Chapter 11: Death’s New Pet: Chapter 9

Who the fuck does he think he is? I earned that kill! That disgusting Goblin was mine! I don’t care if the trial was finished, I had something to prove. The fact I even got my dagger near the Goblin was statement enough for my success, but he stopped me from fully proving what I could do.

Maybe it is my ego speaking but I need that beast’s death on my hands to prove to the gruesome audience to vote for me. Let’s not waste any more time playing these childish games. I am going to win. Give me my deal with the Devil now.

My fingers curl into fists. The Being in front of me threw the weapon away two hundred metres, and I know he’s much faster and stronger than me, but the desire to hurt him floods through me. I want to kill him for neglecting me of my kill.

Just as I lurch towards the dagger, the whole world around me changes. A blinding light flashes and I hold my arms up to protect my eyes from the beam. When it slowly fades, I find myself in a large room smelling of bitter lemons and overwhelming bleach. Trying to regain my balance, I stumble around before falling into something hard and red.

A sofa?

Blinking back my surprise, I glare around the large red room with ten crimson sofas in the middle and the other contestants sitting nervously on the edge of each one. Wide-eyed, they all stare at me in shock as we all try to adjust to the whole idea of flashing in and out of places.

My nature kicks in and I quickly scan the room for threats. To the left of the room, there seems to be a kitchen, and around the rest of the room, there are eight doors.

“Bedrooms,” a croaky voice tells me. I swallow down the lump in my throat and turn to face the older lady with grey hair. Her hands are still clasped in a prayer sign from earlier, and her eyes are still wet with tears. “Only eight. They must anticipate two people dying in this trial!”

I don’t say a single word as I cast my gaze around the room at lots of expectant faces. Just as I step into the room, Misery’s voice echoes around the room even though her physical body never appears.

“Prey Nine is next.”

Suddenly, the young man in the corner of the sofa disappears, much to the other contestant’s horror. It creates a frenzy amongst the group, but I force the buzzing noise out. My head throbs painfully from being thrown around in the trial, and I’m still shaking in anger.

A hand around my arm has me looking at a large black man with crazy eyes, staring at me in fear. “Well? What was it? What was in there with you? What should we expect?”

I ignore him and go to step past, but he doesn’t let me leave. “Tell us!”

Realising I’m not going to be able to avoid the question, I keep my answer short. I don’t want to get to know any of these people. They are all my enemies. They are in the way of my deal with the devil. “Moving floor. Goblin.”

“Moving floor!” the teenage girl screams behind me, before sobbing into the man’s shoulder who sits next to her. “Moving floors, Tom! How will we beat that?”

“Hey, love, don’t cry,” he coos her reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it. If she did it, we can do it.”

I don’t bother biting back a retort. From the sparkle within his beady little eyes, he wants me to fight back. Adrenaline is one hell of a drug. He stares at me and gives me a disgusting grimace. I glare at ‘Prey Seven’ in his black jumpsuit and silently pray that he dies in the trial.

Warily, I cross the room and stand in front of the contestants to get a better look at them. Instinct tells me to retreat to a room and sleep off the battering I received but reason tells me to stay and gain as much information from these fools as I can. I’m still trying to decide which is better.

“You, how did you defeat the Goblin?” Prey Seven barks at me, shoving a finger dangerously close to my face. I stare at the digit and images of Leonardo biting off fingers fill my mind. He told me chomping through bone was just as easy as biting a carrot, it’s just that the human brain wills you not to.

Do it. My perverse mind coos. Bite his finger off.

“Go on, don’t keep your secrets.” His ugliness is both inside and outside.

I glare at him through dark eyes, daring him to keep pressing. He drops his finger and I put some distance between us, for his safety rather than mine. The contestants break into frightened conversations about what-ifs and strategy, but I don’t bother joining in. Instead, my mouth dries and I long for water to quench the thirst.

I make my way over to the kitchen counters and run my hand across the granite. Usually, it’s smooth with the pattern trapped inside, but here, it’s rough and sharp, awful to balance anything on it.

I get to what I assume is the tap. A large hollow bone curls into a bowl-shaped large skull. I click the button next to it and boiling hot water squirts out, steam quickly filling up the room. I click it again and it stops. I hold the button down, but hot water comes out again. Then I click twice quickly, again hot water. No matter what I do, I can’t get cold water.

Suddenly, on the granite counters stuck to the wall above the counters, a little label appears. Prey Ten.

That’s me.

My hand warily reaches out to the jagged rock, and I pull it open. The cabinet reveals tinned food with pictures of different meats and vegetables on it, skull-shaped bowls, and cups, and then a singular fork, knife and spoon. Instinctively, I pocket the knife.

