As I Lay Dying (9): The Demonificat (780 hits)
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Submitted by Axolotl || ltoloxA (View user info) at 2006-10-04 13:47:03 EDT
"Happy May, Virgil," Sophopyron whispered.
Virgil started a bit; 'happy' wasn't a common word to come out of Pyron's mouth, much less wishing happiness toward his young charge.
"Don't humans give each other gifts on the first of May?" Pyron inquired. "I know they do that in some worlds."
"No," replied Virgil warily. "That's Christmas."
"Well, wrong world, but have it anyway," Pyron said, handing Virgil a long package wrapped shoddily in sandpaper. Virgil accepted it and carefully tore away the trappings.
"...It's a sword!" Virgil exclaimed.
"More of a long knife, really," Pyron replied, seeming pleased with himself. "A gladius, specifically."
Virgil held it up by the leather hilt; it felt soft and smelled fresh in his nostrils. The gleaming steel blade rose twelve inches from the crossbar and guard, finishing in a pointed tip.
The blade was sharp on both sides, and engraved with a word in a language he did not know.
"" it read.
"It just means sword in Ancient Greek," Pyron added. "Xiphocles. Kheefokles. You'll need it."
"Th-thanks," Virgil muttered.
The previous night Pyron had made a vain attempt to dissuade Vlad Tepes, an old friend of his, from the wholesale killing of humans for sustenance. Vlad had point-blank refused, and had flaunted his two followers, Alistair and Michael.
"I'm hungry," Virgil said after a few hours had passed and the sun had set. He wasn't complaining or making a request; he was just stating the fact. He had expected Pyron to ignore him, but instead, Pyron looked troubled.
"Not good. I forget how much you humans eat. We'll need energy if we are to face down Vlad tonight."
"We're fighting Vlad tonight? Again?" said a horrified Virgil.
"We had three days to do it, we had orders," Pyron said dismally. "Our first day we got here. The second day we met him. Today is the third day. If by midnight tonight we fail to stop Vlad, I'll be in trouble. The kind of trouble that gets you demoted, or killed."
"I thought you said you would call in backup!"
"I say a lot of stuff when I'm mad. This is our last chance. Actually, it's mine. I was charged to defeat Vlad, it's my responsibility."
"What are you saying...?" Virgil asked tentatively. "Does that mean I can be free?"
"Of course not!" spat Pyron, regaining his normal bitterness and condescension. "Unless I entirely have ownership of your soul, I can't force you to do anything you don't want to do. Nevertheless, I still expect you to come with me."
"What's to stop me from refusing?" Virgil said, trying to see a way out of his situation.
"Then you will have broken the terms of the contract," Pyron said, anticipating his question. "And since you are no longer bound to me, I will kill you. Now let us walk down toward the delicatessen to find some energy for you before our fight with Vlad."
Slightly dazed, Virgil followed Pyron down onto the ground floor of the under-construction condo. It was night: the workers had departed home to their families, and the site was empty.
They made their way in the relative dark across the field of equipment and mortar, and out the gates into the city streets of Amsterdam.
Pyron pulled a sheaf of human currency from his cloak; he always seemed to have an unlimited supply of cash, evidently a perk of being a demon. The deli was on the corner of the street, a street that was strangely empty for just ten o'clock at night. Pyron gripped a sword with the other hand, warily fumbling with the handle in the dark.
The bell on the door jingled and Virgil and Pyron stepped into the store. It was a simple narrow chamber with windows facing the street and a counter a short way into the room. A skinny foreign-looking man sat dully at the counter, drumming his fingers while looking down at a magazine. A bald, stocky man in an army jacket stood browsing packets of crisps with his hands in his pockets a few yards over.
"Hello there," Sophopyron addressed the deli owner. "I must request some food."
Virgil almost dared to roll his eyes at Pyron's jerky and anxious speech, but was more intrigued by the other customer, who had stopped his perusal of the snack foods and was standing stock-still in the aisle, his ear cocked toward Pyron.
"Indeed," said the owner. "Well...what shall you—"
"Virgil? Pyron?" said the other customer turning around. He had a scarred, wrinkled face and jutting chin; his skin was ruddy and pockmarked. Instantly recognizable.
"Michael Burrows?" Pyron said, freezing. "What...what brings you...to..."
Burrows drew hands the size of shovels from his ample pockets, bringing out a nine millimeter Glock in his right hand. Virgil edged unthinkingly closer to Pyron as Burrows raised the gun. Pyron did not move. The deli owner opened the latched door on the counter frantically and burst out from behind the desk.
