Colton’s eyes shot open, and he sat there gasping for air. His vision was blurry at first, but his eyes adjusted back to the darkness with only a small source of light. He looked around and saw that he was back. Back in his own time. None of that ever happened, unless it already happened. No, it couldn’t be possible. He couldn’t have possible witnessed the Bentley Massacre when it took place centuries in this very room.

He looked forward and saw that girl. She stood right in front of him, wearing an expected look on her face. She wore that same innocent smile, but he knew behind it, it was fake.

“What did you see Colton?” She asked, hopefully.

How did she know he saw something? How did she know?

"I-I don't know." He answered truthfully, not wanting to say what he really think he saw.

"What do you think you see, then?" she rephrased her question.

“I saw everything." He said, his eyes staring at nothing, trying to think if maybe it was some dream. "The Bentley Massacre, the legend is real.”

Then she asked the last thing he expected her to ask.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“That was the thing,” he said, his head resting against the chair. “I did, but then I…” he trailed off and didn’t finish. 

He looked at the girl, narrowing his eyes at her. “Who are you?”

The girl chuckled to herself, amused by his question.

“I’m surprised you figured out by now, Colton Jacobs.”

He shivered at the sound of his name.

“I'm a spirit in the mundane world, but called a demon as how you humans call it,” she said, taking her time to explaining it, maybe even enjoying it. "It's an absurd title you humans came up with, but more of us are used to being called that by now."

"A demon," Colton repeated, not quite believing what he was hearing. But that would mean...

"Yes," she said, reading his mind as easily as to reading a book. "I am the demon that Bentley sold his soul to. The demon in the legend of what you kids call it, the Bentley Massacre, correct?"

"You're the demon," was all he could say. "But what was that just now?"

"What you just experienced is a vision." She told him.

"How did I see this... vision?"

"It's quite complicated," she told him, taking a pause to find a way to explain it to this human. "It's what you can call a portal of some sort. This throne is an important piece in the past and is still here in the future. The right person may use it. Though I unable to know how the portal was made, nor why I'm able to use it much less go near it. Thought it might have been because of my side of the bargain, not being fulfilled." She sighed wistfully. "A regret I did, so many centuries ago."

“But-“

“How I am still like this?" She asked, a smirk forming on her lips. "My secret, eternal beauty. Demons are naturally immortal, but most of us age. Luckily I have found the way to break that. A good deal it is, all you need is someone’s soul. A tough ingredient to get, but easy to someone of my experience.”

Colton thought he hadn't heard right. “Soul?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “A person's soul is a huge part in the bargain. It is one's everything, and is connected to other souls. Once I have my hands on a soul, I'll inhale it. But the end of this soul’s time will end. I will need to find a new soul if I want to live centuries more.”

Colton didn’t know what to say, because he knew what she meant.

“You're quite smart for a puny human like you.” She mused. 

“But why me?”

“No one has dared to journey into my manor, such a shame it was." She let out a sigh. "But you have and not just anyone. A reincarnation! Oh, what fate has stored for you.”

He didn’t get what she meant. But he didn’t care.

“But sadly you must sell your soul before I could have it. It is the traditional way of getting one's soul. So what shall it be?”

“What will what be?”

“Don't play a fool with me, Colton. Your wish.” She said in exasperation, “What shall it be? Love? Wealth? Revenge?”

She had to be kidding.

He shook his head. “No, I’m not going to sell my soul to whatever you are.”

She gave a small smile. “I was polite to you, Colton Jacobs. But I see you had refused to my generous offer.”

"Your generous offer is a death wish. Literally. Why will I sell my soul for such meaningless things. Without a soul, I'm nothing."

"True," she admitted, but said nothing more.

“Let me go home." He pleaded. "I’m not going to sell my soul to you. Besides my soul is worthless, I'm a nobody, an outcast. You should get someone else's soul, someone worthy.”

"Sadly, I'm bound to this manor. I've chosen this as my home centuries ago, and I'm not planning to go anywhere else. And don't talk such nonsense, your soul is perfect. One of a kind. It is after all a reincarnation, such rarity!"

His soul perfect? A reincarnation? It's like she enjoys talking riddles to him.

“And here's the thing, Colton. Your soul has been mine ever since you've step into my beautiful manor. I’m not letting you go until your soul is mine.” She said with fake sympathy.

“That’s a load of-“

Colton tried to get up, but he couldn’t. It was as if he was stuck to the chair. He looked down and saw black wires appear around him, tying his to the chair. He shook the chair around, trying to break the wire. But the more he struggled, the tighter the wire got.

“Let me go!” He yelled.

“Give me your soul.” She demanded.

“Never!”

She leaned towards him, their faces only inches away. “This is your last chance Colton. Either you can get something out of this deal or not. Your fate has been decided, you can’t fight it. Fate is a strong thing, once it's written stone, it can never be broken.”

