AND ALL THE DEVILS FOLLOW

AND ALL THE DEVILS FOLLOW, by Jennifer Crow, art by Gary McClusky

 

 

A queen defeated, robes in tatters, crown

crushed under the conqueror’s boot,

stands with clasped hands before the altar

and listens to the devils laugh. Plots

beyond humanity’s reach have twined

around her, until her world reels

before an onslaught of burning and blood,

so she has come to beseech the gods

to whom she made sacrifices in years

of plenty. Silent, they stare down

at her from frescos crumbling

on the vaulted ceilings, their eyes

focused on some truth beyond mortal

miseries. The queen draws a breath,

lifts her hands so the ragged hems

of her sleeves catch dust motes

dancing golden in the shadowed

cathedral, and turns to face

doom, haggard and hungry like she

and far more powerful, taloned

fingers tapping together, teeth bared

in grins of merriment. So then,

they say, gazes calculating

the last copper coin of her fears,

Shall we make a pact? She sighs

as a feather drifts from above

and lands on a devil’s shoulder,

igniting and burned to ash

between breaths. What, she asks,

can you offer? Peace? Freedom?

All the devils laugh. A good jest,

the first among them says,

and the air fills with the scent

of brimstone, hot and acrid.

Let us assist you. She moves closer

to a stained-glass window

and stoops to pick up a charred

bone beneath a pew. Can you bring

the dead back to us? I think not. But

I will take vengeance, in lieu of pity.

The devils look amongst themselves,

for pity is an unfamiliar word. She bares

her wrist, lets one of them scratch a vein

until she bleeds, and signs away heaven

for a measure of blood. Somewhere

a bell tolls, dim and heavy with dread

as the damned depart, a bargain

to fulfill. The queen awaits their return,

muscles already clenching

at the thought of an eternity of pain.

Or maybe her still-human flesh

recognizes strangers’ voices raised

in dismay, in agony, justice

a shiver across chilled skin,

a chorus like angels dying

in the fading light of her last day.

 

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Jennifer Crow’s work has appeared in a number of print and electronic venues over the past quarter-century. Her short poem, “Harold and the Blood-Red Crayon” was a co-winner of the 2023 Rhysling award from the Science Fiction Poetry Association. Curious readers can catch up with her on Threads @kythiaranos, or on Bluesky @writerjencrow.bsky.social.

 

Gary McCluskey has been a professional artist for more than 20 years. He’s done book covers for every genre imaginable from fantasy, horror, romance and sci-fi to an afterlife memoir, as well artwork for children’s books and RPG games. Recently he completed 4 issues of comic book about a vampire-shark and several interior illustrations for a new hardcover version of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ ‘The Oakdale Affair’. He’s currently working on a creator owned comic book ‘The Dawn Hunters’ for the near future.