"I can feel you!" I yell into the emptiness.
Hex takes off and runs inside the house, and I am left hanging with whatever is out here. Rain starts to dribble over my body. I hide inside.
The house groans under the weight of the storm outside, rain tapping against the windows in an impatient rhythm. The dim hallway stretches ahead. The door of my room slams shut, but I never heard footsteps entering. That’s the worst part. I know someone is inside now. A distant creak. The floorboards upstairs groan under the shifting weight. The presence isn’t just another intruder. It moves like it belongs here, like it’s been waiting. There’s a familiarity in its steps, its scent.
I catch a glimpse of it in the dim lighting—its figure stretches and wraps in the shadows, something not quite right about the way it holds itself. Like the shadows and darkness itself belongs to him.
"Hide or seek?"
The voice. Quiet, sickly sweet, curling around the words in a way that sends ice down my spine. He knows me. Not just that I am here—but who I am. A sudden shift. Its head jerks toward me, a movement too sharp, too unnatural. Then, ever so slightly... He smiles.
The game starts without warning. I am not supposed to be a victim. He is supposed to be my toy. I run upstairs. I press myself into a closet, hands clamped over my mouth to suppress the uneven rhythm of my breath. Silence hangs heavy. Then… the creak of my door opening.
His voice—low, steady, amused. "Come out, come out…" The footsteps stop. A low chuckle. "You can’t hide forever. You played so well today." I squeeze my eyes shut, willing to disappear into the shadows. The closet door is thin. Too thin. I swear I can feel the coldness of his presencejust beyond it, lingering in my room. His hand is grazing against the wall, fingertips trailing along the surface like it’s savoring every inch of the space. A knock. Gently. Playful. Right against the closed door.
"You know what is the best part?" His voice tilts with wicked delight. "You’ll come for me, nightshade. And I’ll be waiting."
The presence vanishes the moment I focus on it.
A predator crafted from darkness itself wants me.
This is the light of protection, of purity. As it covers the darkness, so it brings safety to me.
I run back down and seal the door tight. I anoint the doors and windows with the mixture of boiling water, fennel, oats, pine and sage. I keep my eyes wide open through the night.
Where light dwells, all darkness flees. Spirit move away from me. This home is mine, I will not fear, your presence is not welcome here.
"Is the maze finished?"
I stir the hot coffee with a teaspoon. The silver glides through the dark liquid, creating slow, swirling patterns as steam coils upward, curling and fading into the air. The rich scent of roasted beans, warm and earthy, fills the space.
"Chocolate grazed cocks."
I raise my eyes to Zilla laughing at me. Her hair, like burning embers, is cascading over her shoulders. Still draped inher midnight purple robe, she tops off my pumpkin-shaped mug with more coffee. "Happy to see cocks attracted your attention…" She walks to the counter and grabs a plate with two cinnamon rolls on it. I spring to life as soon as she lays—loudly—the plate in front of me.
"What?"
"What happened last night?"
I sink my teeth into one of the rolls; the dough burns my tongue.
"Another stalker…"
She hops up on the counter. "Neo…"
"I know…"
"At least the last one is dead… dead."
"No… this one is different…"
"Different?"
"Scary but he keeps his distance."
She arches an eyebrow at me. "And the vampire?"
I take another bite. "I’ll thank him for his service." I can’t let her know he is allowed into the house at night, as he wishes.
