Demon's Delight: An Urban Fantasy Christmas Collection

by Dan Thompson

  A tall, skinny tree stands next to some brush near a backdrop of hilly land, and that is where Wendy runs. She is in open territory getting there, but everyone who gave a damn has already seen her. Still, she tries to hide behind the tree, hoping to have a few minutes before moving again. The action seems to be ahead of her by a couple city blocks. She sees bright spurts of orange and yellow as well as the red of the sky. The weirdness has become even more frightful with the up-close-and-personal view, but she is determined to see what caused Claudia’s attitude change and get her away from it.

  Wendy runs again, this time half the distance to the stage, because that is what she sees, a grand stage made of rocks, and rising hills above holes in the land. Great openings resembling giant clay sewer pipes travel below the surface of the earth. She feels a band across her eyes loosening, even though there is no such covering. It is as though she is seeing for the first time, and objects previously hidden to her are now appearing in great moving hordes. Across the hills, terrible sounds of gongs and tuneless alphorns mix with the shrieks of tortured mortals, resounding and assaulting her ears. Wendy knows something important has changed; the noise and sights were always there, but it is within her the change has occurred. She opens her mouth to scream, and keeps screaming, for what she sees and hears is not of her world.

  Chapter 10

  A hand closes over Wendy’s mouth, and another grabs her arms and carries her to the ground. She closes her teeth, biting at the restraining fingers, but her jaws close on nothingness. The more she struggles, the tighter the hold becomes, until she finally quits struggling in order to take a deep breath.

  “That’s much better,” Short whispers. “If there was meat on them bones, you would have taken my fingers off. You going to be quiet?”

  Nodding fast, Wendy breathes easier, recognizing the voice of the man she met earlier.

  “You could have just whispered in my ear,” she says.

  “No, you would have screamed up all those ugly goblins over there. As you can see, they’re busy worshipping, but it wouldn’t take a minute to get their attention.”

  “Yeah,” she says, “you’re right. I just about flew over the edge when that off-key didgeridoo sounded close by. Or at least it sounded like one.”

  Short laughs, the sound flying from his mouth unexpectedly. Wendy grabs him, and it is his mouth and her hand this time.

  “Quiet. Now it’s you that’s going to bring them here.”

  He nods, yes, she’s right. “I haven’t laughed for many Earth years,” he says. “Felt pretty good.”

  “What are we going to do? We can’t just stand here all night. Oh, look, that… thing is pushing two men to the fire. “Oh, crap, they just exploded, look!” She turns from him and leans forward, falling to the ground and vomiting at the same time, bringing up the small amount of food she ate in the car. “Sorry— I’m sorry to be so gross,” she says in a minute, “but they’re roasting people!”

  “Uh-huh,” he says. “That’s Lucifer’s fires, and the spitting and sputtering you’ve been seeing tonight is human body fat sizzling. The burning has been going on all day and yesterday, a little demonstration by Gorgel. It’s a cold fire, a real special treat he came up with—has no heat, just destruction.”

  “I don’t even know your name, and yet you keep saving me,” she whispers. Her throat is raw from retching and it hurts to talk.

  “Short, ma’am. Elisha Short. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Thank you. Elisha, is the red sky caused by the fires? Is that what has made it so cold?

  “Well, Wendy, I believe so. Those folks are just as dead as if they’d been thrown in a blazing hot furnace. You see, mortals have trouble believing in what is known as hellfire, with all the heat that goes with it. Satan, or Lucifer, as I like to call him, took the heat out of the fire, put the cold in it, and gets the same job done.”

  “What does this Gorgel dude hope to get out of murdering all those people?” She is perplexed, trying to understand.

  “The best I can figure, Christmas makes him real uneasy. The time when people are showing love to one another because of the Christ child’s birth threatens him and his job. Gorgel hates goodness, and he especially hates the Creator’s Son. Maybe he’s making points with his papa, stealing mortal souls on the holiest of days, or maybe he’s looking to take over in his own dimension. There’s no loyalty in that bunch of snakes.”

