Pyro

The Grind

WARNING THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DISTRESSING CONTENT AND TRIGGERING THEMES.

It screamed, but no longer sounded like the human soul it was half an hour ago.

Bloodied fingernails lay in a tidy pile in front of the figure-if it could still be called that-as the mass of quivering flesh spasmed sporadically; nothing more than a meat sack now, the fat, greasy pedophile lost the ability to beg when Pyro extended one lethal claw and sliced off the man's tongue. Cowardly begging irritated the fire demon, screaming was preferable, courageous silence was a pleasant surprise, but that hardly ever happened.

After all the souls sent to Pyro for punishment were typically pathetic creatures, praying off of the innocence of children or benefiting from crimes of opportunity. Actions that required no true test of courage; Pyro smiled, his handsome features briefly pulling the meat sack in, but that was part of Pyro's talents after all.

Stephen Monk was a 57-year-old computer analyst from New Zealand, was-being the keyword- when a sudden cardiac arrest delivered his sorry ass to the demon for eternal punishment, unfortunate for Stephen, but Pyro took a sick sort of pleasure in his work.

The short balding man fainted after screaming himself hoarse, as Pyro began peeling off the first layer of his skin, by the time he was down to the meaty flesh Stephen was begging in low keening sobs, writing cheques his sorry ass would never make good on, so off came his tongue.

The delightful way blood squirted from the jubbly man's mouth was extremely satisfying and the demon lord began to hum, enjoying his work. He would definitely take his time with this one.

Throughout his miserable life, Stephen Monk had specialized in baby r**e, child torture rooms, and the defilement of children no older than the age of 10, selling them to the highest bidder to do whatever they wished to them for 24 hours, the only rule being that the young humans must return to him alive.

His sick enterprise had made the man filthy rich, and Pyro watched him for many years, picturing how he would make the disgusting creature pay when he finally got his claws on him.

Today, after 50 odd years of waiting, Pyro finally had his hands on him.

Pyro Diego enjoyed a certain atmosphere as he set about placing a necrotic bug into Stephen's brain, the pain from the flesh-eating bacteria would be unbearable, and he made sure to slow down the spread, inflicting as much pain as possible.

The room he worked in, ironically was a scene right out of heaven; the sound of a bubbly brook was music to the demon's ears, it was so hot in hell, that water was like cocaine to his human guests; in this space, they would remain eternally thirsty, the only relief his charges would be allowed to quench their parched throats was his hell hounds piss-if they were lucky.

Conjured butterflies meandered around lazily, the grass beneath Pyro's feet was as soft as the clouds in the heavens, and the mass of wildflowers growing on the rocks beside his personal waterfall produced a beautiful scent that calmed the demon lord.

Of course, none of his guests could see, smell, hear, or feel any of these creature comforts, in fact, the only time they ever got to experience this bliss was on arrival.

It was quite funny really, the unsuspecting fools would be escorted in by Suryx, his faithful succubus and they would smile in wonder at the beautiful world within his quarters, thinking they were in heaven...until he exposed his true form, and the torture began.

Stephen's mouth was open now, in a silent scream of agony, as the bug slowly began eating away at his brain cells, Pyro would make sure to avoid the pain receptors but everything else would end up dying eventually, leaving the pedophile in eternal torture. Taking advantage of his guest's open mouth Pyro reached in, grabbing the man's tonsils and gently began to pull, it was quite remarkable how the pitch of a silent scream could still change when enough pain was inflicted on the vocal instrument, and Pyro was a master at his craft.

"Stephen, Stephen Stephen," He laughed, crushing the man's tonsils in his fingers, "You really need to pace yourself, my fine man, all I've done is pull your skin off, cut out your tongue-that really was your own fault by the way-I just can't stand hearing a grown man scream, I've removed some bothersome nails to stop you from scratching yourself stupid, when I release fleas into your exposed muscle, we can't have that now can we? No, no relief for you, and of course, I released the necrotic bug into certain parts of your brain....oh look who has come to visit you!"

Pyro stepped away from the quivering man as Barghest, his hell hound came trotting over to the marble altar where Stephen was currently strapped to.

