Devil's Den

by Jeff Altabef

  I pull my hand from underneath her skirt and grab her throat. “Stevie? Kate never calls me that. What the fuck are you?”

  It frowns at me and suddenly morphs into Marissa, the Mexican operative I had a fling with years ago. “Is this better? Marissa liked it rough.”

  I squeeze its throat tighter. “I’m only going to ask you one more time. What the fuck are you?”

  It pries my fingers from its throat as if I’m a child. Whatever it is, it’s way stronger than me.

  “You can call me Raven, and I’m so disappointed in you. Another minute and Little Stevie would have been inside of me. That would have been better. Easier for everyone. Oh well.”

  I step back and the thing changes. Wings form on its back. Razor-sharp talons extend from the hands. The skin turns scaly and red. I can still see a bit of Marissa in the face and it still wears the dress, which looks ridiculous.

  “Want to fuck me now?” It lifts the hem of the dress to its waist and laughs. “Raven still has a place for your little thing, Stevie. Once you’ve had a fallen angel, you’ll never go back.”

  I grab my Smith and Wesson and stumble back a step. “What do you want?”

  “You. We want you. You’re almost complete now, Stevie. Let yourself turn, and our master will reward you forever. He’ll give you Kate and so much more. You know it’s the right thing to do. Stop fighting.”

  The gun shakes in my hand, but my voice sounds confident. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you can’t have me. I’m on the human team.”

  The creature smiles and the last bit of Marissa vanishes from its face. The head stretches longer, the features sharper. Hellfire burns in its eyes. “Not for long, Stevie. We’re in your blood. Why fool yourself when you know better.”

  The monster’s eyes blaze hot and it pulls me. Not in a sexual way, but it’s rich with power. Part of me craves that power. Another minute and I’ll be some demon’s bitch, so I aim where its heart should be and fire.

  The demon moves impossibly fast. It jumps in the air, using its claws to push off the wall and lands on its feet in the alley. The bullet bounces off the brick building behind it.

  “That’s not nice, Stevie.” It says. “Don’t be so stubborn, Loverboy. I promise you’ll like it. I’ve never had any complaints. It will be an adventure.”

  “What can I say? I’m in a mood.”

  “You’re such a prude. Next time, I won’t be so nice.”

  “There won’t be a next time.” I level the gun and blast away. Three shots in a triangular pattern. At least one should have hit it, but there’s no sign any of them actually does.

  The demon races down the alley, and I go after it. With each step, it fades, until finally it morphs into black smoke and disappears.

  I stop. No sign of it. It’s as if the demon was never really here in the first place.

  Bullets couldn’t kill that thing, so I need to find out what can.

  The alley is deserted. It’s gone.

  What does it want with me? If it wanted to kill me, I’d be dead. It let me live, and that scares me almost as much as seeing the monster in the first place.

  I need a safe space to think. The alley looks familiar. There’s a door with a cross carved into the brick above it.

  A sign below the cross reads St. Thomas.

  The door is unlocked, so I step inside the old church. Considerably darker than outside, only a few candles add to the small traces of natural light filtering through the windows. I pause and soak in the sanctuary, absorbing the smell of the wooden pews, the vaulted gothic ceiling, the artistry in the windows, and the sanctity of the altar. This place feels special, as if it’s connected to another realm. Perhaps it’s the echo of all the prayers spoken in this building, or the flickering candles, or that it’s empty.

  It’s apparently not completely empty. Father Paul steps from behind a pew and into the center aisle. He smiles at me like we’re old friends and waves me over. I’m in his place. To refuse would be rude, and besides, he seems genuinely happy to see me. How many people really want to see me? I can count them on one hand. I tuck the Smith and Wesson back into the holster at the small of my back, and stroll to him.

  When I stop a few feet away, he grins and says, “So good of you to stop in and visit once more. I’d been hoping we’d see each other again.”

