The Devil's Lullaby

by Chris Scalise

  Kristen looked inside the house. It was completely dark. She could make out the tiled entryway, the steps leading up to the second floor, and a few pieces of living room furniture. Everything appeared in dark silhouette, and nothing could be seen clearly. She thought she might be able to turn on a light, but she was afraid of what might present itself.

  Aren and Aunt Allison were definitely not in the house, but she wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or alarmed. She knew for certain that they were heading to this house, so why were they nowhere to be found? Perhaps they had turned around and left upon realizing that the house was empty. Or perhaps it was something worse.

  Kristen took two steps inside and looked around. She didn’t make a sound. She just listened for any signs of life and prayed for her safety and the safety of Aunt Allison. She took another step forward and looked around. The house appeared empty, but not abandoned. Despite the damage to the doorway, the house seemed well-maintained. The interior was relatively clean, neatly organized, and pleasant-smelling. Still, the place gave her the creeps, and she decided it would probably be best to head back. Aunt Allison was not here, and so there was no reason to stick around and investigate.

  Just as she turned toward the door, she heard something. It was faint enough to have been a figment of her imagination but real enough to send a shiver through her spine. In any normal setting, the sound would have gone unnoticed, but in the tense silence of the dark house, it echoed like a sudden burst of thunder.

  A single footstep. That’s all it was. And it came from directly above Kristen’s head.

  Kristen froze. She told herself it had to be the wind or maybe some old plumbing that was acting up. She felt little reassurance as she listened intently for any other sounds. She cocked her head slightly and looked up the stairs, but it was too dark to see anything.

  The square skylight above her head illuminated the first few steps near the entryway, but the steps became harder to see the higher they ascended up the staircase. It was like a stairway into total darkness, and Kristen shuddered to think that there might be someone at the very top gazing down at her. She knew she was completely exposed, spotlighted by the lunar glow that penetrated the skylight.

  Her impulse was to turn and run, as fast as she could, back to the Uber and back to the safety of Aunt Allison’s apartment. But her nagging fears kept her frozen in the entryway. What if Aunt Allison is up there? What if she’s in trouble and I run away? Then I find out that something happened to her up there and I could have stopped it?

  She thought about every possible scenario. Then she prayed for guidance. Then she fought back tears. It was too dark, too quiet, and she was wholly unprepared. Could she explain things to the Uber driver and ask for his help? He would likely think she was insane and maybe even abandon her. She needed him out in the street right now, her ready getaway driver.

  Kristen flicked on one of the light switches beside the front door, and the entryway lit up. Now she could clearly see the entire living room, the staircase, and the hallway at the top of the stairs. Thankfully, no one was looking down at her.

  She remained still, listening for any indications of movement upstairs. If there were people in one of the bedrooms, they might not have seen the light come on downstairs, but Kristen wanted to be certain. If someone were to emerge and come after her, she wanted a clear shot from the door to the car. She had seen enough bad slasher movies to know what happens when the young ingenue starts exploring the inner-depths of the creepy house. If someone was indeed lurking in the house, she wanted them to come out into the open.

  But there were no sounds. The house was as still and silent as it had been in total darkness. After nearly a minute of waiting, Kristen flicked on the other light switch beside the front door. Now the light at the top of the stairs turned on, shining across the second-story hallway. Certainly, that wouldn’t go unnoticed by anyone upstairs. Once again, she stood still and silent, waiting.

  No sound. Not the slightest movement.

  Kristen took three steps forward, stopping directly in front of the stairs. “Aunt Allison?” she shouted, stunned by her own sudden boldness. Her words echoed up the stairs and across the house.

  She gripped the railing and waited, her heart pounding. She swallowed hard, and then closed her eyes and began to pray more intently and passionately than she had ever prayed before.

  She opened her eyes and gazed up the stairs. The house remained quiet and still. Maybe it was indeed empty. Surely, if anyone had been inside, they would have made their presence known by now.

