Azathoth looked down as seven-year-old Serena rolled on the blood-soaked bed, clutching her bleeding shoulder.
"I am your creator," Azathoth whispered, stepping closer. "You are my creation. I can do whatever I want."
He gripped the spiked whip tightly. "Astragel is really angry. But this is the problem whenever we argue: we never come to an objective conclusion."
"Please," Serena whimpered, shrinking away from the shadow. "Stop... stop, please."
Suddenly, Azathoth froze. A heavy knock echoed on the wooden door of the boys' quarters.
The door slowly creaked open. Charles, exhausted from his night shift, stepped inside. He looked up, and his jaw dropped.
Sitting in the center of his home was a towering, grotesque demonic statue. Impaled on one horn was his wife's severed head. Hanging from the other was her mutilated body.
Charles's eyes darted downward. Serena was rolled up on the floor, covered in her mother's blood, crying uncontrollably. Beside the bed lay the twisted, broken body of Pastor Callen.
Charles fell to his knees. His legs simply gave out. He covered his mouth with trembling hands, his mind completely shattering under the weight of the horror.
"What... what happened here?" Charles stammered, his voice barely a breath. Tears instantly flooded his eyes. "What h-h-happened here?!"
Azathoth was standing right in the middle of the room, but Charles could not see him. The God of the Void remained invisible to the broken father.
Charles barely managed to stand. He stumbled toward the demonic statue, collapsing at the base of it, staring up at Elizabeth.
"I am sorry," Charles wailed, burying his face in his hands. "I am so sorry! I should have been there! I am sorry I was not around! Please forgive me... what happened?!"
"Daddy!" Serena cried out, scrambling across the floor toward him.
Charles looked at her through a blur of tears. He reached out and scooped her into his arms, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would break his ribs.
"What happened?!" Charles begged her.
Serena pointed a shaking, bloody finger directly at the empty space where Azathoth stood. "Monster. Monster... he is a monster!"
Charles stared at the empty corner of the room. He saw absolutely nothing. "There is nothing there."
"Monster, Daddy! Monster!" Serena cried hysterically. "He is a monster! Look, Daddy, he is a monster!"
Charles froze. He began to hyperventilate. His mind flashed back seven years ago—to the dark alleyway and the demon who had promised them infinite wealth in exchange for the baby.
"But... no one is there," Charles panicked, looking around wildly.
Serena buried her face in his chest, sobbing, "Monster..."
The 911 Call
Azathoth casually walked out of the bloody room, leaving the broken father and daughter behind. He strolled into the main church building and found the Pastor's landline telephone.
Azathoth picked up the receiver and dialed the emergency number.
"Hello, 911, what is your emergency?" the female dispatcher answered.
Azathoth took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was a flawless, terrifying replication of a terrified seven-year-old Serena.
"Dadda... Dadda is beating Mama," Azathoth-Serena cried into the phone, his tone completely frantic. "Blood! Blood! Come, please! Please, please come!"
"Calm down, sweetheart," the dispatcher said immediately, her tone shifting to high alert. "Where are you? Just hide. Hide somewhere safe like the closet or the bathroom. We will be coming soon."
"Mama told me to call 911," Azathoth wept flawlessly into the receiver. "Dadda is hurting Mama! Hurry, please, I am scared! Please, I am scared! Dadda is hurting Mama!"
Azathoth smiled a wicked, toothy grin. He dropped the phone onto the desk, leaving the line open.
Then, Azathoth transformed his vocal cords again. This time, he mimicked the deep, exhausted voice of Charles. He shouted loudly enough for the phone to pick it up in the background.
Stolen story; please report.
"How can you cheat on me with Pastor Callen?!" Azathoth bellowed in Charles's voice. "You cheater! I will fucking murder you!"
On the other end of the line, the dispatcher gasped. "This is a murder in progress. We have located the address. Send the SWAT team! I repeat, this is a severe domestic murder case. The suspect sounds highly violent. Send the SWAT team immediately!"
Azathoth rolled his glowing eyes, entirely bored by the human drama. "I have done enough."
He vanished into thin air.
The Arrest
Charles rocked Serena back and forth on the bloody floor. His body had completely given out. He was crying so hard he couldn't breathe.
"What went wrong?" Charles sobbed to the empty room. "What happened? What is going on?"
Suddenly, the wooden door was kicked off its hinges.
A heavily armed tactical police unit barged into the room, flashlights cutting through the dark. Detectives Frank Costello, Ray Vane, Jack O'Connor, Vic Moretti, Elena Rodriguez, Brenda Vance, and Sarah Gallagher swarmed the small space with weapons drawn.
Detective Brenda lowered her flashlight onto the demonic statue. "What the actual fuck..."
She panned her light to the floor. "He killed the Pastor, too."
