"... Make sure they're tight. We don't want him breaking loose..."

Darkness engulfed my mind, the aching pain of my skull muffled into a soft throb as I floated through nothingness. Distant voices crawled along the space above my head, though garbled and incoherent. My thoughts wavered like a boat over sharp waves. Tilting one way. Leaning the other. It was like I was dreaming.

"... the circle..."

"... Light... candles..."

"... Bi... pher..."

I was numbly aware of my body lifting from a seat, hoisted by hairy arms, before being plopped down on hard concrete. My eyelids refused to open, confusion leaving me lost within the confines of my own subconscious. Hands worked to pull me into a sitting position, the chill of their palms channeling a portion of my consciousness back into me. Steadying me.

I focused on their fingertips, moving from under my arms to over either shoulder as my head began to tilt. It started out slow, my mind straining to regain its sense of understanding as the grainy shock of blacking out slowly slid from me. I became aware of a rough pinching at my wrists, course and prickly with every twist they made around them.

'...Rope.' I thought. My hands were pressed behind me, bound, itching to rotate and flex against the growing discomfort. My brow furrowed, using the slight pain as an added boost of focus. I took a slow breath, forcing myself to be flung farther into awareness.

"Should we wake him...?" Questioned a voice.

I concentrated on the whispery tones of young adults contemplating. Debating. Worrying.

"I'd love to see the look on his face..."

"But he might break out..."

"It doesn't matter. He's got nowhere to run..."

"Well, what does he think we should do...?"

In the mists of their consultation, a sharp pain shot up my spine, flinging my senses into action. It was like my mind finally snapped out of it, awake and fully aware of the ripping pulse that bounced through my skull. I hissed, torso lurching forward as my expression soured. The throbbing discomfort felt far greater than before, my mind able to process 100% of the pain. The teens stepped back.

"... Ow." I groaned, my head lowering as waves of pain continued to flow over me. There was a pause throughout the room, the teens looking at each other with knowing grins before turning to smirk at me.

"Well! Good morning, officer!" Came the leader with his arms crossed. "How was your nap?" I cringed at his volume, my headache only flaring up as he went.

Surprisingly, they didn't badger me with taunts and names right off the bat, but instead waited for me to fully recover. I heard one, snickering as he did so, flex his finger against the flint wheel of a lighter. A moment more, and he was setting the tip of his cigarette ablaze. That was when I realized where I was.

My head lolled to the side, viewing the teens that stood before me with rubbery grins. The room, I realized, was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of candle lights. Orange smeared into yellow, crawling against metal walls of what looked to be a warehouse. My eyes rolled upwards, seeing rows among rows of skylights beyond metal beams stretched along the ceiling.

Bits of sky and star met my gaze against the eventual rise of sun, giving off the appeal of dusk. A soft blue, not nearly bright enough to reach the floor far below, seemed to loom above with reassurance.

"Feeling alright there, chap?" The boy with the cigarette mused, trying with all his might to sound cool against the smoke's bite. It didn't work. He choked on the steam, mouth pressing into elbow as he concealed a heavy cough. My mood lifted just slightly, despite myself.

"Peachy." I tested, waging how far I could go before the pain sprung up again. "First time smoking?" The scowl on his face said it all.

Even as a convict, he wanted to make a good impression on the cop they had just kidnapped. To look cool in front of the girls. In front of an adult. He was an idiot. And, if his team was on the same page, something told me they all were. I began to doubt they were even the ones pulling the strings... The boy grumbled, sneering as he yanked the stick from his lips to be flicked at my feet.

A bit of smoke rose from the roll, hardly even burnt a third of the way. I looked back at him, an unimpressed expression as he walked up to Liam and smacked the package into his waiting palm.

"Hey, don't discourage him. He'll learn." Said Liam, sliding the pack into his hoodie's front pocket. He smiled a bit wider than I'd like, breaking from the group to crouch before me. "And so will you."

I said nothing, viewing his features against an unflattering light. His expression was smeared, damped and drained by the dark shadow of his brow. His face was exaggerated and unpleasantly melted by the burnt tinge of apricot that crept beyond him, cheek bones pointed and jaw flexed. Where was that light coming from?

My eyes shifted from Liam's, looking beyond his kneeling form to see what was behind. Candles, lit and dripping wax to lie pooled at the sticks, were positioned to create a gaping circle. Large, white chalk etchings stretched within it. Two lines starting at one point, diverging and hitting the opposite sides of the circle before coming back together with a single line.

A triangle.

