Chapter 1: Part 1

 

Go away for the weekend, they said. It'll be nice to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city, they said. Just have fun and let loose in the great outdoors, they said. Well now they’re all dead, and I’m staring down the hallway as the evil fucking cunt who trapped us in this god forsaken cabin, twists and contorts her fingers and chants a dead language at me. 

I feel it, the pressure in my head, the aching pain seeping through my limbs, every hair on my body felt like needles poking into my skin. My throat was closing, and the little bit of vision I had that was unobscured by blood, slowly started to blur and twist. The voices, they began as whispers at the start, now screamed out in agony. Lost souls tormented and burned to feed the voracious appetite of such evil. I was to join them. One more bone to the pile, one more jar on the shelf, hand in the fridge, blood bag to be stored away. I was tired, every moment in my life, all the happiness, all the pain, all the hatred, it didn’t matter. There was nothing more for me now than to become another statistic in missing persons case, assuming anyone ever filed one. 

The Witch creeped close, taking sadistic glee in her last kill. With every step I could feel her. Her influence and rage boiling underneath my skin. In a weird way, I could understand her. Not what she was chanting, but her existence. Something cast aside by both blood and coven. No home in the real world, and not allowed in any others. Not that it mattered, but it was almost funny. How something so alike myself, would be the reason I met the end. I would have started laughing if not for the unmeasurable pain coursing throughout my body and soul. 

She was finally within reach. The blackness of her eyes, spreading through the veins in her face. The rotting teeth that held chasms of putrid infection. I wanted to say something smart, some witty one-liner to go out on. My one chance at being an actual badass. But nothing came to mind. I simply closed my eyes and awaited my death. 

The feeling of her nail ripping into me was somehow even more excruciatingly painful than anything I’d experienced over the weekend thus far. It was as if she was using it as a scalpel to make the first incision to my heart. 

Da nuh nuh, da nuh nuh, da nuh nuh nuh, nuh. 

The Witch jolted back in shock as an alarm rang out from my pocket, letting her hold on me slip. The weight of darkness dropped from me almost as hard as I dropped to the floor. Very few times has my sheer primal instincts for survival taken over. But that moment was one of them. My body bolted for the door, pushing past the evil bitch and making a B-line for woods. 

It was pure dark outside. The moon was nowhere to be found. Only the crunching of leaves beneath me, and the shrieking of an eldritch terror who had lost it’s prey. Well, those and the ringing from my phone. Never before had I been so fucking thankful for my scheduled medication reminder. 

I threw the phone in an attempt to distract her. But I felt her presence behind me. Seeping into my bones as I pushed on, pure adrenaline carrying me through the woods. She was gaining on me. If she was the kind to feed off of fear, then I must’ve been a buffet. There was a burning in my chest, growing with each step, each breath. It was her. I could feel her. Her whispers. Her raw voraciousness. There wasn’t much time before she either caught up, or my body gave out. I didn’t want to bet on which would happen first.

There’s no explaining it, no reasoning with why, or how. But I felt a tug. A tug in the form of a hunch, an inkling, sheer dumb fucking luck. But I looked to my right, and saw the glow of light. Without hesitation or pause, I stumbled and altered course. Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to it. Anything to ease my suffering, my panic, my fears. The Witch was violently close to me at that point. One misstep and I would be lost again. Lost to her clutches and the void of something worse than death.

It’s funny, never would I have thought to long for just death. Nothing after, just…peace. We live, and then we die. No damnation, no holy promised land, just nothingness. Maybe then I could finally get away from the city, the hustle and bustle. Maybe then I could finally rest. 

But no, nothing had ever been easy for me, so why should death be any different? My lungs could barely take anymore. My limbs were numb and my everything felt like it had been tossed into a wood chipper, then taped back together. 

The light was growing in my vision, the warmth it emitted was almost intoxicating. As I got closer, I’d never been happier to see a shitty old hotel in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. There was a man out front, standing by the door, as if he was expecting me. With a flickering neon sign above him that read, The Lodge. I tried to wave my arms, but they could barely function anymore. I heard the footsteps behind me. But more so, I felt her behind me. That is, until I threw myself at the feet of the man in front of The Lodge. 

A shriek cut through the silent night sky as I braced for what was to come. Seconds that felt like lifetimes passed before I realized nothing had happened. I looked up, only to see a very lanky man in what was practically a tuxedo and glasses staring back down at me. 

“Give it to me!” The witch howled. Causing me to look in her direction. 

She had stopped just before the fence to the walk up. 

The man looked up, almost annoyed. “I will do no such thing.” He said flatly. 

“It belongs to me! I will have it one way or another!” 

The man looked back down to me, raised his glasses then looked back at the Witch. “You hold no power on these grounds. She will not be going with you tonight. For all are welcome at…The Lodge.” His posture was impossibly straight, and his voice was that of the creepiest fucking Tim Curry impersonator. But I wasn’t complaining if it meant that bitch couldn’t get to me. 

She hissed and twisted her body in ways that hurt to even look at. Cracking and breaking down into smaller pieces until there was nothing left but a splotch of blood on the ground where she stood. I felt a sickness rising through me. A gut wrenching churn for the briefest of moments the events of the previous forty-eight hours sunk in. 

“She is gone for now, young one. Please, come inside and we will–make arrangements for y…”

The last part of his sentence was inaudible over the sound of my puking up a mixture of blood, bile, and black goop next to the front steps. The burning in my throat felt like someone had pulled a string of molten razor blades through my esophagus. 

The man let out a long sigh. “At least you did it outside I suppose.” He stood at the top of the steps and held the door open. 

