Skag Demons: Limbo

Skag Demons: Limbo

Commissioned by: Zeroth 17

Written by: Danni Lynn

Word Count: 10,000 words

May 22nd, 2024

Skag Demons pt. 1 “Skag Demons,” pt. 1 “Skag Demons: Purgatory,” pt. 3 “Skag Demons: Limbo.”

Synopsis: After the Black Lodge was dismantled back in New York in Skag Demons: Purgatory, Sarah and Viktor are sent on a mission to oversee a trade in the Las Vegas Black Lodge branch. Things turn sideways when Viktor decides to take advantage of the situation and finds himself in over his head after he tries out their newest “product.”

CW: Rated R. On page violence, language, drug usage, character death.

Sarah slouches in her plane seat, her knees knocking the chair in front of her as the plane touches down at the Harry Ried Airport in Las Vegas, Nevada. The plane jostles and skids on the tarmac, jolting her back and increasing the ache in her head. After a long 6-hour flight, she needs to get up and literally spread her wings. She has no problem keeping her human form but the succubus version of herself feels cramped and locked away when she spends so much time in the daytime public as this. Her temples hurt where her horns should be and her tailbone throbs, wishing to unleash her whipping, pointed tail. But of course, she needs to hold it together a little longer. They were going to be in Las Vegas for three weeks anyway, and there are certainly going to be many opportunities to let loose.

Speaking of “they,” her momentary partner in crime, Viktor Graves, is asleep in his seat. His head rocks back and forth as the plane pulls to a stop. Between his snores, the smelly people around them, and the cramped space; it all makes her want to go batshit. Instead, Sarah jabs Viktor with her elbow.

“Wake up, old man. We’re here,” Sarah says.

Viktor moans and rubs his eyes. His eyes and nose are red. Ever since their group got cracked down on, his drug habits had grown more obvious and out in the open. His lack of sleep also added a sharp edge to his already shitty personality.

“We all here?” His voice slurs into the depths of exhaustion. He licks his lips, his mouth dry, probably itching for a drink.

“Why else would I wake you up? For the titillating conversation?”

“I think you missed me, lass,” Viktor says. He rubs his face and looks up to the front of the plane where passengers are beginning to stand and gather their belongings.

Sarah taps her fingernail on her lips and looks out the window. Workers in hi-vise gear hurry back and forth, guiding planes in and out of their ports. Beyond them, the sky is a brownish-yellow and somewhere in the unseen distance, is the famous Las Vegas Strip. Sarah starts to tap her toes, excited for the nightlife and another chance to prove herself to the Black Lodge.

Ever since their branch in Brooklyn was raided, there has been a power struggle in the lodge’s upper levels. That was three-months ago, so she is glad to get out of that miserable scene and work on a new task. She and Viktor were selected to oversee a trade between what remains of the also recently raided Las Vegas branch and the local mafia. This isn’t a usual trade. The Las Vegas branch is looking to sell their newest product, Limbo.

 As she and Viktor start to exit the plane, her heart flutters for the first time in ages, like the thrill of a new hit. The prospect of this trade and a new drug about to hit the street fills her with a hungry eagerness.

***

Viktor is elbows deep in a craps game by 8PM at one of the strip’s swankiest casino parlors. A velvety red carpet stretches beneath a room full of people in glittering clothes, clinking drinks, and rolling dice. Sarah is nearby, wrenching on the handles of a slots machine, her eyes lighting up as the rows upon rows of machines flashing and tumbling to show their selections. She is dressed in a tight fitting black dress with a plunging neckline and a high-slit up her waist. Viktor keeps an eye on her from a distance, watching the way she bends and moves, drawing him in with only the sway of her hips.

Getting stuck with a lass like her might be the best treat he’s every had to deal with on a work trip. Screw working for the blighted police back in Brooklyn or his usual hits for the Lodge. This is a moment of high rolling. He deserves to enjoy their time here a little bit.

One of the dealers at Viktor’s table pushes a set of dice his way. He picks up the dice and rolls them in his fingers. The numbers, cards, and markings on the table swim before his eyes as the jetlag, drinks, and pills he’s riding on start to add up and effect his system. He raises his hand to throw when Sarah appears by his side and drapes her slender fingers across his shoulder.

“Having fun?” she asks.

Viktor lets the dice fly, haphazardly. He curses.

“It’d be more fun if you didn’t distract me like this,” Viktor mutters. He steps back from the table and picks up his sweating glass of whiskey.

“Our show is about to start,” Sarah says. They made plans to go see “O” at the Cirque de Soliel in Bellagio. “Ready to go?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Viktor slurs. He wraps his arm around her thin waist and stumbles away from the table. With their deal not happening until tomorrow, they have plenty of hours to kill in the meantime.

***

Viktor stumbles into his hotel room around 1 AM later that night. His shirt collar is unbuttoned, and his jacket is wrinkled and half off his shoulders. Sarah had gone off on her own night of debauchery after seeing “O.” Viktor, after losing more money than he liked to think about back at the slots, decided to make his way up here to call it a night.

Slumping onto the dingy hotel bed, Viktor flicks on the television. The bright lights and loud sounds of his night out on the strip circle in his head, a sharp contrast to the sour and miserable life he’s lived up to at this point.

“I was just a boy…” he mutters. His mother used to tell him he had to take what he wanted in life. He thinks she used to regard him with a kind of fear. Motherly love and anger, warring like two sides of an unbalanced ying and yang. She didn’t have a say when he came into this world, at the hands of her abuser. They had it tough and maybe as a product of such abuse, he never expected to come upon anything good for himself either.

As a rookie cop, he worked his miserable little block until he got involved with the Black Lodge. He saw a deal happen with the Lodge and was offered a position that he did not have much a choice in accepting. He learned how to keep his head down, kill the right people, and do what he was told to reap the benefits. That’s how he rose through the ranks of the lodge but at the end of the day… Viktor looks around the room. The plastered ceiling and the stained bed cover underneath him…

“It’s horrible how we will die alone in the end… but it’s no worse than living alone…”

***

The next morning, Sarah and Viktor are walking down the strip. The large concrete jungle around them is gray and bland in comparison to the millions of sparkling lights they saw last night. Sarah’s short hair is pinned back and pulled into a small ponytail at the base of her neck. A wide sharp-tooth smile stretches across her face as her normally chill personality bubbles over into excitement. She holds her hands up in the air as if framing a photo to shape her memories from the night before. Viktor, with his head down, trying to hide behind his sunglasses, doesn’t look up at her exclamations. Her energy is too much right now.