  What can I say? That I came close to screwing a freaky-looking demon in the alley and found this door by accident? Probably not my best option, so I settle for the easy. Sometimes easy is best. “I thought we might talk. I have some questions I’m hoping you can help me with, Father Paul.”

  He crosses his arms against his chest and frowns at me. “You really disappoint me.”

  What does he mean? I’ve done a lot to disappoint a priest. Does he know about the demon gang member whose head I smashed to oblivion, or Mr. Frosty, or Brad, or the thing named Raven in the alley, or Cindy, whom I would have hurt if Kate hadn’t been with me in Darleen’s apartment? With so many bad acts to choose from, I don’t know what to confess to, so I add befuddlement to my voice and wait for the verdict.

  “Disappointed?”

  He smiles, and I know he’s not going to bust me for any of my recent sins. “I thought we’d become friends, and my friends call me Paulie. Father Paul sounds so stuffy.”

  I breathe easier. Why do I care what the priest thinks of me?

  “Come,” says the affable young man. “Let’s sit and I’ll make up as many answers to your questions as I can.”

  He sits in the first-row pew, and I settle next to him. “So, what’s on your mind this time?”

  I need to talk to someone about my rising demon problem. It’s not going away on its own. “What do you know about demons?”

  Father Paul looks at me for a short while; the silence thick between us, a grim expression creases his face. Finally, he says, “There are all types of demons. Personal ones we fight, and then others.”

  Leaning forward, I ask, “It’s the other ones I’m interested in. Real demons, sent from hell.”

  Father Paul tents his hands together and presses his fingertips against his lips. “The Bible talks about demons. As Christians, we can’t pick and choose what we believe. Demons are as real as angels. I don’t think you can have one without the other.”

  I don’t want a lecture on the Bible. I need practical advice, and it seems Paul knows more than he’s saying. “Here’s the thing. I’ve seen real demons. They’ve taken an interest in me. I need to know why and how I can defeat them. I’ll understand if you think I’m nuts and want me to leave. I’ll go, but I could really use your help.”

  Father Paul looks over his shoulder and surveys the empty church. When he looks back at me, it seems as if his eyes shine. “I don’t think you’re nuts. We don’t learn much about demons in seminary, but there was one priest, Father McInerney, who’s an expert. He’s a bit odd and some people find him creepy. The novices mostly stay away from him, but I spent time walking with him. He told me some interesting stories about demons. Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Well, since one tried to screw me in the alley, it’s not a question of what I want. I need to know.”

  “It tried to have sex with you?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll save it for another time.”

  The priest cocks his head as if to examine me before he speaks. He lowers his voice, so I can barely hear him. “You must understand that these are only his ideas. I can’t be certain they’re true. He wasn’t even certain.”

  “I got it. You’re offering no guarantee.”

  He nods. “Just so we understand each other. McInerney said two types of demons live among us. One form, the less dangerous type, is a human who succumbs to the Devil. He or she embraces evil, and the Devil uses a dark version of the Holy Spirit to inhabit the person. Call it an Unholy Spirit. While this form is far less dangerous than the other type of demon, it’s still highly lethal. It can possess extraordinary strength and is hard to kil
l. Usually a blow to—”

  “To the head is needed to kill the thing. Right?”

  “Not just a knock on the head, but a total destruction of the skull. Or, a blade that’s been properly blessed, that would do the trick. A knife washed with holy water for example.”

  “Interesting,” I say, “And what about the other type. The more dangerous ones.”

  “They’re even more of a challenge. When God cast Satan from heaven, Satan didn’t go alone. A number of angels took his side.”

  “How many?”

  He shrugs. “No one knows. A good number, but less than half. When they fell to hell, they changed in appearance. Their feathers burned into their flesh and became leathery. They took on a reddish color. And—”

  “And their nails turned to talons and their faces grew longer and sharper looking.”

  “That sounds about right. On Earth, these demons have similar powers to angels.”

  “Can they change their appearances?”

  “Certainly. Among other traits.”

  “Great,” I say. “And how can I kill them?”

