Demonica (22 page)

I didn’t waste a moment. My right hand with the Dagger stabbed in at Lucifer’s right hand grasping my left wrist. Though Lucifer was clearly stronger than me, she did not expect this. The blade sliced all the way through her wrist. She screamed with a dozen magnified voices.

“Now you match your twin, bitch!” I said. I kicked her in the leg as a brace to pull my right hand with the Demon Dagger free.

My surprise attack was not the diversion I hoped for. Even with all my strength, her grip was concrete.

“A hand for a hand, bitch,” said Lucifer.

She squeezed. My hand might as well have been run over by a truck. Fire exploded through my fingers. Several bones cracked simultaneously. It hurt so much, I didn’t realize I was screaming until I wondered where the hell that ungodly noise was coming from.

Lucifer jerked me close by my broken hand. I didn’t think I could possibly be in any more pain, but damn, that did the trick.

Dante was already on his feet, fist pulled back for a fierce retaliation. Then he froze. The pain had hardly subsided in my crushed fingers, but I had regained my bearings enough to realize the predicament I was in. My back was held close to Lucifer’s body. She had her dismembered stump of an arm around my neck in a chokehold. She then held my broken hand with the Demon Dagger pointing directly at my heart.

“Not so fast, Dante,” said Lucifer. “Do you know how easy it would be to bleed out your girlfriend? All it would take is one good poke.”

“If you even scratch her, I’ll tear you to pieces,” said Dante. His fists trembled at his side. “I’ll fucking drag you down to Hell myself.”

“What a bold threat,” said Lucifer. “But here’s the thing. I’d much rather take my chances with you than her.”

The blade pressed harder against my chest, breaking the skin. A small circle of blood seeped through Lillith’s old cheerleading top.

“I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans, Pride,” said a new female voice. An
impossible
voice. “One way or another, you are going to die tonight.”

I was imaging it. I had to be! The shock was enough to briefly take my attention off my hand and the dagger at my heart.

“Who said that?” said Lucifer. Even though she seemed to already know. Her authority crumbled to fear. Being stabbed my Mammon was nothing compared to this voice.

From distant shadows, I noticed men in black suits and sunglasses. Illusory phantoms in the darkness. They were encompassing us in a perfect circle, doubling the number of Mammon’s coven. Most of the witches had already removed their veils at this point, wearing holy shit all over their faces.

Things were about to get holy shittier.

Half of the suited men disintegrated to smoke. They shot forward in shadowy streams. Each smoky blast hit a witch head-on, funneling forcefully into their mouths. Each witch staggered back on impact but quickly regained her balance. Each one opened her eyes.

They were solid black.

Each of the newly possessed witches turned to face Lucifer, emotionless. The remaining suited men encroached on the circle.

“Did you really think that you could evade us?” the female voice asked. “We’ve been watching you for ages.”

There was no doubt about it in my mind now. It was her. I didn’t know how or why or what the hell. But
somehow
it was her!

“You…” said Lucifer.

“Being your Princess, you will address me properly,” said the voice.

A wisp of black mist took female shape. With each step, she grew more substantial. Her athletic form, her long black hair, her naturally exotic features…exactly how I remembered her two months ago.

It was Cate Mallory. Casey’s dead girlfriend.

She turned to Dante with a venomous smile. “Hello, brother.”

35

The Sacrifice

Cate was alive? Of all the pants-shitting revelations in the universe, nothing could have blown my mind like this.

Except maybe her comment to Dante.

Brother?

Dante cocked his head slightly and squinted. “Hecate?”

Cate’s smile grew wider as she gestured to herself. “Do you like the meat suit, brother? It’s almost as beautiful as the real me, don’t you think?”

“Hey, sis,” sad Dante. He wasn’t smiling. “What are you doing here? Actually, you know what? I don’t care. Go to hell. Figuratively
and
literally.”

“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” said Cate. She gave a fake pout. “It’s been what? Sixteen years?”

“Stop acting like you care. We all know you’re just following the old man’s orders.”