“I thought the strip itself would be amazing, but there are so many hotbeds for the supernatural. I started out here but then I met a group of demons who told me about Paradise and Winchester—apparently a bunch of succubi, incubus, demons, and others flock to these places. It was incredible—”

“You met with a bunch of monsters last night, did ya?”

“Not monsters.”

“What’s a monster’s cock taste like? Did you get to try a variety, girl?”

Sarah scowls. “You’re just grumpy I left you alone last night. You were wasted and delirious by 10 PM. Talk about booooring...” She puckers her lips at him and squeezes his arm. Viktor winces and pulls away.

“I don’t care if you are immortal. You still act like a wee lass,” Viktor mutters. He pushes his sunglasses farther up his nose, desperate to keep any of the piercing rays away from his persisting hangover. That was one thing he misses about back home. The damn clouds.

“Sour puss,” Sarah spits. “So, where is the deal going down today? Are we going to be on time?”

Viktor checks his phone. “The deal will happen around lunchtime, in a warehouse a few blocks from the main strip but I don’t want to risk hiring a cab.”

“Great,” Sarah pouts.

“It’s better to daunder over and take our time without raising any suspicion.

“Is Mr. Mines going to meet us there?”

Robert Mines, a remaining member of the busted Las Vegas branch, is leading the deal and bringing the products. Nathan Rooker, their chapter’s new leader, wanted Viktor to oversee the operation to make sure everything goes smoothly. They all had a lot of money riding on this new deal.

Sarah walks ahead, her energy returning.

“I want to go see more performances tonight. Let’s see a magic show, more of Cirque de Soliel, and… a Santana concert!”

“Of course. Sure, if you have my back during this deal, I’ll take you to any show ya want.”

Sarah beams. “It’s a deal, old man.”

***

Blocks away from the main Las Vegas strip, an unassuming warehouse sits between several empty buildings underneath a busy overpass. Viktor leads Sarah toward the spot, grinning all the way. There is something about these settings that are so painfully cliché. It is always a warehouse, under a bridge, or in some dark alleyway where these illegal activities tend to go on. If the cops were not so heavily paid off; he used to be surprised how such things were able to happen without getting accosted. That’s the power of money, of course.

The warehouse looms over them with a large open hangar. A few Cadillacs sit out front, and voices can be heard inside.

“Sounds like the gang’s all here…” Sarah muses.

“You have no idea, lass,” Viktor says.

As they approach the building, a car door opens, and a short man steps out of one of the Cadillacs. He is wearing a dark suit, a long jacket, and a white fedora. He is stout and round in the face with thick, bushy eyebrows. He carries only a single suitcase, and an empty holster sits on his hip.

“Graves?”

“Mines,” Viktor responds.

Sarah, the troublemaker she is, snickers. “Hey, Capone,” she says. She looks at Viktor with a wry smile. “I like this. I feel like I’m in some mobster movie. Where’s the cigars and big bruisers?”

Robert Mines deadpans, “Oh, yeah. Never heard that before.”

Sarah bites her lip but is still amused.

“What’s this girl doing here?” Robert asks. “I thought you were bringing back up?”

“She’s everything we need. She has our back. Right?”

“I gotchu,” Sarah smiles. She flashes her fangs momentarily before her teeth shrink back to normal. Robert swallows and turns away.

“Got it. Let’s not waste any more time.”

Viktor, Sarah, and Robert enter the warehouse. Several men in white wife-beaters or bowling shirts, slink around the room. They are all armed and a single man in the middle with face tattoos seems to be the one in charge.

“Black Lodge, welcome to my town,” face tatts says.

“Thanks for the warm welcome,” Robert says. “I assume your samples went well?”

The Black Lodge had shared some samples of the new drugs with the mobsters to get them hooked before they even bought the new product in the first place. By the look of some of the men nearby, they were already thirsting for another taste. One man’s arm was scratched raw. Another’s eyes were bloodshot. These stupid fucks, getting hooked on their own stash…

“We’re looking forward to dealing with you,” the leader says.

“How was it?”

One man whistles. “Dude, man… I thought my buddy had shot me when I was on it, but I looked down and there was no bullet hole in me chest.”

“He was on the ground screaming!” another adds.

“I felt like I could shape-shift. I think I did!” someone else says.

“Sounds like its working,” Viktor says with a laugh. “The lads had a good time, it seems.”

Sarah crosses her arms and sizes up the men around her. In her tank top and little shorts, she looks like she is ready to go to a rave, rather than staring down a mess of thugs. The men eye her hungrily.

“It doesn’t sound that great to me,” Sarah says. “Did you all ever try Blitz? That was the real shit. It makes you piss rainbows.”

“I don’t want no dumb shit like rainbows,” one of the mobsters says. “Give us the chocolate. We will be able to distribute it for you.”

“Well, if you only thought you could shape-shift, it doesn’t sound too effective if you ask me.”

“What does this little bimbo know?” the leader snaps.

“I’m saying, shape-shift for real and show me what you can really do!” Sarah snaps.

“Whoo! We have a fighter here. Get this little girl outta here,” a member says.

Viktor rolls his eyes and shoots a look at Sarah. She better not mess up their deal. They are here only to observe and make sure everything goes smoothly. If she eggs everyone on into a fight over who has the better experience with drugs, everything will go up in smoke.

Robert walks into the center of the garage with his suitcase in hand. “Let’s get on with it, do you have my money?” he asks.

