(Massive Trigger Warning: Everything. Search the names, you'll get why.)
The doorway before him, waved and shimmered, a dark charcoal with tendrils of fiery orange. Even through the darkness, Azazael could see the edge of their new home, a new hunting ground. Small, middle-of-nowhere towns were easiest. They could clear house and destroy its memory with minimal effort. Chatterton was befitting for a while but the last tornado had decimated the buildings, it had been too cumbersome to rebuild.
Though he never questioned the master, he vaguely wondered the reasons behind these locations. What made him choose one location over another? Or why bother with the pointless facade of shadows and concealment? These dumb animals no longer believed in their kind, even the devout Christians denied the devil.
Besides the one creature who dared confront them, was too afraid. She had disappeared eons ago and was no match for the group of them. Even the moral witches stood no chance. There was no reason for the dramatic entrance.
The hunters of old time, were long gone. They only proved to be an annoyance anyhow. There was nothing that could defeat them. Even the weapons of the modern military could only destroy their body; never them. So, why not allow the military to come? He would welcome the extra massacre.
This is the way things had been for centuries, so he accepted it. Though he preferred the darkness of the 1800’s, he enjoyed the modern surgical tools the 1920s. No longer did he have to target prostitutes in the back alleys of White Chapel. Now, he could enjoy seeing his work in bright clean rooms with an audience of three to appreciate his art. The canvases were many, all ages, all sexes, even different races. He could have whatever he wanted. The modern inventions of man presented him with a new set of mediums.
Belial moved to stand beside him, he too dawning the Edwardian-era suit of his preferred time. Though he chose a dark maroon over the black of his fellow pack members.
To Azazael’s left stood Mammon, clothed in a dark suit of the modern era. In his chosen form, he appeared the younger of the trio, though his true form was ancient.
There, they waited patiently as their master made his way to the edge of town, raising his tattooed fingers into the air. The sigils of long-forgotten power began to hum-the same orange glow of the doorway began to emanate from them. Above him, the clouds began to darken and spread quickly over the town.
The clouds were black as if oil floating on a dark ocean. At any moment they should have dripped from the sky as ink raining down. These were not from the Terra realm, they did not belong here.
From their place of waiting, they watched the townfold stopping to stare up at the growing darkness. Traffic screeched to a halt and the travelers exited their vehicles. It was all starting to come together.
“Here we go, boys,” Mammon said.
Then he pushed his way through the gateway, feeling none of the liquid nitrogen cold of it or the opposing lava heat of orange energy. A mortal would have been stripped of flesh if they had passed through that doorway. Whatever thick skin and fat survived would have been black.
Now, it was Mammon’s turn to cover the remnants of their territory. Certainly, his master, the great Asmodeus could do the work uninhibited. However, the longer they stayed in the Terra realm, the more their powers waned. It had been eons since they returned to the darkness.
The master’s pet in her desperation, ripped a gaping hole during her escape. When they realized she had given them an exit that allowed them to physically pass out of the Demornacte realm, they took it. Unbeknownst to them it was a one-way path. The way back was barred, keeping them from ever returning and obtaining full power.
They could venture to the other realms but somehow that bitch had sealed the door to their kind. Mammon wondered if Raveena knew and if it had all been part of her original plan. They vowed if they ever found her, she would reverse it, and spend eternity paying for her crimes.
Mammon stood at the edge of town, his human-colored eyes scanning the sight before him, knowing what was about to happen had given him an erection. The streets would run red, the carnage would be beautiful, and the rapes exquisite. Mammon and Azazael never bothered with the details of their victims. It never mattered how young they were, what sex they were; or if they were even alive.
Even better when he turned parent on child and could watch from the shadows. Or whispering to desperate immoral men in human cages so he could watch them rape the younger, smaller men.
Mammon licked his lips as he began to work. With a single thought, he surrounded the town with a telepathic wave that rendered it invisible. Now, he had the task of erasing its memory from those who had visited. This included wiping the memory of everyone in town from anyone who ever knew them. No one would come looking or wonder. They could keep their hunting ground a secret.
