The Haunting Story of a Demon

The Haunting Story of a Demon is the seventh chapter in the Wombles Eight.

Constantine looked bored as he replied. “Well mate what we have ‘ere is a demon. Nasty one at that. Feeds off your fear. Keeps it and remembers your name. Keep saying your names and I shouldn’t wonder if you summon ‘im up right now!”

“So we should never use our names again?” asked Father. “No love, never. If you want to live” replied Constantine. “’owever if you were to know the name of the demon I could summon him up and I dare say capture it for you.”

Elsewhere, Batman was sitting, thinking, in his new bat cave. He was staring at a shining blue piece of kryptonite rock that he’d come to be in possession of not too long ago. That rock was also known as one of seven remaining Philosopher’s Stones in the world.

Bruce was wearing his Batman costume, but not his mask. He always took his mask off to think. He was thinking about what he was actually going to do with this rock. It had occurred to him originally that since it was kryptonite, he could keep it in a stash in case Superman ever turned evil. However, it had then occurred to him that this was blue kryptonite; blue kryptonite was the polar opposite of green kryptonite, so it healed Kryptonians instead of harming then.

So what did Lillian Luthor want it for?

Bruce stood up after having this thought. He turned around and was about to call his butler, Alfred, when he realised that Alfred was actually already there and he’d knocked him to the floor. Alfred got up calmly and brushed the sleeves of his tuxedo down. “Something I can do for you, sir?” he asked knowingly. “Yes,” replied Bruce, “I had a thought.”  “Oh, well done, sir.  Was this your first thought?”  “No,” replied Bruce, “I had an important thought.”  “Oh I see.”  “It’s about the Philosopher’s Stone.”  “Stone.” “It’s made of blue kryptonite.” “Kryptonite.”  “Lillian Luthor was holding it at Cadmus.”  “Cadmus.”  “But Cadmus wanted to harm the aliens,”  “Aliens.” “And yet, blue kryptonite heals kryptonians.”  “Kryptonians.”  “Why are you repeating every last word I say?”  “Say.”  “Please stop that.”  “That.” “I said, stop it!”  “It.”

All the light drained.

“What just happened?” asked Bruce, startled. “Probably just a power cut, sir,” began Alfred, “I’ll just go and switch it ba-“ Alfred dropped unconscious and started having a fit.

“Alfred!” gasped Bruce, “What just happened?”  Bruce then realised that Alfred couldn’t answer him while having a fit, so he decided to turn the power back on himself. He ran to the entrance/exit between the bat cave and New Wayne Manor and pressed a button. The book case slid open and Bruce ran.

As Bruce was running along the eery dark hall, he began to hear faint whispers in a language which he didn’t recognise. This was strange because Bruce knew languages more ancient than Hebrew. A dark shadow appeared suddenly as he turned to check who was there, but he couldn’t see the shadow’s owner. He turned again. The shadow turned with him. Bruce thought for a moment that it might actually be his own shadow. But that was impossible. It depicted a man in a hat carrying a large weapon, with skin like some kind of… but Bruce couldn’t finish that thought, because it seemed like a material he had never seen before. Maybe this was only because of the dark, but judging by the other things, Bruce didn’t think so. As he stood, panting from fear, the door by his side slowly creaked open and the figure finally emerged.

“No,” said Bruce, “That’s impossible…”

Constantine stepped out from his magic circle looking concerned. “That doesn’t make sense.” He announced, “It should have worked. It can’t have not worked. I recited the enchantment and the incantation perfectly, so whoever said the demon’s name at the same time as I finished drawing my circle should have summoned it. You are sure that the demon’s name is It?”  Mother nodded. “Well then, there’s only one possible explanation. Somebody said It’s name at the right- or rather, wrong- time. Someone who’s not prepared to handle a burden as big as defeating a powerful demon like It.”

The figure in front of Bruce had taken the shape of Bruce’s worst fear- none other than his arch rival, the Joker. “You’re dead!” snapped Bruce in denial, “I’m just dreaming! I’m lying in my bed having a nightmare and you’re shrivelled and in pieces inside the stomach of Aquaman’s pet seahorse!”  “Quite wrong.” It replied without even moving his grinning mouth, “Quite. Except for one thing-“  Bruce felt his eyes go fuzzy and then not only It, but everything around him started taking the form of the Joker. “-You are living a nightmare.”  Bruce fell to the floor, sweating, and It walked toward him slowly. When It reached Bruce, he kicked him over. It cackled horribly with an ear-piercing echo. Bruce drifted into unconsciousness as the Manor appeared to set on fire, with a vague image of Alfred’s skeleton hanging on a pole behind It.