A Friend of the Devil

by David Beers

  Abel nodded. He believed the man, too. There wasn’t any dishonesty in Lichen right now. Yet, none of it mattered. Emi was in there, as sure as Abel was in this car.

  “You want to change your story at all?”

  “No,” Abel said, “but you need to let me out of here. Let me go with you. If it’s inside of her, you won’t be able to tell.”

  The agent only looked at him for a few more seconds and then turned back around. He took the keys from the ignition and slowly opened his door, trying to do it as silently as possible.

  “PLEASE!” Abel shouted in the loudest whisper possible, knowing that to speak any louder would risk being heard. The distance to the building was long, but the space between empty.

  Lichen said nothing back. He simply shut the car door as carefully as he’d opened it.

  Abel watched as he unholstered his weapon and moved around the back of the car. Abel turned the best he could, trying to watch him as he went, wanting to scream, to say something, but unable to. Anything he did now, from the back of the vehicle, would only endanger everyone. He watched as the agent moved away from the car, heading toward the building. Toward the demon.

  Brett didn’t think he was going to find anything in the building in front of him. In fact, he thought this might be the largest waste of time he’d ever been apart of; yet he was here, and there was nothing else to do except check the place out.

  Brett decided on the way over that he wasn’t calling anyone else in. There were a few reasons for it, primarily the shortness of time. If Ease turned out to be right (despite all odds, and leave alone the insanity of a demon), then waiting for a team to be formed would waste at least another hour. There was the problem of stealth too. SWAT might be good, but one man would always be more quiet.

  Brett felt certain he could kill Demsworth, and if Demsworth didn’t know he was coming, then it would be all that much easier.

  He moved quickly down the road, passing large abandoned warehouses on his left and right. Logically, he knew this would turn out to be nothing, but his training was taking over, his adrenaline flooding into his veins.

  Brett heard the night around him crisply, and his eyes soaked in the darkness, seeing more clearly.

  He reached the building in just under two minutes.

  It had two large bay doors, both closed, with smaller ones dotting the first floor. Most of the windows had been smashed and the doors didn’t look overly secure, which was what Brett needed. Breaking in would create noise.

  He approached the first door on his left. The glass on it wasn’t shattered, and he tried pulling on the handle. It didn’t move. Brett ducked down and moved across the building’s perimeter, heading to the next door. Its window was smashed out. Brett pulled gently on the handle and the door opened slightly. He remained low, and slowly opened the door, an unavoidable squeak sounding out into the night air.

  Brett didn’t move, holding the door open and listening for sounds from inside. For someone getting spooked and running.

  He heard nothing, and with the same careful movements, stepped inside the building. He had no choice but to let the door close behind him, keeping his hand on it as he did.

  The squeak came again and then silence fell over the building.

  Brett’s eyes scanned the floor. Some of the machinery had been removed, but on the far end there were large machines that Brett couldn’t identify.

  His eyes caught on something hanging from the middle of the room. Five hooks, all in a row. They didn’t move, but sat as if they’d been in that position for a while. Moonlight ran across them and Brett saw the difference between the middle hook and the rest. It was coated dark, blood the only substance that would be on something like that. His eyes moved down, now seeing what they’d originally missed.

  His mind didn’t understand at first, not realizing what it was looking at. He saw two pairs of legs facing opposite from each other. Yet, he only saw one head, as if they were Siamese twins joined at the … neck?

  And then, Brett understood. Completely. His throat made a click as he tried swallowing.

  The moonlight was faint, but it revealed the truth on the floor. Not a Siamese twin, but a body that had been somehow wrapped inside another body. The head had disappeared into the chest of the other person, and now Brett saw the obvious bulge it made beneath the flesh.

  He averted his eyes, not out of fear, but knowing to focus on that sight would leave him vulnerable. He saw nothing else across the warehouse. It appeared empty, at least from this vantage point. Hugging the wall, he starting moving along the inside perimeter, hoping to see more.

  “Brett?”

  It was Emi’s voice. He heard it clearly.

  “Brett? Is that you?”

  He stopped walking, knowing Emi was speaking to him, but not anything else. It was her voice, but … that wasn’t how Emi would speak right now. If she was safe—if she was okay—she’d give an immediate situation report on the surrounding area. Brett? Is that you? didn’t suffice.

  Ease’s words came back to him.

  If it’s inside of her, you won’t be able to tell.

  Yet, it was Emi talking, and the insane man was just that: insane.

  “Brett? I’m hurt. I’m hurt really bad. If it’s you, tell me.”

  Brett didn’t move from the wall—not revealing his position visually—but he did speak.

  “Where are you, Emi?”

  The entity could almost not fathom its luck. The Master was pleased. The Altar had worked, despite the crude way it was constructed.

  And now, the entity had sensed this new man the moment he entered the building. He was another Vessel, something that could be used, just as the two it now possessed would be used.

  The entity didn’t understand how so many Vessels were available here, in this realm, but it didn’t care either. If the Master was pleased, then the entity would be pleased as well.

