\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/839890
Item Icon
Rated: 13+ · Book · Young Adult · #2027623
Demons, demon hunters, and innocent humans collide in a way no one could have foreseen.
#839890 added February 20, 2015 at 4:10am
Restrictions: None
Chapter Two
Joss could tell she wanted to shrink back from him, but she didn’t. Brave girl. He admired her for it.

“I don’t know.” At least she was honest.

Suddenly, the air around them stilled, no cars on the street, no people walking by. All of his senses sharpened, immediately bringing everything around him into focus.

She must have sensed something. She asked, “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering her, he threw another question. “What do you feel?”

Confusion was evident in her face. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t think so hard about it. There are no cars, no animals, no humans… It’s too quiet and too still.”

“I…” Her tongue darted out and licked her lips in a motion he took to be nerves. “I noticed… I don’t know what I noticed. But my insides are sick, and the air feels… Heavy.”

The sick feeling passed a long time ago. They couldn’t do that to him anymore. He remembered… He remembered being five and lying in bed when it appeared out of nowhere. It brought with it a stench and a heat so overpowering he couldn’t move. It was the thing of nightmares, worse than any monster he could find under the bed, and it said it was coming for him to take him to Hell.

“Yes. That’s what happens,” he confirmed. He didn’t know whether it wanted him or her.

Without warning, a shock wave rocked the air, and for a moment it wavered, shimmering, moving in an almost beautiful way. It broke through and time became irrelevant. There was nothing on this street but him, Mackenzie, and the demon. She moved closer to him, grasped his coat sleeve and he could see the shock on her face.

From his pocket he produced Holy Water and from his jacket a mid-sized silver knife, blessed by Father Luke. Father Luke, the man who gave him this mission and warned him that he could not fail, he could not falter.

The shape took full form and the heat, the stench rolled over them in one great wave before some of the glow diminished and he stood looking like any other man walking down the street. He was deceiving, this demon, and Joss could see right through to the ugly, nasty core.

Fingers gripped his arm tightly, and he found himself shoving her behind him, unthinking or uncaring in how opposite his duty it represented. This demon didn’t want her dead; this demon wanted her – alive and undamaged. At least until the demon took what he wanted.

“Mephistopheles,” he spat the words out like a man spitting poison.

The demon smiled, and beyond the human facade he could see hanging flesh, a skeletal smile and eye sockets as dark as the night sky.

“Joss,” it drew out his name as if a delicacy on the demon’s tongue.

He felt Mackenzie shift and step out slightly from behind him. He couldn’t take his eyes of Mephistopheles. The demon coveted his soul for 12 years now.

“What do we have here?” The demon said, eyes shifting to the girl.

“You know what we have here. Don’t play stupid. State your purpose.”

Laughter drifted from the lips of demon. “My purpose? My purpose. You should know what that is, Joss.”

“I do. But in order to play here, you have to state it.”

“Play, is that what we do? I thought it was more like you trying to defeat me and never succeeding.”

Steeling himself against the needling, he kept his calm, face expressionless for the purpose of never letting the demon know how he felt.

“I will one day do more than send your sorry ass back to Hell.”

“You can’t destroy me. But please, by all means, keep telling yourself that.”

The demon moved, and the movement was fluid, almost like no movement at all. He was closer, dressed in a sharp suit and duster. To those around him, he looked nothing more than a businessman walking the street. People could only see what they wanted to see.

Joss brought up his knife, left hand rising to form symbols.

Mephistopheles laughed again. “You think God approves of that witchcraft?”

“It’s not witchcraft. The intent behind the actions makes it pure.”

The demon sneered, destroying the handsome look he was playing. “Is that what your precious priest told you? He himself isn’t so pure… Now, is he?”

Anger swirled up to choke him and he fought it back. The demon spoke ill of the man who came into his home and gave him weapons to fight the uninvited monsters that showed up whenever and wherever they wanted. Father Luke gave him the tools to control and claim his own mind, to discipline his body. Joss knew he owed the man a great deal. He taught him everything he knew in order to fight the evil that haunted this world.

“Don’t speak of the Father like you know anything about him, demon. You twist words and feelings until you leave them confused and broken, but that won’t happen to me. You should’ve given this up by now.”

“But I like playing our little game. This wordplay entertains me before I find ways to hurt you,” he said. “Now… Mackenzie is it? You have something I want. And despite your great defender here, I will have it.”

