Page 8

W ith a sudden rush of shock and disgust, Evan pushed against the hard chest before him, cringing when he touched bare skin. But with the size of that thing—man?—pushing a mountain would’ve been easier.

“Get off!” Evan gritted out, struggling to breathe with the two hundred and something pounds of solid weight crushing him. “You— asshole , get off of me!”

As if he’d just realized that Evan was trying to push him, the red-clad figure blinked, then leaned away with ease, kneeling at Evan’s feet, face void of any guilt whatsoever. The bulge in his dusty black pants had not pacified yet, and when it brushed against Evan’s feet, his soul almost fled his body.

Not trusting his legs again to stand, Evan quickly scooted away on his ass, as far away as possible. The salt circle—which was half destroyed by the intruder—was now scattered in all directions by his hasty movements.

Dark brows slowly drew together as Evan slithered away from him, his face impassive.

Evan buried his face in his palm, breathing shakily. What the fuck had just happened?

A ghost with a boner? How was that shit even possible?

Wait.

Evan had touched him with his core of spiritual energy still exposed, but the red-clad figure wasn't exorcised. He was still there, staring at Evan with such a strange look of interest that he almost threw up the chicken soup still gurgling in his stomach.

Am I dreaming?

Evan shook his head frantically, slapping himself hard enough to leave a sting behind. He had to wake up from this nightmare.

God, tell me this is a nightmare.

Unfortunately, God didn’t answer.

Instead, a presence hovered over him in response.

“Are you hurt?”

Evan jerked away, his back slamming against the nearest wall, wide eyes glaring up at the… thing in front of him.

“Stay away from—” Evan’s eyes accidentally dropped, landing on the bulge in his pants. Snapping his head up, Evan cried out, “Fuck, my eyes!”

“Is your head alright?” Scarlet eyes shone over him.

Evan stilled, cautiously lowering his head until he was staring up at the concerned face in front of him.

Was he implying Evan was mad?

A fucking perverted ghost was judging him ?

Other than the disheveled hair, haphazard, worn-out clothes, and the disturbing expression in Evan’s eyes, what exactly gave off the impression of insanity?

His nostrils flared. “You…you—”

Reaching forward, a pair of ghostly pale hands casually cupped Evan’s head in a warm grip, turning it right, then left. Up, and down. “Where does it hurt?”

Evan’s limbs went stiff like a refrigerated corpse, pupils dilated, and jaws clenched.

The glow had dimmed in those scarlet eyes, and with all the lights on, he looked more human than Evan did.

In fact, Evan looked ghostlier than him.

“Where did you hit your head? Does it hurt here?”

Evan’s eyebrow twitched. “Let go…”

“Or here?” He pressed a finger against Evan’s temple, checking for bumps. “Here? You must tell me precisely—”

“I said,” inducing spiritual energy into his foot, Evan kicked the red-clad figure hard in the stomach, “let go of me, you creepy bastard !”

That was all the spiritual energy he could accumulate in his present state, enough to do severe damage to a spirit or human alike.

But the man-boulder in front of Evan only shifted back slightly against the impact, and that too out of sheer surprise.

Okay, he definitely wasn’t a ghost. If Evan had hit an ordinary ghost with this much spiritual energy, it would’ve gone flying, burrowing through the walls.

Salt didn’t repel him. The front door talisman couldn’t stop him. He certainly wasn’t a human spirit.

Then what the hell was he?

And why was he still bricked?

Evan stared motionlessly at the hunched figure.

A single strand of blood-red streaked through his otherwise raven-black hair. The tattered, dusty red robe hanging from his mighty shoulders looked like something drawn out of a forgotten century, definitely not something anyone of the twenty-first would wear.

Even if he was a centuries-old spirit, those weren’t the traditional funeral clothes of Emberlyn.

Could he be a deity?

No. What kind of perverse divine spirit was this?

The red-clad figure glanced down, thick lashes lowering to gaze at Evan’s foot planted against his stone-solid abdomen, keeping him a safe distance away.

A laughable barrier.

A beat of tense silence stretched between them.

