Two teenagers walked side by side on grimy sidewalks lit by dim, flickering streetlights, their footsteps beating out a pattern that echoed across the desolate city streets. The boy's eyes swerved from side to side, searching the streets for any sign of danger, while the girl held a small plastic bag and hummed a tune that neither of them could quite place.

As the two reached the corner of the street and stopped, glancing in both directions for cars despite knowing that the odds of spotting one were slim to none at this time of night, the girl abruptly halted her humming and turned towards the boy, her curl-filled ponytail swishing from side to side.

"You're such a worrywart, Ty."

Ty sighed and turned towards the girl. "It's creepy out here, okay? We shouldn't even be out here in the first place. It's not safe. Somebody should know that not dying trumps getting first crack at a new batch of Smile Dip."

"We're not going to die, bro-bro." The boy broke out into a smile despite his best efforts at hearing his sister's affectionate title for him. She patted him on the head- no easy feat given that he towered over her by several inches- and ruffled the tightly-wound curls which lay atop it. "And I haven't had Smile Dip for years! I couldn't risk having it run out!"

Ty shook his head, equally amused and concerned at his sister's over-the-top focus on getting candy. He could recall every detail of her last encounter with Smile Dip, and involuntarily shuddered at the thought of having to deal with that level of chaos once more. "Fine. But if something happens, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Whatever." She stuck her tongue out at him as they crossed the empty street. The girl started to trail her brother by a few steps, and he was too focused on scanning the streets for any signs of life to notice that she had fallen behind.

"Boo!"

Startled, Ty lost his balance and fell to the ground, scraping his hand on the bumps of the sidewalk. A quick glance upwards revealed that the source of the unexpected noise was none other than his sister, who was now wearing a wide grin.

"I'm the boogeyman! Booga booga booga!" She waved her hands around in mid-air as he stood back up.

"Don't do that!"

"Did I scare you?" His sister's toothy grin only grew wider. "Were you scared of the big bad boogeyman, Ty-Ty?"

The boy sighed and put his hand up to his forehead, shaking his hand and laughing gently to himself. "You're such a dork."

"I know you are, but what am I?" The girl resumed her humming and skipped happily along the sidewalk, and the boy grudgingly resumed his walk alongside her.

A few minutes and several city blocks later, Ty turned down the corner, wrinkling his nose as he noticed that multiple streetlights on the next street were flickering rapidly, while others had gone out entirely. It figured.

After a few quick footsteps, the boy noticed that he no longer heard his sister's humming or the sound of her steady skipping behind him.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not falling for this again, Lea."

Though Ty waited several seconds for a reply, none came, and the sudden silence that surrounded him, so great that he could hear the buzzing of the few working streetlights and the murmurs that leaked through the flimsy walls of the surrounding apartments, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Knock it off! This isn't funny anymore!" The boy fervently wished that the high-pitched wavering of his voice didn't give away his fear to her as much as it did to himself. It probably did, though. After fifteen years of growing up together, the two siblings knew each other almost as well as they knew themselves. She knew his every emotion, his every weakness, and doubtlessly this moment would be no exception.

Finally, Ty turned around to face his trailing sister. "Lea…"

He had not been expecting his sister to be on the ground and covered up by a burlap sack, or for her to be surrounded by a sizeable group of hooded figures who now turned to face him, stepping menacingly towards him, their faces and figures cloaked by the long shadows formed by the missing lights.

A rough, low voice shouted, "A witness! Grab him!"

Several strong arms grabbed his own, and though the boy tried to escape their grasp, their combined force was too great for him to resist. The boy was bound by heavy ropes, thrown roughly into a sack, and picked up by a multitude of hands. The world was dark now, but he could still hear the flickering of the streetlights and a series of murmurs that he had too quickly dismissed as he was taken away.

For once in his life, Ty realized, his paranoia had failed him. And now both he and his sister were about to pay the price.

The click of a lock opening, and a door slowly screeching open. A few bumps as he descended down a flight of stairs. A cold, wet floor as he was placed on the ground. And then, the movement stopped, and the rustle of fervent motion began.

"Lea." Ty whispered under his breath. "Are you there?"

Seconds passed, or minutes, or years. Ty could hear his heartbeat pounding, feel every unsteady breath as he soaked in the moist air surrounding him.

Finally, a muffled response came from his right side. "I'm here, Ty-Ty."

She was here. The boy smiled weakly. He had half-hoped that he would not get a response, that she would have escaped… and yet, hearing her voice comforted him. Whatever this was, they would face it together. And while they were side by side, he had faith that there was nothing the two couldn't handle.

He could faintly hear the noise of chanting, and as he took a deep breath, the boy noticed that the room reeked of mold and chalk and smoke and… was that cinnamon?

