You opened the trap door. It was so small you had to get on your knees, peering into the dark space. There was no other way out, though, so this was your only choice.
"It looks like the space gets wider as you go down. I think I see stairs, but I can't tell. It's dark," you concluded, looking back towards Andrew.
"Is it really the only way out?" Andrew asked, biting his bottom lip.
"What, are you claustrophobic?"
He paused, and his eyes grew distant. "You could say that," he finally said. "I've never been trapped myself."
"Well, we're already in a tight space," you said. You were about to say "You'll live" but instead took stock of his nervous expression. You took on a gentler tone. "Andrew, it'll be fine. We'll just get through this weird place and then we can go back to our original plan."
He nodded, shaking off his nerves.
You shuffled through the black space, trying to ignore the feeling of cobwebs against your skin. The floor was concrete and cold, sending small chills down your spine. Just as the tightness became unbearable, the space began to feel wider.
Soon you stopped crawling, the area becoming big enough to stand in. You started to walk forward, but Andrew pulled you back.
"Watch your step," he murmured, and you noticed the vague outline of stairs. The two of you had already jumped off a building. You weren't planning on repeating that incident with these stairs.
Andrew took the lead this time. It seemed once he was out of the small space, he'd gained more confidence. He slowly descended with you closely behind. Your steps both echoed in the space and you wondered how far this went down.
After a minute, you saw a warm glow at the bottom of the steps. Andrew halted, eyes narrowing.
"Huh. Another door," he said. This whole thing felt awfully suspicious. Nothing about this made sense, but if you turned away now, how would you escape? You slowly walked towards the door, noticing a peephole attached to it.
You jiggled the handle, but it was locked. Andrew knocked, and you heard him suck in a breath. Neither of you had any idea whether there was a friend or foe behind the door. Or if there was simply nothing at all. But there had to be something. For about ten incredibly agonizing seconds, there was silence.
Then, muffled from the other side, you heard, "What's the code?"
Andrew glanced towards you, arching a brow.
Clearing your throat, you asked, "What is this? I want to make sure I have the right place."
"Are you stupid? This is the Demon Summoner Society! What else would it be? Now, say the code. I don't have all day."
You crossed your arms, thinking for a moment. "Er. . . 666?"
The door opened. A cloaked figure stood.
"Oh Lucifer, where are you cloaks?" the person asked, bewildered. They threw two black garments at you before ushering you both in.
"This place feels off . . ," Andrew said, eyes trailing across the room. It was clear he wanted to be out of here as soon as possible. You, however, looked around your surroundings with curiosity. It was clearly some sort of Satanic cult.
Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with dusty leather bound books. Gold framed portraits hung on the walls, of beasts with goat-like horns and sharp teeth. There were many cloaked figures conversing with each other, casually laughing. Maybe this was some kind of party? Part of you wanted to shudder, but more of you wanted to know more about this place.
Andrew still looked uneasy. You glanced back to him. "It'll be fine. Just act like them and we'll find a way out," you said, giving a reassuring smile. It wasn't fully clear how dangerous these people were, but the best you could do was try to blend in.
Andrew nodded. "You're right," he said, straightening his posture.
A cloaked figure approached, their face hidden in shadow. "Are you two newcomers?" they asked.
"Yeah."
The figure paused for a moment. ". . . Perfect," they finally said. "One moment, please." They turned around, before another person approached.
"You two the newbies?"
"Yes. So what are we doing?" you questioned.
"Did you not receive the schedule?! Lucifer, Joe never prints enough." The cloaked person hurried off for a moment, before returning back with a sheet of paper. They pointed to Saturday. "We're having the summoning today. You should really know this even without the schedule, but I'll give you a pass since you're new." The figure turned, talking to another person.
"Summoning . . ?" Andrew whispered under his breath, his jaw tensing. Sure, the place was suspicious, but that apartment you'd been trapped in was even weirder. You didn't see why this was an issue.
"Demons aren't even real. There's no reason to be scared," you said, rolling your eyes.
He looked dubious. "My sister convinced me otherwise."
"What do you mean by that?" you asked.
His eyes refused to make eye contact with you. "Well . . she certainly enjoyed talking to . . other entities. Summoning them."
You weren't sure how to respond. That girl was crazy, and maybe he was also fucked in the head. Whatever, you thought. I'm not the one seeing imaginary demons.
As time passed, the cult members began to surround an upside down pentagram, drawn in white chalk. Candles lined the circle, casting a warm glow across the dimly lit room.
Who you assumed to be the leader began to approach the middle of the circle. They outstretched their arms, tipping their head to the ceiling.
"We have gathered here today to summon our Dark Lord. Brothers and sisters, we may have had little success in the past, but I know that this time we will succeed. Our Lord will hear us," the leader said in a voice that echoed across the room. The temperature had dropped, and now your robe felt like wind against your skin.
You felt Andrew nudge your arm. You turned to him, seeing the candle light reflecting in his eyes.
"We should go," he whispered. "I have a bad feeling."
"We can't leave now," you said, giving the smallest shake of your head.
The leader spoke again. "Newcomers!"
Both your heads turned to the voice.
