...Is This Purgatory?

[Katrielle Layton]

Stella never understood her husband's actions-- every full moon carried with it the strange moods he seemed to fall into. No one knew why that was, but normally it wasn't a problem, so no one bothered to find out.

With tonight's bout of monthly lunacy, however, she was starting to consider getting her husband some counseling. The man, bless his soul, had somehow came under the idea that demons and other such monsters were planning to break into the orphanage. And on Halloween, no less. She knew the former priest's distain for the holiday, but right now it was like his fears had been multiplied tenfold.

While she had been taking care of the children, Hunter had busied himself in the basement and refused to come out. Stella had no clue what he was up to at first, but sometimes, when she came across the basement door, she would put her ears up to the wooden frame and listen. Latin chants and prayers would greet her, and given her husband's former occupation, she learned exactly what he was doing.

All she needed was a sincere prayer to be rest assured that she was safe. Her partner, on the other hand, was too paranoid for his own good; he was working on spells and rituals to keep their home safe. She never trusted magic, but she knew that Hunter would not resort to such things unless he knew it was safe to use.

Her husband, despite his occasional lunacy and his neurotic tendencies, always made sure that his family and those under his care were safe. He always cared. Maybe a little too much.

The moon had risen and the orphans were out and about trick-or-treating. Now that the orphanage was mostly empty, she could check on her partner without scaring the children. She opened the basement door and descended into the darkness. The scent of candles wafted in the air, leading her to a small corridor. A faint light flickered under the door, accompanied with Hunter's spellcasting.

With a sigh, she opened the door and stepped in. When her husband didn't react, she reached for a light switch and flicked it on. Hunter recoiled from the sudden brightness, raising a hand to shield his eyes as he turned to glance at her. He stood in place on top of a pentagram, surrounded by four candles, and he wasn't fully facing her. His green eyes were lined with bags, and his reddish-brown hair was messily combed over the left side of his face.

"Stella, dear?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. "What are you doing down here?"

"You been down here all day," she sighed. "I've been running the place without you and I'm wondering when you'll finish... whatever you're doing. I'm worried about you. Chelsea is too."

Hunter's tired smile fell into a frown. "I'm... sorry. It's just I don't want to cut corners. This will be the last one..." He turned back to look at the wall in front of him. "...I promise."

Stella nodded. "Alright."

"Can you wait outside, please? I need to be alone for this."

She hesitated, but slowly backed up and closed the door to leave her husband in peace.

However, if she had pressed further, or wasn't tired, she might've noticed the gun in his hand.
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Hunter couldn't understand why his wife wasn't putting as much effort into this as he was. Even when he expressed his concerns to her, it felt as if she didn't believe him. As much as he loved her, she was driving him nuts. How could she not realize the dangers out there? Every time he glanced out the window today, he could see them.

He could see their warped bodies and cloven hooves stalking near the border, their blood-red scales reflecting hatred as they clawed the air outside the orphanage  in a desperate attempt to break in. At first, they remained beyond the gate, but as the night arrived, they had breached his defenses and were slamming their horned heads into the windows.

Stella, for some reason, didn't notice them.

And thus it had come to this; he was the only one who saw them and thus he was the only one who could protect his home. He had never intended to cast this spell - the cost was too great - but as his weaker spells had been broken, this was the only option he had left. All he needed was a sacrifice.

And there was only one person he was willing to kill for it.

His thumb spun the chamber of his pistol before locking it in place. Six silver bullets were loaded in, soon to be five. He cradled the barrel of the gun to his temple, shuddering at the cold metal as it pressed up against his skin. He fingered the trigger, but didn't pull it.

They were going to miss him. His family and the orphans both. But he had to do it. Hopefully, sometime in the future, when they passed on, they would arrive in heaven and he would greet them at the pearly gates.

He took a deep breath to brace himself before he pulled the trigger.

His body held still, presumably frozen by rigor mortis. He heard nothing. He felt nothing. More worryingly, he saw nothing. Was he in purgatory? The blackness around him seemed like something he'd find in purgatory.

He wasn't sure how long he was there before something happened. The former priest was about to resign himself to his fate, but a speck of white interrupted the void, drawing closer until its humanoid nature was revealed.

The being had introduced itself as "Omni," and claimed that it had pulled the man from his world and into its own. From there, it went on to explain the rules of this new universe, among them, that he wouldn't be able to die.

Hunter had wanted to object, to say that he had something to do back home, but his mouth refused to cooperate. He was forced to stay there and listen to the creature in front of him.

Eventually he realized that he could move again, and when he blinked, he was no longer in the abyss. The black had been replaced with endless white, with a fountain in what had to be the center of the blankness.

Remembering that he still had the gun up against his head, he lowered it and examined the chamber.

Six bullets.

And it would stay six for now.