A Regular Saturday Morning Horror Show

“You may call me Mr. Aegle, my lady,” the man said as he straightened himself back up. His voice felt like a caress it was so smooth and intoxicating. It held a slight accent, one she could not pinpoint but that made it clear to her that his first language was not the Queen’s English.

For a moment she swore she saw his eyes flash black but she thought surely not and that it must be a trick of the light. Finally she smiled at him.

“Alice,” she said. “Alice Davenport.”

“Alice,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue in a way that nearly made her shudder. “A lovely name for such a lovely lady as yourself.”

“Mr. Aegle,” she said with a soft laugh as she tried to keep her cheeks from burning. She felt like some schoolgirl, nearly being brought to flush at such easy and pretty words. She could not help it, he had such a presence about him and the way he spoke was enough to make even the most uptight lady weak in the knees. “You flatter me.”

“Your very being makes it easy to pay compliments unto you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Aegle.”

She wished to speak more to him. She wished to forget everyone in the ballroom and sit and converse with him all night but that opportunity was robbed from her as her father came to her side and gently took her by the elbow.

“Alice, my dear, so this is where you ran off to,” he bustled.

“Ah, father, please allow me to introduce you to Mr. Aegle. We were having a most pleasant conversation.”

Her father ignored her introduction, only shooting the man an appraising look that gave nothing away on how he viewed the other.

“Come along, dear,” he said as he began to tug her away.

“It was lovely to meet you, Mr. Aegle,” she said.

“And you, Alice,” he said in return. “We shall meet again soon.” And he gave her a smile and a short but polite wave before the crowd swallowed him up and she lost sight of him entirely.

Her father led her through the vast ballroom until they came upon a man she did recognize. He was a Marquess and a handsome fellow of five and thirty years though, she noted now, not as handsome as she used to think. He held no candle to Mr. Aegle although she once thought the Marquess the most beautiful man she knew.

“Good evening, Mr. Talbot,” she greeted with a curtsey.

“Good evening, Miss Davenport,” he said with a nod of his head.

“I am sorry for your loss; the Marchioness’s passing must be very difficult for you.”

“Of course,” he said, “I miss her dearly. Her death was such a tragedy but I do not wish to stop my life as I do believe she herself would not wish for me to.”

“That is a very pretty sentiment.”

“Alice,” her father spoke up, clearing his throat. “The Marquess and I have been talking for some time and I have agreed to marry you off to him.”

“What?” She was not certain if she had heard her father correctly at first but then everything came crashing down and she felt not ill but hollow. “But father, he is so recently widowed.”

“Be that as it may, the man is ready to move on and marry again,” her father said.

“You will be very well cared for, Miss Davenport,” The Marquess added. “And I still have no heir to my estate or affairs.”

Now she felt ill. So ill that she thought for a moment she might loose the contents of her stomach right then and there all over their tailored suits and brightly shined shoes. Yet Alice held fast and gave a shaky nod.

“Of course,” she said with a smile and hoped her lips did not quiver.

She did not want to think of the Marquess or her arranged marriage. She felt sick every time it invaded her thoughts. She did not wish to birth children or be stuck in the confines of marriage. Furthermore, she did not love that man. She never had, even when she thought him handsome. That was all it was, though, something superficial and nothing more. Like how one might look at a tiger and think it beautiful but not wish to engage it.

Those were her feelings on the Marquess but she was now forced to engage this tiger and she wanted nothing more than to escape; to run away from its teeth and claws before they could sink wholly into her flesh.

I would give anything to be free of this bond, she would think to herself.

Alice’s only escape from it all was when she thought of Mr. Aegle and she did think of him often, especially when it felt as though her knuckles burned from time to time where he kissed her. It brought her back to that moment and she would run her knuckles against her cheek, caressing softly like her hand belonged to another – some forbidden lover that was out of her grasp.

They were foolish little fancies about a man she did not know but still she reveled in such thoughts and fantasies.

