Devil’s Due: Running with the Devil
Part 1: Once more, with feeling
As I stood there gazing up at those giant doors that made me feel like little more than a child, all of the horrors of my first visit came rushing back at once. I had almost died in that place; Brandon and Grant both lost their lives within those walls. Well, for a moment anyway. I had no doubt I wouldn’t survive this time, but I had to do what was necessary to put an end to this vile place once and for all while hoping to bring my dearest friend back from the brink of extinction.
I’m getting ahead of myself again. Let me back up just a little.
Though everything that came before this altered me in so many ways, this one changed me forever in ways I’m still attempting to process. Whatever happens to me after all of this, I’m okay with it. It’s unpredictable, to say the least, but I think it’s safe to say that my life will never truly be the same; not now.
I had grown quite restless while awaiting word from the old man on the pier, but I was able to keep some measure of distractions with the repairs to the house. Sure, Brandon and I didn’t exactly play a heavy role in fixing the place up, aside from rearranging some furniture and the like.
The contractor my roommate and friend contacted gave us a fair price for the job, after a bit of back and forth, but I wasn’t stressing it too much. My mind was still all over the place after the events that left our home in need of work in the first place, as well as what Grant sacrificed to bring Brandon back.
I told him everything this time; the truth of the old mill and his ex-girlfriend’s connection to it, the legacy of the Orchid family, and even the true identity of our mutual friend. Being something of a religious man, it took Brandon some time to accept that last part, as he had lived his life under the assumption that the Devil could not, under any circumstances, be trusted, let alone be befriended.
He confessed that he knew I had been glossing over a great many details of that bizarre week, so long ago, but he could have never imagined that this is what I was keeping from him. Naturally, he didn’t believe me at first; accusing me of feeding him another batshit crazy story to avoid spilling the truth of it all, but the more he thought about it, he couldn’t deny the reality of it all.
He was still pretty messed up about Ash and what she had put him through, though he still only caught highlights of his stay in the other place in his nightmares. For days he brooded over the betrayal of the woman he loved, along with the insane story I presented him with. In the end, I think he accepted things as I told them, but he was still on the fence about Grant.
He mourned for him as I did, but I could tell he was waging a war within himself. To have his lifelong beliefs called into question in such an extravagant way, well, I think anyone would be a bit lost. To understand and accept that the man who saved our lives on several occasions, as well as made the ultimate sacrifice to allow us to survive; to see him as the same entity he had been taught to fear since he was a child, was no easy task.
Ultimately, after several days of pondering on the topic, he chose to simply see Grant as Grant; nothing more, nothing less. His friend who may still be out there somewhere, waiting for us to risk it all to bring him home, as he did for us. Though I was thrilled to hear this acceptance from my roommate, I was not yet prepared to break the news to him that I would not allow him to accompany me on this.
Perhaps that was pigheaded of me, especially since the idea of handling this alone was downright terrifying to me, but I couldn’t risk losing him again. Over the time I’ve known Brandon, I’ve seen him shot dead and turned into a semi-catatonic zombie, before being dragged to what some have assumed to be Hell itself. He’s been through enough, having paid a price far steeper than I had to this point.
By the time the repairs on the house were finished, Brandon was mostly back to himself. I would see him daydreaming from time to time; mentally checked out from the world around him, but he was getting there at least. He continued to attend therapy once a week, and while I couldn’t help but wonder how much he shared with his shrink, it did seem to help him.
The thing is; when I no longer had the sanity of my roommate or the repairs to the house to worry about, I was left with only that lingering dread. Not only was it frustrating that I had yet to hear anything from the old man who assured me a plan was in the works, but I hated to think what Grant was suffering through, the longer we delayed things. Of course, that is if there was indeed anything left of him, as the man on the pier had claimed.
Life had returned to what I had to refer to as normal. Brandon and I would spend many evenings at the bar, while my friend continued to take to the stage with his guitar in hand. Though it was obvious to me that his spark had faltered, given he no longer had his muse, the crowd didn’t seem to notice. The applause after each song he treated them to was just as enthusiastic as ever, but I saw no trace of that glint in his eye anymore.
I hoped he’d get it back sooner or later, but with all he had been through, it was nothing short of admirable, the way he was holding up. Yes, I would hear him crying late at night sometimes, but I wouldn’t claim I hadn’t shed my own fair share of tears over these past months. While Brandon was dealing with the loss of the woman he loved, as well as the betrayal of her actions, I had lost another brother.
Losing Tommy, all those years ago, still inspires my eyes to well up, even during the two years of believing I had seen the last of the hard times. Though Grant wasn’t my blood, I loved him like he was. I know that probably sounds quite bizarre, given who my friend really was behind the facade, but I will always see him as my brother and closest friend.
The things he did over the centuries; yes, they were nothing short of monstrous, I would imagine. In some ways, though I desperately wanted answers to questions he could not answer, I’m glad that much of his past was above my pay grade. I know that many who have read or heard my story see me as a heretic or blasphemer for my faith in the man.
