The wide, worrisome black eyes fixed on Avery. The red globs moved, hovered, circled around Avery, sniffling at him. Such a weird action, their sniffling was; they had no noses, no mouths, yet Avery knew that was what they were doing. Smelling, absorbing the essence of him. A scent that probably told them all about his true thoughts, his true intentions.

Did they know he'd been lying to them?

He pictured them licking their nonexistent lips as they continued to swirl around him. He wasn't sure he was hearing them properly, but he thought they might have been moaning. The chill-inducing sound concentrated in his ears, as if reserved only for him. To remind him he was in their domain, and if they were thirsty for possession... he was all theirs to take.

Shit. Shit! Think fast, Avery!

Had speaking of their goals reminded them of those goals? Or had it shown to them that Avery wasn't who and what he'd said he was?

He was about to speak, his jaw loosening to open his mouth, when a few other red orbs from the cluster that had stayed behind zoomed over. They, too, circled around him, sniffling. They, too, wanted a piece of him. He sensed their intrigue as they whooshed around, slowly for some, faster for others, their eyes set on him with clear interest. They never broke contact, their varied shades of red blurring into one definite whirl of scarlet that hurt his eyes.

But he wouldn't close them. He had to be strong—weak as his knees were—and prove to these creatures that he'd come to help them. Even if that was the farthest thing from the truth, they needed to believe it.

There was no other way to get out of this realm still breathing.

Were they analyzing him? Could they read his mind, detect his intentions? Or were they simply thirsty? Was it his blood they wanted? He shivered, recalling that information that he already dreaded relaying to Ada. If he got out of here alive, that was.

Demons need human blood to sustain themselves. Ew.

"Who is this?" said one of the newcomers, its voice a snake's hiss, reverberating through Avery as if contained within him.

"The savior... the one who allowed our vessel to come to us..." said another, its voice elongated, deep and dark like a low growl.

"Why is he still alive?" One of the new orbs stopped in front of him, its reddened body pressing so close to Avery's that a shot of heat blew over his face, knocking him backwards. "What does he want?" It prodded at him, poking at his skin as if seeking to get under it.

He tried to stay still as they sniffed at him, but the intrusion, the audacity of it sent him on edge, prompting him to reel back and cover his chest with his arms. "Hey, didn't you say you couldn't possess me?"

"We didn't say we couldn't," said one voice Avery recognized as orb two, from earlier. "Nor that we wouldn't. We advised that you're not meant for possession. But you are human, which means..."

Orb one continued its train of thought, "which means we need your blood to re-energize ourselves before we get out of here."

"But we can't drink from you in our current form," said orb two again, its voice much deeper and malicious than it had been earlier.

"I think he'd be useful to us once we get out," said another, one Avery hadn't heard speak before. "We could feed off him. I like his energy, it's chilly. Refreshing."

"We need to possess him to get out; if what he's saying is true, if she's not coming back..."

The voices started blending into one, fizzing about inside Avery's skull, deafening. He smacked his hands over his ears, but it was no use; they spoke into him, every timbre trembling through him. He couldn't shut them out, couldn't get them to be quiet.

Legs wobbly, he attempted another step back, but they only followed him, continuing their swirling. Swirling. Swirling. Avery felt himself spinning on his feet, dizziness overcoming him, yet he remained upward. How was he not falling flat on his face? How was he still standing?

"Is it worth the risk?" This was a gentler voice, one that almost soothed him before it pursued its thoughts. "The possession would kill him, if we were to do it. Fresh blood is much more delicious."

"We can't kill him," said the one he recognized as orb three. Condescending and moody, its eyes halted right in front of Avery, halting the others in their circling motions.

Was it some kind of leader? Did they all look up to it? Orbs one and two had basically told it to fuck off, earlier, but now they were all stopping when it stopped, silencing when it spoke?

Interesting...

"What if we still need him?" Three's gaze narrowed. "But also, what if he isn't our savior?"

"But he is," mumbled Two, jamming itself next to three, squeezing its red glob of a body to it. "You smell it, all of you, right? He's the one who allowed her to open the door."

"That doesn't mean he's a savior," said orb three, side-glaring at One and Two. "He let it happen, but did you stop to wonder if he wanted it to? Our vessel is a strong-willed woman, you all felt that. She may have tricked him, overpowered him to get here without his consent."

No one spoke up this time; no one defied what Three was saying.

