The Child Thief

Gotta get out of here now! He pushed on the cage; it didn’t open. He
noticed the front was tied with leather straps. He frantically tugged at the
ties. A low hiss came from Nick’s left. He jerked about in time to see
something skittered by on all fours. Nick gave up on the ties, no longer
wanting out, only hoping the bars would keep him safe from whatever was
out there.
“God, get me out of here,” he whimpered.

---

The fog continued to lift and he could now see all manner of spears and
swords hanging from the walls. He noticed a huge fireplace, easily big
enough for three grown men to stand in. Several cooking pots—kid-size
cooking pots—hung from greasy black chains. Then he saw the bodies. He
could just make out their limp, lifeless forms hanging on the far side of the
chamber. How many were there? Four? Five maybe? They looked to be
children.
Oh good God, Nick’s mind screamed at him. Just what kind of place is
this?
Low howls issued from the shadows all around him. Something
grunted, like a pig, then snorted, then snickered. Giggles broke out. They
sounded like children, strange and wicked. Nick knew he would lose it if
they didn’t stop.
A clump of shadows crept into the light and all the air left Nick’s lungs.
They were human, but barely, their bodies gangly and spidery. Childlike
in their proportions, but a bit off, as though they’d been stretched. Large,
round spots and long streaks of body paint ran along their legs and arms.
Their muscles gleamed in the dim light, lean and wiry. Some wore hides,
matted and mangy, festooned with bones, tusks and twigs, their ankles and
wrists layered in bracelets of leather and twine. Their faces were hidden
beneath devilish masks of hide and hair, feathers and antlers.
They closed in on him, dancing about with quick epileptic movements.
They surrounded the cage and peered in with wild, crazy golden eyes, eyes
just like Peter’s. Nick now understood that Peter had indeed played him.
The pointy-eared boy had tricked him so that these things could…could
what? Nick glanced at the long knives, at their hungry eyes.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Nick shouted, his voice quivering.
They answered by rolling their eyes around, like victims of delirium, by
grinning wide, toothy grins and clacking their teeth together, clacking and
clacking and clacking; the sound was deafening in the silence of the room.
No, no, no, Nick thought. No more, please.
Nick withdrew within himself then, just like in the mist. He had no
desire to watch his own death, but if he had to, he wanted to be in the very
back row with his hands over his eyes.
They untied his cage and dragged him out, strong, cruel fingers
pinching into his flesh. Someone put a necklace made of bone and teeth,
fingers and ears—human fingers and ears—around his neck. They pulled

---

him over to the pillar and began to dance around him in circles, wrapping
him in twine, all the while giggling and flicking their tongues at him, rolling
their eyes and clacking their teeth. He wanted them to go ahead and kill
him, anything to stop that awful clacking.
There came a clang from somewhere far off. The demon spawn, the
monster children, or whatever they were, stopped in their tracks. They fell
silent.
The mist was all but gone now and morning light filtered in from
several angular windows. The extent of the circular chamber gradually
materialized out of the gloom. The walls were a mix of rough-hewn stone
and natural cave formation. Nick could clearly see a red door surrounded by
giant roots, roots as thick as barrels. Nick couldn’t imagine what size tree
could have roots that big. He tried to see the top but it disappeared into the
roof of the chamber.
The demon spawn were all staring at the red door. One of them spoke,
his voice hushed. “The Devil Beast comes.”
“Comes to break bones and chew marrow,” said another.
Several answered in anxious whispers: “We shall all eat soon.”
They spread out, forming a wide circle, and began to smack their closed
fists into their open palms.
Fear sharpened Nick’s senses and he became acutely aware that the air
smelled of stale sweat, boiled meat, wet leaves, and beetles. He studied the
red door. Could there really be something coming to cook and eat him? He
didn’t want to believe it. Yet he found his eyes straying to the knives and
hatchets, the dark stains saturating the dirt, the child-size pots hanging in
the fireplace. He couldn’t get the thought of the hanging bodies out of his
head. I don’t want to die, he thought and realized he was crying.
Bells jangled behind the red door, louder and louder. Then it stopped.
There came the clack of a bolt being thrown and the door swung slowly
inward.
A monster stood in the doorway, a head taller than the other creatures,
draped in hides and wearing a mask of bone and fur. A pair of goat horns
twisted out from either side of its head and a tangle of coarse hair was
captured in a thick braid that ran down the length of its back. And all of it,
skin, mask, fur, horns, was covered in cracking red paint. It carried a short
club with one long jagged hook protruding from its end.
It locked its eyes on Nick, raised the club, and let loose a loud snort.

---

“Oh no!” Nick cried. “No! No! No!” He jerked wildly at his bindings,
tugging and pulling until he freed his arms. He yanked down the twine
around his waist and legs, stumbled to the ground as he tore his feet free.
Nick rolled to his feet, glanced back, saw the Devil Beast coming for him,
and ran. He tried to break out of the ring of creatures, to barrel right through
them, but they grabbed him and shoved him back.
The Devil Beast caught Nick across his face with an open palm. Pain
exploded in Nick’s head and he went sprawling to the stones. He crumpled
into a ball and lay there clutching his head. It’s over, Nick thought. I’m
dead.
The Devil came for him, driving a hard kick into Nick’s upper thigh.
Nick screamed, saw a foot coming for his face, and managed to move. The
kick caught his shoulder and sent him tumbling.