Death’s New Pet: Love after Life
Death’s New Pet: Chapter 5

The four-headed beast with fangs longer than my arms and twenty-three beady eyes rips into a shrieking soul. With one slice, the soul explodes into dozens of red dots, only to reform into the shape of a thin woman with red-raw spots all over her face. My beast attacks again and again until the soul has been murdered and brought back to life numerous times only to die more horrifically.

I can’t resist the smirk on my lips as I slump back into my chair and bring the glass of whisky to my lips. The agonised cries ring around the room, like a sensual melody to my ears. I focus on the buzzing feeling within my chest that throbs shallowly. This soul hasn’t done much wrong to be fair to her. Perhaps a couple of thefts, maybe overindulging in drugs and high levels of selfishness. Not worth being sentenced to Hell for all eternity, but I’ll welcome the food in, nonetheless.

With a sigh, I shake my hand slightly to the left, signalling to the beast that she needs to go to hell realm with all the other overindulgent souls.

She will be good food for the gatekeepers of that realm.

“Next!”

My beast bows his head at my command and tears into her skin one last time, sending her into her new realm now that she’s been sorted. She explodes into a confetti of red sprinkles and then the new soul takes the form of an old man with a large, bumpy nose and sad-looking eyes. The thumping in my chest is less than the lady before.

My nostrils flare. “Another boring, obvious one, Beast? Why do you bother checking with me about their new assortment? You should fucking know this by now!”

I hurl a tendril of black smoke at the beast, striking him across the scruff of his neck. He shrieks in agony as the pixels leave a fiery trail of scorch marks; it bubbles and eats away at his nerves. His once-orange skin turns grey and black as the mould and decay devour him. Pathetically, he darts around as if running away will stop his punishment. His frantic movements trigger something within me.

“Tag!” The word swarms my mind before I can stop it.

Fuck off. I grit my teeth and will the word away as it screams in my mind louder and louder.

“Tag! Death, Tag!” The beautiful blonde woman squeals after she smacks me in the arm. Even though I reject the memory, my torturous mind forces me to relive the past. It’s instantly as though my wife is in front of me now, slowly backing away from me with the largest grin. Her crystal blue eyes twinkle under the light of our bedroom and I can taste the maliciousness in the room.

“Tag?” I hear myself respond despite viciously gritting my teeth together to stop the nightmare.

“Yes, Tag. It’s a game the humans play. Where I hit you, say tag and then run away. You then have to catch me. Duhhh.”

Everything inside of my body twists and pulls until it feels like I’m one giant knot, ready to explode. Even at the time, I was confused by her knowledge, but now it all makes sense. It wasn’t possible for her to know anything about the playfulness of humans.

The minute we were forced to marry, she became trapped in the Hellish Realm with me, something she resented me for. She blamed her entrapment on me as though I had a say in who I had to marry. Fate had sworn the God of Death and Goddess of Pain to an eternity of tortuous marriage together. Locked up in this Realm, her only experiences of humans should have been the evil souls being tortured. The pathetic little game of Tag should never have crossed her path.

“Catch me, Death. That’s the game. The humans love it! Please play with me, I am so bored waiting for you to finish sorting.” She hoists her long dress up so that she doesn’t trip and puts space between us. Unwillingly, I find myself following her as though a curse forces me to be near the evil bitch. She backs herself closer to the bed which suddenly appears. Then, she sends me the dirtiest look.

“What do you know about the humans, wife?” I frown. At the time, I tried to mask my curiosity with playfulness to not alert her to my caution, but I’ve never been good at hiding my real emotions.

With a lopsided smile, she invites me closer. “I know a lot about them.”

“Do tell me how.”

“Secret.” The word barely slips past her lips before she throws herself at me and kisses me like she hates me. Her kiss feels as though somebody has sliced my lips off. I feel them bleed but the evil taste it so addictive, making me crave more. I don’t crave her. I crave the self-punishment and my fucked-up wife could always offer me that.

