Page 133 of Unbinding the Demon
“Alright, I guess we’ll come by and visit every now and then.” William pointed toward Azathoth with an exaggerated motion. “But I’m still going to wear a red unitard while I’m there,” he added with narrowed eyes, while Belzar stealthily sniffed at the container.
Darrell cleared his throat. “Okay, well, I’m hungry, so let’s eat those chimichangas and watch the sunset now. That should help get that image out of my head.” He chuckled, and Belzar yipped in agreement.
William raised one of his perfectly groomed brows. “Bitch, please, you know I’d look sexy as fuck wearing that!” he teased with a sassy head shake while pointing up in a circle.
The four of them laughed together, then began indulging in the delicious chimichangas. The soft golden rays of the setting sun danced upon them while adorning the land in gloaming beauty. They watched as the dwindling light glimmered across the calm, glossy waters of the lake, sparkling on the ripples created by the darkened silhouette of a passing loon. Mist swirled over the shoreline, slightly illuminated by the dying evenfall glow.
The demon, who had always loved watching the setting sun, found himself oddly distracted by his thoughts. He sucked in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air while his glowing golden gaze mirrored the gilded scenery before him.
Eagerness to return home and see his family again enveloped every inch of his fiery soul, yet a strange sense of anxiety fluttered within his infernal heart. He didn’t know how much Hell had changed over the past five thousand years. For all he knew, red unitards could, in fact, be in style. He feared the possibility that his loved ones might have passed on during his absence.
However, unbeknownst to him, he would soon find all his friends and family alive and well. His family, who had long ago thought him to be dead, would greet him and Gwendolyn with loving, open arms. Their reunion would be one of joy and excitement. He’d kick over his own gravestone, then gleefully hurl it out into the River Styx. “I’m not dead, suckers!” he’d shout in victory. Meanwhile, his loved ones would cheer, celebrating his triumphant return.
His wife, who sensed his unease and could hear his thoughts, gently squeezed his hand with a loving smile. The sun sank lower still, turning from glistening gold to luminous crimson. Trepidation glimmered in her eyes as she watched because she was nervous, too. She feared that his family wouldn’t accept her for being human, and it was hard to fathom finding her place in Hell.
But soon, her worries would be laid to rest. His family would not only accept her, but also adore and cherish her. Azathoth’s parents would become the father and mother she never had and shower her with parental love and affection. She would form close friendships with both her brother-in-law and sister-in-law. Scrayla would become like a sister to her and would help her meet other demons and make new friends.
“It’s going to be alright. My family will accept you; of this, I have no doubt.”Azathoth spoke the truth, with his comforting words dancing softly into her mind.
“Thank you,”she responded in his thoughts with a small smile and snuggled closer into his side while taking another bite of her chimichanga.
“Besides, just think, we’ll soon be having a family of our own.”Claws appeared on his hand as he rested it over her stomach.“I’m very eager to plant my spawns of evil within your womb,”he telepathically purred. A bright red blush spread across her cheeks, matching the crimson skyline.
Next to them stood William, who was completely unaware of the very intimate conversation happening beside him. His pale hair fluttered in the autumn breeze as he gazed out over the water, watching the fires of the sun sink further yet. As the wind kissed his smiling face, he felt as if it were whispering lamentations to his bereft soul. His heart, which was once so carefree and full of life, was now swallowed by pain and loss. Although he was still the vivacious person he’d always been, Oliver's loss had dimmed his once bright spirit.
He brushed a disobedient straggler hair out of his face, feeling the heavy weight of the sinking crimson sun upon his shoulders. He knew Sycamore Valley was now haunted by the corrupted spirits who’d passed on, forced to wander in a hopeless state of blackened incorporeality. The thought of Oliver wandering among them violently ripped through his heart.
Though, try as he might, no amount of necromantic sorcery had allowed him to contact Oliver’s spirit. He’d managed to contact Amelia’s spirit a few times, but never Oliver. It was as if he wasn’t even there at all. And although he knew it was preposterous, deep within the depths of his forlorn soul, he secretly felt as if he would see his beloved again someday.
