Page 31 of Avidian (The Demon and the Savior #1)

Chapter Eighteen

“Alright, Damien, you like to play games. I’m here now—come play with me.” My voice echoes into the abyss, taunting him because I know he won’t be able to resist.

The darkness around me feels alive, almost tangible, and when I glance back, I see Malachi’s bedroom glowing faintly in the void, like a beacon of warmth in a cold, forsaken world.

It’s strange—like peering through a foggy window at another life.

I can still see us there, Malachi watching over my lifeless body, his expression unreadable.

But out here, in the veil, everything is different.

I turn away, facing the expanse of what has melded from darkness into what looks like the forest outside Viktor’s compound.

The snow-covered ground and skeletal trees are familiar but twisted.

The snow doesn’t crunch beneath my feet.

It’s eerily silent, and when I reach out to touch a tree, my hand sinks into its bark—it feels warm, slimy, and wrong, as if the tree is breathing.

When I project, the world bends to the will of the spirit I’m calling. It’s always unpredictable, always unsteady, and now I know either Damien or Carmen has brought me here. The question is who.

A breeze stirs, light but unnatural, carrying a faint whistle that snakes through the trees. It whispers, “Here, Kitty Kat.” I roll my eyes. Of course.

“Don’t you think it would be better if you showed yourself, Damien? We could talk face-to-face, save us both some time,” I say, crossing my arms as I scan the shadows.

The air shifts. The sensation of being watched creeps down my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

My breath hitches as I catch something in the distance—a figure, dark and jagged, peeking out from behind a tree.

Or maybe it’s the tree itself. No. It moves, slipping out of sight before I can focus.

“What’s the matter?” I call out. “Are you afraid of me?”

Then, all at once, his voice is there. Too close. Right against my ear, soft but sharp enough to cut. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

I whip around, stumbling back as my heart races. Damien stands there, grinning, his dark eyes gleaming with something too sinister to be amusement.

“Miss me?” His voice drips with mockery, and his form glitches, like static on a broken screen. One moment he’s whole, the next he flickers, jagged edges melting into shadows before snapping back together. His body doesn’t move like it should—too fluid, too unnatural.

“You brought me here, Damien. Let’s not pretend you didn’t want this.” I steady my breathing, locking eyes with him.

His grin widens, showing too many teeth. “Oh, Kat, I didn’t want this. I needed it. You’re far too much fun to ignore, especially now that you’ve seen the intriguing depths beneath my father’s house.”

My stomach tightens. He knows. Of course, he knows.

“Is that why you’re haunting me?” I ask, forcing a smirk. “Daddy issues? Trying to screw over Viktor from beyond the grave?”

Damien’s laugh echoes, the sound bouncing unnaturally through the trees. “Sweetheart, my issues go way beyond Daddy dearest. But this is...a little personal.” He steps closer, and I fight the urge to retreat.

“Yeah, I can tell you’re pretty fucked up. I can only imagine what you were like when you were alive,” I say steadily despite the unease crawling over me. “Why were you with Carmen that night? I heard she had a boyfriend, and it wasn’t you.”

Damien’s grin sharpens, and he tilts his head, a look of sick amusement plastered across his face.

“That little whore was playing me. I was playing her too, but I’ll admit—I didn’t see her coming.

” He lets out a low chuckle, the sound echoing unnaturally around us.

“She’s smarter than I gave her credit for, but not smart enough to stay alive. Clearly.”

He starts circling me slowly, his steps soundless on the snow that isn’t really snow. His gaze pierces me, dark and predatory, like he’s savoring the thought of whatever game he’s about to play.

“Why don’t you tell me who killed you?” I ask, refusing to let him see how much he’s unsettling me. “I’ll figure it out eventually. You know that, right?”

Damien stops in front of me, leaning in close enough for me to feel the icy energy radiating off him.

“Oh, I know you’ll figure it out. That’s what you do, isn’t it?

Little Katja, solving puzzles and crossing veils.

But where’s the fun in making it easy for you?

” He sighs, his form flickering in the dark fog around us.

“No, no, no. You’ll have to work for this one. ”

I clench my jaw, frustrated. “You’re scared,” I say, taking a step closer to him. “Scared to face the truth. Scared to admit who got the better of you.”