“Father gives his regards, by the way. He looks forward to seeing you. Well…once we put Humpty Dumpty back together again, of course.”

“Tell him to go fuck himself with a pitchfork. That’s not going to happen.”

“Oh, Dante, always the funny one,” said Cate. She pretended to laugh. “But just for the record, I’m not asking your permission to do anything. I’m following a much higher line of command.”

Her suddenly intimidating gaze refocused to me, forcing another fake smile. “Monica, it’s been a while. Joined the cheerleading squad, have you?”

“Cate…” I said. “What are you…? How are you…?”

“I’m sorry. This all must be very confusing to you. Let me explain. I’m a Demon—the daughter of the Devil and the sister to this pathetic excuse of an heir to the throne. And yes, I’ve been possessing this body for quite some time now.”

“But…you dated Casey! For a whole year!”

“Yes, because for the longest time I thought
he
was
you
. I thought he was the child Martha Binsfeld caused to be possessed by my unfortunate brother. The rumors in Hell were a bit fuzzy as to what exactly had happened that fateful night. And honestly? Casey just seemed like the much more likely candidate. I spent all that time waiting for signs to show, but they never did. Eventually, I realized it wasn’t him. That it was actually you. But I quickly made use of my relationship with Casey. We
accidentally
stumbled into one of your mother’s witchcraft books. I pretended to learn with him how to summon a Dealmaking Demon…specifically Dante. And then, when your brother was so absolutely in love with me that I knew he’d do anything for my sake…I faked my own death.”

“You…!” I said. It came out more like an accusing breath of air. “My brother wanted to kill himself because of you!”

“Yes, that was sort of the idea. Spiral into depression, make a Deal with Dante, and inevitably turn you into the weapon that we knew my brother was planning all along. For the wrong reasons, of course, but effective to our cause nonetheless. My power was strong enough to hide my true identity from Dante as well as Wrath. I purposely crossed paths with that stupid wolf and let him rip my vessel to pieces. Not the most pleasant sensation in the world, mind you.”

Cate gave a casual sigh as if recalling a bad date.

“Have you ever tried to dig your way out of a coffin buried six feet under ground?” she asked. “Not as easy as it sounds. But it would take more than an abomination like Wrath to kill me. But I digress. It wasn’t until very recently that Dante has suddenly become much more powerful. Always when he’s close to you, Monica. Makes it all the more evident that you truly are the vessel to restore my brother to the throne.”

“That’s not happening!” said Lucifer. I almost forgot her stub of an arm was around my throat until it began trembling. “When I kill Monica, you’ll have nothing! I’ll be of no use to you!”

“Don’t be silly,” said Cate. “You have no choice in the matter, Pride.”

“My name’s not Pride! It’s Lucifer!”

Cate laughed out loud. “You’re not even a real Demon. You’re just a fragment of my brother. A Remnant. How dare you consider yourself worthy of my father’s name.”

Slowly, Cate approached Lucifer and me. All humor vanished from her expression.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” said Cate. “You are going to release Monica. She is going to stab you with that Dagger so she can absorb your lifeforce. And then, having contained all seven Remnants inside her vessel, Dante will possess her and his soul will be made complete. Then the
real
Metamorphosis will begin. Together, they are a hand in a glove. Dante will once again be restored to the glory of his inheritance. All of you pathetic lesser beings can consider yourselves lucky to be a part of the legacy.”

“That is
not
happening!” Dante snapped. “Nobody is touching Monica!”

“You, Brother, do not have a choice. You forget that I’m stronger than you. If you refuse to possess Monica, then I’ll just have to make you. Until you receive the Remnants, you’re just a fly without wings.”

“
I’m
killing Monica!” said Lucifer. She was wild-eyed, her once-composed beauty now a maniacal frenzy.