I need more.

My fingers lose themselves on her body, and our tortured whimpers become one. She locks herself against me by wrapping her thighs around my waist, though she doesn’t need to restrain me, the curse forces me to be obsessed. I’m drunk on her kiss, the pain making my eyes prick and a lump in my throat forms. She drives her long nails into my face and yanks until the blood bubbles to the surface.

She pulls away momentarily to taste the torture she inflicts, and moans in delight. “Yes, it tastes so good,”

She is breathless as she pushes my head to the side, exposing my neck. Instinctively, I bare my teeth at her as though to threaten her. The vulnerable position is not one I’m used to. Nonetheless, she holds all the control as she runs her sharp fangs against my sensitive skin. It’s fucking torturous.

I hate her so much, I really fucking hate her. I want to push her and the memory from me, but I can’t, she has me locked in. It was always agonising fucking her, but I had no other options, and I needed to shoot my load somehow.

I knew she was bad news, even back then. That awful part of my soul knew that she was always going to betray me. It was within our nature: nothing ever stays good for long in Hell.

“Chase me, Death,” she whispers. “Pretend you’re hunting me, and I will pretend you are playing my game.”

I want to refuse her, but I’m too far gone to listen to reason. The beast inside of me roars to overpower the hateful little bitch.

My fangs flare menacingly. “Fine. You better not let me catch you then.”

Finally, I snap out of the nightmare and sink more burning pixels into my creature as though it’s his fault my brain is playing tricks on me. I continue until his horrified cries give me a headache. Only now that we’ve both been suitably punished, do I cease his suffering. With one final whimper, he drops his head low before bringing me the next soul that needs a second checking of their assortment.

This time, it is an older man with a bizarre white stripe of hair on his head. Instantly, this one feels different to the others. The throbbing in my chest is deep and painful, and completely takes me by surprise. Curiosity has me readjusting myself in my seat when the painful dot in my hand, the same one that played up earlier, shoots electricity through me.

With one hand, my beast uses its large claws to completely disembowel the man before it leaps onto him to feast on the organs. The soul bashes as hard as he can into my beast’s back but it’s futile. Humans barely make a dent when it comes to combat with my Hellish creatures.

Yet another reason why these trials are so fucking stupid.

They will all perish an awful fiery death in the first trial, and it will bring me great pleasure getting the shitty task over and done with. But despite the horrific torture, the new soul doesn’t scream as loud as he should. It’s as though he was made suffering, and this is just a new day for him. It infuriates me.

With a flick of my finger, I up the torture so the beast tears out the man’s eyes, casting them across the floor. With a disgusting thump followed by a squelchy roll, they roll towards me, stopping by my boot. I lift my foot and roll the squishy thing, causing the soul to now sing his beautiful pain to me. Trying to soak up as much sin from this man as possible, I tease his agony and fear for a bit longer. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve felt evil as much as I do now from this mortal. Plus, there is an awful bitter smell seeping from him too, one that is… familiar?

The temperature of the room suddenly becomes unbearably hot, a sharp contrast to the usual freezing depths, and, sensing danger, my fangs leap out menacingly.

“Mother,” I growl as it becomes clear to me who has entered my Realm. Out of the corner of my eye, Longing strides into my torture chamber, with her usual twisted smile. Her tumbling black dress drags and tugs at the skulls etched into my marble floors, creating a disgusting ripping sound, but she refuses to acknowledge it. That usual intense stare burns into the side of my face but I do not give her the satisfaction of rubbing at it to soothe the ache.

“What do you want?”

“You’re late. The games have begun,” her deceptively soft voice rings around the room. She reaches out for me, but realising better, she quickly drops her long, spindly fingers before they can connect with my shoulder. “Death, listen to me. Everybody is waiting.”

“Let them wait.”

“Now, son. Don’t be like that. You agreed to your father’s deal. Do not break your deal with the Devil.” Her soft velvety voice makes me bristle.

