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The demon kicked Kent curiously, frowning. “You didn’t hit him hard enough. He isn’t dead.”
“That’s the point.” I stood up, high on the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I was gripped by a hunger I couldn’t explain, a desire like nothing else. “Carry him. I saw a garden shed back in the trees. We’ll take him there.”
37
Kent groaned as he began to stir. I’d hit his head hard enough to break the skin, so his gray hair was streaked with red. There wasn’t much in the old shed: a bare bulb hung from the ceiling as our only light. A few rusty metal gardening tools were hung on the walls, and there was an old shelf covered with pots and bags of fertilizer. It was distant from the house, and with the loud music from the party, no one could hear if someone yelled in here.
No one would hear if someone screamed.
Kent shifted, and his shoulders stiffened as he realized his hands were bound. He blinked rapidly as his eyes opened, and I wondered what he took in first. Did he recognize the stone floor, did he recognize the walls enough to know where he was? Or was this a place he’d never even bothered to look inside, a place too below him? What did he think when he saw my boots standing in front of him? What did he feel, as he slowly raised his head and met my eyes — a skeletal woman in a dark suit — looking down at him?
He stared for a long moment, the wrinkles around his eyes and his forehead deepening. “Who are you?”
Zane was pacing behind me, like a rabid dog, eager to bite. The bloodlust was infectious between us. The more my excitement grew, the more he paced, clenching and unclenching his fingers.
“You know who I am, Kent.” I thought back. I remembered, but I did it with intention, with my own free will. I softened my voice and said, “Please. Don’t. The God isn’t real. It’s just an old story.”
Recognition struck his face. “Juniper Kynes. Dear God…”
“It’s been a long time.” I crouched down, arms resting on my thighs as I looked at him face to face. Up close, his age was even more evident. He hid it well, but he was weakening. The monster in my nightmares, the face I saw looking down at me with sadistic joy — was now an old man tied up at my feet.
It was the greatest euphoria I could ever feel.
“Did you miss me?” I said. “You looked for me. You triedso hardto take me.” I leaned closer as his eyes widened in trepidation. “But I was your greatest failure, Kent.”
I whipped out my hand, my knife clenched in it. The blade caught him across the face, and at first, he didn’t seem to realize what had happened. He blinked rapidly, looking at me in confusion, and then the gash across his cheek, across his lips, began to bleed.
“God,” he whispered, his voice shuddering. “Dear merciful God…”
“What God are you calling on, Kent?” I hissed. “Certainly not the Deep One. You think that monster in the mines is merciful? You think It cares? I’ve heard It, Kent. I’ve heard It for fuckingyears, Its voice in my head. I’ve seen It in my nightmares. Your God craves pain and suffering. Your God wouldrevelin this. But you already know that. You know what It wants. That’s why you did this to me.” I stripped off my jacket, and tugged open my shirt so hard that the buttons popped off. In the dim light, the deep, ragged scars on my chest looked even worse. The shadows settled in them, and not even the tattoos, not even Zane’s mark, could hide them. “Do you remember, Kent? I screamed. I begged you. I was achild.”
“I had to,” he whimpered, and Zane snarled viciously behind me. “I had to, Juniper. You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to serve the Deep One, we — we do only — we do only as we areordained—”
I slashed again, and this time, he felt the pain and screamed. His other cheek opened, welling blood down his face. He gasped, shuddering, trying to spit away the blood spilling over his lips.
“You should be honored,” I said. “You’re going to be a martyr. You’re going to die for your God.”
He began to shake his head, frantically, his breath puffing. “No…no, no, no, Juniper, you don’t understand.You don’t understand. I’m doing only what I must — only — only what we’ve been asked to do. Y-your suffering…it…it should have been beautiful —”
I widened my eyes. “Oh, I see. Suffering is beautiful.” I nodded slowly and stepped back. “Zane, is suffering beautiful?”
I glanced back at him. His eyes were fixated on Kent, golden irises ringed with black. His eyes seemed to get darker with every passing day. “Oh yes,” he said. “Suffering is beautiful; it’s exquisite. Suffering is luxurious pain.” His eyes darted to me. The tiny garden shed felt too small to contain his energy, as if he might burst, ripping everything apart. “Shall I demonstrate?”
“Please do.”
My demon moved, and it was beautiful indeed. The screaming, the cracking bones, the tearing flesh. It wasn’t all that different from butchering a deer, really. Even in the moment, with the rush of it all, it scared me just how numb I felt to what I saw. It didn’t feel like I was watching a human being in pain.
This was just one of the monsters from my nightmares, screaming in defeat.
The scent of iron hung heavy in the air. Blood splattered across the stone wall, and the screams reached such a pitch they didn’t even sound human anymore. It was an animal’s scream, wretched in its primality, pathetically desperate, perfectly agonized.
Beautiful.
“Stop.”
Zane stopped, immediately, Kent’s leg gripped in his hands. The man was weeping, his shoulder torn from its socket, his other leg snapped at the ankle, the bone protruding through the skin. “Oh, comeon,” Zane said, glancing back at me with starving eyes. “Just let me snap the femur.”
I sighed. “How can I say no to that face? Go on.”
