by Kayla Krantz
“It wasn’t the kindness of your heart that saved him from the banshee,” Jack reminded him.
Shawn glanced at him. Jack’s hands were curled into such tight fists that the skin over his knuckles was going white. Even before all this, no one had disliked Rhys as much as Jack. Now that Rhys had taken away their friend, that hate had intensified. It didn’t matter to Jack that he was literally otherworldly. He would’ve fought him if he could. There was something admirable about that. Admirable and foolish.
Pride, Shawn thought, mouth dry. If Rhys was right in telling them that their biggest sin would be their downfall, then whenever they stepped foot into pride’s dungeon, Jack would have to stay on his toes. The thought of losing him too made Shawn want to lay over in the grass and give up.
What kind of leader am I? he thought bitterly then winced, worried Rhys would call him out for the thought. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t a leader.
“It was the dirt plugs that saved him,” Jack said, continuing on with no notice of Shawn’s despair. “And when the drude took him over, he saved himself from whatever nightmare it gave him. You did nothing.”
“That’s fair, I suppose, but regardless of semantics, it will not erase the fact that he is dead,” Rhys said. “Even in this world, the dead do not come back to life.”
The word dead echoed strangely around the clearing, filling Shawn with dread all the way to his heart. Rhys was right—there was no getting around it. Shawn and Jack would have to continue on without him. If the situation was different, if Shawn or Jack had been the one to fall, Milo would’ve went on for the sole purpose of spiting Rhys for destroying them. Tears leaked down Shawn’s face at the thought. Milo certainly hadn’t deserved what had happened to him, and that was all the more reason for them to win this game. To avenge him. Regardless of whatever Rhys claimed to be, he and Jack would find a way to win.
They had to.
Shawn spared another glance to his friend. While Shawn went inward, sorrow leaking from his eyes, Jack spewed outward, letting his sorrow come through his fists. Anger was his go-to, and he was ready to unleash it all on the first thing that crossed his path.
“I think you only killed him because he was the strongest of all of us,” Jack accused, eyes scanning the entire sky for the slightest glimpse of Rhys. He wouldn’t show himself. At least not with Jack so ready for a fight. “I don’t think this has anything to do with overcoming our demons. We were winning, and you couldn’t stand it.” Jack blinked hard, and Shawn was struck at the thought that he was trying to hold in his tears. “If you had to kill one of us, why couldn’t it be me, huh? You’ve hated me since the beginning.” His voice filtered into a whimper as he added, “It should’ve been me.”
Shawn was silent as he watched the anger burn out completely. Seemed no one was immune to despair when it really wanted to breathe.
“Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve,” Rhys said dismissively.
Shawn wanted to be angry but couldn’t summon the energy. Weakly, he asked, “Where will he go? Heaven?”
Rhys laughed, loud and long, as if Shawn had told him an amusing joke. “You think the souls I claim are eligible for Heaven?”
Shawn regretted asking. Grimacing, he glanced to his friend. He hadn’t thought Jack could get any paler, but as soon as those words were out, Jack’s skin took on an unhealthy pallor. His gaze went back to the sky again, and he snarled, “So not only do we die, we go to Hell when we do?”
“Yep.”
Somehow, the worst part of that wasn’t the confession but rather the certainty Rhys had said that single word with. No emotion. No hope. Just cold hard facts.
“These are conditions you should’ve explained up front,” Jack said.
“Would it really have made a difference if I had? Knowing exactly what was at stake would’ve only made you question yourselves more thoroughly,” Rhys said. “In my opinion, you do that enough.”
“You would’ve still made us play,” Jack stated, tone flat.
“Of course,” Rhys said. “This night has been a long time in coming.”
Jack and Shawn exchanged a look full of questions that neither of them wanted to ask but both wanted answers to.
“You’ve been at our school a grand total of a week,” Jack said, pointedly. “That’s hardly a long time.”
