The Cabin Is Always Hungry

Arc 3 | Hells Grace (6)

HELLS GRACE

Part 6

The back door swung open, and Tara snuck inside.

The cabin was quiet. She could only hear her own breath. The slightest footsteps against the floorboards sent chills up her spine. However, she couldn’t hear Yasmine. I could tell by the way her brows furrowed that she found that mildly unsettling.

Perhaps, in jobs like this, the other girl had a knack for charming their targets, distracting them long enough for Tara and her brother to knock them out. Or kill them, whichever was the occasion. But against a demon…she stood no chance—an amusing toy roasting above the infernal fire.

Again, the cabin was quiet.

Too quiet.

Tara raised a hand, gesturing for Steven to slow down behind her. They had left the duffel bag behind, hidden outside next to a tree, the jamming device still active. Tara took out her Glock and moved forward. She didn’t even get two steps out of the mud room when her heart skipped a beat.

There, laying face first in a pool of blood, was a woman. Tiny white dots wiggled beneath her. Maggots, she realized. At first, she thought it was Yasmine, and perhaps Alvin had downplayed how dangerous their mark was and fucked them over. But as she approached, she realized the woman had darker skin and shorter hair, and her clothes did not match Yasmine’s.

“Jesus!” Steven suddenly exclaimed. Tara whirled around and found Yasmine standing beneath the archway into the kitchen and dining room, covered in blood and masking a thousand-yard stare. Not even Steven gently nudging her shoulder took her out of the stupor.

Tara lowered her gun. “Yas…” she whispered. “What the fuck happened?” She looked down at the body. Could it be? Was their mark dead this soon? What about the stupid gem? “Did you kill her?”

That word. Kill. Yasmine pried her gaze off the floor and looked up, tears welling in her eyes. “What? I—”

“Did you do this?” Tara pointed at Maxine.

“I…I…” Yasmine trailed off. She couldn’t find the words as she stared at Maxine’s unmoving form in disbelief.

I could feel the demon wrestling control inside her. Then I realized it was with purpose. Giving Yasmine enough command of her body just before the monster would go for the jugular. Before it would bundle those strings together and make Yasmine dance a macabre performance.

It was toying with them, toying with the girl’s soul. Playing with their food.

“I don’t know…I can’t….I can’t remember…” Yasmine took shallow breaths, wracking her brain for a memory of the past fifteen minutes. She clutched her head. Nothing.

“Babe, you’re burning up,” Steven said worriedly and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. He guided her to the couch. “Tara. Get some cold water.”

Tara stood frozen, confused. Her Resolve was slowly draining. So did Steven’s.

“Tara! Water!” Steven snapped her out of her daze.

“Yeah. Got it.” Tara strode into the kitchen.

Steven gritted his teeth, pulled off the wool blanket draped over the ottoman, and put it around Yasmine’s shoulders. “Here, babe. Are you cold? Are you okay?” He tried to wipe the blood off her face with the sleeves of his flannel shirt.

Yasmine did not answer.

Steven glanced over Maxine’s body. “Hey. It’s not your fault. It’s self-defense, alright? She attacked you.” Even I could tell he wasn't sure, but he went for the one that made more sense. Yasmine wasn't a fighter, besides what Tara told their clients. Clients loved it when they hired a competent group to muscle through a job if the occasion arose. The pay remains the same as long as you get results.

“But I didn’t kill her. It’s… It’s not me. It can’t be me.”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re gonna get out of here soon.”

Yasmine nodded, shaking. “I just want to go home, Steven,” she said, choking a sob.

“Trust me. We’ll get paid, and we’ll get the fuck out of here.”

“No, Steven…I. Want. To. Go. Home. Now.”

Tara walked into the room with the glass of water and handed it to Steven. He gave it to Yasmine, tipping the glass onto her lips, and helped her drink the water.

“Steven, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?” Tara said.

“Okay. Hold on.” Steven placed the half-empty glass on the coffee table when Yasmine had enough and followed his sister into the kitchen. “What?”

“She’s in shock,” Tara said matter-of-factly.

