Two Wolves, One Shadow

by Chris Smith

  ***

  Grandpa’s description of the demons had been quite accurate. However, the master demon holding the chain attached to his collar seemed far more intimidating than he had described. His heavy frame, together with his aggressive demeanour, gave James the impression that he was a force not to be reckoned with; much like facing a pit bull terrier, James knew not to mess with him. In its hand, the master demon held a spear. Grandpa’s description of the spear and how it could be used, had been precise; James shivered with the memory of the electricity pulsating through his body, before the sensation had stopped abruptly. The demon pulled on the chain and pointed the spear at James’ face. The spear crackled as lightning danced on its tip.

  Reacting to the jerk on his collar, James’ responded by pulling back using his body weight. He grabbed the chain as he did, attempting to rip it from the demon’s grip. The solid frame hardly budged against his effort. So instead, James moved forward thinking about attack. However, the demon pushed the point of the spear directly at his chest. James grabbed the chain with both hands, swinging it in an attempt to throw his captor off balance. The big hand of the demon held on with ease, anger growing on its face.

  ‘Want to feel some of this do ya? Come on then, come on.’

  James heard a familiar voice shout from behind, ‘I’ve seen enough of this, show him who he’s dealing with Mal, zap him.’

  ‘Think you’re tough now, do you? Come on, have a go.’

  ‘Stop pissing about, Mal.’

  ‘Ok, ya bastard.’

  James heard a loud crack, which was followed a split second later by a hit from the lightening spear as electricity exploded from its tip. He fell to the ground, rolling in pain.

  ‘Feel that, Maggot,’ he hissed. ‘Want me to stop? All you have to do to do is ask.’

  ‘Stop, stop, I give in,’ James cried.

  ‘You didn’t ask the right way, fool.’

  ‘Stop, please, I beg you, please stop.’

  ‘Nicey, nicey — nice doesn’t work with me idiot.’

  ‘Stop, you son of a bitch.’

  ‘You’ve got to give it to him. He’s right, your mum is a bitch. Give it up Mal…enough already, stop.’

  One second of truly irrepressible pain feels like an hour of torment, and five of those tormented hours passed before Mal replied, ‘No, I don’t think so, not just yet, Hogster. Learn this well Maggot, I love this stuff, so keep playing up, and I’m going to have a lot of fun with you.’ Ten seconds - or in James’ agonised mind, ten hours later — Mal stopped.

  Pain lingered long after the shock had abated, leaving him retching while trying to recover. Refusing to be overwhelmed by the nausea, James tried to concentrate on the demons surrounding him. He could see that many more feet had gathered around him and he could hear them talking — perhaps these were the seven leaders Grandpa had talked about.

  ‘You might have killed him.’

  ‘I know what I’m doing. Would you like me to demonstrate, Slug?’ James heard the crackle of a spear picking up some power.

  ‘Cut it out Mal.’

  ‘Hey Slug, start him on polishing the feet. We don’t have a lot of time and this place has to be ready for him.’

  ‘Do I have to, Ritz,’ Slug replied. ‘Can’t we just leave the statue as it is? What if he tries to escape?’

  ‘Yes…the statue has to be flawless — absolutely perfect. It’s not just him, you know, they’re all going to be here,’ said Ritz.

  ‘I’ll come with you, Slug, to make sure you don’t screw up. If he so much as blinks without permission, I’ll—’

  ‘—you’ll control yourself Mal. It isn’t time yet.’

  ‘Come on.’ Reluctantly Slug tugged at James‘ chain to encourage him to his feet. All the demons dispersed, except for his two escorts. James got to his feet. A demon attached chains connecting his wrist and ankle cuffs. With his limbs’ movements severely restricted, James followed without resistance, shuffling behind Slug like a broken slave. Mal followed behind. James could hear his spear humming menacingly. He expected another hit from the malicious demon, but thankfully it didn’t come.

  ‘Start polishing!’ commanded Slug.

  ‘With what?’ James asked.

  ‘You’re supposed to be imaginative, aren’t you? Work it out.’

  ‘Use your hands, idiot’ said Mal. The demon delivered a quick burst of lightning, perhaps for the purpose of discouraging any sign of protest before it began, but more likely for the sheer joy of inflicting pain.

  With no further incentive needed, James began to polish the glass feet of the monument with his bare hands. Rubbing the surface dust away as best he could he carefully worked over each part of the huge toes, one by one. Under the control of his two guards, James worked for hours without a break. Closely observing him for all this time, no doubt alert for any excuse to shock him, the demon Mal stood at his prisoner’s side, refusing to relax his attention. He didn’t appear to care about the quality of work, but was intent only on James maintaining a fierce pace. Slug’s attention, on the other hand, was continually distracted by things happening elsewhere.

  Having completed one foot, James moved onto the second. The feet and their toenails had been perfectly sculpted and, once polished, the glass glistened with the sparkle of cut crystal. Was Pete really this magnificent? James wondered. How he would love to be in Pete’s position, dressed in this splendid apparel, unassailable and adored.