I stared at Atom’s smiling face in disbelief. “In exchange for his soul”, echoed in my mind like someone yelling in a tunnel.

After leaving Al’s tutelage, I wanted nothing to do with fighting monsters, focusing entirely on healing. I was hesitant to admit it, but I was starting to think that was a mistake. If all it took for them to cross over was strong desire and a whisper in someone’s ear, the ramifications were terrifying. The situation I found myself in was proof of that.

Re-assessing my predicament, there were five demons standing before me; the tactic I’d used against Jascia wouldn’t work; and I had a spike sticking out of my chest. There was no way I could fight them and win. My only option was to flee.

With a jolt of strength and agility, I snapped the spike, unsheathed it from my chest, and swung it at Atom. He was barely surprised by the attack. When it struck him, it turned to liquid and splashed past him. I wasn’t just barely surprised at that, but I swallowed my shock and jetted toward the kitchen. Dismounting with all the force I could muster, I catapulted forward. I moved with impossible speed and dove through the serving window. When I was out of view, I released the amplifications to conserve energy.

Bucket sat with his back against the wall next to me.

“Holy crap…” he whispered.

“Yeah. I’m pretty awesome,” I said. With the brief respite, I used the opportunity to heal the gaping hole in my chest.

“Well, I must admit, that was rather impressive,” Atom said.

“Where are the guards?” I asked Bucket.

“They won’t mess with Atom, so they cleared out,” he replied.

“Great…”

“I’ll give you one more chance, give up Bucket and the goods and you can walk out of here alive,” Atom said. I looked at my cellmate’s pleading expression and sighed.

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks though,” I called out.

“So be it,” Atom said. “Stitch, Bullseye, you’re up.” I quirked a questioning eyebrow at Bucket after hearing the nicknames, but he had already started running.

“Son of the dead,” I cursed.

An eyeball riding a hand, as if from a gruesome horror flick, flew through the window. The grotesque pair ricocheted off a stainless-steel bowl, then a frying pan, then landed around my neck. It stifled my scream with a squeeze. I frantically flung it across the room, but it landed on its fingertips like a freaking spider. I bolted after Bucket, and the abomination gave chase. It ran surprisingly fast.

I didn’t think that the eyeball-hand was particularly dangerous, but it caused a sort of primal fear.

Atom alone would have been hard enough to deal with. I had to start thinking proactively, so I set my mind on estimating the extent of my opponent’s strengths and potential weaknesses.

The two shows of Atom’s ability gave me the impression he was able to alter matter, but both times, he made contact with the things he transformed. The other two, not so much, but I thought I could assume their powers by their nicknames.

I guessed that Stitch could remove his body parts, but still control them. Since he attached an eyeball to his hand, he must need to see what’s going on to use them effectively. The benefits also seemed very limited. I mean, what use is a foot by itself? Also, he’d probably be next to useless if I could blind him. Bullseye probably never missed, but what was the activation requirement?

A plan to execute a blitz attack to quickly dispatch all three was coalescing in my mind. If I could use my agility to catch Atom off guard, blind Stitch, and get within striking distance of Bullseye, I might even have a chance, that is, as long as my assessments were accurate. The other two opponents, however, were unknown variables. If I knew their nicknames, I might be able to glean some hints at their abilities as well.

“Bucket!” I called. He looked back at me over his shoulder as we turned a corner. He was pale and breathing heavily. “I need to know the nicknames of the two that haven’t attacked yet.”

My cellmate stumbled to a halt and put his hands on his knees. He was wheezing. It was then that I remembered he was an old man. At his age, that he could run at all was a miracle. I was only a little winded, but still had plenty of gas in the tank. The spider hand was tireless; its unnerving skittering was almost upon us.

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I took a deep breath, overcame my primal fear, and as soon as it turned the corner, I punted it with a dose of mage strength. It smashed into the wall and fell to the floor. I took the opportunity to stomp on it, shattering bones and crushing the eyeball. A pained shout came from around the corner and down the hall. That’s one eye down, but I bet he wouldn’t use the spider-hand tactic again.

“Bucket. The nicknames,” I said.

“Poison—and Pain,” he replied between gasps. The monikers were vague and ominous. Neither sounded particularly pleasant, nor did they inspire much confidence in me.

“Do you know what they can do?”

He shook his head and I scrunched my face but stuffed down my frustration.

I looked back around the corner to see if our attackers had caught up. Three of them were walking confidently after us like proper villains unhurried in their pursuit.

Two of the men donned gas masks and a purple smoke poured out of the last man’s pores. I stared dumbly as it approached. My moment of distraction was enough for a hard plastic chef’s knife to hurdle through the air and hit me in the eye. I screamed.

