NIGHT DEMONS

Don't know where this story came from; I've never been much of the horror type. Sure, I like dark, spooky, suspenseful stuff; I like werewolves and vampires (excluding the sparkly vampires from the you-know-what series), but I was never into the really intense stuff. But this story wouldn't stop nagging me. So, in the end, I decided to try it, and take it for what it's worth.

Once again, be so kind as to review when you have reached the end.

Reviews are not essential, I know. I don't need them quite the same way I need food and water; but half my stories would remain incomplete, or entirely unwritten, without them.

Characters (excluding Terence) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media

Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.

"They are spirits of demons performing miraculous signs, and they go out to the kings of the whole world, to gather them for the battle on the great day of God Almighty."

~ Revelations 16:14 (NIV)

"Death is struck, and nature quaking,
All creation is awaking,
To its Judge an answer making."

~ "Dies Irae"; verse 4

CHAPTER 1

The night was dark and cold. Thick, gloomy clouds veiled the sky, masking the light of the moon and stars. Two figures could be seen making their way together through the woods, through the lonely midnight: the faun Tumnus, and his friend Terence, a young unicorn turned human. Tumnus shivered, from fear and anxiety as much as cold, and pulled his woolen red scarf tighter across his shoulders in a vain attempt to keep warm. A little ahead of him, Terence moved at a brisk, lively pace, never faltering, as light on his feet as a bubble. Although now human, Terence still maintained many of his unicorn characteristics, including his smooth step, his graceful bearing, and most of all his pure white hair and beard, which shone brilliantly even in the dismal darkness.

"You sure you know where we're going, Terence?" Tumnus asked at length, breaking the eerie silence.

"Of course, I do," Terence answered, without stopping or looking back. "Don't worry your little tail off, mate. We unicorns are born with a very keen sense of direction."

That may have been true, but it seemed to Tumnus that they were going constantly in circles. The faun continued to follow his friend, however, though he kept glancing apprehensively at his surroundings. Few people dared wander these woods, especially after sundown, and for good reason. Tumnus didn't believe half the stories concerning nightly ghouls and restless spirits, but he knew there were plenty of dangerous creatures lurking about in the shadows, ready to pounce on their unsuspecting victims.

The middle of the night was a perfect time for your imagination to run wild. The gnarled tree branches that swayed in the wind looked like bony, distorted hands, ready to snatch hold of you; the wind itself sang mournfully, like an otherworldly choir, and hungry eyes seemed to be watching you from every side…Tumnus shook his head firmly, ordering himself to get a grip.

Don't be stupid, he thought wordlessly. Nothing is going to happen!

He hurried to catch up with Terence. As they continued their little trek, the trees began to thin out, and presently they stumbled upon a vast meadow, carpeted by grass that reached well past Tumnus's hocks, each blade tapering to a needle-sharp point. They were barely halfway across the meadow, when a small gap appeared in the clouds overhead, giving access to a stream of moonlight, which hit Terence directly. The very moment it did, all of a sudden Terence stopped dead in his tracks. Tumnus stopped when he did.

"Terence?" said the bewildered faun. "What is it?"

Terence didn't answer, but his posture was unusually taut, and his face was contorted; something unpleasant seemed to have seized hold of him.

Reaching out to touch his mate's shoulder, Tumnus repeated solicitously, "Terence? Terence?"

Still, the young man would not speak.

Then, quite abruptly, Terence bent over in half, as though an invisible force were pushing down on him.

He made an unusual gagging noise; it looked and sounded as though he were about to be violently sick.

"Are you all right?" Tumnus cried, now genuinely frightened for him. The faun couldn't understand what was wrong with his mate; he was perfectly fine only a short time ago.

Once again, Terence said nothing. The agony continued to build steadily. Gasping and retching, the white-haired youth clutched his own face, his fingernails digging deep into his flesh. He began to shake forcefully all over, as a fragile leaf caught in the middle of a powerful storm. Face still tightly gripped in his hands, he fell to his knees on the ground.

"Terence!" shouted Tumnus, as he stood over him, at a loss of what to do. "What's wrong? What's happening to you?"

Then something truly terrifying took place. In the white wash of the moon, Tumnus saw Terence's hands become unusually large and knotty, before his very eyes. The boy's flesh dissolved to a strange, mold-gray color. As he continued to writhe, his body grew larger and bulkier, until his fine clothes began to split and tear. He became hairier, scruffier; worst of all, his howls and shrieks of torment were starting to sound like those of an animal. By the time it was over, when the terrible noises ceased, when the agonizing contractions and the shuddering paroxysms finally subsided, Terence dropped his hands and lifted his head to face Tumnus straight on—only he wasn't Terence anymore.

To Tumnus's horrified disbelief, he found himself staring into the hideous, glaring face of a werewolf!

