Page 477 of Evil Hearts

I pressed his side against the cold brick of the alley wall, the scent of sweat and cheap cologne mixing with the stale air. His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, and I could feel the tremor in his body.

“Shh,” I murmured, my lips curling into a wicked smile. “You wouldn’t want to ruin the fun.”

His eyes were wide, darting around the alley as though he could find some way to escape, his hands slapping ineffectively against my arms, but I had him locked in. They were all the same. Why bother wasting energy when they always ended where I wanted them to be…

I whispered softly in his ear as his strength began to falter. Pulling a syringe from my pocket, I slipped the needle into his skin like a lover’s caress and pressed the plunger down with a practiced hand.

It didn’t take long for his limbs to grow heavy, his body going slack in my grip. I let him drop, his form hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Rolling my shoulders, I clicked my tongue in mock disappointment. Pulling up my mask, I stared at his form for another second before preparing to drag him away.

I wasn’t finished. Not yet. Not with him. There was more to do and the night was still young.

As I bent down to grab his ankles, something shifted.

A ripple in the air. A disturbance. It wasn’t the usual sound of another drunken idiot stumbling into the alley. This was something different, somethingwrong.

I froze, my eyes darting to the figure that had emerged from the fog.

At first, I thought it was just some sick Halloween costume, but as he stepped into the dim orange light, I began to doubt if this was a man in a costume. Because this had to be something else entirely. Something older. A creature not bound by the same rules the rest of us followed.

He was tall, impossibly so, his silhouette towering a head taller over the size of an average six feet tall man. The top of his skull was shaped like a wicked flower blooming with teeth along the edges. Pointy shoulders strutted forward as if he was a bad fashion statement, until I realized the shape was part of his muscle tissue and stretched skin. What I thought was a cloak was the extension of what looked like large leaves or petals as crimson as fresh blood. His eyes? He didn’t have any. Nothing but a morbidly vile smirk that looked forcefully pulled back.

Despite his lack of eyes or sockets, they burned into me. His aura was black as tar, twisted and sharp. He wasn’t dressed for the occasion. Hewasthe occasion.

I should’ve ignored him. Kept my focus on my prey. But the man... thething—his presence filled the street like a shadow consuming light. Though we were removed from the crowd, I could feel every living thing within a certain radius shrink back from our location, as if they instinctively knew he was far from anything of this realm.

My heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t part of the game.

And then, beyond mortal understanding, our eyes metaphorically met.

I didn’t flinch, though I should’ve. I should’ve walked away, ran even. But I couldn’t. Something about him—something in the way he perused me at his leisure, the scent of infernal flames coming off him in waves—stoppedme. I was suddenly aware of how small I felt, howinsignificantthis pathetic little masquerade of mine was in comparison to him.

“Little human hunter,” he said, his voice like a rumbling growl, “How your thirst for blood intrigues me to my very marrow. Why do you hide in the shadows when you could be showing the other despicable humans your dominion over this plane? Does the darkness of this corner not belong to you? Do you not command it beneath your fingertips?”

His words slithered over me like maggots, yet brushed against my skin with the softness of bat wings. It was as if he knew me—saw straight through me, unraveling everything I was and beckoning me to draw nearer.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, glancing down at Mr. Hawkin’s lifeless form while entranced by the way this creature glided through the air, as if he were a shadow drifting effortlessly through the fabric of reality itself.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” I said, my voice steady, though the way his presence coiled around me made my skin shiver, “but I don’t have time for games. You need to move and get out of my way.” I enunciated every word with deliberate calm, though my heart raced beneath my chest. “If I’m really the hunter you claim I am, shouldn’tyoube the one to watch your back?”

His smile pulled back further as if there were demonic hands stretching the corners of his mouth. It was dark and defiant, as if he was amused by everything I was saying.

“Brave little mortal,” he purred, stepping closer, and the very air around him seemed to shift. This time, it was my turn to peruse his monstrous form. “Even hunters have their time. You, too, will learn that there are things that hunt you, and they do not need masks.”

I wanted to laugh, but the coldness in his tone kept me silent. I could hear my heartbeat now, pounding in my ears, more erratic than before. I couldfeelhim, this... demon-esquething, drawing closer to my soul, calling for it. I should’ve run. But I stood there,staring into his eyeless gaze, mesmerized by the heat emanating from his deformed skin.

“What are you?” I finally demanded, my voice strained. My usual confidence was slipping, and it angered me. Angered me in a way I couldn’t explain. Even if he wasn’t part of this world, it didn’t matter. I had things to do, tasks to accomplish before the night was over.

He leaned in, twisting his head inhumanly as if his proximity could peel away my flesh for his pleasure. The sight was disturbingly unnatural, yet his voice, smooth and seductive, sent an unsettling shiver down my spine.

“Curious, are you, little mortal?” he purred, his words dripping with a dark amusement. “As curious as I am about you...?”

Chapter 2: Belraxas

“Iam called Belraxas,”he said, his voice like thunder—deep, resonant, vibrating through my chest. “I serve the master in the underworld, and he, the embodiment of Death.”

The words slammed into me like a physical blow. I blinked, trying to process them, but they made no sense and yet they did at the same time. He was a demon, a minion of death. Was that what he was admitting to?

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