Chapter 27

Jess waited at the school gates for Damien until the bell rang. The wind whipped her long hair around her face as she stood up on her tiptoes, scanning the streets for any sign of him. Resigning herself to the fact he wasn’t going to show, she followed the other stragglers inside, taking her phone out to text him.

"Phone!" the Vice Principal barked.

Jess hung her head and put it back in her pocket, hurrying to class under the watchful eye of the authoritarian Vice.

Her usual seat in the science lab was at the back and in the corner, the farthest—and safest—point from her fellow students. Today, Ricky grabbed her arm and pulled her toward his bench on the second row.

"Sit," he demanded in a tone that reminded her of Damien.

'I'm not your dog,' Jess thought, yet she sat without putting up any argument.

"What the fuck is going on?" Ricky whispered as the teacher passed out the worksheets.

"What do you mean?" Jess asked. She was almost certain what he referred to, but how was she supposed to explain it?

"Something is going on with you, Caine, Damien, the Indian lad and that little gay kid," Ricky listed them off.

"If you mean us being friends..." Jess shrugged. "I am allowed to have friends, despite what the rest of the people in this shithole might think."

Ricky stared into her eyes; eyebrows raised in question. "I'm not stupid. First Mike Strawbridge starts dating that loser kid, Damien has a pet slave, Cat is talking to you again and then the whole thing with Grace?"

Jess sucked in her chest and stared down at her hands, trying not to cry. She'd already spent the entire night in tears of guilt and sadness over the girl's death.

He must have sensed her anguish because he placed a hand over hers and ceased his questioning.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?" he said.

"Okay." Jess nodded, staring at the large hand covering her own. It was only fair to let him know about the danger he was in, not that he'd believe it. What was she going to say; Damien used this goth magic to curse everyone?

Looking about the room, she saw Caine and Kiaan were both absent from the class. Sammy was sitting with Mike, playing footsie with him under the table and laughing like nothing was wrong.

'Does he even care about Grace?' Jess wondered. From his proximity to his target, she guessed Kiaan hadn't convinced him to forgive Mike yet.

'What if he's too wrapped up in Mike's affections to realize the danger he's putting him in?'

After the lesson, she slipped away from Ricky and accosted Sammy in the hall.

"You haven't forgiven him then I take it?" she accused.

"He's fine, isn't he?" Sammy tutted. "You can see him laughing and smiling."

"But it's wrong—" Jess started.

"Tell that to Ricky. Do you think he'd be interested in you without the spell? You are doing the exact same thing as I so why don't you get down off your high horse," Sammy spat. She'd never seen him speak this way before. He'd always been so quiet and gentle.

'Is this spell changing who we are as people?'

"That isn't true. I've forgiven my victim and I'm going to ask the rest of you to do the same," Jess continued to talk softly, attempting to soothe him away from hostility.

"Please, Sammy, what we are doing is wrong." She took his hand and stared into his eyes, trying to coax out the sweet she knew he was inside. "Really think about it. It isn't fair on Mike and it isn't real."

"Whatever. It's easy for you to say. You're pretty and sexy and you'll be able to get any guy you want. It isn't as easy for the rest of us," Sammy huffed.

"That doesn't mean you get to treat people like living sex toys," Jess told him, beginning to lose her cool.

With that, Sammy stormed away.

"Great going, Jess," she muttered to herself.

Turning left down the corridor, she saw the flowers and cards left at Grace's locker. It was sickening how an entire school body could go from hounding a girl to death to celebrating what a brave person she was. They had not only torn her to pieces but had reveled in it.

'You can't blame them,' Jess thought. 'They only acted that way because of the spell we cast.'

"She was a complete bitch, but she didn't deserve to die," Eddy commented, appearing at her side. He used a blob of blue tack to attach a card to her locker.

Jess took a moment to look at the cards, some hand-drawn and some store-bought. A bunch of flowers that looked like it had been on sale at the local gas station was attached to the grill with green string.

"But now she'll never be anything else," Jess said, feeling the tears well up. "She'll never get to grow as a person... and that isn't fair."

"I could have stopped her, you know?" Eddy sniffed.

"You couldn't," Jess assured him. She turned to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You really couldn't have known—"

"I did though. She told me she felt suicidal, and she begged me not to dump her as a friend." Eddy wiped tears from his face. "I was too worried about my stupid reputation. I thought she was being dramatic."

"Please don't blame yourself. It's everyone's fault. And nobodies," Jess tried her best to comfort him. If he knew the truth, would it alleviate his guilt?

'Probably, but I'm sorry Eddy, I can't. All I can do now is try to make sure nobody else dies.'

"I'm sorry," Eddy said.

"Huh? What for?" Jess asked.

Eddy shifted, looking down at the floor and scratching his head. He glanced up, flashing a weak smile.

"I've never been very kind to you. After the whole thing with Cat, I took her side and, well, everyone else followed my lead," Eddy said.

He had a point. People tended to listen to Eddy for whatever reason. Outwardly there was nothing special about him, yet he was the most popular and influential person in this place. For a brief moment, she considered confessing everything and asking for his help.

'There are already enough people tied up in this mess,' she sighed to herself.

"It's not your fault," Jess told him. "People listen to you. They always have. But that doesn't make you God."

Eddy laughed at his.

"Yeah. I'm just a guy who abandons his friends in their hour of need."

When his stuttered laughter became sobs, she pulled him in for a hug. The pair weren't friends, they were barely acquaintances, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

He pulled away after a moment, nodded and left without another word.

"I didn't realize you two were close," a voice whispered in her ear.

Spinning on her heels, she almost stumbled as she saw Caine looming over her, pinning her with his unblinking green eyes. Cat eyes.

"W—we aren't." Jess swallowed. Now that Ricky had pointed out all Caine's oddities, they were so plain to see. It seemed ridiculous she never noticed them herself.

The way he was standing, looming forward, it was familiar.

'The figure in my nightmare...'

"They were all so quick to demonize Grace, yet now she's dead they call her an angel." Caine snickered. He picked a card from the display, read it with a sneer and dropped it to the floor.

A footprint marred the floral as a student stepped behind him. Jess stared down at the dusty brown track mark, wondering how it had come to this.

"I feel like we had something to do with that," Jess challenged him.

Caine chuckled quietly. "We did. We all did this."

"I didn't know this would happen. I never wanted this," Jess argued. "If I had known this would happen, I'd never have agreed to be part of it."

"But it's all working out so well for you!" Caine cooed. "She even admitted to lying, right?"

"And it wasn't even a lie," Jess whispered. "She was telling the damn truth the entire time. I tortured her for telling the truth."

"Oh, you think that's bad? Damien is torturing a girl for having the audacity to reject him." Caine laughed.

'How is that funny?' Jess thought. She shook her head.

"We need to stop this thing. Now. Please, Caine. You know we have to stop this, right?"

"Why are you asking me? It was Damien's spell," Caine asked.

"We all need to go to Damien together and demand this end," Jess asserted.

"Easy for you to say. You got what you wanted," he smirked.

"What? Really? People are getting hurt. Who cares about petty differences? It's high school. People get bullied and fall out and make mistakes. But life goes on. Only it won't for Grace. Not now. Not thanks to us."

Caine took a deep breath and smiled. "Good luck with convincing the others."

"You're evil," Jess blurted. She hadn't planned on saying anything of the sort. It just slipped out.

Caine sighed. "Yes, but I'm also beautiful, so nobody will notice."

"Ricky notices. Is that why you chose him?" Jess asked.

Caine turned to walk away.

"I chose Ricky for the sport. It's no fun to break the weak."

$ Chapter Watching Damien drink a glass of water, it dawned on Belle she'd had nothing to drink or eat since the energy drink before the bus journey.

"Aww, are you thirsty?" the observant boy cooed with false sympathy. "Come here."

Her scabbed knees burned from friction against the rug as she crawled over to him.

"Open your mouth," he demanded before taking a giant sip. He leaned forward and spat a steady stream of tepid water into her mouth.

