by George Fry
“That’s okay, I’m more interested in your lackeys, up there.”
Drifter directed his attention to the demons keeping Dale captive.
“Why are demons taking orders from a human?”
The guards looked confused as Drifter continued.
“Demons look down on humans. We’re nothing to you. So, why? What’s the interest in the old fart?”
The demons kept quiet. Not out of stubborn refusal, but fear.
Anderson answered for them.
“They recognise the potential of our organisation and simply wish to help. Nothing more.”
“Or maybe, you’re a demon too.”
“I’m growing tired of these wild accusations. Do I look like a demon?”
“No, but neither do I.” Drifter’s white aura flared up. “But, I’ve got plenty of demonic power at my disposal. Same goes for stumpy up there.”
Desperately trying to ignore the insult, Dale revealed his arm-blade.
“So, it’s entirely possible you’re hiding your powers too.”
“The burden of proof lies on the accuser. If I am truly a demon, then prove it!”
Drifter smirked. “Okay.”
From his wallet, he pulled out a vial of black substance.
Anderson froze on the spot, upon witnessing it.
“Impossible.” He exclaimed.
“You recognise this? It had me stumped for a while. What is this black goop and why was it in one of your churches? After seeing that sad abomination, I think I’ve figured it out.”
“That vial is worthless!”
“Oh, I think it’s worth a lot, especially to you. A vial of demonic substance. I don’t know if it’s blood, rotted flesh or demonic diarrhea, but whatever it is, you need it.”
“What would I possibly need that for?”
“Demonic substances have strange effects on the human body. Depending on the person, it can either grant them powers, or disfigure them horribly.
Anderson. You need this substance. It’s what gives you your power over demons, you’re own source of demonic energy.
I can sense that power inside you and you tried to pass that power on to others. That’s the purpose of the Daemonism cult. You want to create an army of hybrids. Am I right?”
“This is nothing but conjecture! That evidence means nothing!”
“No, he’s right!” Amanda cried, holding up a similar vial. “I found this in Abby’s coffin! You poisoned my sister with demon juice to turn her into a monster!”
The acolytes were losing faith. They felt used, betrayed. They were not loyal followers, but pawns being prepped into becoming an army. They were taught that the demons would one day destroy the non believers, they just didn’t think they would become those very demons.
Anderson, however still denied everything.
“That vial mean nothing!”
“Oh, okay.”
Drifter dropped the vial, as it fell to the ground, shattering to pieces.
“What did you do!?”
“Broke it.”
“Imbecile!”
“What? I thought it meant nothing to you?”
“Not to me, it’s for my followers, for their protection! How are they supposed to ascend without that demonic essence!?”
Drifter pointed to Abby’s mangled form. “You call that an ascension?”
“That monster is irrelevant!”
There was a sudden gunshot. A bullet pierced through Anderson’s head as he collapsed onto his podium.
“She’s… not a monster!” Amanda yelled, tears in her eyes, having finally broken under the emotional weight.
The room fell silent again, as everyone attempted to process what had just happened, but soon Anderson raised himself from the stand, blood still spewing from either side of his skull. He was far from dead.
“There’s your proof.” Amanda declared.
“Should have done that in the first place.” Dale commented.
Richard stepped in to put their argument to rest.
“Surviving an injury like that is decisive proof you’re no longer human. You’ve been collecting demon essence to transform yourself, and your followers into hybrids. All under the guise of creating a new utopia!
You corrupted an innocent girl, mutilated a hostage and used lies and murder to hide the truth. You're not a saviour, Anderson, you’re just a psychopath!”
“Not yet…”
A black tar substance crawled onto the stage from the floor. Drifter looked at his feet, the shattered glass was still there, but the essence had vanished.
“It’s alive?” He thought. “But, I couldn’t even sense it.”
The black tar, slivered up Anderson’s body, entering his being through the bullet hole on his head.
“I will... ascend!”
Anderson could feel his body changing, his powers growing. All his fears finally melted away as he no longer needed to pretend to be human. He could now fully embrace his demonic side. His mind became dominated by a single thought, a single purpose: Death.
Although he felt liberated on the inside, to everyone else, Anderson’s body stretched and convulsed erratically. His eyeballs consumed by darkness, leaving empty crevices in his face, spewing black tar. He had become a hunched, slender horror, leaking mist from every orifice, his humanity completely lost.
The first action he took in this new form was to open his gaping maw, gather black energy directly into his mouth and fire a shot, directly down the aisle. Richard dove out of the way, while Drifter stood steadfast, tanking the full brunt of the blast.
At this point, the acolytes fled the cathedral, fearing for their lives. Even the demons Anderson had under his wing fled after witnessing his gruesome transformation. Whatever Anderson had become, not even a demon could bear to witness it. The smoke cleared, but Drifter hardly budged from his spot. The power of his aura whisked the smoke away.
Anderson's twisted new form revolted Drifter. He didn’t even try to hide his utter contempt for what Anderson had become.
