Demon at My Door

by Valentine, Michelle A.

  The old man nods his head.

  My hands shake, and I grab the bed’s railing so tight my knuckles turn white. That was easier than I thought. I never thought the old man would agree so easily. I never thought I would be that excited about taking someone’s life, especially killing someone so that I can live.

  The entire ride over here I didn’t think I could do it. I’m not a killer, but condemning this man to death came so easy to me. It was almost fun in a sick twisted way that I was able to avenge all of those little girl’s deaths. I’m riding the world of evil, kind of like a superhero. No doubts enter my mind that I’m doing the wrong thing.

  Rick wears a crooked grin as he gives me an encouraging nod. “Perfect. I told you the soul will call to you. Your soul kicked in and guided you through the bargain process like a pro.”

  I swallow hard. My soul guided me to be cruel? Does that make me evil too, like Rick and Stew? I look upon Floyd Jackson’s face and I wonder if I need to shake his hand to seal the deal. “Do I have to collect him, too?”

  “No. You’re not ready for that yet.” Thank God. My shoulders sag slightly as a little of the tension dissolves. “Back up.”

  Gladly resigning my post, I stand, leaving Rick plenty of room to finish up the soul reaping.

  He leans in, and the corners of his lips turn up while he whispers, like he’s enjoying a private joke. The old man nods, and mouths the word yes with crusty, cracked lips while Rick stands and shakes his hand.

  My hand burns the moment they connect, but this time I welcome the pain.

  “What did you tell him?”

  "What he needed to hear.” Rick narrows his eyes at the mechanically breathing ventilator. “Natalie, you need to pull the plug.”

  My eyes widen and I shake my head. “I can’t do that.”

  Rick’s voice softens. “You have too. You have to be part of his death in order for it to count.”

  Cold overtakes my hands, and they start to sweat. I look at the frail man in the bed in front me. In order for me to live, he has to die.

  Rick’s hand gives my right shoulder a little squeeze. “You can do this. Don’t think about it too much. Just detach one of the hoses.”

  There’s a pounding in my head from the constant beat of my heart. I take a deep breath and fixate my gaze on my target. The old man closes his eyes and waits on the inevitable as I make my way toward him.

  The numbers on the vent flicker with the rhythmic beat of his mechanical breaths. My hand shakes as I reach for the hose attached to the old man’s neck. The hoses tugs free with ease, exposing the open trachea hole in his neck. The air whooshes from the exposed tubing as the machine continues to breathe. The man’s eyes pop open after about a minute without air. Quick gasps of air spew from the little plastic spout as he struggles to breathe. His skin goes from pale to blue, and his hands clutch the blanket on the bed but he doesn’t attempt to reconnect the hose I lay at his side. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he stops breathing, and everything goes still.

  My mouth hangs open. I basically murdered his man so that I could collect his soul. I stare at the dead man in front of me, and I feel numb.

  What have I done?

  Rick reaches in his pocket and pulls out the black, glass vial. The cap twists off with ease under his fingers. My heart thumps against my ribs and I close my eyes. I’ve seen this enough to know what comes next. The familiar demonic chant streams from Rick’s mouth.

  I look at Rick. White light pours from his eyes as he stays transfixed on the old man in the bed. The soul whooshes through the opening in the man’s neck and then hovers above the lifeless body.

  Rick chants some more, and the soul morphs into a ball. It floats in the air until it grows still over the opening of the vial and then slams down into it. Rick caps the soul, and his eyes immediately stop glowing.

  Guilt gnaws at the pit of my stomach. That could’ve been me. My soul sealed up in Rick’s pocket. I don’t know whether this new deal is a blessing or a curse.

  “We have to go,” Rick says, giving my arm a little tug. “I can’t stop time forever.”

  I don’t budge. I can’t believe I actually went through with it. I helped Rick kill another human being, and I have to repeat this two more times to save my own skin.

  Bile rises in my throat. I’m becoming a monster just like him, something I swore I’d never do.

