by P A Minyard
“The tug you felt in your chest when the gate opened will return when a demon is close to you. Keep your distance and stay alert. The scar will protect you as long as you are conscious.” Bernard motioned for Jonathan to follow him to the gate. “One more thing,” Bernard said as he pulled Daniel’s pipe from his pocket. “Keep this with you. It will remind you of why you agreed to this.”
Jonathan’s eyes grew wide at the sight of his brother’s pipe. “I thought it was lost,” he said as he took it from Bernard.
“I will find you once the demon is vanquished. I’m sorry but I cannot aid you in that endeavor. It is for you alone.”
Jonathan understood his words, but they weren’t enough to calm his fears. He was terrified standing before the blinding light of the gate. He gripped the pipe in both hands, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and rushed into the light before he could change his mind.
“Watch yourself, son!” the driver of a horse-drawn cart called out, barely swerving in time to avoid hitting him.
Jonathan stood dumbfounded in the middle of a road in the center of a town he’d never seen before. He pulled the cap from his head and rushed to the sidewalk. He was still dazed as people walked by greeting him kindly. He fumbled with the cap and pipe, juggling them briefly before securing them both. He turned to see his reflection in the window behind him, more young man than boy now. The uniform seemed to broaden his shoulders and the collar accentuated his jaw.
“Are you lost?” an old woman asked. She was about to enter the shop where he stood.
“No, ma’am,” he replied. “Just grateful to be here.” He turned and opened the door for her.
“Such a nice young man,” she said as she entered.
Jonathan had barely closed the door behind her when a young private not much older than himself strode up behind him and thumped him on the back.
“Come on! Let’s get something to drink. We won’t be on leave forever.”
Jonathan lurched forward, stumbling from the impact. The tug at his heart returned immediately.
The private pulled him along the walk. “It’s just down the way,” he said. Jonathan felt the ache in his chest, and remembering Bernard’s words, tried to separate himself from the private. The soldier playfully ran his shoulder into Jonathan’s, keeping him well in reach. He shoved Jonathan down an alley out of view of the town’s people.
“I like the look of you,” the demon said as his eyes flashed black. “I think I’ll take on your persona after I’ve killed you.” He turned his head from side to side as his face contorted and changed.
Jonathan stood, mouth agape, looking back at his mirror image. “Oh, don’t worry,” the demon said, seeming pleased by Jonathan’s reaction. “I promise not to ruin your reputation much.”
“You’re a demon!” Jonathan blurted out. His heart raced and his palms began to sweat. The nervous energy was beyond his control.
The demon reacted with equal surprise. “Just who are you?” he demanded.
“Jonathan, the Beloved,” he proclaimed. At that moment, his eyes closed, his head tipped back, and his palms faced forward as the scar opened and took the demon’s power before it could react.
Jonathan’s doppelganger faded into nothingness right before his eyes. The jolt of power caught him off guard. He was out of breath as he bent over, placing his hands on his knees. Bernard came to his side and placed his hand on Jonathan’s back.
“How’d I do?” he asked, trying to catch his breath.
“Well, you don’t have to announce yourself,” Bernard chuckled, “but the look on that demon’s face was beyond value.”
“I don’t feel so good,” Jonathan replied as he dropped to his knees. “Try to relax,” Bernard said reassuringly. “It will be over soon.” With that, Jonathan began to vomit blood and bile. It felt like an eternity till it was over, and when it was, he was soaked in sweat.
“What now?” he asked, furiously trying to keep his wits about him. He was totally spent and not in the mood for any more revelations that day.
“Cross through the gate and I will meet you there.” Bernard disappeared.
Jonathan looked around the alley. His vision was blurry and his throat was sore. He was still on his hands and knees and could feel the rocks on the ground digging into his skin. The gate opened behind him. He turned and crawled his way through and passed out at Bernard’s feet.
“Unorthodox but effective,” Bernard said. “Come now, lad, let’s get you cleaned up. We wouldn’t want to disappoint the pretty young lady.”