It didn't quench her thirst, but at least her throat felt a little less like the arid planes of Death Valley.

"I've decided you're not coming to dinner tonight," he informed her. "You pissed me off last time."

Belle felt her tummy rumble at the thought of food, but the emptiness in her stomach didn't come close to competing with the emptiness in her soul when she left Damien's company. Like everything else he inflicted, it was bearable and preferable to the alternative.

After spending a relatively pleasant day in his company, Belle had dared to hope he might be close to forgiving her. That, or she might be growing on him.

'I guess I was wrong,' she thought, looking up at him as he gulped the last of the water.

"From now on, you only get to eat and drink when I say so," he said with a creepy smile.

Belle felt the life draining from her as she nodded. Going a full day without food wouldn't be an issue by itself, but after a week of barely eating, malnutrition was starting to take its toll.

"Please may I have a shower?" Belle asked. At least she could drink the water and get clean at the same time.

'Oh, what luxury,' she thought sarcastically. If anyone had told her a few weeks ago that she would soon be scheming ways to gain access to basic human rights, she would have scoffed. Before Damien had come along, her biggest problem in life had been Drew's ex grinding on him at the club. All her previous schemes involved shoving a wedge between her boyfriend and his stupid ex.

'Life was so easy back then.'

"I'll run you a bath," Damien said.

Sitting, listening to the water fill the bath, Belle calculated how difficult it would be to drown herself. There was no hope of her getting her life back on track. Only pain and misery waited in her future.

'Some people say drowning is euphoric,' she thought dreamily.

When Damien called, she slipped out of her clothes and neared the bath. No wisps of steam or heat rose from the water's surface.

When she dipped a finger in her fears were confirmed.

"It's cold."

"Oh." Damien shrugged. "I must have forgotten to turn the boiler on."

'Please don't force me to bathe in this,' she thought. She prayed.

"Well, my parents hate when I waste water, so jump in," he urged.

"Please," Belle whispered. She didn't hold out any hope he would listen to her. Thus far her pleas for mercy had only succeeded at spurring him on.

"Honestly, the way they go on you'd think we were some African family living in a village with a single well," Damien went on. "Get in. I'll clean you."

The shock of the cold lit up her lower half as she stood in the water, mentally psyching herself up to sit. As the water hit her most sensitive part it knocked the air of her. She gasped, shivering as she slid further into the freezing bath.

When Damien filled a jug, she knew what was coming, but it still took her breath away. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably while he poured jug after jug of freezing water over her head. Squeezing the shampoo onto her hair, he made sure to get it in her eyes.

He scrubbed her skin with what could have been the worlds roughest sponge. Why a family would even own such a thing was the real question. It felt like they'd concocted it out of cactus needles and straw.

Though it lasted only minutes, it was the longest bath of her life. Her skin, already pale, turned a deathly shade of blue as she stood, waiting for a towel.

'Think of something warm, think of something warm,' Belle urged her brain.

Images of last year’s heatwave flooded her memories. She remembered taking lukewarm baths and the relief they provided. Reliving that moment helped her to the point she made the mistake of smiling.

"Happy?" Damien asked her. "I can't be bothered to go upstairs for a towel so you can drip dry."

Belle nodded, looking at her blotchy red and purple feet. Little splashes of cold water dripped from her hair to her shoulders as she followed him back to his room and sat on the itchy rug, feeling the loose fibers and dirt stick to her clammy skin.

Her only hope was that he would ignore her for the night, content to play online games with his friends, practice the guitar—badly—or do homework.

She breathed a sigh of relief as he picked up his guitar, but it was short-lived. He stopped playing, sighed, and looked down at her.

"I suck, don't I? You can tell me the truth and I won't punish you," he asked.

Alarm bells rang in her head. 'It's a trap, it's a trap, it's a trap.'

"You don't suck," Belle lied. "You just need to tune it properly."

He put the guitar down, walked over to her and stood so close his boots were on the tips of her fingernails. The look on his face was so angry it made her flinch.

"I specifically ordered you not to lie. Do you know you have a tell?" he asked.

She didn't. At least, nobody had ever pointed it out before. Belle had always considered herself a good liar. She'd even prided herself on this quality.

"Erm, well, I," Belle fumbled. "I didn't want to offend you."

'Hmm," Damien made an odd face, pursing his lips and widening his eyes. "Well, now I'm going to have to punish you for lying."

"Please," she blurted, though she knew by now it was pointless. "I'm sorry for lying. Please forgive me. Please, Damien, please."

"Just please let me go," she mewled, clinging to his trouser legs. "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I regret being a bitch to you more than anything in my life. If I could go back in time, I would, I swear but I can't. I can't change it."

She stared up at him, begging with her eyes. "Please find it in your heart to forgive me. I beg of you. I can't bear this anymore. Please. Please show me mercy. Please, I'm begging you for mercy."

As she poured her heart out his facial expression never changed.

'It's hopeless.'

When she fell silent, he let out a long sigh.

"Are you done?"

Belle closed her eyes, gently squeezing out the last tears. She looked up with cold, dead eyes and nodded.

"Good," he uttered. “I’m never going to let you go, so you might as well just get used to it.”

$ Chapter Sammy cracked his knuckles as he waited at the school gate for the bell. Both his mother and sister hated this habit, so when they weren't around it became worse.

"You'll get arthritis," Mike warned.

Sammy flashed him a sour look. "Spell arthritis."

He felt a buzz of satisfaction as Damien chuckled and Mike's cheeks reddened. It was cruel, picking on the boy's lack of academic ability, and a rather cheap shot by all accounts. Still, it was nice to be the bully rather than the victim.

Damien had his slave girl on a leash as usual. The other students had almost completely stopped gawking and commenting on it. Poor Belle was just part of the school scenery now, like the kid with the skin condition and the guy with the bright ginger afro.

Sensing his attention, she looked up with misty, dead eyes. Her cheeks were drawn and pale, as though Damien had been starving her. He noticed how her eyes flitted to the oat bar in his hand.

'Should I offer her some?' he briefly considered, before deciding it would be too weird.

When the conversation waned Damien turned to the girl at his feet, pointing out his boots were dirty and ordering her to clean them.

"What with?" she whispered.

"Your spit," Damien told her, making a face as if the answer was obvious. When she lowered her head and began to lick his boots, Damien laughed like it was hilarious.

"I meant spit-shine you thick bitch," he said. "But you may as well lick them clean now."

When Sammy saw the look Mike was giving him, he realized he was smiling.

'Why do I find this amusing?' he wondered. Watching the girl, the answer to that question became obvious as he pictured Mike down on his knees, licking the dirt from his shoes. The mental made him hard.

‘I’m officially a sadistic freak,’ Sammy scolded himself. Before today, the thought of hurting or humiliating another person only succeeded in making him sick. ‘What’s happening to me?’

As the last of the students piled into the gate, Mr. Devon pulled into the carpark opposite and got out of his car. The teacher did a double take as he passed them. He stopped, sighing heavily.

"Damien, I don't even know what to say about this," The teacher mumbled, looking pained.

"I'm not on school property, so it's none of your business," Damien told him with undisguised glee.

"Stop it," he said, addressing Belle. She ignored him completely.

"Tell her to stop." Mr. Devon turned to Damien, his tone almost whining.

"What on Earth?" a loud voice boomed from behind.

Sammy felt himself shrinking as he turned to see the Vice Principal looming over them, casting a long shadow on the group.

Even Damien looked worried.

"Stop that!" the man shouted at Belle. "Stop it now!"

Sammy was impressed that Belle ignored the scary authority figure as though he wasn't even there.

"You can stop Belle," Damien said finally, prompting her to look up.

"Hey Mr. Faragher, how's it hanging?" Belle cried in a tone so conversational Sammy couldn't stifle his laugher. "Do you remember me?"

"You were a brilliant student, Annabelle" Mr. Faragher said.

His stern frown softened as Damien pulled Belle to her feet, revealing severely scabbed knees and whip marks down her legs all the way down her legs to the tops of her knees.

