2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Two Days Later

“Come on, Tom. Please?” There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I pressed my ear against the phone, trying to make out the muffled argument going on in the background.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I promised Carly we’d shell out and watch a horror movie tonight. You know, Netflix and Chill, if you get my drift. It is a holiday, you know?”

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand where he was coming from, or acknowledge that sweet Carly, who loved hugs and Squishmallows, wouldn’t be interested in coming to The Devil’s Carnival, but I didn’t want to go alone.

Which was stupid. This was my night, and from what I could see of the fog rolling out of the entrance gate, this place was going to be amazing. At least my camera could keep me company.

“It’s okay, Tom. I get it. Really. Talk to you tomorrow? ”

“Yeah, of course.” Tom’s relief was palpable.

“And Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you please put on an actual horror movie to watch with Carly? None of that Shark-Hurricane or whatever shit she thinks is dark.” Tom’s laughter on the other end of the line warmed my heart.

“Yeah, I’ll put on something good. Have fun.”

“You too.” I hung up just as a grumpy old woman wearing a maid costume walked up with a cardboard box full of cell phones. She gestured with a wrinkled hand at my device.

“No phones allowed inside.”

What? I stared in horror at her uncaring face, looking around me to see if anyone else was shocked at her request, but I only saw amusement on the faces of other people in line.

“Oooh. Scary,” the college-aged guy behind me said as he swooped his phone through the air before placing it in the box. Reluctantly, I dropped mine on top of the others with a clunk, looking longingly as my rhinestone studded case slid to the side and mixed with the others until it was half hidden. A thrill chased its way up my spine.

Without my phone, I wouldn’t have a way to contact anyone.

I wouldn’t have a way to call for help.

Thankfully, she didn’t request I take the camera hanging from my neck and add it to the pile. She merely offered it a passing glance before moving down the line.

Even more intrigued by the promise of this carnival, I watched as a man in the ticket booth handed the first person in line a clipboard stacked with paper. He had an enormous, hooked nose which he rubbed nearly constantly, and the glazed look of someone forced to do monotonous work for hours on end. His red and white striped vest reminded me of someone from an old theater ticket booth. It was tight across the chest and seemed like something his employer had forced him to wear .

“Sign and initial. Take it off and pass it back,” the ticket booth man shouted loud enough to be heard a few paces back.

Going to an attraction where I had to sign a waiver freeing the carnival and its workers of any wrongdoing was exactly my thing, and I stepped forward eagerly.

The people ahead of me barely looked at the paper before haphazardly scribbling their agreement. It wasn’t until the clipboard got to me that I realized why they didn’t linger on the details. The murmurs behind me from the hundreds of people still waiting their turn were like hot pokers urging me to go faster. Still, I couldn’t help but skim some of the bullet points. Something about waiving the right to hold the carnival accountable for injuries, trauma, or death.

Death? Surely, that had to be for theatrics, right?

I decided I didn’t care. This couldn’t be any more dangerous than skydiving.

Hastily scribbling my signature, my hand paused at the additional details they requested. My birth date? Blood type? Why the fuck would they need to know that? I opened my mouth to ask a question, but someone from behind me bumped my shoulder, only offering a laugh instead of a light-hearted apology.

Assholes . With a roll of my eyes, I filled in the rest with a steady hand before passing it back to the group behind me. I wondered if they’d give the waiver a second thought. Probably not. One of them mentioned an algebra midterm, and by the ruckus that followed, it seemed unlikely.

They signed the contract, practically fighting over who got it first. One tall guy held it high over a girl’s head, taunting her with it like a prize. The girl grabbed for the clipboard, and it came close enough to my face that I had to take a step back. But I’d caught the word dismemberment, and it gave me pause. I wanted to take another look at the contract, but an additional window opened up, and the line moved forward, carrying me along with it. Maybe it was for the best. Dismemberment was probably just part of the whole injury clause, anyway. Places like this always needed to cover their ass.

Stepping forward, the familiar weight of anticipation and worry filled my stomach as I handed the paper to the gruff-looking man behind the plexiglass. Scruff covered his chin, and his cheeks were round and blotchy.

“Contract, invitation, and I.D.,” he grumbled .

