Demons Never Lie, Brian Hesse [classic romance novels TXT] 📗

Before he could think of anything else even remotely related to work, his own ancient memories surfaced, like water slowly reaching a boiling point, until the inevitable bubbling over the top. He burst into tears as the anguish devoured what remained of his weakening heart. He repeated over and over between sobs, “I have so much I need to say. I’m so sorry for my selfish behavior. I would give anything just to tell you I am sorry, and I love you.”

At first, his conscious mind refused to recognize the whisper coming from somewhere above his lowered head. But as is the case with all grief, the realities of the world cannot be ignored for long.

“Psssss, hey Todd. Don’t be sad my friend. I may be able to help.”

Todd was afraid to look up to the strange whispery voice above his head. The voice sounded so far away, like a whispered echo that traveled for miles through an empty cave, but there was no doubt, the voice was not inside his head.

“Don’t be afraid Todd. I know your hurting my friend. I want to help. It’s kind of what I do.”

Todd steady his nerves long enough to glace above with one eye closed and fixed directly on the painting tacked to his office cork board. The painting changed in some subtle, yet significant ways. The moon lost its red hue and was replaced by the typical brilliance of a full bright moon seen on a clear star filled night. The shadow figure now occupied the left-hand corner of the painting with a head that closely resembled that of a dragon with three heads on the body of a lion. He feared getting close enough to make a closer inspection, so he contented himself with sitting on his chair, poised to scramble out the office door if the need should arise.

“I’m listening,” he stated in as brave a voice as he could muster.

“Man, those Druids had it right. You know, they had the power to send the dead right back to their proper place among the stars. They even had a chance to spend just one more night with loved ones who passed away. Just to tell them all those things they never had a chance to say.”

“I didn’t know that. I always thought of their ceremonies as, well you know, superstition.”

The voice became louder, and for just a moment, sounded annoyed at the insinuation.

“Superstition, nothing my friend. Let me tell you about Halloween.” The voice grew once more to comforting whisper, a soothing tone that put Todd back at ease once again. A voice sounding of hope began to speak again from the strange ancient painting. “Today, in your modern age, Halloween is nothing more than children dressed in costume begging for candy. Ha, Ha, let me tell you, it is so much more than that. Halloween is the one night of the year when the barrier between the living and the dead is at its weakest. The membrane is thin on that night, and passage is smoother, with some extra help of course.”

“Extra help?”

“Don’t interrupt sir,” came the voice in a commanding tone. “Do you want to see your wife for one more night? Because one more night is all you will have. That’s all I can give.”

“Where is she?” asked Todd, as he jumped from his chair, he was now standing just a few feet from the lion-dragon thing as hope replaced the fear within his soul.

“Your wife is trapped in a dark lonely limbo. She feels that there is unfinished business here on earth before she could pass on to the other side.”

Todd thought about the fight. He felt the tears well up inside of him as he considered how such a distraction may have contributed to her accident. Maybe she would have braked sooner before swerving from that stupid deer standing in the middle of the road. Maybe she could have swerved sooner before crashing into the concrete pillar of the Washington Street bridge if she would have had a clear mind. His fear returned like a lightning bolt splitting the horizon in two. His fear was not of the talking monster in the painting made of human flesh. His fear was seeing his wife face to face and finding out for sure that his child-like behavior caused her violent demise.

“Now, Now, there will be no more tears Todd. If there is anything I hate more of the human condition, it is tears of self-pity. So, get a hold of yourself and make your decision. Do you want to see Karen one more time?”

He did not hesitate to answer the straight forward question of the beast. This was his last, and only, opportunity to make amends with his mistakes, and send his love to a place of light and joy, among the stars. He could not believe his own thoughts. He was a man of science and not religion. Yet here he was talking to a phantom voice emanating from an ancient painting above his desk. He no longer feared for his sanity. Living with Karen, he knew that crazy people do not feel crazy, and schizophrenics hear voices inside their heads. He felt very crazy at the moment, and the voice was as real as the nose on his face.

“Yes, I will do anything you ask,” he said, and stared at the painting with wide hopeful eyes, awaiting his instruction.

 

This is What You Gotta Do

 “Now listen Todd, there is a price to pay for such a gift. The Druids knew it, and despite the difficulty involved, carried out the sacrifices as required.”

  “Sacrifices! You mean I must kill innocent babies and virgins to appease you. What is your name?” Todd shouted at the painting and the dragon beast remained silent.

