The Devil's Due: Chapter II
--EKB
The Lord of Darkness.
It couldn't be. There was just no way in hell it could be possible--
For a long moment, Bradshaw stood agape, in utter disbelief, as he beheld the looming specter before him.
The Lord of Darkness. You have got to be shitting me.
Nevertheless, there the apparition stood--black as night and plain as day. There was no mistaking his identity. Bradshaw recognized him at once, recognized the darkly-smug countenance and blazing eyes of hellfire of a demon he thought only existed in nightmares.
It had been on a particularly dark and stormy night nearly ten years before that Mark Callaway--the Undertaker--had exorcised the Lord of Darkness. That malevolent force that had plagued and controlled the Undertaker, body and mind, for so many years of his life, had been destroyed that night, banished to the depths where he belonged. The Lord of Darkness was dead and buried.
Or, at least, Bradshaw had thought he was.
Clearly something, somewhere, had gone terribly awry.
The entity of the Undertaker was one constructed with complexity. His psyche was a finely-tuned yin and yang of dark and light, good and evil. In this creature, however, there was no careful balance. There was only evil, in its truest, purest form. The fact that this being was actually standing here, an entity all of his own, both perplexed and terrified the hell out of Bradshaw.
His eyes took in the sight of the Lord of Darkness--a sight more powerful and foreboding than even the Undertaker himself. He exuded dominance, mentally and physically. As he slipped from the shadows and moved toward him, Bradshaw could feel the raw, vulgar power that emanated from his being--otherworldly and treacherous, recklessly seductive in a way that was almost erotic. There was a glimmer of sadistic amusement in the demon's eyes as his gaze caught Bradshaw's and held him there, rapt.
"What's the matter, Bradshaw?" He spoke his name like a condemnation. "You look like you've seen a ghost." One measured step toward him and the trance was broken. In all of half a second, Bradshaw had thrown himself backward, raising both hands in defense.
"No." His voice came out much less steady than he'd have preferred. "This isn't happening. You can't be here, it's--it's impossible."
"You're surprised to see me?" A wicked smile played at the corners of the Dark Lord's mouth. "I don't see how you could be. You and I both know this has been a long time coming." His voice dropped, the tone of it sending a shudder through Bradshaw's very soul. "Your time has come, Bradshaw. The hour of your judgment is at hand."
"Stay back," warned Bradshaw. "Don't you dare take one more step near me. Now--" He swallowed, hard. "Now, you listen to me. I don't know what pit of hell you managed to slither out of, but I suggest you head right back where you came from."
The Lord of Darkness glowered at Bradshaw, those hellfire eyes flashing dangerously at him in the waning candlelight. "Don't you look at me like that. I ain't scared of you. Now, you got no business here. Not with me. So I suggest, respectfully, that you leave, so I might actually get some damn sleep tonight. Door's that way."
The specter remained still, unmoving. He wasn't budging. Bradshaw's stomach did a violent flip-flop. "All right," he said, drawing himself up to his own considerable height. "If you ain't gonna leave, then--" A threat was on his tongue but he reconsidered, thought better of it. "Then I will. 'Night!" He made a beeline for the door.
"I wouldn't do that," stated the Lord of Darkness simply.
"Yeah? Watch me."
Bradshaw was almost to the door when the demon raised one hand and--to his ever-growing horror--he watched his only exit become an impenetrable wall of flame. "Holy shit!" Bradshaw staggered back, feeling the blood drain from his face. Jesus H. fucking Christ.
"Weren't you just leaving?" inquired an all-too-amused voice from behind. Bradshaw turned around, only to see the Lord of Darkness smirking again. The fact that the evil creature looked pleased did not bode well, not in the slightest.
"All right, damn it." caved Bradshaw. "You've got my full attention. Now what the hell is it that you want?"
"You'll find out," came the sinister reply. "All in due time, you'll find out. For now, you're coming with me."
"The hell I am." Bradshaw found himself backing away again, fear rising once more in his chest. "You are out of your half-dead mind if you think I'd willingly go anywhere with you." The Lord of Darkness just laughed.
"I never said anything about willingly." He was stalking Bradshaw now, moving methodically, predatorily toward him.
Bradshaw kept backing away until he couldn't. His back hit the unyielding wall, and he found himself searching frantically for an escape. He found none. There was no way out.
Trapped. Trapped like a damn rat in a cage.
If he was going to make any sort of stand, he knew, the time for it would be now. He made a move--whether it was to flee or to strike, he wasn't certain. Whatever the case, he didn't make it far before he was stopped cold.
In one long stride, the Lord of Darkness had closed the space between them, and Bradshaw found himself being grabbed and hauled back against the wall with such force, he was afraid he'd go right through it. A large hand wrapped around his throat, and the demon's deep voice intoned something in a tongue Bradshaw didn't understand. His eyes rolled back white, glowing. Bradshaw struggled, though he knew it was an effort all in vain. His strength was already waning, and he was fading fast. It was as if some powerful supernatural force were robbing his body, his mind, of their ability to fight back. The iron grip on his throat tightened, and he saw dark stars in front of his eyes.
I'm gonna die in here, was Bradshaw's last coherent thought as the world around him began to fade and blur.
The very last thing his mind registered were the eyes of the demon, burning into the back of his mind. Then, his vision faded to black as his body gave in, surrendering at last to the will of the Lord of Darkness.