by Hazel Holmes
While she had never liked Kegan, she wasn’t sure if she could bring herself to kill someone again unless it was the witch. She still hadn’t shaken the psychological side effects from killing Brent, and he had been someone who she hated.
Sarah took the final step up the staircase and stood on the fifth-floor platform. The door in front of her was closed, and Sarah glanced down at the orb which was still in the pillowcase. Her heart rate quickened, and her breathing grew shallow and fast.
She tightened her grip on the pillowcase and did the same to the tube of holy water clutched in her pocket. She had to let go of one of them to open the door, so she relinquished the holy water. She placed her hand on the door knob, and it vibrated.
Sarah held on and turned the knob. It gave way slowly, and the knob grew hotter the closer she moved it to open. The vibrations grew so strong that it shook her whole body, and she tightened her grip down like a clamp, her muscles straining as she struggled to open the door the rest of the way.
It wasn’t until the subtle click of the lock that the vibrations ended, and the tension in Sarah’s arm vanished as she pushed the door inward.
Sound returned as the hinges groaned and the door opened. Unlike the rest of the house she had passed, the fifth floor had rows of candles that lined the walls. Nearly all of the candles had been burned down to the nubs, their wax dripping from the sides in long strands as the flames flickered and waved as she passed.
She pocketed her hand again, grabbing the tube of holy water as she eyed the door at the end of the hall. While her nerves were rattled, she maintained a steady pace. She kept expecting the witch or Kegan to jump out of one of the rooms along the way, snatching her up and killing her, but the closer that Sarah moved toward the door, the more she realized just how confident the witch must have been.
After all, the witch had managed to draw her back to the house, bring her the orb, and to top it all off, she had come alone armed with only a revolver, holy water, and a wooden cross. By the time she reached the door to Allister’s room, the confidence that she had boasted on the way to the house and up the stairs had dissolved.
Sarah stood there, pummeled by the heat radiating off of the door, dripping with sweat. She stared at the door handle. She had no idea what waited for her on the other side, but she knew that it could kill her and that opening the door was an acceptance of that fate.
And yet, with fear eroding her courage and the heat pummeling her senses, Sarah heard the faintest whisper in the back of her mind. She didn’t recognize the voice, but she recognized the tone that went with it. And she smiled, then placed her hand on the door knob and pushed it open.
The door knocked into the side of the wall, and Sarah thrust her arm out to keep it from closing. She remained in the hallway, and from her position, she saw the witch standing at the foot of the bed, blocking her path to the altar.
The witch was dressed in a long red gown, and her nails matched the same fiery color as her dress, which was made all the more prominent by her porcelain skin and jet-black hair. She was beautifully terrifying.
Kegan stood next to her, a blank expression on his face. He wore nothing but a pair of sweat pants, standing next to the bed behind the witch.
“Curiosity always got the better of you.” The witch gestured to the pillowcase. “I appreciate you bringing that back for me.”
“You want it?” Sarah asked, doing her best to keep a courageous front, but her voice cracked and she wasn’t sure if she succeeded. “Come and get it.”
The witch smiled and shook her head, and then turned slightly back toward Kegan. “Fetch, boy.”
And like a zombie, Kegan lumbered toward Sarah, his eyes focused on her own, his expression stoic. Sweat glistened off his body, accentuating his already well-defined physique.
Sarah froze, her skin crawling up her back, and she fingered the cross in her pocket. “I can’t let her win, Kegan,” Sarah answered, taking her first step back. “And I know you can’t understand that right now, but I hope by the time this ends that you do.”
Kegan stopped, then smirked. “Iris is dead. She gave her life for no reason other than to end her own suffering, but she will have her punishment when Satan walks this earth. Her soul, like all Bells, has been thrust into purgatory, and it is there she will wait until my blood touches the orb on the altar.”
“So you’re just going to let her kill you?” Sarah asked.
