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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Verastahl on 2024-09-24 21:02:54+00:00.

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Previously, in Part Eleven

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We were exhausted when we got home, and other than taking care of Nick and spending time together, we didn’t do much for the next couple of days.  Not so much as try to step outside.  Part of it was the fatigue, but only part.  We were also terrified.  In shock and horror from what we’d just lived through and in dread of what was ahead of us.

Because we’d discussed it, Gordon and I, and we knew things had to change.  This world was getting more dangerous the deeper we sunk into it, and we had to find a new way of pleasing our…benefactor…while keeping our family safe.  It sounded reasonable when we said it in hushed tones amongst ourselves, but I could see my own fear reflected in Gordon’s eyes.  Fear of reprisal, or worse, rejection, and what that might mean for our miraculous little life together.

So we stayed inside, spent time together as a family.  In some ways, it was a really magical time.  I remember having the thought at one point—I think we were laughing over a board game at the time—that it was as if we were living in some wonderful snow globe, protected and separate from the darkness of the world outside.

I didn’t know how right I was.

On the third day, I woke up to the sound of panicked, breathless cursing at the front of the house.  It was Gordon, tugging on the doors and windows, so angry and scared that it took me asking what was wrong several times before he even registered it and turned to look at me, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“It’s the house, Gracie.  It…none of the doors will open.  Windows neither.  Not like they’re stuck, but like they were never made to be opened.”

Something so strange should have brought questions or doubts, but I had none.  I trusted Gordon—he was no fool or coward, and if he was that close to losing control…well, there wasn’t really anything to discuss.  We just needed to get out.

So I picked up a fireplace poker and started trying to break or pry open a window or door.  When that didn’t work I got a softball bat from the closet.  Then an electric drill.  You could chip paint and scratch wood, but nothing deep.  And if you went back a few minutes later to an old wound, you’d find it had flowed together again like running wax.

Of course, by then we were starting to discuss things more.  If brute force wasn’t going to be the answer, then we needed to figure out what had caused this.  We discussed options both mundane and otherwise over the next couple of hours.  Nick had woken up by this point, so we had to keep the tone light and act to him like Gordon and I were playing some kind of strange game.  My smile and laughter seemed painfully brittle as we went over different possible scenarios.

Had we been drugged?  Was there some gas leak or toxin causing us to hallucinate?  It seemed unlikely, as we were seeing the same things and weren’t noticing any strange behavior in each other or Nick.

Was there something supernaturally wrong with the house?  While neither of us were against the idea of a house being haunted, we’d never had any sign of anything strange there before.  But if what we were seeing was, in fact, real, we’d gone past the point of it making sense without it being paranormal somewhere between him breaking the poker against a window and me drilling into the sealed back door with no effect.

The most obvious cause was right in front of us the whole time, of course.  Or right behind us, maybe.  But as my grandfather used to say, we were circling like flies dancing around a pile of shit.  Neither of us wanted it to be connected to the work, especially not to the last job, to the thing that slaughtered that whole family.  But when we’d run out of ways to circle, it was Gordon that said it first.  His face was still stiff with fear, but the anger was gone now.  In its place, was a sickly dread that made my stomach curdle as he said the words.

“It followed us home, didn’t it?”

I wanted to argue, but instead I nodded.  “I think so, yes.”  I lowered my voice, though I didn’t know that it would make any real difference.  “We have to get out of here.  We have to get Nick out of here.”

Gordon’s face darkened slightly.  “What do you think…”  He shook his head.  “No, I’m sorry.  You’re right, of course.  Nothing we’ve tried has worked, so we need to think of something we haven’t.”

Hand trembling, I pushed a sweaty strand of hair out of my face.  “Do you think it knows we’re here?  Our master?”  I usually avoided referring to it in such unvarnished terms, mostly because the idea of giving myself over so much to something so unknown was terrifying to me, but now wasn’t the time for word games or illusions.  I saw Gordon note the word in his expression before giving me a slow, tired shrug.

