Honest Abe

It was a beautiful, sunny day in Budapest and as the 747 dropped like a brick through another blast of turbulence A.J. regretted ever leaving. He could see the bright lights of JFK Airport mocking him from the ground, the end was near, one way or another. The plane descended through the sky like an overfed seagull and the luggage compartment above him looked very untrustworthy. He clutched his backpack tight to his chest and stared into his knees, willing the pilot to at least make it quick. No messing around with hospital stays or life saving procedures, just a quick nosedive into the ground and then lights out. Several compartments flew open as the plane hit the tarmac with such force that A.J. was sure the landing gear had snapped. It bounced once and a high pitched whine echoed out from the plane’s brakes. A small backpack slid down the aisle past A.J.’s feet and he quickly grabbed his own pack, holding it tightly. The deceleration eased up and the plane slowly turned off of the runway. A.J. slumped down in the seat and allowed himself to breathe.

You really shouldn’t worry so much. A small, bald man with dark sunglasses and a cane sat to A.J.’s right. He patted A.J. on the knee. You’re not going to die on my watch. 

A.J. flinched and quickly stood up. “Well to be honest I kind of forgot about that, I’m not really used to having an ancient god around protecting me.” He grabbed his bag and walked to the exit.

The man smiled and nodded, following A.J. out of the plane. Slowly tapping his cane back and forth down the aisle.

Hello? 

He moved with purpose, so comfortable with his environment that you could be forgiven for not noticing that he was blind.

I know you’re there. I've had a lot of practice with this, eternity in hell means quite a bit of spare time on my hands. 

A.J. stopped for a moment to let the man catch up, rolling his eyes. “Do you have to... 

How are you enjoying the story so far? I found the opening to be a little simple but I understand these things can be very difficult and sometimes it is better to just start the story rather than languish over the beginning. I suppose the more intuitive of you could have grasped what’s happening right now but I doubt it, it’s not an easy thing to understand. Let us start with my name. 

I am Abaddon, Dark Lord of the Abyss, a prince of Hell, and a Scorpio. A.J. refers to me as Abe which I enjoy because Abe is short for Abraham. The irony of giving a demon the name of one of God’s prophets really tickles me to no end. Anyways, as I was saying, I am inhabiting this story. I can see you reading, writing, sipping tea, whatever it is you mortals do when enjoying a nice read. You probably have some questions and I hope to answer them. Yes, I am the blind man you see walking so smoothly through the airport. People are much less suspicious of a blind man when weirdness begins and I like to not be disturbed. 

How am I talking to you? Well as a demon the rules are different for us, the man downstairs decided a long time ago that we should be able to insert ourselves into stories and poison the minds of the righteous. 

But how can I be in a story as it’s being written? I will spare you the complex, quantum physics, time bending answer. Simply put stories are always happening whether a writer finds them or not. They sit on a sort of autopilot until an “idea” is formed, and are then plucked from out of the ether. After that it is up to the writer to decide what happens next. For example while I’ve been talking to you, A.J. and I have hailed a cab and are on our way to a mystic to decipher that ancient artifact he discovered. You weren’t here for that unfortunately, but it was quite an adventure. Crumbling temples, ancient civilizations, a mummy. Ah well, maybe next time. 

My mortal friend here believes that I am an ancient Sumerian God, “cursed” to that artifact, and we are on the very noble quest to free me. The gullibility of mortals never ceases to amaze, I mean for His sake, we were in Budapest! Sumeria was miles away! Nothing? Not even a chuckle? Well I found it quite amusing. Ah, we’ve nearly arrived at the mystic. I do apologize it seems I’ve rambled on, but believe me you didn’t miss much, just a lot of needless exposition to fill the time. 

However, before we continue on with this little journey I have one more issue to discuss. It pertains to You, dear writer, the architect of my current domain. I am sorry to report that You did not find this little seed of an idea on Your own, I planted it in Your head. I’ve grown bored with this story as it stands and I am in need of a new adventure. You are going to provide that for me. If Your solution does not interest me. If Your story fails to provide an acceptable amount of excitement. I will take Your soul. And do not mistake my sunny disposition for an abundance of mercy. I am, first and foremost, a businessman. And my business happens to be in the procurement of souls. I am very good at that. But business does dictate that souls must be taken under the condition of a failed task. Hence this arrangement. I know it feels like blackmail and that’s because it is. Standard procedure I’m sure You understand. Anyways, carry on!

The front of the mystic’s shop was a lot smaller than A.J. had imagined. A simple wooden door squeezed between a 7-11 and an adult book store. What were you expecting, the Taj Mahal? The little blind asshole asked, amused.

Little blind asshole? Very mature.

“Well no but I was hoping it would be more impressive than this. He’s supposed to help me free you from an ancient curse after all.” A.J. climbed out of the cab and cautiously approached the door. It was made of one solid piece of wood and seemed to have no door handle, a small sign on the front read “Welcome to the Mystical Defense Institute”. He looked back at Abe, slowly making his way over. “There’s no handle, how do I get in?”

