The Caller

Thirty-Five

Mr. J blinked once... twice.

Cassandra held her husband’s stare for a split second longer before squeezing her eyes tight.

Seventh of March, he thought. That’s correct, isn’t it? It’s got to be. Why else would the date have popped into my head the way it did? Cassandra and I got married twenty-one years ago, on the seventh of March, at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Angels in downtown Los Angeles.

Cassandra reopened her glassed eyes. In them now, only terror.

‘I hope that you are looking straight into your wife’s eyes, John,’ the demon finally said. ‘Because you have just let her down.’

‘What? No, wait...’

‘That’s not your wedding date,’ the voice cut him short. ‘And the rules are — you give me an incorrect answer and Cassandra gets punished.’

‘No, please wait...’

‘Rules are rules, John. You just told me that you are an “enforcer of rules” of sorts, so I’m sure you understand that they need to be enforced.’

Still keeping Cassandra’s face as its main subject, the camera panned up a few degrees. Seconds later, a figure dressed all in black took position directly behind her chair. All Mr. J could see were his wife’s face and the person’s strong torso standing just behind her head.

‘You remember the rules of our little game, don’t you, John?’ the demon asked rhetorically. ‘You have to keep watching. You close your eyes, she gets punished again. You look away, she gets punished again. If you move away from your phone’s camera and I can’t see you on the screen, she gets punished again.’

Mr. J’s gaze stayed exactly where it was.

‘Now, would you like to know the real reason why I paralyzed your wife?’ The demon didn’t wait for an answer. ‘So she wouldn’t spoil the fun by moving.’

Suddenly, the demon’s gloved hands appeared above Cassandra’s head. They weren’t empty.