by David Estes
In its infancy, the Lair was simple, with only an eating area, a sleeping area (which was a large, domed room), and a meeting area. Over the last hundred years, it had been expanded to include 5,000 separate, hotel-style rooms, more than 200 transporters—allowing residents and guests to access any part of the complex in mere minutes—a recreational room (used heavily by Taylor and Sam, mostly for its pool tables), and other luxuries meant to improve the overall standard of living.
They passed through a thick metal door and down a long, curving path. Taylor casually ran her hand along the stone wall as she walked. In this particular passageway, the stone walls were perfectly smooth, in direct contrast to the rough rock walls in most other areas of the Lair. Eventually they reached a break in the wall, as the tunnel tapered off to form a large alcove. Within the recess, it was well-lit, with more than a dozen amply-burning torches secured to the walls.
“What is this place?” Taylor asked.
“You’ll see,” Chris responded furtively. There was a gleam in his eyes.
At the far end of the space were four sets of wrought-iron double doors, lined up like soldiers on the front lines. None were open.
Chris approached one of them. Before he opened it, Taylor spotted faint lettering on the outside that read: “To Balcony”.
He pulled the door open and then held it for the tour group behind him. They marched through in a single-file formation, the door being only wide enough for a single body to pass through at a time.
At the front of the pack, Taylor plunged into darkness, waving her hands in front of her, as the bright foyer transitioned into a narrow strait—it was pitch black. A light flicked on from behind her, and the path before her was suddenly bathed in a white sheen. She glanced back over her shoulder.
“Flashlight. An angel’s best friend,” Gabriel explained. While his favorite Mag-lite flashlight had been confiscated by the angels during his arrest and imprisonment, Sampson was able to procure another one for him before busting him out of prison. Gabriel prodded Taylor gently in the small of her back with his hand, encouraging her to continue forward.
Resuming her march, Taylor reached a steep staircase. As there were no handrails, she steadied her climb by running her hands along the walls, which were now not only smooth, but cold. Marble, she thought. That explained the sheen when the flashlight was illuminated. Someone went to a lot of trouble to add a touch of elegance to this place. She knew it must be a special place to the demons.
When she had climbed the final step, she heard Chris yell from below, “Wait for me when you get to the top, Taylor!” Obediently, she took a couple of steps forward to allow the others enough room to exit the stairs, and then waited for Christopher. Thirty seconds later, Chris had squeezed past the group and was standing on her right. On her other side, Gabriel probed his flashlight around them. Regardless of which direction he aimed it, the light disappeared into darkness, unable to find a wall or ceiling to rest upon. The room must be huge. As he played the beam along the ground, it uncovered what appeared to be clusters of stone benches arranged in semi-circles; each cluster also had a circle of smaller stones in the midst of them—they looked like fire pits at a camp site.
Taylor repeated her previous question. “What is this place?”
She could barely make out Chris’s smile under the glow of Gabriel’s body. “You’re about to find out.” He dramatically stretched his arm out in front of him and paused. When he snapped his fingers a small flame appeared, like his finger was a lighter. The flame slowly grew into a small fire and then, using both hands like he was shaping dough to make Christmas cookies, he formed a ball of fire. Taylor and Sam leaned closer, in awe of the way his skin refused to burn. While the demons’ mastery of fire was something that Chris, Kiren, Gabriel and Sampson had grown up with, the spectacle was still fresh and new to the human girls.
Chris grinned, enjoying the attention. Rapidly, he whipped his arm back and kicked his leg high in the air, like a Major League pitcher preparing to throw a fast ball, and then thrust his arm forward. The fireball shot from his palm and tore through the gloom. After twenty yards, the flaming sphere’s flight ended abruptly, as it collided with an unseen object in their direct line of sight. An explosion of fire and flame erupted upwards, spreading rapidly. Something wasn’t right, Taylor thought, as the flames branched further outwards, extending their domain. He was going to burn the place down!