The leader nods once. “Oh, we have your payment.” He motions two of his men forward. Robert, more than well versed in this kind of thing, stands stoically. Viktor’s hairs stand up at the back of his neck and he holds back a cough. He’s used to working in the dark but it’s always moments like these when he feels all the different ways these trades can go wrong. The feds could randomly appear and attempt to take them all in, Sarah could get way too cocky and start a fight or honestly fuck one of the members if she feels like it, or the mafia stiffs them on fake cash and doesn’t give them what they originally agreed. Even worse, maybe Robert doesn’t really have the drugs in his suitcase and has already secretly sold them off to the highest bidder the night before.

This can go so wrong. It’s amazing anyone in this sodden underbelly attempts any deals at all.

“Give him his payment,” the leader says with a sneer. Viktor stiffens. That is not the behavior of a man parting with his sleazy cash.

“Yes, boss,” one of the men says. Instead of suitcases, they raise their sidearms and the silent thuds of bullets slam into the air. Robert stands still for a moment, his arm outstretched as if to block himself, but his body shivers and little holes burst out of the back of his jacket. Blood blossoms. He falls to the ground.

(Question: Do you want him to die here or maybe he can have a vest and only be injured and not remember what happened?)

“Shit!” Sarah hisses. Her eyes darken and her teeth grow long as her exclamation lengthens into a snarl. The mobsters turn their weapons onto Viktor next. He stares down the barrels as if looking into the eyes of a familiar friend. No fear picks at his brain. He’s been in this situation too many times and he’s too busy listening to the irksome beat of last night’s hangover pounding in his head. Honestly, it’s just another bloody day at work.

Viktor turns to Sarah and snaps his fingers.

“Sic ‘em.”

Sarah’s pointy teeth spread into a gaping smile.

“Already on it.”

Before the mobsters can squeeze their triggers, Sarah launches herself between them and Viktor. In just a few steps, her body stretches out, her limbs lengthening into the large and shapely succubus form. Horns poke through her hair and spiral away from her head. Her short, chopped hair lengthens into a mane and large wings split from her back, lending her speed for the hunt.

The men begin to fire their guns and scream in panic. One near Viktor wets himself and trembles with fear as Sarah lunges for the first man and shreds into him with her extending nails.

“Good girl,” Viktor whispers. He holds his ground as the metallic spray of blood shoots into the air around him. The mobsters’ guns flash and more men who had been hiding in the sidelines start to flood out onto the floor in an attempt to stop Sarah.

Sarah, young by succubus standards, is already one with her new form. Her eyes glow over her bloodstained maw, her black leathery wings beat and knock anyone near her off their feet, her barbed tail thrashes and best of all, she looks better than any bird he’s ever seen. Before she is too blood-covered, Viktor can appreciate the swell of her large breasts in her now leather, clad outfit. Her body is sparsely covered by stripes of studded fabric and deep, dramatic cuts. It really pays to have these psychos on their team—there is nothing sexier.

But her image isn’t always sexy. Sarah lets out a primal shriek and dives at a cluster of cowering mobsters. Bullets ricochet and tear through her arms and body without causing any damage. Her blood splatters, black, on the floor but she doesn’t hesitate. Sarah lunges on one man in the middle of the group and latches onto his face with her teeth. The mobster screams and tries to push her off but her jaw closes with a sickening crunch. The other two lift their weapons and fire them into her side, causing gouts of black blood to hit the ground with a splash. Sarah rears up, shaking herself and swats at them. Beneath her feet, her shadow begins to stir, turning dark and oily as her blood joins the dark form, gaining a life of its own.

“Kill her and get those drugs!” the leader of the mafia shouts. He yells over his shoulder as he runs with two of his hitmen to the back of the garage for a hasty escape. As Sarah’s shadow begins to split and grow tentacle-shaped arms, Viktor turns away and starts to look for where Robert Mines fell before all the chaos erupted.

Across the pools of blood and gathering bodies, Robert Mines is covered in dust and his own spreading blood. Hurrying over in a crouch, Viktor drops to his knees and starts fumbling around Mines’ pockets. He pulls out a little side piece, his wallet and a key to the case in his soon-to-be rigid fingers.

“There we are,” Viktor whispers. Something behind him rips and another mobster’s scream is cut short. Viktor puts the wallet and sidepiece in his pocket and then turns to the suitcase. The suitcase looks new and shiny as if Mines bought it just for this event. Too bad the sorry bloke never got to see the end of this mayhem. Well, it was his bad intelligence that got them into this mess. He should know you can never trust the mob to make a clean deal. They were more and more like those dirty and youthful gangs roaming the streets nowadays. No one had any tact or class. Well, he really didn’t have any himself, but whatever. He knows he is shite so judging others is not a problem at all.

Pushing the key into the lock, Viktor quickly pops open the suitcase. Inside, a row of packaging and bags signals there are indeed drugs inside. Robert hadn’t been trying to trick anyone. Picking up one baggie and opening it, a palmful of black spherical pills roll out into Viktor’s palm. He wobbles his hand, shaking them around with wonder. They look just like little chocolate Maltesers. Darker, but just as appetizing.

Popping these in his pocket, Viktor shuts the suitcase and takes it away from Mines.

“Sorry, laddie, but I’ll take these offa ya.” He starts to get up, but another scream keeps him on his knees.

Sarah is standing with several dead or dying gangsters suspended from her stake-like shadow-tentacles. She is cackling, her voice hitching above the cries in twisted merriment.

“You boys thought you were so tough,” she croons. Her shadow shakes and the bodies fall to the floor. One tentacle splits, as if ripped down the middle, into a large, needle-toothed maw and devours one man before her. Viktor winces. This is even a little too much for him. The bitch is getting more creative every day.

“But what a disappointment you are!” She turns her sights on one remaining mobster who points a swan-off shotgun at her head. 

“You bitch!” he screams. He squeezes his trigger, and the gun goes off like a firework.

BAM!

Sarah smiles for a split second before the bullet impacts her nose and her entire head is blown off her body in a spray of black blood.

“Shite!” Viktor yelps. He ducks and covers his head with the suitcase. He doesn’t want to deal with these pricks; he pulls his gun and goes to fire but a ghostly cackle fills the room.

“Did you think you could kill me?” Sarah’s disembodied voice asks. The man wilts as her body remains upright in all its visceral glory.

“What the fuck?!” he shrieks.

