The Demonologia Biblica

by Wilde, Barbie

  This could be his second chance at life, a new start to the one he’d already ruined. This was God up above telling him that their indeed was a Devil, and that if his life continued on its current path he was bound to meet him very soon. He prayed to his new religious leader, pleaded with him, and bargained that, should he make it out alive, he would never again be responsible for evil. He would dedicate himself, heart and soul, to helping those in need. He would be a good man, a godly man, a man of righteous character. This was the end of his old life and the begging of his new one.

  That’s when his back lit up with pain.

  He slowed down and took only a few more excruciating steps before collapsing to the ground. The man who had been given a new lease on life found that lease quickly terminated.

  Rory had seen his employee run past him and was about to yell for the man to do something before one of the things leapt over their heads and landed right behind the sprinting fellow, clawing the man’s back as it came down. Claws tore through every vital organ in his body and he was dead before he hit the floor.

  The creature seemed unwilling to accept that the man was already dead as it jumped once more into the air, this time coming down right on top of the man’s skull. Reddish white chunks of bone were sent skidding across concrete as the thing ground its foot on the meaty mess that used to be a man’s head. The creature leered at the rest of the group, Rory couldn’t be sure, but he could swear it was smiling at him. It shot both of its hands down quick, plunging them into the headless corpse with savage strength.

  The thing lifted the corpse into the air, bringing the body to bear right over its ugly, unformed head. The rounded dome tilted up and it let the man’s life force drain all over its own body which now glistened with a disgusting red sheen.

  These things seemed to be created with only one purpose in mind, to kill, and to instil fear in those they were about to kill. Rory had been face to face with horror, had been the one responsible for it on many of those occasions, but this was something beyond his ability to cope. This was a terror he had never experienced, a terror that was a combination of all the evil he had caused in his own life, as if the pain he was responsible for causing in his lifetime was all coming, embodied in the creatures he now faced.

  As the creature threw the drained man to the floor and started slowly walking toward Rory, he looked around the large warehouse for anything that might aid him in his quest to escape. Getting to the door was out of the question at this point. The creatures were lightening quick and there was no way the strong armed Irishman was going to out run or out maneuver the damn things.

  He looked back towards the spot where his men had once stood. The three other hellish beings were still playing with the remnants of his best guards, not just eating them, but literally playing with them. They threw pieces of the men at each other, landing sloppy wet chunks against their faces; they were kids playing with their new toys on Christmas morning. There were cackles coming out of their throats that sounded close to laughter, but only a laughter the Devil would have made if he’d been smoking two packs a day for thirty years. Not a single one of them cared about the frightened foursome standing by the door.

  They must have known the group couldn’t escape even the slowest of them and thus they enjoyed their playthings for a while longer. Rory let his gaze wander even farther, letting his eyes turn away toward his rear, and that’s when he saw it.

  The warehouse was bare except for one minor thing, a small temporary business module used for paperwork. Rory’s gaze snapped back around to the thing in front of him, and the creature had stopped walking, focusing intently on him in particular.

  Saliva dripped out of its awful mouth, and it licked its lips with a large purple tongue covered in little red bumps. The creature straightened up and prepared to run, and realization shot through Rory with a jolt, the thing knew, somehow the damnedable thing knew that Rory was about to run. It bolted like a cat about to strike, but unfortunately for the man standing next to the O’Shan leader, Rory had no problem sacrificing another to save his own miserable life.

  The creature closed the distance in the span of time it takes to blink and that was all Rory needed. He grabbed the unfortunate victim and hurled him right toward the thing. The creature’s claws extended and went right through the poor soul, going in through his chest and coming out his back. The man shook for a moment and then went slack, blood running out the sides of his mouth and splashing in fat drops on the bare concrete.

  Rory didn’t waste the precious seconds he’d been given. He took off, along with the tall man and the last remaining Tortega fodder, toward the office. It wouldn’t stop these things for long, but it would give him a precious few minutes to think.

  They ran as though the Devil himself were on their tails, and for all they knew this very well could be. The creature nearest to them tried to force the skewered individual off of its claws, but found that his thrust had gotten him quite stuck in the dead man.

  It let out a loud roar, louder than any the others had done yet. The other three stopped playing with their dead toys and joined in with their compatriot, in a heartbeat they were up and running toward the remaining survivors. The closest hell spawn grew tired of fighting with his new corpse and slammed the man onto the floor, put its hideous foot down on top of his body, and pulled with an even louder roar. Rory could only imagine what the corpse must look like now.

  While the creature had been freeing itself from dead weight, Rory had used his time wisely, moving as fast as his legs would carry him. The tall man had caught up with him, was outpacing him even, but the last Tortega man was having difficulty keeping up.

  The tall man reached the office first and jumped through the open door a half a second before Rory got there. Rory turned around to see the last man was still a little behind. With no remorse or the slightest hint of a conscious, Rory slammed the door shut before he could get there. Both Rory and the tall man slumped down against the opposite wall, while the last man banged on the door and pleaded to be let inside but a sudden thump slammed into the door, causing a dead silence.