It’s been centuries since I heard from the wicked, soft-spoken lady with malicious intent disguised as a loving, warm figure. It’s perhaps why I am more unnerved by her than my own father. At least he is honest about what he is. Evil, sinful, spiteful. My mother is deceitful and malicious, drawing out your deepest desires. She knows everything and anything about what you long for, and then aptly destroys it. A wicked, tormented curse which runs through her hot-blooded veins. I know she can’t help it, Hell, nobody in my family can resist the pull of their nature, but my mother is more wicked than them all. I’ve fallen for her motherly charms more times than I care to count and destroyed souls that probably didn’t deserve it, simply because she whispered for me to.

With a small smile, she tilts her head to the side, those sharp eyes looking through me. Her fiery, invasive pixels tickle my brain, trying to tease out the information she desires. I swiftly block her out. Throwing myself to my feet, I put as much distance as I can between my mother and me, as if that will help.

“Watch it,” I warn her darkly.

Her eyes flash, and she pouts. “Come on, Son. Tell me, why are you making us wait? Will you not attend?”

“I had work to do. I’m coming now,” I hiss, casting my gaze back to the shrieking soul with the white strip of hair. My heart still thumps loudly with his energy floating around the room. He punches my beast on the snout over and over, and I frown at his perseverance.

Swiftly, I slam my foot down on the soul’s eyeball which pops under my weight. Then, he explodes into pixels as I send him to the worst realm of Hell for me to visit later.

He is going to need a lesson in some fucking manners.

“No more sorting,” I bark at my beast. “Get back to sorting the newcomers, and I will figure out the more difficult souls when I get back.”

He gives me a low bow, still trembling with pain and terror from his torture earlier, before limping away to lick his wounds. Out of the corner of my eye, my mother frowns. “You shouldn’t hurt those loyal to you.”

“Fucking what?”

“You mustn’t cause such damage, it’s not right, it’s—”

Without warning, I flash across the room and wrap my large hand around her small neck. She splutters and coughs, momentarily startled by the speed and intensity of my movement.

“Rephrase that,” I bark. Her eyes widen in fear and her long nails sink into my skin as she tries to scratch me away. My mother might be a malicious, deceitful little bitch, but we both know who is to really be feared out of the two of us.

“Let go of me, Death!”

“Don’t make me ask again.” The dark black of anger seeps from my body.

Her eyes squeeze shut as the panic floods through her. “Death! De— okay, fine! You mustn’t hurt the beasts!”

“I mustn’t hurt the Hellish beasts, you mean? The creatures I created? The creatures made for torture? What the fuck are you talking about, woman? May I remind you where you are.” My grip becomes tighter around my mother’s neck until her face is purple. It only adds to the greying of her skin as my curse slowly eats her up. I have two options, I can strangle the evil cunt or I can hold her hostage long enough for the curse I set on my family to work. She’ll be a pile of bones in no time. “I’ve heard the whispers from my beasts. My family have become weak. It’s fucking pathetic! Must I wipe out my whole family and rule Hell myself to regain some control over the realm?”

“Hell is changing!” she cries out desperately. “It’s not all about torture and killing! There are other methods—”

The cackle which erupts from my lips echoes around the torture chamber, growing louder and louder each time until she winces and throws her hands over her ears. My eyes sparkle with the familiar flame that erupts before I claim a soul. The beast inside of me roars to be released.

“Hell will always be about torture and killing as long as I still breathe. Do you understand, Mother? Or must I remind you about the curse poisoning me? A curse you bestowed unto me.”

Just as my hot breath kisses her cheek, the room around me suddenly changes and a blinding light catches me by surprise.

“Release her, Death!” The Devil’s roar painfully shakes my brain. To my left, he leers over me, clutching his staff in his hand. He visibly shakes and drains the energy from the room, snatching anything he can get to fight his wicked son.