Sarah’s laughter begins to bounce off every wall in the warehouse, in cacophonous and overlapping echoes. Her shadows and tentacle arms go back to her body and her neck starts to crinkle and expand. Her gaping wound begins to heal and stretch, reaching up and ballooning into the shape of a head. Her horns spiral out, her hair grows back, and her eyes open once more in the middle of her fully regenerated face.

“Your efforts are just as tiny and pathetic as your little dick,” Sarah hisses. Her tongue lashes out, forked, and she swipes at the man with a vicious slash.

“No—no!” the gangster falls back with a cry as red blossoms across his chest.

“You thought you were so tough. Do you think you are a big, strong man?” He starts to shake his head, beads of sweat pouring from his brow.

“N-no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“You’re going to have to do more than that,” Sarah teases. She stomps a sharp heel on his shin, and he jerks with a piercing shriek.

“Stop! Please!”

Sarah’s tail lengthens and whips through the air, slicing right in front of his nose. The gangster swallows his pleas and looks up at her, nearly falling apart in a quivering, bone-melting fear.

“Pathetic,” Sarah says. Her tail stabs his exposed throat. The man lets out one last gargle before falling limp, his eyes fixed on her form.

Viktor lets his gun fall to his side. Thank goodness he didn’t have to get into that mess. He fishes a pill out his jacket and rolls it across his fingers.

Tires screech from the back of the warehouse and headlights light up the room.

“The boss,” Sarah spits. The car revs up and appears in the back, attempting to tear right through the front with Sarah and Viktor caught in between.

“Get them!” Viktor snaps. He leaps up and starts back pedaling out of harm’s way. Sarah nods. Her bloodstained body shimmers. Her breast heaves once and then is suddenly ripped apart as she bursts into dozens of ravenous bats. The creatures rise into the air like a cloud and rush the car. The little bodies move in sync, howling like a hound on a scent as the chorus of their individual screams rise up from her amalgamation and descends upon the now fleeing gangsters.

“Holy shite,” Viktor mutters.

The bats break through the rolled-up windows and shatter the windshield. Screams ignite as the car speeds forward as the mobsters stomp on the gas in their panic. The bats screech and cluster, descending upon the men like a pack of ravenous piranhas. The car swerves, flips, and then crashes into an interior wall.

Like a swarm of hornets broken from their hive, the bats surge out and gather as a singular flock. The little bodies beat their wings and merge together until Sarah reappears as if she had always been standing there. Her body is clean and injury-free.

Viktor bumps into a wall and slumps to the ground. The mobsters’ car sits upside down, with its tires slowly rolling without any direction. There are only skeletons left, piled on the car’s interior roof. The boss and two-hitmen, no indistinguishable.

Sarah looks over to Viktor with a smile. She is back to her normal self, but he thinks for a moment that her teeth still look a little sharp as she flashes them at him.

“Well, how was that?” she asks. “Is the job all done, boss?”

Viktor nods, absentmindedly. He clutches the leather of the case in his arms and the one pill in his hand presses against his sweaty palm. It’s the one thing he can focus on in all this chaos.

“Very g-good,” Viktor manages to say. He pops the pill in his mouth. He’s going to want to forget about all this psycho shit very soon. Hot succubus or not, that was terrifying.

“It felt good. Are we ready to go back to the strip?” Sarah stretches as if she just went came back from a light jog. What does she and the other demons get up to when they go out partying, as she did last night? He doesn’t want to even try to fathom that insanity…

“Viktor?” Sarah asks.

Viktor focuses on his shoes, wiggling his toes. Did he remember to bring enough socks for this trip? Or were his shoes too tight? A splash of blood tinges the black leather.

“Are we leaving? Cops might come soon.”

A bitter dark chocolate spreads across Viktor’s tongue as the pill slides down his throat. He chews even though nothing is there, imagining the smooth comfort of a Cadbury chocolate. The aromatic warmth fills his cheeks and tickles his nose.

“Ah, this is nice,” he mutters.

“Viktor? Are you alright?”

A cozy sensation trickles across Viktor’s skin. The heat caresses him as if he is wrapped up into a warm hug. A chuckle tickles his throat and the room around him darkens into a bawdy parlor room full of legs, stilettos, and stomping feet.

Viktor is still on the ground but now a plush, albeit trampled, carpet is under his hands and arse. He pats the ground and moans.

“How’d I get down here,” Viktor mutters. He rubs his hands in his slicked back hair and shakes his head. “Must’ve had too much to drink…”

He squints, something tickles his nose as if he is about to sneeze and a bitter taste coats his tongue. The room around him is a nightclub of sorts. The walls are bright red like a live inferno. Large flashing signs fill the room advertising, “Girls! Girls!” The entrance door to his right is lined with teeth as a giant gaping maw opens to the outside, complete with devil horns and wild eyes.

Above, the gritty voices of Hell Boulevard chant, “Sorry, not sorry—” over the speakers.

Where in the seven hells is he? He and Sarah were… in Vegas. Of course! They must have finished their job and went back to the strip to enjoy more of the sights but why did he not remember getting here?

Viktor tries to peer through the legs around him and dodges a few careless steps. Shadows cast across his legs and the devilish doorway starts to sway, as if the decorations have come to life and he might find himself cast into its mouth in any second.

Suddenly, someone reaches down and grasps Viktor by the elbow. It is a smoking man in a ragged suit.

“Up and at’em.” The man tugs Viktor to his feet but a rush wooshes through his ears. The entire room tilts for a moment, the red walls flicker into visions of gray concrete. The dangling chandeliers brighten and dim.

“Watch your step, bud,” the man says. “Don’t want you falling and hurting yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Viktor answers numbly. He goes to wave, but his hand doesn’t move exactly the way he wants it to, as if he is in slow-motion, compared to the whirling people around him. He needs to find Sarah and get out of here. Maybe regroup and see just how bad his latest binge was.

“Not sorry I’m not aligned. Not sorry for the demons in my mind—” 

The devil-door’s eyes seem to linger on him and the voices around Viktor start to take on an echoey tone. Viktor steps forward, determined to make it to the door when he steps straight through a woman in a long dress.

