by Julie Hall
I wanted to yell and lash out at him, but I barely had enough energy to lift my head.
He ignored us for a while, moving around the small space, adjusting various objects I could not see. Then he began to sing softly to himself. The song was simultaneously beautiful and terrifying, causing images to swim through my vision of existing in perfect light with countless other beings, then ripping away, falling, falling, falling into flame and darkness.
The song was filled with regret and above all a terrible malice that chilled my soul and my ragged flesh. The very temperature in the room dropped as he sang and our breath became visible as we exhaled.
I don’t think he sang for us, or even knew he was doing it. After a long time, he stopped and finally faced Morgan.
“Do you know what you could have been if He’d protected you before?”
Morgan flinched at the mention of his death. It was the one subject we never talked about.
“That’s right, Morgan.” Satan’s velvety voice gave me chills. “I know all about the mugging in the alley. Such a shame to have lost your life for the paper in your pocket.”
His back was to me as he faced Morgan, but his head tilted to the side in a jerky movement, almost as if he wasn’t used to making the simplest of gestures and was imitating another being instead.
“Do you know what you would have accomplished had He sent his angels to protect you instead?” Satan continued spewing his lies, “You would have been one of the greatest athletes your country had ever seen. You would have had it all. Wealth, fame, power. You were stripped of all those glories along with your life that night. Where’s the fairness in that? Where’s the justice? You think your God is good and merciful? What is good or merciful about striking down someone on the cusp of greatness? Perhaps He worried that if He didn’t allow your death, He’d eventually lose your love? Why serve a God like that?”
Satan stood in front of Morgan as he spoke, softly and confidentially as a friend, someone who understood the man’s sorrow. Then, he laid a hand gently on Morgan’s shoulder.
“And now look at you. Worse off than you ever were before, and where is He? Do you think he doesn’t know exactly where you are? That paltry attempt at a rescue was simply for show to keep the other slaves in line. What I’m offering you now is a chance to truly be free. Be free of your bondage to a careless God—one who has only brought misery to your door. Instead you have a chance to be your own master, and join my ranks.”
“I will never leave you nor forsake you,” a gentle voice whispered in my ear.
I wanted to yell at Morgan to resist the lies even as my body begged me to give in. With what little strength I possessed, I pulled at the chains binding my wrists, hoping that the noise would draw Morgan’s attention.
Part of the plan worked. Morgan’s eyes slowly left the face of evil incarnate and drifted to mine. But what I saw in them grieved my soul. And a shadow rose between us, cutting off my view of my friend, and I knew at that very moment, he was lost.
I watched day after day as Morgan’s body grew stronger from the hate against our Creator that he let consume him. It was a slow transition. Satan continued his daily visits to pump Morgan full of lies. And the more Morgan swallowed, the healthier he looked. But his renewed vitality was only on the surface, for inside my friend’s soul had surely begun to rot and twist into something as grotesque as the rest of Satan’s minions.
My resistance was rewarded with further torture. With each new demon feeding, my body weakened past the point I’d thought possible. And rather than having a companion in Morgan, I now had another manipulator urging me to give in to the darkness as he had done.
He’d tell me how much stronger he felt. He’d even hinted at something inside of him transforming. Until the day came when the change he’d spoken of manifested into something tangible.
Still chained to the pipes as I was, I watched his eyes move back and forth over the dank basement floor as the shadows followed his unspoken commands. It was like observing a macabre dance as he learned to master his new skill. It was horrifying, but I found myself fascinated even as my chest ached with the proof of the depths my friend had sunk into darkness.
I had completely lost track of time. The feedings were no longer helping me gauge the days that passed. In my misery, there were times I’d believed I’d always existed in this hell. The day came when I woke and Morgan was no longer strung up across from me, but standing tall, wearing in a new type of armor—coverings that blended with the very shadows around us.
“I’m finally free,” he said. They were the first clear words he’d spoken to me since our capture. “Logan, don’t you understand, we’ve been fighting the war from the wrong side all along.”
I could do nothing but weakly shake my head at him. There was a fever in his voice that hadn’t been present before. Where there used to be joy, I only heard anger.
“If you let go, the pain will stop. You’ll be a new man. A better man than you ever were before. A more powerful one as well. Look,” he stretched out his arm and called the darkness to himself. It covered his hand and then slid up his bicep until it looked like his arm from shoulder to fingertips had simply disappeared.
I looked into Morgan’s eyes with disbelief. He’d not only fully given up on himself, but on our beloved Creator. And for what? A cool party trick?
I woke to a blinding pain in my shoulders, but for once it wasn’t from a demon bite. One arm hung limp and useless by my side. There was a good chance both shoulders were dislocated from being stretched apart and taking the brunt of my full body weight for so long. Sensation in my hands was almost non-existent, only a slight tingling feeling remained. That was a small mercy.
I turned my head and watched with half-lidded eyes as Morgan moved to my other arm and started to unfasten the chains that held me in place. My shoulder was screaming now as it bore all my weight. I’d long since lost the ability to stand on my own.
