Page 4 of The Monster of Darkspell Comics

Fanny

W hy does my head hurt? I moan softly, my hand going up to my temple.

It feels like I hit my head on something.

There is a piercing ache throbbing behind my eyes.

Slowly, I rise from the couch, my body feeling particularly sluggish as I stand.

I continue to rub my head as I look around me.

The room is darkly furnished, all except for scarlet velvet drapes to the left of me that appear to completely cover one wall.

Despite all the dark décor, it looks like a normal enough home—though I’m a bit worried about how I got here from the mall.

Curious, I push back the curtain and find myself staring out of a massive window into thick pools of mist. A dark shadow shifts within the murk, and I step closer only to recoil in horror as something flat like a pancake with an enormous sucking mouth and numerous slithering limbs suddenly flies through the fog.

It slaps against the window, clinging to the glass as its numerous appendages whip and slide over the surface, leaving slimy green trails.

My hand clenches against my chest in horror as I stare at it. What the hell is that?

“Good, you’re awake,” a deep voice growls in a way that is frighteningly animalistic.

Startled, I spin around to meet the yellow glow of a predatory gaze staring directly back at me.

My pulse jumps and I suck in a breath, overwhelmed by the nightmarish monster looming over me.

Trying not to be too obvious about it, I inch away from him, dread coiling within me that perhaps in this, too, my parents were right.

It seems that I did end up caught in something demonic.

Well... someone demonic anyway. My head swims for a moment, and a hiss of pain escapes me as I quickly shoot up and clench the side of my head again. What the hell?

The demon grunts, his eyes narrowing on me before shifting away to a point beyond me. “You shouldn’t tease the shadow whips,” he states. “They are attracted to light, and I had the curtesy to leave a lamp on for you.”

My gaze immediately drifts to the stained-glass lamp glowing brightly beside the couch. So he had.

I shiver and glance back toward the thing on the window.

Is that what they are? Grabbing the edge of the curtain, I quickly pull it closed again and am immediately relieved when the creature disappears completely behind the velvet.

Okay, I’m fine. As long as I keep that curtain closed, I’m sure I can forget that it’s out there.

Not that things are any better in here with a demon scowling down at me.

He peers at me for a long moment and grunts. “Come on, then. No reason to dally about,” he grumbles. “Washroom is the door on the right over there. Then we need to get going.”

“Going?” I echo, caught by surprise.

Apparently, it’s the wrong response because his gaze snaps back to me and he glowers like he’s entertaining the idea of eating me.

A clammy sweat breaks out on my brow. When I was a kid, we had a neighbor with a pit bull.

The dog was as mean as its owner, and I remember staring fearfully at the dog’s heavy, square, crushing jaws.

The day it got loose from its chain still gives me nightmares.

Looking up at this demon with his heavy, wide jaw roped heavily with muscles in proportion to his wide, powerful neck reminds me of that dog and yet infinitely more dangerous.

When he speaks, his large, sharp teeth are something from a horror story, barely covered by his lips, his tongue sinuous, long and thick lashing along them.

Now that I think of it, with his oily dark purple scales and incredible long tail, he almost looks like he belongs on set for Aliens if only his head was shaped more elongated and barer rather than boasting long black hair and several large horns along with a multitude of bony protrusions studding his face.

Not to mention he has wings, I note. And whatever the barbed peacock things are, they are whipping around him. Their lethal points nestled among their feathery ends, they catch the light in such a way as they move that it’s hard to miss. Yeah, somehow, I think this is far worse.

“Yes,” he snaps impatiently. “I need to show you the ropes before the mall opens at nine. It’s not going to wait on a lazy thief.”

Wait... what?

I rub at what feels like a knot on my head. I don’t know what I hit it on, but it must be making me delusional. Did I somehow get offered employment without realizing it?

“Are you saying that I have a job?” I ask, just to clarify.

He chuffs a deep laugh, his terrible teeth flashing in a horrifying grin. “That would imply you are getting paid, wouldn’t it? No, little thief, you don’t have a job, you have duties... endless duties in all waking hours, assigned as I see fit. Now move!” he barks.

