The Devil's Due

by TJ Vargo

  "We've got you now! You're ours! And your son will be ours too!"

  The mob surged in from behind the old woman. Feet and legs stomped on the back of her ankles, knocking her to the ground. A funny wheeze came out of her. Then the old woman was gone under the press of the mob.

  A wave of cold sweat had broken over her face when she first saw the old woman coming toward her. Now her eyes scanned the monstrous faces of the mob. Her whole body twitched, expecting the mob to overwhelm the men circling her. They would attack and grab her, wrapping their withered limbs around her in order to attach their mouths to her, sucking greedily at the life in her flesh. That could be the only purpose for people such as these. The men around her pushed the crowd back. On the ground where the old woman had been was a dark, wet blot. No time to wonder what happened to the old woman. Move forward. Don't be afraid. Her feet scraped over the cold bricks as she began walking again. Fear no evil.

  Up the stairs. The soles of her feet growing cold on the stones beneath them. Up toward the platform. It came completely into view, a wooden grand stand that gave everyone a clear look at the plain wooden table set in its middle. If there were a bowl of oranges and a place setting on it, she would've sworn it was a kitchen table. Orange sparks flew into the sky and whirled high into the darkness from the bonfire that roared behind the platform. She stared at the table on the platform. A dark gloom pushed into her thoughts. The urge to run away flooded her mind. She patted her hands on her thighs just to make sure her legs didn't freeze on her. Keep on moving - get to that table. After that... She exhaled, trying to relax. Keep going forward. Keep moving.

  From above, hands reached from the edges of the staircase, fingers trailing through her hair, trying to grab her as she walked up. She ducked her head while the men around her shielded her and pushed the hands back. She reached the top of the staircase and stopped to look behind her. The crowd's true appearance was laid bare, with every shred of evil in all its forms disfiguring their features, turning them into shambling ghouls. But the castle showed no signs of deterioration. It was architectural glory. The stones in its sides seemed to breathe with life as the firelight pulsed up and down its sides. A fairy tale castle plunked down in the middle of hell.

  She turned back toward the platform and started toward it before any of the men around her had a chance to push her in its direction. The grass swished underfoot. Cold and wet. The top of her feet stung where they bled. Faces leered and screamed from every side. She placed a hand on the railing leading up the platform's wooden stairs. The stairs were narrow. Only one person could ascend them at a time. One of the men escorting her stepped behind her, trying to herd her up the stairs. She turned and shoved him. The move caught him by surprise and he fell down, bringing howls of derision from the crowd. His face was blank surprise as he looked up at her. She turned away and put her hand on the railing, walking up the stairs, jeers rising from all sides. Looking straight ahead, chin up, she showed no fear. She would do this.

  Once she'd reached the top, her courage failed her. The surprise of what she saw made her cringe. Her heart began to pound and she took a step back. The blood dropped from her face. The platform was empty, but he was coming. In a way that blasted reason from her mind. Looking into the flat roar of the fire behind the platform, she saw him coming. A black outline of a man in a wide brimmed hat. Walking out from the middle of the orange and yellow flames, silently walking through the air until he reached the platform. His walk was no longer silent. His shoes knocked on the platform, coming closer to her. His eyes burned blackly from beneath the brim of his hat. She watched him slide his thumb and forefinger across the brim, and - my God, oh Jesus Christ - it's not a hat. Her heart drummed. Horns, thick and black. Ebony black. Forearm-thick things that sprouted from the front of his skull and circled to the back. He took his hand off them and held it out toward her, his long white teeth gleaming.

  "Daddy and his daughter, sitting in a tree. K, I, S, S, I, N, G."

  She was scared, but she told herself it didn't matter anymore. It was there in his wide smile. In the big laugh he let out. He didn't know. He was fallible. She wanted to scream it at the top of her lungs, 'You don't know what you're getting, do you?' but settled for the scream of joy in her mind. HE DIDN'T KNOW! She walked toward him, letting him take her hand in his. Didn't even flinch at the strength of his cold grip. Let him pick her up and put her on the table. Let him push her dress up over her knees. Never taking her eyes off his face as she smiled beneath her veil, a chant rising up from all around.