The voice remained silent for several days, as Todd barely moved from his spot. For several days he took his meals in his office and slept on the floor below the cork board. He agonized day and night fearing that he lost his chance to see his beloved one more time. Just as he considered that he may be crazy and suffering the effects of guilt and grief, he heard the voice again.

   “Have you composed yourself sufficiently Todd?”

    “Yes, I promise never to raise my voice again.”

    “Good. Now since I am bound by certain cosmic rules of engagement, and all that crap. I am obligated to give you my name. My name is Xaphan. I am an old one who once walked among the earth, long before humans crawled out of the sickening green slimy boiling ooze.” Xaphan continued without interruption, “I am a fallen angel, and much revered by the Druids. Now before you ask silly questions about how did I get where I am. Why can’t I materialize in your world, and a host of other garbage, let me just stop you there. I am nothing more than a helpful spirit, willing to bring you together with your lovely wife.”

  “I understand great spirit. What must I do,” asked Todd with a hint of apprehension in his voice.

  “The Druids sacrificed the sick, elderly, and criminals already with one foot in the grave. Nothing has changed. By October 31st, the festival of Samhain, you will kill three people who fit this profile. If you fail to reach your goal or, back out like a sissy schoolgirl, your lovely Karen spends eternity in a terrible cold and grey unfeeling world, and you will spend eternity with the burden of regret.”

    Todd needed to hear such words. They were the final motivating factor for the acts he must commit. He would kill three people who meant nothing to him. People already dead inside or soon to leave this world anyway. This should not be difficult, he thought, inside the safety and warmth of his office at home.

No Time to Lose

  Two months passed since Todd’s surreal, yet all too real, encounter with the demon Xaphan. He still did not choose his three victims, because until now, this all seemed like a strange dream or, as his wife would say, a temporary state of grief psychosis. But this was no dream, and the thought of never seeing his deceased love was enough to turn his hair grey. He crawled out of bed like a man of seventy with swollen knees and arthritis creeping through his body, like a serpent wrapping around every nerve in his legs. He gasped as he saw his reflection staring back at him in the mirror. His hair was still thick and dirty blonde, but now streaked with dark and grey patches around both ears. “Now this is no damn delusion,” he stated, still puzzled by his aged appearance in the mirror.

   He thought about who he was going to kill because he was past the point of being able to back out. As hard as he tried to block previous events from his mind, a desperate urge has taken hold of his mind, like a shadow permanently tattooed on his consciousness. His stomach growled loudly, so he decided to have a snack while considering the unfortunate victims, sacrifices, he must select. As he walked to the kitchen he thought about his grandmother, now a resident of Maple Grove Nursing Home, just a few miles from his house. She was eighty-three years old and suffering from just about every old age disease under the sun. He remembered her not as a kind caring old woman showering him with the love of an absent Mother. Todd was forced to live with his grandparents after his Mother died of cancer when he was just five. His Father left his Mother soon after his birth, as his grandmother used to say, to go work as a traveling full time loser.

  “Todd, come here boy.”

   “Yes grandma.”

    “You know the saying that the apple doesn’t fall from the tree.”

     “No, grandma.”

 “Well you better learn it quick, because your no doubt going to follow your dead-beat Father’s profession.” With this statement she would laugh hysterically until her bottom dentures would fall loosely from her gaping mouth.

This memory was enough to make him decide. He would kill that old bat, just as he should have done once he learned what the apple from the tree saying really meant. Todd quickly snapped back from his memories as he bit into something salty, thick, and cold. He looked at the bloody raw steak in his hands in horror just before throwing up in the sink. He could have sworn that he heard a sinister deep bellowing of laughter from the direction of his study, and the strange painting from the Druid site.

Killing Grandma

  He decided on the surest and, safest method of dispatching his Grand Mother on his way to the nursing home. He ran through scenarios such as stabbing, too bloody, shooting, too noisy, and strangling, too many marks. His only choice was suffocation. He was sure that an autopsy would not be on the table as an option for an old mean snake like her. His suspicions were confirmed as he asked the nurse at the desk if he could visit.

    “Good luck honey. She bit three of the staff before breakfast.”

    Todd walked slowly into the room, forcing his nerves steady, despite the sickening hospital smell of the place. To him the stench of Ben Gay ointment, disinfectant, and death was enough to cause his stomach to vibrate and role uncontrollably.

     “Well if it isn’t the little loser, Todd,” she stated, laying in her bed and staring at him with contempt. Todd closed the door and put on his best friendly grandson act as possible. He was sure that he would not be disturbed. The hour struck ten in the morning as he entered the place. Lunch would not be for another two hours, and he was sure that nobody was in any rush to enter this room.

  “Hello Grandma,