The Devil's Disciple

*This story contains sexual violence, physical violence, gore, or abuse.*

Fortune and fame. Love and lust. Revenge and redemption. Humans would sell their souls for these visions, not realizing how temporary life would be. When the end is near, dread, panic, and anguish follow. Pleading and begging, hands held in the air regretting their decisions, voices wailing out for a second chance. But God was not there. He never was and He never will. Forsaken by the wicked, the selfishness and the greed of human nature are unlimited. There is never enough. But in rare instances, through desperation, one will do it for the safety and security of their family.

That was what New York City detective, James Morgan, did. A man who lost his faith when he needed God the most during one horrific day. After solving a high-profile case of a murdered political candidate, gang members from Brooklyn broke into the Morgan’s home after following his teenage daughter, Michella, from school. It was a personal attack. He remembered almost vividly after getting gun-butt to the face by a sneaky thug. Wendy, his wife of eight years, was face-down on the ground, her clothes ripped apart, as the thugs forced their way in her in the presence of his traumatized daughter. The gang leader, salivating through his dirty gold grills, threatened she would be next if James doesn’t stop coming after them.

Nerves jittered as James made his way up the elevator at 660 Fifth Avenue. A jazz rendition of Love Story was playing over the speakers. Playing in a loop in his head was his wife’s petrified scream, his shaken daughter watching in horror, and the injured man himself held down by three thugs, leaving him feeling worthless.

The elevator ascends with James to the highest level, the company’s insignia dominating the wall. MR. BLACK’S ENTERPRISE. He enters the office where he meets with a young, pale, redheaded receptionist, Ana Azer. She stands with confidence, shakes hands with James, and escorts him to Mr. Black’s office.

Staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows, taking in the remarkable view of the city and the water is, the evening sky glowing pink and yellow with clouds scattering, is a sophisticated gentleman. He polished his nails neatly, twirled a cane with his fingers resting beneath a chrome skull with ruby eyes glittering in its sockets. His ring finger sported a large emerald ring with a pentagram symbol carved over it. His well-trimmed dark beard matches the same color as his slick back hair. He wore a suit that was so expensive, no designer could replicate it. His head up high showed his overwhelming confidence as he stares up at the skies, reminiscing. He turns to face James standing behind the olive wood desk.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Mr. Black said, his voice smooth and relaxed. “You can call me Mr. Black.”

“James Morgan,” James said.

“I have a proposition I think you’d like to consider, Mr. Morgan.” Mr. Black gestures for James to have a seat on a leather chair.

“What is it regarding?” James takes a seat as Mr. Black sits on a throne-like chair across.

“What would you say if I offered you permanent safety for your family?”

“I’d say you’re full of shit.”

“Naturally. Because who am I to offer such protection? But rest assured, Mr. Morgan, I can guarantee that no corrupted soul will ever, ever bother you or your family again.”

“Who are you other than that vague name you gave like Mr. Black?”

“I’m your savior, Mr. Morgan.” Mr. Black said with a grin showing off his perfectly aligned white teeth.

Amused by the thought of it being a joke, James let out a small chuckle. “That’s good. No seriously, who are you?”

“Mr. Morgan,” Mr. Black continued, “I’m serious about what I do, and who I offer these contracts with. You obviously came here for a reason. You need this to continue moving forward with your life.”

James sat there, taking each word serious. Mr. Black reached out to him, offering his services in hopes they agree to one thing. That is the very possession James holds. His soul.

“Don’t let pride impede your desires. A sin that is guaranteed to kill your dreams. Also, a personal favorite sin, if I may add.” Mr. Black said with a grin as stares down James’ soul with his piercing blue eyes. Ana handed over a piece of document. Mr. Black continues, “This is a contract. If you sign, all of your desires will come true, your life will be at ease, stress will be a thing of the past. But you must also be aware that nature will still run its course. Ana presented James with the ceremonial knife, its sharp blade luminous in the light.

“To accept,” Ana said. “You must show blood initiation. You’ll feel a little pain, then it’ll go away like nothing happened.” She stands aside, next to Mr. Black as they observe James.

Not once in his life has James been presented with such an offer of security, yet he is uncertain. It feels off, yet feels right.

“Focus on your work and family.” Mr. Black said.

James gives a nod and slices his thumb. He squeezed out more blood and then pressed his bloody thumb on the contract, leaving a sticky red fingerprint. Suddenly, he felt his stress melt away as Ana’s gentle whispers lulled him into a peaceful daze. This isn’t her first time dealing with this. James’ vision sharpens, his energy returns and feels like a new man. He checks his thumb and notices no scar, then strikes a look at Mr. Black. “How did…”

“Whatever happens here remains.”

“How will I know I’m protected?”

“You’ll see when you arrive back to work.” Mr. Black said.

“I don’t want anyone to die.”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Morgan, it’s part of human nature.”