Burrows pulled the trigger twice, and the deli owner fell to the tiled floor with a cry.
"No witnesses," Pyron said coolly. "Just the way I like it. Hold on a second, Virgil..."
Pyron leaped into combat, swinging his blade out from the leather sheath in his tunic as Burrows professionally and calmly raised his weapon to fire again. Pyron batted the gun off to the side with his sword, and Burrows misfired. Burrows pulled a hunting knife out of his other pocket and squeezed his trigger with one hand as he slashed at Pyron with the other.
Virgil crouched down to the floor next to the deli owner. A stream of blood was trickling from his chest. His eyes were darting back and forth worriedly.
"Is...is she safe? Tell me..." the dying man said.
Not knowing what else to say, Virgil replied, "Yes, she is safe."
"...Good...good..." the deli owner whispered, relieved. He blinked his eyes a few times, then his head tilted and life passed from his face. He was dead. Virgil tapped the man's forehead to check if he was really dead, doing it unnaturally methodical. That was the first man he had ever seen actually die, the first man he had observed in the transition between life and eternity. The deli owner never even realized what powers were at place within his own store.
Pyron was forcing the gun down so that Burrows couldn't get a proper bead on him. Burrows dug his knife into Pyron's wrist; Pyron let go of the gun and sent a left hook into Burrow's face. Burrows reeled back, spitting teeth, and discharged the final two bullets in his gun.
Pyron screeched in pain as a large bullet passed through his calf muscle; he fell involuntarily to the floor. He looked shocked...surprised...he didn't really believe Vlad had trained Burrows and Stokely so well that they could match a demon in skill.
Burrows pistol-whipped Pyron's skull, and slashed his ear. Pyron reared up and tackled Burrows; only nine demons had ever been killed by a human, and Sophopyron did not intend to be the tenth.
Burrows pressed the knife into Pyron's neck and forced the demon down; it didn't hit any major arteries, but Pyron was now in danger of having his throat cut. Burrows bore down on the weakening Pyron, slicing him and bruising him.
If I die, your soul is free, said a voice somewhere in Virgil's memory.
If Burrows managed to kill Pyron, Virgil Kasabian would be entirely free, his soul becoming his own once more. But Burrows would kill him too...and he couldn't let Pyron, his master and protector, just die in front of him.
It was a split-second decision, and one that Virgil would question for the rest of his life.
Virgil pulled the knife he had received from Pyron out of his belt loop and charged at Burrows, whose back was facing him. Pulling back his knife as though he were bowling, he let the blow fall and five inches of steel plunged into Burrow's back. It was stopped by the lower ribs, but the damage was enough.
Burrows released the knife from Pyron's throat and jerked his body upright letting out an dramatic moan, like a bad actor in a film. Pyron regained control quickly, flipping his body over and seizing the gun from the ground. He bashed the butt into Burrow's head, and the vampire fell onto his side.
"So you thought you could kill a demon, Burrows?" Pyron said savagely, raising his long sword over his head. "Nice try, but here's the prize for second place—"
Virgil turned his head away at the last second, but he could feel the spray of Michael Burrows' blood on his clothes. Burrows groaned again; there was a sound of steel on bone, and it was over.
Pyron clasped Virgil's shoulder.
"We better go face Vlad now."
"What?" Virgil exclaimed. "How can you say that? After seeing how strong Burrows is? Vlad must be twenty times worse! And..."
Virgil gestured at the bullet wound oozing blood from Pyron's leg. Pyron knelt down and inserted his fingers into the hole. There was a flash of blue light, and the hole had healed itself.
"It will be sore for a while, I might not be able to run as fast as I could, but at least I healed it fast." Pyron said. "Not too strange, really. The human body can heal wounds, the angelic body can do it a lot faster."
Pyron rose up and looked solemnly and respectfully at Virgil. "I was surprised, Virgil," the demon said. "I...I really didn't think you would come to my aid. I thought that your feelings for me might tend to veer more toward hate than protection, but I was wrong. I trust...or at least as I can come close to trust...I trust you, Virgil. And that is one rare compliment to receive from a dark angel like myself. I've had five apprentices. Two, I killed, three died in the line of duty. I didn't trust any of them, but that's changed...I trust you."
Virgil was taken aback at this. Normally Pyron showed about as much emotion as an exceptionally cold rock; this was an extraordinary pronouncement to make.