I bit back a shiver. My eyes strained, taking note of what looked to be a sleeping bag chucked in the center of the candles. Dark green, fat, and snapped shut with a zipper like bear teeth. I viewed it curiously, cocking a small brow its way. But, as I did, something became disturbingly potent to my senses: The smell.

My nose shriveled up in repulsion, the hot burn of rotting flesh all that flooded my nostrils and windpipe. I choked, coughing once as I forced myself to continue breathing it in, no matter how badly I wanted to wretch. I hadn't seen it at first. But after the smell hit me, it was impossible to ignore: Long, dried strands of thin black hair spilling from between the bag's teeth, entangled and snapped within the confines of metal jaws, spotted and oily with bodily fluids and crumbs of dirt.

My stomach dropped, blood draining as I shrank back.

The stolen parts.

"... What is this...?" I caught myself, steadying my tongue before a stutter could pass me.

'Who is this body for...?'

Liam chuckled, leaning in on me. He was a slim boy, lanky and awkwardly fitted in the hoodie that didn't hug his wrists. And, with a white complexion against crimson pimples, he looked ogreish up close. I cringed away from his breath, the smoldering rot of decay and plaque passing his lips as he spoke.

"Mr. Pines." Liam cooed in a smug tone. I clammed up, watching the cracked lips that formed my name. My name.

He knew my name.

My fingers went cold, rope cutting into my bloodstream as I leaned back on my cramped up knuckles. He continued to lean in until our noses were almost pressing together.

"Have you ever met God?" The boy mused, pupils seeming to bounce as he spoke.

I would have laughed at his question if he weren't so creepy. My father was a catholic. My mother was Jewish. If my home life hadn't been a turf war of Christmas trees and menorahs from birth, maybe I could have answered it more directly. Or, maybe I would just be a smartass.

"Which one?" I asked, steeling myself as he grinned.

"Oh!" He purred in delight, wringing his fingers together in a sort of satisfaction. "The best one!" Liam pulled away from me, rising to his feet and turning around. He walked into the circle of lit candles, extending his arms to draw attention to his team's craftsmanship. I leaned onto my knees, chest lifting as I examined the creation more closely.

"This-" His voice became very prideful. "-is what we've been working towards since day one! It's pretty damn cool, don't you think? You see, our God's not like the one they teach about in church. This one's fucking awesome!"

I bit back the urge to make a snide remark, sure that anything retaining to their deity would result in his riling up. However, the instance he even mentioned it, his group seemed to tumble after in enthusiasm.

"He promised me a nice rack!" One of the girls piped up, puffing out her chest as she did so.

"I was promised more popularity!" Came another.

"He said I'd get into my dream college!"

"I was told I'd be rich as a king!"

"He said he'd get revenge on that bitchy 'Amy Darwins' in my economics class!"

Their voices continued to rise, contempt and excitement building within each one as their individual greed became known. Hands began to raise. Feet began to stomp. Long, thin shadows danced against the walls as they swirled about each other, praising their deity with ruthless devotion. I felt my throat tighten, watching their enthusiasm flair and die and flair again.

They were unstable as Hell. Barefooted, dancing, howling with praise, and spoiled by delusional wants and desires. Not to mention they were teenagers.

Their hands linked with one another, clasping into a second circle within the confines of the first one. My mouth began to dry up, watching them surround the stuffed sleeping bag. Little peeps of excited giggles and squeaks passed among themselves, taking periodic glances over their shoulders to make I was watching.

Oh, yes. I was watching. How the ladies swayed in place, curling their toes in anticipation. The boys, smirking at one another and rocking on the balls of their heels. They were about to do something big. The noise rose and fell several times, adrenaline still buzzing throughout the group, before Liam cleared his throat. They became silent, turning to watch him gleefully.

"Let's show our friend-" He smirked at me. "What we're all about!"

It was a simple thing, hands clasped in the group's warped game of 'ring-around-the-rosey', as he moved his left foot over his right, forcing his friends to follow in suit. They were tugged along, smiling as they did so, slowly turning and spinning as a collection around the stolen parts. It looked like a children's game. A sick, dark, demented game.

They twirled around it, still holding each other's hands, only for Liam to shout out a simple letter.

"A!" He boomed, causing an outcry of cheers and approval as he went. The candle to the left of him flickered out, only to come back to life as a blue flame. My eyes widened.

"Hey!" My shoulders jolted instinctively, trying to pull myself to my feet. They started to spin faster.

"X!" Came the girl to his right. Another candle. Out. And then, blue. My mind raced, watching the ritual unfold. I tugged at my bound wrists, gritting my teeth against the burning pain of little bristles attacking me. My feet kicked out, frustration bubbling over as I groaned helplessly. The ropes were tight.