Ana assists James from his seat. “Enjoy your new life.”

It was a nerve wrecking drive back. James feels different, more at ease than anxious. He got home and Wendy was happier than usual. Michella started talking more. Like nothing happened. It was an eerie feeling, but James quickly got used to it. This was only the first hour after arriving home.

The morning news shows the gang leader found dead through suicide by shotgun. James was the only one who received recognition for the investigation. Wendy was proud of James. His daughter hugged him tighter than she ever did in her fourteen years of living. The family got closer and celebrated James’ win. It feels authentic. He even has vivid memories of the day he visited the gang’s hideout and engaged in a firefight with the goons. The leader couldn’t handle James’ inching closer as he drops one thug at a time. A loud bang came from a shotgun, barely leaving any flesh on the troubled leader’s face. The department awarded James for his efforts and promoted him to lead detective.

Life has gotten much better with his family fully protected. There was more respect for the amount of work James had put into solving crime. Dozens upon dozens of homicide cases solved, from small to high-profile over the next few years. Michella got accepted to The Julliard School for acting. Wendy opened her own beauty salon business that suddenly thrived.

The Christian community in his Brooklyn hometown of Dyker Heights has yet to consider James despite giving his services in the past. James is now focusing on bettering himself and is trying to create a way to cleanse NYC by first eliminating any gang activity. Ten years after signing the contract with Mr. Black, James retired with dignity and runs for NYC’s mayor. He wins by a large margin and begins cleaning up the streets, making NYC safer than it was prior to him being a detective. Michella, in her twenties, is now a central figure in a sitcom. Five years later, Michella wins an Emmy for Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy. Another five more years and Wendy retires the beauty salon and enjoying the success of their daughter.

Then, without warning, things take a dark turn. Wendy got sick with stage 4 lung cancer. After all this time, James still hasn’t comprehended the speed of life. The Morgans were enjoying it. There was no recollection of any struggle. Everything throughout their lives, ever since meeting Mr. Black, has gotten so much easier. Like a video game, life transitioned from difficult to easy mode.

Wendy spat out blood, the harsh, metallic taste stinging her tongue, after coughing a lung out in the shower. The drops of blood scattered across the room, like the aftermath of a nosebleed. Wendy knew this was it. All the noxious hair sprays she was subjecting herself to were the only thing James could think of after they received the official diagnosis. He didn’t let that stop him from contacting Mr. Black about the supposed promise of protection.

At the tall tower of 660 5^th Avenue, the young doorman explained to James that Mr. Black’s Enterprise never existed and that he must be mistaken for something else. This left James dumbfounded to the point he needed to be escorted out.

As time passed quicker and quicker, Wendy wound up in the hospital after collapsing on the kitchen floor. In a last desperate attempt, James revisited his old church, the place of his former service as an altar boy, only to find it abandoned. He settled down on the dusty old pew, the sound of wood creaking beneath him, and he looked towards the broken-down altar where the cross used to be. Closing his eyes, he can still hear the joyful choir songs he sang with his friends during their childhood. At nearly sixty-five years old, James had experienced more of life than his peers, and the emotions of outliving them all weighed heavily on him. The community was full of new shops and homes, yet the church was a reminder of days gone by. Not a single soul stirred in the church. The only thing to be felt was the stale, musty air.

“Reminiscing the good ol’ days, Mr. Morgan?” A familiar, smooth-talking voice came from behind. It was Mr. Black who hasn’t aged a day since he had encountered James. His crystal-clear blue eyes still sparkled with the same intensity.

“I’ve been trying to reach out to you.” James retorted. “The doorman told me your office never existed. What was that all about?”

“We had a deal, Mr. Morgan.” Mr. Black said, voice firm.

“Fuck your deal! My wife is sick and dying!” James said, voice trembled with fury as he spoke.

“Such as life, isn’t it, Mr. Morgan?” Mr. Black said in a smooth and confident fashion, yet still intimidating.

“You promised to protect my family.”

“And I did, except for nature. You still lived your life to the fullest, did you not?”

“This is bullshit. You tricked me.”

“I did not write the laws of nature, Mr. Morgan.” Mr. Black leaned in, his gaze locked with James’ as he spoke. “Instead, I’d blame someone else.” He said as his eyes shifted towards the heavens.

James sat there, disturbed. He looks at his hands, noticing how wrinkled they are from his age.

“You took time for granted and didn’t spend enough of it with your family, rather instead, focused on those who never cared about you. Your community.”

“I made the community a better place.”

Mr. Black stands from the pew, towering over James. “Make your dues before time runs out. I’ll still be waiting to collect what’s mine.”

