The Apollyon Game
Author: Clive Reznor
Date: 2017-09-22 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Paranormal
Description: Dare To Play The Demon's Game?From author Clive Reznor comes a twisted horror short story. Portia is a strange girl who has spent most of her life isolated and ridiculed for being different. On this night however, she gathers five friends to take part in The Apollyon Game, a macabre mix of truth or dare where if you get the answers wrong, or are not truthful, the consequences will tear your soul apart. The demons are watching. If you like Gory BooksTeen Supernatural HorrorGhosts and DemonsMythical Occult Fiction For fans of stories like The Hellbound Heart or Night Shift, this scary short read
Rights: Public Domain

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1. GET FREE EXCLUSIVES
2. THE APOLLYON GAME
3. THE IMMANENT WORLD IS COMING
4. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
5. LEGAL

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Six Twisted Tales of Terror from new horror author Clive Reznor! Available now for Kindle and Kindle Unlimited.

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The Apollyon Game

The floor was littered with the debris of human bodies, wasted and butchered. At the center of this ordinary space was a bowl fashioned plainly on its sides and interior, white color and smooth to the touch. Inside was a shallow pool of some unidentified liquid, thick in consistency and corrosive in odor.

A plain man in a yellow pastel suit casually walked through the aftermath, kicking pieces of flesh and trash from his path. He stopped at the bowl and peered down at it. His breaths became heavier with each passing moment until he finally knelt down and collected the bowl. With his index finger, he swirled the rim and collected a thin layer of material there, put his finger into his mouth and sucked on it passionately. His eyes closed as he savored the taste but this was not the time to indulge. The bowl went into a plastic grocery bag, and as he left the room, he noticed the decapitated head of a young boy—no more than sixteen—starting at him with a gaping mouth and widened eyes.

“Thank you, Joseph,” the man spoke silently. “Thank you for being you.”

At the corner of Holmes Street and Drake Lane sat a single apartment building, off from the rest of the complex, built of brick and aged by decades of weather and neglect on the outside. The inside was renovated, however, and the apartments themselves were spacious. On the top floor, in unit 3D, resided Mitchell Maclaroy. Tonight he wasn’t home. Away on business, he left the place to be watched by his younger sister Portia, a rebellious girl with an affinity for being a darkly dressed outsider.

It was a little before eight and the night had taken over the sky. Portia stood on the balcony and observed the night, breathing in the damp air that had been chilled by a rain shower some hours earlier. The moon was a faint sliver on this night, its glow barely cutting through the blackness of the sky. This was certainly not a typical evening—Portia had already reconciled that—it was a night where strange energies lingered in the air. She could taste them on her tongue and feel them crawling over her flesh. She inhaled deeply, held her breath for a moment and then exhaled slowly. This process was an ingesting and expelling of the night’s energies, or so she hoped. They would be needed for what lay ahead.

Over the next quarter hour came a number of guests. Five souls entered her brother's apartment and what a collection of diverse personalities she had gathered. Portia had invited them all over to play a game, a new game she had purchased over the internet through one of her social media groups. It required six to play, but Portia really considered herself having only two friends. Liz, an Asian-American goth girl whose wardrobe was just as black as Portia’s, and Kerry, a slender boy who had just recently burst out of the closet with an abundance of flamboyance that was ever evident in his decorative eye make-up and loud jewelry. The other three were people Portia had known but was not necessarily close to.

Latoya Russell was as ‘hood as you could get. She was tall, naturally muscular and had a mouth and personality that would overshadow anyone else in the room if she felt like making her thoughts on anything known. Portia had met her in rehab last year, and the two had kept in touch over the last few months. That was their bond, but beyond that, there was very little they had in common.

Callie Creedlove came from an entirely different world than either Portia or Latoya. She was fond of lacrosse, her Tuesday youth group after school, and unlike Latoya, rarely had anything negative to say about anyone. In grade school, Callie and Portia were the best of friends, but by their teens, their divergent interests and decidedly different family lives drove a wedge between them. Now they would consider each other friends in the loosest of definitions, so when Portia called Callie to come over for a small gathering of friends, Callie was equally surprised and excited. She had longed to renew her friendship with Portia but had never been able to find a way to do it. Tonight could provide that very opportunity.

Lastly was Meredith Mumpower, a neighbor of Portia’s brother Mitchell who lived in the very same apartment building. Portia had known her for a few weeks through her brother. Meredith cared for men, clothes and reality television. Not much else sparked her curiosity from what Portia could tell as the woman only seemed to engage in conversations about those three topics. She was friendly though so Portia saw her as a good candidate for the sixth player in the game, a spot that she had a hard time to fill, but Meredith seemed to fit perfectly.

“So, what’s up with this game?” asked Latoya, already becoming bored with the company at the party.

“Yeah,” Meredith chimed in, “what is this thing? I’ve never heard of it. What’s it called again?”

“Probitas Comburo,” Portia answered.

“Sounds like Latin or something. Where did you find this game?” Kerry asked, not wanting the conversation to go on without him.

“On the internet, where else? This guy I met at Otakon last year told me about it. It took him a while to track down someone who actually had the game pieces. Some guy in Germany was selling original copies online, so I bought one.”

“Must have been expensive,” Meredith remarked.

Portia smiled at her, “More than you can imagine.”

“And what is the purpose of this game? I mean, what kind of game is it?” Callie asked.

Portia now had the full attention of her guests. They had managed to form a semicircle around her, focused on her every word. It wasn’t often Portia was afforded such attention. She had often been ignored in public life.

“It’s kind of like a truth game, you know. Like Truth or Dare, but it’s got a bit of a Halloweenish tone to it.”

“This isn’t like devil worship or something?” Callie asked, her voice showing great caution. “You know I’m not comfortable with anything like that.”

Kerry groaned at her worrying. “God, really? I mean, I shouldn’t have said, God, because that might have offended you too. But I mean, come on! It’s a freakin’ game! You’re not going to Hell if you play a game that has some twisted pictures on the cards so stop worrying.”

He flipped his hand towards Callie in a dismissive manner. She didn’t see reason to protest any further. Portia was staring at them both, and for a moment Callie felt a rush of coldness from Portia’s gaze.

“No, this isn’t devil worshipping, Callie. But please don’t thump the Bible at us tonight. Most of us aren’t really up to hear that. It’s a party, try to have fun.”

Liz, who had been in the bedroom for most of the conversation, entered the room with a box full of items that ranged from bottles of alcohol to small closed plastic containers.

“You got everything, right Liz?” Portia asked her friend.

Liz labored to get the box into the living room and sighed with relief when she no longer had to carry it. “Yeah, everything’s here. I guess we can start this shit.”

“Sounds good. Okay, let’s play.”

“This better be fun, Portia. I ain’t staying here all night for some bullshit,” Latoya warned as she read through text messages on her cell phone.

“Trust me, Latoya. You won’t be bored,” Portia smiled.