  Jackson pushed the tip of his knife into the door of his room that Felicia had left unlocked. It creaked, swinging open. He ran into the hall holding the knife in front of him. She was waiting for him, the hood of the pullover covering her head, standing outside the open door to her room. Time didn't allow for much display of emotion, but he ran to her, grabbing her hand in his and looking under her hood. He didn't say anything at first, he only stared at her. Her skin was drawn and ashy-colored. It was her eyes, though, that caught his attention. Black as they were, they glowed with a purpose.

  "I knew you understood me. I knew it," he said, pulling her with him up the stairs as he added, "Just don't be afraid. We'll get this done if you trust me." The squeeze on his hand from her was all the answer he needed to know that she believed him.

  A root of ice reached in and wrapped around Felicia's insides. Doom spread through her mind. Despair plowed into her soul like a fist. Nathaniel looked down on her, parts and pieces of him flashing in the light of the fire. The light flickered over him, revealing and hiding sights beneath his human veneer. Horns slipped in and out of her vision along with teeth that slid down into tapered fangs and black skin that glowed as if fire ran through his veins. His eyes ripped her open and laughed at what they saw. To keep from screaming she bit her bottom lip, unable to look away from him. He would know if she screamed, he would know she wasn't the one, so she bit down harder, tasting her hot coppery blood. I can do this. Hold on as long as possible.

  She watched Nathaniel turn to the crowd, bringing out a roar as he pushed her legs apart. The touch of his hips sliding along her inner thighs froze her skin, so cold it burned. She squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing in her had the power to stop her scream as his burning cold entered her. Not even the sound of horses pounding toward the platform from the stables back in the pasture. But that sound stopped him. His hands (sharp claws digging into her shoulders) released her. The air boiled with an energy coming out of him, a shockwave of anger physically assaulting her. She rolled off the table and fell onto the wooden platform. Opening her eyes she screamed in pain. She squeezed them shut, feeling them burn as if they were on fire. Reaching up blindly for the edge of the table, she grabbed it and pulled herself to her feet. His anger flowed over her in a shockwave, shaking the platform. It buckled and swayed under her and she could barely keep on her feet. He heard the horses' hooves drumming toward them. He heard them coming and he knew something was wrong.

  Weaving on her feet, holding the table to keep her balance, a coppery stench covered her face, burning her skin where a finger brushed her cheek. She felt her veil being ripped away and her ears rang with his roar. Blind, the skin on her face burning, she turned toward his roar. Hoping he was looking at her she smiled, then turned toward the sound of hooves pounding her way. Jackson and his sister were coming.

  Jackson tightened his thighs to steady himself on the horse and pulled his sister close, pressing the knife against her throat as they neared the platform. Sitting on the horse, he saw that his head was about even with the floor of the platform and he pulled the reins, stopping his horse’s progress as they came within ten feet. No reason to get too close. He glared at Nathaniel and yelled, "Let Felicia go or I'll cut her throat right now!" The moan from his sister, the way she straightened and pushed back against him, it told him how close he really was to cutting her throat. He swallowed hard, trying to hear over the sound of blood pounding in his head. Another moan fro
m his sister nearly made him pull the knife away from her throat. He tightened his grip instead, his face hot from the bonfire to his left. There was no other way. Nathaniel had to believe he would do this.

  He tightened his other hand on the reins of both his horse and the other horse he had in tow, trying to keep the animals under control as Nathaniel walked to the edge of the platform. The horse without a rider whinnied and jumped, pulling his horse to the side and nearly spilling him and his sister. He struggled to control the two horses as they cuffed their hooves in the dirt and circled away from Nathaniel to the side of the platform where the townspeople were shouting and trying to see what was happening.

  "You're having a little trouble with those horses," said Nathaniel, looking down intently as he followed him along the edge of the platform.

