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Summary
‘You are the new master?’ he asks, voice rasping.
‘Yes,’ Ricky says. His voice sounds thin and high in comparison and he swallows, trying to clear his heart from his throat. He forces himself to move closer. ‘You can call me Ricky, wh-what’s your name?’
‘Chris,’ says the creature, moving closer as well. His eyes have dropped from Ricky to the dead thing on the floor.
‘Chris?’ he repeats, incredulous.
‘What were you expecting, Ricky?’ Chris says, mouth curving in a sharp smile.
A desperate Ricky performs an equally desperate ritual, and gets something a little more Chris-shaped than he's expecting.