  Kristen turned back toward the busted door and gripped the loose knob. As she raised her other hand to flick off the light switches, she felt her heart stop.

  “Please help…”

  The desperate, muffled cry came from upstairs. It was a female voice, and the victim sounded like she was in tremendous pain. But was it Aunt Allison? It was too hard to tell. The pitch was about right, but the voice was distorted. It sounded like it had come from inside a bedroom that had its door closed.

  “Aunt Allison?” Kristen shouted, louder this time.

  “Please help,” the voice bellowed again, almost immediately. Whoever she was, she was definitely crying.

  Kristen approached the staircase again, shaking. “Lord, what do I do?” she prayed aloud, tears forming in her eyes.

  She looked around for anything she could use to defend herself, but she found nothing that would serve as a suitable makeshift weapon. She tiptoed across the living room and into the kitchen, scanning her surroundings with every step she took. When she entered the kitchen, she found a set of steak knives displayed in a wood block on the countertop. Without turning on the kitchen light, she tiptoed across the room, pulled a knife from the block, and cautiously returned to the living room, gripping the knife with both hands.

  When she reached the stairs again, she stopped cold. What am I doing? she thought. I’m not a fighter or a killer. I can’t do this. I need to call the cops.

  One of the bedroom doors upstairs rattled violently. “Help…” the voice cried out again. “Please! Before he comes back!”

  Kristen felt a sudden surge of hope. Dominic was gone. Maybe she wasn’t in danger after all. Composing herself, she took a deep breath and tiptoed up the stairs, gripping her knife in one hand and the railing in the other. It was a slow trek up the fourteen steps. She knew that time was of the essence, but she also knew that caution was paramount.

  When she reached the top, she gazed across the hall. All of the bedroom and bathroom doors were closed, and the entire floor was now silent. Kristen held the knife in front of her and took two steps forward. “Where are you?” she cried out.

  No response.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  The hall light and the entry light both went dark, drowning her in almost total blackness. She heard a door swing open a few inches away, and before she could process what was happening, she felt a hard blow to the back of her head.

  She dropped the knife and fell to the carpet, screaming. Two cold hands locked on to her throat. She kicked and fought, but her assailant was much stronger. As she looked up, still squirming and screaming for dear life, she was able to make out her attacker’s thin frame and wispy long hair. No other features were visible in the darkness except for a small, sharp object in the attacker’s mouth.

  Realizing that the object was a syringe, Kristen kicked her attacker in the thigh as hard as she could and rolled toward the stairs. She descended the steps on her hands and knees, moving downward as fast as her trembling body would carry her.

  Just as she reached for the bottom step, the attacker’s hands grabbed her ankle with all the force of a sledgehammer and dragged her back up toward the second floor. Kristen’s face collided with each step as she was pulled against her will, and her bare arms burned as they were dragged along the coarse carpeting that covered the stairs.

  Just as her feet reached the top of the staircase, she managed to grip
one of the steps with both hands and hold on for dear life. Her attacker continued to pull, but Kristen curled her fingers tightly around the step and clutched as hard as she could.

  As she labored in vain to pull herself forward and break free, the attacker released one hand and used the other arm to subdue both ankles. Kristen then felt a knee pushing into her back, holding her in place. With the free hand, the attacker gripped one of the belt loops on Kristen’s jeans and pulled it down, exposing an upper portion of her left buttock.

  Kristen felt a sharp, ice-cold object plunge itself into the exposed, fatty flesh. At first she thought she had been stabbed with a small knife, but she quickly realized that she had been punctured with the attacker’s syringe.

  She squirmed and fought, but it was no use. The attacker was still holding her down and was now leaning in to apply even more weight. After the syringe was removed from Kristen’s skin, the attacker leaned toward her ear.

  “The more you scream and fight, the faster the drug will knock you out,” she whispered.

  She. Kristen was stunned to learn that her assailant was female. And somehow, her voice was familiar. She sounded young, and she was eerily calm, like the whole thing was just a game.