"Welcome. I am glad you've joined us, and one of you will receive a special honor. The honor to gift our Dark Lord with your very being."
Before you could question the meaning of their words, you were shoved to the ground. "Agh- Fuck-"
"Y/N!" Andrew yelled. You tried getting up, but several figures had pinned you down. You thrashed in their grips, nails digging into the floorboards beneath you.
One bent down to whisper in your ear. "You're lucky. Don't fight it."
"Lucky my fucking ass! Let me go!"
"Get your hands off them!" Andrew's voice was desperate and angry. You could hear him struggling and assumed he was also being held back. You clenched your teeth and looked up to see the leader standing over you.
Something flashed in the leader's hand. A knife.
Panicking, you realized the figure's were moving your body, dragging you closer to the knife. You tried to dig your shoes into the ground, but found no purchase. You could feel your heart thumping all the way to your wrists.
A hand roughly brought your wrist to the dagger.
Andrew's screams were drowned out by the cult's sudden chant: "All hail Lucifer!"
You closed your eyes and bit back a scream as a searing pain went through your arm. You heard the sound of the dagger clattering to the floor. The members dropped you on the ground and you opened your eyes, seeing crimson dripping from your wrist.
Oh, I'm fucked. They slashed vertically. Yeah, you definitely weren't making it out of this one.
That wasn't even the worst part. You'd just begun to accept that you were going to be killed as a sacrifice when you felt fingers digging into your wound.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cried, trying to drag your arm close to your chest. But even if their grip on your arm wasn't so firm, the blood loss had made your limb heavy. Everything felt tingly and numb. Glancing up, you saw they were using your blood to draw the pentagram that had been outlined in chalk.
To your right, you saw Andrew, his head leaning against the wall, motionless. His cloak had come off his head, and with horror you saw blood streaming down his forehead.
You propped yourself up on one arm, slowly raising your knees when you saw out of the corner of your eye, another figure. They wielded a hammer, and for a moment, your vision turned white. You looked down, and saw that your knee had been bashed in.
You weren't even sure if you had screamed. All you could hear was ringing. And chanting. Unintelligible chanting.
At some point you must have been dragged to the middle of the circle, because when you opened your eyes you saw you were surrounded by them, the candle flames casting horrible shadows against the walls.
Your breathing was rapid, and once more the leader was over top of you.
"I may not have the ceremonial dagger . . but this shall do," the leader muttered, clearly annoyed. He held a kitchen knife. Not the same ceremonial dagger you'd been slashed with. It was aimed straight towards your heart.
"All hail Lucifer! All hail Lucifer!"
The blade came down.
A thud.
You blinked. The leader had toppled over you, and you turned your head to see Andrew. From his hood, you could see his cold expression. His pale hands gripped the knife which had droplets of blood dripping from its end.
The crowd stood in shock. Several began to approach, their own weapons raised when they stopped, frozen. Andrew looked up, eyes widening, his hood falling back to reveal his mess of curls.
You looked and saw it too.
"Demons are real," you said in awe.
A horrid figure of darkness stood over everyone, its limbs long and contorted, with eyes that were purely white. It smelled like carnations, but overwhelmingly so.
It cocked its head (or at least what you think was its head).
"Aaaaandreeeew," it said, the word drawn out like the name was a novelty. "You made the saaacrificeeeee, and now I shall grant you whaaaateeeveerrrr you pleeeaaaseeee."
It twisted around, revealing a slimy grey . . backside? It opened, grey matter splitting apart to reveal multiple rows of sharp teeth, white and mottled with black mold. It shuffled towards you, limbs so sharp they broke the floorboards with each step. It opened its jaws, and this time you were certain you were being eaten.
But clearly fate was doing everything to keep you alive.
It clamped its jaws around the body on top of you, eating the leader messily. You didn't even want to think about the guts on you as the leader was torn apart.
Andrew was still silent, as if processing all of this.
"Andrew, just fucking get us out of this mess," you yelled.
Hearing your voice, he shook himself back to reality. "I want you to get rid of the people around us. Think of them as more sacrifices," he said, his voice firm and more confident than you'd anticipated. "And if there's any way to help Y/N . . ," he trailed off, glancing at your bleeding wrist (now a bit more clotted) and broken leg.
The creature moved its body. Maybe that was a nod?
You glanced at the cult members' terrified faces as the demon's legs moved outward, dragging them towards it. You looked away, not wanting to see their deaths.
After a couple minutes, the screams stopped.
"Aaaas for theeeeeeem," it said, pointing a sharp limb at you, "I can stooooop the bleeeeeding and mend the bone, but they will neeeeveeeerr waaaaalk the saaaaame."
Andrew looked towards you. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked.
"Andrew, I have lost too much blood to care anymore. Just do it."
He looked at the demon and gave a quick nod.
Your vision faded to black.
When you awoke, you felt cold arms around you. You looked and saw Andrew was holding you, and you were now in an alleyway.
"What happened?" you asked wearily, raising your arm to see there wasn't even a trace of a scar.
Andrew's voice was cold and tired. "You don't even want to know."
(AN: This was pretty fun to write. Next chapter will probably be a sweet and romantic chapter so stay tuned)