“Who you gonna kill?” a male voice startles me, and I jump around to see Prey Three, a thin man with small spikes of hair in the style of a buzzcut, and scars which tear into his skin making his face look all funny. The skin he does have is bumpy, scarred and hairless. I’ve seen someone like this before… Leonardo poured gasoline over them and lit a match—

“Is it me?” He smiles but it’s odd and makes my stomach flip. One side is much higher than the other and makes it look more like a lopsided scowl than an actual smile. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Depends on if you attack first,” I say bluntly, putting distance between us. He mistakes my words for humour and chuckles. His oceanic eyes flicker back to me once he stops laughing and I’m mesmerised by the way his pupils look exploded.

“Fire does that, apparently.” He remarks. I make no effort to apologise for my rudeness; he seems taken aback by my lack of social skills and blinks frantically a couple of times. I learnt in the six months with me on the run that I seem to have a different etiquette to the rest of society.

“What did you do then? Why are you here?” He jumps up onto the counter and sits on the rough granite. Amazed, I watch expectantly for some type of pain to ripple across his face. Nothing. I reach out and feel the granite again and the little shard cuts me, and a small stream of blood instantly pours out.

“Does that not hurt?”

“My nerve endings were fried in the fire.” His answer creates more questions. He must see the confused expression on my face because he clarifies. “I killed seven people in a house fire. The landlord tried to evict me, so I lit a match. I didn’t think the victims would be that slow to react.”

He speaks about the murders so casually and even rolls his eyes. My lips curl into disgust and I avert my attention from him. When I glare over at the other contestants, I can’t help but wonder what awful things they have done to end up here too. Am I really stuck in a game with villains? Have I really become one of them?

“Prey One discriminated and committed assault, Prey Two killed babies in the hospital she worked at,” the man starts listing them off as though he has interrogated each of them, “Prey Four was done for domestic assault. Prey Five was a nonce, Six and Seven appear to be lovers and killed her disapproving parents. Prey Eight was a nun who allowed awful things to happen to her choir boys. And Prey Nine was a school shooter.” He releases a sharp breath.

Wide-eyed, I stare at the strange man in front of me. He shrugs nonchalantly and that lopsided grin returns. “What? Six minutes is plenty of time to suss out the competition. You’re welcome for that information, by the way. You can repay me by telling me how you ended up here. What did you do?”

I remain quiet, trying to figure out how to escape this crazy conversation.

“Theft?” His eyes roam down my body as he desperately tries to figure me out. “Assault? Kidnapping? Arson? Murder?”

My heart heaves in my chest when he mentions murder and it must reveal itself on my face because he releases a sharp breath.

“No wonder you survived the trial then.”

Again, despite the harrowing situation, he tries to find some humour in it. I can’t bring myself to crack a smile. The man is far too odd and untrustworthy to let my guard down.

“Was it just one person?” He tries again. This time, I shake my head. “Well, how many then?”

Thirteen on the bus and dozens of my abusers before that. I swallow down the lump in my throat.

His eyes twinkle. “How many deserved it?”

“Too many,” I finally answer. My hand jumps to the weapon in my pocket instinctively as though the thought alone is triggering my fight or flight. And since I escaped that prison, I will never use flight again.

Noticing my sudden change in mood, Prey Three jumps off the side defensively. He raises his hands. “Don’t kill me, Prey Ten. We need an alliance.”

“An alliance?” I spit.

“Sure. Look around you. This is a competition where we fight to the death. Alliances have already begun.” He nods towards the sofas and my heart twists in my ribcage. He’s right. There are two clear camps in the room. On the far left, there are Prey One, Two, Five and Eight. And on the right, Prey Four, Six and Seven.

I stare at the two camps, and Prey Three’s words come back to me about their crimes. There is a clear distance between those who have been killed and those who have not. Typical, even in Hell humans will judge those who sin differently to them.

I crinkle my nose. “I don’t need any allies.”

As if on cue, across the room, Prey Six’s eyes latch on me. She spots my open cupboard and wipes excitedly at her sweaty teenage face to push the strands of hair away from her eyes.

“She has access to her cupboard!”

Suddenly, the large skinhead with huge tattoos and ‘Prey One’ written across his chest, jumps over the sofa and hurries towards me. His eyes are furious, the fear and anxiety of the day now transforming into anger towards me.

“How did you do that?”

I stiffen as a bit of spit hits me on the cheek. It takes everything within me to keep my calm and not strike out at this man. The knife in my pocket burns and throbs, begging me to use it, and an awful thought runs around my brain. Who would stop me from killing each of these sinners now and getting my deal faster? There are no rules here, right?