  “With great difficulty,” he touches my hand. “Look, these are only stories. I don’t know if they’re real or not.”

  “Oh, they’re real.” I don’t want to freak out the priest and tell him the frequency in which I’m seeing these demons. It’s not his problem, and I don’t want to weigh him down with it. Still there’s another way he can help me. I remove my phone from my pocket and retrieve the symbol of the cult from Frankie’s pendant. “Have you ever seen anything like that?”

  He makes the sign of the cross. “That’s a dark symbol.”

  “It isn’t a Christian symbol? I figure it was since it has a cross in the center.”

  “Yes, however the star has five points, so it’s a pentagram, and the cross is enclosed inside the star. That changes the meaning completely. This suggests the power of God is limited and can be overcome. It foretells that Satan will eventually prevail in the Great Struggle.”

  “The Great Struggle?”

  “Yes, at the End of Days.”

  “Great,” I mutter. “Do you know any group that uses this symbol? A cult called The Farm?”

  Paul shakes his head. “It’s an ancient symbol. I had hoped it was long forgotten.”

  I stand. “Nothing is ever forgotten. Shit just gets recycled and comes back in new and worse forms.”

  The lack of light streaming though the window means that dusk has fallen. I need to return to Kate’s apartment, see if they’ve uncovered anything useful, and make plans to visit Otherworldly’s shop in District 3. Talking about demons and the Great Struggle won’t rescue Megan. After that, I don’t know.

  I lift my hand toward the priest. “Thanks for the help, Father Paul.”

  He shakes it with a firm grip. “Next time, it’s Paulie.”

  “Deal,” I say and move down the aisle toward the main door.

  Before I reach the exit, Father Paul calls out to me. “Steven.”

  I turn, and he says, “When you’ve decided, come back to see me.”

  A bluish light sparkles in his eyes before he turns and disappears behind the altar.

  Decide what?

  I reach the door, and a chill runs through me. I don’t recall ever telling Father Paul my name.

  A bowl of holy water sits by the door on a pedestal I hadn’t noticed before. I wash the blade of my knife before leaving. Better safe than sorry.

  Megan hoists the tip of her apple-picking pole toward a ripe target on the top branch and can’t quite reach it. Her head, still buzzing from the smoke in the enclave, only gets in the way. Her depth perception is way off, her arms shake, and the pole droops to the ground.

  Petal steps in front of her. “What did they do to you?”

  They had drifted from the others, far enough that no one else can see or hear them among the trees, a rare moment of privacy.

  Megan speaks slower than normal. “I...spoke to the Mother...alone in one of the special rooms. There was this...smoke, and....”

  Petal bites her lower lip. “You’ve only been here a couple of days. They never drag someone into the enclaves until they’ve been here at least a week. They like to break us down physically first. I don’t get it. Why the rush?”

  Megan shrugs. All her thoughts spin in wild directions, like fireflies she can’t catch.

  Petal grabs her by the shoulders. “You can’t believe what she told you. The smoke is a drug. It affects you, makes you compliant.”

  “I don’t know what to believe. She made a lot of sense. She’s—”

  “Very persuasive. I know.” Petal moves close to Megan so they breathe the same air. She smells like ripe apples. “My name is Felicity Sanders. I live in District 12 and have a younger brother and sister. What’s your name?”

  “Spring.”

  Petal brushes a loose hair from Megan’s face and strokes her cheek. “What’s your name?”

  The touch of Petal’s fingers helps her concentrate. “Megan Smith. I also live in District 12 with my mom. Her name is Kate.”

  Petal leans her head against Megan’s shoulder. “Tonight. We escape tonight. We can’t wait any longer.”

  “How?”

  “They’re having a burning tonight. Everyone’s required to attend. We’ll slip away in the darkness.”

  Megan lifts her pendant. “What do we do with these?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I have a plan. They take them off when we go into the sanctuary. It interferes with their process. I know the password for the computers. Trust me. And don’t drink the punch at dinner. I’ll sit next to you, and I’ll switch cups.”

