The Child Thief

“STOP IT!” Nick screamed.
The Devil tromped after him, raising the club with its wicked hook
above his head. Nick sprung out of the way. The club hit the stones, getting
knocked loose from the Devil Beast’s grasp and bouncing across the floor
to the middle of the ring. Nick jumped up, limping away, trying to keep
some distance between himself and his tormentor.
The Devil leaped forward, catching Nick by the arm, spun him around,
and backhanded him across the face.
Searing pain and white-hot light sent Nick reeling, fighting to keep his
feet. And still the Devil came.
Nick tasted blood, touched his lip, and was shocked by the amount of
blood on his hand. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Nick screamed, as though he
didn’t know, as though he expected anything other than being brutally
beaten to death.
The Devil just continued to track him around and around, giving no
answers, a predator intent on its prey.
“WHAT?” Nick screamed. “WHAT?” Nick spotted the hooked club
lying in the center of the ring. His eyes shot back and forth between the
hook and the Devil.
The Devil stopped and stared at him.
Nick dove for it, snatching the hook up off the stones. The weight of it
surprised him and he almost dropped it. He held it in both hands and
pointed the wicked hook at the Devil. “C’MON!” Nick cried, blood and
spit flying from his lips. “C’MON YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

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The Devil just stood there.
“C’MON!” Nick screamed, the club shaking as his arms quivered.
The creatures around him began to chant, “Blood, blood, blood,” on and
on until Nick thought he would go mad.
“Enough!” He let out a howl and rushed the Devil, bringing the hook
around in a wide overhand swing, intent on sinking it deep into the Devil’s
skull.
At the last possible second, the Devil caught Nick’s arm at the wrist and
wrung the club away. The weapon bounced off the stones with a loud clank
and the chamber fell silent.
“Good,” the Devil said and pushed his mask back.
Nick found himself looking not at a beast, but a boy.
The boy smiled at Nick. “You did good.” He clasped Nick’s hand in his
own and raised it up. “NEW BLOOD FOR DEVILTREE!” he shouted, then
threw his head back and howled.
The creatures joined in, howling and beating the floor; the entire
chamber rung with their fervor. They slid off their masks and now Nick
could plainly see that beneath the wild hair and body paint, they were just a
bunch of stupid-ass kids.
He caught sight of the blue pixies leaping up and down among the
rafters, mimicking the boys like little blue monkeys, adding their feral
shrieks to the cacophony. The whole chamber rung with hooting, braying,
and cackling. The world seemed a spinning kaleidoscope of insanity, and
Nick knew that he’d gone stark raving mad.

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