Devil Kickers

by Daniel Marc Chant

  “I do what I wish, boy, and tonight I have chosen to gift your deaths to all my children the ones that you and your bastard priest sent home in pain. They wish to devour you whole, to make a game of your demise. I have chosen to let them have their wish. You see I, unlike your dear father, am a loving parent.”

  As the Devil was speaking, Sarah lowered her head. She was mumbling religious prayer under her breath. When she noticed it, Claire Marie looked at the nun in front of her and scowled.

  “Be quiet girl,” she said.

  A wooden chair suddenly flew across the room and smashed into Sarah, its frame exploding on impact, sending the Idols reeling and Sarah sprawling to the floor in a cry of pain. Chris gathered himself and rushed to her aid.

  “That’s better,” the Devil smirked.

  Sarah was already picking herself up when Chris got to her, and she rose to her feet.

  “Are you okay?” he asked

  “I'll live,” Sarah replied.

  “Not for long,” Claire Marie added.

  Pete grabbed a broken chair leg and rushed at the arrogant demonic girl in front of him. The Devil turned and smiled, lowered her head for the blow that was to come. Before he could swing the wooden bludgeon, Sarah tackled him to the ground, winding him.

  “Don't fall for its games. If we hurt this girl, it gets what it wants.”

  “Could you please get off me? Your knee is in my nuts,” he said.

  “Oh, I'm sorry!” Sarah said, rolling off him and trying her best not to cause Pete further agony in his family jewels.

  Chris stepped up to Claire Marie, trying hard not to flinch. She looked him dead in the eye.

  “If you're going to set your dogs of Hell on us, why come here and tell us about it?” Chris said.

  Claire Marie swung her legs around and hopped off the bed. Barefoot, she slowly made her way towards Chris, who stood his ground.

  “I wanted to see you for myself. Face to face. I wanted to see the men who have earned the hatred of my children and have become an ever-increasing pain in my ass.”

  “And now you have,” Chris said, balling his hands into fists. “So leave that girl alone and piss off back to that fiery shithole you call a home.”

  The Devil smiled again.

  “I'm not quite finished,” it said.

  Chris wanted to punch it in the face, but found that he couldn't move his arms. They were locked to his sides, and he felt every muscle in his arms tense as he struggled to move. She slowly circled him.

  “Why does everyone think that Hell is a full of fire and brimstone? That’s all a bit generic don't you think? The reality is much, much worse; I just never understood the cliché.” As she got within inches of Chris, he noticed her eyes shining, despite her blackened pupils.

  “You have courage, Christopher. You both do. I admire that. It is a quality sadly lacking in this pitiful world these days. It will make this night far more exciting for my children, and I thank you for that. They have had so little to get excited about recently. I hope you put up a valiant fight. Warriors such as yourselves deserve to perish in a way that will immortalise you in the eyes of your peers. That is my gift to you.”

  She looked at Sister Sarah.

  “All of you.”

  She turned back to Chris, stood on her tiptoes, and leant in to his ear.

  “I want you to know one more thing, Christopher,” she whispered. “I hope you die last.”

  She dropped down onto the balls of her feet and spun away from Chris, and the paralysis lifted from his body. The effect was so sudden that he stumbled onto his knees. Claire Marie climbed back onto the bed and watched as the exorcists in front of her all staggered to their feet.

  “However, I'm afraid that our time is at an end. You are not long for this world, and I have lots of unfinished business to attend to. You need not concern yourselves with your tools of the trade and your ineffectual words of the lord. You would only succeed in screaming your throats hoarse. I am going to give this girl back to you, if only for a few moments before you all drown in your own blood. Call it a goodbye gift, if you will.”

  As Chris, Pete and Sarah looked on, Claire Marie began coughing. It was an unhealthy cough. The kind of sound that someone would make if they were deathly ill. She bent over in pain, her spluttering continuing. Before Chris or Pete could stop her, Sister Sarah rushed to her side, placing a hand on her back as the poor girl convulsed. Sarah turned to them, a desperate look in her eyes.

