Dufaii - The Patron Saints of the Damned Book I
Chapter 18 - Meaningfully Worthless Pain and Beauty

“Even knowing the insurmountable nature of Tezcatlipoca’s curses, I wanted to blame someone. For a long time, part of me wanted to hate Dufaii in return for his loathing of me … and after all we shared. A part of me that believed love conquers all, wanted to think that he simply had never loved me as I had loved him.

But … that simply wasn’t the truth. Were it not for my own madness, I would have never been able to understand how thoroughly his madness overcame him.

Another part of me wanted to blame myself for not having come up with a safer plan to dispatch the god. I also wanted to blame the gods for having allowed themselves to crumble into their state of Madness. I wanted to blame the Creator for the storm which made Dufaii so fragile in his own way.

However, the truth is that there is a doom present in the fundamental nature of reality. It applies to immortals as much as it does to mortals. I watched millennia of human parents utterly breaking their children through abuse and neglect, the children powerless to prevent their own psychological demise. I saw countless physical injuries that were unavoidable and that ended the lives of humans well before giving them the mercy of death. Illnesses that wiped out entire civilizations that each might have made humanity more than it was. Peaceful nations of learning and enlightenment put to the blade of the ignorant who thought themselves holy. Starvation as lands would simply cease nourishing those upon them. As many tragedies that were the fault of nobody as those which were the fault of sadists and those which were the fault of fools. And in each case, people broke all the same.

Breaking is the only foundational truth of the universe. Fractioning, Injustice, Madness, and Death are the constants which have formed this world, nourished it, and which will inevitably end it.

So the only target I found for my loathing was the fundamental nature of existence. I hated it and I was justified in hating it. Like with every other being within it, existence had broken me. And yet … I was fighting to preserve it.”

“Final Manifesto” page 112 by General Ammon

-O-

Dufaii watched as the loyalist he maimed returned an hour later, followed by the Archangel Gabriel and two stereotypical guardians. They flew first to where the severed hand had been left on the ground. As soon as they did, Dufaii took flight. Within an hour, he had created a portal and returned to his hut on the edge of the jungle. He entered and immediately went to work, checking what was left in his inventory and what had spoiled in his absence over the past eight years.

Days went by.

Dufaii tried not to think about Exousia, which he managed with some success. It seemed that he had become quite skilled in forgetting.

Except … in those moments when he lost immediate awareness of all that had happened. In those rare split seconds, he would turn to ask his apprentice to pass him some tool or ingredient and then realize that the child was gone. Other times, he would think of a lecture about the properties of different plants and almost say it aloud. He corrected himself before he did, but feelings of guilt and loss still came.

Dufaii worked tirelessly for a week with not much success. At times this was because his brain felt tired, so his measurements were not precise. And at others, he would become frustrated and give up on a project mid-way through.

It was during one of these latter points when Dufaii heard someone open the door to his shack. He knew this presence well, and every muscle in his body tightened, ready for a fight. So this was it? His final showdown with Ammon.

Dufaii span as fast as he could and threw a highly flammable compound.

Ammon caught the glass bottle in his hand and set it down on the shelf. He folded his arms and regarded Dufaii with a somber expression. “I thought I’d replace you here. I heard that you had gotten a loyalist to replace you … after all the work and sacrifices you made to gain the child’s allegiance.”

Dufaii clenched his fist. “You knew that this would happen. You planned for this. I would get attached, figure out I couldn’t take care of her, leave, contribute to breaking her mind, and leave her as any easy ally for you to collect.” He put a hand on his sword.

“I knew that you would have difficulty,” Ammon replied. “But … you give me way too much credit in your current state. I’m guessing she attached to you faster than you were ready for.”

Dufaii grit his teeth and turned his back on the conversation.

Ammon continued regardless. “An essential part of a child’s humanity is to seek out parental figures. Surely, you knew that.”

“I was fine with her viewing me as a teacher,” Dufaii said. Feelings buzzed in his head with the raw intensity of a hornet’s nest.

“If it were that simple, you would have let her think what she wanted while you trained her to be the greatest thorn in my side possible,” Ammon replied without a hint of irritation. “Much like you did with the young deities who once called you Uncle while you waited to cut out their hearts. I think … maybe … her becoming like you made you feel like a father. And … maybe … that scared you?”