His expression darkens, the grin fading into something colder, more menacing. “Scared? Oh, Kitty Kat.” He leans in. “I’m dead. There’s nothing left to be scared of. But you? You’re still breathing. Still vulnerable. Still playing in a world you barely understand.”

He straightens, his grin returning as he takes a slow step back.

“I’ll give you a little hint, because I’m feeling generous.

” He lifts a hand, gesturing vaguely to the shadows around us.

“The truth isn’t hiding where you think it is.

And Carmen? She’s not the only one who played you.

Better keep your eyes open, little kitty.

The answers you seek may be closer than you think. ”

My irritation boils over. “Fuck you, Damien, and fuck your games. No wonder your father couldn’t stand you. He didn’t even care when you died and threw a fucking party days later while your blood was still on the walls upstairs. He drank with his friends, laughing like nothing happened.”

I don’t care about holding back anymore, not with him. “Carmen,” I call sharply, hoping to shift the power balance. But before I can utter another word, Damien is on me, smothering me with his closeness.

“I think you’re getting a little too comfortable with that mouth of yours,” he hisses, his hand tightening around my throat. Cold spreads through me, biting and unrelenting. His other hand tangles in my hair, the motion almost tender if it weren’t so laced with menace.

How is he touching me? It shouldn’t feel like this.

I claw at his arm, but my hands pass through him like smoke, futile and maddening. I try to gasp for air, but his grip tightens.

“Oh, the things I’d do to you if I were still alive,” he croons, stroking my cheek as his grip remains firm. His touch is unnervingly intimate, and bile rises in my throat as panic surges. I try to shove him away again, but my hands meet nothing solid, only the cold, swirling vapor of his form.

“Get off her.” Carmen’s voice cuts through the suffocating tension like a blade.

Damien freezes, his smirk fading into something darker. His form begins to dissolve. His grip vanishes, and I stagger back, gulping for air as his low, mocking laughter echoes in the void. He’s gone, his presence whisked away on an unnatural gust of wind.

“Carmen?” I call out, but I don’t stop to find her. I can’t—I’m too shaken. Instead, I turn and run, my feet pounding against the eerie, soundless ground. The skeletal forest around me blurs into darkness as I chase the faint glow of Malachi’s room, my only tether to reality.

The light grows closer, but so does the suffocating black void that devours everything else. My chest heaves as I push forward, the forest disintegrating around me until only that beacon remains.

As I reach out, the scene starts to unravel, the veil collapsing in on itself.

“He’s not dead,” Carmen’s voice echoes around me, but it’s too late.

I grasp onto my body and slam back into myself, gasping as I fall to my knees clutching my throat, Malachi’s room around me once more. I can’t be sure who she was talking about.

My breaths come too fast, shallow and erratic, as if the air itself refuses to settle in my lungs. Malachi is suddenly there, crouched in front of me, his hands hovering near my shoulders like he’s unsure if touching me will help or break me.

“Kat! What happened?” His voice is urgent, and there’s something raw in his eyes—concern, fear.

I try to speak, but my throat feels tight, and my thoughts are a storm I can’t control. “Carmen...she set up Damien,” I manage to choke out, trembling. “He’s alive.”

I see the disbelief flash across his face, quickly replaced by something harder. His hands move to steady me, his grip firm yet careful, but I’m already slipping.

The room feels like it’s spinning, the walls pressing closer, and I can’t focus on anything but the weight of what I saw, what I felt. The edges of my vision darken, and the exhaustion settles over me.

“Kat!” Malachi’s voice is the last thing I hear as the world goes black.

I feel the soft graze of fingers along my cheek, the gentle touch of someone brushing strands of hair out of my face and tucking them behind my ear. I don’t open my eyes. Instead, I breathe him in—fresh-cut wood and the faintest hint of something minty.

My leg is draped over Malachi’s waist, my arm thrown across him, and my face rests on his chest. His arm cradles me firmly against him, the warmth of his hold grounding me.

I know he’s awake. The way his fingers move through my hair, slow and deliberate, makes that clear.

Yet I don’t stir. Something inside urges me to pause, to savor this moment—the safety of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the quiet comfort of the dimly lit room. It feels too good, too natural.

I inhale slowly, blinking a few times before daring to peek up at him through my lashes.

The hand tangled in my hair drops, and his expression falters for a second, like a guilty child caught doing something naughty.

But it fades quickly, replaced by the more serious demeanor I’ve grown accustomed to.