Watchers

I stopped seeing them when I was ten.

Paralysis grips me, that familiar dread coating the pit of my stomach until I can barely keep from vomiting. Seven years passed since the last time, but I remember. I remember too easily.

The hairs on my arms stand at attention and perspiration breaks out, a thin sheen on my skin. I bring a clammy, trembling hand to my mouth and watch as everything seems to slow like a movie reel running backwards.

Stopped on a busy sidewalk by the feeling, I look to both sides. All around me people stand, unmoving, inside and outside of the neatly lined shops. The flowers and trees in the well-manicured grass along the cement seem frozen too; there is no wind.

To my left, cars sit in the street as if stuck in a traffic jam. I spin; behind me the scene is the same. If people and animals and cars weren’t visible, I would think I’m in a ghost town.

The silence is unnatural.

Without warning, a shock wave rocks the air, and for a moment it wavers, shimmering and moving in an almost beautiful way, like a rainbow. Then something breaks through and time becomes irrelevant. There is nothing on this street anymore but me and it.

The shape takes full form and the heat, the stench roll over me in one great wave before some of the glow diminishes. He stands appearing like every other person on the sidewalks. Deceiving, I know, only to trick me and make me believe no harm would follow. But I can see through to the ugly, nasty core.

Less of a blessing, more of a curse.

Make a move!

I shake out of my paralysis and bring my book up in front of me like a shield. Something so fragile won’t help if he decides to attack, but I can’t think of anything else.

"Mackenzie.” The monster draws out my name like a delicacy on his tongue.

The sound is like nails on a chalkboard to me, and I shudder.

The creature smiles at me. Beyond the human facade, I can see flesh hanging from its face, a skeletal smile and eye sockets as dark as the night sky. My stomach rolls again and I pinch myself as a distraction.

“What do you want?” I sound braver than I feel.

Instead of answering, he matches a question for a question. “Haven’t you missed us?”

“You should know I haven’t. I made you go away once, I can do it again.”

Expression indulgent, it laughs. I grind my teeth as the sound grates on my skin and poisons my ears.

“Little girl, we never left. You simply pulled the veil over your eyes. No more, however. We have allowed you your little game for long enough. You have a purpose to serve.”

Fear crawls up my spine, and I try to push it away. Whatever I do, I can’t show these things I’m scared. From experience, I know they feed on negative emotions and while there is nothing positive in this moment, I don’t want to let any piece of myself belong to him.

“What purpose?” I demand, pulling myself up as straight as I can stand. I narrow my gaze on his face, forcing myself to stare through the revulsion churning inside me again.

“Now what fun would that be? I want to keep you guessing. It’s much more exciting that way.”

I take a step back. Anything this thing considers fun only means pain and agony for me. There is nothing that can convince me otherwise. The only place I want to be is home and in my bed. I want to be waking up to this being nothing more than a nightmare.

I’m helpless here and he knows. I’m at his mercy and I hate feeling so weak. Every part of me screams to fight and I don’t know how to fight or what to fight with.

“This is so easy. Too easy. Like plucking a flower from a field and ripping it’s petals off one by one,” it says to me, as it moves closer.

Pure instinct has me moving backward, but my eyes never leave his twisted, rotten face.

“If only you knew your true potential... This might be a little more fun.”

True potential?

I’m not given time to wonder. That smell of rotten flesh invades my senses again and I gag, choking until I can barely pull in a breath. Skeletal fingers reach out to caress my face. I am pulled into those endless, black eyes and I can feel my death as surely as I feel the weight of my own mind.

No, fight it!

That grin again, teeth bared down to the sockets. “It won’t do you any good.”

I try to twist away, but the bony hand clamps down onto my arm and digs in until I cry out from the pain. My scream gives the monster satisfaction; I can tell by how it looks at me. If I’m going to die here, I don’t want to give him what he wants.

“G-Go to Hell!”

My arm is pulled behind me and I bite my lip to keep from screaming again. There is a pressure inside, a feeling that I should be doing more. I could be doing more.