Then, unexpectedly, warm fingers wrapped around Evan’s bare ankle.

He held the foot right where it rested, firm against his body—like he wanted it there.

His eyes rose, slowly, deliberately, locking with Evan’s wide, terrified gaze.

And his lips twitched.

He fucking smiled .

Evan’s eyebrows drew together, fury overriding terror momentarily. “The fuck are you looking at?”

“You have gained much strength,” the red-clad figure whispered, voice thick, accent thicker, sounding like he’d escaped out of a Shakespearean play.

He bent slowly, lowering his face toward the foot he still held tenderly.

With a gasp, Evan tried to yank his feet back, but the iron grip around his ankle was unyielding.

“Let go of me, motherfucker!” As he tried and failed to crawl away from the human-looking ghost-pervert, warm lips grazed his instep.

A sudden rush of heat washed across the surface of his skin. Evan jolted to a stop, the struggle in his limbs dying.

Those warm lips ran along the side of his foot, then kissed his heel. The red-clad figure raised his foot higher and higher, mouth trailing around his ankle.

Stone-still against the wall, Evan stared wide-eyed as he reverently nuzzled his foot.

Some words fluttered past the figure’s lips, dissolving onto the surface of Evan’s skin, never reaching his ears.

His ears, which felt unbearably hot and tingly.

What is wrong with me? I can’t move my body.

“Little Storm…” the figure looked up from nuzzling Evan’s foot, eyes glowing bright scarlet again. As soon as their eyes met, something shifted in that pale, handsome face.

The lingering softness vanished, replaced by something unsettling. Uncontrolled.

A disaster held back by a thread.

Lights flickered in the room. The air churned with a dense energy that sat heavily on Evan's chest.

Without warning, the figure yanked on the foot he was holding.

Evan slid down the wall with a startled yelp, landing flat on the floor, only to be dragged toward the figure.

He moved between Evan’s legs in one fluid motion, pressing him down, pinning him to the cold floor with terrifying ease.

Blood rushed into Evan’s head.

He blinked rapidly as his thoughts tangled, his breaths unsteady. His chest heaved, the world spinning too fast, and then...a feeling assaulted him.

A strange sensation of deep-seated longing. Painful and tender and so familiar.

As if he'd been drifting, floating for a lifetime, and just now, he'd glimpsed the shore.

So close. Yet so far away.

Evan shook his head.

Was that thing trying to control his mind?

Shit, my core .

As long as his core of spiritual energy was exposed, Evan was vulnerable to tricks. Tricks like controlling his mind to manipulate him into doing anything. It was a surprise that the red-clad figure was only toying with him and hadn’t sucked him dry of all spiritual energy yet.

But Evan couldn’t focus enough to close the barrier around his core of spiritual energy with the ghost-pervert hovering over him like an impending disaster.

The said ghost-pervert’s head cocked, long dark strands descending around his pale face, fingertips running along the column of Evan’s neck. The glow in his eyes blazed as he softly smiled down at the boy who was failing to struggle his way out of his grasp.

He was indeed like a “little storm.” Fierce and unrestrained, demanding to be set free. But he wouldn’t let him go.

Not again.

After cursing and struggling helplessly against the figure, Evan’s limbs turned numb, his mind spiraling under the weight of the alien emotions rushing into him.

“Fuck…off,” his head turned dizzy as his back flattened on the floor, eyes unfocused on the pale face hovering over him.

The rush of hunger clogged the air once again. Stronger. More intense. A cloak of black smoke emanated from the mighty figure, creating a bubble around them, sealing them in.

Evan’s eyelids drooped, fingers trembling as he pushed at the figure’s shoulders, refusing to give up until the very last fragment of his consciousness remained.

“Don’t…” But he couldn’t push him off.

Panting like he couldn’t help himself, the figure leaned down, breathing into Evan’s neck, inhaling deeply. Gently nipping.

“Please…” His tongue tipped out, running down the column of Evan’s throat, across his protruding collarbone. “Just once…”

Evan’s legs stiffened around him. His hips buckled.

That… That was wrong. He couldn’t let him.