  “Just take a deep breath and calm down, and you’ll have plenty of time. All you have to do is answer one question for me, and then I’ll let you go. One question, that’s all. If you can do it calmly, you might even get away fast enough to find help before you pass out. Do we have a deal?”

  Kristen screamed as loudly as she could and grabbed the railing with both hands. The woman grabbed a chunk of Kristen’s hair with both hands and yanked it backward, snapping her head back. The woman now had both knees on Kristen’s back and was gripping her hair like the reins of a rocking horse. She looked directly into Kristen’s eyes from above, but Kristen still couldn’t make out her face. The tears had completely clouded her vision, and all she could see were faint watercolors in the dim light.

  “You’re wasting precious time,” the woman said, speaking slowly and intently without shouting. “If you’re still in this house when you pass out, I’m going to dissect your organs and mail them to your family. Now you need to answer my question. Okay? Are you listening? Good. Who is that woman who keeps poking around here? The one who came to church with you. I want her full name. Just give me that, and I’ll let you go. It’s very simple.”

  Kristen pulled on the railing with both hands, but her strength was fading. Her hands and legs were growing increasingly numb with every second, and a sense of lightheadedness was overtaking her. She squirmed and fought and pulled, but nothing worked. She wondered if, perhaps, she could buy some time or even manage an escape by making up a name.

  “Please!” she cried out. “I’ll tell you. Just let me go!”

  “I’m not sure you understand the order of operations, my dear. You tell me the bitch’s name, and then I set you free.”

  “Her name is Jenna! Jenna McKenzie!” she screamed through the tears before her attacker could even finish speaking. Kristen wasn’t even sure how she came up with the name. She just knew that she couldn’t hesitate or appear to be thinking too hard about it.

  The woman released the chunk of blonde hair with both hands and wrapped her arms around Kristen’s throat. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she whispered.

  “No, please let me go!” Kristen said with a muffled choke, barely able to breathe.

  “Just another minute or so,” the woman whispered. “I like for my sheep to be nice and dizzy before I chase them to their slaughter. Can you feel your faculties shutting down? You’re not long for this world, my dear.”

  Still writhing despite her weakness, Kristen managed to wedge her chin downward so that her mouth was pressing right against her attacker’s bicep. Kristen opened her mouth as far as it would go and bit down on the soft clump of flesh as though it were a giant marshmallow. Her jaw was the last muscle in her body that still had its full strength, and she clamped down without mercy, causing the woman to scream and jump to her feet.

  “Fucking bitch!” the woman screamed, ripping her arm away and kicking Kristen in the ribcage. The force of the woman’s shoe sent Kristen tumbling down the stairs. Kristen hit her head several times on the wood balusters that lined the staircase, but she felt no pain. Even the woman’s violent kick to the ribs felt like little more than a push. Her entire body had gone numb.

  When her forehead connected with the hard, tiled entryway at the bottom of the stairs, she scrambled forward on her knees and reached for the doorknob. Her body seemed to move in slow motion, though, like one of those nightmares where you know you need to run away from danger but your body is frozen in place.

  Kristen leaned against the front door with her thigh to the ground and grabbed the knob with both hands. She used the knob like a chin-up bar to pull herself to her feet, but the moment she felt her heels touch the ground, her attacker crept up from behind and grabbed her by the hair. Kristen reached backward to fight, but she was growing increasingly dizzy as her attacker spun her toward the stairs and pushed her to the ground.

  “I’m sorry that you have to suffer for someone else’s sins,” the woman said as she used her free hand to grab Kristen’s forearm and drag her back up the stairs, “but isn’t that the way of things? The children of Eden paid for the sins of Adam. Judas paid for the hubris of Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ paid for the cruel, sadistic narcissism of his father. And now you will pay for the sins of your friend who was too stupid to leave well enough alone.”