Days later, when Jonathan awoke, the beautiful young lady was waiting by his side. He turned his head, trying to focus on her as he blinked wearily. His body felt heavy, and his mind was still fogged from the encounter.
“This is what happens when you don’t eat,” she said in a huff. She stood up and rushed away, but once she was off a fair distance, he saw her stop, close her eyes, and let out a huge sigh of relief.
“What just happened?” Jonathan wondered.
Daniel was lost. Trapped inside himself, he was unable to speak or signal for help. He was a spectator in his own death. It was like standing in the middle of an empty room, looking out a window and seeing the world from a distance. Voices and sounds echoed in the hollowness of his mind. He was isolated and alone. He couldn’t shake the vision of his little brother dying before his eyes. And with nothing but time before him, he had an eternity to relive the torture.
Benedict knew how to protect the power, keeping it just out of reach. Daniel wasn’t adept enough to circumvent him, so he watched and he waited, a tactician searching for a weakness in his opponent. Patience had always been his strong suit. Daniel lamented having discarded this tried and true approach so quickly when he became a Beloved.
“I must not dwell upon this misery if I am ever to take back what is mine,” he thought. Benedict was no fool. He had fended off his enemies for centuries and would not easily be overtaken. Daniel was well aware of his adversary’s prowess. He did not have access to all of Benedict’s knowledge, nor did Benedict have access to all of his.
Buck followed Duff’s instructions to the letter. He found the light-blue, two-story Victorian home with white trim and door. It could be seen from the road and was surrounded by trees on the sides and in the back. A small expanse of grass adorned the front of the property with a dirt drive leading to the stable. He could see its roof peering out from behind the house. He stepped up on the porch and nervously straightened his appearance before knocking.
A woman with dark circles under her eyes answered the door. It looked as though she hadn’t slept in days. “May I help you?” she asked.
“Francis Buckberry, ma’am. I’m here to see Jonathan.” He rocked back and forth, heel to toe.
“I’m afraid he’s not here,” she answered. “I’m his mother.” Her expression became strained and her eyes moistened.
“When might he be here?” Buck asked, oblivious to her reaction.
“I wish I knew,” Mrs. Parker said, choking on the words.
Buck’s eyes widened as he began to realize that Jonathan had yet to return.
“I don’t wish to trouble you, Mrs. Parker, but I was with him on his journey to Virginia. I brought back his belongings.”
At those words, Mrs. Parker broke down.
“You misunderstand,” Buck said, backpedaling. “He’s not dead. He just didn’t return with our party.” He reached his hand out and grabbed hers in reassurance. “I’m sure he’ll be home very soon.” He fumbled over himself, trying to put on a brave face for Mrs. Parker. It had been several weeks now since Daniel had sent him on his way.
“I’m so sorry. Won’t you come in?” Mrs. Parker tried to compose herself. She led Buck through the front door.
Beth stood near the stairway.
“Beth,” her mother said, “will you please take Mr. Buckberry to the kitchen and fix him something? I’ll be along shortly.”
“Don’t trouble yourself,�
� he said, trying to cover his concern. He cleared his throat and straightened his jacket. “And please call me Buck —all my friends do.”
“Right this way, Buck,” Beth said as she turned toward the kitchen. She showed him his seat and waited for him to settle in before asking what he wanted.
Buck placed his bag and Jonathan’s sack in the chair next to him.
“What can I get for you?” she asked.
“You must be Beth. Jonathan told me all about you,” he replied.
“How do you know Jonathan?”
“He traveled with us to an army camp in Virginia. I’m a photographer covering the war, and he helped me carry my equipment.” Buck paused and tried to take a deep breath without being too obvious. “Please sit down,” he continued. “There’s no need for you to get me anything.”
Beth pulled out the chair across the table from Buck and sat down. He could see her face drop, and that only added to his nerves.