  “Elisha, how do you know so much? How do you know me?” She looks at him closely for the first time, seeing an attractive older man, but more. He has an iridescence about his face and body; a glimmer of something otherworldly.

  “Let’s just say I’ve been around a long time. And you, Wendy, well, I met you yesterday. Maybe you told me some things then.”

  “No,” she says, not willing to let him off without an answer. “I didn’t tell you anything. You’re the one who did the talking.”

  He laughs again, only quietly this time, enjoying the bubble of sound that comes from his chest. “You’re a pistol, girl. Remind me to tell you more after we take care of this demon from Hell.”

  “We?” she croaks. “After we take care of him? Wait up, Mr. Short. I’m no hero, in fact, I’m a coward, and don’t even like heroes. All I want to do is leave this place.”

  “You had your chance. Could have turned around and went the other way,” he says thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re braver than you think; maybe that’s the reason you’re seeing and hearing them now. Special provisions must have been made to accommodate you.”

  She stares at him uncomprehendingly. Special provisions? “See that monster up there, burning people and stealing souls? He isn’t scared of me and never will be. I’m just meat for his barbecue,” she says, just north of whining.

  “Still, he knows you’re here, watching the show,” Short says. “Yet you’re still alive, and unaffected by what is known as the Goblin Influence. Those ugly four-legged things travel back and forth from Hell. Their job is to steal earthly souls by filling mortals with desires for things they can’t, or shouldn’t have. They hypnotize their victims and slip inside, ruining everything good within a human being, turning them against others. Sometimes, like today, they use animals to transport them from one earthly place to another. Why do you suppose you’re not goose-stepping with the rest of them?”

  “I don’t know. That’s all freaky. Those goblins are the ugliest things I’ve ever seen. Why can I see them, and those other people can’t, not even my friend Claudia? In the beginning, I was as blind as they are, but something changed when I got here.”

  “Well, Wendy, you’re right, that’s the provision I spoke about, but you’re also here because you wanted to save your friend. You gave up a chance to drive away and save yourself. You decided to save that girl Claudia and your neighbors instead. After your friend was influenced, why didn’t you leave her, since it was her decision to get out of the car?”

  “Because I knew something had forced the change on her, and it wasn’t right. One minute she was helping me, and the next she was jumping out of the car, joining in with the march.”

  “Um. Yeah, that’s the way it happens. Why not you, though? Why just her?”

  She looks puzzled for a minute then says, “I don’t have a dog. Claudia does, or at least had one until recently.”

  Across the way, toward the stage, a large group of mortals has been separated from the rest. They struggle against invisible bonds that hold them, but fail to free themselves. Uproarious sounds akin to laughter come from the huge demon on the rock; it pleases him to see mortals struggle against his will. He is strong, and getting stronger in gravity’s pull; none can resist him. Gorgel’s single eye turns toward the small enclave where the girl and the immortal stand apart from the others. The demon enjoys the sight of his nemesis. Soon he will end the charade and send them both to the fire.

  Chapter 11

  Inside the gates of Paradise, two souls, once cowboys, are busy singing with v
oices they never guessed they had. Buffalo John Handy and Augustine Draper at the same moment listen for the baritone of their old friend, Elisha Short, who usually stands next to them. Their consciousness searches through the nearest group of singers, but neither sees nor hears him.

  “Not here,” is the consensus. The very fact they consider Short’s absence and show curiosity tells them something has changed. They look toward each other and nod. “Guess we’re going,” they say. “He’s sending us.”

  Flesh fills in the old bone structures of the two souls, and jeans, shirts, and boots cover their extremities against earthly elements. Words fill their heads and thus they are quickly briefed. The diaphanous portals create openings for the cowboys, allowing every bulge and wrinkle to pass through the wall with fluid movement. There are no marked sounds of their egress, neither whoosh, nor sigh of doors closing announce their departure to another dimension.

  Buffalo John Handy is tall and wears a long mustache over a handsome face. His eyes are amber-colored, almost catlike. Augustine Draper, on the other hand, is average in every way, with hair and eyes browned like cured hay. These are mighty men whose mortal lives were cut short by the demon Wargel in the seventeenth century. They are trained as a demonic response team.

