He Who Sleeps

Prologue

B lack night, Halloween eve

The city was alive with wonder, spooks and monsters.

One more night ‘til Halloween, and the excitement was everywhere. Petra stood waiting for the light to change, the lone person not in a costume in the crowd. Having just gotten off from her second job at the animal shelter, she was in scrubs and reeked of bleach from cleaning the cats’ cages, and was on her way home, whereas those around her were clearly off to do something much more interesting.

Parties, parades, clubs... So many amazing things to do.

Sadly it wasn’t in the cards for her. New to the city, she still hadn’t found a full friends group, and the ones she did have were not the Halloween type.

It was something she missed from her life back home, but she was patient, and she knew that it was very possible next year would yield her in costume with others of a like mind tearing it up.

The light changed and she crossed, slowing to let the throng of people pass her.

Just two blocks from the university, she could hear the music from the outlying frat and sorority houses on both sides of the street.

She turned down the side street, and then another left, taking her away from the main drag, the streets getting quieter.

Turning once again, she stepped onto a darker street and smiled, knowing she was only a few blocks from home, when she saw something quite out of character.

Seven men, dressed in black with masks on, were carrying a clearly struggling woman behind a row house.

The fuck?

She stopped, just outside the cone illuminated by the street’s lone light, and watched as the girl writhed and bucked, straining at the bonds they had on her.

She heard her panicked moan as they turned the corner behind the house.

Whatever was going on, she should keep walking.

It was Halloween after all and she didn’t wanna ruin anyone’s fun, but this felt different. The terror coming off that girl...

No, this was a bad thing and she needed do something. Calling the cops was going to be a waste of time, considering they rarely came through to University City in general. If anyone was going to do anything to help the girl, it was going to have to be her. There wouldn’t be a calvary.

Creeping closer, she slipped into the darkness that surrounded the house, entering what ended up being a large courtyard, the backs of buildings that were not homes blocking it in.

Murmurings came from beyond the foliage and bushes she was now crouched in, and she stayed low, coming closer, stopping just at the edge of a cobblestone circle lit by torches.

The girl was on what looked like an altar in the center, two of the masked men, one in a devil mask and one in a goblin mask, were tying her down, and it wasn’t the kinky kinda tie down, either.

The ropes looked thick and scratchy, and the rope in her mouth keeping her from speaking looked the same in the firelight.

“Time?” someone asked, she wasn’t sure who, as all their faces were covered.

“Fifteen minutes,” one of the others replied.

Their voices were modulated, slightly thick but with reverb, almost mechanical. She was reminded of that movie of the man in the mask with the voice modulator, and then almost screamed as the mask from the movie looked in the direction she was hiding. What the fuck was going on here?

Now finished, the two tying the girl down walked over to where the others were standing and then they walked single-file into the building. It was now or never.

Stepping from the shadows, she rushed over to the girl who saw her, and squeaked, pleading with her eyes.

“It’s cool... I’ma get you out,” Petra tried to reassure her as she started to work on the ties, making quick work of the knots.

Clearly the guys that had taken her weren’t super into knots, or they were half-assing it.

Either way it worked for her. One arm, then another, and she was at her ankles as the girl was helping with the other.

Eventually they managed to free her completely from the altar.

“Thank you...”

“Are you okay?” Petra asked in a whisper. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I was walking out of my building and...” They both looked up as the door opened at the house.

“Go. I’m right behind you,” she whispered to the girl, who nodded her thanks again, and they were into the foliage in seconds.

They kept low, just under bush height, the girl quick.

They made it around the side and heard the shout before the girl balked and ran, out into the street, away into the night.

Petra went to follow her, when she was stopped by a pair of boots just in front of her.

She bolted left, saw another pair and went right, seeing another.

Shit. They were herding her. She rushed the only way she could, back toward the house, hoping to god the girl she’d rescued realized Petra wasn’t with her and sent the cops. As she broke through the foliage in the courtyard, she saw four of the men standing there and skidded to a stop. Shit.

"Well, well...what have we here?" The guy in the mask that looked like the devil stepped toward her as she shrank back, aware that the others were coming up behind her.

"Uh...that's not the girl we had before," one of the others said, his horrifying mask tilted slightly as he studied her. He looked like something from a horror flick—pieces of skin rudely stitched together into a warped facsimile of a face.

“No, it is not,” the one in the goblin mask offered.

She swallowed, looking around her.

“You will find there is no leaving,” the one in the neon mask said. “Though clearly you don’t want to...why else would you trade places with our plaything?” He reached her first.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Not willing to go down without a fight, she moved closer and kicked him in the balls, watching as he crumpled to his knees with an oof.