“My soul will be the key to unlock the portal,” Kegan answered. “My sacrifice will be rewarded one-hundredfold when the dark lord revives me.” Kegan took one more ominous step forward, his weight thudding into the floor through his heel, and he grimaced. “I have no desire to hurt you, Sarah. And neither does my master. All he wants is to set you free.” He extended his hand. “Let him give you what you’ve always desired.”
Sarah regarded the hand, and for the briefest moment, she considered taking it. After all, the odds were stacked against her. She had literally walked into the devil’s den and knew that she was unprepared to confront the evil inside. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she would have the fortitude to give up her own soul to end all of this. What if she couldn’t do it? What if she died anyway trying to stop all of this, and it was all for nothing? Shouldn’t she at least get something out of it?
But then a whisper tickled the back of her thoughts. It was so quiet and faint that she couldn’t understand the words or even recognize the voice, but that little noise immediately calmed the fears and doubts that had crawled to the forefront of her mind.
Sarah adjusted her grip on the tube of holy water in her pocket and briefly lifted her hand in preparation to strike, then she stiffened. “I can’t do that.”
Kegan smiled and slowly nodded. “Then I will do what I’ve wanted to do since the moment I saw you.” He clenched his fists, and the smile faded into a snarl, but the expression wasn’t his own. It was another person controlling Kegan, working his mind and body like a puppet. It was the face of the witch that she was staring into. “Your flesh will be mine. Your life will be mine.” He lowered his voice to a vibrating level of bass. “Your soul will be mine.”
Sarah tensed, adrenaline coursing through her veins and pulsating in every fiber of muscle along her body. “Fuck you.”
“ARRGH!” Kegan charged, and before he made it two steps, Sarah pulled the tube of holy water from her pocket and cocked her arm back in anticipation to hit him with it.
But Kegan was too fast, no doubt charged up by the witch’s powers, and immediately knocked her to the floor, which sent the tube flying form her hands along with the pillowcase holding the orb.
Sarah gasped for breath as the wind was knocked out of her, and before she had a chance to collect herself, Kegan gripped her by the throat and lifted her off the floor and pinned her again the wall, which made one of the picture frames crash to the floor.
“You made the wrong choice, Sarah.” Kegan slowly tightened his grip, savoring the slow cutoff of air as Sarah clawed at his arm, choking to death. “You could have had everything you wanted. You could have lived like a queen.”
Sarah dropped her left hand and reached back into the pocket again. Her thoughts were telling her hands to reach for the pistol, but another force guided her to the smooth and warm edges of the wooden cross.
“But now you will die like a beggar,” Kegan said, those black eyes locked onto Sarah’s and the witch’s wicked smile spreading across Kegan’s face.
With her vision starting to pepper with black dots, Sarah removed the cross from her pocket and thrust it close to Kegan’s face. He released her, quickly retreating as she collapsed to the floor, coughing and hacking, but with still enough sound mind to keep the cross lifted as Kegan slammed back into the opposite wall.
Kegan thrust out his hands, grunting and groaning from the pain of the cross. And as Sarah moved to her feet, she stopped when Kegan snarled from his position on the floor.
“What do you think will happen to you when all of th
is is over?” Kegan asked. “You will have to kill yourself to stop this, Sarah. Do you know that? There is no happy ending for you here, there is no savior that will swoop in at the last second and rescue you from an eternity of burning in the flames.”
Sarah inched closer, arm thrust out, still holding the cross, which gave herself a protective barrier, and she reached into her pocket for the other tube of holy water.
“It will be over,” Kegan said, anger seething through clenched teeth, those eyes blackened and hot like burning coals. “You will know nothing but pain.”
Less than a foot separated the pair of them now, the witch increasing her resistance to the cross’s holy powers, and Sarah’s arm started to shake.
“I’ve known pain my whole life,” Sarah said, determination etching onto her face. “So I’m pretty fucking used to it.” Sarah gathered her strength and then pushed herself forward as hard as she would go, slamming the cross into Kegan’s forehead.