The living room was the largest room in the apartment and came with the standard beige carpet, off-white walls and sliding glass door the led to the patio. A flat screen had been affixed to the wall along with a video game system that sat on the floor beneath it. Aside from that, the room had no other real furniture. Portia had moved the small loveseat into the dining room so everyone could sit in a circle and play the game.

She put the cards out first. They were elegantly designed with intricate spirals, circles, and triangles that surrounded a symbol in the center. The symbol was of a shut-eye that was either crying or bleeding between its lids. There were three stacks as Portia explained: the Spirit cards, the Time cards, and the Challenge cards. The white bowl was placed at the very center of everyone and Portia seemed to take great care in making sure it was precisely in the center of the circle. Finally, she set the oddest part of this game down: a single triangular die. It was quite larger than any dice the party had seen before, about the size of a two-liter bottle. The piece was made of two pyramids, stacked end-to-end, with intricate patterns etched on each of its polished bronze sides. At the center of each of the six sides was a number which looked as if painted on by a shaky but deliberate hand. The numbers went from one to seven, skipping the number three.

Latoya picked up the piece and turned it in her hands. “What the fuck is this? This shit’s heavy.”

“That’s the Pith Die,” Liz explained, showing a growing irritation with Latoya’s blunt personality.

“A what?” Latoya said, rolling the die back into the circle.

“Pith. Dice. P-p-pith,” Liz repeated slowly.

Latoya noted the attitude, “Don’t get smart, alright little chow mein. I will go off on you in her house, trust that.”

“All right, all right, we’re not here to fight,” Kerry said, breaking up the fight before it got started. “So, Portia how do we play this thing?”

Portia was about the business of lighting candles. She set a few in the kitchen nearby, some in the bathroom and another two dozen in the living room around the circle. She then turned off the lights and joined the others.

“Is that really necessary?” Callie complained. “I told you, I don’t …”

“Yeah, yeah, blah blah church girl. We know,” Kerry cut her off. “This is supposed to be a spooky game. You have to turn the lights off.”

Portia took one of the candles in her hand to bring some more light into the circle. She proceeded to explain the rules of the game to the party.

One player, the Soultender, would take the Pith Die and turn the top half clockwise according to the number on the bottom half, then turn the bottom half counterclockwise according to the number on the top. Once they were done, the Soultender would pick a partner, a Soulcatcher, for that round.

The Soulcatcher would have the choice of answering a question from the Soultender. If the Soulcatcher chose not to answer the Soultender’s question, the Soultender would use the top number of the Pith Die to draw a Challenge Card (face down), the bottom number on the Pith Die to draw a Spirit card (face down), and then draw the first Time card (face up).

At that point, the Soulcatcher turns the Challenge card face up and would have to complete the task on the Challenge card within the time allowed from the Time Card. They still have the option of answering the Soultender’s question at any time to end the round if they didn’t want to complete the Challenge.

If the Soulcatcher completes the task in the time allowed or answers the Soultender’s question, they win that round, keep the Spirit Card face down as part of their hand, and the game continues. If they do not, the Soultender shows the Spirit card drawn, and the fate of the Soulcatcher is determined. A Soulcatcher can choose to use a Spirit card in their hand, if they have any, to determine their fate in the game if they lose a round. A Spirit card can save a player from being removed from the game, require the round to start over again, or (most likely) remove the player from the game.

“Sounds complicated,” Callie commented as she cautiously scanned over the game pieces before her.

“Not so much,” Portia reassured.

There was an awkward silence as if no one wanted to be the instigator of the game’s beginning. Liz braved up to it and placed her hands on the Pith Die. She marveled over its design – the intricately detailed swirls and lines – and with a hint of wonder in the pupils of her eyes, turned the top clockwise twice, which revealed the number five. She then turned the bottom counterclockwise five times, which revealed the number seven. Looking around the circle, she knew who she wanted to ask a question of first.

“Latoya,” she grinned, “I choose you.”

Latoya had not really been paying attention to what was going on for the last few moments, preoccupied with text messaging. She awoke from her trance and stared deadly at Liz. She had no time for this girl and her interest in the game was waning with each passing moment. However, she would play just to see if this game was entertaining in the least.

“All right,” Latoya scoffed. “Ask what you want.”

Liz took satisfaction in finally starting the process. She gently placed the Pith Die down on the carpet and folded her hands together as if pondering some great question about the universe. What came out was less than transcendent.

“Do you hate white people?” she asked.

Latoya, who had been chewing gum rather obsessively, stopped her chewing immediately and threw an insulted look at the goth girl across from her. Liz turned the Time Card over, revealing three minutes.

“I don’t need three minutes to answer this. No, I don’t hate white people. I mean, y’all get on my nerves sometimes with the crazy shit y’all do. I mean, look at you.”

Liz sat up straight, offended at what she thought was about to be an assault on her person.

“What about me? I’m not even white!” she protested.

“I mean, you act white. All that mess you wear. Black eyeliner, black lipstick, black fingernail polish. What is that? You supposed to scare somebody with that?” Latoya asked.

“It’s being original, not that someone like you would know anything about that. You’re hip-hop ghetto trash 101,” Liz responded.

“Now, let’s not get nasty with this. She answered the question, she gets the Spirit Card,” Portia interrupted, not wanting the game to get contentious so early.

Liz drew to the seventh Spirit Card and slid it over to Latoya, face down. Latoya looked at the card, turned her face up in disgust at what she saw, and then sat it face down in front of her. It was now her turn. Latoya grabbed the Pith Die and instantly began turning the top and then the bottom in a reckless manner.

“I’m gonna ask your boy over there a question,” Latoya said, pointing at Kerry. “Have you ever slept with a girl?”

Without hesitating, Latoya turned over the time card, and it marked one minute. Kerry was clearly caught off guard by the question and stumbled over his words for a few seconds. He then opted defiantly to take the challenge instead. Latoya drew to the fifth card in the Challenge deck and turned it over.

“You must consume half a bowl of a clear spirit before the time expires, or offer your fate to the spirits,” read Callie as she was taking more of an interest in the game now.

“Spirits?” Latoya questioned.

“It means liquor,” Kerry snapped. “Someone get the damn vodka before the time runs out.”

Liz had a bottle right next to her in the box she brought from the other room. She poured the white bowl half full of Grey Goose, and they all sat back and waited for Kerry to drink. He looked into the bowl and then the clock, seeing only thirty seconds left for him.

“That’s a lot of vodka for a damn shot,” Kerry exclaimed, now realizing that a half bowl of vodka wasn’t the easiest thing to go down. “Can I just …”

“Answer the question or drink the vodka,” Portia cut him off. “Or, leave your fate to the spirits.”

There was something eerie in the way Portia spoke, but Kerry was willing to play along with this game. He grabbed the bowl and sloppily gulped down the drink. Half-way through, he coughed and stopped drinking. The room laughed and started to chide him.

“Come on, Kerry! All mouth and no game!” Liz smirked.

