by Tiana Laveen
“My name is Cruz Morte Black. I come to you humbly, demanding your assistance…” he began to chant. “It’s my pleasure to stand before you, and though my father burns in Hell, I ask that I be given my own opportunity to engage in a deal, a pact bound by blood. I will give you an agreed upon gift, something of this world that you cannot be given without human permission. This will be in exchange for you to destroy my enemy when the time comes.
“There is a dark prince that is waiting for us to turn our backs so he can come and seek dominance. I dreamt of it twice now, but do not know his name. However, you do. I offer my respect and my sacrifice to you if you agree to do my bidding…” Cruz continued, then began to chant once again until black smoke started to rise from the burnt boards. The smoke began to shift and form into a thick mass. The sound of horse hooves echoed throughout the forest, then stopped abruptly. A knight from the depths of Hell stood before him, sitting high on a horse. White smoke eddied from his black, shiny armor. The demon carried a large lance with a white, gold, and ruby crusted serpent twisted around it. The horse’s neighs were followed by a series of flames flowing from flared nostrils. Large, glowing red eyes peered into his as they sized one another up. Those eyes looked somewhat familiar, yet he couldn’t figure out why. A deep, raspy, haunting voice broke the silence of the night.
“Speak my name, Demon Child … though one sniff of your blood tells me you’re speckled with weakness from heavenly forces. Your mother’s blood is the doleful nexus. I am not convinced you are worthy of my time, though I find it admirable that you knew how to summon me properly. Most do not.”
“I’m not weak, though I openly admit that I am not as powerful as you in the art of war, Duke Eligos. I have spoken your name. That is in fact why I called on you. You are the Demon of Combat, and we are at war. We have an army, and we need guaranteed victory.”
“You expect me to interfere with the Seven Deadly Sins mission in order to promote my own agenda?” The Duke chuckled roughly as black smoke poured from the dark hole of his mouth.
“One of the rules of Satanism is not denying the flesh. Though you are not human, you wish to indulge in the annihilation of your demonic enemies because they’ve disrespected you, but revenge against your ilk is forbidden—especially someone as learned as you who could annihilate them with just one blow. You may be prohibited from doing so, but I am not…” The Duke’s red eyes narrowed upon him.
“I will only consider such a deal because I detest weakness, and their initial efforts have failed due to stupid blunders. Additionally, I have no interest in this war with humans. You all are not worth my time. I have no interest in your comings and goings, thoughts and patterns. But I do enjoy toying with your kind, and having a bit of fun at your expense when the opportunity presents itself. Nevertheless, let’s get down to business. Tell me what it is you offer, and I may consider your proposition…”
“I offer you the head of a rival demon, one of your enemies.” At this, the duke laughed. “We will not hold on to it as we’ve done the others, or cast it away. We will offer it to you instead, and you may keep it as your own, a treasure. You receive no punishment for their demise since it will not have happened directly at your hands, and you’ll get what you’ve desired—their destruction, your revenge, and their power. I know you have many enemies; all authorities of warfare do, Duke Eligos, and several of your advisories are the Seven Deadly Sins. They didn’t consult you for this mission. How foolish.”
“Cruz Morte Black, nice to meet you. I appreciate your appeals to my prideful side, but you will fail. And when you do, I will take your soul and torment it until the end of time. You’re an interesting trinket… half Angel, half Demon. You’re a King Demon Child, too, the strongest of your kind. You are far more powerful than you realize.” The demon cocked his skull-like head to the side and grinned. “Your father was right about you … I understand now. You were in fact worth his agony.” Cruz swallowed hard at the Duke’s words. “You instinctively know what to do, more and more each day, don’t you child?”
“Yes, I am becoming stronger and more in the know as each second of my life passes.”
“And yet you squander your rightful place as leader to stand behind another. You are faithful to a fault. But your visceral acumen is what’s most appealing. No wonder you knew how to gather me and bring me to you… How beautiful you are, how smart. But you’re soiled. Your heart is soft for your fellow brethren.”
