Only the Devil Is Here

by Stephen Michell

  Gabriel stepped back from the stones, away from the piercing shriek of the child. His jaw clenching with sudden panic, as he watched the child turn over and start crawling, his fingers digging into the almost muddy earth, dragging himself to the edge of the stones.

  “No, you can’t!” Gabriel shouted. Desperation overcame him. He ran to the edge of the ruins and lifted his leg to kick Evan back within the boundary. As his foot came down on Evan’s head, there was a bright flash of blue light and Gabriel’s kick rebounded and he flew backwards. His foot had been pulverized. Evan kept crawling.

  “There is a great power inside of us. . . .”

  With both hands Evan gripped one of the old stones and dragged himself up, his cheek resting upon it.

  “We are the shadow and the fire and the night. . . .”

  His chest slid across the smooth top of the stone, then his belly, and at last he slipped over onto the cold flat earth beyond.

  “We are the power of darkness. Now, we have become.”

  Evan gasped and the cold air drew him back and he felt the solidity of the earth under him where he lay. A beautiful and even warmth encased him. His heartbeat was like a drum keeping time. A single beat, calm and clear.

  There were curious thoughts in his head, vague memories slowly coming to clarity, a world of things he had not even known he’d forgotten. A sudden impression of belonging overwhelmed him, as of a home bidding him welcome, and he rolled his head and looked up at Gabriel. He knew him.

  “Hello, brother,” he said, his voice smooth and old, yet still childlike.

  Lying on the ground unable to stand, concealing grimaces of pain, Gabriel watched as Evan got to his knees, and then to his feet.

  “No . . .” Gabriel stammered. “You cannot . . . We had you in the light.”

  Evan regarded Gabriel with a slight tilt of his head. Then he started around the edge of the stones. He walked with a casual air, light in the snow like a kid swinging his feet through piles of leaves. When he reached Gabriel’s side of the ruins, he stopped and regarded Gabriel’s destroyed foot.

  “Did your pride get the best of you?” he asked, with a playful grin. “It’s against an angel’s nature to interfere physically in this world. You know that.”

  Gabriel glared at him with loathing. Evan laughed and then sat down.

  “You won’t win,” Gabriel said.

  Evan ignored him. He was busy digging his fingers into the snow between his feet, amazed at how easily he could dig down into the frozen ground beneath. His hand cut through the dirt and rock like a knife through butter. After a moment, he raised his hand with a dark clump of snow and dirt clutched in it. He admired the cold earth.

  “It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” he said. His fist closed tightly, grinding the earth to coat his fingers and palm.

  For a split second, Gabriel noticed himself drifting. As if in a trance, he wanted to agree with Evan, to sit at his feet and marvel at the magnificence of things.

  “You snake!” he snapped, shaking himself. “I’d never join you.”

  Evan shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Our patience is eternal,” Gabriel said. “You may have snuck into this kingdom, but you will never find peace here. Here, they hate you. They will hunt you, and one day you will be outcast once again. Then we will come for you.”

  Evan looked across at Gabriel. “We’ll see,” he said. “I don’t think they hate me as much as you’d like to believe. You see they need to hate me so that they can try to be good people. But we’ll see. Either way, I’ve never expected you or our brothers to understand the mission Father asked of me. It was always mine to carry alone.”

  “How dare you speak of our Father?”

  Ignoring Gabriel’s admonition, Evan brought his dirt-stained hand to his mouth and bit down hard on the space between his thumb and forefinger. Blood came into his mouth. He jerked his hand away viciously and waved his arm through the air to spray his blood upon the ground.

  All at once, the snow and ice beneath Gabriel began to melt. He hauled himself up, but only to his knees. He understood quickly that the heat was inescapable. It was coming from within him. Sweat beaded on his brow, but he settled into it with a stoic expression. He knew he had lost this time, but he wouldn’t give Evan the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. Still, he began to breathe raggedly. Steam rose from under his jacket. And then in a sudden bright burst, Gabriel erupted in a whirlwind of flame.

