“He lives in dreams, idiot,” said Esther. “Shut up.” And she stopped 
the car in front of the gate. 


They were quiet for a moment. Jude was the first to sit up, open the 
door, and step out of the car. Esther and JJ followed. 


JJ lagged behind as they walked to the large porch and the front 
door. The house loomed above, and providence sang within him. 


Sometimes, it listened. Even if it didn't, he would have gone. He 
watched Jude twist the knob. Muscles tensed. Jude was sweating, 
more than usual. 


Inside was surprisingly cool. It smelled clean. No dust. Jude stepped 
in, then Esther. 


JJ stepped through the threshold, and there was a crunch beneath 
his feet. He lifted up his shoe. Dead bug. Filled with what looked like 
pus. It probably wasn't pus. Maybe it had been green? But damn, it 
was huge. JJ dragged his foot across the carpet, staring down at the 
streak. Shell. Lots of shell. But mostly that white liquid. 


The chandelier hung low above them. Cobwebs formed a living 
mesh over the great, elegant light fixture. Like a mummy. Two 
stairways at the end of the room curved to meet each other at the 
second floor. There were too many doors. Paintings that were 
stained beyond recognition hung upon the walls. A moldy tapestry 
here and there. A broken vase. But it felt warm. The air hummed 
around him. 


Esther screamed. Sharp, shrill. 
Ju tilted his head. 
The entrance slammed shut behind them. 


There were hundreds of them, maybe thousands. They slid along 
the walls, out from every crevice, out from behind paintings, from 
unseen corners. From the broken vase. All the size of a half-dollar. 
Green beetles. Leaf green. Weed green. And they chittered, 
chirruped. Spherical like robotic. But they weren't, were they? 
Robots didn't bleed pus. He couldn't see their legs, could barely 
make out their heads. Twitching, long antennae. 


But JJ only smiled. 
“Oh shit,” said Jude. “Shit, shit. Jitterbug Stay calm.” 


Esther put her hands over her mouth. The flashcards covered in 
scribbles wouldn't work on bugs probably, JJ thought. 


“Don't touch them,” said Jude. 


Then, from speakers all around their heads, the Breeder spoke. 


The Breeder hated having to listen to it. Electric Eye spoke 
constantly. Its voice was raspy, low. It never stopped. Didn't help 
much to keep it lubricated, either. The thing sucked up anything like 
it was cacti. He sucked the tip of his right index finger. Then his 
middle finger. Then the other two on the other hand. The tips of his 
digits were wrinkled. They no longer tasted salty. 


The thing still gave good news, though. He leaned back in his chair. 
A bug scuttled across his torso and slid around his face, stopping on 
his glasses. Left lens. Its antennae waved in the air, a conductor of a 
complex symphony. Or maybe it was more like sempahore? 


“Mary, Mother of God, forgive all us sinners, or, | mean, tell God for 
me that I'm really sorry and I'm sorry in their name, too. Not in an 
offensive way. | guess. They don't need my help. They're good and 
they're so good to me and stay chill, stay chill.” Electric Eye croaked 
each word as though it were unfamiliar with the tongue. “Don't 
wanna see and can't help but see, and going blind in the face of it. 
Turned toward god and the pillar of salt, but turned toward the 
mansion. Don't trip. Too high. Moony. Head in the sky.” 


lt was always moving, but he tried his best to ignore that. They were 
there. Of course, he had known that, since that thing never shut up, 
but it was great to see the little ones getting so nervous. It scuttled 
along his body, and the Breeder let it. He sucked on his right pinky, 
then his left. 


“Too many, to be or not. Like a walnut. Thanks for the boots. | 
bought them. Sales clerk, sales clerk with brown hair and bright blue 
eyes. Cute. JJ. Not the bugs. Crunch. Still. Quiet. Where?” 


Its mad dashes slowed, as it sensed no worry from its father. The 
bug slid down the Breeder's ankle and down through a vent in the 
floor. 


The Breeder pressed the button and pressed his lips against the 


microphone. The sensation, up and down, of his lips against the 
rigid plastic made him want to moan. But he reined himself in, and 
he spoke to the Murderer and his Sex Fiends. 


“Hey, Jude. Fucked up you didn't die.” His nose was crushed 

against the microphone, which probably didn't do much for his 
sound quality. But it felt too good. “I Know you're feelin’ a little 

nervous down there. Do the babies bother ya? You can keep 

dancing, but | think the fire burns hot.” 


A pause, his finger depressed the button, and he turned to Electric 
Eye. 


“A pervert. Like a muffled stupid son of a bitch, and they creepy 
creeping creepily creep. JJ. Esther. Okay. Two. Okay. Sounds like a 
siren, screech a cheap. Reepicheep. Fell down a waterfall? Into 
God?” 


“Shut up for a second. Initiate Dance Commander.” 


The thing snapped back then forward. It said, “What is your 
command?” 


“Stand by.” And the Breeder swiveled in his chair once, twice. His 
finger pressed down on the button, and he said, “You're an idiot for 
coming. This isn't an anime. Sometimes, you get two stands. And 
Electric Eye, Jude, has the Dance Commander.” Button depressed. 
“Dance Commander, cancel all movement.” 