One of the gas mask wearing men, I assumed him to be Bullseye, chuckled. “An eye for an eye!”

“It’s funny for you maybe. You’re not the one missing an eye,” the one-eyed, one-handed walking demon people eater said. Gritting my teeth against the pain as I ducked behind the corner, I shakily grabbed the knife and tore it out of my face.

“We have to keep moving,” I said, gathering myself.

“I—can’t,” Bucket said, still trying to catch his breath. A shiver of disgust showed his displeasure at my damaged eyeball reforming.

“Oh scythe,” I said as the purple fog seeped around the corner.

We started running again, but I quickly decided to carry the old man. I assumed the demons kept all the doors unlocked for free rein of the prison, so I didn’t know where Atom and Pain were. I imagined they were positioning themselves for a pincer attack. There was no way we’d be able to keep away from them for long.

After a few turns, I flung open a cleaning closet and went inside. Thoughts sped through my mind as I contemplated options.

“Oh yeah! Bucket,” I said. “Give me your energy.”

“My energy?” His face contorted. “I’m not letting any of you demons near my soul!”

I was taken aback.

His assertion wasn’t like the guy who kept calling me the devil. I’d shared with Bucket what I could do, and he chose to lump me in with the monsters chasing us. The way he looked at me and the way he said it—I suddenly understood why Jascia took offense to being called a demon. But I wasn’t like them. I was a mage, like Shawn and Al. I had powers like theirs, mine just operated a little differently. That’s all it was, right?

“I’m not a demon,” I said, but the pronouncement lacked conviction. I’d caused a lot of pain, and I wasn’t so sure anymore. Who was I trying to convince, him or me? I cleared away the thoughts, I could have an identity crisis later. My voice strengthened.

“Bucket, I’m not going to steal your soul. I told you about my abilities. I just need to use different magic for us to escape.”

He looked away in consternation then grunted. “Fine.”

Without another word, I grabbed his arm and inhaled deeply. A flood of power flowed into me. After only a moment, Bucket looked like he’d visibly aged even more. He sank back against the closet wall.

The light I received from him was heavy. I felt judged and understood his disapproval. I was a demon and he lacked confidence in my ability to protect him. He’d given up hope. He’d resigned himself to death.

“Stay here,” I told him, pushing down the defeat his energy made me feel. “I’ll lure them away.” After taking his feelings from him, a little smile appeared on his face, and he nodded then slumped into unconsciousness. Taking energy from the elderly was harder on them and it took longer for them to recover. After checking that he was alright, I went back into the hallway.

The additional energy bolstered my confidence. I looked back the way we’d come, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could take the trio head on. I kept moving forward and hid around the next corner. I peered back down the hallway, eager to get the jump on them like a secret agent on a stealth mission.

After a few moments passed, my pursuers came into view, and I pulled my head back before they could notice me. I didn’t really want to catch another knife in the eye, I still had the first one. I wouldn’t need it with new powers at my disposal, but it didn’t hurt to have a backup plan. When they got to me, I’d ambush them like I’d done with Señor Eyeball-spider-hand, but this time, I’d do it with magic. My brow furrowed. What magical ability did disappointment give?

I focused on the emotion and tried to visualize it, but my imagination wasn’t conjuring any imagery. It sat in my soul as a yellowish-green glow with maybe a bit of brown mixed in. I closed my eyes to concentrate on it. I tried to force some insight, but nothing showed up except the color. I guess, without knowing what it was, I couldn’t paint a picture of a scene. It was frustrating, but I had to know what I was dealing with, so I decided to use it and see. Energy expanded from my center, into my arm, and suffused my hand. It grew heavy and something started to coalesce in my palm. It seeped through my fingers and plopped onto the floor.

“MUD?!” I shouted without restraint. “Disapproval makes mud?!” I just stared at the viscous wet earth as it dripped from my hand. I shook my head in disappointment and frustration, not just at the magic, but at myself. I’d gotten distracted—again! There wouldn’t be any ambush now, especially not with mud. I had to continue running, but when I turned to do so, I plowed into a man.

It wasn’t Atom, it was the last demon. He stared with cold eyes into mine. A slow grin spread across his face, terror spread across mine. The man, Pain, slowly moved his hand to grab me, I was too frozen to move. His fingers closed around my wrist, and he spoke.

“You—are mine,” he said, his voice like a landslide.

A white-hot pain, more than I’d ever felt before, shot through my entire body, radiating from his touch. It was so intense that my mouth opened to scream but no sound came out. The agony was greater than my entire body caving in and my face melting off combined. I struggled just to maintain consciousness but failed.

This time, however, my vision went white instead of black.