PepperOni Read online

  "The rules are quite clear. On a night of the full moon, a sinner may carve the mark of the dark one into the flesh of the swine, with a blade that has tasted of their own blood. The pact shall be sealed, and Ungarioth will enter the mortal realm once again. It is as it has been written."

  Flesh of the swine? What did he mean by that?

  The pepperoni.

  Of course.

  Made from a blend of beef and pork, with a bunch of seasoning, it could have counted as the flesh of a pig. But the blade that tasted of his blood?

  Right.

  This had all happened because Elliott had cut his finger on that damned pizza cutter. His blood had touched the flesh of the swine, while carving the mark of the dark one.

  "I didn't know about this! I didn't know about any of this! You can't bind me to something I had no knowledge of!"

  The demon snorted. "You're wearing the sigil of one of my good friends, the Lord of Flies. But you probably didn't know that either. You're just wearing it because it's a scary little symbol that suits your... Whatever this is." Ungarioth prodded Elliott's chest with a clawed finger. "Rebellion? Pathetic. My master knows the true meaning of rebellion. Perhaps I could arrange for you to meet him."

  Elliott's blood ran cold. He knew who the demon was talking about.

  The big man downstairs.

  Satan.

  "Um, no, that won't be necessary."

  "I'll decide what's necessary," the demon growled.

  "So, what happens now?" Elliott asked. His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

  "I am Ungarioth, and I've been itching to get topside again for quite some time."

  Elliott sounded out the name syllable by syllable, then snorted in derision. "Your name is Gary! Gary the demon!"

  "My name is Ungarioth!" the demon roared and tightened his grip on Elliott's neck. "See, my master has left me with an unholy mission that I must complete in his name. He wants a new sword. He's got a big plan to break the shackles keeping him down in Hell. To do that, he needs a sword forged from the lifeblood of mortals. And if you know how much iron naturally exists in your own blood, well, you'll understand how much I'll need to forge a sword big enough to cut a hole in the fabric of reality."

  Elliott had no idea how much blood it would take. He didn't want to know.

  Or did he?

  There was a part of him that did. It was the same part of him that shamefully browsed the internet long after he was supposed to be asleep, watching videos of people dying.

  The very same part that led him to read suicide notes and interviews with serial killers.

  It was the same part of him that watched with morbid curiosity as he saw the final body count of the latest school shooting. He wanted to ask anyway.

  "How many bodies would it take?" Elliott's voice didn't even sound like his own.

  Ungarioth's grin was full of malice and sharp teeth. "Quite a lot."

  "How many exactly?"

  "Draining an entire mortal of blood yields about one tenth of an ounce of iron. To forge the sword, I need approximately eighteen pounds of pure iron. Taking that into consideration, I need to harvest approximately..."

  Ungarioth counted silently on the hand that wasn't grasping Elliott's neck. He paused for a moment to consider his calculations, then counted on his hands once again.

  "Give or take, depending on iron levels, I'll need to harvest around about three thousand souls."

  Three thousand.

  That was ten percent of the entire population of his home town. The scale of bloodshed necessary to forge a single blade staggered him.

  "You have a choice, human. You formed a pact with me when you summoned me into this world. Your life is now bound to my mission. It's up to me to decide how that bond is enforced. This is a privilege I would not extend to just any mortal. You can either help me harvest these souls, which, if I'm being honest, I would rather enjoy. I haven't been in the mortal realm since before God made his big song and dance about sacrificing himself to absolve you mortals of the sins he gave you in the first place. What a narcissistic prick! I really could use a guide, because I imagine things would have changed somewhat in a few thousand years. Alternatively, I could always harvest you myself. Your own lifeblood will become one with the blade that will kill the great divine git once and for all."

  "If I help you harvest these souls, what's in it for me?"

  Ungarioth raised an eyebrow. "You would help bring about the end of the reign of a psychopath who treats his own children like ants under a magnifying glass, thus freeing the entire human race from slavery."

  Elliott took a moment to consider this.

  He had never really taken all this Holy/Unholy stuff seriously. It was all window dressing on the culture of heavy metal.

  But if it was all real, then that meant that all human kind was created by the very divine being that demanded they pay penance for the original sin He corrupted them with in the first place. If the invisible sky Daddy was real, then Elliott had a real chance to help cut him down.

  What better rebellion could he hope to be a part of?

  "There’s just one thing, before we start," Elliot said. "I've got some pizza, fresh out of the oven. You want a slice?"

  Ungarioth grinned.

  A word from the author

  Hi folks!

  Matthew here. I sure hope you enjoyed my cheesy little horror short, PepperOni. If you did enjoy it, I sure would appreciate it if you left a review somewhere, or maybe you could tell you friends about it? It definitely helps us pen-monkeys earn a crust. *bad dum tish*

  If you’d like to keep up to date with my adventures, you can find me in all the usual spots, usually under the name @MrBarbeler.

  Come and tell me how you feel about pineapple on pizza.

  All the best,

  Matthew

  www.matthewjbarbeler.com