Page 108 of Unbinding the Demon
His arms further tightened their hold on me as our hair whipped all around us. “Buttercup...” he rasped out his little nickname for me. “I want you to know that no matter what happens, I do not regret protecting you.” Soft, warm lips tenderly pressed against the top of my head, making me want to cry even more.
The oppressive fog abruptly dissipated without a trace, and we crash-landed in a crumpled heap of tangled limbs on the living room floor. My bedraggled head popped up, and I peeked around, adrift and disoriented from being unceremoniously ejected from The Abyss. The full moon poured its glimmering beams through the large windows, bathing the entire room in its pale glow. Its lunar phase indicated that a few days had already gone by. The fireplace had gone out, leaving behind only a few charred logs, and all the tattered books and loose pages were still littered about the floor. Everything was deathly silent and still, making the place feel strangely eerie.
My bewildered gaze shifted to meet Azathoth’s anxious golden eyes, and an unspoken sense of urgency crashed over both of us. We scrambled to our feet and began running around like a couple of cracked-out chickens, ruining the peaceful stillness of the room. In our panic, we left both the teloch axe and the book on the floor.
“What do we need!? What do we need!?”I rushed around in a frenzy, trying to think of everything we needed for the spell. I flicked on the light, then recoiled from how blindingly bright it was and quickly shut it back off.“Agh! What the fuck!”
Why did I think that was a good idea after spending all that time in eternal darkness!?
Azathoth ripped the drawer off of one of the end tables. “We need something to draw my sigil with, a knife, and probably a light source!” He rummaged through the detached drawer, his hands searching frantically as he pulled out a pad of sticky notes and a pencil. I dashed across the room to the bookshelf where my favorite evergreen-scented jar candle rested. Belzar appeared with a puff of black mist, but I was freaking out too much to acknowledge his presence.“There’s no time to explain. Just take the axe into the shadows... No! I need to be unbound immediately!”Azathoth blurted to Belzar, followed by a concerned-sounding yip and whimper.
I swiped the candle up, then hysterically fumbled my hand around the shelf to find the lighter that lived next to it. In my haste, I carelessly knocked over a few knick-knacks and thingamabobs. Some of them fell and clanked to the floor before I was finally able to grab the damn lighter. “I’ve got a light source!” I yelled as I whipped around, triumphantly holding the candle and lighter up.
Azathoth appeared in a puff of black smoke, eyes crazed and hair wildly disheveled. “And I’ve got the knife!” he proclaimed maniacally while holding up a chef’s knife. The blade glinted in the moonlight as he grinned like a deranged, psychotic murderer. “Let’s go!”
My feet took off in a sprint as I rushed across the room, swooped up the book, and then bounced into his open arms. Black mist enveloped us, and we reappeared in the library. An elegant woodland mural embellished the cathedral-like ceiling above, and old dusty manuscripts lined the walls. The full moon bled through the large stained glass windows, tinting the silvery hue of its luminous rays into ghostly shades of dancing colors. They streamed down upon the aged floorboards and rows of books... and also on all the snarling corrupted people.Fuck.
Three sets of black, fathomless eyes sinisterly fell upon our embracing forms, and they charged. “Fucking Hell! We don’t have fucking time for this shit!” Azathoth furiously ripped one of the swords from my waist. He wasted no time spinning around and lopping a grotesque, growling head from its shoulders. “May the Gods of Hell bless Valarendrik for being an annoying prick and forcing these swords upon us,” he muttered, as the rotting body toppled over, crumbling to ash as it hit the floor.
Holy shit! I did not expect the swords to do that!
I reached down, wrapping my fingers around the cold stone hilt of the twin weapon. The blade hissed as I swiftly pulled it out, while dropping the book, candle, and lighter to the floor. My gaze whipped up and over to the open door, where the sickly undead silhouettes of more snarling corrupted were fast approaching like a swarm of eldritch, bloodthirsty prowlers.
“Azathoth! We need to barricade the door!” I yelled while rushing over to shut it as quickly as I could.