“That is where our understanding clashes. You see, I am drawn to negative energy. While you might have only been aware of me for a week, I have known of you much longer. There is a reason that I take this form. High schools are rife with the perfect energy to feed a being like me, and among that sea of misery, you three caught my attention.”
“How?” Shawn asked. “If you’re drawn to negativity than why not peg the school bully or the Prom Queen?”
“I’ve done that in other schools. Many, many times, and the results are almost always the same. You see, I chose you three not because of your negative energy, but because of the good you all possessed. It was unlike anything I’ve encountered before,” Rhys said.
Jack scoffed. “Now there’s a new one. We’ve been sentenced to die for our lack of crimes.”
“No one says you have to die,” Rhys said. “Whether you live or die depends entirely on you. There have been survivors before, and it’s possible for there to be survivors now.”
“How many of the teenagers you’ve tested have survived?” Shawn asked. In his head, he could picture Rhys leading hundreds of thousands of teenagers to their doom like lambs to the slaughter.
“About five percent,” Rhys said.
Cold dread formed a rock in Shawn’s stomach. The image in his head dimmed to only a tiny fraction of the original number. Shawn realized he and Jack probably had a better chance of being struck by lightning than they did surviving everything that Rhys had planned for them.
Jack opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Rhys said, “That’s enough questions. After what happened, I am granting you two a night’s rest. Use it wisely because this will be the only one you get.”
Shawn frowned. Part of him didn’t want to rest, didn’t want to have the time to think. He wanted to be done, to get out of this place as soon as he could. For all he knew, this was just another trap. One that would wait to seize them the moment their guard was down. Before Shawn could argue, Jack said, “Perfect.”
He plopped down beside Shawn, but Shawn didn’t move. He felt as if both Jack and Rhys were waiting for his acknowledgement, but he was frozen. In the blink of an eye, equipment appeared in a heap beside them. Jack pulled his switchblade from his pocket and approached it, using the sharp steel to separate the items as if he too were prepared for an attack at a moment’s notice. When he realized it was safe, the blade disappeared back into his pocket. Grunting, he heaved the tarp to the side, and Shawn realized it was a tent.
“I’ll get this set up,” Jack said, suddenly exhausted. “Get a fire started.”
Shawn nodded, numb as he stood to his feet. He still wasn’t thrilled about the idea of a break, but a task would keep his hands—and hopefully mind—busy. So he crossed the clearing, gathering up twigs and stones to build a tiny firepit downwind from the tent. It was close enough to the oasis that they’d be able to use the water to put it out at a moment’s notice if something went wrong.
Don’t let it come to that, he prayed then wondered again who he was praying to. If this was just a circle of Hell, God wouldn’t hear their prayers, their desperation, their pain. Only Rhys would, and he already admitted that was what he fed on.
Shawn was angry again as he sought out the perfect sticks to start his fire. So angry that he didn’t struggle to get a spark like he usually did. The first of the flames crackled into the mess of foliage inside his pit long before Jack put the last pole of the tent into place. Jack wiped his hands together, studying his handiwork before he glanced over his shoulder. Shawn plopped down in the dirt beside it, not even bothering to fashion seats out of anything.
“Looks good,” Jack
said, sitting down beside him.
Shawn said nothing, just watched the orange and yellow distort the image of the green trees and grass on the other side of the pit.
“Are you hungry at all?” Jack asked, tilting his head back to look up at the sky.
“I don’t think we have much options for food here,” Shawn said, gesturing to the few fruit trees he could see.
“Something is better than nothing,” Jack reminded him and got up.
When he came back, he had two handfuls of oranges. The first handful he kept for himself, but the rest he carefully gave to Shawn.
“I’m not hungry either,” Jack said when he caught the sour expression on Shawn’s face. “But we need to keep our strength up.”
At the gesture, some of Shawn’s resolve fell away, and he accepted the offering, piling the round fruit into his lap as he went to work peeling the first one. He shoved a handful of the sticky pieces into his mouth, savoring the taste. A roar from his stomach came as he swallowed them down. How long had it been since he’d last eaten?