The skin burned and crackled as Kegan screamed and thrashed his head back and forth. He rolled his eyes into the back of his skull, and Sarah reached for the holy water and then crashed it down over his head.
Every speckle of water that connected with his skin sizzled and burned. Sarah kept as much pressure on the cross as she possibly could until Kegan thrust her backward.
Kegan lay on his side, eyes shut and breathing heavy. He trembled, every muscle of his body shaking, and sweat dripped from the tip of his nose and onto the floor.
The witch cackled and then twirled around. “You really are quite the girl. But then Iris always knew how to pick them.” She arched one eyebrow. “Did she ever tell you why she always picked up women? Because they were easy.” She clutched her hands together and pinched her shoulders forward, crouching in a helpless position. “So weak and fragile, afraid to make their way in the world.” She thrust her chest out and flung her head back, her black locks whipping through the air. “As a woman, you’d think I’d be offended, but I thought it was brilliant. And truth be told, I haven’t been a real woman in over a millennia.” She gestured to the body and the dress. “I pick my form, whatever pleases me.” She shape-shifted, and suddenly she was Pat again, her voice deepening to a man’s. “Or sometimes if it pleases others.” And then she transformed into Dell and cracked a smile. “Sarah, you could have everything you want. Even me.”
“It’s not real,” Sarah said.
The witch transformed back into the beautiful woman that Sarah had come to know her as, and the smile faded. “So if the boy won’t persuade you, then what if I could give you something else?” She strutted toward Sarah, who reached into her pocket for the cross, and the witch stopped, eyeing the hand that dove into the pocket. “I thought you might bring a few tricks with you.” She flicked her eyes back to Sarah. “But I’ve got a few of my own.”
“No tricks,” Sarah said. “Now step aside.”
The witch lifted her hand and wagged her finger back and forth. “No, no, no, my dear, I’m afraid that I can’t let you do that.”
“I told you there isn’t anything you can offer me,” Sarah said. “There isn’t anything that can stop me.”
“My master has the ability to alter time,” the witch said, ignoring Sarah’s words. “He can make things that never happened, happen. And he can also make things that happened… not.” Those wicked red lips creased into a thin line, and Sarah’s heart stopped cold.
That hollowness that accompanied sheer terror carved out Sarah’s innards, and her mouth went dry. She hadn’t expected the turn that the witch was taking, and as the color drained from Sarah’s cheeks, the more the witch smiled.
“Your parents died when you were so little, Sarah,” the witch said, her tone an over-exaggerated plea for attention. “It wasn’t your fault. Drunk driver. How about I have my master never put that driver on the road? No, better yet, why not kill the drunk driver before he even gets close to your parents. We could have him veer off into a guardrail, send him straight through the window. Glass and blood everywhere.” She lowered the volume of her voice. “And then your parents would drive by, slowing from all the police cars and emergency vehicles on scene, and glance over and wonder what happened.”
A tear formed in Sarah’s left eye, and she shook her head. “Stop it.”
“Imagine it, Sarah,” the witch said. “A life where you don’t have to grow up in an orphanage and surrounded by people who don’t care about you. Your parents would be the ones to drop you off at your first day of school, teach you to ride a bike, give you presents at your birthday and Christmas. Imagine the stability, the love. They would protect you better than any of those foster homes or social workers could, you’ve thought that to yourself for years. That fantasy that you’ve desired for your entire life could come true.”
The tears flowed freely down Sarah’s face as the witch stood less than a foot away. She knew that the devil woman was right. She couldn’t even remember all of the sleepless nights that she used to lie awake and desperately wish for everything that the witch had said.
“It would all go away,” the witch said, her voice like a sweet, singing cadence. “No more scars, or bruises. No more fear. No more pain. Just think of all of the good that would be thrust back into your life. And we could make it so you never even remember this life. You’d be in your own world, Sarah. A perfect world. You deserve that life, Sarah. Don’t be afraid to take it now that it’s dangling right in front of you.”
