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Faithful

Gwen

G wen didn’t have severed limbs on her list of things that could go wrong, but suddenly felt foolish for not expecting it.

The pain was indescribable, almost as much as trying to figure out how a simple fireman’s ax could have taken her arm off.

It shouldn’t have been possible, though nothing Gwen had done that night should have been possible.

The strange burst of thoughts ravaged her mind as black ichor quickly drenched her torso.

Gwen hadn’t even registered she was screaming until she stopped.

Despite losing the arm, Gwen was still quick to react.

As the cultist reared back to take another swing at her, Gwen reached for her fallen arm.

Gripping her wrist, Gwen swung and caught the cultist across the face with it.

Black ichor sprayed against their skin, the bone cutting across the bridge of their nose .

Gwen swung again, hard enough this time that the cultist dropped the ax with a grunt.

She took another swing, this time the base of her arm landing against the bottom of the cultist jaw.

Their teeth clacked loudly, wincing as they stumbled backwards into the door.

Sparing her arm a glance, Gwen felt something inside shift.

A strange pop and crack of her bones and tendons.

The realization that Gwen could still feel her arm pushed her intuition.

As if the bones were stretching to reach the other, Gwen connected her arm to her elbow.

She groaned as bones and tissue melded together.

Not too different from the awful sensation of Ambrosius remaking her abdomen in her bathroom earlier that same day.

Her clothes had become more ichor than dress, the vibrant pink now stained and even more torn.

The jet black that tipped her fingers had grown toward her elbows.

Her fingers had grown in length, dripping black liquid at the tips of sharp, deadly claws.

Perhaps she wouldn’t need improvised weapons any longer.

Gwen pushed through the swinging doors.

The cultist she’d beaten with her arm lay nearby, unconscious, though not for long.

Gwen could feel the spiders descend upon him as she continued further.

The screams that followed were short-lived as Gwen moved past the familiar bathroom.

The lights started flashing, an indicator of something more than just poor wiring.

Head tilted to the side, Gwen felt for the dwindling emotions of the cultists.

She stopped in front of Mary’s door at the sudden wave of fear that lay behind it.

Gwen threw the door open, readying a clawed hand to swipe, and stumbled at an unexpected sight .

There were three humans in the office, all bound, gagged, and blindfolded.

They were huddled together in a line.

Gwen quickly recognized the familiar mop of Mary’s hair and cursed.

Gwen felt none of the latent euphoria or hysteria from them, which made them innocent.

Fuck, shit, fucking fucker, fuck me!

The cult was planning more sacrifices to their devil, something she hadn’t anticipated.

Gwen didn’t have time to play hero any more than she had time to waste, killing people who were victims of circumstances.

For all Mary’s faults, she wasn’t someone Gwen had ever wanted to die, let alone murder.

The same could be said for the other two figures.

A man and an older woman—

Fuck, it’s George and Mrs. Han!

They whimpered, panicking—it was obvious they could sense her.

Sense something untoward in the room with them, something that elicited dread.

Ambrosius had said she would become something humans would fear.

Gwen hadn’t realized how true the statement was.

“I’ll come back for you,” she hissed, voice no longer her own.

It was shrill, even to her own ears.

They whimpered in return, but Gwen couldn’t offer them comfort.

She had much larger problems to contend with.

Gwen shut the door behind her and heard them cry in relief.

The thing they couldn’t see, but feared, was no longer in the room with them.

If she survived, Gwen knew Ambrosius would throw a tantrum about sparing them.

The thought irked her, but in an unexpected way.

Or maybe her mind was starting to compartmentalize all the horror she had done.

Gwen nearly slashed as something flew at her face.

It stopped within inches of her face before darting back enough for her to see it.

It was Ambrosius’ eyeball, surrounded in a spectral light.

It bounced, reminding Gwen too much of her beloved Piki.

“How many? ” Gwen asked.

The eyeball bounced in the air, creating a figure six.

Five brides, one vessel.

Gwen needed to move.

“C’mon.”

Gwen didn’t look to see if the eye was keeping up with her as she flew into a full sprint.

The back of house was large, taking up the full length of the store.

It partially wrapped around the right side, but that area was dedicated to furniture and was tricky to navigate.

Gwen was certain Sierra and the others were near the main back entrance door, where the trash compactor was.

It was where she had continuously caught Sierra and Tom flirting in the past. It would also provide them with a proper escape if they gave up on the ritual.

Gwen made it to a pallet of Halloween decorations when she heard it.