“No kidding. She hasn’t…offed someone before. We shouldn’t have sent her in.”

Tara pursed her lips. “A woman alone in the woods is not really a threat. But maybe we underestimated the situation. They had been drinking tea earlier, but I didn’t smell poison on the mug. It also looked like there was a struggle. Maybe the woman saw us coming and attacked her?”

“She would have told us if something was wrong,” Steven said.

“Maybe she didn’t have the time. Anyway, the woman’s dead, and that’s half of the paycheck.”

“But I’m worried about Yas. She looks fucking shaken up, man. We should leave.”

“I know. But we’re already deep into this shit, Stevy; we might as well get the other half of the money. We need to find the gem and give it to Alvin. Unfortunately, your girlfriend killed the person who knows where she’s hiding it. We have no choice but to turn this place upside down.”

Steven heaved a sigh. “Fuck. Fine. I doubt Yasmine’s gonna help us search.”

Tara shook her head. “I’ll go check upstairs. You stay down here.”

Tara and Steven broke off and started rummaging through the place. There was only one room on the second floor, the master suite, and I was surprised at how thoroughly Tara searched the room. I thought she would throw things around carelessly, but she was meticulous, covering the northeastern side of the room and going clockwise. She opened drawers and felt for false bottoms. In the closet, she knocked on the wall for a secret cubby. She crawled underneath the bed, checked every nook and cranny, and tapped her foot on each floorboard in case there was a hidden recess she could pry open.

Nothing.

On the other hand, Steven had a much bigger space to search. He started in the living room, probably to keep a close eye on Yasmine sitting still on the couch. Since he searched the kitchen and living room for the past ten minutes, Yasmine had not moved an inch, staring at the fireplace. Steven felt around inside as well. Maybe there was a loose brick, and I expected a bundled rag with the gem inside. He didn’t find anything.

“Nothing in the kitchen and the living room!” Steven shouted.

“Okay! Nothing in the bedroom here! I’ll look in the bathroom over here!”

“Got it! I’ll start with the bedrooms here.” Steven sauntered over to Yasmine and crouched down in front of her. “I’ll just be in the bedroom, okay? If you need me, holler.” But Yasmine did not respond. Gulping down his worry, Steven stood up and walked toward the nearest bedroom door.

Yasmine suddenly grabbed his wrist. “Steven—”

“What? What is it?”

“I thought we were leaving,” Yasmine sobbed.

“We are. We just..." He let out a defeated sigh. "...need to find the gemstone that Alvin wants first. We've gotten this far.”

“No, no. You don’t understand. We need to leave. Now.”

“What’s the hurry? The woman’s dead. She didn’t call the cops, did she?”

Yasmine’s gaze darted everywhere in the room. “I can feel it.”

“Feel what?”

Yasmine stifled another sob. “There’s something here, inside me, around us. And it wants to hurt all of us. Please, Steven. Let’s get out of here while we still can.”

“What are you on about?”

“Please. It’s watching us. Right now.”

“Who’s watching?”

My incorporeal body grew cold, and I shivered. Yasmine slowly turned her gaze toward where I hovered. Then, she raised a shaky finger and pointed it at me.

Me.

“Him,” she whispered, fear forming a lump in her throat.

[Detected. A delver has a line of sight on you.]

The prompt materialized in an instant. The demon’s half-control of the girl’s body had spilled a sliver of its Sight into Yasmine’s consciousness, allowing her to see my true form, and I could feel her Resolve sucked dry by the apparition. Interesting.

Steven turned around, but it looked like he couldn’t see me. “There’s nothing there, babe.”

Yasmine shook her head, and that only made her cry more.

“Anything?” Tara shouted from above.

“Uh, no! I’m still looking!” Steven squinted his eyes at where I hovered. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to Yasmine. “I’m gonna find the gem, and then we’ll leave. It’s gonna be quick. I promise.” Steven tried to pry his wrist off Yasmine’s grip. “Baby, you’re holding me too tight. Can you let go?”

Yasmine’s grip only grew tighter and tighter.