Call it as you will, but I know who Grant was in the end. What came before, I can’t say. I’ve made my share of mistakes in this life, and I would imagine that if I had millennia to spend upon this earth or even any of those other places, I would make many more before the dust settled. Of course, perhaps I’m simply lingering on the things I cannot know, to compensate for a great many uncertainties to come.
As it turned out, I had no idea of the revelations I would be presented with in the end. In many ways, I miss the ignorance I used to hide behind. I had never enjoyed much of a peaceful existence, aside from those twenty-four months of carefree living. Perhaps I was just fooling myself to think it would be as simple as either surviving or dying by the time our adventures came to a close. Truth be told, I never did expect to live through this; it didn’t even enter my mind.
Once again you find me rambling, my friends. As always, I apologize for that. I can’t promise there won’t be any more of my musings by the time we reach the end, but I would ask that you bear with me this one last time. After all, when the credits roll on this, I imagine this will be the last time you hear from me. One last time, right? One more for the road.
It was almost two months to the day when I was greeted with that strange sensation to return to the old tavern in which my friend used to do business. It was late in the evening, and I was just sitting around the house, attempting to find some sort of distraction. I wasn’t feeling particularly motivated that day, even when Brandon headed out with his guitar on his back.
I was glad of that fact when that familiar feeling hit me. Having decided I wanted him to have no part of this, it saved me from having to conjure any sort of excuse. In all honesty, I’m a pretty shit liar on a good day, let alone in the presence of somebody who knows me well enough to notice my eyes turning brown.
I’d had a bag packed for weeks now, to be prepared when I got the word. Whether or not this would indeed be that, I threw the bag on my back, slipped the ancient, tarnished key into my bedroom door, and pulled it open. The scent of the old place sent my mind careening back to the last time I was there, damn near dropping me back to the hardwood floor.
Considering that I spend a lot of time at the bar I own with my friend and roommate, it almost surprised me that the aroma of this place caused me to react in such a manner. I can’t say whether it was simply the different blends and brands that caused this one to inspire so much nostalgia, or if it was its somewhat otherworldly manner of it. Maybe I’ll never have the answers to the more trivial aspects of my journey, but it seemed worth mentioning.
As it was the last time, it took a while for the vibrant glow to emanate from and around the door after I closed it back shut. Again, I helped myself to a cold beer in an attempt to distract myself from the melancholic euphoria of the place. It was inevitable that my mind would carry me back to the happier times with Grant, as far away as they seemed at the time.
Unlike the last time, I wasn’t surprised when that warm light began to shine from behind where I sat. I didn’t take the time to finish my pint before walking back to that rear door with my heart pounding either. I can’t deny that my fingers were trembling with anticipation when I wrapped them around the simple, brass knob, but I damn near jumped with excitement when I saw the stranger at the end of the pier was not alone.
“Grant!?” I called out as I took off sprinting towards the two awaiting my arrival.
While my feet almost sent me to the wooden planks more than once as I sped towards the two, the closer I got, I could see that things were not quite as I had initially hoped. While the older guy was apparently continuing his quest for fresh fish, the man who leaned up against the railing beside him, looked somewhat different than I remembered.
While his face was identical to the man I saw as a brother, the short and nearly parted hair looked entirely out of place. Regardless of the subtle inconsistencies, from the way he was dressed to the way he carried himself, I threw my arms around him as soon as I was close enough to do so.
“Woah there, big guy!” the man said with a laugh, pushing me back.
The somewhat American-sounding accent did not remotely match up with who I had presumed the man to be. Yes, those little variances I had noticed from a distance gave me slight cause to hesitate, but it wasn’t until he spoke that I knew he could not be Grant. I took a step back while searching for anything rational to say, but I couldn’t quite find the words.
“Sorry for the mix-up, bud,” the man wearing my friend’s face said, still chuckling slightly, “I had to borrow this, you know, to get around up here and all.”
He patted his chest while he spoke, reminding me that the shell Grant wore when he was in this world was not his actual form at all. I tried to hide the fact that my heart was burning again, as though the scar tissue caused by the loss of my friend was torn back open. I cut my eyes to the side, hoping to distract myself enough to stop the tears from flowing again, but when the man with the fishing pole began to speak, I remembered why I was here.
“This here is Malphas,” he said, tilting his head towards the man with the all too familiar face, “he’s an associate of yer buddy, Grant. Hopin’ he’s gonna be able to lend us a hand in this.”
The apparent Malphas gave me a strange sort of smile and a shrug. I can’t say whether the grin only appeared unusual since it was very different from the facial expressions I was used to, or if there was something else behind it. Either way, be it that I saw him as something of an imposter, or that I simply didn’t know who the man in the Grant costume was, I wasn’t about to let my guard down around him.
“I know it’s a bit weird, kid. Just figured we’d need a way to bring yer friend somethin’ to wear if we was able to find him.”
“Plus, I’m sure I can lend a hand with whatever we run into along the way,” Malphas said in that voice I wouldn’t be getting used to any time soon.
