THE DEVIL'S REIGN

By Grand High Idol

"Can you feel

The tension rise

Do you know why

We always fight?

To be better, better than you,

And you better than me..."

—Kutless, "Not What You See"

VIII.

The hold was strong. Terrence, sweat running down the side of his head, looked up at the hulking demon that towered above him, shivering in determination, waiting for the right chance to break free. The beast opened its mouth; a few droplets of yellow-white saliva trickled from between its massive fangs. The few strands of hair that it actually had were wild, static.

"Ardon CRUSH YOU!" it bellowed, its grip tightening. The teen could see that it wasn't kidding—he could actually feel his bones creaking from the pressure. Growling, the teen tried to get to his feet...no such luck; the blasted thing had to have weighed at least 300 pounds, possibly more. He groaned and struggled to break free.

"Remember, boy!" someone called from the distance. "Feel the power within you! Don't abuse it! Feel it! Feel it!"

Terrence shut his eyes tightly, ran his tongue over his teeth, then gave a loud shout of anger and bolted to his feet. A yellow-orange glow surrounded his body as he thrust both arms upward, sending Ardon, stupefied, down into the dirt. The demon shook his head, spit out a few stray pebbles, then snarled in anger, whipped around, and charged him, bellowing loudly.

Terrence stood at ready. Just as the demon leapt to body-slam him, he whipped up his hand, halting the demon in midair. Ardon looked down at him stupidly; Terrence grinned in smug satisfaction, then brought his hand down into the dirt. Ardon, naturally, ended up being slammed head-on into the ground, the impact causing him to burrow several inches. Terrence shut his eyes, sighed, then relaxed.

The glow surrounding his body faded; his tension ceased. He smiled at his work, then turned around in time to see Lucifer approach over the horizon, clearly impressed with the teen's accomplishments.

"Glorious, boy!" Lucifer praised. He looked down at Ardon, who was still lying facedown in the dirt. "You certainly seem to have given Ardon a run for his money. Impressive." He raised an eyebrow as his eyes met Terrence's. "Not even my best soldiers could withstand Ardon's force...he does represent the sin of Wrath, so it comes to him naturally. But yours, my boy, is so much stronger!"

"What? My force, or my wrath?"

"Both." Lucifer grinned coldly. "I see that you've learned well over the past few days. I think that you're ready for your special assignment now."

"You never told me what the assignment was," Terrence replied, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "What am I supposed to do? Slam it into the ground, pull it apart telepathically, gut it...?"

"Oh, you can do anything you want with this particular target," Lucifer replied slyly. "For you see, this target is something you hate more than anything the world above and the world below have to offer."

"I hate a lot of things," Terrence replied skeptically, folding his arms. "That doesn't really tell me much at all."

The demon chortled. "Then I suppose it'll be a surprise," he replied. He placed a hand on the young teen's shoulder. "Now come, boy, I believe you need rest. You're going to need to be at your full potential for tonight's little match."

"I still wish you'd tell me," Terrence replied. "I mean, honestly. How am I supposed to concentrate on what methods to use if you won't even tell me what type of species it is?"

"Anything will work on this one," Lucifer replied coyly. He tugged at the teen's shoulder, leading him out of the room and into one of the corridors. "Now come. I want you to relax for a few hours."


Mac knew that he was going to die.

He knew it as he shared his last moments with Bloo. He knew it as the guards opened the door to his cell and tugged him out, ruthlessly prodding him to get him to move. He knew it as he saw Bloo, still visible from between the stalagmites, look at him, a look that stated he couldn't have been more sorry.

The little boy drew his gaze away from his best friend and looked down at the floor, tears beginning to cloud his eyes again. Their plans of escape would probably fail now, it seemed. Sooner or later someone would discover where the others were hiding, and they would meet their fate at the hands of the same executioner Mac had been assigned to. Poor Bloo...poor Frankie...poor Wilt, Coco, and Eduardo.

They were all going to die. All of them.

He was led to the door and forced down an opposite corridor. As he walked, looking at the horrific engravings on the walls, he thought of Terrence. Terrence...if it hadn't been for him they never would have been down here. Terrence had never been there for him...never. The teen hadn't cared about him since the day he was born. He didn't like Bloo either, obviously. Why, he probably wouldn't bat an eye when they suffered their fate.

"We're here," one of the guards grunted. Mac drew a deep breath, then slowly entered the room, head up. If he were to die, he was to die with honor.


"Wow, this really is great!" Terrence exclaimed with pleasure as he turned the steering wheel to one side. "Thanks for showing me about this, Dad!"

