Deal With The Devil

[Gildarts]

The fire was started again, Martin was warming his hands a few feet over the flames, feeling the warmth radiate off of the crisping wood by way of immense light. He had lit little lanterns, for fear that the demon woman would return with his son’s head in her hands. His hair, clumped in her fingers while she told him, “You didn’t listen to me, Martin, and now, just look, both of you have to die now.”

Her voice was playful, catlike, and it was almost real in his head. His eyes search the darkness once more. It’s almost dawn, thank goodness, most monsters don’t like the sunlight. His free hand, the one not grasping the revolver, shakes open the twist-cap of the whiskey tin. He’s jittery. He’s intoxicated. He won’t fall asleep though, since the fear is keeping him awake. She likes this, seeing the life in his eyes, she likes the justice, tangible in the air. Martin has inflicted so much fear in others, he deserves so much more. It almost seems right, that he should be killed by his son, using the man’s own revolver, the one he used to shoot Bradley’s leg to slow him down so that he couldn’t run away, to draw more vamps in. To slay them too, all together. Martin has been a very bad boy. Luckily, there’s some good in the world yet. Alex’s eyes look to the boy.

He has his father’s blood in him, he’s excited. Jittering in the same demeanor as his father, but in anticipation. This is the day he’s been waiting for. The day his father dies. He wished he didn’t have to end it with his own hands, but Alex said she couldn’t kill him, since she was bound by Bradley’s promise, even after his death. It was simple, she’d get the gun, and he’d cock it and pull the trigger. That was the plan, right? She’d make him a murderer. She made it clear that Marco had to sacrifice something very precious. That murder weighs down the soul. Very clear. It didn’t feel wrong, no, killing him would feel very right. He’d be freeing all of them, liberating his family of fear. Liberating... It was justice, it was karma, it was... Righteous to kill this man. His father, who he let beat his mother for too long. He watched Bradley go into the woods with him, along with a few townsmen, and never come back. So yes, he had to sacrifice a piece of himself in order to get what he wanted. And Bradley had wanted it too, they were going to the same place in the end. He wanted to see Bradley soon, and the demon promised him a good ten years of life. She promised, and she can’t break a deal. She told him so, just like she told him he was right to want to kill his father. That there was no other way...

Martin took a swig, and then another, then he screwed the cap back on, his fingers wobbling as he did so with only one hand. He’d mastered this, since the tin was almost always in his left hand anyway, he was a pro. He was good at it. A chill crawled down his spine, fear rattled his ribcage with shaking and ragged breath. Something was watching him. Something was going to kill him. His senses told him, prickling against the back of his neck, that it was behind him, whoever or whatever it was. Her. It had to be her. He spun around, pistol in hand, and shot the spiraling bullet through the dark.

He couldn’t see far past ten feet away, and his set torches actually blinded his visibility rather than granting it. “Dad?” his son’s voice called.

“Shit, sorry son, I thought you were that demon, I didn’t getcha, did I, son?” he asked, his voice slurring with warm intoxication. Had he forgotten about shooting through his son to get to the demon, or at least, that had been the plan, before the little bitch ran away. Or maybe he hadn’t. It was all water under the bridge now though. “Did you see her? Where is she?”

“She’s behind you, dad.” WHAM! Something hit his head, but only enough to disorient him. His pistol fired again, into the air this time, and she was able to snatch it away. His son drew closer, his eyes were full of anger and fear. The demon had said something to him, and ow, the back of his neck stung. It didn’t stay, the pain, since he was full of enough booze to keep all his memories away.

“Son, son! Where are you?” he was swaying back and forth on his feet now. She’d hit him right where it mattered. She knew anatomy very well. She’d stolen his sight by hitting a certain part of his head, one little pinpoint. The old man, would be blind before he was dead. Symbolic, she thought, since he was once so sure of his righteousness and it was tasteful to the history they were writing for Marco’s future generations.

“Dad, I’m right here, she’s not behind you anymore, she stole your gun.” It was true. That’s what made the moment the best. The woman handed off the gun to him, knowing he wouldn’t turn it on her. They were bound, see, by the contract. Sure, he could attempt to kill her afterwards, but she’d be too quick for a cowering little boy who wasn’t sure who was on his side. He was sure, for one thing, that his daddy wasn’t.

“Where’d she go, damn, I can’t see son, we’ll have to go back to camp in the morning. Ouch, ouch! My foot!” he’d stepped in the fire. Now his shoe was ablaze. Alex watched with a straight face. She’d seen him as a competitor? This was pathetic. She wished the little brat would just pull the trigger already. But of course, both the good guys and the bad guys want their enemies to know how they died.

