by Julie Hall
Sneaking up on Satan was surprisingly easy. Avoiding the flying debris was the hard part. He thrashed through display after display of artifacts in his dragon form, tearing apart everything in his path, and then flinging it out of his way. He was making so much noise and so hyper focused on his task that I didn’t have to worry much about being super stealthy. I reached an overturned display case not fifteen feet from him in a matter of minutes.
My heart beat so hard I heard the rush of blood pumping through my veins. My arms were shaking, so I grasped my borrowed sword with two hands. This was going to be like going up against a giant with a steel toothpick, but it was what I had to work with.
Audrey, please stop.
Logan.
His desperate plea echoed in my head as if he was very far away, but the desperation in the tone still shook me to my core. The look on his face as I’d raced off with Bear would forever haunt me. Running from Logan wasn’t the farewell that I imagined, but knowing Logan, he would have forcefully removed me from this fight. Hearing his voice in my head right now was like a dagger twisting in my already bleeding heart.
Logan, I love you, I whispered back to him, putting as much concentration as I could into the words and hoping he received them.
His thoughts again: Love, please. Just wait. We’re almost there. Even if his words hadn’t been dripping with desperation, I would have still picked up on his fear through the bond.
I can’t. This is my fight.
Before he could answer, I threw up mental shields I didn’t even know existed. I couldn’t afford to be distracted right now.
I stood to my full height and stepped right behind the creature from my nightmares. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to run the other direction, but instead, I bent over to pick up a heavy chunk of white marble. I hurled it at the scarlet dragon with all the strength I had.
The hunk landed with a thud and slid harmlessly off his scaly back. But the rock did its job of garnering his attention. He whipped around to face me, all teeth and talons and a mouth full of fire.
The stupidity of my plan practically smacked me in the face. I still had a lot to learn in the art of war, but right now my primary goal was to distract him long enough for greater forces to arrive—and if possible inflict some injury that made it easier for other hunters to take him down.
If this red-scaled dragon and I were both going to be thrown back to the pit today, I wanted to make sure he returned to his fiery domain empty handed.
The dragon’s mouth opened, and a strange hiss-like laugh echoed off the walls. He folded his wings in front of him and slowly transformed, wings turning into a swirl of black mist and smoke, his figure shrinking and distorting until what had once stood stories high in front of me now only towered above me at the height of an angel. The blackness snapped back and folded behind him, revealing the face of the false angel.
“Oh, little weakling. Finally dressed like the helpless sheep you truly are.”
I glanced down at my white body armor and steeled my expression. Who cared what color I wore?
“Throwing pebbles at a giant has only worked one time in history, and you, my stupid sheep, are no blessed shepherd boy. You’re a damned soul who turned against her maker, and whose time has officially just run out.”
My blood ran cold at his words, but I didn’t flinch. Distraction was the name of the game right now. And if he wanted to hear himself speak, well that was fine with me if it kept him from searching for whatever he was trying to find.
“Why do you hide behind that fake mask? Are you really so ugly you can’t stand to show anyone your true form?” I asked. My weapon of choice . . . kindergarten insults.
He raised an eyebrow. “In a rush to see my true form, are you?”
I shrugged, probably looking a little odd with my sword at the ready. “Just seems silly to keep up a façade. It seems rather . . . weak to me. Why constantly pretend to be something you’re not?” I only half-thought through my speech—I was word vomiting to keep his attention. A trickle of sweat slid down the side of my face. “Unless you’re wearing the costume to relive the glory days or something. Hoping to get back into the God-club, are you?”
He cocked his head in that creepy birdlike manner and then let out a roar of laughter. “Are you trying to bait me into a fight? Or simply trying to distract me from my task? You really think I’m that stupid?”
“More like hoping you were that stupid.”
A slow smile spread over Satan’s false face. Something about the way it bunched the flesh seemed very off. “I’d be happy to show you my true form. You’ll be spending enough time with me that you may as well get used to it.”
I thought I was prepared for what was to come, but I so wasn’t.
The flesh on Satan’s face started to fall off in bloody chunks. With that creepy smile still in place, holes stretched to reveal the blackened flesh of the demon beneath. His body grew in size, which caused his angelic . . . casing . . . to stretch and burst apart like an overstuffed sausage.
Spikes jutted out from his elbow joints, and the end of each finger turned into a razor-sharp claw. He snapped his hands open and closed several times, and sparks flew from the points of contact.
His wings, which were creepy enough as shadow and mist, solidified into flesh-toned patchwork, as if he’d sewn them together using strips of human’s skin. My stomach rebelled, and I fought to control my nausea.
His knees cracked backward, and an extra joint appeared near where his shins used to be. As his hair fell, multiple pointed barbs punched through his skull, turning his head into a weapon. Each pointed barb oozed onyx-colored liquid.
His face was most disturbing of all. He still had pits for eyes, but a red dot had appeared in their depths. There were only a few pieces of flesh still dripping off his face, but everything underneath was charred and scaly, like every other demon I’d seen. His nose was now completely gone, and in its place were two slits, very reptilian in nature. His cheekbones were cut sharply and over exaggerated, and his smile was downright horrifying. His lips of flesh were still in place, but the lower portion of his face was now pushed out like an animal’s jaws. And behind that stretched, fleshy smile were rows of jagged, triangular teeth.