The last threads of dying light spilled out along the waning crepuscule and glistened in Darrell’s dark brown eyes. He had gotten into a top school for criminal investigation and had just begun his junior year. With his keen eye and quick wits, combined with his natural knack for sorcery, he’d soon become a well-known and respected detective. Yet despite his career successes, nothing would fulfill his life quite like Lacey had.
Like William, he’d also tried to contact his beloved’s spirit, and Lacey would occasionally answer him in her own gentle ways. Sometimes he’d hear the musical cadence of her voice dancing upon the wind, or feel her soft caress upon his cheek. Her loss had gutted him, and he often found himself wandering by her grave, screaming out at the rain in grief. He tried to catch glimpses of her everywhere he looked, searching hopelessly for what was not there. Within the depths of his heart, he knew he’d always love her, but a piece of him had died when she had.
He held the last few bites of his chimichanga out to Belzar, who happily gobbled it up, despite having already eaten three. Belzar, too, was a bit antsy about going to Hell. He’d come to love this strange dimension and his human friends. But despite his uncertainty, he was still focused on one very important thing, and that was being the goodest boy ever.
The last glimmer of light died beneath the misty mountains, while the twinkling stars bloomed across the darkening skyline. And as they watched the veil of night cloak the land, the sorceress’s soul smiled lovingly down upon them for the last time. Then, gently, like the soft breeze blowing through the autumn branches, her bright spirit was carried away on the opalescent winds of rebirth to her next life.
The light of the chinoiserie table lamp illuminated the living room, casting its dim yellow glow over Azathoth and Gwendolyn as they prepared to leave. Gwendolyn’s swords clanked inside one of the two black duffel bags that Azathoth had slung over his shoulder. He had the Teloch Axe tied to his belt and a half-eaten chimichanga in his hand. Belzar stood beside him, wagging his tail with his own bag full of bones and sticks in his mouth. Gwendolyn walked over to the couch and scooped up Pepper Paws’s little sleepy body.
“Come on, Peps. It’s time to go,” she whispered and kissed his cute, fuzzy head. With a soft click, she turned off the lamp, leaving the room illuminated only by the lunar glow of the moon. She smiled at Azathoth with warmth while he polished off the last of the chimichanga. “What are you planning to do with the axe once we get there?” she inquired.
“I’m going to return it to Satan.” He shrugged. “It’s much too dangerous and coveted for us to keep lying around, and he’ll know the best thing to do with it.”
Her eyes widened at that. “Will I get to meet him too?” A rush of anxiety stirred in her heart.
“Yes,” he chuckled. “Of course you will. Don’t worry, though. He’s far different from how he’s been depicted. In fact, he’s greatly admired by everyone who’s ever met him. He is a god of enlightenment, after all.” Excitement glimmered in his luminescent eyes as he held out his large, clawed hand. “Now, come, my love.”
With her kitty snugly cradled in her arms and a smile on her face, she walked back over to her beloved demon with an excited bounce in her step. He wrapped one large arm around her petite waist, and then the other around Belzar. His wings folded protectively around them both as they prepared to depart from this world.
“Are you ready to leave this world with me, Buttercup?” he asked in a whisper.
“Yes,” she whispered back. “I’d go anywhere with you.” Her emerald eyes were filled with uncertainty about what was to come, but in her heart, she trusted him. “Are you ready too?”
“I’ve been ready for a long, long time,” his deep voice murmured with a slight laugh as he tightened his grip and smiled.
Emerald green met fiery gold as they lovingly gazed into each other’s eyes. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss filled with love and adoration. His lips worshipped hers in a rapturous dance, and she returned it with equal passion. Black mist began to swirl up from the floorboards around them, enveloping their embraced bodies as their kiss continued. Then, within the blink of an eye, they disappeared.
And they lived happily ever after, together in Hell.
