"You've impressed me." Ella said. "That's a rare occurrence. I'll remember you long after you're dead."
"You made a mistake." Hatcher replied.
"Oh, please tell me how I'm the one that made the mistake. This will be fucking delicious."
"I've been waiting to put a bullet in Ella Croft for a while now."
Hatcher fired and the bullet slapped Ella's shoulder. Ella fired back, but Hatcher dove behind the couch, taking one in the left arm.
Jerico slammed his shoulder into Ella's side, knocking her over the back of the couch and sending her gun sliding across the floor. Jerico jumped for it, but just as he was about to grab it, the gun flew across the room and back into Ella's hand.
"What the fuck was that?" Jerico said.
"Doesn't matter," Ella aimed at Jerico. "You won't live long enough to find out."
She fired, hitting Jerico in the body, but before she could get another in him, Hatcher unloaded her magazine.
All fifteen bullets struck Ella, ripping through her skin, organs, and bones.
* * * *
Ella sat up in the bed, gasping.
"What happened?" Ella said. She tried her best to remember but nothing materialized in her mind.
She tossed the covers off and stood up. Her legs felt like jelly so she stumbled to the door. Along the way she crossed the mirror on the back of the dresser and caught a glimpse of her reflection.
Her skin was milky white, her brunette hair was now black, and her brown eyes were now bright red. She noticed a mark along her collar bone which prompted her to lift her black tank top. Rounds scars covered her stomach and chest.
Broken images appeared in her mind, each one feeling like a knife to her brain.
A struggle—bright flashes—gunshots.
Ella bared down into the top of the dresser with her hands. She moaned as the pictures came and went, and when it was over, she glared at herself in the mirror and wondered just what in the fuck did Pan do to her?
Ella walked down the hall and found and entered the kitchen of a studio apartment. The man standing in the kitchen was six feet tall with perfectly parted hair and wore a pink polo shirt and cargo shorts. Their eyes met as he put a bottle of muscle milk to his lips.
"Where am I?" Ella said.
The man darted away and Ella chased after him, running around the mini bar and through the living room.
"Where am I? Who the fuck are you, and what am I doing here? Answer me, you fucking weirdo!"
"Okay, okay," he held his hands out. "If I talk, you promise not to do whatever it is you do? Do it to other people, but not me."
"Talk!"
"Alright, umm, my name is Geoff. And you're here because Pan said you needed a place to hide out."
"How do you know Pan?"
"We kind of crossed paths a few years ago. I was at a low point in my life, and then he came along offering me everything I ever wanted if I agreed to help him with something. He never asked for a single thing from me, not until he appeared in my apartment with you. Right over there, in front of my entertainment center."
"Where is he right now?"
"I have no idea. He leaves for days at a time. I let him use my apartment as his hideout, you'd think he would try a little harder to communicate."
Ella grabbed Geoff by his pink polo shirt, "do you know how to summon?"
Geoff shook his head erratically, "I've dabbled."
* * * *
"Zip-a-dee-doo-da, zip-a-dee-ay."
Pan walked down the street, invisible to the masses, humming and singing his heart out.
"My, oh, my, what a wonderful day."
And it WAS a wonderful day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and there were plenty of people out and about to fuck with.
Pan tapped a man on the shoulder, causing him to pass out on the spot. His head smacked the sidewalk so hard, Pan grimaced.
"Plenty of sunshine headin' my way."
Pan touched a woman on her arm, causing her to run into the middle of the street and take off her clothes so she could declare that Elvis was still alive.
"Zip-a-dee-doo-da, zip-a-dee-ay."
A little boy walking with his mother and father received a tap on the top of his head. The child turned on his parents and hit them. They tried to control him, but he bit a chunk out of his mother's cheek and spat it on the ground.
"Mr. Bluebird's on my shoulder. It's the truth, it's—Jerry? Uh, Jerry? You hear me?"
"I hear ya. What d'ya think I am? Fuckin deaf?"
