This is a story I posted on Fanstory.com a while ago (a long while ago). It’s the only story I ever posted. And seeing as I don’t use fanstory, might as well put it to use somewhere else… like here! It’s not perfect, and ain’t edited professionally, so it probably (definitely) needs work. Regardless, I hope ya’ll enjoy!


Warning: Short story contains strong language.

Hell found me.

It wasn’t the thousand dollar debt I owed to Van or the nagging voice of my ex. Nah, it was none of those. It was my sister. The oldest one with the long, pretty, black hair pulled tight in a ponytail on top of her head. She wore red — bright cherry red leather, looking dominatrix in her skirt that came inches above her knees. A tight leather jacket squeezed over her chest barely giving room for her lungs. Her heels were as shiny as rubies and stood as high as the price she probably paid for them. Now the six foot princess looked seven feet tall.

“Lydia,” I leaned back against a tire, stretching my legs out onto the cold concrete of the garage floor, before I said, “you look illegal. How many offers did you get walking down Fairbank?”

Her heels clicked to a halt. Her hand parked on her hip. “You don’t see me in a hundred years and this is the welcome I get. Fine, I’ll pretend my brother didn’t just call me a hooker,” she said. Then she parted her slick red lips and dropped the thirty ton nuclear bomb, “Dad wants to see you.”

That was the moment life ended and death began — the living breathing death of having to follow papa doom’s orders. Most people had fathers who worked respectable careers: accountants or mechanics, like me. Or some were lucky and never knew their father. I ain’t one of those lucky bastards.

My old man was the kind of man you don’t dick with on a good day. And on bad days, you don’t breathe, you don’t blink. If a mobster had a god, it’d be my dad. If Satan had a master, his name would be Reginald Fallon.

R. Fallon was the reason I ran from home a hundred years ago and kept running. Unfortunately, I ain’t run far enough. And if I didn’t go see the man who summoned me, my life would end without pause for any excuse.

Yeah, I might be his son, one of three, but I’ve never been exempt from his wrath. None of the kids were.

Imagine if you will a ten star general who fought a war in the most brutal fashion. Killing, lies, deceit, if there’s a word for it he’s done it. General Rafallon was his name during the third Warlock-Demon wars. The male fought a war so fierce he earned a reputation as the best general of the Warlock Empire. However, he scared the hell out of the powers that be and they banished his ass to the far reaches of earth, on a remote island in Southeast Asia under a volcano.

That was three thousand years ago. But that ain’t stop the evil bastard from living. He recruited some trustworthy allies to help him outside of his “home” and has ruled his slice of earth for the last three hundred years — ruled it just as ruthless as if he was fighting a war.

Yeah, he had a bunch of offspring, most who died by his hands, but the few, like Lydia, that survived his spite became errand boys… or girls. Every child he wanted, he forced on a pitiful witch or human woman. I had felt sorry for mama two hundred years ago when she was under the devil’s thumb. But that sentiment fled, because I realized she was nothing more than a shell, her soul died long before I came along. He took it and ate it.

That’s the kind of soulless monster my pops was.

Grabbing the oil stained cloth at my side I stood up, wiped my hands clean, and took a nice long breath. Lydia was one of the strongest of us, so I couldn’t just fight her and think I could win. I could run like hell though. I did before. A hundred years ago. But times change and I just wasn’t in the mood for an evening sprint.


“He’s out in the limo, you ask him.”

The limo? He was off the island? “He’s…”

“They lifted his banishment. It was either that or the counsel would have been slaughtered.”

I should’ve seen that coming. For the three thousand years he was banished he had been working to gain power: supernatural and political. It took him a long time, but he finally got it. Evidently, he had earned all the power he needed to overrule the counsel if he wanted. And he wanted.

The bad thing about that was, there was nowhere in the world I could hide any longer.

“Do I have time to change?”

“No. He doesn’t wait.”

Nodding, I followed my red leather sister out onto Fairbank where some of my colleagues were sitting eating their lunch on the curb. One of them turned his head to stare a hole into my sister’s ass. Even with that baseball cap so low on his head practically blinding, he still could see what he wanted.

“Yo, James! Who’s the chick?” one of the other guys asked as another whistled.

“Unfortunately, my sister,” I yelled back.

“Ouch! I’m in love. If she’s single, you’ve gotta hook me up.”

“Naw, dawg, that one’s mine,” another one said.

I just shrugged. “Ya’ll don’t stand a chance in hell with her.” I warned them, “And if ya did, you’d just be food for her power.”



Some of them whistled knowing to back off. Normal humans knew they didn’t stand a chance, because they were just cattle or lab rats to the supernatural.

Me and Lydia went around the corner to the long stretch Escalade parked on the side of the building. It sat idle, waiting.

The door opened just as I approached. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside. My head smashed into something so hard, I didn’t remember a damn thing after that.

When I woke up, I found myself in a dungeon, ass naked, arms and wrists chained to a damp concrete floor. I was barely focused, pain beating in my head like a drum when I heard a harsh, thunderous voice say, “Welcome home, son.”

And like a punk, I passed back out.

I woke again to the smell of tacos, ripe tomatoes, and the sound of smacking and slurping.

“Hungry?” The man’s voice echoed in the cell.

I was in too much pain to think of food, but I gave him an answer anyway. Why die over such a simple question? “No. Sir.”

“Shame, these are good,” he said before crunching and smacking. “How was your vacation away from me?”