Kill her. The tormented pleas from my heart begs. Kill the whole family. Get rid of these burdens. Return to your Realm and rule fearlessly.

My fangs throb and I feel my eyes shifting to their monstrous black as my dark nature bleeds through me. But before I can fully transform into my whole Being, a sharp pain in my left cheek has me eyeing up the demon bone attached to my father’s staff. It slides into my skin and the pain spreads out until my whole jaw screams in agony. I grind my teeth together. The intense pain immediately grounds me, stopping the beast from fully taking over.

With a low grunt, I release my mother’s black and blue throat. She scrambles away from me in fear. It’s such a pathetic sight; I almost punish her again. She hides behind my father, who doesn’t release the weapon. He doesn’t tremble in front of me nor show any clear signs of fear, but I can smell that slight tinge of uncertainty. He might be the Devil, ruler of Hell, but he still has that terrible angelic side locked up in his chest somewhere.

They all do. Angels gone rogue the Heavenly cunts call my family. I’m the only one who doesn’t have that weakness. Forged from ultimate sin and evil, Death has no weakness; I consume all.

“Family,” I say through gritted teeth as the blinding lights around us fade out. My father pulls the dagger from my cheek and puts distance between us. I feel the skin close around the wound, healing everything but the pain.

And then suddenly, the excited roar from all the Hellish beasts leering from their seats around the room has me snarling. Beasts and monsters of every kind throw their drinks around, rip into one another, shrieking their enthusiasm for the Death trials as soon as they see their mighty murderous leader. Me.

The audience perch in seats wrapped around the large, round colosseum, all looking down at a large arena with a dragon glass enclosed to keep the humans in and to keep the Hellish creatures out. The arena must be about three hundred metres wide, and there is currently a foggy smoke hiding what is inside there.

Next to me, Misery appears, rocking back in her seat in delight. She laughs at a joke nobody else hears before her beady eyes fall on me. “You’re finally here! Take a seat brother, you’re going to be very impressed with my lineup.”

With a scowl, I sink into my skull-shaped throne which has small swords sticking out of it. I grit my teeth as the pain scratches at my back, legs and ass. The familiar agony grounds me and keeps me from transforming and sucking the lives of everybody in this fucking Colosseum.

My parents take their seats on their own thrones next to me. They lose themselves in excited chatter, gossiping about what is to come. I don’t bother joining in. After what feels like eternity, the announcement begins.

“Welcome to the Death trials!” my father booms, and the crowd roars to life in response. “This is the first-ever event where you get to see the wickedest beasts in action against sinful mortals! As I’m sure you will all know by now, this event is being hosted to provide my son, Death, with a new mortal pet!”

I swallow down the lump in my throat and glare at the currently empty dome directly in front of me.

My sister asked me to donate some of my most wicked creatures to the cause. I agreed, thinking that the worse they were, the quicker these mortals would be killed off and the quicker I could go home. However, now that I’m sitting here, the realisation quickly sinks in.

The beasts I’ve selected could very easily break through the glass dome if they were so inclined. Then, it’s my problem to capture them again. Capture and punish. My nature drives the desire to hurt and destroy, like an evil voice in my head or a strong pull from my heart, but when I punish my creatures, I punish myself too. How can I hurt them for instincts I bestowed onto them? How can I punish them for the limitations I forced on them? How can I torture them without torturing myself? They’re my children, and though I don’t love or care for them, duty keeps me suffering for their suffering.

Currently, my body aches with the throbbing of unassorted souls that are crying out for a home and that fucking annoying stinging in my cheek. Plus, I have a whole week of these shitty trials so I could really do without inflicting more pain on myself.

“The Death trials will whittle ten mortals down to one through a series of deadly challenges!” My father continues. “But participation is required from you hideous lot, too! Before each event, you can bet on who you think will win. And after the event, you can vote for your winner! Of course, there is a huge prize if your mortal goes through to the next round! With that being said, let’s meet the contestants!”