“I don’t know, Grace.  Maybe.  Maybe it knows but can’t do anything about it.  It clearly didn’t stop it from happening, if we’re right about the source of this…”  he gestured around at the room,  “…this trap.”  Shaking his head, he sat down on the floor.  “Or maybe it just doesn’t care.”

My tongue felt thick as I swallowed down his words.  We’d become so comfortable and confident in our special, protected status that even when we were scared, we were never hopeless.  We assumed that the dangers would be overcome, either by us or by our benefactor.  But what if it had cast us aside?  Or what if it wanted to help, but was just powerless to do so?

But no.  Hadn’t it saved Gordon?  Hadn’t it protected us from afar countless times before?  Even the rituals we did were largely just acts of showmanship for the clients.  That, and well, maybe a showing of faith and trust on our part as well.

“We should pray.”

Gordon glanced up at me with a frown.  “What?  To our…to the master?”

I nodded.  “Maybe it will reach him.”

He puffed out a breath as he looked up at the ceiling.  “I don’t know, Gracie.  We don’t worship it.  We just work for it.  I don’t know what you think that would do.”

I felt anger flare up in my belly, fueled by frustration and fear.  “I think that we don’t have the luxury of discarding ideas because they make us uncomfortable, and that the time for semantics is past.  Whatever else we are, we are its servants, and we don’t know unless we try.”  Falling to my knees, I clasped my hands tightly in a knot, heart pounding in my chest as I tried to find the right way to start.  Gordon wasn’t entirely wrong—we didn’t worship it, not really.  But I still felt like I needed to phrase things like I was speaking to a god.

“Please hear us.  Please help us.  Shelter us from this thing that has befallen us.  This thing that has trapped us while doing your work on your behalf.  We have been diligent servants and…we appreciate all the blessings and protections you have given us.  Please find us and help us now.”

I looked over to find Gordon had come to kneel next to me, his eyes wet and gleaming as he met my own.  Voice thick, he echoed the last of my words.  “Please find us.  Help us.  Please.”

Behind us, a voice blossomed in the dark.

“It will not help you or find you.  Not here.  Only I am with you.  So if you must pray, pray to me.”

We both turned toward the sound, my whole body shaking with fear.  I wasn’t sure what I expected to see, but I actually felt a pang of disappointment when I didn’t see anything at all.  But then no, that wasn’t quite right.  Because the far corner of the room was darker, wasn’t it?  A cobweb of shadow that clung to every surface, as though the light was afraid to go any farther in.  Looking into that shadow, I tried to keep my voice steady as I responded.

“What do you want?  What do you want from us to set us free?”

The darkness seemed to shift and swell slightly before deepening into a thicker patch of impossible night.  “What do you think I want, silly?”

Its voice had been loud and harsh coming from the corner of the room, but was soft as silk when it moved next to my ear.

“A sacrifice.”

****

“It has to be me.”

Gordon and I had been sitting together in the kitchen—it was a silly attempt at privacy, of course.  The thing that had trapped us in our home was, at least so far as we could tell, everywhere.  Still, being in the living room with that unnatural patch of shadow made my skin crawl, and I could tell Gordon was relieved when I suggested we move before talking.

It hadn’t said anything more after “a sacrifice”, but I think we both instinctively knew what that meant.  One of us had to stay.  To keep it company.  Or serve it.  Or feed it.  I was already trying find the best way to broach the topic when Gordon volunteered himself.  I felt my eyes widen as blood began to pound in my ears.

“What?  No, Gordon.  There has to be another…we’ll figure out something.”

His face hardened briefly, his eyebrows furrowing as he prepared to give some harsh rebuttal, some argument as to why he was right.  But then his face crumpled, tears coming to his eyes as he looked at me pleadingly.

“Gracie, I’m no good for him.  Not compared to you.  And I can’t bear the idea of you being stuck in here.”  He lowered his head as his eyes sank to the table.  “I won’t.”

I knew the “him” meant Nick.  Gordon meant to stay, but he also didn’t even consider any other po…

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