Her waking moments were filled with joy at the thought of Mr. Aegle and dread with the thought of her future husband. Meanwhile her dreams were both nightmare and desire.

She would often find herself walking through her home, following voices. They were chanting something in a language she did not understand and it frightened her. Yet despite her fear, she would follow the sound and find herself, soon enough, in the sitting room where six women sat upon their knees, arms linked together, forming a circle. The chanting would grow louder and louder and the flames that danced upon the wicks of the candles that sat before each woman would grow and grow, further illuminating a sigil.

She did not recognize the design of it as it was not in any text she had ever read. Inside a circle drawn in what she though may be blood was an upside down triangle, the ends of which extended further, crisscrossing each other and swooping down and curling back up, intersecting a V. The two upper corners inside the triangle had lines coming off them as well, these too crisscrossed though they did not swoop or curl up, they merely ended some distance outside the triangle.

Alice felt frightened by the scene that played out in front of her but drawn to it as well. She could never decide if she wanted to run or join them and before she could make up her mind, they would call out to her.

“Join us, Alice,” they would say; their voices smooth as silk and ever so haunting. “Join us, dear sister. Embrace him.”

“Do you wish to live freely?” A male voice would say from behind her and she would feel a presence at her back. A soothing and intoxicating presence that made her want to sink back into the man and let him take her away. “You can have all that you want; all that you could ever wish to have if you only come into my embrace.”

It was always then that she would wake, when gentle hands would touch her shoulders and begin to slide down her chest. She would awaken in a cold sweat, frightened yet pleased and on occasion she would curse her dreams for ending before she could give a response to the man who spoke so lovingly into her ear.

It was one month after their meeting that she saw Mr. Aegle again. Her father was out when the man made his appearance and though the maid did not like it, Alice insisted he be shown in. She had so wished to see him again and she did not desire for her father’s absence to ruin it all and make her wait any longer.

The maid brought them tea in the sitting room and left them but not before shooting a dirty look at the man that Alice did not miss. She suspected Mr. Aegle did not either but out of politeness he said not a word.

“It is so good to see you again,” she said, sipping at her tea. “I hope it is not too forward of me to say, but you have been much on my mind since we met.”

“And you in mine,” he responded.

“I should not be having such thoughts.”

“Why do you say that?”

Alice gazed into her tea, her reflection looking back and it was something frightful in her eyes. Before the engagement, her eyes were so bright and alive and now looking at herself in the tea she noticed how dull they were. How empty. Like she would feel once she married the Marquess. Like she felt now that she knew what her fate was to be in a few short months.

“I am to be married come autumn,” she said at last.

“I see,” he hummed. “Your betrothed does not meet your fancy then?”

“Not at all,” she sighed. “He is handsome enough but that is not all that matters, is it? He is recently widowed. His wife was in such an unfortunate accident. Surely he cannot truly be ready to marry so soon after.”

“I sense that there is more.”

Alice was quiet for a long moment. “Please tell no one what I am about to tell you, Mr. Aegle…please.”

“You may lay your very soul before me, Alice, and I shall never breathe a word of it to another.”

“Oh thank you, Mr. Aegle, truly thank you for you see, I have no interest in marriage and child birth,” she confessed, looking down into her tea once more.

“Do you wish to live freely?”

His words made her head snap up, her gaze settling on his. “What did you say?”

“You know well what I asked, dear Alice.”

“I…Who are you?” she asked, breathlessly. How had she not known? The voice in her dreams…it was him.

“You will learn soon enough, dear, sweet Alice. For now I take my leave. Think upon what I have asked you for I will demand an answer soon.”

She watched him walk to the door of the sitting room and open it. She could not tear her eyes away and before he left her, he said one final thing.

“Think carefully on it, Alice, for one answer will lead you to freedom so sweet you will become drunk on it and the other will trap you in such a dark pit from which there is no escape and you will suffocate. Your fate rests solely in your hands.”