A few words spoken by the hooded figures were loud enough to reach his ears.

"I am sure that Lord Alcor will be most pleased with our offering."

"But what if the police come after us because of the missing kids?"

A gruff laugh. "Please. A couple of kids like them? I bet it won't even make the local news."

The scratching of chalk against concrete. Chalk dust tickled his nose, making the boy sneeze. His sister laughed quietly, and he groaned as he thought of her usual comments regarding his unmasculine sneezing.

"Is the summoning circle ready?"

"Almost. Do you have the knife?"

"Yes, and I made sure to clean it well after last time." Last time. Just the sound of those words gave the boy a pit in his stomach.

Finally, his heart pounding, the boy spoke up, desperate to use the only weapon he had left, his words, to secure some modicum of control over the situation. "Did you say you're summoning Alcor?"

"I don't see why you would care, boy, but yes. We know the power of Lord Alcor the Dreambender and hope that he will honor and respect us as greatly as we honor and respect him." The words were stated calmly, solemnly.

"And… you're using cinnamon-scented candles?"

"Well, yes. Their flames shall fill our Lord with light and flame, the fire outside reflecting the fire within him."

The boy took a deep breath. The smoke and chalk dust still made his nose and throat tickle, and he could hear his sister coughing, a noise that somehow scared him as much as the impending sacrifice. "Alcor prefers unscented candles. And if you're trying to summon a demon who answers only the strongest of calls, you'd better get every detail that you can right." His statement was punctuated, much to his chagrin, by another unmanly sneeze.

The cultist laughed darkly. "And what would a mere child like you know of the great and powerful Alcor?"

"I've read all the demonology books in my school library and then some. Go ahead, look it up if you don't believe me."

The commotion paused, replaced by the lone sound of book pages being flipped through. A minute or two went by before one of the cultists finally spoke up. "It looks like he's right."

Somebody sighed. "Replace the candles. We have unscented ones in the back." A flurry of footsteps went back and forth, and the cinnamon scent around them soon dissipated, though the smell of smoke was replaced soon after initially being extinguished.

"Ty, what are you doing?" Lea's voice sounded hoarse, and she ended the statement with another cough.

"It's okay. I have a plan." The boy fervently hoped that he sounded more confident than he felt.

Several minutes later, the chanting resumed, louder than before.

"Wait!" The boy cried out.

The chanting paused. The cultists were willing to hear him out now. Good. That much at least had worked.

"There's something else you guys should know about Alcor. He doesn't like human sacrifices, especially child sacrifices. So sacrificing us for his benefit is a bad idea, okay? It's not too late to… to go get a bunny or something… and sacrifice that instead? That'd work out better for… well, for all of us, really. Just trust me."

A few moments passed as utter silence filled the room. The boy's heart felt like it would jump out of his chest if he had to wait any longer for their response. It was true, though, everything he had said was true, right out of the college-level demonology textbook that the school librarian had been so impressed by him reading. He was clearly the demonology expert in the room, not these idiotic cultists… so they should listen to him, right...?

Finally, he got his response… in the form of widespread laughter.

"Nice try, kid."

And the chanting resumed.

"Fine! Fine, don't listen to me about that, but think about this. Why do you need two sacrifices right off the bat? Wouldn't it be better to just sacrifice one of us right now and use the other when you're making a deal, or for future summonings, or… something?"

"Huh?" Lea murmured.

Their chanting continued, nearly eclipsing the sound of his speech. The boy strained his voice as he vied for the cult's attention.

"So just kill me! Sacrifice me right now, if you really want to, but don't kill my sister, just me!"

"Ty, why are you doing this?"

The boy heard footsteps approaching, then without warning, the bag was yanked off of him. He was in the middle of a summoning circle, candles flickering as brightly and irregularly as the streetlights had been, a throng of blue-hooded figures surrounding him. One cultist stood in front of him, holding a large silver knife inscribed with a number of runes and faintly tinged red, and though he could only make out the barest outline of the face hidden by the hood, he could see the glint in the cultist's eyes.

"Your words have swayed us. You alone shall have the honor of giving your life as sacrifice to our Lord."

Another cultist dragged his sister, still covered by a bag, outside of the circle, smudging one or two of the chalk outlines in the process. The bag squirmed violently, and he could hear his sister screeching, "NO! TY!" even as the chanting continued.

And then, with a single swift motion, the knife was plunged into his chest.

A sharp pain in his abdomen made it difficult for the boy to focus on anything else. The world grew light and fuzzy, the outlines of the shapes around him dimming and blurring. There was blood, so much blood, running down his body onto the concrete floor.

As the world faded away and the cultist withdrew their knife triumphantly, the boy mumbled a few final words.

"Lea, I'm sorry…"

And then everything was gone.