“He just volunteered to help you out?” Beth asked, visibly confused. “He wanted to see Major Parker one more time. He thought he could somehow convince him to return. He was afraid of losing his brother; at least, that’s what Captain Duffy told me.”
Buck looked at Beth, who had blushed at the mention of Captain Duffy. He turned to his bag, reached in, and pulled out a large envelope. He placed it on the table as Mrs. Parker returned. Her tears were gone, and she looked as though she had straightened up her hair.
“Will you join us, Mrs. Parker?” Buck motioned to the seat next to Beth.
“Do you know where Jonathan is?” she asked as she sat down. “He left before us. Major Parker was concerned for his safety, so he sent him along with two of his finest men to accompany him back to Pennsylvania.”
“When was that?” Beth blurted out, beating her mother to the punch.
“Not long ago,” Buck lied. “I’m actually surprised that I made it here before him. Major Parker asked me that I would kindly return his belongings.”
Buck looked back at the chair to his right. He tried not to let on to the deception. But he knew the boys didn’t keep inviting him to play poker because he was good at lying.
“So you saw Daniel as well?” Mrs. Parker asked, seeming relieved.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, forcing a smile. “Actually, that’s the other reason I’m here.” He pushed the envelope over to Beth.
She took it in her hands and felt around the edges before reaching in and pulling out the photo. It was perfect, the two brothers side by side staring back at the camera with such confidence. Beth was taken aback at how mature Jonathan looked. There was barely a hint of a smile on his face. Both men shared their father’s strong jaw, the family resemblance unmistakable. She handed the picture over to her mother who put her hand to her mouth, holding back a gasp of joy.
“Thank you,” Beth said to Buck as the smile returned to her face.
“It was my pleasure,” Buck replied with a smile of his own. He gathered up his bag and placed the strap over his head. “I’ve taken up enough of your time today, ladies. I hope you’ll forgive this brief interruption.”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Parker said. “Are you sure you won’t stay for dinner?”
“I wish I could really.” Buck could feel his mouth getting dry. “I’m on assignment and must continue on my way,” he lied again convincingly. The boys at the poker table were in for it next time.
18
VENOM AND VIRTUE
Nighttime spread its darkened hue across the camp. The men had settled in, and a sense of calm returned, placing the bustle of the day squarely behind them. It was well known that Major Parker preferred not to be disturbed after dark. He berated anyone who even dared approach his tent, barking at them before their hand even reached the flap. He didn’t fraternize with the other officers, and he barely spoke to his men. Murmurs — whispers of his bravery at Antietam — passed between the soldiers. Rumors began not long after. He was still heartbroken at the loss of his men and refused to let himself get close to anyone again; so went the tale.
Benedict didn’t care what they said about him around camp, as long as they left him alone. His obsession with finding Donovan kept him isolated and focused. He no longer cared for inflicting misery on men; his tastes were far less provincial now.
He was eager to cross the gate that night. He had knowledge of Donovan’s whereabouts and found it hard to control his excitement. “I get so emotional in these human bodies,” he thought. Benedict stepped through the blinding light and found a well-guarded, lavish estate waiting on the other side. The shrubbery and grass were manicured to perfection, and marble pillars adorned the entrance. It had the look of an ancient Greek temple, a fortress worthy of a god. “Ever the pompous ass,” Benedict thought, stowing his earlier emotions. He stood at the edge of the property, plotting his arrival. He wondered how many demons he’d get to devour before tasting Donovan’s blood. He thought about making a grand entrance, vanquishing demon after demon in a display of blazing light, but that approach would only scare away his prey.
He crept up on as many guards as he could. Grabbing them from behind, he held their mouths shut as the scar opened again and again. He skirted in and out of the shadows of the mansion until he found the door he was looking for. Two beasts of hellfire waited patiently outside their master’s room. They were demon dogs, loose cannons, monsters of a singular mind; their rage was unpredictable and unbridled. Benedict could feel the cold shot of fear run up his spine as Daniel got his first look at such creatures. The beasts’ musculature was grotesquely over-defined with every sinew pulsing beneath their shiny, black skin as they drew breath. Their eyes were the color of fire and seemed to flicker as if flame itself danced within their skulls. Their paws were as big as a man’s hand and had claws one would imagine a dragon to have.