"Thank you, sir," Virgil muttered, at an entire loss for words.
"Let's go then, Virgil," Pyron said, his tone softened. "We're going to impale the Impaler."
* * *
It was eleven o'clock when they reached the house of Vlad the Impaler on the narrow Amsterdam street where he was living.
"What, we're just going to walk right in?" Virgil asked with some hesitance.
"No choice," Pyron replied. "We have an hour to go. I would besiege the house, if possible, but we can't. A direct attack is best."
Pyron kicked down the flimsy door and strode confidently into the room. Virgil followed warily, holding his knife out in front of him. It was entirely dark inside the room, but Pyron made his way further into the house, stepping over bones and furniture.
"Look," Pyron whispered. There was a closed door shining in the darkness; the cracks around the edges were filled with a hellish red light. "That's where they are."
"Are we...going in?" Virgil whimpered.
"Don't fear..." Pyron said. "You are with me."
Pyron grasped the bronze handle and swung the door wide open. Virgil screamed.
It was a scene from a nightmare. The room was filled with desiccated corpses, the walls streaked with blood. Dismembered limbs, partially-decomposed skulls lay everywhere. Hanging on a rope from the ceiling was a young man, a teenager, his mouth forever frozen in a terrified shriek. Frank Sinatra's voice was softly crooning Strangers in the Night out of a wireless radio set on a gut-smeared stool among a massive pile of dung and organs. A partially-eaten liver was somewhat muffling the speakers.
Dead animals and body parts hung on strings from the walls and lights, but most horrific of all was a dead woman, entirely naked, hanging upside down by her feet. Her legs and head were intact, but her torso seemed to have been consumed for food. Her eyes were gouged out and placed into her mouth, and blood ran down her matted auburn hair.
The smell was unbearable. Blood, death, cordite, vomit, feces and God knows what else overwhelmed Virgil's nostrils so that he retched onto the floor, adding to the sickening pile of bodily fluid already stagnating in the sump. Legs, heads, and breasts were all impaled on large wooden stakes everywhere, but there was an untouched stake, about two feet high, set in the center of the chamber, awaiting its victim.
Past the carcasses of man and beast, past the spent bullet casings and on the opposing wall was set a high-backed chair on which was seated a leering Vlad before a great brazier in which was roasting what was unmistakably intestines. His smiling lips were stained with blood and his mustache had flecks of gristle and human flesh in them. Next to him was Alistair Stokely, blood and meat dribbling down his chin and T-shirt. Virgil stood up, his mind bleary and looked at Pyron. His master was not physically affected, but there was an intense look of disgust and revulsion on his normally untroubled face.
"I see you have met Alice," Vlad chuckled, pointing a red finger at the disemboweled young lady hanging upside-down. "She was very tasty. Most delectable was her stomach, bloated with spicy curries. I do love my spicy foods. I keep a bottle of Tabasco sauce on me at all times...it is good that the human body is 98 degrees, it saves the trouble of cooking, but occasionally I will reheat some leftovers in the microwave, or on my brazier if I'm feeling old-fashioned."
"You're bloody mad," Virgil croaked.
Vlad arose from his chair and waded through the entrails, Stokely following.
"All this work, and I am called mad?" Vlad snarled.
"Clichéd at least," Pyron said dryly. "All you need is a pentagram, maybe 666 written in blood on the wall, and there you have it—a cheap horror story. This act was original maybe back in sixteen-hundred—"
"Kill the boy, Alistair," Vlad ordered, drawing a bloody sword.
Pyron and Vlad engaged each other with swords, their clashes echoing off the chamber walls, while Alistair faced down Virgil.
"We're alone, Virgil," Alistair hissed. His face was red, almost purple, from the massive amount of blood he drank.
"Aye, and it's you who should be worried," Virgil retorted. "I killed your friend Michael today."
Alistair laughed and drew out a Luger.
"I'm sure you did, son."
"No!" Virgil roared, charging at Alistair with his knife. The audacity startled Alistair, who stepped back a little, embracing Virgil's tackle and slipping on the blood-soaked tile floor. They both fell onto the ground together, upsetting the radio.
"I'll teach you—"
Alistair fired his gun twice, the tremendous noise echoing painfully in Virgil's ears. Virgil held the knife up to push the gun away as he and Alistair wrestled on the floor. Like Pyron had done with Burrows, he forced the gun down to the floor so that Alistair would misfire.