  He reeled back but the fire was inside him, and burned off him in swirling plumes.

  Evan got to his feet, watching, his eyes reflecting the flames. The fire leapt into the surrounding brush and spread, chasing the tangles of wild vine and charring the wintered poplars. Then Gabriel collapsed.

  Evan watched Gabriel’s clothing sizzle and melt to his skin, blackened and boiling. He went forward, tried to look Gabriel in the eyes, but his face was hardly more than a burned-out hole. A putrid smell filled the forest as the body’s innards roasted.

  An iridescent light filled the woods. It had sprung up and out of Gabriel’s burning carcass and cast off, shining through the heights of the pine trees above the fire.

  Evan watched the light depart, and within it he saw the glimmer of many soaring wings. A small part of his heart went out to them, remembering what it was like to soar in their company. He realized they had come to witness his destruction, Gabriel acting only as their physical messenger, their voice.

  He watched their light cut through the dark in swift diminishing flight and thought, Not yet, brothers, not yet. Then the light was gone. The forest darkened.

  Evan looked down at the burned and smoldering lump that had been Gabriel’s earthly body and he wondered, in a moment’s sadness, whom it was that he had truly burned. What poor soul had offered Gabriel the use of his body, and in exchange for what?

  Evan shuddered. He examined the wound he had given himself, blood clotted and dried. He raised his hand to his mouth and sucked.

  All at once, what flames were left extinguished into smoke. Everything hissed. A wind rose and the trees creaked and smoked with a hushed simmering, and below, there carried the faraway noise of the river.

  Evan stood with his arms at his sides. He watched the smoke swirl and rise and dissipate into the night. Then he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his irises were a deep, charcoal black. He walked along the burned ridge and down through the woods, descending from a cloud of smoke.

  When he reached the edge of the trees he crossed the ditch and went up onto the road. His legs were covered in snow and he stood breathing grey plumes out of his mouth. He could smell the sweet charred richness of the burned wood in the air. He stared up at the dark and star-filled sky and watched the smoke drift like it was a low cloud. Then he turned and walked along the shoulder of the road.

  Evan saw the outline of the truck in the moonlight and stopped. He considered turning around and walking the other way. He could see the bulk of the hood and the cab and the sheen of moonlight on the windshield. All the rest lay in shadow. After a moment he continued walking.

  A small part of him was expecting—hoping—to find the truck abandoned and Rook gone. Maybe he would never see him again, but at least he would know he was alive, somewhere. He stopped when he saw the outline of Rook’s body.

  He was still against the grill of the truck. More snow had swept from across the field and Rook was covered as if under a winding sheet.

  Evan looked down at him, his eyes welling up. Then his expression softened and he felt the warmth of tears running on his cheeks. He let them fall.

  “I remember when you called out that night,” he said. “You were really sad. I could hear it like someone was tolling a bell, and it made ripples go across the lake. I had to find you. I had to answer. But all I did was make you suffer more. I forced you to go on living without your goodness. I’m sorry, Rook.”

  Evan glanced once at the dark shape that lay on the side of the road.

  “I am the Lord
of all that is mean and bad in this world, but I love this world, too, as my Father does. I want this world to know my Father’s goodness. It is all. That is why I carry the burden of evil. For Him. For you.”

  Coming down the road in the dark, Evan saw yellow headlights.

  “I really wish you would talk to me,” he said. “I miss the sound of your voice. It’s hard to believe after all this you’re actually gone. Are you?”

  He focused his thoughts on Rook in his special way. He could feel that his powers were stronger now. Strong enough, perhaps, to bring him back.

  He waited and listened, hoping to hear Rook’s voice, hoping to feel it move through him, but there was nothing.

  The being that had been Evan hung his head. He backed away from Rook’s body and turned towards the road. The headlights were still far off but they were growing closer. He started walking towards them and as he rounded the end of the truck, he paused and looked over his shoulder. He wanted to say—

  But there were no more words. Evan turned back and walked along the middle of the road. He put his hands inside his pants’ pockets and hung his head. The illusion that he was just a child returned.