  “It's killing her,” she said.

  “But he, she, it said that it was going to let her go,” Pete replied.

  “There’s a reason it’s called the Lord of Lies, Peter,” Sarah shouted over Claire's coughing.

  Suddenly the coughing stopped, and Claire Marie's head wobbled as it hung down. The Idol brothers stepped up to her slowly. Chris moved closer to the girl, still unable to see her eyes.

  “Claire Marie? Can you hear me?” he said.

  Pete placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder as a warning.

  “Careful, bruv,” Pete said.

  “I'm not an idiot,” Chris said.

  Claire Marie lifted her head and was staring directly at him. Her eyes were damp with tears, no doubt from the effort of that ungodly coughing. They were no longer black, but instead a piercing green.

  “It's okay, Claire. We're here to help,” Chris told her.

  Then Claire Marie opened her mouth as wide as she possibly could, and a torrent of black came pouring out.

  ***

  Chris tumbled backwards, trying to get away from the tar-thick bile, but it wasn’t vomit, wasn’t even liquid. It was something living. And it was making a strange buzzing noise as it came from her mouth.

  Chris, from the floor, watched the huge plume of flies pour from Claire Marie's mouth. It was like this girl had become a gateway for every fly in the country, such was the volume. They began filling the room, making it a wall of buzzing insanity. Pete waved his hand about, trying to keep the creatures from getting in his face. Sister Sarah was doing the same, having been forced to let go of Claire Marie and dropping to the floor. It was like being stuck in the middle of a living, moving tornado of chaos. The room grew darker, and the flies did not stop coming. As he looked over to Claire Marie, Chris thought he saw more tears pouring from her eyes.

  He rolled over onto his front and placed his hands over his head. He could feel the insect legs crawling all over his skin.

  Pete dropped down to his knees and wrapped his jacket over the top of his head. As he did so, the fabric of his t-shirt rose up, exposing his stomach. He hand furiously tried to shoo them away, his cursing muffled underneath the heavy fabric.

  Chris looked over his brothers shoulder.

  “Pete!” he shouted. He felt insect legs on his lips.

  Pete nodded on the floor, still shielding himself from the swarm.

  “WINDOW!” he screamed, and then dropped his face to the floor.

  Pete heard him, and slowly got to his feet. He stumbled over to the bedroom window and fumbled for the latch. Having the jacket and t-shirt over his head made it difficult, and he could feel more insects crawling over him as he did so. He cursed to himself once more, before finally finding the latch itself.

  It took some effort—the window felt like it hadn’t been opened in some time—but eventually he twisted the screw and felt the latch come off. Once that was done, he placed his hands on the thick, wooden frame of the window and pushed with everything he had. The window resisted, but eventually opened upwards and the flies began to pour out into the open air.

  Pete dropped to the floor and watched as all of the flies swarmed outwards. Even the ones who had snuck under his t-shirt had escaped for the air outside. It was like none of them wanted to be in this room. He looked over, saw his brother also watching the spectacle. Sister Sarah, no longer being assaulted by the swarm, rushed over to Claire Marie, who had stopped coughing and had collapsed back onto the bed. As the last of the flies flew
over him, Pete used the wall to help him stand up and he looked outside. What he saw, he couldn’t quite understand.

  The swarm of flies headed for the clouds. They moved rhythmically and organically, almost like starlings in the summer, until they pushed upwards further. Then, they all began to disintegrate into the clouds, like burnt paper turning to ash.

  “Blimey,” Pete whispered to himself.

  Chris got to his feet and joined Sister Sarah as she cradled Claire Marie. The girl’s eyes were watering, and she looked as if she had just woken up from a deep, deep sleep. Sister Sarah brushed the red streak of hair from Claire Marie’s face. Chris could see that the girl was back to normal. Well, as normal as someone who had just had the Devil in her. She blinked slowly up at him, then spoke in a cracked, hoarse voice.

  “My throat is sore.”

  Then she passed out.