“Dad, you always... Beat mom, and you killed little Sydney the second my back was turned... And you killed Bradley, and Pastor Thompson-”

“Now now son, Pastor Thompson had it coming, he was telling your mother that she should run away from me, and I couldn’t have her believe she’d get away, now could I?” Perhaps normally, the man wouldn’t have confessed such truth, but well, he was intoxicated, and blind. Maybe he sensed his death coming. The fire grew on his pants. How suspenseful.

“That doesn’t mean you should go and kill him dad, he’s a person! You’re supposed to only kill the monsters out here!” Marco protested, but the gun was firmly pointed at his father. Firmly. How ironic, compared to the words he now said.

“People can be monsters too,” Martin said, Alex thoughtOh isn’t that the truth, what was it they said about blind men becoming prophets in olden literature? Oh I don’t remember, oh well. Doesn’t matter now, he’s going to die. Unfortunately, he may not see it coming, I wanted him to know fear, but, making his son into a murderer was just too good to pass up. “Thompson was a bad influence on the town, he said since our numbers were getting low in the guard, that we should send less people out into the forest to eliminate them, well, I told him he was wrong, and he told me at the next meeting, he was going to have the town take me off of the guard. Well, I couldn’t have that, I’m the best shot! How else can you kill monsters if you’re busy pitying your own.”

Yeah, how else, daddy? she snickered under her breath. Marco was standing firmly, his two feet planted to the ground, “Dad, you tortured me for years with the very belt you’re wearing, you wear it every day, as though you’re brandishing the triumph of my pain, and I curse you for it! I damn you to Hell!”

Pow.

Pow.

Pow.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. It’s out of bullets, but he’s still clicking. He’s still just a boy, but now, he’s a murderer too. All it took were the right words. That was all it took to make anyone into a monster after all. Marco’s aim is square in the chest. His father gurgles air and blood through his throat, and falls back into the fire following the force of the bullets in his chest.

He burns, his flesh sizzles, but his blood is probably so full of whiskey, he won’t actually put the fire out, but feed it. She snickers at the thought of him burning alive here, and then in Hell too. Next she turns to the boy. She’s met hundreds like him. All around his age, that she has ‘helped’ and he is no different. Except, she now notices he is teetering side to side. She now notices the pool of blood below his feet. She now tastes the iron in the air, and looks at the warm bullet hole in the stomach of his shirt. A pity, when deals come back to haunt you.

“He hit you with the first shot, didn’t he?” Sometimes that was fate. Funnily enough, that’s probably where Martin would’ve hit him with the first bullet.

“Y-yup...” Marco fell over, and into the cold ground. The pistol was tossed aside, his hands now, awash with blood. That was symbolic too, Macbeth would’ve approved. He was a funny guy, she was glad she was able to kiss him too, and make his dreams come true.

“Please, help me, you’re a genie, you promised me, ten years of life?” Marco, a stupid, naive little boy. Even if she could help him, she had nothing to gain. He had no soul left to take.

“Ten years of unheeded life, from us, the demons. There’s nothing you have that I want, now that you’ve given me your soul. You’ll die now, Marco, after killing the same father that killed your brother and sister. But you’ve freed your mother and other sister. They will only ever guess just what monster you both were eaten by. You’ll die martyrs, for the very cause your father killed for.” she explained coldly. She now looked down at the dying boy. Her emotions were stripped, since, she -a demon- only ever felt emotion delivered by the suffering of others.

“But-but...” Sorrow. Denial. Betrayal. It all rolled out in one fluid expression of pain. She was numb to it. Numb to the bone. Not all monsters are sociopathic, but the kind that act the way she does, are. “I helped you..”

“I will thank you though, Marco, for you’ve given me valuable information, which I can contact the King of Hell with. You’ll never get to meet him, though, not if we are where you say we are. He’s worshiped by even humans these days, maybe I’ll give him your regards if I see him soon. Anyway, as for an explanation, though I owe you nothing, I am no longer bound by Bradley’s promise, since the man who it was about, is now dead.” Another lie, but well, she had all the control over the situation now. She had everything she wanted. So why did she lie, to make him, or herself feel better? It didn’t matter. She had to be going. She had places to be, and eyeless faces to meet. Yes, today was the day she bridged the gap between worlds. Something new, something fun.

“Thanks for you soul. I’m sure the hounds will think its juicy.” she smiled leaned over in such a way that made him believe she would grant him healing after all, but really, her hands went into his back pocket, where his phone lay dormant, without bullet wound. Contented, she stepped over him, and then, stepped over his father, as though they were just twigs below her feet, waiting to be snapped as they were walked on.