“I said let go!” Steven yanked his hand off, but he miscalculated the force and ended up slapping Yasmine’s chin with the back of his hand.

Yasmine yelped and curled on the couch.

“Shit, babe, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—!”

“Leave me alone!” Yasmine rolled over and buried her face in the cushions. “You don’t care about me! You hate me!”

Steven wanted to say more, regretting what he had done. But his nerves failed him, and he pivoted around and entered the second bedroom, hoping to forget what just happened by looking for the damn gem.

I floated closer toward Yasmine.

“You can see me, can’t you?” I said. For the first time, I didn’t know why it felt exciting that someone could finally see me, not just by my monsters but by people. Real people.

Yasmine cupped her hands around her ears. “You’re not real. You’re not real.”

“Open your eyes and look at me,” I commanded. "Look at me."

It was as if Yasmine was fighting the demon’s strings, trying to keep her eyes closed while her eyelids were forced open and her head slowly turned to face me. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“What are you?”

The question threw me off for a moment. I didn’t know what the fuck I am these days. A victim still? Vengeance incarnate? A devourer? A prisoner? Death itself? Though it had been hours since I’d last fed, it felt like I hadn’t eaten in a week. Every fiber of my being told me to feast on her, the way her Resolve glistened in a majestic aura of crimson so sickly sweet, and the need to feed had never been greater.

Feed.

Feed.

Feed.

Feed.

Shouldn’t I feel… what’s the word…compassion? Sympathy? Kindness? Humanity?

Yes. I am human. I am here. I used to be her. Tears usually get me. In my human memory, when I see people cry, it is like I’m catching it as well, and my eyes suddenly welled up, and I end up not knowing why I was crying in the first place. It could be from a loved on, a total stranger, or from a fucking movie. The results remained the same.

Now, I felt…a void. A strange one like I had ripped away the skin, and the wound had festered. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. Even I could not force myself to do it.

Compassion. Kindness. Humanity. I should feel these things. It is…innate. Required. Right?

But the words felt alien to my tongue, like reading the title of a book you recognize, but you never know what’s inside it. Just a blank space of meaningless drivel, and no matter how you try to understand the words and the burden hidden within, it escapes you. It slips away and turns forever lost. These words hitched like fleas upon my shadow, itchy and spattered with a reddening rash. The need to be rid of it was absolute. And there was only one way to do it.

Feed.

Feed.

Feed.

The girl’s question lingered in my mind. And all I could reply was one word. A word I knew as easy as breathing.

“Hunger.”

Suddenly, her head snapped back sideways; bones cracked audibly, and her mouth hung loose. Eyes quickly turned bloodshot in a split second. She lay still on the couch like a corpse when her eyes suddenly blinked once, and she slowly rose, lifting one leg and the other, and stood up. The blanket that Steven gave her fell off her shoulders. She stayed in that position for a minute.

Steven crawled underneath the bed in the nearby bedroom, looking for the gem.

Yasmine softly hummed a tune I immediately recognized—an old Taylor Swift song. Blank Space, was it? She turned around and walked toward the kitchen. Steven must have seen her feet walking past the door frame from under the bed, and he quickly crawled out, confused.

“Yas? Are you okay?”

She was still humming that song softly as she reached the sink and turned on the faucet; the water's hiss joined her haunting voice. Steven walked out of the bedroom and followed her into the kitchen.

“Are you thirsty? Do you want more water?” He asked, concerned. A trickle of fear spilled out, though he tried to stifle it. Yasmine did not answer. He desperately wanted to help with what was bothering her, and he clearly didn't like feeling helpless. “I’ll grab the glass.” Steven returned to the living room and grabbed the half-empty glass on the coffee table.

Whhhiirrrr!

Steven jumped at the sudden loud noise, cutting through the air. It even shuddered underneath him. When he looked over to the kitchen, Yasmine had turned on the garbage disposal in the sink, and then she cocked her head to the side and gave him the widest grin before she shoved her left hand inside the opening.

“Yasmine! No!” Steven let go of the glass and ran toward her. Surprisingly, it did not break when it hit the wooden floor and rolled toward the kitchen.