  “I'll get her some water,” Chris said. Sarah nodded in agreement as she cradled the poor girl. He climbed to his feet, and was about to rush out of the room when he noticed his brother looking out of the window, surprise etched upon his face. He went over to him. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I'm fine,” Pete replied. He pointed to the sky. “I'm not sure that’s a good sign, though.”

  Chris' looked up at the sky, which was twisting, churning and turning darker with every moment. There was no other way to describe it.

  A storm was coming.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BAD BOYFRIEND

  “You are such a fuck knuckle!”

  As Chris stepped into the kitchen, an argument was in full swing. Jim and Danger were squaring off.

  “You'd better watch your mouth, mate,” Danger growled down at his opponent. “And give me back my phone.”

  “Or what?” You'll hit me with one of your apelike arms, will you? I'd like to see you try!” Jim waved the mobile phone as he spoke.

  When the group noticed Chris, they fell instantly quiet.

  “Please, don't let me stop you,” he said, wandering over to the sink, before pausing and looking at the group. “Where do you keep your glasses?”

  Petra stepped past the arguing young men and opened one of the kitchen cupboards, before passing Chris an empty pint glass. He nodded in thanks to her and then filled the pint glass with cold water. Then he proceeded to guzzle it down in one go. He then went back and began filling the glass again. Petra broke the silence.

  “Is Claire… is she okay?” she asked.

  “We think so. Whatever had a hold over her seems to be gone now,” he said, hoping the tone of concern that tainted the end of his sentence was not picked up by the group.

  “But she's alive, yeah?” Danger asked.

  “Yes. She's alive,” Chris replied.

  “No thanks to you, you fucker,” Jim piped up, giving Danger a nudge. Danger reacted and pushed back and a scuffle broke out. Before that happened, Benjamin jumped in to break them up.

  “Give it a rest you two. This is about Claire, not you two knobheads!” he shouted.

  Just then, Pete walked in.

  “What did I miss?” he asked Chris.

  “I have no idea,” Chris replied, rolling his eyes, before quietly asking his brother, “Are they okay up there?”

  “Yeah. No creepy atmosphere or demonic shenanigans. Whatever was trying to make us soil our undergarments seems to have gone. Thankfully it didn't succeed.”

  “What do you mean?” Chris asked.

  “Well, I don't want to go into the icky details, but I didn't shit myself is what I’m saying,” Pete replied.

  “No, you dick. Do you really think it didn't succeed? You heard what it said. It didn't want to kill us. It was delivering a message. There’s something else going on here,” Chris said. Pete was about to reply when suddenly a loud voice broke up their conversation.

  “What are you two mumbling about?” Danger asked, anger still bubbling under the surface.

  The brothers looked at the group for a moment, taking in their dumbstruck and oblivious faces, before Pete turned on the group.

  “Business stuff. Never mind us either, what the hell is going on down here?” he said.

  Jim looked at Pete with anger in his eyes.

  “I'll tell you what's been happening. This prick has been taking advantage of Claire's situation for his own twisted gain, that’s what!”

  “What?” Pete replied

  “All this time he told us all that he was sticking by her side so that he could keep her safe, make sure that she didn't hurt herself or anyone else,” Jim said, “when in truth he’s been making notes, taking photos, and using her as inspiration for his fucking band!”

  “I'm sorry. What?” Chris said, as Danger once again tried to get his phone back.

  “Stop talking bollocks, mate, and give me back my fucking phone before I lamp you one,” he growled.

  Jim held the phone just out of reach, a look of triumph on his face.

  “Bollocks, is it? Well how do you explain this then?” he said, and then swiped his thumb across the screen of the smartphone.

  The room went deathly quiet and everyone suddenly focused on the tinny sound coming from the phone. Even Danger stopped his lurched attempts to get his phone back. The recorded sound was crackly at first, and then a low growl could be heard before the undeniable voice of Danger spoke over it. His tone was hushed, but it was clearly him.