“Movement canceled.” 


“Sweet.” Button pressed. “Jude, Jude, Jude. You're gettin’ real 
nervy, aren't you? When you fall down that waterfall and see God, | 
want you to know that he's gonna send you to Hell. And he's gonna 
make you watch him send those two to Hell, too.” A cackle, shrill, 
and then he said, without bothering to depress the button, “Dance 
Commander, fucking fire at will.” 


“Engaged.” 


Jude wasn't himself. Not even close. 


SCP-666: Spirit Lodge 


Item #: SCP-666 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-666 is to be stored ina 
monitored, closed vault at all times at Site 73 in the Tibetan 
mountains. Guards are to be changed weekly, must pass a 
background check before being assigned to their post, and proven 
free of drug and alcohol addiction. 


SCP-666 is to be entered only by D-class personnel in approved 
testing procedures or by approved Foundation researchers with 
level 4 or higher security clearance. Non-D-class personnel who 
enter SCP-666, whether or not they have revealed a prior history of 
addiction, must be observed by a guard at all times. If they show any 
sign of being affected by SCP-666, they are to be removed 
immediately. 


Description: SCP-666 is a medium-sized Tibetan yurt, made of tied 
wooden branches and covered in yak leather. The interior ceiling is 
2.44m (8ft) high and the base of the yurt is 9.14m (30ft). The hut is 
circular in shape. The interior of the yurt has a dirt floor and appears 
to be as crude as the outside to the majority of observers; the 
branches that make up the yurt frame are wrapped in rabbit fur and 
tied with yak leather thongs. Periodically, SCP-666 will change its 
location within the confinement area; this will happen only when not 
under direct observation, but remote viewing gives the impression of 
an entity inside the structure lifting it wholly and moving to its new 
position. To date, it has not made any attempt to escape 
confinement. 


SCP-666 was discovered in 1973 by SCP operatives searching the 
mountain regions on reports of several missing persons having 
returned from the area giving similar explanations: seeking shelter 
during harsh weather, the individuals would happen upon SCP-666 


His jaw was shut. But those eyes danced in fear. Right, left. Esther, 
then JJ. Esther, then JJ. And after that cackle, the muffled voice 
said, “Dance Commander, fucking fire at will.” Then, Jude lifted his 
hand. 


Electricity crackled between his fingers in a fragile webbing. It rose 
up on the back of his hand, then down his wrist, up his arm until it 
rose and over took his chest, spreading to the next arm in a reverse 
fashion. He held his hand out toward JJ, and a column of blue-white 
electricity flowed, like water, from Jude's right hand. 


Dust flew in the air. The carpet around Jude crackled with static 
fuzz, following the lazy back and forth movement of his left hand. It 
rose, and the blue light curled like a snake then lashed out like a 
whip toward Esther. 


JJ smiled. The dancer clung to him. Pale. He imagined it was pale. 
Long limbs, intertwined with his. A passionate tango. An ever-waliz. 
A forever, ever mambo. And the providence whispered, but mostly, it 
was quiet and smiled and breathed. The oldest thing, the oldest 
thing there ever was, but it loved him, didn't it? 


It felt like dancing when he dipped down and then fell forward, 
bringing Esther screaming onto a pile of bugs that burst against her 
back and his side like little pimples. 


The bugs that had lived began to crawl over Esther and JJ. Esther 
screamed, covered her mouth, but then she screamed again, before 
biting down on her hand. 


The bugs crawled along her skin, stopping occasionally to press 
down and burn her in a perfect circle, like a nickel. And they 
continued to do so. Rapidly. She shook her hand and stood up, 
before JJ reached up and pulled her down, as electricity whizzed 
above their heads. 


“You should probably strip,” JJ said. 


Esther who had been doing breathing exercises reached out to JJ 
but then stopped short. She sighed and flipped her top over her 
head. She immediately fell from his view. But most importantly, both 


of Jude's hands focused on Ju. 


Two bolts, once, twice, and then Ju frolicked, jumping on the 
banister and climbing upwards and sliding through the doorway. The 
banister fell behind him, crumbled and burnt and scorched by 
electrical discharge. The rhythm pulsed and beat within him like a 
second heart. The providence pressed its mouth against its ear, and 
it felt almost like a kiss. 


There were bugs everywhere. They crawled and scampered, but 
they didn't seem anxious. They ignored JJ. Cooler heads always 
prevailed. And they fed on fear. They fed on discomfort. They turned 
the heat up when things got nervous, but JJ had never been 
nervous in his entire life. Not for his own life, at least. Never for his 
own. 


The thing that loved him brought him to the left. Then the right. Long 
hallways. Little accouterments. It wasn't exactly homey. But it 
smelled lived in. Every so often JJ noted a fast food burger wrapper. 
Always a different place. 


And then, he stopped in front of a door. Identical to all the others. 
But it pulled him toward the wood until the heat and tension 
threatened to burst out like a kind of lust or a kind of fire that wanted 
to take it all in and take it all out. 


The Breeder said, “Progress report.” 

