The Demon

by Rick Bonogofsky

  The Demon

  Rick Bonogofsky

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dark clouds blocked out the late afternoon sun’s light as a man walked down a wide avenue in a burnt out city. The charred remains of dozens of buildings reached to the heavens as if begging for aid. Some coals still smoldered, releasing tiny wisps of smoke. Burned wood and straw floated in the heavy air as ash, blowing in circles in a forlorn breeze. The smell of the death in the city was overpowering. It hung in the air like an invisible fog, choking the area with the odor of burnt flesh and bone. The carrion birds wouldn’t even come here, instinctually aware of the evil that had befallen the place. Silence permeated the air. Not a sound could be heard, not even the faint rustling of the scorched trees in the breeze. It was as if the entire world sat in hushed terror of the man who had caused this. It seemed the world was afraid he’d repeat his handiwork if it interrupted his stroll.

  A long sword hung at his side, bouncing against his thigh with every stride. Dried blood and dirt caked his clothes, from his black boots to his pants, shirt and the dark cloak that brushed his ankles. The scent of death followed him through the streets, but never seemed to cling to him. He looked down as he passed the burned remains of a woman and two children. Stopping, the man examined one of the dead children. The corpse was not burned all the way through. He carefully split open the child’s chest cavity and removed the heart. Such a healthy, strong heart for a corpse. He took a bite out of it, savoring the lingering fear and hopelessness that had flavored the meat. The man looked back to his path, a small smile beginning to form at the corners of his mouth, and resumed his stroll, snack in hand.

  Across the city, in the smoldering ruins of a school, a winged man gently brushed the face of another victim of the slaughter. She had been stabbed through the heart just before being set ablaze. The humans of the city had no warning, no defense, and no hope. The angel was too late. He had tried to stop the demon, but he simply did not get there in time. Tears streaked his face as he surveyed the carnage. It was exactly like the war that had decimated much of Heaven millennia ago. The angel spread his pearly wings and set off to find the one responsible for this atrocity.

  The blood-soaked man was still walking when a break in the clouds let through a patch of sunlight that caused him to shade his crimson eyes with one hand. His black hair, unkempt and overgrown, lay in stark contrast to his pale skin. He sneered against the bright, revealing light. The clouds moved again and hid the sun once more, seemingly sensing the man’s displeasure.

  “Seems even the sun is ashamed when in the presence of a demon,” came a voice behind the man.

  He stopped walking and laid his hand on the pommel of his sword. “About time you caught up to me, angel,” the demon replied calmly, his voice seeming to slip out like silk.

  “Hard to miss the destruction of an entire city,” the angel stated. A quiver of anger colored his words. “Hard to ignore the murder of thousands of innocent people.”

  That brought a smile to the demon’s lips. He turned to face his enemy and grinned all the wider. There stood a tall, dark haired angel clad in gleaming silver armor. His pearly wings were held tight to his back in agitation. A blessed, shining sword hung at his hip, beating the growing darkness back. The angel’s blue eyes held a vicious fire in them, waiting to be released in a holy fury against this unholy fiend. The demon recognized him. “How are you, Victor? It’s been such a long time. Years? Decades? The time does fly when one is having fun.”

  Victor reached for his sword, grasping the hilt with a gauntleted hand. He never drew it, but the threat was there. “You call genocide fun?” he hissed. “You think bathing in the blood of innocents is amusing?”

  The demon laughed. “Is it not? You once bathed in the blood of my kind. Even demons have women and children, little angel. So, go ahead, fondle your little knife all you want. Even if you wanted to try to kill me, you cannot in this place. Remember our lords’ pact, one made millennia ago? No fighting between our people on neutral ground. Seeing as we are not in Heaven or Hell you can’t draw your blade against me. You know the rules as well as I do.”

  Victor visibly stiffened. He wanted nothing more than to destroy the demon he had hated for so long, but he was right; no fighting on neutral ground. His stiffened posture relaxed and his hand slipped helplessly away from his sword.