He had to fight back…

Evan’s conscience flickered momentarily in his periphery as a stifled groan left his lips. “Stop…”

“Just once…” the figure whispered into the crook of Evan’s neck, grasping his arms and holding them down by his sides. There was no need for that, really. Evan wouldn’t be able to move even if he wanted to.

Grinding himself between Evan’s legs, he breathed, “One taste…”

Taste…

Taste?

Something sharp grazed the side of his neck. Evan froze.

“Do not be afraid...”

A huge palm cupped Evan’s nape, then tilted his head sideways, exposing the fair, flawless skin of Evan’s throat. A pulse thundered below his ear, blood rushing to his head, then down his body.

It was the most fucked-up situation to be in as an exorcist and a man, being groped by an inexplicably gorgeous, inhuman entity. Yet, to Evan it was a bit...

His shorts tightened at the crotch.

Fuck.

The figure opened his mouth, baring a pair of razor-sharp fangs as he ran his tongue down a patch of fair skin.

A deep inhale. A muffled growl.

And the fangs pierced his throat.

A gasp tore through the tense air, followed by Evan’s shuddering whimper.

He clutched onto the figure’s broad shoulders, blood and saliva running down the side of his neck, warm and wet.

A satisfied grunt escaped the figure’s occupied mouth as he sucked a couple of mouthfuls of blood, stealing with it some of Evan’s spiritual energy.

Evan could physically feel the light from his spiritual core climbing up his chest, to his throat, out of the two puncture holes, and into an awaiting mouth. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

All these years of cultivating and preserving his core just to have it sucked away by a divine dog in heat…

What a pity.

With the little energy left in him, Evan tried to push him away but to no avail. He was quite literally double Evan’s size.

As blood drained from his veins, dark spots dotted his vision, his arms falling limp to his sides. The shimmering inside of the bubble of energy blurred before Evan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and everything turned black.

When Evan’s eyelids peeled open into pitch black, dizziness gripped his head in its clutches. A throbbing pain shot up his temple, making him groan.

He squinted into the dim room—his bedroom—one hand supporting the back of his heavy head. As he slowly sat up in his bed, Evan’s disoriented head lolled to a side, facing the open window for fresh air—

“ Aah! ” he jerked away with a start, accidentally rolling down the side of the bed and onto the cold floor.

Thud .

A sharp breath rushed out of Evan’s mouth as his entire skeleton rattled with that fall, but he shook it off quickly. Popping half of his head up from the side of the bed, he peeked at the window of his dark bedroom, where stood a dark silhouette. The same one he’d seen at Greene Mansion. The one that had followed him into his house. The one that had…

That had sucked off his blood.

Evan reached up, fingertips grazing the side of his neck, against the two tiny puncture wounds. There was no blood or pain, just a dull ache.

Just how long had he been out? Another day or two?

“For what I did…I apologize. I did not mean to…” The words echoed from the silhouette, and Evan reflexively ducked under the bed. “I lost control. I only hope you can forgive me.”

The air around the room was clogged with dense guilt and gusts of icy breeze. Evan blinked furiously at the floor, confused and irritated why he was hiding in his own room. Slowly, he raised his head to look at the figure.

The curtains blew across the empty space at the open window.

He was gone.

Jumping upright, Evan slapped a hand against the light switches, turning on all the lights in the room. But the silhouette was nowhere in sight. Evan stared at the open window, dumbfounded, the red-clad figure’s words echoing in his ears.

Evan glanced at the lock screen of his phone. He’d blacked out for just over two hours.

And he had probably stood and watched him sleep.

Evan shuddered.

But something didn't add up.

That red-clad figure had forcefully pinned Evan down, drained him—blood and spiritual energy alike—murmured an apology, and…left?

Strange might've been an understatement. But What the fuck? could aptly describe Evan’s reactions to the whole unnerving, intrusive encounter.

He couldn’t believe he'd gotten hard.

Is that a…new kink?

Evan plopped down on his bed, rubbing a hand down his face. That’s when he felt the cold edge of something metallic against his jaw. When he glanced down at his hand, his frown dissolved immediately.

