There was no response from the church. People continued to shuffle around like they hadn’t heard Mickey. Caleb hopped on the back of one of his creatures, ready to go, but nothing happened, which was so much worse than if they came out guns-a-blazin.

  Were they expecting us here?

  Looking closer, it didn’t look like they were just shuffling around aimlessly — they were arranging themselves. The marked men gathered against one wall of the church, and the non-marked people gathered on the other.

  “Hello? Assholes? Get the fuck out here!” Mickey shouted.

  The marked men were discussing something among themselves, occasionally shooting glances over to the bare-skinned people on the other side of the room. The argument started to look heated. One of the marked men — an old, bald man with thick-rimmed glasses on — started shouting at the others. A woman with short hair and marks up to her arms stepped up to him and shouted back. Everyone else shuffled off to the side. It seemed she had made some good points, because eventually the bald man put his hands up like he was conceding. The short haired woman stood apart from the crowd and faced the bare-skins, made a flicking motion with her hand, and they all lined up shoulder-to-shoulder in a hurry. I couldn’t quite make out the looks on their faces, but I could guess what was about to happen anyway — at least partially. The short haired woman walked up to the bare-skin on the far left of the line, and devoured him. I don’t mean that metaphorically — she fucking unhinged her jaw and swallowed him whole.

  The rest of the bare-skins shuffled a little, but didn’t move from where they were standing. One by one, she wrapped her mouth around every single one of them and ate them — except for the last person. Each time her head tilted back and the person slid down her throat, I felt like gagging. Forget the fact that she was a cannibal — where the fuck did all of that food go? How the fuck would it all come out?

  She didn’t seem too concerned with these issues though. By the end of her meal, she rubbed her stomach like she was at the end of a very successful Thanksgiving, and her arms were red and throbbing. She pressed into her abdomen and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Then, the bald man pulled a small bottle from his pocket and approached the one bare-skinned survivor. He was a tall Asian man with broad shoulders and shaggy black hair. He was strong and probably would’ve intimidated most people under normal circumstances, but he cowered in front of the old bald man, who put his hand around his throat, brought him to his knees, and put the bottle in his mouth. The Asian man immediately fell onto his back and started seizing. I knew exactly how he felt at that moment — he was being marked.

  When it was over and he was able to stand up again, they sent him outside, alone.

  That would piss Mickey off for sure.

  “Seriously? Only one of you motherfuckers is brave enough to come out? Three against fuck-knows how many, and y’all are scared? Guess you’re smarter than I gave you credit for,” Mickey shouted. Staring at Mickey and Caleb, the Asian man looked like a rat staring at a cobra. He looked past Mickey and down at the street, probably thinking of running, but knowing that it was pointless.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Mickey, don’t be a fucking idiot. Don’t charge at him.

  But he didn’t. I didn’t know if Caleb was talking sense into him or if he had finally grown a couple of brain cells, but he stayed where he was. The Asian man had no choice; he ran towards them with the reckless abandon of someone who already knew their life was over.

  Shit was about to go down.

  Fuck. I need to think of something. Now.

  The fresh meat wouldn’t last long, but he would draw Mickey and Caleb out of the house, leave them exposed, and probably reveal that I’m not actually in that sludge shell. If I didn’t act fast, I would lose the element of surprise — but I couldn’t think of shit.

  Nothing I thought of seemed like it would be enough to even the odds. In an act of desperation, I clasped my hands together, closed my eyes, and asked for guidance from the bloodthirsty sonofabitch inside my head.

  As if by divine inspiration, I had a plan.

  I stayed as low as I could and moved farther away from the church, into an empty house across the street. I needed space, and I needed time. It was a long shot, but I was assured that it could work. Hopefully it was enough.

  I conjured a ball of sludge inside of the house and formed it into a man shape, just like I did with the decoy. It was getting easier, and I was getting better at it. This one wasn’t quite as dumb as the last. He could at least walk in a straight line. It was a start. I did it again, and I commanded the man-shaped sludge to open the bathroom door. After a couple of attempts, it was able to do it. Fuck yeah. I did it again and again and again until I had a house full of sludge men that moved around almost like a real person would. They could run, jump, crouch and throw half-decent punches.

  We were ready.

  I stepped outside with my legion of sludge men behind me, and saw that Mickey was struggling with the fresh meat, who teleported back and forth to dodge Mickey’s blows. It didn’t look like he could teleport far — only a couple feet at a time — or he definitely would’ve just fucked off. But he had already done what he needed to do. Mickey and Caleb were outside, preoccupied with the human gnat flying around their face, and weren’t paying attention to the church. The decoy was just standing there, swaying from side to side. Mickey swiped at the man, and Caleb’s creatures lashed their worm heads at him, but they were only met with open air and a frightened man standing two feet farther away than he was a millisecond ago.

  At long last, the bald man stepped out of the church. He raised his pointer finger into the air and whipped his hand. His finger extended all the way to the fresh meat and cracked like a whip, and cut a gash into his neck. Blood poured from his neck and down his shoulder until he collapsed onto a bed of wet dirt. The bald man whipped him again and he was dead.

  He glowed and pressed down on his left arm. While he was contorting on the ground in a state of unholy bliss, the rest of the marked men came out of the church to confront Mickey, Caleb and the decoy.

  “About goddamn time,” Mickey said. Caleb and his creatures moved to the left, Mickey moved to the right, and the decoy stayed in the middle. The marked men got into a rehearsed formation, four groups of five, two in the front, two standing behind them. The two frontmost groups charged at Caleb and Mickey. The men in the front cast up barriers, one made of what looked to be bone, the other of thick fingernails. The other two groups stayed behind, near the church. All at once, they lobbed ranged attacks at the decoy, sending fireballs, explosives, arrows and whatever else they could shoot from their hands at what they thought was me. The decoy disintegrated instantly.

  But it didn’t matter.

  I was behind them, surrounded by twenty more.