“You threw your humanity away for this? What a fucking waste.”
Anderson leapt off the stage, as if reacting to Drifter’s disrespect.
“That make you mad? Did I hurt your feelings?”
Anderson lumbered over to Drifter, but he did not answer, as he was incapable of speaking.
“No. You can’t even think anymore. Just a mindless, impulsive monster. A pathetic creature.”
The creature reacted to Drifter’s remarks with a powerful swing of its elongated arm, sending him clear across the room and sliding across the floor. However, Drifter immediately jumped back onto his feet, unharmed.
“That’s it?” Drifter chastised. “I’d thought sacrificing your humanity would give you more power than that.”
Anderson’s gaping mouth drew in energy once again. This time, he charged longer, making sure his next attack killed. A black beam burst forth, a beam of pure concentrated hatred.
“I’ll show you real power.”
Drifter’s aura flared up intensely as he dashed towards the monster in the blink of an eye, tearing through the beam of black energy, like a torpedo through water, lodging his fist deep into Anderson's melted chest.
The black energy dissipated. Beams of white light shimmered from the hole in Anderson’s chest, until a burst of white energy tore through his back and shot through the ceiling above. The beam of light expanded, ripping Anderson apart from the inside.
Anderson’s body began to break apart, until the beam suddenly expanded, consuming him. His whole being was disintegrated by the wave of energy released from Drifter’s palm until nothing of the monster remained.
His grotesque form was completely erased from the world. No cathartic, grandiose explosions. He simply faded away, as the energy petered out.
“What a bore." Drifter complained. "Didn't even put a fight.”
“Is it over?” Richard asked, still in shock from Drifter’s light show.
“No.”
Drifter headed over to Amanda and her unfortunate sister.
“Wait! Please.” She begged. “There’s a way to save her, right?”
Drifter examined what was left of Abby, but it was far too late.
“She’s barely sentient.”
“Then, what do we do?”
“I know what I’d do, but she’s not my sister, so I’ll leave you to decide.”
“You mean…?”
“Don't be afraid. Just do what you think is right.”
Drifter hopped onto the stage and grabbed Dale, carrying him under his arm like he were firewood. Along with Richard, the three left the cathedral to give Amanda space.
“So, what are we going to do?” Dale asked. “Find a way to reverse the effects? Like an antidote?”
“No.” Drifter answered.
“What? But, we can’t just-”
A single gunshot echoed inside the cathedral.
Soon, Amanda exited through the large doors, with her jacket covered in blood splatter, with a dead, empty look in her eyes.
“It’s done.”
Chapter 11: The first kill
✽✽✽
“I found them!” Drifter called, exiting Anderson’s house.
Upon his death, the acolytes were left lost and terrified, huddled outside the cathedral like sheep. Their leader and beliefs had been mercilessly stripped from them. As Drifter was the one who ultimately destroyed Anderson they turned to him for his advice.
He sneered at them, simply stating:
“Fuck off and go home!”
The acolytes dispersed and quietly returned home, some feeling a wave of relief. Their cult was a safe haven from the demons lurking just outside, but the knowledge that someone like Drifter existed eased their anxiety. Even the demons under Anderson’s control were thankful and escaped to the Demon World.
With his car a wreck, Richard called his partner, Michael for a ride, but before they could leave, Dale insisted they pay the cult leader’s home a visit, to find his legs.
Dale sat in the back of the car like a lump, patiently awaiting the return of his severed limbs. Once Drifter returned, chopped legs in hand, he shoved Dale down to prepare him for the ordeal he was about to suffer through.
“This’ll work, right?” He asked.
“Probably.”
“Oh, great… so, where were they?”
“In the garbage.”
“Oh God, is that what that smell is!? Gross dude! You couldn’t have washed them first!?”
“You said you wanted them back as soon as possible.”
“What if I get an infection!?”
“I’m surprised you’re not dead yet.”
“Could you at least pick the banana peel out of the wound?”
Drifter casually tossed the limp, rotten fruit skin aside, slapping Dale in the face as it slowly slid onto his chest.
“Thanks…”
He lined up Dale’s legs with the healed over stumps poking out of his torn trousers and pushed them together.
“Hold still and your demon weapon should do the rest.”
“It better.”
After a few moments there was a reaction. The skin on Dale’s stumps slowly healed over his detached legs, reconnecting them.
“Holy crap.” He gasped. “It’s woo-aaugh! FUCK!”
A sharp piercing pain shot through Dale’s nerves, like a knife stabbing straight into his wounds.
“Oh fuck, that hurts! Why does it hurt so fucking much!?”
“I think it’s the bone piercing through your healed over skin.” Drifter surmised.
“Fucking Christ!”
“Is he going to be okay?” Richard asked, looking on from the front seat, while his partner nonchalantly read the newspaper. “Sounds like he’s giving birth.”
Dale continued to wail in the background as Drifter answered.
“He’s fine.”
“What about her?”
Richard pointed to Amanda, leaning on the trunk of the car, staring at the house.
“She’s fine.”
