Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Demonic Designs

  by: Aaron Babbitt

  Copyright 2012

  Dedicated to Lucille Sell and Adam Cooper. I’m sorry I couldn’t finish before a true demon of our time claimed two of my first fans.

  Prologue

  Winter had fallen over Missouri. The land, illuminated by a clear sky, full of stars and a painfully bright moon, revealed little activity. Nearly invisible, cloaked in black, a man walked across a wide, overgrown field to an old farmhouse.

  Sitting on a hill above the fields, the house had a remarkable view of the land around it, as well as a majestic lake. The fields and the house had not been used for years—not since the previous resident had hanged himself in the loft of his dilapidated barn. This land had once been used to house many different forms of life, from horses and cattle roaming the fields to an old dog that slept on the porch. Birds used to sing sweet songs of rebirth every morning, but no more. An oppressive canvas of evil loomed just beyond the boundaries of the property, threatening to overtake it if its guardian did not remain vigilant.

  The man walked onto the steps leading to the porch and saw, as he had expected, that someone was waiting for him. This new figure was covered by a drab overcoat which all but hid a white suit that seemed to radiate the power of some external force. He was sitting on a bench, worn down by time, that had been the favorite resting spot of the former occupant. He looked down at where planks were missing from the porch.

  The man in black curiously looked around at his surroundings. “This old place again? A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

  The other looked up from the missing planks and replied, “We do as we are told. This is something I assumed you would have learned by now. How have you been spending your years of late?”

  “Wandering to and fro across the earth,” the darker man replied with a smile.

  “I see I am not the only one who has chosen to be dramatic. It is time.” The man in white handed the other a manila envelope.

  The smile faded. “You promised that this would be the last.”

  The man garbed in white stood, and as he did the other backed down the steps. “Do not presume to remind me what was promised, Jeremiah. Honor is not an issue with which we have had to contend. Do remember your place.”

  “Oh, how could I forget?” the man in black snarled as he snatched the envelope. “You remind me of it every time we meet. Now, can we set aside this pissing contest until after the score is completely tallied?”

  “Pissing contest?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Your attention has never been applied to areas of normal human existence. Your slang is lacking. Please give me my directives, and allow me to leave. I hate this weather, and, if your latest assignment will be as inept as your previous ones have been, this could take some time.”

  Jeremiah opened the envelope and pulled out the first page of what seemed to be a hefty file. Across the front, in bold lettering was ALEXANDER JAMES TANNER. Below that title was the smiling face of a young man with fine, blond hair down to his ears. His eyes were a bright blue, and it was there that Jeremiah identified Alex’s worth. The skin was without blemish. The smile was wonderful (and thank God the teeth were straight). But, it was his eyes that would call people to his side.

  Jeremiah looked up from the envelope to the other on the porch. “And, this is to be the leader? The charismatic one? Funny, I think he looks a little too much like another child.”

  The other smiled. “Isn’t that innocent, childlike face nostalgic?”

  Jeremiah returned the smile, but his held a biting irony. “And, once more, you plan for me to destroy that innocence.”

  “You already knew that he’d be the one you would be working with. You know what we look for, and you have been the most successful individual in the past for the discovery and training of these people. The best and worst have come from you. Why act ignorant now?”

  “I had no idea,” Jeremiah returned slyly. “It is not for me to decide who plays what part in God’s plan. It’s as if I am some kind of director in a cosmic play of the battle between good and evil. Unfortunately, everything you’ve given me is worthless. You can’t compare him to any of the others. This boy doesn’t have the look of the faithful fisher of men.”

  The man in white sighed. “Then, what is your prediction for him?”

  “I predict that he will get laid, experiment with drugs, wreck a car, and argue with his parents in the next few years. Then, he’ll go off to college, get drunk a lot, marry some pretty girl, and be forced into a nine-to-five job that he hates in order to maintain status quo. You want him to be a leader of men; I think he needs to grow up first. You praise me as the best, but I’m still down here while you’re up there. I know what I’m doing, yet you are the one giving an assignment to me.”

  The man in white nodded grimly. “This assignment could be the key to your release. I would suggest you respect it for what it’s worth.”

  “It?” Jeremiah's eyes bored into those of the other. “Perhaps, there is not so much difference between us after all, Raphael.”

  People could see the light that engulfed the unattended farmhouse for miles. There were many theories as to what caused it. Some thought that lightning had struck the house and caught it on fire, but when they got to the house to examine the damage, there was no sign of any—not even scorch marks. Some thought that aliens had landed, but strangely, there were no crop circles in old farmer Davis’s unkempt fields. A few even said that it was a sign from God, but others disputed this, claiming that God had long since forsaken this area—if He had ever cared at all.

