Page 30

There we stood outside the bar, the cool night air brushing against my skin as the two witches guarding the entrance scrutinized us with sharp, piercing eyes.

Their long cloaks rustled slightly in the breeze, their faces half-hidden beneath deep hoods.

From this close, I could feel the weight of their magic pressing against me, an unspoken warning that they weren’t the kind of witches to mess with.

Ethan, standing beside me in Max’s dry clothes and a ridiculous fake beard, didn’t seem the least bit fazed. He tilted his head slightly, meeting their gaze with that infuriating confidence of his, like he had been born to get away with things.

The taller of the two witches narrowed her eyes. “Where did you say you were from?”

I opened my mouth, about to spit out the first excuse that came to mind, but Ethan beat me to it.

“Oh, we’re travelers,” he said smoothly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Just passing through the coast, soaking in the sights, looking for a little fun before we continue our journey.”

I resisted the urge to shove him off. Stay in character, Clark. Play along.

The witch didn’t look convinced. Her fingers twitched slightly at her side, like she was ready to cast some kind of truth spell. “Travelers, you say? And where exactly are you traveling from?”

Ethan didn’t even blink. “Ah, well, it’s a bit complicated.” He let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “See, we were originally from a small town outside the country, but then, you know, a war happened—”

There was no war.

“—and our home got burned down in an unfortunate dragon attack—”

There was no dragon.

“—so, we’ve just been moving from place to place, trying to find somewhere safe.

It’s been rough, really. You wouldn’t believe the things we’ve been through.

” He sighed again, shaking his head for extra effect.

“At this point, we just want one night to forget about it all, to just enjoy life while we still can.”

I stared at him, resisting the urge to facepalm. What the hell was he even talking about?

The witch blinked, taken aback. “A… dragon?”

“A big one,” Ethan nodded gravely. “Vicious thing. Burned down our entire village. And, you know, being on the run like this? It’s only brought us closer together.”

I barely had time to react before Ethan turned to me with the softest, most heartfelt expression I had ever seen him wear.

He reached up, gently cupping my face with one hand.

At the realization that this was the closest we had ever gotten, my heart started racing.

I frankly couldn't tell why—whether it was the gravity of the moment, the fear of what might follow, or the ache of something I hadn’t dared to name until now.

“We’ve been through so much,” he murmured. “But at least we still have each other.”

My brain flatlined.

The witches exchanged a look.

For a moment, I thought they were about to see right through Ethan’s ridiculous story. I braced myself for the worst—for them to call us out, to throw us out, to turn us into frogs or something—but then the taller witch sighed.

“Fine,” she muttered. “You may enter.”

Wait.

What?

I blinked. They… had actually fallen for that?

The second witch stepped aside, motioning toward the entrance. “Enjoy yourselves. And stay out of trouble.”

Ethan flashed them a charming grin. “Of course. Thank you.”

And with that, he grabbed my hand and pulled me through the doors before I could even process what had just happened.

The moment we stepped inside, I whipped around to face him, whisper-shouting, “What the hell was that?!”

Ethan just grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “That, Clark, was the art of persuasion.”

I scowled. “That was a terrible lie.”

“But it worked.”

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “You are insufferable.”

Ethan winked. “And yet, here you are, holding my hand.”

I immediately dropped it. “I hate you.”

He laughed as we stepped through the hallway.

“Come on, babe, let’s get those drinks.”

Inside, the bar was a storm of flashing neon lights, thumping bass, and the chaotic mix of voices shouting over music.

The scent of alcohol lingered in the air, mingling with the warmth of bodies pressed together on the dance floor.

Laughter, cheers, and the occasional crash of a glass being knocked over filled the space, a perfect blend of energy and recklessness.

Ethan and I stepped further in, weaving through the crowd. He walked like he belonged there, comfortable and at ease, while I felt like an imposter in my fake beard and my cake-cream infested hoodie.

Then, he stopped abruptly and turned to face me, his ocean eyes gleaming with something that immediately made me wary.

“What now?” I asked, crossing my arms.

He smirked. “Dance with me.”

I snorted. “Absolutely not.”

Ethan tilted his head. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t dance.”

His smirk widened. “That’s a lie.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “No, it’s really not.”

“You’re telling me that in all your years of nerd existence, you’ve never danced?”

I knew where this was heading. That smirk. Of course, he had seen that video—the way I danced and did an unprecedented backflip at a party in his mansion. FYI I was drunk at the moment.

“Not when I’m sober,” I admitted begrudgingly.

Ethan hummed thoughtfully. “So, if I got you drunk right now…”

I rolled my eyes. “Not the point.”

But he didn’t drop it. He stepped closer, and suddenly the noise around us felt distant, like it was just me and him in that ridiculous bar full of questionable creatures.

“Come on,” he coaxed, his voice playful but strangely soft. “Do it for me. For the sake of my birthday.”

Of course he played that card. Damn him—he knew it would work.

I sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Fine. One dance. And if you embarrass me, I will find a way to make you regret it.”

Ethan grinned like he had just won the lottery. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Before I could process it, he grabbed my wrist and tugged me toward the dance floor. The moment we stepped into the thick of the crowd, the beat changed—louder, heavier, making the floor vibrate beneath our feet.

Ethan placed his hands on my waist, confident and steady. The contact was surprisingly warm. I stiffened, hyper-aware of every movement.

“Relax,” he said, his breath brushing against my ear as he leaned in. “You’re making this weird.”

“I am weird,” I shot back.

He laughed, and it was such an Ethan sound—light and easy, like nothing ever bothered him.

Slowly, cautiously, I followed his lead, moving stiffly at first. But then the rhythm took over, the music guiding our steps.

The flashing lights blurred the edges of everything, and for a fleeting moment, it didn’t feel like we were sneaking into a bar with fake beards and borrowed clothes.

It didn’t feel like we were breaking rules or running from anything.

It just felt… like us.

And I hated it.

I hated the way he made it look so easy. I hated that I didn’t hate it as much as I should have.

Because Ethan was a demon.

And I knew what demons were capable of.

A cold weight settled in my chest. My hands, which had unknowingly rested on his shoulders, suddenly felt like they were burning. His touch suddenly felt real—way too real. The realization slammed into me like a punch to the gut.

What the hell was I doing?

No.

I yanked my hands away from him like I had been burned.

“No.”

Ethan’s grin faltered. “Clark—?”

“No.” My voice was harsher this time, more forceful. I stepped back, shaking my head. I couldn’t do this. I shouldn’t have been doing this.

The music was too loud. The lights were too bright. Everything was pressing in, suffocating.

I didn’t wait for Ethan to say anything else. I turned and pushed through the crowd, my heart pounding for reasons I didn’t want to think about.

I needed air.

I needed to get out of there. Away from the noise. Away from him.

Then, Ethan grabbed my wrist so suddenly that I almost tripped forward. His fingers dug into my skin, his grip firm and urgent.

"Let go," I snapped, twisting against his hold. But he didn't. His eyes were sharp, scanning the crowd like a predator searching for an escape route. Then, he did something that sent a chill down my spine.

He cursed. Under his breath, but with enough weight that I felt something was terribly wrong.

"Run."

"What?"

"RUN!"

I didn't get a chance to argue before he was pulling me, shoving past dancers and intoxicated patrons, weaving through bodies like he’d done this before. The flashing lights blurred, the pounding music distorting into an erratic heartbeat in my ears.

Then, in one swift motion, he yanked open the back exit, and we spilled into the alleyway.

The air outside was thick with dampness, carrying the scent of seawater and old garbage. The glow of the neon signs barely reached us here, casting eerie, fractured shadows on the brick walls. My breath came in quick gasps, my heart pounding like a drum against my ribs.

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded between breaths.

"I’ll tell you later," Ethan said, his voice tight.

That’s when I heard it.

A heavy, bone-rattling thud—followed by another. And another. Footsteps. But not natural ones.

I whipped my head around just in time to see them emerge from the doorway we had just escaped through.

Two monsters.

Too big. Too wrong. Their hulking forms stretched high enough to make the doorway look small.

Their bodies were wrapped in something that looked like flesh but moved like liquid, shifting and pulsing like it couldn’t decide what shape it wanted to take.

Their arms were grotesquely long, ending in clawed fingers that scraped against the walls as they pushed forward.

But it was their faces that made my blood freeze.

Their eyes burned like molten gold, swirling unnaturally, as if fire itself lived inside their sockets.

Their mouths—too wide for their faces—stretched open in a twisted, unnatural grin, revealing rows upon rows of jagged, glowing teeth.

Not white, not yellow—glowing. Like embers smoldering in a deep, black abyss.

And then, they moved.

Not in a way they should have.

Not in a way anything natural moved.

They slithered forward in jerky, unpredictable motions, limbs bending at impossible angles, as if their bones were constantly shifting beneath their shifting skin.

Ethan cursed again, louder this time.

I barely registered my own voice when I yelled, "Who did you piss off this time?!"

No answer.

Because we were still running.

We twisted and turned through the alleyways, the sound of the creatures' pursuit echoing behind us. They didn’t run—they glided, their movements silent but swift, like shadows that had slipped free from the laws of reality.

Then, just when I thought we’d gained some distance—

We turned a corner and slammed into something else.

Something bigger.

A third one.

It stood in the middle of the alley like it had been waiting. This one was different.

Taller. Broader. Smiling.

Its skin, unlike the others, didn’t shift as much—it was solid, onyx-black, but its surface was lined with deep, glowing cracks, as if its body was barely containing the raw energy inside.

Its eyes were golden like the rest, but these narrowed when they landed on us, filled with something almost… knowing.

Recognition.

It lifted a clawed hand, flexing its fingers slowly, deliberately.

And then—

It lunged.