Sam read her mind. “Chris, we gotta get out of here,” she shouted, grabbing his shoulder.
He looked back, surprised at the reaction. “I wanted to surprise you, but perhaps I should have given you some warning. It’s fine. Just watch.”
The girls looked on, their fear slowly morphing into excitement, as the initial cylinder of fire spread along the curved atrium roof, creating a dozen concentric circles linked by fiery spokes. Each burning circle was of a larger diameter than the previous one and, when the final circle had formed, four plumes of fire blazed from the base of the domed roof. As if by magic, hundreds of tiny torches and lanterns were lit throughout the dome, shedding light on the furthest reaches of the space.
Looking back at where Chris’s fireball had originally ignited the fire, Taylor could see that the raging inferno was, in actuality, a fiery chandelier, as beautiful as it was deadly. She stepped forward to a curved railing and looked down. They were on a large balcony, as the sign on the door had suggested, and below them were hundreds more of the stone seating areas. Beyond the lower-level seats was a massive slab of smooth, round rock. It appeared to be a stage.
“Is this a theater?” Taylor asked.
Still grinning, Chris said, “Yep. Welcome to Demon Hall, where all the popular acts by the Demon Symphony and the Demon Play Company have been held over the last hundred years. We have also had a number of great shows by some of the best demon rocks bands, too,” he added.
Sam and Taylor looked at him like he was mad, but he just shrugged and said, “Saving humans from complete destruction by the angel race is not exactly a full-time job. There’s lots of down time and we need to entertain ourselves somehow. I’m sure the angels have the same thing, right, Gabriel?”
Sampson and Gabriel looked at each other and laughed. Gabriel said, “Actually, no. We do play games and eat and talk and have fun, but I can say with certainty that we have nothing like this. I am pretty impressed.”
Chris’s smile widened and it was evident that Kiren was doing her best not to laugh out loud at the thought of one-upping the angels. While the girls continued to gaze around the Hall in awe, Chris said, “Anyway, I thought it would be a nice location for story time, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. Thanks, Chris,” Sam said, hugging her boyfriend proudly.
“Yeah, thanks,” Taylor agreed.
Walking arm in arm with Samantha, Chris led them to one of the nearby stone clusters. Each bench looked like a miniature Stonehenge, with two rocks on either end, supporting a long, rectangular stone that served as a seat for four or five people…or demons…or angels, at a time.
The only two without significant others, Sampson sat with Gabriel and Taylor, and Kiren sat with Christopher and Samantha. Gabriel clicked off his flashlight, which was rendered useless by Chris’s powerful fire display. Chris ignited another small flame on his finger and lit the small fire pit in the center of the seating area.
“What do we do next, sing ‘Kumbayah’ and roast marshmallows?” Sampson asked.
Chuckling, Chris retorted, “We will be branding your butt with the demon insignia, so you always remember which side you are on.”
“You can do both of my cheeks if you want, since I’ve caused so many problems,” Gabriel suggested.
“Aww, man, no one wants to see that!” Sampson joked.
“I might,” Taylor said. “Remember, this whole trip is all about causing angel-boy as much pain as possible. Just getting him to tell this story has been like getting a child to take a bath.”
Gabriel smirked.
“Alright, alright. I get the hint. I will tell you the entire truth as I know it…from the beginning. Chris, Kiren—I would ask that you interrupt if anything I say is different from your understanding. I want to get this right.” The two demons nodded seriously.
Under the mood-setting flicker of firelight, with Taylor’s hand intertwined with his, Gabriel began the tale that he had once told Taylor—it seemed like a lifetime ago, but was, in reality, only a few months earlier. The tale began exactly as Taylor knew it from before: Clifford Dempsey the explorer, the snake bite, the changes Clifford underwent, and his subsequent astonishment over his newfound powers. Clifford was the beginning of the demon evolution.