  Jackson saw Nathaniel's eyes move off him, looking from one horse to the other.

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” he grunted, grabbing his horse's mane along with the reigns as it started to shake and buck, wild with fear. The empty horse he'd brought for Felicia pawed and rolled its head. Foam flung from its mouth and the smell of its fear, a rancid salty odor, filled his nostrils. Out of the corner of his eye Jackson saw the riderless horse lift its front hooves high, kicking wildly. The hooves flashed at the nose of his horse causing it to lift its head and rise up on its back legs.

  His sister's hand flew up, grabbing at the knife as he began sliding back, nearly falling. Her body stiffened against him and he felt a short warm spurt of her blood on his fingers. He managed to get his balance and lessen the pressure of the blade against her neck just in time. One more second and that blade would’ve dug deep into flesh. He muscled his thighs into the horse to hold himself steady as it pounded down and threw its head from side to side before lowering its head, flexing its shoulders as it prepared to rear up again. Jackson's eyes widened, looking everywhere at once. This time the horse would throw him. Nathaniel was making his decision for him, somehow throwing the horses into this fearful tantrum. Either let go of the knife and fall or hold tight and dig the blade deeper into his sister's neck. Kill her or get off the horse. His grip on the knife faltered as his sister's fingers dug into his wrist, trying to pull the knife from her throat. The horse whipped its head up and Jackson jerked the knife off his sister’s throat, readying himself to jump. He couldn't kill his own sister.

  "GET AWAY FROM ME YOU WHORE!"

  The horses froze, stopping their wild snorting. Jackson whipped his head up, seeing Nathaniel sweep his long arm across his body, ridding himself of Felicia who punched blindly at his face. She flew silently into the air. The silhouette of her body cartwheeled, showing starkly against the towering flames of the bonfire before spinning down toward Jackson.

  The horses reared back slightly, snorting and shaking their heads in confusion, but no longer wild as they moved out of the path of her fall. Felicia had broken whatever spell Nathaniel had on them, Jackson thought, watching her fall. A sickening crunch mixed in with her cry as she hit the ground. Jackson stopped breathing and looked down at her. He felt his sister's hand tighten on the knife he held in her lap, but it barely registered. Felicia lay still. One of her legs bent under her awkwardly, twisted under her as if she were a rag doll. It didn’t even seem to be part of her it was so badly misaligned, but it was the least of Jackson’s worries. As far as he could tell, she didn't seem to be breathing.

  "She's still warm. Maybe you can still get a good fuck out of her if you hurry," said Nathaniel, laughing as Jackson looked up at him.

  He let go of the knife, leaving it in his sister's hand as he jumped off the horse.

  "Be quick. They dry up if you let them get cold."

  The townspeople joined Nathaniel this time, laughing and beginning to move closer. Jackson didn't care. He knelt down next to Felicia. Her eyes were wide open, staring sightlessly at him. They were filled with black, just like the girls in those coffins by the church.

  He touched her face and then closed her eyes for her.

  "If he's not going to do her I will," said a woman's voice from the crowd.

  Jackson turned on the voice, seeing Frida Commons step out of the crowd. She wagged her tongue out, then turned toward the townspeople, all of them laughing and following as she walked toward him.

  Jackson got to his feet and stepped over Felicia's body to face them. They were only twenty feet away, moving as one. "You come get it then," he said. "Cause I know you. I've seen every one of you, what you really look like." He turned to Nathaniel. "When were you going to tell them that they're already dead?" Nathaniel's eyes narrowed, looking back at him. Turning to the townspeople Jackson smiled and waved a hand, beckoning them.

  "Well come on. Bring it on. Every one of you dead motherfuckers that don't know it." His eyes caught Frida. "Hey, I know you. He let me see you the way you really are. A fucking walking skeleton. One step away from a hole in the ground." She stopped in her tracks and scowled, but her eyes lost their glow as she looked up at Nathaniel and was met by silence.

