The Good The Bad The Evil

“The World pushes us without mercy and when some push back, the world points and cries, ‘Evil’”—Mewtwo (Pokémon)

Prologue

The snow was cold underfoot. With every step, a paw print the size of a dinner plate was left behind, quickly covered by a fresh bedding of ice. Above, in the trees, the wind howled with an icy cold breath. It’s as if it always has something to say, he thought at the current moment. Has it not heard of silence? He raised his head as another gust caught his dark ebony fur; the fresh scent of tree sap was mixed well with that of oncoming rainfall.

A storm is coming.

Dark clouds tumbled, growing in size and shade. It was at that moment as he watched the sky, he smelled it. A scent he had not caught in a long, long time.

Blood.

A snarl erupted from his throat. His lips withdrawing over his fangs. It was close and he knew it, he knew it as the sky knew it, as the wind and trees knew it. The Demon had been alive for a long time, so long he had forgotten his own name, and in its heed had adopted that in which he had been called many times by both mortal and immortal:

Demon.

His limbs stretched to meet the call his burning throat sang. The steady thud his paws made when they hit the snow was in no way silent and deadly as he knew he should be behaving but before he could even start to care for the racket he was making other thoughts had already started to cloud his judgment. A deer, perhaps a doe or a buck! For a moment he faltered as the image of a poor starved rabbit caught in a hunter’s snare flashed across his mind; a skinny bag of bones would in no way quench the pains in his stomach or the burn in his throat. It wouldn’t matter even if it were to be a hare; the Demon was immortal. He didn’t need food, at least not as the mortals needed it. He could feel hunger and pain but he wouldn’t die without food, but the pain would drive him insane. He snarled in disgust. Never. The scent of blood was stronger than before, hidden from him by a tree. Be it a bag of bones or a flesh feast, he no longer cared; it was food.

The soft cry of sobbing was the first thing he heard as he approached his prey.

Surely I have wandered these woods too long. Since when has a hare been able to sob?

Below his claw, a twig that had gone unnoticed snapped and the sobbing ceased.

“Who’s,” a soft voice hiccupped, “there?”

The Demon froze.

Hare can speak?!

There was no longer a need for stealth, and so in one small step that would surely be nothing less of a leap for a normal wolf, he stepped from behind the old pine. A road that led in two directions with no signs to point to what may lie in either direction came into view. Sitting beside the crossroad was a young human of the female kind with blonde hair pinned in neat waves down her back. Her stockings were torn at the knee where a scarlet scrape was quickly freezing over and turning blue in the wind. A white hood hid her eyes from view.

She gasped when she saw him, the pale pink of her cheeks draining until she, with the aid of her hood, blended perfectly with the snow. She did not scream or run, only stared at the Demon. It was she who broke the silence.

“Excuse me for being so rude,” she whispered, “but I have never seen a wolf so large! My name is Red.” With a swift sway of her hand, she pushed back her hood, revealing two perfectly blue eyes that sparkled with not fear nor horror but curiosity. The Demon was silent. What a strange creature he had found, to not scream for her mother to save her. “You must be a wise wolf, have you seen my mama?” she asked. The Demon, for a split second, forgot himself and shook his head. The girl’s face fell. An angry growl ran from his stomach to his throat, rattling his teeth and shuddering his spine. He took a step forward. It wouldn’t be hard; she was small, small enough to fit almost comfortably between his tongue and teeth.

“Mama told me to go deep into the woods and when Papa’s money problems go away, I can come home. But I think she’s lost, because it’s getting late and Mama hates when I stay out late. Maybe if I go to Grandmother’s, but I can’t remember which way.” The Demon stopped; now was his chance. Point her the wrong way, rip her in two, it’d be over in seconds. The girl had been abandoned. The pain in his stomach turned to a ball of twisted knots; without a sound, the Demon turned and walked away. He knew that feeling, the feeling of abandonment. He could not kill the girl, not now. Red called to him but he ignored her and kept walking. When she was out of sight and her sobbing resumed, he stopped. Before long her sobbing was replaced by shivers before finally the small body stopped moving. The wolf left his hiding spot and stood above the girl. He did not know why he stayed. This wasn’t his problem; the troubles of a mortal child should not bother him. He nudged the girl with his snout, breathing in the faint scent of roses. Crouching, he pushed and nibbled softly with the tips of his teeth until the girl was lying comfortably between his shoulder blades.

I’m a fool.

He growled. Around him the storm whipped and roared, hail biting his eyes. The smell of sugar roasting on a fire and a gentle voice drifted from the path to the right barely loud enough for even his ears. Softly, so the girl would not fall, he faced the north and step-by-step walked into the storm.

Evil

10 years later …

“Say it!” She laughed and shoved his shoulder weakly. The wolf glared at her but made no noise. “Say it! Please?” Wolf sighed, a heavy deep noise that rumbled through the clearing, then shaped his lips as Red had taught him.
“Meow,” he attempted quietly. Red, not for the first time that morning, attempted to laugh, but her weak giggles quickly died off, turning to whimpers as she clutched her side; a jagged wound ran from her ribs to her hip, bleeding violently. Three years ago, Red’s mother had returned to retrieve her but Red refused, and a good thing, too. If Red hadn’t refused, Wolf would probably have not run into her again that day and he would have never come to rely on her so much. They sat now with Red resting her back against his side as he lay with his neck twisted so his head could rest by her wound.

“I’m going to die, Wolf,” Red said quietly. Wolf stiffened. He had found her here, bleeding and crying but, until now, she had not mentioned her wound, or what happened. He turned so he could meet her eyes and whimper worriedly. A breeze caught her hair. The light in her eyes now gone, her doll-like features twisted into an ugly scowl. He had seen her do this before, split moments where her image of innocent perfection was poisoned with hate and disgust. He knew there was darkness inside of her, but he never cared, he saw it and loved it. Every rose has its thorns, and she was the prettiest rose he had ever seen. Against the dark trees and white snow, she was a flash of colour in a black and white world, and she was his.