"Kill him, Alistair!" Vlad called out as he and Pyron parried and fought among the dead. Virgil did not hear; he was locked in a deadly struggle with the brutal vampire. Alistair broke away from the blade and fired again, the shot zooming just millimeters from Virgil's left ear. His left eardrum gave a popping noise, and went deaf. Virgil's strength rose in him, his adrenaline pumping as he pushed the gun off to the side.
Alistair pushed back harder, and pulled the trigger again. This time he did not miss.
A burst of blood was propelled from the back of Virgil's head along with the spiraling nine millimeters of lead traveling at twelve hundred feet per second. Virgil gasped, consciousness rapidly fading.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Alistair sneered.
Virgil felt himself being pushed away, falling onto the floor, his face drenched in his own blood. His teeth were scattered all over the floor, and his jaw was hanging off his face by the tendons.
This was it, Virgil thought. A shot in the neck, I am going to die. His vision, masked in read, became bleary and dim, as though seen through a haze.
His eyes closed, perhaps for good. As the blood poured in torrents from the base of Virgil's skull, Virgil begged forgiveness for his temptation, for selling his soul. Would Heaven take him, or would he serve Pyron in the hellish afterlife that awaited him? Bursts of color and light exploded in Virgil's skull as the hypoxia rendered him dizzy.
This is it...I'm finally going to die...
As Alistair playfully pressed the barrel against Virgil's rapidly-deteriorating brain, as Vlad the Impaler fought hand and tooth with Sophopyron the demon, Virgil Kasabian silently said a final prayer, made his peace with God, and died...
...No.
There had to be a way out, there just had to be. Virgil couldn't just die right here in vain, his soul passing on to hell. As adrenaline replaced his lost blood, he slipped in and out of consciousness, his grip on his knife growing tight.
"—and I'll cut open your skin and pull your liver right out, and roast it on the brazier," Alistair was saying. "And I'll pop out your eyes and crush them, and cut off your pecker and put it in your mouth, and then I'll eat your lungs raw, like candy. Then I'll find your mother and—"
Something awoke inside Virgil. His beloved mother, whom he had not seen in months, and this vampire dared to speak to him about her? Like a wave in the ocean that travels peacefully and gently along for miles and miles, but when it reaches the shore it rears up into a tsunami, Virgil drew his body up, knife in hand and darted the blade into Alistair's ribs.
"What the—"
Using what little energy he had left, Virgil stabbed Alistair over and over again, plunging the knife into Alistair's soft and blood-bloated stomach again and again, revenging himself for all the injustice in his life. The trial, the demons, the vampires...
"Alistair!" Vlad called out, distracted. That was all the opportunity Pyron needed. Pyron's blade whizzed through the air and cut off Vlad Tepes' sword hand. Vlad screamed, but within three seconds his other hand was gone too.
"An end to a beautiful friendship, Vlad," Pyron said cheerily, kicking the vampire back. Vlad fell over, landing in all places on the unused stake in the center of the room. The wood entered below his left buttocks; he couldn't move. He was stuck to the floor, incapacitated and disarmed.
Pyron ripped a short, pointed piece of wood out of the chest of one of Vlad and Alistair's victims. Vlad sobbed, "No! No! Not the stake!"
"Hate to be cliché, but—"
Pyron placed the stake on Vlad's squirming chest, raised his sword, and pounded the sharp stake down straight through Vlad's sternum and right into his heart.
Almost at that exact moment, Virgil gave Alistair one final blow, into the man's throat under his Adam's apple. Alistair Stokely gurgled and tipped over, his gun clattering across the blood-slicked floor. Virgil's vocal chords were shattered by the bullet, but he would have cheered as he saw Vlad the Impaler's well-deserved demise.
It would be one of the last things he would see.
As Pyron rushed over to his dying apprentice, Virgil's eyes went blank. It wasn't a fluke this time. He wasn't coming back, thought Virgil.
In Pyron's arms, Virgil's heart, slowed to the point of doom, finally gave out. The clock struck twelve outside. Virgil's brain flickered, and went out.
* * *
Darkness overtook Virgil, an all-consuming oblivion. His thoughts dissipated and he faded into the utter blackness. There was no sensation, no pain. No body or mind either, for that matter. Just a blissful unconscious dream, no thinking, no moving.
"Virgil," said a soft voice. The words brought a sudden jolt of altogether pain to Virgil's wandering soul. "You are going to die."