The huge flaming animal leaped up onto the man's chest, singing the exposed muscle and the smell of barbecued meat filled the air; the demon lord watched curiously as his beast sniffed the fat man's stomach cavity, and Barghest turned around twice before squatting and defecating on Stephen's intestines.

"AAARGH, Barghest! You're supposed to wait until I'm done before you do that! You know I can't stand the smell of your s**t you filthy animal, I still have work to do on him!!"

If it was possible for a beast to smile, his poison fanged friend would be wearing a s**t-eating grin right now, as he jumped off the smelly man, currently choking on his own vomit, before trotting off to find a place to lie down and watch the other souls, in varying stages of torture, crawl around his master's version of Hell.

Waving his hand in the air, Pyro magicked Stephens chest cavity closed, sewing the newly forming skin together so he wouldn't have to smell his beasts crap anymore; one of the benefits of operating a torture room in hell was Shaetan's lovely little touch of repairing the souls mangled flesh partway through the process so his demon lords were never out of work, and their guests never felt any peace.

"Ah...Stephen now where were we?"

Chapter two The broken deal.

Long talons were steepled as the High King of Hell listened to his latest headache unfold; Adramelech the dark prince's facilitator stood in the middle of his office, the grotesque demon peacock moving from one foot to another as he announced the latest list of souls arriving in Hell.

Shaetan noticed that there was one very important name missing from that list, a young woman that the High Lord of Hell had personally added when his Grim reapers ascended to the human realm to collect their quota for his Demon lords this morning.

"And what of Marie Laveau?" Shaetan rasped finally, his orange eyes pinning Adramelech to the floor, the menace in his voice sounded like a million souls screaming, causing the peacock demon to wet his feathers in sheer terror.

"Well, the thing is my lord..no one can locate the young witch, she seems to have disappeared..."

Flames erupted on the throne the dark lord sat in, his face an evil mask of fury as he shot to his feet, letting out a belligerent roar. Adremelech hated his job on days like these, when the devil's language was torture and the poor peacock was the only face around, to inflict his torture upon.

Shaetan raised his muscular arms, black fire bursting from his claws as he pulled the very essence from a million worthless souls, trapped in the pen below.

His barrel chest expanded, glowing a blinding orange as the prince of darkness harnessed the power of the damned and, extending his arms towards Adremelech, fiery eyes singing the feathers of his body, Shaetan let loose hellfire throwing the peacock forcefully through his door and out into the foyer

"SUMMON PYRO NOW!" The high lord of Hell screamed furiously into the abyss.

PYRO

Stephen had made quite a mess, his blubber melting into the marble as Pyro flayed him open with short bursts of flame; the fleas that he'd inserted underneath the fat man's skin making a satisfying popping sound as they burst.

The sick pedophile couldn't really cope with his torture the way some of his guests did, he just kept passing out from the pain and after a while, even Pyro grew tired of waking him back up.

So, after cutting his genitals off with his claws, and feeding them to Barghest in front of the sobbing coward, Pyro finished up for the day in his usual manner.

Stephen's eyes were removed and given to the harpies, so that he would never again glance upon anything beautiful, making sure to add it to his list of incurable afflictions so that the High Lord wouldn't regenerate them overnight, where Stephen was heading he wouldn't need eyes anyway.

Next, the Demon lord took his favorite shamshir, procured from the battle of Uhud, and slowly sliced the soles off of the unconscious man's feet, savoring the coppery smell and bright red liquid that this action produced; again Pyro added 'soles' to the list, and threw the flaps of skin to Barghest, waiting patiently for his dinner.

Never again would Stephen feel the crunch of grass under the soles of his feet.

And lastly, the torturer removed the pedophile's arms, an action that caused the man to rear back into consciousness, screaming his tongueless scream, minus his tonsils and his voicebox, because he had been too annoying to listen to, and Pyro wasn't known for his patience.

"That my good man is for all the innocent children you touched, or sold to other sick f***s to touch, I intend to make you mourn the loss of your arms for eternity, consider it my own personal gift, just for you."