“Oh, but, my dear, only if you go with me.”

Something grasps me from behind and breaks the hold on me. I’m falling, until an arm goes around my waist and I find myself shoved behind strong shoulders and an equally strong back.

“The hell she will!”

The air seems to shudder and ice cold wraps around me, stealing the breath from my chest. Following immediately is heat and sulfur. I claw at my throat, feeling pinpricks of panic worm their way in as my lungs seize.

The man in front of me says something, and all at once I can breath. Falling to my knees, coughing, my stomach heaves and I spill the contents onto the pavement.

"Joss!” The sound of the voice is like nails clawing at the insides of my ears. I press my hands over them and squeeze my eyes shut. The demon barely expressed power until now.

“Mephistopheles,” the man returns evenly.

As the echoes recede from my brain, I stand shakily, my ears ringing. I still can’t see the stranger in front of me, but when I chance a look at the demon, I can see the fury in the monstrous features of his blurred face.

Acrid smoke curls upward from both shoulders, splitting skin. Heat intensifies around the demon, fully breaking the illusion of the human form. What remains, is gnarled, charred bones, stretching and cracking into a deformed figure with thin, reptilian-like wings. Eyes burn and bleed from the black hole of it’s face. A monster from every child’s nightmares.

Panic races along my skin like unwanted, fumbling hands. I look away. Tears sting my eyes, from the heat and sulfur and... I can hear them, all of them. Voices crying out to me, pleading with me, all the souls lost and helpless and stolen by this thing.

“You are always such a drag, Joss. Showing up to ruin all my fun.”

“I’m not interested in aiding you in anything you do, demon.”

Joss? I could only see a partial profile from where I stood. I don’t recognize him. Whatever his reason for being here, I felt grateful for not facing Mephistopheles alone.

Standing in front of the demon, he looks unconcerned with the heat and the hate emanating from the creature. His hands, devoid of any kind of weapon, hang easily at his sides. He is wearing jeans, a plain button-up shirt and a black, leather coat that ends at his ankles. Normal clothing; nothing to make him stand out from anyone else.

How can he see what I’m seeing when everyone around us stays unmoving?

“You can’t destroy me. But please, by all means, keep telling yourself that,” Mephistopheles sneers, and I feel like this conversation was had many times over.

“Leave.”

“Or what, hunter? You’ll scratch me? You know you are nothing without the rest of you.”

“Try me,” the man says, and the deadly intent in his words has me wanting to back away from him.

I don’t know what will happen, but I’m not keen on being in the line of fire if these two want to start battling it out. All I can imagine are earthquakes, crumbling buildings and blood; a lot of blood.

“You don’t know how tempting it is,” the demon responds, his tone strangely silky, almost pleasant.

I can see how they can entrance humans, even looking the way they do. Something tells me that this thing possesses no small shortage of weapons and tricks.

“I don’t know what your intent is, demon, but it’s time to show your hand. Either give it up or get out of here.”

“Not today. As much as I would like to...” The fire around Mephistopheles grew dimmer.

The man turns and reaches for me. I notice he isn’t a man at all, only a boy, barely older than me. But his grim expression and hard eyes tell a different story.

“You’re always turning your back on me, Joss. It’s really not polite. One of these days, that will be your biggest mistake.”

Twisting, he shoots one last look at the demon. “No. One of these days your biggest mistake will be underestimating me.”

Those fingers close over my upper arm and I feel an inexplicable warmth and tingle tickle my skin. Startled, I start to pull away, but he holds fast. If he felt what I felt, I can’t tell. His expression doesn’t change.

The demon laughs. The sound invades me, turning my bones to liquid, and I stumble. I cannot recall ever hearing anything so full of malice, so full of unfiltered evil.

Bringing my arm up, I shield my face from the heat and as easily as he appeared, the demon is gone. Time speeds up, people began walking around us, dogs begin barking and cars honking.

Like nothing happened at all.