The Devil Is a Gentleman

by J. L. Murray

  “Are you afraid of me?” he said.

  “No,” I said. “Why would I be?” I could feel breath in his chest, the flesh of his stomach.

  I remembered now. There was a white-haired man. Dorrance. I had killed him. We had killed them all. The Blood. I drank all of the angelwine to do it. I had burned up. “I burned,” I said. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop it. And no one could stop me. Not even myself. I killed them all.”

  He let go of my face, but I grasped his hands and held onto them. “I can’t cross over, can I?” I said.

  “No,” he said.

  “Are you here to say goodbye?”

  He stared at me. After a long time he said, “I’m here to give you a choice.”

  “A choice?” I said. “Why?”

  “Because I have to. Because I can’t not give you a choice. Damn you, Niki, you weren’t supposed to die.” His voice was hoarse, as Gage’s had been.

  “Everyone dies,” I said. “You know that.”

  “Not you,” he said. “How could you? You were a spark. You made me remember.”

  “Remember what?”

  “What it means to feel.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam,” I said. “It was the only way.”

  He nodded. “A choice then.”

  “What are the choices?”

  I saw the mask of his lips curl into a smile. “What else? Life or death.”

  “Why would I choose death?” I said.

  “There are limitations to life. After this, nothing will be the same.”

  “I don’t care,” I said. “Anything is better than this. I can’t feel anything. I choose life. Can you do it?”

  He was silent for a moment. “I can do it,” he said finally. “Are you sure? Don’t you want to know it means? You may find living a hardship. After this.”

  “I choose life,” I said. “Please. You can tell me after, just let me feel again. I feel like my insides are full of air. I want to touch again. I can’t stand this. I’ll go insane.”

  He nodded. “This is going to hurt,” he said. “You’ll feel everything.”

  He glided to the blackened body on the ground and knelt on the ground. He placed his hands on the flesh. It crackled under his fingers. He lowered his face to the blackened head, a skull with seared skin stretched across. All the hair had burned away. It didn’t look like me. It looked like a monster. Sam put his mouth on the dead mouth and exhaled.

  I felt a ripping pull and I was under him, and his lips were on mine. He was so hot and felt so good against my mouth. His lips parted and I thought he would kiss me, but he breathed into me again and I felt the pain. I thought at first it would be better than feeling nothing. The feeling of having flesh to feel pain, to feel cold, so cold, was a brittle relief. But then I felt my skin crawl and itch and ache and burn all at the same time. I tried to scream but Sam held his mouth fast to mine. He put a comforting hand on my face and it was agony, but he held it there.

  I writhed under him. I felt my flesh reforming, my heart growing, my lungs becoming new again. The black flaked off and I was raw, the bones becoming clean, the muscle scaling overtop like magma, then becoming flesh that burned in the air. I felt my body convulsing and I shook. I felt the hair growing out from my head and my skin coursing down over the muscle. In my head I was screaming. Through the screams I could hear a voice. Gage’s voice. He was yelling. I couldn’t tell if he was terrified or angry or happy. I didn’t know anything but the pain.

  And then, as soon as it started, the sharp pain was gone and I was myself, only tender and sore. Sam’s lips were on mine and I felt I could stay like that forever. But he pulled back and looked down at me. I took a ragged breath and my new lungs filled with air. I coughed. I was cold. The only warmth was coming from Sam’s hands. They were still hot, one on my face and one on my stomach. He had brought me back to life. I’d been dead and now I wasn’t.

  “Sam?” I said, my voice like shards of glass scraping my throat.

  “Sam,” echoed a voice. Gage was pacing around me where I lay. I looked at him. “Sam did this?” he said. He ran a hand through his hair. I thought he was angry, but a tear ran down his face. “Oh, Jesus,” he said, lurching down and hugging me to his chest. “Goddamn, Slobodian,” he said. “I thought you were gone for sure.” He pulled off his tattered jacket and pulled it around me. I realized I was naked but I didn’t care. I was alive. I could feel. “I don’t know how you’re alive, but I don’t give a damn. Sick of people dying.”

  “Damn, Gage, would you stop blubbering all over me?” I said. But he didn’t stop. He just laughed and cried and kept right on hugging me. I didn’t have the energy to stop him. I looked for Sam and found him stepping back, away from us.

  I felt the ground shake beneath us, a low rumbling became a series of deafening cracks. It came from outside. Sam was looking at me. I could see the movement in his eyes. He looked sadder than I had ever seen him. Gage gave a start, bracing us so I didn’t fall on the ground. “Jesus, what the hell is that?” he said.

  The racket from outside didn’t stop, it just got louder. The lights flickered, then went out. We were in complete darkness and the world outside sounded like Armageddon. Sam’s face seemed to glow in the dark and he was shaking his head.

  “Sam,” I said. “What is it you’ve done exactly?”

  He looked at me for long time before he spoke. “I believe I’ve chosen a side,” he said.

  And the building began to crumble.

  Chapter 20

  I don’t know how we got to the Deep Blue Sea, but we were just there, next to the bar. Janis was gone. The place was overwhelmingly quiet. Gage was still holding me in his lap, sitting on the ground. Sam was himself again, hunched over the bar, his flowing robe transformed back into his usual pinstriped suit. He was heaving, his breath ragged and painful-sounding.

  Gage helped me to my feet. The floor was cold on my bare feet. Gage stood next to Sam, looking at him intently. “What have you done?” he said. Both Gage and Sam looked over at me. Sam’s face was drawn and sick-looking. His eyes were red-rimmed like he hadn’t slept in days and he had a gaunt look. Sam straightened up wearily, the mere act of standing seeming to be difficult for him. He looked at Gage and shook his head, a look of despair on his face.

  “I had to,” he said.

  I was becoming aware of a sensation, a twitching in my head. I lifted my head. It was familiar and I searched my brain as to why. “Natalie?” I said, remembering. Both men looked at me. The twitching stopped and there was silence for a long time. Gage suddenly stumbled, only barely catching himself on the bar. He looked at me strangely.

  “Niki,” Gage said in an unnaturally high voice. I looked at Sam, but Sam was staring at Gage in confusion. “Niki,” said Gage, “help me.”

  I frowned. “Natalie?” I said slowly.

  “Yes, it’s me,” said the voice coming from Gage. His eyes were glazed over. “She took me, Niki. My new angel, he walked me right out of the vault, right through the walls. He took me right to her.”

  “Who?” I said.

  “E-li-za,” said Natalie, drawing the name out. “Her name is Eliza and she is not nice. I’m so weak, Niki. I can’t control anyone. They’ve done something to me. Please help me.”

  Gage’s body gave a shudder and he fell to the ground. He shook his head, blinking furiously. I went to him, holding the jacket shut in front of me. “Are you all right?” I said.

  “Jesus,” he said in his own voice. “What the hell was that? Something was in my head. In my goddamn head!”

  I started to tell him, but the ground started shaking. I looked up at Sam. He was still hunched over the bar. He looked like he should have passed out already. He looked dully up at the shuddering of the ground. There was a sound like a large cannon. It sounded like it was right outside. “What is it, Sam?” I said.

  He looked down at me slowly, like he’d forgotten I was there. He seemed surprised by my question. He raised his eyebrows. “A war
,” he said. “Between Heaven and Hell. And we are right in the middle.”

  For more about J.L. Murray, visit the author page.