THE DEVIL'S REIGN
By Grand High Idol
"Take all your enemies and
Lay them before me
And walk away
Walk away
Walk away…"
—Breaking Benjamin, "Firefly"
IX.
Terrence knew that they both were destined for fate this time. He was thrown into the room headfirst, landing rather hard on his stomach and becoming winded in the process. As he slowly arose to his feet, the lock clicked behind him, but that was no big deal. He crept over on his hands and knees and pressed an ear to the door.
"That oughta take care of that little wretch," he heard one of the guards grunt from behind the door, dusting off his hands.
"Indeed," the second guard replied. "How dare he defy Lucifer's whims! Lucifer made him all that he was—he even ordered the Soul Stealer to kill the boy's father so that he could have a better shot at him. The least he could do is obey a simple order!"
Terrence stopped, then brought his hands down, his mouth open in an aura of disbelief. Convulsions of sheer anger started racking his system. The talking continued:
"Yes, yes. I believe that the boy will prove of no use to the Master now. The smaller one, however, will make quite the sacrifice in order to make the scheme work."
"The blood of a child…" Terrence heard evil cackling from behind the door. "So pure, so thick with emotion. Once the little boy has been slain and devoured, our quest will finally come to a close."
"But what shall become of the larger boy?"
"The Master has something special in store for him," the guard cackled. "I do believe that he will enjoy it, no?"
"Yes."
The two hulking morons then burst out laughing; he could hear the clacking of their cloven hooves as they left down the hallway. Terrence slumped against the door, then fell to the ground face-first. He didn't want to get up. Not now, not ever again.
It was all a lie, he thought to himself, rising slowly to his feet. It was all a lie. I was only brought down here to serve as their ticket to the world—
He slumped down at the foot of a statue, a statue of a knight perched atop his horse. Terrence could only imagine what the poor knight's last visionaries would have been before he was dragged down here, horse with him, and petrified, serving life forever in frozen form. He leaned against the base, tears beginning to cloud his eyes.
"I understand now," he said softly, drawing his knees close to his chest. "I understand why I was brought down here. I was nothing more than their ticket to the world above." He drew himself tighter. "I never should have listened to the voice. I never should have trusted him. But what choice did I have?" Several tears escaped from his eyes and began to trickle down his cheeks, but he didn't care. Voices flashed through his head, voices of the past:
"You expect me to believe that a thirteen-year-old boy was overpowered by an eight-year-old and his cute little imaginary friend?
"Mac, your brother is a big fat doofus!
"Did Daddy make it, Terrence? Did Daddy make it?
"I love you, Terrence…I trust you…"
Love. Trust. Something he hadn't shown in years. He'd hated his life up above; why would he want to go back there now…?
Because he cared. For once in his life, he cared. Mac didn't deserve to be sacrificed, and neither did anyone else. He wanted them all to live; to be a family again, despite the fact that their father was long past gone. But what could he do about it now? The doors were locked, and if he knew Lucifer there was probably no way of escaping them. He didn't even bother trying his powers on the doors; he knew it would only draw more unwanted attention from the guards and surprise, he'd be in the exact same spot he'd started from.
No longer existed the face of a hard, wretched, mean boy; it had long since dissipated; melted away. The only thing that remained was the face of a frightened teenager, tears flowing from his eyes, pools of suffering within the steel-gray irises; the color of misery. He drew himself into a kneeling position, looking up toward the mural above.
"Dad…Mom…Mac…god, I'll even throw in Bloo…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"
His voice broke on the last sentence, and with that, he hid his face in his hands and cried. Not the phony crying that he had so often used upon his mother, but the suffering wails of one who has done too much, seen too much, and cannot do a thing about it. The wails of an individual who is truly sorry—yet never would have the chance to apologize. Still sobbing uncontrollably, the teen dropped onto his stomach, his face buried in his hands.
"I deserve to die," he moaned. "I deserve to die. None of you ever did…none of you…"
Then the blackness. Oh, the comforting blackness…
"It was a close call, Bloo. Almost too close."
Mac drew his arms tighter around his body, still shivering from the fear of recent events and the pain that continuously shot through his leg. Judging by the snapping sound it had made he had broken it; no questioning that. Bloo was once again standing in front of his cell, Berry accompanying him. Normally one would question as to what was going on, but as long as they remained silent and Berry hung around, nothing bad was to come.
At least, not yet. Mac had heard about his being the victim for a sacrifice, and, regardless, it hadn't calmed him down one bit. But he still felt that there was hope.
