Demon Evolution

  Their plans were reckless—that much they admitted to themselves—but these were reckless times. Throwing caution to the wind may put their own lives in jeopardy, but it might also be the only way to save them from a life not lived—a life without love.

  Although Taylor felt better after talking to her best friend—she now felt like she was actually doing something, rather than just waiting around—she could still not shake the ominous feeling of foreboding that crept into her heart, filling her with fear. As she felt Gabriel’s hand on her lower back, she tried to focus on his touch and the love that resonated from it. She wanted to look into his eyes, but she was afraid that it would give away her intentions. That somehow he would know what she had been planning. She laughed at her own paranoia. While he had many powers, mind reading was not one of them.

  “What is it? What’s so funny?” he asked her.

  Surprised by his question, Taylor realized that she had actually laughed out loud at her own thoughts. “Uh, nothing. I was just thinking about how Sam beat Chris at pool earlier,” she lied smoothly.

  “Really? When was that?”

  “When you were talking to Sampson. She was quite proud of herself.”

  “As she should be, that’s impressive.”

  They continued on in silence, listening to Sam chatter away with Chris. She was asking him a million questions a minute about what to expect from the evening: how long the show was, the history of it, who created it, how many demons were involved in its production, and on and on. Happy for a distraction from her thoughts, Taylor listened as Chris explained that the Demon Spectacular was first created in 1982 when Wooster Child, an engineer in the demon army, complained that the troops needed something to take their minds off of the War, especially during the holidays. Liking the idea, the Elders provided Wooster with a small budget and allowed him to ask for volunteers to help with the show. The response was overwhelming; so many demons signed up that he didn’t know what to do with them all. He enlisted the help of five of his closest friends, who became co-directors. Their first show was a huge success, and each subsequent year the budget was expanded and the planning began earlier and earlier in the year.

  Now, twenty years later, the production included over 500 demons, including the cast and crew, and commanded a budget of $10 million. Mr. Child remained as the overall director, relishing his role and the challenge of surprising his viewers with something new in each show. Demons from all over the world teleported to the Lair on New Year’s Eve each year, as the Lair’s population soared from 5,000 to over 20,000.

  Reaching the summit, they flowed into the small cave. There were half a dozen demons already gathered on the cliff’s edge, peering out into the night sky. Hearing voices, they turned to greet the new arrivals. Before she could make out his face, Taylor recognized his voice. “Welcome, friends,” Clifford said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Chris replied. “And thanks for inviting us to join you for the entertainment.”

  “Ahh, my pleasure, my dear boy. I wanted our guests to have the opportunity to view this year’s installment of the Demon Spectacular in its full glory.”

  “Thanks, Cliff,” Samantha replied casually.

  Smiling, Clifford spoke directly to Samantha, “Come, my dear, you can sit next to me.” He led her to a blanket where they sat next to each other cross-legged. Chris followed her, sitting on her other side. Taylor, Gabriel, Kiren and Sampson found similar seats on empty blankets that had been laid out for them. There were five others already seated on the cliff. Taylor thought she recognized their faces from the panel of Elders earlier that week.

  “Would you like me to tell you about the history of the Spectacular?” Clifford asked. His question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, but he turned towards Samantha for a response.

  Despite having just heard the same information from Chris, Sam said, “Sure. Thanks, Cliff. That would be great.”

  While Clifford went into a much more detailed chronicle of the Demon Spectacular from its inception, Taylor held Gabriel’s hand tightly and watched as a buzz of activity filled the valley below. From high above, the demons appeared to scurry like ants in search of food, their movements seemingly random, without pattern. Flaming torches had been set up throughout the valley, providing them with a low level of light while they worked.

  Taylor inched forward and craned her neck to get a better view of the mountain below her. She could make out hundreds, maybe thousands, of shadowy forms that were only visible because of the moonlight. They were scattered along the side of the mountain. All waiting, waiting.

  A single flare shot high into the air. Clifford paused in his monologue, and said, “Ahh, yes. It’s starting!” The bright orb travelled higher and higher, until Taylor thought it might break through the atmosphere and into outer space, never to be seen again. Just when she thought it was headed for the moon, the flare reached its peak and stopped, defying gravity as it hung in the air. Its light went out, fizzling away like it had never been.

  Taylor whispered, “What happened?”

  Having seen the Spectacular many times from the other side of the valley, Gabriel replied softly, “Just wait.”

  A minute passed in silence, then two. When she was nearly bored from the anticipation, the dark firmament suddenly erupted in flame. Reds, oranges, and yellows filled her view, bursting in every direction. Balls of fire arced across the sky, and then exploded in midair, never reaching the ground. It was as if the gates of Hell had been opened and all of the Devil’s weapons were being used simultaneously. That, or one of the mountains was really an active volcano that had chosen to erupt on New Year’s Eve, launching lava coated rocks for miles in every direction. Each explosion was deafening and echoed off of the valley walls, creating an exciting surround-sound effect.

  When the final blast of fire had burned itself out and the last bomb had burst, the sound of cheering filled the air, like a college football crowd celebrating a home touchdown. The Elders clapped firmly, but evenly, while Samantha yelled, “Woooohoooo!” in excitement. Taylor managed to clap a few times, stunned by the power she had just witnessed.

