Page 31

The gust of wind still swirled around Evan as he said, “Reveal yourself so I can help you.”

Silence.

Then the air tremored with a sound.

A breath.

A soft chuckle.

“Help me…?”The deep, manly voice echoed in the room. Hushed but firm. Somewhat…annoyed.

The air thickened with resentment, and Evan sucked in a sharp breath before dropping his shoulders. He had to stay calm and help it…himcalm down too.

Folding his hands in his lap, Evan stared at the floor, at the flickering shadows cast by the table lamp. “I don’t know what you went through or what attracted you here, but…I know it must have been hard. I know it must have been painful. Lonely. And…I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through whatever you did.”

A beat of silence passed before a hum crept up Evan’s skin and the dense air of resentment cleared partially.

Evan perked slightly, feeling—for the first time in years—a strong need to genuinely help someone. It was like the sixteen-year-old Evan inside him had risen from the dead. There were no monetary benefits here. Only the goodness of his heart—and the sheer determination to not die.

“Let me help you,” Evan said, staring at an idle shadow on the floor.

“How…?”

Evan flinched when a puff of warm air grazed the side of his face, as if that question had been whispered right into his ear. But that was impossible. No spirit could ever break through a salt barrier, no matter how ancient.

Composing himself, Evan tried to put the word “exorcise” into a much more acceptable form of sentence that wouldn’t pisshimoff again.

“Well… I’ll help you pass over to the other side.”

Faint amusement churned in the air, making Evan’s stomach twist.

“Cunning Little Storm…”

Evan’s brows furrowed as the familiar words caressed his ears. Before he could ponder why, out of everything he could have called Evan, he decided to call him a fucking natural disaster, the table lamp went out.

Evan blinked in complete darkness, a sudden spike of anxiousness transfixing his body in place.

In the dim twilight shedding through the window, across the living room wall, a ball of black smoke wafted off a shadow on the floor. The shadow Evan had been aimlessly staring at.

It grew, expanded, and stretched, taking shape of a dark silhouette. A full-grown human-ishsilhouette.

The figure was so tall he could probably touch the ceiling if he reached up. Those ridiculously broad shoulders radiatedan intimidating aura. Long, straight hair flowed down his back, swaying softly, as if it were alive.

Something fluttered in the periphery of Evan’s mind.

A memory.

What was that?

Two glowing scarlet eyes peeled open in the silhouette’s face, staring down at Evan sitting cross-legged inside the salt circle.

No matter how much Evan tried and forced himself to believe otherwise, this was not a normal spirit or ghost. There was no trace of spiritual energy or malice around him. And a strange red halo burned around his silhouette.

Evan wasn’t even sure something like this existed. Was he real, or had Evan finally gone mad like the townspeople said?

The silhouette cocked his head, whatever tattered clothes he wore fluttering around him in a wind that seemed to only envelope him.

Evan opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no sound made it past his lips. After opening and closing his mouth several times, all he was able to let out was warm puffs of air.