A cold chilli dog and a warm beer. Just what the doctor ordered for a broken heart—antidote to the poison of a cheating wife. “How’s the dog, Jack?” “Not bad, Vinnie. Not bad at all.” Of course I lied. The dog tasted like it was spoiled and the beer was stale, but it was cheap. I wanted to tell him how lately Nancy has been walking on eggshells. How she would abruptly change the subject when I walked in on her while she was on the phone. I would ask who she was talking to, and she always said that it was one of her girlfriends. Unlike people, caller ID didn’t lie. It always displayed the same name—Sturgess, John—my partner, my friend. I wanted to tell Vinnie these things, but he wasn’t equipped to handle such situation. He just smiled, his fat cheeks swelling up and threatening to burst, and moved on to the next customer. The guy sitting at the end of the bar shrugged him off like a cool breeze. If he’s looking for someone in good spirits, his efforts would prove futile. Vinnie’s Grill and Bar was the type of place where no one knew your name and didn’t give a damn about it. My kind of place. This is where I come when I’m tired of all the fakes, all the people in denial that they have problems just like everyone else, desperately pretending to enjoy their lives. The kind of people who spend thousands on teeth whitening and tanning beds. The ones who wear those damn cell phone headsets so everyone can see how important they think they are. No, Vinnie’s is the kind of place you go when you want to see everyday, honest, hard-working schmoes like yourself. Normally it comforts me to know I’m not the only one who’s burnt out, but not today. I’m the one to be pitied, not them. With Vinnie out of my face, I was able to finish my dog and down my fifth beer. It’s hard enough to gag down that garbage without having to stare at Vinnie’s sweat stained wife beater that was two sizes too small. I’ve watched him cook before, his sweat and God knows what else falling in the food, and I promised myself that I would never eat there again. I never was good at keeping promises. I threw down a few dollars and stumbled toward the door. It had been a long time since I’ve been this tipsy. “Hey, Jack. You good to drive?” “Yeah, Vin. Don’t worry about me.” “Come on with that. You’re my best customer. Of course I’m concerned for your health.” Vinnie already had the fat sausages he called fingers wrapped around the bills I’d left on my plate. I tried to steady myself as I waved him off so he would go away and leave me alone; to my surprise he obliged. A vulture—that’s all Vinnie was. Had he thought I might have had any more money left in me, he would have walked over, and slung his chubby little arm around my neck, leading me back to the bar. But he didn’t. Vinnie the vulture must have his eyes on larger prey. The alley seemed darker than usual. I guess I was in there longer than I had thought. I checked my watch. A quarter till eight. Still early. Maybe the short winter days were taking effect. Either way, it made me uncomfortable. You never knew when some vengeful scumbag might be lurking in the shadows, waiting for the detective who locked up his kin to drop his guard. The media would have a field day with the drunk detective who was knocked off one day short of his thirtieth anniversary with the force. Keep waiting. Even when I’m drunk, I never let my guard down. I’ve made plenty of enemies over the years—I’ve learned to trust my instincts, and they were telling me something wasn’t right. I kept my hand on my revolver, thumb on the hammer, as I inserted the key into the car door. I swung the door open, activating the dome light. I checked the back seats—nothing. I let my revolver settle back in the holster. I exhaled and sat down in my car. Too much excitement for an old man. I slammed the door and the dome light went off. The smothering hands of darkness strangled me. Something still didn’t feel quite right. “How’s it going, Jack?” My hair stood up. That voice! “Don’t give me the cold shoulder, Jack.” “Who are you?” “I have many names. I am many. You may call me Legion.” What kind of name was that? I glanced in the rearview mirror. I was shocked by what I saw: a man—no, not a man, but something in the shape of a man formed before my eyes. Formed out of nothing. . . . A black shadow twisted and turned, slowly solidifying. First its body, then its arms and head. Last was the face, something resembling human, but its features were greatly exaggerated. “What. . .what are you?” I managed. My mouth was sticky. “I am called many things. You will be most familiar with title of demon, I believe.” His eyes flickered like the flame of a candle when he spoke. “Give me a break, buddy. I stopped believing in those fairy tales when I was just a boy. I believe you’re nothing more than spoiled meat and too much beer.” “Belief or non-belief does not change reality.” Oh, what a hideous voice. It was like a thousand nails being dragged down a chalkboard, yet it had an almost operatic quality. “Sure. Well, I have to get home, demon, so if you don’t mind, get out of my car.” “I