  Kristen tried punching the woman several times in the stomach as she was violently pulled up the stairs, but her weakness made it impossible to apply any real force. She fought back with all the power of a cat batting a plastic toy. The woman barely even seemed to notice. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Kristen could barely hold her eyes open.

  The woman continued to pull Kristen across the upstairs hallway by her hair and shoulder, and by that point, Kristen stopped resisting. She simply acquiesced in a drunken haze. At least, that’s what she wanted her attacker to believe, and it worked like a charm. As soon as Kristen started to follow willingly, the woman loosened her grip. In response, Kristen pushed the woman forward with what little strength she had and then turned to barrel down the stairs once again.

  “Seriously?” the woman sighed with mild annoyance.

  Kristen didn’t care. She was home free. She made it to the bottom of the steps, slid across the tiles that covered the entryway, turned the doorknob, and rushed outside into the cold night air. Fresh air had never felt so inviting.

  The Uber was gone, but for some reason she didn’t care. Everything felt okay. She jogged across the lawn, crying out for help, though her weakened voice wouldn’t carry very far. She turned toward the neighbor’s house and headed directly toward it, seeking sanctuary at the home of some friendly stranger.

  Before she could reach the end of the mostly dirt lawn, however, her knees began to tremble. She had already felt like she were running in a weightless environment, but now her numb legs were having an even more difficult time carrying her. Before reaching the end of the lawn, she fell to her hands and knees and crawled as fast as she could. Whether she was moving quickly or slowly she couldn’t tell. Everything was a blur. Within seconds, she saw a large shadow eclipse her own, and she knew exactly to whom the shadow belonged.

  The woman kicked Kristen hard in the ribcage, flipping her over like a turtle onto its back. Kristen still felt no physical pain, and even her fear was subsiding. What was death anyway? Just a gateway to a much more beautiful and peaceful place. A smile spread across Kristen’s numb face, and she opened her eyes. Looking straight up toward the sky, she finally saw her attacker’s face clearly. The light of the full moon shone down from above, providing enough natural light to illuminate the entire Vegas Strip.

  Kristen recognized her attacker, but she just couldn’t believe it. Before the shocking realization had a chance to fully s
et in, she closed her eyes and everything faded to darkness.

  26

  It took mere minutes for Allison and Aren to arrive at Arthur Glen’s home on East Desert Inn Road. It was an older, single-story house with a fading blue and white paint job, and it seemed to have fallen into disrepair. There was a plastic tarp covering a section of roof shingles and a folded cardboard box covering one of the windows, but the house wasn’t abandoned. There were two cars parked in the driveway and several lights on inside.

  Aren parked his Tesla on the street in front of the house, and the two of them exited the vehicle and made their way to the porch without saying a word. They had hardly spoken since leaving Dominic’s house. Allison knew they were both fed up with the chase and just desperate for answers.

  When they reached the porch, Aren knocked loudly on the door, ignoring the doorbell to his left. The porch light was off, or more likely burned out, but the entire porch was reasonably well-lit beneath the unusually bright light of the moon.

  They waited for several seconds, but there was no reply. Aren knocked again, this time more forcefully.

  As they stood waiting, Allison kept thinking about Kristen, hoping she was okay. There was no reason why Kristen should be in any danger, but she still couldn’t shake the possibility. Nothing tonight had gone according to plan, and she feared that the whole invitation to the house was a ruse.

  Aren turned to her, seemingly sensing the trepidation in her eyes. He took her hand in his and gently squeezed it. It sent shivers through her body, and she knew—against her better judgment—that she was falling in love with him. Right now, though, there were more important concerns to attend to. She smiled back, trying in vain to mask her fear and exhaustion.

  They exchanged affectionate glances, but their tender moment was quickly interrupted by the sound of a deadbolt unlocking. The door opened, and on the other side was a slightly overweight man of about thirty-five. He had unkempt dark hair and thick glasses, and his black T-shirt read “Chewbacca is my co-pilot.”