Feeling brave, I cross the room to his bed with the syringe clutched tight in my fist. Each step feels heavier than the last, the floorboards groaning under my weight as if they know what I’m about to do. The dim light casts his face in shadow, making him look almost peaceful as if there isn’t a monster that sleeps beneath his skin, but a sick, twisted knot burrows deep in my gut as I push the plunger down, flooding his veins with a lethal dose of morphine. For a second,just a fleeting second,something similar to guilt twists its blade through me. However, it dissolves as fast as it comes, getting smothered by the rush that follows.Cumhacht.(Power.) Pure and blinding. A heady, euphoric rush that curls its claws into my brain and makes me crave more.
It will only take two minutes for the morphine to work its charm so I move quickly away from his body, unplugging the machines so no alarms will betray what I’ve done. The room goes quiet except for the quiet rasp of his final breaths. I retreat into the far corner, folding myself into the shadows, where the pale hallway light can’t find me. I don’t want Croía to see me when she comes. All I want is to watch her, to study her and finally understand what she becomes when she slides through the veil for the dead. I already know it won’t be enough.
As I lurk in the shadows, the room suddenly thickens with a black fog. It coils like a living thing around the dead man’s bed, smothering him. I hold my breath, my pulse hammering in my ears. Then in the blink of an eye, a ghostly translucent shapepeels away from the corpse. Christ… It’s him,only not him.His spirit flickers, confused, staring down at the empty shell he’s left behind.
I can’t believe what I'm seeing.
As if I’m looking at something from a 1950’s horror movie, he twists his head, scanning the dim corners. I flatten myself back against the wall, barely daring to exhale. His eyes begin to dart around the room until they find me in the dark. He jerks a step forward, his jaw working as though he wants to scream. I feel my body coil tight, ready to bolt… then Croía appears.
Relief crashes through me, raw and sweet. Croía steps out of the swirling fog, like a blade cutting through silk. She doesn’t look human now. She’s a vision, like something from the stories my parents used to whisper to keep me afraid of the night. Her skin glows a moonlight white, and her eyes are sharp and merciless as she glares at the dead man with pure disgust.
This is the closest I’ve ever been to her ghost-like form and she’s beautiful in this darkness. Dangerous.Eile sa Sarl.(Otherworldly.) I drink her in, every detail of her more intoxicating than the last. My cock throbs, shameless and hungry and I can’t look away. Not now.Not ever.
Unaware I’m here, Croía keeps her cold, merciless stare locked on the man’s spirit. Whatever she’s saying to him, it’s got the dead bastard cowering like a kicked dog. But, the sound that comes from them is all wrong. It rattles in my skull like an echo underwater, warped and inhuman. It’s the stuff of bedtime threats and whispered prayers.
Swift and fluid, she lashes out and clamps her pale hand around the man's ghostly throat. He convulses in her grip, his mouth opening in a silent plea. Then his spirit dissolves into Croía’s black fog. One blink and he’s gone, disappeared to the other side… I presume.
Jesus Christ. This woman,an créatúr,(this creature,) is magnificent. Dark and obscene all at once. It’s agony. I’m half lost to the urge, hypnotised, drifting closer without thought. Pulled by something primal and hungry. The smell of the room, her power, it’s all too much.
Then suddenly it hits me, a shrill screech that tears through my skull. My head snaps back and pain lances down my spine, buckling my knees. The world spins and I grope blindly for the wall but my hand catches only air. The sound digs deeper inside me, an unmerciful wail, splintering my bones apart from the inside out. I squeeze my eyes shut, grinding my teeth so hard they bite into my bottom lip. I stumble backward, my vision flickering at the edges. Shadows swirling like oil in water.
Somewhere beyond the noise I swear I hear her voice, a whisper slicing through the chaos, cold and final. It’s swallowed quickly by the scream continuing to claw my mind open.
She must have known this whole time that I was here because Croía’s gaze locks on mine as she moves toward me, and it’s almost as if she’s floating. She closes the distance between us, and her feet don’t even whisper against the floor. She’s a breath of frost drifting through a room that feels too small. For a heartbeat, I swear the whole room goes silent. Her blue icy eyes stay fixed on mine. Something inside my chest cracks wide open.She looks at me as if she knows every filthy thought and secret, I’ve ever had.
Despite my throbbing head, I rise up from the ground and reach out. I need to touch her. To prove she’s real, to feel her cold, ghost-silk skin under my fingers. The moment my hand stretches toward her, her calm expression shatters. Her eyes widen like a hunted animal, panic slicing through her delicate features. She floats back, recoiling, as though the air itself pulls her away from me, as if my touch might poison her. A jagged hiss tears through the room, something not human.