For Terrence had done something back there that he had never done before, not for months, possibly even years…
"Your brother loves you, Mac," Berry replied softly, leaning against the bars of his cell. "Believe it or not, he loves you. Nothing above or below could ever have changed that."
"I know, but…I just don't get it…" He fell back against an adjacent bed of straw, placing one hand on his forehead. "As long as I've known him he'd never shown any sentiment of any sort. But back there…I…it was almost as if he had changed, somehow. I mean, he's always beating up on me all the time, but just as he's about to do me in he decides to spare me…? That doesn't make any sense."
"Hey, I'm just as confused as you, man," Bloo replied, nodding. "If I'd known any better, Terrence would've killed you right on the spot."
"But he didn't. That's the whole point. He didn't."
"Once again, Berry is hopelessly ignored…" The magenta creature rolled her eyes as she muttered these words under her breath, then replied, "Mac, he didn't kill you because he cares about you. Though he might not show it all the time, he really does. And that feeling, that feeling alone, is what kept him from destroying you."
"Are you crazy, man?" Bloo snapped at Berry. "Terrence doesn't care about Mac—heck, the whole reason I came into creation was because of that jerk! And now he suddenly decides to go all sentimental on Mac—well, I don't buy it!" He folded his arms. "No way, no how."
Berry's features hardened in utmost insanity, then she gradually softened up and clamped a paw tightly on Bloo's shoulder. "Listen, Bloo, I happen to know that he cares because—"
The hardened emotion suddenly rebounded back onto her. There was no controlling her emotions now; her ear tufts pricked, her eyes went wild, her joints stiffened, and her voice rose to a demonic shriek. "…BECAUSE I'VE BEEN DOWN HERE LONGER THAN ANY OF YOU EVER HAVE AND I'VE SEEN WHAT HAPPENS!"
She calmed down, her eyes darting in all directions, then clapped her paws to her mouth and faced Mac and Bloo, both frozen stiff. "Oh! Oh, I'm ever so berry sorry…sometimes these things—they just slip out! Oh, I hope no one heard that…"
"Yeah, we're gonna have to work on that," Bloo replied, rubbing at the area where his ear should have been. "'Cause I reeeeeeaaally don't like that."
"You're one to talk," Berry replied cynically, before facing Mac again. "So do you understand? You're going to be sacrificed, no doubt about that, but have hope! Have faith in your brother! I'm sure that he'll never allow you to be sacrificed, just as he never allowed himself to be possessed into destroying you."
"Thanks, Berry," Mac replied, looking down at the floor, "but…but I'm still nervous."
Berry thought for a few moments as Bloo continued to clean out his "ears". Then she finally replied, "I have a berry good idea. Why don't we dress up in those outfits were wore the first time and attend the ritual? That way we can keep an eye on you if anything should happen."
Mac raised his head to her, then forced a weak smile.
"I gotta hand it to you, Berry," he said weakly, "for someone who's been in Hell as long as you have, you certainly haven't lost your cool."
Berry giggled and blushed, as if flattered, then brought her paw inside the bars. "It's gonna be alright, Mac," she told him, her eyes glittering in hope. "Trust me. It's gonna be alright."
She took her hand in his and, despite the pain he was in, both physical and emotional, Mac couldn't help but smile. Perhaps things were going to look up after all…
Perhaps.
The room was silent now. Terrence had abandoned his spot near the statue and was now near the fireplace, knees drawn up to his chest. His expression was still hopeless; his face still streaked with unwiped tears. Once again, he thought of Mac, how horrible it must be for him in that cell, how awful he was for dragging all the others into it—
No.
He clenched his fists tightly; they blazed with fire. His hopeless expression turned to one of determination, and he arose, standing tall once more. They can hurt me, they can rape me, but they can't break me. THEY CAN'T BREAK ME.
As if in response, a loud howl echoed from down the quarters: a howl that Terrence had grown accustomed to since his being here. A three-tone howl—Cerberus. He smiled lightly. If only he could talk to the dog; maybe he'd have someone to confide in…
Hell with that—and no pun intended. He'd find a way out of this place even if it killed him. Roughly, he extinguished the fire with his foot, then began to make his way up the smokestack.
The place was a claustrophobic's nightmare—dark, cramped, and mold-encrusted. Still, the teen continued climbing, and didn't stop until he reached the top—which led directly up to the top of a high cliff. Glancing down, he could see the guards still standing outside his door.
Suckers, he thought to himself, then, putting his newfound powers to work, sprang from the top of the cliff and landed gracefully further down the hallway. Backing up against the wall, he slunk down the corridor until he reached the giant wooden door that housed Cerberus.