Morgan wrapped a steady arm around my waist as he freed my hand and then staggered under the dead weight of my body. My raw and torn flesh shot jolts of pain throughout my being with every jostling movement as he lowered me to the floor—but it was nothing compared to the agony in my shoulder joints.
What was happening right now? Was he setting me free? Was his surrender to Satan all a ploy to free the both of us?
My logical mind strained to snap the pieces together, but it was sluggish after weeks of torture and lack of sustenance. I struggled to shake the cobwebs from my brain, but they’d been there so long I feared they’d now taken up permanent residence.
“I’m gonna put those shoulders back in their right place, mate,” he sounded more like the Morgan I knew, but what if this was a trick? “I’m not going to lie to you, it’s going to hurt like the dickens, but it needs to be done. You ready?”
I managed a wobbly head-bob, which resembled a nod.
“Alright, I’m gonna lay you on your back to do this.”
He lowered my torso to the floor with zero help from me. Once I was splayed out on the grimy basement floor, Morgan grabbed my right wrist and slowly pulled on my arm. I gritted my teeth through the intense, searing pain.
Morgan’s face pinched with concentration and exertion as he continued to pull my arm away from my body, standing to get better leverage. An eternity later, there was a clunk as the bone slid back into place and although still incredibly sore, there was a lessening of pain from that shoulder.
“One down, one to go. You still with me, mate?” Morgan asked.
“Yes,” I managed to rasp through my dry throat and parched lips.
He nodded and took hold of my left wrist, repeating the agonizingly slow process again until I heard the familiar clunk of the bone being reset followed immediately by the same relief I’d felt from the previous side.
I wiggled my fingers as sensation flooded back into my arms. Morgan helped me up to a sitting position.
My throat worked to swallow, but nothing happen
ed because of the absence of moisture. I fastened my eyes on Morgan and croaked out a single word, hoping he knew what I was trying to say.
“Escaping?”
Morgan’s eyes blazed and his mouth set in a hard line.
“No. That’s not why I unchained you. We both know you’re too weak to go anywhere right now. I wanted to talk to you about why you should join forces with us.”
My stomach turned. Had there been any food in it, I would have thrown it up.
Morgan wasn’t here to orchestrate our escape, even though he was now in a position to do so. He was here to try and talk me into turning my back on our Creator.
“Satan was right,” Morgan was saying, “Where was God and His army when we needed Him? Satan did this to us to show us the truth. To set us free.”
I shook my head. Incapable of having a real conversation with him, it was the only way I could communicate. Satan wasn’t trying to set us free, he was using us to grow his own army.
I wouldn’t lie to myself and say my faith hadn’t been shaken by this experience, but I wasn’t willing to sell my soul for freedom.
“I am here,” a voice whispered in my head.
Morgan droned on and on and at some point I just blankly stared back, not hearing anything that was coming out of his mouth. Eventually he realized I wasn’t paying attention to him. He grabbed my sore shoulders and shook me roughly.
“Wake up!” he yelled in my face. His own features had turned red and were now filled with rage. Nothing about that was from our Father. Was it too late for Morgan? “The Creator doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about any of us. We’re all a big joke to Him. Pawns to move around His chess board while He’s bored.”
A rage filled me like I’d never experienced. It bubbled up from my chest and shot down my arms.
That wasn’t the Truth.
No matter the amount of abuse Morgan or Satan or his demons dished out, it was on their heads, not our Creator’s.
The maddening anger that filled my soul at Morgan’s words burst from me all at once, and with a shout I threw my arms up to dislodge his hold on me, shoving him back with both hands.
Morgan flew across the room as twin bolts of blue and white light shot from my palms and hit him in the chest. A crackling sensation weaved over my fingers as I looked down at the remnants of whatever power I had wielded.
Hunters didn’t have abilities like this.
When the sensation and light disappeared from my hands, I jerked my head to gape at Morgan. There was a charred hole in his armor—right in the middle of his chest. He shook his head once and returned my stare with wide eyes.
Then a slow grin appeared on his lips.
Author Commentary: Chapter 9
JulieHallAuthor.com/logan-9
Chapter 10
Morgan’s hurried steps echoed as he ran up the basement stairs, no doubt rushing to report that I’d finally snapped.
I stared down at my hands in horror.
What had I just done?
My rage against Morgan’s words had fueled some power inside me and now the floodgates were open.
Hunters don’t have powers like this, I repeated to myself.
Would I even be allowed back in the heavenly realm now? This power had to have sprung from evil, didn’t it? A result of my long weeks being linked with demon-kind? It had burst forth in a fit of blinding fury.
“Run.”
That whispered voice in my head snapped me back to attention. The adrenaline pumping through my veins afforded me a moment of mental clarity.
Now was my chance. Morgan had freed me from my chains and had run from the basement, leaving me completely alone. Whether it was an oversight on his part, or simply an assumption that I didn’t have enough strength to move, I didn’t know.
And I didn’t care.