When Gabriel reached the part about Clifford being called daemon by the woman and being shunned by the villagers, Taylor noticed a change in the tone of his voice. In his previous story, he had made Clifford sound angry, as he described the darkness that clouded his mind, the evil that crept into his soul. But this time around, Gabriel described Clifford as distraught; he wept for many hours. He had never felt so alone in his life—he was a freak, hated by all, never to be accepted into society again.
Clifford lay in the forest for days, under the cover of the trees—not eating, not drinking, not sleeping. Soaked with his own tears, he began to hate what he had become. Eventually, a single beam of light navigated its way through the dense web of branches and leaves, and found its way through Clifford’s shroud of darkness to his face. Feeling the warmth on his cheeks, he suddenly felt alive, invigorated, and most importantly, full of hope.
He sprang to his feet and found a spot where the sun shone brightly—a clearing. Soaking up the life-giving rays, he began to practice with his new powers. Within days he had mastered his power over fire, and soon after, his ability to control the weather. Finally, he learned to temporarily cast off the dark shroud that plagued him. Weeping with joy, Clifford began planning his reentry into society.
Taylor was shocked to learn that the remainder of the story was completely different than what he had told her originally. The breadth of the lies that Gabriel had so easily poured into her head was appalling. Her chest began to tighten and her breathing became shallow.
She released the grip of her fingers, one by one, until she could pull her hand free from his. She folded her hands together, took a deep breath, and continued to listen. Gabriel glanced at her, but then continued on with the story.
Gabriel told them how Clifford had, in fact, repatriated into society. But not as an outlaw, as Gabriel had tricked Taylor into believing, but as a deputy sheriff in a small town. Clifford soon made his mark by displaying extraordinary feats of bravery, as he quickly eradicated all crime from the town. The sheriff offered to step down, to let Clifford take on his position, but he declined, happy just to be a part of something good.
As his reputation grew, Clifford became the most desirable bachelor in town, but many of the women that pursued him seemed crass, and only wanted him for his fame. He waited patiently, politely declining all invitations until one day when he was watering his horse, a young woman rode up. As she dismounted her steed, their eyes locked and Clifford’s heart swooned. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. With deep, brown eyes and ash-blond hair, the warmth and depth of her character pierced his heart, even before she had spoken one word to him. Clifford knew this was the woman he would marry.
Soon he discovered that she was working her way west, in search of a fresh start. Her husband and two children had been killed by a murderous gang of outlaws. While Clifford could not fully cure the sadness in her eyes, he vowed to always protect her. Her name was Adele Montrose. Within weeks they had married and she was pregnant with their first child together.
Clifford kept his secret from her until after their child was born—a son. Immediately, Clifford knew that the boy wasn’t fully human. A layer of darkness surrounded him like a blanket. Pouring out his soul to Adele, he told her everything: what he was, what he was capable of, and that their son was probably the same. At the end of his tale, Clifford hung his head in shame, waiting for her to run from him screaming, like the native woman in the Amazon.
The next thing he felt was the warmth of a kiss on his forehead, an arm around him, and a gentle voice. “If you are a demon, then I hope my son is a demon, too,” she said. Clifford’s heart filled with joy as his eyes met hers. He held her tight for many hours that night.
Over the next thirty years, Clifford and Adele bore many children. Each of them had Clifford’s curse—or gift, as Adele called it. He taught them to use their powers, and to use them for good. The family business was protecting innocent people, and the Dempsey’s were good at what they did. Soon he was a grandfather, and his family enjoyed many years of prosperity. But it couldn’t last.
Four generations later in 1950, long after Clifford and Adele had died, a demon child was born, Dionysus was his name. He was brought up just like the other demon children, taught to protect humans, to share the world with them. But for some reason, it didn’t take. His thoughts were filled with grand plans and dreams of power.
By the time Dionysus was eighteen he had become destructive, committing heinous acts of crime against humans. Some of his violence had spilled into the family. When confronted by his father, he scoffed at him, telling him that he was weak and small-minded. His father’s name was Clifford.