Fishing it out of the pocket of my bodysuit, I handed the items over, along with the entrance fee of twenty dollars. I fought to get every last coin out of the skintight fabric and dropped the funds with a clatter on the table. Ignoring the attendant’s glare as he begrudgingly counted out the money I’d quite literally scrounged and scraped together for tonight’s adventure, I drew in a shaky breath, smoothing the flap of my pocket down nervously. My pleather outfit left little to the imagination, but it had been on sale and it was an easy choice for the night. Plus, the fabric stretched well, all things considered. If needed, I could probably run pretty fast. I’d make a fuckton of noise, but I’d be able to do it. Not that I planned to, as the stilettos I wore confirmed. Every fiber in my being was set on sticking this night out.

The attendant barely glanced at my driver’s license before shoving it back through the little slot and holding out a hand, gesturing for my arm. Holding my camera safe to my chest with my free hand, I made sure not to bump it as I complied, hoping he didn’t tell me pictures weren’t allowed. Given the fact the woman didn’t say anything, I wasn’t too worried. With an eye roll at the camera, he slipped on a black paper bracelet, and I figured pictures were fine. He turned my wrist over. Holding my first finger firmly, he pricked my fingertip with one long, sharp black nail. Hissing, I tried to pull away, but he already flipped it back and pressed a bloody fingerprint to the paper.

“Hey!” I snapped, more from reflex than pain.

”You signed the contract. Shut up and move on,” he grumbled.

Ripping my arm away, my elbow ricocheted off the thick plexiglass, and I gasped at the flare of pain. Cradling it against my chest, I couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief as he called the next person forward. The guy cheerfully stepped around me. I was still staring at the back of his shirt when he flinched from his own wound.

Unlike me, he held his finger up like a badge of honor. His friends cheered, encouraging him as they rushed forward to get their own at each window. With a deep breath, a smile tugged at my thin lips as reality set in. This was the real deal.

And so was this carnival.

An energy vibrated through the evening, and anticipation for tonight’s events filled me with an excitement that sang in my veins. I tilted my head back to the night sky, closed my eyes and breathed it in, spreading my arms wide. Tonight would be my night to shine.

The humans were ready.

Ripe for the picking.

Surveying the booths as I moved through the crowd, I paused when I caught the sight of a ghoul hiding in the shadows cast by tall tents on either side. With a crook of my finger, the thing shuffled forward on mismatched limbs. A wave of disgust washed over me. Ghouls were too weak to take the shape of living humans and took only pieces of the dead, cobbling together the best bits to allow them the flesh they needed to manifest in the human realm. This one had taken the parts of a few different children, fitting incorrect limbs to the body and making it so it could hardly move about. The demon’s soul had twisted its shape into something new—a creature requiring living flesh to sustain its existence on the earthly plane.

If I’d had my way, we’d be rid of ghouls altogether. Horrifying to look at, ghouls spoke in stilted language, were easily distracted from their duties, and they stank. I turned away as the scent of rot burned my nose. They might reek, but they were plentiful, and I needed all the workers I could get .

If all went as planned, the souls from tonight would meet with the devil’s approval and line the shelves of his personal stores. If not, well, it’d be straight back to Hell and a life of torturing pathetic, squirmy worms broken years ago. It was tedious work to prod those whose minds were too far gone to feel the sting of my blades, but someone needed to do it.

A hand on my hip, I glared down at the ghoul, feeling a sense of satisfaction when its bloodshot eyes lowered, and it hung its lumpy, bald head.

“Yes, Mistress?” Dejected, the ghoul played with a wart on its crooked finger.

“I need everyone out in front tonight, Ghoul—everyone doing their part. We’re expecting him soon.” The creature’s eyes widened, and mucus dripped from its thick lips in a steady stream at the mention of our impending visitor.

“R-right away, of course, of course. I will do it, Mistress. I will make you proud.” Then it smiled at me in a gesture that must have been meant to instill confidence in its abilities, but I didn’t miss the eager shine in its eyes or the gleam of its sharp teeth.

“And no sampling. That must be done carefully and at certain stages in the process to ensure a quality product, and by professionals .” I scoffed, knowing all he wanted to do was tear into the tender human flesh and suck the marrow from their bones. Uncouth slob. He could wait to get his rations just like the rest of them. “You are to stay near the entrance and bring the fear.”

With a dejected nod, the ghoul lumbered off towards the ticket booth where carnival goers were trickling in.

With a satisfied spin that nearly sank my high heel into the muck from last night’s rainfall, I turned from the blur of lights to my tent and stepped inside to prepare for the ritual.

