Chapter 22
The young man frowned.
"Why are you scared?" he asked.
Then something wet dropped onto his shoulder.
He touched it.
Sticky.
Warm.
Not water.
Slowly, dread crawling up his spine, he raised the lantern toward the rooftop above.
What he saw made his skin crawl.
A creature crouched there, grinning down at him.
Dark claws. Twisted face. Thick horns silhouetted against the night.
Saliva dripped from its mouth.
The young man screamed.
"AHHHHHHH—"
And the alley swallowed the sound whole.
The creature launched.
The lantern slipped from his grasp and shattered against the ground, exploding into broken pieces.
Seconds later, a battered and bruised body crawled out of the alley.
The young man dragged himself forward, panic written plainly across his face. His clothes were torn. Blood smeared his skin. He was hurt, but not broken. His legs still moved. He could still walk.
But walking would not save him.
He looked back.
From the darkness, the creature emerged.
Its skin was pitch black, glossy like oil. Four arms stretched from its torso, and it moved on all six limbs, crawling and stalking at the same time. Its grin stretched unnaturally wide as it stared at him.
A smile that promised nothing good.
"Come," it croaked. "Nice treat. Come."
The words were broken, twisted, barely human.
A demon.
The granny was right.
Demons really did exist.
The realization came far too late.
He was going to die. He was really going to die.
He was too young for this. Too young to be eaten.
He scrambled to his feet, but the demon only drew closer. His back hit the wall. Nowhere left to run. His chest rose and fell violently, his heart pounding so hard it felt ready to burst from his ribs.
"Please," he begged. "Please let me go. I'll give you everything I have. Gold. Money. Treasures. I'll do anything you want."
The demon either did not understand him or simply did not care.
"Treat," it repeated, grin widening. "Come treat."
Food.
That was all he was.
The young man tensed, preparing to dash left or right, anywhere. The demon launched again.
He moved left.
Too slow.
A clawed hand wrapped around his leg and yanked him down. His body slammed into the ground as the demon leapt atop him, jaws opening wide, ready to bite down.
This is it.
His eyes widened.
The end.
Then something flashed through the air.
A sharp blur tore across the darkness and smashed into the demon's head, throwing it sideways. Its body crashed into the wall of the opposite building, embedding deep into the stone with a violent crack.
The young man's heart thundered as he heard footsteps approaching.
From the direction the weapon had come from.
A figure stepped out of the alley.
Human.
He wore a long black overcoat. Despite the still night, his white hair streaked with patches of black whipped gently through the air. One hand rested casually in his pocket. The other held a roasted piece of meat skewered on a stick.
He bit into it.
Chewed slowly.
Calm. Precise.
A white locket on his chest glimmered faintly under the moonlight. His hands were gloved, one black, one white, each marked with a flower pattern.
He stepped fully into the light.
Blue eyes glowed faintly as they caught the moon.
He looked at the young man, expression unchanged, aloof. Then his gaze drifted to the battered body on the ground.
"Oh," he said casually. "So you are the victim."
He took another bite.
"Well, you're lucky I'm around. I'll handle this for now."
The young man stared at him, disbelief written across his bruised face.
"You," he whispered. "You're going to face the demon?"
The white haired boy turned toward him, still chewing. His expression did not change.
"Wait," the young man blurted out. "Since I'm the older one here, I should handle it, right?"
Even as the words left his mouth, he realized how stupid they sounded.
His face went pale.
Why was he even asking something like that?
He shook his head rapidly and bowed.
"No, great one. Please handle this vile creature," he said with reverence.
Gazel stared at him blankly.
"Shameless," he muttered, shrugging. "That's what I'm here to do anyway."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"Now scurry off if you want to live."
The young man did not argue. He did not complain about the disrespect. He nodded quickly and turned to leave.
Then Gazel spoke again.
"Oh, wait."
The young man froze and turned back.
"I forgot to tell you something," Gazel said. His voice hardened, seriousness bleeding through his usual aloofness. "What that old woman said. Most of it is right."
He paused.
"But she's wrong about one thing."
The young man swallowed.
"What thing?"
"The Devil has no horns," Gazel said calmly. "None at all."
The young man stared at him, confusion deepening.
"No horns?"
Gazel nodded once.
"Yes. No horns. In fact, he is the most handsome man you can imagine."
The words struck like a slap.
Before the young man could process them, a grotesque sound echoed from behind. Flesh grinding. Stone cracking.
The demon was moving again.
The young man flinched, instinct screaming at him to run. He gave Gazel one last look, forced a crooked smile, waved awkwardly, and hurried away.
Gazel watched him go, unimpressed.
Then he turned his head slowly.
The four armed demon was standing again, skull knitting itself back together with a wet, crunching sound. It was disgusting. Truly repulsive.
Gazel sighed.
"I didn't really have a reason to kill you," he said, turning slightly as if ready to leave.
Then he noticed it.
The demon's skull finished closing.
He glanced down at the roasted meat in his hand.
His expression dimmed.
With quiet care, he wrapped the remaining meat in cloth and placed it into the small pouch at his side.
Then he raised his hand.
The obsidian ring around his finger glowed faintly.
The knife embedded in the wall tore itself free with a sharp hiss and flew back into his grasp.
Gazel's gaze turned cold.
"I didn't have a reason before," he said softly. "But you just ruined my dinner."
He lifted the blade.
"Now I do."
His blue eyes glowed under the moonlight.
The demon twisted its body.
And launched.
TO BE CONTINUED