  Rick tugs my arm again. This time I follow him while I fight back the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Once in the hallway, Rick claps his hands one time and everything restarts. The chaos of the daily hospital routines continue around us. No one has any idea I just helped kill the man in room 214.

  The alarms from the room behind me start going off and the nurses look in our direction.

  “Come on,” Rick urges. “Let’s go.”

  He wraps his arms around my waist and leads me down the hall. I begin to shudder as we step into the elevator—the emotion of the situation hitting me hard. A tall brunette woman enters with us and stands about one foot from me in the tiny enclosed space. Her face softens as she peers at me over her wire framed glasses, and she gives me a half smile. The kind you get when people feel sorry for you. She kind of reminds me of a younger version of Mom—very professional in her beige suit with her hair tied back.

  “Are you cold?” Rick rubs the goose bumps on the bare skin of my arm. He looks at the lady in the elevator with us. “Why do they always keep these places freezing?”

  The woman chuckles at Rick’s attempt to play off my unshakable shivers. “I’ve always wondered that, too—probably something to do with germs.”

  The elevator dings, and the doors slide open on the second floor. The lady steps out the door and then waves her arm. “Hey, Derek.”

  Dad? I shove my arms in the path of the elevator door to keep it open.

  “What are you doing?” Rick asks. “We need to get out of here.”

  I don’t answer him. Instead I step into the white hallway. I haven’t seen Dad for more than an hour in the past few weeks. He’s practically been living here at the hospital. My eyes spot him immediately. He leans against the wall of the reception area, his elbow resting on the flat surface of the chest high wall. Dad chats with the brunette woman from the elevator, wearing an easy smile, completely unaware I am merely ten feet away from him. He laughs as she touches his arm, and he pushes a lock of hair away from her face.

  Alarms go off in my mind after witness that simple gesture. Their body language suggests they know each other well—a little too well.

  I’d always heard rumors of Dad’s infidelity, but had never witnessed it first-hand. Mom would shit a brick if she saw this.

  I need to stop this. Dad needs to be reminded he’s a married man. Mom may be frigid, but she doesn’t deserve this.

  “Don’t do it, Natalie.” Rick grabs me by the wrist and tries to tug me back into the elevator. “This is not the place or time.”

  Gah, I just want to punch Rick in the face for trying to reason with me. Of course he wouldn’t care that my father is being a complete jerk-off.

  I shake him off. “This is the perfect time.”

  The hallway lights glare in my face. I squint as I make eye contact with my dad. “Natalie?” Dad calls my name—his voice an octave higher than normal. I’ve surprised him. “What are you doing here?” Rick steps out of the elevator. Dad’s eyes bounce from me to Rick. “Who is this?”

  I raise my right eyebrow. “Dad, this is Rick. My, um…friend.”

  “I didn’t know you had a friend. You’re mom never told me.” Dad says while he eyes Rick.

  “Well, maybe you’d know that if you spent a little more time at home. You know, with your wife.” I glance over to the brunette and then back at Dad. “Who’s your friend?”

  Dad frowns at the woman. “Excuse us, Angie. Tell the board members I’ll be late to the meeting. My daughter and I need to talk.”

  Angie smiles at my dad and tells him no probl
em. She pats his arm and I roll my eyes. She has quite the nerve to act so flirty right in front of my face.

  He makes me sick.

  Dad rubs his face and then stares at Rick. The tension hanging thick in the air smothers me.

  Rick clears his throat and touches my shoulder. “Meet me at my car when you’re done.”

  I nod. Rick gives me a sad, empathic smile before he turns to leave.

  When I hear the elevator close behind me, I meet Dad’s gaze with narrowed eyes. The pit of my stomach churns when I see the look on his face.

  “Let’s sit.” He gestures to the empty waiting area.

  The plastic chair has a crack in the seat and it pinches my leg, but I welcome the pain. It’s a good distraction against whatever excuse Dad is about to give me.

  I stare at the cheap, wooden coffee table across from me and count the deep gouges in the wood and wonder if that’s what the scares on my heart looks like—deep and permanently wounded—after all the betrayal I’ve been through.