Chapter Eleven
Taylor’s head jolted up. “What?” she said.
Gabriel didn’t answer. Instead, he waited for her to process what he had just said. Taylor looked at Christopher, at Kiren, at Sampson. No one objected to Gabriel’s statement. It must be true. “The head of the demon Elders is Dionysus’s father,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She understood.
Instinctively, she reached for Gabriel’s hand and clutched it tightly. She felt the warmth of his touch trickle up her arm and then, like a waterfall, pour through her entire body. Her initial anger at realizing the extent of his lies gave way to forgiveness, and she found herself crying, not tears of fear, or of sadness, or of pain, but rather, tears of understanding. Gabriel had grown up in an environment that was engineered by a madman—a mad-angel—who sought to brainwash innocent children into carrying out his sadistic plans.
Composing herself, Taylor wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, her face flushing in embarrassment. She hoped the light of the fire wasn’t sufficient to illuminate her warm cheeks. She hated crying. She said, “You didn’t grow up knowing the truth, right?”
Sampson spoke for the first time. “As kids, we were taught the story that Gabriel told you the first time. That demons were evil; that angels were the protectors of humans. Dionysus was the first angel so he was able to make things up as he went along.”
Taylor nodded. “Please continue,” she urged Gabriel.
Looking hesitant, he put his arm around her and spoke slowly. “The angel evolution occurred exactly as I told you before. Dionysus forced the demon darkness off of him and painstakingly pieced himself back together using the power of the sun. The result was the creation of a new race, one that would become an instant enemy to the demons. Naturally, he took on the name of angel.”
But Gabriel didn’t stop there. With each word, he looked like he was casting off a great burden, one that had tormented him for some time. The truth really was setting him free, and he wasn’t about to stop until he had spilled his guts.
He laid out, in intricate detail, The Plan that had been formulated by Dionysus and the Archangel Council. The Plan was to destroy the demons—who were protecting the humans—and then enslave humankind. Not to be used as pets or as labor, the humans would be used by the angels to release the bounds of mortality. By extracting the aura of a human, Gabriel explained, and replacing it with an angel’s inner light, the angel could take on the body of the human while still maintaining their angel abilities. Thus, angels could live forever.
When Gabriel explained The Plan, Taylor, Samantha, Sampson, Kiren, and even Chri
stopher leaned in, hanging on every word. None of them had been privy to the full extent of the information. If the demon Elders were aware of The Plan, they had kept it secret from the demon army. When Gabriel stopped speaking, the room fell silent as each of them stared into the fire, lost in their own thoughts.
As usual, Samantha broke the silence. “What a bunch of sicko’s,” she said.
“I thought it was bad enough that the angels were trying to destroy the human race,” Chris said, “but this is far more evil.”
Sampson said, “When did you find out about this, Gabriel?” His tone was accusing.
Knowing she was the only one who could stop the verbal assault that was sure to come, Taylor said, “He found out about it before he came to kidnap me. He made a major, serious, worst-possible, disgusting mistake, but he has shown that he is ready to atone for that mistake. He has proven that by coming here today, by admitting to his lies, and he is about to vow to stop Dionysus, no matter what it takes.” Taylor looked expectantly at Gabriel.
He looked at her, confused for a moment, and then realized what she was waiting for. “Oh, yes, of course. I vow to help the demons in their quest to stop Dionysus,” he said solemnly.
“No matter what it takes,” Taylor reminded.
“No matter what it takes.”
Taylor looked into the eyes of each demon, her best friend, and the remaining angel, and said, “If it’s good enough for me—and it is—then it needs to be good enough for you. Given that I have been hurt the most from all of this, my forgiveness should be enough.”
They each nodded once, although Sampson continued to glare at Gabriel.
Chapter Twelve
At first the group walked in silence, moving reverently back down the stairs and out into the passageway, but before long Samantha had them all talking and laughing again. She was telling them a story about her last New Year’s Eve experience.