will not leave; I have unfinished business with you. And please, call me Legion.” “Have it your way, Legion. I’m going home.” I inserted my key into the ignition and gave it a turn. The engine turned over but it wouldn’t fire. Maybe a dead battery? I didn’t know. I wish I had paid more attention to Dad when he was working on the old station wagon. “Know much about cars?” “The longer you insist on avoiding me, the angrier I become. You don’t want to see me angry.” Legion’s eyes flickered a little brighter. “Say what you got to say then,” I said, growing impatient. My head was throbbing. “It’s John and Nancy. You know what they’ve been up to.” “Wait just a minute, pal. First off, I don’t know for sure that Nancy is cheating on me. Second, how the hell did you know? I haven’t told anyone.” I felt my face turning red. I tried to calm down, telling myself that it’s just my imagination. None of it was really happening. But I knew he was right. I lied to myself every time I doubted Nancy’s infidelity. I couldn’t shake the image of John with my wife. That bastard. The sound of cracking plastic rescued me from the smothering depths of my thoughts. My knuckles were white, tightly wrapped around the steering wheel. I pulled my revolver, turned around in my seat and—there was nothing there. Jackie Boy, you’ve got to lay off the booze. I gave my key a turn. The old Buick roared to life. I backed out into the street and made my way home. Fresh snow made it slow going, but that was fine by me. I was still buzzed. I wasn’t quite as tipsy by the time I made it home, thank God, otherwise I would have slipped on the icy steps of the porch and probably broken my neck. Nancy usually throws out some sand. Maybe she wanted me to break my neck, so she could live a happy life with her lover. The house was dark. I peered in the front door window but I couldn’t make out any movement. Nancy had already gone to bed. I opened the door slowly so as not to disturb her. I fumbled for the light switch—nothing. It could have been a power outage. They were common this time of year. I didn’t pay any attention to the other houses on the block. No, something didn’t feel right. My old friend instinct kicked in. I kicked off my shoes to quiet my footsteps and pulled my revolver from its holster. I checked each room downstairs but found nothing. I thought I heard movement upstairs. I crept up the stairs, cringing with each step as the wood creaked under my weight. I checked the bathroom and guest room—empty. My bedroom door was shut. Curious. I put my hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it. When I felt the bolt slide out of the strike plate, I kicked it open, hoping to shock whoever was on the other side, giving me a small window to assess the situation before they pulled a gun. There was no one. Maybe my instincts aren’t what they used to be. Then I heard that sickening voice. My hair rose again. “Welcome home, Jack.” “How did you get in here? Where’s Nancy?” Legion didn’t need to answer that. I knew she was with John. Legion smiled as if he had read my mind and was pleased with what I was thinking. The sudden invasion of privacy infuriated me, adding gasoline to an already raging fire. I raised my revolver, hammer locked. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t paint the walls with your brains.” Legion moved close so that the barrel was pressed against his forehead. I was wrong. His eyes were not flickering like a candle. He had no eyes: where his eyes should be were horrific scenes being played out like a twisted movie. Men and women chained to walls were being whipped. Their backs were ripped open, exposing raw nerves and muscles. Others were being stuck with spears over and over. I could hear their horrific screams in my head! I dropped my revolver, covered my eyes and fell to my knees. I couldn’t stomach anymore. “What’s the matter, Jack? Not second-guessing your beliefs, are you?” “What do you want from me?” No matter how tightly I shut my eyes, I could still see those poor people being tortured. I looked up. Legion’s eyes dimmed to a faint flicker. “What did I just see?” “Tortured souls. But let’s be candid, Jack. What they were experiencing, isn’t too different from how you feel, is it? You don’t have to be a victim.” He’s right. I don’t have to take it anymore. I want John and Nancy to feel like I did. They are the ones deserving punishment, not me. Legion smiled. I knew he had been reading my thoughts once again. I didn’t care. I wanted him to know what I was thinking. “But I don’t want to go to prison. Killing a woman is bad enough, but a detective too? They’d give me the chair.” “I can offer you my word that will never happen.” Legion’s eyes flickered to life again. “That is, if you are willing to give me what I desire.” “What do you want?” “I want your soul.” “Are you serious?” I shouted. “There is no god, no heaven or hell, and certainly no such thing as a soul.” “Like I said, I’ll help in return for your soul—in your own words, something that doesn’t exist—I’ll do it for nothing. Is it a deal?” My head was throbbing. Most people