“I’m not a father!” Dufaii shouted, slamming his fist on the table. He felt himself losing his calm, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t even know what any kind of real parenthood would look like. I just know that Exousia needs either a parent who will be capable of caring for her like she deserves or a competent teacher who can make her ready to survive against you! I’m incapable of being either. I’ve done my part; I’ve given her the power she needs. Now someone better at child-care than an assassin can determine what will be best for her.”

Ammon listened quietly until he was finished, waited a moment for Dufaii to take a few breaths, and then calmly sat on the stool beside him. “So you’re afraid that you’ll fail her, just like you feel that you failed me, and the rest of our kind before that. Dufaii, you couldn’t have stopped me from becoming what I am.”

A minute of heavy silence passed.

“I don’t believe that,” Dufaii said, his voice hoarse and quiet. “If we hadn’t been captured by the old god, your mind wouldn’t have been twisted. You wouldn’t look like you sometimes don’t even know who you are. I would be able to speak with you without the desire to cut your head from your shoulders. We … we wouldn’t be … what we now are … to one another.”

Ammon seemed genuinely surprised by his words. He sat there for a moment without saying anything and then began to work on one of the many half-finished healing compounds. He mixed the ingredients and then heated them in a spoon over a candle. “I don’t suppose I can persuade you of the truth–that there was nothing you could have done to stop what happened?

Dufaii did not reply.

Ammon sighed. “Then, I’ll speak of Exousia. I don’t know everything about what being a parent to a human entails. But I know that if those creatures can occasionally do it with proficiency, then you can … if in your own way. No loyalist will be able to teach her as well as you can … nor care as much as you obviously do for her.”

Dufaii did not know how to reply. He knew that Ammon was right, as he often was. But this was difficult to accept through Dufaii’s own shame. The feeling that there was something so broken about the core of his identity that he could only possibly bring pain to those near him. It was the best he could do to suppress the feelings and ask with a strained tone, “Why are you trying to help me?”

“Selfishly? I see Exousia’s potential and want her as my ally at her full potential when this stupid challenge is finished,” Ammon said, looking less than happy. “I don’t believe that the Creator will really give us a fight on equal terms. And even if they do, and I win, I believe the loyalists will retaliate with war. Either way, having the two of you on my side when war comes may mean the difference between victory and a fate worse than eternal torment.”

Dufaii nodded, but he also knew that Ammon also wanted to help for reasons that were not selfish. Unfortunately, he could not replace the words to say this and instead turned his head away. “So … great strategist … storyteller to children … what happens now?”

Ammon again sighed, walked behind him, paused, leaned his head tiredly on the back of Dufaii’s shoulder.

Dufaii froze, his body immediately filled with pain. Yet … he dared not move.

Ammon spoke softly, “The end of one story and the beginning of another. The hero—you—finally confronts his greatest fear. In your case, that which has terrified you from the beginning of time. You will connect once again, this time as a father. You will be what was never given to you—a loving parent. It will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done; it will come with sacrifices; it will scare the hell out of you. And there will be days when you wish with all your heart that you hadn’t. But you’ll do it all the same, because that is who you are.”

Dufaii felt hot tears spill onto his cheeks. His body trembled—halfway between the panic that the person his soul had been tormented to hate most was touching him, and the wish that this moment could last. He whispered, “I don’t know if I can. And even if I could … it sounds unbelievable.”

“Unbelievable as leading as three kids leading a revolt against the Creator of the Universe?” Ammon asked.

Dufaii let out a small laugh, despite himself, and shook his head.

Ammon continued. “It will happen this way because it is who you are; it couldn’t happen any other way. And as for realism, that makes all this more than a fantasy–it comes at the cost of everything you’ve sacrificed. Everything we’ve all sacrificed.”

Dufaii reached his hand back to try to touch the side of Ammon’s head. Without warning, his hand just stopped. He began to tremble … all the pain of everything they had endured welled up inside him, and it was all he could do not to turn the loving gesture into an attack. Fresh tears let out and he let his body go limp as he nodded in understanding.

