Viscera And Valor

We took down the rest of the maids faster than I thought possible. Their jugs glowed, spewing streams of foul liquid—black tar, pink ooze, something green that stung my eyes just looking at it. But their attacks were weak, like they couldn’t be bothered to try harder. I swung the Kusanagi, the blade slicing through one maid’s arm like it was nothing, tar spraying across the floor in a hissing arc. Luca went wild with his machete, hacking at another, his face screwed up as the black sludge splattered his jacket. Belle moved like a ghost, her kitchen knife flashing as she buried it in a third maid’s chest, her eyes wide with horror but her hands steady.

We stood there, chests heaving, surrounded by the broken bodies of the maids. Their shattered jugs leaked fluids that burned holes in the hardwood, the air thick with a sour, rotten stench that made my stomach churn.

Belle dropped to her knees beside Stephen Harring, her fingers pressing against his neck. His chest twitched, barely rising, his skin pale and slick like he’d been wrung out. “He’s got a pulse,” she said, her voice tight but calm. “He’s gonna make it.”

“Good,” I said, wiping the sword on my sleeve, smearing blood and tar into a sickly mess. “But we need to call an ambulance. Guy’s lost more fluids than a damn smoothie shop.”

Luca kicked a broken jug aside, snorting. “You saw what came out of him. What kind of body fluids are those colors?”

Belle shot him a look, one eyebrow raised. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Hey,” Luca said, flashing a grin despite the gore, “people say I’ve got a curious mind.”

“Sure they do,” Belle muttered, rolling her eyes as she pulled out her phone. “I’m calling 911. Try not to get philosophical while I do it.”

She tapped the screen, then stopped, her face twisting in confusion as she lowered the phone.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, stepping closer.

“No service,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The room turned to ice. Not just cold—fucking polar. My breath came out in sharp, misty puffs, curling in the dim light. The temperature dropped so fast my teeth ached, and a shiver ripped down my spine like a blade.

“Uh, why’s it freezing all of a sudden?” Luca asked, his voice cracking as he hugged himself.

“Yeah, Wise, you feel that?” Belle’s eyes locked on mine, wide and searching.

I couldn’t answer. My heart was pounding too hard, my bladder screaming for release. I knew this feeling—had lived it every night when that Santa doll slipped out of my room to hunt. The air grew heavy, thick with a malice that pinned me in place, like a knife to my throat.

“It’s here,” I whispered, my voice so low it barely carried.

“What’s here?” Luca said, his head snapping toward me.

“Wise, what’s wrong?” Belle’s voice shook, her eyes scanning my face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“We need to go,” I said, the words sharp and urgent. “Now.”

“Dude, what’s up?” Luca pressed, stepping closer.

“No time, Luca. We need to fucking go. The dolls—they’re here.” My voice cut like the sword in my hand.

Belle’s face went white, her hand tightening around her knife. “H-how do you know?”

“Questions later,” I snapped, grabbing her arm and Luca’s jacket. “Move!”

I yanked them out of the house, our boots pounding the floor as we burst into the snow. The cold bit my face like a thousand needles, but I didn’t care. I stole one glance back, and my blood froze. Three silhouettes stood in the doorway of the house we’d just fled. The moonlight caught the one in the center—Santa, his deadpan grin glowing like a skull’s. Those glassy eyes burned into me, and I couldn’t tell if it was rage, amusement, or something darker. It didn’t matter. I just wanted to stop looking.

We ran until we hit a clearing, maybe a quarter mile out, our breaths ragged in the freezing air. Snow clung to our clothes, our faces red and raw. I doubled over, hands on my knees, trying to suck in air that didn’t feel like knives. When I straightened, Belle and Luca were staring at me, their eyes demanding answers.

“Alright, alright,” I said, catching my breath. “You’re wondering how I knew they were there.”

They didn’t speak, just kept staring, their faces pale under the moonlight.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “The Santa doll stays in my room. Every night I tried to stop the murders alone, I’d wake up at 3 a.m., like clockwork. The room would turn to ice, like back there. And this… fear would hit me. Not just scared—gutted. Like something was tearing me apart from the inside. The malice was so thick I couldn’t move until it was gone.”

Luca’s jaw dropped slightly. “Jesus, man. You felt that every night? Even today?”

I nodded, my throat tight.

“Damn,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve been through hell.”

Belle smacked his arm, her eyes flashing. “Luca.”

He winced, shutting up.

“I didn’t want it to come for us,” I said, my voice quieter now. “What if it was pissed we stopped its ritual?”

Belle stepped closer, her gaze steady as steel. “Then we face it together.”

“We?” Luca echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, we,” she said, her tone leaving no room for debate.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Luca muttered, scratching his head.

I smiled, the knot in my chest loosening just a bit. I turned and started down the snowy path, flakes falling in a quiet, mocking dance, oblivious to the nightmare choking this town. A snowflake landed in my open palm, bruised and scarred from gripping the sword. I stopped, staring as it melted against my skin.

“Wise?” Belle’s voice was soft, worried.

“You good, dude?” Luca added, stepping closer.

I turned to face them, my voice low. “Why are we doing this? Really. Is it obligation? Responsibility? Guilt? Why do we keep throwing ourselves into this shit?”

They looked at me, confused, their breath fogging in the cold. I got it—they weren’t expecting the question. But I needed to know. If we didn’t have a reason, a real one, this curse would eat us alive.

“I’m serious,” I said, my voice harder. “Why do you do this?”

Belle took a deep breath, stepping forward. Her eyes burned with something fierce. “I found the book. I pushed us to do the ritual. This mess—it’s partly my fault. Call it guilt, obligation, whatever. I want to fix what I broke. I don’t want to be the idiot who unleashed this on our town and hid until it was over.”

I nodded, her words heavy in my gut. I turned to Luca. “And you?”

He looked down, kicking at the snow. “Fuck, man, I don’t know.” He went quiet, his head bowed, and for a second, I thought that was it. Then he spoke, his voice raw. “If I had a reason… it’s revenge. For my mom. I want to burn those things to ash until there’s nothing left. They took her, and I’ll make them pay.”

I studied him, the weight of his words sinking in. The night’s horrors flashed in my mind—the maids, the fluids, the cold—and I nodded. “Alright,” I said, a small smile breaking through. “Then let’s ride this out to the end.”

I turned back to the street, the snow crunching under my boots as we walked. “Now let’s get home before one of our parents notices we’re not in our beds.”