“Huh?” Viktor sidesteps as if to avoid her, but he steps right into another man in a bowler hat, his shoulder passing right into his.

“Hey, watch it!” the man snaps. He moves away. Viktor stares back at him, the scene in front of him just not making sense. He turns to hurry toward the door, but the room begins to stretch out, moving farther away. More people appear and pass through him, the surrounding cackles and jeers of an energetic crowd grows louder and louder. Above the door, a sign flashes on to read—

***

Viktor bolts upright, kicking and tangling the hotel bedsheets. He pummels the comforter, and a sock flies off his right foot as he breaks free.

“Whoa, whoa!” Hands clasp his heaving chest, and someone pinches him, sparking a sharp pain in his cheek. “What’s wrong?!”

Viktor falls still, his arms like lead and his legs trapped in the now tangled blankets around him. Sarah is next to him, only wearing a thin tank-top and a pair of matching panties. Her succubus form is hidden, and her eyeliner-smudged eyes are staring up at him.

“Where, where am I?” Viktor asks. He’s wearing just his night shirt and briefs. His gun is on the bedside table and both his and Sarah’s clothes are streaked across the floor, trailing from the doorway to the bed.

“What do you mean ‘Where am I?’” Sarah settles back into bed and curls up under the blankets. “I don’t remember you getting blazed enough for you to forget last night.”

“What happened ? We were just at the deal…”

Sarah frowns and gets up. She starts shuffling through Viktor’s clothes and when she goes to shake out his shirt, a few drops of the new drug, Limbo, drop to the ground.

“Ah-ha,” she picks one up and rolls it between her fingers, “I figured you would try one eventually but when, last night? Why didn’t you share?”

“I think I took one when you were still showing those lads a good time…” Viktor says. He remembers being in the warehouse but then suddenly… “Did we go to a nightclub last night? Something called…” He remembers a sign. Something about girls and another by the door… “Dante’s Inferno Room?”

“No. We went out on the strip and then came back to the hotel. You don’t remember anything?”

Viktor shakes his head, trying to piece it all together. He’s had his share of bad trips on skag and Blitz but maybe this was just a simple blackout and nothing more… but it had all felt so real…

“I was in a nightclub last night and it was full of people. There were flashing signs for dancers and a doorway going into a devil’s open mouth.”

Sarah pops the pill into her mouth and swallows it. Viktor leaps up and reaches for her.

“Hey! Don’t do that!”

She swats him away and makes her way toward the bathroom, picking up her clothes as she goes. “You can’t have it all to yourself. Have you watched the movie, Beetlejuice, lately? It sounds like the nightclub Keaton dances in front of in that makeshift little town.”

“That sounds stupid,” Viktor argues. “But there were ghosts in the room. I kept passing through them except, they could see and hear me too. It’s almost like they were alive, but then they were not…”

Sarah pulls on a pair of fishnet leggings and goes into the bathroom to fix her hair.

“Yep, Beetlejuice.”

Viktor groans. What he saw last night was real. There were actual people around him, and he had really been there, right? He gets up and pulls on his pants, shaking out his legs and trying to keep his balance. Unlike Blitz, he didn’t feel wrecked, but he expected the aftereffects to start bothering him soon. He joins Sarah in the bathroom and picks up his toothbrush, wielding it like a baton.

“If you won’t believe me, then you are not ready to try the pill yourself. What’s it doing to you now?”

Sarah twists her hair back with some pins along the crown of her skull. She shrugs. “Nothing’s happening. I just want some fried food.”

“Of course. Do drugs effect birds like you?”

“I like to find better things,” Sarah croons. “And since you mentioned it, I’ve been to Hell before. Pretty alright place.”

Viktor rolls his eyes. Nothing this lass can say surprises him much anymore.

“And when the bloody hell was that?”

“I was hopped up on Blitz and escaped the facility I was trapped in.”

“Of course.” Viktor shoves his toothbrush in his mouth and starts scrubbing. Sarah puckers her lips in the mirror and kisses Viktor on the cheek.

“I’ve been there and done that, so now I live in utter decadence. Why live life another way when I know I’ll never age or die?”

“Yeah, yeah crazy lassie,” Viktor mumbles. He shuffles over to the toilet when his cellphone starts to ring in the other room. Hurrying over to pick it up, he sees the name, “Pussy Lad” scroll across the screen.

He picks it up.

“Fuck off, Mike, did’nae tell you I’m on vacation?” Viktor teases.

“Hello to you too, asshole,” Mike responds. His voice sounds rough over the phone, as if he had run around all day. What time is it over in cloudy Brooklyn, anyway?

“Hi Mike!” Sarah shouts. She’s busy wriggling into a tube top as she finishes getting dressed.

“The lassie says ‘hi,’ too. So, what can I do for ya?”

“Tell her I miss her,” Mike answers. Viktor grunts. “We’ve gotten a report from the Las Vegas Branch—”

“I thought those suckers were burned down to the ground?”

“They are operating out of hiding, like we were. Jeez, pay attention,” Mike snaps.

“You try staying on topic. I’ve got a bit of work to do today.”

“The only work you have is to make sure you get your ass back here in one piece. The mafia is claiming the lodge backed out of the deal and took their money while the lodge claims their Limbo pills have gone missing and there was an ambush at the hand off. What the hell happened?!”

Viktor moves the phone to his other ear and starts to get dressed as Mike speaks. Instinctually, he kicks the suitcase under the bed and eyes the shuttered hotel window.

“Ack, it was hell, mate. We barely made it out of there alive thanks to your sweet little succubus. It was a trap from the very beginning. The mafia jumped us, took the pills, kept their money, and killed poor Mines.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I was! What do you want us to do next, lad?”

Mike is silent for a moment. A breathy moan comes across the line. “Ugh. I want you two to lay low until your flight out. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

The line goes dead. Viktor stares at the blank screen with wide eyes.

“Shit, shit, shit—fuck!” He tosses the phone onto the bed and slaps his head. Why did he have to be so reckless?! It is one thing to try one of the pills. He could have claimed they saved them, but some had been lost during the fight. Instead, he had to be selfish and take the entire suitcase of Limbo. That entire case is worth more dough than his entire sorry life!