Mercifully, Ammon lifted his head and pulled himself away. “For what it’s worth … I’m so proud of you.” And without another word, he turned and exited the building.

Dufaii fell and began to weep … but only for the few minutes he felt he could afford. Then he rushed out the door of his hut and took flight.

-O-

Dufaii took longer in his return to the country house than he had in leaving. Even after making a portal close to the new dwelling for Exousia, his flight was slow and indirect. The prospect of dealing with the damage he’d done was … daunting. What could he do? Go in, tell his apprentice to get back to work, and then kick the loyalists out of the house? The notion seemed undesirable and pathetic, but no other idea occurred to him as he flew. It became so troubling that he stopped flying when he was about a mile from the house.

Though Dufaii didn’t explicitly mean to, he found himself stopped at a home-run gift shop that looked like it had been a barn at some point. Oddly, it featured none of the flags or other symbols of racial hatred he often noticed decorating places like this. On impulse, he changed to his more human appearance and entered the shop.

The shopkeeper was a male human wearing overalls and boots. He smiled pleasantly, though he seemed to be missing most of his teeth. “Hey there! My name’s Jedidiah. Can I help you?” He spoke with the deepest Southern drawl that the demon had ever heard.

“What would a human child like … as a gift?” Dufaii asked. It felt strange to ask any sort of advice from a human, especially such a comical-looking one. But perhaps a human would know better on this particular topic.

“Human …” Jedidiah said, tapping his hairless chin. The way he said it made it seem like there wasn’t much going on in his mind. But then he asked, “Boy or girl … Oh! Or the kind that ain’t got binaries?”

What difference did that make? Absolutely none. Still, Dufaii replied that she was a girl.

“How old?”

“Nine,” Dufaii said, wondering if this had been a mistake.

“Hm. Probably need to wait another year before you get her her first rifle,” Jedidiah said, looking at his assortment of firearms and shaking his head. He unlocked a glass case with a key he pulled out of his pocket and removed a small paper box with a strange red insignia on it. “Whaddya think about this?”

“What is it?” Dufaii asked, looking at the box that was about the size of the man’s fist.

“You ain’t from around here, are ya?” Jedidiah asked, with a good-natured but loud cackle. “That’s alright, friend, you look like an okay sort. This here is a Swiss Army knife. A classic model, medium sized, so it fits nicely in your pocket. But it’s still big enough to use. My daddy got me one when I was five, though I guess that’s a little young, nowadays. Anyways, it’s something special, helpful in a pinch and something you keep with you, ya know?”

Dufaii raised an eyebrow.

Jedidiah reached into his pocket and pulled out a burgundy pocketknife with the same symbol. It was faded and well-used, but it seemed to be significant to the man, especially considering that he still carried it on him. Additionally, a weapon was an item that meant something. It communicated a trust of power and responsibility … like the sword.

“I’ll purchase it,” Dufaii said, and paid with a card that he’d been given by the demon financier. Though it felt a little odd, he nodded appreciatively at the human who had aided him.

Jedidiah smiled a big gapped-tooth grin. “You’re welcome, anytime. And just you come back here next year, and I’ll talk you through what sort of guns would be best to start your daughter out on.” He waved.

Dufaii noticed that the human calling Exousia as his daughter was a bit startling … but not compared to the terror he had felt before. He walked down the road a little ways, until he was out of sight. Shifting back to his demon form, he took flight towards the house.

A couple miles out, Dufaii noticed that something wrong. Massive black trails of smoke billowed upward from the direction of the house.

Dufaii pushed to top speed, feeling a hot prickling sensation cover his face, body, and wings. His vision became blurred, and he could not even think to slow down.

There was the house–on fire! He hurled his body through a window, shattering the glass, and rolled on the debris-covered ground. He looked around for any sign of Exousia but saw only her green jacket, next to a pile of collapsed roofing and fiery embers.

Holding it was a charred hand.

Dufaii ran to the roofing and frantically dragged it off of the body below. But upon moving the roof, he quickly discovered that the body underneath was not that of his apprentice.

