SIXTH SUNDOWN

By Grand High Idol

XII.

"Umm…Berry?"

Berry stirred from her moment of slumber, finding herself curled up on the floor next to where Wilt usually slept, the spoon she had used to carve out the message lying beside her. Moaning, she slowly got up and rubbed her head, looking around at the other imaginary friends who were courteous enough to let her share a room with them. And, needless to say, they didn't look the least bit happy. Wilt appeared annoying, Eduardo had fright written all over his features, and Coco…well, it was hard to tell with Coco either way. She blinked, then rubbed at her eyes.

"Ugh, what a night," she moaned to herself; she then shook her head to clear herself of the excess sleepiness and stared up at the tall, crimson-red Friend. "What is it, Wilt? Is something wrong?"

"That's what's wrong." Wilt angrily pointed his good arm in the direction of the floor, where Berry had made her carvings. "Look, I don't mind you sharing a room with us at all, but I'm sorry, you cannot violate our property. It's gonna take forever to fix that!"

Berry shied away a little. "I'm berry sorry, Wilt," she replied. "I—I don't know what came over me. I just suddenly woke up and began carving…I know it might sound silly, but what with all that's been going on, I hoped you'd—"

They were interrupted from their conversation by a loud barking from outside. The fear fading from his features, Eduardo quickly rushed to the window, flung it open, and looked outside. What he saw, near the Extremeosaur pen against the warm winter sun, was something that made his heart leap in his chest—and not in fear this time. Grinning hugely, he turned back to the others.

"Co coco?" Coco asked him.

"Es tress perro! He es well again!" Eduardo exclaimed happily. He began to run for the doorway. "I go see him right now."

The others stared after him, then watched from the window as the purple imaginary beast, wrapped up in a scarf, rushed toward the Extremeosaur pen, a box of doggie biscuits in one hoof. Cerberus greeted him with a few thumps of the tail, then the middle head licked him, while the right head took the box of doggie snacks. Eduardo hugged the dog-beast tightly, then picked up a fallen branch from the ground and threw it; Cerberus immediately gave way to the chase. Watching them play together seemed to raise the other Friends' spirits as well, and they smiled, forgetting, momentarily, about Berry's message carved into the floor.

Yet there it was, embedded into the wood due to hours of scraping and carving, made to look just right, in bold block letters:

THE ARMY IS COMING.

No one seemed to take notice anymore, however; they were having too much fun watching Cerberus play with Eduardo. Deciding that they should join in on the fun, they quickly rushed out of the room to join him, Berry coming out last in order to grab her pink sweater.

As she pulled it on, she could see the words clear as day, darkened from the sunlight that shone through the open window. She knew that it had some significance, and she knew that it was a warning of some sort, but she didn't want to think about that right now. She'd been suffering for the past ten weeks, and she was going to do something about that right now; she was going to make herself smile, have some fun.

She left the room without paying any more attention to the message scrawled on the floor, hoping already that the others were having as much fun as Eduardo was.

Terrence was still holding his baby when Frankie came back in to check on him, Mac tagging along behind her. It was much later in the afternoon, and the two formers had already stirred. The baby's eyes were open, at long last; Mac was amazed at how much they looked like Terrence's—only with a slighter yellowish tinge. Terrence's gaze traveled up from the little demonite to the two as they entered the room.

"Good to see you awake again," Frankie commented. She approached the side of the bed and began tugging on the side of the bedsheets. "I know that you're exhausted, hon, but could you get out of the bed for a sec? I really need to wash these bedsheets before they become infected or stained."

"Yeah," Terrence replied weakly; he then swung his legs over the side of the bed and shakily got to his feet, as Frankie collected the bedsheets, the child still in his arms. He was clad in nothing but his boxer shorts and a pajama shirt of Frankie's—an improvement from last night. He cradled the child close to him as Frankie removed the bedsheets, gathering them up in her arms to the point where her face was barely visible. Sighing, she looked over the mountains of white at Mac.

"Mac, these sheets need to be washed, and I'm guessing that you don't have a laundry room in your actual apartment," she huffed. "Could you—could you tell me where you normally bring your clothes to get washed?"

Mac nodded, then pointed. "It's just a couple doors down to the right once you get out there," he informed her. "The door usually isn't locked, and it's open to everyone in the apartment. You should be able to get in there."

"Okay, thanks," Frankie said forcefully as she carried the heavy sheets to the doorway. "I owe you one, Mac."