  When the two are dropped in Nebraska, they wonder if truly this is their destination, yet the red sky tells them it is. Buffalo John is the first to comment. His take is that they have been sent to a barren land, with nothing but acres of fields to be the next battleground. Rosedale is a medium city with some new architecture, but a lot of sixties buildings still exist in the downtown region. A peek into the heart of it is enough for the demon hunters.

  “Augustine, what do you suggest?”

  “Well, let’s see, John. I can’t tell what we’re here for.”

  “Neither can I, but this equipment hanging on my back and shoulders must be for something good-sized.”

  “I would agree, compadre. What say we find someone to ask?”

  Handy nods, agreeing. “Don’t seem to be anyone about. Maybe they sent us too late.” He respects his partner, and waits now on his opinion.

  “Nah, He doesn’t work that way. See can we find a couple horses to ride. We’re here just when we’re supposed to be.”

  Handy breathes easier. “Yes, I believe you’re right, Andrew,” he says.

  Elisha Short is waiting in a semi-hidden spot, protecting Wendy Matthews from death and destruction by a demon and a bunch of ugly goblins. He smells the wind and smiles, glancing toward Rosedale.

  “Looks like the cavalry has arrived. We should expect reinforcements within a few minutes,” he says to Wendy.

  “Who’s coming?” she asks, “Do they have some bad-ass guns? Mr. Short, I don’t mean to disrespect you, but do you really believe we can fight this group? I mean, they’ve got the Devil on their side.”

  “We don’t have any choice, Wendy. It’s us or them. They know very well we’re here, but Gorgel isn’t worried. He’s in control and means to stay that way,” Short continues, somewhat subdued. “On the other hand, although the Creator will not interfere, He does provide the means for good to overcome evil. Those boys he’s sending have been my partners for a long season, and I don’t aim to lose them to those things out there.”

  “What happens to me?” Wendy asks dully. She has just realized how alone she is without family, or close friends.

  “I figure that’s up to you. We’ll do our best to keep you safe, but there are no guarantees. You can get in that little car and drive back the way you came. I suspect there’s an intersection a ways from here that will take you in the opposite direction of Rosedale. If you were my daughter, I might advise that action.”

  She quickly shakes her head. “No, I can’t do that. Claudia is my friend, and she needs my help. Just think how confused she’ll be when this is over.”

  “I’m glad to hear you believe it will be over,” Short says. “I can’t promise anything, except we are the best available. Look,” he says, pointing with his hat, “there are my pards.”

  Wendy glances where Short has indicated and sees two men approaching stealthily. They don’t have a vehicle; they are moving with the currents of air.

  “How… are they doing that? It’s like they’re blowing in the wind.”

  “That’s what they’re doing. Probably first tried to get horses and didn’t find any.” He breaks away and greets his friends, apprising them of the situation with Gorgel and the goblins. It is not a new thing, this demon presence, but it is a different approach. The fact that goblins are involved makes it particularly nasty. Short hates them, remembering once when four jumped him from behind and it took him the better part of an hour to put them down.

  After introducing his partners to Wendy, they get down to basic offense/defense measures. Both Buffalo John and Augustine brought double-barrel shotguns and several angel dust loads. They discuss the facts as they know them: that Gorgel gets high, sending mortal souls to Hell after burning their bodies, that goblins have control over the city’s dogs and residents, that three old demon hunters, and one young woman, must rid the world of meanness, in time for Christmas morning. It’s a challenge unlike any the immortals have faced before, but to them, it is doable.

  Chapter 12

  Across the edges of the county, meanness is occurring. The two cops leave the coffee counter clerk in jail, and run into a similar situation with some street kids who throw rocks at the uniforms and open a cut above the fat cop’s eye.

  “Really?” he asks, chasing one down, bleeding on the kid’s chest. “Do you young punks think you can bust my balls and get away with it?”

  The thin cop wonders how he got by so far without injury. Maybe, he thinks, it’s my reward for not being a fat ass. Just then a rock slams him in the chest.