Avery gulped. He knew he was cornered, and the way the orbs were staring at him now made him realize they knew it, too. They saw through his lie, and he was about to be punished for it.

What was the best way to react? Own up to the lie, confess, apologize? Or push on and insist that he was there to help them, if anything, to get them to let him out before they carved him up and watched him bleed to death?

He didn't have time to make a decision, because orb three wasn't done talking.

"If I'm right, and he isn't aligned with us, his body will be hostile towards us." It squinted at Avery, but then the creases of its eyes spread out, as if it was smiling at him. And Avery didn't picture it as a friendly smile, either. More of a malevolent one, loaded with spite and slyness. "You know what? Let me prove to you all that I'm right. Let's give it a try, hm? Test him."

Avery's knees buckled, and something somersaulted in his belly as he stumbled backwards. "Uh—"

He had no chance to defend himself—if there was even a way to do that against a horde of demons—before they swarmed him. Some spiraled around him like earlier, sniffing at him, sucking at his skin. Some were nipping at his flesh, like little fish nibbling at one's toes when in the water—but much more uncomfortable, more painful. Their energy fused into his, turning him hot, bursting with a warmth that made his abdomen tight and achy.

He sought to shoo them off, but his arms were so flabby they fell quickly back to his sides. His muscles ached as if he'd lifted hundreds of dumbbells, and his feet were like lead, stuck to the dirt, sinking into it. He couldn't move, couldn't fight these fiends off as they attempted to enter him.

He couldn't fight them physically, but he knew his mental state was more powerful, his will mighty. Gritting his teeth, he imagined barriers forming all around his body, blocking them from getting inside. He wasn't stupid; orb three was correct, and his body was hostile, he had no doubt about it. But he'd do everything in his currently flimsy power to prevent these demons from finding that out.

The nibbling at his skin became pinches, quick at first, then longer, harder, more painful. They were actual bites, digs into his flesh. Avery chewed the insides of his cheeks, refraining from crying out, from displaying his discomfort for them to take advantage of. If he showed the slightest sign of that discomfort, they'd know. And then they'd kill them, with whatever means they had as non-corporeal red beings that dwelled in this nightmarish sepia-toned world.

He never felt a breach signifying any of the demons had fully gotten in. Either he'd been as strong-willed as he'd hoped, and they'd had no chance to filter into him; or they'd given up, not needing to push the matter further.

Or maybe they'd been dissuaded by the sudden blood-curdling screech that came echoing from the barren forest in the distance, where they'd all originated from. A scream so piercing, so haunting, it startled all of them away from Avery long enough for him to scramble back, to flip around and sight the door he'd come through.

I've gotta get to it. Now.

Whatever that scream was—a foe, or a hidden ally of some kind, looking out for Avery—Avery didn't have time to thank it. He had to dash up to the door and tug at it until it opened.

But would it?

He jolted forward, unsure how his wobbly legs could carry him. The door was far, far away, and the faster he ran, the farther it was. An illusion? A trick of the mind?

Or were the demons moving the door to stop him from leaving?

"You lied to us," came a voice mere inches behind him, prompting him to stupidly look over his shoulder. One of the demons had caught up, and the others were on its tail. "You didn't come here to help us get out, did you?"

A second voice slithered up to Avery's left side, causing him to lose his footing and trip over a cluster of pebbles. "You wanted information to relay to your people on the outside, didn't you?"

Somehow, he didn't fall, but he'd lost his pace and was now being slowed down by the demons who were steadily matching his speed. Two, three, four of them were behind him. Ten, fifteen, twenty—he failed to keep a proper count.

A few passed in front of him, slightly barring his view from the door. He'd have expected to see through them, but the vibrancy of their red figures was too intense, and not transparent. They were solid globs, now. Solid red globs with solid black eyes that were all fixed on him and ready to assassinate.

"You can't get out," they said, all at once. Or maybe only one of them did, but its voice morphed with others inside Avery's mind.

"You'll be stuck with us."

His heart skipped so many beats that he worried it'd stop altogether if he didn't stop running. So he did, heaving forward, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. His scalp seared in pain, his limbs burned up, and the back of his neck was so hot he wondered if they'd set it on fire.

"We might not be able to kill you in our present form, but trust me," said orb three, sliding in front of Avery, using its power to tip Avery's chin up, forcing him to look at it dead in the eyes. "We can certainly torture you. And we never tire of that."