I reflexively bolt from my spot by the window and hurry to the washroom, groaning inwardly.

It’s purely my bad luck that I got caught in a shop owned by a demon.

But it could be worse. I mean, okay, so it appears that I’m being punished for breaking into the shops and stealing.

.. that much I get. It sucks, but if it means that he doesn’t intend to eat me, I’m not going to complain too hard and make him change his mind.

I just need to report to work every day until he considers my debt repaid.

I ponder this as I step into an obsidian washroom lit by what looks like several small, glowing mirrors.

I look at the large basin tub with longing.

It’s not of any style that I recognize. It has an appearance more like a large, elongated bowl, but I’m not picky.

I would give anything to be thoroughly cleaned.

Unfortunately, the demon on the other side of the door isn’t the patient sort.

His growling command that I hurry makes me jump, and I turn toward the sink and press on the tap above the mounted bowl.

Freshwater flows for a measured count before gradually slowing and turning off.

Impressive. I’ve never used a water faucet that turned itself off before.

Pressing it again, I take one of the small, folded washcloths from the pile stacked neatly on a shelf and quickly wash my hands and face before giving myself a brief sponge bath.

I feel a little better with the freshening up and considerably more optimistic.

This whole situation makes a strange sort of sense.

My grandparents were full of stories regarding transactions with the world of spirits.

Assuming that I’m remembering correctly, that is.

As I recall from stories that I grew up with, the relationship with the spirit world is often transactional between debts and balances.

By that logic, I just need to pay off my debt.

This puts me in a much better frame of mind as I walk out of the washroom. The demon is still terrifying, but I feel like I have a better grasp on what’s expected now.

“I’m ready,” I tell him, and I feel a prickle of warning when he smirks in response.

“Not quite,” he says succinctly. “You need your uniform.”

“Okay,” I agree, expecting a shirt or something to be thrust at me.

I jump when he suddenly leans forward, but he moves too quickly for me to properly react.

I jerk back, but before I know what’s happened, a band clicks around my neck and I’m released so suddenly that I stumble backward a few steps, my hand slapping up to my throat where a flexible metal band curls around my throat.

“What... What’s this?” I squeak as I try unsuccessfully to get my fingernail up between the metal and my skin.

Whatever it is, there is something unnatural about it as it seems to twist in a way that evades my grip, and hugs close to my skin without choking me.

“My stamp of ownership that magically binds you to me,” he replies with a deep rumbling purr of satisfaction. “When I said that you have duties for all waking hours, I was very literal. You are now mine.”

This...is a lot worse than simply working off my debt in the mall. I have a sinking feeling that I will be returning here at the end of the day. My face falls, and he chortles gleefully.

“Come along, little pet,” he hisses. “There’s much to be done.”

His fingers snap, and I feel an overwhelming compulsion flow through me to follow after him as he walks away.

He doesn’t head toward any door, however.

Instead, he stops in front of a mirror. His tail coils around him and a shimmer of inky darkness appears around him and slowly reforms around him.

If I didn’t know any better, with his faded jeans, long ponytail, and band shirt, I would have mistaken him for any other rock fan.

I open my mouth to question him about it, but the mirror in front of us takes on a slick appearance of shifting black oil.

It looks way too menacing, but there is no avoiding it as I follow him right through the mirror and into the comic book shop that I fell asleep in.

“First, you need to be aware of the rules,” he grumbles at me.

“Rules?” I echo, mystified.

He nods. “This isn’t some playground. This shop is literally filled with my creations, and they aren’t something for you to play with.

As many as you tried to steal—you would have been stuck in a loop of nightmares for days and probably wouldn’t have been sane by the time you made it out.

The fact that you were caught probably saved your life.

So... rules. We have rules to prevent any accidents, and they are posted in multiple places in the shop—though you have to still keep an eye on the dumbasses who don’t bother to read.

I still have my higher-ups that I have to hold myself accountable to. ”

“O... okay,” I manage to get out. I have to admit, I never considered the demonic world a bureaucracy, but it oddly fits.