Abe starred in his direction, a look of abject disappointment on his face, then walked up to the door and knocked. The sound traveled far beyond the door, echoing throughout the building’s interior, unnaturally loud. A latch clicked on the other side and the door swung inwards, revealing a long hallway lit by oil lamps. Abe bowed low and extended his arm. I believe your mystic awaits. 

The door closed behind them and the flames in the lamps swelled to twice their size. Bathing the hall in warm light, revealing a black curtain ahead. “Hello?” A.J. called out. “I’m here to see a mystic.”

“Of course you are, you’re here aren’t you?” A friendly voice echoed back from behind the curtain. “Come here my good man, you have nothing to fear from me. Unless of course you intend to rob me. In which case I would have but little choice to defend myself.”

“I’m definitely not here to rob you, I need your help with something very strange.” A.J. hurriedly walked through the curtain, entering into a circular room covered in fabrics and candles. A rotund bespectacled man in a tweed blazer sat on a cushion in the center, sipping tea and smiling up at him.

“Strange is my forte, friends, come have some tea and we can discuss your problem.” He motioned to two cushions in front of him.

“Thank you very much Mr..?” A.J. sat down excitedly.

“You can call me Professor, I need to uphold a certain anonymity in my line of work.” The man poured out some tea into each cup. “Now what seems to be the issue?”

“Well, Professor, I discovered this artifact in Budapest,” A.J. pulled an ornate, obsidian dagger out of his pack and handed it over. The blade was chipped and dull but the handle glowed softly, vibrating slightly in his hands. Runic inscriptions covered the handle on all sides. The Professor’s eyes lit up as he grabbed it, inspecting every inch. “I, well, we” A.J. gestured between Abe and himself, “Believe that this is an ancient Sumerian sacrificial dagger. Used to trap the souls of the gods in a mortal form and bind them to it. My friend here is one of those ancient gods, and he wants to be set free.”

The Professor nodded along absentmindedly as he looked the dagger over. “Yes, yes, it’s a magnificent piece.” He mumbled a few words under his breath and waved a hand, the fabrics on the walls lifted slightly as a soft breeze blew through the room. Abe froze mid sip, then slowly put his teacup back down, a thin smile crossed his lips.

What are You up to my friend?

The Professor put the dagger down on the table and stood up. A.J. fidgeted nervously, “Well is there anything you can do? I don’t like being out of the loop.” The Professor walked to a nearby counter and returned moments later with a fresh pot of tea, chuckling to himself.

“Out of the loop?” He laughed. “I am sorry my boy but you have been out of the loop for longer than you realize. Isn’t that right Abaddon?” His eyes hardened as they focused onto Abe’s face.

A.J. looked over, confused. “How do you know his name? What’s going on?”

Curious, I certainly hope that this is not an attempt at getting out of our deal. That would not end well for You.

“Your ‘Sumerian’ friend here has been lying to you.” The Professor shook his head. “And if you had just done a little reading you would know that Abaddon is the name of a demon lord, the lord of the Abyss to be precise.”

And Locusts, don’t forget the Locusts.

A.J.’s face drained of color and he bolted up out of his seat away from Abaddon. “A demon?!” He yelled, “I’ve had a demon next to me for weeks? How? Why?”

“Relax young man, he won’t be going anywhere for some time.” The Professor pointed down at the small circle of salt that surrounded Abe’s cushion. “I have him trapped, it will not last forever but you will be able to get a good head start. Now I do not know why this creature has chosen you but I know that he is bound to you through that blade.” He snapped his fingers and a scroll appeared in front of him. “I have encountered this demon before and there is a way to defeat him.” The scroll hovered over to A.J. and he grabbed it, unraveling the paper to reveal a map. “There is a sword, the first sword, the one placed by God at the entrance to the Garden of Eden after he banished Adam and Eve. That sword is the key, find it, and you will have a weapon with the power to kill this filth.”

A.J. stood frozen, staring at the map, and then at Abe. The Professor walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. He gently took the map out of A.J.’s hands, rolled it up, and placed it in his pack. “You need to leave now my boy. Now! Go! And may God be with you.” He watched A.J. run back through the curtain, took a long drag of his tea, and turned his attention to Abaddon. “I should be leaving as well. That spell will be wearing off in a week and I will need time to pack.” He bowed slightly. “Until we meet again, foul creature, I hope I gave the boy enough time.” The wind swept through the room once again as the Professor waved his hands and vanished into the floor.

Well done, very well done! Making me sit here for a week is a little uncalled for but I was trying to take Your eternal soul so fair play. The sword from the Garden of Eden was a nice touch, nothing says “excitement” like a final battle of destiny between good and evil. Of course it won’t actually kill me, You know? I’m sure You hoped that it would but we demons don’t really die. We just go back home for a while and take a nice vacation, tortue some souls, drink a few tears, bathe in the blood of the damned. I haven’t had a nice bloodbath in a very long time. Oh dear look at me babbling away. I'm sure You’re ready to end this. Well a deal is a deal I suppose and You have certainly delivered on Your end. I release You of Your duties, and if You ever want to come back and finish the story Your way I would be happy t…