“You’ve got ten seconds to finish that,” reminded Portia, the second hand on the clock in the living room ticking away without concern.

With a gasp, and a few more sarcastic remarks from the rest of the party, Kerry choked down the rest of the vodka with two seconds to spare. He dropped the bowl and shook his head in an attempt to dilute the sting of drinking so much vodka in such a short period of time. He coughed, his eyes watered, he snorted, but after a few moments finally composed himself.

“Are you okay?” Callie asked, patting him on the back.

Kerry pushed her hand away and coughed again before answering, “I’m fine. Give me the card girl!”

He smiled happily at Latoya, having bested her in this round. Latoya drew his Spirit card. She nodded to him, impressed that he could actually drink that much and not vomit on the spot. It appeared that some of the intensity of this diverse group was, for the moment, lessened. Perhaps that was the point of the game, to begin with, Latoya thought.

“My turn,” Kerry exclaimed as he coughed one more time before picking up the Pith Die.

He turned the top and bottom and revealed a five for the top and a two for the bottom. The Time Card had two minutes on its face. Kerry didn’t know exactly who he wanted to ask questions of but decided, since it was her game, to go for Portia. She nodded and waited for Kerry — who seemed all too enamored with the attention of everyone in the circle — to ask his question. He looked up, then down, then stretched his arms out, all before finally getting to his query.

“What are you afraid of?” he finally asked.

Portia took a moment to look around at the circle. It was a question most in the circle wanted to her to answer as most of them didn’t think Portia was afraid of anything. She carried herself as an outcast, a tough girl, and that perception went unchallenged until now. What could someone who showed such disdain for most of life’s trappings have to be afraid of?

“Losing this game,” she said flatly.

There was a groan from someone in the circle. Portia didn’t catch who it was but had her suspicions. No one apparently believed her answer and Portia knew this, but she also knew she had, in fact, told the truth.

Without waiting for complaints, she motioned to Kerry to draw her Spirit Card. He did so with an upturned lip and handed it to her. Portia looked at the card and smiled to herself as if she had just gotten away with robbery. She then picked up the Pith Die and continued the game, drawing a one for the top number and a seven for the bottom. The Time Card had ten seconds on it, and she quickly looked to Callie as her Soulcather.

“Are you really a virgin?” Portia asked bluntly.

“Ooh, that’s a good one!” Kerry chirped. “Now we’re getting into the good stuff. Ms. Virgin Callie, a real virgin or not?”

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question,” Callie debated.

“You’ve got five more seconds,” Portia said coldly

“This isn’t fun,” Callie said, “I don’t think I want to play this game anymore.”

“Answer the question, or you lose,” said Portia.

“No,” Callie spat.

She pushed a Spirit Card to Callie who didn’t seem too into looking at the card. Instead, she stood up and left the room. Portia watched her angrily as Callie headed to the bathroom, the card still sitting in her spot.

“Let’s just keep playing. Let the little bitch cry,” Liz said.

Portia hesitated and looked around the room as if she was expecting something to happen. After a moment, she twisted the Pith Die again and drew the Time Card. Five minutes. This time, Portia took a moment to pick her Soulcather. Meredith was her choice, and Portia knew exactly what she wanted to ask.

“You’ve been so quiet tonight,” Portia muttered under her breath, almost in a whisper.

“Just watching,” Meredith replied. “Wish your brother was here. This would be a bit more fun if he were.”

“Really?” Portia spat at Meredith. “Funny you should mention him. I know you’re not really all that quiet. In fact, you make a lot of noise when you’re fucking don’t you?”

Kerry and Liz looked at each other stunned while Latoya stopped her texting completely. Meredith bit her lip, wanting so badly to rip into Portia but thought better of it.

“If you’ve been listening to me and your brother having sex, that’s kind of creepy, you know. Maybe if you had a man you’d find better things to do.”

“It’s not my brother I heard you having sex with.”

“Aw, shit!” Latoya shouted. “Gettin’ real now.”

Meredith started to fidget where she sat. The truth behind the claim was evident in her demeanor, so there was no use denying it. Portia continued to stare at Meredith, her anger and bitterness at this woman’s betrayal of her brother so palpable now that Meredith swore she saw fire in Portia’s eyes.

“So my question is, who was it?” Portia asked.

The clock on the wall shook on its own. Liz was the only one who noticed it but thought it to be a coincidence. Not wanting to go any further with this, Meredith elected to take the Challenge instead of letting her personal business be spilled out for a room full of strangers. The Challenge Card asked for a dead bug to be placed in the bowl and consumed.

“What kind of shit is that?” Latoya said. “This is getting stupid, Portia. I mean, she ain’t eating no damn bug. Where are you going to find one anyway?”

“I’ve got one,” said Liz as she went to her box of items and pulled out a jar.

Inside the jar was a dead roach. She quickly dumped its lifeless body into the white bowl and pushed the container over the Meredith.

“You’ve got four minutes left,” Portia exclaimed.

“Fuck this! I’m out of here. Go fuck yourself, bitch!”

“You would know about fucking, wouldn’t you? But don’t worry, my brother doesn’t know. I didn’t tell him. I hoped you would.”

Meredith stood up and headed to the door. She stopped, not wanting to let this go just yet. She turned back to Portia, seething now with anger, and pointed her finger at her lover’s sister.

“You don’t know shit about me, okay. It’s none of your business what happens between your brother and me.”

“You can’t leave,” Portia said, ignoring Meredith’s words. “You have to finish the game.”

“I’m not finishing this crap! You know what you can do with your little game.”

“Time’s up,” Liz said, looking at the clock.

“Turn the card over,” Portia demanded.

Meredith scoffed and continued to the door. Portia drew the Spirit Card. She turned it over and walked over to Meredith who was at the front door now and showed it to her. Out of pure interest, Meredith looked at the card. It had a demonic female figure illustrated on it’s face, clad in red clothes with grey skin and fire pouring from between her legs. The top of the card had the title Mellachious and below the drawing was an inscription which Meredith read aloud.

“The Spirit you’ve called is Mellachious, the demon of lust and pain. You have lost this round, Soulcatcher, and are now owned by Mellachious. Your judgment has been told.” Meredith laughed at the card and threw it to the floor. “I guess I can leave now. I’m out, right?”

Portia didn’t say anything. She seemed to be waiting for something. Meredith just stared back, and when Portia didn’t have more words for her, she turned towards the door to leave.

Without warning Meredith was flung backward to the wall, pinned against it by some unseen force. She let out a shriek and then coughed as blood spilled from her mouth. Kerry, Liz, and Latoya ran into the foyer to see what was going on. Callie emerged from the bathroom, streaks of dried tears on her face, and immediately went to help Meredith.

“What the fuck? What the fuck?” screamed Latoya.

