Blasphemy: A Like Story

Chapter One

We had been down this road before. Usually his dabblings into the occult were harmless: A minor demon drummed up by the old Ouija board, a wandering spirit called into being during a séance and once an imp brought forth by a cursed stone. All relatively small incidences I was able to deal with before Bishop even knew he'd managed to break the barrier between this world and the beyond.

Pulling my sword out of the Waning, I floated backwards and sat on the corner of the bed to wait it out. If he managed to summon something, I'd be ready.

It was a long wait.

Two hours later, Bishop slid the closet doors open, running it off its track, and stumbled out. He had a glazed look about his blue eyes and a waxy sheen to his skin, as if he'd been left in the car with the windows rolled up on a hot day.

"Damn it. Waste of money," he said, and tore up the yellow paper, then gathered as many multicolored candles as he could carry.

As he picked up his mess, I wafted towards the chipped cherub figurine on the old oak bed stand where I slept. It had belonged to his mother once, but she was gone now. Her possessions gathered dust around the house like memories that refused to fade. Time stood still in the trailer, waiting for her. I had been her guardian first. Now I was Bishop's.

Regretfully.

Having worried for nothing, I made myself comfortable in my ceramic home, listening vaguely to the sounds of splashing as Bishop plunged the toilet. He had, once again, flushed the ashes and remnants of his séance down the bowl.

......

I dreamed of Hashut. He had come to collect me. My time on this earth had come to an end. Embracing me warmly, he took me by the hand to lead me to Heaven. Then my hand began to burn. When I looked at it, there was charred flesh were his fingers had been.

Dimly my sleeping ears heard the sound of sloshing and I woke. I floated out of the cherub and listened. Nothing. I pulled my sword out and drifted towards the bedroom door. It was standing open, letting in a strained yellow glow from the kitchen on the other side of the trailer. The bathroom was next to the room where Bishop slept and there were two doors to access it. One in the bedroom and one in the hall near the washer and dryer. The door beside the dryer was partially closed. Bracing myself, I nudged it open. On the far end of the room was a counter littered with hair from Bishop's morning shave. Above it was a mirror flecked with toothpaste. The glass shower door was both too clouded to see through and no longer able to slide closed. Seven cats sat around the toilet where a big puddle had formed. The seat and lid, with its fuzzy pink wrap, was pushed up. Leading away from the puddle were wet footsteps.

They were slim as a man's would be, but a little larger than most, with long pointed toes. They led to the door leading to the bedroom. I spun and flung myself back through the doorway. Bishop was sleeping peacefully in his ancient waterbed. Above him, glowing in the moonlight pouring in from the window was a formidable demon. His pale gray skin shone in blaring contracts to his black eyes and hair. Two horns like those of a ram grew from his skull. He was also very naked and apparently completely comfortable in being so.

"Get thee behind me, asshole," I cried.

"Oh, joy. A guardian." And the way he said guardian made me think he had about as much respect for the esteemed position as I did.

I replied by leaping at him, bringing my sword down towards his face. He dodged impossibly quick and grabbed my wrist in both hands. We grappled for the weapon a moment and then, before he could get it from me, I sent it back to the Waning. I pulled my suddenly free hands out of his grip and punched him in the face. He landed heavily on top of Bishop, who couldn't feel it, and was not aware two spiritual entities battled for his soul while he slept.