White and green puss oozed from the injuries on her knees, surrounded by angry red blooms of infection. You didn't need to be a doctor to see they needed treatment. Antibiotics or something.

A pang of guilt pressed at his insides, remembering how he'd gotten off at the sight of her kneeling to lick Damien's boots.

'I was picturing Mike,' the voice in his mind defended his perversion.

"Damien, my office now. You... go and see a doctor about those knees," the Vice Principal demanded.

Before following Mr. Faragher to his office, Damien whispered something in Belle's ear.

"Yes, Damien," she muttered.

Sammy hadn't overheard, but he guessed Damien hadn't told her to go to the doctors. He watched as she ambled about before jumped over the wall she could usually be seen sitting on and hiding behind it.

"That poor fucking girl," Mike said once Damien left. "How can he treat her so badly? It's horrible to watch."

"How do you know she doesn't deserve it?" Sammy asked.

Mike shook his head. "Nobody deserves that. Nobody."

Sammy had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, he did feel sorry for Annabelle, but it was Damien's business, not his. He wasn't about to tell anyone else how to treat people. Especially given his own situation.

'I may be a lot of things, but I refuse to be a hypocrite.'

"I'm sure the Vice will sort him out," Sammy lied. He'd seen Damien interacting with teachers and staff long enough to know they weren't a match for him. There was something seriously wrong with Damien. Most of the teachers seemed to be aware of this fact and treated him with caution or avoided him altogether.

"My family liked you," Mike said, throwing him off with the drastic subject change.

"They did?" Sammy asked.

"My Mum wants me to invite you over later. She's doing the night shift and my brothers are both stopping at their girlfriend's houses. I don't think she trusts me on my own."

"What does she think you're going to do?" Sammy frowned.

"Last time I was alone I started a fire. Well, I accidentally left some popcorn in the microwave for an hour, and it blew up—"

"Okay, okay." Sammy laughed. "I'll come over, but no funny business."

"Yay!" Mike cried, fist-pumping the air.

'Is the prospect of being with me so exciting?' Sammy thought. Deep down he knew it was only the effect of the spell and he could only drag it on for so long.

'What if no one is ever excited to be with me ever again?'

$ Chapter "I'm going to do it tonight, I promise," Sammy huffed, throwing up his arms in defeat as they approached.

Jess smiled warmly and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Sammy," she said.

"You don't have to thank me. I'm doing it for him. As much as I like having him about... it's not fair on him. I think I'm starting to love him, so you know, I have to let him go." Sammy rolled his eyes. "That is how the saying goes, right?"

"I still can't quite believe it," Ricky said. "Who would have thought Damien could cast a real, working spell?"

"Me either," Jess agreed. "I swear I didn't think it was going to be anything more than harmless fun."

She had explained the entire situation to Ricky, everything from the night of the spell up to his point. Luckily, though unfortunately for him, he had already been feeling the effects of the spell, so convincing him hadn’t been the dire task she’d imagined it might be.

He explained the nightmares and negative thoughts, and how he'd pushed them aside. His strength of will and tenacity amazed Jess. One girl had already killed herself under the weight of the spell, and yet here stood Ricky, refusing to apologize to Caine under any circumstance.

"So why did you start picking on Caine, just out of interest?" Jess asked. It was the one part of the story he was yet to detail.

Ricky tutted and shook his head. "The fucking prick. He... he slept with my Mum."

"What?" Both Jess and Sammy gaped at him.

"He bragged about it to me. Showed me pictures of my own Mum doing..." Ricky turned and punched the locker beside him. The entire row of lockers shook, releasing dead petals from Grace's memorial bouquet. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

"What the fuck?" Sammy frowned. "You don't think he did it on purpose to become a part of the Hexers?"

"Hexers?" Ricky scoffed. Jess had conveniently left out the part about their name. It was dumb and had been coined before things got dark.

"Question is... what can we do? I know next to naff all about witchcraft and I doubt Damien is going to enlighten us," Sammy said.

"When in doubt, find an expert." Ricky shrugged. "There's this YouTuber. Calls himself Malus Persona. He live-streams demonic rituals and shit. I'm guessing it's all fake, but he probably knows a thing or two."

"Great idea," Jess gushed. "I'm glad we have you on our side."

She noticed the sly half-smile Sammy flashed her as she fawned over Ricky. Maybe Sammy was right, and his interest in her was down wholly to the spell. She hoped it wasn't true. Aside from the fact he was good looking, he was also strong, kind-hearted, and intelligent.

'The perfect guy.'

"I think we also need to do something about that girl. Her knees look badly infected and she's so thin. Almost emaciated," Sammy told them.

"Plan." Ricky clapped his hands together. "Sammy, you distract Damien at dinner break, and we'll skip over the fence and sort her out."

"Got it," Sammy nodded. Distracting Damien wouldn't be too hard for him. As smart as Damien was, he could easily be kept talking for hours if you broached a topic he considered himself an expert in.

It must have worked because at lunch Damien was nowhere to be seen. Ricky showed Jess his little secret—a loose bar in the school's gate that could be pushed to the side, creating a gap just big enough to squeeze through if you breathed in.

They crossed the road and peered over the wall to find her sitting with her back to the bricks and her knees drawn up, muttering to herself.

"Belle?" Jess prodded her shoulder.

The girl spun and used her hand as a shield against the sun.

"You. Mr. Golden Glow," she smiled up at Ricky.

"Okay. We have food, drink and antibiotic cream for your knees," Ricky told her.

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her knees and pulling them in tighter. "I'm only allowed to eat and drink when Damien says."

'That disgusting prick!' Jess seethed. 'How can he be so cruel?'

"Damien sent us. He can't get away. He told us to give this to you," Ricky lied without pause. He turned to Jess and shrugged.

"That's right." Jess smiled encouragingly. She emptied her backpack onto the grass. "There is water, juice, sandwiches, crisps and an apple and you have to eat every bite. Understand?"

Belle nodded. She looked unsure at first, taking small bites, but the more she ate the larger the pieces she shoved in. Ripping the sandwich into bitesize chunks, she dropped a Mayonnaise laden chunk of lettuce onto her bare legs. Without a second’s hesitation, she scooped it up and popped it into her mouth.

"Dignity is overrated," she whispered, eyes staring into the distance.

"I can't believe he makes her sit in the cold with bare legs," Jess huffed under her breath.

"It's warm compared to the bath he gave me," Belle said. Her lips briefly stretched into a smile before drooping again.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Ricky whispered. He squeezed some of the ointment into his fingers and rubbed it into her knees, his face contorted in concentration.

As he pulled his hand away Belle reached out and grabbed him, quick as a rattlesnake.

"You have to help me. Please. Please. You are the only one who can stop him now," Belle whispered.

"I'll do my best," Ricky promised, giving her a pitying smile.

"Did you message that Malfas guy?" Jess asked.

"Malus, yeah, he said he'd meet us. It's only a train journey away. You up for it?" Ricky asked.

Jess nodded, skipping a little to keep up with Ricky as he veered away from the school.

"What? Now?" she gasped.

Unlike Ricky, Jess had never skived from school before. There were times when she'd wanted to when all the drama with Cat and Johnny was going down. She spent lessons in the bathroom but never left school property.

'This is an emergency,' Jess told herself.

When Ricky snuck through the train station without paying, she realized she was about to break another crime.

"I have money—" she went to say.

"Save it. This privatized bullshit is overpriced. Public transport shouldn't be run for profit," Ricky huffed. It sounded like something her parents would say.

"What if we get caught?" Jess asked, scanning the platform for any signs of life.

"You can flirt with the attendant." Ricky smiled. "That or I'll knock 'em the fuck out."

"Let's just not get caught, eh?" Jess suggested.

When the train screeched to a halt at the end of the platform the pair rushed to the door. It was one of the older trains with the rubbishy manual doors. The handle clunked in her hand and the door swung out, almost knocking her off her feet. Once inside they found a table in the last cabin, hoping the ticket inspector wouldn't reach that far. If one did appear, they could always hide in the toilets.