Again, the crowd roars to life with excitement as a podium rises in the middle of the dome and the fog clears. I smell the wretched creatures before I see them, and that muggy, salty stench makes my stomach flip. The alluring scent of their blood and pounding heartbeats make me readjust myself in my seat. I sink my fangs into my tongue to resist the urge to take them all to an early grave. There’s nothing sweeter than a dead human, but imagining ten dead humans, and a whole room of pissed-off creatures looking for a fight, makes my cock hard.

Delighted, Misery leaps to her feet as the humans are slowly revealed, and a deadly hush falls upon the crowd as everyone intently watches their potential next meal. Each human wears the same tight, black jumpsuit, but each jumpsuit has a different number stitched onto the stomach.

“Prey One,” Misery announces as a spotlight shines down on the first human on the left. He has a bald head, and every inch of skin is coated in tattoos or piercings of some type. Shielding his eyes from the light, he lifts his hand to his face and this small movement reveals his large biceps that threaten to burst out of his jumpsuit. The man visibly shakes with fear, making me smile. A man of that size and notable arrogance stained into his soul, trembling in front of the real bad guys. It’s a sight for sore eyes.

“Prey Two,” Misery continues to the next person. A large woman with pale skin shakes under the blaring lights. Her eyes dart left and right worriedly and she takes shallow breaths trying to steady herself. Her cheeks are flushed red, and I wait for her to hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. The fat ones always faint first.

“Prey Three,”

The spotlight assaults a thinner man with a buzz cut. Scars rip into his skin, making his face all distorted, and with a single sniff, I can feel the terror ripping around his body. The stench of smoke and fire stains his soul as if he’s come straight from a building fire.

“Prey Four,”

A muscly man with skin the colour of chocolate stares back out at the crowd. For a moment, he’s quiet, and then he erupts with anger, screaming and shouting. He won’t be able to see the audience even if he can see my family and me in the viewing gallery leering over the top of them. Misery hid the audience from the humans to not distract them in the trials. Nonetheless, he charges forward to the glass dome but as soon as his fist connects with it, he is sent flying backwards. With a satisfying thump, he smacks against the floor. As his lifeline staggers, I smile, but then it steadies and my scowl returns.

Misery talks through the rest of the group, each as frightened and quivering as the last as they stare up at my family and me. Though we are in our human form, every creature will be able to smell the evilness seeping from our beautifully haunted forms. Even humans.

Boring! The beast whines and I can’t help agreeing with him. I drown it out, not bothering to take any more notice. With luck, they will all die in this first round, and I will meet them down in whichever realm of hell they are sorted into, and I can have my fun with them then. However, Misery suddenly increases her volume and it’s no longer possible to ignore her.

“Last, but never least, Prey Ten.”

Intrigued, I stare down at the final mortal. Raven-coloured hair curls down the back of a pale woman with dark lips and lightly freckled cheeks. She stands almost numbly at the end of the lineup, her arms hanging limply by her sides. She doesn’t tremble, she doesn’t cry or sob or scream. It looks as though she is standing in a queue for some mortal shop and not in front of the Original Hellish family.

Bored, her eyes cast over the other contestants and she sighs, before staring back in front of her, lost in her own world. When she blinks, she doesn’t let her lashes caress her cheeks for a second longer than they need to. It’s so hurried it completely contrasts her calm demeanour, and it has my curiosity peaked.

What are you doing, little mortal? How are you so at ease?

More frustratingly, her heartbeat doesn’t even spike, either, nor can I smell sweat from fear. She runs her tongue across her top lip and a thin coating of saliva covers those red pillows.

The beast within me stirs. ‘I want to rip them from her face.’

“And there we have it! Our ten mortals,” Misery beams proudly, clasping her hands together. The sharpness of her voice comes as a welcome surprise, and I force my eyes away from the little mortal and reclaim control over the beast inside.

