She came closer. Hope and fear vied for supremacy. Todd set the guitar beside him and leaned forward. He braced to get to his feet.
Closer.
Behind her, Samael emerged, running, his hands gnarled into furious claws. He gritted his teeth in determination. Chloe looked over her shoulder as he pursued her. She quickened her pace. He was inhumanly fast, but she was fast too. She ran at the speed of desperation.
As Todd watched the scene unfold, he was sure only of the fact that the last moments of his life were upon him. Hell had come to show Todd the breadth of its power, tormenting him with one last vision of the woman he loved before Samael caught her and tore her to pieces in front of him. Then Samael would come for Todd next, because Todd had dared stand in the way.
Chloe came fast, but Samael was faster. Blood red fire burned in his eyes. He howled with the joy of the hunt, as if he knew how it would all end. Flesh and fire would meet and the fire would prevail every time. Chloe was twenty paces from Todd’s porch, Samael a mere five paces behind her.
Todd had only brief moments to think. That small piece of hope apparently still lived within him. He asked himself what would happen if Chloe reached his porch, if the two of them entered his new house together.
He stood up and took his guitar in his hands. He held it over his shoulder like a baseball bat. Maybe his hope was futile, but at least he could say “fuck it,” and go out swinging. Just because the hounds of hell have you cornered doesn’t mean you have to lie down and die, words from one of his songs. Chloe was ten paces away. Samael was on her heels. He swiped forward with one arm. She ducked beneath him.
Seven paces. Panic held her face. Samael’s cries tore through Todd, somehow even more horrible than the wails of the suffering in the fiery column. Numbness spread through Todd’s hands as he tightened his grip on the neck of the guitar. Four paces and Samael was practically riding on her back.
Two paces.
Samael caught her and tore her to the ground. She screamed in violent, desperate protest. Her hands reached toward the porch, toward Todd. She grasped without purchase at the empty air. Samael roped his forearm across her windpipe. Chloe’s choked shrieks gouged at Todd loose from his stance.
He ran down the porch steps, the guitar raised high above his head. He screamed and felt his vocal chords shred, his chest explode. He swung the guitar at Samael’s head and it connected. The body of the instrument shattered in a blast of splinters, and the strings came loose, scourging the air. Blood and teeth burst from Samael’s head as the demon fell to the ground. Todd moved quickly, no thought to where the energy came from and no thought to the consequences of his actions. He jammed the last jagged piece of the guitar into Samael’s chest. Ribs cracked and hot blood splattered upon Todd’s face. In what felt like a single motion, he released the guitar, spun, and hauled Chloe up by the wrist.
Samael had already found his feet as Todd ran toward the porch. Blood poured from the wound on his chest. His shrieks were nonsensical, but their message was clear. He wanted Todd’s blood.
Todd pressed his hand to the small of Chloe’s back and forced her up the wooden stairs. Samael reached forward with ethereal fingers snaking through the air. One of Chloe’s feet crossed the top step. Samael grabbed Todd by the collar and Todd's airway closed off in an instant. He fingered his throat, trying to loosen either his shirt or Samael’s hold.
Samael forced Todd down and fresh pain exploded in his kneecaps. Like a vice grip Samael squeezed more of Todd's life away with each passing moment. He struggled to stay conscious. The fear of the world of torment awaiting him served as something to keep him afloat. Samael’s body pressed against his back. Pieces of the guitar poked into his ribs but he barely felt it. He wondered how much longer he had. Chloe’s other foot reached the top step and she fell forward, collapsing on the porch, and the grip on Todd’s collar loosened. Chloe pulled a shiny object out of her dress and tapped it against the floor of the porch. A high-pitched whine filled the air and Samael screamed again. This time, it was filled with anguish. He released his hold on Todd's collar.
Todd got his bearings and started to drag himself up the steps. He didn’t stop until he reached Chloe’s arms. When he looked back to Samael he saw the man in the clutches of several figures with skin like burning charcoal. Samael twisted in their hands, howling. The demons lacked distinguishable features. Each of them were lean and muscled; their eyes and mouths were brighter spots in the fires that consumed them. Beyond them a crack split the ground and spewed flames and ash. A potent smell of burning hair gushed out from the crevasse. The demons started to drag Samael’s squirming body back into the hole.
“No!” Samael screeched. “NO!”
His body bent and folded in unnatural angles. The sounds of breaking bones and tearing organs accompanied his pain-filled screams. He scratched at the earth, hands switching from ethereal to flesh, stretching and retracting. A large, bruise-colored tentacle with hooks and suckers along its body reached up between the arms that held Samael and snaked around his broken body. As Samael sunk into the fissure, Chloe wrapped her hands around Todd from behind and squeezed. Todd couldn’t take his eyes from the hellish spectacle before him. Samael jerked in the hold of the tentacle and black vomit spat from his mouth. His screaming echoed long after the earth closed over him.