Inside the modest tent, crimson candles surrounded the summoning circle where one of my more trusted underlings had inscribed the series of runes required to bring The Devil into the mortal realm. With a snap of my fingers, the flames came to life, unbothered by the wind thanks to the thick canvas I’d insisted on. Tying the flap shut behind me, I strode to the center of the room and knelt in front of the summoning circle .

The Devil had full access to the souls of sinners in Hell, but here, we could offer him more. Innocence, brave. Under the guise of the carnival, we could offer him the very best and truest of humans for his special collection, not just those bitter souls condemned to an eternity of suffering.

I shouldn’t have been nervous. I’d been sent here for this—to ensure this group of carefully selected humans believed this place was for their amusement so they would sign their souls away, and yet when the time came to face The Devil, even I couldn’t deny the twist of my stomach. With a simple gesture, he could end everything I’d worked for and send me back to Hell.

It was paramount that I impressed him tonight.

My heartbeat quickened as I double-checked the lines carved into the wood panel floor. If there were errors in the runes, I couldn’t spot them.

Sweat dripped from my hairline, stinging my eyes as I took a steadying breath, wiping at my brow with the back of my hand.

Better to get this part over with. He’d be more than willing to pull a nail from my finger for every minute I kept him waiting. Without further hesitation, I reached under my skirt, removed the ritual knife from the hidden thigh strap, and closed my eyes. The ancient chant floated from my lips with ease, growing in power and demand with each passing second. Pain rippled from my palm to my fingertips as I wrapped them around the blade, squeezing until the skin parted. Hot blood trickled from my knuckles into the center of the sigil as I offered my essence and waited for his response.

Only a second or two passed before the aura shifted, and I felt the fabric of the human world rip apart to admit him.

“Hello, my King.” Curse the way my voice quaked beneath the weight of his presence.

The Devil did not care for cowards.

I was Isra, commander of his legions during the war, and I would keep my back straight in his presence.

Familiar fingers wrapped around my injured hand and drew it closer. A warm, wet tongue traced the cut and encircled two digits, licking up the blood as the wound healed and left behind the sting of his venom. Memories of what he could do with that tongue flooded to me, sparking a warmth between my quivering thighs.

“Summoned me right on time. Good girl.” His defined, smooth voice sent shivers down my spine. “Stand.”

Keeping my eyes tightly shut, I stood in one fluid motion. I knew better than to look before he allowed it. A demon learned from her mistakes, especially ones that left scars. At least he let me keep my eyes, even if it was because he liked me to watch as he brought out the blades he used to carve patterns in my skin.

“Mmm, you have always been my favorite, Isra.” Words that mean very little coming from him. Especially when he took the knife from my other hand. Even as I worked to breathe evenly, my body remained tense.

“What would you say is the best part of this mortal body, hmm?” His breath warmed my ear. “The pleasure? Or the pain?”

I hated how much I loved his games. The thrill and terror that warred within my body. Despite the drawbacks of his presence and the potential of loss, I still found myself looking forward to this meeting. One night spent with him nearly provided more pleasure and pain than I could handle.

“Answer me, demon.” The tip of the blade pushed my black robe to the side and traced my collarbone to the red sweetheart cut corset beneath.

“Pain is pleasure,” I stated. If only I could see his reaction. Was my answer what he wanted to hear? A tremble of fear shuddered through my frame, even as a bolt of arousal shot straight to my core.

“Look at me.”

Finally, I pried my eyes open to see red skin stretched over a broad chest and firm nipples. Dark purple tones deepened the lines of his abs and hips down to his black fur-covered goat legs.

In an instant, the blade dragged across the soft skin beneath my chin, forcing my head up. “I said look at me , little demon.”

“I’m sorry, my King,” I whispered.

Deliberately, he pressed the tip of the knife against my quickened pulse. Red eyes with thin black pupils searched my expression, which I fought to keep neutral. Very few things scared me, but The Devil holding a blade to my throat was enough to take even my breath away.

I’d seen him dispatch countless demons for seemingly trivial offenses.

Sharp pain rippled through my neck as he pressed more firmly, drawing hot blood that dripped down my chest to the curve of my breasts. His twisted black horns glistened in the candlelight as he tilted his head to trail his forked tongue along the same path, cleaning every drop.

