13 Deadly Deals

Echo 1: It Starts With A Deal

Not all monsters lurked in caves. Not all horrors skulked in dungeons, or towers, or nightmarish fantasy lands. Sometimes, they lurked in the deepest, darkest corners of the world...

And sometimes, they lived in a two-story cottage plopped carelessly atop an unkempt hill. Though to be honest, it was not the only reason the pup had hesitated. As the fox yokai brought his paw back up for the umpteenth time to the cast-iron doorknob, he knew it wasn't the only reason for his hesitation. Fear wasn't the only sensation he had to check since first arriving at the weed-infested hilltop.

It was also anticipation. And it was the feeling that finally reconciled the child's resolve to open the oaken door.

The entire day had been a downpour. It was the sticky, humid kind only the middle of summer could bring. A blanket of muggy gray clouds moved alongside a thin curtain of mist that veiled the evening sky, and subsequently over the cottage itself. In its heyday, it must have been something straight from a fairy tale. Now, with blackened stone walls beaten mercilessly by nature; with auburn roof shingles and a toppling chimney corroded by time, the lodging all but embodied a horror novel.

As if to feign the breath of life though, a few hollyhocks defied the weeds that choked the lawn to greet their visitor. It was a facade the winter fox knew better to trust.

The door was heavy. It opened with an ancient groan, spilling murky gray overcast from outside into the otherwise pitch-dark cottage. The fox's eyes took a moment to adjust to the split wooden floorboards, worn walls, and windows webbed with cracks. The pin-drop silence reminded him that he was trespassing. But a warm cocktail of sage, mint, and hollyhock still beckoned him into the home proper. They were much more inviting than the muck and ick outside.

The door suddenly slammed shut behind him. And the loud click told him there was only one way to go now.

The fox yokai bit back the last signs of his shot nerves to navigate a claustrophobia of sheeted furniture pushed too close to each other in the common room. He needed every ounce of bravery he could muster. That was the only way to face the beast that lived there. But as he gazed across the wood-and-brick walls gouged with claw marks; noted the torn and shredded books lining the four walls; and took stock of the brass and clockwork contraptions of some unknown science scattered throughout the abode, one thing became abundantly clear:

The little fox was out of his element and class entirely.

Still, he shook his head. The point of no return was several feet behind him, blocked by a locked door. The child crept forward, ignoring the ancient groan of floorboards beneath his steps only because the thumps in his chest had reached up to his ears.

That was when he noticed the old lantern. It was an ornate device, comprised of dark iron that twisted in upon itself as it sat unlit and ominous amongst an alcove. Something about it bit into his curiosity, drawing him like an insect to some invisible flame. The mixed scent came from it, he noticed. And as if on some unspoken command, the child reached an inky paw towards the glass; towards the ebony wick submerged in an equally dark liquid that reeked suspiciously of blood...

"Do you want me to bite that paw clean off, pet?"

The child jumped. And then swore loudly as the old lantern crashed to the ground. The voice, unerringly female, eked out of the shadows draping the dark room. It penetrated his senses, enough to carelessly pin him back against the bookshelf, luckily without stomping the sea of glass he just created.

The fox pup took a breath, swallowed, then counted backwards in his head until his goal was mentally in sight again.

"A-am I addressing the mistress of the house?" He swore when his voice cracked. Mostly because the claw marks that had torn the far wall to ribbons said there were far worse titles to use. But there was no answer. Only a silence so still and deep that it seeped heavy into his bones. The child counted backwards again. He could do this. He had to.