Cate inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Let me spell this out for you, pathetic Remnant. If Monica stabs you with that Dagger, you will not die but continue to live through Dante. Sloth and Envy willingly submitted themselves to this honorable destiny. But so help me… If you
kill
Monica, you are directly violating the will of the Dark Lord. You will suffer eternal torment of the most excruciating degree. Every passing second will become the new worst second of your life. The
real
Lucifer will see to this personally.”

Lucifer went rigid. I could already feel her grip loosen ever-so-slightly. Just enough for me to breathe comfortably. She was going to do it. She was going to release me.

But only so Cate could force Dante to kill me instead.

“Nobody is going to touch Monica,” said Dante.

Cate gritted her teeth. “I swear, Dante if you—”

Her threat fell in midair. Nobody had noticed until now. Dante was standing on the very edge of the Gateway to Hell. His dress shoes jutted unstably over the pit’s ledge.

My heart stopped—dangling precariously on the edge of endless oblivion.

“Dante…” said Cate. She raised her hands cautiously. “What are you doing?”

“You’re going to let Monica go with me, Hecate. Or I’m going to jump.”

“Don’t be stupid, Brother. You’re not nearly Demon enough to survive Hell anymore. You’d be just like all the other human filth that gets sucked into the abyss. Even Father might not be able to rescue you from that. It would destroy you.”

“That’s the idea,” said Dante. He inched even closer over the edge, his dark hair flying in the blaze. “So what’ll it be?”

Dante’s plan was desperate. Where would we run? Was it even possible to hide from full-fledged Demons like Cate and the armies of Hell?

As much as I wanted to hope, deep down, I already knew the answer. There was no running or hiding from these monsters. They would catch up to us eventually. I would die for the sake of turning Dante back into a monster.

But what other options did we have?

If only Lucifer could loosen her grip on me. Just enough for me to break free and stab her while the others were distracted. Of course, I would have to kill myself immediately after… But Dante and I already acknowledged that this was the only
true
solution to the problem. As much as he refused to admit it, I knew, deep down, he knew it.

But if I killed Lucifer, would I still be able to kill myself? Dante had pointed out that once I had absorbed the energies of all seven Remnants, they would awaken and I would be beyond saving. If that was the case, then I might not even be in control enough to kill myself.

My heart sank into its own abysmal hell—a cold, dark, meaningless void in my chest. It was beyond hopeless. I couldn’t even die on my own terms.

My head fell.

That’s when my eyes connected with the tip of the Demon Dagger. It wasn’t just pressed to my chest. It was directly lined up with hole I had stabbed in Asmodeus’s cheerleading uniform.

The hole I made when I impaled Asmodeus and Beelzebub together like a Demon shish kebab.

Realization dawned.

This was it. This was my one and only chance to make things right. I wasn’t any bigger than Asmodeus. And even though I couldn’t use my werewolf strength to drive it through, Lucifer’s heart would be a much easier target than Beelzebub’s.

The pain had subsided in my forcefully clasped fist. The bones in my hand had already healed. Beelzebub’s healing power…

“Dante,” I said. I realized this would be the last time I would say his name. “Don’t jump.”

Dante glanced up. Judging from the sudden concern in his arctic gaze, he seemed to sense something catastrophic in my tone.

“I need you…I need you to save my family,” I said. My voice faltered under the gravity of what I was about to do.

“Monica…?” The fear was late reaching his voice, but I saw it in his widened, horrified eyes.

A single, hellish tear burned as it trickled down my cheek. “I love you.”

I plunged the Demon Dagger straight through me. Into Lucifer.

It was so easy. Like the blade knew what it needed to do.

36

Dante Versus Hell

My world disintegrated.

This was worse than Hell. This was worse than being the embodiment of evil.

This.

It was pain beyond fathomability. And endless sea crashing down on me with no hope of ever breathing again.

I watched the life drain from Monica’s eyes. Lucifer became a hollow, charred corpse behind her. The blade connecting them illuminated blue; it transferred Lucifer’s Demonic energy. The Fallen Angel crumbled to ash.

Monica collapsed in her remains.

