Pauperdelle - Chapter 8: Possessed

August 1 at 12:00 AM

"Come down and play," a voice echoed from the metal grate. I inched forward, pausing over the vent. Below a young woman with black hair and pale skin sat in a chair. "Down here, with me." She clawed the wooden armrest with her fingernails. Her lips did not move, nor any discernable part of her face. She just stared into the shadows, waiting for some unsuspecting fool to fall into her web.

"Just passing through." I nodded.

Her head jerked up. She brushed aside her tangled locks, revealing two crimson eyes. As she held me in her demonic gaze, the vent below me collapsed and I fell into the void.

I slammed against the concrete floor, shattering like a pane of glass. Surely I had broken a couple ribs; I could not feel my left side at all. But I best not draw attention to my discomfort or I might hasten my demise.

"I've been lonely. The guards haven't come around for days," she stood over me.
I grabbed a pen from my coat pocket and pointed it at her. Surprisingly I did not land on it.

"That would not be wise," she said.

"And why is that?" I backed against the wall.

"Because I've already killed one of your men." She pressed closer. Her eyes bled with glee.

"By chance, do you know if he had a good heart?"

"The best." She licked her chops.

"Good, because I might have a use for you." I tossed the pen aside. "Does this demonic presence have a name?"

"Samantha," she whispered.

"Harry? Did you catch that? You can come out of the ceiling now," I said.

"Who is Harry?" she asked.

"The gentleman who accompanied me here," I replied. "Hey Harry, I think I've found a new donor. We'll use this demonic bitch instead."

"What?" she hissed.

"Come on, Harry. Stop screwing around and get down here." I shook my fist.

"He's got breast cancer, you know."

"Testicular cancer," he shouted down.

Samantha spun around and scanned the ceiling.

"Since you enjoy feeding on human flesh, perhaps you could do our mutual friend a favor and extract the cancer with those razor sharp teeth. Surely he won't object," I said.

Samantha did not respond. She paced the tile floor with her bare feet and then vaulted into the ceiling.

"Ahhh!" Harry screamed as the two banged around the ceiling.

"Pipe down, Harry." The room faded in and out of view. "She can't be any worse than your ex-wife."