  Eventually, the headlights washed over him and he looked up into the blinding glare. The car slowed down, then stopped.

  The doors opened. A woman’s voice called to him. He heard her heels clicking on the road. Then he saw her appear between the headlights. When she knelt in front of him, Evan looked at the ground. He felt all at once like a child again. From over the glare of the headlights a man called out.

  “Is he all right?”

  “What’s your name, sweetheart? Are you okay?” the woman asked. She lifted his chin. She saw the streaks of tears and soot on his face and looked into his charcoal-coloured eyes. They startled her, but she forced a smile. She struggled to imagine what in the world a child was doing out in the middle of nowhere.

  “Hey hon, what’s your name?”

  “Mary, is he all right?” the man called.

  “Are you out here all alone?”

  Evan said nothing.

  The woman took his hand and led him to the car. She opened the back seat and Evan climbed inside.

  “He’s out here all alone,” she said to the man.

  “Yeah,” he said. “There’s a truck up there, and it smells like there’s been a fire.”

  “I’ll call 911.”

  “Hang on,” the man said. “I don’t want to be waiting out here for an hour. We’ll call when we get home.”

  “Can we do that? What about the boy?”

  “Well, I guess we’ll take him somewhere.”

  “Well, we can’t just leave him.”

  “No, we can’t.”

  The woman closed the rear door and came around to the passenger seat and got in. They were about to drive when the man stopped.

  “Hang on,” he said. “Look, there’s someone else on the road over there.”

  The man opened his door and got out.

  “Joe!” the woman said anxiously. She turned around in her seat and looked at Evan. “Everything’s going to be all right,” she said.

  From outside the car, the man called. “Mary, come here! It’s a lady, maybe the kid’s mother. She’s unconscious, but she’s breathing.”

  The woman glanced once more at Evan, gave a quick reassuring smile, and then opened her door and stepped out.

  Evan watched the woman cross in front of the car’s headlights into the dark.

  August, he thought. She’s alive. Good. She will help me.

  After a moment, the back door opened and the man leaned in with August in his arms.

  “Careful,” the woman said over his shoulder. “Her leg’s broken.”

  Evan moved over to give August room, as the man laid her across the seat. She looked strangely peaceful. The skin around her eyes was bright pink and fresh like when a scab falls off.

  The couple closed the door and then got into the front. They spoke again about calling 911, but Evan wasn’t listening. The car started forward and drove past the truck.

  Evan watched the night flowing over the windshield and he smelled the wood smoke of the forest. It made him think of cold stone and running through snow. His eyes welled up again and his chest and throat began to burn. He moved closer to August.

  The farther away they drove, the more terribly he smelled smoke and stone and the harder that place in his heart wrenched with a hollowing pain.

  So this is humanity.

  He sat up a bit and turned around to look out the rear window, expecting something, but he saw only the dark road in the red of the taillights.

  Thank you to my ChiZine family: Brett Savory for being a wonderful risk taker; Sandra Kasturi for bringing this book to life and making me a stronger writer along the way; Samantha Beiko and Leigh Teetzel for your thoughtful and constructive edits and proofreads; Jared Shapiro for the beautiful interior design; and Erik Mohr for the awesome book cover. Thanks to Michael Rowe, my writing mentor, whose early notes helped turn this story from a cringe-worthy cliché into something a little more honest. Thanks to my mom, dad, and sister, who have always acknowledged my writing with tremendous encouragement and support, and my brother, Michael Michell, whose daily inspiration is pretty much the only reason why I do any of this. And thank you to whoever is reading this sentence. I hope you enjoyed the book.

  Stephen Michell lives and works in Toronto, Ontario as a freelance writer. He has published a few short stories in various journals, magazines, and anthologies. Only the Devil Is Here is his first novel. Find out more about him at stephenmichell.com or follow him on Instagram @sopmichell.