The encompassing Demons watched with empty, black eyes. Speechless. Utter dismay. But they could never comprehend the measure of my catastrophe. Not the least of which, Cate. Even with her eyes were so wide, they could have rolled out of their sockets.

Reality stabbed me in the heart and twisted its cruel blade.

“No!” I screamed.

I bolted from the ledge. To Monica’s lifeless form. Her body was draped in an awkward position, arms and legs flailed out like a ragdoll. A pool of blood expanded around her. It darkened as it seeped through her bed of ashes. Her vibrant red fanned around her head in a halo. Her pure, beautiful eyes… They were still open. Staring lifelessly through me.

“No…” I said. I couldn’t fight it. The sea crashing down on me, suffocating me, was now spilling out of my eyes. “Please, god, no. Don’t die. Please don’t die.”

I delicately lifted her limp body in my arms. As if I could cause any more damage. And then I lost it. My head feel in the emptiness that was her body. I sobbed miserably into her lifeless form.

She was dead. The one and only good thing in my pitiful fucking existence. Gone.

A deafening screech resonated from the depths of the Gateway. I blinked away my tears. I recognized that sound. All too clearly. It screeched again but this time closer and with the resounding volume of a volcano.

Hell Hawks.

Fire erupted from the Gateway. A monstrous winged creature swooped up into the wide open cavern. Flaming barbed wings reached a nearly thirty-foot span. Its haunches were tucked close to a smoldering emaciated body. Curled talons were ready to rip and tear. A long forked tail looped and dangled beneath. Most intimidating of all, however, was its face: a long wormy neck leading to a thick rounded beak of a mouth with crooked razor teeth splintering out in all directions. Nearly a dozen unsymmetrical eyes stared hungrily down on Monica.

“You stay the fuck away from her!” I said.

The Hell Hawk screeched again—to nearly deafening proportions. There was no skin to restrain its gargantuan mouth from opening nearly 180 degrees, hissing with two forked tongues.

I was so preoccupied with its mouth, I didn’t see its tail coming.

The flaming appendage hit me like a scalding pan in the face. The blinding impact sent me sprawling backwards.

I groaned, struggling to regain my bearings.

From my tilted, ground-level perspective, I witnessed the Hell Hawk swoop down on Monica. Its talons sank in but swept ghostlike through her body. Instead, its claws lifted something both transparent and luminescent. It was also human-shaped. But the same red hair draped from her head.

Monica’s soul.

Blazing wings tucked in as the creature barrel-rolled back into the depths of Hell.

“No…” I said, pushing myself off of the ground. “No no no no
NOOOOO!
”

I ripped my suit jacket off and started towards the ledge again. I hastily swept the Demon Dagger out of the blood-soaked ashes.

“Are you insane?” said Cate. “You’re going to die down there!”

The look I gave my sister was pure, raw, untainted desperation. “She’s the only thing I have worth living for.”

I broke into a sprint and dove headfirst over the ledge.

The heat swallowed me. The very atmosphere was streaked in spiraling fire. Like I was plunging down into the surface of the sun. I was in a raging, fiery freefall. Already, I felt like my face was going to melt off and my eyeballs would pop.

I glanced back up at the hole. From my new perspective, the circular Gateway was floating very out of place in an endless orange sky, distorted by heat waves.

But screw the fire escape. I had only one priority right now and that was reaching Monica back before it was too late.

I spotted the Hell Hawk—a distant, sweeping silhouette. Though its legs were tucked close, the luminescent thing in its talons was unmistakable. Monica was a glistening teardrop in a sea of burning hate.

I tucked my arms close and legs close. I was a straight line—a knife cutting through the inferno.

I could feel my flesh scalding. I didn’t care. My purpose defied pain. It was an animalistic drive that went beyond anything rational in the universe. Monica’s last words were branded into my skull, still burning.

I love you…

I closed in on the Hawk. As if the hell around us wasn’t bad enough, I could feel the added heat emanating from its body. One lengthy flap of its barbed wings closed the gap. I whipped the Demon Dagger out. Stabbed the outstretched appendage. The Hell Hawk screeched bloody agony.