  The drunk with the tin cup in front of Walmart sits unmolested, but is sobering, and realizes he hasn’t enough money to buy a beer. He gets really angry at the stinginess of shoppers, and swears the next one that comes by and ignores him will get the tin cup beside his ear.

  Inside the same store, people in line have become more aggressive, daring the tired women behind the cash registers to consider taking their breaks. There is talk of looting, of taking what they deserve from the store. After all, it’s Christmas Eve.

  A man returns to his sister’s home with a bag filled with groceries, only to find her lying unresponsive on the couch with a gun in her hand, and her dead baby beside her. He weeps, then grows angry at all the people who turned her down for food stamps. Out the door he runs, pistol in hand. A fresh load of .22 shells in the magazine. There will be a reckoning, he swears.

  On the opposite edge of the county, the sky has reddened to a deeper hue; the orange and yellow spits of exploding fat have become thicker, the air oilier, as the huge cold fire forces ash into the atmosphere. Gorgel is roaring, goblins are dancing on two feet, while the other two feet push and shove mortals onto the stage and down through deep portals leading to Hell. It is a nightmare, a huge many-act play that three cowboys and a girl must pull the curtain on before the end of the day, or there will be no Christmas for anyone in Nebraska. When Evil reigns in a small corner of the world, it quickly covers the rest of the ground. Gorgel’s destruction will explode into the entire region before the day is over; his minions are poised to break through the crust of every city throughout the world. Short has seen the danger with his far-reaching vision and knows it must be stopped.

  “John, Augustine,” Short says, “get those guns ready when I give the word. We will surprise them where they are, blow them to Kingdom Come”—he lifts his eyes heavenward and begs forgiveness—“disabling as many of those nasty, undesirable goblins as we possibly can. Those you can’t dispense with nicely, tear them apart. If you have no objections, the young miss and I will go after Gorgel.”

  “Me?” squeaks Wendy. “You want me to go with you?”

  “Yep,” he says. “You and I will be sufficient. Of cou
rse, you must say your prayers for a good outcome.”

  She nods slightly, acknowledging her part, but fear has her paralyzed from the waist down. Short reaches over, sprinkles a little something on her, coating her with what he tells her is Fearless dust, and Wendy feels courage she never before had. Suddenly, she feels alive and unafraid, grateful to her Creator, and ready to tackle a large demon.

  “That was great, what you just did,” she says to Short as they meander around rocks and small brush toward the giant stage. “How long will it last?” she asks.

  “About two hundred years, give or take a couple cataclysmic breakdowns of the planet. You will be just fine, Wendy, as long as you trust in the power of goodness over evil. Now here’s what you are to do…”

  “Uh-huh, okay. No problem, I can do that,” Wendy says, nodding quickly, eager to get involved in the fracas and save her friend. She can’t find her in the crowd of milling people, but she knows Claudia is there. They will free her friend from the goblins. She trusts Mr. Short, but doesn’t know about good and evil. They have always been words, but no more than that. Her father left the family when she was twelve, just old enough to think about boys, and need a dad around. He rejected her when he left her mom, and she never forgave him. Now he is sick with cancer and wants her forgiveness. How can she consider forgiving him, after he hurt her mom so badly? He wants to be good now, when it seems too late, after evil has already done its damage. She wonders if Mr. Short would understand that kind of logic.

  “Let’s go, Wendy. Stay to the left, and when we get there, remember what to do. Do exactly what I told you, nothing else.”

  “Okay. And remind me to ask you something later.”

  Short glances at her, and says okay.

  There are thorns and briars near the uplift, and Short isn’t surprised. Where else would a demon hold a bonfire? He takes Wendy’s hand and lifts, shushing her surprise at the same time with his other hand. They fly together to a part of the stage that is partially blocked from observation, and Short takes the lead, covering the girl until the last minute. He finds a spot that permits him a view of the grand stage, where Gorgel will hopefully be standing in a few minutes. The other two hunters are waiting for Short, who has the passage of time down to a nanosecond. The double-barreled shotgun is an oldie, but a good one, and he lifts it high in the air. An outcropping of rock balances the barrels just right, and Short nods to Wendy that it is time for her to do her part.