Callie turned to Portia who seemed to be enjoying whatever was going on. Meredith’s limbs began to twist, her knees bending inwards with a sickening series of cracks and pops. Callie and Kerry were now both trying to pull Meredith from the wall, but their efforts stopped when another set of hands reached from within the wall and took hold of Meredith’s midsection. They were sickly hands, reddish brown with green sores covering the flesh. Callie and Kerry backed away and could only watch as Meredith gargled up bubbles of blood. More hands forced their way from the plaster and paint, stretching to reach their prey. With a sudden thrust they pulled parts of Meredith’s body into the wall while leaving others to burst throughout the room in a shower of tissue and blood. Kerry and Latoya screamed while Liz turned to Portia in amazement. Portia wiped the blood from her mouth slowly, savoring the moment with a look of satisfaction.

“That was for my brother,” Portia exclaimed.

“What the fuck was that?” Latoya screamed. “This is some sick shit.”

“That’s the game, I told you the rules,” Portia said.

“You did this!” Latoya yelled again, now face to face with Portia. “I don’t know what kind of sick devil worshipping shit this is, but I’m out of here. You’re a sick little bitch, Portia.”

Stone-faced, Portia dismissed Latoya’s rants and walked back to the living room. Kerry stood stunned for a moment, but soon followed Latoya’s lead and headed towards the front door. Portia gave them the same warning she gave Meredith, but they weren’t having any of it. They opened the front door of the apartment and headed into the hallway. Callie took one more look at Portia who was about the business of turning the Pith Die again. She wondered if the game would continue even if they weren’t in the circle. If so, Portia could choose whoever she wanted to, and if that person didn’t complete the task or answer her question, they’d suffer the same fate as Meredith. It did make Callie wonder why she hadn’t been attacked when her Spirit Card was drawn, but there was no time to ask.

Another problem quickly put those worries to rest. As Callie followed Kerry and Latoya, she noticed they hadn’t gotten very far in their retreat. She looked over Kerry’s shoulder to see what had stopped them.

“I don’t believe this,” Kerry whispered to Callie. “I think we have to stay.”

Standing between them and the staircase the led downstairs was a grotesquely obese man holding a meat cleaver. His head was bald and full of spots that also covered his shoulders and arms. He wore a white cotton undershirt that was two sizes too small. The shirt itself was covered in a variety of stains that one could only speculate the origins of. He stroked the cleaver against his stomach which billowed out from the bottom of his undershirt. He seemed to enjoy scratching the sharpened end against a rash of bleeding bumps around his bellybutton. The fat man made no attempt to speak, but grunted and wheezed at the trio. It was clear that he had no intention of moving from that spot and none of them wanted to get within arm’s reach of him and that cleaver.

“Get back inside! Get back inside!” Latoya ordered the rest of them as she pushed backward into the apartment.

She closed the door and locked it behind her. Callie began looking for another way out of the apartment while Kerry chose to confront Portia.

“Okay, I’m on your side, you know. We’re friends,” he said to Portia, almost pleading with her. “I mean, I know you’re into some weird shit, obviously, and it was fun and cute and all but … really? This is some twisted shit, a bit much for me, and I … I … I think I just want to go home. Okay?”

“Sit the fuck down,” Portia demanded.

Kerry’s pleading stopped. Portia and Liz both stared him down as if daring him to continue his whining. Callie came back into the living room after looking in all the other rooms for an exit.

“There’s no fire escape or anything. We’re too high to jump off the balcony. We’d break our necks. So, that’s why you wanted us to play here,” Callie said directly to Portia.

“Smart, isn’t she?” Portia laughed. “You should sit down too. We’ve still got a way’s to go.”

“I’m not playing anymore, remember,” Callie countered.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Kerry whimpered, already back at his seated position in the circle.

“Latoya!” Portia yelled. “Come sit down.”

Latoya was at the front door, feverishly trying to send out text messages and becoming increasingly frustrated that they weren’t going through.

“That’s not going to work,” Portia told her. “You can keep trying, but the phone is not sending out anything until we’re done.”

“How the fuck do you know that?” Latoya yelled. “Someone’s going to get this message. And when I tell my brothers what you did, they’re going to ….”

“They’re not going to do anything because they won’t know anything because you won’t tell them anything,” Portia said in a controlled and even tone. “Now, put the phone away and sit down. We have to keep playing, and I’m picking you as my next Soulcatcher.”

“The hell you are!” Latoya said and rushed at Portia.

The two girls wrestled to the floor. Latoya swung violently at Portia who covered up. Liz was trying to pull Latoya off but did not have the strength to control her. Kerry noticed the Time Card had already been turned over. It revealed a minute and a half for this next question, but Portia had yet to ask it. She was desperately trying to between punches and kicks from Latoya.

Liz finally managed to wrestle Latoya backward, wrapping her arms around her neck and her legs around her waist to get some separation between the two fighting girls. Portia stood up and put her hand to her bludgeoned face. She spat at Latoya and pushed her black hair out of her eyes before finally asking her next question.

“Latoya! Do you think you’re a genuine, real person?”

Once her anger subsided, Latoya stopped fighting against Liz and asked to be let up. Liz complied, untangling their bodies. Callie and Kerry watched with anticipation, expecting Latoya to strike Portia at any second. Instead, she picked up her cell phone and tried to make another call. The battery had died. Seeing this, Latoya laughed at the phone and then threw it at Portia as hard as she could.

“Fuck you,” is all Latoya could muster.

“Uh, you better answer her or do the challenge or something,” Kerry warned. “Who knows what the hell is going to happen if you don’t.”

A large slam came from the master bedroom. Latoya turned to look into the bedroom but didn’t dare get any closer. She looked up at the clock, seeing only thirty seconds left for her time. Panic began to set in. There wasn’t anything she could actually do here but answer the question or take the challenge.

“Before you say anything,” Portia started, “you should know that if you lie, it’s the same as failing the challenge or not answering. They’ll know if you lie.”

“They’ll know?” Callie asked. “Who will know?”

She didn’t get an answer as Portia had her entire focus on Latoya. Latoya’s focus was on the splattered body parts in the foyer. That would be her if she didn’t answer honestly. It was a simple question though.

“I am,” she said.

“You lied.” Portia responded.

“How are you going to tell me whether or not I’m for real? Do you believe this bitch?”

Portia snickered to herself and sat back down in the circle, lighting candles that had been blown out during all the commotion from earlier.

“When we were little kids Latoya, you were just as much of an outsider as I was. Your brothers called you weird; your mother called you weird, everyone called you weird. You used to like the same shit I did. We used to read the same occult books, go into the woods and pretend we were summoning spirits.”

“That was a long time ago,” Latoya said in a much calmer tone.

“Yeah, but all of a sudden you tried to act like you were hood when you’ve never step foot inside a ghetto. You started wearing this shit you’ve got on, talking like you’re on BET and hanging out with a bunch of assholes. Assholes who, by the way, beat the shit out of me in eighth grade.”

“So that’s what this is all about? You mad because my girls beat you down. I told them not to. I told them …”

“You didn’t stand up for me. You didn’t do anything. You’re phony Latoya. You know that, and so do I.”

“So what?”

“So, you lied, and that means you lost.”