***

Two weeks in Las Vegas pass by at an erratic pace. Viktor’s initial concerns about being found out as the one who stole the drugs warped into a twisted sense of paranoia. For a few days, he was convinced Mike had called to check in because he knew he had the pills. For the days after that, he expected every cop they saw to be keeping an eye on them. Would the Black Lodge turn their back on him? Would Sarah turn him in?

Sarah proved to be trustworthy as every worry plagued him. They tried to stay busy and pretended everything was okay. In the meantime, while he had the Limbo on hand, Viktor couldn’t help but indulge in a few more trips. They were already here and its not like he could simply throw them away. Sarah’s reaction of strangely craving only deep-fried foods continued and Viktor kept blacking out and seeing a strange hellish landscape. As the week went by, his delusions grew. The strip began to grow more crowded as more and more bodies pressed in to fill up the sidewalk. He would be watching a show with Sarah and then someone would get up and stand right in front of him, seemingly deaf to his protestations.

Even on his way back to the hotel tonight. Maybe he can get some shut eye, unless Sarah comes back from her shenanigans. She offered to take him to meet her crew of demons and succubi, but that idea did not sound like a great one. He didn’t like the idea of too many monsters in one room. One crazy horn-headed girl is enough.

 In the hotel lobby, Viktor passes through several people as if they are not even there. Viktor claws at the back of his neck, scraping away the nervous sweat gathering underneath his collar.

“You don’t see them, they are not there,” he chants. Maybe his last trip is going on for too long. “You are all alone, you sorry ass. No one is haunting you and no one is following you…” he shoulders through another group, his shin passing through someone’s knee and a shiver crawls up his back.

Turning the corner to their hotel’s elevator, the door dings open for him, and it is full of grayish people. Viktor closes his eyes and steps in, trying to squeeze in. The doors close and the elevator trundles up to his floor and opens to a crowded hallway. There are gray men in suits, women in long dresses, and some wearing hooded jackets. A child runs by and someone adjusting their glasses scoots by, passing through the men.

“Bloody hell,” Viktor mumbles. He pushes through, excusing himself and goes to his hotel room. Collapsing in the darkness, Viktor hits the bed as voices from the hallway clamor and grow in volume. The voices cram into his ears, press against his eyes, nose, and mind as if he is stuck in a vice.

Rolling over to the floor, Viktor fishes the Limbo suitcase out from under the bed and hurries back into the corridor. Too many people are here. Maybe someone is after him? Is someone already here? The mobsters? The Black Lodge? Did Mike send anyone after him?

Rushing down the hall, Viktor steps through the people and rushes down to a lobby where an ice machine and a vending machine sits. Some people are sitting nearby, and a yellow janitor’s cart is in the hall. Viktor rubs his eyes and tries to shut out all the sounds. He drops the suitcase on a table and turns to the ice machine, trying to figure out how to use it. He just needs to calm down, he just needs to get something to eat, drink some water… where is Sarah?

Viktor turns his attention to the vending machine when everything goes quiet and the sound of someone chewing is suddenly too close to him. Turning around, an old man is standing nearby with a handful of Maltesers in his hands.

“These are good, do we sell these here?” he asked.

They weren’t Maltesers.

They were the Limbo pills.

“Shit!” Viktor snaps.

The suitcase is open on the table and must have not been locked when he slammed it down. The old man swallows and smiles. He offers some to Viktor.

“Thanks for sharing, not a lot of people notice me here,” he says. His old, wrinkled skin gathers into a smile under his white walrus-mustache.

Viktor snaps the suitcase closed and swipes the remaining pills to bury into his pockets.

“No!”

He tears back down the hallway and into his hotel room. Locking the door behind him, he presses his back to it, breathing heavily. What should he do? It’s all going wrong!

Kicking the suitcase back under the bed, he hurries to the window outside when a man appears in front of him with the same grayish features as the others who had been in the hallway.

“—and then I thought I had won the hand but, the dealer nearly chased me away from the table,” the man says.

Viktor stumbles back with a shriek. “What?!” Another person appears in a tight dress. She has her hair bundled up into an updo.

“So stupid. You should have stayed, I’m sure this man—as sickly as he looks—wouldn’t have backed down like you. Coward,” she says.

“You’re right, he doesn’t look good,” the man says.

“I look sick? You’re gray!” Viktor snaps.

The two turn to look at him in surprise.

“He can hear us?”

“You do look terrible.”

“Get out of my room!” Viktor goes to open the door when a siren erupts outside. Rushing to the window, he stumbles and grasps the sill and throws open the curtains. An ambulance and a firetruck pull up outside and EMTs rush into the building. Across the street, three men in suits get out of a black BMW and shuffle their beltlines as if hiding a concealed carry.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Closing the blinds, Viktor hurries over to the door and pokes his head out into the hallway. Down the hall, there are people—alive? dead?—gathered by the ice machine where a man is on the ground. The janitor.

Stumbling back into the room and through the two ghosts who came over to peek into the hall. Viktor drops to his knees. He grabs the briefcase and dashes into the hall. He needs to make sure this isn’t traced back to him. How did he know the janitor was going to take some of the pills? He didn’t even realize the case opened!

Next door, a guest in a bathrobe, comes out of his room and gasps. He takes a few tentative steps toward the commotion then hurries to see what has happened. Viktor doesn’t hesitate. He catches his door before it closes and steps inside. He stashes the briefcase under their bed before fleeing back to his room.

Locking the door behind him, he falls to his knees and pulls at his hair. Footsteps rush up into the hallway as the EMTs arrive and begin to clear out the hall. The elevator outside dings and creaks as it opens and closes, dispelling humans, ghosts, and probably succubi alike. Viktor crawls over to the side of his bed and collapses on the floor, writhing as all the sounds start to close in once again.

Outside, another rush of footsteps exits the elevator, and someone begins banging on doors. Someone’s door is broken open and there is a scream. Another door crashes open and then a third… Viktor starts to crawl toward the bathroom, ready to make his last stand when the door next door, closer to the elevator, slams open.

There are shouts. Someone screams. Shots are fired.

