The Wicked

SEVEN

"I thought I heard something over here."

Brendon froze at the sound of the approaching voice. Shit. That stupid move had attracted unwanted attention. Now he really needed to get out of here. Brendon looked at the broken exhibit case. He expected to see spots of blood from his hand, but was caught off guard by the complete lack of crimson. There wasn't a single drop of blood.

Footsteps drew closer. Brendon was running out of time. Brendon reached into the case with his uninjured hand and grabbed the Devil's Key.

Brendon pulled his hand back, feeling energy surge up his arm. He gasped as his insides twisted as if something was pushing them aside. He stared at the key, locking eyes with the empty sockets of the skull that decorated it.

Wicked

Took it

Wear it

Accept its gift

A grin curled on Brendon's lips as the key spoke to him. It was so clear now. Instead of whispers, it was just one soft voice with an underlying demand to its tone that Brendon felt compelled to follow. He held his injured hand against the string that dangled from the key. It felt like it wanted to latch onto his skin as he extended it and let it fall.

Wear it

Fulfill it

Take your place

Brendon let the key slide from his hand so that he was holding onto the string. He stared at the dangling artifact, letting the voice root itself deeper into his mind. He began to life it over his head just as footsteps echoed behind him.

"Hey!"

"It's that damned tourist from yesterday!"

Brendon dropped the string, allowing it to fall over his head and catch on his neck. The Devil's Key bounced against his chest, finally fulfilling the invisible weight that had been teasing Brendon.

In that instant, something inside Brendon clicked.

Energy rushed through through Brendon like a whirlwind. His insides turned to fire. He felt like he could flip a tank with the feeling that surged through him from where the key connected with his chest.

"Sir, we're going to need you to take that off." One of the security guards, a new one, was speaking calmly as he approached Brendon.

Brendon snapped his head towards the guard, making the man wince. Energy swirled through him. Power swirled through him. He felt like he could do anything, but the voice of the key only wanted him to do one thing.

Kill

With inhuman speed, Brendon rushed to the man and knocked him to the ground. Before either of the security had a chance to react, Brendon brought his leg up and slammed it down against the fallen security guard's chest. It went straight through him with a sickening mixture of crunching and squishing.

"Christ!" The other guard, the one who had pulled Brendon away from the Devil Key's display case the day before, yelled, jumping back with wide eyes.

Brendon used the security guard's shock to forcefully yank his foot out of the dead man's chest. He shook off some of the red and white chunks that clung to his foot. "I'm afraid Christ can't help you now." Brendon's voice came out deeper than his his normal voice. Darker, like the one encouraging him in his head.

The security guard took a step backwards as Brendon stepped forward. There was a fear in the man's eyes that fueled the fire inside of Brendon. He took another step, obeying the new instinct that told him to tease. "Losers weepers." He growled before lunging.

The security guard barely avoided Brendon's attack, tripping backwards into another display case. It rattled behind him as he attempted to regain his balance. Brendon, however, didn't need any recovery time. He balled his hand into a fist and launched it through the man's chest.

The security guard croaked in surprise. Fear was the dominant emotion on his face as he locked eyes with Brendon and blood began to trickle from the corner of his mouth. Brendon felt himself smile wickedly as the voice of the key howled with laughter that bounced off of his skull.

More

MORE

Pain

Suffering

More!

Brendon twisted his arm inside of the security guard, watching the light drain from his eyes.

Brendon never killed on jobs. He never wanted blood on his hands, just money. He wasn't in it for the loss of life, just the transfer of goods from one party to the other. This job, however, brought something different out of him. The Devil's Key carried a weight that hooked Brendon's very soul with it. It spoke in a way that couldn't be ignored and took control once it had fully latched itself onto the criminal.

When nothing of the security guard's life was left, Brendon brought a foot to the man's midsection and ripped his arm away. The scent of blood and bodily fluids filled the air around Brendon, but all he could do was smile maniacally. It felt so good after waiting for so long. After being forced to sit in a glass as people oggled and fogged the window to the world outside. Fate took its time to bring a creature walking on the gray line of sin that had been marked by a demon.

It took its time, but it finally happened.

Brendon flexed his fingers and cracked his neck. He had the key. Now he needed to leave the museum and the country. He looked towards the exhibit's entrance, the one that mocked him for years.

There was a party not too far away. He could feel the energy of the foolish people having a good time.

In no time at all, their laughter would become screams.