Demon
Blake was late to the visitation, but only by a few minutes. Given that he was one of the few family members that would be at Uncle Mark’s visitation, someone would probably recognize him, even though it had to be at least ten years since he had been in town. Nothing had really changed, other than the occasional restaurant here and there, even a fresh coat of paint could not hide the old memories.
The preacher was just starting his opening speech as Blake slowly closed one half of the main entrance doors, trying not to draw attention to his late arrival. Of the two rows of pews taking up both sides of the main room, only the last two rows on the left side were empty, save for a single person. He slowly made his way to the pew, moving in front of the man and taking a seat, leaving a comfortable space between the two men. The man nodded at Blake, as he took his seat, slowly unzipping his jacket, slipping out of it, and placing it to his left.
“You didn’t miss much,” the man whispered to Blake. He had a vague accent to his voice that Blake could not place. He wore a faded leather jacket with a white T-shirt with an abstract design on the front, a pair of jeans and tennis shoes rounding out the ensemble. “Family or friend?” he asked.
“Family,” Blake answered. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”
The man pulled his neck back slightly, looking over Blake’s features. “Would you be Blake, by any chance?” he asked, uncertain.
“Yes,” he responded.
“Ah,” the man replied. “Then yes, we have met, although it was quite some time ago.” He reached his hand over to Vince, offering his hand. “Thomas.”
He took the man’s hand. “I think I remember you. Used to work with my uncle, right?”
“From time to time, yes,” Thomas answered.
“I had to be about sixteen at the time,” Blake said, pausing slightly to look at Thomas. “You’ve definitely aged gracefully.”
“Call it good genetics,” Thomas shrugged. “You’ve grown up, though. I’m liking the beard.”
“Thanks,” Blake replied, running his hand over his chin.
“Are your mom and dad coming to the funeral tomorrow?” Thomas asked, leaning back. “Given the surprise of the whole thing, I’m sure finding a flight back home will be a little rough.”
“They should be in late tonight,” Blake said. “They managed to find a flight out of Texas around 11.”
“Good,” Thomas said. “Good. It’s always good to be around family, especially in times like this.”
“Uncle Mark always did love his family,” Blake replied. “Even though he always had a rather interesting relationship with them.”
“Mostly your grandparents,” Thomas said. “Or your grandpa, to be more accurate.”
“True,” Blake said, glancing at Thomas. “You’ve known Uncle Mark for a long time, haven’t you?”
“You could say that,” Thomas replied. “Actually, he saved my life once.”
“I’ll bet that‘s a story,” Blake replied.
“Oh yeah,” The man said. “Definitely.”
Blake paused, a thought working its way through his brain. He then turned his head back towards that man. “Aren’t you the one Uncle Mark called Scratch all the time?”
“That would be me,” Thomas answered.
“Where he come up with that name?” Blake asked. “You have a chronic itch or something?” he paused, looking over to the right. “Hmm, maybe I don’t want to know.”
Thomas smirked. “No.” He cleared his throat. “It’s on account of me being a demon.” He looked back toward Blake. “Retired, that is.”
Blake just looked silently at the man, squinting slightly as if that would help him see the punchline coming his way. “Right,” he finally said.
“You don’t have to believe me,” Thomas shrugged. “Given all the stories your uncle told you, I figured you’d be more open to the idea.”
“And I thought Uncle Mark was the one who loved to tell tall tales,” Blake said.
“He did at that,” Thomas said. “Ever stop to think that his stories were more right than wrong?”
“To be honest,” Blake said. “more than I would like to admit.”
“I know,” Thomas said. “To be honest, even though Mark didn’t have kids of his own, but he always considered you to be the son he never had.” A smile stretched slowly across his face. “Just wait till the reading of the will.”
“Lord,” Blake mumbled. “He didn’t leave me the cat, did he?”
“No,” Thomas said. “Bunky has already been adopted by Mark’s landlord. Besides, he knew you were allergic.”
“Good,” Blake replied. “I mean, I like the cat and all, but I don’t want to spend the rest of his lifetime sneezing.”
“He fell in love with the old lady anyway, so...” He said, making an oh well gesture.
“So, you’re a demon,” Blake said, changing the subject. “How does that work?”
“I used to be a soul broker,” Thomas said. “You can probably guess what that involves.”