Beside him, Jack ate a single sliver of the fruit though he kept peeling until the entire fruit was exposed. He stared at it, not breaking off any more pieces as he said, “Do you think anyone knows that we’re gone?”
Shawn swallowed roughly and thought he would choke. The fruit seemed suddenly cloying, and he wanted to spit it out. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I...I keep hoping Penelope does. That she senses something is wrong. I know she’ll know something’s up when she calls, and I don’t answer, but what if that hasn’t happened yet? What if she won’t know something’s wrong until we’re all dead?”
Jack closed his eyes. There was no emotion on his face, but Shawn could tell that wasn’t what he had wanted to hear. Then he felt bad. Jack had obviously turned to him in the hope that Shawn would be able to talk him off the high ledge, that he would offer some comfort, but all he had done was stoke the fire, feed the fear that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
“We’re not going to die,” Jack said calmly. Shawn knew he didn’t even believe his own words. “I just wonder how differently time travels here. This night that we’re going to spend...will the same amount of time pass in the real world? Or has no time at all passed since Rhys brought us here?”
“I don’t know,” Shawn said. “I think the worst part is that we’ll have no way of knowing until we get out of here.”
Jack sighed and stuffed half of the orange in his mouth. He chewed, letting the silence fill the clearing before at last he swallowed it and said, “Sometimes it’s better not knowing.”
Shawn agreed. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to learn. He’d always prided himself on being one of the smartest kids in his class, of knowing strange, obscure things that made most other people scratch their heads. Now though? Now he wished for the blissful peace that came with willful ignorance. He didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to worry. He just wanted to be.
Jack tossed his peels into the fire, watching as the flames turned the vibrant orange to black ash before he stood up and wiped his palms on his pants. “We should try to get some sleep before Rhys changes his mind.”
Shawn copied his friend, but before either of them could make a move toward the tent, Shawn asked, “Should we sleep in shifts? I still don’t trust it.”
“Me either,” Jack admitted. “But I’m at the point where I’m starting to not give a shit either way.”
That was something Shawn could understand.
20.
DESPITE WANTING NOTHING more than to turn his brain off and start up again whenever he came back to consciousness, Shawn couldn’t sleep. Jack fell asleep within moments of lying his head down, but for all of Shawn’s trying, he couldn’t do the same. With another glance to his friend, he crawled out of the tent.
Looks like I’ll be keeping guard after all, he thought and shivered.
When he looked up, it was dark, a light dusting of stars lighting up the blackness. It was eerie how real it appeared to be. Shawn studied the stars, trying to decide if any of them didn’t belong. In his mind, he’d believe any out of place twinkle to be Milo watching over them.
He didn’t realize he was crying until the water dripped onto his arms. He bowed his head, letting it overcome him. Now that it was out, he wondered how he had held it back for so long. Wondered why he had felt it necessary to do so. When he closed his eyes, the look of sheer panic on Milo’s face just before the Leviathan dragged him down for good came back. He’d known exactly what was about to happen, but not with enough time to prevent it. Shawn could hardly think of anything worse.
If Shawn had been quicker, smarter, braver, something more than what he was, he would’ve been able to save his friend. He was sure of that. That pain stayed with him until pink rays of sunlight started to appear on the horizon. Shawn wiped his face and watched the color spread, wondering again how much time had actually passed. He stood up, trying to get the blood circulating in his legs, and felt dead on his feet.
Inside the tent, Jack snorted, a groan turning to a scream. “Milo!”
Shawn knew he should look away, but he didn’t in time to avoid eye contact. Jack’s eyes fluttered open as he jolted awake, reaching up to wipe the sleep off his face before peering out of the darkness of the tent.
“Nightmare?” Shawn guessed.
Jack was solemn as he sat up and said, “Yeah.” He shook his head and crawled out of the tent. “You too?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Shawn said. “There’s just...too much here.”