"O!" My head shot up, seeing the room break from the soft glow of orange to the cold twist of a frosted sea. Just a little more, the space seemed to darken. Although the blue flames burned brighter, blackness only seemed to thicken and pool.

"L!" Again, cries of joy and encouragement. But, within it, I heard the subtle dripping of substance. Some kind of liquid. Thicker, and more malleable than water. My eyes darted to in between the swirling, dragging feet of chittering teens, to peer at the green bag.

And there it was. The little hairs that stuck out of the bag, long and slender, were oozing. Not oily or wet with bodily fluids like before. Secreting. Sliding along the thin strands came this black ink that built up at the base, slide halfway down the line, and plopped to the floor in fat drops of gothic slime.

"Don't-!" Panic quickly overtook me. This wasn't a game anymore. These kids were actually doing this. Something was happening. The next boy jumped in to cut me off.

"O!" A jolt from the bag, like a baby in the womb. The crowd went absolutely ballistic. Over half the candles were blue. The room was sinking deeper and deeper into darkness, and the ink was no longer just from the hair. It soaked into the bag's fibers and leaked out onto the floor. Like trickles of blood, the fluid rolled along the cement in thick lines, only to be danced upon and savored between paled and worshiping toes.

"T!" Sloshing could be heard from within. There was definitely a body in there, and they were squishing around and swimming in their own goop like a cocooned butterfly. Bile rose in me, though I managed a yelp as the ink slid near, almost reaching the cuff of my pant leg before yanking it away.

"You're making a mistake!" I made one final, violent yank at the ropes, seeing the last flame that remained a pleasant pumpkin shade among the ocean that was so close to drowning it. I gulped, being met once again with the resistance of woven strands.

The last teenager, a petite blonde with her hair up, wore the biggest smile. She was the final one. The finale. Whatever it was they intended on bringing to life, she had been bestowed the great honor of finalizing it. My stomach dropped. Her mouth began to open, soft pink lips only halted by her overwhelming pulse of adrenaline. She roared with a quick fit of laughter, hesitating only slightly before she could speak.

And that was all it took.

A muffled sound. The screeching of tires against road. The growing volume of an engine, growling and vibrating as fuel was burned. The girl paused, acknowledging the noise, turning in the direction of the sound. I only had a moment, my head snapping to the right side of the warehouse, viewing the chained up double doors, before the unmistakable bang of a car against metal was heard. The double doors gave way instantly, snapping off their hinges as a red sedan burst through.

The girl's mouth twitched in shock, screaming as all the others did, jumping out of the way before the vehicle could slam into their little circle. Hands separated. Candles were snuffed out. The room became completely dark aside from the car's headlights and whatever bit of sun had begun to peak past the Earth's horizon.

I saw a few of the teens on their hands and knees, having just barely made it out of the way in time. Others were pressed against the wall, staring at the four wheeler in disbelief. And I was sure I wore the most goofy expression of admiration and gratitude, watching her kick open the car's door and stumble out, partially shaken by the crash.

"Mabel!" I beamed, my body only working harder to break free and greet her. Mabel, however, was in a completely different state.

"Oh- Whoa..." She put her hand to her head, wincing as her feet stumbled over metal and debris and sticky ink. "We need air bags..."

I only smiled at her, watching her wobble and kneel behind me. Her fingers fumbled, slipping between the course twists of rope to release me.

"I told you so." The ropes were off in seconds, angry red skin ripped and torn at the wrists there to greet me. I groaned. I stood up slowly, making a smug show of brushing my shoulders of dust and rubble sprayed over me by her entrance. The teens stared blankly, swallowed by bits of dirt in the air and shock.

"Oh? Surprised he brought backup? Yeah, that's right! What whaaaat!" Mabel taunted in a sing song tone, pointing to herself with such self satisfaction that I rolled my eyes reflexively. Being as it may, I still couldn't resist the smirk that ghosted my lips.

Mabel wasn't much for following the law, and she wasn't much for intimidation. But, when it came to saving my ass at the last second, I could always count on her. Always.

I looked to the belt around her waist, a custom made 'grappling hook holster' I had tailored for her several Christmases past. She wore it with pride, fingers slipped around the trigger, ready to pull it out and point it cockily. But, against the dark lighting and misleading shadows cast by headlights, I could tell she was bluffing a much more dangerous weapon in her possession.

One of the boys, I saw, began to lean against the wall and slide his way back up to his feet. Mabel twitched, turning to him with fake hostility, jiggling the end of her grappling hook to more openly bluff a gun. He jumped, only to plop back onto his bum. I looked at her in good humor, making sure not to laugh against our shared grin. They had been caught.