With a sharp cry, the faun immediately sprang back from the ghastly thing that was once his best friend.

Slowly, the creature staggered to its feet. What was left of Terence's garments hung from its body in shredded rags. Impressive muscles bulged into view, the veins within sticking out like knotted cords. A pair of unusually long, pointed, jagged-edged ears protruded from each side of its head, and the shock of hair that spilled into its eyes was silvery-white, just like Terence's hair. When the creature revealed its face to Tumnus once more, Tumnus saw it had a long, ugly snout scored with nasty scars, and its eyes, which were a piercing yellow with vertical black slits for pupils, seemed to glow like a pair of sinister orbs.

"Terence?" said Tumnus tentatively, his voice scarcely audible to his own ears.

With a low, rumbling growl, the beast curled its black lips unpromisingly at the faun, exposing a mouthful of enormous, dripping yellow fangs.

Crouching down to all fours, it proceeded to advance on Tumnus.

Tumnus didn't hesitate to back away. "Terence? It's me, Tumnus!"

But the werewolf made no sign of recognition, and it gave out a blood-chilling bark that resounded through the night as it launched itself forward in an attack.

In that instant, Tumnus knew he had only one choice—RUN!

And so the faun wheeled around and took off, just as fast as his goat-stag legs had the strength to carry him, positively screaming his lungs out, while the monster in Terence's tattered clothes promptly gave chase. It chased Tumnus all the way across the meadow, clear into the dark depths of the forest. Tumnus ran desperately for his life, but he could never outrun Terence, even when Terence was human. There was hardly any distance between them; Tumnus could easily feel and smell the brute's hot, rancid breath.

The werewolf snapped its dreadful teeth a good number of times, missing Tumnus's tail by little more than an inch. Tumnus's heart was in his mouth, and his legs and lungs were on fire, but he dared not stop or slow down. The terrified faun summoned every ounce of his strength, and managed to put some distance between him and his pursuer.

At one point, it seemed he might have successfully gotten away, for the murderous barks and snaps behind him ultimately faded into silence. When at last Tumnus dwindled to a halt, he took shelter behind a towering tree. Panting, he dared to peek out around the edge of the tree, but Terence was nowhere to be seen. All was quiet…almost too quiet.

Tumnus breathed out a tremulous sigh of relief, then closed his eyes and brought one hand over his heavily sweating face. Thank Aslan, he thought inwardly.

But he'd dared to hope he had escaped with his life too soon.

Not five seconds later, a feral snarl sounded in his ear, and before Tumnus had a chance to react, something tackled him from behind with full force and brought him down to the ground. Tumnus felt himself roll head over hooves several times before coming to a rest on his back. Terence, still in his werewolf form, stood on top of him, pinning the faun in place with his massive, grotesque claws so that Tumnus couldn't move. Horrified and helpless, unable to even scream anymore, all Tumnus could do was gape at the grisly face hovered low over his.

There was a fleeting moment of dead silence between the two, a moment that seemed to span an eternity.

Then Terence opened his deadly jaws, his foot-long fangs flashing, and lunged in for the kill—

"Tumnus! Tumnus!" Someone was slapping Tumnus's face. Tumnus jolted, then opened his eyes to find himself spread-eagled on his back, with his head lifted off the ground. But instead of lying on the forest floor, he was sprawled on the floor of his own room, at Castle Cair Paravel. He recognized the domed ceiling, and the fine tapestries and paintings that adorned his walls.

Warm sunlight poured over him from his window. Tumnus realized he must have taken a bad tumble out of bed; both his legs were caught fast in the tangled web of sheets, which were drenched with his own perspiration. Then he saw Terence's face—his friendly, familiar, handsome, human face—gazing down solicitously at him. The young man looked worried.

It was a moment before it dawned on Tumnus that Terence was kneeling on the floor with him, using his own lap to cushion the faun's head.

"Tumnus?" said Terence, in a tone of gentle concern. "Are you all right?"

"Terence," Tumnus whispered, feeling his eyes fill up, feeling his whole body go limp with relief. "It's you."

"Of course, it's me," said Terence, looking and sounding puzzled. "Who else were you expecting?"

Tumnus lay quietly on the spot for just a moment, allowing Terence to hold him, taking comfort in the young man's light touch as Terence stroked his face and smoothed his damp curls.

Then the faun struggled to an upright position. Terence let Tumnus lean against him for support as he did just so.

When Tumnus was finally sitting up properly, Terence, still on his knees, asked the faun, "What in the world happened, mate? I'll bet half of Narnia heard you screaming."

Tumnus felt himself flush warmly, and he ducked his head self-consciously.

But when he spoke, he only said, "Nothing, Terence; it was nothing. Just a bad dream."