“I’ve chosen my legion, just as you’ve chosen yours.”
“The king you chase after is Saint Aknaten, a cunning King Angel Child who has poisoned you to the point that you will never be restored to your former glory. He performed an irreversible sickening Angel Child blood sacrifice on your behalf. You will be forever indebted to him.”
“We are equals. I follow him because Saint saved my life, and he is the King Angel Child of New York.”
“Oh,” the demon said. “I know far too well who he is. He’s been fighting his own war his entire miserable life. Do you know he is the strongest of his kind as well? His powers are infinite. This war isn’t just about the Earth, foolish child; it’s about Saint… No one, not even his fellow kings, are even close to his level. But they all work in unison, feed off of one another, encourage each other, and as a collective they are a threat. So, they all must be destroyed.”
It’s about Saint? Cruz repeated those words in his mind, shaken to his core. Now it all made sense. He was getting the attacks far more than the others. Once he was annihilated, it would be much easier for the demons to take over the entire world…
We can’t let that happen.
“And why would you want it to happen?” the demon stated, reading his thoughts. “You two are connected for life now. You have perverted your natures by making this alliance. Still, I wouldn’t mind sinking my teeth into him as well. He’s the talk of Hell. What a number he pulled on Asmodeus. You both are so damn lovely, rare trinkets in your own right…” Cruz dipped his fingers into the bowl of blood and sprinkled it along the altar as a sign of respect for the demon. “Yes, Cruz, should you fail, I will take you to Hell with me. They’ll have great fun with you.”
“So, do you accept? Help keep our enemies at bay, assist in the winning of this war, and I and my commander’s army will ensure that when it is done, you receive your inheritance.”
The Duke pointed his skeletal finger in Cruz’s direction.
“Cursed and blessed… What a curiosity you are, boy. You are a traitor, as am I. That’s why I always win. Allegiance is meaningless and juvenile. I stand on my own, create my own path. Yes, I accept. I suggest you keep your end of the bargain, or I may take more than just your soul…”
There he was, asleep on the couch again…
Erika glared at Cruz. The light from the television cast a glare across his face and his muscular, long body. He lay sprawled out with only a pair of boxer briefs on. Spirals of unkempt blond hair framed his face while several strands covered his tattooed chest. His behavior had been odd in the past few days—frantic was the best word to describe it.
She huffed and made her way back to the bedroom, climbing in the bed and pulling up the covers. Unable to sleep, she sighed and reached for the phone.
“Huh … hello?” came Xenia’s sleepy voice.
“Damn. I’m sorry. I woke you. I know you stay up late sometimes.”
Xenia yawned. “No, it’s fine… What’s up, lady? You okay?”
“It’s Cruz. I’m really concerned about him, Xenia. He is acting really strange, saying things I don’t understand and conducting these, I guess, rituals. They scare me! He was wearing a Pentagram. He knows I’m a Christian and I don’t play that shit!”
She could tell Xenia was stifling a laugh.
“I don’t think Cruz is worshipping Satan, if that’s what you’re concerned about, Erika. He left that life behind when he was a child. That’s the whole reason why his father disowned him. I doubt he’d go back now; in fact, wh
at’s going on right now should be a deterrent if there ever was one.”
“You would think that, Xenia, but he had several of his father’s things with him in his car, including a bunch of Satanic church memorabilia. I asked him about it and he shrugged me off, said it was too complicated to get into. Excuse me? You walkin’ around here with that Devil bible, talking about some army of bones and all this crazy mess, and you think whatever you have to say is going to go right over my head, huh? I said to him, ‘Try me, mothafucker!’ I have seen this man get rained on and stay dry, read my mind and then attend our wedding reception with blood all over himself after fighting with some Demon Children by the side of the church. But he thinks I can’t take the heat now?!”
This time, Xenia didn’t even try to hide it. Her laughter lit up the phone.
“I’m sorry, Erika … it’s just the way you say things sometimes!”