“I understand.”
Jack snagged one of the oranges they had abandoned the night before and offered Shawn half. Shawn took it without thinking. Jack’s face was grim as they ate their meager breakfast and prepared themselves for whatever was to come next.
“Your next dungeon is ready for you,” Rhys said when almost all of the indigo purple of the night had vanished from the sky.
Shawn sniffled and took off his glasses, reaching up to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand before he put his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.
“You actually stood by your promise,” Jack said, sounding back to himself. “I’m impressed.”
Shawn wanted to mirror even a fraction of his energy, but he swayed on his feet, feeling his exhaustion. Logically, he might not know how much time had passed, but his body did. Shawn took a step, trying to steady himself. His arm felt too heavy, his entire body made of lead. Standing up was a struggle, let alone traipsing through another dungeon.
A dungeon without Milo.
Before the thought could have him bawling all over again, he forced himself to ask, “Who’s our next demon?”
“Beezlebub, the demon of gluttony,” Rhys answered. “Compared to your Leviathan buddy, Beezlebub isn’t quite as randy. You might find this dungeon easier for that reason alone.”
Jack made a face. “Beezlebub? Isn’t that just a synonym for Satan?”
“No,” Shawn said before Rhys could respond. “People often substitute one name for another, but in Demonology, they’re not the same. They’re different entities”
“Oh, joy,” Jack said. “Tomato, tomahto, demons.”
Shawn didn’t say anything.
“Ready or not, here you go,” Rhys said and snapped his fingers.
Shawn closed his eyes, the sickening feeling of vertigo filling his senses long before he opened his eyes. When he finally cracked them open, he expected to be in another creepy, inexplicable place. The restaurant around them, dumbfounded him.
It looked like his favorite diner across the street from his school. Except instead of humans, there were creatures everywhere. Grotesque things with bulging bellies, some with pinchers, and some with multiple mouths. The tables in front of each were stacked high with plates, some of them recently cleaned and others still full of heaping mounds of food that smelt so good Shawn’s mouth watered. Waiters dashed from table to table, but they weren’t humans either. They were cr
eatures too, their only differences their thin bodies. They moved table to table, dumping more food on the tables of engorged creatures.
Shawn grimaced and studied the monster nearest them. It didn’t look at them as it shoved bite after bite into its mouth. Glossy black eyes stared straight ahead, and its stomach was so distended it looked painful.
Shawn wanted to throw up.
Jack glanced his way, queasiness scrunching his features. “They look sick, why do they force themselves to keep eating?”
“It’s their sin,” Shawn said, holding a hand over his stomach. “They are gluttons. I guess the saying ‘glutton for punishment’ has a double meaning for these things.”
“I...I almost feel sorry for them,” Jack admitted.
Shawn bobbed his head, studying a creature in similar distress nearby. “Me too.”
Jack scratched the back of his head. “Maybe Rhys was telling the truth. This dungeon might be easier.”
“You didn’t expect this either?”
“This doesn’t look like anything we’ve faced so far. I mean the last three dungeons were physical ones. We had to run from the danger, but these things? They don’t care we’re even here. It’s almost like we’re not.”
“Even still, we’re going to have to be careful,” Jack said at last. “These things don’t look dangerous right now, but we don’t know if that could change. There are a lot of them after all. If they did decide we were threats, I don’t think it would matter how overfed they are. They’re huge.”
Jack began to weave through the tables, Shawn one step behind. Out of the two of them, he had always been the brave one, the one to do the things Shawn could not. The smell of food hit Shawn, and his stomach started to growl. The oranges he’d eaten weren’t much nourishment after everything they’d been through but thinking of Milo made the pain easy to ignore.
None of the creatures looked up from their plates. Their forks clinked against the porcelain in a slow rhythmic pattern followed by every creature. One of the waiter creatures rushed past close enough to brush Jack’s shoulder, and he eyed it.