A silver ring glistened on his index finger with a red crystal at its center. At first glance, it was definitely Crimson Eye, his mother’s ring that had been crumbled to ash. If not for its polished new look and lack of evidence of its long existence, Evan would’ve mistaken it for his ring.

His brows furrowed.

Was this a token of apology? It probably didn’t possess the magic of Evan’s old ring—Crimson Eye was hundreds of years old, passed down from his mother’s ancestors, laced with ancient magic—but that thing had somehow managed to make this new ring look exactly the same as Crimson Eye.

How? What exactly was he? And more importantly, how was Evan going to find him now?

A bell chimed overhead as Evan entered the oldest antique shop in Emberlyn, and almost immediately the scent of candles, dust, and rusty old books filled his nostrils. Wooden shelves lined the narrow entrance towards the central room, dim and deserted. For newcomers, it resembled a doorway into another realm.

Rubbing a hand across his nape, Evan stilled at the door. Was this the right time? He’d delayed their usual meeting by a week. She was sure to be angry.

The tip of Evan’s ears warmed in warning, and he shuddered.

Maybe it would be better to come back later.

Tiptoeing back to the way he’d entered, he clasped the door handle, but before he could pull it, a presence lingered at Evan’s back, warming his skin through the fabric of his shirt.

Evan froze.

Oh…shit.

“How many times have I told you not to turn away from the door right after entering?” Rough, bony fingers pinched the tip of Evan’s ear, and he winced as someone tugged him around. “It takes away future opportunities.”

Evan smiled tightly at her frowning face. “Good morning, Rhea.”

Silky, silver hair tied loosely at the nape; faint wrinkles lining random patches of her stern face and stormy grey eyes that seemed to see things beyond the human eye. Over a decade since he’d first seen her, but Rhea hadn’t aged a day since.

She pinched Evan’s ear harder, eyes narrowed like a teacher reprimanding her student, a mother scolding her son. “You’ve lost weight,” she grumbled, combing her fingers through Evan’s hair and feeling the top of his head. Her brows dipped. “And you’re anxious.”

Evan’s lips thinned.

As expected, she saw right through him. He searched for words, a beginning where things had started going wrong, but came up empty-handed. What was he even supposed to tell her? Where was he supposed to start?

“I might’ve done something…irresponsible,” Evan clenched his fingers, the new ring warm against his skin. It gave him a fake sense of solace, pretending it was still his mother’s ring. “And I don’t know how to undo it.”

Rhea silently stared at Evan, pupils dilating. That was the look she’d had while exorcising spirits that’d possessed Evan in the past, when he was still learning about his craft. Her eyes could identify and differentiate between two souls trapped in a body and exactly which one did not belong there.

Whatever she saw in Evan made her rear back in alarm.

“You saw him,” she whispered.

Evan’s mouth parted next, not even surprised she knew he’d seen something. “Who?”

“How did you even—” She started but then sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Moments later, sharp eyes snapped towards Evan. “Where did you go last week?”

“Huh? Oh, uh…” Evan scratched the back of his head. “A haunted property…uh, at the edge of—of the Dark Woo—” Rhea’s claws clasped Evan’s ear again, dragging him into the shop. “ Ow ow ow !”

“This is exactly why I ask you to inform me before wandering off into unknown places on your own. You knew I wouldn’t let you go into the woods, didn’t you? That’s the reason you didn’t visit last week,” she effortlessly tugged Evan forward, her petite stature not hindering her in any ways. “Tell me everything that happened. And don’t you dare lie or leave out anything.”

Passing through the narrow hallway, they entered the main room of the shop. Tables and more shelves filled with porcelain artifacts, marble sculptures, antique clocks, paintings, and everything in between were jam-packed into one room. It was as if Rhea couldn’t stand parting from a single item in the shop and shoved them all in one place.

Evan stumbled and sidestepped over things, fearing he was going to stomp on something that he wouldn’t be able to compensate for even if he sold a kidney and his left testicle.

At the far end of the room was a table shaped in a crescent made of some rare stone that shimmered in the dark. Rhea called it her office desk.

“Sit,” she pointed at a chair. “Start talking.”

