by Vic Kerry
“I know that it’s early, but let’s get over to Government Plaza. I want to be on the barrier on when the Mystics of Mayhem roll,” Cooper said.
Smalls wished that he could feel optimistic about things, but he only knew of one definite way to completely defeat Satan and that was God. He looked at the sky. It began to turn purple as evening crept closer. Something should be different. He figured that the night of the great battle with Satan and humanity would have more electricity in the air. It felt ordinary, like any other Tuesday.
“Peace and safety, then sudden destruction,” he whispered as he followed Cooper toward the parade route.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ashe stood at the back of the second float in line for the parade. Czernobog chained his leg to a sturdy steel pipe welded to the trailer. A garbage bag full of beads rested at his feet. The float looked like a whale on the ocean. He stood at the upsweep of the flukes. One of the possessed copses stood in the blowhole. A few other possessed people flanked both sides of the float. The number of possessed corpses the Devil had assembled shocked Ashe. Apparently, Czernobog had been gathering up his small army since not long after he’d built the original prototype of the engram device.
“Dr. Shrove.”
Ashe looked down at Czernobog. “Yes?”
“Don’t forget to throw the beads, and have a good time.”
“What’s the point?”
“Not everyone in the city is present,” Czernobog said. “I don’t want mass hysteria when the folks watching TV sees what happens.”
“What about Cybil?”
“She’ll be safe with me on the last float, or safe as long as your end of the deal holds up.” He smiled his insincere smile. “Don’t forget to put your earplugs in. I’d hate for you to get possessed before the end of the parade.”
The Devil disappeared in a puff of acrid smoke. Ashe thought that he was getting a little more histrionic as the time for the parade neared. He took his advice, however, and plugged his ears. Czernobog had given him some earplugs made from a strange waxy substance. Although he had crammed them well into his ears, he could still hear everything as if they weren’t plugged. Something seemed wrong about it. A nagging idea that the Devil might have tricked him tugged at Ashe’s mind, but he kept them in place. Perhaps the plugs would work like some kind of sunglasses, just block the bad stuff.
A flourish of horns filled the air. The float lurched forward. Ashe caught himself before he could tumble over into the depths of the float. The corpses who shared the float seemed to have little concern about the movement. Somewhere in front of him, the sound of a marching band flourished. The tune was a high school halftime show version of “Sympathy for the Devil”. Ashe tried to see to the front of the parade, but the mass of the whale float kept him from seeing anything. No sooner had the float come out of the parking garage, than people began to scream for beads. The corpses on his float began tossing out handfuls of the plastic trinkets. Ashe bent low as if he were going to dig out some throws, but instead he tried to free his leg.
The metal wouldn’t give. He needed something to pry at the pole with. There was nothing. He stood back up with a handful of beads and tossed them out. When the time came for the engram devices to begin, the confusion might give him time to try something. Ashe looked back down the line of parade floats. At the very end he could see the one Czernobog and Cybil rode on. It was also the only one with the actual working engram machine. The last float was taller than the others. A large column of painted fire went into the sky. At the top, Czernobog stood in his devil costume. A large gong that looked like a silver moon was behind him. As soon as that float cleared the garage, the Devil reached below him. He brought up something that looked like a human head. Holding it by the hair, he slammed the head against the gong. The deep sound resonated out like the loudest thunder. It drowned out all the other sound.
Ashe looked forward. The float turned onto another street. One of the buildings that loomed over the street was the courthouse. The people lined along this stretch of road looked four deep on both sides, if not more. The cry for beads was deafening. The music from the gong continued to echo around.
A flash of light erupted all around. The sky ripped open with a bolt of orange lightning and all the bulbs in the street lamps exploded. Sparks showered down on the revelers. The time had come. Ashe ducked back down to work on freeing himself from the chain. He looked toward one of the speakers that contained a USB port and engram device. One of the possessed corpses switched it on. The sound of his voice boomed from the speakers. He chanted the mantra that Smalls had emailed him.
More lightning streaked the sky. The wind kicked up, blowing the smell of sulfur around the street. Ashe pulled on the chains, trying to get them up and over the loop in the pipe he had been secured to. He kept his eyes on the corpse closest to him. It covered its ears with its hands. The float began to swerve back and forth down the street. People on the sidewalks screamed.
Ashe popped up long enough to see his float hit one of the crowd barriers. Revelers scattered from the sidewalks trying to get away from the out-of-control float. His words kept repeating over and over. He looked at another corpse. It lay on the floor flopping like a fish. Then it stopped, and a dark shadowy thing escaped from the eyeholes of the mask.
The float jerked hard the other way. The force tossed Ashe to the floor. He slid along until he hit the side of the float. More people screamed. Metal popped, and the float bounced hard. He felt the dizzying sensation of being thrown head over heels. The body in the blowhole fell out as the float flipped to its side.
Ashe fell over the side of the float. His shoulder hit cement and felt as if it had popped out of place. The pain radiated throughout his whole body, but he noticed that the pipe that the chain was attached to had broken. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he tossed the chain off the stub of pipe and tried to free himself from the wreck of the whale float.
