“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, sighing as though their negotiations had left him exhausted. “But I accept your offer.”
“Wait, wait, wait. That wasn’t an offer. It was a question.”
“Are you sure? It sounded an awful lot like a proposal.”
“Why?” I asked, trying to act nonchalant since I didn’t trust Mephisto. “Because my life hangs in the balance?”
“That isn’t an incentive?”
“No. Why should it be? I’ve been dead before. Not that I recommend it or anything.”
“So the possibility of dying doesn’t frighten you?”
Rather than admit the truth, I said, “You’re a demon. Why haven’t you tried to kill me when I was corporeal?”
“Would it make you feel better if I did?”
Far from uncovering any relevant information, I suspected Mephisto knew that I played along in hopes of obtaining new insight into his intentions, so I decided to be more direct. “The sword. That’s why you’re here. It’s why you visited my house the other day. Interrupted me when I was sleeping?” Seeing the glimmer of a smile, I couldn’t sever the indignation rising inside me. “How dare you! You weren’t invited!”
“You’re right,” he said as an apologetic frown split his lips. “I should I have called ahead and made a reservation.”
“An invitation, not a reservation. My home is not a hotel!” I stared at his perplexed expression for a long moment…until I noticed a playful smile appear on his mug. No matter how naïve or oblivious he might act, Mephisto knew a lot more than he let on. Irritation ignited inside me. “I don’t care if you’re a demon, you still need an invitation.”
“But if I could just appear—”
“No,” I shouted. “No invitation, no entry. Got it?”
“You seem a tad upset.”
“You scared my dog, you asshole!”
Mephisto lowered his lashes, feigning hurt pride. “One day, I hope we can get past this travesty.”
“Besides, I couldn’t give you the sword if I was asleep. Why didn’t you just steal it?”
“I’m not a thief,” he said and winced as though he found the idea offensive. “I have scruples.” He shrugged as a tortured expression took hold of him. “It’s one of my flaws.”
“But killing people isn’t?”
“Of course not. I enjoy my job. You know how it is. You’re good at it. You must derive some pleasure from—”
“No!” I shouted. “I don’t like killing anything. Not even bugs. I sidestep them on the street.”
“Not even spiders?” He shivered with revulsion. “They’re such hideous creatures.”
“If they’re in the house, I scoop them into a cup and let them outside.”
Mephisto set an index finger against his temple, lost in concentration. “But you don’t hesitate to kill witches and vampires. Who’s next on your hit list? Werewolves? Shifters?”
Once again, he tried sidetracking me to take control of the conversation. Rather than lash out at him in anger, which would have come naturally for me, I attempted to return to the topic at hand. “Watching over me while I slept? It’s pretty damn creepy, don’t you think?”
“I’ve got to keep tabs on my subjects.”
“You’re a demon, not God!”
Mephisto chuckled, but seeing how I glared at him, he broke out laughing. “You are so clueless.”
It finally seemed like I’d hit upon something of value. However, if I inquired about his statement, he would surely re-direct the conversation. “You’re an omniscient demon, is that it? Puh-leeeze! Lucifer’s right-hand man?” I chuckled. “Probably only when he gets a hard-on.”
Any trace of easygoing personality disappeared, replaced by a bland expression. In fact, the only hint that suggested I’d annoyed him emanated from his eyes. They grew larger, more intense, even tempestuous.
“You doubt his magnificence, his grandeur, his—”
“Is he secretly the great and powerful Oz?”
Far from looking like the neighbor next door, his unsettling glare cut through my carefree manner and could have frightened the mythical hounds of hell, although given my experience over the last few days, I no longer regarded their existence as hypothetical but near certain. More than that, however, the red balls of fire blazing in his eyes made my insides clench.
I’d finally managed to unsettle him, but I sensed that I needed to take it further. If he planned to hurt my physical body, he could have already done so, although it didn’t mean he wouldn’t do just that at some point in the future, maybe even soon. Nevertheless, if I stopped insulting him, he would assume that I had backed down, and I needed to keep him off-balance in order to get some answers.