As the train clunked along the tracks in a hypnotic rhythm, Jess tried to think of something to say to Ricky.

"Thank you," she said.

"For?"

"Helping." Jess smiled.

"I'm helping myself too, you know. I don't like having night terrors every night. I mean, it's not like I'm not ready to go crawling to Caine or anything, but I'd rather it stopped, you know?"

"Your right." Jess shook her head, feeling ashamed of her part in the whole thing. "I doubt he'd forgive you either way. I sort of picture him gloating."

"He's... well, I guess he's not a ghost. He has corporeal form. But he isn't an ordinary human. I'm almost sure of it," Ricky said. He picked at an empty bottle as he spoke, picking at the golden label. "Maybe our man will know more."

Jess looked out of the window as Ricky played with his phone. Fields, industrial estates, and lakes whizzed past. Cows grazed in the meadows adjacent to the station as they pulled up.

"Look at the moo-cows," a young mother said to her toddler as she passed. She cast a nervous glance in Ricky's direction as she wrangled her kid up the aisle.

At first, she figured the woman was just racist or scared of teenage boys, but the way she was glancing over her shoulder at the carriage door suggested she'd pulled the same trick as her and Ricky. Affording the railways prices as a single mum couldn't be easy.

Jess graced her with a reassuring smile as they all exited.

She saw Ricky's face transform into a confused frown. He turned back just as the train attendant moved up the train, slamming all the doors closed.

The woman was kneeling and muttering to herself, searching through her bag frantically when she turned back to the train and screamed, "Johnathon! Johnathon!"

Ricky hopped off the train, boy in his arms, just as it began to move.

"Oh my God!" the woman cried, dropping her bags and running over to grab the little boy. "You silly boy! You never go off without Mummy!"

Jess bent to pick up the woman's stuff—a wallet, diapers and a couple of toys and placed them carefully back into the bag. The poor woman's hands were trembling as she took the handle.

"Thank you," the woman muttered before turning back to Ricky. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done. Anything could have happened."

The woman was practically crying, clinging to the boy, and stroking his hair.

"It's aight," Ricky mumbled and shrugged.

As they walked away Jess asked if that sort of thing happened to him a lot.

"Sometimes." Ricky shrugged. "I'm pretty observant. I noticed the kid hop back on the train in the reflection of the cafe window. That stupid attendant just slammed the door behind him without even looking."

"Ricky... you're pretty amazing," Jess told him, feeling her cheeks flush.

He turned to her with his patent frown and tutted.

"Fuck off."

$ Chapter Jess searched for a bell or a knocker before making a fist and pounding on the wood. She heard fumbling inside before the guy answered.

"You must be Ricky and Jessica," he said, opening the door wide to let them enter.

"He's like an older Damien," she whispered to Ricky, seeing the guy’s hairstyle, black clothing, and piercings.

"Thank you for agreeing to see us," Jess said. "We really appreciate it."

"Oh no, don't thank me. I'm intrigued by what you told me. Would you like a drink?"

"Black coffee, no sugar" Ricky said without a moment’s hesitation. Jess shook her head out of politeness but immediately regretted it when she realized a tea would be nice. She was both thirsty and in dire emotional need. Nothing put her at ease quite like a good cuppa.

"Are you sure?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Please don't say no out of politeness."

"Oh my God, you really are a psychic. Tea. Please," Jess gushed.

They sat down at a coffee table shaped like a coffin. It even had a body under the glass case—presumably, a dummy. With a striped red and black jumper, Jess guessed it was made up to look like Freddy Kruger.

"Your house is awesome," Jess said, taking in his collection of macabre and wonderful ornaments. It was everything Damien wanted his room to be, dark, magical, and stylish. On his black bookshelf sat a comic book collection that would make Kiaan jealous as well as books with symbols—some of which she recognized from Damien's jewelry.

"So, from what you said, it sounds like you guys were trying to summon an Alastor," he said as if the solution were obvious.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Jess joked.

Malus laughed. "These things usually last for a limited time."

After going to his shelf and selecting a black covered book. When he opened it up, Jess saw it was full of handwritten script and drawings.

He licked his thumb and flicked through the thick, off-white sheets.

"Ah, did you notice if there was a full moon at the night of the spell?" he asked.

"Erm, I vaguely remember moonlight." Jess strained her memory. It felt like so long ago.

"Okay." Malus closed the book and smiled. "It'll wear off next full moon. Not long to wait."

"What if one of our friends is a demon?" Ricky asked.

Malus let out a laugh, looked at Ricky's face and stopped abruptly.

"What on Earth would make you think that?" he asked.

"He's... odd," Ricky said. He described Caine, giving the same examples he'd laid out to Jess.

"Well, he sounds like a weird guy, but that doesn't mean he is possessed by a demon," Malus said after a short pause for thought. "The not blinking thing... it's common in psychopaths I believe, but that isn't my field of expertise."

Jess exchanged a disappointed look with Ricky. She knew there was something off with Caine. She knew it in her heart. How could they make this guy understand?

"Look," he said. "I'll give you an unbinding spell. If your man is affected by a demonic presence, it should help. You'll need to encircle him, three of you, and say these words three times."

Taking out a pen and notepad from his shirt pocket, he tore out a page of the paper and wrote a couple of lines.

Jess sipped the last of her tea, placed it on a coaster and took the folded slip of paper from him.

"Be careful." Malus stood and shook each of their hands. "And I shouldn't have to tell you this… but leave the summoning to the professionals in the future. Messing with forces you don't understand... it never goes well."

"Yes, we will." Jess nodded. "And thank you so much for this."

As they left, the guy called Ricky back and whispered something to him. Something that made him frown deeply before nodding.

She waited on the street, staring down at a shiny two pence piece somebody had dropped and not bothered to pick up.

'Is it lucky to pick it up? Or is that only pennies?' Jess wondered.

She shook her head.

"What was that about?" she asked once Ricky caught up.

Ricky shook his head.

"Never mind. Some bible bullshit."

Jess wanted to hear it but knew it was better not to push him once his face darkened. Ricky's temper was famous.

He was quiet for most of the way home, leaving Jess to worry that the effects of the spell were harming him. All she wanted to do was make him feel better.

Once home, she found her brother sitting in the kitchen. He made her skin crawl. She backed out of the door quietly, trying to slip away unnoticed.

"Well, aren't you going to thank me?" he called out.

"What?" Jess asked.

"Your school rang. I pretended to be Dad for you," he said. "You have detention tomorrow."

"Oh shit," Jess muttered. She'd completely forgotten about ditching school. "Thank you, Johnny."

As she went to continue her retreat, he grabbed her arm and turned her round to look at him. It was hard, looking him in the eyes.

"Why are you being weird?" he asked. "You're being really funny with me."

"Erm."

'Think fast, Jess.'

"I'm just having my monthly," she announced, giving an apologetic smile.

"Gross," he muttered, releasing his grasp on her shirt.

Jess couldn't help but smile as she made her way to her room. Like most nights, she did her homework, putting in the smallest amount of effort required to get it finished before binge-watching her latest favorite series on Netflix.

She fell asleep watching the show, dreaming about sharp-toothed werewolves and seductive vampires. The 'are you still watching?' message flashed on her screen. Getting up, she searched for the controller and selected 'no' before turning off the television.

When she slithered back under the duvet something caught her attention. A dark shadow behind the door.

'I'm sure I closed the door.'

Turning her attention to the hanging portraits of herself and her brother, she frowned deeply in concentration. It looked as if their mouths were moving, quickly and silently, as though asking questions she didn't want to hear.

'I'm asleep.'

As the shadow shifted, swelling up before flitting to the corner of the room. Oddly, this apparition didn't chill her spine or leave her shaking in fear. It was smaller than before, with softer edges and the feeling it emanated wasn’t foreboding.

Jess leaned forward, approaching the inky shadow with caution.

"Save me," the thing whispered—its voice the sound of a dying breath.