The time had expired. Latoya couldn’t look at Portia any longer. It was clear that Portia wanted Latoya to come to some admission of guilt for abandoning their friendship in order to be more socially accepted. Latoya didn’t care. There was no great revelation. There was no agreement. Instead, there was just resentment that she had been tricked into this trap and couldn’t get out of it. Whether or not she felt she was a fraud in personality, Portia’s deception nullified any remorse or repentance Latoya could possibly feel. Now, she just waited for the final card to turn over.

“Look at it,” Portia said, holding the Spirit Card in her outstretched hand.

Latoya had turned her back completely on Portia and didn’t care to read what was on the Spirit Card. She remembered the rules of the game though, and it was possible that the Spirit Card was not murderous, but perhaps forgiving. The one she had collected earlier was certainly not. It held a mischievous demon whose name she couldn’t recall at the moment. That creature would certainly lead to a horrific death.

Taking her chances, Latoya turned back to Portia and took the card. She sighed for a moment and then looked at its face. Her fortunes were none better with this one. It was a spirit whose name she also couldn’t pronounce, but the illustration told the whole story. The image was a three-mouthed creature with a singular eye, devouring victims at will. She sat down and closed her eyes, waiting for the end.

“Come on with it then!” she shouted.

Nothing happened. Perhaps the spirits were no longer interested. Perhaps a rule had been overlooked. Perhaps Latoya had answered correctly after all.

Portia was not pleased, but Latoya couldn’t have been happier.

“Seems they know better,” she exclaimed, standing now. “Your bullshit is broke, Portia. And I don’t give a shit if that fat bastard is sitting outside. I’m getting out of here. You can finish your game on your own.”

Feeling vindicated, Latoya picked up her phone. The battery apparently had regained its charge. She smirked to herself and then dialed her brother’s phone number. A ring! She put the phone to her ear, eagerly waiting for her brother to answer.

A sharp pain quickly shot through her skull. She dropped the phone and put her hand to her ear. It fell off into her hand. She held it in her palm, bleeding heavily from the side of her head. Another crash came from the bedroom, same as before, and this time Latoya could see what had made the sound. The three-mouthed demon, very real and larger than she estimated from the card’s illustration, sat in the doorway to the master bedroom. She collapsed to the ground, the pain now shooting from both sides of her head as her other ear fell to the carpet.

Callie and Kerry screamed, seeing the blood fill the carpet and Latoya grasping at her face. Her nose slid down past her lips, leaving a trail of blood and mucus. Latoya quivered as her body continued to fall to pieces, and just before she passed out from the pain, the demon snatched what remained of her body, dragged it into the bedroom, and slammed the door shut. The sounds of eating — ravenous chewing and slurping — came from the room, so loud that even covering your ears wouldn’t drown out the sickeningly wet sounds. Then, all was silent again, and Portia went back to the Pith Die.

“Enough!” Kerry yelled. “This is insane Portia. Stop this now. Why are you doing this?”

“Oh dear, he wants a motive,” Portia grinned to Liz.

Liz was about the business of washing out the white bowl in the sink. She tossed the roach down the drain and wiped the bowl dry before returning to the living room.

“You all are jerks, that’s the motive,” Liz explained.

Portia looked at the bowl as Liz sat it back in the middle of the circle. She became preoccupied with it as she continued to talk to what remained of the party.

“You see, there’s no justice in this world. People like Latoya, who was as fake as you can get, just go on hurting people and no one does anything. Meredith can betray my brother, and I’m just supposed to live with it. Not anymore.”

“What did I do to you, Portia? Huh?” Kerry asked. He wasn’t scared anymore, as it was likely he would be meeting his end soon if this continued.

“You? You’re just as fake as the rest of them. But we’ll get to that later, won’t we? Oh, I do have questions for you, my friend.”

Liz decided to add to the story. “And Callie,” she started, “everything about you is fake. The bible thumping, the Ms. Average Good Girl routine. We know you have secrets. Portia’s told me. You two used to be friends, and you turned your back on her just like Latoya. All of you screwed her over because you thought you could. Because she’s not like you. Because she’s different.”

“Yes, all of you did,” Portia said coldly, turning the ends of the Pith Die.

The emphasis on all did not escape Liz. Portia had just as cold a stare for her as she did for the rest of the party. Bewildered at why her friend had turned on her, Liz started to protest being the next Soulcatcher, but Portia would hear none of it. Kerry and Callie had no remorse for her and simply sat and watched.

“I know you are the one who told my mother I was using. That’s why I was sent to that shithole. Don’t bother denying it. I know it was you. So my question is, friend: why did you do it? Was it out of concern for me?”

Looking at the Time Card and seeing she had only forty-five seconds to answer, Liz didn’t hesitate.

“Yes, I was concerned for you, Portia. That’s why I did it. You know I’m your friend. We’re just alike.”

“We’re nothing alike, Liz. What, because we wear the same clothes you think you’re like me? You’re some goth girl. I never claimed to be that.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s my turn though. So hand me …”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Portia stopped her. “How do I know that’s the truth? Let’s wait to see the time run out.”

“Of course it’s the truth. What, do you think I’m lying to you?”

“No, not to me,” Portia answered. “I think you’re lying to yourself. You didn’t give a rat’s ass about me being healthy. You did it because of Justin.”

“Really? You think I ratted you out because of Justin?”

“Well, time will tell now won’t it?”

The second hand on the clock continued to tick. Five seconds were left, and Liz began to sweat. She wondered if in her mind she had convinced herself that she ratted Portia out because of concern, but in her heart, it was from jealousy. Justin had been the object of both of their affection for a long time but it ultimately was Portia who won his attention and his manhood. Although, Portia would be the first to admit the boy wasn’t much of a prize. Liz spent years pretending she was okay with it, wearing a fake smile when she was around the couple but secretly seething inside.

As the second hand reached its final tick, she realized what the truth actually was.

“Oh no,” Liz whispered.

Portia turned the Spirit Card over. It was the Jackyl, perhaps the most devious of all the Spirits in the deck.

Liz looked around the room, terrified that something would happen. She stood up and stumbled over one of the lit candles, knocking it to the carpet. She stomped out the flame and then sought somewhere safe to stand. She didn’t want to be near the bedroom, or the front door, or the kitchen with all the ways she could be murdered in there. Instead, the only place she thought would be safe was next to Portia.

“Please, please Portia,” Liz cried, grabbing at the Soultender’s shoulders. “Make it stop. Don’t let it happen. You can stop it! It says so in the game book. You can end this if you want to.”

Callie and Kerry took note of this. Callie immediately went to Liz’s box to look for the book. Portia and Liz continued arguing, which was becoming so intense the two girls had lost all concern for the game and knocked over the bowl and the stack of Challenge Cards. Kerry looked at the scattered deck, paused for a moment, and then began the task of putting them back into a stack.