  The demon smiled again and turned away, continuing his stroll.

  “There will come a day when your crimes are great enough to cause our lords to reconsider,” Victor called after him, “and when that day comes, I shall be there to drive my blade through your black heart!”

  “Then remember that my heart is on the right side, not the left like everyone else,” the demon chuckled teasingly, tossing a mocking smirk over his shoulder.

  Victor released a heavy sigh and straightened. He watched the demon walk away until he was out of sight and cursed himself for not breaking the ancient laws, something he wanted to do ever since this demon began his murderous campaign. Victor knew, however, that he’d be stripped of his grace as an angel and sentenced to a mortal life on Earth. If that happened, he’d lose his ability to protect the humans he loved.

  ‘Come home,’ a voice in his mind commanded. The silent call came from the council in Heaven. This same council had Victor in a meeting while the demon was burning the city, and now the city was in ruins because of the inaction of the angelic host. Shaking his head in defeat, Victor closed his eyes and let himself be taken back to Heaven. When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the council room, standing in front of his superiors, the council, once more.

  The room was large, easily enough to fit a banquet hall, and the walls were made from the purest white marble. Instead of torches, a holy light bathed the council chamber in a rich pearlescent glow that hid the lofted ceiling from view. Near the back of the room, on a great dais, sat the council. They sat along a half-circle formation of benches overlooking a central lectern. A throne sat in the middle of the council, upon which sat an armored figure. Victor approached the podium and stood before the council of angels.

  “Why did you confront him?” one of the hooded council members asked. The voice seemed to echo through Victor’s skull. Every council member was hooded so he had no idea which had spoken. Remembering what he was taught, he simply addressed the archangel sitting on the throne.

  “He had just destroyed an entire city and murdered countless humans,” he replied evenly.

  “We see through your mask, young Victor,” the council boomed. “We see the emotions you are trying to hide. Do not hide your emotions, for they are what set us apart from the demons.”

  “Then how can you allow such wanton destruction?” Victor demanded, throwing courtesy to the wind. “How in the name of all that is holy can you let such a monster continue to draw breath?” He still addressed the archangel on the throne, though the man had yet to even acknowledge Victor’s existence. He simply sat on the throne, leaning to one side with his cheek resting on his fist and a bored frown on his face. His eyes were hidden behind a silk blindfold. Fitting for a being supposedly held in high regard as the bringer of justice. His armor was worn from millennia of battle, his wings, while still brilliant, seemed to shine less than those of other angels. The most disconcerting thing about him, though, was his sword, which was obviously not of heavenly design. It looked as if it had been forged in Hell, tempered by dragonfire, then cooled in the icy heart of Death. It rested against the high back of the throne, the gnarled pommel resting five feet above the blade‘s tip.

  “Calm yourself.” the council warned. “Do not hide your emotions, but also do not let them control you.”

  Victor worked to calm himself. “I am merely confused as to why we still sit idly by while a de
mon slaughters innocents. Why don’t we stop him? Aren’t we responsible for the welfare of humanity? Our inaction condemns those who are too weak to defend themselves. That demon mocks us as we sit in our ivory towers behind our pearly gates and do nothing to help those he murders. I confronted him because he must know that he will not go unpunished for his crimes.”

  The council seemed more amused than worried. “And you think you are the one to bring justice to this demon? Do you not think such pride can be your undoing? Remember our sacred laws, Victor. If broken, you would only have yourself and your pride to blame for being cast out of your home.”

  “Pride?” Victor gasped. “You fools are more worried about my pride than the actions of a demon?”

  “We worry about what is important to us. A single demon is not concerning when one of our very own is in danger from himself.”

  Victor was at a loss. It seemed the council was ignoring the real problem. Why worry about the safety of one lowly servant when the safety of millions was clearly being threatened?

  “We sense you are confused, young Victor. Go and rest. Think on what we have said.”

  Still feeling the council was being foolish and a bit tight-lipped about something, Victor bowed and left the chamber.