“I wouldn't be fine if I went through what she just did.”
“And nothing I say will change that.”
“You could at least comfort her.”
“If you’re so concerned, you do it.”
“I don’t even know her.”
“Neither do I.”
“Drifter you dumb cunt!” Dale yelled, still convulsing from the pain.“Just talk to her already!”
“Ugh…” Drifter begrudgingly exited the vehicle.
“...I’m not a fucking therapist.” He muttered.
Amanda was fixated on Anderson’s house, staring blankly, completely lost in her own thoughts. Drifter waved his hand in her face, but didn’t get a reaction until after he started snapping his fingers.
“Hey! You alive in there?”
“...you say something?” She replied, waking up.
“Did you hear us?”
“What...? No, I didn't… sorry.”
“Good, less awkward for me. What’s the obsession with the house?”
“The man that lived here killed my sister. He slept soundly, warm in his bed last night, while Abby rotted into a living nightmare. Her mind, body and her humanity, all melted to nothing.
He locked her away like a freak and left her for dead. I can’t even imagine how terrified she must have been in her final moments.
How could another human being do something like that?”
“I don’t know…. what’ll you do now?”
“I don’t know….”
“Good talk.”
Drifter attempted to leave, only to be blocked by Dale, who was already back on his feet, though leaning on the car door for support.
“Damn, up already?”
“Hey, Amanda.” Dale called. “You can stick with us until you’ve figured out what you want to do next.”
“I think she’s better off going home.” Drifter argued.
“That’s for her to decide.”
“Sure.” She answered. “I’ll stick around. I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
Drifter groaned. “Bloody hell, fine. But, you’re responsible for your own safety.”
“I’ll look out for you.” Dale reassured.
“Well.” Richard announced. “If everything’s okay with her we can leave then. For the love of God, try to stay out of trouble.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Drifter replied.
The two officers drove away. As they headed down the road, Richard turned to his stoic partner.
“You didn't say a single word the whole time. Why?”
“Like I'd risk my career getting involved with that guy. Remember: I was just here to pick up the rookie whose car broke down. That’s all.”
“Risk your career? How?”
“I just do what I’m told, kid.”
The two never spoke of the incident again the entire ride home.
One whole week passed and the aftermath of Anderson’s death was mild at best. No one seemed to care about the disbanding of the cult, despite all of the previous coverage they had received, like the whole operation was expendable.
No one at the police station was aware of Richard’s presence at the scene of Anderson’s death, as all attention was entirely focused on the man in the white coat. The legendary vagabond had struck again, but this time his target was something that couldn’t be swept under the rug.
Although interests were high and those skeptical of the man’s existence were changing their tune, no one seemed motivated to do any investigations into who this man really was.
Where did he come from? Why is he here? And just who is he? Richard was plagued with these questions the moment he returned home, but no one was willing to help him gather information on the subject.
He sat at his desk, leaning in his chair as he stared at the ceiling. Sure he had work he could be doing, but edgy internet comments seemed inconsequential
compared the travesties he bore witness to.
A demonic priest. A man who sold his humanity and corrupted his own people into unrecognisable abominations, was left to roam free among the people unopposed, free to set up his own organisation to manipulate the scared public.
Even with evidence he couldn’t be brought down, but thanks to the efforts of an unknown man simply calling himself 'Drifter’, the monstrous priest was erased, with a single punch.
How can someone like him exist? Where has he been hiding all this time? What are his motives? His purpose? Where did he come from? Who is he? How could Richard possibly focus on doing any work when his mind was constantly juggling all the pieces to this puzzle, unable to connect them? He needed a lead. Anything that could point him in the right direction.
“Hey.” Michael called, snapping Richard out of his trance.
“Whuh? Oh, coffee’s over there.”
He pointed to tray of coffee mugs, but the beverages had already gone cold.
“Huh, so that’s where those went. What’s got you so preoccupied?”
“Last week... I saw some shit and I can’t get it out of my head.”
“You thinking about the guy in the white coat? Because I told you not to.”
“Why? It’s not like we have to fight or arrest him. I just want to know who he is.”
“Don’t ask me. I don’t make the rules. I just enforce them. If you want to investigate this guy, you’ll have to do it in your own time.”
“There’s no rule against that?”
“Don’t know, but what you do off-hours is none of my business.”
“Are you... helping me?”
“Here, I came to give you this.” Michael handed over an envelope. “It’s the result of the DNA test.”
“Wow, that was quick. Wait, they actually accepted it?”
“They did when I gave it to them.”
Richard opened the envelope and furiously read the documents inside, but his enthusiasm quickly vanished.
“Oh… well, ain’t that a kick in the bollocks…”
“What is it?”
“I sent them a sample of Drifter’s DNA for testing. I wasn’t expecting them to pinpoint his identity immediately, but I was at least hoping for a lead.”
“They were inconclusive?”
“Oh, they were conclusive. They concluded that his DNA is nothing like any other human’s. It’s been corrupted by demonic forces.”