Heckling Satan (NEW TITLE) - Chapter one. (The Unholy Presence of Antoinette Chives)
Posted September 17th, 2014 by rebecca
in Rivendell, the only place in Middle Earth that gets Wi-Fi
The Unholy Presence of Antoinette Chives
The two teenage girls ran into the study of the abandoned house, slamming the door behind them as they clung to one another in terror. One of them loaded a shotgun, the other opened a bottle of rock salt and started to pour it across the doorway. The one with the gun blew a wisp of her long, brown hair out of her face.
“Hurry up why don't you?” she shouted, exasperated and out-of-breath. “Before that demonic bitch catches up with us.”
The girl pouring the salt had a look of intense concentration on her face, the same look particle physicists had while doing whatever it was they actually did. “One minute Kirsty!” she finished the salt line and picked up a flask, presumably full of holy water. Oh these hunters. What an unimaginative bunch they were. Or, in the case of these girls, over-imaginative.
Kirsty pointed the gun at the closed door and waited. Rachel – the other girl, that is, the blonde one, with the failed attempt at a pixie cut and the bad highlights – watched Kirsty, and clutched the bottle close to her chest. Both girls were at least seventeen. Both girls were way out of their depth. Both girls were...wearing plaid?
Amateurs thought the unholy presence that was watching them through the keyhole, the self-same demonic bitch that Kirsty was so eager to shoot. They'd probably drench her in holy water too, tie her up, and perform a nice little exorcism all in time for tea. Which was lovely, and all that, with flowers and rainbows and happy unicorns, but they had made some grave miscalculations. A veritable number, to be sure. For starters, their had sorely misjudged what exactly it was they were up against. She could, for instance, simply appear in the room right behind, for the laughs, however, she decided to give them the benefit of the doubt by opening the door and pretending to be surprised by their silly little salt-line.
The two girls stared. They hadn't got a good look at the demon earlier, so they weren't quite sure what they were up against. Someone with black hair, a leather jacket maybe, and definitely creepy coloured eyes. A young woman with scruffy red curls, a neon blue vest top, denim shorts and leggings with stars and disembodied cats would never have crossed their mind for an instant, had she not been standing there in the doorway, inspecting their salt-line and tutting. Her eyes were a boring brown, but it was her shoes that really pushed Kirsty over the edge. Rainbow Doc Martens did not exist. She was fairly certain nobody had posted any pictures on tumblr or instagram or Facebook or hell, even eBay, because she would know about it and she would own a pair. Rachel was also looking at the shoes, wondering why anyone with a single working cone receptor in their eyes would inflict those monstrosities on the world.
The Unholy Presence noted their reactions and grinned, before casually stepping over the salt-line, smirking as she did so. The two girls looked at one another, terrified and shocked, and backed away.
“Looks like somebody's been watching too much Supernatural.” the demon's accent was Northern, her tone, surprisingly pleasant for someone about to kill them. She shook her head. “What idiot thought that would work anyway?”
“It's not just Supernatural!” Kirsty yelled defensively, feeling personally attacked for her television choices. “All the legends say that-”
“Legends.” the demon snorted, disdainfully. “Let me give you ladies a tip-” She stepped closer, prompting Kirsty to point the gun at her.
“Stay back!” she shrieked. The demon winced at both the pitch and the volume. How was that noise physically possible? Really? She wanted to know. For scientific purposes. So that she too could speak to the dolphins as one of their own.
“Just trying to give you some friendly advice.” The Unholy Presence rolled her eyes. Typical of humans to overreact. “So, as we all know, salt repels demons why?” Rachel raised her hand, and the demon pointed at her. “You at the back, trying to hide behind your friend.”
“Because it's pure?”
The demon clapped. “Well done Deanise.” her voice was barely patronising at all. “So, some basic biology now, when I touch salt, what do you think happens? Samantha?”
Kirsty looked annoyed, partly at being treated like a child of three, mostly because Dean was her favourite one, and if anyone was going to be Deanise around here it was her.
“It repels you?” She ventured, uncertainly.
The Unholy Presence sighed, frustrated. These people were savages. It really was her duty to help them. “No you tumblrified fool, this is what happens.”
