Demon's Dream (14 page)

Mani’s head jerked up at the query. He then gave his head a weary shake and looked back to the floor which had been his visage for the past couple of torturous hours.

Mel realized the demon had more integrity than he had originally given him credit for. With less passion than before, Mel continued to expend his version of persuasive interrogation. Hours of repetitive questioning with instrumental flesh removal from Mani still resulted in no attainment of vocalization with regards to the needed information Mel sought. Azamel switched the barbed whip to various other forms of weaponry, each one worse than the previous. Each designed to give the utmost pain to the prisoner. Despite it all, Mani remained willfully reticent,
yet Mel did not relent. The demon judge
would
discover who was behind the attacks on Clarissa and maybe in the process prevent the current stream of demons who hunted the young wolf for the treasure which she protected.

Azamel was getting tired of asking and his inner demon was getting more corybantic with the passing hours and zero results. Something had to give. Mel had never been this unsuccessful for this long with his interrogation techniques. He was flabbergasted that Mani had managed to hold out as long as he had and not reveal anything, much less barely make a sound. Lesser demons would be weeping, pleading,
begging
for mercy, for death, giving up everything they could possibly think of, including their mother, in hopes of some relief from the punishment they were being inflicted with. However, Mani took each and every blow, cut, stab and torment Mel threw at him with nary a sound. Where others screamed, Mani gasped. Where others cried, he moaned. Where others bellowed at the top of their lungs, he wheezed pantingly.

Azamel gained an unprecedented, unheard of respect for the spirit demon. However, he needed to know who was after the stone and nothing would stop him from learning the truth. Nevertheless, it was quite obvious these tactics were not the correct inducements required to get Mani to relinquish the names of whomever he was protecting. As much as he detested the idea, Mel needed a psychological torture which would hopefully do the trick where the physical excruciation was ineffective.

Striding over to the dejected demon, Mel bent down and whispered softly, “I admire your tenacity for maintaining your honor in not revealing whose orders you’re following but your loyalty is ill-placed. I will find out. I do however, apologize for the torment I’m putting you through when it’s quite obvious you’re not the mastermind behind this scheme, only a pawn.”

Standing erect, Mel left the room as he sent in a guard to keep an eye on the prisoner while he did some research which would hopefully be able to break those barriers Mani had successfully erected.

Chapter Thirteen

Leaning back in his plush executive red leather chair, Mel steepled his fingers in front of his mouth as he pondered the reports that were compiled before him. Mani’s whole existence was laid out for easy, detailed viewing and yet, he felt sure something was missing. What in the multi-verse could possibly cause such loyalty from one with such a strong sense of morality? Mani was protecting someone but why? What caused such fidelity, Mani would suffer wordlessly for a punishment he didn’t, in all truth,
fully
deserve? There had to be
something
in those reports which would indicate the need for such devotion. Whatever it was, Mel was apparently oblivious to it.

Of course, it also didn’t help that reports on Clarissa were within his peripheral vision. She had been attacked almost daily by some type of demon or other, some of which he thought were long since extinct. The attacks were too orchestrated to be random. Whoever was doing this was well aware where the stone was and worse- who had it. They were relentless in trying to eliminate the Guardian for the prize of the most powerful gem the universe had ever seen created.

Mel cursed at the thought such a position had been advocated which created an artifact of extreme immense power it would be sought after by any preternatural creature over the age of two hundred. Any of those who breathed would sense the vibrations of the gem calling to them. However, there was something else going on here as well. The attacks were too concentrated, too coordinated. No. Obviously there was a mastermind who was keeping tabs on the gem and making sure they wore the Guardian down in their attempts to retrieve it without surrendering their hand of anonymity.

Mel’s eyes darted between the two stacks of reports. What was the connection? Who was Mani protecting? Once Mel discovered that tidbit of information then the rest would fall in place. It was blatantly discernible whomever was behind Clarissa’s constant assaults was also the originator of her displacement to another realm. Mani’s attempt to eradicate the Guardian of the stone was but the first endeavor to remove the protector and acquire the artifact.

As Mel pondered the stacks of informative materials, his mind delved into thinking more about the blond haired beauty which one pile educated him. He knew she had been dealing relentlessly with demon attacks and it infuriated him he was unable to interfere in any way by coming to her aid. Of course, after he literally kicked her out of his home, he doubted very much if she even wanted to see him again, at least without a sword in her hand which was pressed up against his throat. He had to admit, that sudden thought brought a smile to his face. She certainly was courageous and full of spunk if nothing else. As he began to feel warmer thinking about her, he shifted slightly to relieve the ache that suddenly built in his groin.

He growled as he realized giving into thoughts of her did nothing but make him regret further she was no longer with him. He was still confused as to how she managed to touch some deep recessed part of him that craved her. Had he learned nothing from his own disgusting past? Had he forgotten how he was betrayed so brutally that he stopped trusting everyone and relied only on himself?

Standing, he moved to the bureau and poured himself a drink. Sipping it, he let himself remember what he had not thought about in centuries, instead of burying it deep within the recesses of his mind, along with all the other shit he didn’t wish to recollect.

The memories hit him like a ton of bricks once he allowed himself to think about them. He downed his drink and quickly poured another as he moved to stare out the window, reminiscing.

He had carried the demon shoved within his body as a punishment that he never deserved for five years at that point. Each day had been a battle to keep it under some form of control or other, dreading the pain of it tearing through his body to get free whenever he was too tired to continue the fight. He detested when he lost and the destruction the demon wrought in its path whenever it was free of his host.

