The lights had gone out.

Not switching off or fading after an unexpected pop, but becoming a victim to the sudden fall of shadows that sent them into the stomach of darkness.

Leslie reached up and grabbed Ethan’s shirt, but they said nothing, and before they could think past the waves of uncertainty and fear rolling through them—the computer came on.

The screen brightened and dimmed, repeating in a vexatious pattern.

Ethan leaned forward, his damp hands tightening against the back of Leslie’s chair, and for several heartbeats, neither of them blinked.

Then, an image appeared, and someone answered their call.

Simultaneously, they drew a breath.

What they saw caused a rift in their sanity, tore through all rationality, and seemed too real to respond with a laugh of uneasiness.

And at that moment, Ethan discovered there was a world—

“Good evening, patrons. What business have you?”

—hidden past the darkest parts of human comprehension.

Ethan and Leslie walked up the street side-by-side, their arms locked, but not at all like an ordinary couple.

Their differences often roused curiosity from small minds trying to explain what he saw in her and what she saw in him.

Ethan stood tall, dressed in black pants and a crisp button-up, clothes carrying high-end labels and jewelry priced at thousands. He wasn’t fond of contacts and preferred to keep his glasses as an added gentleness to the cherubic face, and features surrounded by neatly tapered ash-blonde hair. Blood money bought everything he needed—a perfect smile, fine clothes, and expensive accessories—to fool the commonfolk into believing he was everything they long for in a friend, a companion, or a lover. His only imperfection marred his lips in the form of a small scar left by a very unfortunate individual.

Men desired his approval; women craved his attention.

People were programmed to trust men like Ethan. It didn’t matter how many devils walked through society wearing masks painted with charisma and success because even if they were exposed, people would always find comfort in the shadows of the elite.

Leslie, however, was outlandishly beautiful; a pixie-fine visage eaten by unevenly cut hair and too-long bangs stained with faded colors. Her make-up was always dark, always uninviting, shades that shadowed her features like a corpse presented to loved ones. She wore an old leather skirt and a mismatched shirt hiding beneath a thick jacket with studs and tears. Heeled boots clicked against the sleek concrete, following the movement of her earrings and the popping of her gum.

She was every weak man’s fantasy—a woman with a personality like hot steel but the heart of a weak-willed girl lost in a cruel world—a pathetic creature who needed someone to take her hand and lift her from the abyss. Men lusted for that—for a woman connected to the puppet-strings of obligation and control.

Choosing wasn’t difficult.

Victims chose themselves.

Women who craved companionship, the men who sought approval.

College students who were fresh off the bus and ready to party.

An unlucky businessman with a hidden kink.

People who needed someone like Ethan to sweep them off their feet or someone like Leslie, who would ask for their love.

Their desperation lured them into the arms of danger like hares to a snare.

It worked, it always did.

And tonight would be no different.

Their date—Peter—made it abundantly clear he was looking for a good time.

He was so willing to meet with them last minute for sex and excitement that he didn’t ask questions and tiptoe around their plans as if he feared something might happen. He was trusting, rambunctious, and easy, a perfect target as their time was limited.

The two of them stopped on a corner, and Ethan lit a cigarette while Leslie unlocked her phone and began scrolling through messages.

A soft mist trailed the wind, threatening the city with demon-rain and a corpse-cold chill in the air.

Looking up, Ethan watched the clouds move like cold cream through coffee—swaying and turning abnormally in an endless circle above them.

A tiny thought dropped into a pool of his thoughts, rippling and expanding into a much more significant concern.

And an unexpected feeling he recognized as distress twisted within.

What if Peter decides to leave? Doesn’t want to follow us home?

“Ethan?”

No, he has to. You’ve come too far to stop now.

Voices inside him turned into a trail of confidence and fear.

This one cannot escape.

“Ethan?”

If you fail, they’ll come for you.

Each voice shouted louder, demanding to be heard.

Kill for the demon you made a deal with, and you can escape. It will all end tonight.

“Ethan!” Leslie hissed, but her narrowed eyes perked in a slight surprise when Ethan glanced to her with an unsettling gaze.

Irritation simmered within him, coming to a boil with every second he spent thinking about the time they couldn’t afford to lose. If this man didn’t fall into their arms or lose himself in the pleasure, everything would be a waste of fucking time.

Unless.