My breath stutters in my throat as I take a desperate step closer. No, don’t go! Croía don’t you fucking disappear again, but it’s too late. Shadows ooze out from beneath her feet, thick and alive like tar. They slither up her legs, coil around her ribs, smothering her in a swirl of black fog. Her icy gaze cuts through the darkness, wide and terrified, before it snuffs out.
She’s gone. Just like that, ripped away from me again. I’m left standing, my hand still outstretched, an idiot in waiting. The lingering fog dissolves against my skin, cold and wet.
A low, vicious growl crawls up my throat and I let it out, my voice echoing through the room. My fists clench so tight my nails cut into my palms. I felt her slip through my fingers, and it hurts.
As my body slowly snaps back into its living form, I suck in a breath so sharp it burns my throat. The rush of heat, the sting of blood pumping through veins that were moments ago ghost-silent, makes me dizzy. The world spins, blurry shapes of trees and shadows swallowing each other under the dying light. I force my eyes shut and clutch my head between my hands, my fingertips digging into my scalp as if I’m trying to hold my skull together.
When the nausea stops threatening to empty my guts onto the damp floor, I open my eyes. The woods feel different now, quieter, heavier, seeming as if they know what just happened.Mar a chonaic siad.(Like they saw.) A shiver skitters down my spine, and I push the feeling aside trying to focus.
On trembling legs, I haul myself upright and force myself to walk. Every step feels just like I’m dragging a corpse behind me,my corpse.My lungs burn from the inside out. Every few paces,my knees threaten to give out, and I have to pause to brace myself against the rough bark of a nearby tree.
Over-exhausted, it takes me far longer than I would have hoped to drag my battered body to my front door. My vision swims and the trees behind me twist like shadows that follow too close. By the time I reach the steps, my hands are shaking so violently I nearly drop the key three times before I manage to shove it into the lock. But I twist too fast, desperate to get inside and my knees buckle. I crash against the doorframe; my cheek pressed to cold wood with my breath tearing out of me in ragged gasps.
Once I’m over the threshold, I don’t even bother to stand. I slam the door shut behind me and slide down to the floorboards. The click of the deadbolt is the only thing that feels real. Everything else is a blur of pain and bitter bile crawling up my throat. My head throbs, a relentless drumbeat that feels as though it’s hammering cracks into my skull. Every heartbeat sends a pulse of nausea up my throat. I brace my elbows on my knees, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes until I see sparks of light behind my eyelids.
This is the after; I hate this part. The hollow echo in my bones that never really leaves. However, there’s no room for regret here, not for me. The second I signed my name in thediabhal’sledger; regret became a luxury I could never afford again.
Yes, I wanted more than the pathetic life that waited for me, rotting in this town. I also couldn’t watch Éire waste away in that hospital bed. So, I gave her everything I had left to give. I’d do it again, repeatedly, until my soul is ash in the palm of thediabhalhimself. Her life is worth more to me than mine.
Eager to feel the safety of my bed wrapped around me, I drag my body across the floor like something half-alive. My palms slip on the cold tiles as I crawl into the kitchen. My fingers struggle to reach for the fridge handle, and it takes everything I have left to pull myself upright. My legs tremble and my vision flickers at the edges. I yank the fridge open and blindly grab a bottle of water, the plastic cold and slick in my shaking hands.
My knees buckle the second I let go of the door. I hit the ground hard, the pain echoing up my spine. I’m too far gone to care. I shove the bottle into the waistband of my leggings and start the slow, pitiful shuffle down the hall. Every inch feels like a mile. The floor bites into my skin, the shadows seem to curl closer with each dragging breath.
By the time I reach my bedroom, I’m gasping. I claw at the edge of the bed, my fingers white-knuckled as I haul myself up. The mattress swallows me whole the second my body hits it. A brief, fleeting mercy. I’m too tired to cry out when fresh pain pulses behind my eyes like a warning drum.
Instead, I rip the bottle from my waistband and toss it carelessly onto the bedside table. It rattles against the wood, the sound sharp and final in the quiet room. With what little strength I have left, I curl onto my side, my clothes still clinging to my sweat-damp skin as I drag the blanket up around me, cocooning myself in false warmth.
The tears come without permission. Hot streaks down my cheeks that disappear into the pillow. I squeeze my eyes shut so tight that colour’s bloom behind my eyelids. I whisper a bitter wish into the darkness, that maybe this will be the last time.Maybe next time, I’ll wake up free, but I know better. There’s no way out once you sell your soul to the diabhal. There’s no freedom for the damned. The worst part?Dhéanfainn arís é.(I’d do it all again.)
The sound of what I think is my name shatters the fragile darkness, ripping me up from my sleep. I bolt upright in bed, and my breath sticks in my throat, Like half a sob. Hastily I scan the room.Tá mé abhaile. (I’m Home.)