“Does that mean you have a plan? Like, is this thing happening now?” I asked.
“That it does, kid. Only hitch we’re gonna have is in findin’ that damned place.”
“How can you not know where it is? I mean, if you are who I think you are…”
“That buildin’ is not of this world, kid. Ain’t somethin’ I can just pick out from a distance or nothin’. Whatever is behind that place, it’s shielded from me; hidden away in plain sight.”
I felt my whole body slump at the realization that we may still be so far from reaching our goal. I would be lying if I claimed I was in any sort of rush to return to that God-forsaken building, but I knew that this needed to be done, once and for all. Not to mention, I was still desperately clinging to the hope that there may yet be enough of Grant left to bring him back, though I was already feeling my faith in my new associates waning.
“So, what exactly is the plan then?” I asked with a heavy and defeated sigh.
“What we need is someone that’s been there, someone…”
“I’ve been there! If you need to root around in my memory or something, do whatever you have to!”
“Ain’t that simple, kid. We need someone that was fully exposed to that place, not just any old person that made it out alive. You’re connected to it for sure, but that ain’t quite enough to track it.”
I felt my face flush as I grew more impatient by the second. Yes, I was certain this was not a being I needed to lose my cool with, but it felt as though we were just going in circles. Why did he even call me here if he didn’t have anything solid to go on? Was he about to send me away again with another friendly reminder he’d be in touch?
The more questions and uncertainties crossed my mind, the more infuriated I was growing. I felt my pulse quickening, my skin burning and my fingers trembling as the rage boiled over. If he couldn’t give me anything soon, I knew I would flip my shit any second, when,
“I got a plan, kid,” escaped the tall man’s lips, as he lay a comforting hand on my shoulder.
I just gazed up into his time-worn eyes, uncertain of anything to offer.
“I know I’m putting a lot on ya, Michael, but rest assured we’re gonna do everything we can to git to where we need to go.”
“So,” I said, feeling my voice crack with the building nerves, “what is the plan?”
“We gotta take you back home.”
“Seriously!? You’re sending me away again!? How long will…”
“Not that home, kid. The one you growed up in.”
I felt my skin trembling once more. I had not so much as driven through the town I grew up in, let alone visited that damned house since I was dragged off the property. I couldn’t fathom what could be solved by going back there, nor what he could expect to find there. Hell, I didn’t even know what had happened to my parent’s home after everything that happened.
“It’ll all be clear soon enough, kid. Just hang in there a little…”
His words were cut short when the ground beneath the pier began to shudder. With wide and somewhat fearful eyes, the man with the caterpillar mustache slowly cut his gaze to the side, allowing his mouth to fall limp.
“Shit…we gotta go, guys!” the stranger in Grant’s skin exclaimed when he looked toward the darkness approaching.
When I turned to see what had my associates so on edge, I almost thought we had somehow been swallowed up by the very building we sought out. From the far right of where we perched on the shuddering wooden planks, It almost appeared as though the darkness itself spiraled from some sort of wormhole, for lack of a better term.
Vibrant green lightning struck the ground beneath what looked to be a cataclysmic storm. Reality itself seemed to warp and bend, causing the horizon to look as though it was folding in on itself. The ocean appeared as though it was being sucked into the growing void, while large cracks shot across the beach. The sand poured down into the abyss below the widening splits and tears in the very fabric of reality.
To make the situation even more bizarre and bordering on horrific to behold, what looked to be a lone individual, silhouetted by the burgeoning darkness, casually strolled towards us, with the wormhole at its back. I couldn’t make out any specific proportions or details of the person, but it appeared to be human, at least from where I stood at the time.
Whatever it was, both of the men I shared the pier with looked rattled; something that scared the hell out of me, given who I assumed the tall man to be.
“Go!” the older guy barked, pointing back in the direction of where I left the pub behind.
Malphas looked at me before taking off across the pier. Clearly, he didn’t need to be told twice.
“What about you!?” I shouted, unsure if he could even make out my words at the time, with how deafeningly loud the storm had grown.
“I’ll catch up with you two,” he said, giving me a half smile and a wink, “run along now, boy. Head for your old homestead, an’ I’ll catch up with ye down the line.”
With that, he clapped me across the shoulder, gesturing to the exit back to my world. I just gave a nod and took off running, not looking back until I reached the door to the bar. As I stared on, the darkness had almost consumed the entirety of the beachfront, while thick, dark tendrils of blackened smoke began to wrap around the pier.
The old man just faced it with his fists balled and an expression of determination on his face. As I gazed on, he glanced back at me, giving me that smile again.
“Go,” he said softly, with the words somehow whispering directly into my ear.
I felt my eyes begin to well up as my mind flashed back to the last time I stared back through this opening, with that same single word being spoken to me. As I had last time, I swung the door shut, uncertain if the one I left behind had a hope of surviving. Of course, given my suspicions of his identity, I was certain a little wormhole of darkness was nothing he couldn’t handle, but as always, these things were far above my pay grade.