Death’s New Pet: Love after Life
Death’s New Pet: Chapter 12

I couldn’t sleep.

How could I? There are eight mortals downstairs, each begging for their souls to be claimed. It’s not enough that their physical bodies have died. I want their screaming, writhing, begging lifelines in my skin, swimming to a new realm. And there was so much distress last night. I felt their rapid heart rates, the sickly sweat clinging to each body, and breathless moans as they each tossed and turned in their nightmares. And it was most strongly within Prey Ten, the other cause of my sleepless night.

How her lips are perfect for sucking our cock, that temper fantastic to rival our own, and her skin a perfect easel for us to smear blood and cum…

A roar of the crowd yanks me back into the present time and I desperately will away my throbbing erection in my pants. I slam my foot against the floor to distract myself as my family pile into the viewing gallery.

Surprisingly, I’m early today, and it doesn’t escape Misery. She grins before floating over to her chair with a blood-red cloak engulfing her small frame. For some reason, her face holds a genuine smile today.

She directs towards the bustling crowds of beasts before sparing a glance at me. “Morning, brother! How are you this —”

“Start the trials,” I cut her off rudely before she could play whatever sick game she was playing. I don’t bother addressing my mother and father even though I feel their intense gaze on the side of my head. Misery’s eyes twinkle knowingly and her lip curves up into a twisted smile. “Very well then.”

She steps forward and raises her arms, causing absolute chaos within the crowds. Roars of glee and excitement echo around the room and I sink further into my chair disapprovingly. This isn’t Hell— we don’t do celebrating and eagerness, and yet here we are, everything enthusiastically cheering for the next event.

“Monsters and Monstresses,” Misery booms. “Welcome to the second day of the Deaths trials! Yesterday, we saw two gruesome deaths as the Prey battled it out against the Goblin in a trial of physical strength. You all voted your favourite contest to be Prey One.”

The picture of the large skinhead with superficial muscles pops up on the screen. He roars his delight in the video, but when it pans around to him now, it’s almost comical. He’s stiff, drained of blood, and bruised. Merely a speck of what he used to be.

De-fucking-licious.

“After the trials were shown, there was also a vote for the most entertaining contestant.” Misery shakes her hand and the screen switches to my little challenge of a mortal, weapon in the air, charging at my Goblin with a cry not far from a war cry. The excitement and anger bubble up into one in my chest as I watch the fury in her eyes and the confidence in her stance. A true warrior.

A number pops up on the screen, much to Misery’s delight. “Eighty-six percent of you voted Prey Ten as the most entertaining contestant!”

Eighty-fucking-six percent. A hiss escapes my lips as I glare around at the jeering crowd. Of course, the evil cunts loved watching a mortal trying to murder one of their own. It’s perverse, it’s illogical, it’s spiteful. It’s exactly them.

“Now, it’s time to vote again! The previous trial was one of physical strength. The next one shall be of psychological strength. Vote which candidate you think will be the most entertaining in this next round. You should all know Longing,” Misery points our mother, “she will drag out the desires within the Prey. I will swiftly twist them. Thrilling, isn’t it?”

I watch as thousands of creatures flick their hands from side to side when the hologram of each contestant pops up in front of their face. A hologram appears in front of me, and I glare down at the remaining eight contestants staring back at me. My eyes instantly fix on Prey Ten. Her eyes are dark and heavy, with a certain fury laced in them. Purple bags pull at her face as though she hasn’t slept all night either and her jaw grinds; I can almost hear the way her teeth scrape together.

Beside me, Misery nudges me to vote.

With a grunt, I thwack the hologram away from me and let my vote be void. The sound of screams rings out and everyone votes for their favourite contestant. After a short pause, Misery turns and grins at the audience. She throws her hand out and dark pixels flood the arena’s glass walls, turning it into a huge projector screen.

“Wow! A mixed bag of results for who the most entertaining mortal is going to be,” she booms, “Prey Two is just about sneaking up there with fifty-three percent!”

The camera pans around to the fat lady sobbing uncontrollably into her arm, barely holding it together. Her suffering only increases the hunger in the audience. “Well, let us see then, shall we?”

Suddenly, Misery and my mother flash from the spot next to me to inside the arena. Misery’s long red cloak spans for metres around her, encompassing her in a sea of red. She makes a whole scene of removing her hood purposefully. Everyone sits on the edge of their seat, excited to watch the incredible Misery in action. She then turns to face the contestants and grins in her disgustingly haunting way. Her eyes swirl those grey orbs with little black snakes that swim through them — truly a sight that will send the contestants to an early grave. Her crimson-coloured hair floats around her and the snakes come out to play, hissing and striking at the roaring audience. My sister, as beautiful as she is, truly oozes terror.