  “Won’t it bother you?”

  “My chemical make-up is different from most. The punch and smoke doesn’t affect me much.”

  “Why me?” asks Megan. “Why are you helping me?”

  Petal smiles. “I’ve met you once before. Well, not really. I went to the science fair last year and saw your presentation.”

  Megan’s face flushes hot. “You competed at the fair? I don’t remember seeing you.”

  Petal smirks. “No. I’m not a science type. I’m more of a literature person, but I watched your presentation on faster-than-light travel. You explained wormholes and created a model to twist time and space. That girl, the one who’s going to explore space, isn’t going to get stuck in some fucking farm in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I feel useless. You’d be better off without me.”

  “I’m not leaving without you.” Petal leans closer to her, her emerald eyes blazing. “You’re smart and strong. I need your help or I’ll never get away. And I know it sounds silly, but I like you a lot, so there’s that.”

  Petal kisses Megan, and Megan’s lips melt into Petal’s. Heat runs down her body from her lips right through her toes. She feels a longing she’s never felt before and wants more from this brave girl with emerald eyes and brown skin who smells like apples. She can’t believe they just met yesterday.

  When they separate, Petal says, “I’m Felicity Sanders and you’re Megan Smith. They can’t take that away from us. Say it.”

  “You’re Felicity Sanders and I’m Megan Smith.”

  “Damn right. Promise me you won’t forget it.”

  “I promise.”

  May approaches, her basket full of apples in one hand, swinging her pole over her shoulder with the other, driving away their moment of privacy.

  “Tonight,” Petal whispers. Then she grabs her pole and speaks in a loud voice, “You’ve got to hold it this way,” she says as if she had been simply instructing Megan on the best technique to pick apples.

  “Got it,” says Megan and then she smiles. She thinks about Eddie and Denise and how she wants to tell them about her first kiss. Eddie will want to know all about Petal, and Denise will want every detail of the kiss itself. She’ll have a problem getting any of her own words in and it’ll take forever to describe. She’s sure it’s the weirdest firs
t kiss under the oddest circumstances ever. And she’s sure her friends will like Petal when they meet her.

  She has one more question to ask Petal, but the moment is gone.

  What’s a burning?

  I trek back to Kate’s apartment, trying hard to flush thoughts of demons and Father Paul from my mind. Finding Megan requires my full attention, and I can’t picture how demons are involved in the girl’s kidnapping. Once Tina opens the door to Kate’s apartment, a gloomy mood hits me like a gust of bad news.

  Kate sits on the couch with teary, red-rimmed eyes, and Tina’s body language sucks. Her shoulders slope downward and she doesn’t look me in the eyes. The only positive: Tina has stopped playing the techno-modern crap. Once she got rid of me, she probably shut it off. Job well done.

  “How did your errands work out?” Tina asks, a trace of bitterness in her voice. She makes it sound as if I left to avoid helping with her social media searches, just another example of me deserting Kate when she needs me. Of course, she chased me away, so she has no reason to feel bitter, but that’s Tina. She’ll blame others when shit happens, even if it’s her own fault. Some people are like that.

  “Fine. Did you guys learn much?” I have to ask, even though the answer is obvious. Not to ask would be bad. It would mean I didn’t have confidence in them, or that I didn’t care what they were doing.

  “A few things,” says Kate. She’s acting as a bridge between Tina and me to avoid the predictable car crash. “We found only two threads on social media about the Otherworldly Experience’s private club. Both were basic questions, but no one seems to know much about it, except that it’s exclusive.”

  “That’s weird right there.” Tina perks up. “Usually a place like Otherworldly would want some buzz about an expensive private club, but it seems like it’s the opposite. As if they want to keep it a secret.”

  “Did you find out who owns Otherworldly?” I ask.

  “No,” says Tina. “That’s even weirder. Usually some pompous windbag takes credit for a success like Otherworldly, but there’s nothing. Even their website doesn’t say who owns them. And they don’t advertise. All of their growth is organic through word of mouth.”