"See, it's really simple once you learn it." Mac and Terrence's father smiled at the two boys in the front seat, his ebony hair perfectly combed and slicked back, his brown eyes lively and mischievous. "By the time you get your driver's permit in a few years, Terrence, you'll be able to wipe the others off the streets!"

"He'll also be able to pick me up from school!" Mac added, laughing.

"Hey, just because I'll be the first one to have a driver's license doesn't mean I'm your little pack mule, okay?" Terrence replied, though there was a sense of good humor to his voice—something that had been lost long since then. "You get your own personal servant!"

The boys' father leaned forward to look out the front window. "My God, it certainly is foggy tonight," he proclaimed. "I hope we'll be able to make it back to town all right; I'm pretty sure that your mother wouldn't want you out so late in the evening—"

"I can take us home," Terrence replied. "Just let me up the gas a little and—"

"Oh, my GOD!"

"What the—?"

Terrence had no time to finish his sentence. Immediately he was lurched off to the side of the car as a heavy force struck the other side. There was a tremendous creaking noise shortly before the car tipped over entirely, provoking a deafening CRASH sound. He heard himself scream, heard Mac sobbing—

Blackness.

The next thing he could remember, he had unhitched his seatbelt and had crawled out of the car window, now hopelessly shattered, to go to the passenger's side and retrieve Mac. Bending down, he could now see Mac in the car, sobbing harshly the way frightened children do, and clinging for dear life to his seat. They seemed to subside, however, once he made eye contact with Terrence.

"Mac..." Terrence said slowly. Mac sniffled. "Mac, I'm gonna get you outta there. Just hang onto me, okay?"

Mac choked back another sob, then nodded his head. "Uh-huh."

Putting his arms around Terrence's shoulders, the older sibling went to work at undoing the straps that had bound Mac securely in place. In time, the last strap was unhinged and Mac dropped into Terrence's arms, still sniffling into the boy's black t-shirt.

Terrence looked out to face the highway. They were on a country road, not too far from the town where their home was located. The car had been smashed into a nearby wheat field, it seemed, and it was in total ruin. The entire left side had been totaled, and the structure itself looked as crushed as an empty tin can.

It didn't take a genius to figure out they had been in a car crash. Now there was only one thing left to do.

Setting Mac down gently, the boy patted him on the head before standing back upright. "Mac, I gotta go check on something. I gotta go see if Daddy made it."

Mac's eyes widened in fear as Terrence turned away. For he, too, was afraid. He hadn't heard his father at all, nor in movement nor sound, since the time of the crash. Perhaps he had already gotten out to find a nearby phone they could use? That would certainly seem like the appropriate thing to do at the time...

No. Terrence shook his head.

He'd never leave his kids alone in a totaled car. Never.

But what happened, then? He dreaded to find out.

"Dad...?" Terrence called, dropping onto his knees and looking into the back seat of the car. "Dad, where are—"

He was cut short by an abrupt gasp—coming from his own throat. His father, apparently, was dead, and had been totaled along with the car. His eyes were wide open, his side smashed in like a limp accordion, with several ribs poking out of his now blood-soaked shirt with the words that read "World's Greatest Father". Additional blood was trickling from his mouth downward, heading toward his forehead.

"Oh God—"Terrence murmured, before quickly drawing away and burying his face in his hands. He suddenly stopped, then looked down at his palms...they were bleeding. Blood was trickling from invisible wounds and running down his hands.

It took him a moment to realize that the blood in his hands was his father's.

"NO!" the young teen screamed, jerking his head away from the horrible sight. "I didn't! I didn't!"

It's all your fault—

"No!" Terrence howled. "No! I didn't do it! It was an accident, I swear! It was an accident!"

You can't free me from yourself, Terrence. You can't free me from yourself!

The sky suddenly seemed to grow dark. Terrence looked up toward the storm clouds fearfully, then back down at his father's corpse, still looking as grotesque as ever amongst the wreckage.

Then, suddenly, the corpse's head seemed to jerk. It turned, the bones in its now shattered neck cracking and shifting, as it faced Terrence, its eyes still wide open. Terrence shimmied away a few feet as it started to rain.

"Terrence..." the dried, blood-caked lips whispered hoarsely.

"Go away," Terrence said, shivering. "Go away! I know I wasn't perfect that time. I know that I shouldn't have offered to drive us back. I know that it was too foggy to drive and that I shouldn't have been out in the middle of the road on such a night but—but—"His eyes clouded with tears; he fought not to break down sobbing.