Mammon closed his eyes, sweeping through the minds of the town to find all the connections outside. In a matter of a few minutes, he had erased the memory of everyone in the town from every outsider. It was the one feat he could perform effortlessly. Getting them to commit the twisted delights he enjoyed took more effort. Only because he had no way to recharge. The small meals he consumed only served to maintain his appearance and a modicum of his power.
When he had finished he opened his eyes, just in time to see the dark fog spread. It snaked through the spaces around every building and into the smallest crevice of Maryvale. The sun had no effect on them and humans could do them no harm but the less resistance the better. What Mammon’s telepathy missed, the shadows concealed.
The scene was set, and everything was in place. It was time for the Passing. So aptly named because the group would move through the town as if the tenth plague of the Christian Bible. These poor souls never knew the God they prayed to, was never a God. It was a powerful spirit that had been trapped in another realm eons ago. The pack would have no chance if anyone found where Asmodeus hid its cage.
Azazael and Belial stepped out beside him, darkness surrounded them on every side. Their master had made his exit, leaving the grunt work to the pack. Asmodeus was too old for trivial fancies of debauchery.
The one way he could insult the spirit, though he trapped it far beyond the Terra realm, was to allow his boys to destroy what it cherished most. That arrogant creature was the reason for their captivity in Demornacte. It prevented them from physically manifesting in the other realms, even when summoned. Long before it ever came along, they passed freely into the Terra realm, hence the reason for the stories of monsters. The audacity of Yahweh to believe it had any right to govern anyone. Asmodeus would make the beings it loved, pay for its indiscretions.
The group crossed the boundary and began to sweep through the streets. Belial faded into the shadows, moving through them until he found his delight. A new family, with a newborn in its crib. He smiled wide, as he picked the child up and walked out until he found the parents in the dining room.
“I love babies.” He said to get their attention.
“Oh God!” Its mother screamed.
“Put my child down!” The father demanded.
Belial looked up, his eyes now their true red glow, his mouth now sporting two sharp fangs. It was the simplest form of demon he could muster on this plane. When humans believed in them, they would have called him a vampire. If they knew a vampire’s true face, they never would have romanticized them. Looking upon them would bring them disgust. Blood could never reverse the effects of the dead portion of undead creatures. Flesh continued to rot and fall off in large chunks. The spell was horrendous, bowl and stomach acid mingled as the blood coagulated. Eventually, they looked like a skeleton with a stomach; doomed to eternally starve.
“Down?” Belial asked, a glimmer in his eyes. “Absolutely!”
With that, he grabbed the child by its feet, swinging it through the air. It screamed before he smashed its skull into the hard floor. Skull fragments and brain matter splattered everywhere.
“No!” Its mother screamed, horrified.
“You bastard!” His father roared, lunging at him.
Belial laughed as the man hit him. With one simple gesture, he summoned tendrils of shadow to snatch the man by his legs, holding him upside down. He glanced at the wife and another set of tendrils grabbed her wrists, pulling her face first on the table. Turning his attention back to the husband he spoke, the wife continuing to grieve, horrified by the sight of her dead child, sprayed across her floor.
“I want you to watch what I do to your wife,” Belial said.
The shadows held the husband suspended in the air. Belial moved over to the wife, grabbing the top of her skirt and pulling everything down to her ankles, revealing her nude backside.
“Let go of her! Don’t you touch her!” The husband screamed.
Belial laughed. “Oh, I’m gonna touch her in ways you never dared.”
He shoved two fingers in he mouth before aggressively shoving them between her legs. When he was satisfied he proceeded to rape her, first vaginally and then anally, until blood ran down her legs. Then he shuddered in climax.
“Oh yeah, nothing beats a good rape to kick things off.” Belial hollered.
He looked down at her, seeing she had passed out sometime during the process.
“What a shame. She’s gonna miss the best part. I was gonna make you suck her juices and feces off my dick. Her ass was so tight, I couldn’t stop myself from coming.” He laughed.
“Shut up! Stop talking! Take your hands off her!” Her husband screamed.
