Under-Gods

I sensed it and brought my head forward. No sound, just an inner nudging.

A figure on the right approached the bench, making my heart falter. Could it be her? How highly unlikely.

I wanted to stare but decided to wait till they were near before looking up again. I mentally went over the snapshot I’d gotten of the approaching image. Long coat, no hat or umbrella, walking with the gait of a zombie. When dark shoes appeared out the corner of my eye, I looked up. And froze.

It was her.

My heart thundered with anxiety. She didn’t seem to recognize me. Or maybe she did. Maybe she was pissed at me for getting her beaten. Not a word as she sat, while I silently thanked God she was alive.

Needed to draw her gaze. “Hey, don’t I know you?” 

Seconds passed with no response. She sat with head hung, white scalp showing through the rope-like clumps of hair plastered to her head.

Something was wrong—off. “Are you coming from work?”

A few seconds later, a chill slid down my spine at hearing low laughter. I squinted through the rain, wishing it’d stop now. Her body and shoulders shook. Maybe she wasn’t laughing. Maybe she was crying.

Her head fell slowly back, and eerie, unhappy laughter found its way to my ears.

I leaned over, carefully reaching out. “Hey, are you ok?”

She jerked toward me. My eyes dropped to a quivering gun pointed at my chest before I slowly met her blazing glare.   

I carefully retracted my hand, not missing the insane contortions of her face. “I just… want to help you. Do you remember me?”

“Shut up!” Her voice growled deeper than a human’s. “I remember you, cunt boy!”

I gazed at her with my spiritual eyes and saw them. The demons of darkness hovering over her, guarding the way to her soul. She was trapped. 

The surge of power that came to me on the bus returned. Warm, buzzing. “If you know me,” I began carefully, “then surely you know my master. The Christ. In His name I tell you: come out of her.” The command glided out firm.

Lightning struck close by, illuminating both the entire block and her face; a blend of shocked fury.

A deafening boom of thunder shook the atmosphere and the gun wobbled in her hands. 

I stared at it, waiting for the thing to go off. Her hand trembled like she fought—or maybe fought not—to pull the trigger. Deep guttural wailing began, followed by chaotic growling and high pitched groaning.

I didn’t move a muscle. I watched.

Her hands slammed my chest and torpedoed me several feet right on my rear. Like a rabid frog, she launched. Her knees rammed my stomach and her fingers clamped my throat like pliers. I shoved my arms between hers and pushed to break her hold. Every muscle in her face stood out with demonic fury, teeth bared, snarls morphed with eager giggles. “I’m going to kill the little prick.”

I’d wrestled wild boars five times her size but she wasn’t budging. Gratefulness that the gun was no longer a threat, faded with my vision as she strangled the life from me with her bare hands.

“Demon.” The voice rumbled like distant thunder behind me. “You dare defy such an order?”

Faye jerked her head up and brief silence reigned before shrieking fury exploded from her wide mouth. Blue fire plunged into her chest in the form of a blade and the thing squealed before climbing out the top of her head looking like a bar-b-cued spider. He perched on her skull with his too many limbs and looked down at the hole burned through his chest, gasping like his feelings were hurt. His blood red gaze snapped to mine, and slowly, a vengeful sneer formed on his face. Your fault it clearly said.