Three Little Words
I stand, one arm dangling at my side, useless and streaming with blood from the jagged gash that runs the length of my entire bicep. It's deep and hurts more than any other pain I've ever felt but to pay attention to that now will mean my end.
The air is heavy with the scent of blood and pine. The rushing of the waterfall is all I can hear as I near it. I can't see it, as night has fallen and even a small line of trees hides much in the woods at dark, but I know I'm going the right way. The sound of the waterfall will mask the sound of my heavy breathing even as it masks the sound of my pursuit. It's a give and take, but I'll take what I can get.
I break through the trees, stumble, and I'm in the water before I see it. The cold grabs my leg like a vice and squeezes but at least it takes my mind off of the pain for a moment. I glance over my shoulder but still can't see if he's coming for me. If he is following I could die. If he's not then what happens would be worse. I liked my soul.
The coursing water coming from above slams into me as I back into it as far as I dare go. The cold numbs my arm which for just a moment is an extremely welcomed relief but then it numbs my entire body and I find myself wondering why this had to happen now, in November, and not during, say, August when we were having that heat wave that almost burned down the forest? That would have almost been pleasant.
The voice that suddenly breaks what I'm pretty sure is the onset of blood-loss-induced shock isn't deep and smooth, or loud and booming. There's nothing dark and sinister about it at all. In fact it's a bit nasal, whiny even, but suddenly the shivering my body is doing isn't all about the shocking cold.
"Jeremiah, why are you running? You wanted this meeting in the first place." He's much closer than I thought he could get without me knowing. I realize suddenly that he's standing at the edge of the water staring at me with eyes that are almost luminescent in the faint moonlight. I can only see his silhoutte and those eyes but I'd never mistake him for anybody else.
He continues speaking as I shiver and wait. "You summoned me here with the intent to trap me and demand my most prized posession. You thought that what you had learned about summoning those fucking Faeries applied to summoning a Demon, and not just any Demon. Oh no, you had to summon ME. Your personal Demon, quite literally. The one that knows you better than you know you. The one that has haunted your life since the day you agreed to the deal." He snickers at this and I can feel the malevolence pour off of him. "You thought it would be so simple, yet here you are, surrounding yourself with running water to stave me off as you slowly die from that gash in your arm. You wanted this sword of mine," I hear the sound of scraping metal against metal as he pulls the sword from its sheathe and we're both bathed in a very faint robins egg blue. I have to be honest, I didn't expect it to glow. It seems, somehow, too cliche. "Well," he snarls at me "you want it so bad, come take it and you can be sure I'll give it to you."
Using every last bit of strength in my body I leap at him. It seems to take forever to clear the eight or nine feet between us but by the surprised look on his pudgy little face I can tell this isn't what he expected. Instinctively he flinches back.
Maybe it's the pure rage mixed with joy on my face. Maybe it's just the surprise of the moment. Maybe it's luck. But in that moment he points the sword that he forged from my soul at me, directly at my heart.
Grasping the blade with both hands I fall forward. I feel the slice along the insides of my palms. I feel the immediate burning ice that runs into my chest. The pain is incredible. The joy is amazing.
My breath is short. Each puff agony. Looking him in the eye I shudder and force a grin. With my last bit of will I force out the words that will win me the day.
"Deal. I accept."
Falling, my body wrenches the blade from his short, stubby fingers. As the light darkens I'm not sure if it's because I can no longer see or because the sword, forged from our deal, is being reabsorbed.
~~~
Looking down at the bastard's body I spit. Little fucker. I can't believe he gave up everything I gave him just to get his soul back, or that he tricked me into making a deal. Smart little bastard, I had to give him that. Only one in about 5,000 ever actually found a way to get their souls back and usually then they're not willing to sacrifice it all just for a ticket to the afterlife.
I curse the sky for a while, which quite literally lights up the night in a beautiful shade of ultra-violet. The cursing is impotent. He won fair and square. But now I've learned and it means it won't happen again. Time to go out and do what I do best, over and over again:
Make another deal.