That amused Belial even more.
“You’ve just given me a great idea,” Belial responded.
Then he snapped the wife’s neck, and with help from his shadows, he proceeded to anally rape the husband, forcing him in turn to have sex with his wife’s corpse. While Belial indulged in sexual depravity, including the rape of several pets. Elsewhere in town, his cohorts were having their own fun.
When Mammon had his fill of children, sodomizing both sexes, he took to another game. Using his telepathy he turned parent on child, causing them to murder, maim, and mutilate. One mother disemboweled her own toddler, a father fed his pre-teens into a wood chipper, and a brother chainsawed his entire family.
Blood oozed under doors, down stairs, and flowed into the streets. The grass squished with the sound of blood. He watched with demonic amusement, sipping on whiskey he found, as the local police turned on each other, firing on one another.
He was growing quite bored. So, he tossed the whiskey over his shoulder and began rolling up his sleeves. It was time to party. Mammon moved quickly behind one officer, plunging his hand through his back, and wrapping his hand around the man’s intestines. Then he slowly began to wind them around as if bundling a rope. The officer spit blood before collapsing on the ground. Mammon made his way through officers, disemboweling them as he went.
While Mammon was leaving viscera everywhere, Azazael was creating art. He had grabbed a teen girl, cutting her open and placing a cross in place of her bowels. Before pinning her to the church doors, wrapping her entrails around the stair railing. Azazael was quite pleased with himself. He stood admiring his work while sucking the blood from her heart. Satisfied, he moved across town, coming across two officers his cohort disemboweled. It was the perfect opportunity.
Azazael lifted the empty corpses and impaled them on a streetlight. Not his most creative work but it was an improvement on the town’s image. He moved through the street, amusing himself by layering animal and human parts. Even placing a police dog’s head on a cop he decapitated. Then he put a dead cat in the uterus of a dead woman.
Azazael made his way down a street called Lillie, his hypersensitive ears catching a woman’s voice praying. It seemed odd that she was alive when all her neighbors were dead. Then he saw the little thing with dark hair.
He heard a name that made him twitch, Michael. One of Yaweh’s loyal warriors from the angelic realm. Lucky for him the disappearance of that spirit kept Michael busy searching for his master. None of the warriors could hear her prayer.
Azazael slowly made his way up the stairs, glancing at the house number 5102. The figure remained in her state for a moment. Then she opened her eyes, daring to stare him down. This mortal, despite the carnage, was unwavering. The human’s incessant garbling made his skin itch. No one informed them that God had been missing in action for a while. Therefore no one was coming to save them.
Still, her conviction was enough to cause him slight discomfort. As if an allergic reaction, he felt his throat tighten. He needed to make her stop. Asmodeus had gifted to him a special ability if he wanted to silence a few of them. So, he put his finger to his lips and shushed her.
The little pet tried to run but he put a stop to that too. Pulling the rosary from her fist, its small beads giving him deliciously blasphemous ideas. Enough fooling around, he grabbed her by her hair and tossed her off the porch.
He had completely forgotten about the mess at the end of the walk. That was until she nearly fell into it. After she puked, she got to her feet in a pointless effort to escape. Why though? There was nowhere for her to go and he was in no mood to chase.
His wolf whistle was all for show, so he could watch her panic as his brothers arrived. Mammon had already heard his thoughts and broadcast them. Once Mammon had telepathically marched their new pets to the factory and into their cells; Belial and Mammon could play. Azazael would allow them to enjoy her until she was broken. Then, he would have a go at her.
The entire town was massacred; bowel, entrails, blood, and flesh strewn across the streets. It was too massive an undertaking to hide the mess. Which was part of the shadows function, by tomorrow there would be no sign of any human safe for their new pets. Azazael wondered how long she would last.
The three admired the carnage as Mammon telepathically marched the women to the factory. A mindless horde with no way to fight back. Slowly, they moved-a vacant look in their eyes. This was always how it began. It continued with more games and more pets. So long as the town stayed in tact. The passing was over but the hunt had just begun.
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