Page 100 of Evil Hearts

Right, it was in a digital media class that he had met Arun. Lewis was surprised he knew Ryan or Ayla. “I ghostwrite for internet news blogs.”

It was a half-truth. In reality, he was one of a dozen ghostwriters for a mid-tier social media influencer trying to get her own listicle site off the ground.

“That’s cool.”

“Not really. I’d prefer to write my own work,” said Lewis, gulping his drink.

“Well, do you? Like are you writing a book on the side or something?” asked Arun with wide eyes.

“I’m trying to. Things have been a little hectic the past year,” Lewis chuckled nervously. “Family stuff.”

“Ah, say no more.”

Lewis had a good run in high school. He had been on the baseball team and some would dare say he was a jock at the height of his athleticism. He was never without a date at school dances, but he always felt people only liked him because their team performed decently. In college he found deeper friendships. He probably mellowed out as well once removed from the influence of his trendy, sneakerhead cousins. Once college passed, he thought his next path in life would forever be braided with Cynthia’s, and that it would lead him to a shining peak when they were old and happily fussing over their grandchildren. However, his path dropped off a cliff.

It was just a slump, he reminded himself, but platitudes would only last so long. Lewis knocked back his champagne and ordered a screwdriver from a bartender to equip himself for the reception.

The barn was dressed as elegantly as the bride. Ryan and Ayla’s wedding photos could easily have been used to advertise the venue. Lewis was glad to be tucked away at the back of a table near the remnants of a livestock stall. The aged wood was a nice shelter from the glitz of phone camera flashes. Dust filled his nose, drowning the perfume of rustic floral arrangements. His screwdriver had been reduced to ice, but attentive servers were expedient in grabbing him another.

The guests cheered as Ryan and Ayla had their first dance in the center of the barn, garlands raining over their heads from the rafters. Lewis continued to sip his drink. He would stack emptyglasses as high as he could to remove himself from all of the beautiful reminders of what could have been and how he had failed.

Evening

Lewis shuffled tohis room. He probably should have paced himself better, but Ryan and Ayla had an open bar and he did not want to waste the couple’s generosity. He was unsure who drove him back to the hotel, but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t lost his wallet or keys in the process at least. The flickering lights of the hallway assailed his swimming head, and it took him two tries to unlock his door. As he fumbled for a light switch, a breeze caught his attention. Lewis lifted his head to stare across the room. The cutout of the window shone faintly against the black shadows filling the space. It was open.

Lewis sucked in a breath before finally finding the lamp in the abyss. Light spilled from the nightstand, stripping back the shadows. Revealed was nothing. Perhaps the cleaning staff had left the window open, or he had. The alcohol was an excellent mind wipe. After emptying some of the past few hours into the toilet bowl, Lewis flopped onto the bed, switched off the light, and closed his eyes for sleep.

“Fei…”

Lewis stirred.

“Fei…”

A weight came upon his chest.

His breath hitched. Briefly Lewis thought he was choking on his spit, as one sometimes did in sleep as one got older, but his mouth was clear. The weight was more than the duvet. Still in the shallows of sleep, he waved his arm before him. It struck something solid.

Lewis woke with a gasp.

“Fei!”

The voice hovered over his head. There was no hint of the room, nothing limned by moonlight. There was only black.

“What the—”

Darkness enveloped his mouth. Lewis blinked the sleep from his eyes. Though his mind was awake, he still saw nothing.

“Fei …” the voice said again, only this time warmth bloomed in the syllable. Soft. Before, it was harsh like metal scraping across the stones on a riverbed. Now it was a gentle babble of water.

Lips free again, Lewis spoke, “The fuck’s going on? Who’s Fei? Who areyou?”

The voice did not reply. Instead, Lewis felt the whisper of night air on his skin as the blanket slid from his torso. The band of his boxers shifted away to his ankles. Surprise sparked on his face, but Lewis could not shape any words around what was happening.

“Fei …”

“Hey, I’m not—” A wet warmth enveloped Lewis between his legs. “Whoa!”

Pulses issued over his flesh and before long he was stiff. Lewis blinked harder to ensure this was no dream. Then what could it be? As the pulses intensified, flicks of his room flagged his attention from the corner of his eyes. Enough moonlight from the uncovered window reassured his location. He was in his hotel bed, but he still could not place the dark before him or the sensations below.

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