“Face it,” I said, “Satan’s a flunkee. He got tossed out of Heaven. If he was God’s equal, he wouldn’t have been serving the Lord in the first place. And if he was so tough, he wouldn’t have allowed God to kick him around.”
Mephisto breathed so heavily and scowled with such vehemence that it looked like he would soon erupt with anger.
“You look constipated,” I said. “Ever try a high fiber cereal? I hear they pack a serious punch.”
Mephisto gritted his teeth. His jaw tightened as he trembled with tension.
“I respect your loyalty, but dedicating your life to Lucifer? Pretty misguided, don’t you think? I know what you need. A therapist! You can talk things through, get things off your chest. You’ll find that he probably wants my sword because he’s got performance issues. You know, the phallic symbol and all. Either that or he hasn’t come out of the closet, which I’m guessing you know about, since you’re his right-hand man.”
Mephisto, shaking with rage, reached out with his right hand, grasped my throat, and hoisted me two feet in the air.
Although his anger made me quake in place, I was thrilled that I’d peeled back his unflappable nature.
His body twisted and morphed in a pool of ooze, his flesh turning dark gray, his hair growing long and coiled like Medusa, minus the snakes, although it looked teased as though he’d used a full canister of hair spray to keep it standing on end. Undulating ripples appeared across his forehead as his eyebrows arched like sharp daggers above a sneer with pointy teeth jutting as he hissed. All the while, those flaming eyeballs glared bright.
He had transformed so quickly that the moisture in my mouth dried up instantly as I stared in awe at Mephisto, unsure if he’d finally shown me his true self. He extended a tenuous, veiny arm, but try though I might, I couldn’t move. His horrifying metamorphosis held me captive.
I felt his bony fingers clamp around my neck, digging into my skin, closing off my air supply. But how could that happen? Only my spirit appeared, not my physical body. Panic swept through me as my thoughts spun and I kicked my legs, trying to clip him, but my feet went through his body.
Regardless, Mephisto had somehow clutched onto my spectral state. A wicked grin peeled his lips back, revealing a bottomless pit of darkness. Twin flames danced in place of his eyes.
Dangling in the air, I tried to grab his arms to knock them aside, but my hands went right through his arm as though he were nothing more than a mirage. I couldn’t determine if he’d projected an illusion, or if I was losing my marbles.
“You are an ignorant fool,” he said, his voice deep and dark. “I treat you with respect, kindness even, and you repay me with insults?” Mephisto adjusted his palm around my neck, squeezing tighter now that he’d gotten a firm hold. “Look at your body.” He tilted his hand, allowing me to check my ghostly frame if I so chose. “Go ahead. Look!”
In spite of the pressure around my neck, I had no problem glancing at my frame. My face, which had turned a slight blue a few minutes ago, now looked a pasty white, as though I’d already died. Although nothing or no one had so much as touched my body, it jerked as though someone had placed two AED paddles to my chest and triggered the defibrillator to send electric currents through my body.
Me
phisto threw his head back and laughed with pure delight, and then he met my gaze. “Do you doubt my power, my influence?” He tightened his grasp around me and rattled the hand around my neck.
I squiggled in place from the pressure. I shook my head and caught sight of my figure again. “No!”
He stared at me for a long moment, trying to determine if he’d gotten through to me.
How had he grasped my soul? If he’d visited me in spiritual form, he could exact whatever type of punishment he saw fit. In that instance, didn’t it make sense that I could do likewise?
As Lucifer’s henchman, maybe he had the ability to travel beyond just one dimension? I had no idea. But based on what the demon who’d visited my home earlier had said, Mephisto could not be trusted.
When he’d visited me in my room, Mephisto had scared the hell out of me. And just now, he’d resorted to violence. Had he done so to prove his dominance? If so, he’d succeeded. Maybe he’d visited to make me second-guess my abilities. Once again, mission accomplished! More than anything, in tandem with those two possibilities, he may have dropped by to keep me on edge, to unnerve me. In battle, even a short paralytic moment could mean the difference between victory and defeat. Taken in that context, Mephisto had succeeded on all counts.