I was never one for chivalry, but a helping hand to get up would have been nice. Then again, I was never able to be a chooser.

Each step was agony. If I hadn’t literally been on the brink of death, I’d have thought twice about walking into a creepy building with a strange man. For the time being at least, it seemed like he was going to help. Help being a loose term as I stumbled through the doorway and limped into the lobby with spikes of pain running through nerves I wasn’t aware I had. 

The Lodge was old. Not in the way that everything was out of date, but…it felt old. It was as if everything had been specifically placed to be almost jarring if you looked at one thing for too long. But it was also like every piece of furniture, every light, every surface, even the flames in the fireplace, had been there for longer than I could begin to perceive. Or it could have been the blood loss, blunt force trauma, and two whole days of not sleeping. Who’s to say?

As I made my way to the main desk/bar area, painfully aware of my body’s rapid decline, the man popped up from behind the bar. He wasn’t normal, none of it was. If there was anything I’d learned in the previous forty-eight hours, it was the ability to spot something not of this world. 

“The Lodge welcomes you. Please have a seat and we can discuss your stay.” The man said while pouring a glass of scotch. 

I was able to make it up on the barstool on my second attempt. Things were so hazy, and there was a faint ringing in the distance. But I managed to brush the hair from my face and down the entire glass without even tasting it. 

Letting gravity return my hand and the glass to the bar I let out a deep sigh, “What are you?” 

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“Ah, what fun. Right to the point. I knew you would be an interesting change of pace.” He gave a statuesque grin. “I am but the simple Innkeep of this fine…establishment.”

“Right.” I reached into my flannel pocket and grabbed my lighter and broken cigarette. 

Before I could try to light it, the Innkeep handed me the most immaculate hand rolled heater I'd ever seen. He pulled the trashed one out of my mouth and snapped his fingers. My lighter ignited instantly. Taking my time I savored a deep puff. I made a promise to quit, but that didn’t really matter anymore. 

“Now, shall we discuss your…stay? Consider the drink and such, complimentary. But our other services will require…compensation.” His voice alone set off every danger sensor I had left. But the ringing was getting louder and taking precedence. 

I savored another drag and reached into my pocket. “I don’t have any cash on me. All I got is this.” The small ring box hit the bar with a thud that echoed through my mind. 

He opened it and adjusted his glasses. “I’m quite flattered. But something tells me I’m not your type.” He closed it and slid it back to me. “Besides, we don’t deal in such…trivial currencies here at The Lodge.”

“Of course you don’t. Let me guess, my soul? My eternal service? My first born?”  

The Innkeep pulled a book from beneath the counter. “Oh my what wonderful suggestions. Sadly though, it appears a first born would never be possible given your…inclinations. Eternal service, gracious no. I would never give someone so much a chance to replace myself. Your soul though, normally that would be a delectable bargain, but it seems there is a line.” No emotion was anywhere to be found on his face. Just simply reciting words and flipping through pages.

The fuck was that supposed to mean? There was a rule people were supposed to follow, never trust anyone who speaks in cryptic riddles. But the box on the table was burning a hole in my heart. That Witch should have ripped it out when she had the chance. It would’ve been a better feeling than what was searing into my chest 

“I can smell it on you. It seems our mutual acquaintance had special plans for you.” He said flatly. 

“No shit Lloyd. She was gonna kill me like she did my…everyone else.” My words were laced with pain, regret, and blood. 

“To put things simply. She wasn’t just going to kill you. You’re infected with her…influence. Every century or so her body begins to decline. So she keeps searching until she finds a…” He looked me up and down. “Suitable replacement.” The Innkeep pointed at my chest. 

“They’re tits, asshole. Deal with it. Grew ‘em myself and everything.” The increasing whine of the ringing was becoming violently painful by the second. “Where the fuck is that ringing coming from? Fuck!” 

“Your heart, miss.” 

Yeah, it was torture. I wanted to carve it out myself. The burning was…rising with the ringing? I pulled the corner of my tank top down and saw the cut from where the Witch used her nail. It was black, pulsating, and spreading through my veins. Fuck. 

The Innkeep snapped his fingers, gracing me with a silent reprieve. “The transaction is simple. The Lodge will accommodate you. You may stay the night and take shelter. All of our services will be available to you, including treating your wounds and delaying the infection. But the cure however, will be up to you to cleanse. My Master wishes for the Witch to be disposed of. This will in turn stop her acquisition of your mind and body. Though, the delay will cause a different kind of…inner turmoil.” 

He set the book in front of me with a pen. 

“Master, huh? That why the Witch didn’t come onto the property? You some kind of cult?”

“Ah, my Master. If I were to speak his true name, I’m afraid it would cause you even more harm. Most mortals cannot even begin to conceptualize his power or greatness. I am but a humble servant, a Vessel for his will. She dare not step foot or wart on our premises. For all are welcome at The Lodge, but all will not leave.” Him talking about his Master was the only time any real emotion showed. It was spine chilling.

“And if I sign, I become the Vassal. The one who takes care of the dirty work and cleaning up the rabble.”

“Excellent! You understand then!” He closed his eyes and continued speaking. “Now I must warn you. By entering this agreement, neither Heaven nor Hell will take you. Upon death you will become part of the void. Vast nothingness, no consciousness, no afterlife, no…”

I slid the book back to him, my name signed in scarlet letters. 

He looked down, for the first time almost shocked. “In blood no less! Ah, the old ways are always the most exciting.” 

“Most of it’s mine. Either way, I’m ready to end the bitch.” I filled up my glass with more scotch and tossed it back like apple juice. 

“Wonderful, I shall begin the preparations at once!” 

With that, he shut the book, and everything went dark. 

 

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