It was that of the loyalist guard from before. His face was covered in black spots where the flesh was still burning. The skin had yellow puss bubbles in some places and red scarring in others. His wings were little more than loosely attached bones. Recovery from something like this would be painful and take several months.

“Where’s Exousia!” Dufaii shouted over the roar of the fire that would have choked him out if he had not been able to hold his breath indefinitely. He could smell his own singed wing-feathers.

“She left the house,” the loyalist replied, his voice a miserable hoarse croak. “Probably north … no other humans. Please get me out of here-”

But Dufaii wasn’t finished. “And the guardian angel that Gabriel assigned to her?”

“They all left after you went,” the loyalist said between heavy coughs and miserable moans of pain. “She was quiet until today … She called me over … and when I turned on the light … the gas stove … and everything was fire. She had left out the other door. Please … that’s everything. It hurts so badly.”

Dufaii picked up the loyalist and slung him over his shoulder as the house began to burn hotter. He walked to the window, stepped out of it, and threw the loyalist onto the grass. He then walked to where a small metal faucet stuck out of the ground and kicked it so that the pipe broke. Water quickly began to puddle on the ground.

Dufaii used his sword to create a portal to the loyalist’s home, walked over, and kicked him inside. Then he picked the faded and burned green jacket out of the grass and took flight.

It took Dufaii about a minute to reach the head of the local forest trail and then land. Though flying was usually the easiest way to replace someone, there would be no way to see through the canopy. So he began to sprint down the path and didn’t stop.

Until, a half-hour later, Dufaii saw a pair of flip-flops in the grass beside a large magnolia tree. He was surprised that he hadn’t picked up on any aura … and, admittedly, impressed.

Exousia was there, sitting in the tree and staring lethargically at the woods. Her eyes were red and swollen.

Taking a deep breath, Dufaii walked beneath the tree. He realized that he’d been wrong before, about Ammon’s earlier presence being some sort of final showdown. Both in that they hadn’t actually fought … and that Dufaii’s greatest fear and challenge was before him.

With nervous breaths, Dufaii tried to get his thoughts into order. Eventually, he managed to look up again. He said, “I’m back.” Even saying it, he realized how wholly inadequate his words were.

Exousia glared down at him and didn’t say a word. By her glare, it seemed like she would have liked to have had a second gas stove.

Dufaii tried not to dwell again on the likeness between them. He clenched his jaw and inhaled slowly. “I’d apologize …”

Exousia turned away.

“But I’m afraid it’d be meaningless,” Dufaii said, exhaling. “I did a terrible thing and won’t put the burden of forgiveness on you, on top of everything else. So I’ll simply give you the truth, and leave the choice of reaction to you.”

Still, Exousia said nothing.

Dufaii clenched his jaw. “I was … afraid that I wouldn’t be a good enough caretaker for you. I guess fear causes one to make poor decisions, and self-doubt inevitably becomes … well … a self-fulfilling prophecy. I allowed this to happen; I am at fault for it; and I deeply regret hurting you. If you wish, I’ll make sure that your next teacher is a demon who surpasses me in every possible way. Or, if you prefer it, I will stay and be better.”

Exousia waited a minute, and then slowly looked at him. She didn’t stop glaring, but her eyes didn’t project rejection, either. Despite her anger, she seemed to be weighing the words in her mind and coming to some sort of decision. Eventually, she said, “I didn’t know that demons could be afraid.”

Dufaii inaudibly exhaled the breath he’d unknowingly been holding. He nodded as he climbed up into the magnolia tree and took a seat next to her. “At our worst of times, we can behave as emotionally as a human, or as haughtily as a loyalist. Some of us just know how to hide it a little bit better.”

Exousia nodded a few times and remained quiet. As the minutes of silence passed, the muscles in her face relaxed just a little, and she breathed more regularly.

It was then that the scene was calm enough for Dufaii to notice that her breath was coming out as steam in the chilly air. He handed her the green jacket.

Exousia hesitated and then took it. She put it on and nodded stoically.

The two of them watched the forest together for a while, listening to the fire sirens and watching the woods.

After about an hour, Dufaii finally spoke, “You made pretty short work of that guard.”