are lucky that all they get when they drink too much is a headache. Apparently I have hallucinations with religious undertones. I guess that’s what I get growing up in a strict catholic home. Each room-jarring throb raised my blood pressure what seemed like a dozen points. The thought of John and Nancy together didn’t help. “Sure, it’s a deal.” “Very good, Jack. I’m glad you’re seeing things my way.” “Did you take it? My soul? I’m not feeling anything.” “No, not yet. I trust you’re good for it. I will collect my payment when I see fit,” Legion said. “Please, rest for now.” Legion helped me to the bed. The room was spinning fast—too fast. It sped up even more as soon as my head hit the pillow. I leaned over, grabbed the wastebasket, and puked up Vinnie’s chilli dog. The spinning room slowed. I looked around but didn’t see Legion. Maybe he was expelled into the wastebasket with the rancid meat. I didn’t know or care. All I could think about was how good it was going to feel to be vindicated. I don’t remember when I went to sleep, but at some point I had removed my clothes and gotten under the covers. I noticed Nancy was curled up next to me, still in her clothes, facing the wall. She probably came home late last night, saw me sprawled out on the bed, and helped me out of my clothes. Legion lied to me. Nothing had changed. I went down stairs and made a bowl of cereal. The lights worked now. Then again, maybe I was too drunk to work them the night before. My attention was drawn to a neatly wrapped box on the kitchen counter. I picked up the box and read the gift tab. It was for me. I tore into the wrapping and opened the box. A gold pocket watch slid out. It was obviously very expensive. I turned it over and read the inscription on the back. My body froze. The watch slipped from my fingers and hit the wooden kitchen floor with a loud crack. Nancy and John weren’t having an affair. They were planning a surprise party for my thirtieth anniversary with the force. “Detective Jack Harris, we know you’re in there. Surrender yourself or we will have no choice but to use deadly force,” a man said through a loudspeaker outside. I ran to the window and peaked outside. There I saw several police cars and two S.W.A.T. vans. Officers stood behind their cars, pistols drawn. The swat teams were assembling by their vans and two sharpshooters were perched on the roof of the house across the street. “They act fast, don’t they?” I turned around to find Legion standing in the corner of the kitchen, grinning. “This is your last chance, Harris,” said the man on the loud speaker. “What the hell did you do?” I asked. I ran upstairs to the bedroom as fast as I could. Nancy was laying where I had left her. I jumped on the bed and shook her. “Nancy, wake up!” She didn’t budge. I rolled her over to find her neck slit open. My beautiful Nancy—dead. Her smoky grey eyes stared back at me. There was no life behind them. I saw that Legion was standing behind me, laughing. “But she was innocent!” “Is anyone really innocent?” My mind was running too fast for me to make sense of anything. All I wanted was my Nancy back. How could I have been so naive? “I’ve done my part. Now it’s your turn,” Legion said. “Your soul, Jack. I require it.” I backed away from Legion. He matched my every step. His eyes flickered to life, and I saw all of those horrible things again, only these people weren’t strangers. I saw John being whipped until his flesh ripped open, and Nancy, poor Nancy, being roasted alive over a raging fire. Her screams were unlike anything I have ever heard. I covered my eyes because I couldn’t stand to see anymore. The rug under my feet slipped, and I fell backwards through a window, landing on the cold concrete two stories below. Warm blood seeped out of the back of my head, staining the fresh snow. Legion was standing over me. He crouched. “I...I don’t believe in you! You’re not real, none of this is real!” I said. I was unable to move. “When will you learn, Jack? It’s true, belief doesn’t change reality, but sometimes you can believe something so strongly that it becomes reality, if only for you.” A sly grin stretched the thing’s face. “In reality, Nancy wasn’t an adulterer. Deep down you knew that, but your jealousy was so severe, you so believed in it, that it became a reality—if only in your mind.” “Why did you kill them?” “You tell me, Jack. From your paranoia, I was born. I exist only in your mind.” Legion held up his hands. “Do you see any blood? The blood is on your hands, friend. Not mine.” I raised my hands so I could see. They were brown with dried blood. I did it. I killed my friends—my wife. Legion stood. His grin faded. “There is one more thing, Jack. I believe you owe me a soul.” He has written for many years, primarily non-fiction and poetry, but has only recently given in to the urge to try horror fiction. Victor spent the greater part of his life watching horror movies and reading novels. His greatest influence is H.P. Lovecraft. Without him, he feels he would not be pursuing this craft today.

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