Beside her, my equally stunning mother. She wears her usual black lace dress that floods out just as Misery’s dress does. Her jet-black hair clings around her face and to below her hip as if she has been soaked in water and she supports a pitiful smile that has my insides reeling.

My mother stares out at the audience and lifts her hands slightly as she spreads her curse across the room. Even I find myself thinking about torturing souls and I lick my lips hungrily. In my mind, the faceless smoke cloud of a soul shrieks and cries in agony before it bursts and fills me with energy. Then, the soul switches but suddenly, it is no longer face-less. Instead, Prey Ten glares back at me. I find myself stiff in my seat, completely taken aback as my mother unknowingly brings out some type of desire within me. Just as quickly as it appears, I shut it down and push my mother out of my head.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

If she notices my strange desire, she doesn’t react and instead twists back around to face the candidates.

“Which of you dears want to go first?” Her sultry voice has each of the mortals unwillingly leaning towards her. Prey Four’s hand shoots in the air and before anyone else can respond, my sister flashes him into the arena. With a single flick of her wrist, she forces him on her knees in front of them. His face is full of delight and sleaziness, and I have no doubt he is loving every second of these wicked women staring down at him.

Fucking mortals. So easily manipulated. So easily pleasured.

“You have three minutes to survive the trial. Your body might give up or you might choose to kill yourself.” My mother’s sultry voice echoes around the domed arena. Prey Four gulps.

Silence sweeps through the audience when my mother’s hand shoots up in the air. Then, she twists her wrists and Prey Four gasps as she invades his mind. All of his thoughts and feelings reflect onto the back screen, but I’m not interested in him. Instead, my gaze is firmly fixed on the little mortal who rocks forward in her chair. I watch her with great interest as she scans every inch of the screen, quickly soaking up all the information. I’m not sure what her intention is by studying him, or whether she is studying the trial, but she doesn’t miss a single bit of information.

Beside her, Prey Three, with his scarred face, whistles. He rocks back in his seat and talks to her. She doesn’t respond to him but the way her eyebrow cocks, it’s clear that she’s listening intently. Some type of feeling twists in my stomach when he touches her on the thigh before pointing at something on the screen. I don’t bother checking what it is. Instead, I glare holes into the place his hand just was on her clothed thigh. I want to skin the place he touched.

Her intoxicating cherry smell has already been stained with a slight dusting of smoke from him and makes me inexplicably angry. Unknowingly, my fingers curl into fists and my teeth grind together. It isn’t until a thin layer of dark smoke escapes my body that I realise I’m working myself up.

Blinking back the anger, I quickly glance around at my father to see if he’s spotted me. Thankfully, he’s on the edge of his seat, a large smile clutching to his face as he watches Prey Four squirm around on the floor hollering in agony. Misery now twists all of his desires and longing into the worst possible nightmare for him, pulling out any horrific traumatic event or extreme fear. The sounds which escape his lips are strangled and awful. It makes me so fucking hard.

He scrambles around pathetically on the floor before grabbing at his head. Then, he starts bashing his brain into the concrete floor. I finally crack a smile. A small trail of blood turns into a larger gash and then—

“He’s fucked,” my father chuckles, falling back in his seat. He grabs his whisky glass and drains the remaining liquid before topping it up again with a flick of his fingers. He turns to me and raises a glass, silently offering me one. I grunt in approval and suddenly, I’m holding a large gauntlet of alcohol. Warily, I bring it to my nose and sniff. I half expect to smell some awful tinge of poison or agonising potion that will be insufferable for the next aeon.

“So untrusting.”

My head snaps to my disapproving father and my fingers curl tighter around the glass. “Am I wrong?”

“I would never—”

“Lie to me,” I spit. “Lie to me, father. See what happens.”

He hangs his head almost sheepishly and holds his hands up in the air defensively. “I can’t help it.”

With a grunt, I turn back to the screen. Prey Four’s brains are spread all over the floor from his suicide, but the show must go on. Prey Three raises up from the chair, offering to go next, and looks down at Prey Ten. He sends her a smile. She doesn’t return the gesture but doesn’t look away quick enough for my liking. Again, for some unknown reason, my blood boils. I zoom in on them, desperate to hear everything they are saying to one another.

“Good luck,” she whispers, and suddenly that jealous feeling returns. Why is she wishing him luck? Where is the fighter talk that she gave out yesterday? He’s her competition, not a friend. She should be wishing him an awful time, but instead, she offers a polite exchange.

I hope he fucking dies.

He is forced onto his knees in front of my evil family, and despite his brave smile, I see the way his body trembles.

“Are you ready?” My mother asks, but without waiting for an answer, she dives into his head. Images of a ginger cat with one eye pop up on the screen, a pretty young woman with freckles leaning in for a kiss, a DVD game of some sort, and then a match being lit.