Todd stared at the spot where Samael had been pulled under. The grass and dirt restored themselves to their normal state as if no split in the ground had been there mere seconds ago. The humming of crickets filled the air once again. The moon and its starry companions cast silver light over a landscape of trees and hills. It was the portrait of serenity. Chloe rubbed the back of Todd’s neck.
“I made a deal, my freedom for his bondage. He can’t hurt us anymore,” she said.
Todd turned to face her. Inflammation burned in his chest and numbness had taken his arms. He tasted blood on his tongue and thought that maybe he’d bitten it when he fell. Exhaustion had settled over him. He knew he was dying.
Chloe smiled down at him and stroked his cheek with fingers that felt like velvet. He never bought into the saying about eyes being the window to the soul until he met Chloe. In her eyes, he almost always saw fear and need, but now he saw only peace. He breathed her name, relished the sound of it and the way it tasted on his tongue.
She silenced him with gentle kiss on his mouth, passing her peace onto him. The world he knew began to fall away.
“Rest now,” she said. “We’re home.”
Those were the last words he heard in this world.
* * *
Todd plucked the guitar strings with his fingertips for the song’s lead-in. He kept his eyes closed so that he could let the melody guide him and held the pick in his mouth, ready to use when the time came. He waited to hear the ethereal chords from Chloe’s synthesizer. When they entered the arrangement, he pulled the pick from his mouth and strummed a moody C minor. He let it ring out before strumming it again quickly and going to G minor. Chloe’s soft vocals joined the music, singing words that she’d written before coming over. Todd made out the words, the sweeping romance, the desperation.
He didn’t think it was possible to love her any more than he did in this moment. He opened his eyes and looked across the room at her. She smiled warmly in response. In the dim light of his apartment, she still glowed. Weeks had passed since the last time she used, and as a result, life had returned to her features.
They went through the song again. During the chorus, he harmonized her, adding that extra special dimension to the song. Together their voices soared, destined for each other, but also well-rehearsed, knowing what the other was doing before it was done. When they finished, Todd was breathless. The song had touched him in that deep way that only music can touch someone. He shrugged his shoulders and relaxed his grip on the guitar. She flashed him another smile.
“You want to do it again?” she asked.
He kept his eyes on her, studying the slender form of h
er body and her soft, pale features. Her hair hung in a loose pony tail, away from her face. He preferred her hair down, but with it pulled back he was able to see parts of her that were normally concealed: her tiny ears, her long neck, her slightly slumped shoulders as she held her hands over the synthesizer’s keys. He stared long and hard, hoping his mind could permanently imprint her image.
Her eyes lit up. “What?”
“Nothing, I’m just…”
She raised an eyebrow and stepped around her keyboard. “Just… what?”
“You’re beautiful.”
She giggled softly. “Oh, am I?”
He nodded. “Very.”
Out in the night, a bus came to a lurching, rumbling stop and let a group of people off. Their muffled conversations echoed just outside the building before fading into silence as the people made their way down the street.
Chloe crossed the room and helped Todd lean his guitar on the couch beside him. She smiled at him with her eyes and straddled him. As she plopped down on his lap, she slid her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his lips. Her body emanated warmth and he wrapped his arms around her. They kissed again, her lips lightly teasing him before she opened her mouth and slid her tongue out to meet his. She released him and jumped back to her feet. He grasped for her, but she was just out of reach, and he felt an ache both pleasant and terrible. She skipped back behind her keyboard, locked eyes with him, and played a chord. A soft, string sound filled the room.
“Shall we play it again?”
Todd put his guitar back over his knee. “From the top.”
She nodded. He kept his eyes on her, not ready to release her perfect image. She noticed his attention.
“Well, what is it now?” she asked playfully.
He considered this for a minute, stared deep into her eyes. “We’re gonna live forever,” he said, “aren’t we?”
“Forever’s a long time to put up with me, don’t you think?”
“Not long enough,” he said, proud of his capacity for romance.
“Sweet talker,” she said, and he felt proud of her capacity for calling him on its cheesiness.
He strummed the C minor again. “From the top then?”
Her fingers danced along the keys and as he watched, his eyes drifted to her inner elbow where scars of her addiction still gave her skin an unattractive imperfection. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, her scars had disappeared.
-The End-
Lucas Mangum lives in Austin, Texas. His short stories have appeared online and in various anthologies, most recently the Fall 2014 issue of BLIGHT DIGEST and the forthcoming, V-WARS: SHOCKWAVES from IDW. He enjoys wrestling, cats, wrestling with cats, drinking craft beer, and crafting weird stories. Follow him on Twitter @LMangumFiction and visit his website, lucasmangumauthor.com.
Dark of Night - Flesh and Fire Page 31