A Demon's Hell

A Demon's Hell

The sweet angelic sound of the girl-child’s voice filtered into the domain of the demons. Each one that heard the sing-song words lifted their faces in curiosity and anticipation of being summoned to the mortal realm where they would then, hopefully, be able to claim another soul. Or even better: break free from their summoner and be able to create havoc and chaos.
As the voice faded, the air shifted, wavered, and conformed into what appeared to be a heavy oak door, complete with a handle, keyhole, and even a window. The same type door one would find blocking entry into a person’s house. Rare was such in the lower depths; usually this was the realm frequented by dark practitioners and the odd necromancer. This was not the work of foolish teen mortals or half-adults playing with forces not understood. Such a clear passage and invitation was the work of a strong, unbending will. In fact, the invitation was closer to a command than a request.
Zurian was the one being summoned, but many of the other demons crowded around the newly created portal to the mortal realm. All were curious and eager. As the noble demon approached, his draconic head held high with pride and regality, the crowd parted way until he stood before the door. He peered through the window, his massive clawed hand resting lightly upon the knob.
“Oh no… It’s her,” Zurian groaned.
His dark wings flattened against his back. Only the sharp snapping of his scorpion tail, as he whipped it from side to side as an angry cat might do, gave away his angst and irritation.
“Who, milord?” asked one of his minions, a squat toad-like creature with bulbous eyes. His mottled black and brown scaled skin rippled as he shivered fearfully at his master’s feet.
Another demon peered over Ziuran’s wide shoulders, ignoring his tail and the growls at her insolence. She cackled, her beak of a mouth clicking in mirth. Ziuran snapped at her, which she also ignored. As he turned towards her, unleashing flames of unholy fire from his clawed hands, she nimbly leapt away from her fellow demon. The level of her amusement was greatly diminished, however, which pleased him, along with many others who unlike Ziuran both despised her boldness and wished they possessed it.
Her wings rattled shrilly, echoing around them as she landed in a crouch. Unlike Ziuran, whose scorpion’s body was anything but nimble, Lyrxhal had the body and head of a giant panther, as well as a cat’s grace. Unlike his dark wings made of shadows, she had those similar to a cicada or locust.
“It’s the young necromancer,” she proclaimed loudly, rising from her crouch. Her brilliant green feline eyes twinkled as the laughter and malice returned. “The imp with the mortal’s form.”
About half of the thirty or so demon collected around the portal snorted and shifted until they were further away from the door, allowing others to take their place and crowd around Ziuran. Each that moved away had encountered the youth and knew the dangers of being within her presence. There were some things even a demon feared. The young pre-teen happened to be one of them.
“You have to open the door, Ziuran,” Lyrxhal stated as she met the noble’s cold gaze. Ziuran’s lips pulled back into a snarl and he growled at her. She gave him a smile, her reptilian tongue running along the tiny sharp, needle-like teeth that lined her mouth. “You know the rules far better than I, milord.”
His lips twitched, and he snorted plumes of acrid smoke. Giving her a nod, he opened the door. As the young mortal girl turned to face the magical opening, Ziuran grabbed a younger demon that had been too foolish to move a safe distance away, and shoved him through. “You go instead! Enjoy!” he exclaimed cheerfully.
A roar of heinous laughter erupted as the young demon fell through the threshold and into the mortal realm. Ziuran slammed the door shut before the youngling knew what was happening. The demon lord gave a grand gesture and the air shimmered again. A round orb grew from the nether. Crystal clear, it continued to enlarge until it was just a hand-width taller and wider than Ziuran.
From the Planes of Hell, Ziuran watched from his prime position, a smile curving his lips. Lyrxhal stood beside him, purring in malicious joy at the ill-fated young demon Ziuran had thrown through the portal. The other demons gathered close around him, vying against each other for a place so they, too, could witness what was happening in the mortal world. . ***
The brown-haired, golden-eyed girl grinned brightly, her teeth flashing white from the meticulous care she took to brush them as a human would. Her eyes, which were the shimmering color of gold bullion rather than the hazel tint of cut hay, twinkled with mischief and glee at the young demon.
The room behind her was far too girly; with purple painted walls, and a hanging faux chandelier. There was even a purple net canopy tent hanging over a frilly bed. Teddy bears and dolls sat on shelves while posters of puppies and kittens hung between paintings of dragons. Upon the floor was a circle created with polished black stones.
“You’re not Ziuran, but that’s okay.” Her voice was cheerful and filled with the eagerness only the youth of any breed could have. Reaching up, she pushed her dark-framed glasses up her nose.
From his safe position behind the door, Ziuran had to admit, albeit reluctantly, she was a very pretty little girl who had a librarian’s bookish appearance. If more librarians were evil, malicious creatures, that is. Most he had encountered were polite beings without an ounce of magical talent to them. There were the fiendish exceptions, naturally. He’d once gained an entire library of young souls just with the promise of sending a pale, dullish male that looked like the sparkly undead from that young librarian’s favorite reading material.
Despite the dark-framed, squarish glasses, she wore a black corduroy dress embroidered with hot pink flowers on the skirt and creeping out of the wide ribbon that was tied around her waist in a sloppy bow. A bow meant to be tied in the back, not in the front like she had it. The bodice was short sleeved with a modest scooped neck and a fitted waist. Even the skirt was long and what most humans would call ‘retro’ due to how it puffed out like the poodle skirts of a bygone era.
How she could look so sweet and innocent, ripe for the picking, was beyond him.
***
“How can I turn someone into shrimp?” the girl immediately asked. “Cause I want to know so I can turn them into shrimp and then eat them!” She paused for perhaps two seconds. “What are you? You’ve got a bee’s body and wings, arms and hands like a praying mantis, and a froggie face.” There was another very brief pause. “Can I pet you?”
The younger demon swallowed hard as he stared at the all-too-cheerful girl. A croak escaped, causing her to giggle. His entire green face turned a startling fire engine red as he self-consciously touched his iridescent blue-green hair that resembled a tangled, matted horse’s mane more than human hair. He glanced back to where the door had once stood.
Nothing but fear shone on his frog-like features. His iridescent wings buzzed as he stood there shaking, petrified of the young human child standing before him with a wide smile, pony tail, and sparkling eyes.
When the girl slapped him repeatedly on the top of his head, which he presumed was what she meant by “petting”, he could feel his eyes pushing out, threatening to rip free of the stalks that tethered them inside his skull. Almost as strongly, perhaps more reality than the continuous thumping, was the laughter of the other demons, safely peering at the damned keyhole of the door he’d been thrown through.
The pounding on his head ceased, replaced by a cackle that chilled what passed for blood in the demon’s veins. The little one was rocking back and forth, head back, staring at him between squinted eyelids, and laughing so hard he’d taken it for the cackle of one of the Fate Witches. “You’re soooooo funny!” the imp declared, and giggled again. She reached down beside her.
The demon prayed briefly that she was grabbing something that would send him into the Void, the nothing, or blissfully banish him back home. He felt something like a string being pulled around his head and then it snapped painfully against his skin. A cone shaped object was now tethered to the top of his skull by the string. He did not understand the meaning of the words painted in bright, festive colors: HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
“My older brother is too lame to wear this hat. I made it and he’s like ‘no way’ and my baby brother is too small and he won’t leave anything on his head no matter what it is so you get to wear it!” the imp seemed to vomit words out of her still girlish, innocent smile. “Now, if you can’t tell me how to turn people into shrimp, can you show me how to make their faces turn into bologna so I can eat their flesh while they watch?”
This was, indeed, Hell.