Steven switched off the garbage disposal from the wall socket and yanked Yasmine’s left arm out, and a gush of blood spurted out, spraying him all over the face. Instead of a scream, Yasmine cackled madly as she glimpsed her bloodied hand, lacerated and mutilated beyond recognition, bones snapped into odd positions with some sticking out of. her skin.

And the blood never stopped.

Yasmine collapsed on the floor.

Steven crouched down and grabbed the dish towel hanging by the oven handle. He wrapped it around Yasmine’s ruined hand. “What the fuck did you do? Why the fuck did you do that!” Blood still kept coming through the fabric. “Shit. Tara! Tara! I need help!”

“Steven…” Yasmine whispered, indifferent to Steven’s cries and dwindling Resolve, which had turned dark orange. Seeing his girlfriend badly injured must have taken a break in his mental psyche. He was panicking.

“Shh. Don’t talk. Don’t talk. Tara! Get down here!”

“Steven…will you still love me if my arm is missing?” Yasmine asked, eyes softening. Her right hand snaked its way up and around the back of Steven’s head.

“Wh—what?”

“Will you still fuck me even if I look like this?” She raised her injured hand. "I can cut your arm too, so we can be matching besties, and love each other forever and ever..."

“I don’t under—” Steven paused when he noticed that Yasmine’s eyes had turned into the color of yellowy pus.

“So, why don’t you give your whore a good kiss?” Yasmine grabbed a fistful of Steven’s hair and forced his lips to her mouth.

Steven struggled under her strength, hands pushing against her shoulders, but it was useless. She was too strong. Then, a sickening crunch and Steven screeched as his bottom lip was caught between Yasmine’s teeth. Yasmine, smiling gleefully, bit harder and yanked her head back, ripping off the flesh.

Steven clutched his bleeding mouth, stumbling backward to his feet, eyes wide with horror. He tried to run, but he didn’t see the lone glass lying by its side on the floor. Steven stepped on it, rolling against his soles, losing his balance. He scrambled for a foothold, but his adrenaline overpowered him, and his back slammed against the archway, knocking the air out of his lungs.

When he looked over to where Yasmine was, she was already standing, pulling out a paring knife from the magnetic knife holder on the kitchen island. Twitching, she strode toward him.

“Yas, stop! Stop! It’s me! It’s me!”

But Yasmine wasn’t listening. Yasmine was gone. Only the demon now remained.

Yasmine raised the blade, and Steven lifted his arms; the knife plunged through his right lower arm. Yasmine yanked the knife off so quickly Steven didn’t even have time to process the pain when she stabbed him again in the shoulder.

“We will dine in Hell, baby. Just like you wanted,” Yasmine said gleefully as she raised the blade, aiming for his head.

BANG!

A shot rang out.

Yasmine paused, face straining. She looked down and watched the blood soaking through her t-shirt around her abdomen. Her own blood. She looked to the living room where Tara stood, aiming the Glock at her.

“You shot me!” The demon had reverted a semblance of control to Yasmine, letting her feel the pain as the bullet lodged inside her gut. “You shot me! Why?!”

But the sudden jerk of Yasmine’s hand—the one that wielded the knife—took Tara aback, and her finger twitched enough to pull the trigger and send a bullet flying through Yasmine’s throat. Yasmine dropped the knife and stumbled back, hitting the kitchen counter. She slumped against it, clutching her throat as she choked in her own blood.

“No!” Steven screamed and crawled toward Yasmine’s writhing body. “Stop, stop!” He muttered as if words alone would stop the bleeding. Yasmine barely lasted a few seconds before her muscles seized, and her eyes glazed over. The demon slipped out of her mouth together with her last breath.

[You have gained 1 essence: Yasmine Kalani]

[You have gained 150 crystals]

“Yasmine? Yas?” Steven tried to feel for a pulse, but when he felt nothing, he burst into tears, enough to reduce his Resolve to red. Though Tara tried to hide her emotion and growing panic, her Resolve matched her brother’s.