"Am I not dead already then?" thought Virgil. Shock registered through the few wisps of subconscious his body was holding on to.
"You're clinically dead, but a spark still pulses in your brain. I'm using all my powers to keep you alive. If I stopped for a single second, you would perish."
"...Pyron?"
"Yes," said Pyron's disembodied thoughts. "I told you it was rare for a demon to trust a human, but when they do, they make allowances. I can restart your heart, heal the wounds. You'll never again be the same, but you'll be alive."
Joy surged through what was left of Virgil's mind.
"Please, Pyron! Do it, do it! There's so much left for me..."
Pyron's voice turned ominous in the darkness. "All I ask is one thing. Full control of your soul. We must perform a powerful and evil magic to partially merge our spirits with one another. It will be pain beyond pain, but we will be forever linked, and in more ways than you can imagine."
"Whatever it takes, Pyron," Virgil thought. "Let it be done."
Pyron was silent. Virgil did not know how long his thoughts hung there like a cloud in the overwhelming quiet and darkness of death, but just as he was sure Pyron had left him there to be cast into the abyss, Virgil distinctly heard a sound...
The thudding rhythm of a heartbeat broke the silence.
Virgil's eyes opened immediately, and he sat bolt upright, covered in blood, but alive. He was back in Vlad's death chamber, surrounded by the gruesome remains of the vampire's victims. Vlad was nowhere to be seen, but Alistair's corpse was rigid on the ground next to him. Before Virgil was Pyron, looking exhausted and brutalized.
"It took...a lot out of...me," Pyron wheezed. "But you're alive. You won't...be eating hard foods for a while, I'll say."
Virgil felt his neck and jaw; it was bloody and amazingly sore, but there was no hole where the bullet had entered.
"I'm alive," Virgil said monotonously.
"And you're mine now. For eternity."
AS I LAY DYING
(1) Unto Dust, and story information: http://www.ubersite.com/m/92393
(2) Pillar http://www.ubersite.com/m/92560
(3) The Balances of Justice http://www.ubersite.com/m/92621
(4) Lilies of Sharon http://ubersite.com/m/92934
(5) Messengers http://www.ubersite.com/m/92996
(6) The Demon's Servant http://www.ubersite.com/m/93187
(7) The Front http://www.ubersite.com/m/93836
(8) The Darkness Rising http://www.ubersite.com/m/93883
User Reviews
Submitted by St_Jimmy (user info) at 2006-12-18 15:17:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-10-25 14:03:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-10-16 22:39:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i feel like i've read this before.
still awesome the 2nd time, if i did.
Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2006-10-05 12:57:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I didn't read this, so I'm not going to lower your rating. I'm here to give you a message: Give me a title, or this sack of bunnies is going into the river.
Submitted by Saeki (user info) at 2006-10-04 21:44:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This is a good book. The one by Faulkner, I mean.
Submitted by retrospect (user info) at 2006-10-04 16:57:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i plus two these just because. i dont even read em. im busy at work writing emails to the person that sits next to me.
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-10-04 16:42:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 for the few paragraphs I've read.
But I dont like spoling serials like this - how many more parts (if any) coz I like to read these all in one go.
Submitted by ripple (user info) at 2006-10-04 16:35:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
yeah, ax, this installment was really long. but it didnt drag to read. as i believe i may have said before, it was awesome. by far the best yet.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-04 16:31:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
too long prehaps?
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2006-10-04 15:47:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
*insert awesome comments here*
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-04 14:36:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Thanks, Ripple!
Submitted by ripple (user info) at 2006-10-04 14:35:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
the other bits ranged from okay-good, but this was fucking awesome.
write more that are like this one, please!
Submitted by ripple (user info) at 2006-10-04 14:31:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The previous night Pyron had made a vain attempt to dissuade Vlad Tepes, an old friend of his, from the wholesale killing of humans for sustenance. Vlad had point-blank refused, and had flaunted his two followers, Alistair and Michael.
this bit was horribly out of place, but GREAT INSTALLMENT
WELL DESERVED +2
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-04 14:11:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-10-04 14:07:15 (#)
Ranking: 1
"" it read.
--------------
So THAT'S what it read. Makes much more sense now.
--
Whoops, I guess the greek characters didn't translate too well.
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-10-04 14:07:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
"" it read.
--------------
So THAT'S what it read. Makes much more sense now.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-04 13:52:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
JonnyX has informed me I have been molested.