Unfortunately, the blade continued to slice through the skin of its wing. I slid further down its barbed appendage. I flailed frantically for something to grasp onto.

The wing retracted. I was flung beneath its emaciated body. Our falling momentum held me in place—just long enough to stab the Dagger in its chest. The creature screeched again. It writhed wildly. I held onto the Dagger—the only thing separating me from a plunge through endless purgatory. My focus followed down its long form. To the tucked-in talons clutching Monica’s soul. Her transparent face was serene.

That wouldn’t last for long. Not if the Hell Hawk managed to deliver her.

At our current velocity, there was no way I could climb across the Hell Hawk’s belly. And I needed the Dagger to slice Monica free. That left only one option. It was risky. It was stupid. It was insane.

It was the only thing I had.

I ripped the Dagger out of the Hell Hawk’s chest. Gravity took over. I slid up its slanted lower body. A trail of hot embers igniting behind me. It was a split-second—one more and I would be free-falling.

I stabbed the creature again, this time in the thigh.

Monica was right below me. Hell blazed through her transparent figure. I was right where I wanted to be. I refastened my grip around the Hell Hawk’s tucked leg. Ripping the Dagger out, I slashed at its ankle. The talons flashed open, dropping Monica’s lower half. Her torso was still gripped firmly by the other set.

The creature stretched its elongated neck below. Its serpentine head struck at me. Multiple rows of jagged teeth gnashed. I pulled back, narrowly saving myself. The Hall Hawk reared back its ugly head. I readied the Dagger. The monster struck and I retaliated.

I didn’t expect the two forked tongues that whipped out of its mouth instead. Both wrapped around my arm like searing hot cable wire. With one jerk of its head, I was catapulted effortlessly into the open sky. Before I even had a chance to regain myself, a flare erupted from the fire below. It hit me with tangible force—an explosive punch—engulfing me. White hot agony became numbness.

My vision swayed in and out of focus. I couldn’t comprehend my surroundings anymore. Everything was a red and orange blur.

The Hell Hawk was gone. Monica was lost.

A very distinct blackness stood out against the red. It started off small, but grew larger. The strange shadow swallowed me whole.

***

White.

Everything was white. It was almost painful to keep my eyes open.

I rolled over onto my side. I immediately winced at the stabbing pain. My dress shirt and slacks were tattered. The flesh beneath was burned and blistered—clearly in no hurry to heal. Only Hellfire could burn a Demon like this. And I was practically swimming in the shit.

Cringing, I forced myself to sit up. The whiteness did not extend forever. Not even close. I could see the walls. The ceiling. I was in a perfectly square, perfectly white room. A cube. It was also relatively cramped, stretching only about twenty feet in any direction. It felt more like a prison. Or a psyche ward.

And then came the sign I was looking for. A puddle of black liquid seeped through the floor. It pooled outward. And then it bulged.

I crawled to my feet, ready to face it.

A bald head emerged from the pool of black. This was followed by a body dressed in a white suit. The fabric escaped the black liquid untainted. The figure proceeded to levitate over the black pool. He had no hands or feet however. His wrists and ankles ended in stumps, soaked and dripping with the same black liquid that he had emerged from. The most horrifying feature, however, was his face. If you could even call this nightmarish thing a face. His empty eye sockets were sewn shut. Both his nose and ears were nothing more than gaping cavities in his otherwise smooth-complexioned face. And then his mouth simply ceased to exist—just a smooth stretch of skin from cheek to cheek.

“Hey, dad,” I grumbled. “You handsome devil, you.”

This really wasn’t the time for sarcasm. Even from the Prodigal Son. But my brain was just so completely past sanity, I really didn’t give a shit.

The creature I called father pointed his inky wrist-stub at the nearest wall. More black liquid seeped through the wall, forming letters…words…

You have betrayed me, Dante. You are not worthy of my kingdom.