“Great.” I answered honestly. I wasn’t going to get away with lying and since I felt death coming closer by the moment, why not just get it all over with? Life was over. Despair had chomped down on my soul… or was that the old man’s teeth?

“Glad you enjoyed it. Your little escapade set me back a hundred years. That was a little upsetting. But you’re going to make it up to me.”

I didn’t say a thing as he continued to eat.

When I’d left, the old man was planning to use me to marry into some high class witch coven. But those evil bitches had a bad habit of eating men. Not souls. Flesh. And they kept the bones to decorate their ceremonial catacombs. No one knew about the catacombs or why every man that married into the family disappeared. But on the day of the rehearsal ceremony for the wedding, I answered both mysteries when I came across their “kitchen”.

Talk about one hell of a nightmare. Body parts, blood, screaming, sounds I still hear when it gets too quiet. I hauled ass out of that death trap they called a mansion. Then found myself in some dark tunnels, filled with bones embed in the earth in weird poses. They almost seemed artistic in a “You were tasty” kind of way. That’s how I found out everything. No wonder my old man wanted their coven, they gained power not only from flesh, but from tributes to some malicious man hating goddess. And with the pact between them and my father, their power would also become his.

After I found those tunnels, I stumbled onto some passageways that opened out onto a beach. I jumped into the ocean not giving a damn about drowning and swam until I was rescued by pirates. Compared to the witches and my pops, those guys were saints.

My dad’s slurping and crunching stopped. Something slid back and heavy foot steps came closer. I braced myself for anything.

A large hand grabbed my chin and lifted my head up into a pair of white-less eyes. Those things were so black they were bottomless. The only thing that made his hard cold features exude warmth was his tanned skin. And there wasn’t a spec of age in his rock hard face. That’s what soul sucking got him. Years of life added to him. And three thousand years meant he sucked up a lot of souls.

“You haven’t used your power since your escape,” he said frowning, “that’s why I haven’t been able to find you.”

He could tell that just by looking into my eyes?

“Lydia was right, you’re a smart bitch.” He chuckled a bit. His tight grip became painful. “She’s the only reason you’re alive right now.”

That was a surprise. After giving Lydia the slip for the last hundred years, I thought she would have been the first to want me dead. But what the hell could I have that would be of value to him? He ain’t going to give me back to those evil witches. He had better been prepared to kill me. Hell, he was always prepared.

“I need your skills, James,” the man said stunning me to my naked toes.

“My what?” Did he know? He couldn’t know? But it showed all over his plain bare butt. Damn this flawless skin!

“You’re powers. You’re the only one with them in our House. I want them, you’ll feed them to me, or I will take them all right now.”

Those were my options: Give up my soul in one big gulp or spoon feed the devil in itty bitty portions. No other options existed.

Problem with being in a family of soul sucking witches and warlocks is if I didn’t eat the soul of the living I aged or I died. I hadn’t aged since I turned thirty. Nor could I die unless murdered. And I never had a need for a soul. I was a rare breed. Immortals, some called us, other called us food.

I called it a curse. The only way I hid it so long was low level illusions. A tweak here, and pinch there, and wrinkle lines, new hair color, eye color, skin color. Nothing major, but it kept me off the radar. But the down side? Those more powerful than me, saw right through the illusion as if it never was.

Lydia had found me a couple of times over the last one hundred years, but I always ran before she could take me back. This time, running ran away, right out the damn door, leaving my narrow ass behind.

There, in that cold damp cage lied my choices. Not much of a choice if you asked me. Nope. I was going to die. And too scared to think straight. I was considered smart. Some thought I was a genius, but I couldn’t think right. Papa-suck-a-soul was going to make a meal out of me and either make it slow and painful… or quick and painful. If he took my immortality, it became his. He’d never need to eat another living spirit.

As for me, I would cease to exist. It would be as if my existence never was. My friends and colleagues would never have known my name. The few footprints I had left on history would vanish. The only one who would remember me would be the bastard ready to slurp me up as he did them tacos.

There was another option. One I shouldn’t have even considered. But it was my last grasp of any kind of hope.

It proved that I am my daddy’s boy. I knew a thing or two about surviving and rising above the shit of the world. My old man might be an evil son of a bitch hell bent on taking over the world but I admired his will despite the odds.

“Immortals can find other immortals. We don’t normally acknowledge that we can do it, kind of an unspoken pact. One I’m willing to break in exchange for my life.”

I couldn’t believe it, that damn face of his actually smiled something human… kind of. Just ignore the soulless eyes and sharp shark like teeth.

“Lydia said you were smart.” He chuckled, “I bet you already know how much one immortal could get on the dark market.”

Money didn’t begin to describe what would be offered for those immortals. Problem was, if I were found out, I’d be the highest priced snitch in the whole batch, because I’d be a living breathing radar. But as long as there were immortals to find, I would be safe. Dad would make sure of that.

“So, do we have a deal?” I asked.

The warlock waved his hand through the air as black smoke puffed onto my skin. A thick miasma of charcoal layering through my body, clogging my pores, entering my mouth, suffocating me for moments. Then I took in a deep painful pull of air.

“Deal sealed. I’m a little disappointed though,” My father stood and walked away toward the dungeon door. Before he left, he scoffed and said the words that sealed my fate for eternity, “I thought you were smart enough to ask for your freedom as well.”

The door clanked shut, leaving me chained, naked, cold… home.


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