He had been on his own struggling since his trial and being inseminated with the demon. So imagine his surprise when his mother, Beloitah, the Goddess of Evil sent a message she wanted to see her son. He had not seen his family since the day in the woods when he was condemned by Nana, which was where she desired to convene. His mother. He remembered how excited he was she called to him. He couldn’t wait to see her and hurried to the rendezvous point.

When he climbed the slight hill overlooking the clearing, Mel recognized her immediately. She stood facing away from him. Her pale deer skin dress with fringes at the hem blew softly in the breeze. Her long black hair was braided on one side with a feather hanging from the braid while the rest of her hair billowed gently about her features.

As if sensing his presence, she turned around and faced him, awaiting his approach. He moved towards her slowly, admiring her beauty. Tanned skin glowed with an inner light, her doe brown eyes with hints of yellow flecks sparkled with the sunlight. Her natural ruby lips smiled up at him. She appeared glad to see him and Mel’s heart swelled with love and joy at seeing his mother. He ran the rest of the way down to her and caught her in a tight embrace. What he couldn’t seem to remember was if she hugged him back or not. As often as he thought of that moment during the following days, he just couldn’t recollect that action from her or not.

Regardless, he will never, in a million life times, forget what occurred next. Mel was jerked away from his mother’s embrace as several demon men shimmered into existence. He didn’t recognize the dozen which instantly surrounded and restrained him. At first he struggled, trying to break free of their embrace before he gazed up and frowned at his mother.

“Mom? What is going on?”

Her entire visage had changed. She wasn’t the Goddess of Evil for nothing and when she desired, the beauty which was so prominent just a moment ago altered with just enough undercurrent one could notice the coldness which now seeped through every pore of her.

Beloitah grimaced, showing off pointed and serrated fangs that slipped past her lips as if growing before their eyes.

“Did you
really
think just because you’re my son, I would let you take over my position? Did you truly believe I would just surrender without a fight? How naive can you possibly be?”

Azamel sagged against the minions that held him. He didn’t understand what she was saying. He didn’t want to rule evil. He hated the evil that was within him, the demon that made him do things he had little or no knowledge or control over. Was this what upset his mother? This demon he had been punished to carry for eternity causing mayhem and destruction on its own?

As if in answer to his unspoken thoughts, Beloitah gave a single curt nod.

“You have had five years to control your beast and yet it controls you. Five years to prove you’re stronger and worthy for the title which you bear of being a demon hunter, when you, yourself cannot manage the demon within. I won’t allow you to cause terror and horror to others when that’s my pleasurable position and I’m certainly not willing to give it up nor share it with the likes of you.”

“Mom!” Mel pleaded. “I don’t want your position. I’m trying to control my beast and not let it rule me. I have had more successes than losses. Please, mother. I’ll be better. I’ll work diligently at improving my control. Give me a chance to prove this to you.”

“I have. You had five years’ worth of chances and have shown no amelioration.”

Beloitah turned towards her minions.

“Make sure he suffers painfully as you tear him to shreds. When he is dead, call me to see his lifeless body. I will not tolerate his existence any longer.”

She began to move past them as the demon sycophants began to claw and pull at Mel. He struggled against them, fighting to not release his own inner devil even though he felt the beginnings of the change from his beast. His eyes glowing red with an inner ferocity that he struggled to maintain control of.

“I’m your son! Does that not account for anything?” Mel growled low, his voice demonically reverberated throughout the wooded clearing.

Beloitah laughed, the sound mirthless and cold. “My son died in this very spot five years ago. You’re an abomination and I will not abide your existence any longer.” She said with asperity.

Azamel was stunned. His own mother, whom he loved and worshiped, shunned him. She ordered his death and an excruciating one at that. Mel roared, his malignant spirit clawing to be released and for once, Mel was happy to oblige his vicious monster. He willingly endured the pain of his body, for his heart was already torn asunder, the demon clawed its way out of Mel’s body. In the past, because Azamel usually fought the creature’s release, he suffered far more than he did that time. The inner demon was welcomed to emerge, to be free and slaughter, so he did not bother with torturing Azamel in the process. Tearing open Mel’s back from the inside out, the creature emerged as if from a womb in a huge C-section. The hellion unfolded its massive frame, taking a moment to enjoy stretching its otherwise cramped appendages in its freedom.

Large and imposing, the creature was a dark blood red with luminescent yellow eyes. He turned his head casually at the demon spawn who held what remained of Mel’s motionless, bloodied body and snarled in a way that sent chills through even them.

“I am Destruction. Know my name for it will be the last you will learn before you succumb to me.”

Beloitah turned and gaped at the monstrous hellion which egressed from within Azamel. Narrowing her eyes, she took a step back and waited for her minions to deal with the behemoth. Azamel’s demon reached out and grabbed two of her companions by the throat, ripping their heads off as if he were squeezing overripe lemons. The blood splattered everywhere, casting its stream in all directions. Before the other demons could dematerialize, they were caught within the hellion’s snare, torn, shredded, beheaded or had their hearts ripped out so fast Beloitah’s sycophants didn’t stand a chance.

Destruction’s yellow gaze fell upon her and even she had to cringe for the briefest of moments.

She was the Goddess of evil. She would be damned if she let this creature get the better of her as easily as it did her minions. She sent a bolt of electrical power to the beast and was amazed he seemed to absorb it. His eyes appeared to glow in their intensity as Destruction held his hands out and sent a blast just as powerful back to her, causing her to stumble backwards slightly. Quickly, she regained her footing and sent a volley of fireballs towards him. Destruction moved in the blink of an eye before the fireballs reached him, only to appear behind her. Wrapping his arm around her neck, he lifted her off her feet as he growled low in her ear.