As he gained his footing on the steps that led into the courthouse, he pulled the hooded mask that was part of his costume from his face. Glittery beads scattered across the street like grains of sand. Costumed bodies lay at assorted angles on crashed floats that lined the street. His voice echoed as the ruined floats still played his recording over their PA systems.
Hundreds of people ran up and down the sidewalks. Many were trapped by the floats. Screams echoed into the flashing sky. Ashe, holding his arm limp, moved toward the back of the parade. He had no idea what he would do to stop the Devil, but he had to try. The fire column float hadn’t made it onto Government Street before the engram machine expelled the heretics from the corpses.
A jackknifed float made to look like a koi pond took up most of the intersection at Government and Royal Streets. It didn’t deter Ashe. He rounded the corner. The fire column float sat in the middle of the street. Czernobog was nowhere to be found and neither was Cybil.
“Czernobog!” Ashe yelled, digging the earplugs from his ears.
“Ashley Shrove!” the Devil yelled back from somewhere on the float. “You did not uphold your end of the bargain.”
Czernobog appeared on the float. He held Cybil by the arm. In his other hand, he held the head he smashed the gong with. It was Rogers’.
“Let her go,” Ashe yelled.
“No. You know the consequences for breaking our agreement.”
A group of teenagers ran between Ashe and the float. They screamed. Czernobog dropped Rogers’ head. He held his hand out toward the kids. They burst into flames. Screams grew louder. Ashe became aware that a mass of humanity scrambled around him. Parade goers ran for any kind of safety. Some huddled in the meager stoops of closed lawyers’ offices.
“Do you think it is over just because you stopped those corpses?” Czernobog said. “It’s not midnight yet. I still have time to bring this world to an end. A stupid chant you learned from that meddlesome priest cannot sto
p me.”
The ground began to shake. A crack opened up in the street between Ashe and the float. Water jetted up from a broken water main. It rained down on the pavement making it slick and reflective like glass. The image of the burning teens flickered in the forming puddles.
“Let the woman go.”
Ashe turned to see Detective Cooper standing just behind him with her service pistol drawn. Smalls stood beside her. He fell back to their side.
Czernobog let go of Cybil’s arm and held his hands up as if he were surrendering. Then he laughed. The sky thundered, and lightning struck the ground around him.
“You stupid bitch,” he said with a voice that seemed to come from the sky. “I am Lucifer, the bright star. Satan, the prince of the damned. What is your gun going to do to me?”
She didn’t answer, but fired. Several bullets flew into the Devil. The impact flung him over the side of the float.
“More than what you thought it would,” she said.
Ashe ran to the crack in the street and hurtled it. The impact on landing sent a new flare of pain through his shoulder.
“Cybil!”
Her head appeared over the edge of the float. He held his good arm up to her. Cybil pushed herself onto the edge of the float and slid down. They didn’t need words to express what they felt. Ashe motioned with his head for her jump across to Smalls. She did.
Ashe ducked under the float to look for the Devil. As he suspected, the demon was gone. Three bullets hit the ground in front of him. Ashe looked up. Czernobog stood on the edge of the float beside the column of painted fire.
“Did you really think bullets would stop me?”
“No, that’s why I came around. This is between you and me.”
The Devil chuckled and hopped down. “Me and you? This is far more than just us. The world is in my grasp. I can taste it. For the first time since I tricked Adam and Eve, I am on the verge of victory.”
His features changed. His nose crinkled and deep lines sank into his face. His eyes flashed red, and his tongue forked. Ashe stood his ground and tried his hardest not to show any of fear.
“Tremble before me, human.”
“No.”
The Devil roared. He held out both hands to the sky. Fire erupted from them. He spread it around like a farmer sowing seeds. The buildings, trees and grass caught alight. The float began to drip with real flames.
“There is nothing that you can do. It is my time. I will rule this planet. I will own you.”
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil.” Ashe had no idea why he said it. That Psalm was just the first thing that came to his mind.
“Always with the Psalms. You mortals will never learn. That works on spirits and demons but not on me. I am Beelzebub, the Lord of the Flies. I am more powerful than that.”
“Are you more powerful than God?” Smalls said. He touched Ashe’s arm as he took his place beside him.
The priest’s sleeve was singed, and the skin underneath looked blistered from where he had come through the fire. Those flames reflected in his eyes.
“You are not God,” the Devil said.
“True but God created time.” Smalls pointed to his watch. “And you are out of it.”
“What do you mean? I am immortal. Time means nothing to me.”
“What time is it?” Ashe asked, looking at his watch. The face was cracked and the hands no longer moved.
Lightning raced across the sky. This time it was golden, not orange. Rain began to sprinkle from above. This became steady, dousing the hellfire. The water felt warm like a summer rain.
“It’s midnight, Ash Wednesday,” Smalls said.
“No!” The Devil raged.
He tossed his hands out. Fire flew from his fingers but sputtered to wisps of smoke in the rain. He grimaced, and the rain poured from his wrinkles like water from the mouth of a gargoyle. Yellow, sulfur-smelling smoke surrounded the Devil. When it cleared, a stone image of Czernobog remained. The rain ceased as quickly as it had started.
