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by Lilam
Rated: 18+ · Chapter · Supernatural · #1695102
She lost everything. And it would only cost her soul for him to help her get it all back.
And everything she loved burned.

Smoldering, blackening.

Precious memories boiled and blistered before her eyes, but she could not turn away, even when it became too painful to watch. She had to look on. Sear and seal the memories into her mind, where the fire could not reach. The walls, now charred beyond repair, began to bleed black shadows that quickly inundated most of the room, save the spot where the girl lay prone on the floor.

The darkness lapped at her feet, trying to coax her into oblivion, but so long as she kept her eyes fixed on the bright flames just out of reach, it seemed unable to claim her. It was becoming difficult to breathe, her chest feeling hollowed out and on the verge of collapse. Blood and tears left pale, pink stains on the carpet beneath her head, though she was too numb to know for certain if she was still crying or not.

With every blink of her eyes, there was a flurry of incandescent spores that appeared to manifest out of thin air, drifting to the floor like weightless dandelion fluff and disappearing upon contact with the ground. The drops of stardust seemed impervious to fire, unaffected by flame and smoke. Suddenly, the all devouring inferno parted and bowed at an unnatural angle, allowing a lone figure to pass through. The listless ebb of light spheres came to a complete stop, as if frozen in space and time.

As the figure drew close, the spores nearest by broke free from their mid-air stasis, chasing him in a spinning, elliptical dance. Writhing strands of shadow clung to his impossibly thin frame in the form of a tuxedo, stray wisps floating in a lingering trail after every step. The black fedora atop his head was pulled low and slightly askew, dark tinted sunglasses revealing nothing beyond, only mirrored reflections. Any skin that was visible was sallow and pale, almost translucent. He seemed to be moving yet static all at once, closing the distance between him and the child in an eternity that lasted only a moment.

Gliding across the room on shoes that seemed not to touch the floor, the man garbed in smoke and midnight tilted his head down toward the girl. He did not speak nor did he stop. It was an acknowledgment, perhaps even a condolement, but nothing more or less than that.

“Lukus.”

The girl was positive that her lips had not moved at all despite her attempts, but her voice filled the entire room, rising above the dull roar of flames. The tuxedo man hesitated in his steps, sparkling orbs spiraling around him playfully.

“Give... him… back.”

Regardless if the girl was speaking with words, her mind or empathically, it was a strain on the motionless speaker, as if every word were barbed and covered in thorns, tearing away small pieces of her with every utterance. Her gaze fell upon the man’s shifting back, breaking the spell of the fire. Like creeping vines, tendrils of shadow began to inch up the length of her legs, spreading over her like some unholy blight. The man did not turn but spoke in a deep, rich baritone that reverberated through the room yet was hushed in a whispering echo.

“It’s a bit too late for that, child. He’s gone now, as you should be. There’s nothing left for you here so you might as well go on ahead.”

The shadows were climbing up her waist and flames were just barely licking fingertips, but the girl persisted, insisting, “No. Not… yet.”

There was no reply this time save an exhale of air that could have been a sigh as the man started to walk again, showing no interest in continuing the conversation. The girl’s vision began to flicker, like a roll of film reaching its conclusion, but she resisted against the void that threatened to smother her, struggling to thwart the inevitable eclipse that would end everything. She became possessed by poisonous, volatile emotions that had time to ferment and fester, to pervade and infect like a parasitic disease within her, crying out for the retribution that would put an end to her anguish.

“Bring. Him. Back.”

This time when the man paused a ripple seemed to pass over him from tip to toe. In a leisurely manner, he turned and made his way over to the girl, kneeling down beside her. The features on his face that were not obscured remained rigid and still, but the impression of a smile was there, in his words and presence.

“Obnoxious little brat, aren’t you? That sounded like a demand, not a request.”

Though she could not see them, the girl could feel the man’s eyes upon her, scrutinizing her.

“Do you know who you just addressed in such a rude manner?”

The reply came without hesitation or reserve, albeit with less intensity than before.

“Don’t care.”

Teeth like polished ivory were exposed in a devil may care grin, the tuxedo man reaching for his hat and sliding his fingers down the rim.

“Well, I suppose I can just skip past the pleasantries then.”

The black gloved hand was removed from his hat and was dramatically unfurled in the direction of the girl.

“Seeing as how you’re already ordering me around, why don’t we make it a little more worth my wild? I will bring Lukus back. I’ll even help you get your revenge. You can command of me anything you so choose, and, so long as you order me to do so, I shall obey.”

He dipped his fingers into a spatter of blood near the sole of his shoe, bringing it to his mouth and pressing it gently against his blanched lips.

“But in exchange, when Lukus has been returned to you and your vengeance complete, I will end your life with my own hands and your soul will belong to me from now until eternity.”

Although spoken rather nonchalantly, there was power in his words, sending a feverish heat into the girl’s ears as the air crackled violently.

“Those are the terms and the price. Know that whatever decision you make, there is no going back. So what do you say, girl? Your kind often is faced with a moment in their life where they must choose between hell and glory; few can say they have truly experienced both.”

He spoke no more after that. The girl kept her gaze fixated on the man kneeled beside her, searching for herself in the reflection of his sunglasses. From the neck down she was cocooned in pulsating shadows steadily rising to swallow what was left of her. Web-like strands lashed out and adhered to her chin, twisting and intertwining as they began to meld with her face. Only a few words managed to escape before her mouth was sealed by darkness.

“You better not let me die here… that’s an order.”

A smile with far too many teeth.

A gloved hand tightly squeezing one of her own.

Then, a pain she would never be able to forget.

But what the girl remembered most, what persisted in her mind like a deep set stain, was just how overpowering the stench of brimstone had been as she watched everything she once knew be cremated into sparkling gray ashes.
© Copyright 2010 Lilam (lilam at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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