Chapter 80: Do You Want to Dance Too?
"It was our Goode Family."
Solomon Goode's voice wasn't loud, yet it boomed like thunder through the vast mall atrium.
Deena, Sam, and Josh stood as if struck by lightning, frozen in place, minds blank.
The Goode Family?
The dynasty hailed as blessed by God, representing all the glory and prosperity while Shadyside rotted?
They were the source of the curse?
How was that even possible?!
"Surprised, aren't you?" Solomon relished their shattered expressions. He slowly wiped the bone fragment in his hand, as if recounting a story completely unrelated to himself.
"In 1666, my ancestor—the first Solomon Goode—made a deal with something from hell to ensure the family's prosperity."
"The terms were simple," he spread his hands with a pleasant smile. "As long as our Goode Family sacrificed a Shadyside resident's soul to the demon every few years, it would bless the Goode Family to prosper for generations, while the town of Shadyside would bear all the misfortune and disaster."
"Your poverty, your crime, your despair... all of it is fertilizer feeding the prosperity of our family across the highway."
Solomon's words were like poisoned knives, carving into Deena and the others' hearts, one cut at a time.
So that was it.
Centuries of suffering in Shadyside. The endless killers. The inexplicable tragedies—they weren't some witch's curse, but a calculated blood sacrifice, using an entire town's lives to sustain one family's wealth and power!
"What about Sarah Fier?" Deena's voice was hoarse, filled with hatred.
"Oh, her?" Solomon chuckled softly, casually tossing the hand bone back into the pit with a dull thud. "The perfect scapegoat.
My ancestor was involved with her, but for the family's future, he had to make a choice.
So he framed her as a witch, incited the ignorant Puritans to execute her, and pinned our deal with the demon as her curse."
"Genius, wasn't it?" Solomon praised himself. "A lie that's lasted over three hundred years.
Making you stupid kids rush to your deaths, one generation after another, trying to lift a 'witch's curse' that never existed."
He gestured to the silent killers surrounding them.
"They are the 'executors' chosen by the demon throughout history.
When the Goode Family speaks someone's name to the demon, these killers crawl out of hell and hunt that person until their soul is delivered."
"And today," Solomon's gaze locked onto Deena, his pleasant smile turning cold and cruel, "the chosen name is yours, Deena Johnson."
The truth—the bloody, horrific truth—was completely revealed.
Deena and the others felt dizzy, bodies turning cold.
All their effort. All their hope. Just an elaborately planned deception spanning over three centuries.
They were puppets on strings, walking straight into the hunter's trap.
"Why... why tell us all this?" Josh asked, trembling. He didn't understand why Solomon would reveal everything right before killing them.
"Because..." Solomon's smile widened, "watching your faces as you fall from hope's peak into despair's abyss is truly... delicious."
He snapped his fingers.
"Go, my servants. Enjoy your meal."
The command was given.
All the stationary killers moved simultaneously!
Baghead released a bestial roar, swinging his fire axe with both hands, bringing foul wind, and viciously chopping toward Josh!
Razor Woman flashed, appearing behind Sam like a ghost, razor aimed at her carotid artery!
Skull Mask, Baseball Bat Boy, the Milkman, the Priest... all the killers moved, their target singularly focused—Deena!
The shadow of death completely engulfed all three at once!
"NO—!"
A desperate scream echoed through the atrium.
Second Floor
"Master." Jennifer's voice came softly.
"Yeah. Time to work." Edward rolled his neck, joints popping audibly.
Just as the fire axe was about to cleave Josh in half—
WHOOOM—!
Invisible force instantly descended!
The heavy fire axe stopped dead, less than an inch from Josh's skull!
As if gripped by an unseen hand, no matter how Baghead roared and strained, he couldn't advance a millimeter further!
Simultaneously, the razor about to slice Sam's throat hovered frozen in mid-air.
All the killers charging Deena were locked in place at the same instant!
Time seemed paused.
The only ones who could move were the three surviving teenagers—and Solomon Goode, standing by the fountain.