“What is he talking about Joss, I don’t understand. Why do you call him a demon? He looks like an ordinary man… I don’t know how he got here, but-“

He raised his hand, effectively cutting her off. “You won’t get what you want Mephistopheles. You will never have what you want.”

“Excuse me,” she pushed away from Joss, and he could feel her irritation as easily as if she slapped him. “I am who you are talking about here. I think I should get a say in what happens to my own body.” She looked straight at the demon. “And whatever it is you want you can’t have it. The Lord will protect me from you.”

As if the entire thing was just so amusing, the demon laughed again. “Oh silly girl, you truly don’t know enough about God. He is a busy, busy God and has no time to worry about someone as small and insignificant as you.”

“Well I don’t believe that. I don’t care what you say; you can’t convince me to think different.”

Clicking his tongue, the demon said, “Brave girl. Too bad you won’t get a chance to use that bravery to live out your human life. But you’ll make a nice addition to my soul collection; all that verve.”

Joss watched her step closer to the demon, fists clenched, and resisted the urge to reach out and grab her. She had no idea what she faced or what the true risk.

“You can’t have my soul!”

Joss grudgingly gave her credit. She was more of a fireball than he imagined. The shaking of her fists and the lack of color in her cheeks gave her fear away, yet she stood against the demon. He wondered though, what she would do if she opened up her mind and saw Mephistopheles in his true form.

“Mackenzie. Get behind me.”

He was poorly prepared today. Holy water would sting, the knife would sting, but neither would do that much damage to a demon as old as Mephistopheles. It was irresponsible of him and he knew it.

“Joss, I-“

“Do it.”

Joss knew his words sounded harsh, and he would soon be on the receiving end of her newly discovered temper, but in this moment her safety and getting Mephistopheles to leave them alone held more importance. The way the demon threw words around and appeared relaxed told him the other hardly craved a fight. Still, demons were unpredictable and he would not chance it.

“Time to show your hand, Mephistopheles. Either give it up or get out of here.”

“You are always such a drag, Joss. It’s always straight to the point with you; no fun, no games. Lucky for you, I’m just paying a visit to the young lady. I didn’t expect to see you with her, but this will only make it more fun.” He gave an elaborate bow and said, “Now that I have a feel for you, my dear, I know that getting what I want won’t be so hard. Even with your guard dog here.”

Ignoring him, Joss directed Mackenzie away from the street by her shoulder. Things started to speed up and become normal. He could hear the sound of cars in the distance, people talking and a dog barking. Mephistopheles chose his answer.

“You’re always turning your back on me, Joss. It’s really not polite. One of these days, that will be your biggest mistake.”

Turning, he pinned the demon with his eyes. “No. One of these days your biggest mistake will be underestimating me.”

Again the demon laughed, slowly becoming translucent until nothing remained but the feeling of his presence.

***

Mackenzie pulled away from him. She sat down hard on the curb. Her head fell to her lap as she took slow, shaky breaths.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” She looked up at him. “No, how can I be okay? I just met a demon. A demon! It wants my soul and apparently you are pretty well acquainted with it. I mean, I know there are demons. You have to believe in Satan if you believe in God. I just don’t understand what he wants with me.”
She stretched her legs out, rubbing her hands on her knees. “Just who are you really? Are you even 17 or 18? I’m not stupid. The way that demon was talking… I don’t know, I’m confused. Do you want something out of me too?” She spread her arms wide. “My soul, my life? What’s stopping you from taking it?”

He knelt down next to her, grabbed her face and forced her to look him in the eyes. “Mackenzie, calm down and focus on me. You’re having after effects from his presence. Your head will clear soon and you won’t feel so awful. Just take a moment and think about all this. You sound paranoid.”

But did she? She came closer to the truth than he felt comfortable with.

A tremor twisted through her small frame, and she hugged herself. For a moment, she said nothing. She wouldn’t look at him, her eyes dull, her face blank. Either she found some validity in his words, or her mind was breaking. He supposed the later would make his job easier.

Strange then, that he felt the urgency to make certain she didn’t lose herself. If he didn’t distract her now, he could accomplish just that: the deterioration of her mind and less time spent on his part.

“Mackenzie?”

Her eyes settled on his face. Color slowly came back into her cheeks. “I just can’t believe…” She drifted off, shaking her head as if to reorient herself. “I just don’t understand what some demon has to do with me. And I hate to admit it… But I’m scared to be alone.”

