Page 87 of Marked By Shadows

“Nope,” I agreed. “We are cosplayers shopping for fabric in T-minus ten.” I pointed Alex toward the bus lot and he slowed to follow the orange vest people waving flags.

“Nerds.”

“Happy nerds,” Alex said. “Wait until I show you our new sewing machine when we get home. It was like super expensive. Later, brother.” He clicked the dash button again and hung up the phone, steering us into the next available spot. He parked and turned off the car, then looked at me.

“What?”

He let out a sigh. “I have to fight the instinct too.”

“What instinct?”

“To protect you. To be an asshole caveman and take us both home. It would be the smart thing to do.”

“We don’t know that anyone is out to hurt us. Or that it’s related to the group at all. We tend to run into crazy things without trying.”

“And we just randomly stumbled across Texas’s latest serial killer? Who just so happened to have killed three girls related to an online cosplay group that all of you are in? Sounds like a lot of coincidences.”

I sighed. He was right. He reached across the seat to touch my face. He was gentle, but it still hurt as he reminded me of my bruises. “You’ve already been hurt. Let’s try to see as many of the booths as we can today and maybe head home early?”

“I thought you had a bunch of classes you want to go to?”

“None of that matters. Not to me. I can find tutorials on line. I can’t replace you.”

I let out a long breath because Alex had a way of saying things that hit hard, without trying. “Same,” I said lamely. “Stay close to me, okay? Don’t follow any black-eyed kids into the woods.”

He frowned at me.

“What?”

“I don’t remember ever telling you that. The night I disappeared, my demon showed up as a black-eyed kid. Offered me help in getting you back.”

I blinked at him, thinking back to his description of his abduction by the djinn or whatever it had been. But it wasn’t his description I was thinking of. It was the video of his disappearance. Something that niggled in the back of my brain the dozens of times I’d watched it. Like there was a face there in the brush.

A black-eyed child.

Pareidolia, I’d convinced myself, as much of what the paranormal Facebook group found could be attributed to the human brain latching onto the idea of a face or a shape. I’d read plenty of stories about black-eyed children. The rule was not to let them in. The always cried for help and if you followed them you vanished. If they knocked on your door and you let them in, you died. More myths, or at least I had thought so.

“Micah?” Alex prodded.

“I think I saw something in the video of your disappearance.”

“A black-eyed child?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” I bit my lip. “I don’t normally see things.”

“Or maybe you do and just brush it off like I did for so many years.”

I sucked in a deep breath. Alex squeezed my hand, making me look at him again.

“I like your weird,” he promised. “Even if it scares you, it’s okay. Our weird fits together just fine.”

I felt tears burn my eyes. No. I was not going to cry while sitting in a public parking lot. I’d always been a little weird, right? First dreaming of cosplay and crafts in a very scattered way which had bothered my father a lot. Then becoming a porn star fem boy, and finally as this lightning rod for the supernatural. “I don’t want spooky to be drawn to us.”

“I’m not sure it is. Seeing it doesn’t mean it’s drawn to us. Just means we are less likely to walk through the ghost of grandma Jane, right?” Alex gave me a stunning grin, kissed me on the lips and turned to get out of the car. “Now we have fabrics to browse. Think of all those smooth cottons beneath your hands.”

“Lots of stiff metallics too,” I added as I got out and followed him toward the bus. He let me take his hand and we swung them like we were little kids.

“Stiff…” Alex chuckled.