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Bogeyman

He lit the black candles, turned on the black light. He smoked a joint, and let the wild things come.

Blackmore's Rainbow provided the backdrop music. He'd eaten well, bought a thick steak for once instead of the vegan crap Marsha forced down his throat.  Low-fat, watch-your-cholesterol, eat-enough-fiber, Jeezuz! He was sick of the whole routine, the whole concept of healthy diet.

Well, he didn't have to worry about Marsha any more, now did he? She'd broken it off with him, just this morning.

He didn't have to worry about being normal anymore.

He hadn't bothered to cook the steak, for one thing.

He watched, lazy-eyed, as the smoke spun, and danced, and turned into something other than smoke. "Beloved," it whispered.

It didn't need to add "I've missed you." That was a given, and returned in kind.

Unlike with women, you didn't need to talk a thing to death when you loved the Bogeyman.

He stood up, and stretched. The darkness embraced him,    fondled him. He was one with it.

"Glad to be back," he said. "Let's go hunting."

They hunted.

They fed.

They fucked.

Sort of.

You need a body, the almost-human said softly, once they were done.  I grow tired of this.  I want to be inside you.

The Darkness was puzzled.  Beloved.  You ARE inside me.  I am inside you as well.  I am damned (it had learned about humor and damnation both, with its human friend) if I see the problem.

The man laughed, understanding the confusion.  He flexed his arms, stronger  after a feeding.  I have a physical body.  I want you to have one too.

Hmmmm.   I will take that one who betrayed you---that Marsha.  That would be pleasing----

No!   Then softer, No.  Not because I still care for her, though I do.  You seem---more male, to me.  I had that, in my youth.

He paused, said quietly, I would like to go back there.

The Darkness nodded, uncaring.  What pleases you, pleases me.

Then, delicately. Did you have a body in mind?  I cannot just create one, you understand.

The man reflected.  What he intended to do would be very, very bad.  Almost unholy.  If he had not given himself to the darkangel in his youth, he would not even have considered it.

He got up, rummaged through the mess on the floor.  And finally found what he was looking for, a fan magazine.  Cover filled with a handsome, shyly smiling face.

That one, he said.  And the darkangel accessed its information channels.  Then brooded pleasantly.

He is well-known.  In another country.  Just married.  To reeve him of his life will be---interesting, if complicated.

It studied its lover, waiting for the final decision with a horrible patience.

I want him, his lover said softly.  I want YOU, wrapped in his guise.   He paused before the final words.  But only as a man would pause on the accelerator of a car before gunning it.

Bring him, he ordered.  I don t care what life I take him from. He’s mine now.  I want you, in that body. Do it!

And the darkangel obeyed its fledgling, as it always would.

Until the day came when it ate him, too.