The air is heavy with the scent of blood and pine. The rushing of the waterfall is all I can hear as I near it. I can't see it, as night has fallen and even a small line of trees hides much in the woods at dark, but I know I'm going the right way. The sound of the waterfall will mask the sound of my heavy breathing even as it masks the sound of my pursuit. It's a give and take, but I'll take what I can get.
I break through the trees, stumble, and I'm in the water before I see it. The cold grabs my leg like a vice and squeezes but at least it takes my mind off of the pain for a moment. I glance over my shoulder but still can't see if he's coming for me. If he is following I could die. If he's not then what happens would be worse. I liked my soul.
The coursing water coming from above slams into me as I back into it as far as I dare go. The cold numbs my arm which for just a moment is an extremely welcomed relief but then it numbs my entire body and I find myself wondering why this had to happen now, in November, and not during, say, August when we were having that heat wave that almost burned down the forest? That would have almost been pleasant.
The voice that suddenly breaks what I'm pretty sure is the onset of blood-loss-induced shock isn't deep and smooth, or loud and booming. There's nothing dark and sinister about it at all. In fact it's a bit nasal, whiny even, but suddenly the shivering my body is doing isn't all about the shocking cold.
"Jeremiah, why are you running? You wanted this meeting in the first place." He's much closer than I thought he could get without me knowing. I realize suddenly that he's standing at the edge of the water staring at me with eyes that are almost luminescent in the faint moonlight. I can only see his silhoutte and those eyes but I'd never mistake him for anybody else.
He continues speaking as I shiver and wait. "You summoned me here with the intent to trap me and demand my most prized posession. You thought that what you had learned about summoning those fucking Faeries applied to summoning a Demon, and not just any Demon. Oh no, you had to summon ME. Your personal Demon, quite literally. The one that knows you better than you know you. The one that has haunted your life since the day you agreed to the deal." He snickers at this and I can feel the malevolence pour off of him. "You thought it would be so simple, yet here you are, surrounding yourself with running water to stave me off as you slowly die from that gash in your arm. You wanted this sword of mine," I hear the sound of scraping metal against metal as he pulls the sword from its sheathe and we're both bathed in a very faint robins egg blue. I have to be honest, I didn't expect it to glow. It seems, somehow, too cliche. "Well," he snarls at me "you want it so bad, come take it and you can be sure I'll give it to you."
Using every last bit of strength in my body I leap at him. It seems to take forever to clear the eight or nine feet between us but by the surprised look on his pudgy little face I can tell this isn't what he expected. Instinctively he flinches back.
Maybe it's the pure rage mixed with joy on my face. Maybe it's just the surprise of the moment. Maybe it's luck. But in that moment he points the sword that he forged from my soul at me, directly at my heart.
Grasping the blade with both hands I fall forward. I feel the slice along the insides of my palms. I feel the immediate burning ice that runs into my chest. The pain is incredible. The joy is amazing.
My breath is short. Each puff agony. Looking him in the eye I shudder and force a grin. With my last bit of will I force out the words that will win me the day.
"Deal. I accept."
Falling, my body wrenches the blade from his short, stubby fingers. As the light darkens I'm not sure if it's because I can no longer see or because the sword, forged from our deal, is being reabsorbed.
~~~
Looking down at the bastard's body I spit. Little fucker. I can't believe he gave up everything I gave him just to get his soul back, or that he tricked me into making a deal. Smart little bastard, I had to give him that. Only one in about 5,000 ever actually found a way to get their souls back and usually then they're not willing to sacrifice it all just for a ticket to the afterlife.
I curse the sky for a while, which quite literally lights up the night in a beautiful shade of ultra-violet. The cursing is impotent. He won fair and square. But now I've learned and it means it won't happen again. Time to go out and do what I do best, over and over again:
Make another deal.