My mother searches through everything he holds dear to him or anything he longs for. For a couple of moments, more images flicker through his mind. Most are sexual, as is expected of a young man his age, but some are pure and innocent, and the audience holds their breath for a particularly juicy desire for Misery to destroy.

Growing bored of the endless searching, I look away but something out of the corner of my eyes has my head reeling back to the screen. Prey Ten, in his arms, flashes through his mind. It happens so quickly that I almost missed the sight— but I fucking didn’t.

Images of my mortal plague his desires.

My nose twitches and my snake-like tongue darts out in a hiss. Furiously, I stare down at the mortal who seems to be plaguing both our desires. She is wide-eyed as she watches the next clip. A tanned woman with frizzy hair and a huge pregnant belly embraced a tall pale man dressed all in blue. The blonde-bearded man wears a hard hat, and, on his jumpsuit, there is a mining company logo.

The couple embrace and look lovingly into one another’s eyes. And then a little blonde girl with pigtails enters the picture and she runs up to her father. He scoops her up quickly, cuddling her and tickling her to which the squeals of happy laughter echo around the room.

For a couple of seconds, the video is nothing but sweet as Longing pulls out Prey Three’s deepest affections: a loving, tight-knit family. It makes me feel sick. The man lifts the little girl onto his shoulders before holding his hand out to someone outside of the frame. We don’t see the child, but it’s clear that its Prey Three as a young teenager. He’s throwing a tantrum and yelling something at his parents about not wanting to go down a dirty mine.

“Come on, Carolina is going, so you should too!” His mother and father try to reason with him, telling him it’s going to be fun.

I glare down at the trembling man on the floor. He knows what’s coming next. In horror, he throws his hands over his face and shrieks in agony.

The mother rolls her eyes and waves a hand at him. She tells him in a soft voice to wait there for them and that they will only be a couple of minutes. The clip finishes with the small family stepping onto the climbing elevator before the father slowly lowers them down using a rope. Beaming faces are quickly replaced by the dark cave and nothingness.

And then it completely distorts. Suddenly, a boom echoes around the audience followed by a sickening scraping noise and then the images of a mine collapsing follow. We see the father from earlier being crushed repeatedly by falling debris, unsecured scaffolding, and the poorly constructed mining elevator. The child’s skull gets crushed under the weight of her father, and the mother’s whole body explodes as she gets thrashed against the wall. It happens so quickly that they don’t even get to shriek in agony.

Each time the clip replays, the family members die in a different horrific way, but every time, the whole mine explodes into fiery flames. The clip fast forwards to Prey Three pouring gasoline over himself in the bath. There are wet towels around him as if to contain what is about to happen. He reaches for a match and strikes a light. Another boom explodes as he catches fire, and the awful shrieks of agony rip from the projected video and the writhing man on the floor.

Good. Increase his pain. Make him suffer for now and all of eternity for touching what is mine.

Frustratingly, the images stop, and Prey Three is released from the trial. He springs to his feet, absolutely furious and wipes the tears from his eyes with his hands. He is unstable as he staggers around. Once he finds his balance again, he throws a pointed finger towards my mother and sister.

“You bitch!” he hollers. “You fuc— that wasn’t three minutes!”

Misery smiles slyly and raises her hand to her lips. “Whoops, did I say three minutes for you? I meant it’s three minutes for us. For you, it can be hours.”

My jaw clenches as my wicked sister tortures the shaking man in the middle of the arena. I don’t put it past her to put them in Hell-loops, but I thought she’d at least make a song and dance to scare the contestants prior.

She flashes him out of the room and his cheeks puff in anger. Full of tears, Prey Three’s eyes dart between the evil women in front of the arena. For a second, it looks as though he’s going to say something. But, deciding against it, he lowers his head and takes a seat, lips firmly pressed together.

I watch carefully for any reaction from Prey Ten, but she keeps her eyes locked firmly forward. Neither of them says a word.

Good.

Delighted, Misery clasps her hands together and twists to the other contestants, raking her eyes over each one slowly. She pulls her lower lip between her teeth as she picks out her next victim.

Not Prey Ten. The words leap into my mind before I can stop them, taking me by absolute surprise. Not Prey Ten. Not Prey Ten.

But why? Everything inside of me wants to see what is in that pretty little head of hers; what makes her angry; what causes her pain. I almost need to know why she is the way she is.

Since when do they make mortals this strong and so full of rage?

And yet, I want to be the one to pull her traumas from her little head. I want to be the one in control of her as she writhes on the ground and pleads for mercy. Fuck.

I readjust myself in my seat and clear my throat, anything to distract myself from the sinful, spiteful fantasies I have about the pretty little mortal with a death-stained soul. It seems that this little bitch isn’t just any mortal but the beast longs for her to be our mortal. We selfishly want to fucking ruin her ourselves and I have no doubt we will do a fantastic job.

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