorn in my side. Nothing you do today can delay the inevitable. "Today is the day your tyranny ends with the ending of your life," he says calmly. He lifts the sword and charges. Just from the way he moves I know his plan isn't to survive the attack. As Zephlanith's sword comes up, Mortigan releases his grip on his sword, letting it sail through the air toward me. I don't know if Zephlanith caught on to the plan or not, but his strike was already committed. Father Mortigan's head rolls off his shoulders as I catch the sword. Zephlanith lets his momentum carry him full spin to face me. My sword is already in motion, piercing deep into his chest as he faces me. Shock overshadows his face at the unexpected blow. A smile forms on my face as I take pride in his defeat. That pride ultimately becomes my undoing. With his last effort, his sword perforates me. Seems I'll be taking you to hell with me. Before my death I shed one final tear, not for me but for Father Mortigan. In that final moment I regret the vow I made. I close my eyes, never to open them again. The undead legion losing the power held over them by Zephlanith fades with his death. Like a crumbling tower, the undead fall leaving the field a mass of bones and flesh. Tadeo finds his way to the ridge soon after the battle ends. He carries our bodies back to the city below. The fallen members of Roses Red are declared heroes and we are buried in a special tomb built for Roses Red long ago. Roses Red continued protecting the queen and country for many long years since the battle with Zephlanith until eventually fading into history along with the battle.