  I don’t want to hear what Dad is about to say. I can’t possibly handle another bad thing in my life right now. I just want him to tell me it’s not what I think and that I’ve got things all wrong. But the creases etched in his face tell me things are about to get ugly.

  “Natalie, you’re old enough now to hear the truth about your mother and me. We haven’t gotten along for quite some time, which is why I don’t spend much time at home. We tried to keep it together for you girls, but you both are grown now, and you’ve been doing well lately. The demon hallucinations haven’t happened in a while, so I think you’re strong enough to handle the truth.” He pats my knee, and I move away from him.

  A bitter laugh escapes me. He doesn’t know me at all. None of my family really does. But can I expect them too? My parents don’t even really know each other. “How would you know if you and Mom get along? You never even try to come home. I guess you’re too busy with Angie to come around.”

  “Angie isn’t the only reason your mom and I are splitting up,” He says, his voice has that sharp tone in it that he uses when he’s angry.

  “What?” My heart drops into my feet. “You’re getting divorced?”

  I cover my face with my hands and my right leg bounces. They can’t get divorced. Can’t they work this out? Can’t they find a way?

  Dad rubs my back. “Sweetie, I’m sorry to spring this on you. Your mom wanted to wait to tell you. She says you’ve been overly stressed lately, and she thought telling you right now would only make things worse for your condition. But now that you know about Angie, I can’t keep it from you. It wouldn’t be right. I’m not good with keeping secrets.”

  I bite my jaw hard, but it doesn’t stop the emotion from overtaking me. Tears fall from my eyes and land on my pants. “I can’t fucking believe this. Does Mom know about her?”

  He doesn’t answer, and I feel my heart crack apart.

  My family is going to shit. What happens if I can’t save my soul? What happens if my lifeline fades first? I know Mom wants everyone to think she’s tough, but I’ve heard her cry when she’s alone in her room and she doesn’t think anyone is listening. Dad can’t leave her now. Mom’s going to need him if I die. “How could you? You’re timing sucks, Dad.”

  I jump up from my seat because I’m done with this conversation. I don’t want to hear another word out of Dad’s mouth. “Natalie, wait!”

  But I don’t wait. I keep running.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Riding through Grove City in Rick’s car I let the tears roll down my cheeks. How could Dad do this to our family? Doesn’t he care that this will ruin what little bit of time I have left to be human? I cover my face with my hands and cry harder. I don’t see how the fiery pits of hell can be much worse than the way I feel.

  Rick reaches over and rubs my shoulder. I want to push him off and tell him to leave me the fuck alone, but I don’t have the strength. “It’ll be okay, Natalie. They both will still love you, even if they aren’t together.”

  No they won’t. They never really loved me that much to begin with. They’ll never love me back as much as I love them. I wish I had more time—time to try to get them to see how much they need each other. How much I need them.

  “Are you sure you’re up to another collection tonight? We can wait,” Rick says.

  I dry my face and look down at my palm. My life line has nearly faded away. There’s no time to waste. Crying in my room all night won’t save my soul. “I can handle it.”

  Rick gives me a sad smile then turns his attention back to the road.

  The trip to our next victim’s place takes us to the outskirts of town. Vast farmlands surround the city and there is nothing but corn fields as far as the eye can see. Our drive feels like it’s taking forever. I risk a glance at Rick and it makes me cringe. He looks content, like condemning the child murderer back there is a daily thing and that scares me. I can’t imagine this being my eternity.

  “So…” I trail off and look away from him. “Do you do that everyday?”

  “Damn souls?” He shifts gears and glances in my direction before turning his attention back to the road in front of us. “Yes.”

  The images of the murdered children flash in my mind. “Are they all murderers like that?”

  Rick shakes his head. “No, not all of them. I do try to condemn the truly evil souls to hell, though. It helps me to feel…less evil.”

  “Mr. Jackson deserved to go to hell for what he did.”

