Hell and Back 2 - The Serpent

   “You’re different than I imagined you,” T.J. said to the man as he stared at his white suit, grey hair, and pointed nose. He refrained from looking him directly in his eyes, though. Not only did he remember what had happened last time he looked someone in the eyes, he feared those pale-red daggers. They were full of anger, full of hate. His anger, though controlled to a tee, could explode from him at any minute like water from a balloon after sticking it with a pin.
   He smiled big for a fraction of a second. “What did you expect?”
   His “S” drew out like the short hiss of a snake. He stared down at T.J; a shy, scared boy of not even twenty-five, blood covering one of his legs, as well as his left arm, unable to even walk on his own without leaning on the fiery sword as if it were a fiery cane.
   “I don’t know,” T.J. said with a shrugged. “Just…not you!”
   He smiled, amusingly. “Not many do. They expect fire and horns, a tail even,” he said enthusiastically with his hands expressing emotion of their own. “So very cliché, but I’ve been known to doll it up some for fun.”
   T.J. shrugged, limping over to a black leather chair, falling into it with a sigh of pain mixed with comfort. The sword fell to the floor next to him with a dull thud. Eyes closed, he blew out a breath of relief. The man walked behind a black desk, leaning against it with his fingertips, a sinister smile slapped across his face.
   “I received word that there would be two of you. Where is the other?”
   T.J. opened his eyes, looking at the man’s nose. “Would you like me to tell you, or should I just look into your eyes?”
   T.J. didn’t bother waiting for a reply and opened his eyes wide, staring directly into the pale-red eyes of the fallen prince. Images rushed into the man’s mind. Through T.J.’s eyes, he saw their trek through the desert of black sand to the tower. A shadowy demon had swooped down, picked up John, and flew off beyond the horizon. The only thing he left behind was the silver revolver with two shots left. T.J. walked with gun in hand, using the sword as a walking stick until he plopped himself down in that leather chair.
   “I did not think anyone called me ‘Tempter’ anymore,” he mentioned with eyes closed, and a tiny smile once the visions stopped.
   T.J. ignored him. “What took him?”
   The man walked around the desk, leaning against it with the small of his back, his arms crossed, and a contemplative look. He was thinking about what he could do for the kid in front of him who had come so far for a soul, just to end up in front of him of all things in creation. Strange, really, he wondered. Why me, of all people, would you ask for help? The very being that makes men sign deals in blood, only to steal their souls because they never read.
   He lifted his index finger and pressed it firmly against T.J.’s knee. T.J. clenched his fists from the intense heat he felt throughout his leg, trying, and failing, not to make a noise. When the man retracted his hand from T.J.’s leg, he still felt slightly warm, though there was no more pain.
   “Stand up,” he was told in a whisper.
   T.J., suspicious of what had just happened, slowly stood up from the leather chair, expecting to feel some pain, if only minute, and possibly fall over when he tried to walk. Nothing! Slowly, he lifted his good leg, putting all his weight on the leg that was once too injured to even put the weight of his jeans on. He bent his leg several times before jumping up and down with a smile on his face.
   “That one is for free,” the man said with a smile. He always thought his smile made him come across as less sinister in nature so people would more easily sign their contracts.
   T.J. thanked him, asking for his name afterward.
   “Oh, I don’t know. To be more modern, some people call me Lu. It sounds normal, unlike Satan or Lucifer.”
   “How about Luke?” T.J. asked.
   Luke smiled in approval. It was modern, an actual name, unlike Lu which sounded like a nickname. It comes across a little too friendly in his mind, Lu does. Luke he liked.
   “Your friend was taken by a minion of the unknown angel. He presides over a part of Hell I have no control over.”
   “Was that free, also?” T.J. wondered.
   Luke shrugged. “I’m feeling particularly charitable today! Count yourself fortunate.”
   T.J. sat back down in the black leather chair. All was silent for a minute.
   “After I get John back, where can I find Kristi?”
   “The girl,” he said, more of a statement than a question. She had astonished him when they crossed paths. He tried to get her soul, like many others, but she didn’t fall for any of his tricks, turning all of his games back around on him and moving on without a second through. “She is brave, especially for being dead only a few weeks. Most are terrified.”
   “Tell me where she is,” T.J. demanded.
   “She was searching for Utopia. Found herself here, instead.”
   T.J. shot up from the chair. “You know where she is, then?”
   “Hold your four horses, boy,” Luke joked to him, hands out pressed against his shoulders. T.J. could feel an inhumanly warmth on his shoulders where Luke was holding onto him. It made him uncomfortable, and he broke free of his grasp.
   He sat back down. “Attempting to crack a joke, are you?”
   Luke shrugged with a playful smile. “I’m not without my own little sense of humor.”
   “Just tell me where to go. All I need is a direction.”
   Luke thought about giving this little tidbit of information away for free, as well. He stood in place, thinking about what he could take from T.J. He knew his soul was too much to ask. He also knew that, even with his soul, T.J. would get it back, somehow. Hell, he went through all of this just to get a girl back, Luke thought.
   “That is something I shall not give away for free.”
   T.J. stood face to face with Luke. Luke stood like a statue, intensely glaring at the boy that stood in front of him, outraged that he would think of challenging him, or even just trying to kill him. He could see it in T.J.’s eyes that he would stop at nothing until he got the girl’s soul back.
   Luke lifted his hand, thumb and index finger together. A line of fire burned downward. When the fire stopped, Luke held a piece of paper with small, black writing on it with old English penmanship.
   “For my soul?”
   “Do you care to read it first,” Luke said, shaking the paper a bit.
   “Do I sign in blood?”
   “Oh, no,” Luke said, contorting his face. T.J. thought if it were a movie, he would find his facial contortion humorous. Too bad he wasn’t sitting at home watching this on television.
   Luke handed T.J. a burnt quill, already dipped it inside of the inkwell, ready to go. T.J. signed his name sloppily. The red ink ran down the paper as the feather scraped across the rough surface.
   “That does not look like ink,” T.J. noticed.
   “Well,” Luke said, pausing for a second, “at least you don’t sign in your blood.”
   T.J. sat back down. “How does this work?”
   “Hand me the gun,” Luke said quietly.
   Suspicious of his actions, T.J. slowly reached behind him, pulling the gun from the small of his back, handing it to Luke with caution. He spent a few seconds examining the silver weapon before ejecting the cylinder and dumping out the two bullets that were still left along with the ones that had already been fired. One by one, Luke tossed the empty shells, putting only one of the bullets back into the cylinder, spinning it, and closing it.
   “Always wanted to do that,” he said as he handed the gun back to T.J., holding the one bullet between his thumb and middle finger, closing them slowly. The bullet disappeared as his fingers closed. When his fingers touched, he brushed them together like he was getting ash off of them.
   “There!”
   “That’s it?” T.J. questioned. He thought it was weird that he would ask for a bullet and nothing more. No payment in the form of his soul being tortured for all eternity? No payment of being his slave? Just a single worthless bullet.
   “Like I said, I’m feeling particularly generous today. Keep heading in the direction the sun rises There is a pit there with no visible bottom. Just hop on in, and walk in the first direction you look.”
   T.J. said nothing. He just picked up the fiery sword, and opened the door, walking into the pitch dark hallway. The sword helped to light his way. Luke motioned his hand, slowly, closing the door from his desk. He plopped down in the leather chair behind it, motioning with his hand like a magician. The bullet was again between his fingers. He stared at it with a pleased smile across his face.