The skin-nibbling resumed, and Avery wasn't fast enough to put up a barrier against their invasion, this time. They came quick, darting under his skin, rattling his bones. They fished through his mind, his thoughts, and sent him crumbling to his knees, grabbing his head between his hands as he seethed.

Avery was so nauseous he sensed something thick and acidic coming up his throat, and for a second, he wondered if throwing up would be a distraction to these things. Would it disgust them? Send them flying off long enough for him to gather himself and get to the door? They were getting in, they were getting in—

Muffled noises came from behind him. In front of him. No, beside him. Above him? He was so surrounded by red blurs that he wasn't sure what he was facing, which way he'd been turned. For all he knew, the demons had carried him farther from the door; or maybe they'd gotten closer. Or had he managed to run nearer than he'd thought?

The swarm constantly poking at him didn't make it any easier to figure things out, and the sickness rising up his throat immobilized him. He didn't want to be sick, he didn't like being sick, but he was beginning to think he had no way of preventing it from happening.

More noises—distorted, as if occurring behind a closed door. Or an upper floor. Blocked by a barrier of some kind, but close, so close.

He craned his neck towards the sky, glimpsing its cloudless end-to-end beige-ness, and unsure if it was a real sky, or a mirage. Was something else up there?

The sounds became more prominent, but this time he knew they weren't above him—they were in front of him. For one split second, between the onrush of crimson creatures surging around him, he saw it. The door. Random, sitting alone without a wall to hold it up. A burnt brown fixture, looking old and used, its doorknob shiny and brassy, but covered in scratches.

Avery glued his gaze to that doorknob and clenched his jaw as he pushed forward, pushed through.

"I'm... leaving," he said through clamped teeth, though he sounded much weaker than he'd meant to.

He pushed, pushed, somehow making a passage for himself through the demons. They weren't corporeal, but they were strong, and Avery's hands met with their solid bodies as he insisted on getting through. They continued to encircle him, but he shoved one or two aside, setting one foot in front of the other. It was a slow, agonizing process; throwing off one demon to get two more latched onto him, trying to sift into his bloodstream. But it was progress, and the door was closer, within reach. Maybe.

It's going to take years, at this rate.

"No," one of the demons wailed, "no, you do not get to leave."

"You don't get to go deliver your information!"

Avery winced. Their voices were pounding inside his head, impeding his advance. But he wouldn't give up, he wouldn't let them have him, keep him in this fucked-up realm to torture him forever.

"We won't let you hinder our plans! Her plans!"

His fleeting energy was draining, and his eyelids kept closing against his will. But he pressed on, hoping against hope that if he reached the door, it'd open for him. He hadn't had time to think of that part; of the what if I can't get out part that terrified him to the depths of his core. But before he could worry about that, he had to move onward.

Though his eyesight was so hazy it was hard to judge, he deduced he was a few feet away from the door when it suddenly blasted open. A blinding white light blared in, immediately scattering the demons away from him. Released, he fumbled forward, only stopping his face from smashing into the ground by setting his palms in the dirt at the last second.

He started to heave himself up, but something yanked him up instead, and violently tugged him to the door. A grip of steel, holding him by the scruff of his shirt, like a lioness grabbing her cub to run.

Next he knew, he landed face-down on cold concrete, unable to not strike his nose and forehead, this time. A door slammed shut behind him—the door. The one leading to the place he'd miraculously gotten out of.

But how?

The scent of blood and staleness that infested his nostrils told him he was back where he'd started—in the basement.

In the basement. So, I'm safe?

That grip, that solid hand that had hauled him out—it had been familiar, firm. It had to have been Jamie; no one else was around to pull him out like that. Ada couldn't touch him, non-corporeal as she was. So had she enlisted Jamie to come get him out? Had Avery been gone for too long, and that had been their back-up plan?

I didn't want him involved, but if he saved me...

"Jamie?" He was hoarse and coughed up phlegm stuck in his throat. It was as if he'd been in a desert storm for weeks, caught in the wind, his skin battered by hard sand.

But the reply he got was a chill-inducing growl that most definitely didn't sound like Jamie. A low, animalistic sound that caught Avery so off-guard that he didn't look up to see where or what it had come from.

It didn't sound human.

Had a demon gotten out at the same time as him? Or had something else rescued him from his doom?

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