"Terrence..." The blood-caked lips and swollen tongue were barely able to make out these words. "It was never your fault. It never will be. Terrence, I want you to avenge me. Destroy the creature that stole me from you. Destroy the creature who stole my soul."

"What? How...?"

"I love you, Terrence. I trust you."

With that, everything faded into a comforting blackness.


"Wake up, boy."

Terrence groaned, then shook his head groggily. Once again, he had been dreaming; no longer was he lying on the muddy ground in an empty street. He was lying near the fireplace—too close for comfort, matter-of-factly. He quickly drew himself away from it and looked up—in time to face Lucifer.

"Oh! Uh...yeah..." Terrence really didn't know what he was saying. He got to his feet. "Um...what are you doing in here again?"

Lucifer gave a snort of frustration. "I'm here to tell you that it's time for your final performance," he replied. "Only then will you join us in our quest to make the world suffer, my dear boy."

"Oh, yeah, that." Terrence walked over toward Lucifer. "Listen, uh...I'm having second thoughts about this. I don't think that it would really be the best thing to—"

"Are you saying that you don't want to fight?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow, and the young teen could clearly sense the agitation that was building in his voice. Terrence bit his lower lip, then weakly nodded.

"Oh, I see. And why is that, exactly?"

His calmness is making me fucking nervous, the boy thought to himself, before finally replying, "I...I don't know. Something just came to me, and I think that it's best if I just don't fight tonight. I mean, seriously, I'm not really feeling at my—AAH!"

Lucifer's hand shot out and slammed him against the wall, forming a tight hold around his neck. The teen gave a gasp of pain, then looked up at Lucifer, whose face was eerily calm but whose eyes danced with the fire of rage.

"It's time for you to listen to me now," Lucifer hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes widening. They seemed to take on a yellowish glow that Terrence found completely irresistible; he stared into the demon's eyes absentmindedly. "You were marked to do great things in this world. And I'll be an angel of Gabriel before I allow any of that to go to waste!" He threw the boy down, his eyes still burning into the young teen's. "You know what you must do. You must go. You must fight. And you must destroy!"

He released his hold; the teen slowly got to his feet, his eyes still glowing. "I...must...fight...." He murmured, sounding exactly like one of the undead zombies at the initiation. "I...must...kill...I must...destroy..."

"Now feel the rage, boy. Feel it. You're not going to get anywhere acting like a brain-dead fish."

Terrence was silent for a few moments. He shut his eyes, then reopened them. The yellow glow had been replaced with a red-orange glow, the glow of fire. He gave a low snarl, then cracked his knuckles.

"Let me at them," he growled, not sounding like himself at all—more like a highly demented axe murderer. Lucifer smiled.

"Good boy," he replied, nodding. He began to lead the boy out of the room. "Now, let's take you to your target before you start trashing the property."


There were demons...demons in red cloaks on either side of him. Mac, chained to the ground by heavy steel restraints, stood in the center of the room, shivering in fear, trying to hide himself from those empty eyes. He knew what they were there for, and he knew what they wanted the outcome to be.

The death of an innocent child in exchange for their entertainment.

Hell is suffering, Mac thought to himself. Why did they ever bring me here? Why?

He drew in a deep breath, faced the floor, then began to say his final words, under his breath. "If anyone is listening, anyone at all...I'm going to die down here. I'm going to die, and I'm afraid. I just want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Bloo...I'm sorry, Frankie...I'm sorry, Mom. I love you. I love all of you." He choked on a sob. "I'm so afraid..."

The doors then flung open, and Mac raised his head—and gave a gasp of shock as Terrence entered the room, expression cold as ice, head lowered demonically. Lucifer stepped in behind him.

"Terrence!" Mac called, hoping to get a response from his older brother.

Terrence remained motionless. Lucifer laughed cruelly.

"I'm afraid trying to reach your big brother won't help you now, child," he replied. "The boy is mine now. He doesn't care about you or your fate." He stepped off to the side, away from the young teen. "They say that you must save you from yourself. They say that you'll hurt the ones closest to you. And, tonight, my dear child, your brother is going to prove that true."

"No!" Mac cried, tugging at his chains. "He wouldn't!"

"He would." Lucifer nodded in Terrence's direction; Terrence growled and began to advance on the young boy. "The boy doesn't like you. He never liked you since the day you were born. And now he's going to eliminate you from his life once and for all."

"You're a monster!" Mac screamed angrily. "A MONSTER!"

"Thank you," Lucifer replied coyly. "And now, please, let us get to the killing."