When he was first introduced, Lucifer had given him a key to the lock—and that was for all the better, it proved. Terrence shoved the key into the lock, twisted it, then pulled the door open. As he shut it, happy yelps and three enormous, drool-covered tongues reached out to greet him.
"Whoa, boys!" Terrence laughed, trying to get away from their licking tongues. "Whoa! Okay, I get it! You're happy to see me! Cut it out! Sit! Sit!"
Cerberus, its serpent tail still wagging merrily, obeyed, then laid down and rolled over onto its back. The first head gestured toward him; he sighed and shook his head. The dog rolled back over, the ears on all three heads flattened, as if in concern.
"So you know what's going on, huh." Terrence strode across the room and took the middle head in his arms, softly stroking its glossy black fur. "I disobeyed my Master, and now my little bro is gonna pay for it." He sobbed lightly and buried his face in the dog's fur. "I never meant for it to come to this, honest. What am I supposed to do?"
The three heads whimpered, as if in sympathy. Terrence reached out to pet the first head, then reached over to pet the third head. He still kept his body against the middle head, which seemed to be showing the greatest form of sympathy; its eyes were closed and it was whimpering like mad. Terrence stroked it on the nose.
"The sacrifice is tomorrow," he told the heads. "If I don't think of something to get Mac out of there by then, I—I—" His voice broke, and he buried his head back into the dog's soft fur.
The dogs whined and laid their heads down beside him. Sighing, he leaned up against their thick, soft necks, soon drifting away to sleep…
The third night.
The third night of searching. And yet no sign of Frankie, Eduardo, Wilt, Bloo, or Coco. Mr. Herriman sighed, getting up from his desk, and hopped into the main hallway, past the steps, and into the kitchen. He sighed as he stared at the dark, empty interior—normally at this time, Bloo would be plotting some crazy scheme to get a midnight snack—possibly drag Eduardo or Coco, possibly Wilt, into it.
He frowned, turned around, and hopped up the stairs, heading down a separate hallway. On his way down the hall, he passed Frankie's room…he stopped to look inside.
Frankie's bed was all made for her, her computer set in standby mode, her clothes strewn about the floor to be picked up later…if later ever came. A flash of lightning came from outside, illuminating the features further, and he saw, at the head of her bed, her favorite teddy bear. He gave a heavy sigh of depression, then slowly hopped into the room and picked the bear up. Its button eyes stared back at him, almost lifelike, pleading to know where its owner was.
The rabbit set the bear back down, then took a seat on the bed and hung his head. His gaze traveled back up to the bear, still staring at him, almost accusingly.
A single tear rolled down one eye, and he took the bear up in his hands and hugged it tightly to his chest, feeling the softness of the plush fur, the button eyes, the stitched-on smile. He removed the bear from his embrace and held in his hands for quite some time, ears drooped even lower than usual, a look of sadness upon his features. There was a long moment of silence as he looked at the bear, while the bear looked back at him.
Back with its button eyes.
Finally, Herriman spoke. "I miss them, too," he admitted, as another tear dripped from his eye. He drew the bear up into another hug, as the rain pounded outside.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we've searched the entire city and we've found no sign of your boys." The chief of police removed his cap. "I apologize deeply, but I fear that there's nothing more we can do."
Mac and Terrence's mother stood in the doorway, trying her hardest to hide her grief. "I understand, officer," she replied softly. "Thank you for your services."
"I wish you the best of luck," the officer said, as they began to trek back to the car parked in the rainy street. Mac and Terrence's mother sighed deeply, then shut the door behind her, looking around the house. She finally reached up toward the bookshelf and took down a rather dusty photo-album. Laying it on the couch, she slowly opened it up, revealing so many memories of the past…the past that she and her boys had used to share together…
Mac as an infant, and Terrence cradling him in his arms.
Mac's first step, with Terrence egging him on.
Mac and Terrence on the tire swing together, laughing.
Mac and Terrence in the city pool, Terrence holding Mac up.
A family portrait of the boys with their father.
She sighed again, then shut the album, burying her head in her arms. A few light sobbing sounds escaped her lips before one last plea:
"Please, God. Not my boys. Don't take my boys…they're all I have left…"
"I love you, Terrence. I trust you."
His dead father's words guided the young teen even in his sleep. Heaving a deep sigh, he turned over and rested upon the other head.
"I'll avenge you, dad," he whispered to himself. "I swear it…even if it's the last thing I ever do…"