He frowned. This wasn’t going the way he planned, not at all. The child was much too elusive. Despite the fact that his guests were on the verge of insanity, the girl was on her way to revive them. And that wasn’t good.

He thought for a moment, something he was very good at doing. The game couldn’t be won without doing it, and he always won the game. Normally, he loved to think. But now, the more he thought, the angrier he got. He knew it now: there was only one solution.

It was time to finish the poem.

He wanted to play with them more, however. Despite the minor setbacks, this had been the most fun he had had in a long time. This time, the game had been challenging. He liked a challenge; it kept him on his toes. But he had to turn the tables, before it spun out of control.

Because he couldn’t lose. Not now. Not ever.

He never lost.

And he didn’t intend to this time.

***

Hope had never moved so fast in her life. She rushed across the room, and just as the spider was about to maul the boy again, threw herself across his chest. The spider drew back, snarling. The demon-Frank glared at the child.

“Get away from him, you witch!” he hissed.

The child laughed darkly. “Me? A witch? You, the devil’s spawn, think it wise to call me a witch?”

“You little—”

“You cannot touch me, demon,” she said simply. “Leave him.”

“You do not tell me what to do. I do what my master bids me. Now leave us, before I have to kill you as well.”

“You cannot kill hope,” the girl whispered. “As long as there is some hope in their hearts, I am untouchable. You see, you have made a mistake. He was not entirely hopeless when you set your monster on him. When he fell into unconsciousness, the hope did not die. So it still lingers, and it will not fade while he is unaware of his surroundings. He is unconscious—for a short time, he has escaped you and your demonic torture.”

The demon-Frank’s face twisted into a hideous scowl. “Scum!” it hissed.

She took a step forward. “Go. Now.”

There was fear in the demon’s eyes now. It knew it had to comply. “My master will kill you,” it hissed before it disappeared. “He will never let you win his game.”

It was gone, and the spider with it. Hope knelt down over Joe’s body and put her hand on his blood-soaked cheek. She hated to bring him back to this torment, but he had to wake up. It would be painful, but it was the only way. Only when the brothers were okay and together could he lose.

It was four o’clock AM. The sun rose at six. Two more hours. If they could last two more hours, he would lose. But it would not completely destroy him if he lost. It would be a big blow, but the best way to stop him would be to defeat him physically and mentally before the sun came up.

“Joe, wake up. It’s okay. They are gone. You need to come back. We need you. Frank needs you.”

Joe groaned. “It hurts,” he whispered.

Hope stroked his face compassionately. “What hurts, Joe?”

“Everything,” he gasped. He began to tremble. “A spider—Frank—he doesn’t need me. He tried to kill me.”

“No, Joe, that was—”

“No, Hope…it’s—it’s okay,” he said with effort, pain from the many lacerations causing his body to seize up in pain. “I understand now. I have—have accepted it.” But there were tears rolling down his bloodstained face. “Frank really does hate me. He wants me dead. It’s over.”

“No, Joe!” Hope whispered desperately. A spark of brown flashed, different than the first time he had seen it in his eyes. So oddly familiar.

“Frank?” Joe muttered. His eyes lolled back in his head and his body went limp. Hope stood, tiny worry lines on her forehead. This was worse than she had thought.

***

Frank didn’t even try to stop the knife. He knew it was virtual suicide, to not even try and defend himself, but he was too disoriented to care. He wanted it to end.

But just as the knife was about to pierce his skin, there was a horrible, sinister voice from across the room. Him.

“That is enough.” The demon-Joe disappeared into thin air, and he crossed the room to Frank’s side and grasped his hair in a strong, gloved hand. Frank gasped in pain as he was pulled to his feet.

“You wanted it to end, didn’t you, Frank?” he hissed. “You didn’t really think it would be over that quickly, did you?” He shoved Frank toward the door and the boy did nothing to protest. All was lost.

He sighed. “I’m just sorry I can’t play the game any longer, but it has become too precarious. Alas, it is time for me to recite the final words of the poem once you and your brother are reunited.”

Frank looked up. Joe? He was alive? He felt a bit of hope prick his heart.

He laughed. “Don’t be too excited. Your brother isn’t in much of a mood to talk,” he snarled. “But I need you side by side when I finally win the game. I want you both to see the lights leave the other’s eyes as you lose the game, and finally—finally—get what you deserve.”

Let the author know what you think of this story

Home Library Authors Rogue's Gallery Vehicles Chums Message Board Rap Sheet Links Contact

Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.