“Use to be?” Blake asked, playing along with Thomas.
“Everything has its time in the Universe,” Thomas said. “There’s really no profit in collecting souls anymore.”
“Sounds like the stock market,” Blake paused. “At least I think it does.” He looked at Thomas. “I don’t know anything about that kind of thing.”
“That’s fair,” he said. “But you’re not that far off. When you flood the market, the value tends to go down.”
“Sure,” Blake said. “That makes sense.” He adjusted against the hard surface of the pew. “How does one flood the market in the soul department? The usual way, I take it?”
“Pretty much,” Thomas said. “Although, things went south with the start of the Crusades.”
“Crusades?” Blake asked. “Which crusades?”
Thomas turned and glanced at Blake. “All of them. It really didn’t matter. The end results were all the same. After that, with some of the other realms starting to take notice, the market all but dried up.”
“So, where do all the souls go then?” Blake asked.
“They go to where they’ve always gone,” Thomas said. “As always, it just depends on who holds the deed, to use a phrase.”
“Deed? I thought you said your kind was out of that market.” Blake said.
“No, I am,” Thomas replied. “Some of my kind still take part in the market from time to time, but when it was opened up to other realms, like Carcosa and Ryleh, it became harder and harder to make ends meet.”
“So, what do you do now?” Blake asked.
“Consulting,” Thomas said.
“So, a former demon quits doing what he’s known for to take a consulting job?” Blake asked, his voice trailing off slightly as the words escaped his mouth. “How did you know my uncle? He was a college professor here in town.”
“Well, that’s the interesting part,” Thomas said. “I was sent to procure his soul by an unknown third party.” He glances at Blake. “This was back when he was a field agent for the Foundation before he took over as the head of the department at the school.”
“Ah,” Blake said. “Before he shattered his knee?”
“A couple years before that,” Thomas said. “He was still in his prime when I met him.”
“So, what happened?” Blake asked, a smile creeping up at the corners of his mouth. “You take his soul?”
“Nah,” Thomas said. “Granted, my heart wasn’t in it to begin with, but your uncle made me a better offer.”
“Which was?”
“A new job,” Thomas said. “A new life. And all that comes with it. Thirty years later, and I’m still consulting. Still alive.” He motioned to the open casket at the front of the room. “And I have your uncle to thank for it.”
“Thirty years?” Blake said. “Bullshit. You don’t look a day over 40, and you expect me to believe that you met my uncle thirty years ago?”
“Believe what you would like,” Thomas replied. “But the truth is that your uncle was my friend. The specifics don’t really matter at this point. He rests, while the rest of us continue.”
“Interesting story,” Blake said. “The way you tell it really sells it too.”
“Presentation is everything,” Thomas said. “I learned that from your uncle.
“He was quite the character,” Blake replied. “Mom always said he could tell a good story.”
“That he could,” Thomas said, looking at his watch. “Well, I must be heading out. Will you be at the graveside service tomorrow?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Blake answered. “I have to head back early tomorrow morning. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
Thomas smiled. “I’m sure your uncle appreciates that. He did always say you were his favorite nephew.”
Blake looked up at the man. “I’m his only nephew.” He replied.
Thomas shrugged. “Like I said, a character.” He stood and eased his way out of the old pew. “You take care, young man.”
“You too,” Blake said, smiling. “Demon.”
The man smiled at Blake, picking up the coat crumpled up at the edge of the pew and putting his left arm through the sleeve, followed by the right arm. He straightened the front and dropped his arms back to his side, letting the coat hang open. “Be seeing you, nephew.” He then turned and walked down the right side of the row of pews.
Blake watched the man leave, watching the man push through the wood doors before turning his attention back to the speaker. He had only caught a word or two before listening to the man’s story. He was way more interested in the story of his uncle being friends with a demon.
“Only Uncle Mark,” Blake muttered to himself.
“Only Uncle Mark,” a voice chimed in his head. “When you’re ready for the whole story, let me know.”
It was not his voice, but that of Thomas. It almost felt like a light breeze at the back of my head before the sensation suddenly dropped off. “Nice trick,” Blake muttered to himself.
“I have many more,” Thomas said, in his head. “Be seeing you, nephew.”
“Huh,” Blake muttered again. “Demon.”
