Page 47
Story: When Death Whispers
46
Hudson’s breathing is getting heavier. He’s keeping pace—for now—but I can hear the strain, the way each inhale is a little sharper, a little more forced. His heart’s working overtime, hammering hard against his ribs, and if I can hear it, the things hunting us sure as hell can too.
He won’t outrun them. He’s too damn slow.
Bringing a mortal to this realm was a terrible idea, even if it was the only option. I’ll never get to Parker in time at this rate.
An impatient growl escapes me, the futility of our situation making my fur ripple and my claws clench.
The clicking behind us isn’t just getting closer. It’s right on our tails. Or my tail, I guess. And the human’s ugly, bald ass.
Then, the earth shudders.
Hudson stumbles, cursing as his balance wavers. He catches himself before he falls, but we both feel it now—the Evergloom isn’t slowing us down.
It’s herding us.
I bare my teeth as the terrain ahead drops into a sheer cliff, disappearing into a pit of writhing dark. Not water. Not land. Something else.
Something hungry.
There’s nowhere to go.
Hudson skids to a stop. “Fuck. Tell me you’ve got a plan.”
I flash my fangs. “Yeah. Fight.”
Because there’s no other option now.
And just like that, the first one breaks the treeline.
It moves fast, all limbs and too-wide teeth, lunging with its maw wide open, too many eyes gleaming in the dark. Hudson barely jerks back in time, arms flying up as claws carve through the air inches from his throat.
More follow.
Two. Five. Eight.
Hudson exhales sharp through his nose. “Oh, that’s not fair.”
I snarl. “Nothing about this realm is.”
I take a deep inhale of Hudson’s fear, now extra potent with the obvious imminent end awaiting us, and use the extra boost to brace for impact.
The first creature goes for Hudson again. He dodges—barely—twisting his body as it skims past him, but he’s not fast enough to avoid the second. Claws rake across his side and blood blooms instantly.
Hudson stumbles, and that’s all it takes.
The swarm closes in.
I let go.
Fangs. Claws. Pure violence.
I take the first one by the throat, twisting until something snaps, then throw the body aside before the next can pounce. Teeth sink into my shoulder and I snarl, jerking free, my claws raking through soft flesh, black ichor spraying across the dark.
Hudson is fighting. But he’s struggling. He’s bleeding.
He won’t last long.
Damn human.
We need an out.
And, surprisingly, the Evergloom answers.
The trees don’t just shift this time. They collapse with a crack that sounds like splitting bone shudders through the air. Trunks bowing inward like something unseen is crushing them from above. The ground trembles, a deep, thrumming pulse that isn’t coming from the creatures closing in on us. The air itself charges with power, power that doesn’t belong to me or the creatures around us, more potent than I’ve felt in a long time, even more so than Steo’s.
The fuck?
Hudson curses, bracing himself against another attack, but the creatures aren’t looking at us anymore.
They’re looking up.
Something drops from the trees like a falling star.
No sound. No wasted movement. Just a single, fluid descent.
A figure black as the void itself, his body covered in deep scars that glow like fractured constellations, each mark carved into his skin like they were etched into existence. His horns, long and curling, gleam like polished obsidian. His white, depthless eyes burn through the dark.
Then—something else crashes down beside him.
A massive wall of red muscle and grinning fangs, horns curling high, his cow-like tail flicking lazily behind him. His claws flex, enormous hands twitching like he’s aching for the fight that’s about to come. Unlike the first, he’s not still. He’s thrumming with movement, broad shoulders rolling like he’s loosening up.
Hudson, still panting, his hand pressed to his bleeding side, eyes them like they’re nothing more than more bad news.
“Okay. Sure. More Demons.” Then under his breath. “What the fuck.”
I flick black blood from my claws, watching the two carefully, taking in every shift of their stance, every twitch of muscle. They don’t look surprised to see us.
I don’t like that.
The scarred one moves first. Not an attack. Not a lunge. Just a step. But it’s enough.
The air shudders, the Evergloom itself shifting, the ground seeming to bend around him like it knows him.
And the creatures—the ones that have been hunting us, surrounding us, closing in for the kill—bolt.
They don’t hesitate. They don’t even try to fight.
They run.
Hudson lets out a ragged breath, looking from the vanishing creatures to the two demons still standing in our path. His stance is defensive, his shoulders squared, but I can hear it—his heart’s still hammering, his body still braced for the next problem. The air is almost tangible with the amount of fear wafting off him.
Because now, it’s us and them.
“Right. Great,” Hudson mutters, shaking his head. “So what? We’re all friends now?”
The scarred one tilts his head, the movement unnervingly slow, his white eyes stark against his navy skin. His voice is deep, distant—like something speaking from the space between stars.
“Not yet.”
The red-skinned one grins, rolling his shoulders. “But we could be.”
I narrow my eyes, licking blood from my fangs. I don’t like this.
“I don’t like owing favors.”
The scarred one exhales, slow and deliberate. “Lucky for you, this one’s free.”
Yeah. I don’t buy that for a second. Demons do not offer gifts . Ever.
Hudson’s wary, but surprisingly, his voice doesn’t waver. “Right. So who the fuck are you?”
The red one laughs, the sound rich, deep, and sharp as cracked bone.
“We’re the ones who know the Evergloom better than you. That’s all you need to know.”
The red one grins wider, his tail flicking behind him like he’s enjoying a joke only he understands.
“Tell me, nightmare—how long were you planning on stumbling around before you realized you were never gonna find her on your own, even with your human’s little tether?”
My eyes narrow. My claws twitch.
Hudson stiffens beside me. “How the fuck do you know about Parker?”
The scarred one shifts, his too-white eyes unreadable. He regards me with something calculating. “Because she belongs here.” His head tilts slightly, like he’s studying something simple and obvious. “In the Evergloom, the things that belong... they don’t hide in the shadows. They draw the dark.”
His gaze locks onto mine, something in it knowing, almost like he’s aware of a thread that runs between me and Parker, even if it’s being blocked by Steo.
“She’s lighting something up,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “And the shadows are stirring because of it.”
The way he says it sends a cold coil of dread twisting in my gut.
I don’t like that answer. I don’t like how they already know something we haven’t even spoken. And I sure as hell don’t like that they’re offering help.
Because nothing in this realm—or any other—comes without a price.
Table of Contents
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- Page 47 (Reading here)
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