Page 49 of Lost in the Dark

Watching Libra defeat Evan was a rare treat. His is a rage-laced fear, and angry fear is delicious. There’s humiliation fear, too. Fear at losing his masculinity, at being beaten by a woman—beaten by this particular woman. His hatred for her is deep, and the fear is rich and heady. I could get drunk on it. It doesn’t sate me the way hers does, but it is satisfying in its own way.

I want more.

We’re back in the palace now, though Libra’s body remains in her own realm, sleeping peacefully. The Nightmare Court is not made for corporeal beings; I cannot offer her a meal or a good night’s sleep. All I can do is keep her close and allow her to wander through dreams if she chooses.

“How do you feel about your experience in the ring with Evan?” I ask her.

She grins. “That was one of the best moments of my life. I wish I could do it again.”

“What happened between the two of you?”

“Nothing good. We met when I was a teenager. I was trying to escape one bad man, and I made the mistake of running to a second one. He was a criminal: a drug dealer, a thief, a pimp. He forced me to take drugs, he raped me, he passed me around to his friends when I was too high to say no. In the end, I helped the police with their case and he was sent to prison, which is why he hates me. Why he wants to kill me now.”

Anger rolls through me as severe as a thunderstorm. Teenage Libra deserved better than she got. How could no one around her see how special she was? That she deserved to be treated with care?

I stroke her hair. “What other forms of revenge would you bestow upon him, if you could?”

She purses her pillowy lips, thinking. “Nothing as bad as he deserves. As much as I’d like to, I couldn’t bring myself to kill him or torture him or anything. He’s the evil one, not me.

But you know what’s weird and kinda cliché? Evan was always fully afraid of haunted houses, which is silly given how horrible he is. But yeah, the darkness, the creepy noises, the random dude jumping out with a chainsaw gave him the creeps. It’s not very creative, but I’d love to strand him in the most haunted of houses.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. She’s right; a haunted house isn’t particularly inventive. But I have a feeling that between the two of us, we can come up with something downright terrifying.

“Come on,” I tell her, taking her hand. “Let’s pay Evan a visit.”

CALLISTER

The power is out, leaving the mansion with only flickering, uneven candlelight. I’ve recruited my most ghoulish and powerful demons, including Mayhem and Macabre, to join in this nightmare. They’ve been given free rein to cause as much terror as possible. Grim, Gruesome, and Grotesque are also here somewhere, waiting to deliver their special brand of horror.

“What are Evan’s biggest fears?” I ask Libra. At his core, he’s a small, insecure man, so I’m sure there are many things we can exploit.

“Change the setting,” she says suddenly. “Not a house. Make it a prison. But one that looks like an old sanitarium. He’s on parole right now, so I imagine going back to prison is a big fear. Especially an old scary one.”

I grin. “I like that. A series of execution rooms, perhaps?” I shift the scene, so the mansion becomes a horrible sanitarium, with rusty old instruments and chains lying in the dust. The whole place stinks of sweat, urine, and old blood. My various demons smell of decay and decomposition, and I’m getting whiffs of those as well. Libra must be too, because she wrinkles her nose.

We find Evan in the electric chair room, all hooked up and ready to be zapped. The windowless chamber is made of dull cinderblocks, with the chair in the middle of the room. The large, old-fashioned switch that powers the chair is fixed on one wall.

Evan is pleading with the executioner, who I’m delighted to see is played by Gruesome, one of my most fearsome demons. His face is disfigured, partially melted and covered with weeping sores. His arms are too long for his body, with giant, misshapen clawed hands. And his teeth are large and serrated, making his grin positively, well, gruesome. He’s cackling wildly, as Evan pleads for his life.

“Let me go!” Evan shouts, but Gruesome just laughs some more.

“Where would you go, maggot? There’s nothing here but death. If this one doesn’t suit you, I’m sure another one will!”

“No, I’m not ready to die! Please,” Evan begs.

Gruesome ignores him and flips the switch to activate the chair, and Evan screams and pisses himself. I can’t actually let him die; when you die in a dream, you wake up. But I can scare him more than even Libra knows. She’s too kind-hearted to actually let any of these devices hurt him, but I don’t mind letting a few jolts of electricity run through him.

“Make it stop!” he shouts, his teeth chattering, and I relent before it goes too far.

Gruesome disappears with another cackle and a woman strolls into the room.

She’s wearing an old-fashioned red dress, complete with a ruffled skirt and a bustle. Her dark hair is pinned up in an elaborate confection, and from behind, she seems like a beauty. But when she turns to Evan, his face goes pale. I snicker, because I know what he’s just seen. Grim’s face is a blank, a vast blackness where her features should be.

Without a word, she unties him and takes his hand, leading him to the adjoining room, where the pendulum awaits. As soon as he sees it, he begins to struggle against her, but he’s no match for Grim’s strength. Despite his wriggles, she buckles him to the table beneath the swinging axe, makes sure it’s activated and lowering by degrees, then waits.

“Let me go!” he shouts.

Grim’s voice is a hollow echo that suits her blank face. “Why? Will you atone?”

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