When Jess woke, covered in a cold sweat and alive with knowledge. It was Caine, crying out to her to be saved.

'Don't worry,' she thought, remembering the unbinding spell. 'I'll save you.’

$ Chapter "Do you want anything to eat?" Mike asked, scratching his head.

"Depends." Sammy teased. "Are you going to burn the house down?"

Mike laughed. "It'll have to be something simple."

When he turned to look in the cupboards Sammy stared at his back, noticing the outline of his shoulders beneath his thin shirt. He quickly averted his gaze as Mike spun around, arms filled with boxes of pop tarts.

"My favorite," Sammy said.

When the pair sat with a plate of freshly toasted s’mores flavored tarts Sammy breathed the sugary scent of the marshmallows. It reminded him of that night in front of the fire, burning Mike's hairbrush.

'I wonder if he ever noticed it missing,' Sammy thought. It seemed unlikely, based on what an airhead he was.

"So, tell me the story of how you blew up the microwave," Sammy teased.

"The packet said to take out the popcorn when it stops popping, but it never did. I got bored and forgot about it until I heard the bang," Mike explained.

Sammy laughed so hard until he saw the look on Mike's face, the pitiful and self-deprecating smile.

"I'm sure that sort of thing happens to everyone," he offered generously.

Mike blushed and nodded.

'God, he's so cute when he blushes.'

Sammy found himself picturing Mike with the so-called post-orgasm glow, glistening with swear and pink in the cheeks and felt himself getting hard. He shifted, hoping Mike wouldn't notice the randomly timed boner.

"Are you okay?" Mike frowned.

Sammy nodded as the larger boy leaned toward him, face full of concern.

"I want to kiss you," Mike said. "Can I?"

Biting his lip, Sammy gave a timid nod.

As Mike showered him with kisses he laid back on the sofa, letting the other boy pin him under his weight. The kisses became increasingly passionate as Mike's hands explored his body, pushing up his shirt and rubbing his chest.

Sammy was conscious his body wasn't perfect like Mike's. He didn't have the six-pack or bulging pecks. Still, Mike didn't seem to mind. He felt the hardness of him and although it had been somewhat fun to tease him, the thought of seeing his orgasm face was too tempting.

He slipped his hand into his trousers, making him moan.

"Let me put it in you," Mike panted.

The pair sat up, tearing the clothing from each other's bodies.

"I d—don't have any, uh, protection," Mike muttered.

"Well, I hardly think you're going to get me pregnant, Mike." Sammy tutted.

"Right, uh, I think we need lube though," Mike said, laughing nervously.

"Are you worried you're going to tear me in two with your monster dong?" Sammy teased him. He regretted these words once Mike pushed it inside, using only spit to lubricate.

It was painful. Incredibly painful.

"Uh, uh, stop," Sammy moaned as it thrust in and out.

Mike didn't stop.

He pinned Sammy's wrists and used his superior strength and weight to trap him.

"I love you," Mike said.

"Mike, it hurts, stop," Sammy cried, struggling beneath him.

"But I love you so much, I have to have you," Mike said, staring into his eyes with feverish intensity.

"Please," Sammy whined.

Mike took a sharp breath, looked around and began to panic. He pulled out, stumbled back off the sofa and kneeled on the floor.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me," Mike said, beginning to cry. "Please don't hate me. I love you so much. I can't live without you."

Watching Mike sob, Sammy couldn't be angry. It was the spell he cast making him act this way. It wasn't his fault.

"It's okay," Sammy assured him, placing a hand on his cheek. "I love you too."

"You do?" Mike asked. His head snapped up, eyes so full of hope and desperation. "Really? You really mean that?"

Sammy nodded.

He meant it.

"So... you'll forgive me for all the shit I put you though?" Mike asked, staring up with wide eyes that practically begged him to say yes.

"I will soon, I promise I will, just... give me this night. Please, Mike," Sammy asked.

The confused boy's face twitched with confusion as he slowly nodded. He didn't get it. Didn't understand that after tonight the feelings that burned so fiercely in his chest would dim, becoming a strange memory, soon to be forgotten altogether.

For Sammy, this was his last night of happiness. Of being wanted by someone.

'Well, that isn't exactly true.'

He thought back to the time Caine kissed him and shuddered. There was something utterly abhorrent about the lad, despite his beautiful face. The kiss had been as hollow and empty, like pressing his lips against a corpse. He pushed that out of his mind, focusing this attention on Mike.

"Come on, let's try again. This time, you get to be the bottom," Sammy said as he took Mike's hand and led him upstairs.

$ Chapter Mike tried to walk normally, but it was difficult given the pain in his backside. He comforted himself with the knowledge it had felt so good at the time, and he'd rather be the one in pain. He never wanted to hurt Sammy again.

He glanced at the boy at his side, mesmerized by how his white hair sparkled in the sunlight. Taking a deep breath, he dared ask the question that tortured his soul.

"So, you said you would forgive me—" he started.

"Sorry, Mike, I have a meeting with the school counsellor, but I'll talk to you later, I promise," Sammy said before reaching up and kissing him on the cheek.

He stopped, feeling his stomach sink as the boy skipped off into the main reception.

"He will never ever forgive you," a cold voice spoke up. Mike spun to find creepy Caine. "I can one hundred percent guarantee it."

Not wanting to engage in a discussion with the guy, Mike turned and walked in the opposite direction. When he felt the urge to run, a scene from an old childhood movie popped up in his memory.

The character, fleeing a monster with sharp teeth and claws, was issued the warning, "Don't look back, and don't run."

He hadn't thought about that film in so many years, despite it creeping into so many of his nightmares as a kid.

In the movie, the monstrous thing hadn't followed the hero.

But Caine did.

He placed a hand on Mike's shoulder as he caught up.

"I only want to help you," Caine assured him. "I know how to get him to forgive you. It's a foolproof plan and it will work."

As he stared into Caines crystal clear eyes he saw no doubt. No lack of confidence.

"But... why would you want to help me?" Mike asked.

Caine shrugged before turning away and kicking his heels at the stray pebbles by the edge of the field.

"I love Sammy, but I know he only has eyes for you. I just want to help a good friend," Caine said. "Come with me."

Mike almost tripped and fell as Caine grabbed his hand and pulled him backwards, out of the school gate. The school's groundkeeper—an elderly guy called Steve—gave the pair a dirty look as he closed the gate behind them, locking it up for the day.

"We're going to get into trouble," Mike complained.

"Oh, no," Caine gasped sarcastically, placing a hand over his mouth. "Come along. There isn't a lot of time."

He followed Caine around the southern estate, across the park and through the abandoned industrial estate on the, feeling the pain in his bum intensify with every step.

"Can we take a break?" he asked.

"We're almost there," Caine said, continuing to walk at the pace of an Olympic gold athlete.

"Guess that's a no then," Mike muttered under his breath.

He ducked under a half-collapsed doorway, navigating past the dusty pipes and wires that sprawled from the crumbing walls like spaghetti.

"What are we doing here?" Mike asked. He jumped over a pile of boxes and a dirty sleeping bag that had probably been left by a squatter at some point in history.

"Up the stairs," Caine demanded.

Although Caine was already halfway up, Mike pressed a foot on the first step to test its stability. The entire building looked as though it could collapse at any moment.

"Don't be a wuss," Caine called.

Once he'd carefully made his way up the stairs, Mike found Caine in what used to be an office, setting up a camera on up upturned filing cabinet. He watched as Caine upturned his bag, dropping a rope onto the piles of old papers that littered the floor.

Caine twisted the rope into a knot—one of those complicated ones he'd seen at boy scouts but could never manage to learn.

"Stand on this," Caine ordered, pulling a chair from the corner of the room and straightening out its wonky leg.

"I, uh, I don't think—" Mike started to protest.

"Once he sees how desperate you are, he'll have no choice but to forgive you," Caine assured him with a smile.

"Here." Caine yanked his head back and placed the noose over his neck. "Get on the chair."

"A—are you sure? This seems a little extreme," Mike asked.