  “That was an amazing show,” she murmured.

  Gabriel laughed. “That was just the beginning.”

  While he was still laughing, four more tiny flares were launched. They exploded simultaneously, at the exact same altitude. Four distinct balls of tiny red twinkles of light formed haphazardly and then, as if by magic, moved together, transforming into some sort of a pattern. Within moments, the nature of the shape was clarified. A massive, four-headed dragon appeared—fully three-dimensional, the dragon was complete with four sets of sharp teeth and a barbed tail.

  The beast hung in the air for a moment, before charging for the mountainside. The mythical creature was gargantuan—so large, that when it reached the cliffs, one of its four heads was able to peer into the cave where Taylor and her friends were watching from, while the rest of its body stretched to the ground, thousands of feet below. Taylor watched in awe as the mammoth seemed to make direct eye contact with her.

  She was mesmerized by the deepness of its eyes—they seemed real, life-like—until the dragon reared back its four heads and with an explosive burst, shot fire from its mouths into the demon crowds. Most of the now-frightened onlookers shrank back from the flames, despite their natural immunity to fire; some even tried to flee back into the Lair. Within their little cave, everyone jumped back, including Gabriel, who tried to pull Taylor with him.

  But she managed to wrench her hand free and remain seated, staring into the dragon’s eye while the false flames washed over her. She felt a tiny tickling sensation over the entirety of her skin, like someone with a hundred hands was using a hundred feathers to tickle every part of her body simultaneously. She began to laugh and couldn’t stop, even after the imitation fire had fizzled out and the dragon had faded away into nothingness.

  While she laughed, her friends crept back to the edge of the cliff from the
various safety positions they had assumed. Chris had grabbed Sam and thrown his body on top of hers, hoping to shield her from the flames. Gabriel and Sampson, not sharing the demons’ protection from fire, and having grown up under the tutelage of angels that taught them to fear it, were the furthest back in the cave, ready to spring down the stairs if necessary. Kiren had slid to the side wall, flush against the rocky canvas. A few of the demon Elders had toppled over backwards in their seats, and even old Clifford had ducked, throwing himself flat on the ground, like a soldier under enemy fire. Only Taylor remained, sitting cross-legged on the blanket, laughing her head off, sounding madder than a certain Hatter in a particular Wonderland.

  Gabriel rushed back, and asked, “Are you okay?” possibly mistaking her case of the giggles for some strangely delirious evidence of pain or shock.

  She looked at him, trying to understand the question. Finally, her mind registered what he was asking. “Of course. That was amazing, don’t you think?”

  Gabriel was dumbfounded. “Amazing?” he asked.

  From across the cave mouth, Clifford started chuckling. All eyes locked on the oldest demon on earth, who had seemed to catch Taylor’s contagious case of the giggles. In between his deep, throaty laughter, Clifford managed to say, “Hoo hoo, of all the battle-tested, tough as nails, ice water in their veins, angels and demons in this room, hoo hoo hoo, it is the young human girl who is the bravest!” His laughter continued and soon the funny-virus was airborne and had afflicted all within reach of his voice.

  Typically reserved demon Elders were rolling on the ground, their sides shaking; Samantha was laughing so hard she looked like she might pee herself; tears were streaming down Chris’s and Sampson’s cheeks; Gabriel was laughing heartily. Taylor joined in the fun, too, and carried on her laughing, free of fear for the first time since Gabriel and Sampson had brought them the news about the missing angel spies.

  When the next fireworks began blasting away the night sky, they, one by one, snapped out of their laughing fits, dried their eyes and cheeks, and, trying to catch their breaths, turned their attention back to the show. Gabriel was happy. He put his arm around Taylor and pulled her close. He whispered, “I love you, Taylor.”

  She turned and gazed into his nearly-black eyes, and replied, “I love you, too, lommel.”

  He looked at her, perplexed, trying to work through her words like they were a puzzle. Unable to make sense of it, he asked, “What’s a lommel?”

  Taylor laughed and spelled it out for him: “L-O-M-L—lommel.”

  Still not getting it, Gabriel just looked at her, unblinking.

  Pausing after each word, Taylor explained, “Love…Of…My…Life. You’re lommel.”

  At this small revelation, Gabriel felt such an overwhelming degree of love and happiness that he found it hard to believe that less than a week ago he had been festering away in a dark, dank prison cell, with nothing to look forward to but a swift and painless death. Oh how quickly things can change, he marveled to himself. He pulled her closer and they turned their attention back to the entertainment. Everyone was happy, and seemingly safe for the moment.

  What none of them knew was that a few important truths had been woven into the last few minutes of their lives: Taylor was even braver than Clifford had given her credit for, the fullness of their laughter represented the great calm before the storm, and things could, and most decidedly would, change quickly and without regard for those in the path of the huge and sometimes destructive wheel of life.

  In fact, everything was about to change. And soon. Not tomorrow, or the next day, but right then.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After another twenty minutes or so of mind-numbing and ear-shocking explosions of aesthetically-pleasing eye candy, the atmosphere went dark. A light breeze purged the sky of any lingering traces of smoke. It was time for the grand finale.