Erika smiled. “I know, but you know what I’m saying?”
“Of course I do, and I go through the same mess with Saint.”
“What mess? I don’t give you any mess…” Saint murmured groggily in the background.
“Go on back to sleep, Saint! You’re half asleep and all in my conversation like I called on you.” Xenia chuckled.
“You’re in my bed talkin’ loud while I’m tryna sleep.”
“I know you aren’t talking. What about all the times you’ve awakened me with silly ass questions?!”
Erika shook her head as she listened in on the couple’s argument. Quite entertaining, she had to admit.
“I never woke you up asking you silly questions.”
“Lightning is about to strike. That’s a lie and the truth ain’t in you, Saint. What about the time you woke me up at two or three in the morning saying, ‘Xenia, you think snails know that they’re slow? Do you think they have like super slow snails in their snail community and make fun of them for being even slower than average?’ You then followed up and asked me if I think those snails qualify for disability. Then I had to hear about little insect and critter hospitals that may exist in a world we know nothing of. This is the type of bizarre shit you say late at night when you’re half asleep, all the time.”
At this, Erika burst out laughing so hard, she couldn’t stop.
“You’re makin’ that up!” Saint exclaimed.
“Like hell I am. How about the time you woke me up and asked me, ‘Xenia, do you think black sheep know what discrimination is? Do they have a NAACP, Rainbow Coalition, or Al Sharpton type of sheep to help them in their time of need? And do they find the nursey rhyme song, ‘Black Sheep, Black Sheep, have you any wool?’ stereotypical and insensitive?”
“All right!” the man protested. “You’ve made your point. You can stop exaggerating now.”
“I haven’t exaggerated anything in this conversation and you were dead serious! Thank God you don’t smoke marijuana anymore, but I can see the effects are still lingering!” Erika laughed so hard, she could barely catch her breath now. “We see where Dakarai got his insanity from. You just want me to be quiet and not let Erika know how damn crazy you are, silly nut! He’s like some old busybody. Anyway, Erika, as I was saying. In your case, I have a theory.”
“What is it?”
“Watch your thoughts. Saint and Cruz, especially as of late, have been doing a lot to stir up trouble and from what I understand, the evil around us is trying to disrupt our homes and plant ideas. They want to plant doubt in your marriage, cause trouble in paradise. Cruz is fine, honey. I can just feel it in my bones. All he is doing is working his behind off. I know it may look strange, his attitude and comings and goings, but Erika, what you are seeing right now from him is just temporary. We are all going through a rough patch. Your husband’s job is to do what he was born to do and take care of and protect his family. That’s all he is doing.”
“You’re right,” She sighed with relief at the encouraging words. “You’re absolutely right, Xenia. You know what Saint told Cruz the other day?”
“What?”
“That our unborn son is under the protection of his paternal grandfather … your husband had a dream about it.”
“That’s beautiful!”
“It blew my mind when Cruz told me he’d said that. It’s just hard for me to imagine a Satanic priest from Hell’s Kitchen, deceased or not, being kind and loving from beyond the grave. I mean, they say when you die, you are the same person you were when you were living, and Cruz’s father was a very bad man, Xenia. I just sometimes don’t know how to feel about all of this.”
“We don’t have all the answers, Erika. Not knowing is hard, but that is where faith comes in. You said you were a Christian at the beginning of this conversation. So, you just keep praying for your husband’s safety and that your family grows closer instead of being fragmented. That’s one hard lesson I’ve learned over the years being Saint’s wife. What he and I have is so wonderful, so special, that people and demons alike would love for it to be destroyed.”
“I sure would love to destroy some Z’s! That would be wonderful and special, too! Any black sheep ’round here I can count or should I contact Black Sheep Matter for some assistance?” Saint interjected.
“Why are you once again insinuating yourself in my conversation but more importantly, what’s wrong with you?” Xenia snapped at the man.
“What’s wrong with me? I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me: you are talking too loud. You sound like you are on a mountain with a horn. Look, Erika, everything is fine!” Saint yelled. “Cruz ain’t doing nothing but being his typical weird self.”
