Demon Book

Demon Book, by Joshua Turner.
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I hunger, I wait.
I feel that it is almost here, my time is almost here. I remember him telling me of my blessing, as he called it. My chance to become anew, I don’t know how long I have waited, but I feel him close. The promised one, I feel him within the darkness of my being. He will free me, I know this much. And in return I will grant all of his darkest fantasies.
I have the power to do so; my master gave me the power, the power to create, and to also destroy, the power to change the world on a wild whim of the wind, or the power to make the world burn beneath the illnesses which is their sin.
Soon, oh so soon, the world will once again know of Magic, and Demons. But I shall wait, for my time draws near, I know this.
I hunger, I wait.







Part One: The Coming






Chapter One.
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I hide in the shadows behind a barrel in what appears to be a stone basement, the place reeked of foul odors in which I can not even begin describing, the floor was littered with not only blood but dead animals, but the were ripped opened and was missing many different body parts. There was a pig that was about two feet to my left which had his stomach sliced open and from the looks of it he was missing his liver, as I took in the rest of the carcass I could see that his eyeballs were missing also. I tried to hold back the bile that was rising up my throat at an alarming rate, and barley succeeded in doing so when the door opened.
I watched as a bald man dressed in a black robe appeared at the top of a stairwell, and slowly made his way down. He had a husky build to him, and his eyes were large yet they seemed glassed over, adding these two factors of appearance together I quickly decided that this was a man that I did not want to meet and greet.
He walked over to the only table in the cellar which also had a carcass on it as well, this one though being of a large dog. He takes a knife that has been lying on the table and begins opening the dog’s chest open; after the first cut was complete he peeled the skin away from the dog’s rib-cage and then placed his bare hand against the bone, then with one quick pull he forced the rib cage open.
He then took the knife in his hand, this time cutting the dogs heart out; he laid the knife down as he searched the table for something. That something turned out to be a cup, he placed the cup in the middle of the table and then taking the knife once more into his hand cutting the heart open and draining it out it blood into the chalice.
The man wiped his hands off and then picked up an unmarked book and proceeded into the center of the room. He laid the items down onto the floor and dug inside his robe until finding a piece of white chalk, then he commenced drawing a few circle, stars, and even names onto the floor. When he had completed his work it was then I realized not only what was going on but what he drew.
He places a book in the middle of a pentagram. I know that this is a dream, a reoccurring dream that I’ve had for the past 17 years of my 22 year existence, I watch the dream start playing out in front of me yet again like a broken record.
The man stands up and lifts the hood to cover his face, and places his hands together as if he was going to pray to God. But this man never does pray to God, it doesn’t really take a rocket scientist to figure out that this man is praying to ether a foreign deity, or most in likely “The-Great-Horned-One” Satan himself.
Now there are two things you must know about me. One; being the simple fact that I don’t buy into the whole God versus Satan thing, Christians take the Bible too serious. When it says in Geneses that God said let there be light, I think that this might have been a metaphor for The Big Bang. To a Christian though, this means that God went and turn the galactic light switch on.
Second off; the simple facts that even though Satan is evil to every Christian, I find it quite ironic that most Christian’s they themselves are the epitome of evil. I think I missed it in the Bible where it commanded all Christian’s to blow up abortion clinics, or to be the biggest Bigots around.
The man starts the Ritual now by taking up the cup and drinking the blood which it contains, then speaking. “I come before thee my master, in your name only shall power be granted, in your name only shall we destroy what stops us, in your name only do we find the strength to brake the chains that God’s servants has placed on us, in your name my Lord Satan I come before you now.”
See, what did I tell you? I know that this is only a dream, but still this guy is a fucking nut. He knells down in front of the pentagram, and from within his cloak he brings a dagger out with his left hand. This was not your run-of-the-mill-dagger though, it was pure copper from the looks of it, and the handle was designed to look like a goats head.
He proceeds to take the dagger and cut his right palm open while saying. “I ask you master to bring forth the inner circle Demon called Nulit, and have him become one with the parchment laid in front of thee.”