My free hand pressed against the heavy splintered wood, trying to shove the damn thing closed. Right before it was fully shut, a large decrepit hand with ghastly grayish fingers and unkempt, chipping nails wrapped around the edge. A snarling, corrupted man effortlessly pushed the door back open as if he were making an enthusiastic grand entry, causing me to stumble back.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
His foul breath fanned my face as his grotesque, rotting jaws snapped at me. I made a split-second, life-or-death decision to do something that I didn’t think I could ever do. Using the thrusting technique Valarendrik taught me, I plunged the blade through his ratty red shirt and pierced his squishy, putrid abdomen. The black designs on the blade pulsed, appearing almost like swirling mist as they made their kill. A look of horror and guilt contorted my face as he crumbled to ashes right before my wide eyes.
Holy shit... I just killed someone...
I wasn’t graced with any time to comprehend or feel remorseful for what I had just done. Before I knew it, I was plunging the blade into another one, and another, and then another. As more converged, my heart sank and bile rose in the pit of my stomach. I froze, and time seemed to stand still, as a strange mixture of horror and despair stabbed at my soul. A familiar but deranged-looking redhead wearing raggedy ‘90s goth attire came staggering into sight, rabidly hissing and growling among them.
Oh my god... That’s Amelia. No! No! No! No! No!
“Buttercup... Gwendolyn!” I scarcely acknowledged Azathoth as he yelled to me in desperation. It seemed more like background noise as I stared in shock at the abomination that had once been my good friend. His large arm suddenly snaked around me, pulling me back as he simultaneously slammed the door shut. “What are you doing!?” He roared, snapping me out of my trance. “Go get the spell ready. I’ll barricade the door!”
Right! The spell! I don’t even have a measly second to spare for grief!
I scrambled to regather the stuff, then shoved a pile of books off a random table. Each one thudded to the aged floorboards below with a flutter of pages. My bones rattled beneath my flesh as I anxiously lit the candle and used the string I had placed in the book to open it to the page which held the unbinding incantation.
I looked behind me, where Azathoth was strenuously shoving a massive, old-fashioned bookcase in front of the door. “That won’t hold them forever, but it should give us enough time,” he said as he made his way to me, stumbling a bit. “Draw my sigil first, but do not circle it.” He placed the sticky pad and pencil down, along with the knife. “Then dab a few drops of blood on it and recite the spell.” He grabbed my face with both of his hands and placed a quick but passionate kiss on my lips. “And do not stop until every word has been spoken... no matter what!” He moved around the table in front of me, where I could see his full body.
The warm flickering candlelight illuminated his crazed and disheveled appearance. The black web of poison was now stretching over half his face and fully across his chest and torso. I grimaced, knowing there was no way it hadn’t found his heart yet.
Quickly, but precisely, I scribbled out the strange lines and curves of his sigil, suddenly very thankful for all the effort I’d put into my art classes. It was chaotic yet attractive-looking, just like him. The reflection of the small orange flame danced across the blade as I pressed the tip along my finger. I ignored the sting and held my breath as a few crimson droplets dripped onto the sigil.
My soft voice quavered as I began to recite the spell. His golden eyes beamed with love and veneration, while he anxiously watched, silently urging me on. Even though I struggled to maintain focus after having just seen Amelia as corrupted, I had to do this. I had to be strong for him.
Emerald green clashed with fiery gold as our gazes locked. I continued chanting to complete the work my aunt had started years ago and to save the demon whom I had fallen in love with. My heart broke at the sight of the black veins now fully marring his handsome face. Tears began streaming down my cheeks as he weakly collapsed to his knees, but I didn’t stop.
His gaze stayed fixated on mine while he struggled to stay upright, black veins swallowing the gold. “I love you,” he crooned somberly with a loving smile as the glow in his eyes gently faded to darkness.
My tears splashed upon the yellowed pages as I wept through the otherworldly words. I was desperate to tell him I loved him back, yet I couldn’t. I had to continue uttering the incantation. Then, like wavering grain falling to the scythe, he stole one final unsteady glance at my face and lifelessly fell to the floor. One wing limply stretched out beside him, while the other crumpled into his side. His obsidian locks sprawled out across his back, and one arm seemed to reach for me.
No, no... please no!
