Page 50 of Lost in the Dark

“Atone for what?”

“If you do not know your sins, I cannot help you. You are alone here, to reckon with your fate.” She points at the axe and then walks away without a backward glance.

“What is that thing?” Libra whispers.

“It’s designed to slowly lower down as it swings, slicing into his torso. Eventually it will completely sever him, but it takes a while for that to happen. Of course, we won’t actually let him die here. There are too many other rooms for him to experience!”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want. Name some forms of execution.”

Libra thinks for a moment. “Lethal injection, firing squad, gas chamber. Crucifixion. Stoning. Hanging. Oh, guillotine!”

I stare at her, impressed. She has quite the mind for horror.

Evan is shaking and sweating, calling out for help. But I’m in control of this dream, and help won’t be coming. The only ones to answer his pleas are the demons. His fear is delicious, enough to feed me and all my minions with this one nightmare.

Right on cue, Grotesque appears. Her body is that of a hippo with human arms, and while her face is human-like, it’s covered in hundreds of lethal spikes. Her eyes are red, her claws are sharp, and in general, she dislikes men.

Evan is no match for her.

“You called?” she says.

“Did I?” Evan looks terrified.

“You asked for help. I was the only one to hear your plea.”

“Yes,” he says eagerly. The axe has lowered enough now that it gives him a tiny cut with each loping swing. “Get me out of here.”

“If I help you, what will you give me?” she asks.

Evan looks at her and tries—unsuccessfully—to keep the revulsion off his face.

“Anything. I’ll give you whatever you want. Just undo me!”

Grotesque cocks her head like a curious bird. “You should know better than to make an offer like that. Especially to one of my kind.”

“I don’t know what you are. You said you were here to help me!”

Grotesque laughs, a truly off-putting sound. “No. I said I was the only one who heard your cry. Those are not the same thing.”

“Please. I swear I’ll give you anything!”

“Very well.” Grotesque steps forward and unstraps him from the table, centimeters before the axe would have done real damage. Before he can speak, she pulls down the collar of her shirt, revealing a necklace made of human phalluses, all different shapes and sizes and in various states of decay. I can smell the stench of it from here.

“You owe me yours,” she says in her rumbling voice.

Evan swallows hard. “What the fuck?”

“That is our bargain.” Grotesque pulls out a wickedly sharp knife.

Evan turns with a scream, running into the next room, not realizing that he would never escape Grotesque unless she allowed him to. Not understanding that whatever lies next door will be even worse.

Sure enough, Mayhem and Macabre are waiting for him, old-fashioned gas masks distorting their skeletal faces.

“Welcome to the gas chamber,” Mayhem says. “What’s on the menu today, Sister?”

“Mustard gas!” Macabre squeals, clapping the bones of her fingers together in delight. Without flesh covering her palms, the noise sounds more like ominous rattles than proper slaps.

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