She did think on it. Constantly. It never left her thoughts not even for a moment. She was unsure what she would say when she saw Mr. Aegle again. He was so alluring yet the mystery of his identity frightened her now.

Alice took to prayer for guidance but she received nothing. Nothing but further thoughts of Mr. Aegle and what the freedom he promised might taste like.

Was God telling her to take Mr. Aegle up on his promise? Was he an angel sent from Heaven to save her?

But then what of those dreams? The dreams of those women and their magic. Witchcraft was a sin, was it not? A gift from the Devil himself, to empower those who would then use such frightening power to harm innocents. Surely an angel would not consort with such devilish women.

She was a lamb without her shepherd. At least that is what she believed as she could not think as to why God might lead her thoughts to that man.

She did not know what to do. Not until Mr. Aegle came back.

“I do not wish to marry the Marquess,” she said to her father one day while they took tea in the drawing room. She had said it so suddenly that she surprised herself. Alice did not know where it had come from but it escaped her mouth and now it was out and her father looked astonished at her.

“Excuse me?”

“I do not wish to marry the Marquess,” she repeated more firmly. There was no use in hiding her feelings now. “I do not wish to marry anyone.”

“Do not be a foolish child.”

“I am not being a foolish child.”

“The Marquess is a fine match. You will have everything you could ever wish for if you marry him.”

“Not my freedom.”

“You do not need freedom when you have wealth.”

“I will not marry him.”

Her father threw down his paper and stood up from his chair near the door. His face was beginning to turn an ugly red as it always did when he became furious.

“Do not be stupid! You will marry him, do you understand me, you will marry the Marquess even if I have to drag you down that bloody aisle by your hair!”

Alice was terrified in that moment as her father advanced on her, looking ready to strike her. Yet nearly halfway across the room he stopped suddenly. He opened his mouth as if to speak but a choking noise came out instead and then before her very eyes he went up in flames. His screams filled the room, her own horrified ones nearly matching his in volume.

That is when she saw him. Mr. Aegle. He seemed to manifest out of thin air, one arm held up slightly above his head and his irises black as coal. As he approached, he lowered his arm and the fire that had consumed her father vanished, leaving behind a black mass in the form of a human.

“Hellfire, dear Alice, burns hotter than anything you could possibly imagine,” he said as he glided across the room to take a seat opposite her, his eyes once again grey.

“You…you killed him.”

“Yes,” he said. “I have saved you from his fists today and for months and years to come.”

“He would not have hit me,” Alice said. Despite how her father had appeared ready to harm her, she did not believe he would have.

“You did not see into his soul,” Mr. Aegle said. “I did and it was dirty and I gazed into its future and it grew ever dirtier.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your father was a sinner, Alice. He raised his hand against your mother behind closed doors while you were not around to hear her cries. He stayed that rage with you for such a long time until you thought to go against his wishes.”

“How do you…are you…” she trailed off.

“You know who I am, Alice, you know in your heart and you may say it.”

“You’re the Devil.”

“Does that frighten you?”

“You’re evil and yet…I do not know,” she said. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs.

“No, my dear, I am not evil.”

“But you are the Devil. You tempt others to sin.”

The Devil laughed.

“I do not make others sin. They sin all their own. I punish sinners, Alice,” he said as he reached over to the coffee table to pluck up the Bible laying there. “Is that not what your precious Bible says? That sinners are damned to Hell to face everlasting punishment there?”

“I-It does.”

“Then, pray tell, why would I invite sin? My very existence is to punish sinners, to put their immortal souls through such torture that their screams echo through every corner of my domain. To make them pay for the atrocities they commit unto others.”

Alice sat there and listened to him. She hated so much that he was right. How could she think him evil when his very job was to punish evil?

“What do you want of me?”

“I want you to embrace me, Alice.”

“Why?”

“Your soul is pure. You have not one stain on it.”

“The witches,” she said then, thinking of them and how they told her to embrace him. “The witches from my dreams, they are surely evil. You must wish to stain my soul like you have stained theirs.”

