Demon's Torment excerpt - Chapter 2 by Rachel D.

Chapter Two


Somewhere in the darkness, he stirred. His dreams haunted him, forcing him up out of the deep slumber he had enjoyed for far too long. His crimson eyes slipped open, lighting the darkness with a red glare. It didn’t do anything to shift the shadows that surrounded him. The dark remained complete. Well, almost complete.

A single beacon of light shone in the distance, like a slim ray of hope. Excitement awoke within him. He had waited for this moment. He grew tired of the eternal darkness. It was time for him to make his way into the light.

He stretched aching muscles, finding it hard to move through the cold darkness. The air felt as thick as syrup. Even small movements took a great deal of effort. He didn’t know how he had ended up in the darkness. He couldn’t remember anything. Yet. It would come to him in time. He knew what he was and that was enough.

A keen hunger knifed through him. The dreams had been enough to sustain him while he slept, but now he was awake. He needed to feed and he knew where he needed to go to find sustenance.

He drifted closer to the white light. It beckoned him, taunted him. He couldn’t remember what the light represented but he knew it was the only way out of this terrible blackness. It was a life-link to another world, his only salvation.

I know this light, he realized, as he drifted closer. He had seen it countless times before, always lighting up the dark plane of his existence. The light was connected to him and he to it, inextricably linked for all time.

He wished he could remember more.

The closer he got, the more the light took shape. It was not simply a beam of light. It was a figure of light, breathtaking and glorious and so familiar. He wanted to cry at the sight of it, but found himself unable to.

His hunger gnawed at him, a constant ache, but even that could be ignored long enough for him to enjoy the beauty of this light. He yearned to reach it, but a thought stopped him cold. This magnificent light had rejected him before! Not once, but many times. So often that he had lost count. It had turned away from him, leaving him to wallow in the cold darkness with his guilt and loneliness.

Why had it done that? He only wanted to love it. He needed it as much as he needed air, as much as he needed food. He hung in the darkness, regarding it, scared to get too close. He didn’t want it to reject him again. But maybe this time would be different. A thin shred of hope filled him. He needed to try; he had nothing to gain by remaining in the darkness.

He had to know. He couldn’t stay here indefinitely. He could only move forward. His body drifted closer to the light of its own volition. The light pulled him closer.

He still didn’t know who he was, but he remembered pain. A thousand lifetimes of pain. His body wouldn’t let him cry out his anguish or relinquish himself to his fears. He was stronger than that. Despite his aching heart, he moved forward with determination.

The light was pure, blinding in its brilliance. He had to screw up his eyes against its beautiful glow. Doubts set in the closer he got. He was a creature of darkness; that much he knew. What right did he have to move into the light? His world was one of shadows. They surrounded him and he felt at home. As a creature of darkness, he shrank from the light, even though he felt unable to resist it.

The light drew him closer. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t stop. He wanted to bathe in the light once more. It had been too long. Unbidden memories crashed over him. He had known the pain of death before his rebirth here. He was being punished for something, and this darkness was his purgatory. It seemed a lifetime ago that he had been banished to the darkness, but he knew it couldn’t have been that long. The light had called him awake before too much time could pass.

The light’s features became more distinct. In days past, she had worn a dress, he remembered. That had been a long time ago. Now she wore pants and a nice blouse. The world had changed, moved on. He remembered that, too.

This figure had a face, he realized as he moved closer. It was not some all-encompassing mother figure as he had at first thought. He knew that lovely face. It haunted his dreams. Now he wondered how he had ever forgotten it upon waking.

Unbridled love burst out of him. How could he not love this creature? She was beautiful, perfect and innocent. But she had rejected him. She didn’t love him. She had cast him into this darkness. This time it will be different, he vowed. It had to be.

He reached a hand out to the glowing figure, but she refused to acknowledge him. She didn’t turn to face him; she stood in three-quarters profile to him, eyes downcast. He could see the curve of her cheek, the tip of her pert, little nose. Her long hair glowed like the rest of her, but he knew its particular shade of blonde. And if she were to look up at him, he knew her eyes would be the color of a cloudless sky. He wanted the real thing, not this imitation. The glowing figure of light simply took the place of her in this plane of existence. It linked him to the real woman, wherever she was.