The same broken whispers James had been emitting, only louder.

Pressing against the tower of boxes, Gwen slowly edged around to peek.

The lights were cutting in and out, making it more difficult to see, but Gwen made out five figures.

They were dressed in similar robes, though theirs were red in color.

Each one holding a hunting knife.

Are those … sequins?

Ambrosius was right, human cultists were really tacky.

Lack of taste aside, they were positioned almost like a five-pointed star.

Why, Gwen didn’t understand, as nothing she had read online indicated it was needed for the ritual.

At that point, she would guess it was more embellishments gone wrong.

Gwen scanned for her main target.

In the center of the five brides, sitting in one of Mary’s office chairs was Tom.

He was shirtless, with Ambrosius’ symbol painted onto his chest.

No, not painted.

Shit, they had carved into him.

Tom was restrained, ankles bound to the legs of the chair and arms pulled behind him.

Black ink appeared on his body, moving with the same urgency as Ambrosius’ had.

With every erratic chant of the brides, Tom’s body arched as it slowly began levitating.

He was sweating, and he looked ill, another side effect of the cult’s foolishness.

Then he started screaming.

His voice mixing with that of another.

Ambrosius!

If they wanted to summon a devil, well, Gwen would give them one.

Anger propelled Gwen forward, boots falling onto cement until they weren’t anymore.

The tips of her boots glided across the cement, arms outstretched as black ichor dripped down her eyes.

Her chest burned, or maybe it was her heart, jealous and vengeful for what the cultist were inflicting upon Ambrosius.

Trust your intuition.

There was pressure on her solar plexus, an ache that dug into her flesh.

Something tore at her ribs, pushing and biting, eager to be free.

It hurt, the pain one of many she had felt tonight that she tried to contain.

Her chest expanded, and the sound of something snarling echoed in Gwen’s ears.

Trust yourself.

“Get ‘em, boy. ”

Gritting her teeth, Gwen let go.

Her chest burst open, black blood spraying as Gwen’s ribs tore. A creature pulled from her organs, leaping onto the ground with large gallops. It grew in size with every step, a beast that walked on four legs. It was no bigger than a large wolf, but its canine features were grotesque, exaggerated.

Massive paws with gnarled claws pounded against the cement. Strong, exposed muscles flexed as the beast jumped onto one of the brides. Teeth that were much too long clamped around her neck, bringing the helpless bride to the ground as it thrashed the woman. Shaking her as easily as a stuffed toy.

Concentration broken, two of the nearby brides screamed.

“Keep going!

” a voice shouted. “We’re too close to stop now!”

Sierra.

The euphoria that had once drowned the store quickly vanished.

Whether it was hysteria, adrenaline, or a false sense of importance that kept the brides rooted in place, Gwen didn’t know.

But one thing was abundantly clear as the beast darted toward its next target.

They had absolutely no sense of self preservation.

And it would cost them their lives.

Gwen made quick work of another bride, catching her before she could vacate the circle.

Claws sliced across her neck, leaving the bride choking and gasping for breath in her wake.

Another bride got farther, screaming as she ran for the door, only to be stopped by Ambrosius’ eye lodging itself into her throat.

The bride fell to her knees, choking violently, eyes wide as the eye blocked her airway.

Color quickly drained from her face, and Gwen knew she’d be dead within the next few minutes.

Which leaves us to…

Sierra had rushed to Tom, cupping his face in her hands.

His eyes were white, lost in a void, but Sierra held onto him as if they were locked in each other’s eyes.

Her expression unhinged in its devotion.

“I’m the only bride left! I did it! I’m your bride, my lord! Only I’m worthy of your truth!” she exclaimed.

Sierra’s exuberance and glee made her oblivious to Gwen’s looming shadow.

Tears had formed in the corners of her eyes, her breathing as uncontrolled as Tom’s fitful gasping.

Whatever visions assaulted their senses mattered little to Gwen as she gathered the material of the cloak hood and slowly pulled it back.

The younger woman froze, a small needle of uncertainty beneath all her delusion.

Gwen was much taller than she had been before, having to bend her back in order to brush her lips against Sierra’s ear.

“The whore objects,” Gwen whispered.

The lights went out.

Sierra screamed.

In the darkness, Gwen could see Tom’s body contort.

A moment later, the emergency lights flickered, bathing the scene in alternating darkness.

Something was protruding from Tom’s mouth—no, not something.

Claws.

