Gudsriki Read online

  Readers love Valhalla

  by ARI BACH

  “…when it’s not making you laugh, it’ll make you think….”

  —Lesbrary

  “…it’s well-written and very original for the right reader. I recommend it for science-fiction fans…”

  —Hearts on Fire

  “This is a very good book, full of action and intrigue.”

  —Glen Hates Books

  By ARI BACH

  VALHALLA

  Valhalla

  Ragnarök

  Guðsríki

  Published by HARMONY INK PRESS

  http://www.harmonyinkpress.com

  Published by

  HARMONY INK PRESS

  5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

  [email protected] • harmonyinkpress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Guðsríki

  © 2015 Ari Bach.

  Cover Art

  © 2015 Ari Bach.

  Cover Design

  © 2015 Paul Richmond

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Harmony Ink Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or [email protected].

  ISBN: 978-1-62380-110-6

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-62380-735-1

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015912450

  First Edition October 2015

  Printed in the United States of America

  This paper meets the requirements of

  ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

  Chapter I: Caithness

  THERE WERE crosses everywhere in those days, all across America. They hung on people’s walls. They covered Bibles, which you could buy at any bookstore. They stood tall on churches, for there were hundreds of churches in every big city. Even Jessica had a small silver cross on her necklace.

  As she sat watching her son, a knock came at the door.

  Jessica pushed herself up out of the chair. Her back hurt. She’d given birth days ago, but her back still hurt like hell. She opened the lock and saw a handsome man of about forty with brown curly hair.

  “Hello, ma’am, I came over to see the miracle.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said cheerfully, “come on in.”

  She led him past the couch to Andy Jr.’s crib. He gazed down in adoration.

  “Just look at that, a little baby… boy?”

  “Yes. His name is Andrew, after his father.”

  “And where is Andy Jr.’s daddy today?”

  “Afghanistan. Gets back soon. He was supposed to get a phone call this morning, but—I’m sorry, please, have a seat.”

  He sat on the couch.

  “Well, it’s a shame he couldn’t be here. My goodness, I haven’t even introduced myself; I’m Ryan Sparks. My father, Pastor Sparks, will be here any minute now. He heads the little white church just down the road. I just wanted to welcome Andy Jr. to the neighborhood myself,” he said, looking over and calling to Andy Jr. in his crib. “Your grandmommy told me all about you in church!”

  Jessica smiled. “Oh! Of course.”

  “And forgive me for being forward, but I gotta say we’d be happy to see you in church every Sunday.”

  “Oh, yeah, I—I’ve been meaning to make a return to church. Especially now that Andy Jr. is here.”

  “We do encourage children of every age to come and hear the word! Children from conception and up.”

  She sat down in the chair beside the crib.

  “So are you… nondenominational?”

  “Well, it’s Christianity that’s nondenominational. You see, trying to divide up the church is simply against the church; there’s only one true church, and all that talk about Baptist and Lutheran and all that nonsense is just that—nonsense. At my father’s church, we accept anyone of any faith, as long as they believe,” he said, counting on his fingers, “one, that Jesus Christ is our savior; two, one must be baptized to be saved; and three, the Lord hears prayers spoken in tongues. That’s the one language that’s pure, that the devil can’t understand.”

  “So…. You take Catholics?”

  “Well, we accept all faiths, but not heresy. See, that’s a very wrong thing. There’s a difference between acceptance and going too far. Are you…?”

  “Oh no, only by technicality. Andrew’s—my husband Andrew’s father is strict Catholic, and they’re not on speaking terms. His dad was very insistent we baptize Andrew Jr. Catholic and—”

  “Say no more. Seen it a hundred times, and it’s a sad, sad thing, but you’re doing the right thing now. Yes, yes you are. I tell ya, I don’t envy the world your son is going to grow up in. We’re one of the last generations. All the signs are here, here for the end of days. Have you read the book of Revelations?”

  “The whole Bible, even who begat who. But, you know, I think some in every generation believe they’re the last, even in the Gospels—”

  “Now that’s getting into some technical mumbo jumbo my father can clear up. I myself don’t like to read much. I’m all about a personal relationship with the Lord. Do you have that, Jessica?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “Well, that’s a start, but you need to know so.”

  “I do consider myself a Christian.”

  “That’s good, Jessica. That’s good. You should be very thankful for today, for ten fingers and ten toes.”

  Ryan looked over to Andrew.

  “When was he born exactly?”

  “At 5:30 a.m., two days ago. June sixth.”

  “That’s what your mother said,” he remarked cordially. “Any big birthmarks on his forehead, or his hands?”

  “No, no, just the usual tiny spots.”

  “None that caught your attention?”

  “No, why?”

  “Oh, nothing, nothing. Just wondering. You’re both American?”

  “And proud of it.”

  “I saw a nice bright flag outside.”

  “Yep.”

