"Scared yet, little soul?" Pete asked through the dark.

"What the hell are you?" Brendon couldn't take his eyes away from Patrick. His friend didn't look like his friend.

"A soul collector who found quite the prize pool." Pete replied as Patrick's expression grew dark. "If only the one that could contain me wasn't defective."

Patrick's hands fidgeted, still held against his chest, but no distinctive sign came across to Brendon.

"I can't even fully collect the soul of the one I can influence to speak for me." More emotion flooded Pete's voice now. It was bitter and angry. "I'd be left wordless."

"So they're not dead?" Brendon was still unable to push himself up off the floor. Something held him down with such force that it was impossible.

"For the moment, I need one to complete the other." With those words, Pete stepped out of the shadows and into the singular lanterns light. He looked like a zombie; his arms were limp at his sides and one of his legs dragged. His head tilted to one side and his eyes were solid white. Even the veins in his eyes weren't visible.

"One speaks, but cannot contain me." When Pete spoke, only his mouth moved. There was no expression in his face and no body movements for emphasis. He was like a poorly trained ventriloquist dummy. "The other is an ideal vessel, but cannot receive or convey messages past useless hand motions!"

Patrick's hands were moving again. However, he didn't seem to be relaying the same message as Pete. His hands were repeating something. Something short and repeating...

"You could have been my ideal vessel." Pete's words were accusatory. "You were the best among all of them! All I had to do was jump."

"You need permission." Brendon countered. He took in a short breath, feeling like his lungs were being stepped on. "I'd never give permission to you."

"Really?" Patrick's eyebrow raised in question as Pete spoke for him. "Even after seeing how the others were affected when I tried to use them? One was ripped apart and the other split at the seams! I shouldn't have even tried to use them, but you did something to keep me out before I could properly try."

The invisible force pushed Brendon flat against the ground. He cried out as the pressure continued to press down on him.

"I should have struck sooner, but I was weakened by navigating the storm without a vessel."

Brendon was barely able to turn his head to look towards Pete and Patrick. Blood trickled from both of their noses. Patrick glared while Pete remained expressionless. Patrick's hands continued to move in a repeating pattern, though Patrick (or whatever was inside of him) didn't seem to acknowledge it.

"How did you get in?" It was getting harder for Brendon to speak with the pressure crushing him to the ground.

A smirk formed on Patrick's lips as Pete spoke. "I simply waited for an open door. See, this vessel and I go back." Patrick stopped his repeated sign and patted his own shoulder. "He tried to get rid of me, but demons always find a way back in."

Brendon couldn't believe it. Had Patrick made a deal before? Was he fighting his own spiritual attachments just as Brendon fought Ryan?

"Funny thing, bonding with someone that desperately wants to be part of a world they'll never know." Patrick tapped his ears before kneeling in front of Brendon. "They confide in you with things they probably shouldn't have."

Patrick swiped his hands through the air and, suddenly, thin scratch lines appeared along Pete's cheek. Patrick's eyes filled with tears as his hand moved again and more scratches began to form along Pete's exposed skin. "Bonds were made to be exploited." Pete whispered, something nearly drowned out by the storm.

"He's still awake." Brendon croaked. "Stop."

"Stop?" Pete laughed. "As soon as this storm is lifted, I plan to take them both and you." There was a pause. "Actually... There's no reason to wait with you."

The force holding Brendon down pulled away, leaving him gasping for breath. He didn't have much time to refill his lungs, however, before Patrick was in front of him. Hatred filled his features, but panic filled his eyes. Whatever demon was inside him wanted him to witness everything.

"Fight it." Brendon urged. He opened his mouth to say more, but Patrick's hand shot to his throat. Brendon was pushed backwards, head slamming against the floor. Stars danced in front of his vision as Patrick's hands tightened around his throat.

"It's too late for him to fight me!" Pete boomed, "It's too late for any of you precious little souls."

Brendon grabbed Patrick's wrist. "Pa...Patrick..."

"He sold his soul a long time ago. He gave his vessel over to me completely, but I want him to see what he's done with his decision." The hands pulled away from Brendon's throat and he gasped for air once again. Patrick smirked down at him. "Deals with devils never truly work in the bargainers favor. As a boy he sold his soul for a voice, only to have it come from the mouth of another. Now, I collect my price and the the bonus souls attached to him!"

Brendon caught Patrick's hand before it could go to his throat again. He struggled against the strength the thing inside Patrick had. His arms were shaking and slowly losing the battle.

Brendon could see Patrick's eyes. Tears trailed down his face. A silent message played on his lips that Brendon could finally understand.

I'm sorry

His arms finally lost the fight, getting pushed down to his chest just before Patrick's hands were back around his throat.

Brendon shut his eyes, unable to watch as his friend tried to squeeze the life from him. His breaths were becoming harder and harder to get past his lips. He could see stars behind his closed eyelids.

Dallon's was next to appear in the darkness. He was going to leave him to his own demon. What if Ryan twisted his deal? What if what happened to Patrick would happen to him?

You need only say yes.

One word and he could stop it. He could possibly stop this thing inside of Patrick and save Dallon.

Red eyes seemed to burn through the dark like the way his lungs burned from their lack of oxygen. He was able to steal just enough air to open his eyes and squeak the word.

"Yes!"

Patrick's hands shot away from his throat as if burned. Smoke even rose from his fingertips.

Brendon turned his head as dark smoke zipped into the room from the dark hall. It circled them once before shooting towards Brendon. It shot into his mouth like a forced breath of air. His head reared back as the smoke filled him. He could feel it coating his bones. He could feel it twisting around his mind. He could hear a laughter that consumed his hearing.

Brendon felt his body go limp. He couldn't move a single muscle. His eyes had landed on Pete, who seemed to be saying words he could no longer hear.

"Oh, no." His own voice startled him. His fingers were moving again. His arms were pulling back to push his torso up from the floor. None of this was Brendon, however. Something else dictated the movement. "You're going to wish you had never messed with my collection."

Before Brendon could register what was happening, a veil seemed to shroud his vision and everything went red.