  Jackson's voice picked up in volume. "And ask your husband Tom how it feels to have his face rotting off. Shit, ask all of them how that feels. I've seen every one of you without your mask. Every rotten, stinking, worm-eaten piece of every one of you."

  The whole group of townspeople started to murmur. Their steps forward were hesitant, then stopped completely as Jackson yelled, "What's wrong? Something I said? Or something you know is true?"

  Hairs on the back of Jackson's neck stood on end. The air pushed in on him from behind, swarming around him. He turned toward Nathaniel, seeing his face twisted in rage before it smoothed.

  "You're a bad boy Jackson, but not bad enough." Nathaniel cocked his head and grinned. "Tell them whatever you want. I don’t need them anymore. I have what I want.”

  Jackson saw Nathaniel's gaze slide over to his sister. She was still on the horse, holding the knife in her lap. The murmuring of the townspeople fell to complete silence behind Jackson. He could feel the eyes of everyone staring at her. Waiting.

  "Get up here, or I'll come down and get you," said Nathaniel, walking to the edge of the platform to stare down at her.

  The roar of the fire crackled and spit sparks into the night sky. Jackson looked at his sister and she looked back, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling with fear. His mouth opened, but there was nothing to say. He had failed. They had failed.

  Stock still, he watched, knowing there was nothing he could do. The thought of running and grabbing the knife, putting it back to her throat, flushed through his mind. No. The bluff had been exposed. Nathaniel knew he didn't have it in him to follow through. If he had the knife, though, he knew he would use it on himself. Anything to keep from watching Nathaniel win. His legs gave out and he sat on the ground next to Felicia.

  Nathaniel stretched his hand out toward Jackson's sister. "One more chance before I come get you," he said.

  The knife lay heavy in her hand. So heavy. And there was Nathaniel’s hand, reaching toward her. She looked at his hand, the fingers impossibly long. He was the fallen one. She watched his chest heave. His nostrils flaring above his dark beard. His eyes pulling at her. Pulling at something inside of her. A cold thing that twisted and curled in her abdomen. Awakening like a snake. She snapped her gaze down and her mouth opened, her bottom lip quivering. The knife came up slowly, moving up from her lap, both of her hands around the handle. Don’t look at him. Just do it. She moved the point of the blade to her chest, just left of center. There was a gasp and she turned to see Jackson up on his feet.

  Damn. Jackson looked at his sister and slowly bent down toward Felicia, keeping his eyes on his sister the whole time. "Don't do anything yet." He stopped talking as he looked down and touched Felicia’s face, then said, "Let me just pick up Felicia and get her on the horse. We’re all gonna get out of here. We’re all gonna ride right the hell out of here."

  "No, no,” Nathaniel said, reaching toward her, “don’t hurt yourself like that. Th
e pain will be terrible, like nothing you’ve suffered before. But, if you stop now everything can still be fine. Come to me now and everything will be...”

  "Don't listen to him,” Jackson yelled. “Just give me a minute, one minute, and we'll be out of here."

  The tip of the knife hurt, not as bad as the cut on her throat, but the pain scared her. She looked at Nathaniel. His mouth was tight, and..." She pushed the knife, letting out a wail as it broke the skin, bringing a warm little gush of blood. Her teeth clenched as she watched Nathaniel. His hand, the one with the long fingers stretched toward her, he pulled it back to his side and clenched it into a fist. For the first time she saw fear in him. She twisted the knife in a little more, biting down to keep from yelling and watched him take a step back, his eyes widening. The pain made her sick. Making Nathaniel afraid, however, overrode the pain. He wouldn't win.

  Jackson had to look away from his sister for a moment. Felicia was coming with them. Dead or not, he wouldn't leave her. Sliding a hand under her back, he lifted her. Her leg was bent back, entirely beneath her, and he couldn't stand to carry her like that. Her head draped over his shoulder and he used his free hand to grab her thigh and tried to push that leg out from under her. It was locked in place and he pushed harder, suddenly feeling something give in a horrible crunching sound. He nearly jumped up and yelled. She made a sound. A small squeak of pain.