With that said Pyro, clicked his fingers and Suryx appeared to drag the latest guest in Pyro's house of horrors back to his cage for the night.

Suryx was his succubus, and fiercely loyal to the demon lord; they made a formidable team, with Pryo preferring to leave the female residents to the seductress.

For some bizarre reason, the mere sight of Pyro caused women to fall at his feet, consumed with the thought of pleasing him, and it never mattered how cruel he was to them, or how much pain he inflicted, they would always flock to him afterward, begging to be his bed partner, but unlike the other creatures who worked for the high lord of hell, Pyro slept alone, never engaging in the frequent orgies or choosing from the countless men and women who would offer themselves up for his pleasure, he was secretly waiting for someone he would never find- a pure soul.

ADREMELECH

His feathers were still smoldering as the lower level demon entered the third plane of Hell-the demon lords torture realm, and one that Adremelech tried not to visit too often. Children were more his thing, and Pyro, Leviathan, and Asmodeus were in charge of the adult souls found guilty of crimes against innocents, Lust, and envy.

The first one hit a little too close to home for Adremelech and quite frankly Pyro scared him almost as much as Shaetan himself.

Down the long corridor, the peacock strode, to the very end where an ordinary brown door stood, guarding the entrance was the demon lords hellhound.

Pyro's world was through that door and the product of his twisted imagination was said to create a false balm for his sinners, lulling them into a sense of safety before their eternal damnation began.

Pyro was a handsome man, if you were into tall, dark and well built- the females seemed to love him, perhaps that was why he was being summoned?

The door opened and out walked the demon lord's personal quim wedge, Suryx, Pyro's succubus. She stared at the demon peacock in distaste as she dragged a meat sack behind her, swaying her hips hypnotically and Adremelech had to concede that the lords weren't the only terror-inducing beings on this floor.

"Madha turid qatal al' atfal?" Suryx asked distastefully, opening a small door to his right, and dumping Pyro's latest guest inside.

She locked it swiftly behind her and turned to Adremelech, waiting for an answer, knowing the High lord's secretary could easily translate her native language; Adremelech didn't disappoint, replying "I seek an audience with demon lord Pyro, the high king of Hell has summoned him immediately." in Arabic, the words flowing effortlessly off his slimy tongue.

And Suryx paled, it was a very rare occurrence to see the demon peacock on this level, knowing how they felt about his extracurricular activities, but it was rarer still to receive a personal summons from Shaetan himself, and Suryx worried at what this meant for her secret crush.

Of course Pyro had no idea of her feelings for him, but, she was a female first, above all else, and wasn't immune to his sensuality, the fact that Suryx had spent an eternity by his side had only cemented her devotion to him.

"Very well peacock, I will let Pyro know his presence is required at the top level, now begone..your stench offends my nose."

Suryx gave him her most vicious glare, causing Adremelech to scuttle backward in fright, and he turned on his heel happy to be leaving the torturers plain.

Chapter three The thing about Marie Laveau

It really stank in this godforsaken Bayou, and the young witch slapped at the hundredth mosquito trying to suck blood from her coffee-colored skin.

Bernie was a little further ahead of Marie, and watching the elder wizard try unsuccessfully to prevent the muck from attaching itself to his pristine robes was the one saving grace this day had bought her.

Bernard Delafosse was a huge plantation owner downriver from the french quarter, at least that was his human story..and the 180-year-old wizard loved nothing more than to drink the day away playing craps with the human population, gleefully fleecing them of their hard-earned cash whenever the opportunity arose.

He was also Marie's great uncle and the high mage of the supernatural community in New Orleans, but right now the grizzled old man was wading through the swamplands for her.

Surely one little parlor trick to stop the incessant biting wouldn't hurt though would it? Making her mind up the young witch drew a symbol in the air, and whispered "Les moustiques soient partis."

The mosquitos disappeared instantly, unfortunately, Uncle Bernie materialized in their place, glaring at her in frustration.

"Renverser le sort..." The old wizard muttered and the mosquitos appeared once more, only angrier now.