I gathered every bit of strength I had and pushed myself to my feet. I wobbled before being able to take a step toward freedom. Grinding my teeth together, I set my mind on a single endeavor: leaving this wretched basement of horrors behind.
One step turned into two and eventually I’d made it to the stairs. I used the handrails, despite the objection of my recently relocated shoulders, to push and pull myself to freedom.
I stopped at the top of the landing and listened for any noises. For all I knew there could be a horde of demons camped out in and around the house. But time was a luxury I didn’t have.
After waiting thirty seconds without hearing the scrape of a claw on the floor, or the shrieking chirp they used to communicate, I slowly opened the door.
My eyes darted around the empty room, expecting a creature, or even Satan himself, to materialize at any moment. I paused momentarily, then—with a spurt of energy—I stumbled to the front door and pushed out into the open air.
My eyes watered at brightness they were no longer accustomed to, but I couldn’t wait for the temporary blindness to cease. I lurched forward, tripping and rolling down the few steps to the ground.
I hit the packed dirt with one of my injured shoulders and a bolt of pain lanced through my body. An anguished cry burst free.
Forcing myself to my feet once again, I ran into the forest surrounding the prison I’d just escaped, stumbling repeatedly as I fled.
Weaving around foliage and trees, I almost ran right into a demon before skidding to a stop.
It turned on me with an otherworldly snarl.
I had nothing to defend myself with. They’d deprived us of our weapons before I’d even awakened to find myself chained to those awful pipes.
Oh, Father, please help me.
The creature charged and I held up my hands in defense, sure they were going to be sliced from my arms at any moment. But the strange power I’d exercised against Morgan sprang to life once again, hitting the demon square in its middle and immediately stopping its forward momentum.
I kept my hands outstretched and watched in morbid, detached fascination as the demon let out a final shriek and its body shook as if electrocuted. Is that what I was doing? Electrocuting it?
Finally, the demon’s appendages folded in as if every muscle was contracting at once. And then it stopped moving. Several heartbeats passed, and the creature’s corpse turned into a pile of ash.
Bile churned in my stomach as I stared at my defeated foe. I should be running. I knew that, but I was frozen.
Something sliced into my back from shoulder to waist, splitting the flesh and muscle and allowing blood to flow freely down my spine.
This wasn’t over.
I barely had time to turn before the demon was on me. Its teeth snapped, inches from my face. I pushed back with my hands, but my strength had left me. It was just about to bite into my neck when the lightning shot from my palms once more, and sent the creature flying off me, crashing into a nearby tree.
It screamed its outrage and came rushing at me again. I lifted my hands and found the power inside to blast the demon just as I had done with the last one. After the beast dissolved into smoke and ash, I didn’t linger.
I turned and fled.
I ran, stumbled, and even crawled as far as I could until my body finally gave out on me somewhere in the middle of the wooded area. Only then did I sink into darkness once again.
“I said back up!” boomed a voice.
I winced at both the volume and the brightness behind my closed lids.
“I think he’s waking up.” This voice was softer.
“Do you think he’s going to be weirded out that we’re all just staring at him?” That sounded an awful lot like Kevin, but how could that be when I was trapped in the basement dungeon of that old house? That didn’t make sense either because there was no light in the hovel I’d been surviving in for weeks.
I tried to open my eyes, but they were weighted down by lead.
“Seriously, he’s waking up. We should listen to Alrik and back up.”
Kaitlin.
How were my friends here? Where was I?
I wasn’t going to find out until I pried my lids open.
It took a bit of effort and time stretched. My friends must have held their breaths, because when I finally managed to wrench my eyes open, a collective whoosh of air sounded. I viewed the room around me through the screen of my lashes.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re awake.” Kaitlin threw herself at me and began to cry. The force of her sobs shook the bed. I winced at her weight on top of my sore body, but held back the groan.
“Woman, get off of him,” Alrik barked. “Can’t you tell the poor guy is in pain?”
“Oh, my gosh,” Kaitlin scrambled off of me and jumped from the bed as if it were on fire. “Logan, I’m so sorry. I’m just so happy that you’re back. And okay-ish,” her features pinched, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” That probably wasn’t an honest answer, but what else was I supposed to say?
“What happened to you, man?” Kevin asked timidly. His brows pulled together, “We’ve been looking for you and Morgan for weeks. It’s like you just . . . disappeared.”
I took a deep breath. Overwhelmed, but trying to hide it.
“I think I should talk to one of the superiors about what went down first.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Of course.” Kevin nodded his agreement, but it was simply a tactic to prolong the inevitable.
If I could go the rest of my existence without having to relive the last few weeks in any way, shape or form, I would. But people were going to want to know what had happened. It wasn’t something I wanted to talk to my friends about right now. Or ever for that matter, but especially not right now.
Everything was too raw. My mind—along with my body—was damaged beyond my friends’ comprehension. And then there was the problem of my new power. I didn’t know what it meant. And as hard as it was to admit—even to myself—I wasn’t sure I wanted the truth.