  Chapter 1

  We have always understood certain tales to be matters of mere mythology. Some of us believe that there are beings among us who possess amazing supernatural powers. Some fear these creatures, while others look to them for support. Many are convinced that they’re all just fantasy, adopted from archaic traditions and dogmas. I don’t see ghosts, and I have no evidence for alien life, but I’ve spoken with God. I have also seen demons do battle--and destroy each other. I did not write this to inform the world as to the existence of the supernatural, only to relate a story that I felt needed to be told. This story is about a prophet who, through heroic actions and immense devotion, has earned a place in history and our hearts.

  --Abigail Martin, Through the Eyes of a Martyr

  Alex got up and walked downstairs for breakfast. He didn’t much care for eating breakfast with the family—his mom and dad, but they kind of liked the time together. He would have preferred an extra thirty minutes to sleep. It was just easier for him to eat a candy bar and drink a soda at school before his first class.

  When he trudged downstairs, he saw that his parents were whispering something at the table. His mother noticed his presence, hushed the conversation, and smiled at him.

  “Good morning, Alex,” she greeted him sweetly, as she got up from the table and walked over to the stove to flip the bacon.

  “Hey, tiger,” his dad commented, looking back to his newspaper.

  “What’s with the secrets?” Alex asked. “Are you planning to send me to military school or something?”

  His father put down his newspaper and stared at his son, confused. “Secrets?”

  Alex
eyed his father suspiciously. “You were saying something,” he replied. “And, when I got close, you stopped.”

  “Alex,” his mom said, laughing, “we’re not sending you to military school. Did you want cheese in your eggs?”

  “Sure,” Alex answered absentmindedly. “Then, what were you talking about?”

  She looked over to his dad. “James, would you put some bread in the toaster? Alex, sit down,” she suggested, indicating his normal chair.

  James Tanner got up, reluctantly. He dropped his newspaper in his chair and walked over to the counter. Alex looked from his father to his mother. She smiled at him and, again, motioned to the chair. He sat down, but his eyes kept shifting between his parents.

  His mom sat down next to him and took his hand in hers. Alex was worried. In the families of many of Alex’s friends, fathers seemed to be the leader of the household. In Alex’s family, his mother was. Alex’s father was a strong man, and he was normally the person Alex went to for advice or guidance, but it was his mother who kept things together in tough times and was constantly forcing them to move forward.

  She quickly became distracted and started to run her fingers through Alex’s fine blond hair. “Are you using a different conditioner?” she inquired.

  “Mom, you’re changing the subject.”

  “Oh, right,” she agreed. Taking a deep breath, she looked like she was trying to decide how best to start. “Maybe, we should talk about this when you get home from school.”

  “Mary,” James Tanner chided calmly, “we should talk about this now.”

  He had his arms crossed in front of him, showing that he was monitoring the conversation closely. He leaned against the counter in a way that implied he thought his assistance would be needed in this situation. Alex had always looked up to his father. James Tanner was the epitome of patience and wisdom. His rules had always been just, his methods sound, and his reactions well thought-out.

  Alex’s mother, on the other hand, was the emotional one. She wasn’t overly emotional; she didn’t weep over sappy movies or scream a lot, but she didn’t mind sharing her feelings with others. This characteristic, and the way she could make others see things her way, made her very good at what she did. She was a trial lawyer, and she was often so successful that her cases and their outcomes would, consistently, be featured in many of the newspapers around Kansas City, including Kingstone’s paper. She had become quite the icon in their hometown. At least once a year, a group of movers and shakers would beg her to run for some political office. They said that people would listen to and respect her. She didn’t want that kind of publicity. “Juries,” she would say, “are the only groups of people I’m interested in persuading.”

  “Alex, honey,” she began, “there’s a firm in Los Angeles that thinks I would be good for them.”

  “We’re moving?! But what about me?”

  “Alex,” his father soothed, “wait a minute, and let us finish. No one said we were moving. Your mother hasn’t even interviewed with them, yet.”

  “And what about you?” Alex inquired, indicating his father. “What about your job?”

  James Tanner’s eyes widened, the way they always did when he got exasperated. He ran his hands through his thinning red hair, indicating slight frustration. In a moment, he regained composure. He smiled and shook his head. “Just let us try to explain.”

  Mary continued, “I’m not going to take you anywhere that you don’t want to go. But, in less than two years, you’ll probably go off to college. You may go far away. If I take this job, you won’t have to move, and your father probably doesn’t want to move, either.”

  “Then, what’s going to happen?”

  “The interview process, itself, could take months,” she explained. “And we’re talking about a big firm. The salary they would give me is six figures—starting off. I could stay in an apartment in Los Angeles and fly home every weekend.”

  Alex still wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea. “Aren’t we going to need you here?”

  “Alex,” his father added, “we don’t have any idea whether or not she’ll even get the job. Let’s just take this one step at a time. You wanted to know what we were talking about, and now you do.”

