In the layer between realities, strange forces swirled and began to coalesce. A coruscating light punctuated the darkness and illuminated a cloud of fear and hatred. At the rotten heart of a churning nebula, an indomitable malevolence willed itself into existence and began looking for a place from which to spread its malice. The soul extended its perception through a network of dimensional weak points until somewhere stood out. A pool of human sacrifice, housed in a church that worships vanity and excess, built in a land of disease and decay. Somewhere, hungry beasts feast on the flesh of willing sacrifices that smile and laugh as they are devoured feet first.

  Yes, this place will do nicely.

  It was nine in the evening on a Thursday. Late-night shopping had ended, the last customer had left and all the sharp implements of the trade were being sterilized. Sally Bethlam turned off the light and noticed a small spark of static on the surface of the nibble fish pool. Huh, she thought, then she locked up and went home. The Happy Flowers Fish Spa & Salon was closing for the night, but for one little fish, the business of evil was just getting started.

  The spawn of a small garra rufa fish hatched into a large glass tank. The tank was eighteen inches deep, roughly six feet long, three feet wide and flanked by a mirrored wall and a tiled bench seat padded with a long vinyl cushion decorated with floral patterns, with a folded white towel placed neatly in the center.

  “Behold, I am murder, I am hatred, I am hunger, I am fear, I am death, and I claim dominion over this realm,” said the diminutive hatchling. His voice was still small and didn’t carry through the water that hummed with the sound of two filters pumping and bubbling in opposite corners of the tank. A larger nibble fish, almost three inches long, collided with the corporeal essence of evil, sending him tumbling into a jet from one of the filter pumps and hurtling across the tank. New sensations entered the fish’s mind. It was disoriented from being swept along in the current, but more than anything it felt a need, a burning hunger, that could only be sated by human flesh. Revenge against the one who slighted the fish could wait, for now it must fulfill its absolute imperative: to feed.

  “Hello,” came a dim, friendly voice. “Is this your first day in the school? And is your name really Murder?”

  “You may call me Murder, but I am many things,” said the little fish.

  “Hello Murder. That’s a cool name. I’m Orange Spots, but my friends call me Spots.”

  “This is indeed my first day in the school. When do our subjects bring the first sacrifice? I must feed on the flesh of man.”

  “We don’t get many of them ’round here,” said Spots. “We get plenty of women, though. But now that the shop’s closed, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow. If you’re desperate, you can always… you know.” Spots made a small circular motion with two of its fins, slowly swimming backwards as it mimed the action. “Roe, roe, roe your boat, gently down the gullet. We’re not allowed to, technically, but no one’s ever stopped me.”

  “As the first thing that was done to me was an act of defiant thuggery, I shall respond by feasting on the young of those that have wronged me. A fitting end to my first day,” said Murder.

  “Follow me, I'll show you a spot where no one will see us,” replied Spots.

  The two tiny fish swam behind one of the filters and found a still spot where many of the roe lay still –their tiny, fragile embryos slowly developing inside.

  “This is for the lack of respect,” Murder said as he ate his first embryo. “This one is because I hate you, and this one is just because I can.” Murder ate the roe until his tiny stomach had its fill. With each burgeoning life he took, he felt just a little bit stronger. But he didn’t come here for this. He knew instinctively that his purpose was to devour the flesh of man. I wonder how many humans I will eat tomorrow, Murder thought as he slept peacefully on a bed of embryos behind the filter. They probably drop them into the tank by the hundred. Pathetic bloody creatures.

  Murder awoke to the morning sun warming the tank. It seemed like he had already grown. He felt so much stronger, but the hunger was back and he felt the yearning to feed even more intense than before. Murder polished off six more roe behind the filter – one more than the night before – then he swam to the top of the tank. Looking out, he could see what appeared to be colossal chairs of torture lining the interior of the room beyond the tank. There were countless sharpened implements of despair hanging from the walls and in jars of blue liquid placed in altars. Most looked metallic with two blades and two handles. The blades looked massive – too big to be practical. There were either works of art made in tribute to the cruel art of torture, or they were used to shear off heads by the dozen. There were great jars of green poisons and towering devices that were either electrocution helmets for giants or perhaps portable gas chambers. To add to the horror, the room was painted pink, the colour of watered-down blood.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Murder smiled a toothless little smile. I'm going to like this place, and I would like to meet one of these priests of excess that have built such grand structures in my honor. I'll be eating humans by the dozen in no time.