The ghost known as Jerry Funkle was a former janitor at a public school, spoke with a Bronx accent, and resembled the actor Danny DeVito so much, that Pan had made it a running joke in the past.
"How long has it been?" Pan said.
"Not long enough, if you ask me. But if you really wanna know, thirty-two years."
Jerry's skin was ash gray, and thick black veins pulsed around his eyes and ran down his neck.
Pan grimaced, "you don't look too good."
"Ah geez, the rocket scientist over here. What? No DeVito jokes this time? Must be the end times, you coming around and not makin' fun of the way I look. Or maybe tha cat's got your tongue because you know what this is. Yeah, you know, don't you?"
"You're dying."
"Yep. The eternal darkness is closing in on my fat ass and there's not a whole fuck of a lot I can do about it, no matter how many souls I swallow. But I'm tryin'. Jerry Funkle isn't goin' down without a fight. Never has and never will."
"Do you need help harvesting some souls?"
"I never needed a fuckin handout when I was livin. Sure as fuck won't start now."
"Let me give you a soul, to get you through for a while. I just hate seeing you like this. I mean, I know you hate my guts, but I've always kind of tolerated you."
"Nah," Jerry stood, stark naked, his gut hanging so low it covered his shriveled dick. "Things might be lookin' up today. Get outta the way and let the little lady through."
A woman was shuttling her daughter up the stairs, and the young girl walking with her was holding her pregnant belly. That's when Pan saw the sign by the door.
"Planned Parenthood? This is low, Jerry. Even for you."
"You know how it is out there! So many demons roaming the Earth these days, it's hard to find a decent soul. Beggars can't be choosers. As soon as that baby's killed, I'm ridin' high for the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours."
"I got a job for you. It's not a handout. It's an actual job, and you'd be perfect for it."
"We talkin' souls?"
"As many as you want. Just do this thing for me."
"What's the job?"
"Possession."
Jerry smiled, "does she have big knockers?"
"It's not a woman."
Jerry frowned, "it'll cost you."
"As many souls as you want."
"Fine, I'll do it. I haven't possessed someone in a long time. You mind though," Jerry pointed with his thumb over his hairy shoulder. "I'd still like to suck down this little guy's soul."
"I'll be here when you're done."
Jerry entered the Planned Parenthood building and Pan twiddled his thumbs, for a moment.
"Oh—fuck me."
The ground beneath his feet split open, lava spewed out, and black tentacles wrapped around Pan's legs, dragging him all the way inside the hole.
The lights in Geoff's apartment turned off and the candles he had placed around the summoning sigil burned to life.
"Why?" Pan said, through his sharp teeth. Yellow-green eyes glaring at Geoff.
"There's an emergencyyyy."
"Why did you summon me THAT way, you idiot?"
"It's the only one I could remember on the fly. Sue me, okay? I'm stressed to the max over here, so I don't need your shit."
"Geoff?"
"Mmhm?"
"Release me!"
Geoff smeared the chalk lines of the sigil with his foot, releasing Pan from the sigil's hold.
Pan took Geoff around the throat and lifted him into the air.
"Don't you ever use that on me, again. I don't give a fuck what you think the emergency is."
The lights turned on and Pan dropped Geoff.
"What have you done to me?" Ella said.
"You're awake? I mean, you're awake! And I saved you. You're welcome."
"What is this," she held up her hands, pointing at her pale skin. "And my hair and eyes? I swear, if you give me a cute answer, we're gonna have problems."
"Alright," Pan cleared his throat. "Here's the thing—you're a succubus."
"A fucking what?"
"What do you remember about that night at Michael Jerico's home?"
"Just flashes. Why?"
"That's normal. Memories are always fucked at this point in the process. Do you remember a woman named Marie Hatcher? She killed you, but before your soul made it to the spirit world, I captured it and infused it with a little Pan mojo."
Ella looked like she could kill Pan where he stood. Good, he thought.
Pan had been with Ella long enough to know that when that cork finally popped, he could direct it where he wanted it to go. Her anger but most importantly, her hunger would eventually consume her. And when that happens, he would be ready.