Moving the dagger between my legs, he found the slit in my long black skirt and reached beneath it. At first, I thought he was returning the blade to the holster, but then the distinct sharpness moved up my inner thigh. Casually widening my stance, I gave him access, holding myself completely submissive to his touch. A mix of pleasure and fear swirled in my chest as he carefully traced my clit with the tip of the blade. The chill of the metal felt good against my heat as he carefully worked the ball of flesh. Just as I started to relax into the sensation, a jolt of pain overwhelmed the pleasure as he pierced my soft flesh. The pain brought a sense of excitement to the moment. Biting my lip, I worked through the sensation, but a whimper escaped my throat, and I could feel his irritation in the way his wrist tensed. The Devil could cause the most unbelievable pain or indescribable pleasure, depending on his mood, and his face gave nothing away.

Was he pleased?

Was he angry?

Would it be pleasure or pain today?

Life or death?

He wrapped one strong arm around my waist and pulled me close to his broad chest while the other skillfully flipped the knife. The rough handle pressed against my folds. Moaning, I thrust against it, loving how the lines and ridges of the wood grain increased the pleasure as it moved back and forth.

“My king.” Moaning, I looped my arms around his neck to press my body against his. I wore very little, but the bits keeping us apart felt like too much. I wanted to rip them off and let his hot skin burn my tender nipples.

With a slight adjustment to the angle, he slipped the handle inside me, moving it in and out without hesitation. The texture of the woodgrain slid through my slick, leaving me gasping. My legs grew weak as he worked my pussy, dragging the tip of his claw over my clit. My breathing picked up. The world started to spin out of control. I broke, bucking painfully against the handle, past it to the cutting edge beyond as the release screamed through me. Digging my nails into his shoulders, I clung to him as waves of pleasure flowed through me, mixing now with the pain of being cut and making it impossible to stand on my own.

Would my weakness please him or anger him?

“You better not disappoint me tonight, Isra,” he said, withdrawing the handle.

I breathed a sigh of relief. He was pleased then.

This encounter had been about pleasure and life.

Tilting his head, his eyes never left mine as he brought the knife to his mouth and drew his long, forked tongue across it to taste my fluids. Then down the blade to clean up the streaks of blood with a wicked curl to his lips. “It would be a shame to have to kill my favorite pet.”

My heart slammed into my ribs, both from the excitement of the moment and the anticipation of what was to come. Demons were made from corrupted souls. We are what’s left behind once all of humanity had been squeezed out of them. Under The Devil’s care, our souls last an eternity. Nothing could truly destroy us, only cast us back to Hell, and force us through the process of reforming on the mortal plane. The Devil, though. He could snuff us out in an instant if he chose, leaving us as… nothing. Gone into the void.

It would be a true death. Anxiety twisted my guts, and I tried to swallow despite my newly parched throat. Yet, I spoke with assurance.

“You won’t be disappointed, my king.”

Heat trickled up my spine from where The Devil’s long black claws rested lightly on my lower back. He maneuvered us through the shadows with ease, lending me some of his power so we could pass between the crowds largely unseen. Every now and again, a set of human eyes would spot us. They would nudge a friend to point us out, but we’d already be around another corner, and lost in the throng of people.

No need for anyone to see The Devil yet.

We called the entrance a funnel for a reason. We wanted the humans to advance happily on their own, like little lambs for slaughter. There were frights, of course, but nothing so alarming as to scare them off and cause a panic.

Not yet, anyway. I grinned as we came to our first stop. The ticket booth where everyone signed their lives away before entering. The Devil remained quiet throughout most of our walk, and I couldn’t deny how each passing second of silence made my skin itch. Knowing better than to leave his mind wandering, I cleared my throat and offered my most impressive smile.

“As you can see, most of the attendees are more than eager for the festivities. During the days leading up to tonight, only our mild games were open. We have altered those slightly to set the humans at ease, the only frights being a few odd little prizes and fortunes which never should be told.”

“Keep talking.” The Devil’s command only made the wetness between my thighs increase. Absolute power radiated from him. Tension stitched my muscles together, making my movements stiff and calculated. My body, still amped up from the way he’d made me climax with hardly a touch, ached for more.

Mind consumed with what lay within the fur of his lower half, my voice came out breathy. “At night, we open the more dangerous games. The ones that push people’s limits of what they’ll encourage and participate in. It all starts here, though, at the gate. Once the contract is signed and sealed with blood, their soul is ours for the taking. Next, we begin the process of flavoring and distilling.”

The Devil nodded along, his gaze turning critical as he eyed one of the game fronts where humans popped balloons for a prize. I’d modeled it after a real carnival game, and it looked convincingly benign.

Maybe too convincing.

I needed to do better.

