Michael Davis
Stories
5
Chapters
1,515
Words
1.7 M
Comments
0
Reading
6 d, 1 h
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They said that the Devil could be tricked and God might change his mind, but Father Time never faltered. Of course that wasn’t going to stop Bael from trying. He woke up early while Maharet and Six were still sleeping to inspect the door to the summoning chamber. Evidently Mike had wanted something to intimidate his followers because it was easily three inches thick and made of solid oak and reinforced with iron. It was the kind of door someone didn’t pass through lightly, even with a halberd. Bael…-
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Spent from a day of shopping and arguing Bael barely had time to look at his book before he fell asleep. Perhaps it was the hectic day or the unwelcome memories the old man had managed to stir up, but Bael’s dreams were far from pleasant. It was like walking through a slideshow, each one worse than the last. He could hear Six crying, screaming in pain, he knew that he had to get to her somehow. Bael found himself walking through the ruined remains of the mansion, his hooves crunching through splintered…
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The SUV waited for its owners in the no-parking zone. Before then it had never experienced boredom, or anything else for that matter. It had just sat in the dealer’s lot except for the occasional test drive. Just as the doldrums were fully setting in, Murphy got a visitor, a fat balding man with a golden badge. He tapped on Murphy’s windshield and tried to peek inside. Murphy considered leaving but Maharet had told him to stay put. The fat man made a call on his radio then walked off leaving Murphy…
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It might have surprised some people to find out that there were cars in hell. Of course in typical hell fashion they were utilitarian affairs with limited amenities and top speeds that barely broke double digits. If that wasn’t bad enough the roads themselves were constantly either under construction or congested to the point where it was quicker to just get out and walk. The demon elite avoided this situation by teleporting while the working class either walked or rode bicycles. This of course begged…
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Sunlight was streaming through the windows and the fire had burned down to nothing when Bael woke up. There were unfamiliar sounds and smells coming from the kitchen. Cautiously he crept around the corner on velvet hooves wondering what exactly was going on. What he saw made no sense. Maharet was making breakfast while Six watched from her perch on the counter. Bael was surprised to see that Maharet was wearing an apron she had found somewhere. It fit with the whole retro aesthetic of the house. The pink…
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Sometime later when Maharet was done cursing his name literally and figuratively Bael explained the situation with Six. When she was five years old Marleene Quinzel’s father had taken a turn just a little bit too fast and sent the family station wagon over the edge of Devil’s Slide. When the rescue crew cut her out of the wreckage hours later she had gone from the youngest of three to the sole survivor. With no remaining family Marleene had spent months alone recovering in the hospital followed by…
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The next time Six summoned Bael they both received an unpleasant surprise, but Bael got the worst of it because Maharet got sea sick and threw up all over his leg. “Oh that’s disgusting.” Bael moaned. “Do you know how hard it is to get puke out of fur? And tell me how exactly a major demon still manages to get sick after a little interdimensional travel. It’s hardly dignified.” “Bite me, goat boy.” Maharet said savagely. “I had to follow and see who you had been talking to. What would…
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Over the next month Bael spent his days in hell and his evenings helping Six. She gave him books, tried to teach him how to cook, and in return he took her shopping and opened any particularly stubborn jars. There was a fringe benefit to their association of course. The more he understood the modern world the better he became at his job. The other demons were hesitant at first but enthusiastically welcomed his ideas after a few demonstrations. What really won them over was the socks. Salrafast, King of…
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In the days that followed Bael felt like something was amiss but couldn’t put a talon on exactly what. So instead of trying to find it he threw himself into his work, wrote memos like a man possessed (if that man was possessed by an unhappy member of middle management) and at the end of the day he would collapse into his chair with his tea and a book. Maybe I should join a gym, or some kind of exercise club. Bael thought as he absentmindedly pinched a layer of fat where his stomach creased whenever he…
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The first time that Bill met Six she had been on an altar surrounded by flickering candles. Of course, Bill was not his real name. It was really Bael-Sharoth, Baron of hell and lord of torment. But his friends just called him Bael. Not that demons really had friends. The best they could manage was an entity that wasn’t currently trying to deceive or kill them. When the cult started summoning him, Bael had barely had time to grab his thick winter parka off its hook before the dimensional gateway sucked…
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