"No problem," Mac said, waving as she left; however, as soon as she was out of earshot, the little boy whirled around to face Terrence, now sitting on the stripped bed and allowing the infant to nip at his fingers. "Terrence," he said sternly, "we have got to talk about this."

"Talk about what?" Terrence asked him, looking down to nuzzle the infant again. "I'm not pregnant anymore, baby's been born, end of story."

"No, it's not the end. Not yet." Mac glowered at him, folding his arms. "That 'baby' of yours is a demonite, Terrence. And demonites are bad news. Oh sure, he may look adorable, sweet, and innocent now, but just wait until he's old enough to walk. Then you'll really be sorry."

"Bullshit," Terrence growled back, drawing the demon child closer to his breast. "I'm technically his mother. He won't hurt me, and he probably won't hurt you if I train him right."

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Mac snapped. "Listen, Terrence, I know that you probably love your new baby and all, and you're so excited, but this creature here is actually Lucifer's key to the surface. Haven't you ever thought about that? Haven't you ever thought about the consequences that we might endure if this—this thing were to stay alive?"

The creature made a soft whimpering noise; Terrence drew it close and turned away. "You're not taking Darky away from me," he snarled. "Not now, not ever."

Mac's mouth dropped open. "Darky?" he repeated. "You mean—you mean that you actually gave that thing a name?"

Terrence nodded, then smiled a bit. "Do you like it? I think it's rather fitting, 'cuz, you know, he's dark."

Mac's eyes narrowed; it was now or never to tell him. "Terrence, look, I'm sorry, but 'Darky' needs to go," he said, his voice firm. "Unless you want Lucifer to come back, we're going to have to destroy that creature, one way or another, and prevent any of this from ever—"

"Shut up!" Terrence whipped around and stared directly into Mac's eyes, teeth bared, eyes narrowed; Mac was sure that they were starting to take on a yellowish glow. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, bro, but Darky is staying with me until my dying day. You get that!" He gave Mac a shove, causing the little boy to fall backward.

Mac landed rather hard on his behind, but quickly shook it off and tried to explain once more to Terrence. "Terrence, think this over. If you keep that thing, thousands of people are going to die!" Terrence stuck up his nose at him and trod past him toward the direction of his bedroom. "Terrence, do you hear me?" No response. "Terrence!"

He heard the door slam; he sighed and flopped over onto his back. So much for the voice of reason, he thought to himself.

But he knew that his hunch was true; Darky had to be destroyed. But the proper time to destroy him never seemed to come to him at just the right moment…he would wait, he decided. He would wait, and then…

He would strike.

"Sister, please!" Frida begged, her hands clasped together tightly as she watched her sister walk along the bridges of Hell, so carelessly, swinging her hips back and forth, swishing her tail. Every male demon in the area would always stop to gawk at her because, naturally, she was Lust, after all, and everything that it represented. Frida followed her, completely at her mercy due to what had happened last night.

"Sister!" she repeated, grabbing onto Ancedonia's shoulder. "Anne, sister, please. You can't do this to me!"

"And why not, might I ask?" Ancedonia replied, brushing Frida's hand off of her shoulder nimbly before carrying on her way. "It was your fault in the first place, you know. Don't blame me for the consequences you're about to face."

"I had to do it!" Frida shouted. "He would have died if I hadn't have done it! You must understand, sister, that I do not put my own wants before Lucifer's!"

Ancedonia whirled around. "Is that so?" she snapped. "Then why did you allow the boy to live in the first place? You know that he is nothing but a useless shell to us now, as does Lucifer. Why did you spare him, sister? Out of denial? Self-guilt? Or maybe you just like the boy a little bit too much!"

"That's not true!" Frida was surprised that as she shouted these words, she could feel tears—actual tears—blossom in her eyes. Blinking them back and ignoring the fact that she could feel human emotion again, she continued, "I just didn't know, that's all! I didn't know!"

"Good." Ancedonia brushed her thigh against a nearby stalagmite, tingling from the pleasure. "Then that shall be your excuse when I bring you before Lucifer."

"No!" Frida cried, but her cries were ignored when the cat-being was approached by one of the workers of the Damned. Bowing down to her, he then reached up and gently felt her behind, to which she giggled and gave him a playful slap.