His chuckle, deeper than before, bounced around in my ears, creating a stabbing sensation. I gritted my teeth to keep from squeezing my head between my hands. I got the impression he had purposefully slowed down this change so I could take in each horrifying moment, a fear tactic that was extremely effective.
Despite myself, the tip of the sword I held trembled.
“You have every reason to fear me. I am the lion that prowls in the night, seeking to devour you. I am the death everyone fears. I am destruction, despair, and the desperation that claws at your chest. I am power.” The floor shook on his last word, as if the power he claimed was manifesting in the very room where we stood.
“You are not the most powerful being in the world.” Dread locked in my chest, but I fought him with truth.
“From this moment on, I’m the most powerful being in your world.”
I didn’t even register the hit until my back slammed against the hard surface, creating an Audrey-sized dent in the marble wall. Small pebbles and fine chalk dust rained down on me as I slid to the ground.
My chest throbbed—presumably at the point of impact. The assault had happened so fast I didn’t see a thing. I rubbed the sore spot and struggled to my feet. I was searching for my weapon when I was lifted off the ground by my throat and slammed back into the wall. Gasping for air, I scratched at the hand that held me in place.
Satan’s grotesque face filled my vision. The slits that were his nose expanded and contracted, and sulfur breath washed over my face. I choked on the stench as I struggled for air. Bile bubbled in my stomach, screaming to be released.
The skin on my throat where the vile creature held me burned as if his hand leaked acid. Sharp claws bit into the back of my neck, and blood tr
ickled down my spine from the split flesh.
One strong squeeze and he could easily separate my head from the rest of my body.
I kicked and thrashed, but the efforts were no more effective than a fish flailing at the end of a hook.
Black ooze from the barbs on Satan’s head dripped down his face and onto the ground. I couldn’t see where they landed, but I heard a sizzle below after each drop.
He leaned in, and his stretched lips of flesh and rows of pointed teeth filled my waning vision. “That’s right. Squirm like the worm you are. It amuses me.”
He punctuated his words with a squeeze to my neck; the burning and bloodletting intensified. My airway was completely restricted. I couldn’t even gasp for air.
My limbs became heavy and my movements sluggish. My mind screamed to continue to fight, but my body wouldn’t comply.
The vise around my neck released, and as I fell as if in slow motion, I watched the monster’s arm whip around and strike a blur of golden fur, sending it smashing to the other side of the enormous room.
“No!” I tried to scream as Bear’s body lay motionless on the ground, but all that escaped was a weak wheezing noise.
Red blood dripped off the foot long spike that protruded from Satan’s right arm-like appendage.
Bear wasn’t moving, but Satan didn’t give my friend a second glance as he refocused, pinning his red glare on me.
“You don’t know it, but you’ve already failed.” He reached into the folds of his stretched and torn garment and pulled out an object I was wholly unfamiliar with. The gold orb he held was semi-translucent with a green mist-like substance swirling lazily in its depths. “I already have what I came here to get.” His eyes narrowed as he looked down at me, lying on my back on the floor. “But it’s time I stopped toying with my dinner and took it home to devour. I’m looking forward to painting that armor a lovely shade of red.”
30
The End
I’d failed. Failed on a scale so epic I couldn’t even wrap my brain around it. There would be no more cherished moments; there would be no more goodbyes. This was it. And in the end, I had done nothing except provide Satan with a bit of sport for his own twisted enjoyment.
Even in the face of hopelessness, something inside screamed at me to fight, to never give in. I crab-walked backward and then turned to stumble away from the monster who claimed ownership of my fate.
He followed. I broke into a sloppy run, throwing glances over my shoulder as he steadily shadowed me. I’d already born witness to his otherworldly speed, so I knew he was allowing this pathetic attempt to flee—no doubt another amusement.
Tripping over debris, I fell face first onto the unforgiving floor—bruising a good portion of my face—but scrambled to keep moving, even if that meant on my hands and knees. I imagined Satan got some sick enjoyment out of watching me scurry along the ground like the disgusting bug he already perceived me to be.
My anger reached a boiling point, and as I attempted to stand, my hand brushed over a familiar object.
The pommel of a sword. It could have been mine, or it might have been one of the artifacts from this room, but I wrapped my hand around the hilt. Historic relic or not, I didn’t care. I was going to use it against my enemy. Causing even one drop of his blackened blood to shed would be a victory at this point. I didn’t have much left to hope for. But that voice inside urged me to keep fighting.
I went to stand, but what felt like a cinder block landed on my sword hand, crushing the delicate bones and trapping me on the ground. I cried out—soundlessly. Something in my vocal cords must have been damaged when Satan squeezed my throat.
A black hoof—three times the size of any Earthly beast’s—pinned my hand in place and twisted to ratchet up the pain and damage. Spears of agony shot through my hand and up into my arm then radiated throughout my chest and the rest of my extremities. I wanted to pass out, but I couldn’t. Acid burned up my esophagus, gathering at the back of my throat. I tipped my head upward and silently screamed the name of my God.