"Why must you be so difficult Marie? Do you understand what will happen if the Grimm brothers find you?"

Twenty-year-old Marie Laveau rolled her eyes at his theatrics, "They will send me to hell to complete the arrangement my mother made with the devil."

She responded flatly, repeating the words ingrained in her psyche since birth thanks to her mother's selfish deal.

Marie Laveau 1.0 had thankfully left this Earth, her evil bones coated with salt and burned on the pyres in the middle of New Orleans.

She had wreaked centuries of havoc with her legendary voodoo witchcraft, before someone finally killed her, unfortunately, not before she made the deal with the Prince of Darkness.

The soul of a fallen for the soul of their only offspring, her mother had traded her unborn soul for the chance at life with an angel, even if it was one of the fallen ones.

And Bathen was a fair father, for the short time he'd been around.

In a typical show of narcissism, Marie senior had given her daughter the same name, a gesture that made her childhood a difficult time, with no friends thanks to her mother's poor reputation, and later on, in life, it often meant shouldering the blame for her mother's evil doing, long after the older woman had passed.

" I understand how difficult this must be for you young one, but I am just trying to keep you safe until I can find a way to buy your soul back from the ruler downstairs, until then he will just keep sending the reapers for you, and it's very taxing for an old man to hide you from Shaetan's eyes, you really have no idea."

Now that Marie took the time to properly look at her uncle, she noticed the extra wrinkles under his eyes, the pallor of his caramel skin attesting to the strain he was under and Marie immediately felt guilty for her childish behavior.

"I'm sorry Uncle." She murmured and continued through the swamp without any further attempts at magic.

It was dark by the time the two travelers reached their destination, both were hungry and exhausted, and the secluded cabin that was to be their new home for a while looked warm and inviting.

Once inside, Marie noted the furnishings were sparse but comfortable, two doors came off the small open plan lounge/kitchen, presumably leading to bedrooms, and a third door hid the combined bathroom/toilet/laundry facilities from view.

There was a small open fire, with a billy hanging from its pot hanger and Marie went over to grab it; she would gather wood for the fire and once it was slung across the young womans back,she could fill the pot with water from the creek next to the cabin, and Marie would make her uncle a pot of tea.

Bernard busied himself in the kitchen, unpacking the rucksack he had diligently carried through the Bayou, and put several tins and a loaf of bread in the pantry.

They had only been able to take what they could carry, and the wizened old wizard forbid Marie from using her magic unless absolutely necessary, knowing that Shaetan was bound to have his reapers watching for her unique signature, it was the best way he had of tracking the witch down.

As Marie made her way back out the door, Bernard couldn't help but feel sorry for her fate; his sister had always been a selfish woman but, making a deal with the devil so that she could choose a worthy bed partner? That was something altogether out the box.

Marie was a gentle soul, and he supposed she inherited that from her father.

Bathen and his white horse had ridden into Marie 1.0's life the moment she agreed to the devils deal, sealing it with blood; he was a slender man, almost too beautiful to look upon and when little Marie junior was born, Bathen had doted on his daughter, that was probably why he had ended up dying.

Marie never admitted to it, not even when she was tied to the stake and set alight,instead cursing all those who witnessed her death with impotence through all of their generations before she finally died.

Little Marie was only 7 at the time, and three weeks later when Bathens horse disappeared from his paddock, the young witch was grief-stricken, having nothing of her father left but memories.

It wasn't until several years later that Bernard found out about the sordid deal.

Shaetan himself had paid the high mage a visit, outlining the terms of the blood debt, letting Bernard know that Marie had 20 years to live on earth, but on the eve of her 21st birthday, her time would come to an end and the reapers would arrive for her soul.

For seven long years, the wizard and his counsel poured over every supernatural law book, mitigating circumstances and counter deals ever created, looking for a way to prevent Marie's death, but to no avail.

And now here they were, on her 21st birthday, having spent the day trekking through the bayou like mud monkeys, masking her magic and hiding like common thieves.

With a deep sigh, the old man poured a tin of beans into a pot, putting it on the stove to heat, and sat down to wait for the little witch...Happy birthday Marie.