Amidst all the confusion, a nasal snicker could be heard from somewhere in the room, growing louder and more insane with each iteration. The group soon noticed the sound and Liz immediately began crying. She grabbed Portia by the arms so if anything harmed her, it would harm Portia as well.

The strategy didn’t work. Liz felt cold, rough hands at her shoulders and claws digging into the top of her chest. The snickering was now in her ear, and she knew what it was that had her. Portia freed herself from Liz’s grasp and stepped back, watching the Jackyl as it caressed its prey.

“Please … no,” Liz muttered in a desperate cry.

The sobs only seemed to excite the Jackyl more as it sniveled and snickered uncontrollably. It began humming as it danced its sharpened nails up and down the nape of Liz’s neck. Its face was bright red with tattooed black lines and circles around its mouth, eyes, and nose. The monster wore a needle-toothed smile in a mouth twice the size of normal proportions to the rest of its head. The demon’s reptilian eyes blinked twice and the humming stopped. It remained stiff as a board, still clasping its hands around Liz’s upper body. She whimpered, waiting for the creature to make a move. It didn’t. The Jackyl simply froze for a while, Liz still shaking in its demented embrace.

Maybe she could get away. Perhaps the thing was petrified, or something had gone wrong. This was her chance if there was going to be one, and she took it.

Before she could take that first step, the Jackyl let loose an earsplitting howl and began ripping at Liz’s flesh, tearing her into ribbons with each ravenous gash. It cooed and giggled as Liz collapsed on the floor in a heap of her own tissue.

As her sobs ended, the Jackyl looked over her with a fake frown, stroking her body with the knuckles of its hand. It placed its finger in its mouth, tasting the juices it had collected. The demon looked to Callie, licked its hand clean of blood, and then began snickering again before disappearing into the shadows of the living room.

Portia returned to her seat in the circle and picked up the Pith Die. Her next target was clear as she eyed Kerry with each turn of the dice. In contrast, Kerry did everything he could to look away from Portia, not wanting to make eye contact with her. His body was shaking even though he tried desperately to control it.

“Fifty seconds,” Portia remarked as she looked at the Time Card.

“Just get this over with,” Kerry replied bitterly.

Portia smiled at his defiance. Callie watched Kerry intently as he waited for Portia’s question, and she couldn’t help but notice beneath the shaking in Kerry’s body a sense of impatience as if he couldn’t wait for her to ask her question.

“Are you really gay?” Portia asked her Soulcatcher.

Kerry went to the Challenge Card and turned it over. His task was rather mundane: to fill the bowl with water and drink it. He did so eagerly, and in about fifteen seconds was done with his challenge.

Something was wrong, and Portia knew it. The look on her face was a mixture of surprise and disdain. Regardless, Kerry had won the round and thus earned the right to roll the Pith Die himself.

“Now, it’s my turn bitch!” he said with a glimmer of revenge in his voice.

“I’m not afraid,” Portia said, “it’s my game, and I know the rules.”

“Whatever, I’m ending this bullshit right now.”

The door to the apartment shook with a large bang. All three players stood up immediately, their attention to the door and the heavy thuds that were being levied against it. Someone was knocking and would not be satisfied until the door was opened or knocked down.

“You answer it. You’re the host,” Kerry said to Portia.

She scoffed at him and confidently walked to the door and without hesitating opened it. There stood the fat man from the hallway, breathing heavily and still brandishing his bloodied cleaver.

“Cheater!” he bellowed.

The words were enough for Portia to know what happened. She looked back at Kerry and pointed to him. Callie quickly figured out what he had done.

“You cheated?” she asked the guilty party.

“Not necessarily. I reshuffled the deck when it got knocked over.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes … well, no. I may have looked for an easy Challenge Card and put it at the top.”

“That would be cheating, Kerry.”

“I know.”

“Cheater! Cheater! Cheater!” the fat man continued.

He didn’t wait for any invitation from Portia. The butcher pushed his girth past her on a straight course for Kerry. Not wanting to see what the punishment for cheating this kind of game was, Kerry ran into the kitchen to put something between him and the fat butcher. It wouldn’t do him much good as the butcher smashed into the waist-high countertop that separated the living room from the kitchen, swiping at Kerry with his cleaver. The third swipe came close enough to Kerry’s mouth that he could taste the metal of the blade on his lips.

With a terrified screech, Kerry jumped over the counter and ran towards the door. The butcher wasn’t far behind and quickened his floor-shaking pursuit, repeating the word cheater as he went. Portia was knocked over by Kerry as he sprinted past her and out the front door, down the stairwell, screaming for help as he went. She smartly moved out of the way of the butcher who was still swinging his cleaver wildly.

Two were now left. Portia and Callie watched each other to see which one would move first. Portia was concerned that Callie would try to escape as Kerry had, but the young blonde did not move from the living room. She simply waited for something to happen. Her mind told her to make for an escape but who knows what other barriers — demonic or otherwise — the game would throw at her to keep her from leaving.

“We don’t have to finish this, Portia. You’ve made your point.”

Portia took offense to Callie’s words. “My point? You don’t know what my point is! This is not about making a point; this is about justice.”

“How is this justice? You’ve murdered your friends.”

“Give me a break, Callie. Friends? You think those people are my friends? You think you are my friend? You’re dumber than I thought you were.”

There was a muffled grunt coming from the opened front door of the apartment. Callie could see a large shadow moving up the stairwell outside the apartment. As it moved towards the door, she gasped as the butcher returned with what remained of Kerry.

The body was barely held together by bones and threads of flesh, but the meat had been hacked all over. Kerry’s arms, legs, torso, and neck all bore deep slices that spilled red. Surprisingly, Kerry was still alive. His head was barely hanging on to the rest of his body, his eyes moved back and forth beneath ever-closing eyelids. He was trying to speak, but the butcher’s hand covered his mouth.

The fat man threw Kerry’s body to the ground in the foyer and pointed at it. His shirt was afresh with new stains from Kerry’s fluids as he wiped sweat from his brow.

“Cheater,” the butcher exclaimed one last time.

Kerry turned his eyes up to Callie. His head was twisted at an angle that was only possible because his neck was sliced halfway through. There was such sadness there. She wondered what prayers or deals he was making in his mind to the spirit world. Something was going on in his head, some moment of reckoning that in these last few seconds, she hoped he resolved.

A second later, the butcher raised his cleaver above his head and brought the sharp edge down with such force it split Kerry’s skull in two. The contents of his head spilled onto the carpet, brains and fluids exposed like the insides of a cantaloupe sliced in half.

Callie couldn’t look, but Portia did with a breath of satisfaction. The butcher quietly left through the front door and in an unsettling gesture of civility, closed the door gently behind him.

Two were left.

Callie was so frightened at what would come next her stomach was turning over itself. Her palms were glistening with perspiration. She had to do something before she was the next, and final, victim of Portia’s twisted game.

“Why him?” she asked quietly.

“As I said, he was a phony. Kerry and I slept together, regularly, but he kept acting like he was a queer. I have no idea why. Maybe because it’s en vogue now, who knows. All I know is that he treated me like some dirty secret. It was disrespectful, and he deserved to pay for it. You all do.”