  The woman, the FBI agent, was still alive inside her body. She hadn’t died away yet as Vince Demsworth eventually had. She was stronger than the first man, the entity understood that the moment it entered her. Eventually, she would succumb like Demsworth, but that would take time.

  All of that was frivolous. At the moment, the entity only wanted the chance to enter this third Vessel. Three Vessels meant untold Altars. Altars that the entity hadn’t imagined possible before, all for the Master. To please the Master.

  It rifled through the woman’s memories, coming to a rough understanding of her. The entity wasn’t concerned with anything right now besides the man that had just entered its domain.

  Brett Lichen. FBI Agent. From what the entity could tell, that was the most likely person to enter this place, at least chasing this Vessel. She had no one else close in her life, no one besides a person named Abel …

  The entity briefly rested on that name, feeling something strange about it. Different than the other names that it had come across in this Vessel or the other. It didn’t understand the difference, but it also didn’t think Abel was the newcomer.

  Brett Lichen was the most likely.

  The entity remembered him, interviewing Demsworth in that small room—the first time it had mentally touched Laurens.

  Yes, Lichen was here. And he would want to save this woman, his PARTNER. There was a bond between them, and the entity could exploit it.

  “Brett?” it called out, using Laurens’s mouth. “Brett? Is that you?”

  A few moments passed; there was no more movement. No more sounds at all, but the entity understood Lichen hadn’t left.

  He was there, in the exact same spot. The entity couldn’t see him from its vantage point, but it could feel him. It had used Demsworth to drag the new Vessel across the warehouse, propping it up in a corner. Now they both remained there, both under the entity’s control.

  Demsworth’s body turned and walked away. It looked straight forward, its arms not swaying as it moved. To have any chance of entering the new Vessel, the entity needed Dems
worth’s body to hide. Seeing Demsworth would ruin everything.

  The entity hid Demsworth the best it could, leaving it behind a large pole that stood floor to ceiling.

  “Brett? I’m hurt. I’m hurt really bad. If it’s you, tell me.”

  Another moment passed, and then the man called out. “Where are you, Emi?”

  The entity quickly rifled through possible reactions, not understanding the partner dynamic well. It felt like the fucking woman was trying to hide things from it; still, the entity needed to react quickly.

  “Over here,” it said, its voice echoing off the metal structures. “In the corner.”

  Silence followed for a second and then it heard the man begain moving. He was remaining close to the walls, but the entity could still feel him. Moving. Moving. Moving. Coming toward it.

  “Over here,” it said, and then another idea came to it, something that floated up from the Vessel’s subconscious. “I killed him. I killed Demsworth.”

  Lichen said nothing, but only kept moving, his footfalls barely audible but growing closer.

  A few more moments passed, and then he walked around the machine’s edge. His gun was raised high and pointed right at the Vessel’s head, but the entity felt no fear. That was STANDARD PROCEDURE. This man wouldn’t shoot his partner. That was against the RULES.

  “Where’s Demsworth?” Lichen asked, the gun still not lowering, but no longer pointed directly at Emi. He kept it held high, looking down the building’s edge.

  “He’s on the other side,” the entity said. “I think I killed him.”

  Looking at Lichen now, the entity realized it wasn’t acting correctly. The man wasn’t entirely trusting the Vessel’s words.

  “We have to get out of here. He broke my fucking leg,” the entity said, feeling that the word ‘fucking’ fit into the woman’s usual vocabulary.

  Lichen lowered the gun and looked at the Vessel’s leg, his face changing from distrust to concern.

  He moved to the entity then, not holstering his gun, but bending down all the same.

  “Here we go,” Lichen said, placing the Vessel’s arm around his shoulders. “It’s going to hurt. A lot. You ready?”

  “Yeah,” the entity said. “I’m ready.”

  The man lifted and the entity went with him, grunting because that would be expected. The man went slowly, letting it stand on its good leg.

  Halfway up, the entity launched itself, unleashing its unearthly strength and falling upon Lichen.

  The gun fired off a single bullet, slamming into the concrete floor before ricocheting against the building. It didn’t matter. The entity was on Lichen now, forcing him to trip, to fall, and then crawling on top of him like a possessed spider—too many limbs, too much strength. There was nothing the man could do.

  The kiss was hard. Ferocious. Intense.

  The entity exhaled its cold breath into Brett Lichen, and then what had once not existed on this planet, possessed a third Vessel.

  The sound of the gun firing boomed throughout the industrial park, easily making its way to Abel.

  “What was that?” he asked, still in the back of the car with his wrists cuffed.

  “Boy, are you so foolish that you don’t know the sound of a gunshot when you hear it?” the dead man asked. He stared straight forward at an empty warehouse, though the gunshot had come from his right. He didn’t so much as glance over.

  “What’s happening in there?”

  “You should have listened to us earlier, boy. My colleagues tried to warn you weeks and weeks ago that this was happening, but you wanted nothing to do with it. You ran as you always do. Now it is too late.”

  Abel stared out the window, unable to speak.

  Too late.

  That’s what the dead man had said.

  Now it is too late.

  “No,” he whispered, staring out into the darkness. “No. That’s not true.”

  He didn’t know why he said those words, not besides the fact that he didn’t want it to be true.