Joss studied her. Her recovery moved faster than he expected of anyone untrained. Even unaware of her heritage, she couldn’t know that ordinary people didn’t stand up to demons in full form. They ran away or cried or froze. In the aftermath, it took time to recover from coming into that direct of contact with one.

Reluctant to admit he found her honesty refreshing, he contemplated that people lied, and frequently. There were times he caught his parents lying, acquaintances lying, strangers lying… Hell, even he lied when it suited the mission.

And wasn’t that just hypocritical of him?

It’s different. The ends justify the means. It has to be this way.

“You are going to be fine.” Reaching up, he removed a chain from around his neck. Placing it over her head, he laid it gently on her chest. To be honest with himself, he didn’t know why he did half of what he did around her. Whatever the reason, he wanted to liken it to the lack of experience with normal girls.

Fingering the medal, she asked softly, “What is it for?”

“It’s St. Benedict’s medal. It’s for protection against harm, a prayer for peace and exorcism against demons. It’s blessed by the hand of a priest and holy water. Keep it on you no matter what.”

“But… Don’t you need it?”

He laughed at her naiveté. “No. And if I really feel the need, I can get another. I have an ‘in’ with the priest.”

Curving her fingers around it, she seemed genuinely thankful and relieved. “Thank you.”

Joss didn’t know what Mephistopheles wanted. The demon usually didn’t scout his souls. When he wanted them, he took them. Rarely could the demon be found being patient, much less taunting when he could be fighting. What part did the demon have in this? Mackenzie wouldn’t be safe yet, but it did none of them a favor to take her a month ahead of time.

“Come on.” He took her by the elbow, pulling her to her feet. She faltered, her chin bumping into his shoulder as she braced herself on his chest. She was more affected than she showed, but her eyes were dry and if she felt fear, as she said, it didn’t show.

“Sorry.”

“You say that too much.”

“Sorry?”

“Yes.”

“I’m-“

“Sorry?”

Warmth came into her face and a laugh escaped. It was the first time he heard a full laugh from her. It was a pleasant sound, genuine and free. It forced him to realize what he was avoiding; she was innocent and undeserving of any of the fates that awaited.

Doesn’t matter though, does it?


He grasped her elbow, directing her to the sidewalk.

“Joss?”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t answer me earlier.”

He didn’t intend to. Instead, he changed the focus of the conversation. “Does it surprise you I see demons too?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I don’t see demons.”

Denial was safe and convenient. If he were a nicer person, he might let her hold onto that. “When did you stop seeing them?”

Mackenzie looked at him quickly, and away just as quickly. She knew the answer to the question or at least some part of her did.

“You said he used ‘some kind of magic’ to get here. If you weren’t familiar with demons, you wouldn’t have noticed at all. He would have looked like another person to you and you wouldn’t have paid any attention. You see what you choose to see.” Because the alternative, at some point, either frightened her or frightened someone close to her.

“That’s not true at all.”

“Who are you trying to fool? You obviously realize this isn’t all new for me. So if it’s me you’re trying to convince, it’s not working. If it’s you, I don’t think it’s working either. Who did it scare?”

She didn’t respond immediately, so he left her to her thoughts. Joss didn’t necessarily mean for her to answer him anyway. He wanted her to realize how dangerous her life was now and pretending otherwise wouldn’t change a damn thing.

You’re forgetting why you’re here.


Could it be too late for that now? Mephistopheles took from him the option of stealth. In the end, whatever he his choice, it didn’t matter what she knew.

“It was my parents. They thought I was sick. They tried putting me into counseling and giving me medication. But not my Grandma. She believed me. She said she saw them too. My Mom got mad at her and said I couldn’t see her anymore. A year later she died. I started wondering if maybe I was crazy and that if I wished hard enough they would go away. Eventually, they did.”

“ Belief is a powerful tool.”

“What about you? Why didn’t you?”

“I got lucky. My family priest was the first person my parents asked for help. He understood what was happening and found me someone who could help me control it.”

This time her laughter wasn’t humorous. “How can you control it?”

“It takes time. It takes patience and training.”

“I thought about it a lot before I stopped seeing them, wondering if I was a bad person . How can something like that be a gift?”

“God doesn’t ask us if we want what gifts he gives us.”