“What did I do to you, Portia? Huh? What am I so guilty of that you’re going to throw me into this meat-grinder you’ve thought up?”

Portia laughed to herself, “I didn’t think this up. This game has been around for centuries. It’s made for the victimized to get justice.”

Callie watched as Portia reached for the Pith Dice. There wasn’t much time left. She had to keep Portia talking while she simultaneously thought of a way out of this.

“It sounds more like a petty way to scream at the world,” Callie uttered under her breath.

Portia heard the comment and it enraged her enough to want to defend herself. She put the Pith Die down for the moment. Callie needed to be set straight before the game ended.

“Listen to me,” Portia yelled as she came face to face with Callie, “this isn’t about me wanting to scream at the world. This isn’t about revenge, even. It’s about doing something right. There are too many of you phony people in the world — the uncreative, the unimaginative, and worst of all people like you:  the self-righteous.”

“I’m self-righteous?” Callie sarcastically replied although Portia missed the implication.

“Of course you are! All you religious people are. That’s why you’re the worst, and the last, in this game. You abandoned me when you ‘found Jesus’ and couldn’t spend time with your friend of fifteen years because I was a bad influence. Isn’t that right?”

“Portia, I—”

“No! Isn’t that right?”

“Maybe,” Callie confessed, throwing her hands up in admission. “Yeah, perhaps you cutting yourself, getting high every single day, having sex with anyone who would pay attention to you … yes, maybe that didn’t mesh well with my beliefs.”

“Aren’t you supposed to try and save me?”

“I knew better than to do that.”

Portia scoffed. She turned back to the circle and went for the Pith Die again. Callie still needed more time.

“Would you have listened? Or would you have just dismissed me?” she asked.

Portia picked up the dice and turned back to answer Callie.

“Probably not. I don’t have much use for religion.”

“So either way, I would be doing wrong in your eyes. No matter what, you would have dismissed whatever I had to offer you because you have already predetermined my beliefs as being crap.”

“Not your beliefs, just the organization that goes along with it. All those judgmental, tight-passed, middle America jackasses.”

“And what you just said isn’t judgmental? What you’ve done tonight isn’t passing judgment on people?”

“People like me aren’t the oppressors! Don’t you get that Ms. Perfect? People like me aren’t abusing little children. People like me aren’t damning anyone who doesn’t fit in our little box to Hell.”

“So, you think anarchy, violence, and spitefulness is far better than even considering anything someone like me has to say?”

Callie’s words were penetrating somewhat, but Portia had come too far. The voice in Portia’s mind reminded her of how just her cause was. Callie was one of them, the type that she despised with everything in her being. The family life, the house, and the so-called values they had. It was everything she found offensive and oppressive. This, right here, tonight, was her liberation from that. It was her chance to spit in the face of that very concept, and she wasn’t going to let any doubt prevent that from happening.

“Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven, right?” she smirked.

She spun the dice and proceeded to pick the Time Card. It was a long session, two minutes. Seeing that her time was up, Callie calmly returned to the circle and sat down. After seeing this game play out, she knew Portia was going to ask her something she either wouldn’t answer or would be tricked into answering wrong. She had to answer correctly, no matter what. The Challenges and the Spirits were things she undoubtedly wanted to avoid at any cost.

With a deep breath, Portia asked her question.

“If you’re a believer, do you think all that crap they say to you on Sundays is right? Do you think your God is going to save you tonight?”

The clock was ticking. Even though an answer sprung to her mind immediately, she didn’t want to say it. This was a time to think, a time to learn from what the others had done wrong, which led them to have their body parts strewn about the room she sat in now.

Oh, that smell! The detritus from all of Portia’s victims were beginning to sicken Callie. It was becoming a distraction. The more she thought, the more intense the odor got. It was to the point that she believed it was penetrating her skin, sticking to her insides and crawling underneath her flesh.

No! Concentrate!

“What’s taking so long?” Portia shouted. “Come on! Answer the question, Callie! You know the truth.”

Callie just sat in the circle, her head down and her hands clasped in prayer. Of all things for her to do, this was the funniest to Portia. She stood up and hovered over Callie like a hawk over its prey.

“That’s right, pray bitch! There’s nothing there! There’s no one to pray to! There’s no one who is going to save your life, your ass, your soul tonight! God is a damned joke, and if He ever existed, He’s long since died. Even if He did exist, as your pathetic people think, do you honestly think He could give a rat’s ass that you play lacrosse and have perfect attendance at church and live in a beautiful house?”

Undaunted, Callie continued to sit. Ironically, she wasn’t praying; she was deep in thought. The smells of the room, the vision of what she had seen tonight and Portia’s ongoing tirade all were working against her mind. She wanted to answer cleanly. If she thought God was going to save her — and honestly believed that in her soul — she wanted to say so. If there was doubt, she wanted to express that. In a sense, her conscious mind would have to give way to her immanent consciousness for salvation.

“Callie!” Portia screamed.

Callie did not answer.

“You’ve got ten seconds! You had better answer!”

There was still time for thought. Not yet.

“Five seconds.”

What was the answer?

“Four!”

Ah, yes, of course!

“Thr—”

“I do,” Callie said flatly. “I do believe God will save me.”

She covered her face as a tear trickled down her cheek. She had been honest, perhaps more accurate than she had ever been in her entire life. Such honestly had exhausted her emotionally, and she continued to weep. Portia watched her for a moment, curious about what she was seeing. Anticipating the Spirits to claim their prize Portia waited for a sound, a movement, a shifting shadow. None came.

Callie had answered truthfully.

Before Portia could even protest, Callie had taken hold of the Spirit Card she had not used earlier in the night. She didn’t care what was on the card and left it face down in front of her.

The game piece had other plans. It spirited from Callie’s hand and rested at the dead-center of the circle next to the white bowl as if the bowl had ripped it from her hands. She took a moment to observe it and then reached out to grab it again. Perhaps she was wrong. Maybe the Spirits were coming to take her. A time of fear crept into Callie’s heart. She had answered honestly, and she knew it. Was this game rigged that much?

During all this, the Spirit Card Callie had received earlier in the game was turned face-side up. She looked down at the card and see what was on it gave her pause. Portia looked at the card too. Both women became entranced at what they saw, one out of relief and the other out of dread.

You have drawn the Angelic Savior, a spirit that will protect you should you have the need. You may proceed to the next round as Soulcatcher, but your Soultender has lost and must suffer all the spirits drawn before.

The card was decorated with a painted image of an Indian woman dressed in blue robes with white clouds surrounding her arms and feet. It wasn’t the image Callie had anticipated but what else had been this evening?

For Portia, it was the ultimate defeat. She knew what the Angelic Savior was. It was one of the very few cards in the deck that saved the Soulcatcher, and in particular, turned the full wrath of the game’s demons on the Soultender.

“I don’t believe it. No! No! No!” Portia screamed.