"What the—?!"
Solomon's smile vanished instantly, replaced by extreme shock.
He looked around frantically, finally spotting Edward and Jennifer on the second floor. "Who the hell are you?!"
Edward didn't answer. He simply placed one hand on the railing and lightly vaulted down from the second floor.
Perfect superhero landing. Nailed it.
Immediately after, Jennifer—all dangerous curves and predatory grace—leaped down as well, landing beside him with feline precision.
Edward dusted off his hands theatrically, gaze sweeping over the killers frozen by his telekinesis, finally settling on Solomon Goode's face.
"You know, for a supervillain, you sure talk a lot. Haven't you ever watched a movie? Monologuing is how bad guys always lose."
Edward's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly throughout the entire atrium.
Deena, Sam, and Josh—having narrowly escaped death—stared at this suddenly appearing man, eyes filled with confusion and desperate hope.
Solomon Goode's face darkened. He glared at Edward, grinding out words through clenched teeth: "What the hell are you, and what the FUCK are you talking about?!"
He could sense an aura emanating from this young man that made him deeply uncomfortable. It was pure, powerful, completely antithetical to his demon-granted power.
"You asking who I am?" Edward grinned, flashing white teeth.
He raised his right hand theatrically, pointed his thumb at himself, and struck a ridiculous pose.
"I'm just your friendly neighborhood demon hunter passing through. Remember that!"
Solomon's face twisted with rage and confusion. "Demon hunter? There's no such thing as—"
"Yeah, yeah, 'no such thing,' 'impossible,' 'you can't interfere.'" Edward waved dismissively. "I've heard it all before. You evil dynasty types always have the same script."
He cracked his knuckles.
"Here's the thing, Solomon. Your little family business?" Edward's expression went cold. "It ends tonight."
Solomon laughed—a harsh, brittle sound. "You think you can break a deal three hundred years in the making? The demon owns this town! It owns these killers! It owns—"
"Yeah, about that." Edward interrupted again, clearly enjoying frustrating the villain. "I've broken demon contracts before. It's kind of my thing."
He snapped his fingers, and the frozen killers suddenly dropped to the ground like puppets with cut strings, his telekinetic hold releasing them.
They didn't attack, though. They just... stood there, confused, as if waiting for commands that no longer made sense.
"See, here's what you don't understand," Edward continued, walking casually toward Solomon. "Demons? They're not that special. They're just parasites. They need permission, contracts, loopholes."
He stopped a few feet from Solomon.
"And I'm really good at finding loopholes."
Solomon's confidence cracked. He stepped backward. "You can't—the demon will—"
"The demon will what?" Edward's eyes flashed silver. "Come fight me itself? Please. I'd love that."
Jennifer appeared beside Edward, eyes glowing faint red, fangs showing slightly.
"Master's collected quite the trophy wall," she purred. "Your demon would make a nice centerpiece."
Solomon looked between them, finally understanding.
These weren't normal people.
These weren't even normal hunters.
"What... what are you?" he whispered.
Edward smiled—cold and predatory.
"Me? I'm the guy who shows up when assholes like you think they've won."
He raised both hands, and Ebony and Ivory materialized from thin air.
"Now. You've got two choices, Solomon."
Edward's voice dropped to deadly calm.
"Option one: You break your family's contract yourself. Free the killers. End the curse. Turn yourself in for three centuries of mass murder."
Solomon laughed bitterly. "And option two?"
Edward's smile widened.
"Option two: I break you, take what I need to break the contract myself, and mount your head on my wall next to the Creeper."
He cocked both guns.
"Personally? I'm hoping you pick option two."
Behind him, all the killers suddenly turned toward Solomon instead.
Because Edward's power was overwhelming Solomon's control.
And they were starting to remember who they really were.
Who they'd been before the demon took them.
And they were pissed.
Solomon's face went pale.
"You can't do this," he whispered. "The demon—"
"Fuck your demon," Edward said simply.
And all hell broke loose.
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