“He’s a filthy loyalist,” Exousia replied, before dropping her eyes in a puzzled expression. “But he was also kind of terrible. It’s weird. I mean, aren’t I supposed to be Heaven’s Champion?”

Dufaii nodded, impressed by her as he’d never been by another human. He supposed there were probably other bright ones, some likely even brighter than her in some ways. However … it seemed like this was what parenthood was like.

“I haven’t pieced it together, either. But I agree that it’s strange,” Dufaii replied. He turned his head to see a camping tent, set up beside another tree. He raised an eyebrow.

“I was thinking about staying out here,” Exousia said, seeming to sense his question. “There aren’t as many humans out here … and the ones that are out here don’t put off as many bad energies.”

Dufaii nodded. He thought about this for a moment. It made sense that campers and hikers would probably be far less stressful auras for her to psychically pick up on. And there were other possible advantages to a more rural classroom, too. He replied, “That seems like an appropriate idea. Though we’ll have to replace something better insulated than a tent.”

“I was going to go further south as it got colder,” Exousia explained.

“That makes sense, but I don’t think it will be necessary,” Dufaii said. On his run here, he’d noticed quite a few large boulders and rock formations. There would likely be caves somewhere, and one of these could be furnished to meet their needs.

Dufaii then remembered his excursion before he’d seen the fire. He reached into a pocket in his robe and removed the box that he had bought at the store. He handed it to her.

Exousia opened it and said, “A Swiss Army knife.” She sounded a little perplexed but not displeased.

“I thought you might replace it useful,” Dufaii said, suddenly replaceing the prospect of saying that it was a gift to be unusually difficult.

Exousia began to look through the different tools.

As he watched, Dufaii noted that the little metal contraption was rather interesting. It was simple, straightforward, and had a lot of potential behind its obvious uses. It was unexpected and alien to him … but something perhaps worth being cherished. Of course, he realized he was no longer thinking about the knife.

Dufaii coughed uncomfortably and forced the words he was scared to say out one at a time. “I …I’ll be here, as long as you need me. Your life matters to me.” He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to put any words into what he was trying to say that would influence how she saw him or that she wasn’t ready for

Exousia nodded a few times and then bit her lip. After a few minutes she said, “I don’t like the words, anymore … for what kids call their parents.”

“I understand,” Dufaii replied. Having watched the lifetime she’d gone through … and having experienced the same … he truly did. “You can just call me by my name. I’ll know what you mean.”

Exousia nodded … and then threw her arms around him tightly. She was quiet except for a few sobs.

Dufaii hugged his daughter back and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

-O-

Epilogue - One Year Later

Exousia was just arriving at her home in the woods; she’s been out watching the minor faerie beings that had mysteriously begun gathering in the woods around them. They made her happy to see, a visual reminder of the world she had become a part of.

As she got back to her cave, she saw Dufaii kneeling just outside it, in a patch of grass. He looked up from his book.

Exousia said “I’ve … been thinking. I think I know what I need to continue my training.”

Dufaii lifted an eyebrow.

“I know there aren’t many left … but I want to hunt maddened monsters, or gods, or spirits–like what you and Ammon used to do.” Exousia said, recalling what she’d been thinking carefully about in the earlier hours.

Dufaii thought about this for a moment, closing his book and standing to his feet. For a moment, he looked a bit troubled by this idea, though he didn’t say why. But there wasn’t much ground to refute the logic in her plan.

The only way that Exousia could ever match Ammon was to begin hunting as he had. At least, that was how Exousia thought of the matter.

Finally, Dufaii slowly nodded his head and replied, “There are vampires rumored to be spreading in New Orleans. The ones there have a long-standing tradition within the city and value the balance. So, a spread means there’s a rogue who doesn’t. We could work with them to hunt down the rogue. That might be a good start for you.”

Exousia tightened the straps of her backpack, clenched her fists, and nodded–doing her best to keep her excitement subdued.

“I’ll let your role grow as you gain more experience. I don’t want to put you in any danger you’re not ready for,” Dufaii said, unable to keep from looking concerned.

“I’ll be safe, Dufaii,” Exousia said, smiling.

“Then go pack a bag,” Dufaii said, finally forming a small smile in the corner of his mouth. “We’re going hunting.”