The dinners, the birthdays, holidays, weekends, smiles and hugs and kisses and a love that she never knew swelled in her heart. Sarah desperately wanted all of those things. And the witch was right, Sarah deserved to be happy. Didn’t she? She wasn’t a bad person, never was, just someone who did the best that they could with the hand that they were dealt.
“What do you say, Sarah?” the witch asked, still keeping her distance, but offering her hand the way that Kegan had done. The fantasy of the life she’d always wanted. And an end to the life that she never did. “Let us help you, Sarah. Let us undo what God and all of his followers should have never let happen.”
Sarah stared at the hand through wet and bloodshot eyes then stared down at the pillowcase that held the orb. “The social workers always told me that I needed to learn to let things go.” She swung the pillowcase and flung the orb onto the bed. “But I was never good at listening.”
The witch cackled, and surprise flashed over her face as she lifted her hands in triumph. “Yes, Sarah! Yes! You’ve made the right choice. You’ve made the better choice.”
Sarah then dropped the cross, and the holy water, though the pistol was still in her pocket.
“Come here, child. Come.” The witch waved Sarah forward, who walked slowly, stiffly.
The orb had spilled out from the pillowcase and onto the bed. She shuddered when the witch placed her hands on Sarah’s shoulders, digging those red nails into her skin.
The pistol grew heavier the closer Sarah moved toward the bed, and the world around her slowed. The doubt that had plagued her mind prior to this moment had vanished. She knew what she had to do. No matter the cost.
“Are you ready to meet them?” the witch asked, her eyes wild, not with excitement, but a joyless madness. “They have been asking about you.”
Sarah stared at the bed and then slowly peeled her eyes from the white sheets and met the witch’s gaze. She nodded. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to tell them.”
“And what’s that, sweetheart?” the witch asked, her features slowly transforming from the beautiful woman to the demon that had taken control of her soul.
Sarah leaned close. “Fuck you.” She whipped the gun out of her pocket and aimed it at the witch, who only laughed.
“You tried that once before, dear,” the witch said. “You know it can’t kill me.”
“No,” Sarah said. “But it can kill me.”
The confusion on the witch’s face lasted only a moment as Sarah turned the pistol toward her stomach, an
d when she squeezed the trigger, the witch’s scream was drowned out by the gunshot.
The pistol dropped to the floor, and Sarah collapsed onto the bed on her back, clutching the wound on her stomach.
“You bitch!” The witch jumped onto the mattress, pinning Sarah down. The beauty had been wiped away, and nothing but scales, horns, and fangs looked at Sarah, the demon’s true nature. “You will burn like the rest of them.”
But Sarah had already extended her hand and placed her bloodied palm on the sphere. The moment her blood made contact the orb brightened, flashing white light so bright that she was forced to shut her eyes.
“NOO!” The witch howled.
And while Sarah wasn’t sure what she expected, she didn’t expect to feel as much pain as what coursed through her veins. Every cell and fiber of her being caught fire, and just when she thought that it would finally end, she felt hands on her face, and she opened her eyes.
The world was blinding save for one terrifying demon face that rested right on top of Sarah. The witch’s head had caught fire, and Sarah imagined that hers looked exactly the same.
“There will be others! You will not stop the dark lord from his destiny! He will inherit the earth! And until then you will burn with MEEE!”
“AHHHH!” Sarah screamed and shut her eyes as the pain intensified, and it stretched on forever. She thrashed and wailed, and it repeated for an endless cycle. And just when she thought that she couldn’t take it anymore, it stopped.
Sarah gasped, waking on a smooth white floor. Her heart was hammering, and she immediately looked at her hands and arms, expecting to find them charred and burnt. But when she wiggled her fingers, she found them exactly as they’d always been, pale and freckled.
“You did well, Sarah.”
Sarah turned and found Iris standing behind her. She was dressed in the same white gown that she had worn when she visited Sarah in the forest. But now that translucent look had disappeared, and she looked more like herself.