At least, I thought so.

"...L." Came a small, female groan. There, among the heavier bits of rubble and rock, was the blonde with her hair up, half buried under the mess of concrete and sawdust. From the weakness of her tone, I almost feared Mabel had run over her. She rolled off of her back onto her hip bone, elbow propped up as she stared at me, grimacing as she went. Her eyes began to water. Desperation was painted on her features, brow pinched and lip trembling as she drew in a breath.

"L!!" She cried, clenching her fists. Mabel and I stumbled back instinctively, looking at her with both shock and confusion. The room became silent, lifeless as the green bag that had stopped wiggling and leaking since the circle was broken. The pause she let pass seemed only to wait. To anticipate. To expect a reaction. So strange.

At first, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just the soft cursing on teenagers and the shifting up debris and periodic rubbing of metal hooks against Mabel's holster. I sighed, both relieved and conflictingly disappointed. But then, all at once, there was something.

Snuffed out candles burst to life. All seven of them, a proud blue even while burning upon tipped over candle sticks or wax that had broken from the base of metal holders. The green bag, bumped off to the side by the car's front right wheel, began to writhe again. Like a rodent's popped belly on the side of the road, infested with wiggling, starving maggots.

My arm shot up in front of Mabel, backing us away from the thing before something could happen. A shriek of erratic cheering and chanting snapped my mind away for a moment, though my sister continued to stare in pale disbelief at the soiled, putrid bag now soaked in the inky substance. Black. The bag became black, squirming and squelching to invoke a sort of trepidation.

"He's here!" Cried Liam. "Our lord and savior, Bill, is finally here!" My body went cold. I couldn't form the right words, watching the teenagers once again dance and sing, separated from us by the black, sticky worm that squirmed between us. I couldn't feel the tips of my fingers as my hand ghosted over my hip bone, searching in vain for the holster I knew they had removed while I was unconscious.

I was unable to blink, eyes dried and blown wide, afraid even one glance away would result in earth shattering consequences. And, as a coal-black finger slipped beyond the bag's dripping teeth to unzip itself, I was quickly overwhelmed with a sense of despair. This wasn't happening. Against my body's own warnings, I forced my feet to move.

My shoulders hunched back, fists clenched as I focused on the slow, drawn out purr of zipped teeth parting. I made three steps, Mabel's hands stuttering to keep me in place, only for the loud bark of a bullet to mark the floor before my feet. I looked to the cement, a slender, metal shell half-dug into the ground. Then, I looked up, Liam holding my gun between confident hands.

The shot had missed. It was a perfect warning to stay away. But, by the way he held the gun so blithely, I knew it was out of pure inexperience that he had missed his targets. Nonetheless, it was an open remark, telling us how little hesitation he had.

"Oh!" He said. "Looks like you're in a real pickle!" His heels seemed to click, smile stretched wide and pridefully as he moved forward. He was closer now, barrel directed at my chest just a few feet away.

"... Listen... This isn't what you think it is. Whatever he promised you, it's not gonna turn out how you imagined it. He's a demon." My voice came out in breaths, uneven and shaken by paranoia and regret. I should have called for backup. I should have told people where I was heading tonight. I shouldn't have dragged Mabel along.

He got closer still, stepping in front of the dripping hand that slipped out of the bag to the forearm. The zipper was half way done, and so the form worked to slip out sluggishly.

"God! See? It's that kind of outlook that just doesn't get you anywhere!" He scoffed, looking me up and down with naked disappointment. "Listen, doll face: He offered me everything! Do you know what that means for a guy like me? It means babes! Fortune! Fame! Power!"

The body slipped out just the top of its head.

"You know how often a chance like this comes along? NEVER! Ha! You hear that? I'll never have this chance again! Demon or not, that thing's a God to me!"

Its shoulder blades slipped free, bag slowly sliding down its back.

"I didn't have shit before him! I was just a pathetic, weak, ugly white kid caught up in a world of hotties. Talk about unfair! This world is unfair!"

It rose onto its hands, legs sliding out with the skin-crawling drag of flesh.

"So what if I bumped a couple of rules?!" I became very aware of his proximity, his aim on the target much clearer now. He was going to shoot. "Cops like you wouldn't understand!"

A black, inky figure dripping darkness came to its feet, chest just an inch from the boy.

My mouth opened, letting out the hesitant mutter of someone who wasn't sure whether or not to say something. He seemed unaware that his 'God' had awoken.