As she said that, she took a pinch of salt, wincing with pain as she did so, and sprinkled it on her arm. A red, itchy-looking rash broke out. Standing up and displaying the sore, she turned once again to the girls.
“So,” She smiled, putting her hands out openly, as if they were all to hug and be friends “Do you really think I'd have any trouble walking over on little line of salt? You can put the gun down, Sammy dear, I don't bite. Not literally anyway.” Kirsty glared at the demon and did as she was told, while Rachel trembled behind her.
“Good girl.” The creature or whatever she was, now set her sights on the bottle in Rachel's hand. “Denise, darling, be a gem would you and throw some of that most sacred H20 over me.” The teenage girl looked confused and frightened at the same time, which on her, looked like constipation. Did Miss Unholy Presence really have to spell it out for her? “As a scientific enquiry, I mean.”
Kirsty sighed and grabbed the bottle from Rachel's shaking hands, only too eager to comply with this maniac's wishes. She didn't hesitate for a moment, just threw its entire contents over the thing that stood, still with that bloody grin on her face, right in front of her. A cloud of steam rose up like mist, and the two so-called hunters averted their eyes. When it at last settled down, the Unholy Presence emerged; completely fine and unharmed, save for what looked like a case of severely chlorinated eyes. She wiped them, again cringing at the pain. Oh, the holy water had hurt her, although not as much as they'd hoped.
“Now you see,” the demon continued her lecture. “With most demons that would at least have melted some of their skin, with the weakest, it would have made them pull a full Wicked Witch of the West on us, that kind of thing, however, you lucky girls are fortunate to have me.” she picked up the gun, emptied it, and cast it aside, happily twirling around the room. “And...let's just say I'm considerably more powerful. I don't even need to possess people, I can manifest however I like.” Holding up her wrist, she revealed the salt-rash appeared to have vanished. No doubt this was an illusion, yet it only served to make the girls more scared of her. As she intended.
Desperate, Molly grabbed the salt and flung it all over the Unholy Presence, but the thing just brushed herself down, unconcerned, disguising any agony she might be in.
“Samantha, my dear, the only thing that salt's good for right now is giving you heart disease.”
As soon as those words were spoken, Kirsty felt an intense pain in her chest and collapsed, her best friend rushing to her side, catching her as she landed on her knees. Rachel looked up at the demon through eyes full of tears, and the monster who had done such a terrible thing to her friend just shrugged, indifferently.
“For what it's worth, Denise,” she sounded almost apologetic, until she opened her mouth again with “I don't like giving people heart problems. I much prefer the brain. Psychotic breaks are so much more interesting. I had this line, you know, that I wanted to use, and I thought hey, why not go with it?” Rachel was shocked at the callousness of the Unholy Presence, even though she knew that she was a demon and therefore by definition not nice. Still. This was cold, even for them. “You get her down to the hospital,” the demon interrupted her panicked thoughts again, intruding on her premature mourning for her closest of friends. “If you're lucky, there'll be a spare heart waiting for transplantation. Stay in school kids. Stop being so stupid and go live your lives.”
With that, the Unholy Presence known as Antoinette Chives left. Still smiling. She rather liked those girls. If they hadn't been so bloody literal and had actually got some decent lore into their heads, they could have made good hunters one day. The less the better, right? Trick them into giving up before they even get started. Classic Chives.
She climbed onto her funny-coloured greenish grey motorcycle, put her helmet on – road safety is common sense, for beings demonic or otherwise – and rode off into the night.
Half an hour later, a young girl was admitted to hospital with a bizarre and impossible heart complaint for someone her age. She did indeed get lucky, and a tissue match was found. All better. Except for the fact that both girls now felt unclean, as though they had touched something distasteful, and it had taken something irreplaceable out of them.
Such is the cost of dealing with Antoinette Chives. You end up wanting to take a bath in strong acid, and you often do. Anything to erase that itchy feeling all over, to finally stop your skin crawling from that one encounter. Maybe take a few people out with you. Go nuts. Be as creative as you like.
You've got nothing left to lose, have you now? A nice relaxing dip in a vat of hydrochloric acid, it'll do wonders; ten out of ten would recommend.
Have a nice day.
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