"So that's what you want to play, isn't it?" Ancedonia asked him; the worker nodded and got to his feet, placing his hands around her waist. "Very well, then. We'll just leave my poor, poor, troubled sister in peace while we go finish our handiwork; that sound good to you?"

"Indeed," the worker whispered raspily, and, giggling, Ancedonia pranced down toward one of the chambers, dragging the worker behind her.

Frida sighed and shook her head; sometimes she just couldn't imagine what Ancedonia's life would be like without sex, day in and day out. The truth finally coming back to haunt her, to squeeze at her heart until it burst, she slumped to the ground and hung her head, her face hidden beneath her straight blond hair.

However, this could not conceal the tear that fell from the shadows of the face and landed on the dusty ground.

About a week or two passed before Terrence was actually well enough to bring Darky into Foster's. A lot of the Friends—especially the female ones—at first crowded around him, to look at the new little wonder that had only been born weeks ago. They petted him, stroked his fur, all the time congratulating Terrence on the victory. Terrence was made uncomfortable by these comments, but he supposed that it was just part of being a new mother, and that it would wear off soon. Sighing, he made his way into the lounge and set Darky on the ground.

For the past week and a half Terrence had tracked his baby's progress, and was amazed by the results. Within a week Darky was able to stand on his own; within another three days, could walk, run, and sprint. He still could not talk yet, only make whining, whimpering, and crying sounds to acclaim as to what he wanted, but Terrence suspected that he would probably never talk; most demonites never had the use for vocal cords aside from making those sounds. His eyes were much brighter than they were on the day of his birth, his ears had pricked and were now erect, and his fur had grown out somewhat. He yawned, then rolled over on the floor, a sign that he was apparently bored.

Rolling over onto his stomach, his ears pricked as he watched Coco, Wilt, Bloo, Eduardo, and Berry enter the room, still laughing and still cold from playing in the snow. Removing their scarves, hats, coats, and mittens—whatever they were wearing when they had gone out—they tossed them aside and took a seat by the fire to warm up. Darky pricked his ears, sniffed, and then bounded over to join them.

He jumped on Berry first, being that Berry gave off the most spiritual scent. At first the pink creature was angry and tried to shove him off, but she stopped when she saw Darky in full-body form.

"Oh, aren't you just the berry cutest thing!" she gushed; she then took Darky into her paws and began petting him. "And you're so soft, too!"

"Who so soft?" Eduardo asked; Berry held up Darky for the purple beast to get a good look at. Eduardo reached out cautiously, then stroked the demonite behind the ear. "Aww, he es soft!" He took Darky into his arms next, stroking him on the forehead. "And he so friendly, too!"

"Hey hey hey, what's all this I'm hearing?" Bloo leaned forward in order to see what the source of the attention was. "Oh, that thing? Pfft. Anyone can be that cute. I mean, look at me, for example. I'm cute, too! I'm huggable, too! Come on, people, drop that thing and look at me!"

"Oh, don't worry yourself, Bloo," Berry said, leaning over onto his shoulder—or at least where his shoulder would be if he had any. "I still think you're berry, berry cute."

"Yeah, well, that's nice to hear," Bloo muttered. He then looked back over at Darky, who had now been passed to Wilt and was busy licking the crimson friend's face with a forked tongue, like a small dog. Wilt laughed, then finally waved his one good arm.

"Okay, okay, you can stop now!" He laughed and got up, holding Darky tightly in his one good arm. "Well, aren't you just the little slam-dunker!" He turned to face Terrence, who, up until this moment, was being completely ignored. "Is this little guy yours?"

Terrence nodded, smiling a bit. "I gave birth to him about two weeks ago," he replied, leaning over onto one of the couch pillows and folding his hands over his stomach. "His name's Darky."

"Well, he's berry delightful!" Berry exclaimed. "I mean, for a demonite child, that is." She shrugged.

"Yeah," Mac muttered to himself from outside the doorway. "'Berry' delightful, indeed."

If no one else was going to listen to him, he knew now that he must act alone to prevent Lucifer's return to the surface. In one hand he held a vial of holy water, and in the other, a syringe. If Terrence planned to keep Darky until late hours, the others would be in bed, and he and Bloo could finally put a stop to this once and for all.

He looked back into the room, where the other Friends were playing with Darky, and his heart sank just a little bit. He really didn't want to see his friends unhappy, nor get Terrence riled up again, but their lives were at stake. He had to do it.

And he had to do it tonight.