“One step closer and I will do the same to the lot of you,” she warned.

"Oh, I like her!" the man in the snake mask breathed, amusement ringing in his tone. "It's almost a shame we have to kill her."

"There is another option," the devil said thoughtfully, moving toward her.

She kicked out, but he moved almost faster than she could register, dodging to the side as he grabbed her foot and yanked.

She went sprawling to the ground on her back and he moved over her, swiftly pinning down her limbs under his implacable weight.

"What do you think, guys? You want to play with this little bunny?

Perhaps we could get our sacrifice in pleasure rather than death. "

They were all quiet for long moments, Petra looking into the blacked out eyes of the devil’s mask, his weight not uncomfortable, but also there and pressing. Sacrifice? What were they playing at? And why were they even there at all?

“Touch me with a single appendage and I’ll cut it the fuck off,” she gritted through her teeth.

“Let her up. Give her the deal,” she heard, the modulated voice coming from one of the others that hadn’t spoken before. “If she takes it...” The rest of the statement hung in the air.

"I'll let her up if she gives me her word she'll listen and won't try to fuck us up," the devil said softly, the black eyes fixed on hers. "Give us five minutes to explain the deal, during which you have my word that none of us will hurt you. Understood?"

Anything was better than being under this guy. She nodded, swallowing again, her fight or flight instincts raging inside her.

“Don’t run. You do, and Ghosty here will just slice your throat. Crude, but it gets the job done,” the goblin said as she stood, looking at the guy with the Ghostface mask messing with a bowie knife.

"And that," murmured the devil as he eased back onto his knees, "would be a crying shame."

She looked at the Ghostface guy once more and then at the crew of them that were all standing together. Seven masks, all different, the malevolence wafting off the group palpable. “Talk. I wanna go.”

“That all depends on your answer,” Goblin said.

"Who are you kidding?" The guy with the stitched skin mask snorted. "She either dies or she accepts the deal. She isn't going anywhere soon."

"Stitches!" the devil snapped and she could hear the snarl in his voice. "Shut the fuck up."

"Sorry." Stitches dipped his head in acknowledgment and the devil turned back to her.

"So here it is...we have to make a sacrifice on this night, every year.

Since you've deprived us of our intended victim, you either take her place, or you let us harvest the life force we need in other, less mortal ways. "

“Less mortal ways?” She frowned. “Great. So, I’m dead or I’m raped...and then dead.” She rolled her eyes, the possibility of dying ensuring she wouldn’t go a meek and delicate thing. “You try either, I’m taking at least one of you with me.”

“And that just won’t do,” Neon said. “Why did you save the girl?”

“Why? Because you assholes tied her down and she did not look like she consented to that.”

“No...she didn’t,” he said to her. “And if you could stop that...random women dying for something they don’t understand?”

She arched a brow. “I don’t want people to die.” Didn’t want to die herself, either.

“You take the deal, no one dies,” Neon said. “Not even you...unless you cross us.” She could hear the smirk in his modulated voice.

She looked to them, the malice still there but tempered. She didn’t feel completely safe, she just felt...interest. “What’s the deal?”

"Fucking." The devil shrugged. "Orgasms generate life force. All seven of us and you over two nights should do it."

She blinked. “What?”

“Two nights a year, you belong to us,” Goblin clarified.

“Any two random nights?”

“Black Night and Samhain,” Neon said. “Two nights. All seven of us. No death, except the little death. And no faces.”

“No...no faces? I don’t get to know who you are?”

“It’s safer,” Neon offered.

"Besides, we're not idiots and we're not going back on our word," Stitches said. "Do as we ask and you get to walk out of here in two days’ time. We're not going to let you see our faces so you can go running off to the cops."

“You aren’t going to hurt me?” she asked, the scene in American Psycho with the medical instruments playing in her head.

“We guarantee nothing... But you will walk out of here on your own, and you won’t be any worse for wear,” Neon said.

"Well, you're not going to require hospitalization," Stitches amended. "Some of us are kinky fuckers, but we know what we're doing. There won't be any scarring or lasting damage."

Jesus fucking Christ. “And I don’t have a choice, do I?” she asked, weighing the pros and cons...or attempting to in the space of a few heartbeats.

“There is always a choice,” a voice she hadn’t heard yet, which she assumed was Ghostface, spoke up. “Make it.”

Fuck it. Whatever they had in store for her was probably more interesting than ice cream and late-night television. “Yes.”