Blasphemy: A Like Story

Chapter Three

"The Simpsons" was the only thing we three could agree on. It was almost midnight on the night after the demon and I had struck a bargain and we were arguing about what to watch on television.

"You just can't go wrong with true crime," said Asmodeus for the third time, as Homer sold his soul for a doughnut on screen.

"Give it up already," said Bishop. "That shit scares the hell out of me."

I turned up the TV to drown them out. I was sort of enjoying having solid form. I could finally control the remote.

Bishop got off the couch and went towards the kitchen. "You guys want some popcorn?" he offered.

"Yes," I said "But I want my own bowl. I won't share with that demon! I don't know where his hands have been."

"I wash," Asmodeus mouthed.

Then came the creak of a cupboard drawer, followed by the sound of the microwave opening.

"It's not working," said Bishop from afar. "Oh, it isn't plugged in."

Suddenly, I felt a ripple go down my spine and knew with guardian-esk certainty something terrible was about to happen. I leapt off the couch as a sound like "Sssnap Poot" came from the kitchen, and the whole house went dark.

By the time I got to Bishop, he was out cold, looking pale against the moonlight and flickering of flames dancing off the back of the microwave. The fire crept up the wall. I grabbed my charge under the armpits and hefted him backwards towards the doorway. There, I was stopped by Asmodeus. He stood clapping.

"Ha ha, fantastic," he said.

"Put the fire out, you idiot!" I said." Bishop's been electrocuted."

"So, heal him," said Asmodeus.

"I am an angel not a miracle worker," I cried as I dragged Bishop out the front door.

He bumped down the stairs and through the long, un-mowed grass. I lay him down gently in the furthermost corner of the yard and put my ear to his chest. It was still beating, though faintly, but he wasn't breathing. I began CPR, or what I thought was CPR from all the television I'd seen. Meanwhile the entire front half of the trailer was going up in a blaze. Without Bishop's cellphone, far off the beaten path, and down an old country road, we had little chance for rescue. My only hope was that the nearest neighbor, several miles away, saw the smoke and called the fire station. Asmodeus was now nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, Bishop sucked in a breath and I pulled away, watching his chest closely for signs of its rise and fall. He coughed, and after a few minutes of staring at the sky, sat up.

"Koke?" he asked. Both he and the demon had started calling me that maddening name, saying 'Kokabiel' was too hard to pronounce.

Bishops eyes shifted to the trailer and widened in horror.

"My cats!" he screamed, stumbling to his feet.

He fell forward and did a faceplant into the ground but was up again in a flash. He ran towards the front door of the home. I pounced on him. I pinned him to the ground. The door must have swung shut behind me when I'd dragged Bishop out. It was closed now, but flames could be seen tearing across the living room through the window.

"My poor cats," he sobbed. "Save them Koke!"

The trailer had gone up like a house of dry pine needles. There was no way I was going in there. Neither was he. I dragged him away from the fire and sat on top of him on the other side of the lawn. The fire burned brightly for an hour then started to die down. We watched, me in shocked silence as he openly wept for his lost felines. When there was nothing left of the trailer but a blackened shell, I allowed Bishop to stand. He wobbled upright but fell to his knees halfway across the yard. Ash still rained down on us from above and the smell of smoke choked us. while I sat beside him and let him stew in misery.