“In-progress. One has disappeared, and one has escaped.” 
“What?” 

“Disappeared.” 


The Breeder gritted his teeth and stood up. He reached out to 
Electric Eye, and his long fingers encircled her throat. He throttled its 
head to the front, and to the back. The blindfold momentarily slid 
down its face, but he pushed it back up. The thing freaked out when 
it could see. 


Its face reddened, and it fought against the confines of the 


straitjacket. 


The Breeder depressed his grip, and he said, “Find them and kill 
them. If you weren't his daughter, I'd take the life out of you. You 
piece of shit GPS bitch.” 


As he spoke, the door opened. The bugs skittered, and the 
Breeder's head swung to the noise. In the doorway, stood one of 
them. One of the Sex Fiends. He grinned, spread across his 
bearded face. The area around his mouth, wet with drool. The 
Breeder looked down at the little Sex Fiend. He breathed in, then 
out, shallow, broken with laughter. 


“Mr. Lucky, right?” said the Breeder. A bead of sweat fell down his 
forehead. “That's gettin' me pretty fuckin' scared, dude. Real fuckin' 
terrified.” Giggling, and the bugs converged upon their father as one 
living thing. They encircled him, pressing their bodies against his 
skin. Like a weird armor. They left room for his face as he spoke. 
“And don't worry about your buds. When Electric Eye stops babbling 
all of Jude's stupid bullshit, it's pretty great at controlling them. Idiot 
never even questioned why the Critic wanted a lock of his hair. Poor, 
poor stupid Jude and that soon-to-be dead fat girl. But that leaves 
me. And luckily for me, I'm the Bomb. Sub-ability.” 


The Breeder winked. The air went wavy. As JJ crossed the room, 
the microphone near the Breeder burst into flame. 


JJ wondered what was with this guy and Electric Six. The heat 
cranked up, and he reached into his pocket. As he drew closer, his 
skin blistered. The dancer held on, pulling him toward the door, but 
JJ persisted. Strained against it. 


No longer a dancer but a jealous lover. He calmed it, as best he 
could. He sent it the idea in his head, and it grumbled. 


It no longer mattered, however. As the heat turned up, JJ slashed 
out with the screwdriver into the Breeder's neck. Immediately, the 
bugs fell to the ground, some on their back, and they scurried into 
corners, confused like little dogs. 


The Breeder fell to his knees, blood gurgling from his lips. He looked 
at JJ, eyes flashing confused and angry. 


“Shh, shh. Your first mistake was thinking I'd ever be afraid.” JJ's 
sunburnt lips crackled into a smile. It hurt. The first bursts of pain he 
had felt in his memory. JJ bent down to the man, pressing his 
forehead against his. 


The Breeder was sweaty, and life was falling from his eyes as his 
heart betrayed his body and pumped every bit of blood out of his 
neck and into Ju's shirt. 


“Your second mistake was thinking I'd hesitate in killing you.” JJ 
kissed the Breeder's forehead, hands on the dying man's temples. It 
didn't matter if he heard it, but what mattered was saying it. Out 
loud. “He's an idiot, but | think | love him. Like a brother. Like 
providence loves me. | don't want anyone to hurt him, dead dude. 
God, look at all that blood. You can't hear me at all, can you?” 


The Breeder's eyelids fluttered, and in JJ's uncaring arms, he died. 


“He's good. He tries. He hurt a lot of people, but so have |. He's 
sorry. And | wish | could be that sorry. | wish people could be that 
sorry.” 


That was when Esther blinked back into JJ's cognition and said, 
“Dance Commander, disengage. Oh G-d, you poor girl. What did 
they do to you?” She bent down to the girl, whose chair had broken. 
She was splayed on the floor, quiet, unmoving, seemingly unfeeling. 
Esther wrapped the girl in her arms and looked up at Ju. 


JJ looked down at her. 
“You didn't hear any of that.” 
“Sure,” said Esther. “What do we do with the girl?” 


“| don't know right now,” said JJ, standing up. His clothes were 
soaked. The bugs trundled mindlessly in circles with their father 
dead. Downstairs, JJ assumed, Jude has passed out. 


“He's going to find something here. And he's gonna keep going and 


find this dude. You're super aware of that, right?” 
“Yeah,” said Ju. 

“And you're still gonna go with him?” 

“Until the end of the world.” 


“Du farkirtst mir di yorn. Then | am too.” Esther sighed, and she 
stood up with the small girl. Light. She must have been so light. 


Her hair was blonde, and her eyes blue. She couldn't have been 
more than fourteen. But she was small for her age. Withered. 
Hungry. And she didn't speak. Her jaw was slack. 


“It's the Critic's daughter,” said JJ. 


“| heard.” Esther bit her lower lip, and then said, “Let's go see if 
Jude's okay. Then | guess we gotta get this girl to a hospital. Or 
something.” 


“Maybe then you can reverse the nudity thing?” JJ grinned. As much 
as he could while covered in a dead man's blood. 


“Don't rush me,” she said, looking down at the small, blonde girl. 
She brushed her hair across her forehead. “G-d, poor thing.”