The hospital wasn’t so far away from the church. James sits on the bedside, the sound of Wendy’s shallow breathing filling the room. She tightly grasps what remains in her life. Michella’s face was damp with tears as she clung to her mother’s hand. And like that… a burial with many attending, paying their respects to the Morgans. It was hours long, but to James, it felt like five minutes. He tried holding on to those hours as much as he could by sitting with his grieving daughter. Not another word uttered. Just quiet grieving.

Michella had something to confess, and her father stared stoically out the window of her Upper East Side condo. He turns to her, wondering like any father would. She lost her acting gig from the sitcom because of a movie she accepted to do. The movie wasn’t family friendly at all. She appears nude and provocative. A total opposite of what her character was on TV that kids were looking up to. She apologizes and said the choice she made will help boost her career as an actress. James nodded with acceptance, but knows the publicity he’ll receive will not be good.

The paparazzi were relentless, and James had to dodge their questions about his daughter to find a place where he could cry in silence for the first time in many years.

Lightning strikes nearby.

James wakes up in the lobby at 660 Fifth Avenue, but nobody is around. Rain falls heavily outside. The elevator doors opened suddenly, and the button for the top floor was lit up. He makes his way inside and heads up. To his surprise, Mr. Black’s Enterprise still exists, despite what the doorman had previously told him. The same redheaded receptionist, Ana Azer, is still there. “Hello again, Mr. Morgan,” she said. “It’s good to see you.” She gestures to James to the same office where Mr. Black sits on a throne.

“Mr. Morgan,” Mr. Black said as lightning strikes. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

James, shaken, takes a seat in front of Mr. Black.

“It’s your lucky life. I have another proposition that you might be interested in.”

James’ face shifted from resigned acceptance to curiosity. “What’s that?”

Ana handed over the contractual document to James, the paper rustling as Mr. Black explained the terms. “This will save your soul and void the previous contract. That’s if you accept.”

“There has to be a catch.” James said.

“Naturally.” Mr. Black said with a grin. “You might have heard of the Disciples of Hell?”

“No.”

“I am one of them. Ana here is another. A few of us roam around the Earth, bargaining with people for their souls. But I’m looking to retire.” Mr. Black glanced over at Ana, who gave a slight nod of agreement.

“I don’t understand.”

“You fixed up an entire community, changed the lives of others for the better. I am offering you one chance. You can take over my position, collect souls and live on, but no one will know you exist. Your body will die like a normal human and your soul will float around doing tasks for Satan himself. After you believe you have done enough, you can offer your position to a potential candidate and then reincarnate to another body with no memory of this life or the new life after. Should you choose to accept?”

“What do I have to do in order to take over?”

Ana carefully places the ornate, ceremonial knife James used to slice his thumb onto the desk. “Give me your daughter’s heart.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Either that or your soul will be damned to eternity.” Mr. Black relaxed into his throne, and Ana’s gaze filled with interest as she observed James. “In order for this to work, you must fulfill the task.”

James stares at the knife, contemplating thoroughly. He reaches over, grips the handle, and examines the blade. It feels like any other material object he touches. “Will my daughter go to Hell?”

“It depends on how she lived her life.”

James takes a deep breath, stands from the chair, and makes his way out.

“Remember,” Mr. Black said, stopping James in his tracks. “You cannot take it back. Do you accept?”

James stares back at Mr. Black with sinister eyes. “Yes.”

Mr. Black grins mischievously, snaps his fingers, and a loud clap of thunder follows the sudden lightning strike.

As James begins his descent down the elevator, he notices the air becoming more and more stale. He stares at the knife, feeling its sharpness, before turning to the mirror and seeing his sinister eyes and a darkness that had taken over his heart.

James makes it to his car, notices several missed calls from Michella. A text message from her asking for to be called back. When James does, it goes straight to voicemail. He drives to her condo and heads up to her floor, only to find her door cracked open. Concerned, James uses his detective instincts by stepping aside, gently pushes the door open. “Michella?” No answer. James continues to make his way into the living room and finds a blood trail leading up to Michella’s dead body. Shocked, James rushes up to her and notices her chest ripped opened. Her heart is missing. Just as he takes in the horrifying image, the police rush in.

“FREEZE!” A police officer aims the 9mm at James.

Hands in the air, he tries to communicate. “I’m the former mayor, James Morgan.”

“We know who the fuck you are, you sicko.” A police officer responded.

Another reaches over to James, frisks him, and pulls out the ceremonial knife, only for it to be covered in fresh blood. James stood there, stunned, as officers snapped the cold metal handcuffs onto his wrists. “Wait, wait, wait, there must be a mistake!” James said, pleading with the officers. As he is taken away, he can’t look away from Michella’s lifeless eyes, staring back at him. His mouth quivers as his eyes well up with tears right before exiting the condo. “Please, let me explain.” James’ voice fades. One officer stands back, observes Michella’s body. The officer’s face held an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Black, but was free of any facial hair. He suppressed a chuckle as he marched out with the other officers.