"Sometimes you have to go to extreme lengths to get what you want, Mike."

He watched as the lad threw the rope over an exposed beam, picked up the end and tied it to the handle of the window frame. The satisfied smile on his face when he turned to inspect his handiwork sent a chill down Mike's spine. He looked far too happy.

"Oh!" Mike cried, feeling his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

He almost lost his balance on the chair as he shifted to retrieve it.

The message was from Sammy.

"I'm so sorry I ran off this morning. I want you to know I forgive you, for everything you've done."

He felt a tear run down his cheek as he read and re-read the message.

"We don't have to do this," he told Caine. Honestly, it was a massive relief. The noose around his neck was making him nervous.

"What?" Caine snatched the phone from his hand. He shook his head as he read the message, face darkening into a scowl.

"That little fucking prick!" Caine screamed. He threw the phone against the wall, shattering the case as the battery skittered along the floor.

Seeing the rage on Caine's face, his initial nerves shifted into stone-cold dread. He reached his hands back, fumbling to undo the knot, but pulling on it only made it tighter. The fibers of the rope scratched at his flesh, digging into the tender area around his carotid artery.

"I can't believe the nerve of that ungrateful little brat," Caine seethed, pacing from one side of the office to the other and back again.

"Erm, Caine?" Mike asked.

The boy turned to him and stormed over, face twisted in rage. He placed a foot on the chair—the only thing keeping Mike alive at this moment.

"I'm so tempted to watch you die right now," he said.

"Caine... I don't understand..."

"Of course, you don't, you dumb sack of shit." Caine shook his head. "It's okay. As long as the others refuse to forgive. Grace can't receive any forgiveness now."

Caine seemed to be talking to himself more than Mike. His lips curled up into a cruel grin when he mentioned Grace.

Suddenly he stopped muttering and looked up at Mike, eyes wide, as though he'd had an idea or come to some form of conclusion.

"See you later, Mike," he said and turned to leave.

"No!" Mike cried. "Wait, Caine, please don't leave me like this. Help me down. Please. Please, Caine!"

When the boy turned back, Mike let himself hope his pleas were about to be answered.

"There's a slim chance you will be rescued. Very slim. How long can you hold on, Mike?"

"Why are you doing this?" Mike asked him. "Is it because you like Sammy?"

Caine threw back his head and let out a laugh so loud it caused a nearby flock of birds to take flight.

"You really are a simple creature. I almost pity you. Almost."

When Caine ducked through the doorway Mike shouted after him, begging him to come back. He shouted until his throat was raw and his lungs were full of dust.

Tears streamed down his face when he finally fell quiet.

"I want my Mommy."

$ Chapter When Jess walked into the Religious Education room her book bag slid from her shoulder, dropping to the floor and spilling its contents on the fuzzy carpet.

"What the heck?" she murmured.

She took a few steps forward, joining other students who stood in the same fashion, eyes fixed on the back wall.

"What is it?" she asked the lad to her. He shook his head without tearing his eyes off the display.

The posters they created last week were gone, replaced with... patterns. The longer she stared at them, the more she noticed. They repeated themselves, forming repetitions as the larger swirls stemmed off into smaller clones. With every step she took forward, she saw another smaller repetition.

At the edges, the colors were bright, like a Henri Matisse painting, but toward the center, the swirling forms became golden upon black.

'Where did they find paint in such a vibrant golden shade?' Jess wondered. Something about it was so familiar.

"Do you like it?" Caine asked.

Jess frowned, pulling her eyes away from the mural. "Did you do this?"

Caine smiled and nodded.

"You missed Math," Jess pointed out. "Where were you?"

"I was making this," Caine told her. She got the feeling he was lying.

When the teacher arrived, late as usual, he didn't look happy to see the wall-sized mural or the way the students gawked at it.

"Who did this?" he demanded to know. "What is this?"

"You know what it is," Caine said quietly.

"No." Mr. Porter shook his head. "Take this down. Now."

"Whatever way you look at it," Caine teased him. "The universe is a sprawling, eternal mass of fractal repeats. It's math and nothing more. Close your eyes and press down... you'll see the truth. It's right there inside you."

Mr. Porter sniffed and shook his head. He was one of those people who seemed to have a permanent cold—always red in the nose and sniffing into a tissue.

"Oh, come on, you know it’s true," Caine pressed. "You've always had doubts, ever since you realized your prayers were empty whispers into the night, you just need someone to tell it to you straight—"

"Shut up!" the teacher shouted, making most of the students jump. "Just shut up, shut up, shut up."

"When you die, there isn't going to be a horde of singing angels and a shining tunnel with all your loved ones waiting at the end. The only light you will see is this one and you know it because you've already seen it," Caine went on.

The teacher pressed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes. "Take it down, some take that damn thing down!"

It was Ricky who ripped down the first sheet. After tearing off a couple more Eddy started to help, followed promptly by the rest of the class. The torn pieces of Caine's masterpiece littered the floor by the wall as the students all worked together to dismantle it in silence.

When Jess turned back, she found Mr. Porter was sitting on the floor, knees drawn to his chest and hiding his head. As she approached, she heard him muttering to himself.

"I shall fear no evil..."

"Don't listen to him," Jess whispered. "We're ninety-nine percent sure he's possessed by something called an Alastor."

Mr. Porter stared at her for a second with tear filled eyes before getting up and fleeing the classroom.

As the rest of the students shifted about, unsure of what to do, Caine walked to the front of the room with a smug grin and sat on Mr. Porter's desk, crossing his legs.

"Since I got rid of the teacher, I think I should get to give the lesson," he mused.

"Caine?" Damien spoke up. "Sit down. I'll go get the Vice since I know he loves our little chats."

Caine rolled his eyes as he got up and took his usual seat. The other students were giving him funny looks. Erin in particular was looking at him like he might spontaneously combust at any moment. She was a religious girl—went to church every Sunday and constantly asked strangers if they knew Jesus loved them.

Jess thought she might say something, but the girl kept quiet.

Nobody spoke up. Small friendship groups formed and whispered to each other, none of them attempting to include Caine.

'Other people are starting to him for what he is,' Jess realized.

She turned as Sammy pulled at her sleeve.

"I texted him," Sammy whispered. "But he didn't reply. I'm getting worried."

Jess took the phone from his hands and checked the message in question. It was marked with a little green tick.

"It's marked as read, so I think it will all be fine," Jess said, careful not to let Caine overhear. "You did the right thing, Sammy. I'm proud of you."

"Take this," She passed a copy of Malus's spell as discretely as a drug dealers exchange, pretending to shake his hand. "Learn it. All three of us need to say this together at the Hexers meeting later."

Sammy nodded, pocketing the paper in the same inconspicuous manner.

When the Vice Principal arrived with Damien she returned to her designated seat. The poor man looked like he'd lost the will to live—probably the direct result of a conversation with the goth kid. He had this way of tormenting the teaching staff that made even Ricky jealous.

"Is someone going to explain what happened to Mr. Porter?" he asked as he sat.

"Didn't Damien tell you?" someone asked.

Mr. Porter let out a long sigh. "I'm hoping Damien may have embellished."

"He didn't," Eddy said, shaking his head. A couple of other students nodded in agreement with Eddy's sentiment.

The teacher turned his attention to Caine, shaking his head and tutting. Just as he opened his mouth to speak the lad burst into song.

"If love's the word that you say, then say it, I will listen," he sang. "If love's the word that you say, then say it, I will listen."

"Stop that," the teacher said, scratching his temple. He looked mildly annoyed at first but became increasingly agitated as Caine repeated the line again and again.

"Stop! Stop it. STOP!"

"Caine, that's enough," Damien said, putting a stop to the tune.

Jess saw the way the teacher widened his eyes and blinked a couple of times before continuing to speak in a shaky voice. She'd never heard the Vice Principal speak this way before. At six foot seven and built like a bear, Mr. Faragher was the living embodiment of strength—both physically and mentally.

'And even he's afraid of Caine.'

