Cole

The first thing I notice is the tongue. Soft, lapping, they slip it into my mouth and out again and again. I hear the sound of their kiss, their breath… tastes awful. Like old meat.

My eyes heavily force themselves open, looking across from me I see the biggest, ugliest face I've seen in some time.

The dog wags its tail.

It leans in for another go and I pull back trying to push it away.

That's when I realize my hands are bound behind my back. I'm tied to a chair.

I'm fucking tied to a fucking chair.

How did this happen?

Last thing I remember is the book conference. A long, fun night of drinking at an event, what happened last night?

I shake my head, looking around, should I transform? Not much can contain me when I change. My fingers blindly reach for my ring, but they're so bound up with tape I can't maneuver them. I desperately pull at my bindings, but nothing gives.

The dog finally backs off going to its bed in the corner. My head feels so fucking heavy to me that I let it hang for a minute while I try and collect myself. The weight pulling on my shoulders, all the way down to my bound arms and wrists.

Staring at my legs, I realize my calves and ankles are tied to the legs of a chair. I'm looking down at them and with a curse realize I can't move at all. A panic sets in and I immediately try changing again. However, with my ring in place acting as a shield between the two sides of me, I can do nothing.

What used to be a blessing is now an immediate curse.

Inside my head the beast howls, making the creeping headache I feel behind my eyes worse.

Let me outta here, I want to rip and twist and…

Shhhhhh I think, trying to soothe the demon's ire. Let's just think on this a minute.

The room is dark but there's an overhead light shining on me… and Christmas lights. Hung up along the walls by the ceiling. Pink and blue ones. Along with floating sparkling flakes. Snowflakes, but as it hits my cheek it disintegrates into nothing.

A spell.

Christmas in July I guess?

Along the walls I notice other things. Not pictures, well, not personal pictures. Scribbles, detailed drawings, and diagrams of butterflies—no, not butterflies, moths.

There's also books.

So. Many. Books.

And I'm not talking about the funny conclusion of not having enough shelves—no, no. There are shelves on every wall. Behind the couch sits five floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, packed with books. Stacks of books on the ground. In fact the coffee table isn't a table; it's a fucking board on top of a neatly piled mass of books!

The one thing I do notice though is every book seems to be well taken care of. The books are all clean, dusted, there are figurines and little lights on the shelves, they obviously care about their books. Maybe even posted pictures of their shelves online, that's how nice their shelves look. The book stacks are neat and by size and color as well. Whoever owns this place likes to keep their stuff neat and organized, even if they are one step away from being an actual book hoarder.

Where the fuck am I?

Besides the copious amounts of tomes the place seems pretty clean, just dark and claustrophobic, with a slight smell of dog and lemon.

I think about yelling for help, but obviously I've been taken by someone, someone that might still be here, and I'm not sure I want them to know I'm awake just yet.

I test the restraints but they're tight. I feel rope and also duck tape pulling at my pants.

It's hot.

I'm still dressed as my internet alter ego. Which means thick black pants, skin tight long sleeve black shirt, with hoodie jacket and black leather gloves.

It's fucking hot.

Wait… If I'm still dressed like LiegeMask, that means I never got back to my hotel room.

The dog releases a long sigh, stretching out in its even larger bed, which is also surrounded by neatly stacked books.

"So… you're awake."

I jump looking up to see…

Oh sweet fucking Christ.

A woman. Wavy purple, pink, red hair frame a charcoal grey skull mask. My charcoal grey skull mask. The one I wore for events and my online platform.

It's a half mask that shows the bottom half of my face. Now hers. With plump lips painted a plum purple, pale almost white skin, and eyes that reflect the enchantment on it: one green wolf eye, and one blue. Something I had done to accentuate my mismatched eyes.

I'd asked my uncle for this spell, specifically to go along with my eyes, which have been blue and green since I was fourteen. I'm a normie and have no magical abilities… well… sorta.

She's even blackened the skin around her eyes to make them stand out from within the eye holes of the mask—just like I did.