  “We’re lucky to live here, you know. When the end comes, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

  “No, I suppose not,” she replied, slightly amused at his apparent apocalyptic preoccupation. They both watched Andy Jr. stir in his crib for a moment. Jessica found the silence a bit awkward and spoke.

  “So tell me about your dad.”

  “Well, ma’am, he’s the most noble man I ever saw, and a good father to boot. He’s also a first-rate pastor, and exorcist.”

  “Exorcist?”

  “Absolutely. Why just this week there was an afflicted man in our congregation, and my father, he put that man on the floor, he grabbed ahold of that demon and told him in the name of Jesus Christ that he would hurt that man no more. And that demon, through the man, he shouted”—Ryan shifted to a mock demonic voice—“‘You cannot face me, for we are many, our name is Legion, and we will not leave!’ But my f
ather shouted,” Ryan screamed, “‘In the name of Christ you—’”

  Andy Jr. started crying at Ryan’s shout. Ryan stopped and stared at him. “Funny he started crying when I said ‘Christ’ there.”

  Jessica ran over and held him.

  “I think it was just the volume of it all. You have quite a voice.”

  “Well, thank you. You know I used to be a musician.”

  “Really. So, your father—”

  “Oh he cured the man, that’s for sure. The man suffered a broken arm and some severe contusions, but he was all right after that, all right in his soul.”

  “He broke his arm?”

  “An exorcism isn’t a pretty matter. You’ll see that when you come in.”

  “I suppose I will,” she said, less enthusiastic about attending. The silence grew more awkward as Ryan stared at Andy Jr.

  “Harry Potter. That’s what lies in wait for your son. They’re gonna tempt him with witchcraft starting today, and perversion tomorrow. And it won’t end until he’s in the Kingdom of Heaven. There are adversaries out there. Did you know that’s what the devil’s name means? The adversary?”

  Jessica nodded. After a moment, five loud, slow knocks came at the door.

  “That will be my father.”

  Jessica moved to stand up, but Ryan jogged to the door and let his father in. He was an older man with white hair, wearing a white linen suit. He walked to Jessica and shook her hand firmly. His voice was soft and warm.

  “You must be Jessica. A pleasure to meet you! I’m Cody Sparks.”

  “Thank you. Ryan was just telling me about you.”

  “Oh boy, you must be evangelized out by now. I’m sorry, my son can be a bit forward when it comes to his old man.”

  Ryan looked a bit ashamed.

  “And that must be our new friend. What a strapping young lad!”

  “Thank you!”

  She nodded again and set him down in the crib. “So Ryan tells me you’re pastor at the little white church out that way?”

  “Sure am, services and school Sundays, studies Saturdays. Ice cream on Wednesdays! I’m proud to say there’s not a man, woman, or child in this little town that doesn’t attend regularly. Only a true church can earn that kind of loyalty. And I tell you we would love to see you there Sunday.”

  “Yes, I think I will. Will I meet Mrs. Sparks there too?”

  The pastor bowed his head. “I’m afraid she died some time ago.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  Ryan interrupted. “Christ tells us that in the end days it will be parents against their own children, and my mother was a good example. She wasn’t a believer; she was never born again. Sure, she went to church, but—”

  “We don’t need to go into that, Ryan—” said Cody, but Ryan continued.

  “She was sinful. Plain sinful. She read books. Books about Islam and Judaism. One of those people who thought Jesus was a Jew, but the synagogues we know today, those are the synagogue of Satan. And he pulled her in like a hooked fish. She was a school teacher, mind you, and she had power over many a child’s mind. And she used it to teach blasphemies. Evolution. That we came from apes, and what sickens me, this sickens me most of all, she knew Genesis. She read the Bible every week, but she taught lies. And she taught tolerance of the faggotry too. Tolerance.”

  “I’m sorry to—”

  “You want to know why she died? Why my momma died? Because the avenging angel, the angel Samael, came to her. Whose name means ‘The Poison of God.’ On the night of my tenth birthday I saw—”

  “Ryan, we’ve known this kind woman about one fourth of an hour.”

  “Our Lord is a Lord of fire,” Ryan said, “and woe to she who forgets it.”

  Another awkward silence gripped the room.

  “You know, Jessica,” Cody began, “I prayed for you last night. I didn’t know it was you that I prayed for, because I prayed in tongues, but it was. You see, you are a smart woman, and a good woman. And what’s coming won’t be easy for you, but you will survive, and you will survive because Jesus will help you. I want you to remember when things seem impossible, or rough, that he is watching over you. That he is there to help you if you’ll only turn to him.”

  “I know it. And thank you for saying so.”

  The sun sat on the mountains. Cody went on.

  “Do you know what evil is, Jessica? It’s not a big red man with horns. It’s not a Nazi or an Iraqi or even a democrat congressman. It’s the apathy to do what’s right. As a mother, you will determine the fate of your son. And the only thing that makes that responsibility possible is the example set by the Holy Bible. When God looked down and saw the evils of men, the sins of men…. He knew in his infinite wisdom that another flood, another Sodom and Gomorrah, another tenth plague, he knew none of that would teach us sheep the lesson. He knew he had to make a sacrifice, the ultimate sacrifice. He gave us his Son, Jessica. His only begotten Son.”