Terrence snarled at him, his teeth bared, then charged and swung a fist, sending it directly into Mac's stomach. The boy gasped, winded, as his chains snapped and he fell to the ground, struggling to breathe. Terrence slammed the toe of his boot into the boy's back with great force, causing him to cry out and slide across the ground several yards. He lay, whimpering, as the teen advanced on him.

"Does it hurt, Mac?" he heard Terrence say. "Does it hurt?"

Mac groaned in response; he was in too much pain to speak.

"Good. I'm glad that it hurts, Mac. For years I've had to put up with you. For years I've had to put up with your stupid imaginary friend. And now, I'll finally be rid of you forever."

"Terrence—"Mac began, but he was interrupted by another kick to the stomach. He gave a yelp of pain and doubled over, struggling to breathe, tears of pain sliding down his cheeks. He shivered for a few moments, then finally said, "Terrence, please...I'm your brother. You can't listen to Lucifer any longer!"

"Cad," was all the young teen replied. Reaching down, he picked Mac up by the scruff of his shirt, then tossed him, sending him slamming into a nearby rock. Mac gave a cry of anguish as a cracking sound issued from his left leg; he slid to the ground, clutching the broken area tightly.

He looked up through tear-clouded eyes in time to see Terrence advancing on him, hands glowing, ready to finish him off. He tried to remain calm and accept his death with dignity, but instead broke out crying, from fear, from pain, from betrayal.

"Terrence, stop this!" he howled between sobs. "You can't listen to him! You have to listen to yourself! Please, just try for me! Don't let him win! Don't let me die!"

Terrence continued to advance, then stopped. He stared at the shaking, crying heap that lay before him, cornered, helpless. For a brief moment Lucifer's spell over him faded, and he remembered the night after the boys' father had died...

Mac had been a wreck that night, he remembered—poor thing couldn't stop crying to save his life. He had remembered that night as he lay, watching the news on TV, that Mac snuggled up against him, had cried into his shirt, had shared that sentiment with him. Terrence, just as grief-stricken as he was but unable to show it, had hugged him back, ignoring the blare of the announcer's voice, the sound of cars on the slick roads, the sound of rain hitting the windows...

He stopped and lowered his hands. Several curious and surprised gasps and murmurs came from the crowd. Lucifer growled angrily.

"What are you waiting for?" he shouted. "Finish him!"

Terrence looked up at him, his gaze now melancholy. He looked down at Mac, then back at Lucifer, then finally nodded. The dark energy began to form around his hands again, as Mac whimpered and shielded his face for the final blow...

It never came. Instead of hitting Mac, Terrence whipped around and hurled the blast at Lucifer, who, out of shock, held up his hands to protect himself. The energy dissipated the second it passed through him; he was not harmed at all, but seemed rather infuriated with Terrence's attempt alone. He remained still, however, eyes glimmering with hatred as he watched the two boys.

Mac looked up at his older brother, who had now shut his eyes, his head lowered. "Terrence...?" he said softly.

"Mac," Terrence replied, his voice broken. He then dropped to his knees and—much to Mac's surprise—drew the little boy up into a close hug. "Oh God, Mac, I'm so sorry..."

Mac sniffled, then buried his head in Terrence's chest. Terrence drew the boy tighter, as a single tear fell from one eye...

"So," a voice behind them said darkly, "you DO care."

Terrence and Mac whipped around to face Lucifer, who was now towering over them and not looking pleased at all. Red surrounding the brilliant green of his eyes, he took an angry step closer to Terrence as the boy arose.

"You miserable little CAD!" the demon screamed at him. "You were supposed to destroy him! Kill him! Rip him to shreds! I expected so much better of you this time!"

Terrence glared at him angrily, then stood to face him. "I won't," he replied simply. "I can, but I won't. I don't give a fuck about what you think down here; I'm not going to kill my little brother for your pleasure!"

Mac was unable to get up because of his wounded leg, but immediately his expression brightened. There were more murmurs from the crowd.

"Like it or not, the boy will DIE!" Lucifer snapped back at him. "And if you won't take care of him, I suppose I shall have to take matters into my own hands. Guards!"

Immediately, a pair of the hulking creatures appeared in front of them. Lucifer snapped his fingers, then barked strictly, "Take the boy back to his sleeping quarters and lock him inside. The younger boy will be reserved for a sacrifice to Hell's Guardian come the Sabbath. Now GO!"

The brutes immediately seized Mac and Terrence, then began their trip to the back of the room. Terrence, snarling furiously, looked over the guards' shoulder at Lucifer, who once again had that look of smug satisfaction on his face.

You fucking coward, the teen thought to himself, furious, as the guards dragged them from the room, heading toward their separate corridors.