"We heard everything from the open line," Elena said, her gun trained on Charles.
Charles looked up, blinded by the lights. "A... a demon killed my wife."
"Seriously?" Ray scoffed in pure disgust. "A demon?"
"Yes!" Charles cried, hugging Serena tighter. "A demon killed them!"
"Hands behind your back, and leave the girl now!" Frank yelled, aiming his firearm directly at Charles's head.
Charles stood up slowly, trembling. Serena immediately hid behind her father's legs, terrified by the screaming men with guns.
"Step away from the girl and put your fucking hands behind your back!" Frank ordered.
"Stop! Stop!" Serena cried.
Detective Jack O'Connor stepped forward, lowering his weapon slightly. "Frank, back off, you are scaring the girl." Jack looked at Charles. "Put your hands behind you."
Charles slowly complied, crossing his wrists behind his back. "How did you get here?"
"Your daughter called us and told us everything," Frank spat, aggressively grabbing Charles and slapping cold steel cuffs onto his wrists. "We know why you did it. Because your wife cheated on you. You brutally murdered her in front of your own daughter."
"It is a lie!" Charles screamed, struggling against the cuffs. "I swear!"
"Shut up! Just shut up!" Detective Jack snapped, stepping between Charles and the little girl. "The phone didn't call itself. We heard your voice. Every 911 call is recorded."
"Daddy, what is going on?!" Serena cried, reaching for him. "Daddy!"
"Step away from the baby," Jack ordered Charles.
"You are not deaf," Vic Moretti added, pushing Charles toward the door. "Move!"
Charles looked back at Serena, tears streaming down his face. "I am sorry. I am so sorry. You don't deserve any of this." He forced a brave, completely broken smile. "Serena, look at me. Stay strong. Daddy is leaving for a while."
"Why?!" Serena began to sob uncontrollably, reaching out for him. "Why?!"
Frank shoved Charles forward, dragging him out of the bloody room and into the back of a waiting squad car. The rest of the team followed, securing the gruesome crime scene.
The House of Light
Detective Jack O'Connor stayed behind. He knelt down in the blood, looking at the bruised, traumatized little girl. He noticed the heavy bruising on her arm and the fresh whip marks on her small shoulder.
"Don't worry," Jack said softly, his voice gentle. "You are safe now."
"Where is Daddy?!" Serena screamed in a sudden fit of rage, hitting Jack's armored vest with her tiny fists. "Give Daddy back! Give Daddy back! Stop it!"
"Daddy is coming back," Jack lied smoothly to calm her down. "He... he went for a vacation."
"Will Daddy come back?" Serena sniffled, rubbing her eyes.
"Of course he will," Jack promised.
Jack stood up and looked around the horrific room. His seasoned detective instincts were screaming at him. He looked back down at the seven-year-old girl.
"Hey," Jack asked carefully. "Who taught you how to call 911?"
Serena looked up at him, completely confused. "What is 911?"
Jack froze. A cold chill ran down his spine.
Something feels off, Jack thought to himself. It makes no sense. The demonic statue... the sheer amount of blood...
Jack knelt back down, taking Serena's small, bloody hands in his. "Sweetheart, did you call 911?"
"What's that?" Serena asked innocently. "I just want my Mama and Dada back. Please bring back my Mama."
Jack let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. This is the problem with dealing with children. They don't know anything.
He knew deep down that something was horribly wrong with this case. The pieces didn't fit. But she was just a traumatized child surrounded by her mother's remains. He couldn't interrogate her now and cause her more psychological damage.
Jack lifted Serena gently into his arms, carrying her out of the nightmare.
"Where are you taking me?" she whispered into his shoulder.
"I am adopting you," Jack said firmly, his protective instincts overriding his detective logic. "You don't have anywhere to go."
"What is adopting?"
"You will find out," Jack promised.
Jack drove her away from the church and brought her to his own warm, safe suburban home. He unlocked the front door and smiled down at her, trying to give her a sense of peace.
He sat Serena down on the living room sofa. "I am going to start the legal paperwork."
Jack turned toward the hallway. "Son! Come here!"
Footsteps echoed from the stairs. A ten-year-old boy with bright, hopeful eyes ran into the room.
"Who is the new girl?" the boy asked, looking at Serena's bloody clothes.
"She will be living here for now," Jack told his son. "I want you to treat her right. She has no place to sleep."
"Of course! Sure, Dad," the boy smiled warmly. He walked over to the traumatized little girl and extended his hand. "Hi. I am Ignis."
Serena didn't look at his hand. She stared blankly at the walls of the house, the shock finally settling deep into her bones.
"Take me to Mummy," Serena whispered with dead, empty eyes. "Take me to my Daddy."
Jack's heart broke. He knelt in front of her. "I am sorry, sweetheart. But that will be impossible. I am so sorry."