He places the dagger back within the shadows of his robe, and dips his left finger tips in the puddle of blood which is on his right hand, he then reach’s out his bloody finger tips and begins painting with it on the front of the book a series of strange symbols.
The first was two interlocking sickle’s, the kind that a farmer would use to cut the crops with. The second was the pentagram in which he was knelling in. The third was of what seemed to be some sort of makeshift fan, but upon closer inspection it revealed itself to be three sixes that were overlapping one another.
A loud bang reverberated throughout the parking complex which broke me out of my fantasy harshly.
I fall out of my chair out of my chair inside my cramped security both, and smack the cement ground hard with my head. I work as nighttime security for one of the bigger parking complexes in downtown San Diego, to ensure that the homeless doesn’t sneak into the garage.
My name is Clarence Jones; but my friends just call me Clair for short. Yes I know that’s a girl’s name, try telling that to my mother though because she “Loves” the name. I’m 22, and stuck working this security job to make ends meet. It’s not much but it’s enough to make ends meet so I’m not complaining. Not that much at least.
I run my hand over my head while standing up. Good job Marine, you fall asleep on the job, Uncle Sam is just that much proud of you now. I edge myself on within my mind. I got this with ease thanks to me having military background; see my father was in the navy, and my brother is right now in Iraq serving in the Army, as for me I served with the Marines in Afghanistan.
Now the reason I fell out of my chair is beyond obvious to anyone who has ever observed a nighttime security guard for more then five minutes, this job tends to get a little bit slow seeing that you only make a round once a hour, and for the rest of the time you ether stuck watching the cameras or watching the inside of your eyelids.
After recomposing myself I hear the noise once more and almost know for curtain what it is; Skaters. Besides the homeless the only people who would even begin to think about breaking into a garage after hours would be skaters or some guy trying to jack a car, and thanks to modern technology not that many try to steal a surveillance secured garage with locking gates to block any thief from leaving the scene.
I mean it would kind of be like trying to rob a bank with not only the Police station across the street, but also only being armed with slingshots, and your get-a-way car is Fred Flintstones car. Aside from my horrible example you get the point, I hope.
So now being not only wide awake after have my dinner scared out of me, but also due to the now bleeding wound on my head, I look upon the monitors with disgust to try and find the skateboarding punks who messed up my cat nap. “I see you know you little pricks.” I mumble out to no one after I see that they are on the third floors ramp, trying to use the momentum to pull of some grinds.
Now what I would love to do is return the favor of scaring the shit out of these punks by running in there like John Rambo, with gun drawn and firing at the ceiling while screaming like a madman. But sadly there are two flaws in that plan; one being I don’t want to go to jail and become no rough trick named Jim’s personal pet. Two is the simple fact is that thanks to my employer I am not supplied with a firearm, just paper mace.
Kind of make me think what if some guy somehow broke in here and was holding some poor soul at gun point. What am I to do run in there and say, “Alright, drop the gun or your eyes get it bub!” No, no, no, no. All I would do is end up getting a slug implanted in my skull, which I would not be to found of.
Putting my mental rant on the back burner of my mind, I begin the long walk up to the third floor. I happen to work in one of the bigger parking lots in San Diego, which does cool I guess but tiresome when I have to do rounds. (Or like right now, when there happens to be some sort of action in this snooze fest.) The parking complex is seven stories big, seeing that we are located downtown. Meaning we not only get white collar workers to pay an insane amount of money each month to house their car while they go to their office and make twenty bucks an hour, all the way down to your average Joe who wants to see a game at Petco Park.
I exit the staircase and enter the third floor just in time to get smacked dead on by one of the boarders, an since he was coming down that third floor parking ramp I would have probably clocked him at going 15 miles an hour. So to put it nicely I lost control of my tongue and called him every last name I had up my sleeve, and then even invented a few in my moments of agony.
The skaters scrambled just as anyone would do when they get caught trespassing, and they left their friend for dead. While I was able to recover semi-quickly the kid got the worst of it, he was sprawled on the ground crying while holding his side, from how he was acting.
I didn’t even bother for the ones running away, because they have the speed advantage over me since they have boards, so I limp over to the kid since it feels like I pulled a muscle in my left leg. “Hey man, can you sit up?” But all I got in return was more whales of pain. Shit, can’t I ever get a brake around here?