  “Yes. I agree.”

  Leaning my head against the headrest, I turn in his direction. “How do you get to see their sin?”

  He shrugs. “I just can. I’ve never really asked too many questions about my powers—why we can do the things we do. I try to stay as far away from other demons as possible. Some of them take this job pretty serious. It’s best to just stay out of their way to avoid a fight. The whole turf thing gets can get ugly very quickly if another demon wants to challenge for it. I claimed this area the day I found you.” He smiles at me. “But to answer your question, sins are easy to see. Whenever I look at someone, it’s like their soul opens up to me. I can see the sins they’ve already committed or will do in the future if I allow them to live. It’s a natural ability for a demon. It helps us with our job.”

  “How many times have you been to hell to take the souls you collect there?”

  He bites his bottom lip. “I’ve never actually been to hell. You’re guess is as good as mine on what it looks like down there. I’m kind of like a mail man. I collect the souls from the body and stick them in the vile and then I deliver them to the drop off point.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “Can’t tell you.” He grins at me. “Only demons are allowed to know that.”

  We ride in silence for a few minutes and I pick at my thumb nail. Thoughts fire in my brain. Maybe Rick is able to read my soul and know exactly what’s on my mind. That would explain how he knows me so well. “What do you see when you look at me?”

  He sighs. “You…I can’t read. Demons can’t judge a soul once it’s been damned.”

  My brow furrows. “Why?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you and I are the same.”

  “But we’re not the same. Not yet. You said I have until my life line fades,” I hiss.

  “You do, but you still made a deal with me and I marked your soul. You might not be one of us yet, but you aren’t purely human anymore either.”

  I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “How much time do I have?”

  The car slows and I open my eyes. Rick pulls into a sparsely covered gravel driveway in the middle of nowhere and stops the car beside a rickety picket fence. A leaning, white farmhouse sits perfectly in the middle of the property. Shin deep grass hides the front yard, giving it an abandon, spooky look. The windows on the top floor are all broken and the siding is cracked and peeling. It doesn’t look like it’s been painted since the 1920s.
<
br />   What are we doing out here?

  The curtains move in one of the downstairs windows and my breath catches. “The soul is here?”

  Rick nods and a shiver rips through my muscles.

  We’re here to work.

  After putting the transmission into park, Rick reaches over and takes my hand. He holds my hand, palm up, in his and trails his warm fingers over my fading life line. Tingles burn on my skin, like an invisible fire exudes from his fingertips as he traces the patterns.

  “You have two days left,” he murmurs.

  I gulp down the lump in my throat. “Two days? Today being one of those days?”

  I peer up at him, and his charcoal gray eyes soften when he nods. “I’m sorry.”

  Tears form in my eyes. The sting is overpowering. My vision blurs just before the tears glide down my cheeks. Two days? I bury my face in my hands. My entire life is falling apart and I only have two days to make everything right.

  If he cares about me like he says, he would’ve told me about all of this sooner. We could’ve made this new deal sooner to find three willing souls. Instead, he let me believe he was just a new boy who wanted to be my friend while my time ticked away. It’s almost like he wants me to fail. Maybe he isn’t as sincere about letting me go as he claims to be.

  I jerk my hand from his grasp. “Well let’s get this done since I don’t have much time.”

  He clears his throat, almost like he’s getting choked up too, but I don’t know if I buy his sad act anymore. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  Following his lead, I open the door and place my feet onto the rocky driveway. A fowl stench of rotten food crams into my nostrils and my stomach lurches. I pinch my nose shut with my fingers and breathe through my mouth. Garbage heaps, almost as tall as my five foot two frame, surrounds the front door. I’m not sure if it’s my nerves or the filth that’s getting to me, but suddenly I can’t fight back the vomit.

  I make it as far as the large oak tree in the middle of the front yard. I cling to it for support as I bend at the waist. A thick green liquid spews from my mouth. It tastes bitter and sour at the same time and it makes me vomit even harder. My nose runs with clear mucus and my eyes sting.