  “Such anger in one so strong,” one council member sighed once Victor had left. “Yet he has no idea what is in store for him.”

  “He does not know because we hide it from him,” another replied. “And it is only right that we do so. If he were to know what his fate was, he would break all of our most sacred laws.”

  “He would be cast from Heaven if he did,” the archangel on the throne stated flatly. Every council member turned toward him, surprised that he had spoken at all. So rare was it that every angel in earshot stopped to listen. “I feel we will need him with us when war does finally break out on Earth between Heaven and Hell.”

  “Will such an event come to pass?” one council member asked incredulously. “But our two kingdoms have been at peace for thousands of years.”

  The archangel raised an eyebrow. “It is inevitable. You would all be fools to think otherwise. War with Hell will come. There is no escaping it. And we will need angels like Victor to lead our armies if we are to survive.”

  “But we cannot tell him, or he will seek out this demon on Earth and fight him, breaking the truce with Hell, thus hastening this war.”

  The archangel nodded. “Yes. But you are fools to not at least comfort him by telling him something more useful. Why I don’t dissolve this council is beyond me.”

  “Indeed it is beyond you,” one brave council member retorted. “You are not our ruler, but simply the head of our armies.”

  The archangel stood and pointed directly at the speaker. “The next time you speak with Victor, you will tell him that his attention does not need to be on this demon. You tell him that the demon will be dealt with. I will see to it that he finds justice. I will find a human who will exact our justice. That way we do not break the laws. You are a council with the authority to make these decisions yourselves. Why do you not use such authority?” With that, the archangel grabbed his sword and vanished from sight, leaving the council fearful of what was to come, and annoyed that this archangel - who appeared suddenly only forty years prior - was so ready to condemn them.

  Weeks later, in the cold grey light of dawn, the demon walked along a quiet beach. Clouds lined the heavens, leaving a thin strip of clear sky just above the horizon. In front of him the sun was beginning to rise. It hadn’t peeked over the hills on the horizon yet, but its light was painting the sky and the clouds with fiery orange and red hues. The demon grinned and looked back along the path he had taken. Behind him was a very similar color scheme. The coastal port town he’d left an hour ago was still ablaze, coloring the sky with the same hues as the sunrise. He laughed at the coincidence. In front of him was the light humans looked to with hope in their eyes, thinking that with a new day came new life. Behind him was only death, hopelessness, and the still-echoing cries of the suffering.

  He wiped the blood from his chin and picked his teeth clean with a sharpened finger bone he had plucked from a child. The babe was no more than a few months old, still suckling at its mother’s breast. Now the flesh of both had melted together, mother and child embracing forever in death, and giving a feeling of poetry to the demon. Even amongst the screams of the dying there was a certain musical quality that he had always enjoyed. He even thought he heard another voice crying out, this one in rage. It sounded like Victor. The demon smiled all the wider and spread his arms to welcome the new day and its promise of even more bloodshed.

  Victor was there, flying above the city, unable to stop the evil demon. He cursed the laws that bound him. Without them he could bring an end to the demon’s reign of terror. What would it matter if one angel fell from Heaven? With Victor’s knowledge, he could still help countless humans, even with the mortal weaknesses he would have. Just one angel, gone from Heaven, could bring about the demise of the one demon that was causing untold suffering. His hand strayed toward his sword, itching to draw the holy blade and smite the evil one. What would be so wrong with saving countless future victims from this demon? Surely Victor wouldn’t be overly missed by the other angels. They can cast him out and move on. The council said he was prideful, but what was pride when weighed against the sacrifice he would make by breaking the laws and killing this demon? It never occurred to him that he would be risking open war between Heaven and Hell.

  It was not pride that caused him to slowly fly after the demon. His pride was not causing him to draw his blade. He would sacrifice himself for the welfare of humans caught in the path of the demon. It was not pride that made him land in front of the demon, nor was it pride that colored his words when he spoke to the demon.

  “Stop there, demon,” Victor commanded, pointing his sword at him.