Colton glared at her. “I will never give you my soul.”

The girl smiled. But not one of those innocent ones, it was an evil one. “Very well then.”

She took away the remaining space between them and kissed him. Colton was stunned, he was never kissed by a girl. And honestly, he thought he'd never will. But he knew he wasn’t losing his first kiss to a girl, this girl. This thing. She wasn't kissing him, that much he knew. He tried to shake her away, but she held his face between her hands. His eyes were wide open, and he could see that she was transforming.

Her hair began to melt into her skin, and her dress was morphing into her body. Her opened eyes were getting larger, until there were no more pupils but just two black eyeballs. He stared into them, and saw only pure darkness. Her body was transforming to a milky white, with these symbols of an unknown language. She began to grow larger, and becoming more taller and slender. Their mouths were molding into each other, like goo sticking to another goo and it was disgusting. He screamed, surprising the thing and it forcefully yanked away. Goo flew in all directions, and slowly it returned back to a girl.

“Disgusting,” he said, panting.

It said as it licked its lips. “You’re quite tasty. I might have you for dinner soon.”

Then he realized. "I just kissed a guy.”

“Demon’s have no genders." It explained to him, obviously annoyed. "But I chose to have a female form. Females can use persuasion much better than men can.”

He rephrased that. “I just kissed a thing.”

“Slightly better,” it muttered, licking its lips once more.

Colton’s eyes began to become heavy. That kiss, did something to him. It was like it drained all of his energy from him. He once again tried to struggle off the chair, but found his muscles turning weak. He even found it getting more and more difficult keeping his eyes opened. He just wanted to close his eyes, and just quit. But he fought it, and used his anger at the girl to keep him awake as much as he can.

“Your soul is claimed mine, Colton. Depending on the worth of your soul, you're able to live a bit longer until your body gives out. Bodies without a soul, is just an empty shell, bodies with a claimed soul are living dolls with a time limit. Since your soul is quite... strong, I estimate about a day more until you fall dead.”

He was a dead man walking.

“You evil son of a –“

The thing laughed, having the laughter echo throughout the room. 

“Good night, Castor.”

But before he could say something, darkness overcame him.

Colton woke up on the cold, hard ground. He rolled over to the other side, searching for a blanket when he realized something. He quickly sat up from the ground and looked around. He was blinded for a moment, giving his eyes were adjusted to the darkness. The bright sun blinded him, before he was able to see where he was. He was at the front porch of the Bentley Manor. Realizing this, he quickly stood up and dusted himself off.

He recalled the events that happened last night. Colton tried to understand what happened to him Was it real, or was it some dream? He touched his shoulder and foot and saw they weren’t broken. Maybe it was a dream, none of it was real.

Colton smiled, and was relieved by the fact. None of that happened. It was just some freaky dream. He didn’t know what had happened. Maybe he bailed and camped out on the porch when the guys left. Or maybe not. Either way, here he was, like nothing happened to him. He still had everything, the flashlight, sharpie and disposable camera. He looked up and saw it was morning, the day went on without him. He didn’t know what to do next, so like everyday of his life, he walked to school. Heading to probably the last place he should be.

Colton was shoved, kicked, tripped and made fun of throughout the whole school day. He didn't let that get to him, he never did. But not because he knew he couldn't do anything about it, his mind was just someplace else. The whole day, he replayed the events in the dream. Finding the portrait, injuring himself, finding the girl, witnessing the massacre, and having his soul claimed. But even if it wasn’t real, he thought it was a good dream. Freaky, disturbing, and maybe a conversation starter. But a good dream, nonetheless.

“See I told you, the freak didn’t do it.” 

Colton looked to see Nestor and his group standing in front of him.

“Which one of you owes me?”

“I don’t think he wet his pants.”

“He’s wearing the same clothes as last night.”

“So you didn’t do it, huh Jacobs?” Nestor sneered, disappointed the geek didn’t stay trapped in the manor.

Colton wanted to say something, but didn’t.

Nestor and his goons laughed. “Guy’s a chicken. He sure has guts coming back here.”

“Freak.”

“Loner.”

“Outcast.”

“Dork.”

Each insult they shoved him towards the ground. And when he got up, they just pushed him back down. They all laughed at him, knowing he wouldn’t do anything back. 

Colton was sick of it. Why couldn’t he do anything? Why couldn’t they just go away? No, why didn’t he just die? He wished that he didn’t turn down the thing and made a deal.

It’s never too late.

The same faint whisper tickled his ear. Was it true? Was everything real? But not just that, is it really not too late to finish the deal?

“To the demon that took the soul of Bentley, master of the Bentley Manor, murderer of the Bentley Massacre.”

