Everything suddenly became so clear, so understandable. Until now, she had always had a rigid moral backbone. She could manipulate energy, but she never caused illness or drove anyone to madness. She could steal the power of others, but she never absorbed enough to cause someone's death. She sent souls back, even though she knew she could devour them and gain even more power by doing so. So many rules, and somehow the world hadn't appreciated any of it. Instead of congratulating her on her self-control and discipline, it had brought her to this end. How stupid she had been. She looked the bald man in the eyes.

  She realized that the great fracture that had felt like an eternity had actually lasted only a few seconds, maybe even less. As she became aware of this, she simultaneously looked deep inside herself and found no one there except her subconscious, slowly settling back into place. Her alter ego was gone. Her consciousness was gone. The second self had died, and the first had reshaped itself to take the place that had belonged to her from the very beginning. Of course it had been planned. All of it had been planned down to the second, by herself...

  She heard someone clapping. Someone was slapping their hands together at measured, almost leisurely intervals, in a way that was unmistakably contemptuous.

  "Finally," said the Not-a-Doctor, leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree. If she could have, she would have laughed out loud.

  The whole group of degenerates turned as one toward the mysterious stranger. They stared at him uncertainly for a long moment. What the hell was this? Some stranger had interrupted them, and they were furious. On the other hand, something about this guy was off. He was just standing there, yet none of them had noticed him arrive. He wore a black suit and elegant shoes, but he didn't look like he had pushed his way through the underbrush. He looked as if he had simply materialized out of thin air. And he was clapping at them like a lunatic, smiling from ear to ear, but his eyes were strange, completely cold. None of it made sense.

  "Who the fuck are you?" asked the leader, pointing her makeshift weapon at the Not-a-Doctor. "I'll rearrange your face, you pansy."

  "Shut your mouth, bitch," replied the Not-a-Doctor, still smiling widely. "You called me, so I'm here."

  Silence fell. The group of addicts who called themselves worshippers of Satan suddenly doubted who this guy was even talking about.

  "You? Like, Lucifer?" said a boy with long hair. "Yeah, right. As if I'd believe that."

  He didn't get to say anything else. The Not-a-Doctor stretched out his hand toward him, and the boy lost control of his body. He couldn't stop himself; he walked straight into the campfire, and when he started screaming, he shoved his right hand down his throat as deep as it would go and choked himself. Everyone watched, unable to hide their terror.

  "He was first, so he got the easy way out from me," the Not-a-Doctor said in an indifferent tone. "Do any of you human scum want to see what heights of finesse in killing I can reach?"

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Alice still lay on the ground, slowly regaining feeling in her body. She wasn't rushing. Not anymore. The show was just beginning, and she had only a minor role in it, for which she was fucking grateful. She knew her guardian was powerful, but she had never suspected what he was actually capable of. Her own principles and moral limitations suddenly seemed ridiculous. Only now did she grasp what she could do if she ever stopped holding herself back. She needed more power.

  The Not-a-Doctor looked at the expressions on the remaining four faces. He sensed their disbelief, their fear, and their dawning awareness that everything had spiraled out of their control.

  "You amuse me," he said, reaching for a cigarette. "You intended to rape and kill the last witch on earth, but the death of your friend seems like an unjust cruelty on my part. Are you sure that makes sense? From a moral standpoint, you're worthless wrecks. I am not Lucifer. I don't have to give you my name. Lucifer despises you even more than I do; he would never debase himself by contacting any human. I, however, have to deal with you. I don't like it. It makes me feel... soiled. Like I'm wallowing in a pool full of shit, because you are nothing more than shit to me. It makes me want to puke just thinking about you. I wouldn't even know you existed, and God, how happy I would be in that ignorance, if you hadn't attacked my marionette in this world. Well, since I've bothered to come here, entertain me, you human scum!"

  Silence answered him. The four would-be murderers were silently reciting prayers and begging God for forgiveness. The most normal-looking girl among them suddenly bolted to escape. She had never wanted any part of this. They had forced her; she couldn't say no, otherwise she would have ended up on that cross instead of the stranger. What was she supposed to do? She screamed the question in her mind over and over. In response, she heard the Not-a-Doctor's voice: Die, preserving a shred of your humanity.

  Three of them remained.

  "That actually works out well," the Not-a-Doctor said, "because the fourth one will bring the police and add a little spice to all this. And now it's time to begin this sick game. Hey, you," the Not-a-Doctor said to the leader. "I want to see you suck his dick."

  The girl froze, unsure what she was supposed to do, but when the stranger's hand twitched, she dropped to her knees and scrambled toward him on all fours. The dark-haired man kicked her with all his strength.

  "Don't think for a second I'll let you touch me, trash," he snarled. "Take care of the bald one. I advise you to hurry. I am not Lucifer, you haven't bound me with any contract, and I can slurp up your souls without batting an eye. I'll tear them apart and make canapés out of them. Do you know how much it hurts to have your soul torn? The torture of the body, even the most elaborate, is a gentle caress in comparison. So hurry up, bitch, and crawl over to your friend."

  The leader was crying, but she obeyed. She was so terrified she had soiled herself. The bald man stared at the girl kneeling before him in disbelief, trembling so hard he couldn't even pretend to be aroused. But the stranger was watching, and his eyes showed pure dissatisfaction. Those eyes dug into him, and his bladder gave way.

  "Don't stop, bitch," the Not-a-Doctor snarled, and the girl, choking and struggling, kept going.

  Alice laughed out loud. Her subconscious was slowly gathering the narcotic in her stomach. She couldn't expel it through her pores, so she found another way. It would take time, but she had received a solid injection of energy from the Not-a-Doctor. That power already carried a coded pattern of action. Any second now, everything would be ready...

  Right on cue, she started vomiting. Goddamn it, why had she eaten out today of all days?