“Relax, bro. She won her trial, so she’s moved on to the next trial.” Prey Three steps in front of me, putting distance between me and the triggered man who is begging to be stabbed. “When you pass, you’ll get one too. Or, I should say, if you pass.”

“What did you say, asshole?” Prey One seethes but Prey Three doesn’t relent.

His fire-scarred face only smiles brighter with the anticipation of a fight. “I said you ain’t gonna make it. You might be big and muscly, but answer me this, how many drugs did you take for your build-a-body?”

“You fucking cunt, I was voted most likely to be successful. You’re the one who isn’t going to make it.”

“We’ll see.” His eyes twinkle with the challenge. The cock-measuring-contest bores me. It’s all words, and soon, they will all die, if not by my knife, then by whatever those awful trials throw at them. I don’t join in the threats, but I do protect myself in case words grow more violent.

With them distracted, I fill up the skull-shaped cup with boiling water and manage to prop it up on the least bumpy part of the counter. I reach for the bowl before filling it up with scolding water and placing it next to the cup. Then, I twist around and face the two men who are so close they could kiss.

“She’s got food too!” the teenage girl hollers, pointing to my shelf. My teeth grind together defensively. I know what it is like to fight for food, so she has no fucking chance.

My head cocks to the side maliciously. Adrenaline from the fight still courses through my veins and something evil within me longs to kill her. “Come and get it then. See what happens.”

“Are you threatening her?” Prey Seven pushes her behind him before getting inches away from my face. I resist the smile when he steps within striking range. What is the worst that could happen if I just plunge this knife into his fucking neck?

“No,” my voice doesn’t waver even as he towers over me, “I am threatening you. Get the fuck out of my face.”

“Or what?” He sizes me up, thinking he’s safe with his much bigger height and size. My fingers hum in anticipation. Go on, asshole. One shove. One fucking finger on me. I dare you. I can claim self-defence if there is a rule against killing one another.

Prey Four comes into vision now, trying to corner me too. He doesn’t intimidate me either, and if anything, it makes the delight brim in my chest. I am buzzing with adrenaline from my trial, and I have been denied death, so it’s only fair I claim my reward now.

Right?

Fuck. Maybe Maximo left a lasting impression on my soul.

Prey Four reaches past me and into the cupboard but as soon as he touches the food, I drive my knee into his stomach.

“Why you little bitch—” he hollers before reaching back to swing at me. Just as he goes to make the connection, I swing around, throwing the boiling cups of water over Prey Seven and Four, to momentarily startle them with the scolding heat. Next to me, Prey Three starts pummelling prey One, to the tune of the screaming old lady and teenager behind us.

And just like that, alliances have been formed.

I move so quickly that my attackers can’t function and throw a hard kick into the back of their legs, so they buckle to their knees. I throw another foot into Prey Four’s stomach until he falls back on the floor, but Prey Seven will not get such mercy.

He will die today. He will pay for talking to me like that.

I snap his head back and press the knife under his throat. His girlfriend hollers in fear, shrieking for me to stop, but it only pushes me further. I readjust the weapon to press into his skin until I feel the first layer of skin break, followed by another couple of layers. I watch as the slow trickle of blood stains his neck. It brings a perverse smile to my lips. I resist the urge to lick them.

Maybe Maximo had a point. Watching someone bleed is fucking delicious.

All it would take is one swipe and that’s one contestant gone from the competition.

Just as I ready myself to make the kill, the room turns ten degrees colder, and the hairs on the back of my neck jump to attention. I don’t need to turn around to know that he is behind me. The evil beast that hasn’t stopped fucking my kills up.

And then, I feel his rough fingers curl around my neck. He applies a little bit of pressure to make me choke on my breath, but I don’t relent. I don’t do second chances with men who push me too far. I’d rather kill and then be killed than allow the disrespect. Nonetheless, my weapon doesn’t sink further into my victim’s skin no matter how much I will it to.

“Well, well, well,” he coos in that raspy voice. I feel his hot breath caresses my cheek, a stark contrast to his cold presence. “Must you try and kill everything around you, little mortal?”

“He started it.” I can’t see his face. Hell, I don’t even know the man, but I swear I can feel him smirk.

“Let him go.”

“No.”

“No?” He sounds amused. There is a short pause before he applies more pressure around my throat. I splutter as he restricts the oxygen from me. Tears brim in my eyes and my head feels hot, but Prey Seven has started crying in fear and wriggling around. It sets off that fucked up instinct within me that was tortured into my soul. No mercy, no forgiveness, just revenge.