  Blood leaked in from the edges of the dented entrance, leaving a sticky wet puddle directly underneath it. The sound of the creatures chewing the man to bits could be heard outside. Rory didn’t know what to do. He had bought himself a little time, but judging by how much damage had already been done, he doubted this place would hold up much to the creature’s onslaught. He stood up and glared down at the tall man. He had been terrified when Rory kicked the crate.

  He must know something.

  “What the hell are those things?” he asked as he yanked the man up to his feet.

  “We call them Vicua,” he said in his strange accent, made even thicker by the terror he was now feeling. “They are demons of the jungle, sent here by Gods older than you can imagine. These Gods grew angry over man’s greed and his arrogance, and so cursed us with these abominations. My people avoid them and they leave us alone, though I fear that may change after this. They have a particular fondness for those who let greed and evil dictate their lives, traits we ourselves try to avoid.”

  Rory glared at him, a look of hatred and wrath on his face, “Why exactly are they in my warehouse, instead of some bumfuck jungle?”

  “They are here because my people were paid very handsomely to capture them and bring them to you, Mr. O’Shan. My village has experienced rampant disease recently. This disease has ravaged us and taken away many workers. Because of this we cannot even feed ourselves. The money would have helped to restore my village to what it once was. Though, if I am honest with myself, we were offered much more money than we needed more money than I have ever even dreamed I would see in my lifetime. I had many thoughts about what to do with so much money, and not all of them were for the betterment of my people.”

  “We’re all greedy at heart, some of just prefer to ignore it. How did you catch the damn things?”

  The tall man immediately understood
what he was being asked, “There is no way for us to do such a thing here. We lost many men in the process, and had tools unavailable to you in this building.”

  “Then what the hell are we supposed to do?”

  “Nothing.” As the word left the tall man’s lips, calm came over him. “The only thing we can do is die gracefully and accept our deaths as punishment for our sins. You are a very evil man Rory O’Shan, but it was not my people’s place to bring about your death, for this I am to be disciplined. That discipline will be my oncoming death. I can accept my fate. Can you accept yours Mr. O’Shan?”

  “Fuck fate!” Rory said as he lifted his gun and fired point blank into the tall man’s chest. The tall man flew against the wall and crumpled down to the floor.

  Rory waited for the look of fear, anger, or despair that he usually got from his victims, only this time none of that happened. Instead the man looked up at Rory and mouthed “thank you” before the light in his eyes extinguished for all time.

  It was a confusing experience for the man who had personally murdered hundreds before this one. He couldn’t count the number anymore so many had died by his hands. He’d watched them all die; some had died scared, unsure of what was coming for them next. Others had died angry; their only real regret that they had not been able to get him first. More often than not, they died full of despair at the circumstances they now found themselves in. Only one before had ever died happy, and that had more to do with his sick mental state than the events surrounding him. This was the first time he had witnessed real peace in his entire life, and the observance shook Rory O’Shan to the bone.

  He screamed and began firing wildly with his own weapons, not even particularly aiming but just firing blindly. The shots weren’t meant to hit the things attacking him, only to reinforce his idea that he was in total control of his fate, even when it was clearly out of his hands.

  Each round fired was a slap in the face to fate, a mind jarring punch to anything that would dare tell him what he could and could not do. Bright flashes lit the air every other second, blinding him and causing his eyes to grow sore.

  Tears stung his sore sockets and he told himself it was only the smoke in the air and nothing else. His hatred rose to levels he didn’t even know existed and went further.

  No one would tell Rory O’Shan what to do, no one would tell Rory O’Shan how to live his life, and certainly no would tell Rory O’Shan when that life was over. The shots only drove the creatures mad. They attacked the office with renewed vigor, tearing at the building with their massive claws.

  Windows shattered and holes began appearing as the things treated Rory like a sardine in a can. Before long they had torn the entire front wall down by hand. An ear piercing scream split the air around Rory, temporarily stunning him and bringing him back to a semblance of reality.

  He stood face to face with four of the worse abominations hell had ever coughed up. Fine, he thought, if this was how they wanted it, he would still deny them the last bit of pleasure. Rory dusted himself off and stood tall and proud. He bowed once to the creatures, lifted the gun to his head, and pulled the trigger. A click sounded where a loud blast should have taken its place. He had used every last bullet in his insane round of shooting. There really was no way out of this.

  The four nightmares licked their lips and slowly closed in. Rory’s already fractured mind broke completely at that point, and he began to cry. Not just cry but hysterically scream as the things took slow steps toward their last victim.

  Rory fell to his knees, the tears flowing fast. When the things were only inches from him, he let out one scream and doubled over in despair. The creatures took that as their signal and pounced on the man, ending the life of one of America’s most evil sadist.

  Rory O’Shan, monster, brutal killer, power hungry leader, met his end at the hands of something far fouler than he could ever hope to be.