Tired eyes dusted with glitter, and natural circles stared up at him. “What’s…with you?”

If this man doesn’t follow, if you can’t catch him, then—

Ethan stared at Leslie, trailed from her parted lips to the small dip in her throat, then to the shadows of her beautiful cleavage.

—find a quick replacement.

He smiled. “Sorry, love. I was just…thinking.”

“Right.” She didn’t believe him, but her adoration was too great, and she slipped closer to him once more. “Peter’s already at the restaurant.”

With a nod, he slid his arm around her waist, and the two of them walked on.

Because Peter couldn’t meet them until nightfall—work-related, not doubt—it cut out a good chunk of time, but he only needed to focus.

“Ethan! Leslie!”

A voice called for them as soon as they turned the corner, and there he was.

Peter’s profile picture was odd, blurred, but substantial enough for them to make out what decent features he appeared to have. It was up to them to fill in the blanks and come to a conclusion of what they expected—but neither of them expected him.

Here was a man taller than Ethan, and every movement he made flexed or tightened a muscle hiding under a fitted shirt. The man’s hair dropped to his shoulders, with half of it tied into a ponytail—a hairstyle Ethan commonly found unattractive, but he found Peter wore it surprisingly well. He looked powerful, a detail Ethan wasn’t entirely used too, but found oddly arousing nonetheless.

Peter approached them with a bright smile, and a blush crept across Ethan’s face. “I’m glad you guys could make it.”

“Of course, it’s been a while since we’ve gone out.” Leslie’s persona shifted pleasantly quick, allowing Ethan to compose himself. “Work and whatnot, you know?”

“Ugh, yes,” Peter scoffed. “I practically had to run out the door tonight.”

Leslie laughed, and Peter smiled more.

“So, bad news,” He rubbed the back of his neck and motioned toward the diner. “The place has quite the wait, and I don’t mind waiting…but I’d be cool if you two wanted to go somewhere else?”

“Actually, why don’t we skip the waiting and just grab some food? Our house isn’t far and we can watch a movie or something.” Leslie’s idea was bold, and Ethan didn’t know if he wanted to wring her neck or praise her cunningness, but when Peter’s face lit up, and he bared that dazzling smile, Ethan shifted to the latter.

“Sounds good to me, if you two don’t mind?” His eyes specifically rested on Ethan.

And he smiled. “Of course not. There’s a convenience store on the way, and we can grab a few things.”

Peter and Leslie agreed, and Ethan felt the burning doubt within him cool into a soft satisfaction.

The three of them walked together with Peter in the middle, and he went on about work and trivial things. Ethan was able to look and sound engaged, but he left most of it to Leslie, who tended to bond with victims. Not a deceitful bonding, but the blossoming of a true friendship that Ethan found both pathetic and amusing.

Peter seemed even more trusting than they expected, much more handsome, and even a little too friendly. A perfect combination to ensure they were live by midnight as the Auction Master requested.

Ethan glanced at his watch, pausing outside the corner store as Leslie and Peter walked inside. A few hours was enough to court such an easy man, and Ethan stepped toward the door but stopped when something passed above him in a stir of wings.

He looked up, eyes squinting past the buzzing store lights where—on the corner of a taller building—sat the silhouette of something strange. 

Something watching...

Ethan gasped, and a tremor jolted his body still when he turned to see Peter standing in front of him.

Peter snickered, watching Ethan with the slightest tilt of his head. “Everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ethan returned his smile, laughing a little and putting a hand over his heart. “Sorry you startled me.”

“My bad, Leslie wanted me to ask you what kind of liquor you want.”

“Anything will do.” He responded, looking up once again, but the figure was gone.

With several bags of junk food and two pizzas, the trio headed home.

Their house was small but expensive.

A single home built in between a row of apartment complexes, and costing more than anyone should ever pay for such a lusterless place. Dried vines clung to worn brick walls and stretching over old casement windows. They had a pitiful amount of yard in line with their steps, most of it overgrown with catmint, yarrow, and thyme.

Leslie headed up the stone stairs first, fishing out her keys with Ethan following behind her. After she stepped inside, Ethan paused and looked down to see Peter standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting.

“Peter, are you coming in?” He arched a brow.

A slow smiled spread across Peter’s face—a sliver of honey dripping into a soft stir of warm milk, and his eyes looked brighter, gleaming with delight.

“Absolutely.”