The guys froze and stared at Colton who was talking to himself. But not just that, he was talking in some other language. An ancient language that was never recorded in the history books. They automatically took a step away from the freak.

“I, Colton Jacobs, will trade my soul to kill my bullies. To kill the ones who looked at me like a freak, treated me as an outcast, and never helped me at all. Do you accept?”

Yes.

Colton saw a gun materialize in front of him. He grinned slyly and picked it up. The cold, unfamiliar object felt familiar in his hands. He slowly got up and stared at the guys. They all took a step back, one of them even whimpers, another wets his pants.

“Where did he get that gun?”

“What is he going to do?”

“We need to get away from the freak.”

But before they could run, Colton raised the gun and shot Nestor at the middle of his forehead. He stood there for a moment and fell backwards. The guys screamed their lungs out and ran away from him. 

The ones who looked at him as a freak.

He shot each kid that was once in Nestor’s gang. One by one they fell down in a splatters of blood. Colton didn't know how he was doing this. He never held a gun in real life, much less shot one except in his violent video games. But like in the vision with him or Bentley with the word, the gun guided him. He could miss the person entirely, and the bullet would shoot straight at the target every time. Everyone was in panic, kids ran everywhere, trying to get away from him. He the freak, the nerd, the weirdo, the monster.

The ones who treated him an outcast.

He shot everyone he saw. Kids either in his grade or not, his age or not, if they moved, they died. He saw a kid running with an open backpack, and shot right through it. Bloody papers were raining down. Colton didn’t know how, but there was no limit. It was like an endless number of bullets, an endless number of ammo. He could kill anyone, everyone, the whole town. Then he saw a teacher and smiled.

And the ones never helped him at all.

No one ever helped him. All the teachers gave a blind eye whenever someone would bully him right in front of their noses. They agreed with the kids and never gave him a second thought. He shot the teacher, who was trying to protect some students from him. But after the teacher was gone, so were the kids. Blood splattered on the walls and all over him. The school was silent except fpr the screams of his victims and the shot of his bullets. The doors were bolted shut, she promised him that. Just like she did centuries ago in that very ballroom.

Soon, no one was alive, but him. No one lived, no one breathed, they were all dead. He had hunted down every single kid in this school. Now it was just hundreds of dead bodies, the floors covered in bright red blood. Pools of blood that weren't, but were on his clothes.

Colton laughter echoed through the walls. He paused and gave a wistful sigh. He knew he couldn’t live anymore, especially after what he had done. His parents would disown him, he’ll be treated more like a freak and a monster. For he murdered the whole school. What would this be called? The Baskerville School Massacre, better yet the Jacobs Massacre. He then turned the gun to himself. And he smiled, his legacy will live on, he will live on. He laughed and then it was cut off.

There was a single gunshot that echoed throughout the school.

She appeared in front of him. She looked around her, marveling at his work.

Yes, a true masterpiece.

She crouched down next to him. She looked down at the dead body, the empty shell that was once called Colton Jacobs. Her fingers brushed some of his hair off of his face, showing his  dead green eyes that stared into nothing. Her hand passed over his eyes, closing them as if he was asleep. She sighed, but was surprised that she actually pitied the boy. He could have grown into a fine man, sadly fate had something else planned for this poor human.

She waved his fingers over his mouth, muttering the ancient language of her ancestors and using it as the spell she learned centuries ago. Then a white cloud of light flew out of it his mouth like smoke coming out of a smoker's mouth. She led the cloud towards her, being gentle and taking her time. It takes patience coaxing a soul of one body and putting it into another. Finally the soul listened and followed her hand as it hovered to her mouth. She inhaled the soul, having it fill through out her body, claiming it as her own. She sighed, the soul was hers. Her body felt much strong, and in the reflection of the pools of blood, much younger. She’ll live for several more centuries, maybe even forever. She chuckled at the thought, wouldn’t that just be easy?

She stood up and danced around the dead bodies. Splashing blood everywhere, but being careful not to get any on her dress that is part of her. She couldn't help but sing the same melody she sang centuries ago, as she played in the blood. The melody was an ancient song, it's meaning no longer known, just unknown words formed into a song. 

She then looked down at his body once more and took out a camera. She waved her fingers over it and muttered something else. A piece of paper slid out of the camera, a developed picture. She took it out a watched as a picture of form onto the paper.

There stood Colton Jacobs, and just behind him was the portrait of Castor Bentley. What the thing was that the two looked exactly alike. It was as if they were twins, but were born centuries apart. A rare reincarnation. A weird thing fate does, it binds everything together.

“Yes,” she said as police sirens were heard in the distance, “How fate binds us all.”

And then she vanished out of thin air, leaving no trace of her presence. And there she stayed, waiting in the Bentley Manor that stood at the outskirts of Baskerville Heights for her next victim to arrive to become her next meal.

But that should be for centuries to come. 

The End