In a flash of blue light, Satan flew off me. I watched, half-detached because of my pain, as he was blown into a set of bookshelves. Struggling to a sitting position, I cradled my broken hand to my chest, not looking at my mangled limb for fear the damage would be more than my mind could handle.
The blast had originated to my right, but I kept my eyes fixed on my tormentor as he roared and shoved himself to his cloven feet. Chucking the remains of the shelves he’d crashed into behind him, his rage stirred the atoms in the air and affronted me from every angle.
Warmth radiated from behind me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off the monster.
“This one is not yours.”
Joe.
Satan opened his mouth, but instead of letting out a bellow, he loosed a stream of fire that shot straight for me. I ducked in a pathetic attempt to protect myself, but the scorching fire never reached me.
I lowered my arm to find a shield of crackling blue electricity blocking the flames from touching me. Twisting to my left, I found Logan standing with his arms stretched out in my direction, a bolt of his familiar blue lightning coursing from his palms to the electric field hovering in front of me.
A hand landed on my shoulder, and healing warmth rushed through my body, knitting together the broken flesh and bones that Satan had mangled. I flexed my hand against my chest without pain. Joe gave my shoulder one more squeeze and took a step back, eyes fixed on Satan.
“This one is mine. You cannot have her.”
“No!” Satan bellowed. Black spittle shot from his mouth. “The chain’s curse was set by your very word. A price has to be paid.”
“I’ll pay it instead,” Logan said.
What? No!
Logan’s words were spoken with conviction. He strode forward with confidence and determination, his eyes capturing my gaze.
My heart jackhammered in my chest.
What are you doing? I sent the message to Logan without speaking.
Loving you, he sent back.
Rather than melt at his misguided romantic gesture, I crossed over the freaked-out threshold. His intent was there in his eyes. He would do this. He would try to trade places with me without my permission.
No.
I jumped to my feet and ran at the monster who masqueraded as an angel. Satan’s mouth twisted, and a sound emerged that may have been a laugh. I didn’t know what my end game was here, but I had to reach Satan before he had the chance to take Logan away.
I sprinted toward my horrific future.
Audrey, Joe’s voice whispered in my mind, trust that you are mine and follow me.
I froze, as did the world around me.
The snapping of a single set of fingers echoed off the walls, and I was free. I pitched to the side to keep from running into the immobile Satan-statue in front of me and then took three steps before I regained my balanced.
Turning in a slow circle, I saw everything suspended in time, including the spittle flying off Satan’s chin. I poked at hovering goo expecting it to be hard, but it stuck to my gloved fingers like slime.
Nasty.
Logan was mid-step about twenty feet away, immobile as well. I was about to rush to him when a voice cracked the silence.
“How is it that after everything, you still doubt Me?”
I spun to find the Creator, Hugo, and Joe standing in the middle of the room.
I gasped for words. “Whoa, yeah, of course you did this. It’s the whole control of time and space thing you’ve got going on, right?”
The Creator’s face wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t soft either. Lightning flashed in His eyes when I spoke. Someone was a little peeved at me. I’d thought that whole walk down the aisle thing meant things were smoothed over between us, but obviously not.
Hugo gave me a small shake of the head that let me know I was treading on thin ice right now.
I winced. The weight of my shame forced my gaze down.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
“I asked you a question, child.” The Creator’s voice boomed in my mind as well as throughout the room. Only a fraction of His power released, and before I knew it, I was on my knees.
“What . . . what do you mean?” I squeaked out.
A warm hand lifted my chin, and I looked into Joe’s pain-filled eyes. “You know Satan is the Father of Lies, dear one. Yet you’ve existed these past weeks in fear rather than seeking my face. I’ve been waiting for you to come to me, yet you haven’t.”
I sat back on my knees and hung my head once again. When I looked back up, it was into the denim-washed eyes of my former trainer, Hugo.
He enclosed me in a hug and whispered in my ear, “Tell me why you didn’t come to me.”
He rubbed my back, soothing my fears.
“Because . . .” This was an ugly truth to reveal. “I thought you would send me to Hell for what I did, and so I hid from you.”
He set me back, and it was now the face of my Creator staring at me. “Hell can never have you, dear one. You are Mine, now and forever. You were bought with My Son’s blood long ago, and nothing can take you from My hand.”
Several beats passed as I pieced together the meaning of His words.
“You will not be spending an eternity in Hell, dear one.”
Was this a dream?
“My blood covers all your transgressions, great and small.” Joe was now standing behind the Creator and next to Hugo. One of each of their hands rested on the Creator.
Tears welled in my eyes; the floodgates had opened and relief washed through my body.
“But what about this mess? I mean, he’s free”—I pointed at Satan’s still form behind me—“and he has . . . whatever artifact he was looking for.” It hit me suddenly that Satan was stuck in suspended animation. “Wait, we can just take it back now.”
Springing up, I went to search his shredded garment for the round contraption he’d showed me before but was stopped when Hugo appeared in front of me. “What?”
He shook his head and herded me away from the fallen angel.