  “Right, here’s take one of the potential audio clips for the song 'Hellbitch Babylon',” the voice said, and then a little louder, “Claire? Claaaiiire? Are you awake? Did you want to tell me anything today?”

  The response was a deep, rumbling growl.

  Everyone in the kitchen listened intently.

  Suddenly the voice began to form words, and it was chilling.

  “Yoooouuu…” the deep, demonic voice said. “Alll of yoooou… will burn… yourrrr blooood, will runnnnn… liiiiike a riverrrr… of paaaaiiiiin…” Then there came a giggle, as Danger was seemingly unable to control himself.

  “Stephhhhhaaaaaaannnnoooooo…” the evil voice continued. “Ssooooonnnn… yooouuuu willlll… diiiiee…”

  Then there was more growling. Danger’s voice could be heard then excitedly talking into the microphone.

  “Now that,” he said, “was fucking awesome! We'll have to cut out when she says my real name of course, but there’s shitloads of audio there we can use for that track. Cheddar, I told you I could get some awesome audio clips, didn't I, you smelly twat? Looks like you owe me some of those stanky magic mushrooms your dad’s been growing. I'll try and get some more audio tomorrow, and some more photos for the album cover, if I can.”

  Everyone in the kitchen looked at Danger, who just shrugged.

  “Handspasm forever. Suck a dick, bitches!” he said, just before the clip ended and left the room in silence again. Danger glanced at the floor and sniffed loudly.

  “And there’s more where that came from,” Jim said.

  “How could you do it, man?” Benjamin asked, looking disgustedly at the tall, dark bastard in front of him. “She's your girlfriend, for pity’s sake! She supported you at all those gigs when no one else was there. She let you stay here when you were too drunk to go back to your stepdad’s?”

  “You lot act like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth,” Danger replied defiantly. “But I know for a fact that she’d started seeing someone else just before…” He waved his hands about in the air. “Before all this shit started.”

  “What?” Jim said.

  “Bullshit,” Ben exclaimed.

  Danger used the distraction to snatch his phone back, popped it in his back pocket, and stepped away from the group. He ran a hand through his greasy, black hair and looked at them all.

  “She became distant. Didn't talk to me like she used to. Wouldn't let me touch her. Certainly didn't give a shit whenever I told her about what was going on with the band. On more than one occasion I overheard her talking in her room to someone. She always hid her phone before I came in,
but I knew what was happening. I'm not a fucking idiot.”

  “Yes, you are.” Pete replied with a sigh.

  “You what?” Danger grunted.

  “All of those things you just mentioned? All those moments where you thought this poor girl was running around with someone else? They’re the initial signs of demonic possession. From the photos I saw of her before all this, she used to wear a cross, am I right?”

  “Yeah,” Danger said.

  “And let me guess, she stopped wearing the cross around the same time you thought she was off hoinking her doink with someone else?”

  “Uh…” Danger apparently didn't know what to say, and Pete stepped towards him some more.

  “All classic signs of demonic activity. Well, if you know where to look. It’s official. You, sir, are a monumental idiot,” he said. “But that doesn't explain why you decided to take advantage of the situation she was in. That’s just sick.”

  Danger took a step back. “I don't know. I just… I was trying to make the best of a bad situation, I guess.” he said.

  “You fuck,” Petra growled, and Danger moved on the defensive, backing away from the group some more. Outside there was a distant rumble of thunder.

  “I knew she was going to be alright! That some doctor or priest or something would fix her. When that happened, it was only a matter of time before she kicked me to the kerb.”

  “What do you mean?” Petra asked.

  “She was going to dump me!” Danger cried out.

  There was another rumble of thunder before the room went quiet.

  “No… I wasn't.” a voice spoke up.

  The entire group turned around to see Claire Marie standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking tired and cold and confused.

  ***

  Claire Marie stood shivering in the doorway, a bedsheet wrapped around her. Sister Sarah stood next to her, a comforting arm around the poor girl. The nun gave the Idol brothers a look that silently asked them what the hell was going on.

  “Claire…” Danger said softly, his voice breaking.