  The demon stopped a few feet from the angel, an amused smirk on his face. “You were too late again.”

  “You have killed your last human.”

  “Have I now?”

  “Surrender yourself for judgment. Your execution is at hand.”

  The demon laughed aloud, drawing his sword. “Seems you’re serious about this. You will lose your wings, you know.”

  “Worth it.”

  “Is it?”

  “To save countless lives, yes.”

  “And if you lose?”

  “I won’t.”

  It was not pride that guided Victor’s charge. It was not pride that guided his sword arm. It was not pride that drove his sword through the demon’s heart. It was love. Love for humanity.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Victor found himself back in the council chamber in Heaven. Using a torn piece of his tunic, he wiped the crimson blood from his blade and sheathed it. The room was empty, a sight Victor had never seen in his long life.

  “No jury here to put me on trial?” he asked, confused by what he saw. He had just broken one of the most sacred laws. Why was the council not present?

  “Just me,” an unfamiliar voice announced behind Victor. The angel turned and gasped. A winged man in worn plate armor strode calmly into the council chamber with his hellish sword drawn. The blindfold did nothing to hide his angry scowl.

  Victor felt as if his insides were turning to liquid. Nothing could have prepared him for this encounter. He had angered an archangel and was now at his mercy.

  “You have broken the law, Victor,” Artemis stated once he was no more than a few steps from where the young angel stood. “I hereby banish you to a life of mortality.”

  Victor nodded and bowed his head. “Before I go,” he sighed, “I would like to offer my apologies. I know I broke the law and that I must be punished, but know that I do not regret my actions. Today I have rid the universe of a great evil, one that caused the suffering of countless innocent lives. If given the chance, I would gladly kill that demon a thousand times more.”

  Artemis nodded. He placed hi
s hand atop Victor’s head and said, “He was more merciful than you believe. His victims almost never suffered. Those who did deserved their fate. But worry not. You will have your chance at vengeance soon enough.”

  Victor looked up in surprise, noted a single tear slipping from under the archangel’s blindfold before his vision went dark.

  A man walked along a lonesome beach, staring into the bright morning sky with no memory of who he was. All he knew was that something bad had happened to him. However, nothing seemed real to him; everything was like a dream. The smell of blood wafted to his nostrils and his head ached. He brought his hand up to his face to rub his bruised temple and noticed it was caked with blood. Why? Whose blood was it? He checked himself, but found no wounds. Several tears in his tunic suggested he was in a struggle. A fight? He put his hand down and brushed something on his hip. A long sword rested in its scabbard, blood spattered on the crosspiece. He could not recall ever using a sword in his life, but then again, he couldn’t remember anything from his life before this beach - even his name, or what country he was in. All he knew was that he had been in a battle of some sort. Everything was a haze of blood and violence. Nothing made sense and the man didn’t care. He didn’t feel a thing. Why did that fact disturb him so much?

  Ahead in the distance lay what looked like a town. The man quickened his pace and held some hope that someone there would know the answers to his myriad of questions. A few moments later he realized that the thin line of smoke rising from a rooftop wasn’t a hearth fire. The town had been destroyed. The smell of the burnt wood and bodies assailed his nostrils. He stopped and stared in surprise. What happened?

  The sight of the burned town and the odor of the carnage assaulted him, and with it came hazy memories. He saw a charred corpse, a burning building, and his own hands laying a body gently on the ground. Was this place his home? Had some army come through the area and burned the town? That seemed unlikely since there was only one set of footprints leading away from the wreckage. The man looked at the long, sure strides of human tracks. He followed them until he came to what looked like signs of a struggle. Was this the site of his own fight? He traced his own tracks back to the area and surmised he had definitely fought someone here. But which side was he on? Was he the instigator, or the defender? The battle covered a large area, obscuring any other tracks that could lead to it. Then he realized there were no other tracks leading to this spot. There was one set coming from the town and his own. No other tracks approached the area. There were obvious marks made from a second combatant, however. The duel ranged all over the beach - they were both masters.