Evan rubbed his ear, taking a seat at the outer curve of the crescent table while Rhea sat down at the opposite side. “I’d initially declined the case because of its…complexity. But I was barely getting by. There was the loan installment and Celie's tuition fee,” he rubbed a hand down his face, his cheeks burning as he complained to the only trusted adult in his life. “I had to do it.”

Rhea studied him closely, then sighed. The boy was usually quite carefree—or perhaps care less —when it came to himself, but as soon as his sister was mentioned, he would willingly agree to pick up a mountain on his little finger. Over the years, she had tried several times to make him understand that going out of his way like this wouldn’t make a difference in their siblinghood if he didn’t actually talk to her.

But Evan Blackwood was nothing if not stubborn.

“You took the case even though you knew there wasn’t anything you could do to help?” Rhea took off her glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief, eyebrows furrowed. “Since when have you been so generous with your time?”

“I wasn’t helping ,” Evan cleared his throat. “I was after the money, and let me tell you, I did get paid. Even if only half.”

Rhea waved that off. “Spare me the act and tell me, where is that thing?”

“What thing?”

“The thing you let out of that place,” Rhea paused, then leaned over the table, narrowed eyes shooting daggers at Evan when he remained quiet. “You know where it went, right?”

Shit, shit, shit . Evan coughed. “Of course, he, uh…went back to the mansion.”

“Ah, right,” Rhea nodded with a calm expression, reaching forward to caress the ear she’d almost ripped off Evan’s head. Then, with a smile, she twisted the reddened ear shell, making Evan howl. “Didn’t I warn you not to lie to me?”

“Okay, okay, sorry! I don’t know where he went! He disappeared yesterday night, and I haven’t seen him since then!”

After confirming he was telling the truth, Rhea retracted her grip. Evan quickly cupped his ears, leaning away from the table.

Is it just me, or is she angrier than I’d thought?

Rhea settled back into her seat, brushing a silver lock out of her face, shoulders tense. Seeing her so unusually quiet, unease stirred in Evan’s gut. To him, Rhea was the encyclopedia of all knowledge acquirable, the epitome of composure and poise. If she was tense and uncertain of something, that was a dead end for him.

Evan rubbed his aching ear. “Do you know what he is?”

Rhea looked up, stormy eyes unreadable. “He’s not something you’ve dealt with before. And you weren’t supposed to. Not if I had…” She paused, then nodded. “I guess it’s time you know.”

Confused, Evan watched her stand up and walk to the small room at the back of the shop, her private library .

Out of every corner of the shop he’d explored since his teenage years, that was one room strictly off-limits for Evan. Apparently, it stored a collection of books and records that were so precious Rhea never let anyone in. Not even Evan. Once when he’d pestered her with questions about that room many years ago, she’d warned him that some knowledge—even though available—was forbidden to this world. That if it fell in the wrong hands, it would be catastrophic.

That was enough to keep him away from that room for life.

Evan’s fingers drummed against the stone table, his overly sensitive ears picking up the faint shuffling and rustling in the far away room.

I hope she’s not looking for something to whack me with. But what if she is? Should I make a run for the door?

Rhea returned holding a book. She handed the dusty, old, leather-bound book to Evan. The cover was so worn out that the title was no longer comprehensible.

Evan turned the book over in his hand, scrunching his nose at the scent of leather. “What is this?”

Rhea gracefully lowered herself into her seat. “The answer to your questions,” her eyes snapped up. “You let something out. Now you have to bring it back to its original place.”

Original place? Evan gulped. Guess it was not the right time to tell her that the original place had all but burnt to ash.

Evan coughed. “This book looks old. Where’d you get it from?”

Rhea paused, seeming to ponder whether to answer his question, then shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Worry about yourself and the mess you’ve created.”

Evan slumped in his seat and flipped open the book, pretending he hadn’t heard the last sentence. On the first page were words, engraved dark and slightly smudged but clear nonetheless.

Demons: The Deities from Hell.

Evan’s head whipped up, eyes widening. “No…”

Rhea tilted her head with a smile. “Oh, yes.”