“Saint, don’t be rude, and be quiet. You have no room to call anyone weird, either. Funny how you were awake enough to dip in on the conversation though, nosy ass,” Xenia chastised.
“The whole borough of Manhattan can hear you, no dippin’ required. Erika, for real … you married a demon and expect him to be normal? Where they do that at?! Go back to bed, both of you. I gotta get up in a few hours!”
Suddenly, Erika heard a bit of commotion, then hitting, like a pillow being bopped repeatedly upside someone’s head. Saint yelled out in angst and protest.
“Erika! Call 911! Xenia is … Xenia is hurtin’ me!” Then the man burst out laughing as he succumbed to his beating, and she couldn’t help but do the same.
“Sorry about that interruption, Erika,” Xenia stated, sounding a bit winded. “Back to what I was saying… People will interfere and tell lies, but you have to keep the faith and not let anything come between you and him. God brought you exactly what you prayed for, according to you. You wrote that list, and it was taken care of. Don’t second-guess the grocery selection.”
“I like how you put that.” Erika chuckled as she ran her hand over her stomach. Her son began to move and turn and she couldn’t help but smile.
“And remember, sis, not everything is as it seems…”
Krishna lay in his bed under freshly laundered cream and raspberry sheets, with tangerine and gold trim. It had been a long day, and now, he stayed in his quarters in meditation. The winds had changed. A flock of black birds surrounded his house and dreams of vibrant, burning embers left him in a cold sweat. Finishing off another pot of Masala Chai tea, he was satisfied. Content.
Now, the time had come. He smiled as he placed his glasses upon his face, clasped his hands over his lap, and waited with his copy of the Vedas. The doors to his home swung wide open, glass breaking upon impact. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move a muscle as pounding footsteps raced from room to room until at last, the intruders approached his bedroom.
“KRISHNA!” someone called out in a voice filled with the rage of a million men.
He remained quiet and stayed put. In a matter of seconds, he could smell the putrid energy of the lost souls as they descended upon him. His bedroom door was pulled off the hinges. Three Indian men, one of whom looked much like his son but was not, stood at the foot of his bed, shoulder to shoulder, glaring down upon him.
“Krish
na, our fathers and uncles have known of you,” one of them said in Hindi. “Despite being the adversary of our bloodline, we do not want to hurt you. You’re old. Please do not make this more difficult than it has to be.”
Dismissing them with a laugh, he continued to meditate.
“Old man, you must tell Saint Aknaten, the Egyptian-Korean King Angel Child, to stop what he is doing. He needs to call off his militia, too. He is disrupting balance.”
“He is restoring balance,” Krishna corrected as he began to take slow, easy breaths. He closed his eyes as he felt the men drawing closer around his bed.
“Saint is influencing the others. The stronger and more defiant he behaves, they follow suit. Are you willing to die for a man who is already slated to be killed? How foolish. You should be enjoying your golden years.”
“I am.” He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at them. “I have answered my calling, and I enjoy being obedient to my Creator.”
“You’re an imprudent elder. If you do not do what we are asking, we have no choice but to execute you. There is a Demon Child with him, a powerful one. If you tell Saint to stop, he will stop and so will the traitorous Demon Child.”
“And why would I wish to do that?” Krishna smiled, all knowing. “Cruz Morte Black is one of you, yes? Do not act surprised. It is written in your scripture that the man known as King Morte would be coming. I have no influence over his legacy. What it did not tell you is that though his blood is tainted, he would fight for truth and love, not hurt and pain, and that tainted blood is his advantage, not a curse. He walks in the valley of the Shadow of Death, right under the bright light of the sun. He straddles two worlds, successfully I might add, and you’re jealous of his abilities and what he has become.”
“No jealousy. He is a freak of nature.”
“He is a natural wonder, and you are afraid of him.”
“So, you refuse to make Saint Aknaten stop what he’s been doing?”