"I don't know a lot about religion or the bible, I've only read bits," Mr. Faragher admitted.

"Let me guess... revelations?" Damien asked with a knowing half smile.

The teacher nodded. “I found it interesting in my youth.”

"People are always interested in revelations, but unlike the rest of the bible, they aren’t accounts of things that happened, but dreams and portents. There's no guarantee it will go down that way."

"Well, there's no guarantee any of it is even r—" Mr. Faragher started to argue.

Damien cut him off. "I mean, imagine all the antichrists it mentions appeared at once. Wouldn't that be a doozy?"

"Erm." The teacher frowned, his brow lines deepening more than usual before shuffling through the pages of Mr. Porter's lesson plan.

After the lesson continued along Mr. Porter's schedule, Jess cornered Damien.

"Damien you need to forgive Belle," she started to say before he cut her off.

"This again?" Damien tutted. "You need to trust me. If they win, it doesn't go well for us, comprede?"

"It doesn't matter who wins and who loses. We just have to finish this before anyone else gets hurt. That poor girl, Damien. You aren't this cruel. I know it. The spell is changing you," Belle explained. "Please, Damien. You have to know deep down that what you're doing is horrible and wrong."

When Damien sighed and looked down at his feet, she thought her words were sinking in.

"What makes you think I was a better person before this spell? Hmm? You never really knew me," Damien asked.

It was a fair question and a good point.

"I don't know, Damien. I'm just hoping. I genuinely hope you weren't this sadistic all along."

This made him chuckle.

"Oh, Belle." He sucked his teeth. "You have no idea."

$ Chapter Jess spotted Kiaan and Sammy sitting on the parks only bench. She approached, Ricky sticking close to her side like a bodyguard or protector.

The pair smiled as they looked up, both shivering in their winter coats with their hoods pulled up to shield them from the cold rain. Even Ricky had ditched his usual Nike hoodie in favor of a puffer jacket, and he was famous for not feeling the cold. One time he'd turned up to school during a snowstorm wearing only a shirt and shorts.

"Let's do this," Ricky said, taking charge of the group.

"I taught Kiaan the spell, just in case," Sammy said.

"Just in case of what?" Jess frowned. "What are you afraid is going to happen in there?"

Sammy shook his head. "Who knows? I just want to be prepared for anything."

Jess nodded and smiled at him, letting him know she understood the sentiment. After his performance in class, Jess had no idea what Caine might be capable of. She noticed the lines of anxiety on Sammy’s drawn and pale face. It reminded her of that first fateful night, before everything had spiraled out of control and they were nothing but a group of helpless victims seeking refuge from the harsh world.

"Still no word from Mike?" she asked.

"No. I'm starting to get worried. Eddy hasn't heard from him either. He said sometimes Mike loses his phone for days which does sound like Mike, still..."

"Hmm," Jess agreed. She too was concerned about Mike's welfare.

As she took a deep breath, she watched the puff of condensation drift up into the sky. It was just starting to get dark, the sky turning a deep azure behind a thicket of branches. Damien's house was located on the nicer side of town, where the wide streets were lined with oak and apple trees and the gardens separated by allotments.

They used the brass knocker when they arrived, flashing fake smiles at Damien when he answered. He didn't seem surprised to see Ricky. The way he looked at him, it was almost as though he'd been expecting him.

'He must think Ricky is here to apologize to Caine,' Jess realized. 'He's about to be disappointed.'

The group removed their coats and shoes in the hallway, piling them onto the already full shoe stand. Jess was glad to see they had the central heating blasted up to full like last time—today it was called for.

She walked up last, dreading to see the condition poor Belle was in. Her fears were founded, she saw, taking in the sight of the naked girl huddled on the rug. Marks of every description covered her pale body.

'There's no point quizzing Damien,' she told herself. 'After tonight, everything will be better.'

Kiaan looked as though he was about to speak up for Belle, so Jess subtly shook her head. There was little point in getting into an argument.

"So, Ricky, our guest of honor." Caine smiled. "It's time for your apology."

Ricky made a scoffing sound and shook his head. "No, Caine, it's time for us to put a stop to your games."

He looked at Jess, Kiaan and Sammy in turn, indicating it was time to get the show on the road.

"Not so fast. I have something you need to see," Caine said as he got up to switch on the television screen.

All eyes turned to the screen, fixed in horror at the sight of Mike standing on a chair, a noose around his neck. He was staring into the camera, desperately mouthing words that were not recorded. A memory fragment of a dream dislodged—of mouths moving soundlessly in pictures.

"He's been there a while now. He can only hold on so long," Caine said. "And if you don't apologize, I'll leave him there to suffer and die."

"Oh, shit," Jess murmured.

She watched as Sammy rushed to the television, pressing his hands up against the screen as though he could pull Mike out.

"Oh shit, oh shit, what now?" Kiaan cried.

"You can either win, or you can save Mike," Caine told them in a smug voice. "Because once you perform that little spell in your pockets, Caine here won't remember a thing about his whereabouts."

"How did you know about the spell?" Sammy asked.

Belle shocked them all by bursting into laughter. She pointed at Caine. "Psychic Boy knows everything!"

Her laughter became tears and quietened to stifled sobs when Damien kicked her in the side. She began to plead quietly, begging Damien to release her from the spell, but the sound of her voice was drowned out by the rain hammering the window and the howling of the wind.

The glass rattled in the pane, threatening to break under the pressure of the storm outside.

"Please, Ricky, please, you have to save Mike. Please, Ricky!" Sammy cried, echoing Belle's pleas.

Ricky grimaced, yanking at fistfuls of his hair before screaming, "I'm sorry for beating you up, Caine!"

"No, no, no, no, no," Belle cried. She crawled away from Damien's feet and grabbed the knife from its display. The knife that was used to start this whole mess.

She pressed it against her wrist, drawing a thin line of blood, and screamed at Damien as he approached.

"If you guys can't finish this, I'll have to do it. You said you'd forgive me if I cut off my hand, so I have no choice." Belle laughed, sobbed, then let out a scream as she pressed down on the blade with all her strength.

"Oh shit, oh shit," Jess spun, feeling lightheaded and nauseous. The sight of blood shooting from the girl's wrist turned her stomach.

"Kiaan, call an ambulance!" Ricky shouted, cutting through the chaos. "Jess and Sammy, look alive. The spell. Now!"

"But… Mike?" Sammy was pulling at Caine, trying to shake the answers out of him.

Damien pulled the phone from Kiaan's hand and asked for an ambulance to their location as well as the abandoned Symington building.

'So, Damien knew about Mike all day long?' Jess wondered. 'How could he leave him to suffer like that?'

With Caine, the answer was obvious. He was possessed and therefore had no control over his nefarious deeds. What was Damien's excuse?

Jess felt Ricky pulling at her hand, ushering her into the circle.

It was hard to hear over the roaring wind and Belle's screams. She could see Ricky's mouth moving, speaking the words of the spell she'd practiced so many times.

He looked over and gave her a reassuring nod.

She did the same to Sammy, taking his small hand in hers.

As one they repeated the words:

"Trifectus, Trivestum, Trivorum, Unbind thy spirit, Set him free.

By the power of three, So mote it be."

Jess had memorized the words, unsure of their meaning or pronunciation despite trying to google them. She screamed them at the top of her lungs but couldn't hear her voice over the wind and rain.

The room swelled with the force of the storm as the window finally gave way. Jess ducked with the others as the glass broke inwards, showering the room with glitter-like shards.

Everyone was either screaming or unconscious as the flashing lights span and the sirens blared.

Except for Damien.

He stared into space, mouth open. When he sensed Jess's eyes, he turned to her and let out a strained laugh before spacing out once again.

"You did it."

$ Chapter Jess couldn't stop looking at Ricky as they made their way to the coffee shop. Something was different about him. His brow was furrowed more severely than normal, and his eyes were far away, fixed on something she had no way of seeing.

He sniffed, pulled a tissue from his pocket, and wiped his nose before crumpling it and dropping it into the bin by the door.