“No—” The word doesn’t fully get past my lips before the beast behind me snatches at my arms and forcefully removes me from Prey Seven, who scurries away with a cry of pain.

His arms snake around my neck, and he holds me in a tight lock. For a moment, I feel as though I might actually die here. The oxygen comes short and not strong enough and I splutter for air but the beast behind me doesn’t give me the satisfaction. I claw at his arms before throwing my body back into him to try and wind him. It makes no difference.

Desperately, my eyes snap over to Prey Three who is on his knees, head snatched up in the air like he’s being strangled by an invisible forcefield. Tears stream down his face but he makes no noise of distress, his eyes do all the speaking— popped out from his head, blood-shot and frightened. And, more frighteningly, everybody in the room is in the exact same position. It’s as though all time has stopped and frozen them in agony.

“What the fuck?” The words finally slip through as he eases up a little, but not enough to be comfortable. I throw myself back against him again, all my fighting experience flying out the window, so I resort to desperate wiggles and cheap kicks. His spare hand reaches down and claws into my hip so tightly that I gasp in pain.

“Stop wriggling, little mortal.” His voice is gruff and pained, and full of desperation as though he is losing control. I ignore him and push my hips outwards before slamming my whole body back into him, trying to wind him. It doesn’t work at all.

“Fucking stop it.” His voice is incredibly powerful. It completely takes me by surprise and shockingly, my body responds to his commands and I’m stiff to the ground. “You listen to me, little bitch—’

His grip slips from my throat as he drops his hand down to his pants. I feel his large fingers graze my ass as he readjusts himself in his trousers. Instantly, I freak out. I try to escape his tight grip, but his spare hand grabs my hip and forces me to the ground. He holds me fast with nowhere to escape. Panic consumes me at this all too familiar position.

“I never thought I’d say this,” he growls, “But stop trying to kill everything. My family require contestants to compete in the trials for the audience. If you kill them, we will have to replace them, and it makes this whole shit show longer. If they die by your hands, I will pull you limb from limb until you’re screaming for mercy. Got it?”

“What about the creatures? Can I kill them?” I don’t know why I try to test boundaries, but it’s instilled into me. Never take no for an answer when men play by the same rules.

“No.”

“But—”

He cuts me off. “You won’t be able to.”

“I almost did,” I hiss angrily. He stiffens behind me, sinking his claws into my skin. I bite back a hiss, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of crying out.

“That was a one-time thing. I gave you a weak creature to start the trials off. It was pure luck that you managed to fall over and scrape him.”

Furiously, I throw my head back into his hard chest, trying to hurt him, and almost give myself a concussion. “You know full well it wasn’t an accident! I fought well and almost ripped his fucking guts out, and I would have killed him if it hadn’t been for y—’

My answer displeases him. A low, menacing growl falls from his lips as he spins me around so quickly it disorientates me, and I forget where I am going with my sentence.

Instinctively, my hands shoot out to grab his chest to steady myself and I instantly regret it as those stony muscles greet me. I pull away quickly as if I’ve been burnt. Stumbling backwards, I put some distance between us. He closes the gap effortlessly before snatching my arm. It’s as though he can’t resist being violent to me, and for some reason, my traitorous stomach twists deliciously at this thought.

“Do you know who I am?” he warns. Slowly, I shake my head when the words suddenly vanish from the top of my tongue. “Death,” he coos the word so mesmerizingly. It’s only after he says it that I feel the evilness, sin and destruction surrounding him. Thick, heavy and dark, like it weighs the whole room down with all the souls attached to him. It seems to sift into my lungs and choke me. “Now, you listen here, little mortal. I’m just trying to get through these fucking trials so I can return to my realm, but I can’t seem to do it quickly because you keep getting in the way and ruining everything.”

Something stupid within me has me wanting to poke the beast. I want to see how far I can anger Death. I’ve never been one to fear the idea of death. Why would I? Pain is a much greater master over humans. But now that I’m standing in front of him, I should be afraid, so why am I not? Has Maximo beaten all fear out of me? Has he turned me crazy?

“Got it, little girl? Stop getting in my way.”

I’m too far gone to let him threaten me like that. With dark, challenging eyes, I rise to my tiptoes. My eyes flicker to his plump lips and the tongue that darts out to wet them when he notices my stare. His pink tongue is forked at the end and flickers out like a snake, a hissing sound slipping out too. My eyes dart back to his bleeding eyes which slowly turn black. And then, I do something no other sane person would do, I threaten death.

“Then stop getting in mine.”