The entire hotel dissolves into chaos as the hitmen undoubtedly find the hidden stash and make their hurried exit. Viktor writhes and kicks as shadows of different apparitions surround him, clouding his vision. The building sound around him lilts into a single, distinct whine, and he blacks out.

***

A few days later, Sarah and Viktor are relaxing in the hotel room with the door double-locked, and with the desk that came in their room pulled in front to barricade the door from opening unexpectedly.

Sarah’s horns are out as she sits near the window, peering outside. Viktor, sitting on the floor, is next to the bed, absentmindedly watching television.

“You’ve seemed to finally calm down,” Sarah says.

“It took a few days to get out of my system,” Viktor answers. Limbo really put him in a tight spot. After taking the pills for a few days, the trips had started to blur with his reality and left everything with a nasty tinge of, “did that really happen?”

The mobsters had been staking out the hotel when the emergency services were called. He thinks they believe someone else had stolen the drugs and they all should be safe. But after the shooting happened, the cops came around to ask questions and to see if they had witnessed anything odd. Sarah was still out partying when that happened and luckily his own police badge was enough to wave them away and claim he’d contact them if he saw anything else.

“I don’t think that batch is our best one. It’s nothing like Blitz,” Sarah says.

“I don’t think we wanted anything worse than Blitz… these trips didn’t even make me feel good.”

“They why did you keep taking some?”

Viktor gets up and heads over to the bathroom. He grunts and rolls his shoulders. “That’s like asking a lil’ kid why he eats candy until his stomach is sick.”

“It does seem to have some random effects, like Blitz,” Sarah says.

“Random, schmandom. I don’ think it’s that—Ah!” Viktor walks straight into another apparition standing in the bathroom. It’s his deceased neighbor from the next room over, still in his bathrobe and towel.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asks. The windows’ drapes shuffle as if she is getting up to come check on him.

“Ah, nothing! Just give me a moment!” Viktor slams the door shut and whips around at the intruder.

“What are you doing here?!” he hisses. The man looks at him quizzically. The top of his robe is loose, and a piece of his chest is missing, where he was shot.

 “I was in my room, but figured I could try walking through that wall,” he points to the wall between their rooms. “I didn’t think that would really work…”

Viktor turns on the sink and splashes water onto his face. This isn’t real. A ghost of someone he got killed, isn’t really here!

After wiping his face with a towel, Viktor tries to take a steadying breath. He thought he wasn’t going to have anymore affects from Limbo. He really took it too far this time.

“Well, if you’re experimentation is all done, you can go back now.”

“I will… once I remember how.”

Viktor sighs.

“Why can I talk to you? Do you remember how you got here or what happened?”

“We’re just talking and I’m not sure yet… I think I might need to let the hotel know I’ve overstayed past my checkout. It doesn’t look like anyone has come to clean my room yet…”

“How pathetic. Viktor, are you so lonely you are making friends with ghosts now?” A deep voice enters the conversation. Viktor’s blood runs cold. A large man is standing in the tub, his shins half in view as they go straight through the tub’s side.

“Brandon Malker,” Viktor says. His old boss, dressed in the same suit he wore the night Viktor shot him dead under the overpass back in Brooklyn. “You sorry fuck, how’ve you been?”

“Better than you, it seems. You’ve always been good at putting yourself in worse situations,” Brandon says.

“He hasn’t kicked the drug addiction either.” Robert Mines appears, looking a little dusty. “I wasn’t too happy you were the one sent my way. I thought you’d learn how not to get hooked on your own stuff.”

“You’ve really bungled everything this time.”

“Shut up!” Viktor snaps.

“And now you are talking to yourself,” a girl says. Viktor slowly turns around.

Senator Harris’ daughter stands behind him. While gray and dull in color, her eyes are steely, and her mouth is bent into a tight-lipped sneer. Her thick brown hair is down over her shoulders and her feature are gaunt, not in an underfed or sickly way, but in the weight of stress that traumatic horrors and destruction can wreck on the human mind and body.

“I-I didn’t kill you…” Viktor whispers. Everyone in this room, he’s had a hand in their death. It is the worse chorus to bear down on your soul but to hear this judgment when he is still alive? Is this all in his head?

“You did worse,” she hisses. “The injuries and memories were not worth living with. My own family fell apart because of what you did to us. It was a job for you.”

Question: I wanted one of the ghosts to be unexpected here. I can change this to someone else, if you don’t want her dead!

“You offed yourself?” Viktor asks.

“Don’t look too happy about it,” she spits.

“Holy hell,” the neighbor whispers. “What’s going on?”

“It looks like this shitbag can see and hear us. We are all here for a reason now,” Brandon says.

“It seems the new drug, Limbo, has some unanticipated effects,” Robert says. “Congrats Viktor, you can now see the dead. How fried is your brain?”

“I don’t think so,” Viktor says. “What the hell is going on?! I just need to get back from Brooklyn and get away from the mobster lads here.”

“They aren’t going to let you go in peace,” Robert says.

“Then what do I do?”

“Well, I don’t want to be left alone in the void out here. No one else seems to hear or see us. I’m going back to Brookyln with you,” Brandon says. “Never liked Las Vegas.”

“I’ll come with you too. I want to finish off those mobsters,” Robert agrees.

“Oh God, this is not good,” Viktor says. “You all need to leave me alone…”

The senator’s daughter looks around at the neighbor. “What about you?” she asks.

“I guess I’ll stick around. I’m not sure why I’m here. You?”

She crosses her arms. “I’ll go. But I’m only here to watch you suffer.”

***

Finally on the plane back home, Viktor has barricaded himself in the inflight bathroom. Sarah is back in their seats, sound asleep, but he is unable to shut his eyes and pass the long hours with the four ghostly sets of eyes watching his every move. He called a group meeting and now in a private space, he turns on his audience.

“I don’t think I’m gonna get a lot of shut eye thanks to you lads,” he looks at the senator’s daughter, “and lassie. So, let’s figure out on how to pass the time.”

“Go on and sleep, we don’t want to hear you yapping,” Brandon says.

“Nah, that’s not gonna happen,” Viktor says with a sigh. The voices and all the other ghosts have been gone but these four have been sticking around since they appeared to him the other day. He doesn’t know how long they will be here; he mines-well take advantage of it and burn some time.