  The sun set.

  “It is by his blood we are redeemed. And by his grace we live our lives. And by that sacrifice we may enter the Kingdom of Heaven. If the Lord could give his Son for us, then we must give our children to the Lord. So when I ask you if you know what evil is, I need to hear you reply that evil is when a good parent disobeys the Lord. When a good soul lets evil happen, because she is too afraid or too lazy or too self-centered to do a hard thing when she knows that thing is right.”

  “I agree, I agree absolutely.”

  “That’s good, ma’am,” said Ryan. “That’s good. It will make this all a lot easier.”

  Jessica didn’t understand. “I’m sorry, make what?”

  “The Lord gives me warnings,” said Cody. “He tells me about the dangers that come to my fine town, and into my church. I keep my neighborhood safe.”

  Ryan stirred. “Your son was born on June sixth, 2006.”

  Jessica didn’t understand.

  “Six, six, six,” said Ryan.

  Jessica spoke up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s not—”

  “Look at how you react! You fear the words because you already know the truth of them!”

  “Look, I’m a good Christian, but that shit is—”

  “Shit? Shit!” shouted Cody, furious. “You will not speak again! You are the whore of Babylon, a bitch of the devil, and I will not tolerate such—”

  Andy Jr. began to cry again.

  “Hear his wail,” Cody proclaimed, seemingly happy at being justified, “the voice of sin and profanity, enraged at the truth!”

  Jessica ran to his crib and held him.

  “Okay, you get out right now. You won’t do an exorcism. Not on my baby, you’ll hurt him. Now listen—”

  “We won’t. We won’t do that. We didn’t come to do that. It is clear, ma’am, that your son is the spawn of the devil’s loins. And we are here to send him back to hell.”

  “Leave or I’ll call the police!”

  “Gee, I must have never introduced myself properly. Ryan Sparks, Chief of Police for this little village.”

  “Leave now!”

  “We will, we will,” said Cody quietly, subdued. “Son, let’s go to the car.”

  In an instant they were gone. Andy Jr. stopped crying for a moment. Jessica held him close, breathing heavily. She was beyond scared. She did the only thing she knew to do. She grabbed Andy Jr. and prayed.

  “Our father in heaven, I beg you. Protect my son. Protect my baby. Protect us from the men who wish us harm.”

  She began to stutter; Andy Jr. began to cry again.

  “Please, just please protect him. Let them see he’s just a child. Let them change their minds. Please, God, don’t let them come back. Oh God,” she pleaded, her voice quivering, “please save us from your followers.”

  She began to cry.

  “God, let Andrew come home and protect us. Protect his baby. Those men are Christians, Lord. Remind them not to do us any harm. Please! Don’t let them come back!”

  Five loud, s
low knocks came at the door. Jessica suddenly realized she’d not locked it. She left Andy Jr. in the crib and ran up to the door. She reached out to lock it just as it burst open, hitting her in the head and knocking her out.

  When she awoke she was bound with rope. Cody and Ryan stood over the crib, against which one had rested a rifle. Ryan was holding the lamp she kept by the crib’s side in his right hand. Cody saw her stir and spoke.

  “We had higher hopes for you, ma’am, that when the time came, you would let us do what we had to do in peace.”

  “No, no, no, no—” She tried to get out of the rope.

  “You’ll be silent now,” said Ryan. “I don’t want you to shout. You know there’s only one house close enough to hear, and you should know that Margaret lent us the rope.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “She comes to our church, Jessica. She told us when he was born.”

  “No. No! You’re lying, you’re lying! She wouldn’t.”

  “Jessica, your mother Margaret is a faithful woman. And I think you know the truth.”

  Jessica sobbed. She didn’t have the strength to do anything else. Her head stung and ached worse than she’d ever felt before. The men turned back to Andy Jr.

  “Come on, Dad, it’s time. Let’s do this here.”

  “Let us pray.”

  They closed their eyes. Ryan spoke.

  “Lord, we have found thy enemy, and found the seed of the devil’s loins.”

  Cody started speaking in tongues. Jessica was petrified. Ryan spoke, eyes closed.

  “As you asked Abraham, as you asked Noah and your own son in Gethsemane, we do thy bidding here today.”

  Cody’s voice grew louder, deeper as he shouted glossolalia.

  “Praise Jesus!” shouted Ryan. “Praise the Lord God! Thy will be done!”

  Ryan lifted up the lamp, hesitated, and brought it down on the baby’s head. Cody stopped praying and picked up the rifle. Ryan struck the baby again.

  “Praise Jesus!”

  Cody crushed his ribs with the wooden stock.

  “Praise Jesus! Praise the Lord!”

  Ryan struck again and again, disfiguring the child into pulp. Cody erupted into tongues again as he grabbed the gruesome mess and crushed organs and bone.