Misery continues her speech. “The first round is a test of physical strength. The Prey will battle it out with a Hellish beast for the chance to progress into the next trial. For our entertainment, the prey will have a weapon. A wishbone—”

“What?” I splutter in anger.

A wishbone, also known as the most dangerous weapon against a hellish creature. My fucking sister is handing out death sentences to my children!

“Relax,” my father hisses so nobody else hears us. “Do you really think any of them will be able to take down a beast?”

Angrily, I rake my eyes over the lineup of humans and sigh as reason takes over. These are creatures I created from the depths of hell, born into places where there is no mercy, only suffering. There is no way a human could overpower my beasts or even get close to them.

With a low growl, I sink further into my seat.

“They must survive six minutes in the arena with the creature or, better yet, kill the beast with the weapon! Now that you’ve met the contestants and heard about the first trial, please place your bets on which human you think will make it to the next round!”

Stubbornly, I do not vote. Instead, I place silent bets on who will be slaughtered first. By the time my eyes find Prey Ten, I’m bored with wasting the seconds. I expect to look down at a trembling mortal with frantic eye movements now that she’s heard her trial. Instead, I’m pleasantly surprised. Staring straight back at me, unwaveringly, two dark eyes with long lashes. She doesn’t blink. Her gaze is strong and heavy as though she is looking directly into my eyes. For a brief moment, I consider whether she is blind or deaf or maybe just stupid.

Does she know what is going on around her? Why isn’t she trembling in fear or crying with despair?

But those dark orbs are the eyes of a woman so full of hatred and pain, and clarity. Malicious excitement rushes through me before I can register what’s happening. Something familiar twists in my stomach when I smell the anger oozing from her body, mixed with a hint of cherries. She is intoxicating with her confidence and the beast inside of me roars. It longs to see if her oddly beautiful skin is as delicate as it looks or whether it would burn and bubble under my fingertips. It begs to taste her anger and confidence on the tip of my forked tongue. I want to make her writhe in pain below me, to teach her true fear, to remove her life. My face must make clear all the evil plans I have for her, and yet, she is still staring at me.

Slightly amused, my head cocks to the side and I lick my lips. Only then does she avert her eyes but it’s not in a frightened way that I long for. Oh no, the little bitch looks away as if I bore her! The growl bubbles up in my throat and my fingers curl into fists.

“Has everyone voted?” Misery’s voice echoes around the Colosseum, and a wave of noise responds to her. She lifts her arms sharply to silence the room before turning to Longing.

“Mother,” she says expectantly. Longing slowly rises to her feet before turning her hands, so her palms are facing upwards. Then, her eyes roll back in her head. The grey orbs with swimming snakes inside her irises appear. My mother’s fingers dance around in the air as she counts the votes in her mind. Within seconds, she has her answer. She turns to Misery with a twisted smile, and they silently communicate the answer.

“Interesting,” Misery nods her head slowly before addressing the audience again. “You have voted that Prey One will win the physical strength trial!”

A celebratory roar from the audience confirms the results. I don’t bother looking at the tattooed man who is most likely feigning confidence. Instead, I look at the little mortal at the end of the line, eyeing up the potential winner. Her lips tighten and she looks almost pissed off that she wasn’t selected. My cock throbs in anticipation. What a confident little thing.

‘I can’t wait to see her die! The beast cries out in excitement. She’s going to be delicious spread against the floor and then we can fuck whatever is left of her!’ My Beast cries out excitedly.

‘Shut the fuck up’. I spit back, but he doesn’t calm down. I feel his heartbeat pick up and he momentarily takes control of our body to wet our fangs. Despite my restraint, the beast manages to plant the perverse thoughts in my head, and I find myself readjusting in my seat. I fucking hope she has done some heinous crime and is forced to suffer for all eternity in my Realm. That way, I can have my way with her repeatedly until I grow bored and find some new toy to fuck.

I pray repeatedly for this dirty, fucked up fantasy to become real, but then again, God’s never been one to grant prayers to sinners.

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