“Really, Daniel?” Benedict was amused. “Those are mere pups, barely 300 years old, I’d say. Still, I suppose they are imposing upon first sight. It’s such a shame to kill them; they really are magnificent when fully grown.” Benedict’s empathy caught Daniel by surprise, but he didn’t let on that he’d noticed.
Benedict sized up the mongrels; he’d have to be swift. He brought his hands together in front of him, and closing his eyes, bowed, letting his thumbs touch his forehead. He conjured two deadly, sharp spikes four inches long. He opened his hands and the spikes began to hover over his palms. He blew a gentle puff of air behind the spikes, and the beasts dropped to the floor as if they had lain down to sleep. He paused, waiting to see if anyone had noticed, then he walked past the bodies and pushed the door open.
“I told you not to disturb me,” Donovan said. He was in a tall, leather chair facing the fire, sipping brandy of all things.
“You enjoy being human far too much,” Benedict said.
Donovan’s snifter crashed to the floor, shattering in all directions. Benedict locked the door behind him without turning around. Donovan rose from his seat, stepped forward, and placed his hand into the fire. He turned around as he played with the flame like a magician rolling a coin between his fingers. He kept his gaze focused on his hand.
“I trust you were swift and caused my pets no pain,” he said.
“They were magnificent beasts,” Benedict replied, “and my quarrel was not with them.”
“That never stopped you before,” Donovan said. He kept playing with the flame as if he were bored.
“They were mindless and without choice.”
“It appears your affiliation with this Beloved has softened you,” Donovan proposed.
“You will beg for mercy all the same,” Benedict said coldly.
“A courtesy you offered Noel, no doubt.” The flame began to grow in Donovan’s hand. He was unable to disguise his emotions anymore.
“She remained oddly loyal through the entire tortuous process,” Benedict said, stroking his chin. “Her endurance exceeded even my expectations. But I’m intrigued by who between you will scream loudest.”
“Rather anticlimactic for so many years of bitterness,” Donovan scoffed.
“Indeed,” Benedict whispered in Donovan’s ear, then ripped that ear from the side of his head. He stepped in front of Donovan, waving it around and then tossing it at his feet. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me the first time. I wish to hear you scream.”
Donovan winced when the cartilage and skin was torn free but did not cry out. He reached for his head and could feel the blood streaming down onto his neck. “You will get no such satisfaction.” He reached for Benedict’s throat to crush his windpipe but missed by a fraction.
This exposed him, if only briefly, allowing Benedict to land another blow. He snapped Donovan’s right forearm sideways and in two. The weight of the bones caused the skin to dangle and hang in an awkward direction. Donovan was unable to quell the reflexive scream.
“You can do better,” Benedict cajoled. “I have faith that you are capable of achieving greatness in this arena.”
Donovan was trapped between Benedict and the fireplace. The pain clouded his ability to think.
Benedict could see his eyes darting about the room looking for an escape. “You wish to leave?” Benedict asked. “Noel found my company amusing for hours.”
The jab caused Donovan’s back to stiffen. “Clearly, her patience was boundless,” Donovan said, and spun upon his right leg while extending his left. He was hoping to upend his tormentor.
Benedict caught Donovan’s left foot, steadying the leg before shattering the bones with a resonate blow from his elbow. He let loose and Donovan crashed to the floor in a broken mangled heap, screaming uncontrollably. Benedict closed his eyes and bit his lip in ecstasy; it was like listening to the dulcet tones of a beautiful symphony for the first time.
“Now we start,” Benedict announced as he gloated over Donovan. “I shall rip you to shreds and feed your flesh to the fire, sending you back to hell piece by piece.”