The Renfield Syndrome

“Holy fuck!” I screamed and backed away.

 

Zagan’s opalescent eyes hadn’t changed, remaining odd in their luminescence. The color of the pupil shifted like water drifting along the surface of oil, creating a dizzying rainbow collage of orange, yellow and red. Just behind the demon was the desert I’d seen during our last meeting, the swirling sand creating small whirling tornados in the distance. Zagan was clothed in the same unisex attire, the crisp white shirt impeccable, brown slacks hanging loosely across its hips.

 

It bared pearly white teeth and hissed, “You have something that belongs to me.”

 

I immediately touched the solid lump under my turtleneck and was rewarded with a steady thrum of power. So he’d come for the amulet. Why wasn’t I surprised?

 

“Give it back.” Zagan snarled and black smears formed around the demon’s temples, marring the perfection of its skin. “We had a deal.”

 

“No,” I snarled back at the creature. My own outrage surfaced as I remembered exactly what Zagan had done. I wasn’t sure why the amulet had returned to me, but I’d kill myself before I handed it over to it a second time. “You twisted the terms of the contract without my consent, sending me to this sadistic Hell. You can kiss my ass.”

 

“Do not be angry over a deal of your own making. You agreed to the terms.”

 

“No.” I embraced that inner lick of anger as it raced under my sternum, lighting a fire under my skin. “I didn’t.”

 

“It matters not.” Zagan brushed aside my fury with ease. “The debt that was once Gabriel Trevillian’s has now been cast to you. I demand the amulet as payment due.”

 

Chest heaving, I reminded the demon, “You haven’t given me the opportunity to deliver my message. I don’t owe you shit.”

 

“My dear, sweet child.” Zagan crowed, the laughter high pitched and painful. It tossed its head back, sending strands of liquid bronze churning across what appeared to be starched cotton. “Dear, foolish, human.”

 

“What’s so funny?” I demanded, taking another shaky step back.

 

“Gabriel Trevillian is no more,” Zagan informed me between crazed cackles. “He departed this world a long time ago. You cannot deliver a message to a dead man.”

 

A dead man…

 

Stillness came, an odd folding and distorting of time.

 

Everything froze in the instant my heart ceased beating.

 

No. Please no. Then I knew it was true. That’s what’s wrong.

 

The coldest chill routed through my skin and coursed through my veins, numbing the world around me. No wonder I couldn’t feel Disco as I always did. That was why his absence was so incredibly painful and profound. I didn’t have to argue or demand proof. I felt his loss. I’d felt it the moment I crossed into this damnable future but hadn’t been able to decipher what it meant.

 

He’s gone.

 

That was why I couldn’t feel some part of him.

 

That was why my dreams were hindered by nightmares.

 

If Disco had been alive, he’d never allow such a thing, no matter the distance between us. It was a promise he’d made to me not so long ago.

 

I sank to the floor, warm trails of agony streaking down my face.

 

“Don’t fret, pet.” Zagan cooed, and the sound caused me to cringe. “Return the amulet to me, and I will end your suffering. I give you my word.”

 

My tongue was heavy and thick as I swallowed and heard a loud crackle in my head. The noise broke me from the confines of grief. Disco had been taken from me, long before I was ready to let him go, and the cause of our lost time together was right in front of me.

 

Son of a demon bitch.

 

I lifted my eyes, meeting Zagan’s ecstatic expression. I’d choke on the fucking amulet before I returned the cursed relic to it. “No.”

 

J.A. Saare's books