“What happened?” Ashe asked, truly confused.
“You kept him occupied until Lent began,” Smalls said.
“And?”
“He had to get everything done before the strike of midnight. It is believed there are days when humanity is the most susceptible to the Devil and his satanic powers. Mardi Gras is one. By keeping him from rallying, you saved us all.”
Ashe walked to the statue. The look in the eyes seemed as lifelike as if Czernobog stood before him at that moment. He pushed hard on the rock. The figure toppled over and broke on the pavement.
He ran his fingers through the black dust and smeared it on his forehead in the shape of a cross. Ash Wednesday had come. He had a lot of things to give up, but Ashe knew his soul wasn’t one of them.
About the Author
Vic Kerry lives in Alabama with his wife, five dogs, and cat. By day, he is a mild mannered psychotherapist. Whenever he can catch a minute, he’s a horror writer. Everything else seems frivolous to mention, but he’s also a narcissist. Vic has an MFA in writing popular fiction from Seton Hill University and is haunted by the ghost of his dearly departed cat, Possum H. Puss Lovecraff. You can like him or friend him on Facebook or stalk him through Twitter (@DarklyVicKerry).
She was born with the power to cure. Now she’s developed the power to kill.
The Cure
© 2015 JG Faherty
Leah DeGarmo has the power to cure with just a touch. But with her gift comes a dark side: Whatever she takes in she has to pass on, or suffer it herself. Now a sadistic criminal has discovered what she can do and he’ll stop at nothing to control her. He makes a mistake, though, when he kills the man she loves, triggering a rage inside her that releases a new power she didn’t know she had: the ability to kill. Transformed into a demon of retribution, Leah resurrects her lover and embarks on a mission to destroy her enemies. The only question is, does she control her power or does it control her?
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Cure:
Fifteen minutes before she saved a man’s life, committed murder, and started a chain reaction of events she could never have imagined even in her worst nightmares, the only thing on Leah DeGarmo’s mind was a hamburger and French fries.
It had been years since she last ventured into a McDonald’s—or any other fast food restaurant—and after a particularly bad morning at work, her cravings had reached the point where she couldn’t ignore them any longer.
“I’m taking lunch,” she said to Chastity Summers, as she hung up her white lab coat and headed for the front door of her veterinary clinic. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Okay, Doctor D.” Chastity Summers waved, never looking up from her computer screen. She was busy entering the data on the last patient of the morning, a twenty-year old beagle in remarkably perfect health. At one time Smokey Two had suffered from cataracts and liver disease, but he’d managed to beat them both. His owner, Tanya Weston, always told people Smokey Two was a walking advertisement for Leah’s skills as a veterinarian.
Opening the door to her three-year-old Toyota, Leah felt a pang of sadness in her heart. Smokey Two couldn’t keep it up much longer. Dogs rarely lived past twenty. She wiped tears from suddenly damp eyes. It would break Tanya’s heart when her dog finally passed away.
She glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure she hadn’t smudged her makeup. People always said her eyes were like windows to her emotions, changing from hazel to brighter green when she was happy or excited, and to a murky brownish-green when she felt sad or depressed.
Today there was almost no green at all, and the dark color looked odd against the glowing backdrop of blonde hair flowing down to her shoulders in waves that were always on the verge of turning unmanageable. Even her face looked pale beneath the deep summer tan.
“Get a grip on yourself,” she told her reflection. “It’s too nice a day to wallow in regrets.”
The warm September day helped push her melancholy away, and Leah decided to treat herself to a greasy cheeseburger and fries. A determined smile on her face, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward McDonald’s.
Leah opened the heavy glass door and entered a different world, one where the air dripped with oil, steam, and fat-laden odors that simultaneously repulsed and excited her.
There’s something about a McDonald’s that reminds you of being a kid. Not to mention the dopamine spikes triggered by the smell and taste of hot grease and fried meats.
Why is it the foods that are the worst for you are always the ones that taste the best?
The lunch hour crowd filled the space in front of the counter. As she waited her turn in line, Leah struggled to read all the choices on the menu board.
I’ve never even seen half those meals before. Guess that’s what happens when you make an effort to eat healthy. I didn’t think McDonald’s could change so much in three years!
Luckily, the basics still held their place on the menu, and when her turn came Leah ordered a quarter pounder with cheese, large fries, and large diet coke. While she waited for her food, she went to the condiments bar and grabbed napkins, ketchup, and a straw. Her one task completed, she let her vision roam around the crowded room. She couldn’t help noticing the police officer standing a few people behind her in line.
He doesn’t look like he eats here any more often than I do. Leah admired his tall, wiry frame and the way his brown hair fell across his forehead. With his dark, intelligent eyes and bright-white smile, he looked more like a politician or maybe a banker than a cop.
Smile? Oh, he’s smiling at me! He saw me staring at him. Leah turned away, feeling her face grow hot as the blood rushed to it. The counter girl returned with her order and Leah grabbed the tray, nearly spilling the contents onto the floor as she hurried off to a table before the man could say anything to her.