Tara grabbed his arm. “We need to fucking go!”

“But—But I can’t leave her!”

“She’s dead, Stevy. We need to leave.”

“You killed her.”

“It’s either her or you, and whatever’s wrong with her, I am not waiting to find out!”

But Steven shook off Tara’s grip. “I can’t. I can’t. We can’t leave her here!” He pointed at Maxine’s body. “If the police arrive, they’re gonna know who Yasmine is and who she’s with. If we leave her here, she’s gonna lead them back to us!”

Tara groaned. “Fuck!” She exclaimed. “Alright. Um, I’ll bring the Jeep out front. You find something to wrap her body with. And don’t touch anything. We don’t want to compromise more of the scene as it is.”

“The shed. There’s a shed near the cabin. There might be something there.”

“Then move your ass! Come on!”

Tara fished her keys out of her jacket and strode toward the front door. Steven followed closely behind.

“If you find a gas can in the shed, grab it.”

“For what?”

“We left a shit ton of evidence!” Tara opened the door and turned to face her brother. “We can't have that. We’re gonna burn this place to the fucking gr—”

A javelin-like root sank through the back of Tara’s head and out through her gaping mouth. More blood splattered all over Steven’s face. Yelping, he stumbled back and fell to the floor. Old Growth hung upside down on the front porch ceiling, its appendage coated with Tara’s brain matter.

Next to Steven, Maxine’s body twitched as the demon slipped through her slightly parted lips. And when she opened her eyes, they gleamed a golden yellow. Arching her back and bending her knees toward her hips, she slowly rose to a kneeling position and propped one leg up and the other until she stood over him, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

I doubted Steven even heard the back door open, and the Goliath trudged in, dragging that large axe of his scraping against the floorboards. Steven’s gaze fixed on Tara’s twitching legs, dangling inches off the ground. The floor creaked behind him, and finally, he slowly turned around and gaped at the hulking figure looming over him.

Frozen with fear, he watched the axe rise over Goliath’s shoulder, and all he could do was close his eyes tightly shut and await the inevitable. The blade swung and dropped between his shoulder and his neck. Steven let out a gurgled gasp, shocked by how the blade nearly decapitated him. Goliath gripped the ends of the handle and yanked hard, a boot pushing against Steven’s back. With nerves severed, he couldn’t even move or make a sound. Or plead for his life.

Goliath stared down at him and swung the axe again at the exact spot, cleaving off his head. It rolled over beneath Tara’s feet. Old Growth retracted its appendage, and Tara slumped beside her brother’s head.

[You have gained 1 essence: Tara Dowell]

[You have gained 150 crystals]

[You have gained 1 essence: Steven Dowell]

[You have gained 150 crystals]

The bluish glow of their essence seeped out of their skin and darted into my incorporeal form. A reinvigorating rush warmed its way in, a welcomed one I had craved like a delicacy. I had forgotten where I was for a brief moment, only to be reminded by the smell of copper, piss, and bowels.

“What did that clergyman say again? Teamwork makes the dream work?” Demon Maxine laughed. “Each kill for us! Oh, I wish we had five delvers instead of three. Oracle and Siren might be able to feast.”

“There are more coming,” I said.

“Of course, of course, my liege. How fare you?”

I sighed. “My stomach is not rumbling. I guess that’s a good thing. How long can you repossess a body anyway?”

The demon mulled it over. "Thirty minutes? If I leave a possessed body, I have to be back inside it within thirty minutes, or else, I have to do the work all over again."

"Maxine is important in our plans. I don't want her to wake up and add another headache for us."

"Understood, lord dungeon. II'll refrain from body hopping in the future."

I sensed that Oracle had dismantled the jamming device, and he sent me an urgent alert. He found something.

“What is it?” I asked after I flew into the study. Goliath and the demon followed after me.

Colleen’s Bar was on the screen, and there were no signs of Alvin Jones through eight cameras. It didn’t look like he went to the bathroom or outside.

“Where did he go?” The demon asked.

> SEARCHING…

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

Three slow claps. Faint, coming just outside my border near the road. I opened my many-eyes.