“They tried to kill me … ” she whispered, anger laced with acid in her tone. “Ten years ago my parents counted on me dying in that storm, but I survived and now I’m a constant reminder of what they tried to do. Their guilt has driven them insane; even Grandma hates me now.” Her words lost all emotion and passion as she went from talking to the wolf to talking to herself. For a moment they were in the eye of the storm; calm peaceful frozen in time, it would end soon.

“I don’t want to die, Wolf.” She whispered. Just for a moment he saw the little girl he met on the day of the frost 10 years ago. And then she was gone and the darkness returned, a horror portrait of twisted features and a distorted grin. Her eyes wide, she stopped talking to him and instead turned to inside where her inner demons were surely screeching.

“Horrible pathetic inferior life forms, how dare they try to take my life! They must die.” Wolf’s eyes widened as he watched her; she was no longer looking at him but at the sky as she released a screeching laugh. Her blood, a dark horrible scarlet, had dyed the left side of her riding hood a bloody red but her wound was long forgotten.“You won’t let them hurt me, will you?” Her voice returned to soft as her eyes turned, pleading. “This is the only way, Wolf.” Wolf hesitated, his breath fogging the air. It had been a long time since he had killed a human, not since the day he lost his family.

“Don’t you see?” A voice within him whispered. “You remember, don’t you? You were empty until you met her. Alone. She is all you have left.”

The wolf snarled and stood, his claws ripping the snow. He will not let them hurt her. He will never be alone again.

Ever.

She stood, too, and giggled at his anger. “This is the only way.” She whispered, running her hand along his fur until she held the sides of his snout. “When you return, just think of the possibilities. We can finally be together, love. You do love me, don’t you?” He didn’t need to answer; he loved her and she knew it. “I will go and talk to my parents.” She smiled. To any other, this would seem hopeful, but to the wolf who loved her, he knew this was a lie. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead before moving so her lips were beside his ear.

“Kill my grandmother, Wolf. She is, after all, the one who gave me this.” He looked down at her wound and roared. He turned in a swift movement and lunged forward into the trees away from the meadow, away from her.

He did not see her smirk, or how she grinned as she pulled the blood-worn knife from beneath her hood. He did not hear her victorious laugh or the screams of her parents. No, he could only lift his head as he stood on the hill above the old woman’s cabin and howled; a cold heartless scream worthy of a demon who had fallen in love with a fallen angel.

Ten years earlier, he had left a sad half-dead little girl crumbled on the doorstep and watched from the bushes above as an elderly lady had opened the door. With a look of pure disgust, the elderly woman had pulled the girl onto her feet before hurrying her inside. And, now, as the door fell easily under the wolf’s claws, it was this look of disgust that drove him forward. He stalked with hatred into the cabin and took the single room in, almost as if he were sipping it from a cup.

The wind and snow followed him, filling the room with angry howls; every candle within the room flickered and died under the wind’s kiss. All around the room, items were thrown and smashed, from plates and plants to chairs and photos. Across the room on a broken chair sat the elderly woman, tears staining her wrinkled cheeks. The woman was frowning at the fireplace where only embers burned. “So, you’ve returned,” she said quietly, her eyes strikingly similar to Red’s. When the wolf made no noise to respond, the old lady lifted her eyes, settling them on the wolf. A thousand emotions flickered in her eyes before settling on fear.

And then she screamed.

Wolf ran, with every muscle in his body pushing him forward. The only thing he could think of was her, even with the old lady’s blood still pooling on his tongue, slipping from his lips, leaving a trail of scarlet behind him.

Almost there
we will be happy
Now she will love me
I won’t be alone.

It was at that moment, it hit him. The pain started in his shoulder. Four bursts of pain shuddered his body and broke his rhythm. With a sigh, he fell to the earth. A band of shadows surrounded him. Laughing. Bows and arrows, poised to kill. Their leader stepped forward, savagely kicking the wolf’s shoulder with his foot.

“Look at it! It’s pathetic,” the man spat. “This is the Big Bad Wolf of the Dark Woods? A God!?” He laughed with his friends. “I’ve never killed a God before.” He joked with sadistic lust. The wolf growled, temporary shock gone. He pushed himself up, ignoring the arrows in his back and lunged at the leader, who sidestepped him easily. The wolf didn’t stop and kept running.

Red.
Red will tell them to stop.
Red.

He burst into the field, slowed by the pain, the hunters easily staying close on his heels. In the center of the field stood a lone girl. Her once-white hood now scarlet, a drop of blood against the snow. In her hand, a knife shone sleek red. Arrows tore his skin, attacking him again and again until he broke at Red’s feet.

Finally

Red’s frantic eyes flashed from his relieved stare to the hunters’ accusing glare, seeming to make a decision. She screamed.

“Monster!”

With disgust, Red moved away from Wolf to stand behind the lead hunter. “That … ” she said, thrusting her finger at the wolf, “killed my family!” She sobbed into the hunter’s side, who grinned. Pain flooded Wolf’s body as realisation hit a second too late. He had been betrayed. Only a mortal weapon can kill an immortal and now he would die.

Finally.

Red stepped forward, the knife in her hand. “I want revenge!” She snarled through fake tears. The hunters, amused, stood back to let her through. Leaning down, she pressed the knife to his throat. Wolf closed his eyes, too tired to fight anymore. And then came the whisper only he could hear …

“Love a demon … Don’t be a fool.”

And then there was only Darkness.

He was alone again.