What Crawls Below

20 § Devil May Care

For the second time, Cyrus entered his house dripping wet, dress shoes squeaking on the tile. Acheron didn't make a comment on his appearance.

Though it was nearly midnight, Acheron had a mug of steaming coffee in his hand. Taking a deep drink of it, he said with sarcasm dripping from his voice, "Did you have fun?"

Thinking of what had happened, Cyrus only shuddered in response.

The demon nodded in approval. "Good. It's quite time for you to put aside the trivial and focus on your duties." Tone growing icier, he said, "You haven't been much help with recruitments as of late."

Shrugging off the suit jacket, Cyrus took a seat wearily across from Acheron at the dining table. He focused on the most pressing question in mind: how many?

Acheron just stared at him, eyes narrowing.

Sighing, Cyrus finally found his voice, though he couldn't manage speaking above a shaky whisper. "I can't be much help if I don't know what exactly it is we're doing here."

Still regarding him with apprehension, Acheron said, "End goal? Upwards of a few hundred..." A small smile twisted on his lips. "...thousand."

Cyrus blinked, unable to do much else. His shoulders went tense and he struggled to find his voice, but it had retreated into hiding again.

"This is a very small operation, of course, but consider it training wheels. Take the feat you managed today; you are clearly capable of handling yourself in a pinch."

"But why..." Cyrus tried to say, clearing his throat and trying again. "What do you need so many people for?"

The coldness that entered Acheron's eyes then seemed to spread through the whole room. Goosebumps rose along Cyrus's bare arms and he stuck them under the table, out of sight. "What, did you think the world would do any better the second time around with the exact same blueprints?"

Cyrus tried to make sense of this, but the pieces weren't adding up. He'd always been under the impression their mission was to rid the world of all its negative aspects, to purify it from human sin--and if that meant taking a life or two here and there, so be it. The tone of Acheron's voice, though, convinced Cyrus he was talking about much bigger plans.

When Acheron saw the confusion clearly written across his face, he dropped his own voice to a sharp whisper. The red of his eyes flared to remind Cyrus of the flames that had devoured the boy mere hours earlier. "I know you know what happened to Janice Gladwin." He let that hang in the air between them for a moment, seeming to enjoy the shock Cyrus couldn't mask from his eyes. Voice practically a purr, he continued, "But did you never figure out why?"

When Cyrus said and did nothing, Acheron's voice raised back to normal volume, filling with malice, disgust marring the words. "She was of no use to me. Infertile," he said, spitting that last word. "Tell me, how else did you think the world was going to start anew?"

"I don't understand," Cyrus mumbled, staring at the table, flinching under the anger pouring off Acheron in heavy waves.

"Humanity is a disease. Not a speck of it will remain in this world when I'm through with it."

Cyrus had never been aware of this version of the plan; he didn't know Acheron wanted to wipe off everyone on the planet. But as he turned this over and over, it began to make him feel ignorant. The facts had been in front of him the whole time: the majority of Second Advent was young and female. There were a few men, but no one in their middle ages; the fact that Janice had disappeared right after her confession was the biggest blow. Acheron had always preferred the women...of course there could only be one reason for that.

Then Cyrus connected this with the fact Acheron planned on making Earth ground zero, and a bitter taste flooded his mouth; it took all of Cyrus's self control not to gag.

He hadn't heard of human-demon hybrids, but they surely existed, and there surely would be many of them if Acheron got his way.
"Think about it," Acheron insisted, leaning forward and pinning Cyrus in place with a piercing stare. "No more pesky souls, no more remorse, no more humans, " he sneered, "to constantly place themselves above you. Is that not what you always desired?"

"Why...are you telling me this now?" Cyrus managed to say, wrapping one arm around his stomach like it would keep the nausea contained.

"You're finally ready to hear it; that much was made clear today. I know you will not let me down," he said in a cheerful voice, standing and dropping his now-empty mug in the sink with a clatter. As he began to turn and exit the room, Cyrus asked one last question.

"...and Tuesday?" He needn't elaborate what he was really asking. Acheron's willingness to keep her around needled at him, and Cyrus knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

Smile widening, Acheron said,  "She'll make a good mother, don't you think?...I'll let you have that one though."

Then he whisked out of the room, leaving Cyrus a shaky mess.