  With that, the toast popped out, giving the whole family a temporary reprieve from the conversation. Mary Tanner rose and brought plates with scrambled eggs and bacon on them. She took orders for drinks and prepared those. Alex’s father brought the toast on a plate and set butter next to it.

  When they had all sat down, Alex’s mom said, “Let’s pray.”

  After the prayer, they passed around the different dishes of food. Alex’s parents were talking and laughing about something that had happened last night.

  “So, what’s so funny?” Alex asked.

  “Oh,” his father answered, suppressing a laugh, “some of the townsfolk said they saw some strange lights around the old Davis place last night.” On the word “strange,” James moved his hands back and forth dramatically and made his voice sound spooky. He couldn’t help himself and started laughing. “They said it was aliens.”

  “Don’t be too hard on them, dear,” Mary scolded softly. “There isn’t much excitement in a small town. Let them believe whatever they want.”

  James’s laughter kind of died off. Still grinning, he looked at his son. “If aliens came to Kingstone, they must have been planning to probe someone because they’re not going to find intelligent life here.”

  Neither James nor Alex could contain the laughter after that comment. Mary looked sour, but it was only show. After it was apparent that she couldn’t stop them, she looked down into her plate and smiled.

  ***

  Alex arrived at school, and there was a buzz in the hallways regarding the events of the previous night. Next to his locker, Alex overheard his best friend, Taylor, and Taylor’s girlfriend, Katie, talking about it.

  “Taylor,” Katie whispered, “it’s a sign from God.”

  “What?” he asked incredulously. “Why would God do something like that?”

  Katie was a religious nut. Everything had to be about Jesus. Taylor seemed to be of the opinion that, eventually, the fad would end, and she would have sex with him. He’d been waiting for over a year for that dream to come true, and there was no sign of it in the near future.

  Girls all around school were saving themselves for marriage, and it drove guys like Alex and Taylor insane. Katie insisted that Jesus would want them to be chaste until they got married. Taylor and Alex contended that Jesus was the ultimate cock-blocker. After all, how could a horny, teenage boy compete with the Son of God? It seemed to Alex that Jesus could have all the girls he wanted. Why couldn’t he spare one or two for a needy adolescent?

  When Alex would explain this concern to Katie, she’d screw up her reddening face and get all flustered. Looking around, she’d get right up close to him, like she were telling a secret, and whisper, “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  Alex was thinking about just such a time when he got to his locker, explaining the smile on his face. He loved tormenting Katie. And, though it made things a little more difficult for Taylor, Alex assumed that he wasn’t depriving his friend of anything important, since Katie wasn’t going to put out anyway.

  “Oh,” observed Katie, spotting him. “Another nonbeliever.”

  “I heard it was aliens,” Alex replied, as he punched Taylor in the shoulder as a sign of friendly acknowledgment.

  “That’s fine,” she said. “Make jokes. Some of us believe in things we can’t understand. You know, Alex, the world doesn’t have to always make sense to you.”

  Alex gently pushed Katie aside with the back of his hand and opened his locker. He unloaded his books into the receptacle and queried, “Why Kingstone? What possible reason would God have for doing something miraculous in this town?”

  “Maybe, this town is important. Maybe, He has plans for it.”

  “Right.” Alex laughed. “I think Gen
esis tells us that, after God created the Earth, He squatted over His creation, took a shit, and created Kingstone.”

  Taylor laughed too, and Katie shot a warning scowl at him.

  “There were witnesses,” she explained. “Did they just make it up? Did they just hallucinate? How do you explain it?”

  “What? That old-man Davis’s house lit up? I don’t know, but I’d think God has better things to do than to fuck with a bunch of redneck locals.”

  Alex felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked behind him. Mr. Jenkins, his Advanced Juniors English teacher, had come down the stairs behind the group of students, and now he was studying them all—particularly Alex.

  “Mr. Tanner,” he said, “what interesting observations you make. I especially liked the one depicting the origin of this town, but I don’t think that’s appropriate language for a high school hallway. Will you accompany me to the office?”

  Alex smiled as innocently as he could. “I guess I don’t have a choice, huh?”

  “I’m afraid choice is not something I can afford you at this moment. This way.”

  With his arm over Alex’s shoulder, Mr. Jenkins steered his student toward the front of the building where the ominous glass door to the office awaited. They got right in front of it, but then Mr. Jenkins suddenly motioned toward the doors leading outside instead.

  He looked at Alex and suggested, “Let’s take a stroll, shall we?”

  Alex felt the urge to resist or even say anything dwindle as he looked into Mr. Jenkins’s gray eyes. Had they always been gray? He couldn’t remember. They walked outside and across the parking lot to where a black sports car was parked. As they approached, Mr. Jenkins took a set of keys out of his pocket and pushed a button, causing the car to beep and the locks to pop up. Mr. Jenkins opened the passenger side door for Alex and signaled him to sit. Alex, however, only stood there. His brain felt foggy.