She doesn’t realize yet, he understood. The thought saddened him. Her destiny intertwined with his and she had no idea. The others hadn’t been aware either, until he had made his presence known. Then they had run in terror.

He hung suspended in the endless darkness, staring at her until his eyes blurred and he had to shut them against her glowing beauty.

What is her life like now? he wondered. Perhaps he should remain here, in eternal limbo, and let her live her life, free of complications. But he knew that was impossible before he even completed the thought. She was pure, and beautiful, and his! A fierce jealousy consumed him. He would make it clear to her how they belonged together. This time would be for keeps, winner take all.

Another rejection would kill him. Whatever choice she made, it would be over and he would be able to rest. To give up a long life of torment through either death or acceptance, he longed for it. The end.

His hunger raged inside him. He couldn’t hold back any longer, even though he could have stood there admiring her for hours. The figure would lead him to life forces that would sustain him.

He flexed his muscles, instinctively knowing how to use his strange powers. Fully awakened now, he knew who he was, and he knew his purpose. He would not let her reject him again. He would give her a choice, and she would choose him. It was time for him to be happy, too.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, into the figure of light. His heart sang with joy at the intimate connection. He felt whole for perhaps the first time in his long existence. And then something forced him out of the darkness.

* * * * *

He awoke in a familiar room, lying on a wooden floor. Looking down at himself, he realized he was naked. The room was dark, but he could still see. His crimson eyes flared, shoving the shadows back. He was a creature of shadow; he felt at home here.

He rose to his feet, a little unsteady. It had been a long time since he last stood in the human world. It would take a while for him to get used to it again. Things worked differently here, he remembered.

He raised a hand before his eyes, flexing his fingers. They ended in sharp tipped claws. With a thought the claws retracted, leaving human-looking hands behind. He frowned down at his naked form, imagining a pair of pants to cover himself with. They appeared a moment later on the floor in front of him. He glared down at them. There had been a time when he could have imagined them directly onto his body. He was as weak as a newborn demon. He reached down, grabbing the pants and pulling them on, tying the drawstring tight. His body still remembered these simple movements, although conjuring the pants had left him more tired than expected. His hunger made him nauseous.

He raised his head, sniffing the air. The scent of this place was familiar. He knew the life forms that lived here, knew them and hated them with a fierce passion. Parts of his past remained cloudy, but he recalled the hatred. He associated the smell with pain as well.

The room’s furnishings were simple. A single chair stood in the center of the room beneath a bare light bulb. A sleeping bag lay in one corner, a ratty blanket covering it. A frayed rope had been thrown into another corner.

He looked down at the chair, remembering things he’d rather keep buried.

“They hurt me here,” he growled. The smell of dried blood came to his sensitive nostrils. Old blood. His fangs lengthened as sharp hunger pains speared his belly. “They will pay.”

He stalked to the only door in the room. It blew open without him touching it, banging against the wall. The sharp smell of fear came to his nostrils, exciting him.

Stairs descended into darkness. He started down them, bare feet silent on the floorboards. One creaked under his weight and he paused, listening, his head cocked. He could hear heartbeats not far away. Two, beating in a rapid syncopated rhythm, winding down towards the end of their life cycles.

He moved more carefully down the stairs, ensuring that no more boards would creak and give away his presence. His ravenous hunger drew him on until he came to the bottom of the stairs. A door stood here. He slipped it open, moving silently, stalking his prey.

On the other side of the door he paused, blinking a few times, the red glow fading from his eyes. Blazing light drew him to another doorway.

Peering in, he could see an old couple, both sitting on the sofa. The woman was sewing. The man stared blankly into space, his jaw gaping open. A line of drool extended down his chin.

He smiled, curling his lips over his sharp teeth. These people had grown old while he wasted away in the dark. They could no longer threaten him. He had nothing to fear here. The sensation was a new one, and he took a moment to revel in it. He was the hunter and they the prey.

He lifted a clawed hand. He wanted them to fear for their lives before he tore them apart. They would know true remorse for what they had done to him, for making him suffer. Vengeance would be sweet.

He crouched in the doorway, readying himself, as silent as a cat, a giant panther poised to pounce. Their heartbeats had slowed and steadied. No doubt they had passed the loud banging of the door off as nothing more than something blowing against the house. The sharp tang of fear had faded as well. They grew complacent in their old age. Their lack of concern would mean their deaths.

He pounced.