“No,” he said patiently. “They possess no darkness inside of them. They are like you. They too possess pure souls and they assist me in punishing sinners.”

“Why should I believe the things you say? You are known for your lies.”

“Angels cannot lie,” he said. As he did, she saw slight movement behind his back before six massive wings unfurled. The top and bottom pair was black as the night sky while the middle pair was white as the most pure snow. They were ever so beautiful and she wished to touch them, to feel the softness of them beneath her fingertips.

She held back however and looked at him, taking in his steel grey eyes.

“You offer me freedom,” she said.

“I do.”

“But you wish me to embrace you and be in servitude of you like those witches. How is that freedom?”

“I do not wish you to be subservient to me. I wish you to be but a partner.”

“Partners?” she inquired. “Is that what those witches are to you?”

“Yes.”

“Are they your lovers?”

“Only when they wish to be,” the Devil answered and she felt a shiver run up and down her spine.

“You would truly give me everything I want?”

“I would.”

Alice sat there for a moment.

“Will the Marquess not wonder about me? Will he not send others in search of me?”

“No for he will be punished soon enough.”

“Punished?” she asked in surprise. “Whatever has he done?”

“He has stolen the life of another,” the Devil replied. “His own wife, the Marchioness.”

“Her death was but an accident.”

“So he made it appear but tell me, Alice, do you truly believe she fell from that balcony? The Marchioness was not known to drink to excess. Did it not trouble you when he said she had drunk more than her fill and tumbled over the edge?”

Alice had thought the story odd when she heard it but she had simply written it off as a poor moment of the Marchioness’s. One that had spelled her doom but she could not argue with the Devil. It made sense with how the Marchioness was and how the Marquess was so quickly over her death.

“Oh God, I was to be wed to a murderer.”

“You may still be.”

She looked up at him and realized she had not given him her answer to the question he had posed many times in her dreams and the once in the sitting room.

“I wish to live freely,” she said. “How do I embrace you?”

He nodded slowly and in the blink of an eye a goblet was cupped in his hands. “Begin with this.”

She took the gold and black goblet from him and peered inside to see that it contained a crimson liquid.

Like the blood of Christ, she thought to herself.

“Drink,” he commanded softly.

She obeyed at once, bringing the goblet to her lips and tipping her head back, allowing the liquid to splash into her mouth and run down her throat. It tasted like a mixture of blood and the smoothest and sweetest wine one could envision.

It set her insides ablaze. She felt fire spread through her entire being but it did not burn her. No, it felt like a lover’s kiss instead. Warming her, fueling her, and it urged her to consume more of the liquid until there was not a drop left.

She panted for a moment when she brought the goblet away from her lips.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now I lay my mark upon your flesh.”

He stood and moved around the coffee table to stand in front of her. His long fingers reached out and grabbed the collar of her dress and tugged it down and to the side. Two of the buttons popped off, clattering to the floor though she did not hear it, far too lost in his presence again, too in awe of him and ready to embrace him and start her new life. Her life of freedom.

The Devil laid his hand atop her shoulder and it burned. It burned white hot and this did hurt but she did not scream. Nothing attempted to claw its way out of her throat and the pain disappeared within moments. What was left behind was that triangle sigil from her dreams.

It looked so pretty against her skin.

The Devil stepped away from her, putting distance between them before outstretching his arms. He was beckoning to her now.

Embrace him, her mind said.

Alice stood and dropped the goblet to the floor. She went to him without another thought and wrapped her arms around him as he brought her into his embrace. She felt whole now, not so gutted and hollow and dead as she had felt since her father had told her of her engagement.

Yes, she was meant to be here. She was meant to be held in the arms of the Devil. To be his partner, to be a fellow witch, to punish sinners and she knew God had led her here and she never wanted to part from the one she held now.

No, she and the Devil would be together for eternity.

“Let us go home,” he whispered against her lips as his wings closed in around them.