Sammy, Mike, Caine and Kiaan were seated in the circle of sofas—the gem of the coffee shops seating area.

They waved as Jess approached, leaving Ricky to queue for the drinks.

"Tea, please," she called over.

Caine looked up at her as she sat and smiled. He also looked different, sporting the same red, snotty nose as Ricky.

"So, how is everyone?" Jess asked, not aimed the question at no one in particular.

Mike shrugged. "I still have no idea what's going on and they've explained it seven times."

As a group, they laughed, not unkindly, at Mike's inability to grasp the situation. They couldn't really blame him.

"I have very little memory of that night, but I feel terrible," Caine said, hanging his head. "I'm so sorry, Mike."

"We know it wasn't really you," Kiaan assured him.

"Where is Damien?" Jess asked.

"Oh, well, I think he's visiting Belle. I guess he feels pretty bad about the whole—" Caine made an exaggerated hand-chopping gesture.

"I don't see how she's ever going to forgive him," Jess said. "He might be best off leaving her alone."

The others nodded in agreement.

They fell silent until Ricky arrived at the table with the drinks. She emptied two packets of sugar into her tea and squeezed the bag against the side of the cup before taking a sip.

"So how did you find that spell?" Caine said. "I've been meaning to ask."

"We got it off this YouTuber. Occult expert," Jess said. As she spoke a question occurred to her.

"How did you know about that guy?" she aimed her question at Ricky. "Doesn't seem like the kind of thing you would be interested in."

"It's not." Ricky took a sip of his coffee, sniffed, and wiped his face. "Damien showed him to me the time we had a school project together."

"You had a project with Damien?" Jess frowned. "You never mentioned that."

Ricky shrugged. "It was no big deal. My Mum properly loved him though. She said, 'Ricky, you should stick with that boy, he's going to rule the world one day.' I never really understood until now."

Something about that knowledge made Jess uneasy. She couldn't quite put her finger on why.

"What did he say to you when we left?" Jess asked.

Ricky took a sip of his coffee, eyes becoming misty. "He said the kings have one purpose: to yield their power and authority to the beast."

"That sounds like something from the bible," Sammy said. His mother was a Christian so she would have to trust his word.

"It is." Ricky nodded. "Revelations."

'Revelations? Isn't that what Damien was talking about in R.E?' Jess vaguely remembered him mentioning it but couldn't remember his exact words. She had been too distracted at the time.

"I feel so ill," Ricky said. He flashed Jess an apologetic smile as he got up to leave. "I feel like I want to sleep for a week."

As he got up, Ricky put a hand on the table to steady himself and spilt his coffee. Wincing he pulled his hand back and sucked the coffee from his hand.

"I'm a klutz lately," he mumbled before leaving.

As Jess watched him leave, she felt a sinking feeling, a dark foreboding. She understood why, on some level. They would never be the same. Not with the knowledge they had. Demons, magic, and curses. They were supposed to be stories people told to scare themselves and each other, safe in the comfort of the knowledge it was all make-believe.

'No. There's more to it. Something bad is coming.' Jess thought. 'I feel it.'

Looking around the table, the others all appeared to be okay. She looked at Sammy and Mike—still very much in love despite the spell dissipating. It turned out Mike's feelings were pre-existing and only amplified by the spell, not fabricated from thin air.

Jess was glad. If one good thing had come of this mess it was Mike and Sammy's relationship. It was just a shame one girl had to lose her life and another her hand in the process.

As her eyes moved around the group they lingered on Caine. She gazed for as long as she could, undetected, before looking down. In all the seconds she'd stared, he hadn't blinked once.

'But he's not possessed anymore.' Jess frowned, remembering Malus's words. 'Could he also be a psychopath?'

She almost laughed out loud at her ridiculous worries. He was probably getting used to being himself again. These things might take time. Who knew? Jess didn't claim to be an expert in demonic possession, having only dealt with one.

$ Chapter Belle sat up in bed, using the buttons on the side to adjust the positioning as the nurse had shown her.

The book, white with a pentacle on the cover, described the basics of witchcraft in terms even a layman could understand. Her older sister had been kind enough to drop it off, along with a change of clothing and a box of Thornton's continental—her favorite chocolates.

According to this book, the spell Damien cast on her would be returned to him threefold.

'I can't wait,' she thought. 'I'm going to make him suffer through the same torment he inflicted on me.'

She pictured him on his knees, crawling to her as she had done to him. It gave her no real pleasure other than the sweet satisfaction of vengeance.

When he appeared in the doorway, she wasn't surprised to see him, smiling like a dimwit with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands.

They were pretty, but they were destined for the bin.

"I see you've come to grovel," she gloated. "Good luck with that."

"Pardon me?" he asked.

Belle rolled her eyes. Was he stupid or what?

"I've been reading about witchcraft," she said, holding up the book in her good hand. "I know the spell has been deflected back onto you times three."

"Oh?" Damien asked. "It says that?"

Belle shook her head, wondering why he was playing dumb. "You know it does. You're the expert in this stuff. How does it feel, to be on the receiving end?"

"If I ever have a feeling, you'll be the first to know," he said.

Belle figured he was playing it down. She had felt almost normal at the start too.

"Just wait. Pretty soon you are going to be crawling to me like I did to you. Don't expect any mercy, either. I'm going to treat you the exact way you treated me," she sneered.

"Oh, dear," Damien said. "I've been sitting outside your door this whole time, you know. I figured it was time to take pity on you, all things considered."

"What are you talking about?" Belle frowned. She felt her heart rate increasing with every twitch of his facial muscles. It became clear he was amused.

"I haven't forgiven you, and now you've told me about your intentions to harm me, I don't think I will," Damien said. “I feel like you learned nothing from me.”

"No." Belle laughed, shaking her head. "You clearly stated that if I cut my hand off, you would forgive me."

"I more specifically said your right hand." Damien tutted, looking down at her bandaged hand. The stump was painful and itchy, despite the painkillers, and she imagined she could feel her fingers twitching. Phantom limb syndrome the doctor had said.

"My right hand," Belle muttered.

'Holy freaking shit.'

"I cut off my fucking hand, Damien!" she cried. "I cut off my hand, isn't that enough?"

Damien circled her bed and sat beside her. "It would have been enough."

He picked up the white book, opened the pages and tore it in half. The pages flew out, covering her bed and the floor.

"It wouldn't have even worked, your little revenge scenario," he said. "I'm more powerful than the spell that helped to create me."

He turned his head toward her and blinked.

Belle's breath stuck in her throat as his eyes changed from blue to black, to red, to yellow and then back to normal when he blinked again.

"What the heck?" she uttered, pulling away from him.

"People started to realize Caine was harboring a demon, but I was better at hiding it, and poor Ricky wasn’t even aware of his own," he explained. "But thanks to the spell and your blood sacrifice, the unholy triad now belongs to me alone."

"Since you performed your role exactly as I wanted, I had decided to forgive you and release you from the spell. All you had to do was humbly accept," Damien said. "Well, you can forget that now."

"Damien," Belle tried to plead. "I know there is a good person inside you somewhere. Whatever you're intending to do—"

"Save it." Damien sighed. "There are no words that can convince me to spare humanity."

"But you aren't evil, Damien," Belle tried regardless. "You are capable of pity. You just said—"

"No, I said I'd decided to take pity on you, not that I felt it. After you cut off your hand, I simply figured tormenting you further would be... inelegant."

He picked the pen from the nightstand and began to draw little cartoons on her bandage before signing his name and smiling.

"You know, I always had power, but this... this is something else. I can see time. Can you believe that? It's like a giant shifting Rubix cube." Damien smiled. "Well, I have things to do. I have no doubt you'll be crawling back to me soon enough. Maybe I'll let you bear my offspring. You will be the most hated woman on the face of the Earth."

With that horrifying threat, he got up. Belle could feel the dread creeping in with every step he took away from her.

'No, this cannot be happening... It was over… I survived.’'

"No."

Belle shook her head.

"No, Damien, nooooooooo!"