Clearing my throat, I launched into an explanation of the trap doors hidden in the Ferris wheel as we rounded a series of tents. Beyond was the ticket booth, where unsuspecting people were pouring through in a steady stream. Ignorant smiles plastered on their faces, they filtered into the carnival with wide eyes. Many looked around, their expressions changing from curious, to impressed, to horrified.

Now that the last rays of sunlight faded into star dust and darkness, many of my little creatures were creeping out from the crevices and screams of shock and fear began to fill the air. Some spirits from Hell were far too twisted to control a human body—even a dead one. They weren’t fit to become ghouls, but with a few ingredients and animal parts, I could craft them something temporary. Many of them were designed after various monsters and nightmarish creatures I’d found in musty, old human libraries. The very creatures of their nightmares. They scuttled across the ground, reaching for legs and hands and whatever parts of the humans their claws could catch. One that couldn’t be more than three feet tall, with bony arms and legs, scurried from beneath the curtain of a nearby table game towards two women, who screamed as they turned and ran back to the exit.

“Will they be able to get out?” The Devil asked.

“Yes. Weaklings like that are of no use to you, my King. The flavors we’re after are far more refined. There are plenty of others with more cultivated souls. This is why I set up the Carnival this way. The contract, the demons, the games, attractions, rides, everything. Each one is a layer of tests to weed out the weak ones. My purpose here is to find the strongest souls for you. Only the strongest, most worthy souls may enter the final show at the end of the night, where they will be harvested for your stores.” Just as I finished my explanation, the frail ghoul who’d been hiding between the tents earlier skittered towards a couple.

“ Holy fuck !” the woman shouted, jumping behind her massive boyfriend. The man clenched his fist. “Stay back! I will kick you across the carnival, you little shit. ”

Strings of large white light bulbs were strung from tent to tent, allowing just enough light for the ghoul to be seen. Mottled green skin stretched thin over jagged bones, thin enough to see blue veins beneath the surface. Every movement of its mismatched limbs looked painful as it bounced from one bare foot to the other.

Rolling my eyes at his antics, I caught sight of a beautiful young woman standing off to the side, taking pictures with a chunky digital camera. She wore a skintight bodysuit made of a leather I couldn’t smell. Fake then, a mockery of the human tendency to skin and wear animals—a tendency I rather admired. The neckline plunged, giving the perfect view of her modest cleavage. Her breasts were smaller, her stomach round, hips wide, and ass large. Fear and excitement were written into the tension of her shoulders. Wetness gathered between my legs as I watched her full lips part in surprise before curling into a smile as she raised the camera to take a picture. Curse the metal contraption for blocking the view of her enticing face. At least the black ears atop her head gave me something to look at.

When the ghoul pushed closer to the burly man, he didn’t hesitate to slam the sole of his boot into the bare chest of the weaker creature. With a garbled shriek, it flew back, hitting the pavement as it bounced and rolled across the hard surface. I was thrilled at the sight, turning to the waiting mist demon nestled in my shadow.

“Tag that one for the oak barrels. It will pair well with his boldness and give him the most deliciously rustic bouquet,” I whispered. A rush of wind let me know the mist demon had gone to do my bidding. The girlfriend whimpered, drawing my attention back to the couple.

“Careful! I don’t want to get kicked out of here.”

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to his side protectively.

“Nothing says we can’t touch them. If he wants to get that close, he can deal with the consequences. Either he’s paid enough to take our shit, or he should ask for a raise. Not my problem.” With confidence, he turned on his heel, casting a glance over his shoulder as he pulled his reluctant girlfriend towards the Ferris wheel.

Too bad I didn’t have time to linger here and enjoy the show. With a sigh, I turned to The Devil, finding him transfixed.

“I like that one,” The Devil said with a smile revealing sharp pointed teeth. He sniffed the air, his eyes gleaming as his tongue darted in and out. His eagerness thrilled me, but there was more to see, and hopefully the night would end with him permitting the carnival to continue and The Devil’s black-forked tongue flickering against my clit.

I could only hope this carnival would be enough to satiate him. Enough to earn some reward. All I needed to do was find the perfect soul to present to him. One forged through fear and desperation. A shining example of what the circus can provide.

The young cat lady lowered the camera and backed away, unwilling to take her eyes off the scrawny goblin-demon who chased after a couple of boys running in her direction. Apprehensively, she watched it all with a guarded expression.

I grinned. Smart girl. I’d have to watch that one. She could be the perfect addition to our special collection.

Smiling up at The Devil’s glowing eyes, I gestured with one arm. “Come, my King. You’ll want to see this.”