He analyzed my eyes, seeking an answer to an unasked question. After five seconds, he shook his head, disappointed. “You’re not ready for the truth.”
Those mysterious, haunting words made my soul quiver. I locked my gaze on the pair of blazing orbs in his eye sockets, searching for answers that weren’t forthcoming.
“But soon you will be.” His demented grin flattened into a confident glare. “And then, you’ll be all too willing to broker a deal with me.” He nodded as complete certainty took hold of him. “Once again, you’ll beg me to take the Soul Sword.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I blinked and…Mephisto disappeared. My spirit had already begun its descent until my feet stopped a few inches above the floor. Strangely enough, I no longer gasped for air. Startled by that observation, I also realized my throat didn’t hurt, which made sense since on one level I didn’t have a physical form. So how had Mephisto clenched my throat and lifted my spirit? I still had no explanation for this oddity. It made no sense.
Nonetheless, my body jerked a few times and lay still. I swept over to my face, placed my ear next to my mouth, and barely heard my shallow breath passing between my teeth. How long would I continue to breathe? Ten seconds? A minute? Since I wasn’t a medical professional, I had no idea how much time my body had before it completely shut down.
Mephisto had shaken my soul without touching my physical form. It all likelihood, it meant that, while unconscious or astral projecting, I was still constructed of energy, and therefore, I could most likely influence events in the physical world…similar to how a ghost could walk across creaky floors or slam a door. With that thought in mind, I rushed through the room, sped down the hall, and stopped to see…
Alexis stood in front of Nolan, Brandon, and Kendall, while holding the microphone stand in her hand and glaring at the surprisingly large crowd, which I’d estimate at over one hundred and fifty people, with obvious distaste, as though singing was beneath her. This…from a woman who took off most of her clothes, danced in front of men, and mentally brainwashed them into stuffing handfuls of cash into her bra and panties. All that was okay, but singing in front of a crowd? That was stupid, meaningless. It made me want to strangle my sister with even greater pressure than Mephisto had used to choke me
Obviously, after seducing Brandon at her house, Alexis had driven them to the venue and intended to impersonate me. It meant that at least forty-five minutes had passed since I’d left her home. But that seemed unlikely. My conversation with Mephisto had seemed no longer than fifteen minutes. On second thought, time may adhere to different rules in the astral world. It would explain how he’d grasped onto me.
While convincing Brandon that he’d had sex with Kendall was both incredibly disturbing and disgusting, I shouldn’t have been shocked that she had the gall to impersonate me as the vocalist of Salem’s Curse. I took a moment to look past this annoyance in order to calm my mind. I glanced around the venue.
The pair of pool tables at the back of the facility was vacant of human activity, but the bar and tables were filled with people, and bodies were stacked tight across the polished wooden floor.
As Kendall, Brandon, and Nolan did a soundcheck to ensure that their instruments played with the precise amount of tonal frequency, Alexis looked ten times more beautiful than I could manage…even if a makeup artist did my face with the utmost care. Only now, seeing her standing beside the microphone, looking out at the crowd, did I realize how stunning she looked compared to me.
How had my bandmates failed to recognize the way she stood, the way she talked, the way she acted? How could they overlook each of those factors? Had she compelled each of them to think I stood among them? Their absent-mindedness concerned me. On second thought, I couldn’t blame them for failing to recognize Alexis. They were busy setting up our equipment in order to present the best show possible. How could I slight them for it? Besides, Alexis had never impersonated me, so they hadn’t given it any thought. Not only that, but she could have compelled them to go on about their business without questioning her true identity. It would have explained how Brandon didn’t act the least bit uncomfortable in Kendall’s presence. Alexis had probably made him forget about their rendezvous. I had to admit one thing. My sister, for all her flaws, was one hell of an actor.