It was the card Callie had the entire time and the irony of this did not escape her. Despite all that had happened, it appeared she was indeed protected the whole time. Whether through divine intervention (as Callie suspected) or dumb luck (as Portia believed) this was the fate of the game. Portia’s vengeance had been turned on her.

“You little bitch!” she yelled at Callie.

There was no time for argument. The air in the room turned numbingly cold. Both girls could see their breaths bursting and disappearing in the room. A light came from the Pith Die, dark red and pulsating. The entire apartment was lathered in the unnatural glow, casting solid black shadows where it could not illuminate.

Then the laughing began. The Jackyl was lurking behind Portia, licking at its long nails, salivating over it’s next victim. The fat butcher had also returned, appearing silently from behind Callie but passing her over for Portia. Whatever abomination that had consumed Latoya could be heard pounding at the walls of the bedroom, starving for new flesh. Above Portia, the hands of the demon that had claimed Meredith swiped at her from the ceiling; its talons curled into great hooks that nipped at the top of Portia’s dark hair.

Even though she knew they were not there for her, Callie felt a great unease at their presence. She backed into the kitchen, the only place in the apartment where the red light didn’t penetrate, folding her arms around herself.

“Help me,” Portia whispered to Callie. “You have to help me.”

Callie didn’t know what to say. The demons were making their way towards her, slowly stalking her and savoring their victim’s whimpers and sobs. Callie wanted to help Portia. Her mind was working through ways in which she could. But there was nothing she could do. The power of whatever evil lay within this game was in full control. Portia had sealed her fate long before this moment, and nothing would be able to stop what was coming.

The Jackyl struck first, sinking its teeth deep into Portia’s arm. It uncontrollably giggled and slurped as it tasted her blood on its tongue. The fat butcher was next, wrapping his massive hands around Portia’s leg, tugging at her violently. The wall to Portia’s left burst open and a long strand of greenish-brown flesh, dotted with boils and quivering bumps, wrapped itself around her torso. Callie couldn’t see what monster was at the other end, nor did she dare move from her spot to look. Lastly, the swiping talons from above Portia finally took hold of the top of her skull, the hooked fingernails pressing deep into her flesh.

During this entire trauma, Portia had not let loose a single scream or cry. In fact, Callie could swear she saw a smile on Portia’s face. Even as the blood flowed from her limbs, the tendons in her legs stretched to snapping, her ribs cracked to the point of becoming powder, and her skull compressing her brain, Portia stood silently with a smirk.

“Portia,” Callie muttered, tears now coming to her eyes as she watched her once-friend being mutilated before her eyes. “I’m sorry. I will pray for your soul.”

The smirk turned into a scowl, and Portia spat blood at Callie just as the Jackyl took another bite of her. She then cocked her head to the side and bit her lip, drawing more blood on her own, and licked the fresh wound clean with her tongue.

“Keep your prayers bitch. The devil is my messiah!”

A second later, her body was ripped into pieces. Callie let out a cry, but it was too late. Her vision was blinded by the red glare of the Pith Die, which had grown so intense that she needed to cover her eyes with her palms for fear they’d be burned out of her skull. A nauseating noise of eating and laughing whirled throughout the room like a foul echo. After a few seconds, it dispersed as did the haunting red light.

Callie opened her eyes slowly and slid her palms from her face. The room was empty now. Neither the demons nor any remains of Portia had been left behind. The litter of the other victims still lay in the room, scattered here and there, rotting and festering.

At that moment, Callie’s sympathy for Portia had vanished. There was nothing to be remorseful about. Portia was not her responsibility, and whatever evil she had conjured had lay claim to her soul long before tonight. The only thing Callie had done was save herself from being another victim.

She went to the center of the living room where the Pith Die and the white bowl remained. Both were stained with the waste of murder. Inside the bowl were pieces of all the victims. She could see a slab of flesh with a tattoo that she recognized from Kerry, a finger that belonged to Meredith, several teeth — one which was gold plated — that belonged to Latoya, and a clump of hair that was clearly Liz’s. Nothing in the bowl of what she could see was of Portia and Callie knew why.

She remembered earlier that Liz had said Portia could stop the game if she wanted to. Perhaps Portia had done so with her final words.

As Callie had been embraced by her God, so too had Portia.

The front door of the apartment swung open. Callie turned to see who or what had forced its way into the apartment. She hoped the cops were coming. Surely someone had heard the noise and screams during the night. How she would explain being the only living person at a scene of such dismemberment she didn’t know.

To her surprise, a small man wearing a yellow pastel suit came through the open door. He casually observed the aftermath in the apartment and walked to the white bowl on the floor. Callie watched him as he passed by her, paying her no attention at all.

He picked up the bowl and swirled the inside of the blood-stained porcelain with his index finger and then sucked on the residue. A grin crossed his lips and as he placed the bowl inside a grocery store bag and tied it shut.

“Who are you?” Callie said.

The man did not answer.

“Did you hear me? I said who are you? What are you doing?”

He still ignored her and proceeded towards the open door. Callie followed him for a moment, but then stopped as the smell of the dead overwhelmed her again. She clutched at her stomach but regained her composure.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” she pleaded, feeling sick and saddened as she realized fully what had happened tonight.

The man in the yellow suit stopped. He scratched the back of his head and turned to look at Callie. She could see him now. His ears were large, his eyes a light blue, his teeth as yellow as his suit and his head balding.

“Thank you, for being you Callie,” the man said.

With that, he continued out the front door. Callie went into the stairwell and watched him, puzzled and shaken, as he walked out of the apartment building into the blackness of the night.

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The Immanent World Vol. 2 - Cluichi

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The Brothers Locke - An Urban Fantasy Adventure

The Brothers Locke is an urban fantasy adventure that will appeal to fans of high adventure, fast-paced action, wild environments, and a sprinkle of magic. From fleeing the city of Avidity, to being trapped by ghosts and monsters in the darkness of Black Harvester Forest, to being captured by air pirates known as the Crimson Corsairs, to battling hybrid man-bat mutants and their sinister master Von Strauss, this urban fantasy adventure is filled with vibrant characters, imaginative locations, and fast-paced action.

- Amazon US
- Amazon UK
- Amazon CA
- Amazon AU
- iTunes
- Nook
- Kobo
- Smashwords

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Clive Reznor is a mysterious social media personality who has been behind many extreme videos and postings around the web. Preferring to stay in the shadows, little else is known about this elusive figure.

You can find him online and on social media through your favorite platforms:

- Twitter: https://twitter.com/CliveReznor

LEGAL

Reproducing this book without permission from the author or the publisher is an infringement of its copyright. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to any actual events or persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2017 AOE Studios

All rights reserved.

Cover Design KC Hunter

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

AOE Studios publication: September 2017
www.AOEStudios.com

Table of Contents

- GET FREE EXCLUSIVES
- THE APOLLYON GAME
- THE IMMANENT WORLD IS COMING
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- LEGAL