Rip and tear, I want to rip and tear, the voice echoes.

That's my alter ego—sorta, it's complicated. My therapist suggested I don't name it, as naming it would give it more power, but I call it 'the demon,' not technically a name… more like a classification. Just… don't ask.

Her wolven eyes roam over me. Because of my enchantment, many of my followers thought I was a werewolf, which I get, I didn't say I wasn't, but even werewolves don't have wolf eyes so…

Personally, I don't care for my mismatched eyes and hate to think how they became so. Yet, the women online loved them so I highlighted the feature.

"Cole Sanderson, age thirty-two, birthplace Las Florenges, California, known by the internet community as the book influencer: LiegeMask." She waves my wallet and my driver's license at me. She's also holding my phone.

The dog wags its tail without looking up.

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice coming out dry and haggard.

"You're so… average, such a bore really."

If only that were true.

She walks towards me, tossing some of the most important items of my life onto her kitchen table. A beat-up rounded table, also covered with books.

Squatting to get to eye level with me, she pulls something from behind her back. I see she's also dressed in cosplay. Looks like some generic female soldier, maybe dragon rider garb. A black sleeveless shirt, leather shoulder cuff and belt that goes between her breasts. Another black belt accentuating her hips, over black leather pants and boots.

My stomach drops when I see the knife. A large hunting knife, with serrated edge near the hilt. Immediately my body starts to change on instinct but I stifle it.

She points it at my chin and I freeze.

"Cole, are you going to disappoint me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, the panic slowly bubbling up as I try to pull free from the restraints again.

She looks at me severely, her face close enough that I can smell her breath, and God it's awful. Worse than the dog's.

Standing up she picks up my phone off the table bringing it to my face. I don't know what she's doing until I realize too late she's unlocking my phone with my facial recognition. She's in before I can do anything.

"Hmmm." She moves a pile of books from a chair in the corner and sits scrolling through it.

"What are you doing? You know people are going to be looking for me right?" I ask.

She shrugs—the only acknowledgment of anything I've said.

I don't know how long she goes through my phone. I wait, holding my breath. I don't know why but instinctively I feel like this is a monumental moment. My mind races, is she a fan? Competitor?

Of course everyone hears about fans losing their shit and attacking celebrities they obsess over. I never really considered myself a 'celebrity' but honestly it didn't take much to set people off nowadays.

"Cole, age thirty-two—nice age gap," she says that last bit in a sing-song voice. "Oh I'm thirty-three," she explains before looking back at the phone. "Oh you're a Libra, love it, I'm an Aries."

I say nothing, only staring in what has to be bewilderment.

After a time she sighs, satisfied, and sits up. Pointing the knife at me she smiles. "Alright, so far so good. You passed."

A sigh of relief escapes me. I'm not too sure what I passed, but fuck something in me says I didn't really want to fail that test.

Was she looking to see if I had a girlfriend?

I really didn't have girlfriends. My influencer life made it sort of… tricky to have a long time girlfriend. That's what I tell myself, it's that reason why I've stayed single and not… the other reasons.

"It's really a good thing too, this could have gotten very messy," she comments standing up. As she walks by she pats me on the shoulder going into the kitchen space.

"I mean, after all I really don't have that much more freezer space."

Freezer space?

My stomach twists.

A large standing freezer sits behind the table and chairs, beside the counter. It is noticeably not covered in books.

She opens it and looks down inside.

"Yeah, there really is only room for one," she mentions quietly.

"You're fucking lying," I spit.

There isn't a body in there. She's fucking lying, she's just trying to freak me out.

She turns her head, cocking it to the side just slightly. The same way I've done to the camera a million times before. A gesture just slightly unsettling enough to make gooseflesh form on my hot skin.

"Oh really? Tell that to him." She grabs something and pulls it out, tossing it at me.

My mind freezes.

I'm staring down at a head. A fucking human head. A frozen fucking human head.

What's worse?

I think I know him.