"I'm gonna be everything in this world! And some low life pigs aren't gonna be there to shit all over my plans!"

It opened its mouth, wider than anything I had seen before. Eyes still closed, jaw seeming to dislocate at will, the image presented was something out of a nightmare. Its mouth was lined with rows among rows of sharp teeth, followed by the never ending abyss of infinite darkness.

He swallowed Liam whole.

It was over so quickly. I wasn't even sure if it had happened at all. But, I knew better than that. There, standing before us, was the dripping silhouette of ink, molded and reborn will the design of maleness. Fingers. Toes. A navel. But, no face. No nose. No lips.

Only eyes.

I shook with dread, Mabel's hand working frantically to interlace our fingers for support. The chill was no longer just mine. It road down my spine, to my gut, up my chest, through my arm, and transferred to her. We shook together.

Slowly, closed black lids opened. I prayed to myself. I prayed that this had all been some kind of misunderstanding. That 'Bill' wasn't the Bill we knew. That this... thing... wasn't who I thought he was. This wasn't Bill. This isn't Bill.

A yellow, slitter cat eye peered at me through the warehouse's darkness.

"...No." I paled. The figure stared at me all the while, skin seeming to stretch into a smile where his lip-less mouth was.

"Oh... Yes!" Came a garbled, distorted groan of inhuman speech. It seemed to bounce off the walls, vibrating through metal and coming back at us with a smack. Distorted and chaotic, his tone was like electricity. The thing placed a hand to the side of his face, pulling away to feel the stickiness of black on his figure. He laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

And, looking right at me, I made out the faintest bit of tongue slipping out and rolling over the corners of his mouth, like licking his lips. He was... hungry.

"Run!" Was all I heard from Mabel, turning to drag me alongside her. It was only when the eye contact was broken that chaos was unleashed. It ran after us. Jaw unlatched and teeth bared. And, why wouldn't he? We were fuel to solidify his new form.

This was a common result. The teens hadn't been aware, but most of these things required several sacrifices. It was like an offering. The body was new. Unstable. Lanky and starving. Creating a vessel took more than just the parts. It took energy. Human energy. Like a newborn baby, breastfeeding before it can move up to solid foods. Once he had his fill, the body will regulate itself and transition over to eating normal food. But, for the time being...

The teenagers seemed to be completely detached from the situation at hand, celebrating and hooting as we were chased. Like Liam hadn't been eaten. Like this thing wasn't still hungry. Like they weren't all about to die.

We raced hand in hand to the car, slamming into the edge of metal before yanking open the passenger's door. I slid in, Mabel climbing over me to get into the driver's seat. In most cases, she was the last person to let behind the wheel.

Her attention span was short. Her turns were sharp. She drove way over the speed limit, and never used her turn signals. It was almost impossible to teach her how to drive, and was considered a public hazard on the road.

But, she was one hell of a getaway driver.

Those sharp turns cut her time in half. She had amazing control when speeding down the road at 80 mph. And that short attention span had her mind constantly snapping around. She could make on-the-spot decisions instantaneously. I buckled up, just as the figure came to a halt in front of us.

"Yeah! Get 'em, Bill!" Hollered one of the boys. The thing twitched, turning to look at who had spoken. That came as a huge surprise to me, seeing its back. Bill's back. He had stared at us so intensely, all I could imagine was how badly he wanted revenge.

And yet, seeing the boy much closer, much more exposed and vulnerable than we were, he turned away without a second of hesitation. Quickly, Bill's target changed, and the boy barely had a chance to blink before he was bleeding from the throat. Teeth sinking in, jaw wrapped around his neck, his voice of praise snapping into one of confusion and fear.

His lips dribbled with blood, eyes rolling into the back of his head. The boy was dead within seconds. I heard Mabel scream, coupled by the shrieks of everyone else. They had finally seen it, the demon before them ravaged in blood and gore and empty hunger.

Somehow, this seemed to be my first moment of understanding. Curiosity, and not fear. I was almost intrigued. This wasn't Bill. Not yet, anyways. It was something... primitive. Unintelligible. Predatorial. Driven by the urge to consume and grow. In a way, he had just been born, and his form hadn't yet matured. He was still developing, meaning that his new brain hadn't transferred his knowledge yet.

He didn't recognize us.

He didn't remember anything yet.

He was attacking at random.

Mabel's foot jammed into the gas, speeding us out of the warehouse and onto the road. My head snapped around, expecting to see him chase after us. But, he didn't. Instead, I saw him rise from his crouched position before the boy's corpse, hand raised and teeth bared in a smile. Knowing, yet unsure.

He's coming for us next.