There, standing six feet away from the perimeter, was Alvin Jones. And he was looking directly at me. At the exact spot where I hovered just like Yasmine did.

“It’s Alvin. He’s at the border by the road,” I said to the others. "And he can see me."

Goliath and the demon looked at each other worriedly, and the demon yanked the Jeep’s keys off Tara’s hands. Together, they marched out of the cabin, heading for the vehicle hidden in the woods. Only Old Growth sprinted into the forest, making its way to Alvin’s location as fast as possible.

I studied Alvin’s expression, trying to glean his intentions. A bubbling curiosity welled inside me, yet fear soon overpowered it. Why can this man see me? He stood there for a minute or more, just watching me, not with intensity but…amusement. Peculiarity?

And then he did something unexpected.

He opened his arms and dropped to one knee, lowering his head as if deliberately avoiding my gaze.

“Dungeon Mark,” he started, “I humble thine unworthy self upon your grace. I offer thus three delvers in sound mind and body to satiate your vexation, brilliance, and need. I invoke thy rite of safe passage upon your domain. That I may pass freely and without malice.”

What? I floated lower, trying to get a glimpse of his face. Perhaps I’d know his intentions then, but nothing.

“What is he saying, my liege?” The demon asked as she drove the Jeep out of the driveway. They’re not far behind.

I repeated what Alvin had said to me.

The demon didn’t look pleased. Her brows furrowed, worried. “He is requesting hospitium, the rite of guest-friend. An ancient oath all worlds abide by in one form or another.”

“Uh, what the heck is that?” I asked.

“For a night, a guest has the right of your protection and that you will do him no harm while he rests until morning and has taken rein of safe passage. Such practices are archaic on Earth, but they are still observed in one form or another.”

I scoffed. “Why would I do that? Protect him? He’s one of them.”

“It is precisely why you must, lord dungeon. A hospitium is sacred amongst beings like us. It is weaved by gods and the gods before. To break it will bring undue misfortune upon our heads. It seems this Alvin fellow knows this.” She left out the part of how.

“And why would I accept that from him?”

“You have already accepted an offering. You did not know that the three delvers you fed on were it. And you fed. You accepted. We did not see their true purpose, and for that, we apologize.”

I heaved a sigh and returned to the road where Alvin still knelt. “Can you hear me, too?”

Alvin nodded. “Aye, your eminence.”

“Cut the flowery bullshit, asshole. Why the fuck should I not cut you into a million pieces right here, right now?”

“I reckon thy archetypes hath told you what will befall thy self if you deny it. Thou knowest such beasts hath learned the old, ancient ways, innate or divinely given.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Alvin looked up. “Thou lord hath many questions. I bear the answers," he paused for a second. "Mayst speak commonly? I doth not presume irreverence upon thy head?”

I shrugged.

“I have watched you for the past two days, my liege. You have grown beautifully adapting in an arcane-resistant world.”

Fuck. And then it dawned on me. Everything I learned about him, there was one gap that didn’t make sense, and it all happened less than a week ago. “You’re not Alvin Jones, are you?”

“This body is known as Alvin Jones as of five days ago. That is true.”

“Who are you then?”

Alvin smiled. “Consider me an emissary from my real employers. The ones who hath shaped your very kind and the System you now wield. We have been watching you, Dungeon Mark.”

Then Alvin took two steps into my domain. I expected to see his aura glow around his body, but I saw none of that—a blank canvas.

“We bear witness to your illegal creation by the Cult of Astaroth, a most grievous offense of the highest order. Your unsanctioned touch and scent within the System has not gone unnoticed.”

I wasn't hiding anyway. But the thought of them noticing me, however...could be a problem. I did not want to make enemies with whoever made my "powers."

Alvin paused to lick his lips. “But my employers see thy dungeon's potential. We wish to speak with you, especially about how you will deal with your enemies--a common one we share--and we are big fans. If you wish to fight the cult with your full potential...you may want to listen to what I have to say.” Alvin clasped his hands together. “Perhaps with a cup of tea?”

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