A heavyset man in his late fifties with olive skin and slicked back hair snatched the microphone from Alexis and at the same time slapped her ass. What a scumbag! Surprisingly, it didn’t even elicit a response from Alexis. That upset me. After all, she had mimicked me, and her attitude reflected upon me.
Lust dripped from the man’s gaze as he stared at my sister’s cleavage. “Okay, okay,” he said into the microphone. He used two fingers to press down on his bushy mustache. “Tonight we got a special treat for you rock n’ rollers out there! Give it up for…Salem’s Curse!” He stepped away from the mic, but his gaze didn’t waver from my sister’s chest as he began clapping…and licking his lips like a pervert.
Brandon and Kendall settled into a smooth rhythm. Moments later, Nolan started a bluesy melody on guitar. All the while, Alexis nodded her head with a smile. Then she placed her lips beside the microphone. “Arlington Heights, how you doin’ tonight?”
The crowd lifted their hands and shouted with applause.
My sister’s words didn’t sound genuine. If anything, they felt forced, exaggerated. More than that, her grin looked awkward and didn’t fit her words.
“Good,” Alexis said. “That’s real good.” She chuckled. “Because this whole thing…” She gestured to my bandmates. “Tonight? Playing for you?” She laughed again, a husky tone erupting from her throat. “Is a bunch of…steaming shit!” She shook her head, looking appalled as she set her gaze on the crowd. “Heavy metal? Really? Who the fuck listens to this shit music?” She glanced behind her at my bandmates as though they weren’t worthy to share her space. Then she spun back toward the crowd. “You can all suck my cock!” She dropped the mic, turned around, and walked back down the hall toward the back exit.
There was complete silence in the bar…for five seconds. Then a man shouted, “What the fuck?!” Another person shouted a similar profanity. And then, one after the other, voices erupted in anger, hurled at my bandmates, who stopped playing and set their attention on one another in confusion before looking in the direction Alexis had gone…as though expecting her to return, wondering if she'd been acting, as if she’d incited anger to get a reaction out of the crowd.
A member of the crowd flung a bottle of Miller Lite toward the band. A second later, a hamburger, with condiments flinging through the air, hit the drum kit. Then half a dozen projectiles flew toward the band: a handful of fries, a few solo cups, a hot dog bu
n, a couple trays of taco chips minus the cheese; a shot glass, and various bunched-up wrappers.
Horrified by Alexis’s behavior, my friends stood in place as though uncertain if what Alexis had said truly occurred, as though they suspected they’d entered a dream world where only their worst nightmares took place. They looked at each other with great concern, unsure what to do.
Like my friends, Alexis’s behavior shocked me. Only after thirty seconds, and no sign of her return, did I realize what she’d accomplished: she’d buried our chances. No band member had screamed such vehemence at their fans and returned to prominence in world of rock ’n’ roll. Only someone without a conscience would purposely ruin another’s dream. So much rage roiled inside me that my spirit vibrated with fury.
I looked at the space my sister had just vacated, wishing she stood in that exact spot, so I could…what? I didn’t have a physical form, so I couldn’t retaliate even if I wanted to. That fucking bitch!
How could she, in good conscience, wreck havoc with my career? The one thing I’d spent so much time and attention on for the past few years? I sped away from my friends and the fans in favor of following the path Alexis had just taken. I found her in the alley, heading to the right, probably toward her car somewhere in the vicinity.
I zoomed up to her in order to face my sister. When Alexis tried to walk through me without seeing my presence, I physically made her bounce backward as though she’d banged into a wall.
She looked left. She looked right. An astonished expression took hold of her. “What the…”
Seeing her confusion increased my wrath. “You fucking bitch!” I screamed. I swung a right hook at her face.
A gust of wind lashed against her face, the pressure snapping her head back. She halted. With the utmost uncertainty, without moving, she glanced left and right, her eyes gleaming with puzzled intensity. Not seeing anything in either direction, she chuckled as though disregarding a paranormal explanation in favor of one that emphasized a natural weather pattern.
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