“I don’t want it,” I said. “All I want is Monica. Where is she?”

He nodded at the same wall. The inky words altered.

The girl has disgraced me too. She will suffer for eternity.

All sense of rationality and composure snapped. I rushed him. Swung my fist at his malformed face. It connected with a sickening smack. His head flew back. I furiously grabbed his collar, ramming him into the near wall.

“Where is she, you hell-fucked bastard?” I screamed.

My father didn’t even move. The pool of black beneath him reacted instead. A black pillar shot out, nailing me in the chest and flinging me to the opposite end of the room. My head and back hit the far wall with a resounding thud. The black liquid had reformed into a long black arm, ending with a massive black hand that proceeded to wrap around my throat. My feet dangled inches from the white floor.

My father levitated towards me until his ugly face was hovering inches away. His missing mouth suddenly ripped open, revealing toothless gums.

“I ought to destroy you permanently for your insolence,” he said with a lisp. “Do you think you’re some sort of hero? How exactly did you plan on saving that girl anyway? Riding the Hell Hawk back to the Gateway? Your naivety is enough to make me sick.”

I gripped the inky appendage at my throat. Leaned my head forward as best I could. I was undeterred. “Where. Is. Monica?”

My father pressed his new mouth into a straight line. This lasted for several long seconds. It might have been a staring contest if the old man actually had eyes.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll show her to you.”

The inky liquid released me, retracting into the dark pool. The entire gigantic puddle soaked completely into the floor until the only black liquid left was the stuff dripping from my father’s wrist and ankle stubs. As I staggered away from the wall, he drifted towards it. With a slight nod of his head, the wall rippled—a massive pool of liquid white. A new image appeared.

It was a narrow cliff ledge hanging over what appeared to be the sea. But there was no sky. No illuminating moon or starlight. This was blocked out by a vast cave ceiling that seemed to stretch for miles in all directions. Instead, a crimson light emanated from this peculiar ocean.

“Follow me,” he said.

He floated directly into the wall. The image to ripple as he passed through. His image appeared on the other side. I followed.

Walking through the wall was like walking into a vertical sheet of water—only I emerged on the other side instantly. Not even slightly wet. A gentle breeze greeted me on the cliff ledge. This was accompanied by a sound—almost like a howling wind. But something was off. My father had already drifted to the rocky lip overhanging the sea. I hurried to catch up with him. The cliff ended in a hundred foot drop.

A nightmare was painted on the water’s surface.

Bodies. Millions of souls like Monica’s strewn throughout the ocean. The red light emanated from each transparent spirit. They writhed and thrashed amongst each other like maggots.

The sound that I thought was the wind was… It was the culmination of their moans and screams.

“Beautiful,” said the Devil. He gestured to the scene with his oozing black stumps. “Is it not?”

“What is this?” I said.

“Oh, you know what this is. These are the worst of the worst. The sons of perdition. The choicest of my damned souls. Mentally, they are not here. Rather, they are lost slaves to their own personal hells. They feed on their own horrific memories and nightmares. Eternal torment, Dante. This is what it looks like.”

My stomach churned. I was sick just watching this squirming sea of red, roaring in agony. I forced myself to look at my feet.

“I consider this my…private collection, if you will,” said the Devil. His torn lips curled into a smirk. “I create my Demons from these souls, you know. They all start off as lumps of coal. But if you apply enough pressure…you just might find yourself a diamond.”

“You never showed me these ones before,” I said.

“I’ve never felt the need to show you. Or anyone else for that matter. But now that you have a girlfriend who swims these waters, I suppose that changes things.”

I lifted my head. My stomach plunged further into my inner abyss. “Where is she?”

My father pointed his nubby black-stained wrist straight ahead. “Do you see that spec of blue?”

My father referred to visual things as if he still had eyes. I knew, however, that his sensory powers extended far beyond the five traditional senses. I followed the direction of his nub, and sure enough, there was a hint of blue aura fighting against the crimson. It was emanating from deep beneath the surface, however. How deep did it go?