“What do you want to talk about? I can’t imagine it’ll be thought-provoking,” the senator’s daughter says.

“What’s it like being a ghost?” Viktor asks. Why not? Will he ever have this opportunity to ask someone this again?

“What’s it like making someone a ghost?” Brandan says.

“I think you know exactly what it’s like,” Viktor responds. “I’m not going to feel bad about killing you, you schmuck.”

“You killed him?” the neighbor asks. His mouth drops into a frown. “You’ve killed people before?”

“Aye,” Viktor answers. “I kind of killed you, mate. Sorry.”

“Oh,” he responds. He deflates a little and looks like a kicked puppy. Viktor grimaces.

“Anyways, tell me about your ghost lives. I have the succubus who tells me too much about her demonic passions, so I’m a little more open to this idea than you might think.”

“Don’t do drugs, kids,” the senator’s daughter says with an eye roll.

“Boring bitch,” Brandon snaps.

Robert looks around. “Um, I haven’t been like this for a while, but everything is quieter than I thought it would be. I spent a few days walking around alone. No one could see me or hear me. It was…”

“Lonely.”

“I feel invisible. Intangible…”

Viktor looks around at each person. They all share the same self-reflective expressions, as if they are looking back into their memories. Are they aware of time passing in their shadowy states? Are they weighed down by their previous lives as people?

“Have you tried to talk to people?”

“Tried screaming, chasing—”

“I wish I could be a poltergeist,” Brandon chortles.

“But its not too bad when you get used to it, I imagine,” the senator’s daughter says. “Once you get used to the invisible and no one noticing you… I’m not quite happy with it yet but I think I’ll get there one day.”  

Viktor remembers seeing her in the corner of the room when he tricked his way into her father’s home. The strength and fear in her eyes… her defiance…

“What’s your name?” he asks. He can’t remember, not that he ever knew about her in the first place. She was just a part of the show, some entertainment for him while he made his message clear. Maybe everyone here is his own kind of living hell…

“You don’t deserve to know it,” she answers.

The air in front of Viktor shimmers and an elderly lady with a slight stoop appears.

“Viktor Graves?” she asks.

He is not going to get used to this, is he?

“Yes? Who are you?”

“You know my grandson, James Chown. Will you tell him I’m thinking of him? I’m so proud of him, despite all he’s gone through and survived,” she says.

“Oh boy…” Viktor sighs. The woman looks at him kindly as if every ounce of her strength and hope is focused on this one request.

“Yes, I’ll tell him for you.”

***

Landing at the airport couldn’t have come fast enough. These damn ghosts started spilling their stories about their individual horrors in the time they’ve experienced since death. There is only so much bullshit Viktor can take, and he didn’t want to spend over an hour in the bathroom listening to all their sob stories until a flight attendant came knocking and told them (him, of course) that he had to go back to his seat.

But something about their conversations changed something in the ghosts. Viktor is the only person they can talk to who is still alive. Despite him having a hand in all their deaths for one reason or another, this gives them a connection to real life.

As Viktor and Sarah hurry to pick up their bags and go to the pickup zone, the ghosts scout ahead and cover the entire area like a personal security team.

“I’m not letting you get out easy,” the senator’s daughter says. “These mobsters will just shoot you in the head and call it a day.”

“I want you to avenge me, make them pay,” Robert pleadd.

Sarah grabs her suitcase and shoots Viktor a strained smile.

“Let’s just stay calm and take it easy, okay?”

“You just want to get back to your boyfriend, don’t you.”

“He’s always there, I’m not in a rush,” Sarah answers. She wrinkles her nose. “But he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Tell the poor lad that.” Viktor sneers.

Viktor and Sarah hurry toward the doors, trying to look as normal as possible. They rush through the automatic doors and straight to the open doors of a Lodge’s SUV. James stands at the driver’s door and waves to them over the hood. His hair is freshly cut, and a hardened look has settled over his features. His eyes shift up and down the line of cars waiting to pick up passengers.

“Get in,” James orders.

“Hey, laddie! Good to see you again,” Viktor says. He hops in and pulls Sarah with him. Their knees knock together as they scoot onto the back leather seat. James gets into the driver’s seat and a lodge member enforcer is sitting in the passenger seat. Viktor reaches out and clasps James’ shoulder.

“Your grandmother says ‘hi.’ She misses you, laddie,” Viktor says. He squeezes James’ shoulder. James looks at him, bewildered.

A car tears up the arrivals road behind them.

“The mobsters are here,” the senator’s daughter warns. She appears between Sarah and Viktor, her body half in Sarah’s. Sarah looks at her with raised eyebrows.

Viktor reaches an arm out his window and snaps his fingers. She disappears and the other three ghosts streak by, racing to the car. The driver slams on their breaks as the ghosts impact the vehicle and tear into the bodies inside. The car comes to a complete stop and begins to rock and shake as the massacre rages. The mobsters’ screams are impossible to hear over the screeches and honks of the traffic around them. Only Viktor and Sarah can see it.

Soon, the shaking stops and the ghosts dissipate.

Sarah’s mouth is open in a surprised, little “o.” She looks at Viktor with wide eyes. Viktor holds a finger to his lips, and she dissolves into a quite snicker. She bumps his shoulder and looks out the front window, pretending she didn’t see a thing.

“Looks like you two had a good time,” James says. “It’s been hell here.”

“I’m sure, mate. It wasn’t too fun getting shot at either. I’m glad to be back on the east coast, for sure.”

As James puts the car into drive, an elderly form appears by the window. His grandmother watches him with a smile before disappearing into the city smog.

James pulls into traffic and his eyes flicker to the rear-view mirror. “Why did you snap your fingers just now?” he asks. He punches the window button and rolls up the backseat window.

Viktor shrugs and tosses his hands in the air. His chin collapses into his collar as he feigns a sarcastic smile. “Apparently I can control ghosts now?”

James groans. He doesn’t bother to ask what the hell he means. He’s learned some questions are not worth knowing the answer to.

“Oh. This fucking job,” James bemoans.