The Reaper's Pet (Frisky & Morell)

[Frisky]

Jessica woke up slowly, at first not knowing where she was. But that was stupid because it only took a moment to realize she was in her own bed, in her own apartment. She pulled her arm out from underneath the sheets and brushed the tethered bangs of dark hair away from her sticky face. Everything was sweaty from her ankles to her forehead, and the sheets were cold and clammy. The bedside clock burned an iridescent 10:01pm into the shadowy room and the long window curtains swayed as new air came up out of the air conditioning vent. Outside, Jessica could see that it was raining. A lone streetlamp highlighted the buds of rain on the window pane making it hard to see beyond. She groaned to herself and kicked the sheets away. Swinging over in bed she grabbed her cell phone off the bedside table and turned it on to see what day of the week it was.

10:03pm Monday?!

What happened to Sunday? What happened to Monday? She missed her college class today! What the fuck happened? Jessica sat up in bed rather sudden, only to have a wave of a million headaches wash over her mind. But there was no time for headaches. She needed to figure this out. She needed to remember.

She grabbed a towel and walked into the apartment bathroom and turned the shower faucet onto hot water. What was the last thing she remembered? She remembered Saturday night when she went out with her college friends. They were going to have a girl’s night out to celebrate the end of quarterly exams. Jessica pulled off her night-top and let it drop to the floor. Her breasts were a nice C cup size, and she had a flat stomach with some slightly curved hips. She hooked her thumbs under the band of her panties and pulled them off, bending half way over to draw them off of her long legs. Ugh..headache! What was in those drinks? Yes, her friend’s friend had given her something to drink and it messed her up bad. Everything was a foggy mess after that. Jessica drew back the curtain of the shower and stepped into the tub. They were in a backyard or maybe some woods…they had a bonfire…candles too. She remembered thinking how silly this was, but that it was only harmless child’s play. They were all drunk and fucked up but not as bad as Jessica was. Jessica stepped into the shower and drenched her body under the water. It felt good to get all of that sweat and grime off of her flesh. She grabbed the soap and began to lather it up over her skin; the smell of lavender hitting her nostrils. A circle…they had pushed her into the middle of some circle made out of twigs and sticks. Everyone was laughing. They wanted her to repeat some words that her friend’s friend was reading from a book. Jessica couldn’t remember the words. She shampooed her hair as well; the stench of the bonfire finally coming out. She shook her head in disappointment as she rinsed the shampoo from her long hair. She couldn’t remember anything else. Nothing. Nothing! That was Saturday night..today was Monday night. How did she even get back home into her bed?!

Jessica climbed out of the shower and dried herself off. She let her hair hang damp and pulled on a white, cozy robe. She slipped her feet into some red slippers and walked back into her bedroom to sit in the chair that overlooked her window. As she gazed outside watching the rain sprinkle lightly onto the pavement she remembered one last detail that put goosebumps along her arms. “Give us a name of a demon!” They all cried out, laughing. So Jessica said ‘Satan’ because that first came to her mind, but that only put a new burst of hysterical hoots and giggles into her friends. “Not Satan, silly. Satan is too busy. Give us the name of another demon!” So Jessica said “the Reaper” because it was the second most famous demon that her foggy mind could think up. …..the Reaper.

Jessica hugged herself.

 

[Morell]

Zushakon heard the distant call of a summoning spell. The spell itself was horribly weak and didn't even have anything to tempt a demon's senses besides what appeared to be a girl. Moreover, the spell was not directed at any demon in particular.

"Amateur mages," he grunted, but as nobody answered the call for several days, he began to grow anxious, tired of hearing the distant call like an annoying siren nobody wants to turn off. "Fuck, I'm bored anyway, I guess I'll see what they want," he said, weary from the century long rest he had just woken from.

Zushakon was an old demon, known to ancient Native American cultures as a death god. He also answered to the names Dark Silent One and Old Night due to his usual method for appearing to mortals as a swirling black mist. In fact, there were many death demons in the Never Never, he normally played his part as one when the mood struck him. Although because of their nature, death demons are not bound to answer the calls of the living, as succubi and fairies may be bound.

With a half-hearted moan and stretch, Zushakon phased through the realms, coming into the human realm through the crudely drawn portal of sticks. He held a claw up to the sun, it burned his eyes. Unwilling to deal with it, he immediately turned to his normal mist form. The mages were gone, he realized. He smelled the air, it was fresh with the scent of... women. "Witches," he scoffed. "If there's anything worse than an amateur mage, it's a witch."

He was about to return to his plane when he noticed there was no salt or chalk binding him in place. He immediately started cackling into the air around him. The only thing binding him to this world was... a girl? The sacrifice! If he wanted free reign on this realm, he'd have to find her and deal with her first.

He took flight, melding with the darkness of the night in the direction of the nearest town, following the trail of whatever insufferable witch foolishly tried to call a demon she had no knowledge to control.

 

[Frisky]

Pulling her knees up to her chest Jessica rested her heels on the edge of the seat and hugged her legs. Her eyelashes barely moved as she gazed out of the window; her eyes, the color of forget-me-not flowers, appeared just as confused as her mind. Nearly two days had passed without her memory. She didn’t remember coming back to her apartment and getting into bed. Had she slept for two days? She imagined it could be possible to do, especially if she had been heavily drugged.

Her phone began to ring and vibrate, drawing her attention from the window to the bedside table. It was now almost 11pm. It was more than likely one of her friends ringing in to catch up on gossip or to see why she missed class this morning or to see how she felt after Saturday’s night out. It wasn’t like calling someone at eleven at night was taboo. Resignedly coiling her legs from the chair she got up and walked over towards the bed where she picked the phone up to check the screen. Miranda.

Miranda was her friend’s friend, the girl whose backyard woods they went to on Saturday night and the girl who pushed her into the middle of the crude circle where they could recite the hellish words from a silly library book. Although Miranda might have had the answers Jessica needed, Miranda was also the last person on earth she wanted to speak to. In fact, Jessica couldn’t even remember giving Miranda her cell phone number…

Jessica rolled her eyes and dropped the phone back down onto the bedside table, unanswered. She flopped herself face down onto her Queen Size bed and groaned into the pillow. Ringing two more times her cell phone finally stopped vibrating and settled into silence. It was going on midnight. She might as well go back to bed and see if the morning sun would jolt any of her memory back into focus.

 

[Morell]

An hour later, the demon found the source. Stalking to Miranda's window, he easily slipped through the wall and materialized on the other side. Feeling especially mischievous, he wanted to torment the girl before he dealt with her. She wanted the Grim Reaper? That's exactly what she'd get.

He never understood the fascination with the shape. No demons in the Never Never actually looked like that. Apparently it was quite frightening to humans, though. A long, torn cape draped around his arms and face. Decayed, boney hands gripped at a scythe which appeared in a cloud of black smoke in his hands. He held it menacingly off to his left. All features were hidden by the long tear-drop shaped cowl over his face. He floated above her bed. In place of legs were more torn black clothing and swirling black smoke.

Zushakon reached out to tuck a sliver of hair behind Miranda's ear with an icy touch. He spoke. His voice was several dozen whispers speaking in unison.

"Wake up, Sacrifice. You know not what you've been meddling in. Though Judgement finds you regardless. Wake up, sweet dreamer, and face your nightmare."