Demons and Angels

He was black as night.

Blended perfectly as he crept into estates under a quarter moon to steal valuable property.

To topple the empires of prominent, respected citizens.

They called him The Demon. Wreaking havoc on the town.

***

Luke Parker wouldn’t have it. Pictured himself and Angel of Justice as he pulled on his white robe and swept into the night.

His friends ran to meet him. A dozen of them in billowing ivory.

“Tonight’s the night,” he said to them. “He’s coming, I can feel it.” The Demon would not steal his property.

His friends nodded and they dispersed into the night, taking up posts at all his iron gates, built into log walls twice as tall as a grown man, with wicked spikes at the top.

Those walls protected Luke’s valuable assets. Kept thieves out… and kept them in.

He scanned the darkness as he stood outside the gate, listening to the buzz of insects and rustle of leaves, on the alert for a snapping twig or crunch of leaves.

Doesn’t matter which entrance you come to, Demon. He spun his handgun. We’ll be waiting.

But the next noise didn’t come from the forest ahead. It came from behind. Muffled.

On the other side of the gate.

Pounding. Footsteps. Shouting.

No! How did they…

The gate flew open just as he spun to face it, sending him stumbling backwards.

Shouts rang in his ears and dark figures rushed at him like shadows, dozens of them, with jagged sticks, dull shovels and hoes.

Pain cracked across his hand and his gun flew from his grip.

Another flash of agony through the head sent him staggering to his hands and knees, dark world spinning. They surrounded him, kicking, punching, swinging jagged weapons. Every blow sharp and devastating.

“Stop!” he screamed.

“Enough!” shouted a deep voice at the same moment.

The beating ceased instantly. Luke’s attackers backed off and allowed him to struggle to his feet.

His ears rang, his head pounded, and the world wouldn’t stop spinning. But still, Luke managed to stay standing on shaky legs. Pulled off his white hood of Justice and stared round at his attackers.

***

Jamal stalked through the freed slaves and stood in front of the man of ghostly white robes. He didn’t look so intimidating without that pointed hood. They never did.

“These are my property!” he screamed, normally white face going red. “Thief! Demon!”

Jamal swung his jagged branch onto his shoulder, dark eyes soldering with the anger of an entire people. “They ain’t yours, slaver. And I’m not takin them. I’m freeing them.”

A great cheer rose from the crowd.

“I got more backup round here,” the slaver said, and spat blood at Jamal’s feet. “You won’t get a mile.”

“A dozen men in white,” Jamal said. “Yes, I know. Neutralized.”

For the first time, the slaver’s eyes showed true terror. “You…”

“They aren’t dead,” Jamal said, and held out a hand to stay the crowds as they closed in. “And we’re not killin you, either.”

A few of the freed slaves looked at him.

He did not return their gazes. Kept his eyes fixed on the slaver. “You know why, boy?”

He only grunted. An ape-like sound.

“Cause we’re better than that. Now you tell me, who is The Demon?”

Without another word, he and the freed slaves faded into the night.