  “It is, boy, and it disappoints me because I wanted to be done with your godforsaken mother, but now we will have to continue with her as well as you. Your whole family is nothing but a blight.”

  Abel shook his head, not hearing the dead man’s words. “No, it’s not too late.” Had he not believed this could happen? That Emi might actually die? Had he forgotten that bad things did happen, despite the clean and sanitized life he lived inside Sunny Acres? Had all those years made him truly forget the tragedy that befell people?

  No, that wasn’t possible. Because he’d brained his father to death and watched his sister hang from a noose. He knew that bad things could happen. They happened to him, the dead were always reaching with their dirty, grubby hands—trying to bring him down to them. Bad things happened. Abel knew that. Abel knew that better than anyone.

  Then why is it so hard to understand that something bad just happened to Emi? Why is it so hard to believe that you caused it, just like always? The dead man isn’t lying. Sitting up there, calm as a saint at the gates of heaven—he’s not lying. Yet you somehow thought it would all work out, because you’ve been away so long, you’ve forgotten how bad things can get.

  You thought you understood what you did to people, but that was all just nonsense. It was like a memory of a memory, Abel, because now you see the harsh truth. Now you truly realize what you do to people, by just being alive. Emi’s in there, possessed, and isn’t that a funny term to actually think? You allowed something to possess her, and the other FBI agent? Things probably aren’t looking too great for him, either. Whose fault is it? Yours, of course. It all rests on your shoulders, because it all began with you and your fucked up family.

  You should have never been born. Out of all of your father’s sins, that was his worst.

  Because your life just wrecks other people’s.

  “I have to go in there,” Abel said, his eyes full of tears as he stared out the back of the car. “I have to get in the warehouse.”

  The dead man finally turned his head, looking at the building. “Why? It is lost, boy. I just told you. Both of them are not coming out of there, at least not like they were before. I would worry more about your own life at this point, because if that demon comes this way, it may want you as well.”

  Abel didn’t give a damn about any of that, didn’t even consider the possibility. “Let me out of here. Now.”

  The dead man chuckled. “You are a strange creature. First you did not even want to leave your nest, and now you want to go in there when all hope is lost. You are a coward, boy. You are too scared to live. There is nothing you can do in there except get yourself hurt. My colleagues, they would not be pleased with me if I allowed such a thing to happen. They would be most upset if they were not the ones with their hands around your neck when you die.”

  Abel pushed himself to the opposite side of the vehicle so he could see the dead man’s face. “Listen to me. I have to try. I have to try and help her. This is my fault, don’t you see that? You have to. I did this, because I brought her into my life, and now whatever is happening in there, it’s happening because of me. I might not die. I might live—”

  Abel was speaking, but the words weren’t completely conscious. He was simply trying to get out of the car. Nothing else mattered. Just get out of the car and get to Emi. Whatever words got him there, that was all he wanted.

  “—And even if I do die, what’s it matter? That’s what you all want right? You want me to go crazy, to pay for what my great-grandfather did? So what if a demon gets me, and you guys don’t? Who cares? I might be able to save Emi. If I do, then you still get me. If I don’t, then the demon does, but either way, I’m done. I’ll be dead and then you’ll just have my mother to worry about. That’s it. You’ll be almost free, so just let me go—”

  “Stop, boy,” the man said, his voice carrying a finality that cut through Abel’s words. “Stop your endless prattle.”

  He still stared at t
he warehouse as his voice fell silent.

  Abel’s eyes never left the dead man. Long moments passed, the world a black canvas just waiting on the sun to rise.

  “My colleagues ….” The suited man shook his head then looked out the front of the car. He was quiet for a moment, as if he might speak again, but was trying to find the words.

  The dead man vanished. He didn’t flicker out of existence, he simply removed himself from existence—but only for a second. Abel had time to blink, and then he saw the man standing outside Abel’s door. The dead man reached for the handle and pulled it open, the cold air rushing into the backseat.

  “My colleagues say there is a chance that you can save the young woman. I say they are almost as foolish as you are. They do not know you like I do, Mr. Ease. You are a coward and an idiot, and going in there is not a brave act. It is nonsensical, and you are going to know that shortly. They are willing to give you up, though, if there is a chance it saves that woman. Perhaps they are as tired of this as I am. Perhaps they are ready to rest, and for that I cannot blame them.”

  The dead man raised an arm and beckoned for Abel to come. His fingers were bones with skin slapped on them, all knuckles and nails.

  Abel scooted across the seat and slowly stood on the ground, unable to use his hands for much.

  “Turn around,” the dead man said.

  Abel did, presenting the cuffs to him.

  The suited man reached down and touched them. They fell to the ground, clanking loudly in the silent air.

  Abel turned back around, the dead man standing in front of him. “Thank you,” he said.

  The dead man chuckled and the moon’s light reflected in his eyes. There was no humor in them, nor in the dry smile spread across his bone filled face. There was no joy in him at all, but only hate with a side of distaste. “I do you no favor, boy. Do not think that for a second. I do not like you, nor do I respect you. You will die in there, and if there is any justice, it will be worse than we had planned for you. There is no need to thank me.”