Pressing her arms into her stomach, she stared ahead. “How do you know it isn’t a curse?”

“It’s only a curse if you don’t do anything with it.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“You weren’t.”

“You know, you aren’t very helpful. You speak in too many riddles and don’t give very many answers.”

“It isn’t my place to give you answers. Find them yourself.”

“Says the person who got help finding his.”

If that didn’t amuse him…“Touché.”

“I’m starting to regret meeting you.”

“Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?”

Mackenzie spun, briefly stopping their progress, displeasure ripe in her features. “Does anything?”

“And I would tell you if it did, why?”

She made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded oddly like strangling. “Has anyone ever told you-“

“That I’m an ass? Yes,” he said.

“Well I wasn’t going to put it that way…”

“Sure you were. You’re just too polite to put that name to it.”

Mackenzie held no skill in hiding her feelings. Somehow he doubted she would enjoy that knowledge anymore than she would like knowing he found her entertaining.

Nothing about this mission was going the way he planned. He couldn’t pretend to be unfamiliar with difficult situations; demons were hardly predictable. This girl proved to be nothing at all like what he expected. From experience, most girls her age acted more like her friend Kady. Prejudice quickly became a mistake, he knew, and she was refreshingly different.

"Well... I was going to say, frustrating.

"Close enough."

She gave him a look that spoke more than any words. Most likely feeling the situation to be lost, she said, "Why did your parents make you move here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm trying to make polite conversation like most normal human beings do. And I'm curious."

"My father got a new job. He didn't like the commute, so we moved. Nothing mysterious in that."

"Not exactly fun, though. You had to leave behind all your friends and a familiar school."

Joss could find nothing to be upset for. It was made clear to him when he accepted this way of life he would be devoting all of himself to it. Whether God chose him to have the talent or not, he couldn’t fault his parents. Neither of them knew what to do for him and taking him to see their family priest made the most sense.

"It's really not a big deal."

She looked at the sky, as if judging what the gray clouds would bring. "You're a lot tougher than I am. I would be really upset."

"Probably because I'm a guy."

"Are you being sexist?"

"No. Just being honest. Girls need their friends more than guys do. We're more solitary."

"Not every guy."

"No, I didn't say that. Just in general. That's why we can't understand you girls and your massive bathroom party trips."

Mackenzie smiled at him. "I really can't understand that part either. Kady is always dragging me to the bathroom. I think it's because it's where she can talk about everyone else and share secrets. Or try to pry them out of people. She's an enormous gossip."

"Never would have guessed."

"You're funny, in a sarcastic sort of way."

"Thank you?" Though it didn't matter to him which way she meant it: insult or observation.

Abruptly, she brought them up. The house was mid-sized and neat, with a garden he guessed bloomed ferociously in spring and summer. A mini-van sat in the driveway and a bike parked up against the garage door. Mackenzie was the older of two sisters, one four years younger in difference. He gathered the purple-pink bike belonged to her since Mackenzie walked to school. He already knew what Isabella looked like; as dark as Mackenzie was light.

"This is home. Smells like mom is making cookies. Want to come in?" She kept her expression guarded; he found he couldn't tell whether she wanted him to or whether it was politeness. "I figure I owe you that much, for being my saviour and all."

"I didn't save you from anything."

"It felt that way, with all that pushing me out of the way that you did."

"Am I hearing some irritation there? I did it for your own safety."

Spinning, she favored him with another smile. "Exactly. So, are you coming in?"

"I don't really need cookies.” He didn’t need to meet her parents, giving faces and names a personality. There was no point in entrenching himself deeper into this than he wanted to go.

"Okay." Did he detect disappointment? Her hand touched the knob to the door, and she stilled. "Joss? Will I remember now? Will I see them again?"

"I don't know. That's up to you. You can go back into hiding. You can pretend the world is no different. Or you can realize you have something few others have and do something about it."

Motionless, her voice was even and soft. "What would I do about it exactly? Why would seeing all that evil even be worth it?"

Instinct told him that this was not a casual, random question. This was not the first time she thought of this, and not the first time she couldn’t come up with answers. What good would it do him to tell her? It didn't matter what she thought about it or what she did about it. It would only offer temporary balm to an area obviously sorer than even she realized.

In time, she wouldn't need to worry about any of it anymore.
© Copyright 2015 Jennifer Lewis (UN: jannlewis at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Jennifer Lewis has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/839890