  A few minutes of silence followed, and then a booming voice resonated across the valley. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the 2010 Demon Spectacular!” Raucous cheers and whistles erupted from the mountain below. The voice continued: “Please enjoy the grand finale and remember to volunteer for next year’s show, planning starts at the beginning of April.”

  Silence retook the night and all eyes transfixed on the sky, expecting greatness. A bright spotlight shone on the flat valley floor below. The beam of light fixed on a large cannon, sitting alone and unmanned. A sparkle of light flared near the main entrance to the Lair as a large fuse was lit. Burning quickly, the twisting, turning, fiery snake made its way to the lone cannon. As the igniter approached the ancient weapon, Taylor held her breath—she wasn’t the only one.

  The cannon ignited and, with a spurt of flame, fired something into the air, an object of some sort. The object was long and seemed to be sheathed in a thick, white mantle. Rising high in the sky the bundle reached its peak, and the covering fell away, revealing the true horror hidden inside. The audience stared in shock, as shimmering white wings spread forth from the now-glowing object. Realization set in as murmurs began to crop up through the crowd. Starting as whispers, they became louder and louder until someone yelled, “It’s an angel!”

  At that moment, the angel’s legs swung backwards and it rocketed through the air. It was heading directly for “the best seat in the house,” as Chris had earlier referred to their little cliff cave.

  This time, Taylor allowed Gabriel to drag her to her feet. She felt herself being pulled against the wall. The group parted in the middle, like crazed fans at a rock concert allowing their idols to pass through them. Seconds later, the streaking angel crash-landed with a thud in the center of the cave. The angel nearly smashed its head off of the roof as it passed by them, and then skidded to a stop. Even Taylor, with her limited knowledge of angels and demons, knew that something wasn’t right. The angel was dead.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sampson rushed to the angel, who was lying face down on the ground and, checking for a pulse, confirmed, “It’s dead.” Turning it over, he gasped when he saw the face. “Oh, please, no,” he croaked. His head dropped, his shoulders slumped, and he covered his head in his hands. “Noooooooo!” he screamed, the sound partially muffled by his palms.

  Approaching the body, Gabriel looked over Sampson’s shoulder. He quickly identified the face. “It’s Boyd Chance. Dammit.”

  Wanting to know the significance of this particular angel’s death, but trying to be respectful, Taylor said softly, “I’m so sorry, Gabriel. Who is Boyd Chance?”

  When both living angels remained silent, Clifford surprised her by responding. “He was one of our spies. We recruited him about a year after Sampson.”

  Sampson finally looked up from his hands and stared at Clifford. A single tear dripped from his eye and painstakingly began the descent down his fractured cheek. His cheek was not physically fractured, but mentally and emotionally torn—his face was contorted in pain, agony. “No,” he contradicted, “I recruited him. This is my fault.”

  Clifford said, “We all had a hand to play in this good angel’s death. We must not let his efforts go to waste. There are another twenty-six angel spies trapped in that mountain.” He pointed out of the cave mouth, towards the steep mountain to the west. “Given what’s just happened, we can now assume that they have all been detected and will be executed swiftly. We must save them.”

  Gabriel turned to speak, but as he opened his mouth, the angels’ mountain suddenly pulsed with bright, white light. Brighter than the powerful floodlights of an international airport at night, the valley was now fully illuminated; visibility was as good as it would be under a noonday sun on a cloudless day. Several demons screamed on the mountainside below. A voice echoed across the wide expanse, projected by a powerful microphone and speakers.

  “You have now seen what we are willing to do,” the voice boomed. Taylor recognized it immediately, but it was different somehow.

  The voice of Dionysus continued: “We will do whatever it takes to reclaim what was
ours. Whatever…it takes,” he repeated. Whatever. The word had an ominous ring to it. Taylor realized what was different about his voice. From her experience with the Head of the Archangel Council, Taylor had found him to be shrewd, clever even. His voice was usually dripping with propaganda. She would describe him as snakelike. Since she had met the evil leader of the angels, Taylor could probably count on one finger the number of true things he had said to her. His words were generally heavy-laden with lies—he said whatever was needed to ensure he got what he wanted. Now, hearing his vague threats, she knew he was telling the complete and utter truth. Abandoning his propaganda, Dionysus was ready to hit the demons, along with Gabriel, Taylor, and whoever else stood in the way, with whatever would hurt them the most.

  In this case, what would hurt the most would be the death of the traitors who had forsaken their own kind and pledged their loyalties to the enemy. In short, he would execute the angel spies.

  “They’re going to kill them!” another demon yelled from below.

  Clifford, the demon Elders, and Taylor and her friends scrambled to the side of the cliff, leaving the young Boyd Chance lifeless on the cave floor. Sampson was the first to see the horror that lay beyond them: Dozens of angels were tied to stakes with fiercely bright ropes. From this distance, Taylor’s mere human sight was unable to extract any details about the situation, but Gabriel, using his superhuman senses, locked in on the scene with the precision of high-powered binoculars. He recited what he saw like he was reading an intelligence report.