  Sally arrived at the spa early to open up for the day. “No rest for the wicked,” she said, trying to motivate herself as she began another long day for very little pay. Sally turned on the air purifier, then the lights. She then began the morning routine of checking the diary, seeing if any new appointments had been made online and reviewing the roster to see who else was working that day.

  “Oh great, Deborah and Jesse for four hours,” muttered Sally. “I don’t even think the fish like Deborah.” Sally carried an A-frame sign outside that advertised manicures, pedicures and haircuts. She noticed it was almost time to order a new sign; they only lasted a few months before the smog and whatever was in the rain stained the signs an unpleasant shade of yellow. She put on a drip coffee and flipped the sign on the door from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’. Next to the sign was a piece of paper with the words ‘Help wanted, fish-keeping experience preferred. Apply within’ scrawled in the kind of neat penmanship that made twelve-year-olds envious.

  Each time Sally walked by the tank, every fish in the aquarium followed her on the off chance she was their next meal.

  “Hello my little nibblers,” said Sally, before opening a drawer built into her reception desk and taking out a bag of fish pellets. She threw a handful into the tank, which caused a frenzy. “There you go little guys. Stay hungry – big day today,” she said as she knelt down to put the fish food away.

  A massive fish, inches long, attacked the pellets with wild disregard for Murder’s claim to own all things, including fish pellets. Before Murder had the chance to tear the offending beast in twain, he caught a glimpse of the creature who had captivated the school.

  What is this giant? thought Murder. This must be the priestess who has so diligently curated this oversized sacrificial temple. She serves me well.

  The bell over the door chimed and two young women walked in.

  “...my God can you believe she did that last night? Brad is going to be pissed,” said the taller of the girls, who wore striped Adidas sweatpants and a gray hoodie with a picture of Tupac. She sported a long brown ponytail, tightly woven cornrows and an obviously fake tan. The girls continued their conversation, entirely failing to acknowledge Sally as they entered the store.

  “Hi Deborah, hi Jesse,” called Sally, slightly louder than was necessary from behind a small reception desk near the front of the spa.

  “God, I'm so hungover. Don’t give me any real work today or I’m going to be sick,” said Deborah.

  “If you’re sick, go home and I'll call in someone else,” replied Sally, desperately hoping Deborah would take her up on the offer.

  “Umm, no,” said Deborah, putting one hand on her hip and raising her eyebrows with mock offense.

  “You’re such a boss bitch, Deb,” said Jesse, who was the kind of girl who stoked the fire of rebelliousness in others but only smoked cigarettes second-hand.

  The door chimed again and the first customer of the day walked towards the front desk with a slow yet determined gait. She was a woman in her early eighties, wearing a knitted mustard cardigan over her slightly hunched back.

  “Hello Mrs McCloud,” said Sally, standing and greeting one of her regulars with a smile.

  “Hello Sally, how is Mr Whiskers? Is he in today?”

  “No Mrs McCloud, he’s at home today,” said Sally, who then leaned in and whispered “He doesn't get on well with Deborah,” before directing the woman to her seat at the edge of the tank. “Please come through. Deborah will take care of you at the pool. If you need anything, anything at all, please just ask and she’ll jump right on it because that’s her job. In fact, I invite you to call out every few minutes just to see if the bitch is awake.”

  “What was that, dear?”

  “I said she pitched in some cake. Would you like some?” asked Sally before turning her head and shouting over her shoulder to the two girls who had disappeared into the back room. “Deborah, after you have made Mrs McCloud comfortable, take a trip to The Cherry on Top and pick us up a carrot cake.”

  “Are you okay, dearie?” asked Mrs McCloud. “You’re far too young and far too beautiful to look so stressed.”

  “Thank you Mrs McCloud, I'm fine,” replied Sally, surprised that the old woman could see through her well-honed customer-service face that she fancied could win her a World Series of Poker tournament, if she knew how to play poker.

  “You make your own happiness; it’s as easy as baking a brownie,” said Mrs McCloud. “Remembering that has done me a world of good.”

  The old lady sat at the edge of the fish-filled pool, gingerly took off her sandals and slowly lowered her feet into the water to the accompaniment of a lot of satisfied old lady sounds.

  “Oh that’s lovely,” whispered the old lady to herself.

  “We’re being attacked” cried Murder, as giant bulbous monstrosities encroached on his territory. To his surprise, his fellow schoolmates were undaunted by the giant that had entered their pool. In fact, they had rushed straight to the attack. His opinion of them rose significantly.

  “Die vile abomination!” screamed Murder’s tiny voice as he plunged into the fray.