A large one pushed Tom’s mouth open, followed by two more that pushed through the base of Tom’s eyes.

Between Sierra’s screams and Tom’s choking, Gwen almost didn’t hear him.

“Such a good girl, my bittersweet. ”

Standing behind Tom’s levitating form was Ambrosius.

He looked healthy, dressed in his familiar attire, with chains hanging around his neck.

The leather harness was a nice touch and his hair was styled a bit different, but his eyes were staring straight at her.

And fuck, the relief at seeing him whole and well drained some of the horror from her frame.

Suddenly, she stood closer to Sierra in height and her ribs felt ordinary again.

“Are these the ones?” Ambrosius asked, flexing his clawed fingers as he pushed them through Tom’s head.

“No!” Sierra cried. “It wasn’t me! It was Tom’s idea! He was hoping we could con everyone out of some money! Things just got out of hand and—”

“How quickly your faith wavers in the face of such hardship,” Ambrosius replied as he withdrew his fingers.

“Perhaps this life isn’t suited to you.”

Tom gasped, eyes becoming normal once again.

His skin was still flushed, and he looked like shit, but all traces of Ambrosius’ influence on his body had vanished.

As if Ambrosius had scrubbed Tom clean.

“Sierra?” Tom asked in confusion.

“What—”

“It wasn’t me, it was him!” Sierra screamed, pointing her hunting knife at him.

“I never wanted this! It was—”

“Together, my bittersweet?”

Gwen caught Ambrosius’ eye, the question clear, despite the human couple’s petty squabble.

“Together.”

Gwen wrapped her hands around Sierra’s throat and let her clawed fingers drag.

Sierra gasped, feebly reaching to stop her.

But Gwen’s eyes were on Ambrosius as he became more demonic.

He grew until he towered over Tom’s form, clawed hands clamped onto his shoulders.

His eyes never left Gwen’s as his jaw widened, farther and farther as he descended.

Sierra’s choking filled Gwen’s ears, but her eyes were drawn to Ambrosius as his entire jaw wrapped around Tom’s head.

Like a snake, a slow undulation as his tongue gathered more of his skull into his deadly jaw.

He was uncanny, unnatural, and unrepenting, but Gwen had never felt more at ease.

And still, Gwen kept the pressure up.

Kept pulling until her own claws tore through Sierra’s neck until finally—

Pop.

Sierra’s head came off, flying over Gwen’s shoulder like a bouquet being thrown by a bride.

Where it landed, Gwen could only guess based on the snarls of the beast behind her.

At the same moment, Ambrosius’ jaw snapped closed, separating Tom’s head from his body.

When the lights finally came back on, Ambrosius looked like himself again.

Calm, collected, and leaning on his cane as if it was just another ordinary day.

And Gwen couldn’t be happier, even surrounded by so much death and destruction.

She closed the distance between them, flinging her arms around his neck and planting a firm kiss to his mouth.

“ ānuenue ,” Gwen whispered.

When he lifted a brow in confusion, Gwen almost blushed.

“My middle name … the A stands for ānuenue. Rainbow . ”

“ānuenue,” Ambrosius whispered.

“It’s beautiful.”

Gwen beamed.

“Well, this has been quite the evening,” Ambrosius grinned.

“So, what’s next, my lovely warlock? ”

“I…” Gwen withdrew and glanced around the room.

“I think I need to figure out what to do with him.”

The beast had sat itself down, Sierra’s head between its massive paws as it chewed on her ear.

“Oh, that’s simple enough,” Ambrosius said as he guided her over the fallen bodies of Tom and Sierra.

“You just have to call for him. Watch. Piki, come!”

Gwen frowned.

Had Ambrosius called that thing—

The beast immediately dropped Sierra’s head, sprinting toward the pair.

Gwen watched in shock as the horrid features evaporated, melting away and revealing a tiny form.

Covered in familiar fur, the beast was now a small Pomeranian that eagerly jumped into Gwen’s outstretched arms.

“Piki!” Gwen cried as her former dog eagerly licked her face.

“Oh, Piki, my sweet monster baby. I’ve missed you so much!”

“I told you some of my gifts might be to your liking,” Ambrosius remarked.

“You should have led with that,” Gwen smiled.

“If you told me you’d bring my dog back from the dead, I would have agreed to work for you sooner.”

“Cute,” Ambrosius huffed.

“Now, shall we leave this wretched place?”

“After.”

“After?”

Gwen grinned.

“After … we free some humans.”