  W Is For Wolf

  Urban Wolf

  Sam Stone

  Tall, ungainly high rises loomed up before his blood reddened gaze as he padded through the streets. His fury burned brighter than the search light from the helicopter flying overhead. He looked up: the urban landscape of New York City daunted the half moon as he squinted at the sky. Despite the helicopter it was a quiet night but something important was on his mind: dark, blood, torturous death. He wanted out of the rat race, away from the clawing, screaming jealously that followed his daily routine.

  To his left Jake passed the expensive shops, frequented in the day by the likes of his boss: Lorna, always putting him down, was never satisfied with anything he gave her. He fought to keep his self-esteem but was a total failure in her eyes and she made him suffer for it, forcing his gratitude from him as he grovelled continuously to keep his job. That bitch with her diamonds and her designer clothes and shoes. One of the girls in the office, Tiffany he thought it was, commented once on how much Lorna’s handbag had cost. The amount she mentioned would have paid Jake’s rent for three months. The memory brought red rage bubbling up to the surface and the anger grew.

  Initially Jake had been so grateful to even have the job. The interview had been awful. Lorna’s obvious dislike for him oozed out during his presentation. She criticised all of his ideas, put down the slogans as being ‘predictable’ or ‘unoriginal’. Jake had been surprised when he received the letter offering him the position. He had thought that maybe there had been something good he had come up with after all, but soon learnt Lorna’s real motive. Lorna wanted him in more ways than as an advertising assistant.

  She began to work on him the very first day. Every piece of work he turned in wasn’t good enough. By the end of the day, Jake had been close to quitting. He wasn’t the sort of man who easily lost his temper but Lorna pushed all the right buttons. At 5.35pm he was at screaming point, but then Lorna had changed her tactics. She called him into the office, offered him coffee, and within the space of a few minutes, she was down on her knees giving him a blow-job. Jake was shocked and surprised but went along with it like any full blooded male would. She was after all, a very attractive woman and she smelt great. After that, sex with Lorna became the conclusion to every work day.

  Jake had never had a class act like that before and so the affair – if you could call it that – was fun to begin with, until he realised that the whole thing only gave Lorna more power over him. What was worse was that Jake had been stupid enough to trust her with all of his ideas, good or bad. He had learnt the hard way that she was using his ideas, passing them off as her own.

  The latest ads campaign for example: Jake had suggested the slogan at their weekly meeting. Lorna had dismissed him saying the proposal was ‘clichéd’, but today there wasn’t any escape from the fact that she had used his proposal anyway. The new deodorant, Urban Wolf, had been launched with the tagline ‘It turns Man into Beast’, and Jake had been the person to come up with it.

  That day he’d sat by, watching the cronies congratulate Lorna. The MD had even come in and called her ‘insightful’. Jake knew Lorna didn’t have a creative bone in her body, all she did was use the talent of those around her, and then she manipulated herself into being the star. Jake hated her. She was less than human.

  Of course he knew all of this was his own fault. He could have gone over her head, made sure the MD knew that the idea had been his, but how would that have looked? Besides, who would believe him? He was nothing. He was just Lorna’s assistant and bosses hated colleagues who couldn’t be team players.

  After everyone had gone, Lorna called him in to her office and her games started again. She didn’t even try to explain herself. She was so confident that Jake wouldn’t make a fuss about her plagiarism.

  “Take your shirt off,” she had said and Jake found himself obeying her. He wished he could resist her, but Jake found it too difficult to say “No”. There was something about the way she ordered him around that he just found irresistible.

  Lorna liked it rough: dishing out pain with her c
lawing nails while he fucked her on the office floor. Though she was odd about body fluids and Jake always had to use protection. During the sex games, he felt as though he had no will of his own. He obeyed her every command, even when it meant physical pain.

  Afterwards, Jake wondered why he went along with her dominatrix games, the bitching during office hours and the threats of dismissal if he didn’t do everything she asked. But he knew the answer: Lorna had turned him into the worst kind of pussy. And he was certainly whipped.

  Bitch! Jake thought as he hurried back to his car. His back was sore and scarred from her sharp nails and he could feel his shirt sticking to his skin where she had drawn blood. He had never seen himself in this role before, always preferring to be in control. His last girlfriend had even called him a ‘control freak’, not that Jake really thought he had been that bad. He knew that it was just something women said sometimes to make you feel bad, even though they were dumping you. But even if he had been controlling, Lorna was more than making him suffer for it.

  Shit! What did I even do to deserve this?

  Jake reached his car, an old and battered Jeep, and pressed the key fob to unlock the door. He climbed in, wincing as his back rubbed against the seam of the leather seat. He put the key in the ignition and started the engine.

  At the gym he worked out for an hour, pushing himself hard. It made him feel stronger and somehow in control but he didn’t take his usual swim: the marks on his back were too obvious. After his work out he showered and dressed, keeping his back to the wall to avoid the usual jokes the other guys might make. Before pulling on his shirt he pulled out the roller deodorant: Urban Wolf. It was ironic and Jake sneered cynically as he used the product under his arms. So much for turning ‘Man into Beast’, he thought as he threw the plastic container back into his sports bag. Fuck you, Urban Wolf and fuck Lorna!